Chapter LXVI: Act I: Scene I.2260 (1)

_Enter at one door a Funeral (a coronet lying on the hearse, scutcheons and garlands hanging on the sides), attended by_ GASPARO TREBAZZI, Duke of Milan, CASTRUCHIO, SINEZI, PIORATTO, FLUELLO, _and others. At another door enter_ HIPPOLITO, _in discontented appearance; and_ MATHEO, _a_ Gentleman, _his friend, labouring to hold him back_.

_Duke._ Behold, yon comet shows his head again!
Twice hath he thus at cross-turns thrown on us
Prodigious[2261] looks; twice hath he troubled
The waters of our eyes. See, he ’s turn’d wild:—
Go on, in God’s name.

_Cas._, _Sin._ On afore there, ho! 5

_Duke._ Kinsmen and friends, take from your manly sides
Your weapons to keep back the desperate boy
From doing violence to the innocent dead.

_Hip._ I prithee, dear Matheo——

_Mat._ Come, you ’re mad!

_Hip._ I do arrest thee, murderer! Set down,
Villians, set down that sorrow, ’t is all mine. 11

_Duke._ I do beseech you all, for my blood’s sake
Send hence your milder spirits, and let wrath
Join in confederacy with your weapons’ points;
If he proceed to vex us, let your swords 15
Seek out his bowels: funeral grief loathes words.

_All._ Set on.

_Hip._ Set down the body!

_Mat._ O my lord!
You ’re wrong! I’th’ open street? You see she ’s dead.

_Hip._ I know she is not dead.

_Duke._ Frantic young man,
Wilt thou believe these gentlemen?—Pray speak.— 20
Thou dost abuse my child, and mock’st the tears
That here are shed for her. If to behold
Those roses withered, that set out her cheeks;
That pair of stars that gave her body light,
Dark’ned and dim for ever; all those rivers 25
That fed her veins with warm and crimson streams
Frozen and dried up: if these be signs of death,
Then is she dead. Thou unreligious youth,
Art not asham’d to empty all these eyes
Of funeral tears, a debt due to the dead, 30
As mirth is to the living? Sham’st thou not
To have them stare on thee? Hark, thou art curst
Even to thy face, by those that scarce can speak.

_Hip._ My lord——

_Duke._ What would’st thou have? Is she not dead?

_Hip._ Oh, you ha’ kill’d her by your cruelty!

_Duke._ Admit I had, thou kill’st her now again;
And art more savage than a barbarous Moor. 37

_Hip._ Let me but kiss her pale and bloodless lip.

_Duke._ O fie, fie, fie.

_Hip._ Or if not touch her, let me look on her.

_Mat._ As you regard your honour——

_Hip._ Honour? Smoke! 41

_Mat._ Or if you lov’d her living, spare her now.

_Duke._ Ay, well done, sir, you play the gentleman.—
Steal hence;—’t is nobly done;—away;—I’ll join
My force to yours, to stop this violent torment[2262]— 45
Pass on.
_Exeunt with funeral_, [_all except the_ DUKE, HIPPOLITO _and_
MATHEO].

_Hip._ Matheo, thou dost wound me more.

_Mat._ I give you physic, noble friend, not wounds.

_Duke._ O, well said, well done, a true gentleman!
Alack, I know the sea of lovers’ rage
Comes rushing with so strong a tide, it beats 50
And bears down all respects of life, of honour,
Of friends, of foes! Forget her, gallant youth.

_Hip._ Forget her?

_Duke._ Nay, nay, be but patient;
For-why[2263] death’s hand hath su’d a strict divorce
’Twixt her and thee. What’s beauty but a corse? 55
What but fair sand-dust are earth’s purest forms?
Queen’s bodies are but trunks to put in worms.

_Mat._ Speak no more sentences, my good lord, but slip hence; you
see they are but fits; I’ll rule him, I warrant ye. Ay, so, tread
gingerly; your grace is here somewhat too long already. [_Exit_
DUKE.] ’Sblood, the jest were now, if, (62) having ta’en some knocks
o’ th’ pate already, he should get loose again, and like a mad ox,
toss my new black cloaks into the kennel.[2264] I must humour his
lordship.—My Lord Hippolito, (66) is it in your stomach to go to
dinner?

_Hip._ Where is the body?

_Mat._ The body, as the duke spake very wisely, is gone
to be worm’d. 70

_Hip._ I cannot rest; I’ll meet it at next turn:
I’ll see how my love looks.
MATHEO _holds him in ’s arms_.

_Mat._ How your love looks? Worse than a scare-crow. Wrestle not with
me: the great fellow gives the fall for a ducat. 75

_Hip._ I shall forget myself.

_Mat._ Pray, do so, leave yourself behind yourself, and go whither
you will. ’Sfoot, do you long to have base rogues that maintain a
Saint Anthony’s fire in their noses by nothing but (80) twopenny ale,
make ballads of you? If the duke had but so much mettle in him, as is
in a cobbler’s awl, he would ha’ been a vext thing: he and his train
had blown you up, but that their powder has taken the wet of cowards.
You’ll bleed three pottles of Alicant,[2265] by (86) this light, if
you follow ’em, and then we shall have a hole made in a wrong place,
to have surgeons roll thee up like a baby in swaddling clouts. 90

_Hip._ What day is to-day, Matheo?

_Mat._ Yea marry, this is an easy question: why to-day is—let me
see—Thursday.

_Hip._ Oh! Thursday. 94

_Mat._ Here’s a coil[2266] for a dead commodity. ’Sfoot, women when
they are alive are but dead commodities, for you shall have one woman
lie upon many men’s hands.

_Hip._ She died on Monday then. 99

_Mat._ And that’s the most villanous day of all the week to die in:
and she was well, and eat a mess of water-gruel on Monday morning.

_Hip._ Ay? It cannot be
Such a bright taper should burn out so soon.

_Mat._ O yes, my lord. So soon? Why, I ha’ known them that at dinner
have been as (106) well, and had so much health, that they were glad
to pledge it, yet before three a’clock have been found dead—drunk.

_Hip._ On Thursday buried! and on Monday died! 110
Quick haste, by’rlady.[2267] Sure her winding sheet
Was laid out ’fore[2268] her body; and the worms
That now must feast with her, were even bespoke,
And solemnly invited like strange guests. 114

_Mat._ Strange feeders they are indeed, my lord, and, like your
jester, or young courtier, will enter upon any man’s trencher without
bidding.

