_Bos._ One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' spittle, and their young children's ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew his foot-cloth[117] with the spring, and change his high-priced courtezan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe my meditation now. What thing is in this outward form of man To be beloved? We account it ominous, If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling A man, and fly from't as a prodigy: Man stands amazed to see his deformity In any other creature but himself. But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases Which have their true names only ta'en from beasts,-- As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle,-- Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, And though continually we bear about us A rotten and dead body, we delight To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear, Nay, all our terror, is lest our physician Should put us in the ground to be made sweet.-- Your wife's gone to Rome: you two couple, and get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your aches. I have other work on foot. [_Exeunt_ CASTRUCCIO _and_ Old Lady. I observe our duchess Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes, The fins of her eye-lids looks most teeming blue, She wanes i' the cheek, and waxes fat i' the flank, And, contrary to our Italian fashion, Wears a loose-bodied gown: there's somewhat in't. I have a trick may chance discover it, A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks, The first our spring yields. _Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO. _Delio._ And so long since married! You amaze me. _Ant._ Let me seal your lips for ever: For, did I think that any thing but the air Could carry these words from you, I should wish You had no breath at all.--Now, sir, in your contemplation? You are studying to become a great wise fellow. _Bos._ O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tether that runs all over a man's body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom: let me be simply honest. _Ant._ I do understand your inside. _Bos._ Do you so? _Ant._ Because you would not seem to appear to the world Puffed up with your preferment, you continue This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.