Don John. I am going, Lopez, to double my Attacks: I'll beat up her Quarters six Times a-night; I am now downright in Love: the Difficulties pique me to the Attempt, and I'll conquer or I'll die.
Lop. Why, to confess the Truth, Sir, I find you much upon my Taste in this Matter: Difficulties are the Rocambole of Love; I never valu'd an easy Conquest in my life. To rouse my Fire; the Lady must cry out, as softly as ever she can, Have a Care, my Dear, my Mother has seen us: My Brothers suspect me; my Husband may surprize us: O, dear Heart, have a Care, I pray! Then, I play the Devil: But, when I come to a Fair-one, where I may hang up my Cloak upon a Peg, get into my Gown and Slippers—
Don John. Impudent Rogue!
[Aside.
Lop. See her stretch'd upon the Couch, in great Security, with—My Dear, come kiss me, we have nothing to fear—I droop, I yawn, I sleep.
Don John. Well, Sir, whatever you do with your Fair-one, I am going to be very busy with mine; I was e'en almost weary of her, but Guzman and this old Fellow have reviv'd my dying Fire; and so, have at her.
Lop. 'Tis all mighty well, Sir; mighty well, Sir, as can be in the World. But, if you wou'd have the Goodness to consider en passant, or so, a little now and then about Swords and Daggers, and Rivals and old Fellows, and Pistols and great Guns, and such like Baubles, only now and then at leisure, Sir, not to interrupt Things of more Consequence.
Don John. Thou art a cowardly Rascal, I have often consider'd that.
Lop. Ay, that's true, Sir; and yet a Blunderbuss is presently discharged out of a Garret-Window.
Don John. Come, no more Words, but follow me: How now! what Impertinence have we here now, to stop me?