_Pier._ Away with that same yelping cur--away! _Alb._ I--I am gone; but mark, Piero, this. There is a thing call'd scourging _Nemesis_.[304] [_Exit_ ALBERTO. _Bal._ God's neaks, he has wrong, that he has: and s'fut, and I were as he, I would bear no coals.[305] Law, I, I begin to swell--puff. 251 _Pier._ How now, fool, fop, fool! _Bal._[306] Fool, fop, fool! Marry muffe![307] I pray you, how many fools have you seen go in a suit of satin? I hope, yet, I do not look a fool i'faith! a fool! God's bores, I scorn't with my heel. 'S neaks, and I were worth but three hundred pound a year more, I could swear richly; nay, but as poor as I am, I will swear the fellow hath wrong. _Pier._ Young Galeatzo! Ay, a proper man; 260 Florence, a goodly city: it shall be so, I'll marry her to him instantly. Then Genoa mine, by my Maria's match, Which I'll solemnise ere next setting sun: Thus Venice, Florence, Genoa, strongly leagued. Excellent, excellent! I'll conquer Rome, Pop out the light of bright religion; And then, helter skelter, all cock-sure. _Bal._ Go to, 'tis just, the man hath wrong: go to. _Pier._ Go to, thou shall have right. Go to, Castilio, Clap him into the palace dungeon; 271 Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime That smears the dungeon' cheek. Away with him. _Bal._ In very good truth, now, I'll ne'er do so more; this one time and---- _Pier._ Away with him--observe it strictly--go! _Bal._ Why then, O wight! Alas, poor knight! O, welladay, Sir Jefferay! 280 Let poets roar, And all deplore; For now I bid you good-night. [_Exit_ BALURDO _with_ CASTILIO. _Re-enter_ MARIA. _Mar._ O piteous end of love! O too, too rude hand Of unrespective death! Alas, sweet maid! _Pier._ Forbear me, Heaven. What intend these plaints? _Mar._ The beauty of admired creation, The life of modest unmix'd purity, Our sex's glory, Mellida is---- _Pier._ What, O Heaven, what! _Mar._ Dead! 290 _Pier._ May it not sad your thoughts, how?