Tim. Your grace is most methodically welcome. You must pardon my variety of phrase: the courtiers e'en cloy us with good words.
Ant. What's he?
Mor. A gentleman of Ferrara, sir; one Pedro Sebastiano.
Ant. And do ye set her out to sale? I charged ye reserve for me alone.
Tim. Indeed, sir——
Ant. Pox of your deeds! [Kicks her.
Tim. O my sciatica!
Ant. Sirrah, you perfumed rascal!
[Kicks Philippo. They draw.
Tim. Nay, good my lord.