Lov. She has coniurd downe my spirit: these are immodest devills that make modest ladyes become strickers[118]. Ile out oth storme, take shelter in the cellar. Goe to and goe to; tis better venter quarriling mongst those hogesheads. [Exit Alexander.
Enter Maudlin [and Timothy.]
Ma. Madam, your daughter—
Lady. Where is she? Who? Clariana?
Ma. The faire Belisea.
Enter Clariana.
Cla. Did you call me, madam.
Lady. Noe: were you soe neere? begon againe,— Yet stay.—Maudlin, avoid the Roome, and if you see Mr. Thurston, entreat him hither. Timothy, Find out my son and charge him to delay The execution of my late comaund Till I next speake with him. [Exeunt Mag. and Tim. Clariana, you did what I comanded?
Cla. Yes, on my Soule.
Lady. But thou art ignorant Why with such violence I inioyn[e]d thee To leave thy Thurstons love?