_Brain._ He shall have it, with all the artillery of eloquence. _Wood._ Ay, ay; your figure breaks no bones. With your good leave.-- [_Goes in._ _Brain._ Thou hast it, boy. Turn to him, madam; to her Woodall: and St George for merry England. _Tan ta ra ra ra, ra ra! Dub, a dub, dub; Tan ta ra ra ra._ _Enter_ LIMBERHAM. _Limb._ How now, bully Brainsick! What, upon the _Tan ta ra_, by yourself? _Brain._ Clangor, _taratantara,_ murmur. _Limb._ Commend me to honest _lingua Franca_. Why, this is enough to stun a Christian, with your Hebrew, and your Greek, and such like Latin. _Brain._ Out, ignorance! _Limb._ Then ignorance, by your leave; for I must enter. [_Attempts to pass._ _Brain._ Why in such haste? the fortune of Greece depends not on it. _Limb._ But Pug's fortune does: that is dearer to me than Greece, and sweeter than ambergrease. _Brain._ You will not find her here. Come, you are jealous; you are haunted with a raging fiend, that robs you of your sweet repose. _Limb._ Nay, an you are in your perbole's again! Look you, it is Pug is jealous of her jewels: she has left the key of her cabinet behind, and has desired me to bring it back to her. _Brain._ Poor fool! he little thinks she is here before him!--Well, this pretence will never pass on me; for I dive deeper into your affairs; you are jealous. But, rather than my soul should be concerned for a sex so insignificant--Ha! the gods! If I thought my proper wife were now within, and prostituting all her treasures to the lawless love of an adulterer, I would stand as intrepid, as firm, and as unmoved, as the statue of a Roman gladiator. _Limb._ [_In the same tone._] Of a Roman gladiator!--Now are you as mad as a March hare; but I am in haste, to return to Pug: yet, by your favour, I will first secure the cabinet. _Brain._ No, you must not. _Limb._ Must not? What, may not a man come by you, to look upon his own goods and chattels, in his own chamber? _Brain._ No; with this sabre I defy the destinies, and dam up the passage with my person; like a rugged rock, opposed against the roaring of the boisterous billows. Your jealousy shall have no course through me, though potentates and princes-- _Limb._ Pr'ythee, what have we to do with potentates and princes? Will you leave your troping, and let me pass? _Brain._ You have your utmost answer. _Limb._ If this maggot bite a little deeper, we shall have you a citizen of Bethlem yet, ere dog-days. Well, I say little; but I will tell Pug on it. [_Exit._ _Brain._ She knows it already, by your favour-- [_Knocking._ Sound a retreat, you lusty lovers, or the enemy will charge you in the flank, with a fresh reserve: March off, march off upon the spur, ere he can reach you. _Enter_ WOODALL. _Wood._ How now, baron Tell-clock[12], is the passage clear?