_Vit._ A roaring whore? Take heed, there's a Correction-house hard by: You ha' learn'd this o' your swordman, that I warn'd you of, Your Fencers, and your drunkards: but whereas You upbraid me with oaths, why I must tell you I ne'er promis'd you marriage, nor have vow'd, But said I lov'd you, long as you remain'd The woman I expected, or you swore, And how you have fail'd of that (sweet-heart) you know. You fain would shew your power, but fare you well, I'll keep no more faith with an infidel. _Mal._ Nor I my bosome for a _Turk_: d' ye hear? Goe, and the devil take me, if ever I see you more: I was too true. _Vit._ Come, pish: That devil take the falsest of us two. _Mal._ Amen. _Vit._ You are an ill Clark; and curse your self: Madness transports you: I confess, I drew you Unto my Will: but you must know that must not Make me doat on the habit of my sin. I will, to settle you to your content, Be master of my word: and yet he ly'd That told you I was marrying, but in thought: But will you slave me to your tyranny So cruelly I shall not dare to look Or speak to other women? make me not Your smock's Monopolie: come, let's be friends: Look, here's a Jewel for thee: I will come At night, and-- _Mal._ What 'yfaith: you shall not, Sir. _Vit._ 'Faith, and troth, and verily, but I will. _Mal._ Half drunk, to make a noise, and rail? _Vit._ No, no, Sober, and dieted for the nonce: I am thine, I have won the day. _Mal._ The night (though) shall be mine. [_Exeunt._ _Scæna Quarta._ _Enter_ Clara, _and_ Bobadilla _with Letters_. _Cla._ What said he, sirrah? _Bob._ Little, or nothing: faith I saw him not, Nor will not: he doth love a strumpet, Mistriss, Nay, keeps her spitefully, under the Constables nose, It shall be justified by the Gentleman Your brothers Master that is now within A practising: there are your Letters: come You shall not cast your self away, while I live, Nor will I venture my Right worshipful place In such a business--here's your Mother, down: And he that loves you: another 'gates fellow, I wish, If you had any grace. _Enter_ Eugenia _and_ Sayavedra. _Cla._ Well rogue. _Bob._ I'll in, to see Don _Lucio_ manage, he'll make A pretty piece of flesh, I promise you, He does already handle his weapon finely. [_Exit._ _Eug._ She knows your love, Sir, and the full allowance Her Father and my self approve it with, And I must tell you, I much hope it hath Wrought some impression by her alteration; She sighs, and saies, forsooth, and cries heigh-ho, She'll take ill words o' th' Steward, and the Servants, Yet answer affably, and modestly: Things Sir, not usual with her: there she is, Change some few words.