Frank. Nay, that I doubt; young wits love to be trying, and, to say truth, I see not how a woman can deny a man of your youth and person upon those terms: you'll not be known on't now.
Shal. I have kissed her, or so.
Frank. Come, come; I know you are no fool, I should think you a very ass—nay, I tell you plainly, I should be loth to marry my daughter to you—if I thought you had not tried her in so long acquaintance: but you have tried her, and she, poor soul, could not deny you.
Shal. Ha, ha, he!
Frank. Faith, tell me, son, 'tis but a merry question: she's yours.
Shal. Upon my virginity, father——
Frank. Swear not by that, I'll ne'er believe you.
Shal. Why, then, as I am a gentleman, I never did it, that I remember.
Fran. That you remember! O, is't thereabouts?
Luce. He'll take it upon him presently.
[Aside.