Enter Antonio and his Servant.
Ant. With all my Jewels?
Ser. All, Sir.
Ant. And that mony
I left i'th' trunk?
Ser. The Trunk broke, and that gone too.
Ser. Gone with the wench too.
Ant. The mighty pox go with 'em: belike they thought
I was no man of this world, and those trifles
Would but disturb my conscience.
Ser. Sure they thought, Sir,
You would not live to persecute 'em.
Ant. Whore and Fidler,
Why, what a consort have they made! Hen and Bacon!
Well my sweet Mistris, well good Madam mar-tail?
You that have hung about my neck, and lick't me,
I'le try how handsomely your Ladyship
Can hang upon a Gallows, there's your Master-piece;
But hark ye Sirrah, no imagination
Of where they should be?