Free. Pardon me, whatsoever is yours I have a share in't I'm sure, which I will not lose for asking, though you may be too generous or too angry now to do't yourself.
Fid. Nay, then I'll make bold to make my claim too. [Both going towards Olivia.
Man. Hold, you impertinent, officious fops—[Aside.] How have I been deceived!
Free. Madam, there are certain appurtenances to a lover's heart, called jewels, which always go along with it.
Fid. And which, with lovers, have no value in themselves, but from the heart they come with. Our captain's, madam, it seems you scorn to keep, and much more will those worthless things without it, I am confident.
Oliv. A gentleman so well made as you are, may be confident—us easy women could not deny you anything you ask, if 'twere for yourself, but, since 'tis for another, I beg your leave to give him my answer.—[Aside.] An agreeable young fellow this—and would not be my aversion.—[Aloud.] Captain, your young friend here has a very persuading face, I confess; yet you might have asked me yourself for those trifles you left with me, which (hark you a little, for I dare trust you with the secret; you are a man of so much honour, I'm sure) I say then, not expecting your return, or hoping ever to see you again, I have delivered your jewels to—
Man. Whom?
Oliv. My husband.
Man. Your husband!
Oliv. Ay, my husband. For since you could leave me, I am lately and privately married to one, who is a man of so much honour and experience in the world, that I dare not ask him for your jewels again to restore 'em to you; lest he should conclude you never would have parted with 'em to me on any other score but the exchange of my honour: which rather than you'd let me lose, you'd lose I'm sure yourself, those trifles of yours.