This it is to rot and putrify in the bosom of greatness. Bil. Thou art ever my politician. O happy is that old lord that hath a politician to his young lady! I'll have fifty gentlemen shall attend upon me; marry, the most of them shall be farmers' sons, because they shall bear their own charges; and they shall go apparelled thus,—in sea-water | green suits, ash-coloured cloaks, watchet 52 stockings, and popin-jay green feathers. Will not 53 the colours do excellent? Bian. Out upon't, they'll look like citizens riding to their friends at Whitsuntide,—their apparel just so many several parishes. Bil. I'll have it so; and Passarello, my fool, shall go along with me; marry he shall be in velvet. Bian. A fool in velvet! Bil. Ay, 'tis common for your fool to wear sattin; I'll have mine in velvet. the fashions of several countrymen; but my secretary, I think, he hath sufficiently instructed me. Bian. How, my lord? Bil. Marry, my good lord, quoth he, your lordship shall ever find amongst an hundred Frenchmen forty hot shots; amongst an hundred Spaniards, threescore braggarts; amongst an hundred Dutchmen, fourscore drunkards; amongst an hundred Englishmen, fourscore and ten madmen; and amongst an hundred WelchmenBian. What, my lord? Bil. Fourscore and nineteen gentlemen. Bil. Why, dost think I cannot mourn, unless I wear my hat in cypress like an alderman's heir? that's vile, very old, in faith. Bian. I'll learn of you shortly. O we should have a fine gallant of you, should not I instruct you. How will you bear yourself when you come Bian. What will you wear then, my lord? Bil. Velvet too; marry, it shall be embroi-into the Duke of Florence's court? dered, because I'll differ from the fool somewhaty I am horribly troubled with the gout. Nothing grieves me, but that my doctor hath forbidden me wine, and you know your ambassador must drink. Didst thou ask thy doctor what was good for the gout! Bian. Yes; he said-ease, wine, and women, were good for it. Bil. Nay, thou hast such a wit. What was good to cure it, said he? Bian. Why, the rack. All your empirics could never do the like cure upon the gout the rack did in England, or your Scotch boot. 4 The French Harlequin will instruct you. Bil. Surely I do wonder how thou, having for the most part of thy lifetime been a country body, should'st have so good a wit. Bian. Who, I? why, I have been a courtier thrice two months. Bil. So have I these twenty years, and yet there was a gentleman-usher called me coxcomb Bil. Proud enough, and 'twill do well enough. As I walk up and down the chamber, I'll spit frowns about me; have a strong perfume in my jerkin; let my beard grow to make me look terrible; salute no man beneath the fourth button, -and 'twill do excellent. Bian. But there is a very beautiful lady there, how will you entertain her? Bil. I'll tell you that, when the lady hath entertained me; but, to satisfy thee, here comes the fool. Fool, thou shalt stand for the fair lady. Enter PASSARELLO. Pas. Your fool will stand for your lady most willingly and most uprightly. Bil. I'll salute her in Latin. Pas. O your fool can understand no Latin. Pas. Why, then, if your lady take down your fool, your fool will stand no longer for your lady. Bil A pestilent fool: 'Fore God I think the t'other day, and to my face too: was't not a back-world be turned upside down too. biting rascal? I would I were better travelled, Pas. Ono, sir; for then your lady, and all the that I might have been better acquainted with ladies in the palace, should go with their heels on the upper part of the egg, rests on it with her whole body, and in time, with the heat of her foot, produces the young one, which from this way of hatching takes its name, and is called Solon quasi Sole on, from the sole of the dam's foot, which after this manner gives it being. But whether so or no, I am not sure;-you have the relation."-MORER'S Short Account of Scotland, 1702, p. 17. 52 Vatchet,-i. e. pale blue. 53 Popin-jay-A parrot, or a bird of that species. See Skinner. 54 Four Scotch boot.