Wood. Let it be upon the bed then. Please you to sit?
Trick. No matter where; I am never the nearer to your wicked purpose. But you men are commonly great comedians in love-matters; therefore you must swear, in the first place—
Wood. Nay, no conditions: The fortress is reduced to extremity; and you must yield upon discretion, or I storm.
Trick. Never to love any other woman.
Wood. I kiss the book upon it. [Kisses her. Mrs Brain. pinches him from underneath the Bed.] Oh, are you at your love-tricks already? If you pinch me thus, I shall bite your lip.
Trick. I did not pinch you: But you are apt, I see, to take any occasion of gathering up more close to me.—Next, you shall not so much as look on Mrs Brainsick.
Wood. Have you done? these covenants are so tedious!
Trick. Nay, but swear then.
Wood. I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing. [Mrs Brain. runs a pin into him.] Oh, the devil! what do you mean to run pins into me? this is perfect caterwauling.
Trick. You fancy all this; I would not hurt you for the world. Come, you shall see how well I love you. [Kisses him: Mrs Brain. pricks her.] Oh! I think you have needles growing in your bed.
[Both rise up.