Double proof?
Miss Fitton:
Yes: you strike a Captain of thirty, and kiss a Queen of sixty. Give you good e’en, my lord!
[Curtsies, and turns to go.]
Herbert:
You shan’t escape like that! [Catches her by the waist.] You must pay for your impertinence. Come, give me your lips, beauty.
Miss Fitton:
[Holding her head away.] That were to turn play into earnest.
Herbert:
So much the better. [Their eyes meet.] I can be earnest, too. [He kisses her; she draws away.]