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First Musician:
Then will I give you the serving-creature.
Peter:
Then will I lay the serving-creature’s dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa you. Do you note me?
First Musician:
And you re us and fa us, you note us.
Second Musician:
Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
Peter:
Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men.
‘When griping griefs the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music with her silver sound’—
Why ‘silver sound’? Why ‘music with her silver sound’? What say you, Simon Catling?
First Musician:
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
Peter:
Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
Second Musician:
I say ‘silver sound’ because musicians sound for silver.
Peter:
Prates too! What say you, James Soundpost?
Third Musician:
Faith, I know not what to say.
Peter:
O, I cry you mercy, you are the singer. I will say for you. It is ‘music with her silver sound’ because musicians have no gold for sounding.
‘Then music with her silver sound
With speedy help doth lend redress.’
(Exit.)
First Musician:
What a pestilent knave is this same!
Second Musician:
Hang him, Jack. Come, we’ll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.
(Exeunt.)