I hear, Archyllis; I hear what you say:
You beg me to bring Lesbia. By my troth
That Lesbia is a drunken wretch, hot-headed,
Nor worthy to be trusted with a woman
In her first labor. Well, well! she shall come.
—Observe how earnest the old gossip is, (Coming forward)
Because this Lesbia is her pot-companion.
—Oh grant my mistress, Heav’n, a safe delivery,
And let the midwife trespass any where
Rather than here!—But what is it I see?