The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY IN THE YEAR 1744. FOURTH EDITION, NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS, AND NEW NOTES

BY

W. CAREW HAZLITT.

BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.

New York

First published 1874-1876
Reissued 1964 by Benjamin Blom, Inc.
L.C. Catalog Card No. 64-14702

Printed in U.S.A. by
NOBLE OFFSET PRINTERS, INC.
New York 3, N. Y.

THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY.

For a notice of the Edition, see the next page.

INTRODUCTION.

Cyril Torneur is known only as an author, none of the dramatic biographers giving any account of him. Winstanley quotes the following distich from a contemporary poet, by which it appears that he was not held in much estimation for his writings—

"His fame unto that pitch was only rais'd, As not to be despis'd, nor over-prais'd."

He was the author of—

[(1.) The Transformed Metamorphosis, a Poem. 8^o, London, 1600.[1]]

(2.) The Revengers Tragœdie. As it hath beene sundry times Acted by the Kings Maiesties Seruants. At London. Printed by G. Eld, and are to be sold at his house in Fleete-lane at the signe of the Printers-Presse. 1607, 4^o. Again (a new date only) 1608, 4^o.[2]

(3.) "The Atheists Tragedie: Or The honest Mans Reuenge. As in diuers places it hath often beene Acted. Written by Cyril Tourneur. At London Printed for John Stepneth and Richard Redmer, and are to be sold at their shop, at the West end of Paules. 1611,"[3] 4^o. Again, 1612, 4^o.

(4.) A Traji-Comedy, called The Nobleman, never printed, and which Oldys says was destroyed by ignorance.[4]

(5.) A Funerall Poeme. Vpon the Death of the most Worthie and Trve Sovldier: Sir Francis Vere, Knight, Captaine of Portsmouth, L. Gouernour of his Maiesties Cautionarie Towne of Briell in Holland, &c., 4^o, 1609.

(6.) A Griefe on the Death of Prince Henrie. Expressed in a broken Elegie, according to the nature of such a sorrow, 4^o, 1613.[5]

[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "This is a most splendid work. The character of Vendice surpasses anything else of the kind. The power with which it is conceived and conducted is appalling. The quaint way that accompanies it adds to its fearful effect. The whole is perfectly tremendous."]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] [See Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, art. Tourneur, in Appendix.]

[2] "The Revenger's Tragedy" was entered on the Stationers' Books, with "A Trick to Catch the Old One," on the 7th October 1607.

[3] There are some good passages in this play, but upon the whole it is considerably inferior to "The Revenger's Tragedy." The plot is unnatural, and the manner in which the catastrophe is brought about ludicrous.—Collier.

[4] It is very probable that Tourneur was concerned in other dramatic productions, which are either anonymous, or have been lost. He is mentioned in the following terms by Robert Daborne in a letter to P. Henslowe, dated 5th June 1613: "I have not only laboured my own play, which shall be ready before they (the company) come over, but given Cyrill Tourneur an act of the 'Arraignment of London' to write, y^t we may have that likewise ready for them."—Collier.

[5] [This is part of a volume entitled, "Three Elegies on the most Lamented Death of Prince Henrie," 1613. The others are by John Webster and T. Heywood.] After the title comes a prose dedication, "To my noble Maister George Carie," and four lines "To the Reader." At the end of the "Griefe" are verses "On the representation of the Prince at his funeralle," and "On the succession," each in eight lines.—Gilchrist.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[6]

• Duke.
• Duchess.
• Vendice, disguised as Piato, } Brothers to Castiza.
• Hippolito, also called Carlo, }
• Lusurioso, the Duke's Son.
• Spurio, a Bastard.
• Ambitioso, The Duchess's eldest Son.
• Supervacuo, second Son to the Duchess.
• A third Son to the Duchess.
• Antonio.
• Piero.
• Dondolo.
• Judges.
  
  
• Castiza.
• Gratiana, Mother of Catiza.

The Scene, Italy.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] [Not in the old copy.]

THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY.

ACTUS I., SCÆNA 1.[7]

Enter Vendice. The Duke, Duchess, Lusurioso the Duke's son, Spurio the bastard, with a train, pass over the stage with torchlight.

Ven.[8] Duke! royal lecher! go, grey-hair'd adultery! And thou his son, as impious steep'd as he: And thou his bastard, true begot in evil: And thou his duchess, that will do with devil: Four exc'llent characters! O, that marrowless age Should stuff the hollow bones with damn'd desires! And, 'stead of heat, kindle infernal fires Within the spendthrift veins of a dry duke, A parch'd and juiceless luxur.[9] O God! one, That has scarce blood enough to live upon; And he to riot it, like a son and heir! O, the thought of that Turns my abused heart-strings into fret. Thou sallow picture of my poison'd love,

[Views the skull in his hand.

My study's ornament, thou shell of death, Once the bright face of my betrothed lady, When life and beauty naturally fill'd out These ragged imperfections; When two heaven-pointed diamonds were set In those unsightly rings—then 'twas a face So far beyond the artificial shine Of any woman's bought complexion, That the uprightest man (if such there be, That sin but seven times a day) broke custom, And made up eight with looking after her. O, she was able to ha' made a usurer's son Melt all his patrimony in a kiss; And what his father [in] fifty years told, To have consum'd, and yet his suit been cold. But, O accursed palace! Thee, when thou wert apparell'd in thy flesh, The old duke poison'd, Because thy purer part would not consent Unto his palsied[10] lust; for old men lustful Do show like young men angry: eager, violent, Outbid, [be]like, their limited performances. O, 'ware an old man hot and vicious! "Age, as in gold, in lust is covetous." Vengeance, thou murder's quit-rent, and whereby Thou show'st thyself tenant to tragedy; O, keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech, For those thou hast determin'd. Hum! whoe'er knew Murder unpaid? faith, give revenge her due, Sh' has kept touch hitherto: be merry, merry, Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks! To have their costly three-pil'd flesh worn off As bare as this; for banquets, ease, and laughter Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay; But wise men little are more great than they.

Enter Hippolito.

Hip. Still sighing o'er death's vizard?

Ven. Brother, welcome! What comfort bring'st thou? how go things at court?

Hip. In silk and silver, brother: never braver.

Ven. Puh! Thou play'st upon my meaning. Prythee, say, Has that bald madman, opportunity, Yet thought upon's? speak, are we happy yet? Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit.

Hip. It may prove happiness.

Ven. What is't may prove? Give me to taste.

Hip. Give me your hearing, then. You know my place at court?

Ven. Ay, the duke's chamber! But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turn'd out yet!

Hip. Faith, I've been shov'd at; but 'twas still my hap To hold by th' duchess' skirt: you guess at that: Whom such a coat keeps up, can ne'er fall flat. But to the purpose— Last evening, predecessor unto this, The duke's son warily inquir'd for me, Whose pleasure I attended: he began By policy to open and unhusk me About the fame[11] and common rumour: But I had so much wit to keep my thoughts Up in their built houses; yet afforded him An idle satisfaction without danger. But the whole aim and scope of his intent Ended in this: conjuring me in private To seek some strange-digested fellow forth, Of ill-contented nature; either disgrac'd In former times, or by new grooms displac'd, Since his step-mother's nuptials; such a blood, A man that were for evil only good— To give you the true word, some base-coin'd pander.

Ven. I reach you; for I know his heat is such, Were there as many concubines as ladies, He would not be contain'd; he must fly out. I wonder how ill-featur'd, vile-proportion'd, That one should be, if she were made for woman Whom, at the insurrection of his lust, He would refuse for once. Heart! I think none. Next to a skull, though more unsound than one, Each face he meets he strongly doats upon.

Hip. Brother, y' have truly spoke him. He knows not you, but I will swear you know him.

Ven. And therefore I'll put on that knave for once, And be a right man then, a man o' th' time; For to be honest is not to be i' th' world. Brother, I'll be that strange-composed fellow.

Hip. And I'll prefer you, brother.

Ven. Go to, then: The smallest advantage fattens wronged men: It may point out occasion, if I meet her, I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough; Or, like the French Mole,[12] heave up hair and all. I have a habit that will fit it quaintly. Here comes our mother.

Hip. And sister.

Ven. We must coin: Women are apt, you know, to take false money; But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures, Only excuse excepted, that they'll swallow, Because their sex is easy in belief.

Enter Gratiana and Castiza.

Gra. What news from court, son Carlo?

Hip. Faith, mother, Tis whisper'd there the duchess' youngest son Has play'd a rape on Lord Antonio's wife.

Gra. On that religious lady!

Cas. Royal blood! monster, he deserves to die, If Italy had no more hopes but he.

Ven. Sister, y'have sentenc'd most direct and true, The law's a woman, and would she were you. Mother, I must take leave of you.

Gra. Leave! for what?

Ven. I intend speedy travel.

Hip. That he does, madam.

Gra. Speedy indeed!

Ven. For since my worthy father's funeral, My life's unnatural[13] to me, even compell'd; As if I liv'd now, when I should be dead.

Gra. Indeed, he was a worthy gentleman, Had his estate been fellow to his mind.

Ven. The duke did much deject him.

Gra. Much?

Ven. Too much: And though disgrace oft smother'd in his spirit, When it would mount, surely I think he died Of discontent, the noble man's consumption.

Gra. Most sure he did.

Ven. Did he? 'lack! you know all: You were his midnight secretary.

Gra. No, He was too wise to trust me with his thoughts.

Ven. I' faith, then, father, thou wast wise indeed; "Wives are but made to go to bed and feed." Come, mother, sister: you'll bring me onward,[14] brother?

Hip. I will.

Ven. I'll quickly turn into another. [Aside. Exeunt.

Enter the old Duke, Lusurioso his son, the Duchess: the Bastard, the Duchess's two sons Ambitioso and Supervacuo; the third, her youngest, brought out with Officers for the rape. Two Judges.

Duke. Duchess, it is your youngest son, we're sorry, His violent act has e'en drawn blood of honour, And stain'd our honours; Thrown ink upon the forehead of our state; Which envious spirits will dip their pens into After our death; and blot us in our tombs: For that which would seem treason in our lives Is laughter, when we're dead. Who dares now whisper, That dares not then speak out, and e'en proclaim With loud words and broad pens our closest shame?

Judge. Your grace hath spoke like to your silver years, Full of confirmed gravity; for what is it to have A flattering false insculption[15] on a tomb, And in men's hearts reproach? the bowell'd corpse May be sear'd in, but (with free tongue I speak) The faults of great men through their sear-cloths break.

Duke. They do; we're sorry for't: it is our fate To live in fear, and die to live in hate. I leave him to your sentence; doom him, lords— The fact is great—whilst I sit by and sigh.

Duch. My gracious lord, I pray be merciful: Although his trespass far exceed his years, Think him to be your own, as I am yours; Call him not son-in-law: the law, I fear, Will fall too soon upon his name and him: Temper his fault with pity.

Lus. Good my lord, Then 'twill not taste so bitter and unpleasant Upon the judges' palate; for offences, Gilt o'er with mercy, show like fairest women, Good only for their beauties, which wash'd off, No sin is uglier.[16]

Amb. I beseech your grace, Be soft and mild; let not relentless law Look with an iron forehead on our brother.

Spu. He yields small comfort yet [or] hope he shall die; And if a bastard's wish might stand in force, Would all the court were turn'd into a corse! [Aside.

Duch. No pity yet? must I rise fruitless then? A wonder in a woman! are my knees Of such low metal, that without respect——

1st Judge. Let the offender stand forth: 'Tis the duke's pleasure, that impartial doom Shall take fast hold of his unclean attempt. A rape! why 'tis the very core of lust— Double adultery.

Jun. So, sir.

2d Judge. And which was worse, Committed on the Lord Antonio's wife, That general honest lady. Confess, my lord, What mov'd you to't?

Jun. Why, flesh and blood, my lord; What should move men unto a woman else?

Lus. O, do not jest thy doom! trust not an axe Or sword too far: the law is a wise serpent, And quickly can beguile thee of thy life. Though marriage only has made thee my brother, I love thee so far, play not with thy death.

Jun, I thank you, troth; good admonitions, faith, If I'd the grace now to make use of them.

1st Judge. That lady's name has spread such a fair wing Over all Italy, that if our tongues Were sparing toward the fact, judgment itself Would be condemn'd, and suffer in men's thoughts.

Jun. Well then, 'tis done; and it would please me well, Were it to do again: sure, she's a goddess, For I'd no power to see her, and to live. It falls out true in this, for I must die; Her beauty was ordain'd to be my scaffold. And yet, methinks, I might be easier 'sess'd: My fault being sport, let me but die in jest.

1st Judge. This be the sentence——

Duch. O, keep't upon your tongue; let it not slip; Death too soon steals out of a lawyer's lip. Be not so cruel-wise!

1st Judge. Your grace must pardon us; 'Tis but the justice of the law.

Duch. The law Is grown more subtle than a woman should be.

Spu. Now, now he dies! rid 'em away. [Aside.

Duch. O, what it is to have an old cool duke, To be as slack in tongue as in performance! [Aside.

1st Judge. Confirm'd, this be the doom irrevocable.

Duch. O!

1st Judge. To-morrow early——

Duch. Pray be abed, my lord.

1st Judge. Your grace much wrongs yourself.

Amb. No, 'tis that tongue: Your too much right does do us too much wrong.

1st Judge. Let that offender——

Duch. Live, and be in health.

1st Judge. Be on a scaffold——-

Duke. Hold, hold, my lord!

Spu. Pox on't, What makes my dad speak now?

Duke. We will defer the judgment till next sitting: In the meantime, let him be kept close prisoner. Guard, bear him hence.

Amb. Brother, this makes for thee; Fear not, we'll have a trick to set thee free. [Aside.

Jun. Brother, I will expect it from you both; And in that hope I rest. [Aside.

Sup. Farewell, be merry. [Exit with a guard.

Spu. Delay'd! deferr'd! nay then, if judgment have cold blood, Flattery and bribes will kill it.

Duke. About it, then, my lords, with your best powers: More serious business calls upon our hours.

[Exeunt, manet Duchess.

Duch. Was't ever known step-duchess was so mild And calm as I? some now would plot his death With easy doctors, those loose-living men, And make his wither'd grace fall to his grave, And keep church better. Some second wife would do this, and despatch Her double-loathed lord at meat or sleep. Indeed, 'tis true, an old man's twice a child; Mine cannot speak; one of his single words Would quite have freed my youngest dearest son From death or durance, and have made him walk With a bold foot upon the thorny law, Whose prickles should bow under him; but 'tis not, And therefore wedlock-faith shall be forgot: I'll kill him in his forehead; hate, there feed; That wound is deepest, though it never bleed. And here comes he whom my heart points unto, His bastard son, but my love's true-begot; Many a wealthy letter have I sent him, Swell'd up with jewels, and the timorous man Is yet but coldly kind. That jewel's mine that quivers in his ear, Mocking his master's dullness and vain fear. H' has spied me now!

Enter Spurio.[17]

Spu. Madam, your grace so private? My duty on your hand.

Duch. Upon my hand, sir! troth, I think you'd fear To kiss my hand too, if my lip stood there.

Spu. Witness I would not, madam. [Kisses her.

Duch. 'Tis a wonder, For ceremony has made many fools![18] It is as easy way unto a duchess, As to a hatted dame,[19] if her love answer: But that by timorous humours,[20] pale respects, Idle degrees of fear, men make their ways Hard of themselves. What, have you thought of me?

Spu. Madam, I ever think of you in duty, Regard, and——

Duch. Puh! upon my love, I mean.

Spu. I would 'twere love; but 'tis a fouler name Than lust: you are my father's wife—your grace may guess now What I could call it.

Duch. Why, th' art his son but falsely; 'Tis a hard question whether he begot thee.

Spu. I' faith, 'tis true: I'm an uncertain man Of more uncertain woman. Maybe, his groom O' th' stable begot me; you know I know not; He could ride a horse well, a shrewd suspicion, marry!— He was wondrous tall: he had his length, i' faith; For peeping over half-shut holyday windows, Men would desire him light, when he was afoot. He made a goodly show under a pent-house; And when he rid, his hat would check the signs, And clatter barbers' basons.

Duch. Nay, set you a-horseback once, You'll ne'er light off.[21]

Spu. Indeed, I am a beggar.

Duch. That's the more sign thou'rt great.— But to our love: Let it stand firm both in thy thought and mind, That the duke was thy father, as no doubt He bid fair for't—-thy injury is the more; For had he cut thee a right diamond, Thou had'st been next set in the dukedom's ring, When his worn self, like age's easy slave, Had dropp'd out of the collet[22] into th' grave. What wrong can equal this? canst thou be tame, And think upon't?

Spu. No, mad, and think upon't.

Duch. Who would not be reveng'd of such a father, E'en in the worst way? I would thank that sin, That could most injure him, and be in league with it. O, what a grief 'tis that a man should live But once i' th' world, and then to live a bastard! The curse o' the womb, the thief of nature, Begot against the seventh commandment, Half-damn'd in the conception by the justice Of that unbribed, everlasting law.

Spu. O, I'd a hot-back'd devil to my father.

Duch. Would not this mad e'en patience, make blood rough? Who but an eunuch would not sin? his bed, By one false minute disinherited.

Spu. Ay, there's the vengeance that my birth was wrapp'd in! I'll be reveng'd for all: now, hate, begin; I'll call foul incest but a venial sin.

Duch. Cold still! in vain then must a duchess woo?

Spu. Madam, I blush to say what I will do.

Duch. Thence flew sweet comfort. Earnest, and farewell.

[Kisses him.

Spu. O, one incestuous kiss picks open hell.

Duch. Faith now, old duke, my vengeance shall reach high, I'll arm thy brow with woman's heraldry. [Exit.

Spu. Duke, thou didst do me wrong; and, by thy act Adultery is my nature. Faith, if the truth were known, I was begot After some gluttonous dinner; some stirring dish Was my first father, when deep healths went round, And ladies' cheeks were painted red with wine, Their tongues, as short and nimble as their heels, Uttering words sweet and thick; and when they rose, Were merrily dispos'd to fall again. In such a whisp'ring and withdrawing hour, When base male-bawds kept sentinel at stair-head, Was I stol'n softly. O damnation meet![23] The sin of feasts, drunken adultery! I feel it swell me; my revenge is just! I was begot in impudent wine and lust. Step-mother, I consent to thy desires; I love thy mischief well; but I hate thee And those three cubs thy sons, wishing confusion, Death and disgrace may be their epitaphs. As for my brother, the duke's only son, Whose birth is more beholding to report Than mine, and yet perhaps as falsely sown (Women must not be trusted with their own), I'll loose my days upon him, hate-all-I; Duke, on thy brow I'll draw my bastardy: For indeed a bastard by nature should make cuckolds, Because he is the son of a cuckold-maker. [Exit.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito. Vendice in disguise, to attend L. Lusurioso, the duke's son.

Ven. What, brother, am I far enough from myself?

Hip. As if another man had been sent whole Into the world, and none wist how he came.

Ven. It will confirm me bold—the child o' th' court; Let blushes dwell i' th' country. Impudence! Thou goddess of the palace, mistress of mistresses, To whom the costly perfum'd people pray, Strike thou my forehead into dauntless marble, Mine eyes to steady sapphires. Turn my visage; And, if I must needs glow, let me blush inward, That this immodest season may not spy That scholar in my cheeks, fool bashfulness; That maid in the old time, whose flush of grace Would never suffer her to get good clothes. Our maids are wiser, and are less asham'd; Save Grace the bawd, I seldom hear grace nam'd!

Hip. Nay, brother, you reach out o' th' verge now—— 'Sfoot, the duke's son! settle your looks.

Ven. Pray, let me not be doubted.

Hip. My lord——

Enter Lusurioso.

Lus. Hippolito—be absent, leave us!

Hip. My lord, after long search, wary inquiries, And politic siftings, I made choice of yon fellow, Whom I guess rare for many deep employments: This our age swims within him; and if Time Had so much hair, I should take him for Time, He is so near kin to this present minute.

Lus. 'Tis enough; We thank thee: yet words are but great men's blanks; Gold, though it be dumb, does utter the best thanks.

[Gives him money.

Hip. Your plenteous honour! an excellent fellow, my lord.

Lus. So, give us leave—[Exit Hippolito.] welcome, be not far off; we must be better acquainted: pish, be bold with us—thy hand.

Ven. With all my heart, i' faith: how dost, sweet musk-cat? When shall we lie together?

Lus. Wondrous knave, Gather him into boldness! 'sfoot, the slave's Already as familiar as an ague, And shakes me at his pleasure. Friend, I can Forget myself in private; but elsewhere I pray do you remember me.

Ven. O, very well, sir—I conster myself saucy.

Lus. What hast been? Of what profession?

Ven. A bone-setter.

Lus. A bone-setter!

Ven. A bawd, my lord— One that sets bones together.

Lus. Notable bluntness! Fit, fit for me; e'en train'd up to my hand: Thou hast been scrivener to much knavery, then?

Ven. Fool to abundance, sir: I have been witness To the surrenders of a thousand virgins; And not so little I have seen patrimonies wash'd a-pieces, Fruit-fields turn'd into bastards, And in a world of acres Not so much dust due to the heir 'twas left to As would well gravel[24] a petition.

Lus. Fine villain! troth, I like him wondrously: He's e'en shap'd for my purpose. [Aside.] Then thou know'st I' th' world strange lust?

