Man. Nay, more bragging! Dost thou not know there's venturing your life in stealing? Go, prithee, away: thou art as hard to shake off as that flattering, effeminating mischief, love.
Fid. Love did you name? Why, you are not so miserable as to be yet in love, sure?
Man. No, no, prithee away, begone, or—[Aside.] I had almost discovered my love and shame; well, if I had, that thing could not think the worse of me—or if he did—no—yes, he shall know it—he shall—but then I must never leave him, for they are such secrets, that make parasites and pimps lords of their masters: for any slavery or tyranny is easier than love's.—[Aloud.] Come hither, since thou art so forward to serve me: hast thou but resolution enough to endure the torture of a secret? for such to some is insupportable.
Fid. I would keep it as safe as if your dear, precious life depended on't.
Man. Damn your dearness! It concerns more than my life,—my honour.
Fid. Doubt it not, sir.
Man. And do not discover it, by too much fear of discovering it; but have a great care you let not Freeman find it out.
Fid. I warrant you, sir, I am already all joy with the hopes of your commands; and shall be all wings in the execution of 'em: speak quickly, sir.
Man. You said you'd beg for me.
Fid. I did, sir.