Pet. You are mistaken, Signior, I say he is mad, stark mad.
Sir Sig. Prithee, Barberacho, what dost thou mean?
Pet. To rid him hence, that she may be alone with you—’slife, Sir, you’re madder than he—don’t you conceive?—
Sir Sig. Ay, ay; nay, I confess, Illustrissima Signiora, my Governour has a Fit that takes him now and then, a kind of frensy,—a figary—a whimsy—a maggot, that bites always at naming of Popery: [Exit. Pet. with Tick.]—so—he’s gone.—Bellissima Signiora,—you have most artificially remov’d him—and this extraordinary proof of your affection is a sign of some small kindness towards me; and though I was something coy and reserv’d before my Governour, Excellentissima Signiora, let me tell you, your Love is not cast away.
Cor. Oh, Sir, you bless too fast; but will you ever love me?
Sir Sig. Love thee! ay and lie with thee too, most magnanimous Signiora, and beget a whole Race of Roman Julius Caesars upon thee; nay, now we’re alone, turn me loose to Impudence, i’faith. [Ruffles her; Enter Philippa in haste, shutting the door after her.
Phil. Oh, Madam, here’s the young mad English Cavalier got into the House, and will not be deny’d seeing you.
Cor. This was lucky.
Sir Sig. How, the mad English Cavalier! if this shou’d be our young Count Galliard now—I were in a sweet taking—Oh, I know by my fears ’.is he;—Oh, prithee what kind of a manner of Man is he?
Phil. A handsom—resolute—brave—bold—