_Hip._ Curst be that day for ever that robb’d her
Of breath, and me of bliss! Henceforth let it stand
Within the wizard’s hook (the calendar) 120
Markt with a marginal finger, to be chosen
By thieves, by villains, and black murderers,
As the best day for them to labour in.
If henceforth this adulterous bawdy world
Be got with child with treason, sacrilege, 125
Atheism, rapes, treacherous friendship, perjury,
Slander (the beggar’s sin), lies (sin of fools),
Or any other damn’d impieties,
On Monday let ’em be delivered.
I swear to thee, Matheo, by my soul, 130
Hereafter weekly on that day I ’ll glue
Mine eye-lids down, because they shall not gaze
On any female cheek. And being lockt up
In my close[2269] chamber, there I ’ll meditate
On nothing but my Infelice’s end, 135
Or on a dead man’s skull draw out mine own.

_Mat._ You’ll do all these good works now every Monday, because it
is so bad; but I hope upon Tuesday morning I shall take you with a
wench. 140

_Hip._ If ever, whilst frail blood through my veins run,
On woman’s beams I throw affection,
Save her that ’s dead; or that I loosely fly
To th’ shore of any other wafting eye,
Let me not prosper, Heaven! I will be true,
Even to her dust and ashes: could her tomb 146
Stand whilst I liv’d, so long that it might rot,
That should fall down, but she be ne’er forgot.

_Mat._ If you have this strange monster, honesty,[2270] in your
belly, why so jig-makers[2271] and chroniclers shall pick something
out of you; (151) but an I smell not you and a bawdy house out within
these ten days, let my nose be as big as an English bag-pudding.
I ’ll follow your lordship, though it be to the place aforenamed.
_Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][2272]

_Enter_ FUSTIGO _in some fantastic Sea-suit at one door, a_ Porter _meets him at another_.

_Fus._ How now, porter, will she come?

_Por._ If I may trust a woman, sir, she will come.

_Fus._ There ’s for thy pains [_gives money_]. Godamercy, if I ever
stand in need of a wench that will come with a wet finger,[2273]
porter, thou (5) shalt earn my money before any clarissimo[2274] in
Milan; yet, so God sa’[2275] me, she ’s mine own sister, body and
soul, as I am a Christian gentleman. Farewell; I ’ll ponder till she
come. Thou hast been no bawd in fetching this woman. I (10) assure
thee.

_Por._ No matter if I had, sir; better men than porters are bawds.

_Fus._ O God, sir, many that have borne offices. But, porter, art
sure thou went’st into (15) a true[2276] house?

_Por._ I think so, for I met with no thieves.

_Fus._ Nay, but art sure it was my sister Viola?

_Por._ I am sure, by all superscriptions, it was the party you
ciphered. 20

_Fus._ Not very tall?

_Por._ Nor very low; a middling woman.

_Fus._ ’T was she, ’faith ’t was she. A pretty plump cheek, like
mine? 24

_Por._ At a blush,[2277] a little very much like you.

_Fus._ Godso, I would not for a ducat she had kickt up her heels,
for I ha’ spent an abomination this voyage; marry, I did it amongst
sailors and gentlemen. There ’s a little modicum more, porter, for
making thee stay [_gives_ (30) _money_]; farewell, honest porter.

_Por._ I am in your debt, sir; God preserve you. _Exit._

_Enter_ VIOLA.

_Fus._ Not so, neither, good porter. God’s lid, yonder she comes.
Sister Viola, I am glad to (35) see you stirring: it ’s news to have
me here, is ’t not, sister?

_Vio._ Yes, trust me. I wond’red who should be so bold to send for
me. You ’re welcome to Milan, brother.

_Fus._ Troth, sister, I heard you were married (41) to a very rich
chuff,[2278] and I was very sorry for it, that I had no better
clothes, and that made me send; for you know we Milaners love to
strut upon Spanish leather. And how do all our friends? 46

_Vio._ Very well. You ha’ travelled enough now, I trow, to sow your
wild oats.

_Fus._ A pox on ’em! wild oats? I ha’ not an oat to throw at a horse.
Troth, sister, I ha’ sowed my oats, and reapt two hundred ducats (51)
if I had ’em here. Marry, I must entreat you to lend me some thirty
or forty till the ship come. By this hand, I ’ll discharge at my day,
by this hand. 55

_Vio._ These are your old oaths.

_Fus._ Why, sister, do you think I ’ll forswear my hand?

_Vio._ Well, well, you shall have them. Put yourself into better
fashion, because I must employ you in a serious matter. 61

_Fus._ I ’ll sweat like a horse if I like the matter.

_Vio._ You ha’ cast off all your old swaggering humours?

_Fus._ I had not sail’d a league in that great (66) fishpond, the
sea, but I cast up my very gall.

_Vio._ I am the more sorry, for I must employ a true swaggerer.

_Fus._ Nay by this iron, sister, they shall find I am powder and
touch-box, if they put fire (71) once into me.

_Vio._ Then lend me your ears.

_Fus._ Mine ears are yours, dear sister.

_Vio._ I am married to a man that has wealth enough, and wit enough.
76

_Fus._ A linen-draper, I was told, sister.

_Vio._ Very true, a grave citizen; I want nothing that a wife can
wish from a husband, but here ’s the spite, he has not all things
belonging to a man. 81

_Fus._ God’s my life, he ’s a very mandrake,[2279] or else (God bless
us) one a’ these whiblins,[2280] and that ’s worse, and then all the
children that he gets lawfully of your body, sister, are bastards by
a statute. 86

_Vio._ O, you run over me too fast, brother; I have heard it often
said, that he who cannot be angry is no man. I am sure my husband
is a man in print,[2281] for all things else save only in this, no
tempest can move him. 91

_Fus._ ’Slid, would he had been at sea with us! he should ha’ been
mov’d, and mov’d again, for I ’ll be sworn, la, our drunken ship
reel’d like a Dutchman.

_Vio._ No loss of goods can increase in him (96) a wrinkle, no
crabbed language make his countenance sour, the stubbornness of no
servant shake him; he has no more gall in him than a dove, no more
sting than an ant; musician (100) will he never be, yet I find much
music in him, but he loves no frets,[2282] and is so free from anger,
that many times I am ready to bite off my tongue, because it wants
that virtue which all women’s tongues have, to anger their husbands.
Brother, mine can by no thunder turn him (106) into a sharpness.

_Fus._ Belike his blood, sister, is well brew’d then. 109

_Vio._ I protest to thee, Fustigo, I love him most affectionately:
but I know not—I ha’ such a tickling within me—such a strange
longing; nay verily I do long.

_Fus._ Then you ’re with child, sister, by all signs and tokens;
nay, I am partly a physician, and partly something else. I ha’ read
Albertus (116) Magnus, and Aristotle’s Emblems.

