Phi. Your Father: which?
Leo. He that is carried: oh
Let us make hence.
Phi. For loves sake: good my heart.
Leo. Into some house before he see me.
Phi. Dear,
Be not thus frighted.
Leo. Oh his wrath is tempest.
Phi. Sweet, take your spirit to you, and stay, be't he,
He cannot know you in this habit, and me
I'm sure he less knows, for he never saw me.
Alph. Ha? who is that? my Son Philippo?
Phi. Sir.
Alph. Why, what make you here? Is this Salamanca?
And that your study? ha? nay stay him too,
We'll see him by his leave.