MECH. _I'll not attend the shallow sleight of words,_ _Go home, repent, pray, and die!_ Excellent precepts for an orator's chamber. Where speech must bathe a handful deep in gold, Till, the poor giver's conduit being dry, The wretch goes home, doth curse, repent, and die. It is thy counsel, orator, thy stale[195] breath, Good only but to season infamy, But[196] this reproach, this uncaressing humour Hath taught my soul a new philosophy. I will go home, and there repent all good Done to thy name or thy profession; I will go home, and there new-frame myself More thirstily pernicious to thy state Than war or unabated mutiny. As for my prayers, orator, they are for thee. Thou hast a pretty, lovely, witty wife: O, may'st thou live both to be known and know Thyself the greatest cuckold in our land; And yet not dare to amend or grieve at it! May'st thou embrace thy shame with thankful arms, Hug thy disgrace, make thy black poison wine, And cap and crouch to thy dishonour! May thy remembrance live, upon my knees I pray, All night in bellmen's mouths, with Pasquil[197] in the day! [_Retires._ _Enter_ ALPHONSO _unbraced_. ALPH. Day be my speed, night shall not cloak my sin, If I have nought to do, it's by the sun, The light gives leave to all mine idleness. Quick business and ope eyes seize on mine orator, Whilst I create him horny precedents. _Enter_ COLLAQUINTIDA. But here's my bed-broker. Now, my great armful of good intelligence, where is my mistress? COL. Fast locked in her bed, with a close ward to devour thee, my brave Paraquito:[198] but hush! no words; there is a calm before the tempest. ALPH. Tut, tell me of no storms; but direct me to her bed-chamber, my noble firelock of a flesh pistol. COL. Follow thy colours, my brave worthy, mount up thy standard: so enter and prosper. [_She puts_ ALPHONSO _into the orator's house_. Thou hast a rich room, safe locks, sweet sheets, a choice armful, with, O, the rare, rare thought of imagination. MECH. What's this, what's this? Doth this Lord Alphonso turn the orator to an antelope? 'Tis more than excellent, And from the juice of this despite I suck Delight more great than all my miseries. Observe, dear eyes, observe. [_Aside._