_Vio._ You ’re wide a’ th’ bow hand[2283] still, brother: my longings
are not wanton, but wayward. I long to have my patient husband eat
up a whole porcupine, to the intent, the bristling (121) quills
may stick about his lips like a Flemish mustachio, and be shot at
me. I shall be leaner than the new moon, unless I can make him
horn-mad.[2284] 125

_Fus._ ’Sfoot, half a quarter of an hour does that; make him a
cuckold.

_Vio._ Pooh, he would count such a cut no unkindness. 129

_Fus._ The honester citizen he; then make him drunk and cut off his
beard.

_Vio._ Fie, fie, idle, idle! He ’s no Frenchman, to fret at the loss
of a little scald[2285] hair. No, brother, thus it shall be—you must
be secret.

_Fus._ As your mid-wife, I protest, sister, or a barber-surgeon. 136

_Vio._ Repair to the Tortoise here in St. Christopher’s Street; I
will send you money; turn yourself into a brave[2286] man: instead
of the arms of your mistress, let your sword and your (140) military
scarf hang about your neck.

_Fus._ I must have a great horseman’s French feather too, sister.

_Vio._ O, by any means, to show your light head, else your hat will
sit like a coxcomb. (145) To be brief, you must be in all points a
most terribly wide-mouth’d swaggerer.

_Fus._ Nay, for swaggering points let me alone.

_Vio._ Resort then to our shop, and, in my husband’s presence, kiss
me, snatch rings, (150) jewels, or any thing, so you give it back
again, brother, in secret.

_Fus._ By this hand, sister.

_Vio._ Swear as if you came but new from knighting. 155

_Fus._ Nay, I ’ll swear after four hundred a year.

_Vio._ Swagger worse than a lieutenant among freshwater
soldiers,[2287] call me your love, your ingle,[2288] your cousin, or
so; but sister at no (160) hand.

_Fus._ No, no, it shall be cousin, or rather coz; that ’s the gulling
word between the citizens’ wives and their mad-caps that man[2289]
’em to the garden; to call you one a’ mine aunts,’[2290] sister, 165
were as good as call you arrant whore; no, no, let me alone to cousin
you rarely.

_Vio._ H ’as heard I have a brother, but never saw him, therefore put
on a good face.

_Fus._ The best in Milan, I warrant. 170

_Vio._ Take up wares, but pay nothing, rifle my bosom, my pocket, my
purse, the boxes for money to dice withal; but, brother, you must
give all back again in secret. 174

_Fus._ By this welkin that here roars I will, or else let me
never know what a secret is: why, sister, do you think I ’ll
cony-catch[2291] you, when you are my cousin? God’s my life, then I
were a stark ass. If I fret not his guts, beg me for a fool.[2292] 180

_Vio._ Be circumspect, and do so then. Farewell.

_Fus._ The Tortoise, sister! I ’ll stay there; forty ducats. _Exit._

_Vio._ Thither I ’ll send.—This law can none deny, 184
Women must have their longings, or they die. _Exit._

[SCENE III.][2293]

[_Enter_] GASPARO _the_ Duke, Doctor BENEDICT, _and two_ Servants.

_Duke._ Give charge that none do enter; lock the doors—
[_Speaking as he enters._]
And fellows, what your eyes and ears receive,
Upon your lives trust not the gadding air
To carry the least part of it. The glass, the hour-glass!

_Doct._ Here, my lord.

_Duke._ Ah, ’t is near[2294] spent! 5
But, Doctor Benedict, does your art speak truth?
Art sure the soporiferous stream will ebb,
And leave the crystal banks of her white body
Pure as they were at first, just at the hour?

_Doct._ Just at the hour, my lord.

_Duke._ Uncurtain her: 10
[_A curtain is drawn back and_ INFELICE _discovered lyinq on a
couch_.]
Softly!—See,[2295] doctor, what a coldish heat
Spreads over all her body!

_Doct._ Now it works.
The vital spirits that by a sleepy charm
Were bound up fast, and threw an icy rust[2296]
On her exterior parts, now ’gin to break; 15
Trouble her not, my lord.

_Duke._ Some stools! You call’d
For music, did you not? Oh ho, it speaks, [_Music._]
It speaks! Watch, sirs, her waking, note those sands.
Doctor, sit down. A dukedom that should weigh
Mine own down twice, being put into one scale,
And that fond[2297] desperate boy, Hippolito, 21
Making the weight up, should not at my hands
Buy her i’ th’ other, were her state more light
Than hers, who makes a dowry up with alms.
Doctor, I ’ll starve her on the Apennine 25
Ere he shall marry her. I must confess
Hippolito is nobly born; a man—
Did not mine enemies’ blood boil in his veins—
Whom I would court to be my son-in-law;
But princes, whose high spleens for empery swell, 30
Are not with easy art made parallel.

_Servants._ She wakes, my lord.

_Duke._ Look, Doctor Benedict—
I charge you on your lives, maintain for truth
What e’er the doctor or myself aver,
For you shall bear her hence to Bergamo. 35

_Inf._ O God, what fearful dreams! [_Wakening._]

_Doct._ Lady.

_Inf._ Ha!

_Duke._ Girl.
Why, Infelice, how is ’t now, ha? Speak.

_Inf._ I ’m well—what makes this doctor here?—I’m well.

_Duke._ Thou wert not so even now, sickness’ pale hand
Laid hold on thee even in the midst[2298] of feasting; 40
And when a cup crown’d with thy lover’s health
Had touch’d thy lips, a sensible cold dew
Stood on thy cheeks, as if that death had wept
To see such beauty alter.

_Inf._ I remember
I sate at banquet, but felt no such change. 45

_Duke._ Thou hast forgot, then, how a messenger
Came wildly in, with this unsavoury news,
That he was dead?

_Inf._ What messenger? Who ’s dead?

_Duke._ Hippolito. Alack! wring not thy hands. 49

_Inf._ I saw no messenger, heard no such news.

_Doct._ Trust me you did, sweet lady.

_Duke._ La, you now!

_1 Ser._ Yes, indeed, madam.

_Duke._ La, you now.—’T is well, good knaves![2299]

_Inf._ You ha’ slain him, and now you ’ll murder me.

_Duke._ Good Infelice, vex not thus thyself.
Of this the bad report before did strike 55
So coldly to thy heart, that the swift currents
Of life were all frozen up——

_Inf._ It is untrue,
’T is most untrue, O most unnatural father!

_Duke._ And we had much to do by art’s best cunning,
To fetch life back again.

_Doct._ Most certain, lady. 60

_Duke._ Why, la, you now, you ’ll not believe me. Friends,
Sweat we not all? Had we not much to do?

_Servants._ Yes, indeed, my lord, much.

