Pan. Just as you say't. Cricca, admire and wonder.
Cri. This is no such secret: look to yourself; he'll cheat you.
[Aside.]
Alb. Antonio, after this match concluded,
Having great sums of gold in Barbary,
Desires of you, before he consummate
The rites of matrimony, he might go thither
For three months; but as now 'tis three and three,
Since he embark'd, and is not yet return'd;
Now, sir, your business is to me to know
Whether Antonio be dead or living.
I'll tell you instantly.
Pan. Hast thou reveal'd it?
I told it none but thee.
Cri. Not I.
Pan. Why stare you?
Are you not well?
Alb. I wander 'twixt the poles
And heavenly hinges, 'mongst excentricals,
Centres, concentrics, circles, and epicycles,
To hunt out an aspect fit for your business.
Cri. Mean ostentation! For shame, awake yourself.
[Aside.
Alb. And, since the lamp of heaven is newly enter'd
To Cancer, old Antonio is stark dead,
Drown'd in the sea, stone dead; for radius directorius
In the sixth house, and the waning moon by Capricorn;
He's dead, he's dead.