_Gons_. Tis late, And I a stranger in the town; yet all Your dangers shall be mine. _Jul_. You're noble, sir. _Gons_. I'll pawn the hopes of all my love, to see You safe. _Jul_. Whoe'er your mistress be, she has My curses, if she prove not kind. _Ang_. And mine. _Hip_. My sister will repent her, when she knows For whom she makes that wish; but I'll say nothing, Till day discovers it. [_Aside_.] A door opens; I hope it is some inn. [_A door opens, at which a Servant appears_. _Ang_. Friend, can you lodge us here? _Serv_. Yes, friend, we can. _Jul_. How shall we be disposed? _Serv_. As nature would; The gentleman and you: I have a rule, That, when a man and woman ask for lodging, They are ever husband and wife. _Jul_. Rude and unmannered! _Gons_. Sir, this lady must be lodged apart. _Serv_. Then the two boys, that are good for nothing But one another, they shall go together. _Ang_. Lie with a man! sweet heaven defend me! _Hip_. Alas, friend, I ever lie alone. _Serv_. Then to save trouble, sir, because 'tis late, One of the youths shall be disposed with you. _Ang_. Who, I! not for the world. _Hip_. Neither of us; for, though I would not lodge with you Myself, I never can endure he should. _Ang_. Why then, to end the difference, if you please. I and that lady will be bed-fellows. _Hip_. No, she and I will lodge together rather. _Serv_. You are sweet youths indeed; not for the world You would not lodge with men! none but the lady Would serve your turn. _Aug_. Alas, I had forgot I am a boy; I am so lately one. [_Aside_. _Serv_. Well, well; all shall be lodged apart. _Gons_. to Hip. I did not think you harboured wanton thoughts; So young, so bad? _Hip_. I can make no defence, But must be shamed by my own innocence. [_Exeunt_. ACT II. SCENE I.--_A Chamber_. [_Enter_ GONSALVO, HIPPOLITO, _and_ ANGELINA _as_ AMIDEO _at a distance_. _Gon_. Hippolito, what is this pretty youth, That follows us? _Hip_. I know not much of him: Handsome you see, and of graceful fashion; Of noble blood, he says, and I believe him; But in some deep distress; he'll tell no more, And I could cry for that, which he has told. So much I pity him. _Gon_. My pretty youth, Would I could do thee any service. _Ang_. Sir, The greatest you can do me, is accepting mine. _Hip_. How's this? methinks already I begin To hate this boy, whom but even now I moaned, You serve my master? Do you think I cannot Perform all duties of a servant better, And with more care, than you? _Ang_. Better you may, But never with more care: Heaven, which is served with angels, yet admits Poor man to pay his duty, and receives it. _Hip_. Mark but, my lord, how ill behaved a youth, How very ugly, what a dwarf he is. _Ang_. My lord, I yet am young enough to grow, And 'tis the commendation of a boy, That he is little. [_Cries_. _Gons_. Pr'ythee, do not cry; Hippolito, 'twas but just now you praised him, And are you changed so soon? _Hip_. On better view.