ABRA. _But if thou still wilt poor Sir Abraham frump, Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump_. [_Write._ So; now I'll read it together. _I die, I sigh, thou precious stony jewel, O, wherefore wear'st thou silk, yet art so cruel? To thee thy Ninny sends this foolish dit- Ty, and pity both him and it._[39] _If thou deny, and still Sir Abraham frump, Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump._ Let me see, who shall I get now to set it to a dumpish note. PEN. In good faith, I do not know; but nobody that is wise, I am sure of that. It will be an excellent matter sung to the knacking of the tongs. But to my business. God save thee, worthy and right worshipful Sir Abraham! what, musing and writing? O, this love will undo us all, and that made me prevent love, and undo myself. But what news of Mistress Lucida? ha! will she not come off, nor cannot you come on, little Abraham? ABRA. Faith, I have courted her, and courted her; and she does, as everybody else does, laughs at all I can do or say. PEN. Laughs; why that's a sign she is pleased. Do you not know, when a woman laughs, she's pleased? ABRA. Ay, but she laughs most shamefully and most scornfully. PEN. Scornfully! hang her, she's but a bauble. ABRA. She's the fitter for my turn, sir; for they will not stick to say, I am a fool, for all I am a knight.[40] PEN. Love has made you witty, little Nab; but what a mad villain art thou, a striker, a fiftieth part of Hercules, to get one wench with child, and go a-wooing to another. ABRA. With child! a good jest, i' faith: whom have I got with child? PEN. Why, Mistress Wagtail is with child, and will be deposed 'tis yours. She is my kinswoman, and I would be loth our house should suffer any disgrace in her; if there be law in England, which there should be, if we may judge by their consciences, or if I have any friends, the wench shall take no wrong. I cannot tell: I think my lord will stick to me. ABRA. D'ye hear? talk not to me of friends, law, or conscience: if your kinswoman say she is with child by me, your kinswoman is an errant whore. Od's will, have you nobody to put your gulls upon but knights? That Wagtail is a whore, and I'll stand to it. PEN. Nay, you have stood to it already. But to call my cousin whore! you have not a mind to have your throat cut, ha' you? ABRA. Troth, no great mind, sir. PEN. Recant your words, or die. [_Draws his sword._ ABRA. Recant? O, base! out, sword, mine honour keep: Love, thou hast made a lion of a sheep. PEN. But will you fight in this quarrel? ABRA. I am resolved. PEN. Heart! I have pulled an old house over my head: here's like to be a tall fray. I perceive a fool's valianter than a knave at all times. Would I were well rid of him: I had as lief meet Hector, God knows, if he dare fight at all: they are all one to me; or, to speak more modernly, with one of the roaring boys. [_Aside._