Lean. It may be so, but what will all this serve for?
Lucr. To give us time and opportunity to deceive her, or I’m mistaken.
Lean. I cannot teach my Tongue so much Deceit.
Lucr. You may be a Fool, and cry, Indeed forsooth I cannot love, for alas I have lost my Heart, and am unworthy of your proffer’d Blessings—do, and see her marry me [in spite to] this Fop Easy, this Knight of Nonsense: no, no, dissemble me handsomely and like a Gentleman, and then expect your good Fortune.
Enter Antick.
Ant. Madam, your Mother’s coming.
Lucr. Away then, she must not see us together, she thinks you gone.
Lean. But must I carry off no Comfort with me?
Lucr. Will you expose me to the incens’d Jealousy of a Parent? go, or I shall hate ye.
Thrusts him out.