EP. Whoreson, base fellow, by God's lid, an 'twere not for
shame, I would --

LOR. SE. What would you do? you peremptory ass,
An you'll not be quiet, get you hence.
You see, the gentleman contains himself
In modest limits, giving no reply
To your unseason'd rude comparatives;
Yet you'll demean yourself without respect
Either of duty or humanity.
Go, get you in: 'fore God, I am asham'd
[EXIT STEP.]
Thou hast a kinsman's interest in me.

SER. I pray you, sir, is this Pazzi house?

LOR. SE. Yes, marry is it, sir.

SER. I should enquire for a gentleman here, one Signior Lorenzo di
Pazzi; do you know any such, sir, I pray you?

LOR. SE. Yes, sir; or else I should forget myself.

SER. I cry you mercy, sir, I was requested by a gentleman of
Florence (having some occasion to ride this way) to deliver you
this letter.

LOR. SE. To me, sir? What do you mean? I pray you remember your
court'sy.
"To his dear and most selected friend, Signior Lorenzo di
Pazzi."
What might the gentleman's name be, sir, that sent it?
Nay, pray you be covered.

SER. Signior Prospero.

LOR. SE. Signior Prospero? A young gentleman of the family of
Strozzi, is he not?

SER. Ay, sir, the same: Signior Thorello, the rich Florentine
merchant married his sister.

[ENTER MUSCO.]

LOR. SE. You say very true. -- Musco.

MUS. Sir.

LOR. SE. Make this gentleman drink here.
I pray you go in, sir, an't please you.
[EXEUNT.]
Now (without doubt) this letter's to my son.
Well, all is one: I'll be so bold as read it,
Be it but for the style's sake, and the phrase;
Both which (I do presume) are excellent,
And greatly varied from the vulgar form,
If Prospero's invention gave them life.
How now! what stuff is here?
"Sir Lorenzo,
I muse we cannot see thee at Florence: 'Sblood, I doubt,
Apollo hath got thee to be his Ingle, that thou comest
not abroad, to visit thine old friends: well, take heed
of him; he may do somewhat for his household servants, or
so; But for his Retainers, I am sure, I have known some
of them, that have followed him, three, four, five years
together, scorning the world with their bare heels, and
at length been glad for a shift (though no clean shift)
to lie a whole winter, in half a sheet cursing Charles'
wain, and the rest of the stars intolerabl