I wonder what's become of poor Latine. I wish he had a bumper of this——[Drinks.
Love. I have no patience to observe his insolent jollity; how immoderately joyful my misery has made him!—Bookwit!
Y. Book. Lovemore!
Love. What, sir! are you diverting the thought of to-morrow morning's business with midnight riot? Or is it an assignation keeps you out of bed thus late?
Y. Book. An hour or two till morning is not much in either of our lives; therefore I must tell you now, sir, I am ready for your message.
Love. That conscious light and stars are witnesses of——
Y. Book. I want no witnesses. I have a sword, as you bid me meet you. [They draw and fight.
Love. You've done my business. [Falls.
Y. Book. Then I've done what you desired me. But this is no place for me. [Exit.