-The torturing-boots are mentioned by Swift, Vol. XIII. 1768, p. 314., to have been hung out in terrorem to Captain Creichton in 1689. N. The boot was an instrument of torture formerly used in Scotland. Bishop Burnet, in his History of his own Times, Vol. I. p. 332. edit. 1754, mentions one Macgill, a preacher, who, being suspected of treasonable practices, underwent this punishment in 1666: "He was put to the torture, which in Scotland they call the boots; for they put a pair of iron boots close on the leg, and drive wedges between these and the leg. The common torture was only to drive these in the calf of the leg; but I have been told they were sometimes driven upon the shin bone." upward; and that were a strange sight, you know. Bil. There be many that will repine at my preferment. Pas. O aye, like the envy of an elder sister, that hath her younger made a lady before her. Bil. The duke is wondrous discontented. Pas. Aye, and more melancholy-like than a usurer having all his money out at the death of a prince. Bil. Didst thou see madam Floria to-day? Pas. Yes, I found her repairing her face today; the red upon the white shewed as if her cheeks should have been served in for two dishes of barberries in stewed broth, and the flesh to them a woodcock. Bil. A bitter fool! Come, madam, this night thou shalt enjoy me freely, and to-morrow for Florence. Pas. What a natural fool is he that would be a pair of boddice to a woman's petticoat, to be trussed and pointed to them? Well, I'll dog my lord, and the word is proper: for when I fawn upon him, he feeds me; when I snap him by the fingers, he spits in my mouth. If a dog's death were not strangling, I had rather be one than a serving-man; for the corruption of coin is either the generation of a usurer, or a lousy beggar. [Exeunt BIANCA and Passarello. SCENE II. Enter MALEVOLE in some Freeze Gown, while BILIOSO reads his Patent. Mal. I cannot sleep; my eyes ill-neighbouring Will hold no fellowship. O thou pale sober night, Thou makest wink sure. In night all creatures sleep; Only the malcontent, that 'gainst his fate Repines and quarrels; alas, he's goodman tellclock, His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan; Whilst other beds are down, his pillow's stone. Bil. Malevole ! Mal. Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked nature and obstinate ignorance, when did thy wife let thee lie with her? Bil. I am going ambassador to Florence. Mal. Ambassador! Now, for thy country's honour, pr'ythee do not put up mutton and porridge in thy cloak-bag. Thy young lady wife goes to Florence with thee too, does she not? Bil. No, I leave her at the palace. Mal. At the palace! Now discretion shield man; for God's love let's ha' no more cuckolds! Hymen begins to put off his saffron robe; keep thy wife in the state of grace. Heart-a-truth, I would sooner leave my lady singled in a Bordello, than in the Genoa palace; sin there appearing in her sluttish shape, Would soon grow loathsome, even to blushes sense, Surfeit would choke intemperate appetite, Left to the push of all allurement, out. Bil. 'Mass, I'll think on't. Farewell. [Exit BILIOSO. Mal. Farewell. Take thy wife with thee. Farewell. To Florence! um: it may prove good; it may, And we may once unmask our brows. SCENE III. Enter Count CELSO. Cel. My honoured lord! Mal. Celso, peace; how is't? speak low, Pale fears suspect that hedges, walls, and trees, Have ears speak, how runs all ? Cel. I'faith, my lord, that beast with many heads, The staggering multitude, recoils apace. Though, thorough great men's envy, most men's malice, Their much intemperate heat hath banished you, Yet now they find envy and malice ne'er 55 Barb the field,―i. e. mow it. See Note on Coriolanus, A. 3. 6. 2. edit. 1778. S. Produce faint reformation. By marrying his proud daughter to this prince, Mal. Of that at leisure :-he lives. Cel. But how stands Mendozo? how is't with him? Mal. Faith like a pair of snuffers, snibs filth in other men, and retains it in himself. Cel. He does fly from public notice methinks, as a hare does from hounds, the feet whereon he flies betray him. Mal. I can track him, Celso. O my disguise fools him most powerfully; He fain would clasp with me; he is the true slave Enter MENDOZO. Cel. He's here. Mal. Give place. Illo! ho, ho, ho, art there, old true-penny? 