I can now keep my mony in my purse, that still was gadding out
for Scarfes and Wastcoats: and keep my hand from Mercers sheep-skins
finely. I can eat mutton now, and feast my self with my two shillings, and
can see a play for eighteen pence again: I can my Ladie.
_Lady_. The carriage of this fellow vexes me. Sir, pray let me speak a
little private with you, I must not suffer this.
_Elder Lo_. Ha, ha, ha, what would you with me?
You will not ravish me? Now, your set speech?
_Lady_. Thou perjur'd man.
_Elder Lo_. Ha, ha, ha, this is a fine _exordium_.
And why I pray you perjur'd?
_Lady_. Did you not swear a thousand thousand times you lov'd me best of
all things?
_Elder Lo_. I do confess it: make your best of that.
_Lady_. Why do you say you do not then?
_Elder Lo_. Nay I'le swear it,
And give sufficient reason, your own usage.
_Lady_. Do you not love me then?
_Elder Lo_. No faith.
_Lady_. Did you ever think I lov'd you dearly?
_Elder Lo_. Yes, but I see but rotten fruits on't.
_Lady_. Do not denie your hand for I must kiss it, and take my last
farewell, now let me die so you be happy.
_El. Lo_. I am too foolish: Ladie speak dear Ladie.
_Lady_. No let me die. _She swounds._
_Mar_.
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