Fred. You have no more of these tricks?
John. Ten to one, Sir,
I shall meet with 'em if ye have.
Fred. Is this honest?
John. Was it in you a friends part to deal double?
I am no Ass Don Frederick.
Fred. And Don John,
It shall appear I am no fool;
Disgrace me to make your self a lecher?
'Tis boyish, 'tis base.
John. 'Tis false, and most unmanly to upbraid me,
Nor will I be your bolster, Sir.
Fre. Thou wanton boy, thou hadst better have been Eunuch,
Thou common womans courtesie, than thus
Lascivious, basely to have bent mine honour.
A friend? I'[l]e make a horse my friend first.
John. Holla, holla,
Ye kick too fast, Sir: what strange brains have you got,
That dare crow out thus bravely? I better been an Eunuch?
I privy to this dog trick? clear your self,
For I know where the wind sits, and most nobly,
Or as I have a life—
Fred. No more: they're horses. [A noise within like horses.
Nor shew no discontent: to morrow comes;
Let's quietly away: if she be at home,
Our jealousies are put off.
John. The fellow,