La. You can all do so:
We make no question of mens promptness that way.
Pas. And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too,
Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things,
That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.
Sold. I never us'd to let man live so long
That wrong'd me.
Pas. Talk of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish;
Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,
Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon,
We cannot fail you Lady.
Enter 1 Gentleman.
Sold. Now he dies:
Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.
1 Gent. Oh fie, i'th' Court, Sir?
Sold. I most dearly thank you; Sir.
1 Gent. 'Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad man.
Sold. That shall not priviledge him for ever, Sir:
A mad man call you him? I have found too much reason
Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.