LOR. JU. So, sir, and how then?
[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.]
STEP. God's foot, I have lost my purse, I think.
LOR. JU. How? lost your purse? where? when had you it?
STEP. I cannot tell, stay.
MUS. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me, would I could get by
them.
LOR. JU. What! have you it?
STEP. No, I think I was bewitched, I.
LOR. JU. Nay, do not weep, a pox on it, hang it, let it go.
STEP. Oh, it's here; nay, an it had been lost, I had not cared but
for a jet ring Marina sent me.
LOR. JU. A jet ring! oh, the poesie, the poesie!
STEP. Fine, i'faith: "Though fancy sleep, my love is deep":
meaning that though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.
LOR. JU. Most excellent.
STEP. And then I sent her another, and my poesie was:
"The deeper the sweeter, I'll be judged by Saint Peter."
LOR. JU. How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that.
STEP. Marry, St. Peter to make up the metre.
LOR JU. Well, you are beholding to that Saint, he help'd you at
your need; thank him, thank him.
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