56 [Exit CELSO. Where hast thou spent thyself this morning? see flattery in thine eyes, and damnation in thy soul. Ha, thou huge rascal! Men. Thou art very merry. I Mal. As a scholar, fatuens gratis. How doth the devil go with thee now? Men. Malevole, thou art an arrant knave. Mal. As Job, an alchymist, or a poet. Mal. As pleasing as maids lose their virginity. Men. Would thou wert of a lusty spirit, would thou wert noble. Mal. Why sure my blood gives me I am noble, sure I am of noble kind; for I find myself possessed with all their qualities,-love dogs, dice, and drabs; scorn wit in stuff clothes, have beat my shoemaker, knocked my semsters, cuckold my 'pothecary, and undone my tailor. Noble! why not? since the stoick said, Neminem servum non ex regibus, neminem regem non ex servis esse oriundum; only busy fortune towses, and the provident chances blend them together. I'll give you a simile: did you ever see a well with two buckets, whilst one comes up full to be emptied, another goes down empty to be filled? such is the state of all humanity. Why, look you, I may be the son of some duke; for, believe me, intemperate lascivious bastardy makes nobility doubtful. I have a lusty daring heart, Mendozo. Men. Let's grasp, I do like thee intinipely wilt enact one thing for me? Mal. Shall I get by it? [Gives him his Purse Command me, I am thy slave, beyond death and hell. ✔ Men. Murther the duke. Mal. My heart's wish, my soul's desire, my fancy's dream, My blood's longing, the only height of my hopes: how? O God, how? O how my united spirits throng together, To strengthen my resolve! Men. The duke is now a bunting. Mal. Excellent, admirable, as the devil would have it; lend me, lend me, rapier, pistol, crossbow ;-so, so, I'll do it. Men. Then we agree Mal. As lent and fishmongers. Come, cap-apie, how? inform. Men. Know that this weak-brained duke, who only stands On Florence stilts, hath out of witless zeal Men. Merit! by heaven I horn him; Mal. No reason, marry: but how must he die now? Men. My utmost project is to murder the duke, that I might have his state, because he makes me his heir; to banish the duchess, that I might be rid of a cunning Lacedemonian, because I know Florence will forsake her; and then to marry Maria, the banished Duke Altofront's wife, that her friends might strengthen me and my faction: this is all, la. Mal. Do you love Maria? Men. Faith, no great affection, but as wise men do love great women, to ennoble their blood, To accomplish this and augment their revenue. now: Thus now, the duke is in the forest next 56 Illo! ho, ho, ho, art there, old true-penny?—See Hamlet. the sea, single him, kill him, hurl him in the To get some hypocrite, some dangerous wretch, To swear he heard the duke, on some steep cliff, Men. May well be banished: L Mal. Then fear not for the wife of Altofront, Men. Thou shalt, thou shalt, our excellency is Why wert not thou an emperor? when we are duke, I'll make thee some great man sure. P. Jac. Prettily begged !-hold thee, I'll prove thy dream true; ask't. Page. My duty: but still I dreamt on, my lord; and methought, and't shall please your excellency, you would needs, out of your royal bounty, give me that jewel in your hat. P. Jac. Oh, thou didst but dream, boy, do not believe it: dreams prove not always true, they may hold in a short sword, but not in a jewel. But now, sir, you dreamt you had pleased me with singing; make that true, as I have made the other. Page. Faith, my lord, I did but dream, and dreams you say prove not always true: they may hold in a good sword, but not in a good song. The truth is, I ha' lost my voice. P. Jac. Lost thy voice? how? Page. With dreaming, faith; but here's a couple, of syrenical rascals shall; enchant ye. What shall they sing, my good lord? P. Jac. Sing of the nature of women; and then the song shall be surely full of varieties, Mal. Nay, make me some rich knave, and I'll | old crotchets, and most sweet closes; it shall be make myself some great man. Men. In thee be all my spirit'; Retain ten souls; unite thy virtual powers. well. Enter PIETRO JACOMO, FERRARDO, Prepasso, P. Jac. Would God nothing but the dogs were at it! let the deer pursue safely, the dogs follow the game, and do you follow the dogs; as for me, 'tis unfit one beast should hunt another,-I ha' one chaseth me. And't please you, I would be rid of you a little. humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly, one