be saluted by such a tall 146 man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you. BELLAMIRA. And what said he? PILIA-BORZA. Not a wise word; only gave me a nod, as who should say, "Is it even so?" and so I left him, being driven to a non-plus at the critical aspect of my terrible countenance. BELLAMIRA. And where didst meet him? PILIA-BORZA. Upon mine own free-hold, within forty foot of the gallows, conning his neck-verse, 147 I take it, looking of 148 a friar's execution; whom I saluted with an old hempen proverb, Hodie tibi, cras mihi, and so I left him to the mercy of the hangman: but, the exercise 149 being done, see where he comes. Enter ITHAMORE. ITHAMORE. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this friar; he was ready to leap off ere the halter was about his neck; and, when the hangman had put on his hempen tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if he had had another cure to serve. Well, go whither he will, I'll be none of his followers in haste: and, now I think on't, going to the execution, a fellow met me with a muschatoes 150 like a raven's wing, and a dagger with a hilt like a warming-pan; and he gave me a letter from one Madam Bellamira, saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to make clean my boots with his lips; the effect was, that I should come to her house: I wonder what the reason is; it may be she sees more in me than I can find in myself; for she writes further, that she loves me ever since she saw me; and who would not requite such love? Here's her house; and here she comes; and now would I were gone! I am not worthy to look upon her. PILIA-BORZA. This is the gentleman you writ to. ITHAMORE. Gentleman! he flouts me: what gentry can be in a poor Turk of tenpence? 151 I'll be gone. [Aside.] BELLAMIRA. Is't not a sweet-faced youth, Pilia? ITHAMORE. Again, sweet youth! [Aside.]—Did not you, sir, bring the sweet youth a letter? PILIA-BORZA. I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as myself and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service. BELLAMIRA. Though woman's modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer: welcome, sweet love. ITHAMORE. Now am I clean, or rather foully, out of the way. [Aside.] BELLAMIRA. Whither so soon? ITHAMORE. I'll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome [Aside].—Pray, pardon me; I must go see a ship discharged. BELLAMIRA. Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus? PILIA-BORZA. An ye did but know how she loves you, sir! ITHAMORE. Nay, I care not how much she loves me.—Sweet
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