WARD. Mass, here she’s come again! mark her now,
Sordido.
GUAR. This is the maid my love and care have[1077]
chose
Out for your wife, and so I tender her to you;
Yourself has been eye-witness of some qualities
That speak a courtly breeding, and are costly:
I bring you both to talk together now;
’Tis time you grew familiar in your tongues,
To-morrow you join hands, and one ring ties you,
And one bed holds you; if you like the choice,
Her father and her friends are i' the next room,
And stay to see the contract ere they part:
Therefore, despatch, good Ward, be sweet and short;
Like her, or like her not, there’s but two ways,
And one your body, th' other your purse pays.
WARD. I warrant you, guardianer, I'll not stand all
day thrumming,
But quickly shoot my bolt at your next coming.
GUAR. Well said: good fortune to your birding then!
[_Exit._
WARD. I never miss’d mark yet.
SOR. Troth, I think, master, if the truth were known,
You never shot at any but the kitchen-wench,
And that was a she-woodcock,[1078], a mere
innocent,[1079]
That was oft lost and cried[1080] at eight-and-twenty.
WARD. No more of that meat, Sordido, here’s eggs o'
the spit now;
We must turn gingerly: draw out the catalogue
Of all the faults of women.
SOR. How? all the faults? have you so little reason to
think so much paper will lie in my breeches? why, ten
carts will not carry it, if you set down but the bawds.
All the faults? pray, let’s be content with a few of
’em; and if they were less, you would find ’em enough, I
warrant you: look you, sir.
ISA. But that I have th' advantage of the fool,
As much as woman’s heart can wish and joy at,
What an infernal torment ’twere to be
Thus bought and sold, and turn’d and pry’d into,
When, alas,
The worst bit’s too good for him! and the comfort is,
Has but a cater’s[1081] place on’t, and provides
All for another’s table: yet how curious
The ass is! like some nice professor on’t,
That buys up all the daintiest food i' the markets,
And seldom licks his lips after a taste on’t.
[_Aside._
SOR. Now to her, now you’ve scann’d all her parts
over.
WARD. But at [which] end shall I begin now, Sordido?
SOR. O, ever at a woman’s lip, while you live, sir: do
you ask that question?
WARD. Methinks, Sordido, sh’as but a crabbed face to
begin with.
SOR. A crabbed face? that will save money.
WARD. How? save money, Sordido?
SOR. Ay, sir; for, having a crabbed face of her own,
she’ll eat the less verjuice with her mutton; 'twill
save verjuice at year’s end, sir.
WARD. Nay, and[1082] your jests begin to be saucy once,
I'll make you eat your meat without mustard.
SOR. And that in some kind is a punishment.
WARD. Gentlewoman, they say ’tis your pleasure to be my
wife, and you shall know shortly whether it be mine or
no to be your husband; and thereupon thus I first enter
upon you. [_Kisses her._]—O most delicious scent!
methinks it tasted as if a man had stept into a
comfit-maker’s shop to let a cart go by, all the while I
kissed her.—It is reported, gentlewoman, you’ll run mad
for me, if you have me not.
ISA. I should be in great danger of my wits, sir,
For being so forward.—Should this ass kick backward now!
[_Aside._
WARD. Alas, poor soul! and is that hair your own?
ISA. Mine own? yes, sure, sir; I owe nothing for’t.
WARD. ’Tis a good hearing; I shall have the less to pay
when I have married you.—Look, do[1083] her eyes stand
well?
SOR. They cannot stand better than in her head, I think;
where would you have them? and for her nose, ’tis of a
very good last.
WARD. I have known as good as that has not lasted a year
though.
SOR. That’s in the using of a thing; will not any strong
bridge fall down in time, if we do nothing but beat at
the bottom? a nose of buff would not last always, sir,
especially if it came into the camp once.
WARD. But, Sordido, how shall we do to make her laugh,
that I may see what teeth she has? for I'll not bate her
a tooth, nor take a black one into the bargain.
SOR. Why, do but you fall in talk with her, you cannot
choose but, one time or other, make her laugh, sir.
WARD. It shall go hard but I will.—Pray, what qualities
have you beside singing and dancing? can you play at
shittlecock, forsooth?
ISA. Ay, and at stool-ball[1084] too, sir; I've great
luck at it.
WARD. Why, can you catch a ball well?
ISA. I have catch’d two in my lap at one game.
WARD. What! have you, woman? I must have you learn
To play at trap too, then you’re full and whole.
ISA. Any thing that you please to bring me up to,
I shall take pains to practise.
WARD. ’Twill not do, Sordido;
We shall ne’er get her mouth open’d wide enough.
SOR. No, sir? that’s strange: then here’s a trick for
your learning.
[SORDIDO _yawns_, ISABELLA _yawns also, but covers
her mouth with a handkerchief_.
Look now, look now! quick, quick there!
WARD. Pox of that scurvy mannerly trick with
handkerchief!
It hinder’d me a little, but I'm satisfied:
When a fair woman gapes, and stops her mouth so,
It shews like a cloth-stopple in a cream-pot:
I have fair hope of her teeth now, Sordido.
SOR. Why, then, you’ve all well, sir; for aught I see,
She’s right and straight enough now as she stands;
They’ll commonly lie crooked, that’s no matter;
Wise gamesters
Never find fault with that, let ’em lie still so.
WARD. I'd fain mark how she goes, and then I have all;
for of all creatures I cannot abide a splay-footed
woman; she’s an unlucky thing to meet in a morning; her
heels keep together so, as if she were beginning an
Irish dance still, and [t]he wriggling of her bum
playing the tune to’t: but I have bethought a cleanly
shift to find it; dab down as you see me, and peep of
one side when her back’s toward you—I'll shew you the
way.
SOR. And you shall find me apt enough to peeping;
I have been one of them has seen mad sights
Under your scaffolds.
WARD. Will’t please you walk, forsooth,
A turn or two by yourself? you’re so pleasing to me,
I take delight to view you on both sides.
ISA. I shall be glad to fetch a walk to your love,
sir;
'Twill get affection a good stomach, sir,—
Which I had need have to fall to such coarse victuals.
[_Aside._
[ISABELLA _walks while the Ward and_ SORDIDO
_stoop down to look at her_.
WARD. Now go thy ways for a clean-treading wench,
As ever man in modesty peep’d under!
SOR. I see the sweetest sight to please my master!
Never went Frenchman righter upon ropes,
Than she on Florentine rushes.[1085]
WARD. ’Tis enough, forsooth.
ISA. And how do you like me now, sir?
WARD. Faith, so well,
I never mean to part with thee, sweetheart,
Under some sixteen children, and all boys.
ISA. You’ll be at simple pains, if you prove kind,
And breed ’em all in your teeth.[1086]
WARD. Nay, by my faith,
What serves your belly for? ’twould make my cheeks
Look like blown bagpipes.
_Re-enter_ GUARDIANO.
GUAR. How now, ward and nephew,
Gentlewoman and niece! speak, is it so or not?
WARD. ’Tis so; we’re both agreed, sir.
GUAR. In to your kindred then;
There’s friends, and wine, and music wait[1087] to
welcome you.
WARD. Then I'll be drunk for joy.
SOR. And I for company;
I cannot break my nose in a better action. [_Exeunt._
ACT IV. SCENE I.
BIANCA’S _lodging at Court_.
_Enter_ BIANCA, _attended by two Ladies_.
BIAN. How go[1088] your watches, ladies? what’s a’clock
now?
FIRST L. By mine, full nine.
SEC. L. By mine, a quarter past.
FIRST L. I set mine by St. Mark’s.
SEC. L. St. Anthony’s, they say,
Goes truer.
FIRST L. That’s but your opinion, madam,
Because you love a gentleman o' the name.
SEC. L. He’s a true gentleman then.
FIRST L. So may he be
That comes to me to-night, for aught you know.
BIAN. I'll end this strife straight: I set mine by the
sun;
I love to set by the best, one shall not then
Be troubled to set often.
SEC. L. You do wisely in’t.
BIAN. If I should set my watch, as some girls do,
By every clock i' the town, ’twould ne’er go true;
And too much turning of the dial’s point,
Or tampering with the spring, might in small time
Spoil the whole work too; here it wants of nine now.
FIRST L. It does indeed, forsooth; mine’s nearest
truth yet.
SEC. L. Yet I've found her lying with an advocate,
which shew’d
Like two false clocks together in one parish.
BIAN. So now I thank you, ladies; I desire
Awhile to be alone.
FIRST L. And I am nobody,
Methinks, unless I've one or other with me.—
Faith, my desire and hers will ne’er be sisters.
[_Aside.—Exeunt Ladies._
BIAN. How strangely woman’s fortune comes about!
This was the farthest way to come to me,
All would have judg’d that knew me born in Venice,
And there with many jealous eyes brought up,
That never thought they had me sure enough
But when they were upon me; yet my hap
To meet it here, so far off from my birth-place,
My friends, or kindred! ’tis not good, in sadness,[1089]
To keep a maid so strict in her young days;
Restraint
Breeds wandering thoughts, as many fasting days
A great desire to see flesh stirring again:
I'll ne’er use any girl of mine so strictly;
Howe’er they’re kept, their fortunes find ’em out;
I see’t in me: if they be got in court,
I'll ne’er forbid ’em the country; nor the court,
Though they be born i' the country: they will come to’t,
And fetch their falls a thousand mile about,
Where one would little think on’t.
_Enter_ LEANTIO, _richly dressed_.
LEAN. I long to see how my despiser looks
Now she’s come here to court: these are her lodgings;
She’s simply now advanc’d: I took her out
Of no such window, I remember, first;
That was a great deal lower, and less carv’d.
[_Aside._
BIAN. How now! what silkworm’s this, i' the name of
pride?
What, is it he?
LEAN. A bow i' th' ham to your greatness;
You must have now three legs,[1090] I take it, must you
not?
BIAN. Then I must take another, I shall want else
The service I should have; you have but two there.
LEAN. You’re richly plac’d.
BIAN. Methinks you’re wondrous brave,[1091] sir.
LEAN. A sumptuous lodging.
BIAN. You’ve an excellent suit there.
LEAN. A chair of velvet.
BIAN. Is your cloak lin’d through, sir?
LEAN. You’re very stately here.
BIAN. Faith, something proud, sir.
LEAN. Stay, stay, let’s see your cloth-of-silver
slippers.
BIAN. Who’s your shoemaker? has made you a neat boot.
LEAN. Will you[1092] have a pair?
The Duke will lend you spurs.
BIAN. Yes, when I ride.
LEAN. ’Tis a brave life you lead.
BIAN. I could ne’er see you
In such good clothes in my time.
LEAN. In your time?
BIAN. Sure I think, sir,
We both thrive best asunder.
LEAN. You’re a whore!
BIAN. Fear nothing, sir.
LEAN. An impudent, spiteful strumpet!
BIAN. O, sir, you give me thanks for your captainship!
I thought you had forgot all your good manners.
LEAN. And, to spite thee as much, look there; there
read,
[_Giving letter._
Vex, gnaw; thou shalt find there I'm not love-starv’d.
The world was never yet so cold or pitiless,
But there was ever still more charity found out
Than at one proud fool’s door; and ’twere hard, faith,
If I could not pass that. Read to thy shame there;
A cheerful and a beauteous benefactor too,
As e’er erected the good works of love.
BIAN. Lady Livia!
Is’t possible? her worship was my pandress;
She dote, and send, and give, and all to him!
Why, here’s a bawd plagu’d home! [_Aside._]—You’re
simply happy, sir;
Yet I'll not envy you.
LEAN. No, court-saint, not thou!
You keep some friend of a new fashion;
There’s no harm in your devil, he’s a suckling,
But he will breed teeth shortly, will he not?
BIAN. Take heed you play not then too long with him.
LEAN. Yes, and the great one too: I shall find time
To play a hot religious bout with some of you,
And, perhaps, drive you and your course of sins
To their eternal kennels. I speak softly now,
’Tis manners in a noble woman’s lodgings,
And I well know[1093] all my degrees of duty;
But come I to your everlasting parting once,
Thunder shall seem soft music to that tempest.
BIAN. ’Twas said last week there would be change of
weather,
When the moon hung so, and belike you heard it.
LEAN. Why, here’s sin made, and ne’er a conscience put
to’t,—
A monster with all forehead and no eyes!
Why do I talk to thee of sense or virtue,
That art as dark as death? and as much madness
To set light before thee, as to lead blind folks
To see the monuments, which they may smell as soon
As they behold,—marry, ofttimes their heads,
For want of light, may feel the hardness of ’em;
So shall thy blind pride my revenge and anger,
That canst not see it now; and it may fall
At such an hour when thou least seest of all:
So, to an ignorance darker than thy womb
I leave thy perjur’d soul; a plague will come!
[_Exit._
BIAN. Get you gone first, and then I fear no greater;
Nor thee will I fear long; I'll have this sauciness
Soon banish’d from these lodgings, and the rooms
Perfum’d well after the corrupt air it leaves:
His breath has made me almost sick, in troth;
A poor, base start-up! life, because has got
Fair clothes by foul means, comes to rail and shew ’em!
_Enter the Duke._
DUKE. Who’s that?
BIAN. Cry you mercy, sir!
DUKE. Prithee, who’s that?
