Dor. Sir, I do not rightly understand thy talk, but it seemeth to me that thou makest jest of solemn things.
Reu. Nay, this time I am in earnest. If thou wilt be my wife I will so coll thee, coax thee, cosset thee, court thee, cajole thee, with deftly turned compliment, pleasant whimsy, delicate jest and tuneful madrigal—I will so pleasantly perplex thee with quaint paradox, entertaining aphorism, false conclusion and contradiction in terms—I will so edify thee with joyous anecdote, tales of court and camp, tales of love, hate, and intrigue, tales of murder, rapine, and theft, merry tales, sad tales, long tales, short tales, quip, crank, retort, repartee, and rejoinder, that thy wedded life shall seem one never-ending honeymoon, and thou shalt find but one fault with me—that I clog thee with sweets! (Takes her round waist.)
Dor. Nay, sir, I pray you, remove your hand! Sir, you are unmannerly! I pray you, desist!
Enter Sir Jasper; Dorothy runs to him.
Oh, sir, defend me from this wicked man.
Jas. Why, Reuben Haines, thou art at thine old tricks again!
Reu. At our old tricks, your honour!
Jas. Harkee, sirrah. Let bygones go by. Times are changed with me, as thou knowest well, and if thou valuest thy stewardship, adapt thy morals to those of thy master. If thou sayest or doest aught to anger this gentle maiden, I’ll lay my whip across thy shoulders, as I have done ofttimes ere this.
Reu. (aside). We are virtuous now, but time was when we would have angered her in company.
Dor. Nay, sir, I pray you, bear with him.