_Duke._ Death drew such fearful pictures in thy face,
That were Hippolito alive again, 65
I ’d kneel and woo the noble gentleman
To be thy husband: now I sore repent
My sharpness to him, and his family.
Nay, do not weep for him; we all must die.—
Doctor, this place where she so oft hath seen 70
His lively presence, hurts[2300] her, does it not?

_Doct._ Doubtless, my lord, it does.

_Duke._ It does, it does:
Therefore, sweet girl, thou shalt to Bergamo.

_Inf._ Even where you will; in any place there ’s woe.

_Duke._ A coach is ready; Bergamo doth stand 75
In a most wholesome air, sweet walks; there ’s deer,
Ay, thou shalt hunt and send us venison,
Which like some goddess in the Cyprian groves,
Thine own fair hand shall strike.—Sirs, you shall teach her
To stand, and how to shoot; ay, she shall hunt:
Cast off this sorrow. In, girl, and prepare 81
This night to ride away to Bergamo.

_Inf._ O most unhappy maid! _Exit._

_Duke._ Follow her close.
No words that she was buried, on your lives!
Or that her ghost walks now after she ’s dead;
I ’ll hang you if you name a funeral. 86

_1 Ser._ I ’ll speak Greek, my lord, ere I speak that deadly word.

_2 Ser._ And I ’ll speak Welsh, which is harder than Greek.
_Exeunt_ [Servants]. 90

_Duke._ Away, look to her.—Doctor Benedict,
Did you observe how her complexion altered
Upon his name and death? Oh, would ’twere true.

_Doct._ It may, my lord.

_Duke._ May! How? I wish his death.

_Doct._ And you may have your wish; say but the word, 95
And ’t is a strong spell to rip up his grave.
I have good knowledge with Hippolito;
He calls me friend, I ’ll creep into his bosom,
And sting him there to death; poison can do ’t.

_Duke._ Perform it; I ’ll create thee half mine heir. 100

_Doct._ It shall be done, although the fact[2301] be foul.

_Duke._ Greatness hides sin, the guilt upon my soul! _Exeunt._

[SCENE IV.][2302]

_Enter_ CASTRUCHIO, PIORATTO, _and_ FLUELLO.

_Cas._ Signor Pioratto, Signor Fluello, shall ’s be merry? Shall ’s
play the wags now?

_Flu._ Ay, any thing that may beget the child of laughter.

_Cas._ Truth, I have a pretty sportive conceit new crept into my
brain, will move excellent 5 mirth.

_Pio._ Let ’s ha ’t, let ’s ha ’t; and where shall the scene of mirth
lie?

_Cas._ At Signor Candido’s house, the patient man, nay, the monstrous
patient man. They (10) say his blood is immoveable, that he has taken
all patience from a man, and all constancy from a woman.

_Flu._ That makes so many whores now-a-days.

_Cas._ Ay, and so many knaves too. 15

_Pio._ Well, sir.

_Cas._ To conclude, the report goes, he ’s so mild, so affable, so
suffering, that nothing indeed can move him: now do but think what
sport it will be to make this fellow, the mirror (20) of patience, as
angry, as vext, and as mad as an English cuckold.

_Flu._ O, ’t were admirable mirth, that; but how will ’t be done,
signor?

_Cas._ Let me alone, I have a trick, a conceit, (25) a thing, a
device will sting him, i’ faith, if he have but a thimbleful of blood
in ’s belly, or a spleen not so big as a tavern token.[2303]

_Pio._ Thou stir him? Thou move him? Thou anger him? Alas, I know his
approved temper. (30) Thou vex him? Why he has a patience above man’s
injuries: thou may’st sooner raise a spleen in an angel, than rough
humour in him. Why, I ’ll give you instance for it. This wonderfully
temper’d Signor Candido upon a time (35) invited home to his house
certain Neapolitan lords, of curious taste, and no mean palates,
conjuring his wife, of all loves,[2304] to prepare cheer fitting for
such honourable trencher-men. She—just of a woman’s nature, covetous
to try (40) the uttermost of vexation, and thinking at last to get
the start of his humour—willingly neglected the preparation, and
became unfurnisht, not only of dainty, but of ordinary dishes. He,
according to the mildness of his breast, entertained (45) the lords,
and with courtly discourse beguiled the time, as much as a citizen
might do. To conclude, they were hungry lords, for there came no
meat in; their stomachs were plainly gull’d,[2305] and their teeth
deluded, and, (50) if anger could have seiz’d a man, there was matter
enough i’ faith to vex any citizen in the world, if he were not too
much made a fool by his wife.

_Flu._ Ay, I ’ll swear for ’t. ’Sfoot, had it (55) been my case, I
should ha’ play’d mad tricks with my wife and family. First, I would
ha’ spitted the men, stew’d the maids, and bak’d the mistress, and so
served them in.

_Pio._ Why ’t would ha’ tempted any blood but his, 60
And thou to vex him? thou to anger him
With some poor shallow jest?

_Cas._ ’Sblood, Signor Pioratto, you that disparage my conceit, I ’ll
wage a hundred ducats upon the head on ’t, that it moves him, frets
(65) him, and galls him.

_Pio._ Done, ’t is a lay,[2306] join golls[2307] on ’t: witness
Signor Fluello.

_Cas._ Witness: ’t is done.
Come, follow me: the house is not far off, 70
I ’ll thrust him from his humour, vex his breast,
And win a hundred ducats by one jest. _Exeunt._

[SCENE V.][2308]

_Enter_ [VIOLA] CANDIDO’s _wife_, GEORGE, _two_ Prentices _in the shop_.

_Vio._ Come, you put up your wares in good order here, do you not,
think you? One piece cast this way, another that way! You had need
have a patient master indeed. 4

_Geo._ [_Aside._] Ay, I ’ll be sworn, for we have a curst mistress.

_Vio._ You mumble, do you? mumble? I would your master or I could be
a note more angry, for two patient folks in a house spoil all the
servants that ever shall come under them. 10

_1 Pren._ [_Aside._] You patient! Ay, so is the devil when he is
horn-mad.

_Enter_ CASTRUCHIO, FLUELLO, _and_ PIORATTO.

_Geo._[2309] Gentlemen, what do you lack?[2310]

_1 Pren._[2309] What is ’t you buy?

_2 Pren._[2309] See fine hollands, fine cambrics, fine lawns. 16

_Geo._ What is ’t you lack?

_2 Pren._ What is ’t you buy?

_Cas._ Where ’s Signor Candido, thy master?

_Geo._ Faith, signor, he ’s a little negotiated,[2311] he ’ll appear
presently. 21

_Cas._ Fellow, let ’s see a lawn, a choice one, sirrah.

