MAT. Signior, will you any? By this air, the most divine tobacco as ever I drunk. LOR. JU. I thank you, sir. STEP. Oh, this gentleman doth it rarely too, but nothing like the other. By this air, as I am a gentleman: By Phoebus. [EXIT BOB. AND MAT.] MUS. Master, glance, glance: Signior Prospero. STEP. As I have a soul to be saved, I do protest -- PROS. That you are a fool. LOR. JU. Cousin, will you any tobacco? STEP. Ay, sir: upon my salvation. LOR. JU. How now, cousin? STEP. I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier indeed. PROS. No, Signior, as I remember, you served on a great horse, last general muster. STEP. Ay, sir, that's true, cousin, may I swear as I am a soldier, by that? LOR. JU. Oh yes, that you may. STEP. Then as I am a gentleman, and a soldier, it is divine tobacco. PROS. But soft, where's Signior Matheo? gone? MUS. No, sir, they went in here. PROS. Oh, let's follow them: Signior Matheo is gone to salute his mistress, sirrah, now thou shalt hear some of his verses, for he never comes hither without some shreds of poetry: Come, Signior Stephano. Musco. STEP. Musco? where? Is this Musco? LOR. JU. Ay; but peace, cousin, no words of it at any hand. STEP. Not I, by this fair heaven, as I have a soul to be saved, by Phoebus. PROS. Oh rare! your cousin's discourse is simply suited, all in oaths. LOR. JU. Ay, he lacks nothing but a little light stuff, to draw them out withal, and he were rarely fitted to the time. [EXEUNT.] ACT III. SCENE III. ENTER THORELLO WITH COB. THO. Ha, how many are there, sayest thou? COB. Marry, sir, your brother, Signior Prospero. THO. Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man? COB. Strangers? let me see, one, two; mass, I know not well, there's so many. THO. How? so many? COB. Ay, there's some five or six of them at the most. THO. A swarm, a swarm? Spite of the devil, how they sting my heart! How long hast thou been coming hither, Cob? COB. But a little while, sir. THO. Didst thou come running? COB. No, sir. THO. Tut, then I am familiar with thy haste. Ban to my fortunes: what meant I to marry? I that before was rank'd in such content, My mind attired in smooth silken peace, Being free master of mine own free thoughts, And now become a slave? what, never sigh, Be of good cheer, man: for thou art a cuckold, 'Tis done, 'tis done: nay, when such flowing store, Plenty itself falls in my wife's lap, The Cornucopiae will be mine, I know. But, Cob, What entertainment had they? I am sure My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha? COB. Like enough: yet I heard not a word of welcome.