_Man._ Hold, you impertinent, officious fops--[_Aside._] How have I been deceived! _Free._ Madam, there are certain appurtenances to a lover's heart, called jewels, which always go along with it. _Fid._ And which, with lovers, have no value in themselves, but from the heart they come with. Our captain's, madam, it seems you scorn to keep, and much more will those worthless things without it, I am confident. _Oliv._ A gentleman so well made as you are, may be confident--us easy women could not deny you anything you ask, if 'twere for yourself, but, since 'tis for another, I beg your leave to give him my answer.--[_Aside._] An agreeable young fellow this--and would not be my aversion.--[_Aloud._] Captain, your young friend here has a very persuading face, I confess; yet you might have asked me yourself for those trifles you left with me, which (hark you a little, for I dare trust you with the secret; you are a man of so much honour, I'm sure) I say then, not expecting your return, or hoping ever to see you again, I have delivered your jewels to-- _Man._ Whom? _Oliv._ My husband. _Man._ Your husband! _Oliv._ Ay, my husband. For since you could leave me, I am lately and privately married to one, who is a man of so much honour and experience in the world, that I dare not ask him for your jewels again to restore 'em to you; lest he should conclude you never would have parted with 'em to me on any other score but the exchange of my honour: which rather than you'd let me lose, you'd lose I'm sure yourself, those trifles of yours. _Man._ Triumphant impudence! but married too! _Oliv._ O, speak not so loud, my servants know it not: I am married, there's no resisting one's destiny or love, you know. _Man._ Why, did you love him too? _Oliv._ Most passionately; nay, love him now, though I have married him, and he me: which mutual love I hope you are too good, too generous a man to disturb, by any future claim, or visits to me. 'Tis true, he is now absent in the country, but returns shortly; therefore I beg of you, for your own ease and quiet, and my honour, you will never see me more. _Man._ I wish I never had seen you. _Oliv._ But if you should ever have anything to say to me hereafter, let that young gentleman there be your messenger. _Man._ You would be kinder to him; I find he should be welcome. _Oliv._ Alas! his youth would keep my husband from suspicions, and his visits from scandal; for we women may have pity for such as he, but no love: and I already think you do not well to spirit him away to sea; and the sea is already but too rich with the spoils of the shore. _Man._ True perfect woman! If I could say anything more injurious to her now, I would; for I could outrail a bilked whore, or a kicked coward; but now I think on't, that were rather to discover my love than hatred; and I must not talk, for something I must do. [_Aside._ _Oliv._ I think I have given him enough of me now, never to be troubled with him again. [_Aside._