Luce. Do you think you are here Sir amongst your wast-coateers, your base wenches that scratch at such occasions? you are deluded: This is a Gentlewoman of a noble house, born to a better fame than you can build her, and eyes above your pitch.
Fran. I do acknowledge—
Isab. Then I beseech you Sir, what could 'see, (speak boldly, and speak truly, shame the Devil,) in my behaviour of such easiness that you durst venture to do this?
Fran. You amaze me, this Ring is none of mine, nor did I drop it.
Luce. I saw you drop it, Sir.
Isab. I took it up too, still looking when your modesty should miss it, why, what a childish part was this?
Fran. I vow.
Isab. Vow me no vowes, he that dares do this, has bred himself to boldness, to forswear too; there take your gew-gaw, you are too much pampered, and I repent my part, as you grow older grow wiser if you can, and so farewel Sir. [Exeunt Isabella, and Luce.
Lan. Grow wiser if you can? she has put it to you, 'tis a rich Ring, did you drop it?
Fran. Never, ne're saw it afore, Lance.