Ven. O Dutch lust! fulsome lust! Drunken procreation! which begets so many drunkards: Some fathers dread not (gone to bed in wine) to slide from the mother, And cling the daughter-in-law;[25] Some uncles are adulterous with their nieces: Brothers with brothers' wives. O hour of incest! Any kin now, next to the rim o' th' sister,[26] Is man's meat in these days; and in the morning, When they are up and dress'd, and their mask on, Who can perceive this, save that eternal eye, That sees through flesh and all? Well, if anything be damn'd, It will be twelve o'clock at night; that twelve Will never 'scape; It is the Judas of the hours, wherein Honest salvation is betray'd to sin.

Lus. In troth, it is true; but let this talk glide. It is our blood to err, though hell gape wide.[27] Ladies know Lucifer fell, yet still are proud. Now, sir, wert thou as secret as thou'rt subtle, And deeply fathom'd into all estates, I would embrace thee for a near employment; And thou shouldst swell in money, and be able To make lame beggars crouch to thee.

Ven. My lord. Secret! I ne'er had that disease o' th' mother, I praise my father: why are men made close, But to keep thoughts in best? I grant you this, Tell but some women a secret over night, Your doctor may find it in the urinal i' th' morning. But, my lord——

Lus. So thou'rt confirm'd in me, And thus I enter thee. [Gives him money.

Ven. This Indian devil Will quickly enter any man but a usurer; He prevents that by entering the devil first.

Lus. Attend me. I am past my depth in lust, And I must swim or drown. All my desires Are levell'd at a virgin not far from court, To whom I have convey'd by messenger Many wax'd lines, full of my neatest spirit, And jewels that were able to ravish her Without the help of man; all which and more She (foolish chaste) sent back, the messengers Receiving frowns for answers.

Ven. Possible! 'Tis a rare Phœnix, whoe'er she be. If your desires be such, she so repugnant, In troth, my lord, I'd be reveng'd, and marry her.

Lus. Pish! the dowry of her blood and of her fortunes Are both too mean—good enough to be bad withal. I'm one of that number can defend Marriage as good;[28] yet rather keep a friend. Give me my bed by stealth—there's true delight; What breeds a loathing in't, but night by night!

Ven. A very fine religion!

Lus. Therefore, thus I'll trust thee in the business of my heart; Because I see thee well-experienc'd In this luxurious day, wherein we breathe. Go thou, and with a smooth, enchanting tongue Bewitch her ears, and cosen her of all grace: Enter upon the portico[29] of her soul— Her honour, which she calls her chastity, And bring it into expense; for honesty Is like a stock of money laid to sleep Which, ne'er so little broke, does never keep.

Ven. You have gi'n 't the tang, i' faith, my lord: Make known the lady to me, and my brain Shall swell with strange invention: I will move it, Till I expire with speaking, and drop down Without a word to save me—but I'll work——

Lus. We thank thee, and will raise thee— Receive her name; it is the only daughter to Madam Gratiana, the late widow.

Ven. O my sister, my sister! [Aside.

Lus. Why dost walk aside?

Ven. My lord, I was thinking how I might begin: As thus, O lady—or twenty hundred devices— Her very bodkin will put a man in.

Lus. Ay, or the wagging of her hair.

Ven. No, that shall put you in, my lord.

Lus. Shall't? why, content. Dost know the daughter, then?

Ven. O, excellent well by sight.

Lus. That was her brother, That did prefer thee to us.

Ven. My lord, I think so; I knew I had seen him somewhere——

Lus. And therefore, prythee, let thy heart to him Be (as a virgin) close.

Ven. O my good lord.

Lus. We may laugh at that simple age within him.

Ven. Ha, ha, ha!

Lus. Himself being made the subtle instrument, To wind up a good fellow.

Ven. That's I, my lord.

Lus. That's thou, To entice and work his sister.

Ven. A pure novice!

Lus. 'Twas finely manag'd.

Ven. Gallantly carried! A pretty perfum'd villain!

Lus. I've bethought me, If she prove chaste still and immovable, Venture upon the mother; and with gifts, As I will furnish thee, begin with her.

Ven. O, fie, fie! that's the wrong end, my lord. 'Tis mere impossible that a mother, by any gifts, should become a bawd to her own daughter!

Lus. Nay, then, I see thou'rt but a puisne In the subtle mystery of a woman. Why, 'tis held now no dainty dish: the name Is so in league with age, that nowadays It does eclipse three quarters of a mother.

Ven. Does it so, my lord? Let me alone, then, to eclipse the fourth.

Lus. Why, well-said—come, I'll furnish thee; but first Swear to be true in all.

Ven. True!

Lus. Nay, but swear.

Ven. Swear?—I hope your honour little doubts my faith.

Lus. Yet, for my humour's sake, 'cause I love swearing——

Ven. 'Cause you love swearing, 'slud, I will.

Lus. Why, enough! Ere long look to be made of better stuff.

Ven. That will do well indeed, my lord.

Lus. Attend me. [Exit.

Ven. O! Now let me burst. I've eaten noble poison; We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains! Wilt not be angry, when thou hear'st on't, think'st thou? I' faith, thou shalt: swear me to foul my sister! Sword, I durst make a promise of him to thee; Thou shalt disheir him; it shall be thine honour. And yet, now angry froth is down in me, It would not prove the meanest policy, In this disguise, to try the faith of both. Another might have had the selfsame office; Some slave that would have wrought effectually, Ay, and perhaps o'erwrought 'em; therefore I, Being thought-travell'd, will apply myself Unto the selfsame form, forget my nature, As if no part about me were kin to 'em, So touch 'em;—though I durst almost for good Venture my lands in heaven upon their blood.[30] [Exit.

Enter the discontented Lord Antonio, whose wife the Duchess's youngest son ravished: he discovering the body of her dead to certain Lords and Hippolito.

Ant. Draw nearer, lords, and be sad witnesses Of a fair comely building newly fall'n, Being falsely undermin'd. Violent rape Has play'd a glorious act: behold, my lords, A sight that strikes man out of me.

Piero. That virtuous lady!

Ant. President for wives!

Hip. The blush of many women, whose chaste presence Would e'en call shame up to their cheeks, and make Pale wanton sinners have good colours——

Ant. Dead! Her honour first drank poison, and her life, Being fellows in one house, did pledge her honour.

Piero. O, grief of many!

Ant. I mark'd not this before— A prayer-book, the pillow to her cheek: This was her rich confection; and another Plac'd in her right hand, with a leaf tuck'd up, Pointing to these words— Melius virtute mori, quam per dedecus vivere: True and effectual it is indeed.

Hip. My lord, since you invite us to your sorrows, Let's truly taste 'em, that with equal comfort, As to ourselves, we may relieve your wrongs: We have grief too, that yet walks without tongue; Curæ leves loquuntur, majores stupent.

Ant. You deal with truth, my lord, Lend me but your attentions, and I'll cut Long grief into short words. Last revelling night, When torch-light made an artificial noon About the court, some courtiers in the masque, Putting on better faces than their own, Being full of fraud and flattery—amongst whom The duchess' youngest son (that moth to honour) Fill'd up a room, and with long lust to eat Into my warren,[31] amongst all the ladies Singled out that dear form, who ever liv'd As cold in lust as she is now in death, (Which that step-duchess monster knew too well) And therefore in the height of all the revels, When music was heard loudest, courtiers busiest, And ladies great with laughter—O vicious minute! Unfit but for relation to be spoke of: Then with a face more impudent than his vizard, He harri'd[32] her amidst a throng of panders, That live upon damnation of both kinds, And fed the ravenous vulture of his lust. O death to think on't! She, her honour forc'd, Deem'd it a nobler dowry for her name, To die with poison, than to live with shame.

Hip. A wondrous lady! of rare fire compact; Sh' has made her name an empress by that act.

Piero. My lord, what judgment follows the offender?

Ant. Faith, none, my lord; it cools, and is deferr'd.

Piero. Delay the doom for rape!

Ant. O, you must note who 'tis should die, The duchess' son! she'll look to be a saver: "Judgment, in this age, is near kin to favour."

Hip. Nay, then, step forth, thou bribeless officer:

[Draws.

I'll bind you all in steel, to bind you surely; Here let your oaths meet, to be kept and paid, Which else will stick like rust, and shame the blade; Strengthen my vow that if, at the next sitting, Judgment speak all in gold, and spare the blood Of such a serpent e'en before their seats To let his soul out, which long since was found Guilty in heaven—

All. We swear it, and will act it.

Ant. Kind gentlemen, I thank you in mine heart.[33]

Hip. 'Twere pity The ruins of so fair a monument Should not be dipp'd in the defacer's blood.

Piero. Her funeral shall be wealthy; for her name Merits a tomb of pearl. My Lord Antonio, For this time wipe your lady from your eyes; No doubt our grief and yours may one day court it, When we are more familiar with revenge.

Ant. That is my comfort, gentlemen, and I joy In this one happiness above the rest, Which will be call'd a miracle at last That, being an old man, I'd a wife so chaste. [Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] ["There is some confusion in the arrangement of this scene. From the duke, &c., passing over the stage, it should be some open part of the duke's palace; but from the reflections on the skull, &c., it would appear to be Vendice's private study. But perhaps it was intended to represent two scenes, one above the other, as was frequently done at the period of this play."—MS. note in one of the former edits.]

[8] With a skull in his hand. That he has the skull of his mistress is evident from the whole of the scene. He makes use of it afterwards in act iii.—Collier.

[9] Luxury was the ancient appropriate term for incontinence. Hence this wanton old duke was called a luxur. See Mr Collins's note on "Troilus and Cressida," edit. 1778, ix. 166.—Steevens.

[10] [Old copy, palsy.]

[11] [Old copy, time.]

[12] This is not a name of the Lues Venerea, but a comparison only of it to a mole, on account of the effects it sometimes produces in occasioning the loss of hair.—Pegge.

[13] [Old copy, unnaturally—e'en.]

[14] A phrase in common use, signifying to accompany one.

[15] Hitherto [formerly] misprinted inscription: insculption is the word in the old quartos.—Collier.

[16] [Out of place in the mouth of housewives.—MS. note in one of the former edits.]

[17] The entrances and exits of the various characters are very defectively noticed in the old copies, and Mr Reed accurately supplied most of them.—Collier.

[18] Tourneur has urged this doctrine at greater length in the second act of his "Atheist's Tragedy," 1612.—Gilchrist.

[19] She means from the highest to the lowest of her sex. At this time women of the inferior order wore hats. See Hollar's "Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus," 1640.

[20] [Old copy, honors.]

[21] "Set a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride a gallop. Asperius nihil est humili cum surgit in altum.—Claudian. Il n'est orgueil qui de pauvre enrichi.—Fr. There is no pride to the enriched beggar's. Il villan nobilitado non conosce il parentado.—Ital. The villain ennobled will not own his kindred or parentage."—[Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 331.]

[22] That part of a ring in which the stone is set.—Johnson's "Dictionary."

[23] [Old copy, met]

[24] i.e., Sand it, to prevent it from blotting, while the ink was wet.—Steevens.

[25] i.e., compress, embrace her. See Mr Steevens's note on "Macbeth," act v. sc. 5.

[26] That is, no degree of relationship is sufficient to restrain the appetite of lust, scarce that of sister; they even approach to the rim or verge of what is the most prohibited.

[27] The quarto reads, lowde.

[28] The quarto reads, is good.—Steevens.

[29] [Old copy, portion.]

[30] Upon their good is the misreading of one old copy.—Collier.

[31] [Old copy, wearing.]

[32] To harry, Mr Steevens observes, is to use roughly. See note to "Antony and Cleopatra," act iii. sc. 3. See also Fuller's "Church History," lib. x. p. 19.—Gilchrist.

[33] [Old copy, ire.]

ACTUS II, SCÆNA 1.

Enter Castiza, the sister.

Cas. How hardly shall that maiden be beset, Whose only fortunes are her constant thoughts! That has no other child's part but her honour, That keeps her low and empty in estate; Maids and their honours are like poor beginners; Were not sin rich, there would be fewer sinners; Why had not virtue a revenue? Well, I know the cause, 'twould have impoverish'd hell.

Enter Dondolo.

How now, Dondolo?

Don. Madonna, there is one as they say, a thing of flesh and blood—a man, I take him by his beard, that would very desirously mouth to mouth with you.

Cas. What's that?

Don. Show his teeth in your company.

Cas. I understand thee not.

Don. Why, speak with you, madonna.

Cas. Why, say so, madman, and cut off a great deal of dirty way; had it not been better spoke in ordinary words, that one would speak with me?

Don. Ha, ha! that's as ordinary as two shillings. I would strive a little to show myself in my place; a gentleman-usher scorns to use the phrase and fancy of a serving-man.

Cas. Yours be your own, sir; go, direct him hither;

[Exit Dondolo.

I hope some happy tidings from my brother, That lately travell'd, whom my soul affects. Here he comes.

Enter Vendice, her brother, disguised.

Ven. Lady, the best of wishes to your sex. Fair skins and new gowns.

Cas. O, they shall thank you, sir. Whence this?

Ven. Mighty—O, from a dear and worthy friend;

Cas. From whom?

Ven. The duke's son!

Cas. Receive that.

[A box o' the ear to her brother.

I swore I would put anger in my hand, And pass the virgin limits of my sex,[34] To him that next appear'd in that base office, To be his sin's attorney. Bear to him That figure of my hate upon thy cheek, Whilst 'tis yet hot, and I'll reward thee for't; Tell him my honour shall have a rich name, When several harlots shall share his with shame. Farewell; commend me to him in my hate. [Exit.

Ven. It is the sweetest box, That e'er my nose came nigh; The finest drawn-work cuff that e'er was worn; I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek Shall still henceforward take the wall of this. O, I'm above my tongue: most constant sister, In this thou hast right honourable shown; Many are call'd their[35] honour, that have none; Thou art approv'd for ever in my thoughts. It is not in the power of words to taint thee. And yet for the salvation of my oath, As my resolve in that point, I will lay Hard siege unto my mother, though I know A syren's tongue could not bewitch her so. Mass, fitly here she comes! thanks, my disguise— Madam, good afternoon.

Enter Gratiana.

Gra. Y' are welcome, sir.

Ven. The next[36] of Italy commends him to you, Our mighty expectation, the duke's son.

Gra. I think myself much honour'd that he pleases To rank me in his thoughts.

Ven. So may you, lady: One that is like to be our sudden duke; The crown gapes for him every tide, and then Commander o'er us all; do but think on him. How bless'd were they, now that could pleasure him— E'en with anything almost?

Gra. Ay, save their honour.

Ven. Tut, one would let a little of that go too, And ne'er be seen in't—ne'er be seen in't, mark you; I'd wink, and let it go.

Gra. Marry, but I would not.

Ven. Marry, but I would, I hope; I know you would too, If you'd that blood now, which you gave your daughter. To her indeed 'tis this wheel[37] comes about; That man that must be all this, perhaps ere morning, (For his white father does but mould away), Has long desir'd your daughter.

Gra. Desir'd?

Ven. Nay, but hear me, He desires now, that will command hereafter: Therefore be wise. I speak as more a friend To you than him: madam, I know you're poor, And, 'lack the day! There are too many poor ladies already; Why should you wax the number? 'tis despis'd. Live wealthy, rightly understand the world, And chide away that foolish country girl Keeps company with your daughter—Chastity.

Gra. O fie, fie! the riches of the world cannot hire a mother to such a most unnatural task.

Ven. No, but a thousand angels can. [If] men have no power, angels must work you to't: The world descends into such baseborn evils, That forty angels can make fourscore devils. There will be fools still, I perceive—still fools.[38] Would I be poor, dejected, scorn'd of greatness, Swept from the palace, and see others' daughters Spring with the dew o' the court, having mine own So much desir'd and lov'd by the duke's son? No, I would raise my state upon her breast; And call her eyes my tenants; I would count My yearly maintenance upon her cheeks; Take coach upon her lip; and all her parts Should keep men after men, and I would ride In pleasure upon pleasure. You took great pains for her, once when it was; Let her requite it now, though it be but some. You brought her forth: she may well bring you home.

Gra. O heavens! this o'ercomes me!

Ven. Not, I hope, already? [Aside.

Gra. It is too strong for me; men know that know us, We are so weak their words can overthrow us; He touch'd me nearly, made my virtues bate,[39] When his tongue struck upon my poor estate. [Aside.

Ven. I e'en quake to proceed, my spirit turns edge. I fear me she's unmother'd; yet I'll venture. "That woman is all male, whom none can enter."

[Aside.

What think you now, lady? speak, are you wiser? What said advancement to you? thus it said: The daughter's fall lifts up the mother's head. Did it not, madam? but I'll swear it does In many places: tut, this age fears no man. "'Tis no shame to be bad, because 'tis common."

Gra. Ay, that's the comfort on't.

Ven. The comfort on't! I keep the best for last—can these persuade you To forget heaven—and—— [Gives her money.

Gra. Ay, these are they——

Ven. O!

Gra. That enchant our sex. These are The means that govern our affections—that woman Will not be troubled with the mother long, That sees the comfortable shine of you: I blush to think what for your sakes I'll do.

Ven. O sovereign[40] heaven, with thy invisible finger, E'en at this instant turn the precious side Of both mine eyeballs inward, not to see myself.

[Aside.[41]

Gra. Look you, sir.

Ven. Hollo.

Gra. Let this thank your pains.

Ven. O, you're a kind madam.

Gra. I'll see how I can move.

Ven. Your words will sting.

Gra. If she be still chaste, I'll ne'er call her mine.

Ven. Spoke truer than you meant it.

Gra. Daughter Castiza.

Enter Castiza.

Cas. Madam.

Ven. O, she's yonder; Meet her: troops of celestial soldiers guard her heart. Yon dam has devils enough to take her part.

Cas. Madam, what makes yon evil-offic'd man In presence of you?

Gra. Why?

Cas. He lately brought Immodest writing sent from the duke's son, To tempt me to dishonourable act.

Gra. Dishonourable act!—good honourable fool, That wouldst be honest, 'cause thou wouldst be so, Producing no one reason but thy will. And't has a good report, prettily commended, But pray, by whom? poor people, ignorant people; The better sort, I'm sure, cannot abide it. And by what rule should we square out our lives, But by our betters' actions? O, if thou knew'st What 'twere to lose it, thou would never keep it! But there's a cold curse laid upon all maids, Whilst others clip the sun,[42] they clasp the shades. Virginity is paradise lock'd up. You cannot come by yourselves without fee; And 'twas decreed, that man should keep the key! Deny advancement! treasure! the duke's son!

Cas. I cry you mercy! lady, I mistook you! Pray did you see my mother? which way went she?[43] Pray God, I have not lost her.

Ven. Prettily put by! [Aside.

Gra. Are you as proud to me, as coy to him? Do you not know me now?

Cas. Why, are you she? The world's so chang'd one shape into another, It is a wise child now that knows her mother.

Ven. Most right, i' faith. [Aside.

Gra. I owe your cheek my hand For that presumption now; but I'll forget it. Come, you shall leave those childish 'haviours, And understand your time. Fortunes flow to you; What, will you be a girl? If all fear'd drowning that spy waves ashore, Gold would grow rich, and all the merchants poor.

Cas. It is a pretty saying of a wicked one; But methinks now it does not show so well Out of your mouth—better in his!

Ven. Faith, bad enough in both, Were I in earnest, as I'll seem no less. [Aside. I wonder, lady, your own mother's words Cannot be taken, nor stand in full force. 'Tis honesty you urge; what's honesty? 'Tis but heaven's beggar; and what woman is So foolish to keep honesty, And be not able to keep herself? No, Times are grown wiser, and will keep less charge. A maid that has small portion now intends To break up house, and live upon her friends; How bless'd are you! you have happiness alone; Others must fall to thousands, you to one, Sufficient in himself to make your forehead Dazzle the world with jewels, and petitionary people Start at your presence.

Gra. O, if I were young, I should be ravish'd.

Cas. Ay, to lose your honour!

Ven. 'Slid, how can you lose your honour To deal with my lord's grace? He'll add more honour to it by his title; Your mother will tell you how.

Gra. That I will.

Ven. O, think upon the pleasure of the palace! Secured ease and state! the stirring meats, Ready to move out of the dishes, that e'en now Quicken when they are eaten! Banquets abroad by torchlight! music! sports! Bareheaded vassals, that had ne'er the fortune To keep on their own hats, but let horns[44] wear 'em! Nine coaches waiting—hurry, hurry, hurry——

Cas. Ay, to the devil.

Ven. Ay, to the devil! [Aside.] To the duke, by my faith.

Gra. Ay, to the duke: daughter, you'd scorn to think o' the devil, and you were there once.

Ven. True, for most there are as proud as he for his heart, i' faith. [Aside.

Who'd sit at home in a neglected room, Dealing her short-liv'd beauty to the pictures, That are as useless as old men, when those Poorer in face and fortune than herself Walk with a hundred acres on their backs,[45] Fair meadows cut into green foreparts? O, It was the greatest blessing ever happen'd to women: When farmers' sons agreed to mete their gain,[46] To wash their hands, and come up gentlemen! The commonwealth has flourished ever since: Lands that were mete[47] by the rod, that labour's spar'd: Tailors ride down, and measure 'em by the yard. Fair trees, those comely foretops of the field, Are cut to maintain head-tires—much untold— All thrives but chastity; she lies a-cold. Nay, shall I come nearer to you? mark but this:

Why are there so few honest women, but because tis the poorer profession? that's accounted best that's best followed; least in trade, least in fashion; and that's not honesty, believe it; and do but note the love and dejected price of it—

Lose but a pearl, we search, and cannot brook it: But that,[48] once gone, who is so mad to look it?

Gra. Troth, he says true.

