Fior. No matter;
He's blind with too much light[69]. Have you not heard
Of any private mistress he's engaged to?
Calam. Not any; and this does amaze me, madam,
That he, a soldier, should in his manners
Be so averse to women.
Fior. Troth, I know not.
Calam. I do suspect him; for I learnt last night,
When the great duke went to rest, attended by
One private follower, he took horse; but whither
He's rid, or to what end, I cannot guess at,
But I will find it out.
Fior. Do, faithful servant;
Enter Calandrino.
We would not be abused.—Who have we here?
Calam. How the fool stares!
Fior. And looks as if he were
Conning his neck-verse.
Cal. If I now prove perfect
In my A B C of courtship, Calandrino
Is made for ever. I am sent—let me see,
On a How d'ye, as they call 't.