Part 28 (2/2)

Marc. She brags that you shall marry her.

Flam. What then?

Marc. I had rather she were pitch'd upon a stake, In some new-seeded garden, to affright Her fellow crows thence.

Flam. You 're a boy, a fool, Be guardian to your hound; I am of age.

Marc. If I take her near you, I 'll cut her throat.

Flam. With a fan of feather?

Marc. And, for you, I 'll whip This folly from you.

Flam. Are you choleric?

I 'll purge it with rhubarb.

Hort. Oh, your brother!

Flam. Hang him, He wrongs me most, that ought t' offend me least: I do suspect my mother play'd foul play, When she conceiv'd thee.

Marc. Now, by all my hopes, Like the two slaughter'd sons of ?dipus, The very flames of our affection Shall turn two ways. Those words I 'll make thee answer With thy heart-blood.

Flam. Do, like the geese in the progress; You know where you shall find me.

Marc. Very good. [Exit Flamineo.

And thou be'st a n.o.ble friend, bear him my sword, And bid him fit the length on 't.

Young Lord. Sir, I shall. [Exeunt all but Zanche.

Zan. He comes. Hence petty thought of my disgrace!

[Enter Francisco.

I ne'er lov'd my complexion till now, 'Cause I may boldly say, without a blush, I love you.

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