Michael Perez: 

      I see you are packing now my gentle cousin,
      And my wife told me I should find it so,
      ’Tis true I do, you were merry when I was last here,
219] But ’twas your will to try my patience Madam. 
      I am sorry that my swift occasions
      Can let you take your pleasure here no longer,
      Yet I would have you think my honour’d cousin,
      This house and all I have are all your servants.

Leon: 

      What house, what pleasure Sir, what do you mean?

Michael Perez: 

      You hold the jest so stiff, ’twill prove discourteous,
      This house I mean, the pleasures of this place.

Leon: 

      And what of them?

Michael Perez: 

      They are mine Sir, and you know it,
      My wifes I mean, and so confer’d upon me,
      The hangings Sir I must entreat, your servants,
      That are so busie in their offices,
      Again to minister to their right uses,
      I shall take view o’th’ plate anon, and furnitures
      That are of under place; you are merry still cousin,
      And of a pleasant constitution,
      Men of great fortunes make their mirths at placitum.

Leon: 

      Prethee good stubborn wife, tell me directly,
      Good evil wife leave fooling and tell me honestly,
      Is this my kinsman?

Margarita: 

      I can tell ye nothing.

Leon: 

      I have many kinsmen, but so mad a one,
      And so phantastick—­all the house?

Michael Perez: 

      All mine,
      And all within it.  I will not bate ye an ace on’t. 
      Can you not receive a noble courtesie,
      And quietly and handsomely as ye ought Couz,
      But you must ride o’th’ top on’t?

Leon: 

      Canst thou fight?

Michael Perez: 

      I’le tell ye presently, I could have done Sir.

Leon: 

      For ye must law and claw before ye get it.

Juan de Castro: 

      Away, no quarrels.

Leon: 

      Now I am more temperate,
      I’le have it prov’d if you were never yet in Bedlam,
      Never in love, for that’s a lunacy,
      No great state left ye that you never lookt for,
      Nor cannot manage, that’s a rank distemper;
      That you were christen’d, and who answer’d for ye,
      And then I yield.
220]

Michael Perez: 

      H’as half perswaded me I was bred i’th’ moon,
      I have ne’r a bush at my breech, are not we both mad,
      And is not this a phantastick house we are in,
      And all a dream we do? will ye walk out Sir,
      And if I do not beat thee presently
      Into a sound belief, as sense can give thee,
      Brick me into that wall there for a chimny piece,
      And say I was one o’th’ Caesars, done by a seal-cutter.