_Page._ Sir; your pleasure? _Ful._ Haste to Camiola; bid her prepare An entertainment suitable to a fortune She could not hope for. Tell her, I vouchsafe To honour her with a visit. _Page._ 'Tis a favour Will make her proud. _Ful._ I know it. _Page._ I am gone, sir. [_Exit._ _Ful._ Entreaties fit not me; a man in grace May challenge awe and privilege, by his place. [_Exit._ SCENE II. _The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_. _Enter_ ADORNI, SYLLI, _and_ CLARINDA. _Ador._ So melancholy, say you! _Clar._ Never given To such retirement. _Ador._ Can you guess the cause? _Clar._ If it hath not its birth and being from The brave Bertoldo's absence, I confess 'Tis past my apprehension. _Syl._ You are wide, The whole field wide[147]. I, in my understanding, Pity your ignorance. _Ador._ Resolve us. _Syl._ Know, Here walks the cause. She dares not look upon me; My beauties are so terrible and enchanting, She cannot endure my sight. _Ador._ There I believe you. _Syl._ But the time will come, be comforted, when I will Put off this vizor of unkindness to her, And show an amorous and yielding face: And, until then, though Hercules himself Desire to see her, he had better eat His club, than pass her threshold; for I will be Her Cerberus, to guard her. _Ador._ A good dog! _Clar._ Worth twenty porters. _Enter Page._ _Page._ Keep you open house here? No groom to attend a gentleman! O, I spy one. _Syl._ He means not me, I am sure. _Page._ You, sirrah sheep's-head, With a face cut on a cat-stick[148], do you hear? You, yeoman fewterer[149], conduct me to The lady of the mansion, or my poniard Shall disembogue thy soul. _Syl._ O terrible! _disembogue!_ I talk'd of Hercules, and here is one Bound up in _decimo sexto_. _Page._ Answer, wretch. _Syl._ Pray you, little gentleman, be not so furious: The lady keeps her chamber. _Page._ And we present, Sent on an embassy to her! but here is Her gentlewoman. Sirrah! hold my cloak, While I take a leap at her lips: do it, and neatly; Or, having first tripp'd up thy heels, I'll make Thy back my footstool. [_Kisses_ CLARINDA. _Syl._ Tamberlane in little! Am I turn'd Turk[150]! What an office am I put to! _Clar._ My lady, gentle youth, is indisposed. _Page._ Though she were dead and buried, only tell her, The great man in the court, the brave Fulgentio, Descends to visit her, and it will raise her Out of the grave for joy. _Enter_ FULGENTIO. _Syl._ Here comes another! The devil, I fear, in his holiday clothes. _Page._ So soon! My part is at an end then. Cover my shoulders; When I grow great, thou shalt serve me. _Ful._ Are you, sirrah, An implement of the house? [_To_ SYLLI. _Syl._ Sure he will make A jointstool of me!