_Aur._ Was euer Father so vnmercifull, But for that Monster that was cause of this, That bloudie, cruell, and inhumane wretch, That slanderous Detractor of our Sex: That _Misogynos_, that blasphemous Slaue? I will be so reueng’d. _Enter Clowne._ _Atlan._ Madame, no more, He is not worth your wrath: Let me alone with him. _Clow._ Whist, doe you heare? _Atlan._ How now, what art thou? _Clow._ Not your Seruant, and yet a Messenger, No Seruingman, and yet an Vsher too. _Atlan._ What are you then, Sir? speake. _Clow._ That can resolue you, and yet cannot speake, I am no Foole, I am a Fencer, Sir. _Aur._ A Fencer, sirrah? ha, what Countrey-man? _Clow._ This Countrey-man, forsooth, but yet borne in England. _Aur._ How? borne in England, & this Countrey-man? _Clow._ I haue bin borne in many Countreyes, Madame, But I thinke I am best be this Countrey-man, For many take me for a silly one. _Aur._ For a silly one? _Clow._ I, a silly one. _Atlan._ Oh, Madame, I haue such welcomenesse! _Aur._ For me, what is’t? _Atlan._ The baytes of women haue preuented vs, And hee has intrapt himselfe. _Aur._ How, by what accident? _Atlan._ Loue, Madame, loue, read that. _Aur._ How’s this? To the most wise and vertuous Amazon, Chiefe pride and glorie of the Female Sex. A promising induction: what’s within? Magnanimous Ladie, maruell not, That your once Aduersary do’s submit himselfe To your vnconquer’d beautie. _Atlan._ Cunning Slaue. _Aur._ Rather impute it to the power of loue, Whose heauenly influence hath wrought in me, So strange a Metamorphosis. _Atlan._ The very quintessence of flatterie. _Aur._ In so much, I vow hereafter, to spend all my dayes, Deuoted to your seruice, it shall be To expiate my former blasphemies: My desire is shortly to visit you. _Atlan._ It shall be to your cost then. _Aur._ To make testimony of my hearty contrition, Till when and euer I will protest my selfe, To be the conuerted _Misogynist_. _Atlan._ Ha, ha, ha, why, this is excellent! Beyond imagination. _Aur._ You must not slip this oportunitie. _Atlan._ Ile not let passe a minute: his owne man Ile make an instrument to feed his Follies with a kind acceptance, and when he comes, Let me alone to plot his punishment. _Aur._ Excellent _Atlanta_, I applaud thy wit. _Atlan._ Ile make him an example to all men, That dares calumniate a womans fame. Attend an answere, Ile reward thee well. _Clow._ I thanke your Madame-ship, Ime glad o’ this, Tis the best hit that euer Fencer gaue. _Exeunt._ _Enter_ Atticus, Iago, Sforza, _and_ Nicanor.