Duke. I hope ye have laid no Ambush?
Enter Petrucchio.
John. Only friends.
Duke. My noble Brother welcome:
Come put your anger off, we'll no fighting,
Unless you will maintain I am unworthy
To bear that name.
Pet. Do you speak this heartily?
Duke. Upon my soul, and truly; the first Priest
Shall put you out of these doubts.
Pet. Now I love ye;
And I beseech you pardon my suspicions,
You are now more than a Brother, a brave friend too.
John. The good man's over-joy'd.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. How, how, how goes it?