_Clow._ Hum, simplicity betide thee-- I would fain hear of the party; I would be loath to go Farther with her; honor is not a thing to be dallied withall, No more is reputation, no nor fame, I take it, I must not Have her wrong'd when I'm abroad; my party is not To be compell'd with any party in an oblique way; 'Tis very dangerous to deal with Women; May prove a Lady too, but shall be nameless, I'll bite my tongue out, e'er it prove a Traitor. _Cun._ Upon my life I know her. _Clow._ Not by me, Know what you can, talk a whole day with me, Y'are ne'er the wiser, she comes not from these lips. _Cun._ The old Knights Neece. _Clow._ 'Slid he has got her, pox of his heart that told him, Can nothing be kept secret? let me entreat you To use her name as little as you can, though. _Cun._ 'Twill be small pleasure, Sir, to use her name. _Clow._ I had intelligence in my solemn walks, 'Twixt _Paddington_ and _Pancridge_, of a Scarfe, Sent for a token, and a Jewel follow'd, But I acknowledge not the receipt of any, How e'er 'tis carried, believe me, Sir, Upon my reputation I receiv'd none. _Cun._ What, neither Scarfe nor Jewel? _Clow._ 'Twould be seen Some where about me, you may well think that, I have an arme for a Scarfe, as others have, An Ear, to hang a Jewel too, and that's more Then some men have, my betters a great deal, I must have restitution, where e'er it lights. _Cun._ And reason good. _Clow._ For all these tokens, Sir, Pass i' my name. _Cun._ It cannot otherwise be. _Clow._ Sent to a worthy friend. _Cun._ I, that's to thee. _Clow._ I'm wrong'd under that title. _Cun._ I dare sware thou art, 'Tis nothing but _Sir Gregories_ circumvention, His envious spite, when thou'rt at _Paddington_, He meets the gifts at _Pancridge_. _Clow._ Ah false Knight? False both to honor, and the Law of Arms? _Cun._ What wilt thou say if I be reveng'd for thee? Thou sit as Witness? _Clow._ I should laugh in state then. _Cun._ I'll fob him, here's my hand. _Clow._ I shall be as glad as any Man alive, to see him well fob'd, Sir; but now you talk of fobbing, I wonder the Lady sends not for me according to promise? I ha' kept out o' Town these two dayes, a purpose to be sent for; I am almost starv'd with walking. _Cun._ Walking gets men a stomach. _Clow._ 'Tis most true, Sir, I may speak it by experience, for I ha' got a stomach six times, and lost it agen, as often as a traveller from _Chelsy_ shall lose the sight of _Pauls_, and get it agen. _Cun._ Go to her, Man.