Const. I conjure you by your love to me, tell me one truth not minced by your invention, how came you by this jewel?
Lov. 'Tis well I have a voucher. Pray ask your own jeweller, Setstone, if I did not buy it of him.
Const. How glad you are now, you can tell a truth so near a lie. But where had you the money, that purchased it? Come—without circumstances and preambles—
Lov. Umph—Perhaps, that may be a secret.
Const. Say, it be one; yet he, that loved indeed, could not keep it from his mistress.
Lov. Why should you be thus importunate?
Const. Because I cannot think you love me, if you will not trust that to my knowledge, which you conceal from all the world beside.
Lov. You urge me deeply—
Const. Come, sweet servant, you shall tell me; I am resolved to take no denial. Why do you sigh?
Lov. If I be blasted, it must out.