Col. Fie! I have almost broke my heart with running.
Lol. How now, dear husband, what hath mov'd this haste?
Prate. I think I was not bless'd this morning when I rose; for through my forgetfulness I have left behind me in my study the breviates of all my causes, and now the senate is fain to dance attendance on my leisure; fie, fie, fie! [Exit Prate.
Lol. Nay, if he smell nothing but papers, I care not for his dry foot-hunting,[199] nor shall I need to puff pepper in his nostrils; but see, he comes again.
Enter Prate, and, stumbling at his wife's bed, sees Alphonso's rich apparel lying thereon.
Prate. I think the devil hath laid his horns in my way.
Mech. Yes, and if you had wit, you might conjure him out of your wife's closet. [Aside.
Prate. Sancte Benedicite, what have we here?
Hath the golden snake cast his skin upon our bed?
Go to, wife; I smell, I smell! methinks your plain rug should not agree with this rich counter-point.
Lol. Husband, either I have fitted you now, or else I shall never fit you, whilst I breathe.
You oft have told me, that like those of your rank,
Who both adorn their credits and themselves,
Yea, even their causes with their costly clothes,
Yourself in like sort would strive to imitate;
And now my neighbour here hath brought this suit,
Which if you please to buy, 'tis better cheap
Than e'er 'twas made by full five thousand crowns.