Sir Sig. Ah, whe, what the Deavilo’s that for?
—Whe, ‘tis I, ‘tis I, most Serenissima Signiora!
[Gal. returns and Philippa.
Gal. What noise is that, or is’t some new design To fetch me back again?
Sir Sig. How! Galliard return’d!
Gal. Hah! what art thou? a Mortal or a Devil?
Sir Sig. How, not know me? now might I pass upon him most daintily for a Devil, but that I have been beaten out of one Devilship already, and dare venture no more Conjurationing.
Gal. Dog, what art thou—not speak! Nay, then I’ll inform my self, and try if you be flesh and blood. [Kicks him, he avoids.
Sir Sig. No matter for all this—’tis better to be kickt than discovered, for then I shall be kill’d: and I can sacrifice a Limb or two to my Reputation at any time.
Gal. Death, ‘tis the Fool, the Fool for whom I am abus’d and jilted? ’.is some revenge to disappoint her Cunning, and drive the Slave before me—Dog! were you her last reserve? [Kicks him, he keeps in his cry.
Sir Sig. Still I say Mum.