Ran. Nay, I bar more similitudes.
Dap. What, in my mistress's lodging? that were as hard as to bar a young parson in the pulpit, the fifth of November, railing at the Church of Rome; or as hard as to put you to bed to Lucy and defend you from touching her; or as—
Ran. Or as hard as to make you hold your tongue.—I shall not see your mistress, I see.
Dap. Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!—[Knocks at the door and returns.]—The devil take me, if good men (I say no more) have not been upon their knees to me, to see her, and you at last must obtain it.
Ran. I do not believe you.
Dap. 'Tis such as she; she is beautiful without affectation; amorous without impertinency; airy and brisk without impudence; frolic without rudeness; and, in a word, the justest creature breathing to her assignation.
Ran. You praise her as if you had a mind to part with her; and yet you resolve, I see, to keep her to yourself.
Dap. Keep her! poor creature, she cannot leave me; and rather than leave her, I would leave writing lampoons or sonnets almost.
Ran. Well, I'll leave you with her then.
Dap. What, will you go without seeing her?