A street.
Enter Glister.
GLISTER
The tedious night is past, and the jocund morn looks more lively and fresh than an old gentlewoman’s glazed face in a new periwig. By this time my humorous lover is at Gravesend, and I go with more joy to fetch his trunk than ever the valiant Trojans did to draw in the Grecian jade; his gods shall into the walls of my Troy, and be offered to a face more [lovely] than ever was that thrice-ravished Helen: yet with such caution that no danger shall happen to me.
Exit.