Har. She may be a nun; but if ever she prove an anchoress, I'll dig her grave with my nails.
[Aside.
Frank. To her again, mother. [Aside.
Har. Hold thine own, wench. [Aside.
Pri. You must read the morning mass,
You must creep unto the cross,[288]
Put cold ashes on your head,
Have a hair-cloth for your bed.
Bil. She had rather have a man in her bed.
Pri. Bind your beads, and tell your needs,
Your holy aves and your creeds:
Holy maid, this must be done,
If you mean to live a nun.
Mil. The holy maid will be no nun. [Aside.
Sir Arth. Madam, we have some business of import,
And must be gone;
Will't please you take my wife into your closet,
Who farther will acquaint you with my mind:
And so, good madam, for this time adieu.
[Exeunt women and Sir Arthur.