_Enter Mistres_ Younglove _the waiting woman._

_El. Lo._ Mistres _Younglove_.

_Young._ Master _Loveless_, truly we thought your sails had been hoist: my
Mistres is perswaded you are Sea-sick ere this.

_El. Lo._ Loves she her ill taken up resolution so dearly? Didst thou move
her from me?

_Young_. By this light that shines, there's no removing her, if she get a
stiffe opinion by the end. I attempted her to day when they say a woman
can deny nothing.

_El. Lo_. What critical minute was that?

_Young_. When her smock was over her ears: but she was no more pliant than
if it hung about her heels.

_El. Lo_. I prethee deliver my service, and say, I desire to see the dear
cause of my banishment; and then for _France_.

_Young_. I'le do't: hark hither, is that your Brother?

_El. Lo_. Yes, have you lost your memory?

_Young_. As I live he's a pretty fellow. [_Exit._

_Yo. Lo_. O this is a sweet _Brache_.