Orl. Not whilst I am here, sweet madam.
Inf. Be gone then, and what lies in me command. [Exit Orlando.
Enter Bryan.
Inf. How much cost those satins,
And cloth of silver, which my husband sent by you
To a low gentlewoman yonder?
Bry. Faat satins? faat silvers, faat low gentlefolks? dow pratest dow knowest not what, i’faat, la.
Inf. She there, to whom you carried letters.
Bry. By dis hand and bod dow saist true, if I did so, oh how? I know not a letter a’ de book i’faat, la.
Inf. Did your lord never send you with a ring, sir,
Set with a diamond?
Bry. Never, sa crees[261] fa’ me, never! he may run at a towsand rings i’faat, and I never hold his stirrup, till he leap into de saddle. By Saint Patrick, madam, I never touch my lord’s diamond, nor ever had to do, i’faat, la, with any of his precious stones.
Enter Hippolito.