Cas. False! I defy you both: I have endur'd you with an ear of fire; Your tongues have struck hot irons on my face. Mother, come from that poisonous woman there.[49]

Gra. Where?

Cas. Do you not see her? she's too inward,[50] then: Slave, perish in thy office! you heavens, please Henceforth to make the mother a disease, Which first begins with me: yet I've outgone you. [Exit.

Ven. O angels, clap your wings upon the skies, And give this virgin crystal plaudites!

Gra. Peevish, coy, foolish!—but return this answer, My lord shall be most welcome, when his pleasure Conducts him this way. I will sway mine own: Women with women can work best alone. [Exit.

Ven. Indeed, I'll tell him so. O, more uncivil, more unnatural, Than those base-titled creatures that look downward; Why does not heaven turn black, or with a frown Undo the world? Why does not earth start up, And strike the sins that tread upon't? O, Were't not for gold and women, there would be no damnation. Hell would look like a lord's great kitchen without fire in't. But 'twas decreed, before the world began, That they should be the hooks to catch at man. [Exit.

Enter Lusurioso, with Hippolito.

Lus. I much applaud Thy judgment; thou art well-read in thy fellows,[51] And 'tis the deepest art to study man. I know this, which I never learnt in schools, The world's divided into knaves and fools.

Hip. Knave in your face—my lord behind your back. [Aside.

Lus. And I much thank thee, that thou hast preferr'd A fellow of discourse, well-mingled, And whose brain time hath season'd.

Hip. True, my lord, We shall find season once, I hope. O villain! To make such an unnatural slave of me—but——

[Aside.

Lus. Mass, here he comes.

Hip. And now shall I have free leave to depart.

[Aside.

Lus. Your absence, leave us.

Hip. Are not my thoughts true? [Aside. I must remove; but, brother, you may stay. Heart! we are both made bawds a new-found way! [Exit.

Enter Vendice.

Lus. Now we're an even number, a third man's dangerous, Especially her brother;—say, be free, Have I a pleasure toward———

Ven. O my lord!

Lus. Ravish me in thine answer; art thou rare? Hast thou beguil'd her of salvation, And rubb'd hell o'er with honey? Is she a woman?

Ven. In all but in desire.

Lus. Then she's in nothing—I bate[52] in courage now.

Ven. The words I brought Might well have made indifferent honest naught. A right good woman in these days is chang'd Into white money with less labour far: Many a maid has turn'd to Mahomet With easier working: I durst undertake, Upon the pawn and forfeit of my life, With half those words to flat a Puritan's wife. But she is close and good;—yet 'tis a doubt By this time. O, the mother, the mother!

Lus. I never thought their sex had been a wonder, Until this minute. What fruit from the mother?

Ven. Now must I blister my soul, be forsworn, Or shame the woman that receiv'd me first. I will be true: thou liv'st not to proclaim. Spoke to a dying man, shame has no shame.

[Aside.

My lord.

Lus. Who's that?

Ven. Here's none but I, my lord.

Lus. What should thy haste utter?

Ven. Comfort.

Lus. Welcome.

Ven. The maid being dull, having no mind to travel Into unknown lands, what did I[53] straight, But set spurs to the mother; golden spurs Will put her to a false gallop in a trice.

Lus. Is't possible that in this The mother should be damn'd before the daughter?

Ven. O, that's good manners, my lord; the mother for her age must go foremost, you know.

Lus. Thou'st spoke that true! but where comes in this comfort?

Ven. In a fine place, my lord,—the unnatural mother Did with her tongue so hard beset her honour, That the poor fool was struck to silent wonder; Yet still the maid, like an unlighted taper, Was cold and chaste, save that her mother's breath Did blow fire on her cheeks. The girl departed; But the good ancient madam, half mad, threw me These promising words, which I took deeply note of: My lord shall be most welcome——

Lus. Faith, I thank her.

Ven. When his pleasure conducts him this way——

Lus. That shall be soon, i' faith.

Ven. I will sway mine own——

Lus. She does the wiser: I commend her for't.

Ven. Women with women can work best alone.

Lus. By this light, and so they can; give 'em their due, men are not comparable to 'em.

Ven. No, that's true; for you shall have one woman knit more in an hour, than any man can ravel again in seven-and-twenty years.

Lus. Now my desires are happy; I'll make 'em freemen now. Thou art a precious fellow; faith, I love thee; Be wise and make it thy revenue; beg, beg; What office couldst thou be ambitious for?

Ven. Office, my lord! marry, if I might have my wish, I would have one that was never begged yet.

Lus. Nay, then, thou canst have none.

Ven. Yes, my lord, I could pick out another office yet; nay, and keep a horse and drab upon't.

Lus. Prythee, good bluntness, tell me.

Ven. Why, I would desire but this, my lord—to have all the fees behind the arras, and all the farthingales that fall plump about twelve o'clock at night upon the rushes.

Lus. Thou'rt a mad, apprehensive[54] knave; dost think to make any great purchase of that?

Ven. O, 'tis an unknown thing, my lord; I wonder 't has been missed so long.

Lus. Well, this night I'll visit her, and 'tis till then A year in my desires—farewell, attend: Trust me with thy preferment.

Ven. My lov'd lord! O, shall I kill him o' th' wrong side now? no! Sword, thou wast never a backbiter yet. I'll pierce him to his face; he shall die looking upon me. Thy veins are swell'd with lust, this shall unfill 'em. Great men were gods, if beggars could not kill 'em. Forgive me, heaven, to call my mother wicked! O, lessen not my days upon the earth,[55] I cannot honour her. By this, I fear me, Her tongue has turn'd my sister into use. I was a villain not to be forsworn To this our lecherous hope, the duke's son; For lawyers, merchants, some divines, and all, Count beneficial perjury a sin small. It shall go hard yet, but I'll guard her honour, And keep the ports sure.

Enter Hippolito.

Hip. Brother, how goes the world? I would know news of you. But I have news to tell you.

Ven. What, in the name of knavery?

Hip. Knavery, faith; This vicious old duke's worthily abused, The pen of his bastard writes him cuckold?

Ven. His bastard?

Hip. Pray, believe it; he and the duchess By night meet in their linen;[56] they have been seen By stair-foot panders.

Ven. O, sin foul and deep! Great faults are wink'd at, when the duke's asleep. See, see, here comes the Spurio.

Hip. Monstrous luxur!

Ven. Unbrac'd! two of his valiant bawds with him! O, there's a wicked whisper; hell's in his ear. Stay, let's observe his passage—

Enter Spurio and Servants.

Spu. O, but are you sure on't?

Ser. My lord, most sure on't; for 'twas spoke by one, That is most inward with the duke's son's lust, That he intends within this hour to steal Unto Hippolito's sister, whose chaste life The mother has corrupted for his use.

Spu. Sweet word! sweet occasion! faith, then, brother, I'll disinherit you in as short time, As I was when I was begot in haste. I'll damn you at your pleasure: precious deed! After your lust, O, 'twill be fine to bleed. Come, let our passing out be soft and wary. [Exeunt.

Ven. Mark! there, there, that step! now to the duchess— This their second meeting writes the duke cuckold With new additions—his horns newly reviv'd. Night! thou that look'st like funeral heralds' fees, Torn down betimes i' th' morning, thou hang'st fitly To grace those sins that have no grace at all. Now 'tis full sea abed over the world: There's juggling of all sides; some that were maids E'en at sunset, are now perhaps i' th' toll-book.[57] This woman in immodest thin apparel Lets in her friend by water; here a dame Cunning nails leather hinges to a door, To avoid proclamation, Now cuckolds are coining, apace, apace, apace, apace! And careful sisters spin that thread i' th' night, That does maintain them and their bawds i' th' day.

Hip. You flow well, brother.

Ven. Pish![58] I'm shallow yet; Too sparing and too modest; shall I tell thee? If every trick were told that's dealt by night, There are few here that would not blush outright.

Hip. I am of that belief too. Who's this comes?

Ven.[59] The duke's son up so late? Brother, fall back, And you shall learn some mischief. My good lord!

Enter Lusurioso.

Lus. Piato! why, the man I wished for! Come, I do embrace this season for the fittest To taste of that young lady.

Ven. Heart and hell.

Hip. Damn'd villain! [Aside.

Ven. I have no way now to cross it, but to kill him. [Aside.

Lus. Come, only thou and I.

Ven. My lord! my lord!

Lus. Why dost thou start us?

Ven. I'd almost forgot—the bastard!

Lus. What of him?

Ven. This night, this hour, this minute, now——

Lus. What? what?

Ven. Shadows the duchess——

Lus. Horrible word!

Ven. And (like strong poison) eats Into the duke your father's forehead.

Lus. O!

Ven. He makes horn-royal.

Lus. Most ignoble slave!

Ven. This is the fruit of two beds.

Lus. I am mad.

Ven. That passage he trod warily.

Lus. He did.

Ven. And hush'd his villains every step he took.

Lus. His villains? I'll confound them.

Ven. Take 'em finely—finely, now.

Lus. The duchess' chamber-door shall not control me. [Exeunt.

Hip. Good, happy, swift: there's gunpowder i' th' court, Wildfire at midnight. In this heedless fury He may show violence to cross himself. I'll follow the event.

Re-enter Lusurioso and Vendice.

Lus. Where is that villain?

Ven. Softly, my lord, and you may take 'em twisted.

Lus. I care not how.

Ven. O! 'twill be glorious To kill 'em doubled, when they're heap'd. Be soft, my lord.

Lus. Away! my spleen is not so lazy: thus and thus I'll shake their eyelids ope, and with my sword Shut 'em again for ever. Villain! strumpet!

Duke. You upper guard, defend us!

Duch. Treason! treason!

Duke. O, take me not in sleep! I have great sins; I must have days, Nay, months, dear son, with penitential heaves To lift 'em out, and not to die unclear. O, thou wilt kill me both in heaven and here.

Lus. I am amaz'd to death.

Duke. Nay, villain, traitor, Worse than the foulest epithet; now I'll gripe thee E'en with the nerves of wrath, and throw thy head Amongst the loyal[60] guard.

Enter Nobles and [Duchess's] Sons.

1st Noble. How comes the quiet of your grace disturb'd?

Duke. This boy, that should be myself after me, Would be myself before me; and in heat Of that ambition bloodily rush'd in, Intending to depose me in my bed.

2d Noble. Duty and natural loyalty forfend!

Duch. He call'd his father villain, and me strumpet, A word that I abhor to file[61] my lips with.

Amb. That was not so well-done, brother.

Lus. I am abus'd—I know there's no excuse can do me good. [Aside.

Ven. 'Tis now good policy to be from sight; His vicious purpose to our sister's honour I cross'd beyond our thought. [Aside.

Hip. You little dreamt his father slept here.

Ven. O, 'twas far beyond me: But since it fell so—without frightful words, Would he had kill'd him, 'twould have eas'd our swords.

Duke. Be comforted, our duchess, he shall die.

[Dissemble a fright.[62]

Lus. Where's this slave-pander now? out of mine eye, Guilty of this abuse.

Enter Spurio with his villains.

Spu. Y' are villains, fablers![63] You have knaves' chins and harlots' tongues; you lie; And I will damn you with one meal a day.

1st Ser. O good my lord!

Spu. 'Sblood, you shall never sup.

2d Ser. O, I beseech you, sir!

Spu. To let my sword catch cold so long, and miss him!

1st Ser. Troth, my lord, 'twas his intent to meet there.

Spu. 'Heart! he's yonder. Ha, what news here? is the day out o' th' socket, That it is noon at midnight? the court up! How comes the guard so saucy with his elbows?

Lus. The bastard here? Nay, then the truth of my intent shall out; My lord and father, hear me.

Duke. Bear him hence.

Lus. I can with loyalty excuse.

Duke. Excuse? to prison with the villain! Death shall not long lag after him.

Spu. Good, i' faith: then 'tis not much amiss.

Lus. Brothers, my best release lies on your tongues; I pray, persuade for me.

Amb. It is our duties; make yourself sure of us.

Sup. We'll sweat in pleading.

Lus. And I may live to thank you. [Exit.

Amb. No, thy death shall thank me better.

Spu. He's gone; I'll after him, And know his trespass; seem to bear a part In all his ills, but with a puritan heart. [Exit.

Amb. Now, brother, let our hate and love be woven So subtlely together, that in speaking one word for his life, We may make three for his death: The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath.

Sup. Set on, I'll not be far behind you, brother.

Duke. Is't possible a son should be disobedient as far as the sword? It is the highest: he can go no farther.

Amb. My gracious lord, take pity—

Duke. Pity, boys!

Amb. Nay, we'd be loth to move your grace too much; We know the trespass is unpardonable, Black, wicked, and unnatural.

Sup. In a son? O, monstrous!

Amb. Yet, my lord, A duke's soft hand strokes the rough head of law, And makes it lie [more] smooth.

Duke. But my hand shall ne'er do't.

Amb. That, as you please, my lord.

Sup. We must needs confess. Some fathers would have entered into hate So deadly-pointed, that before his eyes He would ha' seen the execution sound[64] Without corrupted favour.

Amb. But, my lord, Your grace may live the wonder of all times, In pard'ning that offence, which never yet Had face to beg a pardon.

Duke. How's this?

Amb. Forgive him, good my lord; he's your own son: And I must needs say, 'twas the viler done.

Sup. He's the next heir: yet this true reason gathers, None can possess that dispossess their fathers. Be merciful!—

Duke. Here's no step-mother's wit; I'll try them both upon their love and hate.

[Aside.

Amb. Be merciful—although—

Duke. You have prevailed. My wrath, like flaming wax, hath spent itself; I know 'twas but some peevish moon[65] in him; Go, let him be releas'd.

Sup. 'Sfoot, how now, brother?

Amb. Your grace doth please to speak beside your spleen; I would it were so happy.

Duke. Why, go, release him.

Sup. O my good lord! I know the fault's too weighty And full of general loathing: too inhuman, Rather by all men's voices worthy death.

Duke. 'Tis true too, here, then, receive this signet. Doom shall pass; Direct it to the judges; he shall die Ere many days. Make haste.

Amb. All speed that may be. We could have wish'd his burden not so sore: We knew your grace did but delay before. [Exeunt.

Duke. Here's envy[66] with a poor thin cover o'er't; Like scarlet hid in lawn, easily spied through. This their ambition by the mother's side Is dangerous, and for safety must be purg'd, I will prevent their envies; sure it was But some mistaken fury in our son, Which these aspiring boys would climb upon: He shall be releas'd suddenly.

Enter Nobles.

1st Noble. Good morning to your grace.

Duke. Welcome, my lords.

2d Noble. Our knees shall take Away the office of our feet for ever, Unless your grace bestow a father's eye Upon the clouded fortunes of your son, And in compassionate virtue grant him that, Which makes e'en mean men happy—liberty.

Duke. How seriously their loves and honours woo For that which I am about to pray them do! Arise,[67] my lords; your knees sign his release. We freely pardon him.

1st Noble. We owe your grace much thanks, and he much duty.

[Exeunt.

Duke. It well becomes that judge to nod at crimes, That does commit greater himself, and lives. I may forgive a disobedient error, That expect pardon for adultery, And in my old days am a youth in lust. Many a beauty have I turn'd to poison In the denial, covetous of all. Age hot is like a monster to be seen; My hairs are white, and yet my sins are green.

FOOTNOTES:

[34] [Edits., myself. Gilchrist's correction.]

[35] [Old copy, by their.]

[36] [i.e., Next heir.]

[37] [Query, wheel of fortune. Perhaps we should read weal.]

[38] [Edits., fool.]

[39] See note on p. 40.

[40] [Old copy, suffering.]

[41] [A MS. note in one of the former edits., refers us to the closet scene in "Hamlet."]

[42] i.e., Embrace it. So again in this play—

"Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips."

i.e., cursed embraces.—Steevens.

[43] [Copies, you. This emendation was suggested by a MS. note in one of the former edits.]

[44] Alluding to the custom of hanging hats in ancient halls upon stags' horns.—Steevens.

[45] So in Lodge's "Wit's Miserie," p. 24: "What think you to a tender faire young, nay a weakling of womankind to wear whole Lordships and Manor-houses on her backe without sweating?" See also note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage," [ix. 490.]

[46] [Old copy, and met again. The word mete occurs again a little lower down. The meaning may be that they calculated their savings.]

[47] i.e., Measured. Petruchio, in "The Taming of the Shrew," calls the tailor's measuring-yard his mete-yard.—Steevens.

[48] i.e., Honesty.—Gilchrist.

[49] ["What splendid power of passion and imagery there is in this!"—MS. note in one of the former edits.]

[50] i.e., Intimate. See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [v. 168]

[51] [Old copy, a fellow.]

[52] I decline, or lessen in courage. So Falstaff says: "Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle?" &c.

[53] [Edits., did me I.]

[54] i.e., Quick to understand. See Mr Steevens's note on "The Second Part of King Henry IV.," act iv. sc. 3.

[55] Alluding to the promise in the Fifth Commandment.

[56] [In their night-clothes.]

[57] Alluding to the custom of entering horses sold at fairs in a book called the "Toll-book." See note to "All's Well that Ends Well," edit. 1766, of Shakespeare, iv. 141.—Steevens.

[58] [Edits., Push.]

[59] Mr Reed assigned these two lines to Hippolito, a decided error, both by the sense and according to the old copy, which gives them to Vendice. He makes his brother stand back, while he addresses Lusurioso: My good lord; and Lusurioso naturally observes: Piato! why, the man I wished for, &c.—Collier.

[60] [Edits., lawyer's.]

[61] [Defile.] See note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage," [ix. 511.]

[62] The quarto reads, flight.

[63] [Liars.]

[64] [See at p. 53 the passage, our office shall be sound. In both places the word means, constant, true.]

[65] Some sudden fit of frenzy. Cotgrave translates "Avoir un quartier de la lune en la teste," to be half frantic, or have a spice of lunacy.

[66] [Hatred.]

ACTUS III., SCÆNA 1.

Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo.

Sup. Brother, let my opinion sway you once; I speak it for the best, to have him die; Surest and soonest, if the signet come Unto the judge's hand, why then his doom Will be deferr'd till sittings and court-days, Juries, and farther. Faiths are bought and sold; Oaths in these days are but the skin of gold.

Amb. In troth, 'tis true too,

Sup. Then let's set by the judges, And fall to the officers; 'tis but mistaking The duke our father's meaning; and where he nam'd Ere many days—'tis but forgetting that, And have him die i' th' morning.

Amb. Excellent! Then am I heir! duke in a minute!

Sup. [Aside.] Nay, And he were once puff'd out, here is a pin Should quickly prick your bladder.

Amb. Bless'd occasion! He being pack'd, we'll have some trick and wile To wind our younger brother out of prison, That lies in for the rape. The lady's dead, And people's thoughts will soon be buried.

Sup. We may with safety do't, and live and feed: The duchess' sons are too proud to bleed.

Amb. We are, i' faith, to say true—come let's not linger: I'll to the officers; go you before, And set an edge upon the executioner.

Sup. Let me alone to grind him. [Exit.

Amb. Farewell! I am next now; I rise just in that place, Where thou'rt out off; upon thy neck, kind brother; The falling of one head lifts up another. [Exit.

Enter, with the Nobles, Lusurioso from prison.

Lus. My lords, I am so much indebted to your loves For this, O, this delivery—

1st Noble. But our duties, my lord, unto the hopes that grow in you.

Lus. If e'er I live to be myself, I'll thank you. O liberty, thou sweet and heavenly dame! But hell for prison is too mild a name. [Exeunt.

Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo, with Officers.

Amb. Officers, here's the duke's signet, your firm warrant, Brings the command of present death along with it Unto our brother, the duke's son; we are sorry That we are so unnaturally employ'd In such an unkind office, fitter far For enemies than brothers.

Sup. But, you know, The duke's command must be obey'd.

1st Officer. It must and shall, my lord. This morning, then— So suddenly?

Amb. Ay, alas! poor, good soul! He must breakfast betimes; the executioner Stands ready to put forth his cowardly valour.

2d Officer. Already?

Sup. Already, i' faith. O sir, destruction hies, And that is least imprudent,[68] soonest dies.

1st Officer. Troth, you say true. My lord, we take our leaves: Our office shall be sound; we'll not delay The third part of a minute.

Amb. Therein you show Yourselves good men and upright officers. Pray, let him die as private as he may; Do him that favour; for the gaping people Will but trouble him at his prayers, And make him curse and swear, and so die black. Will you be so far kind?

1st Officer. It shall be done, my lord.

Amb. Why, we do thank you; if we live to be— You shall have a better office.

2d Officer. Your good lordship—

Sup. Commend us to the scaffold in our tears.

1st Officer. We'll weep, and do your commendations. [Exeunt.

Amb. Fine fools in office!

Sup. Things fall out so fit!

Amb. So, happily come, brother! ere next clock, His head will be made serve a bigger block.[69] [Exeunt.

Enter in prison Junior Brother and Keeper.

Jun. Keeper!

Keeper. My lord.

Jun. No news lately from our brothers? Are they unmindful of us?

Keeper. My lord, a messenger came newly in, And brought this from 'em.

Jun. Nothing but paper-comforts? I look'd for my delivery before this, Had they been worth their oaths.—Prythee, be from us.

[Exit Keeper.

Now what say you, forsooth? speak out, I pray.

