Good lieutenant,
How dost thou? Thou art mindful of thy promise.
Slicer. What else, my jolly wench?
Pot. Good sweet lieutenant,
Give me but leave to ask one question of you:
Art thou entire and sound in all thy limbs?
Slicer. To tell the very truth, ere now I've had
A spice o' the pox or so; but now I am sound
As any bell—hem! was't not shrill, my girl? ha!
Pot. I do not ask thee about these diseases:
My question is, whether thou'st all thy parts?
Slicer. Faith, I have lost a joint or two; as none
Of our profession, come off whole, unless
The general and some sneaks.
Pot. My meaning is,
Whether that something is not wanting that
Should write thee husband?
Slicer. Ne'er fear that, my wench:
Dost think the king would send me to the wars
Without I had my weapons? Eunuchs are not
Men of employment in these days. His majesty
Hath newly put me on a piece of service;
And if I e'er come off (which I do fear
I sha'n't, the danger is so great) brave widow,
We'll to't, and get commanders.
Pot. If you can
Leave me, I can leave you. There are other men
That won't refuse a fortune when 'tis proffer'd.
Slicer. Well, I must to his majesty: think on't:
So fare thee well. Thine, to his very death,
That is, a month or two, perhaps, D. Slicer. [Exit.