Piso. No, mine is Piso.
Fath. How?
Piso. 'Tis indeed, Sir,
And his is Lodowick.
Fath. Then I am undone, Sir,
For I was sent at first to Piso; what a Rascal
Was I, so ignorantly to mistake you?
Piso. Peace,
There is no harm done yet.
Fath. Now 'tis too late,
I know my errour;
At turning of a Street,
For you were then upon the right hand of him,
You chang'd your places suddenly; where I
(Like a cross block-head) lost my memory;
What shall I do? my Lady utterly
Will put me from her favour.
Piso. Never fear it,
I'll be thy guard I warrant thee; O, O,
Am I at length reputed? for the Ring,
I'll fetch it back with a light vengeance from him;
H'ad better keep tame Devils than that Ring;
Art thou not Steward?
Fath. No.
Pis. Thou shalt be shortly.
Fath. Lord, how he takes it!