_Geo._ The best in all Milan, gentlemen, and this is the piece. I can
fit you gentlemen (25) with fine calicoes too for doublets, the only
sweet fashion now, most delicate and courtly, a meek gentle calico,
cut upon two double affable taffetas,—ah, most neat, feat, and
unmatchable! 30

_Flu._ A notable voluble-tongu’d villain.

_Pio._ I warrant this fellow was never begot without much prating.

_Cas._ What, and is this she, sayest thou?

_Geo._ Ay, and the purest she that ever you (35) finger’d since you
were a gentleman. Look how even she is, look how clean she is, ha! as
even as the brow of Cynthia, and as clean as your sons and heirs when
they ha’ spent all.

_Cas._ Pooh, thou talk’st—pox on ’t, ’t is (40) rough.

_Geo._ How? Is she rough? But if you bid[2312] pox on ’t, sir, ’t
will take away the roughness presently.

_Flu._ Ha, signor; has he-fitted your French (45) curse?

_Geo._ Look you, gentlemen, here ’s another. Compare them I pray,
_compara Virgilium cum Homero_, compare virgins with harlots.

_Cas._ Pooh, I ha’ seen better, and as you (50) term them, evener and
cleaner.

_Geo._ You may see further for your mind, but trust me, you shall not
find better for your body.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

_Cas._ O here he comes, let ’s make as though we pass. 55
Come, come, we ’ll try in some other shop.

_Cand._ How now? What ’s the matter?

_Geo._ The gentlemen find fault with this lawn, fall out with it, and
without a cause too.

_Cand._ Without a cause? 60
And that makes you to let ’em pass away.
Ah, may I crave a word with you, gentlemen?

_Flu._ He calls us.

_Cas._ Makes the better for the jest.

_Cand._ I pray come near, you ’re very welcome, gallants. 64
Pray pardon my man’s rudeness, for I fear me
H ’as talkt above a prentice with you. Lawns! [_Showing lawns._]
Look you, kind gentlemen, this—no—ay—this:
Take this upon my honest-dealing faith,
To be a true weave, not too hard nor slack,
But e’en as far from falsehood as from black. 70

_Cas._ Well, how do you rate it?

_Cand._ Very conscionably, eighteen shillings a yard.

_Cas._ That ’s too dear: how many yards does the whole piece contain,
think you? 75

_Cand._ Why, some seventeen yards, I think, or thereabouts.
How much would serve your turn, I pray?

_Cas._ Why, let me see—would it were better too!

_Cand._ Truth ’t is the best in Milan, at few words.

_Cas._ Well, let me have then—a whole pennyworth. 80

_Cand._ Ha, ha! you ’re a merry gentleman.

_Cas._ A penn’orth I say.

_Cand._ Of lawn!

_Cas._ Of lawn? Ay, of lawn, a penn’orth. ’Sblood, dost not hear? A
whole penn’orth, are you deaf? 86

_Cand._ Deaf? no, sir; but I must tell you,
Our wares do seldom meet such customers.

_Cas._ Nay, an you and your lawns be so squeamish, fare you well. 90

_Cand._ Pray stay; a word, pray, signor: for what purpose is it, I
beseech you?

_Cas._ ’Sblood, what ’s that to you: I ’ll have a penny-worth. 94

_Cand._ A penny-worth! Why you shall. I ’ll serve you presently.[2313]

_2 Pren._ ’Sfoot, a penny-worth, mistress!

_Vio._ A penny-worth! Call you these gentlemen?

_Cas._ No, no: not there. 100

_Cand._ What then, kind gentlemen, what, at this corner here?

_Cas._ No, nor there neither;
I ’ll have it just in the middle, or else not. 104

_Cand._ Just in the middle—ha—you shall too: what,—
Have you a single penny?

_Cas._ Yes, here ’s one.

_Cand._ Lend it me, I pray.

_Flu._ An excellent followed jest!

_Vio._ What, will he spoil the lawn now? 110

_Cand._ Patience, good wife.

_Vio._ Ay, that patience makes a fool of you.—Gentlemen, you might
ha’ found some other citizen to have made a kind gull[2314] on,
besides my husband. 115

_Cand._ Pray, gentlemen, take her to be a woman; Do not regard her
language.—O kind soul, Such words will drive away my customers.

_Vio._ Customers with a murrain![2315] Call you these customers? 120

_Cand._ Patience, good wife.

_Vio._ Pox a’ your patience.

_Geo._ ’Sfoot, mistress, I warrant these are some cheating
companions.[2316] 124

_Cand._ Look you, gentlemen, there ’s your ware; I thank you, I have
your money here; pray know my shop, pray let me have your custom.

_Vio._ Custom, quoth’a!

_Cand._ Let me take more of your money. 130

_Vio._ You had need so.

_Pio._ Hark in thine ear, thou ’st lost an hundred ducats.

_Cas._ Well, well, I know ’t: is ’t possible that _homo_ 134
Should be nor man, nor woman: not once mov’d;
No not at such an injury, not at all!
Sure he ’s a pigeon, for he has no gall.

_Flu._ Come, come, you ’re angry though you smother it:
You ’re vext i’ faith; confess.

_Cand._ Why, gentlemen,
Should you conceit me to be vext or mov’d? 140
He has my ware, I have his money for ’t,
And that ’s no argument I ’m angry: no.
The best logician cannot prove me so.

_Flu._ Oh, but the hateful name of a penn’orth of lawn,
And then cut i’ th’ middle of the piece. 145
Pah, I guess it by myself, ’t would move a lamb
Were he a linen-draper, ’t would, i’ faith.

_Cand._ Well, give me leave to answer you for that:
We are set here to please all customers. 149
Their humours and their fancies;—offend none;
We get by many, if we leese[2317] by one.
May be his mind stood to no more than that,
A penn’orth serves him, and ’mongst trades ’t is found,
Deny a penn’orth, it may cross a pound. 154
Oh, he that means to thrive, with patient eye
Must please the devil if he come to buy!

_Flu._ O wondrous man, patient ’bove wrong or woe,
How blest were men, if women could be so!

_Cand._ And to express how well my breast is pleas’d,
And satisfied in all:—George fill a beaker. 160
_Exit_ GEORGE.
I ’ll drink unto that gentleman, who lately
Bestow’d his money with me.

_Vio._ God ’s my life,
We shall have all our gains drunk out in beakers,
To make amends for pennyworths of lawn! 164

[_Re_]_-enter_ GEORGE [_with beaker_].

_Cand._ Here wife, begin you to the gentleman.