BIAN. The former thing, my lord, to whom you gave
The captainship; he eats his meat with grudging still.
DUKE. Still?
BIAN. He comes vaunting here of his new love,
And the new clothes she gave him, lady Livia;
Who but she now his mistress!
DUKE. Lady Livia?
Be sure of what you say.
BIAN. He shew’d me her name, sir,
In perfum’d paper, her vows, her letter,
With an intent to spite me; so his heart said,
And his threats made it good; they were as spiteful
As ever malice utter’d, and as dangerous,
Should his hand follow the copy.
DUKE. But that must not:
Do not you vex your mind; prithee, to bed, go;
All shall be well and quiet.
BIAN. I love peace, sir.
DUKE. And so do all that love: take you no care for’t,
It shall be still provided to your hand.—
[_Exit_ BIANCA.
Who’s near us there?
_Enter Servant._
SER. My lord?
DUKE. Seek out Hippolito,
Brother to lady Livia, with all speed.
SER. He was the last man I saw, my lord.
DUKE. Make haste.— [_Exit Servant._
He is a blood soon stirr’d; and as he’s quick
To apprehend a wrong, he’s bold and sudden
In bringing forth a ruin: I know, likewise,
The reputation of his sister’s honour’s
As dear to him as life-blood to his heart;
Beside, I'll flatter him with a goodness to her,—
Which I now thought on, but ne’er meant to practise,
Because I know her base,—and that wind drives him:
The ulcerous reputation feels the poise
Of lightest wrongs, as sores are vex’d with flies.
He comes.—
_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.
Hippolito, welcome.
HIP. My lov’d lord!
DUKE. How does that lusty widow, thy kind sister?
Is she not sped yet of a second husband?
A bed-fellow she has, I ask not that,
I know she’s sped of him.
HIP. Of him, my lord?
DUKE. Yes, of a bed-fellow: is the news so strange to
you?
HIP. I hope ’tis so to all.
DUKE. I wish it were, sir,
But ’tis confess’d too fast; her ignorant pleasures,
Only by lust instructed, have receiv’d
Into their services an impudent boaster,
One that does raise his glory from her shame,
And tells the mid-day sun what’s done in darkness;
Yet, blinded with her appetite, wastes her wealth,
Buys her disgraces at a dearer rate
Than bounteous housekeepers purchase their honour.
Nothing sads me so much, as that, in love
To thee and to thy blood, I had pick’d out
A worthy match for her, the great Vincentio,
High in our favour and in all men’s thoughts.
HIP. O thou destruction of all happy fortunes,
Unsated blood! Know you the name, my lord,
Of her abuser?
DUKE. One Leantio.
HIP. He’s a factor.
DUKE. He ne’er made so brave a voyage,
By his own talk.
HIP. The poor old widow’s son.
I humbly take my leave.
DUKE. I see ’tis done.— [_Aside._
Give her good counsel, make her see her error;
I know she’ll hearken to you.
HIP. Yes, my lord,
I make no doubt, as I shall take the course
Which she shall never know till it be acted,
And when she wakes to honour, then she’ll thank me
for’t:
I'll imitate the pities of old surgeons
To this lost limb, who, ere they shew their art,
Cast one asleep, then cut the diseas’d part;
So, out of love to her I pity most,
She shall not feel him going till he’s lost;
Then she’ll commend the cure. [_Exit._
DUKE. The great cure’s[1094] past;
I count this done already; his wrath’s sure,
And speaks an injury deep: farewell, Leantio,
This place will never hear thee murmur more.—
_Enter the Cardinal and Servants._
Our noble brother, welcome!
CAR. Set those lights down:
Depart till you be call’d. [_Exeunt Servants._
DUKE. There’s serious business
Fix’d in his look; nay, it inclines a little
To the dark colour of a discontentment.— [_Aside._
Brother, what is’t commands your eye so powerfully?
Speak, you seem lost.
CAR. The thing I look on seems so,
To my eyes lost for ever.
DUKE. You look on me.
CAR. What a grief ’tis to a religious feeling,
To think a man should have a friend so goodly,
So wise, so noble, nay, a duke, a brother,
And all this certainly damn’d!
DUKE. How!
CAR. ’Tis no wonder,
If your great sin can do’t: dare you look up
For thinking of a vengeance? dare you sleep
For fear of never waking but to death?
And dedicate unto a strumpet’s love
The strength of your affections, zeal, and health?
Here you stand now; can you assure your pleasures
You shall once more enjoy her, but once more?
Alas, you cannot! what a misery ’tis then,
To be more certain of eternal death
Than of a next embrace! nay, shall I shew you
How more unfortunate you stand in sin
Than the low,[1095] private man: all his offences,
Like enclos’d grounds, keep but about himself,
And seldom stretch beyond his own soul’s bounds;
And when a man grows miserable, ’tis some comfort
When he’s no further charg’d than with himself,
’Tis a sweet ease to wretchedness: but, great man,
Every sin thou committ’st shews like a flame
Upon a mountain, ’tis seen far about,
And, with a big wind made of popular breath,
The sparkles fly through cities, here one takes,
Another catches there, and in short time
Waste all to cinders; but remember still,
What burnt the valleys first came from the hill:
Every offence draws his particular pain,
But ’tis example proves the great man’s bane.
The sins of mean men lie like scatter’d parcels
Of an unperfect bill; but when such fall,
Then comes example, and that sums up all:
And this your reason grants; if men of good lives,
Who by their virtuous actions stir up others
To noble and religious imitation,
Receive the greater glory after death,
As sin must needs confess, what may they feel
In height of torments and in weight of vengeance,
Not only they themselves not doing well,
But set[1096] a light up to shew men to hell?
DUKE. If you have done, I have; no more, sweet
brother!
CAR. I know time spent in goodness is too tedious;
This had not been a moment’s space in lust now:
How dare you venture on eternal pain,
That cannot bear a minute’s reprehension?
Methinks you should endure to hear that talk’d of
Which you so strive to suffer. O, my brother,
What were you, if [that] you were taken now!
My heart weeps blood to think on’t; ’tis a work
Of infinite mercy, you can never merit,
That yet you are not death-struck, no, not yet;
I dare not stay you long, for fear you should not
Have time enough allow’d you to repent in:
There’s but this wall [_pointing to his body_] betwixt
you and destruction,
When you’re at strongest, and but poor thin clay:
Think upon’t, brother; can you come so near it
For a fair strumpet’s love, and fall into
A torment that knows neither end nor bottom
For beauty but the deepness of a skin,
And that not of their own neither? Is she a thing
Whom sickness dare not visit, or age look on,
Or death resist? does the worm shun her grave?
If not, as your soul knows it, why should lust
Bring man to lasting pain for rotten dust?
DUKE. Brother of spotless honour, let me weep
The first of my repentance in thy bosom,
And shew the blest fruits of a thankful spirit:
And if I e’er keep woman more, unlawfully,
May I want penitence at my greatest need!
And wise men know there is no barren place
Threatens more famine than a dearth in grace.
CAR. Why, here’s a conversion is at this time,
brother,
Sung for a hymn in heaven,[1097] and at this instant
The powers of darkness groan, makes all hell sorry:
First I praise heaven, then in my work I glory.
Who’s there attends without?
_Re-enter Servants._
FIRST SER. My lord?
CAR. Take up those lights; there was a thicker
darkness
When they came first.—The peace of a fair soul
Keep with my noble brother!
DUKE. Joys be with you, sir!
[_Exeunt Cardinal and Servants._
She lies alone to-night for’t, and must still,
Though it be hard to conquer; but I've vow’d
Never to know her as a strumpet more,
And I must save my oath: if fury fail not,
Her husband dies to-night, or, at the most,
Lives not to see the morning spent to-morrow;
Then will I make her lawfully mine own,
Without this sin and horror. Now I'm chidden,
For what I shall enjoy then unforbidden;
And I'll not freeze in stoves: ’tis but a while;
Live like a hopeful bridegroom, chaste from flesh,
And pleasure then will seem new, fair, and fresh.
[_Exit._
SCENE II.
_A hall in_ LIVIA’S _house_.
_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.
HIP. The morning so far wasted, yet his baseness
So impudent! see if the very sun
Do not blush at him!
Dare he do thus much, and know me alive?
Put case one must be vicious, as I know myself
Monstrously guilty, there’s a blind time made for’t,
He might use only that,—'twere conscionable;
Art, silence, closeness, subtlety, and darkness,
Are fit for such a business; but there’s no pity
To be bestow’d on an apparent sinner,
An impudent daylight lecher. The great zeal
I bear to her advancement in this match
With lord Vincentio, as the Duke has wrought it,
To the perpetual honour of our house,
Puts fire into my blood to purge the air
Of this corruption, fear it spread too far,
And poison the whole hopes of this fair fortune.
I love her good so dearly, that no brother
Shall venture farther for a sister’s glory
Than I for her preferment.
_Enter_ LEANTIO _and a Page_.
LEAN. Once again
I'll see that glistering whore, shines like a serpent
Now the court sun’s upon her. [_Aside._]—Page.
PAGE. Anon, sir.
LEAN. I'll go in state too. [_Aside._]—See the coach
be ready;
[_Exit Page._
I'll hurry away presently.
HIP. Yes, you shall hurry,
And the devil after you: take that at setting forth:
[_Strikes him._
Now, and[1098] you’ll draw, we’re upon equal terms, sir.
Thou took’st advantage of my name in honour
Upon my sister; I ne’er saw the stroke
Come, till I found my reputation bleeding;
And therefore count it I no sin to valour
To serve thy lust so: now we’re of even hand,
Take your best course against me. You must die.
LEAN. How close sticks envy to man’s happiness!
When I was poor, and little car’d for life,
I had no such means offer’d me to die,
No man’s wrath minded me.—Slave, I turn this to thee,
[_Draws._
To call thee to account for a wound lately
Of a base stamp upon me.
HIP. ’Twas most fit
For a base metal: come and fetch one now
More noble then, for I will use thee fairer
Than thou hast done thine [own] soul, or our honour;
[_They fight._
And there I think ’tis for thee. [LEANTIO _falls_.
[_Voices within_] Help, help! O, part ’em!
LEAN. False wife, I feel now thou’st pray’d heartily
for me:
Rise, strumpet, by my fall! thy lust may reign now:
My heart-string, and the marriage-knot that tied thee,
Break[1099] both together. [_Dies._
HIP. There I heard the sound on’t,
And never lik’d string better.
_Enter_ GUARDIANO, LIVIA, ISABELLA, _the Ward, and_
SORDIDO.
LIV. ’Tis my brother!
Are you hurt, sir?
HIP. Not any thing.
LIV. Blest fortune!
Shift for thyself: what is he thou hast kill’d?
HIP. Our honour’s enemy.
GUAR. Know you this man, lady?
LIV. Leantio! my love’s joy!—Wounds stick upon thee
As deadly as thy sins! art thou not hurt—
The devil take that fortune!—and he dead?
Drop plagues into thy bowels without voice,
Secret and fearful!—Run for officers;
Let him be apprehended with all speed,
For fear he ’scape away; lay hands on him,
We cannot be too sure, ’tis wilful murder:[1100]
You do heaven’s vengeance and the law just service:
You know him not as I do; he’s a villain
As monstrous as a prodigy and as dreadful.
HIP. Will you but entertain a noble patience
Till you but hear the reason, worthy sister?
LIV. The reason! that’s a jest hell falls a-laughing
at:
Is there a reason found for the destruction
Of our more lawful loves, and was there none
To kill the black lust ’twixt thy niece and thee,
That has kept close so long?
GUAR. How’s that, good madam?
LIV. Too true, sir; there she stands, let her deny’t:
The deed cries shortly in the midwife’s arms,
Unless the parents' sins strike it still-born;
And if you be not deaf and ignorant,
You’ll hear strange notes ere long.—Look upon me, wench;
’Twas I betray’d thy honour subtlely to him,
Under a false tale; it lights upon me now.—
His arm has paid me home upon thy breast,
My sweet, belov’d Leantio!
GUAR. Was my judgment
And care in choice so devilishly abus’d,
So beyond shamefully? all the world will grin at me.
WARD. O Sordido, Sordido, I'm damn’d, I'm damn’d!
SOR. Damn’d? why, sir?
WARD. One of the wicked; dost not see’t? a cuckold, a
plain reprobate cuckold!
SOR. Nay, and[1101] you be damned for that, be of good
cheer, sir, you’ve gallant company of all professions;
I'll have a wife next Sunday too, because I'll along
with you myself.
WARD. That will be some comfort yet.
LIV. You, sir, that bear your load of injuries,
As I of sorrows, lend me your griev’d strength
To this sad burden [_pointing to the body of_ LEANTIO],
who in life wore actions,
Flames were not nimbler: we will talk of things
May have the luck to break our hearts together.
GUAR. I'll list to nothing but revenge and anger,
Whose counsels I will follow.
[_Exeunt._ LIVIA _and_ GUARDIANO
_with the body of_ LEANTIO.
SOR. A wife, quoth ’a?
Here’s a sweet plum-tree of your guardianer’s graffing!
WARD. Nay, there’s a worse name belongs to this fruit
yet, and[1101] you could hit on’t, a more open one; for
he that marries a whore looks like a fellow bound all
his lifetime to a medlar-tree, and that’s good stuff;
’tis no sooner ripe, but it looks rotten, and so do some
queans at nineteen. A pox on’t! I thought there was some
knavery a-broach, for something stirred in her belly the
first night I lay with her.
