Cri. My master's secret! keep it, good farmer, keep it;
I would not lend an ear to't, if thou'dst hire me.
Farewell.
Trin. O, how it boils and swells! if I keep't longer,
'Twill grow t' impostume in my breast, and choke me. Cricca!
Cri. Adieu, good Trincalo; the secrets of our betters
Are dangerous: I dare not know't.
Trin. But, hear'st thou!
Say, I should tell, can'st keep as close as I do?
Cri. Yes: but I had rather want it. Adieu.
Trin. Albumazar——
Cri. Farewell.
Trin. Albumazar——
Cri. Prythee.
Trin. Albumazar,
Th' astrologer, hath undertook to change me
T' Antonio's shape: this done, must I give Flavia
To my old master, and his maid to Trincalo.