Crac. It is some rivalls ring and I will have it To weare in spight of him.
Bel. Helpe, Sister, helpe.
Enter Bonvill and Grimes.
Bon. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soe importunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aught from this gentlewoman.
Crac. Whats that to you? you might have come before me.
Bel. What would you have don?
Crac. Entreated you againe to have come behind me.
Bel. O, my Bonvill, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could have administred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour,—the Ring thou gavest me.
Crac. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:— would I were off with a faire broken pate.
Suc. Is your life hatefull to you?