University of Virginia Library

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Claudio (like a Merchant.)
Cla.
Now, in this habit may I safely see
How my incensed friend carries my murther,
Who little I imagin'd had been wrought
To such a height of rage; and much I grieve now
Mine owne blinde passion had so master'd me,
I could not see his love, for sure he loves her,
And on a nobler ground then I pretended.
Enter Penurio.
It must be so, it is so; what Penurio,
My shotten friend, what winde blew you?

Pen.
Faith 'tis true,
Any strong winde will blow me like a feather,
I am all Ayre, nothing of earth within me,
Nor have not had this moneth, but that good Dinner
Your Worship gave me yesterday, that staies by me,
And gives me ballasse, else the Sun would draw me.

Cla.
But do's my Mistris speake still of me?

Pen.
Yes Sir,
And in her sleep, that makes my Master mad too,
And turne and fart for anger.

Cla.
Are sure she saw me?

Pen.
She saw ye at a window.

Cla.
'Tis most true,
In such a place I saw a Gentlewoman,
A young, sweet hansome woman.

Pen.
That's she, that's she Sir.

Cla.
And well she view'd me, I view'd her.

Pen.
Still she Sir.

Cla.
At last she blush'd, and then look't off.

Pen.
That blush Sir,
If you can read it truly—

Cla.
But didst thou tell her,
Or didst thou foole me, thou knew'st such a one?

Pen.
I told her, and I told her such a sweet tale—

Cla.
But did she heare thee?

Pen.
With a thousand eares Sir,
And swallow'd what I said as greedily,
As great-bellyed women do Cherries, stones and all Sir.

Cla.
Methinkes she should not love thy Master?

Pen.
Hang him Pilcher,
There's nothing loves him: his owne Cat cannot endure him,
She had better lye with a Beare, for he is so hairie,
That a tame warren of flyes frisk round about him.

Cla.
And wilt thou worke still?

Pen.
Like a Miner for ye.

Cla.
And get accesse.

Pen.
Or conjure you together,
'Tis her desire to meet: she is poyson'd with him,
And till she take a sweet fresh ayre, that's you Sir.

Cla.
There's money for thee: thou art a precious Varlet,
Be fat, be fat, and blow thy Master backward.

Pen.
Blow you my Mistris Sir, as flat as a flounder,
Then blow her up againe as Butchers blow their Veales;
If she dye upon the same
Bury her, bury her in Gods name.

Cla.
Thou art a merry knave: by this hand ile feed thee,
Till thou crack'st at both ends, if thou dar'st do this
Thou shalt eat no fantasticall Porredge,
Nor lick the dish where oyle was yesterday,
Dust, and dead flyes to day; Capons, fat Capons—

Pen.
O hearty sound.

Cla.
Cramb'd full of itching Oysters.

Pen.
Will ye have the Dutchesse?

Cla.
And Lobsters big as Gauntlets,
Thou shalt despise base Beefe.

Pen.
I do despise it,
And now me thinkes I feele a Tart come sliding.

Cla.
Leaping into thy mouth: but first deale faithfully.

Pen.
When will ye come?

Cla.
To morrow.

Pen.
Ile attend ye,
For then my Master will be out in businesse.

Cla.
What newes abroad?

Pen.
'Mas as I was comming to you,
I heard that Signiour Silvio, a good Gentleman,
Many a good meale I have eaten with him—

Cla.
What of him?

Pen.
Was this day to be Arraigned before the Duchesse,
But why I could not heare.

Cla.
Silvio arraign'd?
Go, get ye gone, and thinke of me.

Pen.
I fly Sir.
Exit Pen.

Cla.
Arraign'd? for what? for my supposed death? no,
That cannot be sure, there's no rumour of it,
Be it what it will, I will be there and see it,
And if my help will bring him off he has it.

Exit.