That can pass by oppression.
Duke. May I crave, sir,

But thus much honour more, to know your name,
And him I am so bound to?

John. For the bond, sir,

'Tis every good man's tie; to know me further Will little profit you: I am a stranger,

My country Spain; my name Don John, a gentleman

That lies here for my study.
Duke. I have heard, sir,

Much worthy mention of you; yet I find
Fame short of what you are,

John. You are pleased, sir,

To express your courtesy: May I demand
As freely what you are, and what mischance
Cast you into this danger?

Duke. For this present,

I must desire your pardon : You shall know me Ere it be long, sir, and a nobler thanks

Than now my will can render.

John. Your will's your own, sir.

Duke. What is't you look for, sir? have

any thing?

you

lost

John. Only my hat i' th' scuffle: Sure these fellows Were night-snaps."

Duke. No, believe, sir. Pray you use mine, For 'twill be hard to find your own now.

John. No, sir.

Duke. Indeed you shall; I can command another: I do beseech you honour me.

John. I will, sir:

And so I'll take my leave.

Duke. Within these few days

I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge;

"Night-snaps.] Thieves. Snap is still a cant word for a theft.

Fred. 'Tis his tongue sure.

Don John?

John. Don Frederic?

Fred. You are fairly met, sir:

I thought you had been a bat-fowling. Pr'ythee

tell me,

What revelations hast thou had to-night,
That home was never thought of?

John. Revelations ?

I'll tell thee, Frederic; but, before I tell thee,
Settle thy understanding.

Fred. Tis prepared, sir.

John. Why then, mark what shall follow. This night, Frederic,

This bawdy night

Fred. I thought no less. John. This blind night, What dost think I have got?

Fred. The pox, it may be.

John. 'Would 'twere no worse! Ye talk of reve

lations;

I have got a revelation will reveal me
An arrant coxcomb while I live.

Fred. What is't?

Thou hast lost nothing?

John. No, I have got, I tell thee.
Fred. What hast thou got?

John. One of the infantry, a child.
Fred. How!

John. A chopping child, man.

Fred. 'Give you joy, sir.

John. A lump of lewdness, Frederic; that's the

you,

John,

Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd
But where no grace is

John. 'Tis none o' mine, man.
Fred. Answer the parish.so.

John. Cheated, in troth,

you:

Peeping into a house; by whom I know not,
Nor where to find the place again. No, Frederic,
Had I but kiss'd the ring for't-Tis no poor one,
That's my best comfort, for 't has brought about it
Enough to make it man.

Fred. Where is't?

John. At home.

Fred. A saving voyage: But what will you say, signor,

To him that, searching out your serious worship, Has met a stranger fortune?

John. How, good Frederic?

A militant girl now to this boy would hit it.
Fred. No; mine's a nobler venture. What do you

think, sir,

Of a distressed lady, one whose beauty

Would over-sell all Italy?

John. Where is she?

Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour,

So qualified, as admiration

Dwells round about her; of that perfect spirit

John. Ay, marry, sir!

Fred. That admirable carriage,

That sweetness in discourse; young as the Morning, Her blushes staining his.

8 Young as the Morning,

Her blushes staining his.] That is, out-doing or excelling

John. But where's this creature?

Shew me but that.

Fred. That's all one; she's forth-coming; I have her sure, boy.

John. Hark you, Frederic;

What truck betwixt my infant

Fred. 'Tis too light, sir;

Stick to your charges, good Don John; I am well. John. But is there such a wench?

Fred. First tell me this,

Did you not lately, as you walk'd along,
Discover people that were arm'd, and likely
To do offence?

John. Yes, marry, and they urged it
As far as they had spirit.

Fred. Pray go forward.

John. A gentleman I found engaged amongst 'em; It seems of noble breeding; I am sure brave mettle: As I return'd to look you, I set in to him, And without hurt, I thank Heaven, rescued him, And came myself off safe too.

Fred. My work's done then:

And now, to satisfy you, there is a woman,
Oh, John, there is a woman-

John. Oh, where is she?

Fred. And one of no less worth then I assure you; And, which is more, fallen under my protection. John. I am glad of that. Forward, sweet Frederic! Fred. And, which is more than that, by this night's wand'ring;

his, making them appear faint by the superior lustre of her own. A similar expression occurs in Cupid's Revenge, where Leontius says of Bacha

She stains the ripest virgins of her age.

Mason.

And, which is most of all, she is at home too, sir. John. Come, let's be gone then.

Fred. Yes; but 'tis most certain You cannot see her, John.

John. Why?

Fred. She has sworn me

That none else shall come near her, not my mother,

Till some few doubts are clear'd.

John. Not look upon her?

What chamber is she in?
Fred. In ours.

John. Let's go, I say:

A woman's oaths are wafers, break with making; They must for modesty a little: We all know it., Fred. No, I'll assure you, sir.

John. Not see her?

I smell an old dog-trick of yours. Well, Frederic, You talk'd to me of whoring: Let's have fair play, Square dealing, I would wish you,

Fred. When 'tis come

Which I know never will be) to that issue, Your spoon shall be as deep as mine, sir.

John. Tell me,

And tell me true, is the cause honourable,

Or for your ease?

Fred. By all our friendship, John,

'Tis honest, and of great end,

John. I am answer'd;

But let me see her though; leave the door open As you go in.

Fred. I dare not.

John. Not wide open,

But just so, as a jealous husband

Would level at his wanton wife through.

Fred. That courtesy,