_Jar._ Then I am blest.

_Bev._ Continue so, and leave me. My sorrows are contagious. No one
is blest that's near me.

_Jar._ I came to seek you, Sir.

_Bev._ And now thou hast found me, leave me. My thoughts are wild,
and will not be disturbed.

_Jar._ Such thoughts are best disturbed.

_Bev._ I tell thee that they will not. Who sent thee hither?

_Jar._ My weeping mistress.

_Bev._ Am I so meek a husband then? that a commanding wife
prescribes my hours, and sends to chide me for my absence?

Tell her, I'll not return.

_Jar._ Those words would kill her.

_Bev._ Kill her! Would they not be kind then? But she shall live to
curse me--I have deserved it of her. Does she not hate me,
Jarvis?

_Jar._ Alas, Sir! Forget your griefs, and let me lead you to her.
The streets are dangerous.