_Vio._ I begin to him! [_Spills the wine._]

_Cand._ George, fill ’t up again:
’T was my fault, my hand shook. _Exit_ GEORGE.

_Pio._ How strangely this doth show!
A patient man linkt with a waspish shrew.

_Flu._ [_Aside._] A silver and gilt beaker; I’ve a trick 169
To work upon that beaker, sure ’t will fret him;
It cannot choose but vex him.—Signor Castruchio,
In pity to thee I have a conceit,
Will save thy hundred ducats yet; ’t will do ’t,
And work him to impatience.

_Cas._ Sweet Fluello,
I should be bountiful to that conceit. 175

_Flu._ Well, ’t is enough.

[_Re_]_-enter_ GEORGE [_with beaker._]

_Cand._ Here, gentlemen, to you,
I wish your custom, you ’re exceeding welcome. [_Drinks._]

_Cas._ I pledge you, Signor Candido— [_Drinks._]
Here you that must receive a hundred ducats.

_Pio._ I ’ll pledge them deep, i’ faith, Castruchio.— 180
Signor Fluello. [_Drinks._]

_Flu._ Come: play ’t off to me;
I am your last man.

_Cand._ George, supply the cup.
[_Exit_ GEORGE _who returns with beaker, filled._]

_Flu._ So, so, good honest George,—
Here Signor Candido, all this to you. 184

_Cand._ O, you must pardon me, I use it not.[2318]

_Flu._ Will you not pledge me then?

_Cand._ Yes, but not that:
Great love is shown in little.

_Flu._ Blurt[2319] on your sentences!
’Sfoot, you shall pledge me all.

_Cand._ Indeed I shall not.

_Flu._ Not pledge me? ’Sblood, I ’ll carry away the beaker then.

_Cand._ The beaker? Oh! that at your pleassure, sir. 190

_Flu._ Now by this drink I will. [_Drinks._]

_Cas._ Pledge him, he ’ll do ’t else.

_Flu._ So: I ha’ done you right on my thumbnail,[2320]
What, will you pledge me now?

_Cand._ You know me, sir,
I am not of that sin.

_Flu._ Why, then, farewell:
I ’ll bear away the beaker by this light. 195

_Cand._ That ’s as you please; ’t is very good.

_Flu._ Nay, it doth please me, and as you say,
’T is a very good one. Farewell, Signor Candido.

_Pio._ Farewell, Candido.

_Cand._ You ’re welcome, gentlemen.

_Cas._ Art not mov’d yet? 200
I think his patience is above our wit.

_Exeunt_ [CASTRUCHIO, FLUELLO, _carrying off the beaker, and_ PIORATTO.]

_Geo._ I told you before, mistress, they were all cheaters. 203

_Vio._ Why fool! why husband! why madman! I hope you will not let ’em
sneak away so with a silver and gilt beaker, the best in the house
too.—Go, fellows, make hue and cry after them.

_Cand._ Pray let your tongue lie still, all will be well.—
Come hither, George, hie to the constable, 210
And in calm order wish him to attach them.
Make no great stir, because they ’re gentlemen,
And a thing partly done in merriment.
’T is but a size above a jest thou know’st,
Therefore pursue it mildly. Go, begone, 215
The constable ’s hard by, bring him along.—
Make haste again. _Exit_ GEORGE.

_Vio._ O you ’re a goodly patient woodcock,[2321] are you not now?
See what your patience comes to: every one saddles you, and rides
you; (220) you ’ll be shortly the common stone-horse[2322] of Milan:
a woman ’s well holpt up with such a meacock.[2323] I had rather have
a husband that would swaddle[2324] me thrice a day, than such a one,
that will be gull’d twice in half-an-hour. (225) Oh, I could burn all
the wares in my shop for anger.

_Cand._ Pray wear a peaceful temper; be my wife,
That is, be patient; for a wife and husband
Share but one soul between them: this being known, 230
Why should not one soul then agree in one? _Exit._

_Vio._ Hang your agreements! but if my beaker be gone.—

_Re-enter_ CASTRUCHIO, FLUELLO, PIORATTO, _and_ GEORGE.

_Cand._ Oh, here they come. 234

_Geo._ The constable, sir, let ’em come along with me, because[2325]
there should be no wond’ring: he stays at door.

_Cas._ Constable, Goodman Abram.[2326]

_Flu._ Now Signor Candido, ’sblood, why do you attach us? 240

_Cas._ ’Sheart! attach us!

_Cand._ Nay swear not, gallants,
Your oaths may move your souls, but not move me;
You have a silver beaker of my wife’s.

_Flu._ You say not true: ’t is gilt.

_Cand._ Then you say true;
And being gilt, the guilt lies more on you. 245

_Cas._ I hope y’ are not angry, sir.

_Cand._ Then you hope right; for I ’m not angry.

_Flu._ No, but a little mov’d.

_Cand._ I mov’d! ’T was you were mov’d, you were brought hither.

_Cas._ But you, out of your anger and impatience, 250
Caus’d us to be attacht.

_Cand._ Nay, you misplace it:
Out of my quiet sufferance I did that,
And not of any wrath. Had I shown anger,
I should have then pursu’d you with the law,
And hunted you to shame, as many worldlings
Do build their anger upon feebler grounds; 256
The more ’s the pity; many lose their lives
For scarce so much coin as will hide their palm:
Which is most cruel; those have vexed spirits
That pursue lives. In this opinion rest, 260
The loss of millions could not move my breast.

_Flu._ Thou art a blest man, and with peace dost deal;
Such a meek spirit can bless a commonweal.

_Cand._ Gentlemen, now ’t is upon eating-time,
Pray part not hence, but dine with me to-day.

_Cas._ I never heard a carter yet say nay 266
To such a motion. I ’ll not be the first.

_Pio._ Nor I.

_Flu._ Nor I. 269

_Cand._ The constable shall bear you company.
George, call him in: let the world say what it can,
Nothing can drive me from a patient man. _Exeunt._

[ACT II]

[SCENE I.][2327]

_Enter_ ROGER _with a stool, cushion, looking-glass and chafing-dish; those being set down, he pulls out of his pocket a phial with white colour in it, and two boxes, one with white, another red painting: he places all things in order, and a candle by them, singing with the ends of old ballads as he does it. At last_ BELLAFRONT, _as he rubs his cheek with the colours, whistles within_.

_Rog._ Anon, forsooth.

_Bell._ [_within._] What are you playing the rogue about?

_Rog._ About you, forsooth; I ’m drawing up a hole in your white silk
stocking. 5

_Bell._ Is my glass there? and my boxes of complexion?

