Clown. Ha? your mouth gapes as if you would eate me. The King commanded she should be laden with Irons,—I have laid two load upon her; then to pop her into the Dungeon,—I thrust her downe as deepe as I could; then to give her no meate,—alas my cheekes cry out, I have meate little enough for my selfe. Three days and three nights has her Cupboard had no victuals in it; I saw no lesse than Fifty sixe Mice runne out of the hole she lies in, and not a crumme of bread or bit of cheese amongst them.
Epi. 'Tis the better.
Clown. I heard her one morning cough pittifully; upon which I gave her a messe of Porredge piping-hot.
Epi. Thou Dog, 'tis Death.
Clown. Nay but, Sir, I powr'd 'em downe scalding as they were on her head, because they say they are good for a cold, and I thinke that kill'd her; for to try if she were alive or no I did but even now tye a Crust to a packe-threed on a pinne, but shee leapt not at it; so that I am sure shee's worms meate by this.
Epi. Rewards in golden showers shall raine upon us, Be thy words true: fall downe and kisse the earth.
Clown. Kisse earth? Why? and so many wenches come to the Iayle?
Epi. Slave, downe and clap thy eare to the caves mouth
And make me glad or heavy; if she speake not
I shall cracke my ribs and spend my spleene in laughter;
But if thou hear'st her pant I am gon.
Clown. Farewell, then.
Epi. Breaths shee?