Ven. O mine eyes!
Lus. How now, man?
Ven. Almost struck blind;
This bright unusual shine to me seems proud;
I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud.
Lus. I think I shall affect[87] his melancholy.
How are they now?[88]
Ven. The better for your asking.
Lus. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten
Truly on my intent. Now y' are both present,
I will unbrace such a close private villain
Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of,
Who hath disgrac'd you much, and injur'd us.
Hip. Disgrac'd us, my lord?
Lus. Ay, Hippolito.
I kept it here till now, that both your angers
Might meet him at once.
Ven. I'm covetous
To know the villain.
Lus. You know him: that slave-pander
Piato, whom we threaten'd last
With irons in perpetual 'prisonment.