+Lod.+ Look, look, look! loving soul, he weeps for company! +Clown.+ And I shall laugh outright by and by. +Dor.+ O that good man! +Lod.+ Why, bird? +Jas.+ Be patient, lady. +Dor.+ Would he go to heaven without his zealous pupil? +Clown.+ It may be he knew not your mind, forsooth. +Dor.+ He knew my mind well enough. +Clown.+ Why then, it may be, he knew you could not hold out for the journey. Pray, do not set us all a-crying. [_Weeps._ +Lod.+ Prythee, sweet birds-nie, be content. +Dor.+ Yes, yes, content! when you two leave my company! No one comes near me; so that were it not For modest simple Francis here---- +Clown.+ As modest as a gib-cat at midnight. [_Aside._ +Dor.+ That sometimes reads Virtuous books to me; were it not for him, I might go look content.[135] But 'tis no matter, Nobody cares for me. +Lod.+ Nay, prythee, Doll. Pray, gentlemen, comfort her. [_Weeps._ +Clown.+ Now is the devil writing an encomium upon cunning cuckold-makers. +Fran.+ You have been harsh to her of late, I fear, sir. +Lod.+ By this hand, I turned not from her all last night. What should a man do? +Jas.+ Come, this is but a sweet obedient shower, To bedew the lamented grave of her old father. +Clown.+ He thinks the devil's dead too.[136] +Dor.+ But 'tis no matter; were I such a one As the Count Lorenzo's lady, were I so graceless To make you wear a pair of wicked horns, You would make more reckoning of me---- [_Weeps._ +Lod.+ Weep again? She'll cry out her eyes, gentlemen. +Clown.+ No, I warrant you: remember the two lines your honour read last night-- _A woman's eye, 'S April's dust, no sooner wet but dry._ +Lod.+ Good pigs-nie! Frank, prythee, walk her t'other turn i' th' garden, and get her a stomach to her supper. We'll be with ye presently, wench. +Dor.+ Nay, when ye please; but why should I go from ye? +Lod.+ Loving soul! Prythee, Frank, take her away. +Dor.+ Pray, let me kiss ye first. Come, Francis, Nobody cares for us. [_At the door +Francis+ kisses her. Exeunt._ +Lod.+ Well, there goes a couple: where shall a man match you, indeed? Hark, Pambo! +Jas.+ Did you observe? +Jov.+ They kissed! +Jas.+ Peace. +Lod.+ And entreat Madonna Lussuriosa to sup with us: as you go, tell her my lady's never well but in her company. +Clown.+ What, if your honour invited the Count Lorenzo? he'll be so melancholy, now his lady and he are parted. +Lod.+ Pray do as you are bid, kind sir, and let him alone: I'll have no cuckold sup in my house to-night. +Clown.+ 'Tis a very hot evening; your honour will sup in the garden then. +Lod.+ Yes, marry, will I, sir; what's that to you?