RON. Harpax, bestow the plate: Furbo, our beards, Black patches for our eyes, and other properties,[313] And at the time and place meet all at supper. [_Exeunt._ SCENE IV. ALBUMAZAR, TRINCALO. ALB. Stand forth, transformed Antonio, fully mued From brown soar feathers[314] of dull yeomanry, To th' glorious bloom of gentry: prune yourself sleek;[315] Swear boldly y' are the man you represent To all that dare deny it. TRIN. I find my thoughts Most strangely alter'd; but methinks my face Feels still like Trincalo. ALB. You imagine so. Senses are oft deceiv'd. As an attentive angler, Fixing his steady eyes on the swift streams Of a steep tumbling torrent, no sooner turns His sight to land, but (giddy) thinks the firm banks And constant trees more like the running water; So you, that thirty years have liv'd in Trincalo. Chang'd suddenly, think y' are so still; but instantly These thoughts will vanish. TRIN. Give me a looking-glass To read your skill in these new lineaments. ALB. I'd rather give you poison; for a glass, By secret power of cross reflections And optic virtue, spoils the wond'rous work Of transformation; and in a moment turns you, Spite of my skill, to Trincalo as before. We read that Apuleius[316] was[317] by a rose Chang'd from an ass to man: so by a mirror You'll lose this noble lustre, and turn ass. I humbly take my leave; but still remember T' avoid the devil and a looking-glass. Newborn Antonio, I kiss your hands. TRIN. Divine Albumazar, I kiss your hands. [_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR. SCENE V. TRINCALO, RONCA. TRIN. Now am I grown a gentleman and a fine one, I know't by th' kissing of my hands so courtly. My courteous knees bend in so true a distance, As if my foot walk'd in a frame on purpose. Thus I accost you; or thus, sweet sir, your servant: Nay, more, your servant's servant: that's your grandservant. I could descend from the top of Paul's to th' bottom, And on each step strew parting compliments; Strive for a door, while a good carpenter Might make a new one. I am your shadow, sir, And bound to wait upon you; i' faith, I will not: Pray, sir, &c. O brave Albumazar! RON. Just Æsop's crow, trink'd up in borrow'd feathers. TRIN. My veins are fill'd with newness: O, for a chirurgeon To ope this arm, and view my gentle blood, To try if't run two thousand pounds a year. I feel my understanding is enlarg'd With the rare knowledge of this latter age: A sacred fury oversways me. Prime! Deal quickly, play, discard, I set ten shillings and sixpence. You see't? my rest, five-and-fifty.[318] Boy, more cards! And, as thou go'st, lay out some roaring oaths For me; I'll pay thee again with interest. O brave Albumazar!