Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour,
So qualified, as admiration
Dwells round about her: of that perfect spirit—
John. I marry Sir.
Fred. That admirable carriage,
That sweetness in discourse; young as the morning,
Her blushes staining his.
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 ye Frederick,
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 ye not lately as ye walk'd along,
Discover people that were arm'd, and likely
To do offence?
John. Yes marry, and they urg'd it
As far as they had spirit.