Sweat now to find me in the height of blood!
Now death doth heap his goods up all at once,
And crams his storehouse to the top with blood;
Might I now and Andrea in one fight
Make up thy wardrobe richer by a knight!
Enter Rogero.
Rog. Ha, Vollupo!
Bal. No; but a better.
Rog. Pox on ’t.
Bal. Pies on ’t!