Cla. But in this object
Hardly deserv'd my thanks.
Pio. Is there ought else
You will command me?
Cla. Only your sword
Which I must have: nay willingly I yet know
To force it, and to use it.
Pio. 'Tis yours Lady.
Cla. I ask no other guard.
Pio. If so I leave you:
And now, if that the Constable keep his word,
A poorer man may chance to gull a Lord. [Exit.
Mal. By this good —— you shall not.
Vit. By this ——
I must, and will, Malroda; What do you make
A stranger of me?
Mal. I'll be so to you,
And you shall find it.
Vit. These are your old arts
T'endear the game you know I come to hunt for,
Which I have born too coldly.