SOR. What, what, sir?
WARD. This is she brought up so courtly, can sing, and
dance!—and tumble too, methinks: I'll never marry wife
again that has so many qualities.
SOR. Indeed, they are seldom good, master; for likely
when they are taught so many, they will have one trick
more of their own finding out. Well, give me a wench but
with one good quality, to lie with none but her husband,
and that’s bringing up enough for any woman breathing.
WARD. This was the fault when she was tendered to me;
you never looked to this.
SOR. Alas, how would you have me see through a great
farthingale, sir? I cannot peep through a mill-stone, or
in the going, to see what’s done i' the bottom.
WARD. Her father praised her breast;[1102] sh’ad the
voice, forsooth! I marvelled she sung so small indeed,
being no maid: now I perceive there’s a young quirister
in her belly, this breeds a singing in my head, I'm
sure.
SOR. ’Tis but the tune of your wife’s sinquapace[1103]
danced in a feather-bed: faith, go lie down, master;
but take heed your horns do not make holes in the
pillowbeers.[1104]—I would not batter brows with him
for a hogshead of angels;[1105] he would prick my
skull as full of holes as a scrivener’s sand-box.
[_Aside._—_Exeunt Ward and_ SORDIDO.
ISA. Was ever maid so cruelly beguil’d,
To the confusion of life, soul, and honour,
All of one woman’s murdering! I'd fain bring
Her name no nearer to my blood than woman,
And ’tis too much of that. O, shame and horror!
In that small distance from yon man to me
Lies sin enough to make a whole world perish.—
[_Aside._
’Tis time we parted, sir, and left the sight
Of one another; nothing can be worse
To hurt repentance, for our very eyes
Are far more poisonous to religion
Than basilisks to them: if any goodness
Rest in you, hope of comforts, fear of judgments,
My request is, I ne’er may see you more;
And so I turn me from you everlastingly,
So is my hope to miss you: but for her
That durst so dally with a sin so dangerous,
And lay a snare so spitefully for my youth,
If the least means but favour my revenge,
That I may practise the like cruel cunning
Upon her life as she has on mine honour,
I'll act it without pity.
HIP. Here’s a care
Of reputation and a sister’s fortune
Sweetly rewarded by her! would a silence,
As great as that which keeps among the graves,
Had everlastingly chain’d up her tongue!
My love to her has made mine miserable.
_Re-enter_ GUARDIANO _and_ LIVIA.
GUAR. If you can but dissemble your heart’s griefs
now,—
Be but a woman so far.
LIV. Peace; I'll strive, sir.
GUAR. As I can wear my injuries in a smile:
Here’s an occasion offer’d, that gives anger
Both liberty and safety to perform
Things worth the fire it holds, without the fear
Of danger or of law; for mischiefs acted
Under the privilege of a marriage-triumph,
At the Duke’s hasty nuptials, will be thought
Things merely accidental, all’s[1106] by chance,
Not got of their own natures.
LIV. I conceive you, sir,
Even to a longing for performance on’t;
And here behold some fruits.—[_Kneels to_ HIPPOLITO
_and_ ISABELLA.] Forgive me both:
What I am now, return’d to sense and judgment,
Is not the same rage and distraction
Presented lately to you,—that rude form
Is gone for ever; I am now myself,
That speaks all peace and friendship, and these tears
Are the true springs of hearty, penitent sorrow
For those foul wrongs which my forgetful fury
Slander’d your virtues with: this gentleman
Is well resolv’d[1107] now.
GUAR. I was never otherwise;
I knew, alas, ’twas but your anger spake it,
And I ne’er thought on’t more.
HIP. [_raising_ LIVIA] Pray, rise, good sister.
ISA. Here’s even as sweet amends made for a wrong now,
As one that gives a wound, and pays the surgeon;
All the smart’s nothing, the great loss of blood,
Or time of hindrance: well, I had a mother,
I can dissemble too. [_Aside._]—What wrongs have slipt
Through anger’s ignorance, aunt, my heart forgives.
GUAR. Why, thus[1108] tuneful now!
HIP. And what I did, sister,
Was all for honour’s cause, which time to come
Will approve to you.
LIV. Being awak’d to goodness,
I understand so much, sir, and praise now
The fortune of your arm and of your safety;
For by his death you’ve rid me of a sin
As costly as e’er woman doated on:
'T has pleas’d the Duke so well too, that, behold, sir,
[_Giving paper._
Has sent you here your pardon, which I kiss’d
With most affectionate comfort: when ’twas brought,
Then was my fit just past; it came so well, methought,
To glad my heart.
HIP. I see his grace thinks on me.
LIV. There’s no talk now but of the preparation
For the great marriage.
HIP. Does he marry her, then?
LIV. With all speed, suddenly, as fast as cost
Can be laid on with many thousand hands.
This gentleman and I had once a purpose
To have honour’d the first marriage of the Duke
With an invention of his own; ’twas ready,
The pains well past, most of the charge bestow’d on’t,
Then came the death of your good mother, niece,
And turn’d the glory of it all to black:
’Tis a device would fit these times so well too,
Art’s treasury not better: if you’ll join,
It shall be done; the cost shall all be mine.
HIP. You’ve my voice first; ’twill well approve my
thankfulness
For the Duke’s love and favour.
LIV. What say you, niece?
ISA. I am content to make one.
GUAR. The plot’s full then;
Your pages, madam, will make shift for Cupids.
LIV. That will they, sir.
GUAR. You’ll play your old part still.
LIV. What is it? good troth, I have even forgot it.
GUAR. Why, Juno Pronuba, the marriage-goddess.
LIV. ’Tis right indeed.
GUAR. And you shall play the Nymph,
That offers sacrifice to appease her wrath.
ISA. Sacrifice, good sir?
LIV. Must I be appeas’d then?
GUAR. That’s as you list yourself, as you see cause.
LIV. Methinks ’twould shew the more state in her deity
To be incens’d.
ISA. ’Twould; but my sacrifice
Shall take a course to appease you;—or I'll fail in’t,
And teach a sinful bawd to play a goddess. [_Aside,
and exit._
GUAR. For our parts, we’ll not be ambitious, sir:
Please you, walk in and see the project drawn,
Then take your choice.
HIP. I weigh not, so I have one.
[_Exeunt._ GUARDIANO _and_ HIPPOLITO.
LIV. How much ado have I to restrain fury
From breaking into curses! O, how painful ’tis
To keep great sorrow smother’d! sure, I think
’Tis harder to dissemble grief than love.
Leantio, here the weight of thy loss lies,
Which nothing but destruction can suffice. [_Exit._
SCENE III.
_Before the Duke’s Palace._
_Hautboys. Enter the Duke and_ BIANCA _richly attired,
attended by Lords, Cardinals, Ladies, and others: as
they are passing in great state over the stage,
enter the Cardinal meeting them_.
CAR. Cease, cease! religious honours done to sin
Disparage virtue’s reverence, and will pull
Heaven’s thunder upon Florence: holy ceremonies
Were made for sacred uses, not for sinful.
Are these the fruits of your repentance, brother?
Better it had been you had never sorrow’d,
Than to abuse the benefit, and return
To worse than where sin left you.
Vow’d you then never to keep strumpet more,
And are you now so swift in your desires
To knit your honours and your life fast to her?
Is not sin sure enough to wretched man,
But he must bind himself in chains to’t? worse;
Must marriage, that immaculate robe of honour,
That renders virtue glorious, fair, and fruitful
To her great master, be now made the garment
Of leprosy and foulness? Is this penitence
To sanctify hot lust? what is it otherwise
Than worship done to devils? Is this the best
Amends that sin can make after her riots?
As if a drunkard, to appease heaven’s wrath,
Should offer up his surfeit for a sacrifice:
If that be comely, then lust’s offerings are
On wedlock’s sacred altar.
DUKE. Here you’re bitter
Without cause, brother; what I vow’d I keep,
As safe as you your conscience; and this needs not;
I taste more wrath in’t than I do religion,
And envy more than goodness: the path now
I tread is honest, leads to lawful love,
Which virtue in her strictness would not check:
I vow’d no more to keep a sensual woman;
’Tis done, I mean to make a lawful wife of her.
CAR. He that taught you that craft,
Call him not master long, he will undo you;
Grow not too cunning for your soul, good brother:
Is it enough to use adulterous thefts,
And then take sanctuary in marriage?
I grant, so long as an offender keeps
Close in a privileg’d temple, his life’s safe;
But if he ever venture to come out,
And so be taken, then he surely dies for’t:
So now you’re safe; but when you leave this body,
Man’s only privileg’d temple upon earth,
In which the guilty soul takes sanctuary,
Then you’ll perceive what wrongs chaste vows endure
When lust usurps the bed that should be pure.
BIAN. Sir, I have read you over all this while
In silence, and I find great knowledge in you
And severe learning; yet, ’mongst all your virtues
I see not charity written, which some call
The first-born of religion, and I wonder
I cannot see’t in yours: believe it, sir,
There is no virtue can be sooner miss’d,
Or later welcom’d; it begins the rest,
And sets ’em all in order:[1109] heaven and angels
Take great delight in a converted sinner;
Why should you then, a servant and professor,
Differ so much from them? If every woman
That commits evil should be therefore kept
Back in desires of goodness, how should virtue
Be known and honour’d? From a man that’s blind,
To take a burning taper ’tis no wrong,
He never misses it; but to take light
From one that sees, that’s injury and spite.
Pray, whether is religion better serv’d,
When lives that are licentious are made honest,
Than when they still run through a sinful blood?
’Tis nothing virtue’s temples to deface;
But build the ruins, there’s a work of grace!
DUKE. I kiss thee for that spirit; thou’st prais’d thy
wit
A modest way.—On, on, there!
[_Hautboys. Exeunt all except the Cardinal._
CAR. Lust is bold,
And will have vengeance speak ere’t be controll’d.
[_Exit._
ACT V. SCENE I.
_A great hall in the Duke’s Palace._
_Enter_ GUARDIANO _and the Ward_.
GUAR. Speak, hast thou any sense of thy abuse?
Dost thou know what wrong’s done thee?
WARD. I were an ass else;
I cannot wash my face but I am feeling on’t.
GUAR. Here, take this caltrop[1110] then [_giving
caltrop_], convey it secretly
Into the place I shew’d you: look you, sir,
This is the trap-door to’t.
WARD. I know’t of old, uncle, since the last
triumph;[1111] here rose up a devil with one eye, I
remember, with a company of fireworks at’s tail.
GUAR. Prithee, leave squibbing now: mark me, and fail
not;
But when thou hear’st me give a stamp, down with’t,
The villain’s caught then.
WARD. If I miss you, hang me: I love to catch a villain,
and your stamp[1112] shall go current, I warrant you.
But how shall I rise up and let him down too all at one
hole? that will be a horrible puzzle. You know I have a
part in’t, I play Slander.
GUAR. True, but never make you ready for’t.
WARD. No? my clothes are bought and all, and a foul
fiend’s head, with a long, contumelious tongue i' the
chaps on’t, a very fit shape for Slander i' th'
out-parishes.
GUAR. It shall not come so far; thou understand’st it
not.
WARD. O, O!
GUAR. He shall lie deep enough ere that time,
And stick first upon those.
WARD. Now I conceive you, guardianer.
GUAR. Away!
List to the privy stamp, that’s all thy part.
WARD. Stamp my horns in a mortar, if I miss you, and
give the powder in white wine to sick cuckolds, a very
present remedy for the headach. [_Exit._
GUAR. If this should any way miscarry now—
As, if the fool be nimble enough, ’tis certain—
The pages, that present the swift-wing’d Cupids,
Are taught to hit him with their shafts of love,
Fitting his part, which I have cunningly poison’d:
He cannot ’scape my fury; and those ills
Will be laid all on fortune, not our wills;
That’s all the sport on’t: for who will imagine
That, at the celebration of this night,
Any mischance that haps can flow from spite? [_Exit._
_Flourish. Enter above[1113] Duke_, BIANCA, _Lord
Cardinal_, FABRICIO, _other Cardinals, and Lords and
Ladies in state_.
DUKE. Now, our fair duchess, your delight shall witness
How you’re belov’d and honour’d; all the glories
Bestow’d upon the gladness of this night
Are done for your bright sake.
BIAN. I am the more
In debt, my lord, to loves and courtesies
That offer up themselves so bounteously
To do me honour’d grace, without my merit.
DUKE. A goodness set in greatness; how it sparkles
Afar off, like pure diamonds set in gold!
How perfect my desires were, might I witness
But a fair noble peace ’twixt your two spirits!
The reconcilement would be more sweet to me
Than longer life to him that fears to die.—
Good sir—
CAR. I profess peace, and am content.
DUKE. I'll see the seal upon’t, and then ’tis firm.
CAR. You shall have all you wish. [_Kisses_ BIANCA.
DUKE. I've all indeed now.
BIAN. But I've made surer work; this shall not blind
me;
He that begins so early to reprove,
Quickly rid him, or look for little love:
Beware a brother’s envy; he’s next heir too.
