Elder Lo. Milde yet as the Dove, for all these injuries. Come shall we goe, I love thee not so ill to keep thee here a jesting stock. Adue to the worlds end.
Lady. Why whither now?
Elder Lo. Nay you shall never know, because you shall not find me.
Lady. I pray let me speak with you.
Elder Lo. 'Tis very well: come.
Lady. I pray you let me speak with you.
Elder Lo. Yes for another mock.
Lady. By Heaven I have no mocks: good Sir a word.
Elder Lo. Though you deserve not so much at my hands, yet if you be in such earnest, I'le speak a word with you; but I beseech you be brief: for in good faith there's a Parson and a licence stay for us i'th' Church all this while: and you know 'tis night.
Lady. Sir, give me hearing patiently, and whatsoever I have heretofore spoke jestingly, forget: for as I hope for mercy any where, what I shall utter now is from my heart, and as I mean.