John. The civil order of this Town, Bologna,
Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all Travellers,
As a most safe retirement in all troubles;
Beside the wholsome seat, and noble temper
Of those minds that inhabit it, safely wise,
And to all strangers vertuous; But I see
My admiration has drawn night upon me,
And longer to expect my friend may pull me
Into suspicion of too late a stirrer,
Which all good Governments are jealous of.
I'll home, and think at liberty: yet certain,
'Tis not so far night as I thought; for see,
A fair house yet stands open, yet all about it
Are close, and no lights stirring, there may be foul play;
I'le venture to look in: if there be knaves,
I may do a good office. [Woman within.
Within. Signieur?
John. What? how is this?
Within. Signieur Fabritio?
John. I'le go nearer.
Within. Fabritio?
Joh. This is a womans tongue, here may be good done.
Within. Who's there?
Fabritio?
John. I.
Within. Where are ye?