Robin. What for! Why, to be sure, you know well enough. The lady, you know.
Molly. What lady? What is the simpleton talking about?
Robin. Why the lady that is concealed here.
Molly. Robin, you have been at the ale-barrel.
Robin. O, the little gipsey! Didn’t you tell me,—
Molly. No, it isn’t true.
Robin. Well, hang me but——. And I suppose you’ll say you didn’t send me to bring master.
Molly. To be sure I will, for it’s false.
Robin. And that bonnet—
Molly. (Putting it on.) It is mine. Master, there ben’t a true word in all he is telling you. (Pinches his arm.) Can’t you hold your tongue.