me to church, except it be in your company. [_Exeunt._

_Manet_ BENITO.

_Ben._ I am undone for ever; What shall I do with myself? I'll run
into some desart, and there I'll hide my opprobrious head. No, hang
it, I wont neither; all wits have their failings sometimes, and have
the fortune to be thought fools once in their lives. Sure this is but
a copy of her countenance; for my heart is true to me, and whispers to
me, she loves me still. Well, I'll trust in my own merits, and be
confident. [_A noise of throwing down water within._

_Enter_ MARIO, FABIO, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA.

_Lau._ [_Shaking her clothes._] O, sir, I am wet quite through my
clothes, and am not able to endure it.

_Vio._ Was there ever such an insolence?

_Mar._ Send in to see who lives there: I'll make an example of them.

_Enter_ FRONTONA.

_Fab._ Here is the woman of the house herself, sir.

_Fron._ Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment you shall
inflict upon me: For, though I intended nothing of an affront to these
sweet ladies, yet I can never forgive myself the misfortune, of which
I was the innocent occasion.

_Vio._ O, I am ready to faint away!

_Fron._ Alas, poor sweet lady, she's young and tender, sir. I beseech
you, give me leave to repair my offence, with offering myself, and
poor house, for her accommodation.

_Ben._ I know that woman: There's some villanous plot in this, I'll
lay my life on't. Now, Benito, cast about for thy credit, and recover
all again.

_Mar._ Go into the coach, nieces, and bid the coachman drive apace. As
for you, mistress, your smooth tongue shall not excuse you.

_Lau._ By your favour, sir, I'll accept of the gentlewoman's civility;
I cannot stir a step farther.

_Fron._ Come in, sweet buds of beauty, you shall have a fire in an
inner chamber; and if you please to repose yourself a while, sir, in
another room, they shall come out, and wait on you immediately.

_Mar._ Well, it must be so.

_Fron_. [_Whispering the Ladies._] Your friends are ready in the
garden, and will be with you as soon as we have shaken off your uncle.

_Ben._ A cheat, a cheat! a rank one! I smell it, old sir, I smell it.

_Mar._ What's the matter with the fellow? Is he distracted?

_Ben._ No, 'tis you are more likely to be distracted but that there
goes some wit to the being mad; and you have not the least grain of
wit, to be gulled thus grossly.

_Fron._ What does the fellow mea