SCAN. To tell what? Why, what do you know of Mrs Frail?

TATT. Who, I? Upon honour I don't know whether she be man or
woman, but by the smoothness of her chin and roundness of her hips.

SCAN. No?

TATT. No.

SCAN. She says otherwise.

TATT. Impossible!

SCAN. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else.

TATT. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a woman only
obliges a man to secrecy that she may have the pleasure of telling
herself.

SCAN. No doubt on't. Well, but has she done you wrong, or no? You
have had her? Ha?

TATT. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I have more
manners than to contradict what a lady has declared.

SCAN. Well, you own it?

TATT. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I can't deny't if she
taxes me with it.