Luc. Who would be jealous, then, of such a one?
No evil lost is wail’d when it is gone.
25 Adr. Ah, but I think him better than I say,
And yet would [herein] others’ eyes were worse.
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away:
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.
[Enter] Dromio of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Here! go; the desk, the purse! [sweet], now, make haste.
Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath?
30 Dro. S.