_Rog._ Yes, forsooth: your boxes of complexion are here, I think:
yes, ’t is here. Here ’s your two complexions,—[_Aside._] and if I
had all (10) the four complexions, I should ne’er set a good face
upon ’t. Some men I see, are born under hard-favoured planets as well
as women. Zounds, I look worse now than I did before! and it makes
her face glister most damnably. (15) There ’s knavery in daubing, I
hold my life; or else this is only female pomatum.

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT _not full ready_,[2328] _without a gown; she sits down; with her bodkin_[2329] _curls hair; and colours her lips_.

_Bell._ Where ’s my ruff and poker,[2330] you blockhead?

_Rog._ Your ruff, your poker, are engend’ring together upon the
cupboard of the court, or (21) the court cupboard.[2331]

_Bell._ Fetch ’em. Is the pox in your hams, you can go no faster?
[_Strikes him._]

_Rog._ Would the pox were in your fingers, (25) unless you could
leave flinging! Catch. _Exit._

_Bell._ I ’ll catch you, you dog, by and by: do you grumble?
_She sings._

Cupid is a God, as naked as my nail,
I ’ll whip him with a rod, if he my true love fail.

[_Re-enter_ ROGER _with ruff and poker_.]

_Rog._ There ’s your ruff, shall I poke it? 31

_Bell._ Yes, honest Roger—no, stay; prithee, good boy, hold here.
[_Sings._ ROGER _holds the glass and candle_.]
Down, down, down, down, I fall down and arise,—down—
I never shall arise. 35

_Rog._ Troth, mistress, then leave the trade if you shall never rise.

_Bell._ What trade, Goodman Abram?

_Rog._ Why that of down and arise, or the falling trade. 40

_Bell._ I ’ll fall with you by and by.

_Rog._ If you do I know who shall smart for ’t. Troth, mistress, what
do I look like now?

_Bell._ Like as you are; a panderly sixpenny rascal. 45

_Rog._ I may thank you for that: in faith, I look like an old
proverb, “Hold the candle before the devil.”

_Bell._ Ud’s life, I ’ll stick my knife in your guts an you prate to
me so!—What? _She sings._
Well met, pug, the pearl of beauty: umh, umh. 51
How now, Sir Knave? you forget your duty, umh, umh,
Marry muff[2332] sir, are you grown so dainty; fa, la, la, etc.
Is it you, sir? the worst of twenty, fa, la, la, leera, la.
Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass? 55

_Rog._ Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.

_Bell._ Nay, pray thee, sweet honey Roger, hold up handsomely.
[_Sings._]
Sing pretty wantons warble, etc. 60
We shall ha’ guests to-day, I lay my little maidenhead; my nose
itches so.

_Rog._ I said so too last night, when our fleas twinged me. 64

_Bell._ So, poke my ruff now; my gown, my gown! Have I my fall?[2333]
Where ’s my fall, Roger?

_Rog._ Your fall, forsooth, is behind.
_One knocks._

_Bell._ God ’s my pittikins![2334] some fool or other knocks. 70

_Rog._ Shall I open to the fool, mistress?

_Bell._ And all these baubles lying thus? Away with it quickly.—Ay,
ay, knock, and be damn’d, whosoever you be!—So: give the fresh
salmon line now: let him come ashore, (75) [_Exit_ Roger.] He shall
serve for my breakfast, though he go against my stomach.

ROGER _fetch in_ FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

_Flu._ Morrow, coz.

_Cas._ How does my sweet acquaintance?

_Pio._ Save thee, little marmoset: how dost thou, good, pretty rogue?
81

_Bell._ Well, God-a-mercy, good, pretty rascal.

_Flu._ Roger, some light, I prithee.

_Rog._ You shall, signor, for we that live here in this vale of
misery are as dark as hell. 85
_Exit for a candle._

_Cas._ Good tobacco, Fluello?

_Flu._ Smell.

_Pio._ It may be tickling gear: for it plays with my nose already.

_Re-enter_ ROGER [_with candle_].

_Rog._ Here ’s another light angel,[2335] signor. 90

_Bell._ What, you pied curtal,[2336] what ’s that you are neighing?

_Rog._ I say God send us the light of Heaven, or some more angels.

_Bell._ Go fetch some wine, and drink half of it.

_Rog._ I must fetch some wine, gentlemen, and drink half of it. 95

_Flu._ Here Roger.

_Cas._ No, let me send, prithee.

_Flu._ Hold, you cankerworm.

_Rog._ You shall send both, if you please, signors. 100

_Pio._ Stay, what ’s best to drink a’ mornings?

_Rog._ Hippocras,[2337] sir, for my mistress, if I fetch it, is most
dear to her.

_Flu._ Hippocras? There then, here ’s a teston[2338] for you, you
snake. 105

_Rog._ Right sir, here ’s three shillings and sixpence for a
pottle[2339] and a manchet.[2340] _Exit._

_Cas._ Here ’s most Herculanean[2341] tobacco; ha’ some,
acquaintance? 109

_Bell._ Faugh, not I, makes your breath stink like the piss of a fox.
Acquaintance, where supt you last night?

_Cas._ At a place, sweet acquaintance, where your health danc’d the
canaries,[2342] i’ faith: you should ha’ been there. 115

_Bell._ I there among your punks![2343] Marry, faugh, hang ’em; I
scorn ’t. Will you never leave sucking of eggs in other folk’s hens’
nests? 119

_Cas._ Why, in good troth, if you ’ll trust me, acquaintance, there
was not one hen at the board; ask Fluello.

_Flu._ No, faith, coz, none but cocks. Signor Malavella drunk to
thee. 124

_Bell._ O, a pure beagle; that horse-leech there?

_Flu._ And the knight, Sir Oliver Lollio, swore he would bestow a
taffeta petticoat on thee, but to break his fast with thee. 129

_Bell._ With me? I ’ll choke him then, hang him, molecatcher! It ’s
the dreaming’st snotty-nose.

_Pio._ Well, many took that Lollio for a fool, but he ’s a subtle
fool. 134

_Bell._ Ay, and he has fellows: of all filthy, dry-fisted knights, I
cannot abide that he should touch me.

_Cas._ Why, wench? Is he scabbed?

_Bell._ Hang him, he ’ll not live to be so honest, nor to the credit
to have scabs about him; (140) his betters have ’em: but I hate to
wear out any of his coarse knight-hood, because he ’s made like an
alderman’s night-gown, fac’d all with cony[2344] before, and within
nothing but fox. This sweet Oliver will eat mutton[2345] till he 145
be ready to burst, but the lean-jaw’d slave will not pay for the
scraping of his trencher.

