Wel. You have made me one, Farewell: and may the curse of a great house fall upon thee, I mean the Butler. The devil and all his works are in these women, would all of my sex were of my mind, I would make 'em a new Lent, and a long one, that flesh might be in more reverence with them.
Enter Abigal to him.
Abig. I am sorry M. Welford.
Wel. So am I, that you are here.
Abig. How does my Ladie use you?
Wel. As I would use you, scurvilie.
Abig. I should have been more kind Sir.
Wel. I should have been undone then. Pray leave me, and look to your sweet-meats; hark, your Ladie calls.
Abig. Sir, I shall borrow so much time without offence.
Wel. Y'are nothing but offence, for Gods love leave me.