Fran. Pish, Pambo!
Clown. Here, boy.
Fran. Go meet him in the garden, and hark.
Clown. Excellent! I'll play my lady, I warrant ye.
Fran. Do't daintily.
Clown. Well, I may hope for a 'squire's place; my father was a costermonger.[127] [Exit.
Fran. Well, now I see, as he who fain would know
The real strain of goodness, may in her read it,
Who can seem chaste, but not be what she seems:
So, who would see hell's craft, in her may read it,
Who can seem too, but not be what she seems.
In brief, put him to school (would cheat the de'il of's right)
To a dainty, smooth-fac'd, female hypocrite. [Exit.
Enter Lodovico and Clown.
Lod. Here's a wife, Pambo!