Charles: Well?
Cecco: Nothing: but——
Charles: Subtle! your nothing harboreth some theft
Of spial.
Cecco: Sir, I—no—that is——
Charles: That is
It does! Must I—persuade it from your throat?
(Makes to choke him.)
Cecco: It was of lord Antonio——
Charles: Speak then.
Cecco: Have you not marked him sundry of his moods?
Charles: Well?
Cecco: On his back in the wood as if the leaves
Sung fairy balladry; then riding wild
Nowhither and alone; about the castle
Yearning, yet absent to soft speech and arms!
He'll drink, sir, and not know if it be wine!