Pre. Are ye building Babylon there?
Bil. Here’s a noise in court! you think you are in a tavern, do you not?
Pre. You think you are in a brothel-house, do you not?—This room is ill-scented.
Enter One with a perfume.
So, perfume, perfume; some upon me, I pray thee.— The duke is upon instant entrance: so, make place there!
Enter Pietro, Ferrardo, Equato; Celso and Guerrino before.
Pietro. Where breathes that music? 10
Bil. The discord rather than the music is heard from the malcontent Malevole’s chamber.
Fer. [calling] Malevole!
Mal. [above, out of his chamber] Yaugh, god-a-man, what dost thou there? Duke’s Ganymede, Juno’s jealous of thy long stockings: shadow of a woman, what wouldst, weasel? thou lamb o’court, what dost thou bleat for? ah, you smooth-chinned catamite!