John. Never to me, sweet Lady: Thus I seal
My faith, and all my service.
Const. One word Signior.
John. Now 'tis impossible I should be honest,
She kisses with a conjuration
Would make the Devil dance: what points she at?
My leg I warrant, or my well knit body,
Sit fast Don Frederick.
Fred. 'Twas given him by that Gentleman
You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle.
Con. With much joy may he wear it: 'tis a right one,
I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy
May you be in all fights for that fair service.
Fred. Why do ye blush?
Const. 'T had almost cozen'd me,
For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for
Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [Knock within.
Fred. Who's there?
Enter Anthony.
Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir, [Exit Const.
Now what's the news with you?