Mal. My Piorato, welcome, welcome:
Faith had you not come when you did my Lord
Had done I know not what to me.
Vit. I am gul'd,
First cheated of my Jewels, and then laug[h]'d at:
Sirha, what makes you here?
Pio. A business brings me,
More lawful than your own.
Vit. How's that, you slave?
Mal. He's such, that would continue her a whore
Whom he would make a wife of.
Vit. I'll tread upon
The face you doat on, strumpet.
Enter Clara.
Pach. Keep the peace there.
Vit. A plot upon my life too?