Alith. So, so; very foolish.
Spark. Lord, if you won't believe one, you had best try him by your chambermaid there; for chambermaids must needs know chaplains from other men, they are so used to 'em.
Lucy. Let's see: nay, I'll be sworn he has the canonical smirk, and the filthy clammy palm of a chaplain.
Alith. Well, most reverend doctor, pray let us make an end of this fooling.
Har. With all my soul, divine heavenly creature, when you please.
Alith. He speaks like a chaplain indeed.
Spark. Why, was there not soul, divine, heavenly, in what he said?
Alith. Once more, most impertinent black coat, cease your persecution, and let us have a conclusion of this ridiculous love.
Har. I had forgot, I must suit my style to my coat, or I wear it in vain. [Aside.
Alith. I have no more patience left; let us make once an end of this troublesome love, I say.