Clown. And whensoe'er I marry, Venus send me a card may save Fortune the labour, and turn up herself. [Exeunt.
Dor. How now? why loiter you behind? why ride you not along with your lord?
Fran. To lie with your ladyship.
Dor. How?
Fran. In the bed, upon the bed, or under the bed.
Dor. Why, how now, Francis!
Fran. This is the plain truth on't, I would lie with ye.
Dor. Why, Francis——
Fran. I know too, that you will lie with me.
Dor. Nay, but, Francis——