Dor. O pardon me, dear friend, it was to welcome
A Brother that I have some Cause to love well.
Mary. Prithee how is he? thou speak'st truth.
Dor. Not perfect,
I hope he will be.
Mary. Never: h'as forgot me,
I hear Wench, and his hot love too.
Alice. Thou would'st howl then.
Mary. And I am glad it should be so; his travels
Have yielded him variety of Mistresses,
Fairer in his eye far.
Alice. O cogging Rascal!
Mary. I was a fool, but better thoughts I thank heaven.
Dor. 'Pray do not think so, for he loves you dearly,
Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you.
Mary. See me friend! do you think it fit?