Sir John and Mood. How now, what's the matter?
Warn. I am abused, I am beaten, I am lamed for ever.
Mood. Who has used thee so?
Warn. The rogue, my master.
Sir John. What was the offence?
Warn. A trifle, just nothing.
Sir John. That's very strange.
Warn. It was for telling him he lost too much at play: I meant him nothing but well, heaven knows; and he, in a cursed damned humour, would needs revenge his losses upon me: and kicked me, took away my money, and turned me off; but, if I take it at his hands,—
Mood. By cox-nowns, it was an ill-natured part; nay, I thought no better would come on't, when I heard him at his vow to gads, and in fines.
Warn. But, if I live, I'll cry quittance with him: he had engaged me to get Mrs Millisent, your daughter, for him; but if I do not all I can to make her hate him! a great booby, an overgrown oaf, a conceited Bartlemew—