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.

Isab. Ha, ha, ha.

Wid. Why do you laugh sister?  I fear me ’tis your trick, ’twas neatly done of you, and well becomes your pleasure.

Isab. What have you done with ’em?

Wid. Lockt ’em i’th’ Orchard, there I’le make ’em dance and caper too, before they get their liberty, unmannerly rude puppies.

Isab. They are somewhat saucy, but yet I’le let ’em out, and once more sound ’em, why were they not beaten out?

Wid. I was about it, but because they came as suiters.

Isab. Why did you not answer ’em?

Wid. They are so impudent they will receive none:  More yet! how came these in?

Enter Francisco and Lance.

Lan. At the door, Madam.

Isab. It is that face.

Luce. This is the Gentleman.

Wid. She sent the money to?

Luce. The same.

Isab. Fie leave you, they have some business.

Wid. Nay, you shall stay, Sister, they are strangers both to me; how her face alters!

Isab. I am sorry he comes now.

Wid. I am glad he is here now though.  Who would you speak with, Gentlemen?

Lan. You Lady, or your fair Sister there, here’s a Gentleman that has received a benefit.

Wid. From whom, Sir?

Lan. From one of you, as he supposes, Madam, your man delivered it.

Wid. I pray go forward.

Lan. And of so great a goodness, that he dares not, without the tender of his thanks and service, pass by the house.

Wid. Which is the Gentleman?

Lan. This, Madam.

Wid. What’s your name, Sir?

Fran. They that know me call me Francisco, Lady, one not so proud to scorn so timely a benefit, nor so wretched to hide a gratitude.