LUS. A parlous melancholy! h' has wit enough To murder any man, and I'll give him means. [_Aside._ I think thou art ill-moneyed? VEN. Money! ho, ho![86] 'T has been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff: I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of. LUS. It hits as I could wish. [_Aside._ VEN. I get good clothes Of those that dread my humour; and for table-room I feed on those that cannot be rid of me. LUS. Somewhat to set thee up withal. [_Gives him money._ VEN. O mine eyes! LUS. How now, man? VEN. Almost struck blind; This bright unusual shine to me seems proud; I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud. LUS. I think I shall affect[87] his melancholy. How are they now?[88] VEN. The better for your asking. LUS. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten Truly on my intent. Now y' are both present, I will unbrace such a close private villain Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of, Who hath disgrac'd you much, and injur'd us. HIP. Disgrac'd us, my lord? LUS. Ay, Hippolito. I kept it here till now, that both your angers Might meet him at once. VEN. I'm covetous To know the villain. LUS. You know him: that slave-pander Piato, whom we threaten'd last With irons in perpetual 'prisonment. VEN. All this is I. [_Aside._ HIP. Is't he, my lord? LUS. I'll tell you, you first preferr'd him to me. VEN. Did you, brother? [_Aside._ HIP. I did indeed. LUS. And the ungrateful villain, To quit that kindness, strongly wrought with me-- Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure-- With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister. HIP. O villain! VEN. He shall surely die that did it. [_Aside._ LUS. I, far from thinking any virgin harm, Especially knowing her to be as chaste As that part which scarce suffers to be touch'd-- The eye--would not endure him. VEN. Would you not, my lord? 'Twas wondrous honourably done. LUS. But with some few[89] frowns kept him out. VEN. Out, slave! [_Aside._ LUS. What did me he, but in revenge of that, Went of his own free will to make infirm Your sister's honour (whom I honour with my soul For chaste respect) and not prevailing there, (As 'twas but desperate folly to attempt it) In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother, Whose honour being a coward as it seems, Yielded by little force. VEN. Coward indeed! [_Aside._ LUS. He, proud of this advantage (as he thought), Brought me this news for happy. But I, heaven forgive me for't!----