Alith. Very well.
Spark. No, no, dear friend, I knew it.—Madam, you see he will rather wrong himself than me, in giving himself such names.
Alith. Do not you understand him yet?
Spark. Yes: how modestly he speaks of himself, poor fellow!
Alith. Methinks he speaks impudently of yourself, since—before yourself too; insomuch that I can no longer suffer his scurrilous abusiveness to you, no more than his love to me. [Offers to go.
Spark. Nay, nay, madam, pray stay—his love to you! Lord, madam, has he not spoke yet plain enough?
Alith. Yes, indeed, I should think so.
Spark. Well then, by the world, a man can't speak civilly to a woman now, but presently she says, he makes love to her. Nay, madam, you shall stay, with your pardon, since you have not yet understood him, till he has made an eclaircissement of his love to you, that is, what kind of love it is. Answer to thy catechism, friend; do you love my mistress here?
Har. Yes, I wish she would not doubt it.