Por. If I may trust a woman, sir, she will come.
Fus. There’s for thy pains [Gives money]. Godamercy, if ever I stand in need of a wench that will come with a wet finger,[123] porter, thou shalt earn my money before any clarissimo[124] in Milan; yet, so God sa’ me, she’s mine own sister body and soul, as I am a Christian gentleman; farewell; I’ll ponder till she come: thou hast been no bawd in fetching this woman, I assure thee.
Por. No matter if I had, sir, better men than porters are bawds.
Fus. O God, sir, many that have borne offices. But, porter, art sure thou went’st into a true house?
Por. I think so, for I met with no thieves.
Fus. Nay, but art sure it was my sister, Viola.
Por. I am sure, by all superscriptions, it was the party you ciphered.
Fus. Not very tall?
Por. Nor very low; a middling woman.
Fus. ’Twas she, ’faith, ’twas she, a pretty plump cheek, like mine?