Alph. Into a rogues hands.
Mast. You do but draw more misery upon ye,
And add to your disease.
Alph. Get from me.
Mast. No Sir,
You must not be left so: bear your self civilly,
And 'twill be better for ye: swell not, nor chafe not.
Alp. I am a Gentleman, and a neighbour, rascal.
Mast. A great deal the more pity: I have heard of ye.
Jul. Excellent Master.
Mast. The Duke is very tender too.
Alph. Am I lunatique? am I run mad?
What dost thou talk to me of Dukes, and Devils,
Why do the people gape so?
Mast. Do not anger 'em,
But go in quietly, and slip in softly
They will so tew ye, else, I am commanded Sir.