Enter Don John.
John. 'Bless ye Lady.
Fr. Nay start not, though he be a stranger to ye,
He's of a noble strain, my kinsman, Lady,
My Country-man, and fellow Traveller,
One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us,
And one faith free between us; do not fear him,
He's truly honest.
John. That's a lye.
Fred. And trusty:
Beyond your wishes: valiant to defend,
And modest to converse with, as your blushes.
Jo. Now may I hang my self; this commendation
Has broke the neck of all my hopes: for now
Must I cry, no forsooth, and I forsooth, and surely,
And truly as I live, and as I am honest.
Has done these things for 'nonce too; for he knows
Like a most envious Rascal as he is,
I am not honest, nor desire to be,
Especially this way: h'as watch'd his time,
But I shall quit him.
Const. Sir, I credit ye.
Fred. Go kiss her John.
John. Plague o' your commendations.
Const. Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble.