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Spa. Who brought him in ? that would be known.
Sec. That did Signor Troylo; I saw the page part at the door. Some trick still; go to, wife, I must and I will have an eye to this gear.
Spa. A plain case; roguery, brokage and roguery, or call me bulchin. Fancies, quoth a'? rather Frenzies. We shall all roar shortly, turn madcaps, lie open to what comes first: I may stand to't—that boy page is a naughty boy page;let me feel your forehead : ha! oh, hum,-yes,there,—there again! I'm sorry
ye, a hand-saw cannot cure ye: monstrous and apparent ! [Feeling his forehead.
Sec. What, what, what, what, what, Spadone?
Spa. What, what, what, what! nothing but velvet tips ;4 you are of the first head yet.
Have a good heart, man; a cuckold, though he be a beast, wears invisible horns, else we might know a citybull from a country-calf;-villainous boy, still!
Sec. My razor shall be my weapon, my razor.
Spa. Why, he's not come to the honour of a beard yet; he needs no shaving.
Sec. I will trim him and tram him.
Sec. One ? ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand; do beyond arithmetic! Spadone, I speak it with some passion, I am a notorious cuckold.
* Nothing but velvet tips.] Spadone alludes to “ the down or velvet upon the first sprouting horns of a young deer.”
Spa. Gross and ridiculous!-look ye-point blank, I dare not swear that this same mountebanking new-come foist is at least a procurer in the business, if not a pretender himself;—but I think what I think.
Sec. He, Troylo, Livio, the page, that holecreeping page, all horn me, sirrah. I'll forgive thee from my heart; dost not thou drive a trade too in my bottom?
Spa. A likely matter! 'las, I am metamorphosed, I; be patient, you'll mar all else.
Laughing within. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Sec. Now, now, now, now the game's rampant, rampant!
Spa. Leave your wild figaries, and learn to be a tame antick, or I'll observe no longer.
Within. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Enter TroyLO, CASTAMELA, FLORIA, CLARELLA,
Silvia, Morosa, and ROMANELLO, disguised, as
Clar. Have a stabbing wit.
argues a lean brain.
You would be fair, forsooth! you would be mon
Troy. Bear with him, ladies.
--fa la la la!
Rom. Yes, for sport's sake,
Spa. Out, stallion! as I am a man and no man, the baboon lies, I dare swear, abominably. Sec. Inhumanly ;-keep your bow close, vixen.
s Treddle !] That part of the loom on which the foot presses : vulgarly, a common creature, a street-walker.
Keep your bow close, vixen.] This is taken from ancient Pistol's injunction to his disconsolate spouse at parting ; and with her it might have been safely left.
Mor. Beshrew your fingers, if you be in earnest! You pinch too hard; go to, I'll pare your nails
for't. Spa. She means your horns; there's a bob for
you! Clar. Spruce signor, if a man may love so many, Why may not a fair lady have like privilege Of several servants?
Troy. Answer that; the reason Holds the same weight.
Mor. Marry, and so it does,
Spa. Mark that, Secco.
Rom. The learned differ
Flo. Dull and phlegmatic!
Clar. Yet women sure, in such a case, are ever More secret than men are.
Sil. Yea, and talk less.
Rom. That is a truth much fabled, never found. You secret! when your dresses blab your vanities? Carnation for your points? there's a gross babbler; Tawney? hey ho! the pretty heart is wounded: A knot of willow ribbons? she's forsaken. Another rides the cock-horse, green and azure,
Wince and cry wee-hee ! like a colt unbroken: But desperate black put them in mind of fish-days; When Lent spurs on devotion, there's a famine : Yet love and judgment may help all this pudder; Where are they ? not in females.
Flo. In all sorts
Sil. Else they were sots to choose.
Mor. I do defy thee; am I old or ugly?
footing, And need'st not fear the cuckold's livery, There's good philosophy for't: take this for com
fort; No horned beasts have teeth in either gums; But thou art tooth'd on both sides, though she fail
Rom. That's his fortune;