Sher. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.
Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged.
Come, Stanley, shall we go?
[105] Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
[♦] And go we to attire you for our journey.
Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest robes
And show itself, attire me how I can.
110 Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. [Exeunt.