in all, and all in one. Page. All in one? P. Jac. By'r lady too many; sing, my speech grows culpable of unthrifty idleness, sing. [Song. SCENE V. Enter MALEVOLE, with Cross-bow and Pistol. P. Jac. A so-so-song; I am heavy, walk off, I shall talk in my sleep; walk off. [Exeunt Pages. Mal. Brief, brief, who? the duke? good heaven, that fools should stumble upon greatness! do not sleep, duke, give ye good-morrow: you must be brief, duke; I am fee'd to murther thee; start not: Mendozo, Mendozo hired me; here's his gold, his pistol, cross-bow, and sword,—'tis all as firm as earth. O fool, fool, choked with the common maze of easy idiots, credulity. Make him thine heir! what, thy sworn murtherer? P. Jac. O, can it be? Mal. Can? P. Jac. Discovered he not Ferneze? Mal. Yes; but why? but why? for love to thee? much, much,-to be revenged upon his rival, who had thrust his jaws awry; who, being slain, supposed by thine own hands, defended by his sword, made thee most loathsome, him most [Exeunt FERRARDO and PREPASSO.gracious with thy loose princess. Thou, closely P. Jac. 1 thank you.-Boy, what dost thou dream of now? Fer. Would your grief would as soon leave you as we to quietness. Page. Of a dry summer, my lord, for here's a hot world towards-but, my lord, I had a strange dream last night. P. Jac. What strange dream? Page. Why methought I pleased you with singing; and then I dreamt you gave me that short sword. Politi yielding egress and regress to her, mad'st him Enter CELSO with a Hermit's Gown and Beard. SCENE I. ACT IV. Enter MAQUERELLE knocking at the Lady's Door. Maq. Medam, medam, are you stirring, medam? if you be stirring, inedam, if I thought I should disturb ye Page. My lady is up, forsooth. Maq. A pretty boy, faith; how old art thou? Page. I think fourteen. Maq. Nay, and ye be in the teens ;—are ye a gentleman born? do you know me? my name is Medam Maquerelle, I lie in the old Cunny-court. See here the ladies. Enter BIANCA and EMILIA. Bian. A fair day to ye, Maquerelle. [Exeunt. Em. How bears the duchess with this blemish now? Maq. Faith, boldly; strongly defies defame, as one that has a duke to her father. And there's a note to you: be sure of a stout friend in a corner, that may always awe your husband. Mark the 'haviour of the duchess now: she dares defame; cries, Duke, do what thou can'st, I'll quit mine honour: nay, as one confirmed in her own virtue against ten thousand mouths that mutter her disgrace, she's presently for dances. Enter FERRARDO. Bian. For dances ! Maq. Most true. Em. Most strange? see, here's my servant, young Ferrardo. How many servants think'st thou I have, Maquerelle? Maq. The more the merrier: 'twas well said, use your servants as you do your smocks; have Maq. O ladies, the most abominable mischance! O dear ladies, the most piteous disaster! Ferneze was taken last night in the duchess' cham-many, use one, and change often; for that's most ber: alas! the duke catched him and killed him. Bian. Was he found in bed? Maq. O, no; but the villainous certainty is, the door was not bolted, the tongue-tied hatch held his peace: so the naked truth is, he was found in his shirt, whilst I, like an arrant beast, lay in the outward chamber, heard nothing; and yet they came by me in the dark, and yet I felt them not, like a senseless creature as I was. O beauties, look to your 57 busk points, if not chastly, yet charily be sure the door be bolted. Is your lord gone to Florence? Bian. Yes, Maquerelle. Maq. I hope you'll find the discretion to purchase a fresh gown 'fore his return. Now, by my troth, beauties, I would ha' ye once wise: he loves ye? pish! he is witty? bubble! fair proportioned? meaw! nobly born? wind! Let this be still your fixed position, esteem ye every man according to his good gifts, and so ye shall ever remain most dear, and most worthy to be most dear, ladies. Em. Is the duke returned from hunting yet? Maq. They say not yet. Bian. Tis now in midst of day. sweet and courtlike. Fer. Save ye, fair ladies; is the duke returned? Bian. Sweet sir, no voice of him as yet in 57 Busk-points.-The busk is a slip of wood, or metal, used for stiffening the front part of a woman's stays. 56 Tread a measure-See Note 35 to Alexander and Campaspe, Vol. I. p. 150. |