+Don H.+ Reason's opinion; for every one Stamps reason on his own opinion. +Don C.+ Then, by your argument, when people join In making laws, because they all opine, Laws are reasonable, and bind us all---- +Don H.+ Curse on your sophistry, to treat a friend With figures, that's raging in a fever! You may as well pretend to teach a man To sing his part, that's stretch'd upon a rack. No, sir, I'll sooner lose this irksome life, Than e'er consent to publish my disgrace Before I have reveng'd it--to assist At the funeral of my own honour! [_He stamps._ +Don C.+ What a wild creature is a choleric man! [_Aside._ 'Tis far from my intent; all my design Is only how we may conceal your shame, Till we have got these villains in our power; Which can be brought about by no such means, As by demanding justice against those Who did assault your person, and have wounded Your servant--a very plausible pretence! Will this content you? Trust my conduct, cousin: Is not my interest the same with yours? +Don H.+ Well, since it must be so, I pray, make haste. +Don C.+ Doubt not my diligence; by this I'll prove Friendship has fire and wings, as well as love. +Don H.+ If you could fly, you'd move with too much leisure; Ah, tedious minutes, which revenge does measure! [_Exit +Carlos+._ +Flo.+ Madam, y' have heard their mischievous design? +Cam.+ Yes, Flora, out of question Porcia's there, And, if they find her, she is lost for e'er. +Flo.+ I'll try to hinder it, though I were certain To perish in th' attempt. I'm confident The house at present is in such confusion, I may run thither without being miss'd. +Cam.+ 'Tis well thought on; in the interim, I'll retire To Porcia's chamber. [_Exeunt from behind the door._ _Enter +Geraldo+._ +Ger.+ Sir, Don Antonio is just arriv'd. +Don H.+ Ha! what's that you say, sirrah? +Ger.+ That Don Antonio, sir, your brother-in-law, Is without, walking i' th' hall, and bad me Give you notice of it. Shall he come in? +Don H.+ Antonio arrived! O heavens, this circumstance Was only wanting to complete my shame! When he desires to see his wife, shall I Myself inform a person of his quality That she is run away? Where shall I find A heart, a tongue, a voice: or breath, or face, To utter this unparallel'd disgrace? [_Spoken hastily._ O this fantastic sense of honour! At my own tribunal stand assoil'd,[66] Yet, fearing others' censure, am embroil'd. +Ger.+ What is your pleasure, sir? 'tis possible That Don Antonio may think it long.