MERC. What rascal is this, who takes the unwarrantable licence of singing and deafening me like this? Does he wish me to curry his coat for him?
SOS. Assuredly that fellow does not like music.
MERC. For more than a week, I have not found any one whose bones I could break; my arm will lose its strength in this idleness. I must look out for some one's back to get my wind again.
SOS. What the deuce of a fellow is this? My heart thrills with clutching fear. But why should I tremble thus? Perhaps the rogue is as much afraid as I am, and talks in this way to hide his fear from me under a feigned audacity. Yes, yes, I will not allow him to think me a goose. If I am not bold, I will try to appear so. Let me seek courage by reason; he is alone, even as I am; I am strong, I have a good master, and there is our house.
MERC. Who goes there?
SOS. I.
MERC. Who, I?
SOS. I. Courage, Sosie!
MERC. Tell me, what is your condition?
SOS. To be a man, and to speak.