Isa. Hey, how he[484] treads the air! shough, shough, t’other way! he burns his wings else: here’s wax enough below, Icarus, more than will be cancelled these eighteen moons: he’s down, he’s down! what a terrible fall he had!
Lol. Do not, do not; I shall not forbear the gentleman under the fool, if you do: alas, I saw through your fox-skin before now! Come, I can give you comfort, my mistress loves you; and there is as arrant a madman i' th' house as you are a fool, your rival, whom she loves not: if after the masque we can rid her of him, you earn her love, she says, and the fool shall ride her.
Ant. May I believe thee?
Lol. Yes, or you may choose whether you will or no.
Lol. Well, keep your old station yet, and be quiet.
Lol. And you are like to have your desire.[486]
Lol. This is t’other counterfeit; I'll put him out of his humour. [Aside. Takes out a letter and reads] Sweet lady, having now cast [off][487] this counterfeit cover of a madman, I appear to your best judgment a true and faithful lover of your beauty. This is pretty well for a madman.
Fran. Ha! what’s that?
Lol. [reads] Chide those perfections in you which [have] made me imperfect.
Fran. I am discover’d to the fool.
Lol. I hope to discover the fool in you ere I have done with you. [Reads] Yours all, or one beside himself, Franciscus. This madman will mend sure.
Fran. What do you read, sirrah?
Lol. Your destiny, sir; you’ll be hanged for this trick, and another that I know.
Fran. Art thou of counsel with thy mistress?
Lol. Next her apron-strings.
Fran. Give me thy hand.
Lol. Stay, let me put yours in my pocket first [putting letter into his pocket]: your hand is true,[488] is it not? it will not pick? I partly fear it, because I think it does lie.
Fran. Not in a syllable.
Lol. So; if you love my mistress so well as you have handled the matter here, you are like to be cured of your madness.
Fran. And none but she can cure it.
Lol. Well, I'll give you over then, and she shall cast your water next.
Lol. I shall deserve more, sir, I hope: my mistress loves you, but must have some proof of your love to her.
Fran. There I meet my wishes.
Lol. That will not serve, you must meet her enemy and yours.
Fran. He’s dead already.
Lol. Will you tell me that, and I parted but now with him?
Fran. Shew me the man.
Lol. Ay, that’s a right course now; see him before you kill him, in any case; and yet it needs not go so far neither, ’tis but a fool that haunts the house and my mistress in the shape of an idiot; bang but his fool’s coat well-favouredly, and ’tis well.
Fran. Soundly, soundly!
Lol. Only reserve him till the masque be past; and if you find him not now in the dance yourself, I'll shew you. In, in! my master! [Dancing.
Fran. He handles him like a feather. Hey! [Exit.
Re-enter Isabella: then re-enter Lollio with the madmen and fools, who dance.