Vec. For pardon for my boldness: yet 'twas harmless,
And all the art I have, Sir; those your Grace saw,
Which you thought spirits, were my Neighbours Children
Whom I instruct in Grammar here, and Musick;
Their shapes, the Peoples fond opinions,
Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing
To know of things stoln from 'em, I keep about me,
And always have in readiness, by conjecture
Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em
Things that by chance have fallen out so; which way
(Having the persons here, I knew you sought for)
I wrought upon your Grace; my end is mirth,
And pleasing, if I can, all parties.
Duke. I believe it,
For you have pleas'd me truly: so well pleas'd me,
That when I shall forget it—
Pet. Here's old Antonio,
I spy'd him at a window, coming mainly
I know about his Whore, the man you light on,
As you discovered unto me; good your Grace,
Let's stand by all, 'twill be a mirth above all,
To observe his pelting fury.
Vec. About a wench, Sir?
Pet. A young whore that has rob'd him.
Vec. But do you know, Sir,
Where she is?
Pet. Yes, and will make that perfect—
Vec. I am instructed well then.
John. If he come
To have a Devil shew'd him, by all means
Let me be he, I can roar rarely.
Pet. Be so,
But take heed to his anger.