Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy.
Kath. Bid the music leave;
They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceases.[705]
Pat. Do you note 95
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes![706]
Grif. She is going, wench: pray, pray.
Pat. Heaven comfort her!
Enter a Messenger.[707]
Mess. An't like your grace,—[708]
Kath. You are a saucy fellow: 100
Deserve we no more reverence?
Grif. You are to blame,[709]
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,[710]
To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel.