_A Street._
_Enter_ Sir HUBERT, Sir LIONEL, TYSEFEW, FRANCESCHINA,
_and three with halberds_.
_Sir Hub._ Plant a watch there! be very careful, sirs;
the rest with us.
_Tyse._ The heavy night grows to her depth of quiet;
'Tis about mid-darkness.
_Fra._ Mine shambre is hard by; ick sall bring you to
it presantment.
_Sir Lio._ Deep silence! On!
[_Exeunt._
_Coc._ (_within_). Wa, ha, ho!
_Enter_ MULLIGRUB.
_Mul._ It was his voice, 'tis he: he sups with his
cupping-glasses. 'Tis late; he must pass this way: I'll
ha' him--I'll ha' my fine boy, my worshipful Cocledemoy;
I'll moy him; he shall be hang'd in lousy
linen; I'll hire some sectary to make him an heretic
before he die; and when he is dead I'll piss on his
grave. 15
_Enter_ COCLEDEMOY.
_Coc._ Ah, my fine punks, good night, Frank Frailty,
Frail o' Frail-hall! _Bonus noches, my ubiquitari._
_Mul._ Ware polling and shaving, sir.
_Coc._ A wolf, a wolf, a wolf!
[_Exit_ COCLEDEMOY, _leaving his cloak behind him_.
_Mul._ Here's something yet, a cloak, a cloak! Yet
I'll after; he cannot 'scape the watch; I'll hang him if
I have any mercy. I'll slice him.
[_Exit._
_Enter three_ Constables; _to them_ COCLEDEMOY.
_1st Con._ Who goes there? Come before the constable. 24
_Coc._ Bread o' God! constable, you are a watch for
the devil. Honest men are robb'd under your nose;
there's a false knave in the habit of a vintner set upon
me; he would have had my purse, but I took me to my
heels: yet he got my cloak, a plain stuff cloak, poor,
yet 'twill serve to hang him. 'Tis my loss, poor man
that I am! 31
[_Exit._
_Enter_ MULLIGRUB _running with_ COCLEDEMOY'S _cloak_.
_2d Con._ Masters, we must watch better; is't not
strange that knaves, drunkards, and thieves should be
abroad, and yet we of the watch, scriveners, smiths, and
tailors, never stir?
_1st Con._ Hark, who goes there?
_Mul._ An honest man and a citizen.
_2d Con._ Appear, appear; what are you?
_Mul._ A simple vintner.
_1st Con._ A vintner ha! and simple; draw nearer,
nearer; here's the cloak. 41
_2d Con._ Ay, Master Vintner, we know you: a plain
stuff cloak; 'tis it.
_1st Con._ Right, come! O thou varlet, dost not thou
know that the wicked cannot 'scape the eyes of the
constable?
_Mul._ What means this violence? As I am an honest
man I took the cloak----
_1st Con._ As you are a knave, you took the cloak, we
are your witnesses for that. 50
_Mul._ But, hear me, hear me! I'll tell you what I am.
_2d Con._ A thief you are.
_Mul._ I tell you my name is Mulligrub.
_1st Con._ I will grub you. In with him to the stocks;
there let him sit till to-morrow morning, that Justice
Quodlibet may examine him.
_Mul._ Why, but I tell thee----
_2d Con._ Why, but I tell thee, we'll tell thee now.
_Mul._ Am I not mad? am I not an ass? Why, scabs,
God's-foot! let me out. 60
_2d Con._ Ay, ay, let him prate; he shall find matter
in us scabs, I warrant: God's-so, what good members
of the commonwealth do we prove!
_1st Con._ Prithee, peace; let's remember our duties,
and let's[88] go sleep, in the fear of God.
[_Exeunt, having left_ MULLIGRUB _in the stocks_.
_Mul._ Who goes there? Illo, ho, ho: zounds, shall I
run mad--lose my wits! Shall I be hang'd? Hark;
who goes there? Do not fear to be poor, Mulligrub;
thou hast a sure stock now.
_Re-enter_ COCLEDEMOY _like a bellman_.
_Coc._ The night grows old, 70
And many a cuckold
Is now--Wha, ha, ha, ho!
Maids on their backs
Dream of sweet smacks,
And warm--Wo, ho, ho, ho!
I must go comfort my venerable Mulligrub, I must
fiddle him till he fist.[89] Fough!
Maids in your night-rails,
Look well to your light--
Keep close your locks, 80
And down your smocks;
Keep a broad eye,
And a close thigh.
Excellent, excellent! Who's there? Now, Lord, Lord--Master
Mulligrub--deliver us! what does your worship
in the stocks? I pray come out, sir.
_Mul._ Zounds, man, I tell thee I am lock'd!
_Coc._ Lock'd! O world! O men! O time! O night!
that canst not discern virtue and wisdom, and one of
the common council! What is your worship in for? 90
_Mul._ For (a plague on't) suspicion of felony.
_Coc._ Nay, and it be such a trifle, Lord, I could weep,
to see your good worship in this taking. Your worship
has been a good friend to me, and tho' you have forgot
me, yet I knew your wife before she was married, and
since I have found your worship's door open, and I
have knock'd, and God knows what I have saved: and
do I live to see your worship stocked?
_Mul._ Honest bellman, I perceive
Thou knowest me: I prithee call the watch. 100
Inform the constable of my reputation,
That I may no longer abide in this shameful habitation,
And hold thee all I have about me.
[_Gives him his purse._
_Coc._ 'Tis more than I deserve, sir: let me alone for
your delivery.
_Mul._ Do, and then let me alone with Cocledemoy.
I'll moy him!
_Re-enter the_ Constables.
_Coc._ Maids in your----
Master Constable, whose that ith' stocks?
_1st Con._ One for a robbery: one Mulligrub, he calls
himself. Mulligrub? Bellman, knowest thou him? 111
_Coc._ Know him! O, Master Constable, what good
service have you done! Know him? He's a strong
thief; his house has been suspected for a bawdy tavern
a great while, and a receipt for cut-purses, 'tis most
certain. He has been long in the black book, and is he
ta'en now?
_2d Con._ By'r lady, my masters, we'll not trust the
stocks with him, we'll have him to the justices, get a
_mittimus_ to Newgate presently. Come, sir, come on,
sir. 121
_Mul._ Ha! does your rascalship yet know my worship
in the end?
_1st Con._ Ay, the end of your worship we know.
_Mul._ Ha! goodman constable, here's an honest fellow
can tell you what I am?
_2d Con._ 'Tis true, sir; y'are a strong thief, he says,
on his own knowledge. Bind fast, bind fast! we know
you. We'll trust no stocks with you. Away with him
to the jail instantly. 130
_Mul._ Why, but dost hear? Bellman, rogue, rascal!
God's--why, but--
[_The Constables drag away_ MULLIGRUB.
_Coc._ Why, but! wha, ha, ha! excellent, excellent!
ha, my fine Cocledemoy, my vintner fists. I'll make
him fart crackers before I ha' done with him; to-morrow
is the day of judgment. Afore the Lord God, my
knavery grows unperegall;[90] 'tis time to take a nap, until
half an hour hence. God give your worship music,
content, and rest.
[_Exit._
[88] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "let."
[89] See note, p. 42. [Transcriber's note: Footnote [46]]
[90] Unequalled.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
_Franceschina's lodging._
_Enter_ FRANCESCHINA, Sir _LIONEL_, TYSEFEW, _with
Officers_.
_Fra._ You bin very velcom to mine shambra.
_Sir Lio._ But, how know ye, how are ye assured,
Both of the deed, and of his sure return?
_Fra._ O min-here, ick sall tell you. Metre Malheureux
came all bretless running a my shambra, his sword all
bloudy: he tel a me he had kil Freevill, and pred a me
to conceal him. Ick flatter him, bid bring monies, he
should live and lie vid me. He went, whilst ick (me
hope vidout sins), out of mine mush love to Freevill,
betray him. 10
_Sir Lio._ Fear not, 'tis well: good works get grace for
sin.
[_She conceals them behind the curtain._
_Fra._ Dere, peace, rest dere; so, softly, all go in.--
De net is lay, now sal ick be revenge.
If dat me knew a dog dat Freevill love,
Me would puisson him; for know de deepest hell
As a revenging woman's naught so fell.
_Enter_ MARY FAUGH.
_Mar._ Ho! Cousin Frank, the party you wot of,
Master Malheureux--
_Fra._ Bid him come up, I prede.
[_Cantat saltatque cum cithara._
_Enter_ MALHEUREUX.
_Fra._ O min-here man, a dere liver love, 20
Mine ten tousant times velcom love!
Ha! by mine trat, you bin de just--vat sall me say?
Vat seet honie name sall I call you?
_Mal._ Any from you
Is pleasure. Come, my loving prettiness,
Where's thy chamber? I long to touch your sheets.
_Fra._ No, no, not yet, mine seetest soft-lipp'd love,
You sall not gulp down all delights at once.
Be min trat, dis all-fles-lovers, dis ravenous wenchers[91]
dat sallow all down hole, vill have all at one bit; fie, fie,
fie! be min fait, dey do eat comfets vid spoons. 31
No, no, I'll make you chew your pleasure vit love;
De more degrees and steps, de more delight,
De more endearèd is de pleasure height.
_Mal._ What, you're a learn'd wanton, and proceed by art?
_Fra._ Go, little vag, pleasure should have a crane's long
neck, to relish de ambrosia of delight. And ick pre de
tell me, for me loves to hear of manhood very mush,
i'fait: ick prede--vat vas me a saying? Oh, ick prede
tell a me how did you killa Metre Freevill? 40
_Mal._ Why, quarrelled o' set purpose, drew him out,
Singled him, and, having the advantage
Of my sword and might, ran him through and through.
_Fra._ Vat did you vid him van he was sticken?
_Mal._ I dragg'd him by the heels to the next wharf,
And spurn'd him in the river.
[_Those in ambush rusheth forth and take him._
_Sir Lio._ Seize, seize him!
O monstrous! O ruthless villain!
_Mal._ What mean you, gentlemen? By heaven----
_Tyse._ Speak not of anything that's good. 49
_Mal._ Your errors gives you passion: Freevill lives.
_Sir Lio._ Thy own lips say thou liest.
_Mal._ Let me die, if at Shatewe's the jeweller he lives
not safe untouch'd.
_Tyse._ Meantime to strictest guard, to sharpest prison.
_Mal._ No rudeness, gentlemen: I'll go undragg'd.
O, wicked, wicked devil!
[_Exit._
_Sir Lio._ Sir, the day of trial is this morn; let's prosecute
The sharpest rigour and severest end:
Good men are cruel when they're vice's friend.
_Sir Hub._ Woman, we thank thee with no empty hand;
Strumpets are fit[92] for something. Farewell. 61
[_All save_ Young FREEVILL _depart_.
_Free._ Ay, for hell!
O, thou unreprievable, beyond all
Measure of grace damn'd irremediably![93]
That things of beauty created for sweet use,
Soft comfort, as[94] the very music of life,
Custom should make so unutterably[95] hellish!
O, heaven!
What difference is in women and their life!
What man, but worthy name of man, would leave 70
The modest pleasures of a lawful bed--
The holy union of two equal hearts
Mutually holding either dear as health--
Th' undoubted issues, joys of chaste sheets,
Th' unfeign'd embrace of sober ignorance--
To twine th' unhealthful loins of common loves,
The prostituted impudence of things,
Senseless like those by cataracts of Nile,
Their use so vile takes away sense! How vile
To love a creature made of blood and hell, 80
Whose use makes weak, whose company doth shame,
Whose bed doth beggar, issue doth defame!
_Re-enter_ FRANCESCHINA.
_Fra._ Metre Freevill live? ha, ha, live at Mestre
Shatewe's! Mush[96] at Metre Shatewe's! Freevill is dead,
Malheureux sall hang: and, sweet divel, dat Beatrice
would but run mad, dat she would but run mad! den me
would dance and sing. Metre Don Dubon, me pre ye
now go to Mestres Beatrice. Tell her Freevill is sure
dead, and dat he curse herself especially, for dat he was
sticked in her quarrel, swearing in his last gasp, dat if it
had bin in mine quarrels 'twould never have grieved him.
_Free._ I will. 92
_Fra._ Prede do, and say any ting dat vil vex her.
_Free._ Let me alone to vex her.
_Fra._ Vil you, vil you mak a her run mad? Here,
take dis ring, see me scorn to wear anyting dat was hers
or his. I prede torment her, ick cannot love her; she
honest and virtuous, forsooth!
_Free._ Is she so? O vile creature! then let me alone
with her. 100
_Fra._ Vat, vil you mak a her mad? seet, by min trat,
be pretta servan; bush,[97] ick sall go to bet now.
[_Exit._
_Free._ Mischief, whither wilt thou? O thou tearless woman!
How monstrous is thy devil,
The end of hell as thee!
How miserable were it to be virtuous,
If thou couldst prosper!
I'll to my love, the faithful Beatrice;
She has wept enough, and faith, dear soul, too much.
But yet how sweet is it to think how dear 110
One's life was to his love: how mourn'd his death!
'Tis joy not to be express'd with breath:
But O let him that would such passion drink,
Be quiet of his speech, and only think!
[_Exit._
[91] Old eds. "wenches."
[92] Ed. 1. "fit, fit."
[93] Old eds. "immediatlie."
[94] Ed. 1. "and as."
[95] Ed. 2. "vnutterable."
[96] Ironical exclamation.
[97] _i.e._, buss (kiss).
SCENE II.
BEATRICE'S _chamber_.
_Enter_ BEATRICE _and_ CRISPINELLA.
_Bea._ Sister, cannot a woman kill herself? is it not
lawful to die when we should not live?
_Cri._ O sister, 'tis a question not for us; we must do
what God will.
_Bea._ What God will? Alas, can torment be His
glory, or our grief His pleasure! Does not the nurse's
nipple, juiced over with wormwood, bid the child it
should not suck? And does not Heaven, when it hath
made our breath bitter unto us, say we should not live?
O my best sister, 10
To suffer wounds when one may 'scape this rod
Is against nature, that is against God!
_Cri._ Good sister,
Do not make me weep; sure Freevill was not false.
I'll gage my life that strumpet, out of craft
And some close second end, hath maliced[98] him.
_Bea._ O sister! if he were not false, whom have I lost?
If he were, what grief to such unkindness!
From head to foot I am all misery;
Only in this, some justice I have found-- 20
My grief is like my love, beyond all bound.
_Enter_ NURSE.
_Nur._ My servant, Master Caqueteur, desires to visit
you.
_Cri._ For grief's sake keep him out; his discourse is
like the long word _Honorificabilitudinitatibus_,[99] a great
deal of sound and no sense: his company is like a
parenthesis to a discourse,--you may admit it, or leave
it out, it makes no matter.
_Enter_ FREEVILL _in his disguise_.
_Free._ By your leave, sweet creatures.
_Cri._ Sir, all I can yet say of you is, you are uncivil.
_Free._ You must deny it. By your sorrow's leave, 31
I bring some music to make sweet your grief.
_Bea._ Whate'er you please. O break my heart!
Canst thou yet pant? O dost thou yet survive?
Thou didst not love him if thou now canst live!
FREEVILL _sings_.[100]
_O Love, how strangely sweet
Are thy weak passions!
That love and joy should meet
In self-same fashions!
O who can tell 40
The cause why this should move?
But only this,--
No reason ask of Love!_
[BEATRICE _swounds_.[101]
_Cri._ Hold, peace!--the gentlest soul is sownd. O
my best sister!
_Free._ Ha, get you gone, close the doors! My Beatrice!
[_Discovers himself._
Cursed be my indiscreet trials! O my immeasurably
loving--
_Cri._ She stirs, give air, she breathes!
_Bea._ Where am I? Ha! how have I slipp'd off life?
Am I in heaven? O my lord, though not loving, 51
By our eternal being, yet give me leave
To rest by thy dear[102] side! Am I not in heaven?
_Free._ O eternally much loved,[103] recollect your spirits!
_Bea._ Ha, you do speak! I do see you, I do live!
I would not die now: let me not burst with wonder.
_Free._ Call up your blood; I live to honour you
As the admired glory of your sex.
Nor ever hath my love been false to you;
Only I presum'd to try your faith too much, 60
For which I most am grieved.
_Cri._ Brother, I must be plain with you, you have
wrong'd us.
_Free._ I am not so covetous to deny it;
But yet, when my discourse hath stay'd your quaking,
You will be smoother lipp'd; and the delight
And satisfaction which we all have got,
Under these strange disguisings, when you know,
You will be mild and quiet, forget at last:
It is much joy to think on sorrows past.
_Bea._ Do you then live? and are you not untrue? 70
Let me not die with joy; pleasure's more extreme
Than grief; there's nothing sweet to man but mean.
_Free._ Heaven cannot be too gracious to such goodness.
I shall discourse to you the several chances;
But hark, I must yet rest disguis'd;
The sudden close of many drifts now meet:
Where pleasure hath some profit, art is sweet.
_Enter_ TYSEFEW.
_Tyse._ News, news, news, news!
_Cri._ Oysters, oysters, oysters, oysters! 79
_Tyse._ Why, is not this well now? Is not this better
than louring and pouting and puling, which is hateful to
the living and vain to the dead? Come, come, you must
live by the quick, when all is done; and for my own part,
let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, so she'll smile
upon me whilst I live: but to see a woman whine, and
yet keep her eyes dry: mourn, and yet keep her cheeks
fat: nay, to see a woman claw her husband by the feet
when he is dead, that would have scratched him by
the face when he was living--this now is somewhat
ridiculous. 90
_Cri._ Lord, how you prate.
_Tyse._ And yet I was afraid, i'faith, that I should ha'
seen a garland on this beauty's hearse; but time, truth,
experience, and variety, are great doers with women.
_Cri._ But what's the news?--the news, I pray you?
_Tyse._ I pray you? ne'er pray me: for by your leave
you may command me. This 'tis:
The public sessions, which this day is past,
Hath doom'd to death ill-fortuned Malheureux.
_Cri._ But, sir, we heard he offer'd to make good, 100
That Freevill lived at Shatewe's the jeweller's----
_Bea._ And that 'twas but a plot betwixt them two.
_Tyse._ O, ay, ay, he gaged his life with it; but know,
When all approach'd the test, Shatewe[104] denied
He saw or heard of any such complot,
Or of Freevill; so that his own defence
Appeared so false, that, like a madman's sword,
He stroke his own heart; he hath the course of law,
And instantly must suffer. But the jest
(If hanging be a jest, as many make it) 110
Is to take notice of one Mulligrub,
A sharking vintner.
_Free._ What of him, sir?
_Tyse._ Nothing but hanging: the whoreson slave is mad
before he hath lost his senses.
_Free._ Was his fact[105] clear and made apparent, sir?
_Tyse._ No, faith, suspicious; for 'twas thus protested:
A cloak was stol'n; that cloak he had; he had it,
Himself confess'd, by force; the rest of his defence
The choler of a justice wronged in wine, 120
Join'd with malignance of some hasty jurors,
Whose wit was lighted by the justice' nose;
The knave was cast.
But, Lord, to hear his moan, his prayers, his wishes,
His zeal ill-timèd, and his words unpitied,
Would make a dead man rise and smile,
Whilst he observed how fear can make men vile.
_Cri._ Shall we go meet the execution?
_Bea._ I shall be ruled by you.
_Tyse._ By my troth, a rare motion;[106] you must haste,
For malefactors goes like the world, upon wheels. 130
_Bea._ Will you man us? You shall be our guide.
[_To_[107] FREEVILL.
_Free._ I am your servant.
_Tyse._ Ha, servant? Zounds, I am no companion for
panders! you're best make him your love.
_Bea._ So will I, sir; we must live by the quick, you say.
_Tyse._ 'Sdeath o' virtue! what a damn'd thing's this!
Who'll trust fair faces, tears, and vows? 'Sdeath! not I.
She is a woman,--that is,--she can lie.
_Cri._ Come, come, turn not a man of time,[108] to make all ill
Whose goodness you conceive not, since the worst of chance 140
Is to crave grace for heedless ignorance.
[_Exeunt._
[98] See note 1, p. 40. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [44]]
[99] This word, which occurs in _Love's Labour Lost_ (and in
several old plays), was invented long before Shakespeare's time.
See Dyce's _Shakesp. Glossary_.
[100] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "_He sings, she sounds._"
[101] Swoons. (The stage direction is from ed. 2.)
[102] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "dead."
[103] Ed. 1. "laved."
[104] Ed. 1. "Shatews."
[105] Guilt.
[106] Proposal.
[107] The stage direction is printed as part of the text in old
eds.
[108] The text seems to be corrupt.
SCENE III.
_A Public Place._
_Enter_ COCLEDEMOY, _like a sergeant_.
_Coc._ So, I ha' lost my sergeant in an ecliptic mist,
drunk! horrible drunk! he is fine. So now will I fit
myself; I hope this habit will do me no harm; I am an
honest man already. Fit, fit, fit, as a punk's tail, that
serves everybody. By this time my vintner thinks of
nothing but hell and sulphur; he farts fire and brimstone
already. Hang toasts! the execution approacheth.
_Enter_ Sir LIONEL, Sir HUBERT; MALHEUREUX, _pinioned_;
TYSEFEW, BEATRICE, FREEVILL, CRISPINELLA, FRANCESCHINA,
_and halberds_.
_Mal._ I do not blush, although condemned by laws;
No kind of death is shameful but the cause,
Which I do know is none; and yet my lust 10
Hath made the one (although not cause) most just.
May I not be reprieved? Freevill is but mislodg'd;
Some lethargy hath seiz'd him--no, much malice;
Do not lay blood upon your souls with good intents;
Men may do ill, and law sometime repents.
[COCLEDEMOY _picks_ MALHEUREUX' _pocket
of his purse_.
_Sir Lio._ Sir, sir, prepare; vain is all lewd defence.
_Mal._ Conscience was law, but now law's conscience.
My endless peace is made; and to the poor,--
My purse, my purse!
_Coc._ Ay, sir; and it shall please you, the poor has
your purse already. 21
_Mal._ You[109] are a wily[110] man.
--But now, thou source of devils, oh, how I loathe
The very memory of that I adored!
He that's of fair blood, well mien'd, of good breeding,
Best famed, of sweet acquaintance, and true friends,
And would with desperate impudence lose all these,
And hazard landing at this fatal shore,--
Let him ne'er kill, nor steal, but love a whore.
_Fra._ De man does rave; tinck a got, tinck a got, and
bid de flesh, de world, and the dible, farewell. 31
_Mal._ Farewell!
_Free._ Farewell!
[FREEVILL _discovers himself_.
_Fra._ Vat ist you see?--Hah!
_Free._ Sir, your pardon, with my this defence:
Do not forget protested violence
Of your low affections: no requests,
No arguments of reason, no known danger,
No assured wicked bloodiness,
Could draw your heart from this damnation. 40
_Mal._ Why, stay!
_Fra._ Unprosperous devil, vat sall me do now?
_Free._ Therefore, to force you from the truer danger,
I wrought the feignèd; suffering this fair devil
In shape of woman to make good her plot:
And, knowing that the hook was deeply fast,
I gave her line at will, till, with her own vain strivings,
See here she's tired. O thou comely damnation!
Dost think that vice is not to be withstood?
O what is woman, merely made of blood! 50
_Sir Lio._ You maze us all; let us not be lost in darkness!
_Free._ All shall be lighted; but this time and place
Forbids longer speech; only what you can think
Has been extremely ill, is only hers.
_Sir Lio._ To severest prison with her! With what heart canst live--
What eyes behold a face?
_Fra._ Ick vil not speak; torture, torture your fill,
For me am worse than hang'd; me ha' lost my will.
[_Exit_ FRANCESCHINA _with the guard_.
_Sir Lio._ To the extremest whip and jail.
_Free._ Frolic, how is it, sirs? 60
_Mal._ I am myself. How long was't ere I could
Persuade my passion to grow calm to you!
Rich sense makes good bad language, and a friend
Should weigh no action, but the action's end.
I am now worthy yours; when before
The beast of man, loose blood, distemper'd us:
He that lust rules cannot be virtuous.
_Enter_ MULLIGRUB, Mistress MULLIGRUB, _and Officers_.
_Off._ On afore there! room for the prisoners!
_Mul._ I pray you do not lead me to execution through
Cheapside. I owe Master Burnish, the goldsmith,
money, and I fear he'll set a sergeant on my back for it.
_Coc._ Trouble not your sconce, my Christian brothers,
but have an eye unto the main chance. I will warrant
your shoulders; as for your neck, _Plinius Secundus_, or
_Marcus Tullius Cicero_, or somebody it is, says that a
threefold cord is hardly broken. 75
_Mul._ Well, I am not the first honest man that hath
been cast away; and I hope shall not be the last.
_Coc._ O, sir, have a good stomach and maws; you shall
have a joyful supper.
_Mul._ In troth I have no stomach to it; and it please
you, take my trencher; I use to fast at nights. 81
_Mistress Mul._ O husband! I little thought you should
have come to think on God thus soon;[111] nay, and you
had been hang'd deservedly it would never have grieved
me; I have known of many honest innocent men have
been hang'd deservedly: but to be cast away for nothing!
_Coc._ Good woman, hold your peace, your prittles and
your prattles, your bibbles and your babbles; for I pray
you hear me in private: I am a widower, and you are
almost a widow; shall I be welcome to your houses, to
your tables, and your other things? 92
_Mistress Mul._ I have a piece of mutton and a featherbed
for you at all times; I pray make haste.
_Mul._ I do here make my confession: if I owe any
man anything, I do heartily forgive him; if any man
owe me anything, let him pay my wife.
_Coc._ I will look to your wife's payment, I warrant
you.
_Mul._ And now, good yoke-fellow, leave thy poor
Mulligrub. 101
_Mistress Mul._ Nay, then I were unkind; i'faith I will
not leave you until I have seen you hang.
_Coc._ But brother,[112] brother, you must think of your
sins and iniquities; you have been a broacher of profane
vessels; you have made us drink of the juice of the whore
of Babylon: for whereas good ale, perrys, bragots,[113]
cyders, and metheglins, was the true ancient British and
Troyan drinks, you ha' brought in Popish wines, Spanish
wines, French wines, _tam Marti quam Mercurio_, both muscadine
and malmsey, to the subversion, staggering, and
sometimes overthrow of many a good Christian. You
ha' been a great jumbler; O remember the sins of your
nights! for your night works ha' been unsavoury in the
taste of your customers. 115
_Mul._ I confess, I confess; and I forgive as I would
be forgiven. Do you know one Cocledemoy?
_Coc._ O very well. Know him!--an honest man he is,
and a comely; an upright dealer with his neighbours,
and their wives speak good things of him. 120
_Mul._ Well, wheresoe'er he is, or whatsoe'er he is, I'll
take it on my death he's the cause of my hanging. I
heartily forgive him, and if he would come forth he
might save me; for he only knows the why and the
wherefore.
_Coc._ You do, from your hearts and midrifs and entrails,
forgive him then? you will not let him rot in rusty irons,
procure him to be hang'd in lousy linen without a song,
and after he is dead piss on his grave?
_Mul._ That hard heart of mine has procured all this;
but I forgive as I would be forgiven. 131
_Coc._ [_Discovering himself_] Hang toasts, my worshipful
Mulligrub. Behold thy Cocledemoy, my fine vintner;
my castrophomical fine boy; behold and see!
_Tyse._ Bliss o' the blessed, who would but look for
two knaves here?
_Coc._ No knave, worshipful friend, no knave; for observe,
honest Cocledemoy restores whatsoever he has
got, to make you know that whatsoever he has done,
has been only _euphoniæ gratia_--for wit's sake. I
acquit this vintner, as he has acquitted me; all has
been done for emphasis of wit, my fine boy, my worshipful
friends.
_Tyse._ Go, you are a flatt'ring knave. 143
_Coc._ I am so; 'tis a good thriving trade; it comes
forward better than the seven liberal sciences, or the
nine cardinal virtues; which may well appear in this,
you shall never have flattering knave turn courtier.
And yet I have read of many courtiers that have turned
flattering knaves.
_Sir Hub._ Was't even but so? why, then all's well. 150
_Mul._ I could even weep for joy.
_Mistress Mul._ I could weep too, but God knows for
what!
_Tyse._ Here's another tack to be given--your son and
daughter.
_Sir Hub._ Is't possible? heart, ay, all my heart; will
you be joined here?
_Tyse._ Yes, faith, father; marriage and hanging are
spun both in one hour.
_Coc._ Why, then, my worshipful good friends, I bid
myself most heartily welcome to your merry nuptials
and wanton jigga-joggies.--And now, my very fine
Heliconian gallants, and you, my worshipful friends in
the middle region, 164
If with content our hurtless mirth hath been,
Let your pleased minds at our much care be seen;[114]
For he shall find, that slights such trivial wit,
'Tis easier to reprove than better it.
We scorn to fear, and yet we fear to swell;
We do not hope 'tis best,--'tis all, if well. 170
[_Exeunt._
[109] Ed. 1. "Thou art."
[110] Old eds. "Welyman" and "wely-man."
[111] The reader will be reminded of Mistress Quickly's
description of Falstaff's last moments:--"'How now, Sir John,'
quoth I, 'what, man! be o' good cheer.' So a' cried out 'God,
God, God!' three or four times. Now I to comfort him, bid him a'
should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble
himself with any such thoughts yet."
[112] Old eds. "brothers, brothers."
[113] _Bragot_ was the name of a sort of mead, once popular in
Wales and in the West of England. See Nares' _Glossary_, s.
BRAGGET.
[114] Ed. 1. "as our much care _hath bin_." Ed. 2. "_as_ our much
care be seene."
THE FAWN.
_Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Hath Bene Divers times presented
at the blacke Friars, by the Children of the Queenes Maiesties
Reuels. Written by Iohn Marston. At London Printed by T. P. for
W. C._ 1606. 4to.
_Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Hath Bene Divers Times Presented
at the blacke Friars, by the Children of the Queenes Maiesties
Reuels, and since at Powles. Written by Iohn Marston. And now
corrected of many faults, which by reason of the Author's
absence, were let slip in the first edition. At London Printed
by T. P. for W. C._ 1606. 4to.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
Hercules, the widowed Duke of Ferrara, is anxious that his son Tiberio
should marry Dulcimel, daughter of Gonzago, Duke of Urbin; but,
finding that he cannot persuade his son to marriage, he declares that
he will himself marry Dulcimel. Tiberio is sent to the Court of Urbin
to negotiate on his father's behalf. Hercules follows in disguise to
watch the issue, and attaches himself (under the name of Faunus) to
Tiberio's train at Urbin, where by adroit flattery he quickly gains
the favour of Gonzago and the confidence of the courtiers. Dulcimel
falls in love with Tiberio, and determines to make him her husband.
She imposes on her father, Gonzago, a weak-minded lord with a
boundless belief in his own wisdom, by a pretended discovery of
Tiberio's love to her; and Gonzago, acting throughout under the
impression that he is foiling Tiberio, becomes in the hands of his
witty daughter the instrument by which her project is accomplished.
Taxed by Gonzago with having made love to Dulcimel, Tiberio warmly
denies the charge, but at length he perceives that the lady is making
amorous advances, and his blood is fired. In the courtyard of the
palace grew a plane-tree by which it was possible to ascend to the
window of Dulcimel's bedchamber. Dulcimel informs her father that
Tiberio intended to climb the plane-tree at night and enter her
chamber, and that he had asked her to have a priest to be in readiness
to conduct the marriage service. Gonzago upbraids Tiberio with his
perfidy, and commands him to leave the court before the next morning.
Tiberio asks for an explanation, and Gonzago then repeats what his
daughter had said. Tiberio is not slow to avail himself of Dulcimel's
invitation; he mounts the plane-tree, the priest is ready, and the
marriage is consummated. Gonzago's chagrin is changed to satisfaction
when Hercules, putting off his disguise, expresses his approval of the
match.
Much of the play is devoted to an exposure of the faults and follies
of Gonzago's courtiers. At the close of the fifth act there is holden
a court of Cupid, at which the delinquents are arraigned.
_TO THE EQUAL READER._
I have ever more endeavoured to know myself, than to be known of
others; and rather to be unpartially beloved of all, than factiously
to be admired of a few; yet so powerfully have I been enticed with the
delights of poetry, and (I must ingeniously[115] confess) above better
desert so fortunate in the stage-pleasings, that (let my resolutions
be never so fixed to call mine eyes into myself) I much fear that most
lamentable death of him,
"Qui nimis notus omnibus,
Ignotus moritur sibi."--_Seneca._[116]
But since the over-vehement pursuit of these delights hath been the
sickness of my youth, and now is grown to be the vice of my firmer
age--since to satisfy others, I neglect myself--let it be the courtesy
of my peruser rather to pity my self-hindering labours than to
malice[117] me; and let him be pleased to be my reader, and not my
interpreter, since I would fain reserve that office in my own hands,
it being my daily prayer:--"Absit[118] a jocorum nostrorum
simplicitate malignus interpres."--_Martial._
If any shall wonder why I print a comedy, whose life rests much in the
actor's voice, let such know that it cannot avoid publishing; let it
therefore stand with good excuse that I have been my own setter out.
If any desire to understand the scope of my comedy, know it hath the
same limits which Juvenal gives to his _Satires_:--
"Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est."--_Juvenal._
As for the factious malice and studied detractions of some few that
tread in the same path with me, let all know I most easily neglect
them, and (carelessly slumbering to their vicious endeavours) smile
heartily at their self-hurting baseness. My bosom friend, good
Epictetus, makes me easily to contemn all such men's malice: since
other men's tongues are not within my teeth, why should I hope to
govern them? For mine own interest for once, let this be
printed,--that of men of my own addiction I love most, pity some, hate
none; for let me truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving
them, and surely I shall ever rest so constant to my first affection,
that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous whisperings, never so
treacherously labour to undermine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as
long as I have being) love the least of their graces, and only pity
the greatest of their vices.
And now, to kill envy, know you, that affect to be the only minions of
Phoebus, I am not so blushlessly ambitious as to hope to gain any
the least supreme eminency among you; I affect not only the "'Euge'
tuum et 'Belle!'"[119]--'tis not my fashion to think no writer
virtuously confident that is not swellingly impudent; nor do I labour
to be held the only spirit whose poems may be thought worthy to be
kept in cedar[120] chests:--
"Heliconidasque pallidamque Pyrenen
Illis relinquo quorum imagines lambunt
Hederæ sequaces...."--_Persius._
He that pursues fame shall, for me, without any rival, have breath
enough. I esteem felicity to be a more solid contentment; only let it
be lawful for me, with unaffected modesty and full thought, to end
boldly with that of Persius:--
"Ipse semipaganus
Ad sacra vatum carmen affero nostrum."--_Persius._
JO. MARSTON.
[115] Ed. 3 (_i.e._, the 8vo of 1633) "ingenuously." I have
retained the reading of the earlier eds., as _ingenious_ was
commonly used in the sense of _ingenuous_ (Middleton, iv. 14,
&c.)
[116] _Thyestes_, 402-3.
[117] See note, p. 40.
[Transcriber's Note: Footnote [44]]
[118] From the prose preface to Martial's epigrams.
[119] Persius, _Sat._ i. l. 49.
[120] "Cedro digna locutus."--Persius, _Sat._ i. l. 42.
_TO THE READER._[121]
Reader, know I have perused this copy, to make some satisfaction for
the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my business that
some errors have still passed, which thy discretion may amend.
Comedies are writ to be spoken, not read; remember the life of these
things consists in action; and for such courteous survey of my pen, I
will present a tragedy[122] to you, which shall boldly abide the most
curious perusal.
[121] This note is from the second 4to.
[122] "Sophonisba."--Marginal note in the second 4to.
PROLOGUS.
Let those once know that here with malice lurk,
'Tis base to be too wise in others' work;
The rest sit thus saluted:--
Spectators, know you may, with freest faces,
Behold this scene; for here no rude disgraces
Shall taint a public or a private name;
This pen at viler rate doth value fame,
Than at the price of others' infamy
To purchase it. Let others dare the rope,
Your modest pleasure is our author's scope. 10
The hurdle and the rack to them he leaves
That have naught left to be accompted any,
But by not being; nor doth he hope to win
Your louder hand with that most common sin
Of vulgar pens, rank bawdry, that smells
Even through your masks, _usque ad nauseam_.
The Venus of this scene doth loathe to wear
So vile, so common, so immodest clothings;
But if the nimble form of comedy,
Mere spectacle of life and public manners, 20
May gracefully arrive to your pleased ears,
We boldly dare the utmost death of fears;
For we do know that this most fair-fill'd room
Is loaden with most attic judgments, ablest spirits,
Than whom there are none more exact, full, strong,
Yet none more soft, benign in censuring.
I know there's not one ass in all this presence--
Not one calumnious rascal, or base villain
Of emptiest merit--that would tax and slander,
If innocency herself should write, not one we know't. 30
O you are all the very breath of Phoebus;
In your pleas'd gracings all the true lifeblood
Of our poor author lives,--you are his very grace.
Now if that any wonder why he's drawn
To such base soothings, know his play's--THE FAWN.[123]
[123] _Fawner_, sycophant.--A word coined by Marston.
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._
HERCULES, _Duke of Ferrara, disguised as_ FAUNUS.
GONZAGO, _Duke of Urbin, a weak lord of a self-admiring wisdom_.
TIBERIO, _son to_ HERCULES.
GRANUFFO, _a silent lord_.
Don ZUCCONE, _a causelessly jealous lord_.
Sir AMOROSO DEBILE-DOSSO, _a sickly knight_.
HEROD FRAPPATORE, _brother to_ Sir AMOROSO_._
NYMPHADORO, _a young courtier and a common lover_.
DONDOLO, _a bald fool_.
RENALDO, _brother to_ HERCULES.
DULCIMEL, _daughter to_ GONZAGO.
PHILOCALIA, _an honourable learned lady, companion to the Princess_
DULCIMEL.
Donna ZOYA, _a virtuous, fair, witty lady, wife to_ Don ZUCCONE.
Donna GARBETZA, _wife to_ Sir AMOROSO.
POVEIA, }
DONNETTA, } _two ladies, attendants on_ DULCIMEL.
PUTTOTTA, _a poor laundress of the court that washeth and diets
footmen_.
Pages.
SCENE--URBIN.
THE FAWN.
ACT I.[124]
SCENE I.
_Neighbourhood of Urbin._
_Enter_ HERCULES[125] _and_ RENALDO.
_Herc._ See, yonder's Urbin! Those far-appearing
spires rise from the city. You shall conduct me no
further: return to Ferrara: my dukedom, by your
care in my absence, shall rest constantly united, and
most religiously loyal.
_Ren._ My prince and brother, let my blood and love
Challenge the freedom of one question.
_Herc._ You have't.
_Ren._ Why, in your steadier age, in strength of life
And firmest wit of time, will you break forth 10
Those stricter limits of regardful state
(Which with severe distinction you still kept),
And now to unknown dangers you'll give up
Yourself, Ferrara's duke, and in yourself
The state and us? O, my loved brother!
Honour avoids not only just defame,
But flies all means that may ill voice his name. 17
_Herc._ Busy yourself with no fears, for I shall rest
most wary of our safety; only some glimpses I will give
you for your satisfaction why I leave Ferrara. I have
vowed to visit the court of Urbin in some disguise, as
thus: my son, as you can well witness with me, could
I never persuade to marriage, although myself was then
an ever-resolved widower, and tho' I proposed to him
this very lady, to whom he is gone in my right to
negotiate; now, how[126] cooler blood will behave itself in
this business, would I have an only testimony; other
contents shall I give myself, as not to take love by
attorney, or make my election out of tongues; other
sufficings there are which my regard would fain make
sound to me: something of much you know; that, and
what else you must not know, bids you excuse this kind
of my departure. 33
_Ren._ I commend all to your wisdom, and yours to the
Wisest.
_Herc._ Think not but I shall approve that more than
folly which even now appears in a most ridiculous expectation:
be in this assured,--The bottom of gravity is
nothing like the top. Once more, fare you well.
[_Exit_ RENALDO.
And now, thou ceremonious sovereignty-- 40
Ye proud, severer, stateful compliments,
The secret arts of rule--I put you off;
Nor ever shall those manacles of form
Once more lock up the appetite of blood.
'Tis now an age of man whilst we, all strict,
Have lived in awe of carriage regular,
Apted unto my place; nor hath my life
Once tasted of exorbitant affects,
Wild longings, or the least of disrank'd shapes.
But we must once be wild; 'tis ancient truth,-- 50
O fortunate, whose madness falls in youth!
Well, this is text, who ever keeps his place
In servile station, is all low and base.
Shall I, because some few may cry, "Light! vain!"
Beat down affection from desirèd rule?
He that doth strive to please the world's a fool.
To have that fellow cry, "O mark him, grave,
See how austerely he doth give example
Of repressed heat and steady life!"
Whilst my forced life against the stream of blood 60
Is tugg'd[127] along, and all to keep the god
Of fools and women, nice Opinion,
Whose strict preserving makes oft great men fools,
And fools oft[128] great men. No, thou world, know thus,
There's nothing free but it is generous.
[_Exit._
[124] In the margin of old eds. is the motto "Dat veniam corvis,
vexat censura columbas" (Juvenal, _Sat._ ii. 63).
[125] "Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, is thus noticed in Thomas's
'Historye of Italye,' ed. 1561, fol. 212:--'He is a goodly man of
personage, hyghe of stature, strong and well proporcyonate in all
his members, bald on the crowne of the head, and amiable enough
of countenance. He hath a good witte, and is somewhat learned,
and indifferent in the administracyon of justice. And one thyng
special I remember of him, worthy to be recited. The emperour, at
his being in Italy, borowed money of all handes, and demaundyng
amongst the rest a hundred thousand crownes in lone of this duke,
he brought him a bagge of fifty thousand crownes, excusyng
himself that to lend a hundred thousand crownes he was not hable,
but to geve his majestee those fifty thousand he could be
contented with all his hert; and, by this shift, kept the other
fifty thousand crownes in hys purse. Finally of the religion he
is no more earnest than most prynces are, and in his life he
foloweth the court of love, to lose no time of pleasure. He is
frendly to faire women, and cherisheth change. By his fathers
daies, he maried Madame Renea, daughter unto Lewys the xii.
French kinge.' The names of his two sons, here given, are Alfonso
and Luigi."--_Halliwell._
[126] Eds. 1. and 3. "how _his_ cooler."
[127] Eds. 1. and 3. "lugg'd."
[128] Eds. 1. and 3. "of."
SCENE II.
_Palace of the Duke of Urbin._
_Enter_ NYMPHADORO, HEROD, _and_ Page.
_Herod._ How now, my little more than nothing, what
news is stirring?
_Page._ All the city's a-fire!
_Nym._ On fire?
_Page._ With joy of the Princess Dulcimel's birthday:
there's show upon show; sport upon sport.
_Herod._ What sport? what sport?
_Page._ Marry, sir, to solemnise the princess' birthday.
There's first, crackers, which run into the air, and when
they are at the top, like some ambitious strange heretic,
keep a cracking and a cracking, and then break, and
down they come. 12
_Herod._ A pretty crab; he would yield tart juice and
he were squeez'd.
_Nym._ What sport else?
_Page._ Other fireworks.
_Herod._ Spirit of wine, I cannot tell how these fireworks
should be good at the solemnising the birth of
men or women. I am sure they are dangerous at their
begetting. What, more fireworks, sir? 20
_Page._ There be squibs, sir; which squibs, running
upon lines,[129] like some of our gaudy gallants, sir, keep a
smother, sir, with flishing and flashing, and, in the end,
sir, they do, sir----
_Nym._ What, sir?
_Page._ Stink, sir.
_Herod._ 'Fore Heaven, a most sweet youth!
_Enter_ DONDOLO.
_Don._ News! news! news! news!
_Herod._ What, in the name of prophecy?
_Nym._ Art thou grown wise? 30
_Herod._ Doth the duke want no money?
_Nym._ Is there a maid found at twenty-four?
_Herod._ Speak, thou three-legg'd tripos, is thy ship of
fools,[130] afloat yet?
_Don._ I ha' many things in my head to tell you.
_Herod._ Ay, thy head is always working; it rolls, and
it roils, Dondolo, but it gathers no moss, Dondolo.
_Don._ Tiberio, the Duke of Ferrara's son, excellently
horsed, all upon Flanders mares, is arrived at the court
this very day, somewhat late in the night-time. 40
_Herod._ An excellent nuntius.
_Don._ Why, my gallants, I have had a good wit.
_Herod._ Yes, troth, but now 'tis grown like an almanac
for the last year--past date; the mark's out of thy mouth,
Dondolo.
_Nym._ And what's the prince's ambassage? Thou art
private with the duke; thou belongest to his close-stool.
_Don._ Why, every fool knows that; I know it myself,
man, as well as the best man: he is come to solicit a
marriage betwixt his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our
Duke of Urbin's daughter, Dulcimel. 51
_Nym._ Pity of my passions! Nymphadoro shall lose
one of his mistresses.
_Herod._ Nay, if thou hast more than one, the loss can
ne'er be grievous, since 'tis certain he that loves many
formally, never loves any violently.
_Nym._ Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand the weaker
because it is divided into many fingers? No, 'tis the
more strongly nimble. I do now love threescore and
nine ladies, all of them most extremely well, but I do
love the princess most extremely best; but, in very
sighing sadness, I ha' lost all hope, and with that hope
a lady that is most rare, most fair, most wise, most sweet,
most---- 64
_Herod._ Anything; true, but remember, still this fair,
this wise, this sweet, this all-of-excellency, has in the
tail of all--a woman.
_Nym._ Peace! the presence fills against the prince
approacheth. Mark who enters.
_Herc._ My brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso. 70
_Nym._ Not he.
_Herc._ No, not he?
_Nym._ How, is he changed?
_Herc._ Why, grown the very dregs of the drabs' cup.
_Nym._ O Babylon, thy walls are fallen! Is he married?
_Herc._ Yes; yet still the ladies' common--or the
common ladies'--servant.
_Nym._ How does his own lady bear with him?
_Herc._ Faith, like the Roman Milo, bore with him when
he was a calf, and now carries him when he's grown an
ox. 81
_Nym._ Peace! the duke's at hand.
_Cornets._ _Enter_ GONZAGO, GRANUFFO, DULCIMEL,
PHILOCALIA, ZOYA.
_Gon._ Daughter, for that our last speech leaves the
firmest print, be thus advised. When young Tiberio
negotiates his father's love, hold heedy guard over thy
passions, and still keep this full thought firm in thy
reason: 'tis his old father's love the young man moves
(is't not well thought, my lord, we must bear brain[131]),
and when thou shalt behold Tiberio's lifeful eyes and
well-fill'd veins, complexion firm, and hairs that curls
with strength of lusty moisture (I think we yet can speak,
we ha' been eloquent), thou must shape thy thoughts to
apprehend his father well in years-- 93
A grave wise prince, whose beauty is his honour,
And well-pass'd life; and do not give thy thoughts
Least liberty to shape a diverse scope
(My Lord Granuffo, pray ye note my phrase):
So shalt thou not abuse thy younger hope,
Nor afflict us, who only joy in life,
To see thee his.
_Dul._ Gracious my father, fear not; 100
I rest most duteous to your dispose.
[_Consort of music._
_Gon._ Set on then; for the music gives us notice
The prince is hard at hand.
TIBERIO _with his train, with_ HERCULES _disguised_.
_Dul._ You are most welcome to our long-desiring father.
To us you are come----
_Tib._ From our long-desiring father.
_Dul._ Is this your father's true proportion?
[_Shows a picture._
_Tib._ No, lady; but the perfect counterfeit.
_Dul._ And the best graced----
_Tib._ The painter's art could yield.
_Dul._ I wonder he would send a counterfeit
To move our love! 110
_Gon._ Hear, that's my wit, when I was eighteen old--such
a pretty toying wit had I; but age hath made us
wise. Hast not, my lord?
_Tib._ Why, fairest princess, if your eye dislike
That deader piece, behold me his true form
And livelier image. Such my father hath been.
_Dul._ My lord, please you to scent this flower.
_Tib._ 'Tis withered, lady--the flower's scent is gone.
_Dul._ This hath been such as you are--hath been, sir.
They say, in England, that a far-famed[132] friar 120
Had girt the island round with a brass wall,
If[133] they could ha' catched TIME IS: but TIME IS PAST
Left it still[134] clipt with agèd Neptune's arm.
_Tib._ Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon's bed.
_Dul._ Yet blushes at it when she rises.
_Gon._ Pretty, pretty--just like my younger wit--you
know it, my lord.
_Dul._ But is your father's age thus fresh--hath yet his
head so many hairs?
_Tib._ More, more, by many a one. 130
_Dul._ More, say you?
_Tib._ More.
_Dul._ Right, sir, for this hath none. Is his eye so
quick as this same piece makes him show?
_Tib._ The courtesy of art hath given more life to that
part than the sad cares of state would grant my father.
_Dul._ This model speaks about forty.
_Tib._ Then doth it somewhat flatter, for our father hath
seen more years, and is a little shrunk from the full
strength of time. 140
_Gon._ Somewhat coldly praised.
_Dul._ Your father hath a fair solicitor,
And be it spoke with virgin modesty,
I would he were no elder; not that I do fly
His side for years, or other hopes of youth,
But in regard the malice of lewd tongues,
Quick to deprave[135] on possibilities
(Almost impossibilities), will spread
Rumours to honour dangerous.
[DULCIMEL _and_ TIBERIO _confer privately_.
_Gon._ What? whisper? Ay, my Lord Granuffo, 'twere fit 150
To part their lips. Men of discerning wit
That have read Pliny can discourse or so;
But give me practice: well experienced age
Is the true Delphos. I am no oracle,
But yet I'll prophesy. Well, my Lord Granuffo,
'Tis fit to interrupt their privacy,
Is't not, my lord? Now, sure, thou art a man
Of a most learned silence, and one whose words
Have been most precious to me. Right, I know thy heart;
'Tis true, thy legs discourse with right and grace, 160
And thy tongue is constant.--Fair my lord,
Forbear all[136] private closer conference;
What from your father comes, comes openly,
And so must speak: for you must know my age
Hath seen the beings and the _quid_ of things:
I know the dimensions and the termini
Of all existence. Sir, I know what shapes
Appetite forms; but policy and states
Have more elected ends: your father's suit
Is with all public grace received, and private love 170
Embraced. As for our daughter's bent of mind,
She must seem somewhat nice; 'tis virgins' kind
To hold long out; if yet she chance deny,
Ascribe it to her decent modesty.
We have been a philosopher and spoke
With much applause; but now age makes us wise,
And draws our eyes to search the heart of things
And leave vain seemings; therefore you must know
I would be loath the gaudy shape of youth
Should once[137] provoke a[138] not-allow'd-of heat, 180
Or hinder, or------for, sir, I know; and so,
Therefore, before us time and place affords
Free speech, else not. Wise heads use but few words:
In short breath, know the Court of Urbin holds
Your presence and your embassage so dear,
That we want means once to express[139] our heart
But with our heart. Plain meaning shunneth art;
You are most welcome (Lord Granuffo, a trick,
A figure, note); we use no rhetoric.
[_Exeunt all but_ HERCULES, NYMPHADORO, _and_ HEROD.
_Herod._ Did not Tiberio call his father fool? 190
_Nym._ No; he said years had weakened his youthful
quickness.
_Herod._ He swore he was bald?
_Nym._ No; but not thick-hair'd.
_Herod._ By this light, I'll swear he said his father had
the hipgout, the strangury, the _fistula in ano_, and a most
unabideable breath, no teeth, less eyes, great fingers,
little legs, an eternal flux, and an everlasting cough of
the lungs.
_Nym._ Fie, fie! by this light he did not. 200
_Herod._ By this light he should ha' done then. Horn
on him, threescore and five, to have and to hold a lady of
fifteen. O Mezentius! a tyranny equal if not above thy
torturing; thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies
together, and forced them so to pine and rot; but this
cruelty binds breast to breast not only different bodies,
but, if it were possible, most unequal minds together,
with an enforcement even scandalous to Nature. Now
the jail deliver me an intelligencer! be good to me, ye
cloisters of bondage! Of whence art thou? 210
_Herc._ Of Ferrara.
_Herod._ A Ferrarese! what to me? Camest thou in
with the Prince Tiberio?
_Herc._ With the Prince Tiberio. What o'[140] that?
You will not rail at me, will you?
_Herod._ Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara--a Ferrarese?[141]
No. Didst thou ride?
_Herc._ No.
_Herod._ Hast thou worn socks?
_Herc._ No. 220
_Herod._ Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt
thy toes! I do prophesy thy tyrannising itch shall
be honourable, and thy right worshipful louse shall
appear in full presence. Art thou an officer to the
prince?[142]
_Herc._ I am; what o' that?
_Herod._ My cap! what officer?
_Herc._ Yeoman of his bottles. What to that?
_Herod._ My lip! thy name, good yeoman of the
bottles? 230
_Herc._ Faunus.
_Nym._ Faunus? an old courtier? I wonder thou art
in no better clothes and place, Faunus!
_Herc._ I may be in better place, sir, and with them[143]
of more regard, if this match of our duke's intermarriage
with the heir of Urbin proceed, the Duke of Urbin
dying, and our lord coming in his lady's right of title to
your dukedom. 238
_Herod._ Why then shalt thou, O yeoman of the bottles,
become a maker of _magnificoes_. Thou shalt beg some
odd suit, and change thy old shirt,[144] pare thy beard,
cleanse thy teeth, and eat apricocks,[145] marry a rich widow,
or a crack'd lady, whose case thou shalt make good.
Then, my Pythagoras, shall thou and I make a transmigration
of souls: thou shalt marry my daughter, or my
wife shall be thy gracious mistress. Seventeen punks
shall be thy proportion. Thou shalt beg to thy comfort
of clean linen, eat no more fresh beef at supper, or
save[146] the broth for next day's porridge; but the fleshpots
of Egypt shall fatten thee, and the grasshopper
shall flourish in thy summer. 251
_Nym._ And what dost thou think of the duke's overture
of marriage?
_Herod._ What do you think?
_Herc._ May I speak boldly as at Aleppo?
_Nym._ Speak till thy lungs ache, talk out thy teeth;
here are none of those cankers, these mischiefs of
society, intelligencers, or informers, that will cast rumour
into the teeth of some Lælius Balbus,[147] a man cruelly
eloquent and bloodily learned. No; what sayest thou,
Faunus? 261
_Herc._ With an undoubted breast thus:--I may speak
boldly?
_Herod._ By this night,[148] I'll speak broadly first, and thou
wilt, man. Our Duke of Urbin is a man very happily
mad, for he thinks himself right perfectly wise, and
most demonstratively learned--nay, more----
_Herc._ No more--I'll on. Methinks the young lord
our Prince of Ferrara so bounteously adorned with all
of grace, feature, and best shaped proportion, fair use
of speech, full opportunity, and that which makes the
sympathy of all, equality of heat, of years, of blood;
methinks these loadstones should attract the metal of
the young princess rather to the son than to the
noisome, cold, and most weak side of his half-rotten
father. 276
_Herod._ Tha'rt ours--tha'rt ours. Now dare we speak
as boldly as if Adam had not fallen, and made us all
slaves. Hark ye, the duke is an arrant doting ass--an
ass--and in the knowledge of my very sense, will
turn a foolish animal; for his son will prove like
one of Baal's priests, have all the flesh presented to
the idol his father, but he in the night will feed on't--will
devour it.[149] He will, yeoman of the bottles, he
will. 285
_Herc._ Now, gentlemen, I am sure the lust of speech
hath equally drenched us all; know I am no servant to
this Prince Tiberio.
_Herod._ Not?
_Herc._ Not, but one to him out of some private urging
most vowed--one that pursues him but for opportunity
of safe[150] satisfaction. Now, if ye can prefer my service
to him, I shall rest yours wholly. 293
_Herod._ Just in the devil's mouth! thou shalt have
place! Fawn, thou shalt! Behold this generous Nymphadoro,
a gallant of clean boot, straight back, and
beard[151] of a most hopeful expectation. He is a servant
of fair Dulcimel's, her very creature, born to the princess'
sole adoration; a man so spent in time to her,
that pity (if no more of grace) must follow[152] him when
we have gained the room. Second his suit, Faunus;[153]
I'll be your intelligencer. 302
_Herc._ Our very heart, and, if need be, work[154] to most
desperate ends.
_Herod._ Well urged.
_Herc._ Words fit acquaintance, but full actions friends.
_Nym._ Thou shalt not want, Faunus.
_Herc._ You promise well.
_Herod._ Be thou but firm, that old doting iniquity of
age--that horny-eyed[155] lecherous duke, thy lord--shall
be baffled to extremest derision; his son prove his fool
father's own issue. 312
_Nym._ And we, and thou with us, blessed and enriched
past all misery of possible contempt, and above the
hopes of greatest conjectures.
_Herc._ Nay, as for wealth, _vilia miretur vulgus_.[156] I
know by his physiognomy, for wealth he is of my addiction,
and bids a fico[157] for't.
_Nym._ Why, thou art but a younger brother: but poor
Baldazozo. 320
_Herod._ Faith, to speak truth, my means are written
in the book of fate, as yet unknown: and yet[158] I am at
my fool, and my hunting gelding. Come, _Via_,[159] to this
feastful entertainment.
[_Exeunt._ _Remanet_ HERCULES.
_Herc._ I never knew till now how old I was.
By Him by whom we are, I think a prince,
Whose tender sufferance never felt a gust
Of bolder breathings, but still lived gently fann'd
With the soft gales of his own flatterers' lips,
Shall never know his own complexion. 330
Dear sleep and lust, I thank you; but for you,
Mortal till now I scarce had known myself.
Thou grateful poison, sleek mischief, flattery,
Thou dreamful slumber (that doth fall on kings
As soft and soon[160] as their first holy oil),
Be thou for ever damn'd; I now repent
Severe indictions to some sharp styles;
Freeness, so't grow not to licentiousness,
Is grateful to just states. Most spotless kingdom,
And men, O happy born under good stars, 340
Where what is honest you may freely think,
Speak what you think, and write what you do speak,
Not bound to servile soothings! But since our rank
Hath ever been afflicted with these flies
(That blow corruption on the sweetest virtues),
I will revenge us all upon you all
With the same stratagem we still are caught,
Flattery itself; and sure all know the sharpness
Of reprehensive language is even blunted
To full contempt. Since vice is now term'd fashion, 350
And most are grown to ill, even with defence
I vow to waste this most prodigious heat,
That falls into my age like scorching flames
In depth of numb'd December, in flattering all
In all of their extremest viciousness,
Till in their own lov'd race they fall most lame,
And meet full butt the close of Vice's shame.
[_Exit._
[129] Cf. Dekker and Webster's _Northward Ho_ (1606), iv. 3:--
"_Bell._ But what say you to such gentlemen as these are?
"_Bawd._ Foh! they, as soon as they come to their lands, get
up to London and like squibs that run upon lines, they keep a
spitting of fire and cracking till they ha' spent all; and when
my squib is out what says his punk? foh, he stinks!"
[130] "Ship of Fools"--an allusion to Sebastian Brandt's famous
work, translated by Alexander Barclay.
[131] "Bear brain" = be shrewd, wary.
[132] Eds. 1. and 3. "farre found."
[133] Old eds. "If that they could have," &c. (The speech is
printed as prose in old eds.) The "far-famed friar" is of course
Friar Bacon. See the extract from _The Famous History of Fryer
Bacon_ appended to Dyce's edition of Robert Greene's _Friar Bacon
and Friar Bungay_.
[134] Ed. 2. "hill."
[135] Defame. "Mesdire. To _deprave_, reproach, revile, rayle
on," &c.--_Cotgrave._
[136] Ed. 2. "all, all."
[137] Old eds. "one."
[138] Old eds. "and."
[139] Ed. 2. "oppresse."
[140] Ed. 2. "to."
[141] Old eds. "Ferazees."
[142] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "princes;" ed. 3. "princesse."
[143] Ed. 2. "you."
[144] Eds. 1. and 3. "sute."
[145] "_Abricot_, the abricot or _apricocke_ plum."--_Cotgrave._
[146] Eds. 1. and 3. "have thy broth."
[147] Old eds. "Baldus."--Lælius Balbus was a noted informer in
the days of Tiberius. When he was banished (A.D. 37) there was
great rejoicing because "_truci eloquentia habebatur, promptus
adversum insontes_" (Tacitus, _Ann._ vi. 48).
[148] Quy. "light"?
[149] "The allusion is to the story of Bel and the Dragon in the
Apocrypha."--_Dilke._
[150] Eds. 1. and 3. "false."
[151] Eds. 1. and 3. "head."
[152] Eds. 1. and 3. "follow him second.... Serv'd his," &c.
[153] Old eds. "Hercules."
[154] Eds. 1. and 3. "workes."
[155] Old eds. "only eyed."
[156] Ovid, _Amores_, xv. 36.
[157] See Dyce's _Shakesp. Glossary_.
[158] The meaning is--"And yet I contrive to keep my fool," &c.
[159] See note, p. 20. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [27]]
[160] So the old eds.; but quy. "soote" (sweet)?
ACT II.
SCENE I.
_A banqueting-hall._
HEROD _and_ NYMPHADORO _with napkins in their hands,
followed by Pages with stools and meat_.
_Herod._ Come, sir; a stool, boy! these court-feasts are
to us servitors court-fasts--such scambling, such shift for
to eat, and where to eat. Here a squire of low degree
hath got the carcass of a plover, there pages of the
chamber divide the spoils of a tatter'd pheasant; here
the sewer[161] has friended a country gentleman with a
sweet green goose, and there a young fellow that late
has bought his office, has caught a woodcock by the
nose, _with cups full ever-flowing_.[162] 9
_Nym._ But is not Faunus preferr'd with a right hand?
_Herod._ Did you ever see a fellow so spurted up in a
moment? He has got the right ear of the duke, the
prince, princess, most of the lords, but all the ladies;
why, he is become their only minion, usher, and supporter.
_Nym._ He hath gotten more lov'd reputation of virtue,
of learning, of all graces, in one hour, than all your
snarling reformers have in----
_Herod._ Nay, that's unquestionable; and, indeed, what
a fruitless labour, what a filling of Danae's[163] tub, is it
become to inveigh against folly! Community takes
away the sense, and example the shame. No, 22
Praise me these fellows, hang on their chariot wheel,
And mount with them whom Fortune heaves, nay, drives;
A stoical sour virtue seldom thrives.
Oppose such fortune, and then burst with those are pitied.
The[164] hill of Chance is paved with poor men's bones,
And bulks of luckless souls, over whose eyes
Their chariot wheels must ruthless grate that rise.
_Enter_ HERCULES, _freshly suited_.
_Nym._ Behold that thing of most fortunate, most prosperous
impudence,[165] Don Faunus himself. 31
_Herod._ Blessed and long-lasting be thy carnation
ribbon, O man of more than wit, much more than virtue--of
fortune! Faunus,[166] wilt eat any of a young spring
sallet?
_Herc._ Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where
did they grow?
_Herod._ Hard by in the city here.
_Herc._ No, I'll none--I'll eat no city herbs, no city
roots; for here in the city a man shall have his excrements
in his teeth again within four and twenty hours.
I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? 42
_Nym._ How the poor snake wriggles with his sudden
warmth!
_Herod._ Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female.
[HEROD _drinks_.
_Herc._ 'Fore Jove! we must be more endear'd.
_Nym._ How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn?
_Herc._ Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I
think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly
taken with your virtues. Are you married? 50
_Herod._ Yes.
_Herc._ Why, I like you well for it.
_Herod._ No, troth, Fawn, I am not married.
_Herc._ Why, I like you better for it; 'fore heaven, I
must love you!
_Herod._ Why, Fawn, why?
_Herc._ 'Fore heaven! you are blest with three rare
graces--fine linen, clean linings, a sanguine complexion,
and I am sure, an excellent wit, for you are a gentleman
born. 60
_Herod._ Thank thee, sweet Fawn; but why is clean
linen such a grace, I prithee?
_Herc._ O, my excellent and inward dearly-approved
friend! What's your name, sir? Clean linen is the
first our life craves, and the last our death enjoys.
_Herod._ But what hope rests for Nymphadoro? Thou
art now within the buttons of the prince. Shall the
duke his father marry the lady?
_Herc._ 'Tis to be hoped not.
_Nym._ That's some relief as long as there's hope. 70
_Herc._ But sure, sir, 'tis almost undoubted the lady
will carry him.
_Nym._ O pestilent air! is there no plot so cunning, no
surmise so false, no way of avoidance?
_Herc._ Hast thou any pity either of his passion or the
lady's years--a gentleman in the summer and hunting
season of his youth, the lady met in the same warmth.
Were't not to be wept that such a sapless chafing-dish-using
old dotard as the Duke of Ferrara, with his
withered hand, should pluck such a bud, such a--oh,
the life of sense! 81
_Nym._ Thou art now a perfect courtier of just fashion;
good grace, canst not relieve us?
_Herc._ Ha' ye any money?
_Nym._ Pish, Fawn, we are young gallants!
_Herc._ The liker to have no money. But, my young
gallants, to speak like myself, I must hug your humour.
Why, look you, there is fate, destiny, constellations, and
planets (which, though they are under nature, yet they
are above women). Who hath read the book of chance?
No, cherish your hope, sweeten your imaginations with
thoughts of--ah! why, women are the most giddy, uncertain
motions under heaven. 'Tis neither proportion
of body, virtue of mind, amplitude of fortune, greatness
of blood, but only mere chanceful appetite, sways them;
which makes some one like a man, be it but for the
paring of his nails. _Via!_ as for inequality, art not a
gentleman? 98
_Nym._ That I am; and my beneficence shall show it.
_Herc._ I know you are, by that only word beneficence,
which only speaks of the future tense (_shall_ know it); but
may I breathe in your bosoms? _I_ only fear Tiberio
will abuse his father's trust, and so make your hopes
desperate.
_Nym._ How?--the prince? Would he only stood
cross to my wishes, he should find me an Italian.
_Herc._ How an Italian? 107
_Herod._ By thy aid an Italian; dear Faunus, thou art
now wriggled into the prince's bosom, and thy sweet hand
should minister that nectar to him should make him immortal.
Nymphadoro, in direct phrase, thou shouldst
murder the prince, so revenge thine own wrongs, and be
rewarded for that revenge.
_Herc._ Afore the light of my eyes, I think I shall admire,
wonder at you. What! ha' ye plots, projects, correspondences,
and stratagems? Why are not you in better
place? 117
_Enter_ Sir AMOROSO.
Who's this?
_Herod._ My eldest brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso.
_Herc._ O, I know him! God bless thine eyes, sweet
Sir Amoroso! A rouse--a _vin de monte_[167] to the health
of thy chine,[168] my dear sweet signior!
_Sir Amor._ Pardon me, sir; I drink no wine this spring.
_Herod._ O no, sir; he takes the diet this spring always.
Boy, my brother's bottle.
_Sir Amor._ 'Faith, Fawn, an odd unwholesome cold
makes me still hoarse and rheumatic. 127
_Herod._ Yes, in troth, a paltry murr.[169] Last morning, he
blew nine bones out of his nose with an odd unwholesome
murr. How does my sister, your lady? What,
does she breed?
_Herc._ I perceive, knight, you have children. O! 'tis
a blessed assurance of Heaven's favour, and long-lasting
name, to have many children.
_Sir Amor._ But I ha' none, Fawn, now. 135
_Herc._ O that's most excellent--a right special happiness.
He shall not be a drudge to his cradle, a slave to
his child; he shall be sure not to cherish another's blood,
nor toil to advance, peradventure, some rascal's lust.
Without children, a man is unclogg'd, his wife almost a
maid. Messallina, thou criedst out, O blessed barrenness!
Why, once with child, the very Venus of a lady's
entertainment hath lost all pleasure.
_Sir Amor._ By this ring, Faunus, I do hug thee with
most passionate affection, and shall make my wife thank
thee. 146
_Herod._ Nay, my brother grudgeth not at my probable
inheritance. He means once to give a younger brother
hope to see fortune.
_Nym._ And yet I hear, Sir Amoroso, you cherish your
loins with high art, the only engrosser of eringoes; prepared
cantharides, cullisses[170] made of dissolved pearl and
bruised amber; the pith of parkets,[171] and candied lamb-stones
are his perpetual meats; beds made of the down
under pigeons' wings and goose-necks, fomentations,
baths, electuaries, frictions, and all the nurses of most
forcible excited concupiscence, he useth with most nice
and tender industry. 158
_Herc._ Pish, Zoccoli! No, Nymphadoro, if Sir Amoroso
would ha' children, let him lie on a mattress, plow or
thresh, eat onions, garlic, and leek porridge. Pharaoh
and his council were mistaken; and their device to hinder
the increase of procreation in the Israelites with enforcing
them to much labour of body, and to feed hard, with
beets, garlic, and onions (meat that make the original of
man most sharp and taking), was absurd. No, he should
have given barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers,
huge store of veal and fresh beef, blown up their flesh,
held them from exercise, rolled them in feathers, and
most surely seen them drunk once a day; then would
they at their best have begotten but wenches, and in
short their generation enfeebled to nothing. 172
_Sir Amor._ O, divine Faunus, where might a man take
up forty pound in a commodity of garlic and onions?
Nymphadoro, thine ear.
_Herc._ Come, what are you fleering at? There's some
weakness in your brother you wrinkle at thus; come, prithee,
impart; what? we are mutually incorporated, turn'd
one into another, brued [sic] together. Come, I believe
you are familiar with your sister, and it were known.
_Herod._ Witch, Faunus, witch! Why, how dost dream
I live? Is't four score a year, think'st thou, maintains
my geldings, my pages, foot-cloths, my best feeding,
high play, and excellent company? No, 'tis from hence,
from hence, I mint some four hundred pound a year. 185
_Herc._ Dost thou live like a porter, by the[172] back, boy?
_Herod._ As for my weak-rein'd brother, hang him! He
has sore shins. Damn him, heteroclite! his brain's
perished! His youth spent his fodder so fast on others'
cattle, that he now wants for his own winter. I am fain
to supply, Fawn, for which I am supplied.
_Herc._ Dost thou branch him, boy?
_Herod._ What else, Fawn? 193
_Herc._ What else? Nay, 'tis enough. Why, many men
corrupt other men's wives, some their maids, others their
neighbours' daughters; but to lie with one's brother's
wedlock,[173] O, my dear Herod, 'tis vile[174] and uncommon
lust.
_Herod._ 'Fore Heaven, I love thee to the heart! Well,
I may praise God for my brother's weakness, for I assure
thee the land shall descend to me, my little Fawn. 201
_Herc._ To thee, my little Herod? O, my rare rascal,
I do find more and more in thee to wonder at, for thou
art, indeed--if I prosper, thou shalt know what. Who's
this?[175]
_Enter_ Don ZUCCONE.
_Herod._ What! know you not Don Zuccone, the only
desperately railing lord[176] at's lady that ever was confidently
melancholy--that egregious idiot, that husband of the
most witty, fair (and be it spoken with many men's true
grief), most chaste Lady Zoya! But we have entered
into a confederacy of afflicting him. 211
_Herc._ Plots ha' you laid, inductions dangerous?[177]
_Nym._ A quiet bosom to my sweet Don. Are you
going to visit your lady?
_Zuc._ What o'clock is't? Is it past three?
_Herod._ Past four, I assure you, sweet Don.
_Zuc._ O, then, I may be admitted. Her afternoon's
private nap is taken. I shall take her napping. I hear
there's one jealous that I lie with my own wife, and
begins to withdraw his hand. I protest, I vow,--and
you will, on my knees I'll take my sacrament on it,--I
lay not with her this four years--this four years; let
her not be turn'd upon me, I beseech you. 223
_Herc._ My dear Don!
_Zuc._ O, Faunus, do'st know our lady?
_Herc._ Your lady?
_Zuc._ No, _our_ lady. For the love of charity, incorporate
with her; I would have all nations and degrees,
all ages, know our lady; for I covet only to be undoubtedly
notorious. 230
_Herc._ For indeed, sir, a repressed fame mounts like
camomile[178]--the more trod down, the more it grows.
Things known common and undoubted, lose rumour.
_Nym._ I hope yet your conjectures may err. Your
lady keeps full face, unbated roundness, cheerful aspect.
Were she so infamously prostitute, her cheek would fall,
her colour fade, the spirit of her eye would die.
_Zuc._ O, young man, such women are like Danaus'
tub; and, indeed, all women are like Achelous,[179] with
whom Hercules wrestling, he was no sooner hurl'd to
the earth, but he rose up with double vigour. Their
fall strengthened them. 242
_Enter_ DONDOLO.
_Don._ News, news, news, news! O, my dear Don,
be raised--be jovial[180]--be triumphant! Ah, my dear
Don!
_Nym._ To me first, in private, thy news, I prithee.
_Don._ Will you be secret?
_Nym._ O' my life.
_Don._ As you are generous?
_Nym._ As I am generous. 250
_Don._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child.
_Herc._ Nymph, Nymph, what is't?--what's the news?
_Nym._ You will be secret?
_Herod._ Silence itself.
_Nym._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently.
_Herc._ Herod, Herod, what's the matter, prithee? the
news?
_Herod._ You must tell nobody?
_Herc._ As I am generous----
_Herod._ Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently.
_Zuc._ Fawn, what's the whisper?--what's the fool's
secret news? 262
_Herc._ Truth, my lord, a thing that--that--well, i'faith,
it is not fit you know it: now[181]--now--now--
_Zuc._ Not fit I know it? As thou art baptized, tell me--tell
me.
_Herc._ Will you plight your patience to it?
_Zuc._ Speak, I am a very block. I will not be moved--I
am a very block.
_Herc._ But if you should grow disquiet (as, I protest,
it would make a saint blaspheme), I should be unwilling
to procure your impatience. 272
_Zuc._ Yes,[182] do! Burst me! burst me! burst me with
longing!
_Herc._ Nay, faith, 'tis no great matter! Hark ye,
you'll tell nobody?
_Zuc._ Not.
_Herc._ As you are noble?
_Zuc._ As I am honest.
_Herc._ Your lady-wife is[183] apparently with child. 280
_Zuc._ With child?
_Herc._ With child.
_Zuc._ Fool!
_Herc._ My Don.
_Zuc._ With child!--by the pleasure of generation, I
proclaim I lay not with her this----Give us patience!--give
us patience!
_Herc._ Why? my lord, 'tis nothing to wear a forker.[184]
_Zuc._ Heaven and earth!
_Herc._ All things under the moon are subject to their
mistress' grace. Horns! Lend me your ring, my Don--I'll
put it on my finger. Now 'tis on yours again. Why
is the gold now e'er the worse in lustre or fitness? 293
_Zuc._ Am I used thus?
_Herc._ Ay, my lord, true. Nay, to be--(look ye, mark
ye)--to be used like a dead ox--to have your own hide
pluck'd on--to be drawn on with your own horn,--to
have the lordship of your father, the honour of your
ancestors, maugre your beard, to descend to the base
lust of some groom of your stable, or the page of your
chamber! 301
_Zuc._ O, Phalaris! thy bull!
_Sir Amor._ Good Don, ha' patience! you are not the
only cuckold! I would now be separated.
_Zuc._ 'Las! that's but the least drop of the storm of
my revenge! I will unlegitimate[185] the issue! What I
will do shall be horrible but to think.
_Herc._ But, sir----
_Zuc._ But, sir, I will do what a man of my form may
do; and laugh on, laugh on, do Sir Amorous--you have
a lady, too. 311
_Herod._ But, my sweet lord----
_Zuc._ Do not anger me, lest I most dreadfully curse
thee, and wish thee married! O, Zuccone, spit white,
spit thy gall out. The only boon I crave of Heaven is----But
to have my honours inherited by a bastard!
I will be most tyrannous--bloodily tyrannous in my
revenge, and most terrible in my curses! Live to grow
blind with lust, senseless with use, loathed after, flattered
before, hated always, trusted never, abhorred ever! and
last, may she live to wear a most foul smock seven
weeks together, Heaven, I beseech thee! 322
[_Exit._
_Enter_ ZOYA _and_ POVEIA.
_Zoy._ Is he gone?--is he blown off? Now; out upon
him, insufferably jealous fool.
_Don._ Lady!
_Zoy._ Didst thou give him the famed report? Does
he believe I am with child? Does he give faith?
_Don._ In most sincerity, most sincerely.
_Zoy._ Nay, 'tis a pure fool! I can tell ye he was bred
up in Germany. 330
_Nym._ But the laughter rises, that he vows he lay not
in your bed this four year, with such exquisite protestations.
_Zoy._ That's most full truth. He hath most unjustly
severed his sheets ever since the old Duke Pietro
(Heaven rest his soul!)----
_Don._ Fie! You may not pray for the dead; 'tis
indifferent to them what you say.
_Nym._ Well said, fool.
_Zoy._ Ever since the old Duke Pietro, the great devil
of hell torture his soul---- 341
_Don._ O, lady! yet charity!
_Zoy._ Why? 'tis indifferent to them what you say, fool.
But does my lord ravel out? does he fret? For pity of
an afflicted lady, load him soundly; let him not go[186]
clear from vexation: he has the most dishonourably, with
the most sinful, most vicious obstinacy, persevered to
wrong me, that, were I not of a male constitution, 'twere
impossible for me to survive it; but in madness' name,
let him on. I ha' not the weak sense[187] of some of your
soft-eyed whimpering ladies, who, if they were used like
me, would gall their fingers with wringing their hands,
look like bleeding Lucreces, and shed salt water enough
to powder all the beef in the duke's larder. No, I am
resolute Donna Zoya. Ha! that wives were of my metal!
I would make these ridiculously jealous fools howl like
a starved dog before he got a bit. I was created to be
the affliction of such an unsanctified member, and will
boil him in his own syrup. 359
_Enter_ ZUCCONE, _listening_.
_Herc._ Peace! the wolf's ear takes the wind of us.
_Herod._ The enemy is in ambush.
_Zoy._ If any man ha' the wit, now let him talk wantonly
but not bawdily. Come, gallants, who'll be my servants?
I am now very open-hearted and full of entertainment.
_Herc._ Grace me to call you mistress?
_Nym._ Or me?
_Herod._ Or me?
_Sir Amor._ Or me? 368
_Zoy._ Or all! I am taken with you all--with you all.
_Herc._ As, indeed, why should any woman only love
any[188] one man, since it is reasonable women should affect
all perfection,[189] but all perfection never rests in one man.
Many men have many virtues, but ladies should love
many virtues, therefore ladies should love many men;
for as in women, so in men; some women hath only a
good eye,--one can discourse beautifully, if she do not
laugh,--one's well-favoured to her nose,--another hath
only a good brow,--t'other a plump lip,--a third only
holds beauty to the teeth, and there the soil alters; some,
peradventure, hold good to the breast, and then downward
turn like the dreamt-of image,[190] whose head was
gold, breast silver, thighs iron, and all beneath clay and
earth; one only winks eloquently,--another only kisses
well,--t'other only talks well,--a fourth only lies well;
so, in men, one gallant has only a good face,--another
has only a grave methodical beard, and is a notable wise
fellow until he speaks,--a third only makes water well,
and that's a good provoking quality,--one only swears
well,--another only speaks well,--a third only does well.
All in their kind good: goodness is to be best affected,
therefore they; it is a base thing, and indeed an impossible,
for a worthy mind to be contented with the whole
world, but most vile and abject to be satisfied with one
point or prick[191] of the world. 394
_Zoy._ Excellent Faunus! I kiss thee for this, by this
hand.
_Sir Amor._ I thought as well: kiss me too, dear mistress.
_Zoy._ No, good Sir Amoroso;[192] your teeth hath taken
rust, your breath wants airing, and indeed I love sound
kissing. Come, gallants, who'll run a caranto, or leap a
levalto? 401
_Herc._ Take heed, lady, from offending or bruising the
hope of your womb.
_Zoy._ No matter; now I ha' the sleight, or rather the
fashion of it, I fear no barrenness.
_Herc._ O, but you know not your husband's aptness.
_Zoy._ Husband! husband! as if women could have no
children without husbands.
_Nym._ Ay, but then they will not be so like your husband. 410
_Zoy._ No matter, they'll be like their father; 'tis honour
enough to my husband that they vouchsafe to call him
father, and that his land shall descend to them. (Does
he not gnash his very teeth in anguish?) Like our husband?
I had rather they were ungroan'd for. Like our
husband?--prove such a melancholy jealous ass as he
is? (Does he not stamp?)
_Nym._ But troth, your husband has a good face.
_Zoy._ Faith, good enough face for a husband. Come,
gallants, I'll dance to mine own whistle: I am as light
now as----Ah! [_she sings and dances_]. A kiss to you,
to my sweet free servants. Dream on me, and adieu.
[_Exit_ ZOYA.
ZUCCONE _discovers himself_.
_Zuc._ I shall lose my wits. 423
_Herc._ Be comforted, dear Don, you ha' none to leese.
_Zuc._ My wife is grown like a Dutch crest, always
rampant, rampant: 'fore I will endure this affliction, I
will live by raking cockles out of kennels; nay, I will run
my country,--forsake my religion,--go weave fustians,--or
roll the wheel-barrow at Rotterdam.
_Herc._ I would be divorced, despite her friends, or the
oath of her chamber-maid. 431
_Zuc._ Nay, I will be divorced, in despite of 'em all; I'll
go to law with her.
_Herc._ That's excellent; nay, I would go to law.
_Zuc._ Nay, I will go to law.
_Herc._ Why, that's sport alone; what though it be most
exacting? wherefore is money?
_Zuc._ True, wherefore is money? 438
_Herc._ What, though you shall pay for every quill, each
drop of ink, each minim, letter, tittle, comma, prick,
each breath, nay, not only for thine own orator's prating,
but for some other orator's silence,--though thou must
buy silence with a full hand,--'tis well known Demosthenes[193]
took above two thousand pound once only to
hold his peace,--though thou a man of noble gentry, yet
you must wait, and besiege his study door, which will
prove more hard to be entered than old Troy, for that was
gotten into by a wooden horse; but the entrance of this
may chance cost thee a whole stock of cattle, _oves et
boves, et coetera pecora campi_;--though then thou must sit
there, thrust and contemned, bare-headed to a grograine
scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, press'd to
get in, "with your leave, sir," to some surly groom, the
third son of a rope-maker:[194]--what of all this? 454
_Zuc._ To a resolute mind these torments are not felt.
_Herc._ A very arrant ass, when he is hungry, will feed
on, though he be whipt to the bones, and shall a very
arrant ass, Zuccone, be more virtuously patient than a
noble----
_Don._ No, Fawn, the world shall know I have more
virtue than so---- 461
_Herc._ Do so, and be wise.
_Zuc._ I will, I warrant thee: so I may be revenged,
what care I what I do?
_Herc._ Call a dog worshipful?
_Zuc._ Nay, I will embrace,--nay, I will embrace a jakes-farmer,
after eleven o'clock at night,--I will stand bare,
and give wall to a bellows-mender,--pawn my lordship,--sell
my foot-cloth,[195]--but I will be revenged. Does
she think she has married an ass? 470
_Herc._ A fool?
_Zuc._ A coxcomb?
_Herc._ A ninny-hammer?
_Zuc._ A woodcock?
_Herc._ A calf?
_Zuc._ No, she shall find that I ha' eyes.
_Herc._ And brain.
_Zuc._ And nose.
_Herc._ And forehead.
_Zuc._ She shall, i'faith, Fawn; she shall, she shall,
sweet Fawn; she shall, i'faith, old boy; it joys my blood
to think on't; she shall, i'faith. Farewell, loved Fawn;
sweet Fawn, farewell: she shall, i'faith, boy. 483
[_Exit_ ZUCCONE.
_Enter_ GONGAZO _and_ GRANUFFO _with_ DULCIMEL.
_Gon._ We would be private, only Faunus stay;
He is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow, for he
is still just of my opinion. My Lord Granuffo, you may
likewise stay, for I know you'll say nothing. Say on,
daughter.
[_Exeunt all but_ GONZAGO, GRANUFFO, HERCULES
_and_ DULCIMEL.
_Dul._ And as I told you, sir, Tiberio being sent,
Graced in high trust, as to negotiate 490
His royal father's love, if he neglect
The honour of this faith, just care of state,
And every fortune that gives likelihood
To his best hopes, to draw our weaker heart
To his own love (as I protest he does)----
_Gon._ I'll rate[196] the prince with such a heat of breath,
His ears shall glow; nay, I discover'd him;
I read his eyes, as I can read any[197] eye--
Tho' it speak in darkest characters, I can;
Can we not, Fawn?--can we not, my lord? 500
Why, I conceive you now; I understand you both.
You both admire; yes, say is 't not hit?
Though we are old, or so, yet we ha' wit.
_Dul._ And you may say (if so[198] your wisdom please,
As you are truly wise), how weak a creature
Soft woman is to bear the siege and strength
Of so prevailing feature and fair language,
As that of his is ever: you may add
(If so your wisdom please, as you are wise)----
_Gon._ As mortal man may be.
_Dul._ I am of years 510
Apt for his love; and if he should proceed
In private urgent suit, how easy 'twere
To win my love: for you may say (if so
Your wisdom please) you find in me
A very forward passion to enjoy him,
And therefore you beseech him seriously
Straight to forbear, with such close-cunning art
To urge his too well gracèd suit: for you
(If so your lordship please) may say I told you all.
_Gon._ Go to, go to; what I will say, or so, 520
Until I say, none but myself shall know.
But I will say--Go to; does not my colour rise?
It shall rise; for I can force my blood
To come and go, as men of wit and state
Must sometimes feign their love, sometimes their hate.
That's policy now; but come with this free heat,
Or this same Estro[199] or Enthusiasm
(For these are phrases both poetical);
Will we go rate the prince, and make him see
Himself in us; that is, our grace and wits 530
Shall show his shapeless folly,--vice kneels while virtue
sits.
_Enter_ TIBERIO.
But see, we are prevented: daughter, in!
It is not fit thyself should hear what I
Must speak of thy most modest, wise, wise mind;
For th'art careful, sober, in all most wise,
And indeed our daughter. [_Exit_ DULCIMEL.] My Lord Tiberio,
A horse but yet a colt may leave his trot,
A man but yet a boy may well be broke
From vain addictions; the head of rivers stopp'd,
The channel dries; he that doth dread a fire, 540
Must put out sparks; and he who fears a bull,
Must cut his horns off when he is a calf.
_Principiis obsta_,[200] saith a learned man,
Who, though he was no duke, yet he was wise,
And had some sense or so.
_Tib._ What means my lord?
_Gon._[201] La, sir! thus men of brain can speak in clouds,
Which weak eyes cannot pierce; but, my fair lord,
In direct phrase thus, my daughter tells me plain,
You go about with most direct entreats
To gain her love, and to abuse her father. 550
O, my fair lord, will you, a youth so blest
With rarest gifts of fortune and sweet graces,
Offer to love a young and tender lady;
Will you, I say, abuse your most wise father,
Who, tho' he freeze in August, and his calves
Are sunk into his toes, yet may well wed our daughter,
As old as he in wit? Will you, I say
(For by my troth, my lord, I must be plain)?
My daughter is but young, and apt to love
So fit a person as your proper self, 560
And so she pray'd me tell you. Will you now
Entice her easy breast to abuse your trust,
Her proper honour, and your father's hopes?
I speak no figures, but I charge you check
Your appetite and passions to our daughter,
Before it head, nor offer conference,
Or seek access, but by and before us.
What, judge you us as weak or as unwise?
No, you shall find that Venice duke has eyes;
And so think on't.
[_Exeunt_ GONZAGO _and_ GRANUFFO.
_Tib._ Astonishment and wonder! what means this?
Is the duke sober?
_Herc._ Why, ha' not you endeavour'd 572
Courses that only[202] seconded appetite,
And not your honour, or your trust of place?
Do you not court the lady for yourself?
_Tib._ Fawn, thou dost love me. If I ha' done so,
'Tis past my knowledge; and I prithee, Fawn,
If thou observ'st I do I know not what,
Make me to know it; for by the dear light,
I ha' not found a thought that way. I apt for love?
Let lazy idleness, fill'd full of wine, 581
Heated with meats, high fed, with lustful ease,
Go dote on colour. As for me, why, death[203] o' sense!
I court the lady? I was not born in Cyprus.
I love! when?--how?--whom? Think, let us yet keep
Our reason sound. I'll think, and think, and sleep.
[_Exit._
_Herc._ Amazed! even lost in wond'ring! I rest full
Of covetous expectation. I am left
As on a rock, from whence I may discern
The giddy sea of humour flow beneath, 590
Upon whose back the vainer bubbles float,
And forthwith break. O mighty flattery!
