Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire,
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth;
I fear'd besides what might befall your travel,
Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger,
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove
Rough and unhospitable: My willing love,
The rather by these arguments of doubt,
Set forth in your pursuit.
Seb. My kind Antonio,
I can no other answer make, but thanks,
And thanks, and ever thanks.—What is to do?
Shall we go see the reliques of this town?
Ant. To-morrow, sir; best, first, go see your lodging.
Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night;
I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes
With the memorials, and the things of fame,
That do renown this city.
Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me;
I do not without danger walk these streets:
Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst Orsino's gallies,
I did some service; of such note indeed,
That were I ta'en here, it would scarce be answered.
Seb. Do not then walk too open.
Ant. It doth not fit me.—Hold, sir, here's my purse;
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,
Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet,
Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge,
With viewing of the town; there shall you have me.
Seb. Why I your purse?
Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some toy
You have desire to purchase; and your store,
I think, is not for idle markets, sir.
Seb. I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave you for an hour.