Well, be as cruel as you can to me, I'll pray for you; and when I
am dead with grief, may you have one that will love you as well as
I have done: I shall be contented to lie at peace in my cold
grave--since it will please you. [Sighs.]

FOND. Good lack, good lack, she would melt a heart of oak--I
profess I can hold no longer. Nay, dear Cocky--ifeck, you'll break
my heart--ifeck you will. See, you have made me weep--made poor
Nykin weep. Nay, come kiss, buss poor Nykin--and I won't leave
thee--I'll lose all first.

LAET. [Aside.] How! Heaven forbid! that will be carrying the
jest too far indeed.

FOND. Won't you kiss Nykin?

LAET. Go, naughty Nykin, you don't love me.

FOND. Kiss, kiss, ifeck, I do.

LAET. No, you don't. [She kisses him.]

FOND. What, not love Cocky!

LAET. No-h. [Sighs.]

FOND. I profess I do love thee better than five hundred pound--and
so thou shalt say, for I'll leave it to stay with thee.

LAET. No you sha'n't neglect your business for me. No, indeed,