Thou easiest, common'st, and most grateful venom,
That poisons courts and all societies,
How grateful dost thou make me? Should one rail,
And come to fear[204] a vice, beware leg-rings
And the turn'd key on thee, when, if softer hand
Suppling a sore that itches (which should smart)--
Free speech gains foes, base fawnings steal the heart.
Swell, you imposthum'd members, till you burst, 600
Since 'tis in vain to hinder, on I'll thrust;
And when in shame you fall, I'll laugh from hence,
And cry, "So end all desperate impudence!"
Another's court shall show me where and how
Vice may be cured, for now beside myself,
Possess'd with almost frenzy, from strong fervour
I know I shall produce things mere divine:
Without immoderate heat, no virtues shine.
For I speak strong, tho' strange,--the dews that steep
Our souls in deepest thoughts are fury and sleep. 610
[_Exit._
[161] The officer who set on the dishes and removed them at a
banquet.
[162] Ed. 3. "overflowing." The italicised words seem to be a
quotation.
[163] So the old eds.; but probably "Danae's" is a misprint for
"the Danaides'." Later we have "Danau's tubbe."
[164] "The hill ... that rise" (ll. 27-29). These lines are found
only in the second 4to.
[165] "Impudence"--omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[166] "Faunus"--omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[167] Possibly a corrupt abbreviation of Ital. _Vino di
Montepulciano_.
[168] So ed. 2.--Eds. 1. and 3. "to health [and _to'th health_]
of thy chin."
[169] See note, vol. i. p. 153.
[170] Rich broths.--Cf. Middleton, iii. 285:--"Let gold, amber,
and dissolved pearl be common ingrediences, and that you cannot
compose a cullice without 'em."
[171] _i.e._, parroquets?--Cf. _The Fox_, iii. 6:
"The heads of _parrots_, tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks and of estriches,
Shall be our food."
[172] Eds. 1. and 3. "thy."
[173] Wife.--See Middleton, iv. 62, vii. 212.
[174] This must be a misprint.--Should we read "royal"?
[175] "Who's this?"--omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[176] "Lord"--omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[177] _Richard III._, i. 1. l. 32: "Plots have I laid, inductions
dangerous."
[178] Cf. 1 _Henry IV._, ii. 4:--"For though _the camomile_ the
more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth the more it
is wasted the sooner it wears." The comparison was very common.
[179] See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, lib. ix.
[180] So ed. 3.--Eds. 1. and 2. "Iouiald."
[181] "Now--now--now"--omitted in ed. 2.
[182] Eds. 1. and 3. "Ye."
[183] Omitted in ed. 2.
[184] Eds. 1. and 3. "forke."
[185] Ed. 1. "vnlegittimall."
[186] Eds. 1. and 3. "worke."
[187] Old eds. "fence."
[188] "Any one man."--So ed. 2.; eds. 1. and 3. "such an one."
[189] Eds. 1. and 3. proceed thus:--"yea, all should court many
vertues, therefore ladies should court many men; for as in women,
so in men, some woman hath," &c.
[190] See the second chapter of _The Book of Daniel_.
[191] "Or prick"--omitted in ed. 2.
[192] Eds. 1. and 3. "Amorous."
[193] Plutarch tells the story in his account of Demosthenes
(_Orat. Vit._):--"Pôlou de pote tou hypokritou pros auton
eipontos, hoti dysin hêmerais agônisamenos talanton laboi
misthon, Egô ioe, eipe, pente talanta, mian hêmeran
siôpêsas."
[194] Nashe persistently twitted Gabriel Harvey with being the
son of a ropemaker.
[195] The housings of a horse.
[196] Ed. 1. "hate."
[197] Eds. 1. and 3. "an."
[198] "So"--omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[199] "The oestrum or gadfly is here meant, which extremely
torments cattle in the summer. It is metaphorically used for
inspired fury of any kind."--_Dilke._
[200] Ovid, _Remed. Am._, l. 91.
[201] Not marked in eds. 1. and 3.
[202] Eds. 1. and 3. "that have seconded."
[203] Eds. 1. and 3. "earth." ("Death o' sense" is a sort of
meaningless oath. Cf. p. 138, l. 81. "Oh, the life of sense!"
Later we have "Death o' man! is she delivered?" iv. 1.)
[204] _i.e._, frighten.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
_Palace of the Duke of Urbin._
_Enter_ FAUNUS _and_ NYMPHADORO.
_Nym._ Faith, Fawn, 'tis my humour, the natural sin of
my sanguine complexion. I am most enforcedly in love
with all women, almost affecting them all with an equal
flame.
_Herc._ An excellent justice of an upright virtue: you
love all God's creatures with an unpartial affection.
_Nym._ Right; neither am I inconstant to any one in
particular.
_Herc._ Tho' you love all in general, true; for when you
vow a most devoted love to one, you swear not to tender
a most devoted love to another; and indeed why should
any man over-love anything? 'Tis judgment for a man
to love everything proportionably to his virtue: I love
a dog with a hunting pleasure, as he is pleasurable in
hunting; my horse, after a journeying easiness, as he is
easy in journeying; my hawk, to the goodness of his
wing; and my wench---- 17
_Nym._ How, sweet Fawn, how?
_Herc._ Why, according to her creation. Nature made
them pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect creatures;
even so I would in justice affect them, with a pretty,
toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect affection; and as indeed
they are only created for show and pleasure, so would I
only love them for show and pleasure.
_Nym._ Why, that's my humour to the very thread; thou
dost speak my proper thoughts.
_Herc._ But, sir, with what possibility can your constitution
be so boundlessly amorous as to affect all women,
of what degree, form, or complexion soever? 29
_Nym._ I'll tell thee: for mine own part I am a perfect
Ovidian, and can with him affect all. If[205] she be a virgin,
of a modest eye, shamefaced, temperate aspect, her very
modesty inflames me, her sober blushes fires me; if I
behold a wanton, pretty, courtly, petulant ape, I am extremely
in love with her, because she is not clownishly
rude, and that she assures her lover of no ignorant, dull,
unmoving[206] Venus; be she sourly severe, I think she
wittily counterfeits, and I love her for her wit; if she be
learned, and censures poets, I love her soul, and for her
soul her body; be she a lady of profess'd ignorance, oh,
I am infinitely taken with her simplicity, as one assured
to find no sophistication about her; be she slender and
lean, she's the Greek's delight; be she thick and plump,
she's the Italian's pleasure; if she be tall, she's of a
goodly form, and will print a fair proportion in a large
bed; if she be short and low, she's nimbly delightful, and
ordinarily quick-witted; be she young, she's for mine
eye; be she old, she's for my discourse, as one well
knowing there's much amiableness in a grave matron;
but be she young or old, lean, fat, short, tall, white, red,
brown, nay, even black, my discourse shall find reason
to love her, if my means may procure opportunity to
enjoy her. 53
_Herc._ Excellent, sir: nay, if a man were of competent
means, were't not a notable delight for a man to have for
every month in that year?
_Nym._ Nay, for every week of the month?
_Herc._ Nay, for every day of the week?
_Nym._ Nay, for every hour of that day?
_Herc._ Nay, for every humour of a man in that hour,
to have a several mistress to entertain him; as if he were
saturnine, or melancholy, to have a black-haired, pale-faced,
sallow, thinking mistress to clip him; if jovial and
merry, a sanguine, light-tripping, singing,--indeed a mistress
that would dance a[207] caranto as she goes to embrace
him; if choleric, impatient, or ireful, to have a mistress
with red hair, little ferret eyes, a lean cheek, and a sharp
nose, to entertain him. And so of the rest. 68
_Enter_ DONNETTA.
_Nym._ O, sir, this were too great ambition! Well, I
love and am beloved of a great many; for I court all in
the way of honour, in the trade of marriage, Fawn; but
above all, I affect the princess,--she's my utmost end.
O, I love a lady whose beauty is joined with fortune,
beyond all! yet one of beauty without fortune, for some
uses; nay, one of fortune without beauty, for some ends;
but never any that has neither fortune nor beauty, but
for necessity; such a one as this is Donna Donnetta:
here's one has loved all the court just once over.
_Herc._ O, this is the fair lady with the foul teeth!
Nature's hand shook when she was in making, for the
red that should have spread her cheeks, Nature let fall
upon her nose; the white of her chin slipp'd into her
eyes; and the gray of her eyes leapt before his time into
her hair; and the yellowness of her hair fell without
providence into her teeth. 85
_Nym._ By the vow of my heart, you are my most only
elected; and I speak by way of protestation, I shall no
longer wish to be than that your only affection shall rest
in me, and mine only in you.
_Don._ But if you shall love any other? 90
_Nym._ Any other? Can any man love any other that
knows you,--the only perfection of your sex, and astonishment
of mankind?
_Don._ Fie! ye flatter me. Go, wear and understand
my favour: this snail['s] slow, but sure.
_Nym._ This kiss!
_Don._ Farewell!
_Nym._ The integrity and only vow of my faith to you;
ever urge your well-deserved requital to me.
[_Exit_ DONNETTA.
_Enter_ GARBETZA.
_Herc._ Excellent! 100
_Nym._ See, here's another of----
_Herc._ Of your most only elected.
_Nym._ Right, Donna Garbetza.
_Herc._ O, I will acknowledge this is the lady made of
cutwork, and all her body like a sand-box, full of holes,
and contains nothing but dust. She chooseth her servants
as men choose dogs, by the mouth; if they open
well and full, their cry is pleasing. She may be chaste,
for she has a bad face; and yet, questionless, she may
be made a strumpet, for she is covetous. 110
_Nym._ By the vow of my heart, you are my most only
elected (and I speak it by way of protestation), I shall
no longer wish to be than all your affections shall only
rest in me, and all mine only in you.
_Herc._ Excellent! this piece of stuff is good on both
sides; he is so constant, he will not change his phrase.
_Gar._ But shall I give faith? may you not love another?
_Nym._ Another? Can any man love another that
knows you,--the only perfection of your sex, and admiration
of mankind? 120
_Gar._ Your speech flies too high for your meaning to
follow, yet my mistrust shall not precede my experience:
I wrought this favour for you.
_Nym._ The integrity and only vow of my faith to you;
ever urge your well-deserved requital to me.
[_Exit_ GARBETZA.
_Herc._ Why, this is pure wit, nay, judgment.
_Nym._ Why, look thee, Fawn, observe me.
_Herc._ I do, sir.
_Nym._ I do love at this instant some nineteen ladies,
all in the trade of marriage. Now, sir, whose father dies
first, or whose portion appeareth most, or whose fortunes
betters soonest, her with quiet liberty at my leisure will
I elect; for[208] that's my humour. 133
_Enter_ DULCIMEL _and_ PHILOCALIA.
_Herc._ You profess a most excellent mystery, sir.
_Nym._ 'Fore Heaven! see the princess--she that is----
_Herc._ Your most only elected, too?
_Nym._ Oh! ay--oh! ay--but my hope's faint yet.--By
the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected
and----
_Dul._ There's a ship of fools going out! Shall I
prefer thee, Nymphadoro? Thou mayst be master's
mate. My father hath made Dondolo captain, else thou
shouldest have his place. 143
_Nym._ By Jove, Fawn, she speaks as sharply, and
looks as sourly, as if she had been new squeezed out of
a crab orange.
_Herc._ How term you that lady with whom she holds
discourse?
_Nym._ O, Fawn, 'tis a lady even above ambition; and
like the vertical sun, that neither forceth others to cast
shadows, nor can others force or shade her. Her style
is Donna Philocalia. 152
_Herc._ Philocalia! What! that renowmed[209] lady, whose
ample report hath struck wonder into remotest strangers?
and yet her worth above that wonder? She, whose noble
industries hath made her breast rich in true glories and
undying habilities? she, that whilst other ladies spend
the life of earth, Time, in reading their glass, their jewels,
and (the shame of poesy) lustful sonnets, gives her soul
meditations--those meditations wings that cleave the air,
fan bright celestial fires, whose true reflection makes her
see herself and them? she whose pity is ever above her
envy, loving nothing less than insolent prosperity, and
pitying nothing more than virtue destitute of fortune? 164
_Nym._ There were a lady for Ferrara's duke!--one of
great blood, firm age, undoubted honour, above her sex,
most modestly artful, tho' naturally modest; too excellent
to be left unmatch'd, tho' few worthy to match with her.
_Herc._ I cannot tell--my thoughts grow busy. 169
_Phi._ The princess would be private. Void the presence!
[_Exeunt._
_Dul._ May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret?
_Phi._ Yes, madam.
_Dul._ How may I rest assured?
_Phi._ Truly thus--do not tell it me.
_Dul._ Why, canst thou not conceal a secret?
_Phi._ Yes, as long as it is a secret, but when two
know it, how can it be a secret? and, indeed, with what
justice can you expect secrecy in me that cannot be private
to yourself? 179