Cra. Such are most of you: so I take my leave,
And when you find your Womens favor fail,
Tis ten to one you'l know your self, and seek me
Upon a better Muster of your manners.
Con. This is not handsome Sir.
Euph. Pray take your pleasure,
You wound the wind as much—
Cra. Come you with me,
I have business for you presently: there's for your Wine,
I must confess I lost it.
On. Shall I steal to ye
And shall we see the Wench?
Con. A dainty one.
On. And have a dish of Pippins?
Con. What a peck man.
Tut. Will you wait Sir.
Con. Pray let's meet oftner Gentlemen,
I would not lose ye.