Mor monologue (Act 2) — Epicoene; Or, The Silent Woman

Cannot I, yet, find out a more compendious method, than by this trunk, to save my servants the labour of speech, and mine ears the discord of sounds? Let me see: all discourses but my own afflict me, they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome. Is it not possible, that thou should'st answer me by signs, and I apprehend thee, fellow? Speak not, though I question you. You have taken the ring off from the street door, as I bade you? answer me not by speech, but by silence; unless it be otherwise [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --very good. And you have fastened on a thick quilt, or flock-bed, on the outside of the door; that if they knock with their daggers, or with brick-bats, they can make no noise?--But with your leg, your answer, unless it be otherwise, [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --Very good. This is not only fit modesty in a servant, but good state and discretion in a master. And you have been with Cutbeard the barber, to have him come to me? [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --Good. And, he will come presently? Answer me not but with your leg, unless it be otherwise: if it be otherwise, shake your head, or shrug. [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --So! Your Italian and Spaniard are wise in these: and it is a frugal and comely gravity. How long will it be ere Cutbeard come? Stay, if an hour, hold up your whole hand, if half an hour, two fingers; if a quarter, one; [MUTE HOLDS UP A FINGER BENT.] --Good: half a quarter? 'tis well. And have you given him a key, to come in without knocking? [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --good. And is the lock oil'd, and the hinges, to-day? [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --good. And the quilting of the stairs no where worn out, and bare? [MUTE MAKES A LEG.] --Very good. I see, by much doctrine, and impulsion, it may be effected: stand by. The Turk, in this divine discipline, is admirable, exceeding all the potentates of the earth; still waited on by mutes; and all his commands so executed; yea, even in the war, as I have heard, and in his marches, most of his charges and directions given by signs, and with silence: an exquisite art! and I am heartily ashamed, and angry oftentimes, that the princes of Christendom should suffer a barbarian to transcend them in so high a point of felicity. I will practise it hereafter. [A HORN WINDED WITHIN.] --How now? oh! oh! what villain, what prodigy of mankind is that? look. [EXIT MUTE.] --[HORN AGAIN.] --Oh! cut his throat, cut his throat! what murderer, hell-hound, devil can this be?