_Herc._ Plots ha' you laid, inductions dangerous?[177] _Nym._ A quiet bosom to my sweet Don. Are you going to visit your lady? _Zuc._ What o'clock is't? Is it past three? _Herod._ Past four, I assure you, sweet Don. _Zuc._ O, then, I may be admitted. Her afternoon's private nap is taken. I shall take her napping. I hear there's one jealous that I lie with my own wife, and begins to withdraw his hand. I protest, I vow,--and you will, on my knees I'll take my sacrament on it,--I lay not with her this four years--this four years; let her not be turn'd upon me, I beseech you. 223 _Herc._ My dear Don! _Zuc._ O, Faunus, do'st know our lady? _Herc._ Your lady? _Zuc._ No, _our_ lady. For the love of charity, incorporate with her; I would have all nations and degrees, all ages, know our lady; for I covet only to be undoubtedly notorious. 230 _Herc._ For indeed, sir, a repressed fame mounts like camomile[178]--the more trod down, the more it grows. Things known common and undoubted, lose rumour. _Nym._ I hope yet your conjectures may err. Your lady keeps full face, unbated roundness, cheerful aspect. Were she so infamously prostitute, her cheek would fall, her colour fade, the spirit of her eye would die. _Zuc._ O, young man, such women are like Danaus' tub; and, indeed, all women are like Achelous,[179] with whom Hercules wrestling, he was no sooner hurl'd to the earth, but he rose up with double vigour. Their fall strengthened them. 242 _Enter_ DONDOLO. _Don._ News, news, news, news! O, my dear Don, be raised--be jovial[180]--be triumphant! Ah, my dear Don! _Nym._ To me first, in private, thy news, I prithee. _Don._ Will you be secret? _Nym._ O' my life. _Don._ As you are generous? _Nym._ As I am generous. 250 _Don._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child. _Herc._ Nymph, Nymph, what is't?--what's the news? _Nym._ You will be secret? _Herod._ Silence itself. _Nym._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently. _Herc._ Herod, Herod, what's the matter, prithee? the news? _Herod._ You must tell nobody? _Herc._ As I am generous---- _Herod._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently. _Zuc._ Fawn, what's the whisper?--what's the fool's secret news? 262 _Herc._ Truth, my lord, a thing that--that--well, i'faith, it is not fit you know it: now[181]--now--now-- _Zuc._ Not fit I know it? As thou art baptized, tell me--tell me. _Herc._ Will you plight your patience to it? _Zuc._ Speak, I am a very block. I will not be moved--I am a very block.