SCENE II.
Enter Cricca.
Cri. What do I see? Is not this Trincalo,
Transform'd t' Antonio? 'tis: and so perfectly
That, did the right Antonio now confront him,
I'd swear they both were true, or both were false.
Ant. This man admires the unexpectedness
Of my return.
Cri. O wondrous power of stars,
And skill of art t' apply't! You that are married
May justly fear, lest this astrologer
Clothe your wives' servants in your shape, and use you
As Jupiter did Amphitryo. You, that are rich,
In your own form may lose your gold.
Ant. 'Tis Cricca.
Cri. He seems so just the man he represents,
That I dare hardly use him as I purpos'd.
Ant. Cricca, well-met; how fares my friend Pandolfo?
Cri. Your friend Pandolfo! how are your means improv'd,
To style familiarly your master friend?
Ant. What say'st thou?
Cri. That I rejoice your worship's safe return
From your late drowning. Th' Exchange hath giv'n you lost,
And all your friends worn mourning three months past.
Ant. The danger of the shipwreck I escap'd
So desperate was, that I may truly say
I am new-born, not sav'd.
Cri. Ha, ha, ha! through what a grace
And goodly countenance the rascal speaks!
What a grave portance! could Antonio
Himself outdo him? O you notorious villain!
Who would have thought thou couldst have thus dissembled?
Ant. How now! a servant thus familiar? Sirrah,
Use your companions so: more reverence
Becomes you better.
Cri. As though I understood not
The end of all this plot and goodly business.
Come, I know all. See! this untill'd clod of earth
Conceits his mind transform'd as well as body.
He wrings and bites his lips for fear of laughing.
Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. Why laugh you, sirrah?
Cri. Sirrah, to see thee chang'd
So strangely, that I cannot spy an inch
Of thy old clownish carcase: ha, ha!
Ant. Laughter proceeds
From absurd actions that are harmless.
Cri. Ha, ha, ha!
Sententious blockhead!
Ant. And y' are ill-advis'd
To jest instead of pity. Alas! my miseries,
Dangers of death, slav'ry of cruel Moors
And tedious journeys, might have easily alter'd
A stronger body, much more this decay'd vessel,
Out-worn with age, and broken by misfortunes.
Cri. Leave your set speeches. Go to Antonio's house,
Effect your business; for, upon my credit,
Th' art so well-turn'd, they dare not but accept thee.
Ant. Where should I hope for welcome, if not there—
From my own house, children, and family?
Cri. Is't possible this coxcomb should conceive
His mind transform'd? How gravely he continues
The countenance he began! ha, ha! Why, blockhead,
Think'st to deceive me too? Why, Trincalo!
Ant. I understand you not. Hands off.
Cri. Art not thou Trincalo,
Pandolfo's man?
Ant. I not so much as know him.
Cri. Dar'st thou deny't to me?
Ant. I dare, and must
To all the world, long as Antonio lives.
Cri. You arrant ass! have I not known thee serve
My master in his farm this thirteen years?
Ant. By all the oaths that bind men's consciences
To truth, I am Antonio, and no other.