Edward. How familiar they be, Bacon!
Bacon. Sit still, and marke the sequell of their loves.
Lacie. Then am I double prisoner to thy selfe: 110
Peggie, I yeeld. But are these newes in jest?[1356]
Margret. In jest with you, but earnest unto me;
For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart.
Ah, how these earles and noble men of birth
Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill! 115
Lacie. Beleeve me, lasse, I am the Lincolne earle:
I not denie but, tyred thus in rags,