CARISOPHUS. The sturdy knave is gone, the devil him take! He hath made my head, shoulders, arms, sides, and all to ache. Thou whoreson villain boy, why didst thou wait no better? As he paid me, so will I not die thy debtor. [_Strikes him._
JACK. Master, why do you fight with me? I am not your match, you see: You durst not fight with him that is gone, and will you wreak your anger on me?
CARISOPHUS. Thou villain, by thee I have lost mine honour, Beaten with a cudgel like a slave, a vacabone, or a lazy lubber, And not given one blow again. Hast thou handled me well?
JACK. Master, I handled you not, but who did handle you very handsomely, you can tell.
CARISOPHUS. Handsomely! thou crack-rope.[85]
JACK. Yea, sir, very handsomely: I hold you a groat, He handled you so handsomely, that he left not one mote in your coat.
CARISOPHUS. O, I had firk’d him trimly, thou villain, if thou hadst given me my sword.
JACK. It is better as it is, master, believe me, at a word. If he had seen your weapon, he would have been fiercer, And so perhaps beat you worse, I speak it with my heart, You were never at the dealing of fence-blows, but you had four away for your part. It is but your luck, you are man good enough; But the Welsh Onaphets was a vengeance-knave, and rough. Master, you were best go home and rest in your bed, Methinks your cap waxeth too little for your head.
JACK. Yea, as big as a codshead, and bleeds too.
CARISOPHUS. I am ashamed to show my face with this hue.
JACK. No shame at all; men have been beaten far better than you.
CARISOPHUS. I must go to the chirurgeon’s; what shall I say, when I am a-dressing?
JACK. You may say truly you met with a knave’s blessing. [_Exeunt._
ARISTIPPUS. By mine own experience I prove true that many men tell, To live in court not beloved, better be in hell: What crying out, what cursing, is there within of Carisophus, Because he accused Damon to King Dionysius! Even now he came whining and crying into the court for the nonce, Showing that one Onaphets had broke his knave’s sconce. Which strange name when they heard every man laugh’d heartily, And I by myself scann’d his name secretly; For well I knew it was some mad-headed child That invented this name, that the log-headed knave might be beguil’d. In tossing it often with myself to and fro, I found out that Onaphets backward spelled Stephano. I smiled in my sleeve, how to see by turning his name he dress’d him, And how for Damon his master’s sake with a wooden cudgel he bless’d him. None pitied the knave, no man nor woman; but all laugh’d him to scorn. To be thus hated of all, better unborn: Far better Aristippus hath provided, I trow; For in all the court I am beloved both of high and low. I offend none, insomuch that women sing this to my great praise, _Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et locus et res_. But in all this jollity one thing ’mazeth me, The strangest thing that ever was heard or known, Is now happened in this court by that Damon, Whom Carisophus accused: Damon is now at liberty, For whose return Pithias his friend lieth in prison, alas, in great jeopardy. To-morrow is the day, which day by noon if Damon return not, earnestly The king hath sworn that Pithias should die; Whereof Pithias hath intelligence very secretly, Wishing that Damon may not return, till he hath paid His life for his friend. Hath it been heretofore ever said, That any man for his friend would die so willingly? O noble friendship! O perfect amity! Thy force is here seen, and that very perfectly. The king himself museth hereat, yet he is far out of square, That he trusteth none to come near him: not even his own daughters will he have Unsearch’d to enter his chamber, while[86] he hath made barbers his beard to shave, Not with knife or razor, for all edge-tools he fears, But with hot burning nutshells they singe off his hairs. Was there ever man that lived in such misery? Well, I will go in--with a heavy and pensive heart, too, To think how Pithias, this poor gentleman, to-morrow shall die. [_Exit._