_Sir Gr._ Ah sirrah, Mistriss were you caught, i'faith? We overheard you all; I must not know I have your heart, take heed o' that, I pray, I knew some Scarf would come. _Nee._ He's quite gone, sure: Ah you base Coxcomb, couldst thou come again? And so abus'd as thou wast? _Sir Gr._ How? _Nee._ 'Twould ha' kill'd A sensible man, he would ha' gone to his chamber, And broke his heart by this time. _Sir Gr._ Thank you heartily. _Nee._ Or fixt a naked Rapier in a Wall, Like him that earn'd his Knighthood, e'r he had it, And then refus'd upon't, ran up to th' hilts. _Sir Gr._ Yes, let him run for me, I was never brought up to't, I never profest running i' my life. _Nee._ What art thou made on? thou tough villanous vermin. Will nothing destroy thee? _Sir Gr._ Yes, yes, assure your self Unkind words may do much. _Nee._ Why, dost thou want 'em? I've e'en consum'd my spleen to help thee to 'em: Tell me what sort of words they be would speed thee? I'll see what I can do yet. _Sir Gr._ I'm much beholding to you, You're willing to bestow huge pains upon me. _Nee._ I should account nothing too much to rid thee. _Sir Gr._ I wonder you'd not offer to destroy me, All the while your Uncle was here. _Neece._ Why there thou betray'st thy house; we of the _Old-Crafts_ Were born to more wit than so. _Sir Greg._ I wear your favor here. _Neece._ Would it might rot thy arme off: if thou knewst With what contempt thou hast it, what hearts bitterness, How many cunning curses came along with it, Thoud'st quake to handle it. _Sir Greg._ A pox, tak't again then; Who'd be thus plagu'd of all hands? _Neece._ No, wear't still, But long I hope thou shalt not, 'tis but cast Upon thee, purposely to serve another That has more right to't, as in some Countries they convey Their treasure upon Asses to their friends; If mine be but so wise, and apprehensive, As my opinion gives him to my heart, It stayes not long on thy desertless arme; I'll make thee e'er I ha' done, not dare to wear Any thing of mine, although I give't thee freely; Kiss it you may, and make what shew you can, But sure you carry't to a worthier Man, And so good morrow to you. [_Exit._