_Cla._ Canst thou sit up, That I may find the hurt out? _Soto._ I can sit up, But ne'er the less I am slain. _Cla._ 'Tis not o' this side? _Soto._ No Sir, I think it be not. _Cla._ Nor o' this side, Was it done with a sword? _Soto._ A Gun, a Gun, sweet Master. _Cla._ The devil a bullet has been here: thou art well man. _Soto._ No sure I am kill'd. _Cla._ Let me see thy thighs, and belly, As whole as a fish for any thing I see yet: Thou bleed'st no where. _Soto._ I think I do not bleed, Sir, But yet I am afraid I am slain. _Cla._ Stand up fool, Thou hast as much hurt as my nail; who shot thee, A Pottle, or a Pint? _Soto._ Signior _Silvio_ shot me In these clothes; taking me for you, and seeing The Ladder in my hand here, which I stole from ye, Thinking to have gone to the Lady my self, and have spoke for ye. _Cla._ If he had hit ye home, he had serv'd ye right sirrah, You saucy rogue, how poor my intent shews to me, How naked now, and foolish! _Soto._ Are ye sure he has not hit me, It gave a monstrous bounce? _Cla._ You rose o' your right side, And said your prayers too, you had been payed else: But what need'st thou a Bullet, when thy fear kills thee? Sirrah, keep your own counsel for all this, you'll be hang'd else, If it be known. _Soto._ If it be by my means, let me; I am glad I am not kill'd, and far more gladder My Gentleman-like humor's out: I feel 'tis dangerous, And to be a gentleman, is to be kill'd twice a week. _Cla._ Keep your self close i'th' Countrey for a while sirrah. There's Money, walk to your friends. _Soto._ They have no Pistols, Nor are no Gentlemen, that's my comfort. [_Exit._ _Cla._ I will retire too, and live private; for this _Silvio_, Inflam'd with nobleness, will be my death else; And if I can forget this love that loads me, At least the danger: and now I think on't better, I have some conclusions else invites me to it. [_Exit._ _Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Rodope, _and_ Silvio _at several doors_. _Rod._ Nephew. _Sil._ My dear Aunt. _Rod._ Would you go by thus slily, And never see me, not once send in to me Your loving Aunt? she that above all those I call my kindred, honour'd you, and placed you Nearest my heart? _Sil._ I thank you worthy Aunt But such at this time are my occasions-- _Rod._ You shall not goe yet, by my faith you shall not, I will not be deny'd: why look ye sad Nephew? _Sil._ I am seldom other: Oh, this blood sits heavy: As I walk'd this way late last night, In meditation of some things concern'd me-- _Rod._ What Nephew?