Comp. The Law! What then you think I’ll be but its Father-in-Law? I tell thee, all the Wit and Law twixt Cuckolds-Point and Westminster-Hall, shan’t keep my own dear Flesh and Blood from me, I warrant you that. No an’t does, I’ll be hanged at the Main-yard: Why, who, dost think, uses to get my Children but my self?
Nurse. Nay, I can’t tell; you must look to that, for my part I ne’re knew you get any.
Comp. Say’st thou so? Why, look you, do but put on a clean Smock, and try me, if thou darst, I’ll hold thee three to one I get thee with Child before I leave thee: Heh! what say’st thou?
[Offers to lay hold on her.
Nurse. I’ll see you hang’d first—Nay, pray be quiet, and don’t offer to spoil my Milk. Lord, you are as boisterous as my Husband was the first Night we were married: Pray, Goody Compass, take off your Cur, or else he’l bite me.
Peg. No never fear him, Nurse, he’s not so furious I assure ye.
Enter Mr. Venter and his Wife.
Nurse. O! here’s my Master, the Child’s Father, now talk with him.
Mr. Ven. Good morrow Neighbour, good morrow to ye both.
Comp. Both! Good morrow to you and your Wife too, if you go to that.
Mr. Ven. I wou’d speak calmly with you, Friend, if you think fit.