Cal. Signior de Caponi,
Grand botelier of the mansion.

Bern. How is 't, man? [Claps him on the shoulder.

Cal. Be not so rustic in your salutations.
Signior Bernardo, master of the accounts.
Signior Petruchio, may you long continue
Your function in the chamber!

Cap. When shall we learn
Such gambols in our villa?

Lid. Sure he's mad.

Char. 'Tis not unlike, for most of such mushrooms are so.
What news at court?

Cal. Basta! they are mysteries.
And not to be reveal'd. With your favour, signior,
I am, in private, to confer awhile
With this signora: but I'll pawn my honour,
That neither my terse language, nor my habit,
Howe'er it may convince, nor my new shrugs,
Shall render her enamour'd.

Char. Take your pleasure;
A little of these apish tricks may pass,
Too much is tedious. [Exit.

Cal. The prince, in this paper,
Presents his service. Nay, it is not courtly
To see the seal broke open; so I leave you.—
Signiors of the villa, I'll descend to be
Familiar with you.

Cap. Have you forgot to dance?