[_Exeunt._

_Isab._ I'le teach you to worm me, good Lady sister, and peep into
my privacies to suspect me, I'le torture you, with that you hate, most
daintily, and when I have done that, laugh at that you love most.

_Enter_ Luce.

_Luce._ What have you done, she chafes and fumes outragiously, and
still they persecute her.

_Isab._ Long may they do so, I'le teach her to declaim against my
pities, why is she not gone out o'th' town, but gives occasion for men
to run mad after her?

_Luc._ I shall be hanged.

_Isab._ This in me had been high treason, three at a time, and
private in her Orchard! I hope she'l cast her reckonings right now.

_Enter_ Widow.

_Wid._ Well, I shall find who brought 'em.

_Isab._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Wid._ Why do you laugh sister? I fear me 'tis your trick, 'twas
neatly done of you, and well becomes your pleasure.

_Isab._ What have you done with 'em?