CASTRUCCIO

Signior Pioratto, signior , shall be merry? shall play the wags now? Truth I have a pretty sportive conceit new crept into my brain, will move excellent mirth. At signior Candido S house, the patient man, nay the monstrous patient man; they say his blood is immovable, that he haz taken all patience from a man, and all constancy from a woman. I, and so many knaves too. To conclude, the report goes, he's so mild, so affa ble, so suffering, that nothing indeed can move him: now do but think what sport it will be to make this fellow (the mirror of patience) as angry, as vexed, and as mad as and English cuc kolde. Let me alone, I have a wick, a conceit, a thing, a de vice will st g him i'faith, if he have but a Thy blefull of blood I belly, or a spleen not so big as a tavern token. Sbloud signior Pioratto, (you that disparage my con ceit) isle wage a hundred ducats upon the head on't, that it moves him, frets him, and Gall him. Witness: 'tis do e Come, follow me: the house is not far off I'll thrust him from his humour, vex his breast, And win a hundred ducats by one east. Exeunt. Where signior Candido thy master? Fellow, lets see a lawn, a choice one sitra. What, and is this she sayest thou? Puh, thou talkest, pox on't 'tis rough. Puh, I would seen better, and as you term them, evener and cleaner. Oh here he comes, lets make as though we pass, Come, come, weel try in some other shop. Makes the better for the jest. Well, how do you rate it? That's too deer: how many yards does the whole piece contain think you? Why let me see-would it were better too. Well: let me have thena whole pennyworth. A pennorth I say. Of lawn? I of lawn, a pennorth, sblood dost not hear? a whole pennorth, are you deaf? Nay, and you and your lawns be so squeamish, Fare you well. Sblood, whats that to you: I'll have a penny worth. No, no: not there. No nor there neither. I'll have it joust in the middle, or else not. Yes, heeres one. Well, well, I knowt: is't possible that Homo, Should be nor man, nor woman: not once moved; No not at such and injury, not at all! Sure he's a pigeon, for he has no gall. Sweet et Fluello, I should be bountiful to that conceit. I pledge you Seig. Candido, -here you, that must re ceiue a 100. Ducats. Pledge him, heel do't else. Heart not moved yet? I think his patience is above our wit, Exeunt. Constable goodman Abram. Sheart! attach us! I hope you're not angry sir. But you (out of your anger & impatience,) Caused us to be attached. I never herd a carter yet say nay To such a motion. I'll not be the first. How does my sweet acquaintance? Good Tobacco, Fluello ? No let me send pry thee. Hers most herculaniam ̄ Tobacco, would some acquainta ̄ ce? At a place sweet acquaintance where your health danc'de the Canaries y'faith: you should would been there. Why in good troth, if yowl trust me acquaintance, there was not one hen at the board, ask Fluello. Why wench, is he scabbed? What and ass is that Lord, to borrow money of a Citizen. Here Roger, fetch more, a mischance. I'faith Ac quaintance. Please you be here my Lord. Tobacco. Did you never hear of Count Hipolitos ac quaintance? He betrays his youth too grossly to that tyrant ma lancholy. And I by heaven. Its dinner time Matheo, shalls hence? Nay faith Acquaintance, let me tell you, you forgot your self too much: we had excel ̄ to cheer, rare vintage, and were drunk after supper. Matheo, Fluello, for shame put up. Cockatrice, farewell. Get pen & Ink, get pen & ink: Enter Castruchio. I have strange news my Lord. Of Infaelice, and a marriage. Hipolito. He that can make any man dead, the Doctor: but my Lord, he's as full of life as wildfire, and as quick: Hipo lito, the Doctor, and one more rid hence this evening; the Inn at which they light is Bethlehem Monastarie: Infaeliche comes from Bergamo, and meets them there: Hipolito is mad, for he means this day to be married, the afternoon is the hour, and Friar Anselmo is the knitter. I will not swear my Lord, But this intelligence I took from one, Whose brains works in the plot. Mathaeo. My Lord. Fluello, or else Sinezi by his little legs. And where is father Anselmo now? Pray may we see some of those wretched Souls, That here are in your keeping? A very old man. Are you a Fisherman father? Father I see you have a busy charge. Where is my Lord the Duke? So 'tis given out my Lord. See how he notes the other now he feeds. Its Candido my Lord, he's here among the lunatics: father Anselmo, pray fetch him forth: this mad woman is his wife, and though she were not with child, yet did she long most spitefully to have her husband mad, and because she would be sure, he should turn Jew, she placed him here in Bethlehem, youder he comes.