Kate. Aye, Katy Maclure; as neat a little wanton tit—
Larry. My wife a wanton tit!—Hark ye, master Whippersnapper, do you pretend—
Kate. Pretend! no, faith, sir, I scorn to pretend, sir; I am above boasting of ladies' favours, unless I receive 'em. Pretend, quotha!
Larry. Fire and faggots! Favours!—
Kate. You seem to know the girl, mister—a—
Larry. Know her! she's my wife.
Kate. Your wife! Ridiculous! I thought, by your pother, that she had been your friend's wife, or your mistress. Hark ye, mister—a—cuckoo—
Larry. Cuckoo!
Kate. Your ear. Your wife loved me as she did herself.
Larry. She did?