Sir John. Then give us t'other Glass.
Const. No, pray excuse us now: We'll come another time, and then we won't spare it.
Sir John. This one Glass, and no more: Come, it shall be your Mistress's Health: And that's a great Compliment from me, I assure you.
Const. And 'tis a very obliging one to me: So give us the Glasses.
Sir John. So: let her live—
[Sir John coughs in the Glass.
Heart. And be kind.
Const. What's the matter? Does it go the wrong way?
Sir John. If I had Love enough to be jealous, I shou'd take this for an ill Omen: For I never drank my Wife's Health in my Life, but I puk'd in the Glass.
Const. O, she's too virtuous to make a reasonable Man jealous.