Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Scene 20.

Enter two or three Maid servants.

1 SErvant.

O she's dead, she's dead, the sweetest Lady in the World she was.

2 Servant.

O she was a sweet-natur'd creature: for she would never speak to any of us all, although we were her own servants, but with the greatest civility; as pray do such a thing, or call such a one, or give or fetch me such or such a thing, as all her servants lov'd her so well, as they would have laid down their lives for her sake, unless it were her Maid Nan.

1 Servant.

Well, I say no more, but pray God Nan hath not given her a Spanish Fig!

3 Servant.

Why, if she did, there is none of us knows so much, as we can come as Witnesses against her.

Enter Nan.

Nan.

It is a strange negligence, that you stand prating here, and do not go to help to lay my Lady forth.

Exit Nan the Maid.

Enter Monsieur Malateste, and passes over the Stage, with his hand∣kerchief before his eyes.

1 Servant.

My Master weeps, I did not think he had lov'd my Lady so well.

2 Servant.

Pish, that's nothing: for most love the dead better than the living; and many will hate a friend when they are living, and love them when they are dead.

Exeunt.