Leath. How, some wine there!
There’s company already, sir, pray forbear.
Pup. Damon. ’Tis Hero.
Leath. Yes, but she will not to be taken,
After sack and fresh herring, with your Dunmow-bacon.
Pup. Pythias. You lie, it’s Westfabian.
Leath. Westphalian you should say.
Pup. Damon. If you hold not your peace, you are a coxcomb, I would say.
[Leander and Hero kiss.
What’s here, what’s here? kiss, kiss, upon kiss!