WOMAN.
I think I should not, madam.
EMILIA.
That’s a good wench.
But take heed to your kindness, though.
WOMAN.
Why, madam?
EMILIA.
Men are mad things.
ARCITE.
Will ye go forward, cousin?
EMILIA.
Canst not thou work such flowers in silk, wench?
WOMAN.
Yes.
EMILIA.
I’ll have a gown full of ’em, and of these.
This is a pretty colour; will ’t not do
Rarely upon a skirt, wench?
WOMAN.
Dainty, madam.
ARCITE.
Cousin, cousin! How do you, sir? Why, Palamon!