Fra. Will I? Dear, dear breast, by this most zealous kiss! but I will not persuade you; but if you hate him that I loathe most deadly; yet as you please—I’ll persuade noting.
Mal. Will you be only mine?
Fra. Vill I? How hard ’tis for true love to dissemble.
I am only yours.
Mal. ’Tis as irrevocable as breath: he dies. 190
Your love!
Fra. My vow,—not until he be dead;
Which that I may be sure not to infringe,
Dis token of his death sall satisfy:
He has a ring, as dear as the air to him,
His new love’s gift; tat got and brought to me,
I shall assurèd your professèd rest.
Mal. To kill a man?
Fra. O! done safely; a quarrel sudden pick’d,
With an advantage strike—then bribe—a little coin,
All’s safe, dear soul; but I’ll not set you on. 200
Mal. Nay, he is gone—the ring! Well, come, little more liberal of thy love.
Fra. Not yet; my vow.
Mal. O Heaven! there is no hell but love’s prolongings.
Dear, farewell.