Sim. I will not save you a cup at that rate, sir.
Ear. I can make thee a hundred a year jointure, wench. At the first, indeed, I began with petty businesses, wench; and here I picked, and there I picked; but now I run through none but things of value.
Moll. Sir, many thoughts trouble me; and your words carry such weight, that I will choose a time, when I have nothing else to do, to think on 'em.
Ear. By my troth, she talks the wittiliest, an' I would understand her.
Blood. O nimble, nimble widow! I am sorry we have no better friends; [To John] but pray, commend me, though in a blunt, dry commendation; at the time and place appointed I wonnot fail. I know she has a nest of suitors, and would carry it close, because she fears surprisal. [Exit John.
Ear. What news, father?
Blood. Shalt lie there all night, son.
Ear. Was that the first news I heard on't?
Blood. I must meet a friend i' th' dark soon: let me see, we lovers are all a little mad; do you and Moll take a turn or two i' th' garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the garret and devise till the guests come. [Exit.
Sim. He's a little mad. I had best hang him upon the cross-beam in the garret. [Exit.