_Maq._ [_Knocking at the ladies' door._] Medam, medam, are you stirring, medam? if you be stirring, medam,--if I thought I should disturb ye-- _Enter_ Page. _Page._ My lady is up, forsooth. _Maq._ A pretty boy, faith: how old art thou? _Page._ I think fourteen. _Maq._ Nay, an ye be in the teens--are ye a gentleman born? do you know me? my name is Medam Maquerelle; I lie in the old Cunny-court. [_Page._] See, here the ladies. 10 _Enter_ BIANCA _and_ EMILIA. _Bian._ A fair day to ye, Maquerelle. _Emil._ Is the duchess up yet, sentinel? _Maq._ O ladies, the most abominable mischance! O dear ladies, the most piteous disaster! Ferneze was taken last night in the duchess' chamber: alas, the duke catched him and killed him! _Bian._ Was he found in bed? 17 _Maq._ O, no; but the villainous certainty is, the door was not bolted, the tongue-tied hatch held his peace: so the naked troth is, he was found in his shirt, whilst I, like an arrant beast, lay in the outward chamber, heard nothing; and yet they came by me in the dark, and yet I felt them not, like a senseless creature as I was. O beauties, look to your busk-points;[484] if not chastely, yet charily: be sure the door be bolted.--Is your lord gone to Florence? _Bian._ Yes, Maquerelle. 27 _Maq._ I hope you'll find the discretion to purchase a fresh gown 'fore his return.--Now, by my troth, beauties, I would ha' ye once wise: he loves ye; pish! he is witty; bubble! fair-proportioned; mew! nobly-born; wind! Let this be still your fixed position; esteem me every man according to his good gifts, and so ye shall ever remain most worthy to be, most dear ladies. _Emil._ Is the duke returned from hunting yet? _Maq._ They say not yet. _Bian._ 'Tis now in midst of day. 37 _Emil._ How bears the duchess with this blemish now? _Maq._ Faith, boldly; strongly defies defame, as one that has a duke to her father. And there's a note to you: be sure of a stout friend in a corner, that may always awe your husband. Mark the behaviour of the duchess now: she dares defame; cries, "Duke, do what thou canst, I'll quit mine honour:" nay, as one confirmed in her own virtue against ten thousand mouths that mutter her disgrace, she's presently for dances. _Bian._ For dances! _Maq._ Most true. _Emil._ Most strange. _Enter_ FERRARDO. See, here's my servant, young Ferrardo: how many servants thinkest thou I have, Maquerelle? 51 _Maq._ The more, the merrier: 'twas well said, use your servants as you do your smocks; have many, use one, and change often; for that's most sweet and court-like. _Fer._ Save ye, fair ladies! Is the duke return'd?