Abi. Well, well, hard hearted man; dilate upon the weak infirmities of women: these are fit texts, but once there was a time, would I had never seen those eyes, those eyes, those orient eyes.
Rog. I they were pearls once with you.
Abi. Saving your reverence Sir, so they are still.
Rog. Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cogging, what they are, they are, they serve me without Spectacles I thank 'em.
Abig. O will you kill me?
Rog. I do not think I can, Y'are like a Copy-hold with nine lives in't.
Abig. You were wont to bear a Christian fear about you: For your own worships sake.
Rog. I was a Christian fool then: Do you remember what a dance you led me? how I grew qualm'd in love, and was a dunce? could expound but once a quarter, and then was out too: and then out of the stinking stir you put me in, I prayed for my own issue. You do remember all this?
Abig. O be as then you were!
Rog. I thank you for it, surely I will be wiser Abigal: and as the Ethnick Poet sings, I will not lose my oyl and labour too. Y'are for the worshipfull I take it Abigal.