_Gab_. Amen to what?

_Did_. Faythe, madam, a was prayinge for hys syster.

_Gan_. O you are wellcome.--Worthye frend, withdrawe.--
[_Exit Didier_.
Nowe my rare pollytycke syster, what will please you?

_Gab_. My rare ingenyous brother, why doe you aske?

_Gan_. Ile tell thee, woman, & observe it well,
Thou shalt remayne the porest wretche alyve,
The most forsaken of delight & pleasure
That ever breathd a myserable life,
If I may knowe what pleasses you. Beware
And answere wiselye: you are leaveinge nowe
All that hathe tyckld your insatyatt bloode,
When you resolve my questyon: I will strypp
Your sweete contents of to the naked soule
Before you parte. Doe you laughe? by heaven I will.

_Gab_. What brave exployts youle doe uppon the sodayne!

_Gan_. If you account theym so tys well, tys well.

_Gab_. Fye, fye, what moves you to thys froward wellcome?

_Gan_. Calst it allreadye frowarde? shallowe foole,
I should salute thee with my daggers poynte
And never make thys parley; but I'me kynde,