_Clow._ By this hand, never any Messenger came at me, since the first time I came into her company; that a man should be wrong'd thus! _Nee._ Did not I send thee Scarfs and Diamonds? And thou return'dst me Letters, one with a false heart in't. _Witty._ Oh fie, to receive favours, return falshoods, and hold a Lady in hand-- _Clow._ Will you believe me, Sir? if ever I receiv'd Diamonds, or Scarf, or sent any Letter to her, would this sword might ne'er go through me. _Witty._ Some bad Messengers have gone between you then. _Nee._ Take him from my sight if I shall see to morrow. _Witty._ Pray you forbear the place, this discontent may impair her health much. _Clow._ 'Foot, if a man had been in any fault, 'twould ne'er a griev'd him, Sir, if you'll believe. _Witty._ Nay, nay, protest no more, I do believe you, But you see how the Lady is wrong'd by't; She has cast away her self, it is to be fear'd, Against her Uncles Will, nay, any consent, But out of a mere neglect, and spight to her self, Married suddainly without any advice. _Clow._ Why, who can help it? if she be cast away, she may thank her self, she might have gone farther and far'd worse; I could do no more than I could do: 'twas her own pleasure to command me, that I should not come, till I was sent for, I had been with her every minute of an hour else. _Witty._ Truly I believe you. _Clow._ Night and day she might have commanded me, and that she knew well enough; I said as much to her between her and I; yet I protest, she's as honest a Lady for my part, that I'd say, if she would see me hang'd: if she be cast away I cannot help it, she might have stay'd to have spoke with a man. _Witty._ Well, 'twas a hard miss on both parts. _Clow._ So 'twas, I was within one of her, for all this cross luck, I was sure I was between the Knight and home. _Nee._ Not gone yet? oh my heart! none regard my health? _Witty._ Good Sir, forbear her sight awhile, you hear how ill she brooks it. _Clow._ Foolish woman, to overthrow her fortunes so; I shall think the worse of a Ladies wit, while I live for't--I could almost cry for anger, if she should miscarry now; 'twould touch my conscience a little, and who knows what love and conceit may do? what would people say, as I go along? there goes he that the Lady died for love on, I am sure to hear on't i'th' streets, I shall weep before hand; foolish woman, I do grieve more for thee now, than I did love thee before; well, go thy ways, wouldst thou spare thy Husbands head, and break thine own heart? if thou hadst any wit, I would some other had been the cause of thy undoing, I shall be twitted i'th' teeth with it, I'm sure of that, foolish Lady. [_Exit._