[Reads the letter.] Brother, be of good cheer;

'Slud, it begins like a whore with good cheer. Thou shalt not be long a prisoner. Not five-and-thirty years, like a bankrupt—I think so. We have thought upon a device to get thee out by a trick. By a trick! pox o' your trick, an' it be so long a playing. And so rest comforted, be merry, and expect it suddenly! Be merry! hang merry, draw and quarter merry;

I'll be mad. Is't not strange that a man should lie-in a whole month for a woman? Well, we shall see how sudden our brothers will be in their promise. I must expect still a trick: I shall not be long a prisoner. How now, what news?

Enter Keeper.

Keeper. Bad news, my lord; I am discharged of you.

Jun. Slave! call'st thou that bad news? I thank you, brothers.

Keeper. My lord, 'twill prove so. Here come the officers, Into whose hands I must commit you.

Jun. Ha, officers! what? why?

Enter Officers.

1st Officer. You must pardon us, my lord: Our office must be sound: here is our warrant, The signet from the duke; you must straight suffer.

Jun. Suffer! I'll suffer you to begone; I'll suffer you To come no more; what would you have me suffer?

2d Officer. My lord, those words were better chang'd to prayers. The time's but brief with you: prepare to die.

Jun. Sure, 'tis not so!

3d Officer. It is too true, my lord.

Jun. I tell you 'tis not; for the duke my father Deferr'd me till next sitting; and I look, E'en every minute, threescore times an hour, For a release, a trick wrought by my brothers.

1st Officer. A trick, my lord! if you expect such comfort, Your hope's as fruitless as a barren woman: Your brothers were the unhappy messengers, That brought this powerful token for your death.

Jun. My brothers? no, no.

2d Officer. 'Tis most true, my lord.

Jun. My brothers to bring a warrant for my death! How strange this shows!

3d Officer. There's no delaying time.

Jun. Desire 'em hither: call 'em up—my brothers! They shall deny it to your faces.

1st Officer. My lord, They're far enough by this; at least at court; And this most strict command they left behind 'em. When grief swam in their eyes, they show'd like brothers, Brimful of heavy sorrow—but the duke Must have his pleasure.

Jun. His pleasure!

1st Officer. These were the last words, which my memory bears, Commend us to the scaffold in our tears.

Jun. Pox dry their tears! what should I do with tears? I hate 'em worse than any citizen's son Can hate salt water. Here came a letter now, New-bleeding from their pens, scarce stinted[70] yet: Would I'd been torn in pieces when I tore it: Look, you officious whoresons, words of comfort, Not long a prisoner.

1st Officer. It says true in that, sir; for you must suffer presently.

Jun. A villainous Duns upon the letter,[71] knavish exposition! Look you then here, sir: we'll get thee out by a trick, says he.

2d Officer. That may hold too, sir; for you know a trick is commonly four cards, which was meant by us four officers.

Jun. Worse and worse dealing.

1st Officer. The hour beckons us. The headsman waits: lift up your eyes to heaven.

Jun. I thank you, faith; good pretty wholesome counsel! I should look up to heaven, as you said, Whilst he behind me cosens me of my head. Ay, that's the trick.

3d Officer. You delay too long, my lord.

Jun. Stay, good authority's bastards; since I must, Through brothers' perjury, die, O, let me venom Their souls with curses.

3d Officer. Come, 'tis no time to curse.

Jun. Must I bleed then without respect of sign? well— My fault was sweet sport, which the world approves, I die for that which every woman loves. [Exeunt.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito.[72]

Ven. O, sweet, delectable, rare, happy, ravishing!

Hip. Why, what's the matter, brother?

Ven. O, 'tis able to make a man spring up and knock his forehead Against yon silver ceiling.

Hip. Prythee, tell me; Why may not I partake with you? you vow'd once To give me share to every tragic thought.[73]

Ven. By th' mass, I think I did too; Then I'll divide it to thee. The old duke, Thinking my outward shape and inward heart Are cut out of one piece (for he that prates his secrets, His heart stands o' th' outside), hires me by price To greet him with a lady In some fit place, veil'd from the eyes o' th' court, Some darken'd, blushless angle,[74] that is guilty Of his forefathers' lust and great folks' riots; To which I easily (to maintain my shape) Consented, and did wish his impudent grace To meet her here in this unsunned lodge, Wherein 'tis night at noon: and here the rather Because, unto the torturing of his soul, The bastard and the duchess have appointed Their meeting too in this luxurious circle; Which most afflicting sight will kill his eyes, Before we kill the rest of him.

Hip. 'Twill, i' faith! Most dreadfully digested! I see not how you could have miss'd me, brother.

Ven. True; but the violence of my joy forgot it.

Hip. Ay, but where's that lady now?

Ven. O! at that word I'm lost again; you cannot find me yet: I'm in a throng of happy apprehensions. He's suited for a lady; I have took care For a delicious lip, a sparkling eye— You shall be witness, brother: Be ready; stand with your hat off. [Exit.

Hip. Troth, I wonder what lady it should be! Yet 'tis no wonder, now I think again, To have a lady stoop to a duke, that stoops unto his men. 'Tis common to be common through the world: And there's more private common shadowing vices, Than those who are known both by their names and prices. 'Tis part of my allegiance to stand bare To the duke's concubine; and here she comes.

Enter Vendice, with the skull of his love dressed up in tires.

Ven. Madam, his grace will not be absent long.[75] Secret! ne'er doubt us, madam; 'twill be worth Three velvet gowns to your ladyship. Known! Few ladies respect that disgrace: a poor thin shell! 'Tis the best grace you have to do it well. I'll save your hand that labour: I'll unmask you!

Hip. Why, brother, brother!

Ven. Art thou beguil'd now? tut, a lady can, As thus all hid, beguile a wiser man. Have I not fitted the old surfeiter With a quaint piece of beauty? Age and bare bone Are e'er allied in action. Here's an eye, Able to tempt a great man—to serve God: A pretty hanging lip, that has forgot now to dissemble. Methinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble; A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em, To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em. Here's a cheek keeps her colour, let the wind go whistle: Spout, rain, we fear thee not: be hot or cold, All's one with us; and is not he absurd, Whose fortunes are upon their faces set, That fear no other god but wind and wet?

Hip. Brother, you've spoke that right: Is this the form that (living) shone so bright?

Ven. The very same. And now methinks I could e'en chide myself For doating on her beauty, though her death Shall be reveng'd after no common action. Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours For thee? For thee does she undo herself? Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships, For the poor benefit of a bewitching minute? Why does yon fellow falsify highways, And put his life between the judge's lips: To refine such a thing, keeps horse and men To beat their valours for her? Surely we are all mad people, and they Whom we think are, are not: we mistake those; 'Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes.

Hip. Faith, and in clothes too we, give us our due.

Ven. Does every proud and self-affecting dame Camphire her face for this, and grieve her maker In sinful baths of milk, when many an infant starves For her superfluous outside—all for this? Who now bids twenty pounds a night? prepares Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats? All are hush'd. Thou may'st lie chaste now! it were fine, methinks, To have thee seen at revels, forgetful feasts, And unclean brothels: sure, 'twould fright the sinner, And make him a good coward: put a reveller Out of his antic amble, And cloy an epicure with empty dishes. Here might a scornful and ambitious woman Look through and through herself. See, ladies, with false forms You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms. Now to my tragic business. Look you, brother, I have not fashion'd this only for show And useless property; no, it shall bear a part E'en in its own revenge. This very skull, Whose mistress the duke poison'd with this drug, The mortal curse of the earth shall be reveng'd In the like strain, and kiss his lips to death. As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel: What fails in poison, we'll supply in steel.

Hip. Brother, I do applaud thy constant vengeance— The quaintness of thy malice—above thought.

Ven. So, 'tis laid on [He poisons the lips of the skull]: now come and welcome, duke, I have her for thee. I protest it, brother, Methinks she makes almost as fair a sin,[76] As some old gentlewoman in a periwig. Hide thy face now for shame; thou hadst need have a mask now: 'Tis vain when beauty flows; but when it fleets, This would become graves better than the streets.

Hip. You have my voice in that: hark, the duke's come.

Ven. Peace, let's observe what company he brings, And how he does absent 'em; for you know He'll wish all private. Brother, fall you back a little With the bony lady.

Hip. That I will.

Ven. So, so; now nine years' vengeance crowd into a minute!

Enter Duke and Gentlemen.

Duke. You shall have leave to leave us, with this charge Upon your lives, if we be missed by th' duchess Or any of the nobles, to give out, We're privately rid forth.

Ven. O happiness!

Duke. With some few honourable gentlemen, you may say— You may name those that are away from court.

Gen. Your will and pleasure shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt.

Ven. Privately rid forth! He strives to make sure work on't. Your good grace!

Duke. Piato, well-done, hast brought her! what lady is't?

Ven. Faith, my lord, a country lady, a little bashful at first, as most of them are; but after the first kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. Your grace knows now what you have to do; she has somewhat a grave look with her—but—

Duke. I love that best; conduct her.

Ven. Have at all. [Aside.

Duke. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less. Give me that sin that's rob'd in holiness.

Ven. Back with the torch! brother, raise the perfumes.

Duke. How sweet can a duke breathe! Age has no fault. Pleasure should meet in a perfumed mist. Lady, sweetly encountered: I came from court, I must be bold with you. O, what's this? O!

Ven. Royal villain! white devil!

Duke. O!

Ven. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrighted eyeballs May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know Yon dreadful vizard? View it well; 'tis the skull Of Gloriana, whom thou poisonedst last.

Duke. O! 't has poisoned me.

Ven. Didst not know that till now?

Duke. What are you two?

Ven. Villains all three! the very ragged bone Has been sufficiently reveng'd.

Duke. O, Hippolito, call treason!

Hip. Yes, my lord; treason! treason! treason!

[Stamping on him.

Duke. Then I'm betray'd.

Ven. Alas! poor lecher: in the hands of kraves, A slavish duke is baser than his slaves.

Duke. My teeth are eaten out.

Ven. Hadst any left?

Hip. I think but few.

Ven. Then those that did eat are eaten.

Duke. O my tongue!

Ven. Your tongue? 'twill teach yon to kiss closer, Not like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still: Look, monster, what a lady hast thou made me!

[Discovers himself.

My once betrothed wife.

Duke. Is it thou, villain? nay, then—

Ven. Tis I, 'tis Vendice, 'tis I.

Hip. And let this comfort thee: our lord and father Fell sick upon the infection of thy frowns, And died in sadness: be that thy hope of life.

Duke. O!

Ven. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die speechless. Puh! 'tis but early yet; now I'll begin To stick thy soul with ulcers. I will make Thy spirit grievous sore; it shall not rest, But like some pestilent man toss in thy breast. Mark me, duke: Thou'rt a renowned, high and mighty cuckold.

Duke. O!

Ven. Thy bastard—thy bastard rides a-hunting in thy brow.

Duke. Millions of deaths!

Ven. Nay, to afflict thee more, Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips.[77] Those eyes shall see the incest of their lips.

Duke. Is there a hell besides this, villains?

Ven. Villain! Nay, heaven is just; scorns are the hires of scorns: I ne'er knew yet adulterer without horns.

Hip. Once, ere they die, 'tis quitted.

Ven. Hark! the music: Their banquet is prepar'd, they're coming—

Duke. O, kill me not with that sight!

Ven. Thou shalt not lose that sight for all thy dukedom.

Duke. Traitors! murderers!

Ven. What! is not thy tongue eaten out yet? Then we'll invent a silence. Brother, stifle the torch.

Duke. Treason! murder!

Ven. Nay, faith, we'll have you hush'd. Now with thy dagger Nail down his tongue, and mine shall keep possession About his heart; if he but gasp, he dies; We dread not death to quittance injuries. Brother, if he but wink, not brooking the foul object, Let our two other hands tear up his lids, And make his eyes like comets shine through blood When the bad bleeds, then is the tragedy good.

Hip. Whist, brother! music's at our ear; they come.

Enter the Bastard, meeting the Duchess.

Spu. Had not that kiss a taste of sin, 'twere sweet.

Duch. Why, there's no pleasure sweet, but it is sinful.

Spu. True, such a bitter sweetness fate hath given; Best side to us is the worst side to heaven.

Duch. Pish! come: 'tis the old duke, thy doubtful father: The thought of him rubs heaven in thy way. But I protest by yonder waxen fire, Forget him, or I'll poison him.

Spu. Madam, you urge a thought which ne'er had life. So deadly do I loathe him for my birth, That if he took me hasp'd within his bed, I would add murder to adultery, And with my sword give up his years to death.

Duch. Why, now thou'rt sociable; let's in and feast: Loud'st music sound; pleasure is banquet's guest. [Exeunt.

Duke. I cannot brook—

Ven. The brook is turn'd to blood.

Hip. Thanks to loud music.

Ven. 'Twas our friend, indeed. 'Tis state in music for a duke to bleed. The dukedom wants a head, though yet unknown; As fast as they peep up, let's cut 'em down. [Exeunt.

Enter the Duchess's two sons, Ambitioso and Supervacuo.

Amb. Was not his execution rarely plotted? We are the duke's sons now.

Sup. Ay, you may thank my policy for that.

Amb. Your policy for what?

Sup. Why, was't not my invention, brother, To slip the judges? and in lesser compass Did not I draw the model of his death; Advising you to sudden officers And e'en extemporal execution?

Amb. Heart! 'twas a thing I thought on too.

Sup. You thought on't too! 'sfoot, slander not your thoughts With glorious untruth; I know 'twas from you.

Amb. Sir, I say, 'twas in my head.

Sup. Ay, like your brains then, Ne'er to come out as long as you liv'd.

Amb. You'd have the honour on't, forsooth, that your wit Led him to the scaffold.

Sup. Since it is my due, I'll publish't, but I'll ha't in spite of you.

Amb. Methinks, y' are much too bold; you should a little Remember us, brother, next to be honest duke.

Sup. Ay, it shall be as easy for you to be duke As to be honest; and that's never, i' faith.

Amb. Well, cold he is by this time; and because We're both ambitious, be it our amity, And let the glory be shar'd equally.

Sup. I am content to that.

Amb. This night our younger brother shall out of prison: I have a trick.

Sup. A trick! prythee, what is't?

Amb. We'll get him out by a wile.

Sup. Prythee, what wile?

Amb. No, sir; you shall not know it, till it be done; For then you'd swear 'twere yours.

Enter an Officer.

Sup. How now, what's he?

Amb. One of the officers.

Sup. Desired news.

Amb. How now, my friend?

Officer. My lords, under your pardon, I am allotted To that desertless office, to present you With the yet bleeding head—

Sup. Ha, ha! excellent.

Amb. All's sure our own: brother, canst weep, think'st thou? 'Twould grace our flattery much; think of some dame: 'Twill teach thee to dissemble.

Sup. I have thought;—now for yourself.

Amb. Our sorrows are so fluent, Our eyes o'erflow our tongues; words spoke in tears Are like the murmurs of the waters—the sound Is loudly heard, but cannot be distinguish'd.

Sup. How died he, pray?

Officer. O, full of rage and spleen.

Sup. He died most valiantly, then; we're glad to hear it.

Officer. We could not woo him once to pray.

Amb. He show'd himself a gentleman in that: Give him his due.

Officer. But, in the stead of prayer, He drew forth oaths.

Sup. Then did he pray, dear heart, Although you understood him not?

Officer. My lords, E'en at his last, with pardon be it spoke, He curs'd you both.

Sup. He curs'd us? 'las, good soul!

Amb. It was not in our powers, but the duke's pleasure. Finely dissembled a both sides, sweet fate; O happy opportunity! [Aside.

Enter Lusurioso.

Lus. Now, my lords.

Both. O!———

Lus. Why do you shun me, brothers? You may come nearer now; The savour of the prison has forsook me. I thank such kind lords as yourselves, I'm free.

Amb. Alive!

Sup. In health!

Amb. Releas'd! We were both e'en amaz'd with joy to see it.[78]

Lus. I am much to thank to you.

Sup. Faith, we spar'd no tongue unto my lord the duke.

Amb. I know your delivery, brother, Had not been half so sudden but for us.

Sup. O, how we pleaded!

Lus. Most deserving brothers! In my best studies I will think of it. [Exit Lusurioso.

Amb. O death and vengeance!

Sup. Hell and torment!

Amb. Slave, cam'st thou to delude us?

Officer. Delude you, my lords?

Sup. Ay, villain, where's his head now?

Officer. Why here, my lord; Just after his delivery, you both came With warrant from the duke to behead your brother.

Amb. Ay, our brother, the duke's son.

Officer. The duke's son, my lord, had his release before you came.

Amb. Whose head's that, then?

Officer. His whom you left command for, your own brother's.

Amb. Our brother's? O furies!

Sup. Plagues!

Amb. Confusions!

Sup. Darkness!

Amb. Devils!

Sup. Fell it out so accursedly?

Amb. So damnedly?

Sup. Villain, I'll brain thee with it.

Officer. O my good lord!

Sup. The devil overtake thee!

Amb. O fatal!

Sup. O prodigious to our bloods!

Amb. Did we dissemble?

Sup. Did we make our tears women for thee?

Amb. Laugh and rejoice for thee?

Sup. Bring warrant for thy death.?

Amb. Mock off thy head?

Sup. You had a trick: you had a wile, forsooth.

Amb. A murrain meet 'em; there's none of these wiles that ever come to good: I see now, there's nothing sure in mortality, but mortality.

Well, no more words: shalt be revenged, i' faith. Come, throw off clouds; now, brother, think of vengeance, And deeper-settled hate; sirrah, sit fast, We'll pull down all, but thou shalt down at last. [Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:

[67] The 4^o reads, Which arise, &c.—Collier.

[68] [Edits., impudent. The least imprudent is equivalent to the most farsighted or wary.]

[69] i.e., Hat.

[70] Stopped. See several instances of the use of this word in Mr Steevens's note on "Romeo and Juliet," act i. sc. 3.

[71] Alluding, I think, to Duns Scotus, who commented upon "The Master of the Sentences."—Pegge.

Duns Scotus was an English Franciscan Friar who, differing from Thomas Aquinas, occasioned a famous scholastic division, known by the titles of Thomists and Scotists. He died at Paris in 1308. Erasmus, who had a very low opinion of this writer, in his "Praise of Folie," 1549, sig. N 3, says: "Lykewise not longe agone I was present at the sermon of an other famous doctour being almost 80 yeres old, and thereto so doctour lyke, as if Duns were new arisen in him, who entending to disclose the mistery of the name of Jesu, with great subtiltie shewed, how evin in the verie letters was muche pithe included, and might be gathered thereof."

[72] ["A splendid scene."—MS. note.]

[73] ["This, I think, is very fine, where we ... words that precede it...."—MS, note (partly illegible) in one of the former edits.]

[74] It stood in the last edition [1780]: "Some darken'd blushless angel," &c., which renders the passage utter nonsense.—Collier.

[75] ["He imagines her speaking, and answers her."—MS. note in one of the former edits.]

[76] [Sinner.]

[77] See note at p. 35.

[78] This passage and the preceding exclamation have been restored from the old copy of 1607, having been omitted both by Dodsley and Reed.—Collier.

ACTUS IV., SCÆNA 1.

Enter Lusurioso, with Hippolito.

Lus. Hippolito!

Hip. My lord, Has your good lordship aught to command me in?

Lus. I prythee, leave us.

Hip. How's this? come, and leave us!

Lus. Hippolito!

Hip. Your honour, I stand ready for any duteous employment.

Lus. Heart! what mak'st thou here?

Hip. A pretty lordly humour! He bids me be present to depart; something Has stung his honour.

Lus. Be nearer; draw nearer: Ye're not so good, methinks; I'm angry with you.

Hip. With me, my lord? I'm angry with myself for't.

Lus. You did prefer a goodly fellow to me: 'Twas wittily elected; 'twas. I thought H' had been a villain, and he proves a knave— To me a knave.

Hip. I chose him for the best, my lord: 'Tis much my sorrow, if neglect in him Breed discontent in you.

Lus. Neglect! 'twas will. Judge of it. Firmly to tell of an incredible act, Not to be thought, less to be spoken of, 'Twixt my step-mother and the bastard; of Incestuous sweets between 'em.

Hip. Fie, my lord!

Lus. I, in kind loyalty to my father's forehead, Made this a desperate arm; and in that fury Committed treason on the lawful bed, And with my sword e'en ras'd my father's bosom, For which I was within a stroke of death.

Hip. Alack! I'm sorry. 'Sfoot, just upon the stroke, Jars in my brother; 'twill be villainous music.

Enter Vendice.

Ven. My honour'd lord.

Lus. Away! prythee, forsake us: hereafter we'll not know thee.

Ven. Not know me, my lord! your lordship cannot choose.

Lus. Begone. I say: thou art a false knave.

Ven. Why, the easier to be known, my lord.

Lus. Pish! I shall prove too bitter, with a word Make thee a perpetual prisoner, And lay this iron age upon thee.

Ven. Mum! For there's a doom would make a woman dumb. Missing the bastard—next him—the wind's come about: Now 'tis my brother's turn to stay, mine to go out. [Aside. Exit.

Lus. H' has greatly mov'd me.

Hip. Much to blame, i' faith.

Lus. But I'll recover, to his ruin. 'Twas told me lately, I know not whether falsely, that you'd a brother.

Hip. Who, I? yes, my good lord, I have a brother.

Lus. How chance the court ne'er saw him? of what nature? How does he apply his hours?

Hip. Faith, to curse fates Who, as he thinks, ordain'd him to be poor— Keeps at home, full of want and discontent.

Lus. There's hope in him; for discontent and want Is the best clay to mould a villain of. [Aside. Hippolito, wish him repair to us: If there be aught in him to please our blood, For thy sake we'll advance him, and build fair His meanest fortunes; for it is in us To rear up towers from cottages.

