Clow. No, no, I will not stael it; but my dear Jews-trump, for thou art but my instrument, I am the plotter, and when we have cozen'd 'em most titely, thou shalt steal away the Inn-keepers daughter, I'll provide my self of another moveable: and we will most purely retire our selves to Geneva.
Foro. Thou art the compass I sail by.
Enter Baptista and Mentivole.
Bap. Was ever expectation of so Noble
A requital answered with such contumely!
A wild Numidian that had suck'd a Tigress,
Would not have been so barbarous; Did he threat
To cut thy hand off?
Ment. Yes Sir, and his slaves were ready to perform't.
Bapt. What hind'red it?
Ment. Only his sons intreaty.
Bapt. Noble youth,
I wish thou wert not of his blood; thy pitty
Gives me a hope thou art not.
Ment. You mistake Sir,
The injury that followed from the son,
Was worse than the fathers; he did first disarme
And took from me a Jewel, which I prize
Above my hand or life.
Bap. Take thy sword from thee?
He stole it like a Thief rather, he could not
I'th' Field deprive thee of it.