[She turns away.
Capt. Out with it; what is't? Shall he call you mistress, and his Platonic?
Love. Away, away! Me?
Capt. No niceness; is't a match?
Love. Lord, would I were as worthy as willing (pray tell him so): he shall find me one of the humblest mistresses that ever he was pleased to honour with his affections.
Capt. Dare you write this to him, and honour me with bearing it? I confess I am such a friend to friendship-love too, that I would even bring him on my back to a midnight's meeting.
Love. If you will stay here, I'll go in and write it.
[She's going out, he calls her.
Capt. Madam, I forgot to ask your ladyship one question.
Love. What was't?