Pio. Your servant excellent Steward.
Would all the Dons in Spain had no more brains,
Here comes the Alguazier: dieu vous guard Monsieur.
Is my Cuz stirring yet?
Alg. Your Cuz (good cosin?)
A whore is like a fool, a kin to all
The gallants in the Town: Your [C]uz, good Signior,
Is gone abroad; Sir, with her other Cosin,
My Lord Vitelli: since when there hath been
Some dozen Cosins here to enquire for her.
Pio. She's greatly ally'd Sir.
Alg. Marry is she, Sir,
Come of a lusty kindred: the truth is,
I must connive no more: no more admittance
Must I consent to; my good Lord has threatned me,
And you must pardon.
Pio. Out upon thee man,
Turn honest in thine age? one foot i'th' grave?
Thou shalt not wrong thy self so, for a million:
Look, thou three-headed Cerberus (for wit
I mean) here is one sop, and two, and three,
For every chop a bit.
Alg. I marry Sir:
Well, the poor heart loves you but too well.
We have been talking on you 'faith this hour:
Where, what I said, goe too: she loves your valour;
Oh, and your Musick most abominably:
She is within Sir, and alone: what mean you?
Pio. That is your Sergeants side, I take it Sir;
Now I endure your Constables much better;
There is less danger in't: for one you know
Is a tame harmless monster in the light,
The Sergeant salvage both by day, and night.
Alg. I'll call her to you for that.
Pio. No, I will charm her.
Enter Malroda.