Abig. Pray leave these frumps Sir, and receive this letter.
Elder Lo. From whom good vanity?
Abig. 'Tis from my Lady Sir: Alas good soul, she cries and takes on!
Elder Lo. Do's she so good Soul? wou'd she not have a Cawdle? do's she send you with your fine Oratory goody Tully to tye me to believe again? bring out the Cat-hounds, I'le make you take a tree Whore, then with my tiller bring down your Gibship, and then have you cast, and hung up i'th' Warren.
Abig. I am no beast Sir, would you knew it.
Elder Lo. Wou'd I did, for I am yet very doubtful; what will you say now?
Abig. Nothing not I.
Elder Lo. Art thou a woman, and say nothing?
Abig. Unless you'l hear me with more moderation, I can speak wise enough.
Elder Lo. And loud enough? will your Lady love me?