Bel. Let me but depart from ye,
Sweet Christian-women.
Lil. Hear the Thing speak, Neighbours.
Bel. 'Tis but a small request; if e'r I trouble ye,
If e'r I talk again of beating Women,
Or beating any thing that can but turn to me;
Of ever thinking of a handsome Lady
But vertuously and well; of ever speaking
But to her honour; This I'll promise ye,
I will take Rhubarb, and purge Choler mainly,
Abundantly I'll purge.
Lil. I'll send ye Broths, Sir.
Bel. I will be laugh'd at, and endure it patiently,
I will do any thing.
Ros. I'll be your Bayl then;
When ye come next to woo, 'pray come not boisterously,
And furnish'd like a Bear-ward.
Bel. No in truth, forsooth.
Ros. I scented ye long since.
Bel. I was to blame sure,
I will appear a Gentleman.
Ros. 'Tis the best for ye,
For a true noble Gentleman's a brave thing;
Upon that hope we quit ye. You fear seriously?