Lod. Belike you love him then?
Fred. Yes marry do I.
Lod. And will be angry for him.
Fred. If you talk,
Or pull your face into a stich again,
As I love truth I shall be very angry.
Do not I know thee, though thou hast some land
To set thee out thus among Gentlemen,
To be a prating, and vain-glorious Ass?
I do not wrong thee now, for I speak truth.
Do not I know thou hast been a cudgel'd Coward,
That has no cure for shame but Cloath of Silver?
And think'st the wearing of a gawdy Suit
Hides all disgraces?
Lod. I understand you not, you hurt not me,
Your anger flies so wide.
Piso. Seignior Frederick,
You much mistake this Gentleman.
Fred. No, Sir.
Piso. If you would please to be less angry,
I would tell you how.
Fred. You had better study, Sir,
How to excuse your self if ye be able,
Or I shall tell you once again.
Piso. Not me, Sir;
For I protest what I have said, was only
To make you understand your Sisters danger.