Clo. My heart, Lucia.
Luc. Your Heart, I am glad ’tis no worse.
Clo. Why, what dost think he should have taken?
Luc. A thing more hard to have been
Recovered again.
Clo. What thing, prithee?
Luc. Your Maiden-head.
Clo. What’s that?
Luc. A thing young Gallants long extremely for,
And when they have it too, they say