JOYCE. Let me see your back, then; and hear you, do not use him scurvily: you were best unset all your tyrannical looks, and bid him lovingly welcome, or, as I live, I'll stretch out my voice again. Ud's foot, I must take some pains, I see, or we shall never have this gear cotten;[170] but, to say truth, the fault is in my melancholy monsieur; for if he had but half so much spirit as he has flesh, he might have boarded her by this. But see, yonder she marches; now a passion on his side of half an hour long: his hat is off already, as if he were begging one poor pennyworth of kindness. _Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_. GERA. Shall I presume, fair mistress, on your hand to lay my unworthy lip? JOYCE. Fie upon him! I am ashamed to hear him; you shall have a country fellow at a maypole go better to his work. He had need to be constant, for he is able to spoil as many maids as he shall fall in love withal. GERT. Sir, you profess love unto me; let me entreat you it may appear but in some small request. GERA. Let me know it, lady, and I shall soon effect it. GERT. But for this present to forbear this place, Because my father is expected here. GERA. I am gone, lady. JOYCE. Do you hear, sir? GERA. Did you call? JOYCE. Look up to the window. GERA. What say you, gentlewoman? GERT. Nay, pray sir, go; it is my sister calls to hasten you. JOYCE. I call to speak with you; pray, stay a little. GERA. The gentlewoman has something to say to me. GERT. She has nothing. I do conjure you, as you love me, stay not. [_Exit_ JOYCE. GERA. The power of magic cannot fasten me; I am gone. GERT. Good sir, look back no more, what voice e'er call you. Imagine going from me, you were coming, And use the same speed, as you love my safety. [_Exit_ GERALDINE. Wild-witted sister, I have prevented you: I will not have my love yet open'd to him. By how much longer 'tis, ere it be known, By so much dearer 'twill be when 'tis purchas'd. But I must use my strength to stop her journey, For she will after him: and see, she comes. _Enter_ JOYCE _below_. Nay, sister, you are at farthest. JOYCE. Let me go, you were best; For if you wrestle with me, I shall throw you. Passion! come back, fool; lover, turn again, And kiss your bellyful; For here she is will stand you, do your worst. Will you let me go? GERT. Yes, if you'll stay. JOYCE. If I stir a foot, hang me; you shall come together yourselves, and be naught. Do what you will; for if e'er I trouble myself again, let me want help in such a case when I need. GERT. Nay, but prythee, sister, be not angry. JOYCE. I will be angry. Ud's foot! I cannot endure such foolery, I! Two bashful fools that would couple together, and yet ha' not the faces. GERT. Nay, prythee, sweet sister!