Cun. I'm glad I know so much to quell his pride, Sir,
Walk you still that way, I'll make use of this,
To resolve all my doubts, and place this favor
On some new Mistriss, only for a try,
And if it meet my thoughts, I'll swear 'tis I. [Exit.
Sir Greg. Is Pompey grown so malepert? so frampel?
The onely cutter about Ladies honors?
Enter Old Knight.
And his blade soonest out?
O. K. Now, What's the news, Sir?
Sir Gre. I dare not say but good; oh excellent good, Sir.
O. K. I hope now you're resolv'd she loves you, Knight?
Sir Gr. Cuds me, What else Sir? that's not to do now.
O. K. You would not think how desperately you anger'd me,
When you bely'd her goodness; oh you vext me,
Even to a Palsey.
Sir Greg. What a thing was that Sir?