Cun. Mine sends me tokens,
All the World knows not on.
Sir Greg. Mine gives me tokens too, very fine tokens,
But I dare not wear 'em.
Cun. Mine's kind in secret.
Sir Greg. And there mine's a hell-cat.
Cun. We have a day set too.
Sir Greg. 'Slid, so have we man,
But there's no sign of ever coming together.
Cun. I'll tell thee who 'tis, the old womans Neece.
Sir Greg. Is't she?
Cun. I would your luck had been no worse for mildness;
But mum, no more words on't to your Lady.
Sir Greg. Foh!