Claris. One unworthy?
Why, pray you gentle brother, who are they
That I vouchsafe these bounties to? I hope
In your strict Criticisme of me, and my manners,
That you will not deny they are your equals.
Cesar. Angry?
Claris. I have reason, but in cold blood tell me,
Had we not one Father?
Cesar. Yes, and Mother too.
Claris. And he a Soldier.
Cesar. True.
Claris. If I then borrow
A little of the boldness of his temper,
Imparting it to such as may deserve it;
(However indulgent to your selves, you brothers
Allow no part of freedom to your Sisters)
I hope 'twill not pass for a crime in me,
To grant access and speech to noble suitors;
And you escape for innocent, that descend
To a thing so far beneath you. Are you touch'd?
Why did you think that you had Giges Ring,
Or the Herb that gives invisibility?
Or that Biancha's name had ne'er been mention'd;
The fair Maid of the grand Osteria, brother.
Cesar. No more.
Claris. A little, brother. Your night walks,
And offer'd presents; which coy she, contemn'd,
Your combats in disguises with your Rivals,
Brave Muletiers. Scullions perfum'd with grease,
And such as [cry] meat for Cats must be remembred;
And all this pother for a common trull,
A tempting sign, and curiously set forth,
To draw in riotous guests, a thing expos'd
To every Ruffians rude assault; and subject
For a poor salary, to a rich mans lust,
Though made up of diseases.
Cesar. Will you end yet?