Cardinal, you die this night; the plot’s laid surely;
In time of sports death may steal in securely,
Then ’tis least thought on;
For he that’s most religious, holy friend,
Does not at all hours think upon his end;
He has his times of frailty, and his thoughts
Their transportations too through flesh and blood,
For all his zeal, his learning, and his light,
As well as we, poor soul, that sin by night. [_Aside._
DUKE [_looking at a paper_]. What’s this, Fabricio?
FAB. Marry, my lord, the model
Of what’s presented.
DUKE. O, we thank their loves.—
Sweet duchess, take your seat; list to the argument.
[_Reads._
_There is a Nymph, that haunts the woods and springs,
In love with two at once, and they with her;_
_Equal it runs; but, to decide these things,
The cause to mighty Juno they refer,
She being the marriage-goddess: the two lovers
They offer sighs, the Nymph a sacrifice,
All to please Juno, who by signs discovers
How the event shall be; so that strife dies:
Then springs a second; for the man refus’d
Grows discontent, and, out of love abus’d,
He raises Slander up, like a black fiend,
To disgrace th' other, which pays him i' th' end._
BIAN. In troth, my lord, a pretty, pleasing argument,
And fits th' occasion well: envy and slander
Are things soon rais’d against two faithful lovers;
But comfort is, they’re not long unrewarded. [_Music._
DUKE. This music shews they’re upon entrance now.
BIAN. Then enter all my wishes. [_Aside._
_Enter_ HYMEN _in a yellow robe_, GANYMEDE _in a blue
robe powdered with stars, and_ HEBE _in a white robe
with golden stars, each bearing a covered cup: they
dance a short dance, and then make obeisance to the
Duke, &c._
HYM. _To thee, fair bride, Hymen offers up
Of nuptial joys this the celestial cup;
Taste it, and thou shalt ever find
Love in thy bed, peace in thy mind._
BIAN. We’ll taste you, sure; ’twere pity to disgrace
So pretty a beginning.
[_Takes cup from_ HYMEN, _and drinks_.
DUKE. ’Twas spoke nobly.
GAN. _Two cups of nectar have we begg’d from Jove;
Hebe, give that to innocence, I this to love:
Take heed of stumbling more, look to your way;
Remember still the_ Via Lactea.
[GANYMEDE _and_ HEBE _respectively offer their
cups to the Duke and Cardinal, who drink_.
HEBE. _Well, Ganymede, you’ve more faults, though not
so known;
I spill’d one cup, but you’ve filch’d many a one._
HYM. _No more; forbear for Hymen’s sake:
In love we met, and so let’s part._[1114]
[_Exeunt._ HYMEN, GANYMEDE, _and_ HEBE.
DUKE. But, soft; here’s no such persons in the
argument
As these three, Hymen, Hebe, Ganymede;
The actors that this model here discovers
Are only four,—Juno, a Nymph, two lovers.
BIAN. This is some antimasque[1115] belike, my lord,
To entertain time.—Now my peace is perfect,
Let sports come on apace. [_Aside._]—Now is their time,
my lord: [_Music._
Hark you! you hear from ’em.
DUKE. The Nymph indeed!
_Enter two Nymphs, bearing tapers lighted; then_
ISABELLA _as a Nymph, dressed with flowers and
garlands, carrying a censer with fire in it: they
set the censer and tapers on Juno’s altar with
much reverence, singing this ditty in parts_:
_Juno, nuptial goddess,
Thou that rul’st o’er coupled bodies,
Tiest man to woman, never to forsake her,
Thou only powerful marriage-maker,
Pity this amaz’d affection!
I love both, and both love me;
Nor know I where to give rejection,
My heart likes so equally,
Till thou sett’st right my peace of life,
And with thy power conclude this strife._
ISA. _Now, with my thanks, depart you to the springs,
I to these wells of love._ [_Exeunt the two Nymphs._]—
_Thou sacred goddess
And queen of nuptials, daughter to great Saturn,
Sister and wife to Jove, imperial Juno,
Pity this passionate conflict in my breast,
This tedious war ’twixt two affections;
Crown me with victory, and my heart’s at peace!_
_Enter_ HIPPOLITO _and_ GUARDIANO _as shepherds_.
HIP. _Make me that happy man, thou mighty goddess!_
GUAR. _But I live most in hope, if truest love_
_Merit the greatest comfort._
ISA. _I love both
With such an even and fair affection,
I know not which to speak for, which to wish for,
Till thou, great arbitress ’twixt lovers' hearts,
By thy auspicious grace design the man;
Which pity I implore!_
HIP. } _We all implore it!_
GUAR. }
ISA. _And after sighs—contrition’s truest odours—
I offer to thy powerful deity
This precious incense_ [_waving the censer_]; _may it
ascend peacefully!_—
And if it keep true touch, my good aunt Juno,
'Twill try your immortality ere’t be long:
I fear you’ll ne’er get so nigh heaven again,
When you’re once down. [_Aside._
[LIVIA _descends, as_ JUNO, _attended by pages as
Cupids_.
LIV. _Though you and your affections
Seem all as dark to our illustrious brightness
As night’s inheritance, hell, we pity you,
And your requests are granted. You ask signs,
They shall be given you; we’ll be gracious to you:
He of those twain which we determine for you,
Love’s arrows shall wound twice; the later wound
Betokens love in age; for so are all
Whose love continues firmly all their lifetime
Twice wounded at their marriage, else affection
Dies when youth ends._—This savour overcomes me!
[_Aside._
_Now, for a sign of wealth and golden days,
Bright-ey’d prosperity—which all couples love,
Ay, and makes love—take that;[1116] our brother Jove
Never denies us of his burning treasure
To express bounty._ [ISABELLA _falls down and dies_.
DUKE. She falls down upon’t;
What’s the conceit of that?
FAB. As o’erjoy’d belike:
Too much prosperity o’erjoys us all,
And she has her lapful, it seems, my lord.
DUKE. This swerves a little from the argument though:
Look you, my lords. [_Shewing paper._
GUAR. All’s fast: now comes my part to tole him
hither;
Then, with a stamp given, he’s despatch’d as cunningly.
[_Aside._
HIP. [_raising the body of_ ISA.] Stark dead! O
treachery! cruelly made away!
[GUARDIANO _stamps, and falls through a
trap-door_.
How’s that?
FAB. Look, there’s one of the lovers dropt away
too!
DUKE. Why, sure, this plot’s drawn false; here’s no
such thing.
LIV. O, I am sick to the death! let me down quickly,
This fume is deadly; O, ’t has poison’d me!
My subtlety is sped, her art has quitted me;
My own ambition pulls me down to ruin.
[_Falls down and dies._
HIP. Nay, then, I kiss thy cold lips, and applaud
This thy revenge in death. [_Kisses the body of_
ISABELLA.
FAB. Look, Juno’s down too!
[_Cupids shoot at_ HIPPOLITO.
What makes she there? her pride should keep aloft:
She was wont to scorn the earth in other shows;
Methinks her peacocks' feathers are much pull’d.
HIP. O, death runs through my blood, in a wild flame
too!
Plague of those Cupids! some lay hold on ’em,
Let ’em not scape; they’ve spoil’d me, the shaft’s
deadly.
DUKE. I've lost myself in this quite.
HIP. My great lords,
We’re all confounded.
DUKE. How?
HIP. Dead; and I worse.
FAB. Dead! my girl dead? I hope
My sister Juno has not serv’d me so.
HIP. Lust and forgetfulness have[1117] been amongst
us,
And we are brought to nothing; some blest charity
Lend me the speeding pity of his sword,
To quench this fire in blood! Leantio’s death
Has brought all this upon us—now I taste it—
And made us lay plots to confound each other;
Th' event so proves it; and man’s understanding
Is riper at his fall than all his lifetime.
She, in a madness for her lover’s death,
Reveal’d a fearful lust in our near bloods,
For which I'm punish’d dreadfully and unlook’d for;
Prov’d her own ruin too; vengeance met vengeance,
Like a set match, as if the plague[s] of sin
Had been agreed to meet here altogether:
But how her fawning partner fell I reach not,
Unless caught by some springe of his own setting,—
For, on my pain, he never dream’d of dying;
The plot was all his own, and he had cunning
Enough to save himself: but' tis the property
Of guilty deeds to draw your wise men downward;
Therefore the wonder ceases. O, this torment!
DUKE. Our guard below there!
_Enter a Lord with a Guard._
LORD. My lord?
HIP. Run and meet death then,
And cut off time and pain!
[_Runs on a sword,[1118] and dies._
LORD. Behold, my lord,
Has run his breast upon a weapon’s point!
DUKE. Upon the first night of our nuptial honours
Destruction play her triumph, and great mischiefs
Mask in expected pleasures! ’tis prodigious!
They’re things most fearfully ominous; I like ’em not.—
Remove these ruin’d bodies from our eyes.
[_The Guard remove the bodies of_ ISABELLA, LIVIA, _and_
HIPPOLITO.
BIAN. Not yet, no change? when falls he to the earth?
[_Aside._
LORD. Please but your excellence to peruse that paper,
[_Giving paper to the Duke._
Which is a brief confession from the heart
Of him that fell first, ere his soul departed;
And there the darkness of these deeds speaks plainly,
’Tis the full scope, the manner, and intent:
His ward, that ignorantly let him down,
Fear put to present flight at the voice of him.
BIAN. Nor yet? [_Aside._
DUKE. Read, read, for I am lost in sight and strength!
[_Falls._
CAR. My noble brother!
BIAN. O, the curse of wretchedness!
My deadly hand is faln upon my lord:
Destruction, take me to thee! give me way;
The pains and plagues of a lost soul upon him
That hinders me a moment!
DUKE. My heart swells bigger yet; help here, break’t
ope!
My breast flies open next. [_Dies._
BIAN. O, with the poison
That was prepar’d for thee! thee, Cardinal,
’Twas meant for thee.
CAR. Poor prince!
BIAN. Accursèd error!
Give me thy last breath, thou infected bosom,
And wrap two spirits in one poison’d vapour!
Thus, thus, reward thy murderer, and turn death
[_Kisses the dead body of the Duke._
Into a parting kiss! my soul stands ready at my lips,
Even vex’d to stay one minute after thee.
CAR. The greatest sorrow and astonishment
That ever struck the general peace of Florence
Dwells in this hour.
BIAN. So, my desires are satisfied,
I feel death’s power within me:
Thou hast prevail’d in something, cursed poison!
Though thy chief force was spent in my lord’s bosom;
But my deformity in spirit’s more foul,
A blemish’d face best fits a leprous soul.
What make I here? these are all strangers to me,
Not known but by their malice now thou’rt gone,
Nor do I seek their pities.
[_Drinks from the poisoned cup._[1119]
CAR. O restrain
Her ignorant, wilful hand!
BIAN. Now do; ’tis done.
Leantio, now I feel the breach of marriage
At my heart-breaking. O, the deadly snares
That women set for women, without pity
Either to soul or honour! learn by me
To know your foes: in this belief I die,—
Like our own sex we have no enemy.[1120]
LORD. See, my lord,
What shift sh’as made to be her own destruction!
BIAN. Pride, greatness, honours, beauty, youth,
ambition,
You must all down together, there’s no help for’t:
Yet this my gladness is, that I remove
Tasting the same death in a cup of love. [_Dies._
CAR. Sin, what thou art, these ruins shew too
piteously:
Two kings on one throne cannot sit together,
But one must needs down, for his title’s wrong;
So where lust reigns, that prince cannot reign long.
_Exeunt omnes._
END OF VOL. IV.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY LEVEY, ROBSON, AND FRANKLYN,
46 St. Martin’s Lane.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes
-----
# 1:
_Kix_] Or _kex_ is a dry stalk, properly of hemlock.
Why this name (which Middleton has used in another
play, see vol. ii. p. 4) is given to Sir Oliver, the
reader will presently discover.
# 2:
_Dahanna_] Old ed. in _Dram. Pers._, and more than
once in the text, “Dahumma.”
# 3:
_virginals_] See note, vol. iii. p. 112.
# 4:
_Yes? you are_, &c.] Was not this speech originally
verse, though the present state of the text will not
admit of its being arranged as such?
# 5:
_board_] Old ed. “bord”—perhaps a misprint.
# 6:
_I ha'_, &c.] Qy. “Ay, ha’,” &c.? but compare p. 27,
l. 13.
# 7:
_bracks_] i. e. breaks.
# 8:
_Hobson’s porters_] Hobson was the celebrated
Cambridge-carrier, on whose death, in Jan. 1630-1,
Milton, while a student at that university, composed a
copy of verses. There are three epitaphs on Hobson in
_Wit’s Recreations_, p. 249, reprint 1817; and his
will, dated Dec. 1630, is printed in the _Coll. of
Pieces_ appended to Peck’s _Memoirs of Cromwell_, p.
44. A tract, published in 1617, 4to, is called, from
him, _Hobson’s Horse-load of Letters, or a President
for Epistles_; and he is said (see _The Spectator_,
No. 509,) to have given rise to the expression
_Hobson’s choice_.
# 9:
_the Bell_] Qy. “the Bull?”
“He is not dead, but left his mansion here,
Has left the _Bull_, and flitted to the Beare.”
_First Epitaph on Hobson—Wit’s Recr._ p. 249.
