_Fred._ 'Twas given him by that Gentleman You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle. _Con._ With much joy may he wear it: 'tis a right one, I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy May you be in all fights for that fair service. _Fred._ Why do ye blush? _Const._ 'T had almost cozen'd me, For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [_Knock within._ _Fred._ Who's there? _Enter_ Anthony. Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir, [_Exit Const._ Now what's the news with you? _Anth._ There is a Gentleman without, Would speak with _Don John_. _John._ Who Sir? _Ant._ I do not know Sir, but he shews a man Of no mean reckoning. _Fred._ Let him shew his name, And then return a little wiser. _Ant._ Well Sir. [_Exit_ Anthony. _Fred._ How do you like her _John_? _John._ As well as you _Frederick_, For all I am honest: you shall find it so too. _Fred._ Art thou not honest? _John._ Art thou an Ass? And modest as her blushes? What block-head Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie, For his dear friend? and to a Gentlewoman, A woman of her youth, and delicacy. They are arguments to draw them to abhor us. An honest moral man? 'tis for a Constable: A handsome man, a wholsome man, a tough man, A liberal man, a likely man, a man Made up like _Hercules_, unslak'd with service: The same to night, to morrow night, the next night, And so to perpetuitie of pleasures, These had been things to hearken to, things catching: But you have such a spic'd consideration, Such qualms upon your worships conscience, Such chil-blains in your bloud, that all things pinch ye, Which nature, and the liberal world makes custom, And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honor, Hang up your Eunuch honour: That I was trusty, And valiant, were things well put in; but modest! A modest Gentleman! O wit where wast thou? _Fred._ I am sorrie _John_. _John._ My Ladies Gentlewoman Would laugh me to a S[c]hool-boy, make me blush With playing with my Codpiece point: fie on thee, A man of thy discretion? _Fred._ It shall be mended: And henceforth ye shall have your due. _Enter_ Anthony. _John._ I look for't: How now, who is't? _Ant._ A Gentleman of this Town And calls himself _Petrucchio_. _Enter_ Constantia. _John._ I'le attend him. _Const._ How did he call himself? _Fre._ _Petrucchio_, Does it concern you ought? _Const._ O Gentlemen, The hour of my destruction is come on me, I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine: As ever ye had pity--