ace
for such exploits.

PROS. 'Sheart, how now!

GIU. Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter;
I'll tell you of it, by God's bread, ay, and you and your
companions mend yourselves when I have done.

PROS. My companions?

GIU. Ay, your companions, sir, so I say! 'Sblood, I am not
afraid of you nor them neither, you must have your poets,
and your cavaliers, and your fools follow you up and down
the city, and here they must come to domineer and swagger?
sirrah, you ballad-singer, and slops, your fellow there,
get you out; get you out: or (by the will of God) I'll cut
off your ears, go to.

PROS. 'Sblood, stay, let's see what he dare do: cut off his
ears; you are an ass, touch any man here, and by the Lord
I'll run my rapier to the hilts in thee.

GIU. Yea, that would I fain see, boy.

BIA. O Jesu! Piso! Matheo! murder!

HES. Help, help, Piso!

[THEY ALL DRAW, ENTER PISO AND SOME MORE OF THE HOUSE
TO PART THEM, THE WOMEN MAKE A GREAT CRY.]

LOR. JU. Gentlemen, Prospero, forbear, I pray you.

BOB. Well, sirrah, you Holofernes: by my hand, I will pink
thy flesh full of holes with my rapier for this, I will, by
this good heaven: nay, let him come, let him come,
gentlemen, by the body of St. George, I'll not kill him.

[THEY OFFER TO FIGHT AGAIN, AND ARE PARTED.]

PIS. Hold, hold, forbear.

GIU. You whoreson, bragging coistril.

[ENTER THORELLO.]

THO. Why, how now? what's the matter? what stir is here?
Whence springs this quarrel? Piso, where is he?
Put up your weapons, and put off this rage.
My wife and sister, they are cause of this.
What, Piso? where is this knave?

PIS. Here, sir.

PROS. Come, let's go: this is one of my brother's ancient
humours, this.

STEP. I am glad nobody was hurt by this ancient humour.

[EXIT PROSPERO, LORENZO JU., MUSCO, STEPHANO, BOBADILLA,
MATHEO.]

THO. Why, how now, brother, who enforced this brawl?

GIU. A sort of lewd rake-hells, that care neither for God
nor the devil. And they must come here to read ballads and
roguery, and trash. I'll mar the knot of them ere I sleep,
perhaps; especially Signior Pithagoras, he that's all
manner of shapes: and songs and sonnets, his fellow there.

HES. Brother, indeed you are too violent,
Too sudden in your courses, and you know
My brother P