“This memorable man [Hobson] stands drawn in fresco,
at an inn, which he used in Bishopsgate-Street, with
an hundred pound bag under his arm, with this
inscription upon the said bag:
The fruitful mother of a hundred more.”
The _Spectator_, No. 509.
# 10:
_tester_] i. e. sixpence: see note, vol. i. p. 258.
# 11:
_gear_] i. e. matter.
# 12:
_What is’t you lack_] See note, vol. i. p. 447.
# 13:
_marks_] A mark was 13_s._ 4_d._
# 14:
_wound_] Qy. “sound?”
# 15:
_serve_] Old ed. “serues.”
# 16:
_pick_] i. e. _peak_—grow meagre.
# 17:
_Turn not_, &c.] Corrupted text, I believe; the whole
speech having been originally verse.
# 18:
_O turn, sir, turn_ There appears to be some grievous
corruption here. Perhaps for “_turn_” we ought to read
“Tim,”—of whom Yellowhammer proceeds to speak: the
hopeful youth is certainly not present; he does not
arrive from Cambridge till act iii. sc. 2.
# 19:
_What is’t you lack_] See note, vol. i. p. 447.
# 20:
_rules_] i. e. sports, games: compare in vol. ii. p.
124, “how go the squares?” and see Steevens’s note on
the word “night-rule,” Shakespeare’s _Mid.'s Night’s
Dream_, act iii. sc. 2, and Douce’s _Illust. of
Shak._, vol. i. p. 192.
# 21:
_wittol_] i. e. tame cuckold.
# 22:
_gaudy-shops_] i. e. shops where they sell _gauds_,
finery.
# 23:
_Gresham’s Burse_] i. e. the Royal Exchange, built by
Sir Thomas Gresham.
# 24:
_think’s_] i.e. _think_ these things _is_ mine—an
expression which, on account of the metre, cannot be
altered.
# 25:
_where_] i. e. whereas.
# 26:
_string_] Old ed. “strings.”
# 27:
_meet_] Old ed. “meets.”
# 28:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 29:
_Put on_] i. e. put on your hat.
# 30:
_God-den_] A corruption of _Good even_.
# 31:
_Thus do I rid myself of fear_, &c.] An imperfect
couplet: compare vol. i. p. 424, vol. ii. p. 7, vol.
iii. p. 52, &c.
# 32:
_will_] Old ed. “willes”—but a rhyme is intended here.
# 33:
_gear_] i. e. stuff.
# 34:
_progress_] i. e. the travelling of the sovereign and
court to different parts of the kingdom.
# 35:
_snaphance_] “A spring-lock to a gun or pistol; a
fire-lock, which term, as _snaphance_ sometimes was,
is since given to the gun itself.” Nares, _Gloss._
in v., where see more concerning the word. The
metaphorical sense in which the lady uses it is
sufficiently obvious.
# 36:
_mutton_] See note, vol. iii. p. 102.
# 37:
_have_] Old ed. “has.”
# 38:
_promoters_] See note, p. 31.
# 39:
_passion_] i. e. sorrow.
# 40:
_Touch. jun._] Old ed. “_Lady._”
# 41:
_mark ... for thirteen shillings fourpence_] A play on
words: see note, p. 10.
# 42:
_I cannot do withal_] i. e. I cannot help it: see
Gifford’s note on Ben Jonson’s _Works_, vol. iii. p.
470, and my note on Webster’s _Works_, vol. iii. p.
215.
# 43:
_kersten_] A corruption of _Christian_.
# 44:
_And that’s worth_, &c.] Thus in old ed.;
“I'le about it.
And that’s worth all sweet Husband.”
# 45:
_Before Allwit’s house_] If the reader, during the
earlier part of this scene, should wonder why I have
not placed it _within_ the house, he will presently
see the reason. Perhaps, indeed, as there was no
painted moveable scenery when the play was written,
the author might have meant the audience to suppose
that the stage represented a chamber, until the
entrance of the Promoters, when it was suddenly to be
taken for a street. See notes, vol. ii. pp. 142, 147.
# 46:
_o’erthrows_] Qy. “o’ergrows?”
# 47:
_Dahanna_] Old ed. here “Dahumma:” see note, p. 4.
# 48:
_Promoters_] “Be those which in popular and penall
actions do deferre the names, or complaine of
offenders, having part of the profit for their
reward.” Cowell’s _Interpreter_, ed. 1637, in v.—But
the Promoters in our play do more than inform,—they
execute the law.
# 49:
_corps_] A plural: compare vol. ii. p. 135, l. 6, and
p. 162, (note 310).
# 50:
_golls_] A cant term for hands,—fists, paws.
# 51:
_colon_] i. e. hunger—properly, the largest of the
intestines.
# 52:
_a foutra for_] Equivalent to—a fig for: the
expression is used by Pistol in Shakespeare’s _Henry
IV. P. Sec._ act v. sc. 3.
# 53:
_Turnbull Street_] A corruption of _Turnmill Street_,
near Clerkenwell: repeatedly mentioned in our early
dramas as the residence of dissolute persons of both
sexes.
# 54:
_band_] Not a misprint for _hand_.—Old ed. “Band.”
# 55:
_Queenhive_] A corruption of _Queenhithe_.
# 56:
_Branford_] Or _Brainford_—an old and corrupt form of
Brentford.
# 57:
_trussing him_] i. e. tying his points: see note, vol.
iii. p. 319.
# 58:
_kursning-day_] i. e. christening-day.
# 59:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 60:
_come_] Old ed. “comes.”
# 61:
_beholding_] i. e. beholden—a form common in old
writers.
# 62:
_Enter from the house_, &c.] The direction in old ed.
is, “_Enter Midwife with the Child, and the Gossips to
the Kursning._” That the christening did not take
place at home appears from the opening of the second
scene of the next act.
# 63:
_it_] i. e. the precedence.
# 64:
_And_] i.e. if.
# 65:
_Here’s no_, &c.] See note, vol. i. p. 169.
# 66:
_receiv’d baffling_] i. e. put up with insult: see
note, vol. ii. p. 449.
# 67:
_A bed-chamber_, &c.] Old ed. “_A Bed thrust out vpon
the Stage, Allwit’s wife in it, Enter all the
Gossips._”
# 68:
_kursen_] i.e. christened.
# 69:
_Amsterdam_] See note, vol. i. p. 205.
# 70:
_Ey’d_] Old ed. “Ey’s.”
# 71:
_spiny_] i.e. slender.
# 72:
_'postle-spoons_] i. e. apostle-spoons,—the usual gift
of sponsors at christenings—spoons of silver,
sometimes gilt, the handle of each ending in the
figure of an apostle.
# 73:
_Judas with the red beard_] Judas Iscariot, according
to the common notion, had red hair and beard, and was
so represented in tapestries and pictures: see note,
vol. i. p. 259.
# 74:
_come_] Old ed. “comes.”
# 75:
_go_] Old ed. “goes.”
# 76:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 77:
_mar’l_] i. e. marvel.
# 78:
_fitters_] i. e. pieces,—small fragments.
# 79:
_Bucklersbury_] When this play was written, was
chiefly occupied by druggists; at whose shops, it
appears, sweetmeats were to be purchased. “Go into
_Bucklersbury_ and fetch me two ounces of preserved
melons.” _Westward Ho_,—Webster’s _Works_, vol. iii.
p. 19.
# 80:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 81:
_Lady Kix_] Old ed. has merely “Lady:” but such is the
prefix to all the speeches of Lady Kix throughout the
play; and see p. 27, l. 13.
# 82:
_towards_] i. e. in preparation.
# 83:
_cattle_] i. e. the Welsh _runts_, of which we hear
more afterwards.
# 84:
_fresh-woman_] A term invented by Tim,—corresponding
to _freshman_, one lately come to the university, and
unacquainted with its customs.
# 85:
_lin_] i. e. cease.
# 86:
_Dunces_] i.e. the schoolmen,—properly the disciples
of _Duns_ Scotus: see Todd’s Johnson’s _Dict._ in v.
_Dunce_.
# 87:
_beholding_] See note, p. 40.
# 88:
_Pissing-conduit_] A little conduit, which ran a small
stream, near the Royal Exchange.
# 89:
_rushes_] With which, previous to the introduction of
carpets, the floors were strewed.
# 90:
_shittle-cork_] The proper form of the word—now
corrupted to _shittle-cock_.
# 91:
_bankrout_] i. e. bankrupt.
# 92:
_And lay him level_, &c.
_Get but his wife_, &c.] I may just notice, that by
“him” is meant Sir Walter Whorehound—by “his wife,”
Sir Oliver Kix’s wife.
# 93:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 94:
_common-place_] i. e. common-pleas: compare vol. ii.
p. 336, and note.
# 95:
_go_] Old ed. “goes.”
# 96:
_out-cry_] i. e. an auction (announced by the common
_crier_).
# 97:
_pranking up_] i. e. decking out.
# 98:
_her_] Old ed. “their.”
# 99:
_And_] i. e. if.
# 100:
———] So old ed.
# 101:
_figient_] i.e. fidging, fidgetty.
# 102:
_this_] A table or chair, perhaps.
# 103:
_wife_] Old ed. “wifes.”
# 104:
_rationalis_] Old ed. “rationalibus.”
# 105:
_dici_] Old ed. “dicere”—Middleton, I fear, having
written “diceri.”
# 106:
_haberdines_] Perhaps Tim alludes to some childish
sport: a kind of cod, generally salted, was called
_haberdine_.
# 107:
_sir-reverence_] See note, vol. i. p. 171.
# 108:
_mar’l_] i. e. marvel.—I have deviated but slightly
from the old ed. in arranging the lines of this
speech. The probability is, that the genuine text has
not come down to us.
# 109:
_kiff nor kin_] A not uncommon corruption of kith nor
kin.
# 110:
_runts_] i. e. cattle of a small size.
# 111:
_Rider’s Dictionary_] _A Dict. Engl. and Lat., and
Lat. and Engl._, by John Rider, first printed 1589,
was a work once in great repute at Oxford.
# 112:
_tu virgo_, &c.] Old ed. “abundis:” as, in the
next speech of Tim, the old ed. has “abundat,” I
should have supposed, but for the lady’s reply
“abundand_is_,” and what has been previously said
of her wealth, that Middleton wrote here, “tua,
_virgo, Wallia ut opibus_ abundat _maximis_.”
# 113:
_simul et ... parato_] Old ed. “simule ... parata.” I
am by no means satisfied with my alterations; indeed,
I do not quite understand the drift of Tim’s oration.
# 114:
_cog_] i.e. lie, deceive, wheedle.
# 115:
_proceeded_] i. e. taken a degree.
# 116:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 117:
_Welsh._ [_sings_] Old ed. “Musicke and Welch Song,”—
the words probably being adapted to some Welsh air.
# 118:
_Cupid is Venus'_, &c.
. . . . . . . .
_To keep a lady’s lips in play_] This portion of the
song, with two additional lines, occurs in our
author’s _More Dissemblers besides Women_, vol. iii.
p. 574.
# 119:
_thought_] Old ed. “taught:” but see vol. iii. p. 575.
# 120:
_lose it_] Qy. “lost is?”
# 121:
_I can do somewhat_] Here, it would seem, from what
Yellowhammer says on entering, that Tim either kisses
the Welshwoman, or proceeds to sing.
# 122:
_a' life_] i. e. as my life, extremely.
# 123:
_Resolve_] i. e. satisfy, inform.
# 124:
——] So old ed.
# 125:
——] So old ed.
# 126:
_Poulters ... conies_] i.e. Poulterers ... rabbits.
# 127:
_wittol’s_] i.e. tame cuckold’s.
# 128:
_Cato_] i.e. the _Disticha de Moribus_, to which the
name of Cato is prefixed.
# 129:
_Corderius_] Old ed. “Cordelius.”
# 130:
_kursen’d_] i. e. christen’d.
# 131:
_mark_] See note, p. 10.
# 132:
_anno_——] The player, perhaps, was to fill up the
date.
# 133:
_lay_] See note, vol. ii. p. 11.
# 134:
_Blackfriars_] i. e. Blackfriars' Theatre.
# 135:
_gill_] i. e. wanton.
# 136:
_up on_] Old ed. “_vp_ vpon.”
# 137:
_tongue_] i. e. perhaps, suit—if it be not a misprint.
# 138:
_first_] Old ed. “at _first_.”
# 139:
_she smiles_] Qy. “_she smiles_ [on you],” for the
measure?
# 140:
_darken_] Old ed. “darkens.”
# 141:
_stand_] Old ed. “stands.”
# 142:
_O too_] I can make nothing else of the “ho to” of old
ed.
# 143:
_have_] Old ed. “hath.”
# 144:
_seven_] i. e. the seven children: see p. 73, l. 6
from bottom.
# 145:
_wittol_] i. e. tame cuckold.
# 146:
_with part_] Qy. “any _part_”—for the measure?
# 147:
_wittols_] i. e. tame cuckolds.
# 148:
_push_] See note, vol. i. p. 29.
# 149:
_you taught me_, &c.] Does he allude to the foolish
game called _A thing done_, &c.? See B. Jonson’s
_Cynthia’s Revels_—_Works_, vol. ii. p. 306, ed. Giff.
# 150:
_Ovid_] Qy. “Ovidius”—for the measure?
# 151:
_joy_] Old ed. “ioyes.”
