CONSTABLE.
God boores, master Harpoole, I will have one buss too.
HARPOOLE.
No licking for you, Constable! hand off, hand off!
CONSTABLE.
Bur lady, I love kissing as well as you.
DOLL. Oh, you are an odd boy; you have a wanton eye of your own! ah, you sweet sugar lipped wanton, you will win as many women’s hearts as come in your company.
[Enter Priest.]
WROTHAM.
Doll, come hither.
HARPOOLE.
Priest, she shall not.
DOLL.
I’ll come anon, sweet love.
WROTHAM.
Hand off, old fornicator.
HARPOOLE. Vicar, I’ll sit here in spite of thee. Is this fit stuff for a priest to carry up and down with him?