Chamber of Cleonte.
She is discover’d in her Night-Gown, at a Table, as undressing,
Francisca by her.
Cleo. Francisca, thou art dull to Night.
[Sighs.
Fran. You will not give me leave to talk.
Cleo. Not thy way indeed, hast thou no Stories but of Love, and of my Brother Silvio?
Fran. None that you wish to hear: But I’ll do what you please, so you will not oblige me to sigh for you.
Cleo. Then prithee sing to me.
Fran. What Song, a merry, or a sad?
Cleo. Please thy own Humour, for then thou’lt sing best.
Fran. Well, Madam, I’ll obey you, and please my self.