De. Hold, let me speake.
Cou. What canst thou say for thy baseness?
De. Some men loves wit, and can without dishonour
Endure a jeast. Why, do you thinke I know not
You were here, and but obscur'd to see my humour.
I came to waite upon you with your sword, I.
Cou. How came you by'te? confesse before this Lady.
De. Dost thinke her witts so limber to believe
I could compell it from thee. Twas a trick,
A meere conceipt of mirth; thou sha't ha mine.
Dost thinke I stand upon a sword? Ile gi' thee
A case of Pistolls when we come to London;
And shoot me when I love thee not. Pox ont,
Thou apprehende'st me well enough.
Cou. But I am not Satisfied: do you affect this gentlewoman?
De. Hum.
Cou. You will resolve, sir?
De. As may become a stranger; ile not loose Thy friendship for all woman kind.
Cou. He dares not owne you.