Tyr. Of what? fie now! He did not say so, did he?
Soph. O, no, my lord, not he; he spoke no such word.
I'll say, as he would have't, for I'd be loth
To have my body used like butchers' meat. [Aside.
Tyr. When comes she to our bed?
Hel. Who, my lord?
Tyr. Hark! You heard that plain amongst you?
Soph. O my lord, as plain as my wife's tongue,
That drowns a saunce bell.[463]
Let me alone to lay about for honour:
I'll shift for one.
Tyr. When comes the lady, sir,
That Govianus keeps?
Hel. Why, that's my daughter!
Tyr. O, is it so! Have you unlock'd your memory?
What says she to us?
Hel. Nothing.