# 152:
_cast_] i. e. contrived.
# 153:
_Recorders_] i. e. flageolets.
# 154:
_epitaphs pinned on it_] According to the custom of
the time.
# 155:
_music-room_] On the present stage-direction Mr. J. P.
Collier (_Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poetry_, vol. iii. p.
447) founds a conjecture, which, to me at least, is
not quite satisfactory—viz. that as in our early
theatres the boxes were called _rooms_, one of them
was probably appropriated to the musicians.
# 156:
_What nature could there shine_] i. e., perhaps, what
good qualities, &c.—A friend conjectures “shrine.”
# 157:
_First Mour._] Old ed. prefixes “All” to the speeches
which I have assigned to different mourners.
# 158:
_Touch. jun._] Old. ed. “T. S.”
# 159:
_First Mour._] Old ed. “All” (see note in preceding
page): but as Mistress Allwit spoke last, the speech
perhaps belongs to her husband, though in this scene
old ed. gives the abbreviation of his name “Allw.”
# 160:
_prevent_] i. e. anticipate.
# 161:
_Knights' ward_] See note, vol. i. p. 392.
# 162:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 163:
_saw_] Old ed. “say.”
# 164:
_Brainford_] See note, p. 37.
# 165:
_runts_] See note, p. 66.
# 166:
_Flectere_, &c.] Virg. _Æn._ vii. 312.
# 167:
_falleris_] Old ed. “falacis.” Compare p. 62, where
Tim says “_falleris_ sane.”
# 168:
——] So old ed.
# 169:
_Scene, Madrid_, &c.] Old eds. “The Scene, Allegant”
[i. e. Alicant].
# 170:
_borachio_] i. e. drunkard. “A _borachio_ is a vessel
made of skins, in which wine is kept in Spain.” Editor
of 1816.
# 171:
_for gentlemen_] First ed. “for a gentlemen.” Ed.
1661, “for a’ gentleman.”
# 172:
_be_] So ed. 1661. Not in first ed.
# 173:
_Madrill_] i. e. Madrid—a form of the word repeatedly
found in our early writers.
# 174:
_alablaster_] See note, vol. i. p. 281.
# 175:
_is_] Old eds. “are.”
# 176:
_penance_] i. e. penitence.
# 177:
_Live_ Is one of several important corrections made
with a pen in a copy of the first 4to, by some
early possessor, who, as he has also inserted some
additions to the text, had, in all probability, seen a
manuscript of the piece.—Both eds. “Lay,” which,
before the copy just mentioned came into my hands, I
had altered to “Play.”
# 178:
_lodgings_] Must mean his apartments in Fernando’s
house: see p. 106, l. 1.
# 179:
_Exit Louis_, &c.] At p. 115, Diego tells Louis,
“_as we parted_, I perceiv’d
A walking thing before me,” &c.;
but I cannot help suspecting (as there was no painted
moveable scenery when this drama was written: see
notes, vol. ii. pp. 142, 147, and p. 29 of the present
vol.), that as soon as Diego had said, “I this way,”
the audience was to imagine a change in the place of
action; and, perhaps, after these words, he made his
exit “at one door,” and “entered presently at the
other:” see note on the commencement of the 2d sc. of
act v.
# 180:
_reading_] By this direction we are to understand,
perhaps, that John is looking on a paper which he
afterwards gives to Constanza (“this paper tells you
more,” p. 128); for, surely, the rhyming lines now
spoken by him are a soliloquy.
# 181:
_ennoble_] Old eds. “enable.”
# 182:
_keep_] Old eds. “keeps.”
# 183:
_float_] i. e. flow, flood.
# 184:
_conjure_] Old eds. “conjures.”
# 185:
_temption_] Altered by the editor of 1816 to
“temptation;” and, I believe, with similar
inconsiderateness, by myself, in a prose passage of
one of the preceding plays, though I cannot recollect
where.
# 186:
_and_] Qy. “of?”
# 187:
_fegary_] i. e. vagary.
# 188:
_Of the sweet voyage_, &c.] Here the editor of 1816,
“to complete the measure,” prints,
“Of the sweet voyage [that] he stole to-night;”
and a little after,
“You’re i' the right, [it was] not you indeed;”
but I apprehend that the speeches of Roderigo, “You’re
pleasant,” and “Not I,” make up the lines.
# 189:
_lin’d_] Qy. “lim’d?”
# 190:
_I have_, &c.] The editor of 1816, boldly deviating
from the old eds., gives,
“I have observ’d him often to frequent
The sports the gipsies newly come present;”
which, as he thinks, “improves the measure without
affecting the sense.”
# 191:
_pullen_] i. e. poultry.
# 192:
_the arts of Cocoquismo and Germania_, &c.] Alvarez
proceeds to explain his meaning; but I may just
observe that _Cocoquismo_ should perhaps be
_Cacoquismo_, formed from the Spanish _caco_, a
pickpocket (unless indeed it has some affinity with
the phrase _hacer cocos_, to wheedle), and that
_Germania_ signifies, in that language, the jargon of
the gipsies: see Neuman’s _Span. and Engl. Dict._ in
vv.
# 193:
_pickaroes_] i. e. rogues.—“_Picaro_, knavish,
roguish,” &c. Neuman’s _Span. and Engl. Dict._ in v.
# 194:
_foisting_] See note, vol. ii. p. 544.
# 195:
_defy_] i. e. reject, renounce.
# 196:
_teniente_] “_Teniente de una compania_, lieutenant of
a company.” Neuman’s _Span. and Engl. Dict._ in v.
# 197:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 198:
_grandees_] Old eds. “grandos,” which, perhaps, the
author wrote.
# 199:
_We shall ... short_] One speech in old eds., with the
prefix “_Both._”
# 200:
_tweezes_] i. e. tweezers.
# 201:
_marvedi_] Or _maravedi_—“an extremely small [copper]
Spanish coin.” Editor of 1816.
# 202:
_blank_ “_Blanquilla_, doit, a very small coin.”
Neuman’s _Span. and Engl. Dict._ in v.—_Blanks_ “are
said to be coins struck by Henry V. in France, of
baser alloy than sterling [silver], and running for
eightpence. They were called Blanks or Whites from
their colour.” Ruding’s _Ann. of the Coinage_, vol.
ii. p. 8, ed. 4to.
# 203:
_pullen_] i. e. poultry.
# 204:
_Valladolid ... Cordova_] Old eds. “Vallidoly ...
Cordica.”
# 205:
_Rochelle_] “In the time of our poets, seems to have
been a general asylum for those persecuted Protestants
who knew not where to go; and Alvarez intimates that
the whole world was equally open to people of their
description, who had no settled home.” Editor of
1816,—whether rightly or not, I cannot determine.
# 206:
_sack-buts_] See the same play on the meanings of the
word—_musical instruments_ and _buts of sack_—in vol.
i. p. 177.
# 207:
_the_] Editor of 1816, “thee.”
# 208:
_bubbers_] Which Nares (_Gloss._ in v.) would alter to
“lubbers”—is (see Grose’s _Class. Dict. of Vulg.
Tongue_, in v.) a vulgarised form of _bibbers_,
Constanza having used the word _butt_ in the double
sense of _mark_ and _liquor-vessel_.
# 209:
_gave aim_] See note, vol. ii. p. 335. The editor of
1816 wrongly follows the reading of ed. 1661, “give.”
# 210:
_a parrot ... almond_] See note, vol. iii. p. 112.
# 211:
_woman’s_] Old eds. “womens.”
# 212:
_try that conclusion_] i. e. make that experiment.
# 213:
_alcumy_] Or _alchemy_—a sort of base mixed metal
(supposed originally to have been formed by the
alchemist). Compare vol. ii. p. 249, “here be the
tavern beakers, and here peep out the fine _alchemy
knaves_.”
# 214:
_in musses_] “i. e. to make a scramble of.” Editor of
1816.
# 215:
_sakers_] “A species of hawk.” Editor of 1816.
# 216:
_Thyself_] A MS. addition in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109.
# 217:
_None but myself_, &c.] Here the editor of 1816 thinks
that “perhaps the performer who personated Pretiosa
[Constanza] had before met with applause in Antonio,
the character in _The Changeling_ that gives name to
the piece.”
# 218:
_come aloft_] See note, vol. iii. p. 112.
# 219:
_cogs_] i. e. teeth of the wheels.
# 220:
_cummin-seeds_] Were used for luring pigeons to a
dove-cote.
# 221:
_mother Bumby_] Or _Bomby_—was a _wise_ or _cunning
woman_ of great celebrity, who told fortunes, cast
waters, &c. Lilly wrote a comedy called _Mother
Bombie_ (first ed. 1594), in which she figures.
# 222:
_yon_] Old eds. “you.”
# 223:
_San. Hum, hum_] A MS. addition in copy of the first
4to: see note, p. 109.
# 224:
_nuncle_] i. e. uncle—contracted from _mine uncle_.
# 225:
_Alv. And of as long a style_] A MS. addition in copy
of the first 4to: see note, p. 109.
# 226:
_be_] Old eds. “been.”
# 227:
_do you wish me blind_] “The whitish spots in the eye,
arising from the small pox or other causes, and
occasioning blindness, are still frequently called
pearls.” Editor of 1816.
# 228:
_rhymes_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109. Old eds. “crime.”
# 229:
_then_] A MS. addition, ibid.
# 230:
_Soto. Do, master, and I'll run division behind your
back_
# 231:
_maunders_] “i. e. speaks obscurely [rather,—whines],
as beggars do. [See note, vol. ii. p. 536.]” Editor of
1816.
# 232:
_Const., Car., &c._] Old eds. “Omnes.”
# 233:
_thy_] Old eds. “thee.”
# 234:
_a pistolet_] A play on the word—which meant both a
small coin and a small pistol.
# 235:
_Alv., Car., &c._] Old eds. “Omnes.”
# 236:
_told_] Qy. “trowed?”
# 237:
_task_] Old eds. “taste” and “tast.”
# 238:
_turn gipsy_] “Vincent and Hilliard are required by
Rachel and Meriel, in the _Jovial Crew_ of Brome, to
give a similar proof of their affection.” Editor of
1816. If there be any imitation in the case, it is on
the part of Brome.
# 239:
[_heaven with_] So the editor of 1816. There is
certainly some imperfection in the line.
# 240:
_Mar._] Old eds. “Ped.”
# 241:
_Here comes, &c._] To this line old eds. prefix DIE.,
which in copy of the first 4to (see note, p. 109) is
rightly drawn through with a pen.
# 242:
_when_] The editor of 1816 follows the reading of ed.
1661, “then.”
# 243:
_cast_] i. e. couple: see Gifford’s note on B.
Jonson’s _Works_, vol. iii. p. 447, and my note on
Webster’s _Works_, vol. iv. p. 295.
# 244:
_without his cloak, &c._] See p. 125.
# 245:
_How, &c._] Given to “_Soto_” in old eds.
# 246:
_beg me for a fool_] See note, vol. iii. p. 16.
# 247:
_cony-catched_] i. e. cheated, deceived: see vol. i.
p. 290.
# 248:
_haut_] i. e. high, lofty: “to brave his enemy in the
rich and _lofty Castilian_ [tongue].” Dekker’s
_English Villanies_, &c. sig. M 4, ed. 1632.
# 249:
_brave_] A play on the word—fine.
# 250:
_cloth_] Improperly altered by the editor of 1816 to
“clothes.”
# 251:
_maps_] i. e. mops.
# 252:
_in Rome, I'll go to him with a mortar_ “The clown in
Fletcher’s _Fair Maid of the Inn_, act v. sc. 2, makes
use of a similar expression: ‘He did measure the stars
with a false yard, and may now _travel to Rome with a
mortar on’s head_, to see if he can recover his
money.’ On this Mason observes, ‘One class of
presidents in the parliament of Paris were styled
_présidents à mortier_, for a cap they wore resembling
in shape a mortar.’” Editor of 1816. See also
Cotgrave’s _Fr. Engl. Dict._ in v. _mortier_; but in
this expression, which seems to have been proverbial,
does _mortar_ mean a cap? “So that methinkes I could
flye to Rome (at least hop to Rome, as the olde
Prouerb is) with a morter on my head.” _Dedicatory
Epistle_ to _Kemps nine daies wonder_, 1600.
# 253:
_woods_] Old eds. “wookes.”
# 254:
_marvedi_] See note, p. 119.
# 255:
_larks_] So editor of 1816. Old eds. “_markes_.”
# 256:
_cog_] See note, p. 67.
# 257:
_the elephant and camels_] The writer thought only of
London, where such shows were much followed: see
Gifford’s notes on B. Jonson’s _Works_, vol. ii. pp.
149, 152; and Chalmers’s _Suppl. Apol._, p. 208.
# 258:
_vild_] i. e. vile—a form common in our old authors.
# 259:
_about_] Qy. “above?”
# 260:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 261:
_Who are_] A MS. addition in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109. The editor of 1816 supplied “But who
are.”
# 262:
_gaberdines_] i. e. coarse loose frocks.
# 263:
_tiring-house_] i. e. the dressing-room—in theatrical
language.
# 264:
_do our tops_, &c.] Qy. ought Alvarez and his
companions to enter before these words?
# 265:
_Alv. Gui., &c._] Old eds. “Omnes.”
