Yes, sir, on my word, he opened it and read the contents.
It scarce contents me that he did so. But Musco, 199didst thou observe his countenance in the reading of it, whether he were angry 200or pleased?
Why, sir, I saw him not read it.
No? How knowest thou then that he opened it?
Marry, sir, because he charged me on my life to tell 204nobody that he opened it, which, unless he had done, he would never fear 205to have it revealed.
That's true. Well, Musco, hie thee in again,
1.2.12210[Enter Stephano. [Lorenzo Jr., busy with the letter from Prospero, does not notice Stephano].
Oh, Musco, didst thou not see a fellow here in a what-sha'-call-'em doublet? He brought mine uncle a letter even now.
Yes, sir, what of him?
Where is he, canst thou tell?
Why, he is gone.
Gone? Which way? When went he? How long since?
It's almost half an hour ago since he rid hence.
Whoreson Scanderbag rogue! Oh, that I had a horse! By God's lid, I'd fetch him back again, with heave and ho.
Why, you may have my master's bay gelding, an you will.
But I have no boots, that's the spite on it.
Then it's no boot to follow him. Let him go and hang, sir.
Ay, by my troth. Musco, I pray thee, help to truss me a little. Nothing angers me but I have waited such a while for 223him, all unlaced and untrussed yonder, and now to see he is gone the other way!
[Helping Stephano with his clothing] Nay, I pray you, stand still, sir.
I will, I will. Oh, how it vexes me!
Tut, never vex yourself with the thought of such a base follow as he.
Nay, to see he stood upon points with me, too!
Like enough so. That was because he saw you had so few at your hose.
What, hast thou done? God-a-mercy, good Musco.
I mar'l, sir, you wear such ill-favored coarse stockings, having so good a leg as you have.
Foh! The stockings be good enough for this time of the 232year, but I'll have a pair of silk ere it be long. I think 233my leg would show well in a silk hose.
Ay, afore God would it, rarely well.
In sadness, I think it would. I have a reasonable good leg.
You have an excellent good leg, sir. I pray you pardon me, I have a little haste in, sir.
A thousand thanks, good Musco.
Exit [Musco].
[unaware still of Stephano] Here is a style, indeed, for 241a man's senses to leap over ere they come at it. Why, it is 242able to break the shins of any old man's patience in the world. My 243father read this with patience? Then will I be made an eunuch and learn 244to sing ballads. I do not deny but my father may have as much 245patience as any other man, for he uses to take physic, and oft taking 246physic makes a man a very patient creature. But, Signor Prospero, had your swaggering 247epistle here arrived in my father's hands at such an hour of his patience 248-- I mean, when he had ta'en physic -- it is to be doubted 249whether I should have read "sweet villain" here. [Noticing Stephano, but not speaking to him] 250But what? My wise cousin! Nay, then, I'll furnish our feast with one gull 251more toward a mess. He writes to me of two, and here's one: that's three, i'faith. Oh, for a fourth! Now, Fortune, or never, Fortune!
[Aside] Oh, now I see who he laughed at: he laughed 253at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an he had laughed at 254me, I would have told mine uncle.
[Aloud] Cousin Stephano! Good morrow, good cousin. How fare you?
The better for your asking, I will assure you. I have 257been all about to seek you; since I came, I saw mine uncle. And, 258i'faith, how have you done this great while? Good Lord, by my troth, I 259am glad you are well, cousin.
And I am glad at your coming, I protest to 261you, for I am sent for by a private gentleman, my most special dear 262friend, to come to him to Florence this morning; and you shall go with 263me, cousin, if it please you, not else. I will enjoin you no further 264than stands with your own consent and the condition of a friend.
Why, cousin, you shall command me an 'twere twice so far 266as Florence, to do you good. What, do you think I will not go 267with you? I protest --
Nay, nay, you shall not protest.
By God, but I will, sir, by your leave; I'll protest more to my friend than I'll speak of at this time.
You speak very well, sir.
Nay, not so, neither; but I speak to serve my turn.
Your turn? Why, cousin, a gentleman of so fair sort 273as you are, of so true carriage, so special good parts, of so dear 274and choice estimation, one whose lowest condition bears the stamp of a great spirit? 275Nay, more, a man so graced, gilded, or rather, to use a more fit 276metaphor, tinfoiled by nature -- not that you have a leaden constitution, coz, although 277perhaps a little inclining to that temper and so the more apt to melt 278with pity when you fall into the fire of rage -- but for your 279luster only, which reflects as bright to the world as an old alewife's pewter again' a good time. And will you now, with nice modesty, hide such real 281ornaments as these, and shadow their glory as a milliner's wife doth her wrought stomacher with a smoky lawn or a black cypress? Come, come, for shame, do 283not wrong the quality of your desert in so poor a kind, but let 284the idea of what you are be portrayed in your aspect, that men may read in your looks: "Here within this place is to be seen the most admirable, rare, and accomplished work of nature." Cousin, what think you of this?
Marry, I do think of it, and I will be more melancholy and gentleman-like than I have been, I do ensure you.
Why, this is well.
[Aside] Now, if I can but 287hold up this humor in him as it is begun, cazzo for Florence! 288Match him an she can! -- Come, cousin.
I'll follow you.
Follow me? You must go before.
Must I? Nay then, I pray you show me, good cousin.