Sos. Ay, there's the main point of the business! Art thou morally certain, that I refused thee? Look me now in the face, and say I did not commit matrimony with thee!
Brom. I wonder how thou canst look me in the face, after that refusal!
Sos. Say it once again, that I did not feloniously come to bed to thee!
Brom. No, thou cold traitor, thou know'st thou didst not.
Sos. Best of all!—'twas discreetly done of me to abstain.
Brom. What, do you insult upon me too?
Sos. No, I do not insult upon you——but—
Brom. But what? How was it discreetly done then? ha!
Sos. Because it is the received opinion of physicians, that nothing but puling chits, and booby-fools are procreated in drunkenness.