Thom. Dishonest me?
Not for the World.
Seb. Why, now they kiss again, there
I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing
Out the back way must needs have such a meaning.
Laun. I am at my small wits ends.
Laun. Did she ne'r beat ye before, Sir?
Seb. Why dost thou follow me?
Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me?
Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Covenant,
Wouldst thou not now be hang'd?
Laun. I think I would, Sir,
But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir,
(I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment,
And let the case be equally consider'd)
Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now,
'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it,
But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden,
That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable;
Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he,
But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of?
This is Sebastian truly.
Seb. Thou sayest right, Launce,
And there's my hand once more.
Thom. Not without Marriage.
Seb. Didst thou hear that?