Hip. It is so, my lord: he will attend your honour; But he's a man in whom much melancholy dwells.

Lus. Why, the better; bring him to court.

Hip. With willingness and speed: Whom he cast off e'en now, must now succeed. Brother, disguise must off; In thine own shape now I'll prefer thee to him: How strangely does himself work to undo him! [Aside. Exit.

Lus. This fellow will come fitly; he shall kill That other slave, that did abuse my spleen, And made it swell to treason. I have put Much of my heart into him; he must die. He that knows great men's secrets, and proves slight,[79] That man ne'er lives to see his beard turn white. Ay, he shall speed him: I'll employ the brother; Slaves are but nails to drive out one another. He being of black condition, suitable To want and ill-content, hope of preferment Will grind him to an edge.[80]

Enter Nobles.

1st Noble. Good days unto your honour.

Lus. My kind lords, I do return the like.

2d Noble. Saw you my lord the duke?

Lus. My lord and father! is he from court?

1st Noble. He's sure from court; But where—which way his pleasure took, we know not, Nor can we hear on't.

Lus. Here come those should tell. Saw you my lord and father?

3d Noble. Not since two hours before noon my lord, And then he privately rode forth.

Lus. O, he's rid forth.

1st Noble. 'Twas wondrous privately.

2d Noble. There's none i' th' court had any knowledge on't.

Lus. His grace is old and sudden: 'tis no treason To say the duke, my father, has a humour, Or such a toy about him; what in us Would appear light, in him seems virtuous.

3d Noble. 'Tis oracle, my lord. [Exeunt.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito. Vendice out of his disguise.

Hip. So, so, all's as it should be, y' are yourself.

Ven. How that great villain puts me to my shifts!

Hip. He that did lately in disguise reject thee, Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee.

Ven. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy. But, brother, 'Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think'st thou?

Hip. Nay, you must pardon me in that: I know not. H' has some employment for you: but what 'tis, He and his secretary (the devil) know best.

Ven. Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires, What colour soe'er they be; hoping at last To pile up all my wishes on his breast.

Hip. Faith, brother, he himself shows the way.

Ven. Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay. His death being not yet known, under his name The people still are govern'd. Well, thou his son Art not long-liv'd: thou shalt not joy his death; To kill thee, then, I should most honour thee; For 'twould stand firm in every man's belief, Thou'st a kind child, and only died'st with grief.

Hip. You fetch about well; but let's talk in present. How will you appear in fashion different, As well as in apparel, to make all things possible? If you be but once tripp'd, we fall for ever. It is not the least policy to be double; You must change tongue: familiar was your first.

Ven. Why, I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy, And string myself with heavy-sounding wire, Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly.

Hip. That is as I meant; I gave you out at first in discontent.

Ven. I'll tune myself, and then———

Hip. 'Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon't?

Ven. Salute him; fear not me.

Enter Lusurioso.

Lus. Hippolito!

Hip. Your lordship———

Lus. What's he yonder?

Hip. 'Tis Vendice, my discontented brother, Whom, 'cording to your will, I've brought to court.

Lus. Is that thy brother? Beshrew me, a good presence; I wonder h' has been from the court so long. Come nearer.

Hip. Brother! Lord Lusurioso, the duke's son.

Lus. Be more to us; welcome; nearer yet.

Ven. How don you? gi'[81] you good den.

[Snatches off his hat, and makes legs to him.

Lus. We thank thee. How strangely such a coarse homely salute Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire— Nimble and desperate tongues: should we name God in a salutation, 'twould ne'er be stood on,[82] heaven! Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy?

Ven. Why, going to law.

Lus. Why, will that make a man melancholy?

Ven. Yes, to look long upon ink and black buckram. I went me to law in anno quadragesimo secundo, and I waded out of it in anno sexagesimo tertio.

Lus. What, three-and-twenty years in law?

Ven. I have known those that have been five-and-fifty, and all about pullen[83] and pigs.

Lus. May it be possible such men should breathe, To vex the terms so much?

Ven. Tis food to some, my lord. There are old men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affectation of law-words (having had many suits canvassed), that their common talk is nothing but Barbary Latin. They cannot so much as pray but in law, that their sins may be removed with a writ of error, and their souls fetched up to heaven with a sasarara.[84]

Hip.[85] It seems most strange to me; Yet all the world meets round in the same bent: Where the heart's set, there goes the tongue's consent. How dost apply thy studies, fellow?

Ven. Study? why, to think how a great rich man lies a-dying, and a poor cobbler tolls the bell for him. How he cannot depart the world, and see the great chest stand before him, when he lies speechless. How he will point you readily to all the boxes; and when he is past all memory, as the gossips guess, then thinks he of forfeitures and obligations; nay, when to all men's hearings he whurls and rattles in the throat, he's busy threatening his poor tenants. And this would last me now some seven years' thinking, or thereabouts. But I have a conceit a-coming in picture upon this; I draw it myself, which, i' faith, la, I'll present to your honour; you shall not choose but like it, for your honour shall give me nothing for it.

Lus. Nay, you mistake me, then, For I am publish'd bountiful enough. Let's taste of your conceit.

Ven. In picture, my lord?

Lus. Ay, in picture.

Ven. Marry, this it is—A usuring father to be boiling in hell, and his son and heir with a whore dancing over him.

Hip. H' has par'd him to the quick. [Aside.

Lus. The conceit's pretty, i' faith; But, take't upon my life, 'twill ne'er be lik'd.

Ven. No? why I'm sure the whore will be lik'd well enough.

Hip. If she were out o' the picture, he'd like her then himself.

[Aside.

Ven. And as for the son and heir, he shall be an eyesore to no young revellers, for he shall be drawn in cloth-of-gold breeches.

Lus. And thou hast put my meaning in the pockets, And canst not draw that out? My thought was this: To see the picture of a usuring father Boiling in hell—our rich men would never like it.

Ven. O, true, I cry you heartily mercy. I know the reason, for some of them had rather Be damned in deed than damned in colours.

Lus. A parlous melancholy! h' has wit enough To murder any man, and I'll give him means.

[Aside.

I think thou art ill-moneyed?

Ven. Money! ho, ho![86] 'T has been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff: I've e'en forgot what colour silver's of.

Lus. It hits as I could wish. [Aside.

Ven. I get good clothes Of those that dread my humour; and for table-room I feed on those that cannot be rid of me.

Lus. Somewhat to set thee up withal.

[Gives him money.

Ven. O mine eyes!

Lus. How now, man?

Ven. Almost struck blind; This bright unusual shine to me seems proud; I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud.

Lus. I think I shall affect[87] his melancholy. How are they now?[88]

Ven. The better for your asking.

Lus. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten Truly on my intent. Now y' are both present, I will unbrace such a close private villain Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne'er heard of, Who hath disgrac'd you much, and injur'd us.

Hip. Disgrac'd us, my lord?

Lus. Ay, Hippolito. I kept it here till now, that both your angers Might meet him at once.

Ven. I'm covetous To know the villain.

Lus. You know him: that slave-pander Piato, whom we threaten'd last With irons in perpetual 'prisonment.

Ven. All this is I. [Aside.

Hip. Is't he, my lord?

Lus. I'll tell you, you first preferr'd him to me.

Ven. Did you, brother? [Aside.

Hip. I did indeed.

Lus. And the ungrateful villain, To quit that kindness, strongly wrought with me— Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure— With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister.

Hip. O villain!

Ven. He shall surely die that did it. [Aside.

Lus. I, far from thinking any virgin harm, Especially knowing her to be as chaste As that part which scarce suffers to be touch'd— The eye—would not endure him.

Ven. Would you not, my lord? 'Twas wondrous honourably done.

Lus. But with some few[89] frowns kept him out.

Ven. Out, slave! [Aside.

Lus. What did me he, but in revenge of that, Went of his own free will to make infirm Your sister's honour (whom I honour with my soul For chaste respect) and not prevailing there, (As 'twas but desperate folly to attempt it) In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother, Whose honour being a coward as it seems, Yielded by little force.

Ven. Coward indeed! [Aside.

Lus. He, proud of this advantage (as he thought), Brought me this news for happy. But I, heaven forgive me for't!——

Ven. What did your honour?

Lus. In rage push'd him from me, Trampled beneath his throat, spurn'd him, and bruis'd: Indeed I was too truel, to say troth.

Hip. Most nobly manag'd!

Ven. Has not heaven an ear? is all the lightning wasted? [Aside.

Lus. If I now were so impatient in a modest cause, What should you be?

Ven. Full mad: he shall not live To see the moon change.

Lus. He's about the palace; Hippolito, entice him this way, that thy brother May take full mark of him.

Hip. Heart! that shall not need, my lord: I can direct him so far.

Lus. Yet for my hate's sake, Go, wind him this way. I'll see him bleed myself.

Hip. What now, brother? [Aside.

Ven. Nay, e'en what you will—y' are put to't, brother. [Aside.

Hip. An impossible task, I'll swear, To bring him hither, that's already here. [Aside.

[Exit Hippolito.

Lus. Thy name? I have forgot it.

Ven. Vendice, my lord.

Lus. 'Tis a good name that.

Ven. Ay, a revenger. [Aside.

Lus. It does betoken courage; thou shouldst be valiant, And kill thine enemies.

Ven. That's my hope, my lord.

Lus. This slave is one.

Ven. I'll doom him.

Lus. Then I'll praise thee. Do thou observe me best, and I'll best raise thee.

Enter Hippolito.

Ven. Indeed, I thank you.

Lus. Now, Hippolito, where's the slave-pander?

Hip. Your good lordship Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive. He's not in case now to be seen, my lord. The worst of all the deadly sins is in him— That beggarly damnation, drunkenness.

Lus. Then he's a double slave.

Ven. 'Twas well convey'd upon a sudden wit.

Lus. What, are you both Firmly resolv'd? I'll see him dead myself.

Ven. Or else let not us live.

Lus. You may direct your brother to take note of him.

Hip. I shall.

Lus. Rise but in this, and you shall never fall.

Ven. Your honour's vassals.

Lus. This was wisely carried. [Aside. Deep policy in us makes fools of such: Then must a slave die, when he knows too much. [Exit Lusurioso.

VEN. O thou almighty patience! 'tis my wonder That such a fellow, impudent and wicked, Should not be cloven as he stood; Or with a secret wind burst open! Is there no thunder left:[90] or is't kept up In stock for heavier vengeance? there it goes!

Hip. Brother, we lose ourselves.

Ven. But I have found it; 'Twill hold, 'tis sure; thanks, thanks to any spirit, That mingled it 'mongst my inventions.

Hip. What is't?

Ven. Tis sound and good; thou shalt partake it; I'm hir'd to kill myself.

Hip. True.

Ven. Prythee, mark it; And the old duke being dead, but not convey'd, For he's already miss'd too, and you know, Murder will peep out of the closest husk.

Hip. Most true.

Ven. What say you then to this device? If we dress'd up the body of the duke?

Hip. In that disguise of yours?

Ven. Y' are quick, y' have reach'd it.

Hip. I like it wondrously.

Ven. And being in drink, as you have publish'd him. To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him, Which claims most interest in such sluggy men?

Hip. Good yet; but here's a doubt; We, thought[91] by th' duke's son to kill that pander, Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke.

Ven. Neither; O thanks, it is substantial: For that disguise being on him which I wore,

It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did kill the duke, and fled away in his apparel, leaving him so disguised to avoid swift pursuit.

Hip. Firmer and firmer.

Ven. Nay, doubt not, 'tis in grain: I warrant it holds colour.

Hip. Let's about it.

Ven. By the way, too, now I think on't, brother, Let's conjure that base devil out of our mother. [Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:

[79] [Weak, treacherous.]

[80] The Nobles enter is printed in the 4^o, as if it were a part of the speech of Lusurioso.—Collier.

[81] [Edits., god.]

[82] [Edits., on't.]

[83] Poultry.

[84] A vulgar corruption of certiorari.—Pegge.

[85] Mr Gilchrist would substitute Lusurioso for Hippolito here; but the change is not necessary to the sense, and is not supported by the quartos.—Collier.

[86] ["Mark the transition from prose to verse."—MS. note in former edit.]

[87] [Like.]

[88] How art thou now? the inquiry has stood in previous editions, but How are they now? is the correct reading restored from the old copy. The words have reference to Vendice's eyes.—Collier.

[89] [Edits., five.]

[90] The same thought occurs in "Othello," act v. sc. 2—

"Are there no stones in heaven. But what serve for the thunder?"

[91] The 4^o reads, methought.—Collier.

ACTUS V.[92]

Enter the Duchess, arm in arm with Spurio: he seemeth lasciviously to look on her. After them, enter Supervacuo running, with a rapier; Ambitioso stops him.

Spu. Madam, unlock yourself; Should it be seen, your arm would be suspected.

Duch. Who is't that dares suspect or this or these? May not we deal our favours where we please?

Spu. I'm confident you may. [Exeunt.

Amb. 'Sfoot, brother, hold.

Sup. Woult let the bastard shame us?

Amb. Hold, hold, brother! there's fitter time than now.

Sup. Now, when I see it!

Amb. 'Tis too much seen already.

Sup. Seen and known; The nobler she's, the baser is she grown.

Amb. If she were bent lasciviously (the fault Of mighty women, that sleep soft)—O death! Must she needs choose such an unequal sinner, To make all worse?—

Sup. A bastard! the duke's bastard! shame heap'd on shame!

Amb. O our disgrace! Most women have small waists the world throughout; But their desires are thousand miles about.

Sup. Come, stay not here, let's after, and prevent, Or else they'll sin faster than we'll repent. [Exeunt.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito, bringing out their mother, one by one shoulder, and the other by the other, with daggers in their hands.

Ven. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough!

Gra. What mean my sons? what, will you murder me?

Ven. Wicked, unnatural parent!

Hip. Fiend of women!

Gra. O! are sons turn'd monsters? help!

Ven. In vain.

Gra. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples Upon the breast that gave you suck?

Ven. That breast Is turn'd to quarled poison.[93]

Gra. Cut not your days for't! am not I your mother?[94]

Ven. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud, For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd.

Gra. A bawd! O name far loathsomer than hell!

Hip. It should be so, knew'st thou thy office well.

Gra. I hate it.

Ven. Ah! is't possible, you powers on high, That women should dissemble when they die?

Gra. Dissemble!

Ven. Did not the duke's son direct A fellow of the worst[95] condition hither, That did corrupt all that was good in thee? Made thee uncivilly forget thyself, And work our sister to his lust?

Gra. Who, I? That had been monstrous. I defy that man For any such intent! none lives so pure, But shall be soil'd with slander. Good son, believe it not.

Ven. O, I'm in doubt, Whether I am myself, or no—— [Aside. Stay, let me look again upon this face. Who shall be sav'd, when mothers have no grace?

Hip. 'Twould make one half despair.

Ven. I was the man. Defy me now; let's see, do't modestly.

Gra. O hell unto my soul!

Ven. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son, Tried you, and found you base metal, As any villain might have done.

Gra. O, no, No tongue but yours could have bewitch'd me so.

Ven. O nimble in damnation, quick in ru'n![96] There is no devil could strike fire so soon: I am confuted in a word.

Gra. O sons, forgive me! to myself I'll prove more true; You that should honour me, I kneel to you. [Kneels and weeps.

Ven. A mother to give aim to her own daughter![97]

Hip. True, brother; how far beyond nature 'tis, Though many mothers do't!

Ven. Nay, and you draw tears once, go you to bed; Wet will make iron blush and change to red. Brother, it rains. 'Twill spoil your dagger: house it.

Hip. 'Tis done.

Ven. I'faith, 'tis a sweet shower, it does much good. The fruitful grounds and meadows of her soul Have been long dry: pour down, thou blessed dew! Rise, mother; troth, this shower has made you higher!

Gra. O you heavens! take this infectious spot out of my soul, I'll rinse it in seven waters of mine eyes! Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace. To weep is to our sex naturally given: But to weep truly, that's a gift from heaven.

Ven. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother: Let's marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust, And honourably love her.

Hip. Let it be.

Ven. For honest women are so seld[98] and rare, 'Tis good to cherish those poor few that are. O you of easy wax! do but imagine Now the disease has left you, how leprously That office would have cling'd unto your forehead! All mothers that had any graceful hue Would have worn masks to hide their face at you: It would have grown to this—at your foul name, Green-colour'd maids would have turned red with shame.

Hip. And then our sister, full of hireling[99] baseness——

Ven. There had been boiling lead again, The duke's son's great concubine! A drab of state, a cloth-o'-silver slut, To have her train borne up, and her soul trail i' th' dirt![100]

Hip. Great, to be miserably great; rich, to be eternally wretched.

Ven. O common madness! Ask but the thrivingest harlot in cold blood, She'd give the world to make her honour good. Perhaps you'll say, but only to the duke's son In private; why she first begins with one, Who afterward to thousands proves a whore: "Break ice in one place, it will crack in more."

Gra. Most certainly applied!

Hip. O brother, you forget our business.

Ven. And well-remember'd; joy's a subtle elf, I think man's happiest when he forgets himself, Farewell, once dry, now holy-water'd mead; Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead.

Gra. I'll give you this—that one I never knew Plead better for and 'gainst the devil than you.

Ven. You make me proud on't.

Hip. Commend us in all virtue to our sister.

Ven. Ay, for the love of heaven, to that true maid.

Gra. With my best words.

Ven. Why, that was motherly said.[101] [Exeunt.

Gra. I wonder now, what fury did transport me! I feel good thoughts begin to settle in me. O, with what forehead can I look on her, Whose honour I've so impiously beset? And here she comes—

Enter Castiza.

Cas. Now, mother, you have wrought with me so strongly, That what for my advancement, as to calm The trouble of your tongue, I am content.

Gra. Content, to what?

Cas. To do as you have wish'd me; To prostitute my breast to the duke's son; And put myself to common usury.

Gra. I hope you will not so!

Cas. Hope you I will not? That's not the hope you look to be sav'd in.

Gra. Truth, but it is.

Cas. Do not deceive yourself, I am as you, e'en out of marble wrought. What would you now? are ye not pleas'd yet with me? You shall not wish me to be more lascivious Than I intend to be.

Gra. Strike not me cold.

Cas. How often have you charg'd me on your blessing To be a cursed woman? When you knew Your blessing had no force to make me lewd, You laid your curse upon me; that did more, The mother's curse is heavy; where that lights, Suns set in storm, and daughters lose their rights.[102]

Gra. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee, O, let my breath revive it to a flame! Put not all out with woman's wilful follies. I am recover'd of that foul disease, That haunts too many mothers; kind, forgive me, Make me not sick in health! If then My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness, How much more now, when they are just and good?

Cas. I wonder what you mean! are not you she, For whose infect persuasions I could scarce Kneel out my prayers, and had much ado In three hours' reading to untwist so much Of the black serpent as you wound about me?

Gra. 'Tis unfruitful, child,[103] [and] tedious to repeat What's past; I'm now your present mother.

Cas. Pish! now 'tis too late.

Gra. Bethink again: thou know'st not what thou say'st.

Cas. No! deny advancement! treasure! the duke's son!

Gra. O, cease![104] I spoke those words, and now they poison me! What will the deed do then? Advancement? true; as high as shame can pitch! For treasure! who e'er knew a harlot rich? Or could build by the purchase of her sin An hospital to keep her[105] bastards in? The duke's son! O, when women are young courtiers, They are sure to be old beggars; To know the miseries most harlots taste, Thou'dst wish thyself unborn, when thou art unchaste.

Cas. O mother, let me twine about your neck, And kiss you, till my soul melt on your lips! I did but this to try you.

Gra. O, speak truth!

Cas. Indeed I did but;[106] for no tongue has force To alter me from honest. If maidens would, men's words could have no power; A virgin's honour is a crystal tower Which (being weak) is guarded with good spirits; Until she basely yields, no ill inherits.

Gra. O happy child! faith, and thy birth hath sav'd me. 'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others: Be[107] thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. [Exeunt.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito.

Ven. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother.

Hip. I warrant you my life for yours.

Ven. That's a good lay, for I must kill myself. Brother, that's I, that sits for me: do you mark it? And I must stand ready here to make away myself yonder. I must sit to be killed, and stand to kill myself. I could vary it not so little as thrice over again; 't has some eight returns, like Michaelmas term.[108]

Hip. That's enou', o' conscience.

Ven. But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single?

Hip. No; there's the hell on't: his faith's too feeble to go alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will buzz against supper-time, and hum for his coming out.

Ven. Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! Here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made my revenge familiar with him; show him the body of the duke his father, and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in hugger-mugger,[109] made no man acquainted with it; and in catastrophe slain him over his father's breast. O, I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity!

Hip. Nay, pish! prythee, be content! there's no remedy present; may not hereafter times open in as fair faces as this?

Ven. They may, if they can paint so well.

Hip. Come now: to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake this room, and be going to meet the duke's son.

Ven. Content: I'm for any weather. Heart! step close: here he comes.

Enter Lusurioso.

Hip. My honour'd lord!

Lus. O me! you both present?

Ven. E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship entered now: about this place we had notice given he should be, but in some loathsome plight or other.

Hip. Came your honour private?

Lus. Private enough for this; only a few Attend my coming out.

Hip. Death rot those few! [Aside.

Lus. Stay, yonder's the slave.

Ven. Mass, there's the slave indeed, my lord. 'Tis a good child: he calls his father slave! [Aside.

Lus. Ay, that's the villain, the damn'd villain. Softly. Tread easy.

Ven. Puh! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle-in our breaths.

