The things we do!

Thyself, no more,
For 'tis a private busines, and withall;
Provyde mee,--harke thyne eare.
_Denis_. A stronge one, Syrr.
_Lord Av_. One that will howld; withall give pryvate order
At night the guarden gates may bee left open,
By whiche wee may returne unknowne to any.
What I intend lyes heare.
_Denis_. All wee servants
Are bownd to doo, but not examine what;
That's out of our comission.
_Lord Av_. 'Twixt us too
I shall resolve thee further.
_Denis_. I am gone, Syr.
_Lord Av_. Nowe, sweete ladye, have you doon?
_Lady_. As you commanded.
_Lord Av_. Itt wants nothinge nowe
But seale and superscription; I'l see't doone.
And marke mee nowe; at evensonge, passinge through
The cloyster to the chappell, when the fryar
Amongst the rest bowes with his wonted duckes,
Add rather then deminish from your smiles
And wonted favours. Let this shee post then
Conveigh this letter to the fryar's close fist,
Who no dowbt gapes for answer.
_Lady_. All shall bee
As you instructe; but punishe, syr, with pitty;
Putt him to payne or shame, but deathe, alas,
Is too seveare.


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