MAT. Do you hear, sir? we have no store of money at this time, but you shall have good pawns, look you, sir, this jewel and this gentleman's silk stockings, because we would have it dispatch'd ere we went to our chambers. MUS. I am content, sir, I will get you the warrant presently. What's his name, say you, Giuliano? MAT. Ay, ay, Giuliano. MUS. What manner of man is he? MAT. A tall, big man, sir; he goes in a cloak most commonly of silk russet, laid about with russet lace. MUS. 'Tis very good, sir. MAT. Here, sir, here's my jewel. BOB. And here are stockings. MUS. Well, gentlemen, I'll procure this warrant presently, and appoint you a varlet of the city to serve it, if you'll be upon the Realto anon, the varlet shall meet you there. MAT. Very good, sir, I wish no better. [EXEUNT BOBA. AND MAT.] MUS. This is rare, now will I go pawn this cloak of the doctor's man's at the broker's for a varlet's suit, and be the varlet myself, and get either more pawns, or more money of Giuliano for my arrest. [EXIT.] ACT V. SCENE I. ENTER LORENZO SENIOR. LOR. SE. Oh, here it is, I am glad I have found it now. Ho! who is within here? [ENTER TIB.] TIB. I am within, sir, what's your pleasure? LOR. SE. To know who is within besides yourself. TIB. Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope? LOR. SE. Oh, fear you the constable? then I doubt not, You have some guests within deserve that fear; I'll fetch him straight. TIB. O' God's name, sir. LOR. SE. Go to, tell me is not the young Lorenzo here? TIB. Young Lorenzo, I saw none such, sir, of mine honesty. LOR. SE. Go to, your honesty flies too lightly from you: There's no way but fetch the constable. TIB. The constable, the man is mad, I think. [CLAPS TO THE DOOR.] [ENTER PISO AND BIANCHA.] PISO. Ho, who keeps house here? LOR. SE. Oh, this is the female copes-mate of my son. Now shall I meet him straight. BIA. Knock, Piso, pray thee. PIS. Ho, good wife. [ENTER TIB.] TIB. Why, what's the matter with you? BIA. Why, woman, grieves it you to ope your door? Belike you get something to keep it shut. TIB. What mean these questions, pray ye? BIA. So strange you make it! is not Thorello, my tried husband, here? LOR. SE. Her husband? TIB. I hope he needs not be tried here. BIA. No, dame: he doth it not for need but pleasure. TIB. Neither for need nor pleasure is he here. LOR. SE. This is but a device to balk me withal; Soft, who's this? [ENTER THORELLO.]