Ant. 'Tis Cricca.
Cri. He seems so just the man he represents,
That I dare hardly use him as I purpos'd.
Ant. Cricca, well-met; how fares my friend Pandolfo?
Cri. Your friend Pandolfo! how are your means improv'd,
To style familiarly your master friend?
Ant. What say'st thou?
Cri. That I rejoice your worship's safe return
From your late drowning. Th' Exchange hath giv'n you lost,
And all your friends worn mourning three months past.
Ant. The danger of the shipwreck I escap'd
So desperate was, that I may truly say
I am new-born, not sav'd.
Cri. Ha, ha, ha! through what a grace
And goodly countenance the rascal speaks!
What a grave portance! could Antonio
Himself outdo him? O you notorious villain!
Who would have thought thou couldst have thus dissembled?
Ant. How now! a servant thus familiar? Sirrah,
Use your companions so: more reverence
Becomes you better.
Cri. As though I understood not
The end of all this plot and goodly business.
Come, I know all. See! this untill'd clod of earth
Conceits his mind transform'd as well as body.
He wrings and bites his lips for fear of laughing.
Ha, ha, ha!