TRIN. This rascal Cricca, with his arguments Of malice, so disturbs my gentle thoughts, That I half doubt I am not what I seem: But that will soon be clear'd; if they receive me In at Antonio's house, I am Antonio. LEL. Signior Antonio, my most loving father! Bless'd be the day and hour of your return. TRIN. Son Lelio! a blessing on my child; I pray thee, tell me How fares my servant Armellina? well? LEL. Have you forgot my sister Flavia? TRIN. What, my dear daughter Flavia? No: but first Call Armellina; for this day we'll celebrate A gleek of marriages:[337] Pandolfo and Flavia, Sulpitia and myself, and Trincalo With Armellina. Call her, good Lelio, quickly. [_Exit._ TRIN. So: this is well, that Lelio Confesses me his father. Now I am perfect-- Perfect Antonio. SCENE XI. ARMELLINA, TRINCALO. ARM. Signior Antonio! My long-expected master! TRIN. O Armellina! Come, let me kiss thy brow[338] like my own daughter. ARM. Sir, 'tis too great a favour. I kiss your foot. What, fall'n? alas! how feeble you are grown With your long travel! TRIN. True, and being drown'd, Nothing so griev'd me as to lose thy company: But, since I am safe return'd, for thy good service I'll help thee to a husband. ARM. A husband, sir? Some young and lusty youth, or else I'll none. TRIN. To one that loves thee dearly, dearly, wench: A goodly man, like me in limbs and fashion. ARM. Fie, an old man! how! cast myself away, And be no nurse but his? TRIN. He's not like me In years and gravity, but fair proportion; A handsome, well-set man as I. ARM. His name? TRIN. 'Tis Tom Trincalo of Totnam. ARM. Signior Pandolfo's lusty farmer? TRIN. That's he. ARM. Most unexpected happiness! 'tis the man I more esteem than my own life: sweet master, Procure that match, and think me satisfied For all my former service without wages. But, ah! I fear you jest. My poor unworthiness Hopes not so great a fortune as sweet Trincalo. No, wretched Armellina, in and despair: Back to thy mournful dresser; there lament Thy flesh to kitchen-stuff, and bones to ashes, For love of thy sweet farmer. TRIN. Alas! poor soul, How prettily she weeps for me! Wilt see him? ARM. My soul waits in my eyes, and leaves my body Senseless. TRIN. Then swear to keep my counsel. ARM. I swear By th' beauteous eyes of Trincalo. TRIN. Why, I am Trincalo. ARM. Your worship, sir! why do you flout your servant, Right worshipful Antonio, my reverend master? TRIN. Pox of Antonio! I am Tom Trincalo. Why laugh'st thou? ARM. 'Tis desire and joy To see my sweetest. TRIN. Look upon me, and see him. ARM. I say I see Antonio, and none other.