John. I yours.
This is some noble fellow.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. 'Tis [h]is tongue sure.
Don John?
John. Don Frederick?
Fred. Ye're fairly met Sir:
I thought ye had been a Bat-fowling: prethee tell me,
What Revelations hast thou had to night,
That home was never thought of?
John. Revelations?
I'le tell thee Frederick, but before I tell thee,
Settle thy understanding.
Fred. 'Tis prepar'd, Sir.
John. Why then mark what shall follow. This night Frederick,
This bawdy night.
Fred. I thought no less.
John. This blind night,
What dost think I have got?