_Count._ Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord _Gondarino_ to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis. _Laz._ O 'tis far above the good of women, the _Pathick_ cannot yield more pleasing titilation. _Count._ But how to compass it, search, cast about, and bang your brai[n]s, _Lazarello_, thou art too dull and heavy to deserve a blessing. _Laz._ My Lord, I will not be idle; now _Lazarello_, think, think, think. _Count._ Yonder's my informer And his fellow with table books, they nod at me Upon my life, they have poor _Lazarello_, that beats His brains about no such waighty matter, in for Treason before this-- _Laz._ My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self, Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher, And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child? _Count._ Good, very good. _Laz._ Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion. _1 Inte._ There's another point in's plot, [corrupt] with money; to betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have a care. _Laz._ And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would in some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the dish it self, though I cut out my means through sword[s] and fire, through poison, through any thing that may make good my hopes. _2 Int._ Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the plots discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace, kill the Duke and poison his privie Councell. _Count._ To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we can attain the means, to make up our acquaintance, the fish be eaten? _Laz._ If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected, most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this Province yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye bravely, and like a Roman; and after death, amidst the Elizian shades, I'll meet my love again. _1 In._ I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark that, when he hath done all, he will kill himself. _Count._ Will nothing ease your appetite but this? _Laz._ No could the Sea throw up his vastness, And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as a bare temptation to me. _Count._ If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison, or Fowl, 'twould be far the better. _Laza._ I doe beseech your Lordships patience, I doe confess that in this heat of blood, I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats, But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef, I doe reverence a loyn of Veal, But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this: But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if Fortune stand propitious.