Ware. O bless'd Heaven,
Look down upon me!
Plot. Nay, sir, which is more,
She has three children living; has had four.
Ware. How! children! Children, say you?
Plot. Ask him, sir.
One by a Frenchman.
Rose. Another by a Dutch.
Plot. A third by a Moor, sir; born of two colours,
Just like a serjeant's man.
Ware. Why, she has known, then,
All tongues and nations?
Rose. She has been lain with farther
Than ever Coriat travell'd, and lain in
By two parts of the map, Afric and Europe,
As if the state maintain'd her to allay
The heat of foreigners.
Ware. O, O, O, O!