Frank. What? what by chance?
Sus. Your pre-appointed meeting
Of single combat with young Warbeck.
Frank. Ha!
Sus. Even so: dissemble not; ’tis too apparent:
Then in his look I read it:—deny it not,
I see’t apparent; cost it my undoing,
And unto that my life, I will not leave you.
Frank. Not until when?
Sus. Till he and you be friends.
Was this your cunning?—and then flam me off
With an old witch, two wives, and Winnifred!
You’re not so kind, indeed, as I imagined.
Frank. [Aside.] And you are more fond by far than I expected.—
It is a virtue that attends thy kind—
But of our business within: and by this kiss,
I’ll anger thee no more; ’troth, chuck, I will not.
Sus. You shall have no just cause.
Frank. Dear Sue, I shall not. [Exeunt.