Bev. Continue so, and leave me. My sorrows are contagious. No one is blest that's near me.
Jar. I came to seek you, Sir.
Bev. And now thou hast found me, leave me. My thoughts are wild, and will not be disturbed.
Jar. Such thoughts are best disturbed.
Bev. I tell thee that they will not. Who sent thee hither?
Jar. My weeping mistress.
Bev. Am I so meek a husband then? that a commanding wife prescribes my hours, and sends to chide me for my absence? Tell her, I'll not return.
Jar. Those words would kill her.
Bev. Kill her! Would they not be kind then? But she shall live to curse me—I have deserved it of her. Does she not hate me, Jarvis?
Jar. Alas, Sir! Forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her. The streets are dangerous.