# 266:
_grandees_] Old eds. “grandoes:” see note, p. 119.
# 267:
_San._ [_sings_] I suspect that only a portion of this
song should be assigned to Sancho.
# 268:
_threading-needles_] “_Thread my needle_ is yet a
common sport; and to this, probably, the song
alludes.” Editor of 1816.
# 269:
_ging_] i. e. gang: see note, vol. ii. p. 532.
# 270:
_Mull-sack_] A familiar contraction: so “mull-wines,”
vol. i. p. 391.
# 271:
_Peter-see-me_] A corruption of _Pedro-Ximenes_: see
note, vol. iii. p. 213.
# 272:
_noul_] i. e. noddle, head.
# 273:
_fox_] “i. e. intoxicate.” Editor of 1816.
# 274:
_A garden_, &c.] See note, p. 154.
# 275:
_quarrels_] Old eds. “families.”—“I have no doubt the
printer caught the word from the preceding lines.”
Editor of 1816.
# 276:
_his_] Old eds. “he.”
# 277:
_Mar._] Old ed. “Al.”
# 278:
_in your t’other hose_]—_hose_, i. e. breeches—a sort
of proverbial expression: compare vol. i. p. 262, and
B. Jonson’s _Tale of a Tub_;
“We robb’d in St. John’s wood! _In my t’other hose!_”
_Works_ (by Gifford), vol. vi.
p. 164.
# 279:
_report_] Ed. 1661, “a report.”
# 280:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 281:
_trow_] i. e. think you.
# 282:
_Yes, sure_, &c.] To this line, which in old eds.
forms part of Francisco’s speech, the prefix “_Joh._”
is added with a pen in copy of the first 4to: see
note, p. 109.
# 283:
_As hotly_, &c.] To this line in old eds. is prefixed
“Ans.” i. e., perhaps, the _Answer_ of those who form
the rear.
# 284:
_Ped_.] Old eds. “Ro.”
# 285:
_father_] Old eds. “fathers.”
# 286:
_need_] Old eds. “needs.”
# 287:
_have_] Old eds. “hath.”
# 288:
_Gui. Car., &c._] Old eds. “Omnes.”
# 289:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 290:
_we’d_] Old eds. “hee’d.”
# 291:
_your_] Qy. “you?” compare p. 145, 3d line from
bottom.
# 292:
[_straightway_] Inserted by the editor of 1816.
# 293:
_Sir_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to: see
note, p. 109. Old eds. “For.” The editor of 1816 makes
“For she’s past the worst” the conclusion of Louis’s
speech.
# 294:
_You shall not part_, &c.] The audience, it seems, was
to suppose that, after Francisco (p. 152) had said,
“With your favour,
We will attend you home,”
the scene had changed to the neighbourhood of
Fernando’s house!
# 295:
_alablaster_] See note, vol. i. p. 281.
# 296:
_Thy griefs grow wild_] So editor of 1816. Old eds.
“The _griefs grow_ wide.”
# 297:
_Azevida_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109. Old eds. “Azeutda.”
# 298:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 109.
# 299:
_a wife, young lady_] The editor of 1816 strangely
follows the reading of ed. 1661, “_a_ wise _young
lady_.”
# 300:
_style_] Old eds. “stiles.”
# 301:
_crucifix_] See p. 108.
# 302:
_one_] Qy. “son?”
# 303:
_What I have suffer’d, what thou ought’st to do_] “I
cannot but believe that the line that should follow
this has been lost.” Editor of 1816.—I see no reason
for believing so.
# 304:
_Sir_] Qy. “Sit?”
# 305:
_gules_] i. e., in heraldic language, red.
# 306:
_This_] The editor of 1816 prints “Thy.”
# 307:
_Night_] Old eds. “Might.”
# 308:
_Alv., Gui., &c._] Old ed. here and afterwards,
“_All._”
# 309:
_mutton_] See note, vol. iii. p. 102.
# 310:
_Muly Crag a whee_] A corrupted name probably, used
with a quibble.
# 311:
[_sings_] Had there not been a “Chorus” (in old eds.
“_Omnes_”), I should have supposed that the rhyming
lines in this initiation-scene were spoken, not sung.
# 312:
_best_] Qy. “left?”
# 313:
_leman_] i. e. mistress.
# 314:
_Now mark_, &c.] Before these words in the old eds. is
a direction (printed as part of the verse), “_Teach
him how_,” merely intended for the actor who played
Alvarez,—not, as the editor of 1816 thinks, “a
direction to the other gipsies to instruct Don John
how he is to perform the directions of their chief.”
# 315:
_Car._] Old eds. “_Cla._”
# 316:
_hey-de-guize_] A kind of rural dance—a word variously
spelt, and of doubtful etymology.
# 317:
_lopes_] i. e. leaps.
# 318:
_wench_] Qy. “wrench?” Compare Sir John Davies’s
_Orchestra, or a Poeme of Dauncing_;
“Such winding sleights, such turns and tricks he hath,
Such creeks, such _wrenches_, and such dalliaunce.”
St. 53.
# 319:
_growt_] a corruption of _great_.
# 320:
_because the beast is corn-fed_] “This seems so odd a
reason why the elephant could not go, that I believe
we should read, ‘is _not_ fed.’” Editor of 1816.—But
does not _corn-fed_ mean, even in the present day,
fattened up? and, perhaps, there is a quibble—
_cornified_ (having corns).
# 321:
_Jack[s]-in-boxes_ I have to regret that the following
passage does not well admit of abridgment: “This Jacke
in a Boxe, or this Diuell in mans shape, wearing (like
a player on a stage, good clothes on his backe) comes
to a Goldsmiths Stall, to a Drapers, a Habberdashers,
or into any other shoppe, where he knowes good store
of siluer faces are to be seene. And there drawing
foorth a faire new boxe, hammered all out of Siluer
plate, he opens it, and powres forth twenty or forty
Twenty-shillings pieces in new Gold. To which heape of
worldly temptation thus much hee addes in words, that
either he himselfe, or such a Gentleman (to whom he
belongs) hath an occasion for foure or fiue dayes to
vse forty pound. But because he is very shortly (nay
he knowes not how suddenly) to trauaile to Venice,
to Jerusalem or so, and would not willingly bee
disfurnished of Gold, he doth therefore request the
Citizen to lend (vpon those Forty Twenty-shilling
pieces) so much in white money (but for foure, or
fiue, or sixe dayes at the most) and for his good will
he shall receiue any reasonable satisfaction. The
Citizen (knowing the pawne to be better then a Bond)
powreth downe forty pound in siluer: the other drawes
it, and hauing so much gold in hostage, marcheth away
with Bag and Baggage. Fiue dayes being expired, Jacke
in a Boxe (according to his bargaine) beeing a man of
his word, comes againe to the shop or stall, (at
which he Angles for fresh Fish) and there casting out
his line with a siluer hooke, that is to say, powring
out the forty pound which he borrowed. The Citizen
sends in, or steppes himselfe for the Boxe with the
Golden Deuill in it: it is opened, and the army of
Angels being mustered together, they are all found to
be there. The Boxe is shut againe and set on the stall
whilest the Citizen is telling of his mony: But
whilest the musicke is sounding, Jacke in a Boxe actes
his part in a dumbe shew thus; he shifts out of his
fingers another Boxe of the same mettall and making
that the former beares, which second Boxe is filled
only with shillings, and being poized in the hand,
shall seeme to carry the weight of the former, and is
clap’d downe in place of the first. The Citizen in the
meane time (whilest this Pitfall is made for him)
telling the forty pounds, misseth thirty or forty
shillings in the whole summe, at which the Jacke in a
Boxe starting backe (as if it were a matter strange
vnto him) at last (making a gathering within himselfe
for his wits) he remembers, he sayes, that he layd by
so much money as is wanting (of the forty pounds) to
dispatch some businesse or other, and forgot to put it
into the bag againe; notwithstanding, he intreats the
Citizen to keepe his Gold still, he will take the
white money home to fetch the rest and make vp the
summe, his absence shall not bee aboue an houre or
two: before which time hee shall bee sure to heare of
him, and with this the little Deuil vanisheth carrying
that away with him which in the end will send him to
the Gallowes, (that is to say, his owne Gold) and
forty pound besides of the Shop-keepers which he
borrowed, the other being glad to take forty shillings
for the whole debt, and yet is soundly boxt for his
labor.” _English Villanies_, &c., sig. H, ed. 1632.
# 322:
_cozen fools with gilt rings_ “You haue another kind
of Lifter, or more properly a cunning night shifter,
and it is thus: You shall haue a fellow that in an
euening or night time, or some time at noone dayes, as
hee likes the company and sorts his opportunity, that
will wilfully drop sometime a spoone, other while a
ring or else some peece of coyned money, as the
likenes of gold and siluer, and so spurning it afore
them in the view of others, to the end they should cry
halfe part; which he taking hold of, sayth, nay by my
troth, what will you giue me and take it all? and so
some greedy fooles offer thus much, thinking it gold,
which the Lifter takes as knowing it counterfeit, and
so are they cunny-caught.” Dekker’s _Belman of
London_, sig. G 4, ed. 1608.
# 323:
_Not_] Ed. of 1816, “Rot,” mistaking for an _r_ the
broken _n_ of ed. 1661.
# 324:
_such a motion as the city Nineveh_] See note, vol. i.
p. 229.
# 325:
_black_] May be the right reading: but qy. “back?”
# 326:
_Car._] Old eds. “_Cla._”
# 327:
_mall’d_] So written for the rhyme.
# 328:
_all to-be-dabbled_ A writer in the additions to
Boucher’s _Gloss._ (new ed. in v. _All_) has well
observed, that in such expressions as this it is a
mistake to suppose that _all_ is coupled with _to_,
and that it becomes equivalent to _omnino_ from being
thus conjoined: the _to_ is connected with the
following participle as a prefix.
# 329:
_dill_] i. e., perhaps, darling: see Nares’s _Gloss._
in v. _Dilling_, and Moor’s _Suff. Words_ in v.
_Dills_; or, perhaps, another form of _dell_—see note,
vol. ii. p. 538.
# 330:
_Jet_] i. e. strut.
# 331:
_bravery_] i. e. finery.
# 332:
_like_] i. e. please.
# 333:
_young_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to,
see note, p. 109, and so the editor of 1816. Old eds.
“younger.”
# 334:
_reals_] “_Real_, a Spanish sixp_Guide into Tongues_
in v.—“A coin worth forty maravedis.” Neuman’s _Span.
and Engl. Dict._ in v.
# 335:
_since_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._, and so the
editor of 1816. Old eds. “sinne,” and “sin.”
# 336:
_a striker_] A quibble:
“nor was old Laïs liker
Unto herselfe then shee is to _a striker_.”
Brathwait’s _Honest Ghost_, 1658, p. 167.
The word is more frequently applied to the dissolute
of the other sex: note, vol. ii. p. 454.
# 337:
_arm_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._ Old eds. “army,”
which the editor of 1816 vainly endeavoured to
explain.
# 338:
_See they_, &c.] Given to “_Al._” in first ed. by a
mistake, which is corrected in ed. 1661.
# 339:
_not like a pantaloon_] “i. e. represent him in the
full possession of his strength and mental faculties,
and not like a feeble old man. ‘The lean and slipper’d
pantaloon’ of Shakespeare will occur to every reader.”
Editor of 1816.
# 340:
_canaries_] A quick and lively dance: see note, vol.
iii. p. 39.
# 341:
_jet_] i. e. strut.
# 342:
[_pleasures_] Compare p. 172, last line; but I am by
no means confident that I have supplied the right
word.
# 343:
_property_] i. e. in theatrical language, a thing
necessary for the scene.
# 344:
_Take you pepper in the nose_] “i. e. if you be
captious and ready to take offence.” Editor of 1816.
# 345:
_like an owl_, &c.] “To look like an owl in an
ivy-bush” is a proverbial expression: see Ray’s
_Proverbs_, p. 61, ed. 1768. A tuft or bush of ivy was
formerly hung out at the door of a vintner.
# 346:
_marvedi_] See note, p. 119.
# 347:
_Hold his nose_, &c.] i. e. “confine him to a short
allowance.” Editor of 1816.
# 348:
_case_] i. e. pair.
# 349:
_anon, anon_] “Was the reply of the waiters [drawers]
when called, as sufficiently appears in act ii. sc.
iv. of the _First Part of Henry IV._” Editor of 1816.
# 350:
_ningle_] i. e. intimate, favourite: see note, vol.
ii. p. 498.
# 351:
_Alv._] Old eds. “An.”
# 352:
_visitation_] Ed. 1661, “visitations.”
# 353:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 354:
_Exit Sancho_] So the editor of 1816: but I suspect a
misprint in the words “Away you.” It is necessary,
however, that Sancho should quit the stage: see p.
180.
# 355:
_haberdine_] See note, p. 64.
# 356:
_I make buttons_] Compare vol. i. p. 135 and note.
# 357:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 358:
_sell_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to: see
note, p. 109. Old eds. “see.”
# 359:
_she_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._ Old eds. “how.”
# 360:
_lannard_] “Or laner, is a species of hawk.” Editor of
1816.
# 361:
_sin_] Old eds. “sins.”
# 362:
_stamp_] So ed. 1661. First ed. “stamps.”
