_Enter_ Isabella.

_Isa._ Come, come, I am ready.

_Wid._ Are you so?

_Isa._ What ails she? the Coach stales, and the people, the day
goes on, I am as ready now as you desire, Sister: fie, who stays now,
why do you sit and pout thus?

_Wid._ Prethee be quiet, I am not well.

_Isa._ For Heav'us sake let's not ride staggering in the night,
come, pray you take some Sweet-meats in your pocket, if your stomach--

_Wid._ I have a little business.

_Isab._ To abuse me, you shall not find new dreams, and new
suspicions, to horse withal.

_Wid._ Lord who made you a Commander! hey ho, my heart.

_Isab._ Is the wind come thither, and Coward like, do you lose your
Colours to 'em? are you sick o'th' _Valentine_? sweet Sister, come
let's away, the Country will so quicken you, and we shall live so
sweetly: _Luce_, my Ladies Cloak; nay, you have put me into such a
gog of going, I would not stay for all the world; if I live here, you
have so knock'd this love into my head, that I shall love any body, and
I find my body, I know not how, so apt--pray let's be gone, Sister,