WIDDOW.
Say you so, Sir? then you’re the better welcome, sir.
PYE. Nay, Heaven bless me from a Widdow, unless I were sure to bury her speedily!
WIDDOW.
Good bluntness: well, your business, sir?
PYE.
Very needful; if you were in private once.
WIDDOW.
Needful? brother, pray leave us; and you, sir.
FRAILTY. I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should put ’em all by side the stirrup, and vault into the saddle himself. I have seen as mad a trick.
[Exit Frailty.]
[Enter Daughters.]
WIDDOW.
Now Sir?—here’s none but we—Daughters, forbear.
PYE. O no, pray, let ’em stay, for what I have to speak importeth equally to them as to you.