strangers.

_Fount._ What though we come e're you expected us, do not we know
your entertainments Madam are free, and full at all times?

_Wid._ You are merry, Gentlemen.

_Bel._ We come to be merry Madam, and very merry, men love to laugh
heartily, and now and then Lady a little of our old plea.

_Wid._ I am busie, and very busie too, will none deliver me.

_Hare._ There is a time for all, you may be busie, but when your
friends come, you have as much power Madam.

_Wid._ This is a tedious torment.

_Foun._ How hansomly this little piece of anger shews upon her!
well Madam well, you know not how to grace your self.

_Bel._ Nay every thing she does breeds a new sweetness.

_Wid._ I must go up, I must go up, I have a business waits upon me,
some wine for the Gentlemen.

_Hare._ Nay, we'l go with you, we never saw your chambers yet.

_Isab._ Hold there boyes.

_Wid._ Say I go to my prayers?

_Foun._ We'l pray with you, and help your meditations.

_Wid._ This is boysterous, or say I go to sleep, will you go to
sleep with me?

_Bel._ So suddenly before meat will be dangerous, we know your
dinner's ready Lady, you will not sleep.

_Wid._ Give me my Coach, I will take the air.

_Hare._ We'l wait on you, and then your meat after a quickned
stomach.

_Wid._ Let it alone, and call my Steward to me, and bid him bring
his reckonings into the Orchard, these unmannerly rude puppies--
[_Exit Widow._

_Foun._ We'l walk after you and view the pleasure of the place.

_Isab._ Let her not rest, for if you give her breath, she'l scorn
and flout you, seem how she will, this is the way to win her, be bold
and prosper.

_Bel._ Nay if we do not tire her.--
[_Exeunt._

_Isab._ I'le teach you to worm me, good Lady sister, and peep into
my privacies to suspect me, I'le torture you, with that you hate, most
daintily, and when I have done that, laugh at that you love most.

_Enter_ Luce.

_Luce._ What have you done, she chafes and fumes outragiously, and
still they persecute her.

_Isab._ Long may they do so, I'le teach her to declaim against my
pities, why is she not gone out o'th' town, but gives occasion for men
to run mad after her?

_Luc._ I shall be hanged.

_Isab._ This in me had been high treason, three at a time, and
private in her Orchard! I hope she'l cast her reckonings right now.

_Enter_ Widow.

_Wid._ Well, I shall find who brought 'em.