Ron. Sir, I believe you.
Trin. But I must tell you one thing:
You must not be so jealous; on my honour,
She's very honest.
Ron. For you I make no question;
But there's a rogue called Trincalo, whom if I catch,
I'll teach him.
Trin. Who? you mean Pandolfo's farmer.
Alas, poor fool, he's a stark ass, but harmless.
And though she talk with him, 'tis but to laugh,
As all the world does at him. Come, be friends
At my entreaty.
Ron. Sir, for your sake.
Bev. I thank you.
Trin. Let's have a fire; and, while I dry myself,
Provide good wine and meat. I'll dine with you.
I must not home thus wet. I am something bold with you.
Ron. My house and self are at your service.
Trin. Lead in.
Alas, poor Trincalo, hadst thou been taken,
Thou hadst been tunn'd for Turkey.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! fair fall Antonio's shape.
What a notorious wittol's this! ha, ha, ha!
[Exeunt.