Gert. Sir, you profess love unto me; let me entreat you it may appear but in some small request.
Gera. Let me know it, lady, and I shall soon effect it.
Gert. But for this present to forbear this place,
Because my father is expected here.
Gera. I am gone, lady.
Joyce. Do you hear, sir?
Gera. Did you call?
Joyce. Look up to the window.
Gera. What say you, gentlewoman?
Gert. Nay, pray sir, go; it is my sister calls to hasten you.
Joyce. I call to speak with you; pray, stay a little.