Love. Who pays the reckoning! Why, what have we to do with the reckoning?
Draw. Shut the door, Dick. [To Loveall.] We'll have the reckoning before you go.
Faith. Why, goodman sauce-box, you will not make my lady pay for their reckoning, will you?
Draw. My lady! a pox of her title, she'd need of something to make her pass.
Faith. What do you say, sirrah?
Draw. I say, the gentlemen paid well for their sport, and I know no reason why we should lose our reckoning.
Love. What do you take me for, my friend?
Draw. In troth, I take you for nothing; but I would be loth to take you for that use I think they make shift with you for.
Faith. Madam, this is that rascally captain's plot.