Alvar. To what is miserable age reserved! [Aside. But oh the king! and oh the fatal secret!  Which I have kept thus long to time it better, And now I would disclose, ’tis past my power. [Exit with his Master.

Must. Something of a secret, and of the king, I heard him mutter:  a pimp, I warrant him, for I am sure he is an old courtier.  Now, to put off t’other remnant of my merchandize.—­Stir up, sirrah! [To ANT.

Ant. Dog, what wouldst thou have?

Must. Learn better manners, or I shall serve you a dog-trick; come down upon all-four immediately; I’ll make you know your rider.

Ant. Thou wilt not make a horse of me?

Must. Horse or ass, that’s as thy mother made thee:  but take earnest, in the first place, for thy sauciness.—­[Lashes him with his Whip.]—­Be advised, friend, and buckle to thy geers:  Behold my ensign of royalty displayed over thee.

Ant. I hope one day to use thee worse in Portugal.

Must. Ay, and good reason, friend; if thou catchest me a-conquering on thy side of the water, lay on me lustily; I will take it as kindly as thou dost this.—­ [Holds up his Whip.

Ant. [Lying down.] Hold, my dear Thrum-cap:  I obey thee cheerfully.—­I see the doctrine of non-resistance is never practised thoroughly, but when a man can’t help himself.

Enter a second Merchant.

2d Mer. You, friend, I would see that fellow do his postures.

Must. [Bridling ANT.] Now, sirrah, follow, for you have rope
enough:  To your paces, villain, amble trot, and gallop:—­Quick about,
there.—­Yeap! the more money’s bidden for you, the more your credit.
                                  [ANTONIO follows, at the end of the
                                   Bridle, on his Hands and Feet, and
                                   does all his Postures.

2d Mer. He is well chined, and has a tolerable good back; that is half in half.—­[To MUST.]—­I would see him strip; has he no diseases about him?

Must. He is the best piece of man’s flesh in the market, not an eye-sore in his whole body.  Feel his legs, master; neither splint, spavin, nor wind-gall. [Claps him on the Shoulder.

Mer. [Feeling about him, and then putting his Hand on his Side.] Out upon him, how his flank heaves!  The whore-son is broken-winded.

Must. Thick-breathed a little; nothing but a sorry cold with lying out a-nights in trenches; but sound, wind and limb, I warrant him.—­Try him at a loose trot a little. [Puts the Bridle into his
                                             Hand, he strokes him.

Ant. For heaven’s sake, owner, spare me:  you know I am but new broken.