Alex. I will off with my doublet to my very shirt.
Wid. Pray, sir, have more care of a woman's reputation.
Alex. Have a care on't thyself, woman, and marry me then.[96]
Wid. Should they come up and see this, what could they think, but that some foul, uncivil act of shame had this night stained my house? and as good marry him as my name lost for ever. [Aside.
Alex. Will you have me, afore t'other sleeve goes off?
Wid. Do, hang yourself; I will not have you—look, look, if he have not pulled it off quite: why, you wonnot pull off your boots too, will you?
Alex. Breeches and all, by this flesh.
Wid. What, and stand naked in a widow's chamber?
Alex. As naked as Grantham steeple or the Strand May-pole, by this spur: and what your grave parishioners will think on't?
Jar. Gentlemen, pray keep down.