D'Av. So I shall doo still, Would you beetake you to your quiet sleepes And leave mee to my wakinges.
Lady. There beelonges Unto one bedd so sweete a sympathy, I canott rest without you.
D'Av. To your chamber!
There may growe els a woorse antypathy
Beetwixt your love and myne: I tell you, Lady,
Myne is no woman's busines. No reply:
Your least insured presence att this tyme
Will but begett what you would loathe to beare,
Quarrell and harshe unkindnes.
Lady. Ever your lipps Have bene too mee a lawe.—I suspect more Then I would apprehend with willingnes; But though prevention canott helpe what's past, Conjugall faythe may expresse itself at last. [Exit Lady.
D'Av. Why, Denis, ho! awake and ryse in hast!
Denis. What, is your Lordshipp madd!
D'Av. Knowest thou what's past And canst thou skape this danger?
Denis. Did I not tell you That all was safe, the body too disposed Better then in his grave?
D'Av. Strange thoughts sollicite mee.
Upp and inquire about the cloyster wall
What noyse thou hearest, if any private whisperinge
Or louder uprore 'bout the murder ryse.
Denis. I shall, I shall, Syr. [Exit Dennis.