Vit. There. [She writes.
Flam. Ha! have you done already?
'Tis a most short conveyance.
Vit. I will read it:
I give that portion to thee, and no other,
Which Cain groan'd under, having slain his brother.
Flam. A most courtly patent to beg by.
Vit. You are a villain!
Flam. Is 't come to this? they say affrights cure agues:
Thou hast a devil in thee; I will try
If I can scare him from thee. Nay, sit still:
My lord hath left me yet two cases of jewels,
Shall make me scorn your bounty; you shall see them. [Exit.
Vit. Sure he 's distracted.
Zan. Oh, he 's desperate!
For your own safety give him gentle language.
[He enters with two cases of pistols.
Flam. Look, these are better far at a dead lift,
Than all your jewel house.
Vit. And yet, methinks,
These stones have no fair lustre, they are ill set.