Hod. Shall I indeed, Dicke? I faith, if I thought nobody would see—
Coom. Tush, feare not that; swones, they must have cattes eyes, then. 111
Hod. Then, kisse me, Dick.
Coom. A kinde wenche, i faith! [Aside].—Where are yee, mistresse?
Hodge. Heere, Dick. O, I am in the darke! Dick, go about.
Coom. Nay, Ile grope[1856] sure: where are yee now?[1857] 116
Hodge. Heere.
Coom. A plague on this poast! I would the carpenter had bin hangd that set it up so.[1858]—Where are yee now?
Hod. Heere. 120
Exit.