LOR. JU. I cannot tell, but (unless a man had juggled begging all his life time, and been a weaver of phrases from his infancy, for the apparelling of it) I think the world cannot produce his rival. PROS. Where got'st thou this coat, I marle? MUS. Faith, sir, I had it of one of the devil's near kinsmen, a broker. PROS. That cannot be, if the proverb hold, a crafty knave needs no broker. MUS. True, sir, but I need a broker, ergo, no crafty knave. PROS. Well put off, well put off. LOR. JU. Tut, he has more of these shifts. MUS. And yet where I have one, the broker has ten, sir. [ENTER PIS.] PIS. Francisco, Martino, ne'er a one to be found now: what a spite's this? PROS. How now, Piso? is my brother within? PIS. No, sir, my master went forth e'en now, but Signior Giuliano is within. Cob, what, Cob! Is he gone too? PROS. Whither went thy master? Piso, canst thou tell? PIS. I know not, to Doctor Clement's, I think, sir. Cob. [EXIT PIS.] LOR. JU. Doctor Clement, what's he? I have heard much speech of him. PROS. Why, dost thou not know him? he is the Gonfaloniere of the state here, an excellent rare civilian, and a great scholar, but the only mad merry old fellow in Europe: I shewed him you the other day. LOR. JU. Oh, I remember him now; Good faith, and he hath a very strange presence, methinks, it shews as if he stood out of the rank from other men. I have heard many of his jests in Padua; they say he will commit a man for taking the wall of his horse. PROS. Ay, or wearing his cloak on one shoulder, or any thing indeed, if it come in the way of his humour. PIS. Gaspar, Martino, Cob: 'Sheart, where should they be, trow? [ENTER PISO.] BOB. Signior Thorello's man, I pray thee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match. PIS. A pox on your match, no time but now to vouchsafe? Francisco, Cob. [EXIT.] BOB. Body of me: here's the remainder of seven pound, since yesterday was sevennight. It's your right Trinidado: did you never take any, signior? STEP. No, truly, sir; but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.