La. But heare you, my lord

Hot. What say'st thou my Lady?
La. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse

La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not
such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile
know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother
Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent
for you to line his enterprize. But if you go-
Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue

La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly
vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake
thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true

Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not,
I care not for thee Kate: this is no world
To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes,
And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse.
What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me?
La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed?
Well, do not then. For since you loue me not,
I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me?
Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?