Enter Hippolito, Matheo, and Infelice, disguised as Friars.
How do you, friar?
Ans. Nay, nay, away, you must not trouble friars.—
The duke is here, speak nothing.
Bell. Nay, indeed, you shall not go: we’ll run at barley-break first, and you shall be in hell.[223]
Mat. My punk turned mad whore, as all her fellows are!
Hip. Say nothing; but steal hence, when you spy time.
Ans. I’ll lock you up, if you’re unruly: fie!
Bell. Fie? marry, soh! they shall not go indeed, till I ha’ told ’em their fortunes.
Duke. Good father, give her leave.
Bell. Ay, pray, good father, and I’ll give you my blessing.