Part 15 (2/2)

_Lady_. By this light you are a scurvie fellow, pray be gone.

_Elder Lo_. You know I am a clean skin'd man.

_Lady_. Do I know it?

_Elder Lo_. Come, come, you would know it; that's as good: but not a snap, never long for't, not a snap dear Ladie.

_Lady_. Hark ye Sir, hark ye, get ye to the Suburbs, there's horse flesh for such hounds: will you goe Sir?

_Elder Lo_. Lord how I lov'd this woman, how I wors.h.i.+pt this prettie calf with the white face here: as I live, you were the prettiest fool to play withall, the wittiest little varlet, it would talk: Lord how it talk't!

and when I angred it, it would cry out, and scratch, and eat no meat, and it would say, goe hang.

_Lady_. It will say so still, if you anger it.

_Elder Lo_. And when I askt it, if it would be married, it sent me of an errand into _France_, and would abuse me, and be glad it did so.

_Lady_. Sir this is most unmanly, pray by gon.

_Elder Lo_. And swear (even when it twitter'd to be at me) I was unhansome.

_Lady_. Have you no manners in you?

_Elder Lo_. And say my back was melted, when G.o.d he knows, I kept it at a charge: Four _Flaunders_ Mares would have been easier to me, and a Fencer.

_Lady_. You think all this is true now?

_Elder Lo_. Faith whether it be or no, 'tis too good for you. But so much for our mirth: Now have at you in earnest.

_L[a]_. There is enough Sir, I desire no more.

_El. Lo_. Yes faith, wee'l have a cast at your best parts now. And then the Devil take the worst.

_Lady_. Pray Sir no more, I am not so much affected with your commendations, 'tis almost dinner, I know they stay for you at the Ordinary.

_Elder Lo_. E'ne a short Grace, and then I am gone; You are a woman, and the proudest that ever lov'd a Coach: the scornfullest, scurviest, and most senceless woman; the greediest to be prais'd, and never mov'd though it be gross and open; the most envious, that at the poor fame of anothers face, would eat your own, and more than is your own, the paint belonging to it: of such a self opinion, that you think none can deserve your glove: and for your malice, you are so excellent, you might have been your Tempters tutor: nay, never cry.

_Lady_. Your own heart knows you wrong me: I cry for ye?

_Elder Lo_. You shall before I leave you.

_Lady_. Is all this spoke in earnest?

_Elder Lo_. Yes and more as soon as I can get it out.

_Lady_. Well out with't.

_Elder Lo_. You are, let me see.

<script>