Andel. It became thee rarely.
Shad. Yet that’s lamentable, that a false face should become any man.
Andel. Thou art a gull,[401] tis all the fashion now, which fashion because we’ll keep, step thou abroad, let not the world want fools; whilst thou art commencing thy knavery there, I’ll precede Dr. Dodipoll[402] here: that done, thou, Shadow, and I will fat ourselves[403] to behold the transformation of these fools: go fly.
Shad. I fear nothing, but that whilst we strive to make others fools, we shall wear the cock’s combs ourselves. Pips fine. [Exit Shadow.
Enter Ampedo.
Andel. S’heart, here’s my brother whom I have abused:
His presence makes me blush, it strikes me dead,
To think how I am metamorphosèd.
Feene peepins of Tamasco!
Amp. For shame cast off this mask.
Andel. Wilt thou buy any pips?
Amp. Mock me no longer
With idle apparitions: many a land
Have I with weary feet and a sick soul
Measured to find thee; and when thou art found,
My greatest grief is that thou art not lost.
Yet lost thou art, thy fame, thy wealth are lost,
Thy wits are lost, and thou hast in their stead,
With shame and cares, and misery crowned thy head.
That Shadow that pursues thee, filled mine ears
With sad relation of thy wretchedness,
Where is the purse, and where my wishing hat?