Cou. Howe's this?
It is confess'd I have talk'd in my tyme
And talk'd too much, but not too much of you;
For I but seldome thought of such a woman:
For any other—
Sis. Nay, sir, I am satisfied; You can talke your pleasure.
Cou. Have I not done it, too?
Sis. Yes, by your own report, and with a lady So much in vertue and in birth above you; And therefore I expect not—
Cou. Stay; this moves me.
I never tooke a pleasure yet to lie
With Ladies fames, or ever thought that sport
Lay in the tongue. Such humours are for men
That live by brothell offices: let me know
Who hath traduc'd me to you thus, he shall
Be knowne no more.
Sis. Ile not be guiltie, sir,
Of any murder; when we meet agen,
And you in better humour, I may tell you.
So farewell, Gondarino,[271] nothing's lost
When you turne Woman Hater. [Exit.
Cou. She has vext me. If we make Matrimony after this rate, The Divell is like to dance at our wedding. Ho!
Enter Device.
De. Hee's here,
Alone too, and the place most opportune.
How shall I beginne?—Mr. Courtwell, do you love
Any friend of mine?
Cou. Not to my knowledge, Sir; I should be sorry.