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It mooves, and now to earth is fixt agen; Oh, now it walkes and sadly marches this way. Is't not a ghost? heele fright me. Oh, sweet sir, Speake if you can and say who murderd you. It points at me: my eyes? ungentle eyes To kill so at first sight! Ile have my lookes Arraigned for't and small Cupid shall be judg, Who for your sake will make me blind as he is. Co. Ladie Sis.
With me, sweet Mr. Bonvill? Sir Geffrey, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure We shall discourse. Sir Geff. Bon. Madam we are alone? Lady. You did desire we should. Bon. But are you sure none can oreheare us. Lady. Unles we be to loud: What mooves you to require this secresie? Bon.
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