Lus. That will do well: Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last; 'tis policy To have him kill'd in's sleep; for, if he wak'd, He would betray all to them.

Ven. But, my lord——

Lus. Ha, what say'st?

Ven. Shall we kill him now he's drunk?

Lus. Ay, best of all.

Ven. Why, then he will ne'er live to be sober.

Lus. No matter, let him reel to hell.

Ven. But being so full of liquor, I fear he will put out all the fire.

Lus. Thou art a mad beast.[110]

Ven. And leave none to warm your lordship's golls[111] withal; for he that dies drunk falls into hell-fire like a bucket of water—qush, qush!

Lus. Come, be ready: nake your swords:[112] think of your wrongs; this slave has injured you.

Ven. Troth, so he has, and he has paid well for't.

Lus. Meet with him now.

Ven. You'll bear us out, my lord?

Lus. Puh! am I a lord for nothing, think you? quickly now!

Ven. Sa, sa, sa, thump—there he lies.

Lus. Nimbly done.—Ha! O villains! murderers! 'Tis the old duke my father.

Ven. That's a jest.

Lus. What, stiff and cold already! O, pardon me to call you from your names: 'Tis none of your deed: that villain Piato, Whom you thought now to kill, has murdered And left him thus disguis'd.

Hip. And not unlikely.

Ven. O rascal! was he not asham'd To put the duke into a greasy doublet?

Lus. He has been cold and stiff—who knows how long?

Ven. Marry, that I do. [Aside.

Lus. No words, I pray, of anything intended.

Ven. O my lord.

Hip. I would fain have your lordship think that we have small reason to prate.

Lus. Faith, thou say'st true; I'll forthwith send to court For all the nobles, bastard, duchess; tell, How here by miracle we found him dead, And in his raiment that foul villain fled.

Ven. That will be the best way, my lord, To clear us all; let's cast about to be clear.

Lus. Ho! Nencio, Sordido, and the rest!

Enter All.

1st Noble. My lord.

2d Noble. My lord.

Lus. Be witnesses of a strange spectacle. Choosing for private conference that sad room, We found the duke my father geal'd in blood.

1st Noble. My lord the duke! run, hie thee, Nencio, Startle the court by signifying so much.

Ven. This much by wit a deep revenger can: When murder's known, to be the clearest man. We're farthest off, and with as bold an eye Survey his body as the standers-by. [Aside.

Lus. My royal father, too basely let blood By a malevolent slave!

Hip. Hark! he calls thee slave again. [Aside.

Ven. He has lost: he may. [Aside.

Lus. O sight! look hither, see, his lips are gnawn With poison.

Ven. How! his lips? by the mass, they be. O villain! O rogue! O slave! O rascal!

Hip. O good deceit! he quits him with like terms.

Amb. [Within.] Where?

Sup. [Within.] Which way?

Enter Ambitioso and Supervacuo.

Amb. Over what roof hangs this prodigious comet In deadly fire?

Lus. Behold, behold, my lords, the duke my father's murdered by a vassal that owes this habit, and here left disguised.

Enter Duchess and Spurio.

Duch. My lord and husband?

2d Noble. Reverend majesty!

1st Noble. I have seen these clothes often attending on him.

Ven. That nobleman has been i' th' country, for he does not lie.

[Aside.

Sup. Learn of our mother; let's dissemble too: I am glad he's vanish'd; so, I hope, are you.

Amb. Ay, you may take my word for't.

Spu. Old dad dead? I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates Most hearty commendations by his own son; I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done.

Lus. Where be those two that did affirm to us, My lord the duke was privately rid forth?

1st Noble. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that charge— Upon our lives, if he were miss'd at court, To answer so; he rode not anywhere; We left him private with that fellow here.

Ven. Confirmed. [Aside.

Lus. O heavens! that false charge was his death. Impudent beggars! durst you to our face Maintain such a false answer? Bear him straight To execution.

1st Noble. My lord!

Lus. Urge me no more. In this the excuse may be call'd half the murder.

Ven. You've sentenc'd well. [Aside.

Lus. Away; see it be done.

Ven. Could you not stick? See what confession doth! Who would not lie, when men are hang'd for truth? [Aside.

Hip. Brother, how happy is our vengeance!

[Aside.

Ven. Why, it hits past the apprehension of Indifferent wits. [Aside.

Lus. My lord, let post-horses be sent Into all places to entrap the villain.

Ven. Post-horses, ha, ha! [Aside.

Noble. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty. Your father's accidentally departed; The titles that were due to him meet you.

Lus. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord. I've many griefs to despatch out o' th' way. Welcome, sweet titles!— [Aside. Talk to me, my lords, Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones; That's thought for me.

Ven. So one may see by this How foreign markets go; Courtiers have feet o' th' nines, and tongues o' th' twelves; They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves.

[Aside.

Noble. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us.

Lus. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April.

Noble. You're now my lord's grace.

Lus. My lord's grace! I perceive you'll have it so.

Noble. 'Tis but your own.

Lus. Then, heavens, give me grace to be so!

Ven. He prays well for himself. [Aside.

Noble. Madam, all sorrows Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time Will make the murderer bring forth himself.

Ven. He were an ass then, i' faith. [Aside.

Noble. In the mean season, Let us bethink the latest funeral honours Due to the duke's cold body. And withal, Calling to memory our new happiness Speed[113] in his royal son: lords, gentlemen, Prepare for revels.

Ven. Revels. [Aside.

Noble. Time hath several falls. Griefs lift up joys: feasts put down funerals.

Lus. Come then, my lords, my favour's to you all. The duchess is suspected foully bent; I'll begin dukedom with her banishment.

[Exeunt Duke, Nobles, and Duchess.

Hip. Revels!

Ven. Ay, that's the word: we are firm yet; Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit.

[Exeunt Hippolito and Vendice.

Spu. Well, have at the fairest mark[114]—so said the duke when he begot me; And if I miss his heart, or near about, Then have at any; a bastard scorns to be out.

Sup. Note'st thou that Spurio, brother?

Ant. Yes, I note him to our shame.

Sup. He shall not live: his hair shall not grow much longer. In this time of revels, tricks may be set afoot. See'st thou yon new moon? it shall outlive the new duke by much; this hand shall dispossess him. Then we're mighty.

A mask is treason's licence, that build upon: 'Tis murder's best face, when a vizard's on. [Exit.

Amb. Is't so? 'tis very good! And do you think to be duke then, kind brother? I'll see fair play; drop one, and there lies t'other.

[Aside. Exit.

Enter Vendice and Hippolito, with Piero and other Lords.

Ven. My lords, be all of music, strike old griefs into other countries That flow in too much milk, and have faint livers, Not daring to stab home their discontents. Let our hid flames break out as fire, as lightning, To blast this villainous dukedom, vex'd with sin; Wind up your souls to their full height again.

Piero. How?

1st Lord. Which way?

3d Lord. Any way: our wrongs are such, We cannot justly be reveng'd too much.

Ven. You shall have all enough. Revels are toward, And those few nobles that have long suppress'd you, Are busied to the furnishing of a masque, And do affect to make a pleasant tale on't; The masquing suits are fashioning: now comes in That which must glad us all. We too take pattern Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion, E'en to an undistinguish'd hair almost: Then entering first, observing the true form, Within a strain or two we shall find leisure To steal our swords out handsomely; And when they think their pleasure sweet and good, In midst of all their joys they shall sigh blood.

Piero. Weightily, effectually!

Third. Before the t'other masquers come——

Ven. We're gone, all done and past.

Piero. But how for the duke's guard?

Ven. Let that alone, By one and one their strengths shall be drunk down.

Hip. There are five hundred gentlemen in the action, That will apply themselves, and not stand idle.

Piero. O, let us hug your bosoms!

Ven. Come, my lords, Prepare for deeds: let other times have words.[115] [Exeunt.

In a dumb show, the procession[116] of the young duke, with all his nobles; then sounding music. A furnished table is brought forth; then enter the duke and his nobles to the banquet. A blazing star appeareth.

1st Noble. Many harmonious hours and choicest pleasures Fill up the royal number of your years!

Lus. My lords, we're pleas'd to thank you, though we know 'Tis but your duty now to wish it so.

1st Noble. That shine makes us all happy.

3d Noble. His grace frowns.

2d Noble. Yet we must say he smiles.

1st Noble. I think we must.

Lus. That foul incontinent duchess we have banish'd; The bastard shall not live. After these revels, I'll begin strange ones: he and the step-sons Shall pay their lives for the first subsidies; We must not frown so soon, else't had been now.

[Aside.

1st Noble. My gracious lord, please you prepare for pleasure. The masque is not far off.

Lus. We are for pleasure. Beshrew thee, what art thou'? [thou] mad'st me start! Thou hast committed treason. A blazing star!

1st Noble. A blazing star! O, where, my lord?

Lus. Spy out.

2d Noble. See, see, my lords, a wondrous dreadful one!

Lus. I am not pleas'd at that ill-knotted fire, That bushing, flaring star. Am not I duke? It should not quake me now. Had it appear'd Before, I might then have justly fear'd; But yet they say, whom art and learning weds, When stars wear locks, they threaten great men's heads: Is it so? you are read, my lords.

1st Noble. May it please your grace, It shows great anger.

Lus. That does not please our grace.

2d Noble. Yet here's the comfort, my lord: many times, When it seems most near, it threatens farthest off.

Lus. Faith, and I think so too.

1st Noble. Beside, my lord, You're gracefully establish'd with the loves Of all your subjects; and for natural death, I hope it will be threescore years a-coming.

Lus. Do you?[117] no more but threescore years?

1st Noble. Fourscore, I hope, my lord.

2d Noble. And fivescore, I.

3d Noble. But 'tis my hope, my lord, you shall ne'er die.

Lus. Give me thy hand; these others I rebuke: He that hopes so is fittest for a duke: Thou shalt sit next me; take your places, lords; We're ready now for sports; let 'em set on: You thing! we shall forget you quite anon!

3d Noble. I hear 'em coming, my lord.

Enter the masque of Revengers, the two brothers, and two Lords more.

[The Revengers' dance: at the end steal out their
swords, and these four kill the four at the
table, in their chairs. It thunders.

Ven. Mark, thunder! Dost know thy cue, thou big-voic'd crier? Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords.

Hip. So, my lords, you have enough.

Ven. Come, let's away, no lingering.

Hip. Follow! go! [Exeunt.

Ven. No power is angry when the lustful die; When thunder claps, heaven likes the tragedy.

[Exit Vendice.

Lus. O, O!

Enter the other masque of intended murderers, step-sons, Bastard, and a fourth man, coming in dancing. The duke recovers a little in voice, and groans, calls, A guard! treason! at which they all start out of their measure, and, turning towards the table, they find them all to be murdered.

Spu. Whose groan was that?

Lus. Treason! a guard!

Amb. How now? all murder'd!

Sup. Murder'd!

4th Noble. And those his nobles?

Amb. Here's a labour sav'd; I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this?

Spu. Then I proclaim myself; now I am duke.

Amb. Thou duke! brother, thou liest.

Spu. Slave! so dost thou.

4th Noble. Base villain! hast thou slain my lord and master?

Enter the first men.

Ven. Pistols! treason! murder! Help! guard my lord the duke!

Hip. Lay hold upon these traitors.

Lus. O!

Ven. Alas! the duke is murder'd.

Hip. And the nobles.

Ven. Surgeons! surgeons! Heart! does he breathe so long? [Aside.

Ant. A piteous tragedy! able to make[118] An old man's eyes bloodshot.

Lus. O!

Ven. Look to my lord the duke. A vengeance throttle him! [Aside. Confess, thou murd'rous and unhallow'd man, Didst thou kill all these?

4th Noble. None but the bastard, I.

Ven. How came the duke slain, then?

4th Noble. We found him so.

Lus. O villain!

Ven. Hark!

Lus. Those in the masque did murder us.

Ven. La you now, sir— O marble impudence! will you confess now?

4th Noble. 'Sblood, 'tis all false.

Ant. Away with that foul monster, Dipp'd in a prince's blood.

4th Noble. Heart! 'tis a lie.

Ant. Let him have bitter execution.

Ven. New marrow! no, it cannot be express'd.[119] How fares my lord the duke?

Lus. Farewell to all; He that climbs highest has the greatest fall. My tongue is out of office.

Ven. Air, gentlemen, air. Now thou'lt not prate on't, 'twas Vendice murder'd thee.

[Whispers in his ear.

Lus. O!

Ven. Murder'd thy father. [Whispers.

Lus. O! [Dies.

Ven. And I am he: tell nobody—so, so, the duke's departed.

Ant. It was a deadly hand that wounded him. The rest, ambitious who should rule and sway After his death, were so made all away.

Ven. My lord was unlikely——

Hip. Now the hope Of Italy lies in your reverend years.

Ven. Your hair will make the silver age again, When there were fewer, but more honest men.

Ant. The burthen's weighty, and will press age down; May I so rule, that heaven may keep the crown!

Ven. The rape of your good lady has been quitted With death on death.

Ant. Just is the law above. But of all things it put me most to wonder How the old duke came murder'd!

Ven. O my lord!

Ant. It was the strangeliest carried: I not heard of the like.

Hip. 'Twas all done for the best, my lord.

Ven. All for your grace's good. We may be bold to speak it now, 'Twas somewhat witty carried, though we say it— 'Twas we two murder'd him.

Ant. You two?

Ven. None else, i' faith, my lord. Nay, 'twas well-manag'd.

Ant. Lay hands upon those villains!

Ven. How! on us?

Ant. Bear 'em to speedy execution.

Ven. Heart! was't not for your good, my lord?

Ant. My good! Away with 'em: such an old man as he! You, that would murder him, would murder me.

Ven. Is't come about?

Hip. 'Sfoot, brother, you begun.

Ven. May not we set as well as the duke's son?[120] Thou hast no conscience, are we not reveng'd? Is there one enemy left alive amongst those? 'Tis time to die, when we ourselves our foes:[121] When murderers shut deeds close, this curse does seal 'em: If none disclose 'em, they themselves reveal 'em! This murder might have slept in tongueless brass But for ourselves, and the world died an ass. Now I remember too, here was Piato Brought forth a knavish sentence once; No doubt (said he), but time Will make the murderer bring forth himself. 'Tis well he died; he was a witch. And now, my lord, since we are in for ever, This work was ours, which else might have been slipp'd! And if we list, we could have nobles clipp'd, And go for less than beggars; but we hate To bleed so cowardly: we have enough, I' faith, we're well, our mother turn'd, our sister true, We die after a nest of dukes. Adieu. [Exeunt.

Ant. How subtlely was that murder clos'd![122] Bear up Those tragic bodies: 'tis a heavy season; Pray heaven their blood may wash away all treason! [Exit.[Pg 106] [Pg 107]

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[92] In the 4^o this play consists but of four acts. But as that division probably arose from the carelessness of the printer, I have made an alteration here, which appears to be a necessary one.

[93] Perhaps we should read quarell'd poison; i.e., such poison as arrows are imbued with. Quarels are square arrows. So in the "Romaunt of the Rose," v. 1823—

"Ground quarelis sharpe of steele."

—Steevens.

[The two words are the same, quarled being a contracted form of quarell'd.]

[94] Alluding to the Fifth Commandment.—Gilchrist.

[95] [Edits., world's.]

[96] [Edits., tune.]

[97] i.e., incite, encourage her.

[98] Seldom to be met with. In Shakespeare's "Coriolanus" we have "seld seen flamens."—Steevens.

[99] [Old copy, hire and.]

[100] The word great is added in the 4^o to this line, but it belongs to Hippolito, and what he says has been hitherto misprinted.—Collier.

[101] ["The reality and life of this dialogue passes any scenical illusion I ever felt. I never read it but my ears tingle, and I feel a hot flush spread my cheeks, as if I were presently about to 'proclaim' some such 'malefactions' of myself as the brothers here rebuke in this unnatural parent, in words more keen and dagger-like than those which Hamlet speaks to his mother. Such power has the passion of shame, truly personated, not only to 'strike guilty creatures unto the soul,' but to 'appal' even those that are 'free.'"—Lamb.]

[102] [Old copy, lights, and in the line before, Sons—fights.]

[103] [Edits., held.]

[104] [Edits., see.]

[105] [Edits., their.]

[106] [Edits., not.]

[107] The 4^o reads, Buy.—Steevens.

[108] Michaelmas term now has but four returns. By the Statute 16 Car. I. c. vi. it was abridged of two; and again, by 24 Geo. II. c. xlviii. of the like number.

[109] In secret. This uncouth expression occurs in "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5, which many modern editors have altered to the more modern phrase of in private; but as Dr Johnson observes, "if phraseology is to be changed as words grow uncouth by disuse, or gross by vulgarity, the history of every language will be lost; we shall no longer have the words of any author; and as these alterations will often be unskilfully made, we shall in time have very little of his meaning." Mr Steevens, by several instances, has shown that the terms were in common use, and conveyed no low or vulgar ideas, and several others might be added: as in Ascham's "Toxophilus," 1571: "If shootinge fault at anye time, it hydes it not, it lurkes not in corners and budder mother."

[110] The 4^o reads breast.—Steevens.

[111] Hands.

[112] i.e., unsheathe them, let them be naked swords.—Steevens.

[113] [Edits., spread.]

[114] The 4^o reads, Well, have the fairest mark.—Collier.

[115] [A MS. note in one of the former edits., suggests, to other times leave words].

[116] [Old copy, possessing.]

[117] [Old copy, True.]

[118] The 4^o reads, wake.

[119] The 4^o reads, I cannot be express'd.—Collier.

[120] [Edits., so.]

[121] ["Mark this—it was his intention from the first to die when his revenge had been consummated."—MS. note in former edition.]

[122] Clos'd for disclos'd.—Gilchrist.

THE DUMB KNIGHT.

EDITIONS.

The dumbe Knight. A historicall Comedy, acted sundry times by the children of his Maiesties Reuels. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for Iohn Bache, and are to be sold at his shop in Popes-head Palace, neere to the Royall Exchange. 1608. 4^o.[123]

The Dumbe Knight. An Historicall Comedy, acted sundry times by the children of his Majesties Revells. London, Printed by A.M. for William Sheares, and are to be sold at his shoppe in Chancery Lane, near Seriants Inne. 1633. 4^o.

[MR COLLIER'S PREFACE.[124]]

Lewes Machin was assisted, as he states, in writing this play, by one "whose worth hath been often approved," and it is singular that until very recently the name of his coadjutor should have remained unknown, when in the Garrick Collection, always accessible in the British Museum, is a copy of "The Dumb Knight," edition of 1608, with the name of his "partner in the wrong" on the title-page, viz., Jervis or Gervase Markham. Another copy, with the same distinction, was sold in Mr Rhodes' collection. Why it was afterwards altered cannot now be ascertained; perhaps Markham wished to avoid the consequences of the "strange constructions" on the play to which Machin in his epistle refers, and therefore withdrew his name. Nevertheless the address of Machin "to the understanding reader" is prefixed to the copies with and without the name of his assistant.

Although Markham was a voluminous writer, little or nothing is known regarding the events of his life. A curious anecdote of a Gervase Markham is quoted by Sir E. Brydges, in his edition of Phillips's "Theatrum Poetarum," p. 279; but in all probability it is not the same individual, as that person was high sheriff of Nottinghamshire in 1625, and was robbed of £5000. Gervase Markham the poet and book-maker never could have possessed any such sum. He is said to have been the son of Robert Markham of Cotham; but this is very questionable. When and where he was born, and died, yet remains to be discovered. He began his career of authorship late in the reign of Elizabeth, viz., in 159[3, when his "Thyrsis and Daphne," a piece no longer known, was revised for the press. In the same year he produced "A Discourse of Horsemanship;" and] in 1595 he published "The Most Honourable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinvile (Grenville), Knight." By this work he seems to have acquired much reputation.[125] Though called a tragedy, it is only a narrative and elegiac poem in the octave rhyme.

Ritson also assigns to Markham a translation of Solomon's Song, in the same year, but it has only the initials L.M. on the title-page. In 1597, he printed a translation from the French, called "Devoreux, Vertues Tears for the Loss of the Most Christian King Henry III." In 1608 appeared a translation of Ariosto's "Satires," with his name on the title-page, but the work was subsequently claimed by Robert Tofte. The blame belonged, perhaps, to some knavish bookseller who, having obtained the MS., availed himself of Markham's popularity. [Barnaby Rich's "Alarm to England," was reprinted in 1625 under the title of "Vox Militis," with a poem by Markham prefixed, and without any mention of the true writer.] He continued to write various works, some on agriculture and farriery, [during the reign of James I.[126]] His only other dramatic performance was a tragedy called "Herod and Antipater," which was printed in 1622, and in the composition of which he was joined by W. Sampson.

Of Lewis Machin merely the name has come down to us in connection with Markham and William Barkstead. The latter in 1607 printed "Mirrha, the Mother of Adonis," and at the end of it were placed "three Eglogs" by Lewis Machin. The first of "Menalcas and Daphnis," and the two others of "Apollo and Hyacinth." It is impossible now to ascertain what share he had in "The Dumb Knight," which appears to have been a successful play, although its merits are by no means conspicuous. It is mentioned in the following terms in Shirley's "Example," 1637, sig. A 4:—

"Vainman. You will give me leave to answer you, If you should ask me anything?

"Jacintha. Not a syllable, Though I desir'd to know what o'clock 'tis; There's your obedience: at six months' end I may reward your silence.

"Pumice-Stone. She'll make him the Dumb Knight.

"Jacintha. I will not engage you to be a mute so long."

