Bry. I’faat, I care not.
Hip. Prate not, but get thee gone, I shall send else.
Bry. Ay, do predy, I had rather have thee make a scabbard of my guts, and let out all de Irish puddings in my poor belly, den to be a false knave to de, i’faat! I will never see dine own sweet face more. A mawhid deer a gra,[266] fare dee well, fare dee well; I will go steal cows again in Ireland. [Exit.
Hip. He’s damned that raised this whirlwind, which hath blown
Into her eyes this jealousy: yet I’ll on,
I’ll on, stood armed devils staring in my face,
To be pursued in flight, quickens the race,
Shall my blood-streams by a wife’s lust be barred?
Fond[267] woman, no: iron grows by strokes more hard;
Lawless desires are seas scorning all bounds,
Or sulphur, which being rammed up, more confounds,
Struggling with madmen madness nothing tames,
Winds wrestling with great fires incense the flames. [Exit.
SCENE II.—A Room in Matheo’s House.
Enter Bellafront, and Orlando disguised as a Serving-man.
Bell. How now, what ails your master?
Orl. Has taken a younger brother’s purge, forsooth, and that works with him.