Celso. But how stands Mendoza? how is’t with him?
Mal. Faith, like a pair of snuffers, snibs[469] filth in other men, and retains it in himself.[470] 240
Celso. He does fly from public notice, methinks, as a hare does from hounds; the feet whereon he flies betray him.
Mal. I can track him, Celso.
O, my disguise fools him most powerfully!
For that I seem a desperate malcontent,
He fain would clasp with me: he’s the true slave
That will put on the most affected grace
For some vile second cause.
Celso. He’s here.
Mal. Give place.
[Exit Celso.
Enter Mendoza.
Illo, ho, ho, ho! art there, old truepenny?[471] Where hast thou spent thyself this morning? I see flattery in thine eyes, and damnation in thy soul. Ha, ye[472] huge rascal!
Men. Thou art very merry. 253