_Cam._ A philosophical reason. _Flam._ Walk by her o' the nobleman's fashion, and tell her you will lie with her at the end of the progress.[31] _Cam._ [_Coming forward._] Vittoria, I cannot be induced, or, as a man would say, incited-- _Vit. Cor._ To do what, sir? _Cam._ To lie with you to-night. Your silkworm useth to fast every third day, and the next following spins the better. To-morrow at night I am for you. _Vit. Cor._ You'll spin a fair thread, trust to't. _Flam._ But, do you hear, I shall have you steal to her chamber about midnight. _Cam._ Do you think so? why, look you, brother, because you shall not think I'll gull you, take the key, lock me into the chamber, and say you shall be sure of me. _Flam._ In troth, I will; I'll be your gaoler once. But have you ne'er a false door? _Cam._ A pox on't, as I am a Christian. Tell me to-morrow how scurvily she takes my unkind parting. _Flam._ I will. _Cam._ Didst thou not mark the jest of the silkworm? Good-night: in faith, I will use this trick often. _Flam._ Do, do, do. [_Exit_ CAMILLO; _and_ FLAMINEO _locks the door on him._] So now you are safe.--Ha, ha, ha! thou entanglest thyself in thine own work like a silkworm. Come, sister; darkness hides your blush. Women are like curst dogs: civility keeps them tied all daytime, but they are let loose at midnight; then they do most good, or most mischief.--My lord, my lord! _Re-enter_ BRACHIANO. ZANCHE _brings out a carpet, spreads it, and lays on it two fair cushions._ _Brach._ Give credit, I could wish time would stand still, And never end this interview, this hour: But all delight doth itself soon'st devour. _Enter_ CORNELIA _behind, listening._ Let me into your bosom, happy lady, Pour out, instead of eloquence, my vows: Loose me not, madam; for, if you forego me, I am lost eternally. _Vit. Cor._ Sir, in the way of pity, I wish you heart-whole. _Brach._ You are a sweet physician. _Vit. Cor._ Sure, sir, a loathèd cruelty in ladies Is as to doctors many funerals; It takes away their credit. _Brach._ Excellent creature! We call the cruel fair: what name for you That are so merciful? _Zan._ See, now they close. _Flam._ Most happy union. _Cor._ My fears are fall'n upon me: O, my heart! My son the pander! now I find our house Sinking to ruin. Earthquakes leave behind, Where they have tyrannised, iron, lead, or stone; But, woe to ruin, violent lust leaves none! _Brach._ What value is this jewel? _Vit. Cor._ 'Tis the ornament Of a weak fortune. _Brach._ In sooth, I'll have it; nay, I will but change My jewel for your jewel. _Flam._ Excellent! His jewel for her jewel:--well put in, duke. _Brach._ Nay, let me see you wear it. _Vit. Cor._ Here, sir? _Brach._ Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower. _Flam._ That's better; she must wear his jewel lower.