CAR. Ho! What woman!
Who but that scullery-wench, that onion-monger,
That slatternly, pale bakress, that foul witch,
The coroneted Fish-Wife of Fiori,
Her Majesty, the Queen!

FRA. Hush--hush--Carlotta!
You could be put to death for less than that!

CAR. Not I, my duck. When I am put to death
'Twill be for more! Oh, I will have her yet
By the hair! [For the first time noticing Fidelio.]
Fidelio, if you breathe one word
Of this, I will scratch the Princess into ribbons,
Whom you love better than your wit.

FID. I' faith,
I did but hear you say you are a fish-wife,
And all the world knows that.

LAU. Fear not, Carlotta,
He is as dumb as a prophet. Every second word
He utters, eats the one before it. Speak,
But softly.

CAR. Nay,'tis nothing.--Nay, by my head,
It is a townful! 'Tis the way she has
Of saying "that should be done like this, and this
Like that"! The woman stirs me to that point