Sir Dav. Trade! humph, what trade? what trade, friend?
Beau. Why the trade of whore and no whore, caterwauling in jest, putting out Christian colours, when she's a Turk under deck. A curse upon all honest women in the flesh, that are whores in the spirit!
Sir Dav. Poor devil, how he rails! ha, ha, ha! Look you, sweet soul, as I told you before, there are laws, there are laws, but those are things not worthy your consideration: beauty's your business. But, dear vagabond, trouble thyself no further about my spouse; let my doxy rest in peace, she's meat for thy master, old boy; I have my belly-full of her every night.
Beau. Sir, I wish all your noble family hanged from the bottom of my heart.
Sir Dav. Moreover, Captain Swash, I must tell you my wife is a honest woman, of a virtuous disposition, one that I have loved from her infancy, and she deserves it by her faithful dealing in this affair, for that she has discovered loyally to me the treacherous designs laid against her chastity, and my honour.
Beau. By this light, the beast weeps! [Aside.
Sir Dav. Truly I cannot but weep for joy, to think how happy I am in a sincere, faithful, and loving yoke-fellow. She charged me too to tell you into the bargain, that she is sufficiently satisfied of the most secret wishes of your heart.
Beau. I'm glad on't.
Sir Dav. And that 'tis her desire that you would trouble yourself no more about the matter.
Beau. With all my heart.