Pen. Ty unto thee: well, if she do not pity both, 'tis pity she should live.
Abra. But if thou still wilt poor Sir Abraham frump,
Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump.
[Write.
So; now I'll read it together.
I die, I sigh, thou precious stony jewel,
O, wherefore wear'st thou silk, yet art so cruel?
To thee thy Ninny sends this foolish dit-
Ty, and pity both him and it.[39]
If thou deny, and still Sir Abraham frump,
Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump.
Let me see, who shall I get now to set it to a dumpish note.
Pen. In good faith, I do not know; but nobody that is wise, I am sure of that. It will be an excellent matter sung to the knacking of the tongs. But to my business. God save thee, worthy and right worshipful Sir Abraham! what, musing and writing? O, this love will undo us all, and that made me prevent love, and undo myself. But what news of Mistress Lucida? ha! will she not come off, nor cannot you come on, little Abraham?
Abra. Faith, I have courted her, and courted her; and she does, as everybody else does, laughs at all I can do or say.
Pen. Laughs; why that's a sign she is pleased. Do you not know, when a woman laughs, she's pleased?