Leu. Shall I not?
Isme. No, by the gods shall you not: nay, if you have no more wit but to goe absolutely alone, I'll be in a little.
Leu. Nay, prethee good Ismenus part with me.
Isme. I wonnot i'faith, never move it any more; for by this good light I wonnot.
Leu. This is an ill time to be thus unruly: Ismenus. You must leave me.
Isme. Yes, if you can beat me away: else the gods refuse me if I will leave you till I see more reason; you sha'nt undoe your self.
Leu. But why wilt not leave me?
Isme. Why I'll tell you: Because when you are gone, then—life, if I have not forgot my reason—hell take me: you put me out of patience so: Oh! marry when you are gone, then will your Mother (a pox confound her) she never comes in my head, but she spoils my memory too: there are a hundred reasons.
Leu. But shew me one.
Isme. Shew you; what a stir here is; why I will shew you: Do you think; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come. 'Tis in vain: but I am sure. Devils take 'em; what do I meddle with 'em? You know your self. Soul, I think I am: is there any man i'th' world? as if you knew not this already better than I. Pish, pish, I'll give no reason.