Aml. Ah the blasphemous rogue, how he swears!
Dick. You destroy all my hopes.
Aml. Will your mother's kiss destroy you, varlet? Thou art an ungracious bird; kneel down, and ask my blessing, sirrah.
Dick. Death and furies!
Aml. Ah, he's a proper young man, see what a shape he has: ah, poor child.
[Running to embrace him, he still avoiding her.
Dick. Oons, keep off, the woman's mad. If any body comes, my fortune's lost.
Aml. What fortune, ah? speak, graceless. Ah Dick, thou'lt be hang'd, Dick.
Dick. Good, dear mother, now don't call me Dick here.
Aml. Not call thee Dick! Is not that thy name? What shall I call thee? Mr. Amlet? ha! Art not thou a presumptuous rascal? Hark you, sirrah, I hear of your tricks; you disown me for your mother, and say I'm but your nurse. Is not this true?