Col. Now!
Luc. With all my duty;
I were unworthy of those favors else,
You daily showre upon me.
Mir. What thinkst thou of me?
Luc. I think ye are a truly worthy Gentleman,
A pattern, and a pride to the age ye live in,
Sweet as the commendations all men give ye.
Mir. A pretty flattering rogue, dare ye kiss that sweet man
Ye speak so sweetly of? Come.
Col. Farewell virtue.
Mir. What hast thou got between thy lips? kiss once more.
Sure thou hast a spell there.
Luc. More than ere I knew Sir.
Col. All hopes go now.
Mir. I must tell you a thing in your ear, and you must hear me,
And hear me willingly, and grant me so too,
'Twill not be worth my asking else.