Gal. I prethee curse me all day long so.
1 Gent. Hang you.
Gal. I'll make him mad: he's loth to curse too much to me;
Indeed I never yet took box o'th' ear,
But it redounded, I must needs say so—
1 Gent. Will you be gone?
Gal. Curse, curse, and then I goe.
Look how he grins, I've anger'd him to th' kidneys. [Ex.
1 Gen. Was ever such a prigging coxcomb seen?
One might have beat him dumb now in this humor,
And he'd ha' grin'd it out still:
Enter a plain fellow.
Oh, here's one made to my hand,
Methinks looks like a Craven;
Less pains will serve his trial: some slight justle.
Plain. How? take you that Sir:
And if that content you not—
1 Gent. Yes very well, Sir, I desire no more.