_Wild._ Not to be behindhand with you in your frumps, I give you back your purse of gold: Take you that--in imagination. _Jac._ To conclude with you, take back your oaths and protestations; they are never the worse for the wearing, I assure you: Therefore take them, spick and span new, for the use of your next mistress. _Mask._ Beatrix, follow your leader; here's the six-penny whittle you gave me, with the mutton haft: I can spare it, for knives are of little use in Spain. _Beat._ There's your scissars with the stinking brass chain to them: 'Tis well there was no love betwixt us; for they had been too dull to cut it. _Mask._ There's the dandriff comb you lent me. _Beat._ There's your ferret-ribbanding for garters. _Mask._ I would never have come so near as to have taken them from you. _Beat._ For your letter, I have it not about me; but upon reputation I'll burn it. _Mask._ And for yours, I have already put it to a fitting employment.--Courage, sir; how goes the battle on your wing? _Wild._ Just drawing off on both sides. Adieu, Spain. _Jac._ Farewell, old England. _Beat._ Come away in triumph; the day's your own, madam. _Mask._ I'll bear you off upon my shoulders, sir; we have broke their hearts. _Wild._ Let her go first then; I'll stay, and keep the honour of the field. _Jac._ I'll not retreat, if you stay till midnight. _Wild._ Are you sure then we have done loving? _Jac._ Yes, very sure; I think so. _Wild._ 'Tis well you are so; for otherwise I feel my stomach a little maukish. I should have doubted another fit of love were coming up. _Jac._ No, no; your inconstancy secures you enough for that. _Wild._ That's it which makes me fear my own returning: Nothing vexes me, but that you should part with me so slightly, as though I were not worth your keeping. Well, 'tis a sign you never loved me. _Jac._ 'Tis the least of your care whether I did or did not: It may be it had been more for the quiet of myself, if I--but 'tis no matter, I'll not give you that satisfaction. _Wild._ But what's the reason you will not give it me? _Jac._ For the reason that we are quite broke off. _Wild._ Why, are we quite, quite broke off? _Jac._ Why, are we not? _Wild._ Well, since 'tis past, 'tis past; but a pox of all foolish quarrelling, for my part. _Jac._ And a mischief of all foolish disguisements, for my part. _Wild._ But if it were to do again with another mistress, I would even plainly confess I had lost my money. _Jac._ And if I had to deal with another servant, I would learn more wit than to tempt him in disguises: for that's to throw a Venice-glass to the ground, to try if it would not break. _Wild._ If it were not to please you, I see no necessity of our parting. _Jac._ I protest, I do it only out of complaisance to you. _Wild._ But if I should play the fool, and ask your pardon, you would refuse it. _Jac._ No, never submit; for I should spoil you again with pardoning you.