Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon?
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the[619][620]
fairer of the two.[620][621] 100
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.[622]
Nurse. Is it good den?[623]
Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of[624]
the dial is now upon the prick of noon. 105
Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you!
Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made himself[625]
to mar.