Fer.  You shall not need to doubt it:—­come, Eleonora.

[Exeunt.[30]

Hen.  What will become of me in this, I know not: 
I have a shrewd guese though of the worst. 
Would one have thought the foolish ape would putt
The finger in the eye & tell it daddy! 
’Tis a rare guift ’mong many maides of these dayes;
If she speed well she’le bring it to a Custome,
Make her example followed to the spoyle
Of much good sport:  but I meane to looke to’t. 
Now, sir, your newes?

    Enter Buzzano.

Buz.  The most delicious, rare, absolute newes that ere came out of France, sir!

Hen.  What’s done there? have they forsaken the Divell & all his fashions? banishd their Taylors & Tyrewomen?

Buz.  You had a father & a Brother there; & can you first thinke upon the Divell & his Limetwiggs.

Hen.  Had, Buzzano? had a father & a Brother there? have I not so, still, Buzzano?

Buz.  No, sir, your Elder Brother is—­

Hen.  What? speake, Buzzano:  I imagine, dead.

Buz.  Nay, you shall give me something by your leave; you shall pay the poast:—­good newes for nothing?

Hen.  Here, here, Buzzano; speake quickly, crowne me with the felicity of a younger brother:  is he dead, man?

Buz.  No, he’s come home very well, sir; doe you thinke I goe on dead men’s errands.

Hen.  Pox on the Buzzard! how he startled my bloud!

Buz.  But he is very weary & very pensive, sir; talkes not at all, but calls for his bed;—­pray God your Father be not dead!—­and desires when you come in to have you his Bedfellow, for he hath private speech with ye.

Hen, Well, sir, you that are so apt to take money for newes, beware how you reflect one word, sillable or thought concerning Eleonora:  you knowe what I meane?

Bus.  Yes, & meane what you know, sir.

Hen.  What’s that?

Buz.  Ile keepe your Counsaile

Hen.  My life goes for it else.

{_Exeunt_.

Actus Quartus.

(SCENE 1.)

Enter Henrico (as newly risen).

Hen. Buzzano! slave! Buzzano!

    Enter Buzzano with Cloake & Rapier.

Buz.  Signior, what a buzzing you make, as if you were a fly at Bartholomew-tyde at a Butchers stall:  doe you think I am deafe?

Hen.  No, but blind; do’st sleepe as thou goest?

Buz.  No, but I goe as I sleepe, & that’s scurvily.

Hen.  Call my brother Manuell.

Buz.  Brother Manuell!

Hen.  How? pray (goodman rascall) how long have he & you bene Brothers?

Buz.  I know not; may be ever since we were borne, for your father used to come home to my mother, & why may not I be a chipp of the same blocke out of which you two were cutt?  Mothers are sure of their children, but no man is able to sweare who was his father.