Alv. Buon giorno, signor padre: why be de melancholy so much and grave in you? a-wat news make you look so naught?
Pis. Naught is too good an epithet by much
For to distinguish such contrariousness.
Hath not swift fame told you, our slow-sail'd ships
Have been o'ertaken by the swift-sail'd galleys,
And all my cared-for goods within the lurch
Of that same caterpillar brood of Spain.
Alv. Signor, si; how de Spaniola have almost tack de ship dat go for Turkey: my padre, hark you me one word: I have receive one letter from my factor de Venise, dat after one picolo battalion for one half-hour, de come a wind fra de north, and de sea go tumble here, and tumble dere, dat make de galleys run away for fear be almost drowned.
Pis. How, sir?
Did the wind rise at north, and sea wax rough,
And were the galleys therefore glad to fly?
Alv. Signor, si; and de ship go drite on de Isola de Candy.
Pis. Wert thou not my Alvaro, my beloved:
One whom I know does dearly count of me,
Much should I doubt me, that some scoffing Jack
Had sent thee, in the midst of all my griefs,
To tell a feigned tale of happy luck.
Alv. Will you no believe me? See dere den: see de letter.
Pis. What is this world, or what this state of man?
How in a moment curs'd, in a trice bless'd!
But even now my happy state 'gan fade,
And now again my state is happy made.
My goods all safe, my ships all 'scap'd away,
And none to bring me news of such good luck,
But whom the heavens have mark'd to be my son!
Were I a lord as great as Alexander,
None should more willingly be made mine heir,
Than thee, thou golden tongue, thou good-news teller!
Joy stops my mouth— [The Exchange bell rings.
Bal. Master Pisaro, the day is late, the bell doth ring:
Wilt please you hasten to perform this business?
Pis. What business, sir? Gods me, I cry you mercy.
Do it? yes, sir, you shall command me more.