DEFLORES I've a token for you.

BEATRICE For me?

DEFLORES But it was sent somewhat unwillingly:

I could not get the ring without the finger.

BEATRICE Bless me! What hast thou done?

DEFLORES Why, is that more

Than killing the whole man? I cut his heart strings.

A greedy hand thrust in a dish at court

In a mistake hath had as much as this.

BEATRICE 'Tis the first token my father made me send him.

DEFLORES

And I made him send it back again

For his last token. I was loathe to leave it,

And I'm sure dead men have no use of jewels;

He was as loath to part with't, for it stuck

As if the flesh and it were both one substance.

BEATRICE At the stag's fall the keeper has his fees;

'Tis soon apply'd: all dead men's fees are yours, sir.

I pray bury the finger, but the stone

You may make use on