Thou art, as you [are all], a sorceress:
I conjure thee to leave me and be gone.
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised,
65 And I’ll be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
[Dro. S.] Some devils ask but the parings of one’s nail,
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherry-stone;
But she, more covetous, would have a chain.
70 Master, be wise: an if you give it her,