Wildfire! Why, where's my sister? I've a mind--


[_He strides towards the door of the Chapel; but
pauses at the sound of chanting within, and
comes back to Cesario._


Man, are you mute? I say the town's aflame
Below! But here, up here, you stand and stare
Like prisoners loosed to daylight. Rub your eyes,
Believe!

_Cesario (musing)._ It has been long.

_Lucio._ As tapestry
Pricked out by women's needles; point-device
As saints in fitted haloes. Yet they stab,
Those needles. Oh, the devil take their tongues!

_Cesario._ Why, what's the matter?

_Lucio._ P'st! another lie
Against the Countess Fulvia; and the train
Laid to my sister's ear. Cesario,
My sister is a saint--and yet she married:
Therefore should understand ... Would saints, like cobblers,
Stick but to business in this naughty world!
Ah, well! the Duke comes home.