Love-news, in faith.
015 Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou?
Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica
020 I will not fail her; speak it privately.
[021] Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot.
[022] Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.
Salar. Ay, marry, I’ll be gone about it straight.