_The same. A Room in_ CLEON'_s House_. _Enter_ ASOTUS, _driving in_ GRACCULO. _Asot._ You slave! you dog! down, cur! _Grac._ Hold, good young master, For pity's sake! _Asot._ Now am I in my kingdom:-- Who says I am not valiant? I begin To frown again: quake, villain! _Grac._ So I do, sir; Your looks are agues to me. _Asot._ Are they so, sir! 'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me, And say I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd make them Feel that I am a lion. _Grac._ Do not roar, sir, As you are a valiant beast: but do you know Why you use me thus? _Asot._ I'll beat thee a little more, Then study for a reason. O! I have it: One brake a jest on me, and then I swore, (Because I durst not strike him,) when I came home, That I would break thy head. _Grac._ Plague on his mirth! I am sure I mourn for 't. _Asot._ Remember too, I charge you, To teach my horse good manners yet; this morning, As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade Threw me, and kick'd me. _Grac._ I thank him for 't. [_Aside._ _Asot._ What's that? _Grac._ I say, sir, I will teach him to hold his heels, If you will rule your fingers. _Asot._ I'll think upon 't. _Grac._ I am bruised to jelly: better be a dog, Than slave to a fool or coward. [_Aside._ _Asot._ Here's my mother, _Enter_ CORISCA _and_ ZANTHIA. She is chastising too: how brave we live, That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in breath When we want exercise! _Coris._ Careless creature, [_Striking her._ Look to 't; if a curl fall, or wind or sun Take my complexion off, I will not leave One hair upon thine head. _Grac._ Here's a second show Of the family of pride! [_Aside._ _Coris._ Fie on these wars! I'm starved for want of action. When were you with Your mistress, fair Cleora? _Asot._ Two days sithence; But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and studied for her, Her woman calls her away. _Coris._ Here's a dull thing! _Zant._ Madam, my lord. _Enter_ CLEON. _Cleon._ Where are you, wife? I fain would go abroad, But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter; I am tired. Your shoulder, son;--nay, sweet, thy hand too: A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper, And so to bed. _Asot._ Never to rise, I hope, more. [_Aside._ [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _A Grove near the Walls of Syracuse._ _Enter_ MARULLO _and_ POLIPHRON. _A Table set out with Wine, &c._ _Mar._ 'Twill take, I warrant thee. _Poliph._ You may do your pleasure; But, in my judgment, better to make use of The present opportunity. _Mar._ No more. _Poliph._ I am silenced. _Mar._ More wine; prithee drink hard, friend, And when we're hot, whatever I propound, _Enter_ CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, _and other Slaves._