MOS: Why, sir?

VOLP: Oh,
Rid me of this my torture, quickly, there;
My madam, with the everlasting voice:
The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er made
Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion!
The Cock-pit comes not near it. All my house,
But now, steam'd like a bath with her thick breath.
A lawyer could not have been heard; nor scarce
Another woman, such a hail of words
She has let fall. For hell's sake, rid her hence.

MOS: Has she presented?

VOLP: O, I do not care;
I'll take her absence, upon any price,
With any loss.

MOS: Madam--

LADY P: I have brought your patron
A toy, a cap here, of mine own work.

MOS: 'Tis well.
I had forgot to tell you, I saw your knight,
Where you would little think it.--

LADY P: Where?