“Four pistoles, Le-po-rel-lo.”
“Good! rare! but I tell thee, that if thou thinkest a man of my mettle is to be bought with dirty gold, as thou wouldst buy of the weaker sex, thou thinkest mainly wrong, my master.”
“Nay, drop thy hand, there be no more pistoles.”
“Avaunt! the gold; but if I stay by thee, thou wilt promise to abandon women?”
“Nay, dost thou not harm them?”
“I, who love them all! Is not he cruel to all who loveth but one? I do abhor cruelty, therefore do I love all women. And yet are there women who stand by thy metaphysics, and call this love of mine perfidy.”
“If thy love is benevolence, which is charity, then art thou saved, and art sure of a cool heaven.”
“But thou didst never see so sweet a woman. And I had thy dress?”
“Marry, is she so sweet that she loveth a patched jerkin?”