Pio. Yes indeed, father.
1st Mad. Then thou’rt a fool, for my eldest son had a polt-foot,[216] crooked legs, a verjuice face, and a pear-coloured beard: I made him a scholar, and he made himself a fool. Sirrah, thou there: hold out thy hand.
Duke. My hand? well, here ’tis.
1st Mad. Look, look, look, look! has he not long nails, and short hair?
Flu. Yes, monstrous short hair, and abominable long nails.
1st Mad. Ten penny nails, are they not?
Flu. Yes, ten-penny nails.
1st Mad. Such nails had my second boy. Kneel down, thou varlet, and ask thy father’s blessing. Such nails had my middlemost son, and I made him a promoter:[217] and he scraped, and scraped, and scraped, till he got the devil and all: but he scraped thus, and thus, and thus, and it went under his legs, till at length a company of kites, taking him for carrion, swept up all, all, all, all, all, all, all. If you love your lives, look to yourselves: see, see, see, see, the Turks’ galleys are fighting with my ships! Bounce go the guns! Oooh! cry the men! Rumble, rumble, go the waters! Alas, there; ’tis sunk, ’tis sunk: I am undone, I am undone! You are the damned pirates have undone me: you are, by the Lord, you are, you are! Stop ’em—you are!
Ans. Why, how now sirrah! must I fall to tame you?
1st Mad. Tame me! no, I’ll be madder than a roasted cat. See, see, I am burnt with gunpowder,—these are our close fights!