SCENE II.
Cricca, Pandolfo.
Cri. Now, Cricca, mask thy countenance in joy;
Speak welcome language of good news, and move
Thy master, whose desires are credulous,
To believe what thou giv'st him. If thy design
Land at the haven 'tis bound for, then Lelio,
Eugenio, and their mistresses, are oblig'd
By oath t' assure a state of forty pounds
Upon thee for thy life.
Pan. I long to know
How my good farmer speeds; how Trincalo
Hath been receiv'd by Lelio.
Cri. Where shall I find him?
What we most seek still flies us; what's avoided,
Follows or meets us full. I am emboss'd[349]
With trotting all the streets to find Pandolfo,
And bless him with good news.
Pan. This haste of Cricca
Abodes some good: doubtless my Trincalo,
Receiv'd for Antonio, hath given me Flavia.
Cricca!
Cri. Neither in Paul's,[350] at home, nor in the Exchange,
Nor where he uses to converse! he's lost,
And must be cried.
Pan. Turn hither, Cricca; Cricca,
Seest me not?
Cri. Sir, the news, and haste to tell it,
Had almost blinded me. 'Tis so fortunate,
I dare not pour it all at once upon you,
Lest you should faint, and swoon away with joy:
Your transform'd Trincalo——
Pan. What news of him?
Cri. Enter'd as owner in Antonio's house——
Pan. On.
Cri. Is acknowledg'd by his daughter Flavia
And Lelio for their father.
Pan. Quickly, good Cricca!
Cri. And hath sent me in haste to bid you——
Pan. What?
Cri. Come with your son Eugenio——
Pan. And then?
Cri. That he may be a witness of your marriage.
But, sir, I see no signs of so large gladness
As I expected and this news deserv'd.
Pan. 'Tis here, 'tis here, within: all outward symptoms
And characters of joy are poor expressions
Of my great inward happiness. My heart's full,
And cannot vent the passions. Run, Cricca, run:
Run, as thou lov'st me; call Eugenio,
And work him to my purpose: thou canst do it.
Haste, call him instantly.
Cri. I fly, sir.
[Exit.
SCENE III.[351]
Pandolfo.
How shall I recompense this astrologer,
This great Albumazar, through whose learned hands
Fortune hath prov'd[352] th' effect of my best wishes,
And crown'd my hopes? Give him this chain?
Alas!
'Tis a poor thanks, short by a thousand links
Of his large merit. No, he must live with me
And my sweet Flavia at his ease and pleasure,
Wanting for nothing: and this very night
I'll get a boy, and he erect a figure
To calculate his fortunes. So, there's Trincalo
Antoniated, or Antonio Intrinculate.