_Cas._ How hardly shall that maiden be beset, Whose only fortunes are her constant thoughts! That has no other child's part but her honour, That keeps her low and empty in estate; Maids and their honours are like poor beginners; Were not sin rich, there would be fewer sinners; Why had not virtue a revenue? Well, I know the cause, 'twould have impoverished hell. _Enter_ DONDOLO. How now, Dondolo? _Don._ Madonna, there is one as they say, a thing of flesh and blood--a man, I take him by his beard, that would very desirously mouth to mouth with you. _Cas._ What's that? _Don._ Show his teeth in your company. _Cas._ I understand thee not. _Don._ Why, speak with you, madonna. _Cas._ Why, say so, madman, and cut off a great deal of dirty way; had it not been better spoke in ordinary words, that one would speak with me? _Don._ Ha, ha! that's as ordinary as two shillings. I would strive a little to show myself in my place; a gentleman-usher scorns to use the phrase and fancy of a serving-man. _Cas._ Yours be your own, sir; go, direct him hither; [_Exit_ DONDOLO. I hope some happy tidings from my brother, That lately travelled, whom my soul affects. Here he comes. _Enter_ VENDICE, _disguised._ _Ven._ Lady, the best of wishes to your sex-- Fair skins and new gowns. _Cas._ O, they shall thank you, sir. Whence this? _Ven._ O, from a dear and worthy mighty friend. _Cas._ From whom? _Ven._ The duke's son! _Cas._ Receive that. [_Boxes his ear._ I swore I would put anger in my hand, And pass the virgin limits of my sex, To him that next appeared in that base office, To be his sin's attorney. Bear to him That figure of my hate upon thy cheek, Whilst 'tis yet hot, and I'll reward thee for't; Tell him my honour shall have a rich name, When several harlots shall share his with shame. Farewell; commend me to him in my hate. [_Exit._ _Ven._ It is the sweetest box that e'er my nose came nigh; The finest drawn-work cuff that e'er was worn; I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek Shall still henceforward take the wall of this. O, I'm above my tongue: most constant sister, In this thou hast right honourable shown; Many are called by[197] their honour, that have none; Thou art approved for ever in my thoughts. It is not in the power of words to taint thee. And yet for the salvation of my oath, As my resolve in that point, I will lay Hard siege unto my mother, though I know A syren's tongue could not bewitch her so. Mass, fitly here she comes! thanks, my disguise-- Madam, good afternoon. _Enter_ GRATIANA. _Gra._ Y'are welcome, sir. _Ven._ The next[198] of Italy commends him to you, Our mighty expectation, the duke's son. _Gra._ I think myself much honoured that he pleases To rank me in his thoughts.