Gripe. Again entertaining!—we will be to each other a feast.
Mrs. Joyn. I shall be ashamed, in truly, your worship.—Besides, the young gentlewoman will despise you.
Gripe. I shall content her, I warrant you; leave it to me.
Mrs. Joyn. [Aside.] I am sure you will not content me, if you will not content her; 'tis as impossible for a man to love and be a miser, as to love and be wise, as they say.
Gripe. While you talk of treats, you starve my eyes; I long to see the fair one; fetch her hither.
Mrs. Joyn. I am ashamed she should find me so abominable a liar; I have so praised you to her, and, above all your virtues, your liberality; which is so great a virtue, that it often excuses youth, beauty, courage, wit, or anything.
Gripe. Pish, pish! 'tis the virtue of fools; every fool can have it.
Mrs. Joyn. And will your worship want it, then? I told her—
Gripe. Why would you tell her anything of me? you know I am a modest man. But come, if you will have me as extravagant as the wicked, take that and fetch us a treat, as you call it.
Mrs. Joyn. Upon my life a groat! what will this purchase?