[Exeunt Sir John and Sir Andrew.]
FRAILTY. Put off all their suits, quatha? Aye, that’s the best wooing of a Widdow, indeed, when a man’s Nonsuited; that is, when he’s a bed with her.
[Going out, Muck-hill and Sir Godfrey.]
MUCK-HILL. Sir Godfrey, here’s twenty Angels more: work hard for me; there’s life int yet.
[Exit Muck-hill.]
SIR GODFREY. Fear not, Sir Oliver Muck-hill, I’ll stick close for you; leave all with me.
[Enter George Pye-board, the scholar.]
PYE.
By your leave, Lady Widdow.
WIDDOW.
What, another suitor now?
PYE.
A suitor! no, I protest, Lady, if you’d give me your self,
I’d not be troubled with you.