Beau. Some advice, some advice, dear friend, ere I'm ruined.
Sir Jol. Even two pennyworth of hemp for your honour's supper, that's all the remedy that I know.
Beau. But pr'ythee hear a little reason.
Sir Jol. No, sir, I ha' done; no more to be said, I ha' done; I am ashamed of you, I'll have no more to say to you; I'll never see your face again, good-b'w'ye. [Exit.
Beau. Death and the devil! what have my stars been doing to-day? A ring! delivered by Sir Davy—what can that mean? Pox on her for a jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh at me a day or two longer. Hist, here comes her beast once more; I'll use him civilly, and try what discovery I can make.
Re-enter Sir Davy Dunce.
Sir Dav. Ha, ha, ha! here's the captain's jewel; very well: in troth, I had like to have forgotten it. Ha, ha, ha!—how damnable mad he'll be now, when I shall deliver him his ring again, ha, ha!—Poor dog, he'll hang himself at least, ha, ha, ha!—Faith, 'tis a very pretty stone, and finely set: humph! if I should keep it now?—I'll say I have lost it—no, I'll give it him again o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha!
Beau. Sir Davy, I am heartily sorry—
Sir Dav. O sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha!—What shall I say to him now to terrify him? [Aside.