Malf. Stand, stand, or I'le fall for ye.
Clar. Know ye not my voice?
Malf. Yes, 'twas at that I trembl'd.
But were my false friend Leon here—
Clar. 'Tis he.
Malf. Where? where?
Clar. He is not come yet.
Malf. 'Tis well for him,
I am so full of wrath.
Clar. Or fear—This Leon,
How e're my Kinsman, hath abus'd you grosly,
And this night vowes to take me hence perforce,
And marry me to another: 'twas for this,
(Presuming on your love) I did entreat you
To put your armour on, that with more safety
You might defend me.
Mal. And I'le do it bravely.
Clar. You must stand here to beat him off, and suffer
No humane thing to pass you, though it appear
In my Lords shape, or Ladies: be not cozen'd
With a disguise.