Bon. This cannot be a personated passion.—

[Aside.

Mos. Sir, it concerns you; and though I may seem,
At first to make a main offence in manners,
And in my gratitude unto my master;
Yet, for the pure love, which I bear all right,
And hatred of the wrong, I must reveal it.
This very hour your father is in purpose
To disinherit you—

Bon. How!

Mos. And thrust you forth,
As a mere stranger to his blood; ’tis true, sir,
The work no way engageth me, but, as
I claim an interest in the general state
Of goodness and true virtue, which I hear
To abound in you: and, for which mere respect,
Without a second aim, sir, I have done it.

Bon. This tale hath lost thee much of the late trust
Thou hadst with me; it is impossible:
I know not how to lend it any thought,
My father should be so unnatural.

Mos. It is a confidence that well becomes,
Your piety; and form’d, no doubt, it is
From your own simple innocence: which makes
Your wrong more monstrous and abhorr’d. But, sir,
I now will tell you more. This very minute,
It is, or will be doing; and, if you
Shall be but pleased to go with me, I’ll bring you,
I dare not say where you shall see, but where
Your ear shall be a witness of the deed;
Hear yourself written bastard, and profest
The common issue of the earth.

Bon. I am amazed!

Mos. Sir, if I do it not, draw your just sword,
And score your vengeance on my front and face:
Mark me your villain: you have too much wrong,
And I do suffer for you, sir. My heart
Weeps blood in anguish—

Bon. Lead; I follow thee.

Volp. Mosca stays long, methinks.—Bring forth your sports, And help to make the wretched time more sweet.

Enter Nano, Androgyno, and Castrone.

Nan. Dwarf, fool, and eunuch, well met here we be.
A question it were now, whether of us three,
Being all the known delicates of a rich man,
In pleasing him, claim the precedency can?
Cas. I claim for myself.
And. And so doth the fool.

Nan. ’Tis foolish indeed: let me set you both to school.
First for your dwarf, he’s little and witty,
And every thing, as it is little, is pretty;
Else why do men say to a creature of my shape,
So soon as they see him, It’s a pretty little ape?
And why a pretty ape, but for pleasing imitation
Of greater men’s actions, in a ridiculous fashion?
Beside, this feat body of mine doth not crave
Half the meat, drink, and cloth, one of your bulks will have.
Admit your fool’s face be the mother of laughter,
Yet, for his brain, it must always come after:
And though that do feed him, it’s a pitiful case,
His body is beholding to such a bad face.

[Knocking within.