She has kept touch hitherto: be merry, merry, Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks, To have their costly three-piled flesh worn off As bare as this; for banquets, ease, and laughter Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay; But wise men little are more great than they. _Enter_ HIPPOLITO. _Hip_. Still sighing o'er death's vizard? _Ven._ Brother, welcome! What comfort bring'st thou? how go things at court? _Hip._ In silk and silver, brother: never braver. _Ven._ Pooh! Thou play'st upon my meaning. Prythee, say, Has that bald madam, Opportunity, Yet thought upon's? speak, are we happy yet? Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit. _Hip._ It may prove happiness. _Ven._ What is't may prove? Give me to taste. _Hip._ Give me your hearing, then. You know my place at court? _Ven._ Ay, the duke's chamber! But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turned out yet! _Hip._ Faith, I've been shoved at; but 'twas still my hap To hold by the duchess' skirt: you guess at that: Whom such a coat keeps up, can ne'er fall flat. But to the purpose-- Last evening, predecessor unto this, The duke's son warily inquired for me, Whose pleasure I attended: he began By policy to open and unhusk me About the time and common rumour: But I had so much wit to keep my thoughts Up in their built houses; yet afforded him An idle satisfaction without danger. But the whole aim and scope of his intent Ended in this: conjuring me in private To seek some strange-digested fellow forth, Of ill-contented nature; either disgraced In former times, or by new grooms displaced, Since his step-mother's nuptials; such a blood, A man that were for evil only good-- To give you the true word, some base-coined pander. _Ven._ I reach you; for I know his heat is such, Were there as many concubines as ladies, He would not be contained; he must fly out. I wonder how ill-featured, vile-proportioned, That one should be, if she were made for woman, Whom, at the insurrection of his lust, He would refuse for once. Heart! I think none. Next to a skull, though more unsound than one, Each face he meets he strongly doats upon. _Hip._ Brother, y' have truly spoke him. He knows not you, but I will swear you know him. _Ven._ And therefore I'll put on that knave for once, And be a right man then, a man o' the time; For to be honest is not to be i' the world, Brother, I'll be that strange-composèd fellow. _Hip._ And I'll prefer you, brother. _Ven._ Go to, then: The smallest advantage fattens wronged men: It may point but occasion; if I meet her, I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough; Or, like the French mole,[183] heave up hair and all. I have a habit that will fit it quaintly. Here comes our mother. _Hip._ And sister.