Abra. Ay, but she laughs most shamefully and most scornfully.
Pen. Scornfully! hang her, she's but a bauble.
Abra. She's the fitter for my turn, sir; for they will not stick to say, I am a fool, for all I am a knight.[40]
Pen. Love has made you witty, little Nab; but what a mad villain art thou, a striker, a fiftieth part of Hercules, to get one wench with child, and go a-wooing to another.
Abra. With child! a good jest, i' faith: whom have I got with child?
Pen. Why, Mistress Wagtail is with child, and will be deposed 'tis yours. She is my kinswoman, and I would be loth our house should suffer any disgrace in her; if there be law in England, which there should be, if we may judge by their consciences, or if I have any friends, the wench shall take no wrong. I cannot tell: I think my lord will stick to me.
Abra. D'ye hear? talk not to me of friends, law, or conscience: if your kinswoman say she is with child by me, your kinswoman is an errant whore. Od's will, have you nobody to put your gulls upon but knights? That Wagtail is a whore, and I'll stand to it.
Pen. Nay, you have stood to it already. But to call my cousin whore! you have not a mind to have your throat cut, ha' you?
Abra. Troth, no great mind, sir.
Pen. Recant your words, or die.
[Draws his sword.