brain: first it begins
Solely to work upon the phantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,
As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence,
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each of other catching the infection,
Which as a searching vapour spreads itself
Confusedly through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what error is it to know this,
And want the free election of the soul
In such extremes! well, I will once more strive
(Even in despite of hell) myself to be,
And shake this fever off that thus shakes me.

[EXIT.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.

ENTER MUSCO, DISGUISED LIKE A SOLDIER.

MUS. 'Sblood, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated
thus, from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an
intolerable sort of lies, or else my profession loses his grace,
and yet the lie to a man of my coat is as ominous as the Fico, oh,
sir, it holds for good policy to have that outwardly in vilest
estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us: So much for my
borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my master intends to follow
his son dry-foot to Florence, this morning: now I, knowing of this
conspiracy, and the rather to insinuate with my young master, (for
so must we that are blue waiters, or men of service do, or else
perhaps we may wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley
you know:) I have got me afore in this disguise, determining here
to lie in ambuscado, and intercept him in the midway; if I can but
get his cloak, his purse, his hat, nay, any thing so I can stay his
journey, Rex Regum, I am made for ever, i'faith: well, now must
I practise to get the true garb of one of these Lance-knights; my
arm here, and my -- God's so, young master and his cousin.

LOR. JU. So, sir, and how then?

[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.]

STEP. God's foot, I have lost my purse, I think.

LOR. JU. How? lost your purse? where? when had you it?

STEP. I cannot tell, stay.

MUS. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me, would I could get by
them.

LOR. JU. What! have you it?

STEP. No, I think I was bewitched, I.

LOR. JU. Nay, do not weep, a pox on it, hang it, let it go.

STEP. Oh, it's here; nay, an it had been lost, I had not cared but
for a jet ring Marina sent me.

LO