Gaina. You've eyes, sir.
Ber. This fear of Oswald——
Gaina. Her trouble's nearer home, sir.
Ber. Her father——
Gaina. Nay, it wears no beard, though it may in time.
Ber. What troubles her, dear Gaina?
Gaina. A man, my lord.
Ber. A man!
Gaina. There, don't feel for your sword, for that's at home, and I never heard yet of spitting a man with a flute, though it may e'en go to the heart of a woman if she be young and soft like my mistress.
Ber. The truth, Gaina!