Tay. Out on him!
Eit. Moſt barbarous!
Fit. Why did you doe this, now? 220 Of purpoſe to diſcredit me? you damn’d Diuell.
Pvg. Sure, if I be not yet, I ſhall be. All My daies in Hell, were holy-daies to this!
Tay. ’Tis labour loſt, Madame?
Eit. H’is a dull fellow Of no capacity!
Tai. Of no diſcourſe! 225 O, if my Ambler had beene here!
Eit. I, Madame; You talke of a man, where is there ſuch another?
Wit. Mr. Deuile, put caſe, one of my Ladies, heere, Had a fine brach: and would imploy you forth To treate ’bout a conuenient match for her. 230 What would you obſerue?
Pvg. The color, and the ſize, Madame.