Wag. Why, what 'mends will you make me? can you give me some sum of money to marry me to some tradesman, as the play says?
Pen. No, by my troth. But tell me this, has not Sir Abraham been familiar with you?
Wag. Faith, not enough to make up a child.
Pen. Couldst be content to marry him?
Wag. Ay, by my troth, and thank ye, too.
Pen. Has he but kissed thee?
Wag. Yes; and something more beside that.
Pen. Nay, and there ha' been any jot of the thing, beside that, I'll warrant thee, lay the child to him—
Stand stifly to it, leave the rest to me;
By that fool thou shalt save thy honesty.
[Exeunt.