Enter Vittoria with a book in her hand, Zanche; Flamineo following them
Flam. What, are you at your prayers? Give o'er.
Vit. How, ruffian?
Flam. I come to you 'bout worldly business.
Sit down, sit down. Nay, stay, blowze, you may hear it:
The doors are fast enough.
Vit. Ha! are you drunk?
Flam. Yes, yes, with wormwood water; you shall taste
Some of it presently.
Vit. What intends the fury?
Flam. You are my lord's executrix; and I claim
Reward for my long service.
Vit. For your service!
Flam. Come, therefore, here is pen and ink, set down
What you will give me.