University of Virginia Library

SCENE. 7.

Ronca. Trincalo.
Ron.
Signior Antonio: I saw you as I landed,
And in great haste follow'd to congratulate
Your safe return, with these most wisht embraces.

Tri.
And I accept your joy with like affection.
How do you call your selfe?

Ron.
Have you forgot
Your deare friend Ronca, whom you lov'd so well?

Tri.
O I remember now my deare friend Ronca.

Ron.
Thanks to the fortune of the Seas that sav'd you.

Tri.
I feare I owe him monie: how shall I shift him?
How do's your body Ronca?

Ron.
My deare Antonio,
Never so well as now I have the power
Thus to embrace my friend, whom all th'Exchange
Gave drown'd for three whole moneths. My deare Antonio.

Tri.
I thank you sir.

Ron.
I thank you.

Tri.
While my dear Ronca
Clipt me, my purse shook dangerously; yet both his arms
And hands embrac'd my neck: here's none behind me.
How can this be?

Ron.
Most deare Antonio,
Was not your passage dangerous from Barbary?
We had great windes and tempests; and I feare me,
You felt the force at Sea.

Tri.
Yes dearest Ronca.
How's this? I see his hands, and yet my purse is gone.

Ron.
Signior Antonio, I see your mind's much troubled
About affaires of worth; I take my leave:
And kisse your hands of Liberalitie.

Tri.
And kisse my hands of Liberalitie?
I gave him nothing: Oh my purse, my purse!
Deare Master Ronca.

Ron.
Whats your pleasure sir?

Tri.
Shew me your hand.

Ro.
Here tis.

Tr.
But where's th'other?

Ron.
Why here.

Tri.
But I mean where's your other hand?

Ron.
Think you me the Gyant with a hundred hands?

Tri.
Give me your right.

Ron.
My right?

Tri.
Your left

Ron.
My left?

Tri.
Now both.

Ron.
There's both my deare Antonio:
Keep your selfe dark, eat broth: your fearfull passage,
And want of naturall rest, hath made you frantick.

Tri.
Villain, rogue, cut-purse, thief, dear Ronca stay: he's gone
I'th'Devils name, how could this fellow do it?
I felt his hands fast lockt about my neck;
And still he spoake, it could not be his mouth:
For that was full of deare Antonio:
My life he stole't with his feet: such a trick more
Will work worse with me then a Looking-glasse:
To lose five pound in curt'sie, and the rest
In salutation!

Ron.
Signior Antonio,
What ails you?

Tri.
Ronca a Rogue, a Cut-purse
Hath rob'd me of five twenty shilling pieces.

Ron.
What kind of man was he: something like me?

Tri.
Had such a thievish countenance as your own,
But that he wore a black patch ore his eye.

Ron.
Met you with Ronca: tis the cunningst nimmer
Of the whole company of Cut-purse hall:
I am sorrie I was not here to warn you of him.