Will. Hah! cheaply purchas’d too! I languish for her.
Beau. Ay, there’s the Devil on’t, she is—a Whore.
Will. Ah, what a charming Sound that mighty Word bears!
Beau. Damn her, she’ll be thine or any body’s.
Will. I die for her—
Beau. Then for her Qualities—
Will. No more—ye Gods, I ask no more, Be she but fair and much a Whore—Come let’s to her.
Beau. Perhaps to morrow you may see this Woman.
Will. Death,’tis an Age.
Feth. Oh, Captain, the strangest News, Captain.