_Sor._ Curses or envies, on _Valerio_'s head, Would you take my counsel, Sir, they should all light, And with the weight not only crack his scull, But his fair credit; the exquisite vexation I have devis'd, so please you give way in't, And let it work, shall more afflict his soul, And trench upon that honour that he brags of, Than fear of Death in all the frights he carries; If you sit down here they will both abuse ye, Laugh at your poor relenting power, and scorn ye. What satisfaction can their deaths bring to you, That are prepar'd, and proud to dye, and willingly, And at their ends will thank you for that honour? How are you nearer the desire you aim at? Or if it be revenge your anger covets, How can their single deaths give you content, Sir? Petty revenges end in blood, sleight angers, A Princes rage should find out new diseases, Death were a pleasure too, to pay proud fools with. _Fred._ What should I do? _Sor._ Add but your power unto me, Make me but strong by your protection, And you shall see what joy, and what delight, What infinite pleasure this poor Month shall yield him. I'll make him wish he were dead on his Marriage-day, Or bed-rid with old age, I'll make him curse, And cry and curse, give me but power. _Fred._ You have it, Here, take my Ring, I am content he pay for't. _Sor._ It shall be now revenge, as I will handle it, He shall live after this to beg his life too, Twenty to one by this thread, as I'll weave it, _Evanthe_ shall be yours. _Fred._ Take all authority, and be most happy. _Sor._ Good Sir, no more pity. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Tony, _three Citizens, and three Wives._ _1 Wife._ Good Master _Tony_, put me in. _Tony._ Where do you dwell? _1 Wife._ Forsooth, at the sign of the great Shoulder of Mutton. _Ton._ A hungry man would hunt your house out instantly, Keep the Dogs from your door; Is this Lettice Ruff your Husband? a fine sharp sallet to your sign. _2 Wife._ Will you put me in too? _3 Wife._ And me, good Master _Tony_. _Tony._ Put ye all in? you had best come twenty more; you Think 'tis easie, a trick of legerdemain, to put ye all in, 'Twould pose a fellow that had twice my body, Though it were all made into chines and fillets. _2 Wi._ Put's into th' wedding, Sir, we would fain see that. _1 Wife._ And the brave Masque too. _To._ You two are pretty women, are you their husbands? _2 Citiz._ Yes, for want of better. _Tony._ I think so too, you would not be so mad else To turn 'em loose to a company of young Courtiers, That swarm like Bees in _May_, when they see young wenches; You must not squeak. _3 Wife._ No Sir, we are better tutor'd. _Tony._ Nor if a young Lord offer you the courtesie-- _2 Wife._ We know what 'tis, Sir.