_Fran_. I am so frighted with this relation, that I must up to my Wife’s Chamber for a little of that strong Cordial that recovered her this morning. [_Going out_ Guil. _stays him_. _Guil_. Why, I’ll tell you, Sir, what an odd sort of a Wound I received in a Duel the other day,--nay, Ladies, I’ll shew it you; in a very odd place--in my back parts. [_Goes to untuck his Breeches, the Ladies squeak_. _Isa_. Ah. _Page_. Shew a Wound behind, Sir! the Ladies will think you are a Coward. _Guil_. Peace, Child, peace, the Ladies understand Dueling as little as my self; but, since you are so tender-hearted, Ladies, I’ll not shew you my wound; but faith, it spoiled my dancing. _Page comes in_. _Page_. My Lord, now you talk of dancing, here’s your Baggage brought from a-board the Gally by your Seamen, who us’d to entertain you with their rustick Sports. _Guil_. Very well; Sir, with your permission, I am resolved whether you will or no, to give the Ladies some divertisement,--bid ‘em come in; nay, Sir, you stir not. [Ex. Page. ’.is for your delight, Sir, I do’t; for, Sir, you must understand, a Man, if he have any thing in him, Sir, of Honour, for the case, Sir, lies thus, ‘tis not the business of an Army to droll upon an Enemy--truth is, every man loves a whole skin;--but ‘twas the fault of the best Statesmen in Christendom to be loose in the hilts,--you conceive me. _Fran_. Very well, my Lord, I’ll swear he’s a rare spoken man;--why, what a Son-in-law shall I have? I have a little business, my Lord, but I’ll wait on you presently. [Going out. _Guil_. Sir, there is nothing like your true jest; a thing once well done, is twice done, and I am the happiest Man in the World in your Alliance; for, Sir, a Nobleman if he have any tolerable parts,--is a thing much above the Vulgar;--oh,--here comes the Dancers. _Enter Dancers_. Come, sit down by me. _Fran_. ‘Tis my duty to stand, my Lord. _Guil_. Nay, you shall sit. [They dance. _Enter_ Antonio. _Ant_. Good day, Sir, I hope you will not chide my tardiness, I have a little overslept my self, and am ashamed to see my lovely Bride, and all this worthy Company attend. --But you, fair Creature-- [_To_ Isabella. _Isa_. No marrying to day, Sir. _Fran_. No, Sir, no marrying to day. _Ant_. How, do I dream, or hear this from _Francisco_? _Guil_. How now, Fellow, what art thou? _Ant_. The Husband of that proud disdainful Woman. _Guil_. Another word like that--and thou art-- _Ant_. What, Sir? _Fran_. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! _Antonio_, I must tell you, you’re uncivil. _Guil_. Dost know, dull Mortal, that I am a Lord, And _Isabella_ my adopted Lady. _Ant_. I beg your pardon, Sir, if it be so, poor Mortals can but grieve in silence. _Guil_. Alas, poor Mortal! _Ant_. But, for you, _Francisco_.