Lord Av. Howe did hee tak't?
Mayde. With smiles and seeminge joy.
Lord Av. Sorrowe and shame I feare will bee the sadd end on't.
Lady Av. Syr, you'r troubled.
Lord Av. I would not have you so; pray, to your rest;
You shall remove mee from all jelosyes
If you betake you to your sowndest sleeps,
And without more inquiry.
Lady Av. Syr, remember
That all offences are not woorthy deathe:
Fellowny, murder, treason and such lyke
Of that grosse nature maye be capitall;
Not folly, error, trespasse.
Lord Av. You advyse well,
Lett mee advyse you lyke-wyse: instantly
Retyre in to your chamber, without noyse
Reply or question, least part of that rage
Is bent gainst him you turne upon your self,
Which is not for your safety.
Lady Av. Syr, good night. [Exit.[113]
Lord Av. How goes the hower?
Denis. Tis almost tenn.