"The Dumb Knight" was entered on the stationers' books on the 6th October 1608, in which year it was first printed. It was reprinted in 1633, perhaps on its revival at one of the theatres, which led Shirley to allude to it in 1637. The edition of 1633 is a copy of that of 1608, with all the original errors, and the addition of some others. It sometimes happens that an obscure reading is explained or a misprint corrected in later copies, even if the mistakes generally are multiplied; but this is not the case with "The Dumb Knight." Mr Reed seems to have used the edition of 1633, and therefore included most of the errors of both of the old copies. He also introduced several conjectural alterations of his own, and in a manner not easily justified, since he gave no intimation of the liberty he had taken with the author. The play has now been carefully collated, and the more important variations pointed out in the notes.[127]

TO THE UNDERSTANDING READER.

Rumour, that Hydra-headed monster, with more tongues than eyes, by help of his intelligencer Envy, hath made strange constructions on this Dumb Knight, which then could not answer for himself; but now this publication doth untie his tongue, to answer the objections of all sharp critical censures, which here-to-fore have undeservedly passed upon him. And for my part, I protest the wrongs I have received by some (whose worths I will not traduce), with a mild neglect I have laughed at their follies; for I think myself happy, because I have been envied, since the best now in grace have been subject to some slanderous tongues that want worth themselves, and think it great praise to them to detract praise from others that deserve it; yet having a partner in the wrong, whose worth hath been often approved, I count the wrong but half a wrong, because he knows best how to answer for himself; but I now in his absence make this apology, both for him and me. Thus leaving you and the book together, I ever rest yours,

Lewis Machin.

FOOTNOTES:

[123] This edition had a different title-page to some of the copies, but in all other respects they were similar: it was as follows—

"The dumbe Knight. A pleasant Comedy, acted sundry times by the children of his Maiesties Reuels. Written by Iaruis Markham." [Imprint the same as above.]—Collier.

[124] [To the play, as printed in the last edition of Dodsley's "Old Plays."]

[125] Charles Fitzgeoffry, writing a similar poem on Sir Francis Drake, in 1596, thus mentions Markham's work—

"Well hath this poet royalis'd his facts And curiouslie describ'd his tragedie; Quaintlie he hath eternized his acts In lasting characters of memorie, Even co-eternal with eternitie: So that the world envies his happie state, That he should live when it is ruinate."

[126] A person of the name of Robert Markham wrote and printed in 1628 "A description of that ever-to-be-famed knight Sir John Burgh." Whether he was in any way related to Gervase Markham is not known.

[127] [Yet many errors and misprints remained in the former edition, of which some were readily set right, while others seem to bid defiance to a revising hand. It is not even easy, in every case, to detect where the corruption lies.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Men.

• King OF Cyprus.
• Philocles, his favourite, the Dumb Knight.
• Duke OF Epire.
• Alphonso.
• Florio.
• Prate, an Orator [lawyer].
• Mechant, }
• Velours,  } Clients to Prate.
• Drap,        }
• Precedent, Clerk to Prate.
• Cælio, Marshal for the Queen.
• Chip and Shavings, Carpenters.
• Heralds, Watchmen, Gentleman-Usher, Physician, Executioner, &c.

Women.

• Queen OF Sicily.
• Mariana, her Companion, and Sister to the Duke of Epire.
• Lollia, Wife to the Orator.
• Collaquintida, a Bawd.
• Attendants, &c.

Scene, Sicily.

THE DUMB KNIGHT.[128]

ACTUS I, SCÆNA 1.[129]

Enter the King OF Cyprus, Philocles, Florio, and Attendants in arms. [Music.

Enough; these loud sounds deaf my passions: How long shall love make me a slave to hope, And mix my calm desires with tyranny? O Philocles! this[130] heresy I hold, Thought and affection cannot be controll'd.

Phil. Yet may't be bent and suppled with extremes, Sith few foresee[131] the end of violence. What makes the skilful leech[132] to use the fire, Or war her engines, or states policy, But to recover things most desperate? Revolt is recreant, when pursuit is brave, Never to faint doth purchase what we crave.

Cyp. True, my Philocles, yet my recreant soul, Slav'd to her beauty, would renounce all war, And yield her right to love, did not thy spirit, Mix'd with my longing, fortify these arms. But I am now resolv'd, and this sad hour Shall give an end to my distemperature. Summon a parley.

Enter aloft the Queen OF Sicily, Mariana,[133] the Duke OF Epire, Alphonso, and Attendants.

Queen. What says our tyrant suitor, our disease in love, That makes our thoughts a slave unto his sword: What says my lord?

Cyp. Madam, attend me, this is my latest summons: The many suns my sorrows have beheld, And my sad nights of longings, all through hope T' enjoy the joy of earth (your own dear self), Are grown so infinite in length and weight, That like to wearied Atlas I enforce These wars, as Hercules, to bear my load: Briefly, I must enjoy you, or else lose The breath of life which to prevent, behold My sword must be my Cupid, and with feather'd steel Force pity from your breast. Your city's walls, Chidden with my cannons, have set ope a path, And boldly bid me enter: all your men of war, Feebled with famine and a weary siege, Take danger from mine actions: only yourself, Strong in your will, oppose even destiny, And like the giants' war offend the heavens. Which to prevent, do but descend and give Peace to my love-suit, and as o'ercome thereby I'll yield myself your prisoner, and be drawn A thrall in your triumphant victory. If otherwise, behold these fatal swords Shall ne'er be sheath'd till we be conquerors: And, not respecting innocence nor sex, The cries of infants, nor the prayers of age, All things shall perish, till within my arms I fold yourself, my thrall and conqueror.

Queen. Thou may'st be master of my body's tomb; But for my soul and mind they are as free As their creation, and with angel's wings Can soar beyond thy reach: trust me, King of Cyprus, Those coals the Roman Portia did devour Are not burnt out, nor have th' Egyptian worms[134] Yet lost their stings; steel holds his temper still, And these are ransoms from captivity. But art thou noble? hast thou one royal thought?

Cyp. Approve me by your question.

Queen. Then briefly thus: To shun the great effusion of their bloods, Who feel no touch in mine affections, Dare you to single combat, two to two, Refer your right in love?

Cyp. Who are your combatants? we love equality.

Queen. This is the first, the Epire duke, a man Sprung from the line of famous Scanderbeg. The next Alphonso, sprung from noble blood; Who, laden with rich Lusitanian prize, Hath rode through Syracuse twice in pomp.

Cyp. Their likings to the motion?

Epire. They are like wrath, Never unarm'd to beat weak injury.

Alph. Nay more, we are the sons of destiny: Virtue's our guide, our aim is dignity.

Phil. 'Sfoot, king, shalt not forsake 'em: this I see, Love, fight, and death are rul'd by destiny.

Cyp. My spirit speaks thy motion, Madam, although advantage might evade, And give my love more hope, yet my bent will, Bow'd to your pleasure, doth embrace your law. We do accept the combat, and ourself Will with that duke try fortunes; this my friend, The more[135] part of myself, my dearest Philocles, One of an angel's temper, shall with that lord Try best and worst. The place? the time? the sword?

Epire. They are your rights, we claim as challengers.

Cyp. And we would lose that 'vantage; but since fame Makes virtue dullard,[136] we embrace our rights: The place before these walls, the hour next sun, The pole-axe and the hand-axe for the fight.

Queen. It is enough; My hostage is my person and my love,

Cyp. And mine my hope, my faith, and royalty.

Epire. They are of poise sufficient, and one light Shall at one instant give us day and night.

[Exeunt Queen, Mariana, Epire, Alphonso, &c.

Cyp. She's gone, my Philocles: and as she goes, even so The sun forsakes the heavens to kiss the sea; Day in her beauty leaves us, and me thinks Her absence doth exile all happiness. Tell me, my Philocles, nay, prythee, Tell me true, even from that love Which to us both should blend one sympathy, Discharge an open breast: dost thou not think She is the mirror of her beauteous sex, Unparallel'd and uncompanioned?

Phil. Envy will say she's rare; then truth must vow She is beyond compare, sith in her looks Each motion hath a speaking majesty; She is herself compared with herself: For, but herself, she hath no companion.[137] But when I think of beauty, wit and grace, The elements of native[138] delicacy, Those all-eye-pleasing harmonies of sight, Which do enchant men's fancies, and stir up The life-blood of dull earth—O, then methinks Fair Mariana hath an equal place, And if not outshine, shows[139] more beautiful.

Cyp. More than my queen?

Phil. More in the gloss of beauty; less in worth, In wisdom and great thoughts: the one I find Was made for wonder, the other for admire.

Cyp. Thine equal praises make my fancies rich: And I am pleas'd with thy comparisons; Things of like nature live in best concent, Beauty with subjects, majesty with kings. Then let those two ideas lively move Spirit beyond all spirit in our breasts, That in the end of our great victory We may attain both love and majesty.

Phil. Although my first creation and my birth, My thoughts and other tempers of my soul, Took all their noble beings from the sword, And made me only for the use of wars; Yet in this combat, something (methinks) appears, Greater than the greatest glory, and doth raise My mind beyond herself: 'Sfoot, methinks Cæsar's Pharsalia, Nor Scipio's Carthage, nor Emilius' acts, Were worthy chairs of triumph: they o'er men's Poor mangled bodies, and fire-wasted climes, Made their triumphant passage; but we two Must conquer thoughts and love more than the gods can do.

Cyp. True, and therein Consists the glorious garland of our praise— But we neglect th' affairs of preparation. Florio, be it your charge To see th' erection of the squared lists, Fit ground for either army, and what else Belongs unto such royal eminence.

Flo. How near will your majesty have[140] the lists extend Unto the city walls?

Cyp. So as the dullest eye May see the heedfull'st passage in the fight.

Flo. What square or circuit?

Cyp. Threescore pace each way.

Flo. Your majesty shall have your will perform'd.

Phil. Do, and you do us grace. And now, thou sun, That art the eye of heaven, whose pure sight Shall be our guide and Jove's great chronicler, Look from thy sphere! No guilt of pride, of malice, or of blood, Puts on our armour; only pure naked love Tutors our hopes, and doth our actions move.

Cyp. Enough, my Philocles, thine orisons are heard. Come, let's away. [Exeunt.

Enter Lollia, the wife of Prate the Orator.[141]

Lol. Now fie upon't, who would be an orator's wife, and not a gentlewoman, if she could choose? A lady is the most sweet lascivious life, congies and kisses—the tire, O the tire, made castle upon castle, jewel upon jewel, knot upon knot; crowns, garlands, gardings,[142] and what not? the hood, the rebato,[143] the French fall,[144] the loose-bodied gown, the pin in the hair; no clawing the pate, then picking the teeth, and every day change; when we poor souls must come and go for every man's pleasure: and what's a lady more than another body? we have legs and hands, and rolling eyes, hanging lips, sleek brows, cherry cheeks, and other things as ladies have—but the fashion carries it away.

Enter Mistress Collaquintida.

Col. Why how now, Mistress Prate? i' th' old disease still? will it never be better? cannot a woman find one kind man amongst twenty? O the days that I have seen, when the law of a woman's wit could have put her husband's purse to execution!

Lol. O Mistress Collaquintida, mine is even the unnaturallest man to his wife——

Col. Faith, for the most part, all scholars are so, for they take so upon them to know all things, that indeed they know nothing; and besides, they are with study and ease grown so unwieldy, that a woman shall ne'er want a sore stomach that's troubled with them.

Lol. And yet they must have the government of all.

Col. True, and great reason they have for it: but a wise man will put it in a woman's hand: what! she'll save what he spends.

Lol. You have a pretty ruff, how deep is it?

Col. Nay this is but shallow; marry, I have a ruff is a quarter deep, measured by the yard?

Lol. Indeed! by the yard?

Col. By the standard, I assure you: you have a pretty set too! how big is the steel you set with?

Lol. As big as is[145] reasonable sufficient:—pity of my life, I have forgot myself; if my husband should rise from his study, and miss me, we should have such a coil.

Col. A coil, why what coil? if he were my husband, and did but thwart me, I would ring him so many alarums, sound him so many brass trumpets, beat him so many drums to his confusion, and thunder him such a peal of great-shot, that I would turn his brain in the pan, and make him mad with an eternal silence.

Lol. O Mistress Collaquintida, but my husband's anger is the worst-favouredst, without all conscience, of any man's in all Sicily; he is even as peevish as a sick monkey, and as waspish as an ill-pleas'd bride the second morning.

Col. Let your wrath be reciprocal, and pay him at his own weapon—but to the purpose for which I came. The party you wot of commends him to you in this diamond; he that met the party you know, and said the party's party was a party of a partly pretty understanding.

Lol. O, the Lord Alphonso.

Col. The very same, believe it: he loves you, and swears he so loves you, that if you do not credit him, you are worse than an infidel.

Lol. Indeed, Mistress Collaquintida, he hath the right garb for apparel, the true touch with the tongue in the kiss, and he dances well but falls heavily: but my husband, woman, my husband!—if we could put out his cat's eyes, there were something to be said; but they are ever peeping and prying, that they are able to pierce through a millstone: besides, I may say to you, he is a little jealous too; and see where he comes! We shall have a coil now.

Enter Prate the Orator.

Col. Begin you to pout first; for that's a woman's prevention.

Prate. What, Lollia, I say, where are you? my house looks you, my men lack you, I seek you, and a whole quest of inquiry cannot find you; fie, fie, fie! idleness is the whip of thrift: a good housewife should ever be occupied.

Lol. Indeed I have much joy to be occupied in anybody's company.

Prate. Why, what's the matter?

Lol. Why, orators' wives shortly will be known like images on water-stairs, ever in one weather-beaten suit, as if none wore hoods but monks and ladies: nor feathers, but fore-horses and waiting gentlewomen; nor chains, but prisoners and lords' officers; nor periwigs, but players and hot-brains—but the weakest must to the wall still.[146]

Prate. Go to, you shall have what you will.

Lol. Nay, nay, 'twas my hard fortune to be your wife; time was I might have done otherwise. But it matters not: you esteem me, as you do yourself, and think all things costly enough that cover shame, and that a pair of silken fore-sleeves to a satin breastplate is a garment good enough for a capitol; but is Master Wrangle, Master Tangle, or Master Trolbear, of that opinion? in faith, sir, no.

There's never a gallant in our state That goes more rich in gaudy bravery: And yet (I hope) for quality of speech, Audacious words, or quirks or quiddities, You are not held their much inferior. Fie, fie! I am ashamed to see your baseness.

Col. Indeed, Master Prate, she tells you truly; I wonder that you, being a proper man and an orator, will not go brave,[147] according to the custom of the country.

Prate. Go to, neighbour; he that will rise to the top of a high ladder must go up, not leap up: but be patient, wench, and thou shalt shortly see me gallant it with the best, and for thyself, my Lollia—

Not Lollia Paulina, nor those blazing stars, Which make the world the apes of Italy, Shall match thyself in sun-bright splendency.

Lol. Nay, verily, for myself I care not, 'tis you that are my pride; if you would go like yourself, I were appeased.

Prate. Believe it, wench, so I will:—but to the purpose for which I came. The end of this great war is now brought to a combat, two to two, the Duke of Epire and Alphonso for our queen, against the king and Prince Philocles: now, wench, if thou wilt go see the fight, I will send and provide thee of a good standing.

Lol. Indeed, for you have ne'er a good one of your own. [Aside.

Prate. What! Precedent, I say!

Pre. [Within.] Anon, anon, sir.

Prate. Why, when, I say? the villain's belly is like a bottomless pit—ever filling, and yet empty; at your leisure, sir.

Enter Precedent, Prate's man, eating.

Pre. I can make no more haste than my teeth will give me leave.

Prate. Well, sir, get you without the town to the place of the combat, and provide me for my wife some good standing to see the conflict.

Pre. How, master, how! must I provide a good standing for you for my mistress? truly, master, I think a marrow-bone pie, candied eringoes, preserved dates, marmalade of cantharides, were much better harbingers; cock-sparrow stewed, doves' brains, or swans' pizzles, are very provocative; roasted potatoes[148] or boiled skirrets[149] are your only lofty dishes; methinks these should fit you better than I can do.

Prate. What's this, what's this? I say, provide me a standing for my wife upon a scaffold.

Pre. And truly, master, I think a private chamber were better.

Prate. I grant you—if there were a chamber convenient.

Pre. Willing minds will make shift in a simple hole; close windows, strong locks, hard bed, and sure posts, are your only ornaments.

Prate. I think the knave be mad; sirrah, you chop-logic blockhead, you that have your brain-pan made of dry leather, and your wit ever wetshod, pack about your business, or I'll pack your pen and inkhorn about your ears.

Pre. Well, sir, I may go or so, but would my mistress take a standing of my preferment, I would so mount her, she should love strange things the better all her life after. [Aside.

Prate. Why, when, sir? [Exit Precedent. And come, sweet wife; and, neighbour, Let us have your company too. [Exeunt.

Enter at one door a Herald, and Florio, marshal for the King, with officers bearing the lists; at the other door a Herald, and Cælio, marshal for the Queen.

Cae. Holla! what are you?

Flo. High marshal for the king. Your character?

Cae. I likewise for the queen; where lies your equal ground?

Flo. Here underneath these walls, and there and there Ground for the battles.

Cae. Place there the queen's seat, And there and there chairs for the combatants.

Flo. Place here the lists; fix every joint as strong, As 'twere a wall; for on this foot of earth This day shall stand two famous monuments; The one a throne of glory bright as gold, Burnish'd with angels' lustre, and with stars Pluck'd from the crown of conquest, in which shall sit Men made half-gods through famous victory: The other a rich tomb of memorable fame, Built by the curious thoughts of noble minds, In which shall sleep these valiant souls in peace, Whom fortune's hand shall only overthrow. Heaven, in thy palm this day the balance hings,[150] Which makes kings gods, or men more great than kings.

Cae. So, now let the heralds give the champions sign Of ready preparations. [Exeunt Heralds.

The cornets sound; and enter at one end of the stage a Herald, two Pages, one with pole-axes, the other with hand-axes, the Duke OF Epire and Alphonso, like combatants; the Queen and Mariana; Prate, Lollia, Collaquintida, and Precedent aloft.

Flo. What are you that appear, and what devoir Draws you within these lists?

Epire. I am the Duke of Epire, and the mine,[151] Which doth attract my spirit to run this marshal[152] course Is the fair guard of a distressed queen, would wed To hate and inequality, and brutish force; Which to withstand I boldly enter thus, And will defail,[153] or else prove recreant.

Flo. And what are you, or your intendiments?

Alph. I am Alphonso, marshal of this realm, Who of like-temper'd thoughts and like desires Have grounded this my sanctimonious zeal, And will approve the duke's assertions, Or in this field lie slain and recreant.

Flo. Enter and prosper, as your cause deserves.

The cornets sound; and enter at the other end of the stage a Herald, two Pages with [hand-]axes and pole-axes; then the King OF Cyprus and Philocles, like combatants, and their array.[154]

Cae. What are you that appear, and what devoir Draws you within these lists?

Cyp. I am the King of Cyprus who, led on By the divine instinct of heavenly love, Come with my sword to beg that royal maid, And to approve by gift of heaven and fate She is alone to me appropriate: Which to maintain, I challenge entrance here, Where I will live a king or recreant.

Cae. And what are you or your intendiments?

Phil. I am less than my thoughts, more than myself, Yet nothing but the creature of my fate; By name my nature only is obscur'd, And yet the world baptiz'd me Philocles; My entrance here is proof of holy zeal, And to maintain that, no severe disdain, False shape of chastity, nor woman's will, Neglective petulance or uncertain hope, Foul-visor'd coyness, nor seducing fame, Should rob the royal temper of true love From the desired aim of his desires, Which my best blood shall witness, or this field Entomb my body, made a recreant.

Cae. Enter and prosper, as your cause deserves.

[Draws two swords.

Flo. Princes, lay your hands on these swords' points. Here you shall swear[155] by hope, by heaven, by Jove, And by the right you challenge in true fame, That here you stand not arm'd with any guile, Malignant hate, or usurpation Of philters, charms, or night-spells; characters, Or other black infernal vantages; But even with thoughts as pure As your pure valours or the sun's pure beams, T' approve the right of your[156] affection; And howsoe'er your fortunes rise or fall, To break no faith in your conditions. So help you Jove!

All. We swear!

Queen. How often do my maiden thoughts correct And chide my froward will for this extreme Pursuit of blood! believe me, fain I would Recall mine oath's vow, did not my shame Hold fast my cruelty, by which is taught Those gems are prized best are dearest bought, Sleep, my love's softness then, waken my flame, Which guards a vestal sanctity! Princes, behold, Upon those weapons sits my god of love, And in their powers my love's security[157]. If them you conquer, we are all your slaves: If they triumph, we'll mourn upon your graves.

Mar. Now, by my maiden modesty, I wish Good fortune to that Philocles: my mind Presages virtue in his eaglet's eyes. 'Sfoot, he looks like a sparrow-hawk or a wanton fire, A flash of lightning or a glimpse of day: His eye steals to my heart, and lets it see More than it would: peace! blab no secrecy; He must have blows.

Flo. Sound cornets, princes, respect your guards.

[Here they fight, and Philocles overthrows
Alphonso, and Epire overthrows Cyprus.

Phil. I crave the queen's conditions, or this blow Sends this afflicted soul to heaven or hell. Speak, madam, will you yield, or shall he die?

Epire. Neither, bold prince; if thou but touch a hair, The king's breath shall redeem it: madam, your love Is safe in angels' guarding; let no fear Shake hands with doubtfulness: you are as safe As in a tower of diamonds.

