_Nym._ No; but not thick-hair'd. _Herod._ By this light, I'll swear he said his father had the hipgout, the strangury, the _fistula in ano_, and a most unabideable breath, no teeth, less eyes, great fingers, little legs, an eternal flux, and an everlasting cough of the lungs. _Nym._ Fie, fie! by this light he did not. 200 _Herod._ By this light he should ha' done then. Horn on him, threescore and five, to have and to hold a lady of fifteen. O Mezentius! a tyranny equal if not above thy torturing; thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies together, and forced them so to pine and rot; but this cruelty binds breast to breast not only different bodies, but, if it were possible, most unequal minds together, with an enforcement even scandalous to Nature. Now the jail deliver me an intelligencer! be good to me, ye cloisters of bondage! Of whence art thou? 210 _Herc._ Of Ferrara. _Herod._ A Ferrarese! what to me? Camest thou in with the Prince Tiberio? _Herc._ With the Prince Tiberio. What o'[140] that? You will not rail at me, will you? _Herod._ Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara--a Ferrarese?[141] No. Didst thou ride? _Herc._ No. _Herod._ Hast thou worn socks? _Herc._ No. 220 _Herod._ Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt thy toes! I do prophesy thy tyrannising itch shall be honourable, and thy right worshipful louse shall appear in full presence. Art thou an officer to the prince?[142] _Herc._ I am; what o' that? _Herod._ My cap! what officer? _Herc._ Yeoman of his bottles. What to that? _Herod._ My lip! thy name, good yeoman of the bottles? 230 _Herc._ Faunus. _Nym._ Faunus? an old courtier? I wonder thou art in no better clothes and place, Faunus! _Herc._ I may be in better place, sir, and with them[143] of more regard, if this match of our duke's intermarriage with the heir of Urbin proceed, the Duke of Urbin dying, and our lord coming in his lady's right of title to your dukedom. 238 _Herod._ Why then shalt thou, O yeoman of the bottles, become a maker of _magnificoes_. Thou shalt beg some odd suit, and change thy old shirt,[144] pare thy beard, cleanse thy teeth, and eat apricocks,[145] marry a rich widow, or a crack'd lady, whose case thou shalt make good. Then, my Pythagoras, shall thou and I make a transmigration of souls: thou shalt marry my daughter, or my wife shall be thy gracious mistress. Seventeen punks shall be thy proportion. Thou shalt beg to thy comfort of clean linen, eat no more fresh beef at supper, or save[146] the broth for next day's porridge; but the fleshpots of Egypt shall fatten thee, and the grasshopper shall flourish in thy summer. 251