MACI. I thank you, sir. -- I know my cue, I think.
[ASIDE.

RE-ENTER FIDO, WITH MORE PERFUMES AND FLOWERS.
FIDO. Where will you have them burn, sir?

DELI. Here, good Fido.
What, she did not see thee?

FIDO. No, sir.

DELI. That is well
Strew, strew, good Fido, the freshest flowers; so!

MACI. What means this, signior Deliro? all this censing?

DELI. Cast in more frankincense, yet more; well said. --
O Macilente, I have such a wife!
So passing fair! so passing-fair-unkind!
But of such worth, and right to be unkind,
Since no man can be worthy of her kindness --

MACI. What, can there not?

DELI. No, that is as sure as death,
No man alive. I do not say, is not,
But cannot possibly be worth her kindness,
Nay, it is certain, let me do her right.
How, said I? do her right! as though I could,