Alas, what shall become of me?
O God in three, where hath she gone or far or near?
AUNT
Why, goodman dull, in the muddy wine or clear,
Where they resort as for such sport are meet.
UNCLE
Alas, my sister, ye gar me greet,
That ye make me such shameful mocks.
AUNT
Yea, had ye kept her locked up in a box,