Sec. Pray, madam, go: they say 'tis a fine play, and a knight writ it.
Plea. Pray, let Secret prevail; I'll propose it to the lovers. In the meantime, go you, and bid the coachman make ready the coach.
[Secret whispers Sad, 'Twill take.
Sec. Alas, madam! he's sick, poor fellow, and gone to bed; he could not wait at dinner.
Wid. Sick?
Plea. Why, see how all things work for the young men, either their coach or afoot! Master Constant, what think you of seeing a play this afternoon? Is it not too hot to venture this infectious time?
Con. Fie! madam, there's no danger: the bill decreased twenty last week.[237]
Sad. I swear, they say 'tis a very good play to-day.
Wid. Shall we go, niece?
Plea. Faith, 'tis hot, and there's nobody but we.