_Flam._ Stop her mouth with a sweet kiss, my lord. So, Now the tide's turned, the vessel's come about. He's a sweet armful. O, we curled-haired men Are still most kind to women! This is well. _Brach._ That you should chide thus! _Flam._ O, sir, your little chimneys Do ever cast most smoke! I sweat for you. Couple together with as deep a silence As did the Grecians in their wooden horse. My lord, supply your promises with deeds; You know that painted meat no hunger feeds. _Brach._ Stay in ingrateful Rome-- _Flam._ Rome! it deserves to be called Barbary For our villainous usage. _Brach._ Soft! the same project which the Duke of Florence (Whether in love or gullery I know not) Laid down for her escape, will I pursue. _Flam._ And no time fitter than this night, my lord: The Pope being dead, and all the cardinals entered The conclave for the electing a new Pope; The city in a great confusion; We may attire her in a page's suit, Lay her post-horse, take shipping, and amain For Padua. _Brach._ I'll instantly steal forth the Prince Giovanni, And make for Padua. You two with your old mother, And young Marcello that attends on Florence, If you can work him to it, follow me: I will advance you all:--for you, Vittoria, Think of a duchess' title. _Flam._ Lo you, sister!-- Stay, my lord; I'll tell you a tale. The crocodile, which lives in the river Nilus, hath a worm breeds i' the teeth of't, which puts it to extreme anguish: a little bird, no bigger than a wren, is barber-surgeon to this crocodile; flies into the jaws of't, picks out the worm, and brings present remedy. The fish, glad of ease, but ingrateful to her that did it, that the bird may not talk largely of her abroad for non-payment, closeth her chaps, intending to swallow her, and so put her to perpetual silence. But nature, loathing such ingratitude, hath armed this bird with a quill or prick in the head, the top o' which wounds the crocodile i' the mouth, forceth her to open her bloody prison, and away flies the pretty tooth-picker from her cruel patient.[75] _Brach._ Your application is, I have not rewarded The service you have done me. _Flam._ No, my lord.-- You, sister, are the crocodile: you are blemished in your fame, my lord cures it; and though the comparison hold not in every particle, yet observe, remember what good the bird with the prick i' the head hath done you, and scorn ingratitude.-- It may appear to some ridiculous [_Aside._ Thus to talk knave and madman, and sometimes, Come in with a dried sentence, stuft with sage: But this allows my varying of shapes; Knaves do grow great by being great men's apes. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_Before a Church._ _Enter_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS, LODOVICO, GASPARO, _and six_ Ambassadors.