I shall not grudge so much——
To him enters LOVEL.
Lovel. Bless us, Woodvil! what is the matter? I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping.
Wood. Nothing is the matter; only the wench has forced some water into my eyes, which will quickly disband.
Lovel. I cannot conceive you.
Wood. Margaret is flown.
Lovel. Upon what pretence?
Wood. Neglect on my part: which it seems she has had the wit to discover, maugre all my pains to conceal it.
Lovel. Then, you confess the charge?
Wood. To say the truth, my love for her has of late stopped short on this side idolatry.