_Bil._ I'll salute her in Latin. _Pass._ O, your fool can understand no Latin. _Bil._ Ay, but your lady can. _Pass._ Why, then, if your lady take down your fool, your fool will stand no longer for your lady. 130 _Bil._ A pestilent fool! 'fore God, I think the world be turned upside down too. _Pass._ O, no, sir; for then your lady and all the ladies in the palace should go with their heels upward, and that were a strange sight, you know. _Bil._ There be many will repine at my preferment. _Pass._ O, ay, like the envy of an elder sister, that hath her younger made a lady before her. _Bil._ The duke is wondrous discontented. _Pass._ Ay, and more melancholic than a usurer having all his money out at the death of a prince. 141 _Bil._ Didst thou see Madam Floria to-day? _Pass._ Yes, I found her repairing her face to-day; the red upon the white showed as if her cheeks should have been served in for two dishes of barberries in stewed broth, and the flesh to them a woodcock. _Bil._ A bitter fool![463]--Come, madam, this night thou shalt enjoy me freely, and to-morrow for Florence. 148 _Pass._ What a natural fool is he that would be a pair of boddice to a woman's petticoat, to be trussed and pointed to them! Well, I'll dog my lord; and the word is proper: for when I fawn upon him, he feeds me; when I snap him by the fingers, he spits in my mouth. If a dog's death were not strangling, I had rather be one than a serving-man; for the corruption of coin is either the generation of a usurer or a lousy beggar. [_Exeunt_ BIANCA _and_ PASSARELLO. _Enter_ MALEVOLE _in some frize gown, whilst_ BILIOSO _reads his patent_. _Mal._ I cannot sleep; my eyes' ill-neighbouring lids Will hold no fellowship. O thou pale sober night, Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost steep; Thou that giv'st all the world full leave to play, 160 Unbend'st the feebled veins of sweaty labour! The galley-slave, that all the toilsome day Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, Straining his rugged veins, snores fast; The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb the field, Thou mak'st wink sure: in night all creatures sleep; Only the malcontent, that 'gainst his fate Repines and quarrels,--alas, he's goodman tell-clock! His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan; Whilst others' beds are down, his pillow's stone. 170 _Bil._ Malevole! _Mal._ Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked nature and obstinate ignorance, when did thy wife let thee lie with her? _Bil._ I am going ambassador to Florence. _Mal._ Ambassador! Now, for thy country's honour, prithee, do not put up mutton and porridge i' thy cloakbag. Thy young lady wife goes to Florence with thee too, does she not?