_Pan._ O rich! rich! where should I get cloaths to dress her in? Help me invention: Sir, that her running through the street may be less noted, my Art more shown, and your fear to speak with her less, she shall come in a white wastcoat, And-- _Mer._ What shall she? _Pan._ And perhaps torn stockings, she hath left her old wont else. _Enter Prentice._ _Pren._ Sir my Lord _Gond._ hath sent you a rare fish head. _Mer._ It comes right, all things sute right with me since I began to love scholars, you shall have it home with you against she come: carrie it to this Gentleman's house. _Pan._ The fair white house at the farther corner at S. Marks street, make haste, I must leave you too Sir, I have two hours to study; buy a new Accedence, and ply your book, and you shall want nothing that all the scholars in the Town can doe for you. [_Exit Pander._ _Mer._ Heaven prosper both our studies, what a dull slave was I before I fell in love with this learning! not worthy to tread upon the earth, & what fresh hopes it hath put in to me! I doe hope within this twelve-month to be able by Art to serve the Court with silks, and not undoe my self; to trust Knights, and yet get in my money again; to keep my wife brave, and yet she keep no body else so. _Enter Count, and Lazarello._ Your Lordship is most honourably welcome in regard of your Nobility; but most especialy in regard of your scholarship: did your Lordship come openly? _Count._ Sir this cloak keeps me private, besides no man will suspect me to be in the company of this Gentleman, with whom, I will desire you to be acquainted, he may prove a good customer to you. _Laza._ For plain silks and velvets. _Mer._ Are you scholasticall? _Laza._ Something addicted to the Muses. _Count._ I hope they will not dispute. _Mer._ You have no skill in the black Art. _Enter a Prentice._ _Pren._ Sir yonder's a Gentleman enquires hastily for Count _Valore_. _Count._ For me? what is he? _Pren._ One of your followers my Lord I think. _Count._ Let him come in. _Mer._ Shall I talk with you in private Sir? _Enter a Messenger with a Letter to the Count, he reads._ _Count._ Count, _come to the Court your business calls you thither_, I will goe, farewell Sir, I will see your silks some other time: Farewell _Lazarillo_. _Mer._ Will not your Lordship take a piece of Beef with me? _Count._ Sir I have greater business than eating; I will leave this Gentleman with you. [_Exeunt Count. & Mes._ _Laza._ No, no, no, no: now doe I feel that strain'd strugling within me, that I think I could prophesie. _Mer._ The Gentleman is meditating.