Cris.  Do you hear, master Minos? pray let us be used like a man of our own fashion.  By Janus and Jupiter, I meant to have paid you next week every drachm.  Seek not to eclipse my reputation thus vulgarly.

Min.  Sir, your oaths cannot serve you; you know I have forborne you long.

Cris.  I am conscious of it, sir.  Nay, I beseech you, gentlemen, do not exhale me thus, remember ’tis but for sweetmeats—­

Lict.  Sweet meat must have sour sauce, sir.  Come along.

Cris.  Sweet master Minos, I am forfeited to eternal disgrace, if you do not commiserate.  Good officer, be not so officious. 
                                           Enter Tucca and Pyrgi. 
Tuc.  Why, how now, my good brace of bloodhounds, whither do you drag the gentleman?  You mongrels, you curs, you ban-dogs! we are captain Tucca that talk to you, you inhuman pilchers.

Min.  Sir, he is their prisoner.

Tuc.  Their pestilence!  What are you, sir?

Min.  A citizen of Rome, sir.

Tuc.  Then you are not far distant from a fool, sir.

Min.  A pothecary, sir.

Tuc.  I knew thou wast not a physician:  foh! out of my nostrils,
thou stink’st of lotium and the syringe; away, quack-salver!—­
Follower, my sword.
          
                                                    [Aside. 
I Pyr.  Here, noble leader; you’ll do no harm with it, I’ll trust
you.

Tuc.  Do you hear, you goodman, slave?  Hook, ram, rogue, catchpole,
loose the gentleman, or by my velvet arms—­
                          [Strikes up his heels, and seizes his sword. 
Lict.  What will you do, sir?

Tuc.  Kiss thy hand, my honourable active varlet, and embrace thee thus.

1 Pyr.  O patient metamorphosis!

Tuc.  My sword, my tall rascal.

Lict.  Nay, soft, sir; some wiser than some.

Tuc.  What! and a wit too?  By Pluto, thou must be cherish’d, slave; here’s three drachms for thee; hold.

2 Pyr.  There’s half his lendings gone.

Tuc.  Give me.

Lict.  No, sir, your first word shall stand; I’ll hold all.

Tuc.  Nay, but rogue—­

Lict.  You would make a rescue of our prisoner, sir, you.

Tuc.  I a rescue!  A way, inhuman varlet.  Come, come, I never relish above one jest at most; do not disgust me, Sirrah; do not, rogue!  I tell thee, rogue, do not.

Lict.  How, sir! rogue?

Tuc.  Ay; why, thou art not angry, rascal, art thou?

Lict.  I cannot tell, sir; I am little better upon these terms.

Tuc.  Ha, gods and fiends! why, dost hear, rogue, thou? give me thy hand; I say unto thee, thy hand, rogue.  What, dost not thou know me? not me, rogue? not captain Tucca, rogue?

Min.  Come, pray surrender the gentleman his sword, officer; we’ll have no fighting here.

Tuc.  What’s thy name?