Non. Why, are you with child, sirrah?
Amb. So he tells me; but, if I were put to my oath, I know not that ever I deserved for't.
Non. Still worse and worse. And here comes Setstone groaning.
Enter SETSTONE.
Set. O, sir! I have been so troubled with swooning fits; and have so longed for cherries!
Non. He's poopt too.
Isa. Well, this is not the worst yet: I suspect something more than I will speak of.
Non. What dost thou suspect, ha!
Isa. Is not your lordship with child, too?
Non. Who, I with child! marry, heaven forbid! What dost thou see by me, to ground it on?