# 363:
_fall_] Old eds. “full.”
# 364:
_flow_] Old eds. “flew.”
# 365:
_storm_] Ed. 1661, “storms.”
# 366:
_Sir, I am_, &c.] Qy.
“_Sir, I'm not
So poor_ in spirit _to put this injury up_?”
Six lines after, the metre is imperfect.
# 367:
_lovely_] So MS. correction in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109. Old eds. “lively.”
# 368:
_sweet_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._ Old eds. “sir.”
# 369:
_here sit they_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._ First ed.
“he _sit they_.” Ed. 1661 has only “_they sit_.”
# 370:
_white_] Qy. for the metre, “whiter”? The double
comp. was common: “his _more braver_ daughter.”
Shakespeare’s _Tempest_, act ii. sc. 1.
# 371:
_it_] Old eds. “_it_ is.”
# 372:
_sometimes heard_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._,
which the editor of 1816 had anticipated. Old eds.
“_some_thing hard.”
# 373:
_friends_] Qy. “friend”?
# 374:
_First promise_, &c.] The editor of 1816 gives the
line thus:
“First, promise me [that] you will get reprieve;”
but the preceding “Despatch!” makes up the measure.
# 375:
_Madrill_] See note, p. 104.
# 376:
_Scene II. A field_] Old eds. have only “_Ex. at
one dore, Enter presently at the other_” (a
stage-direction which occurs again in _The
Changeling_]: as there was no moveable painted
scenery (see notes, vol. ii. pp. 142, 147, and pp.
29, 111, 154, of this vol.), the audience was to
suppose that, on the re-entrance of Alvarez and
Louis, the stage represented a field.
# 377:
_scurvily_] A MS. correction in copy of the first 4to:
see note, p. 109. Old eds. “securely.”
# 378:
_age_] A MS. correction _ubi sup._ Old eds. “rage;”
which the editor of 1816 altered to “rags.” Compare
_The Old Law_;
“Take hence that _pile of years_.” Vol. i. p. 31.
# 379:
_transform_] Old eds. “transforms.”
# 380:
_disgest_] Frequently used for _digest_ by our old
writers.
# 381:
_assur’d_] i. e. affianced.
# 382:
_Fran., Ped., &c._] Old eds. “_Omnes._”
# 383:
_Me thine_] For these words the editor of 1816 rashly
substituted “And me,” observing, in a note, “‘Me
thine’ is the reading of the quartos; but as Francisco
and Fernando both address Don John, the change was, I
think, necessary to make sense of the passage.”
Fernando evidently addresses Constanza, and taking her
hand, gives it to John.
# 384:
_Fran., Rod., &c._] Old eds. “_Omnes._”
# 385:
_you be_] Qy. “be you.”
# 386:
_bent knees_] Here, of course, the performers were to
kneel—perhaps, to pray, according to the old custom:
see note, vol. ii. p. 418.
# 387:
_Malta_ “Yet his [Alsemero’s] thoughts ran still on
the Wars, in which Heroick and Illustrious profession
he conceived his chiefest delight and felicity; and so
taking order for his Lands and affairs, he resolves to
see Malta, that inexpugnable Rampier of Mars, the
glory of Christendome and the terrour of Turkey, to
see if he could gain any place of command and honour
either in that Island or in their Gallies ... and so
building many Castles in the air, he comes to Alicant,
hoping to find passage there for Naples, and from
thence to ship himself upon the Neapolitan Gallies for
Malta.” Reynolds’s _Triumphs of God’s Revenge against
Murther_, p. 34, ed. 1726.—See note, p. 205.
# 388:
_buy a gale_, &c.] “It has been observed by Steevens,
in a note on _Macbeth_, act i. sc. 3, that the selling
of winds was an usual practice amongst the witches,”
&c. &c. Editor of 1816.
# 389:
_inclination to travel_] Old ed. “inclinations to
travels.”
# 390:
_There’s one_, &c.] So editor of 1816: old ed.;
“Oh there’s one above me, sir, for five dayes
past.”
# 391:
_you must stale_] “The quartos [there is but one
4to: see note, p. 205] read ‘you must _stall_,’ and
it may be understood for _forestall_; I have no
doubt, however, that the right word is restored. So
Montaigne, in the _Unnatural Combat_ of Massinger,
act iv. sc. ii.:
——‘I'll not _stale_ the jest
By my relation.’
[i. e. “render flat, deprive it of zest by previous
intimation.” Gifford _ad loc._] And many other
places.” Editor of 1816.
# 392:
_of_] Old ed. “or.”
# 393:
_What_] Old ed. “And _what_.”
# 394:
_ingredience_] Compare p. 88, 1. 14. Old ed.
“ingredian.”
# 396:
_beholding_] See note, p. 40.
# 397:
_your castle_] “He [Vermandero] being Captain of the
castle of that City [Alicant].” Reynolds’s _Triumphs
of God’s Revenge against Murther_, p. 34, ed. 1726.—
See note, p. 205.
# 398:
_promonts_] i. e. promontories.
# 399:
_iulan down_] i. e. the first tender down (Gr.
ἴουλος)—a somewhat pedantic expression. Old ed. has
“Julan;” and the editor of 1816, thinking that the
word was a dissyllable, and that it contained an
allusion to the beard of the emperor _Julian_, printed
“[the] Julan,” &c.
# 400:
_Whose death I had reveng’d_, &c. “Boyling thus in the
heat of his youthful blood, and contemplating often on
the death of his father, he [Alsemero] resolves to go
to Validolyd, and to imploy some Grandee either to the
King or the Duke of Lerma his great favourit, to
procure him a Captains place and a Company under the
Arch-Duke Albertus, who at that time made bloody Wars
against the Netherlands, thereby to draw them to
obedience: But as he began this sute, a general truce
of both sides laid aside Arms, which (by the mediation
of England and France) was shortly followed by a
peace, as a Mother by the Daughter; which was
concluded at the Hague by his Excellency of Nassaw and
Marquess Spinold, being chief Commissioners of either
party.” Reynolds’s _Triumphs of God’s Revenge against
Murther_, p. 34, ed. 1726.—See note, p. 205.
# 401:
_this_] Qy. “his.”
# 402:
_toy_] i. e. trifle.
# 403:
_Aligant_] i. e. Alicant: compare vol. iii. p. 8, and
note.
# 404:
_murderers_] The same as _murdering-pieces_: see note,
vol. iii. p. 466.
# 405:
_pelt_] i.e. skin.
# 406:
_Assure_] Old ed. “Assures.”
# 407:
_these_] Old ed. “this.”
# 408:
_Shrewd application_] “The ‘shrewd application’ meant
is, I conceive, to that perpetual jest of the age, the
cuckold’s horns; which Lollio supposes might raise
Alibius’s head above his wife’s.” Editor of 1816.
# 409:
_ward_] i. e. guard—(in fencing).
# 410:
_pluck a rose_] See Grose’s _Class. Dict. of Vulgar
Tongue_, in v. _Pluck_.
# 411:
_the_] Old ed. “his.”
# 412:
_able_] i. e. warrant, answer for.
# 413:
_what state_] “i. e. as a keeper of fools and madmen.”
Editor of 1816.
# 414:
_true_] “i. e. honest.” Editor of 1816.
# 415:
_go_] Old ed. “goes.”
# 416:
_parlous_] A corruption of _perilous_,—dangerously
shrewd.
# 417:
_we three_] “Antonio probably alludes to the old sign
of _two_ idiots' heads, with an inscription,
_We three_
Loggerheads be.” Editor of 1816.—
Perhaps the allusion is to some song.
# 418:
_crag_] i. e. neck.
# 419:
_go_] Old ed. “goes.”
# 420:
_wire_] i. e. whip.
# 421:
_parmasant_] i. e. Parmesan cheese: compare Ford’s
_Works_, vol. i. p. 148, ed. Giff.
# 422:
_plucks_] Old ed. “pluckt”
# 423:
_Garden-bull_] The allusion is to Paris Garden in
Southwark, where both bears and bulls were baited.
# 424:
_their_] So the editor of 1816. Old ed. “his.”
# 425:
_She helps_, &c.] “The reading of the quartos [there
is but one 4to: see note, p. 205]—
“She helps to get ’em for him, _in his passions_, and
how dangerous”—
not only destroys the measure, but obscures the
sense.” Editor of 1816.—See notes 241 and 244, vol.
ii. p. 134.
# 426:
_and_] i. e. if.
# 427:
_bring_] Old ed. “brings.”
# 428:
_condition_] i. e. quality.
# 429:
_prun’d yourself_] i. e. beautified yourself, improved
your looks. Birds (hawks especially) are said to
_prune_ themselves when they pick, oil, and set in
order their feathers.
# 430:
_so amorously_] i. e. so much an object of love.
Compare _Epigrams and Satyres_, by Richard Middleton,
1608;
“Longato _amorous_ in his Maias eie,” &c. P. 3.
# 431:
_amber_] i.e. ambergris.
# 432:
[_hands_] So the editor of 1816: but, perhaps, the
author considered “cure” as a dissyllable.
# 433:
_We shall try you_, &c.
...
_You are too quick, sir_] So these speeches are
arranged by
the editor of 1816: but, perhaps, the following
disposition of the lines is preferable;
“BEAT. We shall try you: O my De Flores!
DE F. How’s that?
She calls me hers already, _my_ De Flores!—
[_Aside._
You were about to sigh out somewhat, madam?
BEAT. No, was I? I forgot,—O!—
DE F. There ’tis again,
The very fellow on’t.
BEAT. You are too quick, sir.”
# 434:
_There’s no excuse_, &c.] The editor of 1816, by the
insertion of a syllable, has given a perhaps more
musical arrangement of this speech: but he did not
perceive that the conclusion of it, “beat at your
bosom,” was evidently intended to make up a line with
“Would creation.”
# 435:
[_De Flores_] So the editor of 1816.
# 436:
_In the act-time_, &c.] i. e. while the music
plays before the commencement of the act, &c. This
circumstance is taken from the “history,” where
the murder of Alonzo (there called Alfonso) is
thus narrated: “Whiles Piracquo is at dinner with
Vermandero, De Flores is providing of a bloody banquet
in the East Casemate; where of purpose he goes and
hides a naked Sword and Ponyard behind the door. Now
dinner being ended, Piracquo finds out De Flores, and
summons him of his promise; who tells him he is ready
to wait on him: so away they go from the Walls to the
Ravelins, Sconces, and Bulwarks, and from thence by a
Postern to the Ditches; and so, in again to the
Casemates, whereof they have already viewed three, and
are now going to the last, which is the Theater
whereon we shall presently see acted a mournful and
bloody Tragedy. At the descent hereof De Flores
puts off his Rapier, and leaves it behind him;
treacherously informing Piracquo that the descent is
narrow and craggy. See here the Policy and Villany of
this devillish and treacherous Miscreant. Piracquo,
not doubting nor dreaming of any Treason, follows his
example, and so casts off his Rapier: De Flores leads
the way, and he follows him; but alas! poor Gentleman,
he shall never return with his life. They enter the
Vault of the Casemate, De Flores opens the door, and
throws it back, thereby to hide his Sword and Ponyard:
he stoops and looks thorow a Port-hole, and tells him
that that Peece doth thorowly scour the Ditch.
Piracquo stoops likewise down to view it, when (O
grief to think thereon) De Flores steps for his
Weapons, and with his Ponyard stabs him thorow the
back, and swiftly redoubling blow upon blow kills him
dead at his feet, and without going farther, buries
him there, right under the ruins of an old wall,
whereof that Casemate was built.” Reynolds’s _Triumphs
of God’s Revenge against Murther_, p. 40, ed. 1726.
# 437:
_Scene II. A vault_] Old ed. has only (after the words
“Lead, I'll follow thee,”) “_Ex. at one door and enter
at the other._” See note, p. 195.
# 438:
_approve_] i.e. prove the performance of.
# 439:
_proper_] i. e. handsome.
# 440:
_proper_] See note, p. 244.
# 441:
_prophet_] Old ed. “poet.”
# 442:
_we’ll beat the bush, and kick the dog_] “The quartos
[there is but one 4to: see note, p. 205] read, 'we’ll
kick the dog, and beat the bush:' the transposition
will, I think, be approved.” Editor of 1816.
# 443:
_lycanthropi_] i. e. frenzied persons labouring under
the delusion that they are turned into wolves: see the
description in Webster’s _Duchess of Malfi—Works_,
vol. i. p. 290, and my note there.
# 444:
_walk_] Old ed. “walks.”
# 445:
_aunt? Yes, ’tis one of ’em_] See note, vol. iii. p.
16.
# 446:
_nigget_] _Nidget_, or _nigeot_—i. e. idiot.
# 447:
_bauble_] The sceptre of the licensed fool: see
Douce’s _Illust. of Shak._, vol, ii. p. 318, and
plates.
# 448:
_parlous_] See note, p. 225.
# 449:
_he_] Old ed. “she.”
# 450:
_the last couple in hell_] “The allusion here is to
the game of barley-break.” Editor of 1816.—See note,
vol. iii. p. 114.
# 451:
_Lipsius_] Is it necessary to notice that the name of
this great scholar is introduced merely for the sake
of its first syllable?
# 452:
_way_] Old ed. “wayes.”
# 453: