Bud. What, and lead apes in hell? What pity would it be to see you chained to a monkey!
Curds. Or tied to you! [Aside.
Bud. O, do not frown! Each wrinkle is a grave to me, and angry look a death's-head. Do not despise me 'cause I am black and you so white; the moon wears beauty-spots, and the fairest ladies black patches. White petticoats are wrought with black silk, and we put black plums into white puddings.
Curd. But black-and-white ribbons are worn only at burials, never at weddings: and I would be loth my wedding-sheet should be my shroud, and my bed a grave. Therefore, pray, be gone, and come when I send for you.
Bud. Sweet sugar-candy mistress, grant me one thing before you go.
Curd. What is't?
Bud. Give me leave to vouchsafe one kiss on those sweet silken parchment-lips.
Curd. Take your farewell, you shall never kiss 'um again. [Kisses her, and blacks her mouth.
Bud. Thanks, pudding-pie Nancy. [Exit.