CRI. Stay, sir, and take my counsel. Let him still Firmly conceit himself the man he seems: Thus he, himself deceiv'd, will far more earnestly Effect your business, and deceive the rest. There's a main difference 'twixt a self-bred action And a forc'd carriage. Suffer him, then, to enter Antonio's house, and wait th' event: for him, He cannot 'scape: what you intend to do, Do't, when he has serv'd your turn. I see the maid; Let's hence, lest they suspect our consultations. PAN. Thy counsel's good: away. CRI. Look, Trincalo, Yonder's your beauteous mistress Armellina, And, [sir, your] daughter Flavia. Courage, I warrant thee. [_Exeunt_ PANDOLFO _and_ CRICCA. ANT. Bless'd be the heav'ns that rid me of this trouble; For with their farmer and astrologer, Plate and gold, they have almost madded me. SCENE IV. FLAVIA, ARMELLINA, ANTONIO. FLA. Armellina. ARM. Mistress. FLA. Is the door fast? ARM. Yes, as an usurer's purse. FLA. Come hither, wench. Look here; there's Trincalo, Pandolfo's farmer, Wrapp'd in my father's shape: prythee, come quickly, And help me to abuse him. ARM. Notorious clown! ANT. These are my gates, and that's the cabinet, That keeps my jewels, Lelio and his sister. FLA. Never was villainy so personate In seemly properties of gravity. [ANTONIO _knocks_. FLA. Who's he that knocks so boldly? ARM. What want you, sir? ANT. O my fair daughter Flavia! let all the stars Pour down full blessings on thee. Ope the doors. FLA. Mark! his fair daughter Flavia, ha, ha, ha! Most shameless villain, how he counterfeits! ANT. Know'st not thy father, old Antonio? Is all the world grown frantic? FLA. What, Antonio? ANT. Thy loving father, Flavia. FLA. My father! Would thou wert in his place. Antonio's dead, Dead, under water drown'd. ANT. That dead and drown'd Am I. FLA. I love not to converse with dead men. ANT. Ope the door, sweet Flavia. FLA. Sir, I am afeard; Horror incloses me, my hairs stand up, I sweat to hear a dead man speak: you smell Of putrefaction; fie! I feel't hither. ANT. Th' art much abus'd; I live. Come down, and know me. ARM. Mistress, let me have some sport too. Who's there? ANT. Let me come in. ARM. Soft, soft, sir; y' are too hasty. ANT. Quickly, or else---- ARM. Good words, good words, I pray, sir, In strangers' houses! were the doors your own, You might be bolder. ANT. I'll beat the doors and windows About your ears. ARM. Are you so hot? We'll cool you. Since your late drowning, your grey and reverend head Is smear'd with ooze, and stuck with cockle-shells: This is to wash it. [_Throws water on him._ ANT. Impudent whore!