MACI. I take it, your devil be of the same diet; he would never have desired to have been incorporated into swine else. -- O, here comes the melancholy mess; upon 'em, Carlo, charge, charge! ENTER PUNTARVOLO, FASTIDIOUS BRISK, SOGLIARDO, AND FUNGOSO. CAR. 'Fore God, sir Puntarvolo, I am sorry for your heaviness: body o' me, a shrew'd mischance! why, had you no unicorn's horn, nor bezoar's stone about you, ha? PUNT. Sir, I would request you be silent. MACI. Nay, to him again. CAR. Take comfort, good knight, if your cat have recovered her catarrh, fear nothing; your dog's mischance may be holpen. FAST. Say how, sweet Carlo; for, so God mend me, the poor knight's moans draw me into fellowship of his misfortunes. But be not discouraged, good sir Puntarvolo, I am content your adventure shall be performed upon your cat. MACI. I believe you, musk-cod, I believe you; for rather than thou would'st make present repayment, thou would'st take it upon his own bare return from Calais [ASIDE. CAR. Nay, 'slife, he'd be content, so he were well rid out of his company, to pay him five for one, at his next meeting him in Paul's. [ASIDE TO MACILENTE.] -- But for your dog, sir Puntarvolo, if he be not out-right dead, there is a friend of mine, a quack-salver, shall put life in him again, that's certain. FUNG. O, no, that comes too late. MACI. 'Sprecious! knight, will you suffer this? PUNT. Drawer, get me a candle and hard wax presently. [EXIT GEORGE. SOG. Ay, and bring up supper; for I am so melancholy. CAR. O, signior, where's your Resolution? SOG. Resolution! hang him, rascal: O, Carlo, if you love me, do not mention him. CAR. Why, how so? SOG. O, the arrantest crocodile that ever Christian was acquainted with. By my gentry, I shall think the worse of tobacco while I live, for his sake: I did think him to be as tall a man -- MACI. Nay, Buffone, the knight, the knight [ASIDE TO CARLO. CAR. 'Slud, he looks like an image carved out of box, full of knots; his face is, for all the world, like a Dutch purse, with the mouth downward, his beard the tassels; and he walks -- let me see -- as melancholy as one o' the master's side in the Counter. -- Do you hear, sir Puntarvolo? PUNT. Sir, I do entreat you, no more, but enjoin you to silence, as you affect your peace. CAR. Nay, but dear knight, understand here are none but friends, and such as wish you well, I would have you do this now; flay me your dog presently (but in any case keep the head) and stuff his skin well with straw, as you see these dead monsters at Bartholomew fair. PUNT. I shall be sudden, I tell you.