La Nu. He’s the most fiercely jealous of his Sex,
And Disappointment will inrage him more.
Will. Death: let him rage whoe’er he be; dost think
I’ll hide me from him, and leave thee to his Love?
Shall I, pent up, thro the thin Wainscot hear
Your Sighs, your amorous Words, and sound of Kisses?
No, if thou canst cozen me, do’t, but discreetly,
And I shall think thee true:
I have thee now, and when I tamely part
With thee, may Cowards huff and bully me. [Knocks again.