SCENE II.

The same. A Room in Cleon's House.

Enter Asotus, driving in Gracculo.

Asot. You slave! you dog! down, cur!

Grac. Hold, good young master,
For pity's sake!

Asot. Now am I in my kingdom:—
Who says I am not valiant? I begin
To frown again: quake, villain!

Grac. So I do, sir;
Your looks are agues to me.

Asot. Are they so, sir!
'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me,
And say I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd make them
Feel that I am a lion.

Grac. Do not roar, sir,
As you are a valiant beast: but do you know
Why you use me thus?

Asot. I'll beat thee a little more,
Then study for a reason. O! I have it:
One brake a jest on me, and then I swore,
(Because I durst not strike him,) when I came home,
That I would break thy head.

Grac. Plague on his mirth!
I am sure I mourn for 't.

Asot. Remember too, I charge you,
To teach my horse good manners yet; this morning,
As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade
Threw me, and kick'd me.

Grac. I thank him for 't. [Aside.

Asot. What's that?

Grac. I say, sir, I will teach him to hold his heels,
If you will rule your fingers.

Asot. I'll think upon 't.

Grac. I am bruised to jelly: better be a dog,
Than slave to a fool or coward. [Aside.

Asot. Here's my mother,

Enter Corisca and Zanthia.

She is chastising too: how brave we live,
That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in breath
When we want exercise!

Coris. Careless creature, [Striking her.
Look to 't; if a curl fall, or wind or sun
Take my complexion off, I will not leave
One hair upon thine head.

Grac. Here's a second show
Of the family of pride! [Aside.

Coris. Fie on these wars!
I'm starved for want of action. When were you with
Your mistress, fair Cleora?

Asot. Two days sithence;
But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can
Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and studied for her,
Her woman calls her away.

Coris. Here's a dull thing!

Zant. Madam, my lord.

Enter Cleon.

Cleon. Where are you, wife? I fain would go abroad,
But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter;
I am tired. Your shoulder, son;—nay, sweet, thy hand too:
A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper,
And so to bed.

Asot. Never to rise, I hope, more. [Aside.
[Exeunt.