Mis. Coote. Master Bloodhound, as I take it.
Blood. She changes her voice bravely. I must tell thee, true widow, I have loved thee a long time (look how the rogue looks!), but had never the wit to let thee know it till to-day.
Mis. Coote. So I was given to understand, sir.
Jar. Is't not a fool finely? [Aside.
John. Handsome, by this hand.
Blood. I like thy dwelling well upon the Fleet-ditch.
Mis. Coote. A pretty wholesome air, sir, in the summer-time.
Blood. Who would think 'twere she, Jarvis? [Aside.
Jar. I told ye she was tutored. [Aside.