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SCENE. 3.
Pandolfo, Cricca, Antonio.Pa.
What means this noise? O Cricca! what's the matter?
Cri.
Sir, here's your Farmer Trincalo, transform'd
In the true mould of old Antonio.
Pan.
Th'right eye's no liker to the left, then he
To my good neighbour. Divine Albumazar!
How I admire thy skill! just so he look't,
And thus he walkt; this is his face, his haire,
His eyes and countenance; If his voyce be like,
Then is th'Astrologer a wonder-worker.
Ant.
Signior Pandolfo, I thanke the heavens as much
To finde you well, as for my owne returne.
How does your daughter, and my love Sulpitia?
Pan.
Well, well sir.
Cri.
This is a good beginning,
How naturally the rogue dissembles it?
With what a gentle garbe, and civill grace
He speakes and lookes: How cunningly Albumazar
Hath for our purpose suted him in Barbary cloaths. Ile try him furthere: sir,
We heard you were drownd, pray you, how scap't you shipwrak?
Ant.
No sooner was I shipt for Barbary,
But faire winde follow'd, and faire weather led us.
When entred in the Scraites of Gibralter;
The heavens, and seas, and earth conspir'd against us,
The tempest tore our helme, and rent our tackels,
Broake the maine Mast, while all the sea about us
Stood up in watry Mountaines to over-whelme us.
And struck's against a Rocke, splitting the vessell
T'a thousand splinters. I with two Marriners
Swam to the Coast, where by the barbarous Moores
We were surpriz'd, fetter'd and sold for slaves.
Cri.
This tale th'Astrologer pen'd, and he hath cond it.
Ant.
But by a Gentleman of Italy
Whom I had knowne before.
Pan.
No more, this tast
Proves thou canst play the rest. For this faire story;
My hand I make thy ten pound, twenty Markes.
Thou lookst and speakst so like Antonio.
Ant.
Whom should I looke and speake like, but my selfe?
Cri.
Good still!
Pan.
But now my honest Trincalo,
Tell me where's all the Plate, the gold, and Iewels,
Committed to thy charge? are they safe lockt?
Ant.
I understand you not.
Pan.
The jewels man,
The plate and gold th'Arologer that chang'd thee
Bad thee lay up?
Ant.
What plate? what gold?
What jewels? what transformation? what Astrologer?
Cri.
Leave off Antonio now, and speak like Trincalo.
An.
Leave off your jesting; it neither fits your place
Nor age, Pandolfo, to scoffe your ancient friend.
I know not what you mean by gold and jewels,
Nor by th'Arologer, nor Trincalo.
Cri.
Better and better still. Beleeve me sir,
He thinks himselfe Antonio, and ever shall be.
And so possesse your plate. Art thou not Trincalo
My Masters Farmer?
An.
I am Antonio
Your Masters friend, if he teach you no more manners.
Pan.
Humour of wiving's gone; farewell good Flavia.
Three thousand pound must not be lost so slightly.
Come sir, wee'l draw you to th'Astrologer,
And turn you to your ragged bark of Yeomanry:
An.
To me these terms!
Pan.
Come ile not lose my plate.
Cri.
Stay, sir, and take my counsell. Let him still
Firmly conceit himselfe the man he seems:
Thus he himself deceiv'd, will farre more earnestly
Effect your businesse, and deceive the rest.
There's a mayn difference twixt a self-bred action
And a forst carriage. Suffer him then to enter
Antonio's house: and waite th'euent: for him
He cannot scape: what you intend to do,
Do't when 'has seru'd your turne. I see the maide,
Lets hence lest they suspect our consultations.
Pan.
Thy counsels good: away!
Cri.
Looke Trincalo
Yonder's your beauteous mistresse Armellina,
And daughter Flauia. Courage, I warrant thee.
An.
Blest be the heav'ns? that rid me of this trouble.
For with their Farmer and Astrologer,
Plate, and gold, the 'aue almost madded me.
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