Bar. And a mad one, Lady;
By th' mas thou hast goodly eies, excellent eies, wench,
Ye twinkling rogues, look what thy Captain brings thee,
Thou must needs love me, love me heartily,
Hug me, and love me, hug me close.
Isab. Fie Captain.
Bar. Nay, I have strength, and I can strain ye sirrah,
And vault into my seat as nimbly, little one.
As any of you[r] smooth-chinn'd boys in Florence,
I must needs commit a little folly with ye,
I'll not be long, a brideling cast, and away wench;
The hob-nail thy husband's as fitly out o'th' way now?
Isab. Do you think he keeps a bawdy-house?
Bar. That's all one.
Isab. Or did you ever see that lightness in my carriage,
That you might promise to your self—.
Bar. Away fool,
A good turn's a good turn; I am an honest fellow:
Isab. You have a handsome wife, a virtuous Gentlewoman.
Bar. They are not for this time o'th' year.
Isab. A Lady,
That ever bore that great respect to you,
That noble constancy.