Wild. But if I should play the fool, and ask your pardon, you would refuse it.
Jac. No, never submit; for I should spoil you again with pardoning you.
Mask. Do you hear this, Beatrix! They are just upon the point of accommodation; we must make haste, or they'll make a peace by themselves, and exclude us from the treaty.
Beat. Declare yourself the aggressor then, and I'll take you into mercy.
Wild. The worst that you can say of me is, that I have loved you thrice over.
Jac. The prime articles between Spain and England are sealed; for the rest, concerning a more strict alliance, if you please, we'll dispute them in the garden.
Wild. But, in the first place, let us agree on the article of navigation, I beseech you.
Beat. These leagues, offensive and defensive, will be too strict for us, Maskall: A treaty of commerce will serve our turn.
Mask. With all my heart; and when our loves are veering, We'll make no words, but fall to privateering.
[Exeunt, the men leading the women.