Isa. Out, screech-owl, messenger of my revenge’s death!
Thou dost belie Gniaca; ’tis not so.
Ann. Upon mine honesty, they are united.
Isa. Thy honesty?—thou vassal to my pleasure,
Take that!
[Strikes her.
Darest thou control me when I say no?
Art not my footstool—did not I create thee,
And made thee gentle, being born a beggar?
Thou hast been my woman’s pander for a crown,
And dost thou stand upon thy honesty? 10
Ann. I am what you please, madam; yet ’tis so.
Isa. Slave, I will slit thy tongue, ’less thou say no!
Ann. No, no, no, madam.
Isa. I have my humour, though thy[276] no be false.
Faint-hearted coward, get thee from my sight!
When,[277] villain? Haste, and come not near me.
Ann. Madam, I run;—her sight like death doth fear me.