I lov'd ye too.
Sep. Honest? come prethee kiss me.
Eros. I kiss no knaves, no Murderers, no Beasts,
No base betrayers of those men that fed 'em,
I hate their looks; and though I may be wanton,
I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase,
Purchase so foully got; I pray ye unhand me
I had rather touch the plague, than one unworthy:
Goe seek some Mistris that a horse may marry,
And keep her company, she is too good for ye. [Exit.