Gwin. Or perhaps Lucy there is another whom you would prefer to make this proposal.
Lucy. This is unkind—you do not believe so.
Gwin. Well, be it as you will: I believe nought but truth, but innocence in Lucy Fairlove, and by this kiss—
Grayling looking from wing. R.
Gray. Hem! holloa! there.
Gwin. How now—what want you?
Gray. Want! (aside.) Oh! Lucy, Lucy! nothing.
Gwin. Then wherefore did you call?
Gray. Because it pleased me: a man may use his own lungs I trow.
Lucy. (aside.) Alas! I fear some violence.