Flora. O madam, there is a man down-stairs!
Ser. Well?
Flora. Drest sailor-like.
Ser. Well?
Flora. He will not go away unless I give this letter into your hands.
Ser. Into my hands? from whom?
Flora. From the lady Porcia he says, madam.
Ser. From Porcia, well, and what frightens you?
Flora. Nothing, madam, and yet—