[Music and cheering throughout]
The lady widow of Vitruvio
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness baggage! out, you
tallow-face!
This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins what other days must end.
