CYP. And you have amply done it; yet this jest So perfect doth deserve more memory. Florio, go bid the orator attend us presently. [_Exit_ FLORIO. And now to you, Drap and Velours, I did Refer you long since to the orator. Yet I note your attention: come, there is Some too close-fisted hardness in your hearts: You gripe too hard, your bribes will not disburse: Come, tell me truly, as you look for heaven, What must you pay for your despatches? DRAP _and_ VEL. A thousand crowns we oft'er'd willingly. CYP. And will your suit avail with such disbursement? DRAP _and_ VEL. It will, and we most richly satisfied. CYP. We'll see the business perfected. DRAP _and_ VEL. With all our hearts, and be full-joy'd thereat; Here are the crowns. CYP. You shall have your despatches. _Enter_ PRATE _and_ FLORIO. See, here comes the orator. Prate, come hither; These gentlemen, whom long since I referr'd To your despatches, are yet unsatisfied. PRATE. Alas! my lord, the state---- CYP. ----I know, employs you, yet there's many minutes May give your best cares leisure; come, there is Some odd disburse, some bribe, some gratulance, Which makes you lock up leisure; come, tell true, What bribe must they give, what is your utmost price? PRATE. But five hundred crowns, of my best conscience. CYP. Tut, it is nothing, hold, here's the coin, And let them have their patents presently: Or look to lose both place and sovereignty. PRATE. Legions of devils haunt their diligence! CYP. Fie! I would not have a man of your high place, Or for respect of wealth or base observance, In smallest things thus to neglect your credit, Why, look you, my lords, This orator is not like others of his rank, Who from their garish[228] and fantastic humours Go through the streets, spotted with peacock's plumes, Wearing all colours, laces, broideries, Satins and silks, so antic-garnished, That when their gowns are off, you cannot find In Italy a master shap'd more nice. But this fellow Prate here's of another sort, Cloth'd like himself, demure and soberly: Nay, you shall see him for a precedent. [_Ungowns the orator._ Passion of mine eyesight' who have we here? This is Alphonso, there's the orator. PRATE. Heart of impatience, I am then a cuckold! A scorn, a byword, and a laughing-stock. What, is my wife turn'd whore? and must her depth Be sounded by the plumbs[229] of foreigners? Well, the revenge that I will take for this my shame Shall make all whores hereafter dread my name.