_Rut._ Make me a Dog-kennel,
I'le keep your house and bark, and feed on bare bones,
And be whipt out o' doors,
Do you mark me Lady? whipt,
I'le eat old shoes.
_Enter_ Duarte.
_Dua._ In this house I am told
There is a stranger, of a goodly person,
And such a one there was; if I could see him,
I yet remember him.
_Sulp._ Your business Sir,
If it be for a woman, ye are couzen'd,
I keep none here. [_Exit._
_Dua._ Certain this is the Gentleman;
The very same.
_Rut._ Death, if I had but mony,
Or any friend to bring me from this bondage,
I would Thresh, set up a Cobler's shop, keep Hogs,
And feed with 'em, sell Tinder-boxes,
And Knights of Ginger-bread, Thatch for three
Half pence a day, and think it Lordly,
From this base Stallion trade: why does he eye me,
Eye me so narrowly?
_Dua._ It seems you are troubled Sir,
I heard you speak of want.
_Rut._ 'Tis better hearing
Far, than relieving Sir.
_Dua._ I do not think so, you know me not.
_Rut._ Not yet that I remember.
_Dua._ You shall, and for your friend: I am beholding to ye,
Greatly beholding Sir; if you remember,
You fought with such a man, they call'd _Duarte_,
A proud distemper'd man: he was my enemy,
My mortal foe, you slew him fairly, nobly.
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