Itha. But ten? I'll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream [125] of paper; we'll have a kingdom of gold for 't.
Pilia. Write for five hundred crowns.
Itha. [Writing.] Sirrah, Jew, as you love your life send me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer one hundred.
Tell him I must have 't.
Pilia. I warrant your worship shall have 't.
Itha. And if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns.130
Pilia. You'd make a rich poet, sir. I am gone. [Exit.
Itha. Take thou the money; spend it for my sake.
Bell. 'Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh: Thus Bellamira esteems of gold. [Throws it on the floor. But thus of thee. [Kisses him.
Itha. That kiss again; she runs division [126] of my lips. What an eye she casts on me? It twinkles like a star.
Bell. Come, my dear love, let's in and sleep together.