GIU. Why, do you hear? you.
BOB. This gentleman hath satisfied me, I'll talk to no Scavenger.
GIU. How, Scavenger? stay, sir, stay.
[EXEUNT.
THO. Nay, brother Giuliano.
GIU. 'Sblood, stand you away, an you love me.
THO. You shall not follow him now, I pray you, Good faith, you shall not.
GIU. Ha! Scavenger! well, go to, I say little, but, by this good day, (God forgive me I should swear) if I put it up so, say I am the rankest --that ever pist. 'Sblood, an I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in the sight of man again while I live; I'll sit in a barn with Madge-owlet first. Scavenger! 'Heart, and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel slop of yours with somewhat, as I have good luck, your Gargantua breech cannot carry it away so.
THO. Oh, do not fret yourself thus, never think on't.
GIU. These are my brother's consorts, these, these are his Comrades, his walking mates, he's a gallant, a Cavaliero too, right hangman cut. God let me not live, an I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole next of them, one after another, and begin with him first, I am grieved it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses, well, he shall hear on't, and that tightly too, an I live, i'faith.
THO. But, brother, let your apprehension (then)Run in an easy current, not transported With heady rashness, or devouring choler, And rather carry a persuading spirit, Whose powers will pierce more gently; and allure Th' imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim, To a more sudden and resolved assent.
GIU. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.
[BELL RINGS.
THO. How now! oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother Giuliano, I pray you go in and bear my wife company: I'll but give order to my servants for the dispatch of some business, and come to you presently.
[EXIT GIU.
[ENTER COB.
What, Cob! our maids will have you by the back (i'faith)For coming so late this morning.
COB. Perhaps so, sir, take heed somebody have not them by the belly for walking so late in the evening.
[EXIT.
THO. Now (in good faith) my mind is somewhat eased, Though not reposed in that security As I could wish; well, I must be content, Howe'er I set a face on't to the world, Would I had lost this finger at a vent, So Prospero had ne'er lodged in my house, Why't cannot be, where there is such resort Of wanton gallants, and young revellers, That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve The sovereign state of chastity unscarr'd, When such strong motives muster, and make head Against her single peace? no, no: beware When mutual pleasure sways the appetite, And spirits of one kind and quality, Do meet to parley in the pride of blood.
Well, (to be plain) if I but thought the time Had answer'd their affections, all the world Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold:
Marry, I hope they have not got that start.
For opportunity hath balk'd them yet, And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears To attend the imposition of my heart:
My presence shall be as an iron bar, 'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire, Yea, every look or glance mine eye objects, Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave, [ENTER BIANCHA WITH HESPERIDA.
When he forgets the limits of prescription.
BIA. Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch down the rose-water above in the closet: Sweet-heart, will you come in to breakfast?
THO. An she have overheard me now?
[EXIT HESPERIDA.
BIA. I pray thee, (good Muss) we stay for you.
THO. By Christ, I would not for a thousand crowns.
BIA. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good Muss.
THO. Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.
BIA. Oh Jesu!
THO. How now! what!
BIA. Good Lord, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth, it is this new disease, there's a number are troubled withall for God's sake, sweet-heart, come in out of the air.
THO. How ******, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it.
Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.
BIA. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you harm, in troth.
THO. I'll come to you presently, it will away, I hope.
BIA. Pray God it do.
[EXIT.
THO. A new disease! I know not, new or old, But it may well be call'd poor mortals' Plague;For like a pestilence it doth infect The houses of the brain: first it begins Solely to work upon the phantasy, Filling her seat with such pestiferous air, As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence, Sends like contagion to the memory, Still each of other catching the infection, Which as a searching vapour spreads itself Confusedly through every sensive part, Till not a thought or motion in the mind Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what error is it to know this, And want the free election of the soul In such extremes! well, I will once more strive (Even in despite of hell) myself to be, And shake this fever off that thus shakes me.
