Mer. To whom, to whom thou wicked Slanderer? tell me, Sarrah, quickly, quick, quick.
Fri. To Summerfield.
Mer. Ha, ha, ha, the Fool makes me laugh; Ha, ha, ha, why ’twas but just now that I saw e’m on her Neck and Arms.
Fri. She was no Woman, had she not the Sense to get them against her Husband’s coming.
Mer. But pray tell me, how is’t possible that she cou’d part with ’em, when they are lock’t on, and the Key with her Husband?
Fri. O, Sir, that’s no Question to be ask’d in these Times: Women have found a way to make use of other Keys besides their Husbands: And no doubt but Summerfield has got a Key will open your Daughter’s lock as well as Bonvile’s.
Mer. Sirrah you lie, you lie Sirrah; and I’le tell thee thou ly’s, again and again, so I will. Nay, and I were to pay a 100 Pounds for every Lie I give thee, as Men do Twelve-pence for every Oath they swear, I wou’d spend all the Thousands I am worth, in giving thee the Lie. ’Tis likely indeed, that such a brave Gentleman as Summerfield, that fought at Sea like a Dragon to save my Life, should shorten my Days on Land in ruining my Daughter; therefore once more I tell you you Lie.
Fri. ’Tis very well.
Me. Do you hear Sir, have you told this Lie to any body else but me?
Fri. I am no Informer, Sir.