Hip. Perhaps I shall.
Mat. Perhaps? faugh! I know you can swear to me you will.
Hip. Since you will press me, on my word, I will. [Exit.
Bell. What sullen picture is this, servant?
Mat. It’s Count Hippolito, the brave count.
Pio. As gallant a spirit as any in Milan, you sweet Jew.
Flu. Oh! he’s a most essential gentleman, coz.
Cas. Did you never hear of Count Hippolito, acquaintance?
Bell. Marry muff,[164] a’ your counts, and be no more life in ’em.
Mat. He’s so malcontent! sirrah[165] Bellafront—An you be honest gallants, let’s sup together, and have the count with us:—thou shalt sit at the upper end, punk.[166]