og asleep
in't, where did you see the voice?

_Fran._ She looks still angry.

_Lan._ To her and meet Sir.

_Isab._ Here, here.

_Fran._ Yes Lady, never bless your self, I am but a man, and like
an honest man, now I will thank you--

_Isab._ What do you mean, who sent for you, who desired you?

_Short._ Shall I put out the Torch forsooth?

_Isab._ Can I not go about my private meditations, Ha, but such
companions as you must ruffle me? you had best go with me Sir?

_Fran._ 'Twas my purpose.

_Isab._ Why, what an impudence is this! you had best, being so near
the Church, provide a Priest, and perswade me to marry you.

_Fran._ It was my meaning, and such a husband, so loving, and so
carefull, my youth, and all my fortunes shall arrive at--Hark you?

_Isab._ 'Tis strange you should be thus unmannerly, turn home again
sirra, you had best now force my man to lead your way.

_Lan._ Yes marry shall he Lady, forward my friend.

_Isab._ This is a pretty Riot, it may grow to a rape.

_Fran._ Do you like that better? I can ravish you an hundred times,
and never hurt you.

_Short._ I see nothing, I am asleep still, when you have done tell
me, and then I'le wake Mistris.

_Isab._ Are you in earnest Sir, do you long to be hang'd?

_Fran._ Yes by my troth Lady in these fair Tresses.

_Isab._ Shall I call out for help?

_Fran._ No by no means, that were a weak trick Lady, I'le kiss, and
stop your mouth.

_Isab._ You'l answer all these?

_Fran._ A thousand kisses more.

_Isab._ I was never abused thus, you had best give out too, that
you found me willing, and say I doted on you?

_Fran._ That's known already, and no man living shall now carry you
from me.

_Isab._ This is fine i'faith.

_Fran._ It shall be ten times finer.

_Isab._ Well, seeing you are so valiant, keep your way, I will to
Church.

_Fran._ And I will wait upon you.

_Isab._ And it is most likely there's a Priest, if you dare venture
as you profess, I would wish you look about you, to do these rude
tricks, for you know the recompences, and trust not to my mercy.

_Fran._ But I will Lady.

_Isab._ For I'le so handle you.

_Fran._ That's it I look for.

_Lan._ Afore thou dream.

_Shor._ Have you done?

_Isab._ Go on Sir, and follow if you dare.

_Fran._ If I do not, hang me.

_Lan._ 'Tis all thine own boy, an 'twere a million, god a mercy
Sack, when would small Beer have done this?

_Knocking within. Enter_ Valentine.

_