You mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell; You! you! ay you!
We have done our course, there's mony for your pains;
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel. [Exit.

Æmil.
Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

Des.
Faith, half asleep.

Æmil.
Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

Des.
With whom?

Æmil.
Why, with my lord, madam?

Des.
Who is thy lord?

Æmil.
He that is yours, sweet lady.

Des.
I have none; do not talk to me, Æmilia,
I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
But what should go by water. Pray to-night
Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember
And call thy husband hither.

Æmil.
Here's a change indeed! [Exit.

Des.
'Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet:
How have I been behav'd, that he might stick
The small'st opinion of my least misuse?

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