Har. What's the matter with him? why so much concerned? But, dearest madam—
Alith. Pray let me go, sir; I have said and suffered enough already.
Har. Then you will not look upon, nor pity, my sufferings?
Alith. To look upon 'em, when I cannot help 'em, were cruelty, not pity; therefore, I will never see you more.
Har. Let me then, madam, have my privilege of a banished lover, complaining or railing, and giving you but a farewell reason why, if you cannot condescend to marry me, you should not take that wretch, my rival.
Alith. He only, not you, since my honour is engaged so far to him, can give me a reason why I should not marry him; but if he be true, and what I think him to me, I must be so to him. Your servant, sir.
Har. Have women only constancy when 'tis a vice, and are, like Fortune, only true to fools?
Dor. Thou sha't not stir, thou robust creature; you see I can deal with you, therefore you should stay the rather, and be kind. [To Lucy, who struggles to get from him.
Re-enter Pinchwife.