Now, by the blood thou hast incensed, I'll do it!
CEL: Sir, what you please, you may, I am your martyr.
CORV: Be not thus obstinate, I have not deserved it:
Think who it is intreats you. 'Prithee, sweet;--
Good faith, thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires,
What thou wilt think, and ask. Do but go kiss him.
Or touch him, but. For my sake.--At my suit.--
This once.--No! not! I shall remember this.
Will you disgrace me thus? Do you thirst my undoing?
MOS: Nay, gentle lady, be advised.
CORV: No, no.
She has watch'd her time. Ods precious, this is scurvy,
'Tis very scurvy: and you are--
MOS: Nay, good, sir.
CORV: An arrant Locust, by heaven, a locust!
Whore, crocodile, that hast thy tears prepared,
Expecting how thou'lt bid them flow--
MOS: Nay, 'Pray you, sir!
She will consider.
CEL: Would my life would serve
To satisfy--
CORV: S'death! if she would but speak to him,
And save my reputation, it were somewhat;
But spightfully to affect my utter ruin!
MOS: Ay, now you have put your fortune in her hands.
Why i'faith, it is her modesty, I must quit her.
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