Every Man in his Humour [39]
'sblood, an these be your tricks, your passados, and your montantos, I'll none of them: O God, that this age should bring forth such creatures! come, cousin.
STEP. Mass, I'll have this cloak.
LOR. JU. God's will: it's Giuliano's.
STEP. Nay, but 'tis mine now, another might have ta'en it up as well as I, I'll wear it, so I will.
LOR. JU. How an he see it? he'll challenge it, assure yourself.
STEP. Ay, but he shall not have it; I'll say I bought it.
LOR. JU. Advise you, cousin, take heed he give not you as much. [EXEUNT.
ENTER THORELLO, PROSPERO, BIANCHA, HESPERIDA.
THO. Now trust me, Prospero, you were much to blame, T' incense your brother and disturb the peace Of my poor house, for there be sentinels, That every minute watch to give alarms Of civil war, without adjection Of your assistance and occasion.
PROS. No harm done, brother, I warrant you: since there is no harm done, anger costs a man nothing: an a tall man is never his own man till he be angry, to keep his valour in obscurity, is to keep himself as it were in a cloak-bag: what's a musician unless he play? what's a tall man unless he fight? for indeed, all this my brother stands upon absolutely, and that made me fall in with him so resolutely.
BIA. Ay, but what harm might have come of it?
PROS. Might? So might the good warm clothes your husband wears be poison'd for any thing he knows, or the wholesome wine he drunk even now at the table.
THO. Now, God forbid: O me! now I remember, My wife drunk to me last; and changed the cup, And bade me wear this cursed suit to-day, See if God suffer murder undiscover'd! I feel me ill; give me some mithridate, Some mithridate and oil; good sister, fetch me, Oh, I am sick at heart: I burn, I burn; If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
PROS. Oh, strange humour, my very breath hath poison'd him.
HES. Good brother, be content, what do you mean? The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
BIA. Beshrew your heart-blood, brother Prospero, For putting such a toy into his head.
PROS. Is a fit simile a toy? will he be poison'd with a simile? Brother Thorello, what a strange and vain imagination is this? For shame to be wiser, on my soul there's no such matter.
THO. Am I not sick? how am I then not poison'd? Am I not poison'd? how am I then so sick?
BIA. If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick.
PROS. His jealousy is the poison he hath taken.
[ENTER MUSCO LIKE THE DOCTOR'S MAN. MUS. Signior Thorello, my master, Doctor Clement, salutes you, and desires to speak with you, with all speed possible.
THO. No time but now? Well, I'll wait upon his worship, Piso, Cob, I'll seek them out, and set them sentinels till I return. Piso, Cob, Piso [EXIT.
PROS. Musco, this is rare, but how got'est thou this apparel of the Doctor's man?
MUS. Marry sir. My youth would needs bestow the wine on me to hear some martial discourse; where I so marshall'd him, that I made him monstrous drunk, and because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stript him stark naked as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit to deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour and an old brown bill to watch him till my return: which shall be when I have pawn'd his apparel, and spent the money perhaps.
PROS. Well, thou art a mad knave, Musco, his absence will be a good subject for more mirth: I pray thee return to thy young master Lorenzo, and will him to meet me and Hesperida at the Friary presently: for here, tell him, the house is so stored with jealousy, that there is no room for love to stand upright in: but I'll use such means she shall come thither, and that I think will meet best with his desires: Hie thee, good Musco.
MUS. I go, sir. [EXIT.
[ENTER THORELLO, TO HIM PISO. THO. Ho, Piso, Cob, where are these villains, trow? Oh, art thou there? Piso, hark thee here: Mark what I say to thee, I must go forth; Be careful of thy promise, keep good watch, Note every gallant and observe him well, That enters in my
STEP. Mass, I'll have this cloak.
LOR. JU. God's will: it's Giuliano's.
STEP. Nay, but 'tis mine now, another might have ta'en it up as well as I, I'll wear it, so I will.
LOR. JU. How an he see it? he'll challenge it, assure yourself.
STEP. Ay, but he shall not have it; I'll say I bought it.
LOR. JU. Advise you, cousin, take heed he give not you as much. [EXEUNT.
ENTER THORELLO, PROSPERO, BIANCHA, HESPERIDA.
THO. Now trust me, Prospero, you were much to blame, T' incense your brother and disturb the peace Of my poor house, for there be sentinels, That every minute watch to give alarms Of civil war, without adjection Of your assistance and occasion.
PROS. No harm done, brother, I warrant you: since there is no harm done, anger costs a man nothing: an a tall man is never his own man till he be angry, to keep his valour in obscurity, is to keep himself as it were in a cloak-bag: what's a musician unless he play? what's a tall man unless he fight? for indeed, all this my brother stands upon absolutely, and that made me fall in with him so resolutely.
BIA. Ay, but what harm might have come of it?
PROS. Might? So might the good warm clothes your husband wears be poison'd for any thing he knows, or the wholesome wine he drunk even now at the table.
THO. Now, God forbid: O me! now I remember, My wife drunk to me last; and changed the cup, And bade me wear this cursed suit to-day, See if God suffer murder undiscover'd! I feel me ill; give me some mithridate, Some mithridate and oil; good sister, fetch me, Oh, I am sick at heart: I burn, I burn; If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
PROS. Oh, strange humour, my very breath hath poison'd him.
HES. Good brother, be content, what do you mean? The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
BIA. Beshrew your heart-blood, brother Prospero, For putting such a toy into his head.
PROS. Is a fit simile a toy? will he be poison'd with a simile? Brother Thorello, what a strange and vain imagination is this? For shame to be wiser, on my soul there's no such matter.
THO. Am I not sick? how am I then not poison'd? Am I not poison'd? how am I then so sick?
BIA. If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick.
PROS. His jealousy is the poison he hath taken.
[ENTER MUSCO LIKE THE DOCTOR'S MAN. MUS. Signior Thorello, my master, Doctor Clement, salutes you, and desires to speak with you, with all speed possible.
THO. No time but now? Well, I'll wait upon his worship, Piso, Cob, I'll seek them out, and set them sentinels till I return. Piso, Cob, Piso [EXIT.
PROS. Musco, this is rare, but how got'est thou this apparel of the Doctor's man?
MUS. Marry sir. My youth would needs bestow the wine on me to hear some martial discourse; where I so marshall'd him, that I made him monstrous drunk, and because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stript him stark naked as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit to deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour and an old brown bill to watch him till my return: which shall be when I have pawn'd his apparel, and spent the money perhaps.
PROS. Well, thou art a mad knave, Musco, his absence will be a good subject for more mirth: I pray thee return to thy young master Lorenzo, and will him to meet me and Hesperida at the Friary presently: for here, tell him, the house is so stored with jealousy, that there is no room for love to stand upright in: but I'll use such means she shall come thither, and that I think will meet best with his desires: Hie thee, good Musco.
MUS. I go, sir. [EXIT.
[ENTER THORELLO, TO HIM PISO. THO. Ho, Piso, Cob, where are these villains, trow? Oh, art thou there? Piso, hark thee here: Mark what I say to thee, I must go forth; Be careful of thy promise, keep good watch, Note every gallant and observe him well, That enters in my