Feth. Something inclin’d to such a Fear.
Blunt. Go and salute her, or, Adsheartlikins, I’ll leave you to her Mercy.
Feth. Oh, dear Ned, have pity on me—but as for saluting her, you speak of more than may be done, dear Heart, without a Scaling Ladder. [Exit Shift.
Dwarf. Sure, Seignior Harlequin, these Gentlemen are dumb.
Blunt. No, my little diminutive Mistress, my small Epitomy of Woman-kind, we can prattle when our Hands are in, but we are raw and bashful, young Beginners; for this is the first time we ever were in love: we are something aukard, or so, but we shall come on in time, and mend upon Incouragement.
Feth. Pox on him, what a delicate Speech has he made now—’Gad, I’d give a thousand Pounds a Year for Ned’s concise Wit, but not a Groat for his Judgment in Womankind.
Enter Shift with a Ladder, sets it against the Giant, and bows to Fetherfool.
Shift. Here, Seignior, Don, approach, mount, and salute the Lady.
Feth. Mount! why,’twould turn my Brains to look down from her Shoulders—But hang’t, ’Gad, I will be brave and venture. [Runs up the Ladder, salutes her, and runs down again.
And Egad this was an Adventure and a bold one—but since I am come off with a whole Skin, I am flesht for the next onset—Madam—has your Greatness any mind to marry? [Goes to her, speaks, and runs back; Blunt claps him on the Back.