Winw. I cannot tell: it seems you had neither in your feet, that took this pain to find me.
Quar. No, an I had, all the lime hounds o’ the city should have drawn after you by the scent rather. Master John Littlewit! God save you, sir. ’Twas a hot night with some of us, last night, John: shall we pluck a hair of the same wolf to-day, proctor John?
Lit. Do you remember, master Quarlous, what we discoursed on last night?
Quar. Not I, John, nothing that I either discourse or do; at those times I forfeit all to forgetfulness.
Lit. No! not concerning Win? look you, there she is, and drest, as I told you she should be: hark you, sir, [whispers him.] had you forgot?
Quar. By this head I’ll beware how I keep you company, John, when I [am] drunk, an you have this dangerous memory: that’s certain.
Lit. Why, sir?
Quar. Why! we were all a little stained last night, sprinkled with a cup or two, and I agreed with proctor John here, to come and do somewhat with Win (I know not what ’twas) to-day; and he puts me in mind on’t now; he says he was coming to fetch me. Before truth, if you have that fearful quality, John, to remember when you are sober, John, what you promise drunk, John; I shall take heed of you, John. For this once I am content to wink at you. Where’s your wife? come hither, Win.
[Kisses her.
Mrs. Lit. Why, John! do you see this, John? look you! help me, John.