Phil. O, 'tis but glass, And cannot bear this axe's massiness. Duke, thy brave words, that second thy brave deeds, Fill me with emulation: only we two Stand equal victors; then if thou hast that tie And bond of well-knit valour, which unites Virtue and fame together, let us restore Our captives unto freedom, and we two In single combat try out the mastery. Where whoso falls, each other shall subscribe To every clause in each condition.

Epire. Thou art the index of mine ample thought, And I am pleas'd with thine election. Speak, madam, if ever I deserved grace, Grace me with your consent.

Queen. 'Tis all my will. Thy noble hand erect and perfect me.

Phil. What says his majesty? My stars are writ in heaven: nor death nor fate Are slaves to fear, to hope, or human state.

Cyp. I neither fear thy fortune nor my ruin; But hold them all beyond all prophecy. Thou hast my free consent, and on thy power Lies my life's date or my death's hour.

Epire. Then rise and live with safety.

Phil. Alphonso, here my hand, Thy fortune lends thy peace no infamy. And now, thou glorious issue of Jove's brain[158], That burnt the Telamonian ravisher, Look from thy sphere, and if my heart contain An impure thought of lust, send thy monsters forth And make me more than earthly miserable.

[Here the cornets sound, they fight, and Philocles
overcomes the Duke. The Queen
descends[159].

Phil. Yield, recreant[160], or die!

Epire. Thine axe hath not the power to wound my thought, And yields a word my tongue could never sound. I say thou'rt worthy, valiant, for my death: Let the queen speak it—'tis an easy breath.

Queen. Not for the world's large circuit; hold, gentle prince, Thus I do pay his ransom: low as the ground, I tender my unspotted virgin love To thy great will's commandment: let not my care, My woman tyranny, or too strict guard, In bloody purchase take away those sweets Till now have govern'd your amaz'd desires; For trust me, king, I will redeem my blame With as much love as Philocles hath fame.

Cyp. Thus comes a calm unto a sea-wreck'd soul, Ease to the pained, food unto the starv'd, As you to me, my best creation. Trust me, my queen; my love's large chronicle Thou never shalt o'erread, because each day It shall beget new matter of amaze, And live to do thee grace eternally. Next whom my Philocles, my bounteous friend, Author of life, and sovereign of my love, My heart shall be thy throne, thy breast the shrine, Where I will sit to study gratefulness. To you, and you, my lords, my best of thoughts, Whose loves have show'd a duteous carefulness; To all, free thanks and graces. This unity Of love and kingdoms is a glorious sight. Mount up the royal champion, music and cornets sound: Let shouts and cries make heaven and earth rebound. [Exeunt.

Epire. How like the sun's great bastard o'er the world Rides this man-mounted engine, this proud prince, And with his breath singes our continents. Sit fast, proud Phaeton, or[161] by heaven I'll kick And plunge thee in the sea; if thou'lt needs ride, Thou shouldst have made thy seat upon a slave, And not upon mine honour's firmament. Thou hast not heard the god of wisdom's tale, Nor can thy youth curb greatness, till my hate Confound thy life with villain policy. I am resolv'd, since virtue hath disdain'd To clothe me in her riches, henceforth to prove A villain fatal, black and ominous. Thy virtue is the ground of my dislike; And my disgrace, the edge of envy's sword, Which like a razor shall unplume thy crest, And rob thee of thy native excellence. When great thoughts give their homage to disgrace, There's no respect of deeds, time, thoughts, or place.

FOOTNOTES:

[128] Langbaine observes that several incidents in this play are borrowed from novels, as the story of Mariana swearing Philocles to be dumb, from Bandello's Novels; Alfonso cuckolding Prate the orator, and the latter appearing before the council, from the same book. The English reader may see the same story in, "The Complaisant Companion," 8^o, 1674.

[129] The word music is here inserted in the 4^o, 1608, and is repeated at the commencement of each act.

[130] 'Tis heresy I hold—edit. of 1608.

[131] [Old copies, fare see.]

[132] An old word used by Chaucer, Spenser, Fairfax, and other writers, signifying a physician.

[133] The entrance of Mariana with the queen, &c., is not mentioned, though her exit is noticed: by the dialogue, which follows their departure from the walls, it is evident that she ought to be named, though hitherto omitted.—Collier.

[134] Dr Johnson observes that worm is the Teutonic word for serpent; and Dr Percy, that in the northern counties the same word is still used in that sense. See their several notes, and also Mr Tollet's to "Antony and Cleopatra," act v. sc. 2.

[135] [Greater, better.]

[136] [Former edits., dulat, which can surely have no meaning.]

[137] If Theobald had been as well read in our ancient dramatic writers as he pretended to be, he would have produced this passage in justification of the celebrated line in "The Double Falshood"—

"None but himself can be his parallel."

It is certain, if authorities would sanctify absurdity, he might have made a better defence against Mr Pope than that which he published. He might also have quoted the following line from Massinger's "Duke of Milan," act iv. sc. 3—

"And, but herself, admits no parallel."

[138] [Former edits., active.]

[139] [Former edits., it shows.]

[140] [Edits., Majesty's hand. The emendation was suggested by Collier.]

[141] There seems no reason for omitting these explanatory matters, which save a reference to the Dramatis Personæ.—Collier.

[142] [Former edits., gardens.]

[143] An ornament for the neck, a collar-band, or kind of ruff. Fr. Rabat.

[144] [Allusively to the enormously high headdress worn by ladies.]

[145] [Old copy, a.]

[146] This proverb is also quoted in "The Bloody Banquet," by T.D., 1639, which Mr Malone [wrongly] gives to R. Davenport—

Clown. O, always the weakest goes to the wall.

There was a play first printed in 1600, under the title of "The Weakest goeth to the Wall," the plot of which is taken with much servility from B. Rich's "Farewell to the Militarie Profession," 1581 and 1606, which book also furnished Shakespeare with the plot of his "Twelfth Night."—Collier.

[147] Fine.

[148] See Mr Collins's note to "Troilus and Cressida," [or Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," art. Potato.]

[149] "Skirret, Sisarum, quasi skirwort, i.e., sisar-wort. Tiberii Aug. deliciæ: credo potius a Belg. suycker-wortel, idem signante...."—Skinner. Compare Hofman and C. Plinii "Nat. Hist." lib. xix. c. 5.

[150] [An old form of] hangs. See the Glossary to Douglas's "Virgil," voce Hingare [or Halliwell's "Dict." in v.]

[151] The magnet, for in Kent they call the ironstone mine, quasi mineral.—Pegge.

[152] [Martial.]

[153] i.e., Prove defective, fail in my strength: defailler, Fr.—Steevens.

[154] [Edits., army; but the king would scarcely bring an army to such an encounter, even a stage-army.]

[155] When the combat was demanded and allowed, it was the custom for each party to take an oath to the following purport, viz., "that they had not brought into the lists other armour or weapon than was allowed, neither any engine, instrument, herbe, charm, or enchantment, and that neither of them should put affiance or trust in anything other than God and their own valours, as God and the holy Evangelists should help them."—Segar's "Honour Military, &c.," p. 134.

See also Mr Steevens's note on "Macbeth," act v. sc. 7.

[156] [Old copy, pure.]

[157] [Former edits., severity.]

[158] i.e., Minerva, who killed Ajax Oïleus with a thunderbolt for ravishing Cassandra in her temple.—Steevens.

[159] [Both the edits., defends.]

[160] [Edits., recant.]

[161] [Old copy, for.]

ACTUS II., SCÆNA 1.

Enter Prate, Lollia, Collaquintida, and Precedent.

Prate. Come, wife, methought our party stood stifly to it.

Pre. Indeed they were stiff, whilst they stood; but when they were down, they were like men of a low world. A man might have wound their worst anger about his finger.

Lol. Go to, sirrah, you must have your fool's bolt in everybody's quiver.

Pre. Indeed, mistress, if my master should break his arrow with foul shooting or so, I would be glad if mine might supply the hole[162].

Prate. I find you kind, sir.

Pre. True, sir, according to my kind, and to pleasure my kind mistress.

Prate. Go to, sirrah, I will not have your kindness to intermeddle with her kind; she is meat for your master.

Pre. And your man, sir, may lick your foul trencher.

Col. Ay, but not eat of his mutton.

Pre. Yet I may dip my bread in the wool, Mistress Collaquintida.

Prate. Go to, sirrah, you will be obscene, and then I shall knock you. But to the combat. Methought our side were the most proper men.

Lol. True, and therefore they had the worse fortune: but see, here's the Lord Florio.

Enter Florio.

Flo. Master Orator, it is the king and queen's majesties' pleasure that you presently repair unto the court, touching the drawing out of certain articles for the benefit of both the kingdoms.

Prate. My lord, I will instantly attend their majesties.

Flo. Do, for they expect you seriously. [Exit Florio.

Prate. Wife, you can have my service no longer. Sirrah Precedent, attend you upon your mistress home; and, wife, I would have you to hold your journey directly homeward, and not to imitate princes in their progress; step not out of your way to visit a new gossip, to see a new garden-house, to smell the perfumes of court jerkins, or to handle other tools than may be fit for your modesty. I would not have you to step into the suburbs, and acquaint yourself either with monsters or motions[163], but holding your way directly homeward, show yourself still to be a rare housewife.

Lol. I' faith, i' faith, your black outside will have a yellow lining[164].

Prate. Content thee, wife, it is but my love that gives thee good counsel. But here comes one of my clients.

Enter Drap, a country gentleman.

Drap. Sir, master orator, I am bold to trouble you about my suit.

Prate. Sir, master country gentleman, I am now for present business of the king's.

Drap. You may the better remember me.

Prate. Heyday! I shall mix your business with the king's?

Drap. No, but you may let his majesty know my necessity.

Prate. Sir, sir, you must not confine me to your seasons. I tell you, I will select[165] mine own leisures.

Enter Velours, a citizen.

Vel. Master orator, is it your pleasure I attend you about my despatches?

Prate. Sir, it is my pleasure you despatch yourself from mine encumbrance; I tell you, I am for instant business of the king's.

Vel. Sir, I have borne my attendance long.

Prate. Bear it till your bones ache, I tell you; I cannot bear it now, I am for new business.

Drap and Vel. Yet the old should be despatched; it was first paid for.

Prate. If you be gentlemen, do not make me mad.

Drap and Vel. Sir, our suits are of great weight.

Prate. If you be Christians, do not make me an atheist. I shall profane if you vex me thus.

Enter the Lord Mechant.

What, more vexation? My lord, my lord, save your breath for your broth; I am not now at leisure to attend you.

Mech. A word, good master orator.

Prate. Not a word, I beseech your lordship. I am for the king's business; you must attend me at my chamber. [Exit Prate.

Mech., Drap, and Vel. And everywhere else: we will not leave you. [Exeunt.

Pre. Now (methinks) my master is like a horse-leech, and these suitors so many sick of the gout, that come to have him suck their blood. O, 'tis a mad world!

Lol. Go to, sirrah, you will never leave your crabtree similes; but, pity of me, whom have we here?

Enter Alphonso.

O, 'tis the Lord Alphonso.

Alph. Mistress, God save: nay, your lip, am I[166] a stranger, and how doth Mistress Collaquintida? O, you are an excellent seasoner of city stomachs.

Col. Faith, my lord, I have done my best to make somebody relish your sweetmeats. But harkee you, my lord, I have struck the stroke, I have done the deed; there wants nothing but time, place, and her consent.

Alph. Call you that nothing?

Col. A trifle, a trifle; upon her, my lord; she may seem a little rough at the first, but if you stand stiffly to her, she'll fall. A word with you, Master Precedent. [They whisper.

Alph. Mistress Prate, I am a soldier, and can better act my love than speak it. My suit you know by your neighbour, my love you shall prove by my merit; to both which my tokens have been petty witnesses; and my body shall seal and deliver upon thee such a brave confirmation, that not all the orators in Sicily shall be able to cancel the deed.

Lol. Truly, my lord, methinks you, being witty, should be honest.

Alph. Nay, wench, if I were a fool, there's no question but I would be honest; but to the purpose; say, wench, shall I enjoy, shall I possess?

Lol. To enjoy my love, is not to possess my body.

Alph. Tut, wench, they be words of one signification, and cannot be separated.

Lol. Nay, then, I should wrong my husband.

Alph. 'Sfoot, thou shouldst but do for him as he does for the whole world. Why, an orator were a needless name, if it were not to defend wrong; then, wench, do as he doth, write by a precedent.

Lol. O, my lord, I have a husband, A man whose waking jealousy survives, And like a lion, sleeps with open eyes; That not a minute of mine hours are free From the intelligence of his secret spies. I am a very covert[167] Danae, Thorough whose roof suspicion will not let Gold showers have passage, nor can I deceive His Argus eyes with any policy: And yet I swear I love you.

Alph. Dearest[168] affection! if thou lov'st me, as thou say'st thou dost, Thou canst invent some means for our delight. The rather sith it ever hath been said That walls of brass withstand not willing minds: And women, when they're prone, make love admir'd For quaint endeavours: come, instruct thy wit, And find some scale to our high height of bliss.

Lol. Then briefly thus, my lord. To-morrow doth the senate sit to judge Causes both criminal and of the state; Where of necessity my husband's place Must be fill'd by himself, because his tongue Must gild his clients' causes. Now if you please All that self-hour, when he is turmoiled About those serious trifles, to vouchsafe To visit me, his absence and my care Shall give us liberty of more delight. You know my meaning, and I am asham'd My love should thus betray my modesty; But make the use according to your fancy.

Alph. What hour assures his absence?

Lol. Eight is the latest time.

Alph. This kiss [shall] leave[169] my faith with thee: farewell. Thou hast given me double glory from thy breath, Nothing shall lose me time but certain death.

[Exit Alphonso.

Pre. Truly, Mistress Collaquintida, you are an excellent piece of sweet gall.

Lol. Well, sir, will you lead the way homeward?

Pre. To your bed-chamber, mistress, or your privy lodging? [Exeunt.

Enter Philocles alone.

Phil. Night clad in black mourns for the loss of day, And hides the silver spangles of the air, That not a spark is left to light the world; Whilst quiet sleep, the nourisher of life, Takes full possession of mortality. All creatures take their rest in soft repose, Save malcontents and we accursed lovers, Whose thoughts perturbed make us passion's slaves, And rob us of the juice of happiness. Dear Mariana, shap'd in an angel's mould, Thou thrall'st my senses, and inflam'st my blood: Love's power by wisdom cannot be withstood. But see, the morning-star breaks from the east, To tell the world her great eye[170] is awak'd, To take his journey to the western vales: And now the court begins to rise with him.

[Here pass over the stage a physician, a gentleman-usher, and a waiting-maid.

There goes the physician, the waiting-maid, And a fine, straight-legg'd gentleman-usher. The preface to a kirtle all puff-paste; One that writes sonnets in his lady's praise, And hides her crimes with flattering poesy.

Enter Mariana.

But peace! amazement! see the day of life, Nature's best work, the world's chief paragon! Madam, one word.

Mar. Ay; so now, farewell.

Phil. You do mistake me.

Mar. That yourself can tell. You ask'd me one word, which I gave, said ay; A word of least use in a virgin's breath,[171] Urge not my patience then with fond reply.

Phil. Dear lady, lend an ear unto my voice, Since each were made for other's happiness: My tongue's not oil'd with courtly flatterings, Nor can I paint my passions to the life; But by that power which shap'd this heavenly form, I am your bondslave forc'd by love's command; Then let soft pity with such beauty dwell, Madam, I love you.

Mar. As I am a virgin, so do I.

Phil. But, madam, whom?

Mar. Myself no lady better.

Phil. But will you love me?

Mar. No, by my chastity.

Phil. I hope you do but jest.

Mar. Nay, I'll keep mine oath, Men shall abandon pride and jealousy Ere I'll be bound to their captivity: They shall live continent, and leave to range, But men (like to the moon) each month must change; Yet we must seek that nought their sight displeases, And mix our wedlock sweets with loath'd diseases; When we consume ourselves and our best beauty, All our reward is—why, 'twas but our duty.

Phil. Judge not so hard of all for some offenders; For you are subject to the selfsame crimes, Of men and women always have been had Some good of each——

Mar. But for the most part bad: Therefore I'll have none at all, but die a perfect maid.

Phil. That humour like a flower soon will fade; Once did mine own thoughts sing to that delight, Till love and you reform'd my barbarousness: Therefore, dear lady, pity my wounded heart.

Mar. A surgeon here for this love-wounded man! How deep's your ulcer'd orifice, I pray you tell?

Phil. Quite thorough my heart.

Mar. 'Tis strange, and look so well! Yet ladies' eyes have power to murder men, And with one smile to make them whole again. Achilles' lance to a hair; but do you love me, prince?

Phil. Dearer than my soul.

Mar. Would I could love you!

Phil. Madam, so you may.

Mar. As yet I cannot: therefore let me go.

Phil. O, do not leave me, grant me but one request, And here I vow by that divinest power, The salt-sea's glorious issue, whose bright sphere Rules my sick heart, and knows my chaste intent, That if you please to impose on me that task Which neither man nor monster can achieve, Which even angels have a dread to touch, Deeds which outstretch all possibility, 'Sfoot, more than can be thought—and I'll effect, Or else I'll perish in th' accomplishment.

Mar. Let your request fit virgin-modesty, And you obey your vow, I am content To give your thoughts contented happiness.

Phil. 'Tis but a kiss I ask, a minute's joy.

Mar. Now Cupid help thee; is thy grief for this? Keep thy strong vow, and freely take a kiss. [He kisses her.

Phil. I have obtain'd my heaven, and in this touch I feel the breath of all deliciousness: Then freely give the sentence of my work, Muster up all the engines of your wit, Teach Juno rules beyond maliciousness; Whate'er it be, I'll die but I'll perform it.

Mar. Thou shalt not kill thyself, nor fight with monsters, Nor bring the great Turk's beard[172] to show thy zeal: Thy life thou shalt not hazard for my love, Nor will I tie thee to an endless task: But even with ease and gentle-tangled knots, Thou shalt entwine thy clue of miseries.

Phil. Let it have passage, madam: give me my doom.

Mar. Then, Philocles, knit silence to my words, And mark thy doom; for thus my stricter will Loads grief upon thy vainer levity. Hence, for the space and compass of one year, Thou shalt abjure the liberty of speech; Thou shalt not speak for fully twelvemonth's space, For friend nor foe, for danger nor for death; But live, like air, with silent emptiness. Break thou this vow, I'll hold thee for a villain: And all the world shall know thy perjury.

Phil. Be heaven and earth a witness of my vow And mine eternal silence!—I am dumb.

Mar. Why so, now shall I not be troubled with vain chat Or idle prate of idle wantonness: For love I cannot, therefore 'tis in vain; Would all my suitors' tongues I thus could rein! Then should I live free from feign'd sighs and groans, With, O, take pity, 'tis your servant moans, And such harsh stuff, that frets me to the heart; And sonnets made of Cupid's burning dart, Of Venus' lip, and Juno's majesty; Then were I freed from fools and foolery. In May the cuckoo sings: then she'll come hither. Her voice and yours will rarely tune together.

[Exit Mariana.

Enter Florio.

Flo. Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you.

[Speaks louder and louder.

Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you. Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you.

[Philocles strikes Florio, and fells him.

Flo. The pox rot off your fingers for this blow! It is coronation-day thorough all my skull, There's such a fatal ringing in my brain: H' has won the set, has laid five fingers on: But 'twas a knavish part of him to play so. Hear me, ye gods: for this my open wrong, Make short his fingers, as you have his tongue.

[Exit Florio.

Enter Mechant alone.

Mech. 'Tis not man's fortune, envy, or neglect, Which makes him miserable; but 'tis mean fate, Even sole predestination, a firm gift Fix'd to his birth, before the world was made. For were it otherwise, then within our lives We should find some distractions, various[173] change. And other toys of much uncertainty: But my mishaps are fix'd so to my blood, They have no sire but my creation: The queen, out of suspicion that my love First set an edge upon the king's desires, And made him woo her with a victor's sword. Cast me from favour, seizes all my lands, And turns my naked fortunes to the cold. The king, made proud with purchase of his wish, Neglects my sufferance for him, and o'erlooks The low tide of my fortunes; lest my woes Should speak my wrongs to his ingratitude: The whilst those lords, whose supple hams have bow'd To do me formal reverence, now despise And slight me in their meanest compliments. O, 'tis a torment more than hell yet knows, To be an honest flatterer, or to live A saint in limbo, which that I may prevent, I'll be nor best nor worst, but all indifferent, But here comes a nobleman; I must turn petitioner.

Enter Florio.

My lord, may I not see the king?

Flo. You may not. His majesty is now down-press'd with seriousness: As for your suit, it is with Prate the orator, I heard his highness give him a special charge For your despatch with favour.

Mech. O, but he doth neglect, And slights me like his weak orations: And by your lordship's leave I do not think His wisdom worthy of the conference.

Flo. Nay, if you will correct the king's coin, you are not for my conference, farewell.

[Exit Florio.

Mech. Why, and fare you well! sfoot, this is more than strange, That, being griev'd, I may not say I'm pain'd.

Enter Alphonso.

But here comes another: mine honourable lord, May I not have some conference with the king?

Alph. You may not; business of greater weight Imports both him and us: nay, pray you cease; As for your suit, 'tis with the orator.

Mech. Yet, methinks, 'twere meet———

Alph. That you would rather trouble him than me.

Mech. It's strange.

Alph. It's strange, indeed, to see you wrong your ease. I am not now for idle conferences. Adieu.

[Exit Alphonso.