Aquil. Do you intend to die in your bed—?

Anto. About threescore years hence, much may be done, my dear.

Aquil. You’ll be hanged, signior.

Anto. Hanged, sweetheart, prithee be quiet, hanged quotha, that’s a merry conceit, with all my heart, why thon jok’st, Nacky, thou art given to joking, I’ll swear; well, I protest, Nacky, nay, I must protest, and will protest that I love joking dearly, man. And I love thee for joking, and I’ll kiss thee for joking, and towse thee for joking, and ’od, I have a devilish mind to take thee aside about that business for joking too, ’od I have, and Hey then up go we, dum dum derum dump.

[Sings.

Aquil. See you this, sir?

[Draws a dagger.

Anto. O Lud, a dagger! O Lud! it is naturally my aversion, I cannot endure the sight on’t, hide it for Heaven’s sake, I cannot look that way till it be gone—hide it, hide it, oh, oh, hide it!

Aquil. Yes, in your heart I’ll hide it.

Anto. My heart; what, hide a dagger in my heart’s blood?

Aquil. Yes, in thy heart, thy throat, thou pampered devil;
Thou hast help’d to spoil my peace, and I’ll have vengeance
On thy cursed life, for all the bloody Senate,
The perjur’d faithless Senate: where’s my lord,
My happiness, my love, my good, my hero,
Doom’d by thy accursed tongue, amongst the rest,
T’ a shameful wrack? By all the rage that’s in me
I’ll be whole years in murthering thee.

Anto. Why, Nacky,
Wherefore so passionate? what have I done? what’s the matter, my dear Nacky? am not I thy love, thy love, thy happiness, thy lord, they hero, thy Senator, and everything in the world, Nacky?

Aquil. Thou! think’st thou, thou art fit to meet my joys;
To bear the eager clasps of my embraces?
Give me my Pierre, or—

Anto. Why, he’s to be hang’d, little Nacky,
Trussed up for treason, and so forth, child.

Aquil. Thou liest: stop down thy throat that hellish sentence,
Or’ ’tis thy last: swear that my love shall live,
Or thou art dead.

Anto. Ah-h-h-h.

Aquil. Swear to recall his doom
Swear at my feet, and tremble at my fury.

Anto. I do. Now if she would but kick a little bit, one kick now.
Ah-h-h-h.

Aquil. Swear, or—

Anto. I do, by these dear fragrant foots
And little toes, sweet as, e-e-e-e my Nacky Nacky Nacky.

Aquil. How!

Anto. Nothing but untie thy shoe-string a little, faith and troth,
That’s all, that’s all, as I hope to live, Nacky, that’s all.