Lady. You were never any Sir.
Elder Lo. Till now, and now I am the prettiest fellow.
Lady. You talk like a Tailor Sir.
Elder Lo. Me thinks your faces are no such fine things now.
Lady. Why did you tell me you were wise? Lord what a lying age is this, where will you mend these faces?
Elder Lo. A Hogs face soust is worth a hundred of 'em.
Lady. Sure you had a Sow to your Mother.
Elder Lo. She brought such fine white Pigs as you, fit for none but Parsons Ladie.
Lady. 'Tis well you will allow us our Clergie yet.
Elder Lo. That shall not save you. O that I were in love again with a wish.