lord proffers her jointures, t’other knight proclaims challenges to maintain her the only not beautiful, but very beauty of women.
Zuc. But I shall never embrace her more! 499
Herc. Nay, that’s true—that’s most true. I would not afflict you, only think how unrelentless you were to her but supposed fault.
Zuc. O! ’tis true—too true!
Herc. Think how you scorn’d her tears!
Zuc. Most right!
Herc. Tears that were only shed (I would not vex you) in very grief to see you covet your own shame!
Zuc. Too true—too true!
Herc. For, indeed, she is the sweetest modest soul, the fullest of pity! 510
Zuc. O[261] ay! O ay!