Beau. With all my heart.
Sir Jol. And do you think then that I'll be used thus?
Beau. Sir!
Sir Jol. Take away my reputation, and take away my life: I shall be disgraced for ever.
Beau. I have not wronged you, Sir Jolly.
Sir Jol. Not wronged me! but you shall find you have wronged me, and wronged a sweet lady, and a fine lady—I shall never be trusted again! never have employment more! I shall die of the spleen.—Pr'ythee now be good-natured, pr'ythee be persuaded; odd, I'll give thee this ring, I'll give thee this watch, 'tis gold; I'll give thee anything in the world; go.
Beau. Not one foot, sir.
Sir Jol. Now that I durst but murder him!—Well, shall I fetch her to thee? what shall I do for thee?
Enter Lady Dunce.