Pan. to her, that you haue sworne to me. What are you gone a
Pan. backward weele put you i'th fils: why doe you not speak
Pan. to her? Come draw this curtaine & let's see your picture.
Pan. Alasse the day, how loath you are to offend day light? and
Pan. 'twere darke you'ld close sooner: So, so, rub on, and kisse
Pan. the mistresse; how now, a kisse in fee‑farme? build there
Pan. Carpenter, the ayre is sweete. Nay, you shall fight your
Pan. hearts out ere I part you. The Faulcon, as the Tercell, for