SCENE I.
The Market Place.
Enter Plume and Worthy.
Wor. I cannot forbear admiring the equality of our fortunes: we love two ladies, they meet us half way, and just as we were upon the point of leaping into their arms, fortune drops in their laps, pride possesses their hearts, a maggot fills their heads, madness takes them by the tails; they snort, kick up their heels, and away they run.
Plume. And leave us here to mourn upon the shore—a couple of poor melancholy monsters. What shall we do?
Wor. I have a trick for mine; the letter, you know, and the fortune-teller.
Plume. And I have a trick for mine.
Wor. What is't?
Plume. I'll never think of her again.
Wor. No!