Clean. You are nobly welcom Sir:
We have time enough for that.
Dorilaus. See how she blushes!
'Tis a good sign you'l mend your fault, how dost thou,
My good Calista?
Cal. Well, now I see you Sir;
I hope you bring a fruitfulness along with ye.
Dor. Good luck, I never miss, I was ever good at it:
Your mother groan'd for't wench, so did some other,
But I durst never tell.
Cal. How does your arm Sir?
Cle. Have you been let bloud of late?
Dor. Against my will Sir.
Cal. A fall dear Father?
Dor. No, a Gun, dear Daughter;
Two or three Guns; I have one here in my buttock,
'Twould trouble a Surgeons teeth to pull it out.
Cal. O me! O me!