Duke. Feed the Hawks up,
We'll flie no more to day, O my blest fortune!
Have I so fairly met the man?
John. Ye have, Sir,
And him you know by this.
Duke. Sir all the honour,
And love—
John. I do beseech your Grace stay there,
(For I know you too now) that love and honour
I come not to receive; nor can you give it,
Till ye appear fair to the world; I must beseech ye
Dismiss your train a little.
Duke. Walk aside,
And out of hearing I command ye: Now, Sir.
John. Last time we met, I was a friend.
Duke. And Nobly,
You did a friends office: let your business
Be what it may, you must be still—
John. Your pardon,
Never a friend to him, cannot be friend
To his own honour.
Duke. In what have I transgress'd it?
Ye make a bold breach at the first, Sir.
John. Bolder,
You made that breach that let in infamy,
And ruine, to surprise a noble stock.