Then, you shall beg for me.
FIDELIA.
With all my heart, sir.
MANLY.
That is, pimp for me.
FIDELIA.
How, sir?
MANLY.
D'ye start.... No more dissembling. Here, I say, you must go use your cunning for me to Olivia.... Go, flatter, lie, kneel, promise anything to get her for me. I cannot live unless I have her.
[59]: Her love—a whore's, a witch's love!—But what, did she not kiss well, sir? I'm sure, I thought her lips.... But I must not think of them more.... But yet they are such I could still kiss, grow so,—and then tear off with my teeth, grind them into mammocks, and spit them into her cuckold's face.