Ant. Pr’ythee, prevent her then; and at least take the shearing of me first.

Mor. No; I’ll have a butcher’s pennyworth of you; first secure the carcase, and then take the fleece into the bargain.

Ant. Why, sure, you did not put yourself and me to all this trouble for a dry come-off; by this hand—­ [Taking it.

Mor. Which you shall never touch, but upon better assurances than you imagine. [Pulling her hand away.

Ant. I’ll marry thee, and make a Christian of thee, thou pretty damned infidel.

Mor. I mean you shall; but no earnest till the bargain be made before witness:  there is love enough to be had, and as much as you can turn you to, never doubt; but all upon honourable terms.

Ant. I vow and swear by Love; and he’s a deity in all religions.

Mor. But never to be trusted in any:  he has another name too, of a worse sound.  Shall I trust an oath, when I see your eyes languishing, your cheeks flushing, and can hear your heart throbbing?  No, I’ll not come near you:  he’s a foolish physician, who will feel the pulse of a patient, that has the plague-spots upon him.

Ant. Did one ever hear a little moppet argue so perversely against so good a cause!  Come, pr’ythee, let me anticipate a little of my revenue.

Mor. You would fain be fingering your rents before-hand; but that makes a man an ill husband ever after.  Consider, marriage is a painful vocation, as you shall prove it; manage your incomes as thriftily as you can, you shall find a hard task on’t to make even at the year’s end, and yet to live decently.

Ant. I came with a Christian intention to revenge myself upon thy father, for being the head of a false religion.

Mor. And so you shall; I offer you his daughter for your second.  But since you are so pressing, meet me under my window to-morrow night, body for body, about this hour; I’ll slip down out of my lodging, and bring my father in my hand.

Ant. How, thy father!

Mor. I mean, all that’s good of him; his pearls and jewels, his whole contents, his heart and soul; as much as ever I can carry!  I’ll leave him his Alcoran, that’s revenue enough for him; every page of it is gold and diamonds.  He has the turn of an eye, a demure smile, and a godly cant, that are worth millions to him.  I forgot to tell you, that I will have a slave prepared at the postern gate, with two horses ready saddled.—­No more, for I fear I may be missed; and think I hear them calling for me.—­If you have constancy and courage—­

Ant. Never doubt it; and love in abundance, to wander with thee all the world over.

Mor. The value of twelve hundred thousand crowns in a casket!—­

Ant. A heavy burden, heaven knows! but we must pray for patience to support it.