Lo. You are not mad, Sir, ’tis some abuse, and dangerous. [Pulls him back.
Alon. Be not envious of my Happiness: Forbear a Wench, for fear of Danger!
Lo. Have a care, ’tis some Plot. [Holds him.] Where did this Lady see us? we are both Strangers in the City.
Alon. No matter where.
Olin. At Church, Sir, just now.
Alon. Ay, ay, at Church, at Church, enough.
Lo. What’s her Name?
Alon. Away, thou art fuller of Questions than a Fortune-teller: Come, let’s be gone.
Lo. Sure you do not mean to keep your Word, Sir?
Alon. Not keep my Word, Lovis? What wicked Life hast thou known me lead, should make thee suspect I should not? When I have made an Interest in her, and find her worth communicating, I will be just upon Honour—Go, go.