Part 21 (1/2)

[ENTER GIU.]

GIU. Oh, gallant, have I found you? draw to your tools; draw, or by G.o.d's will I'll thrash you.

BOB. Signior, hear me.

GIU. Draw your weapons then.

BOB. Signior, I never thought it till now: body of St.

George, I have a warrant of the peace served on me even now, as I came along, by a water-bearer, this gentleman saw it, Signior Matheo.

GIU. The peace! 'Sblood, you will not draw?

[MATHEO RUNS AWAY. HE BEATS HIM AND DISARMS HIM.]

LOR. JU. Hold, Signior, hold, under thy favour forbear.

GIU. Prate again as you like this, you wh.o.r.eson cowardly rascal, you'll control the point, you? your consort he is gone; had he staid he had shared with you, in faith.

[EXIT GIULIANO.]

BOB. Well, gentlemen, bear witness, I was bound to the peace, by Jesu.

LOR. JU. Why, and though you were, sir, the law allows you to defend yourself; that's but a poor excuse.

BOB. I cannot tell; I never sustained the like disgrace (by heaven); sure I was struck with a planet then, for I had no power to touch my weapon.

[EXIT.]

LOR. JU. Ay, like enough; I have heard of many that have been beaten under a planet; go, get you to the surgeon's, 'sblood, an these be your tricks, your pa.s.sados, and your montantos, I'll none of them: O G.o.d, that this age should bring forth such creatures! come, cousin.

STEP. Ma.s.s, I'll have this cloak.

LOR. JU. G.o.d'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, a.s.sure 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 Th.o.r.eLLO, 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 a.s.sistance and occasion.

PROS. No harm done, brother, I warrant you: since there is no harm done, anger costs a man nothing: and 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.