_Pio._ Plague him; set him beneath the salt, and let him not touch a
bit, till every one has had his full cut. 150

_Flu._ Lord Ello, the gentleman-usher, came in to us too; marry ’t
was in our cheese, for he had been to borrow money for his lord, of a
citizen. 154

_Cas._ What an ass is that lord, to borrow money of a citizen!

_Bell._ Nay, God ’s my pity, what an ass is that citizen to lend
money to a lord!

_Enter_ MATHEO _and_ HIPPOLITO; HIPPOLITO _saluting the company, as a stranger, walks off._[2346] ROGER _comes in sadly behind them, with a pottle pot, and stands aloof off._

_Mat._ Save you, gallants. Signor Fluello, exceedingly well met, as I
may say. 160

_Flu._ Signor Matheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may say.

_Mat._ And how fares my little pretty mistress? 164

_Bell._ Ee’n as my little pretty servant; sees three court dishes
before her, and not one good bit in them:—How now? Why the devil
stand’st thou so? Art in a trance?

_Rog._ Yes, forsooth. 169

_Bell._ Why dost not fill out their wine?

_Rog._ Forsooth, ’t is fill’d out already: all the wine that
the signors have bestow’d upon you is cast away; a porter ran a
little[2347] at me, and so fac’d me down that I had not a drop. 174

_Bell._ I ’m accurst to let such a withered artichoke-faced rascal
grow under my nose. Now you look like an old he-cat, going to
the gallows. I ’ll be hang’d if he ha’ not put up the money to
cony-catch[2348] us all. 179

_Rog._ No, truly, forsooth, ’t is not put up yet.

_Bell._ How many gentlemen hast thou served thus?

_Rog._ None but five hundred, besides prentices and serving-men. 184

_Bell._ Dost think I ’ll pocket it up at thy hands?

_Rog._ Yes, forsooth, I fear you will pocket it up.

_Bell._ Fie, fie, cut my lace, good servant; I shall ha’ the
mother[2349] presently, I ’m so vext at this horse-plum.[2350] 191

_Flu._ Plague, not for a scald[2351] pottle of wine!

_Mat._ Nay, sweet Bellafront, for a little pig’s wash!

_Cas._ Here Roger, fetch more. [_Gives money._]
A mischance, i’ faith, acquaintance. 195

_Bell._ Out of my sight, thou ungodly puritanical creature.

_Rog._ For the t’ other pottle? Yes, forsooth.

_Bell._ Spill that too. [_Exit_ ROGER.] What gentleman is that,
servant? Your friend? 201

_Mat._ Gods so; a stool, a stool! If you love me mistress, entertain
this gentleman respectively,[2352] and bid him welcome.

_Bell._ He ’s very welcome,—pray, sir, sit. 205

_Hip._ Thanks, lady.

_Flu._ Count Hippolito, is’t not? Cry you mercy, signor; you walk
here all this while, and we not heard you! Let me bestow a stool upon
you, beseech you; you are a stranger here, we know the fashions a’
th’ house. 211

_Cas._ Please you be here, my lord? [_Offers_] _tobacco_.

_Hip._ No, good Castruchio.

_Flu._ You have abandoned the Court, I see, my lord, since the death
of your mistress. Well, (215) she was a delicate piece.—Beseech you,
sweet, come let us serve under the colours of your acquaintance still
for all that.—Please you to meet here at [the] lodging of my coz, I
shall bestow a banquet upon you. 220

_Hip._ I never can deserve this kindness, sir. What may this lady be,
whom you call coz?

_Flu._ Faith, sir, a poor gentlewoman, of passing good carriage; one
that has some suits in law, and lies here in an attorney’s house. 225

_Hip._ Is she married?

_Flu._ Ha, as all your punks are, a captain’s wife, or so. Never saw
her before, my lord?

_Hip._ Never, trust me: a goodly creature! 229

_Flu._ By gad, when you know her as we do, you’ll swear she is the
prettiest, kindest, sweetest, most bewitching honest ape under the
pole. A skin, your satin is not more soft, nor lawn whiter. 234

_Hip._ Belike, then, she ’s some sale[2353] courtesan.

_Flu._ Troth, as all your best faces are, a good wench.

_Hip._ Great pity that she’s a good wench. 239

_Mat._ Thou shalt ha’, i’ faith, mistress.—How now, signors? What,
whispering? Did not I lay a wager I should take you, within seven
days, in a house of vanity?

_Hip._ You did; and, I beshrew your heart, you’ve won. 245

_Mat._ How do you like my mistress?

_Hip._ Well, for such a mistress; better, if your mistress be not
your master.—I must break manners, gentlemen; fare you well.

_Mat._ ’Sfoot, you shall not leave us. 250

_Bell._ The gentleman likes not the taste of our company.

_All._ Beseech you stay.

_Hip._ Trust me, my affairs beckon for me; pardon me. 255

_Mat._ Will you call for me half an hour hence here?

_Hip._ Perhaps I shall.

_Mat._ Perhaps? faugh! I know you can swear to me you will. 260

_Hip._ Since you will press me, on my word, I will. _Exit._

_Bell._ What sullen picture is this, servant?

_Mat._ It’s Count Hippolito, the brave count.

_Pio._ As gallant a spirit as any in Milan, (265) you sweet Jew.

_Flu._ Oh! he’s a most essential gentleman, coz.

_Cas._ Did you never hear of Count Hippolito, acquaintance? 270

_Bell._ Marry, muff a’ your counts, an be no more life in ’em.

_Mat._ He ’s so malcontent! Sirrah[2354] Bellafront, and you be
honest gallants, let’s sup together, and have the count with
us:—thou shalt (275) sit at the upper end, punk.[2355]

_Bell._ Punk, you sous’d[2356] gurnet?

_Mat._ King’s truce! Come, I’ll bestow the supper to have him but
laugh.

_Cas._ He betrays his youth too grossly to (280) that tyrant
melancholy.

_Mat._ All this is for a woman.

_Bell._ A woman? Some whore! What sweet jewel is’t?

_Pio._ Would she heard you! 285

_Flu._ Troth, so would I.

_Cas._ And I, by Heaven.

_Bell._ Nay, good servant, what woman?

_Mat._ Pah!

_Bell._ Prithee, tell me; a buss,[2357] and tell (290) me. I warrant
he’s an honest fellow, if he take on thus for a wench. Good rogue,
who?

_Mat._ By th’ Lord I will not, must not, faith, mistress. Is’t a
match, sirs? this night, at th’ Antelope: ay, for there ’s best wine,
and good boys. 296

_All._ It’s done; at th’ Antelope.

_Bell._ I cannot be there to-night.

_Mat._ Cannot? By th’ Lord you shall.

_Bell._ By the Lady I will not. Shall! 300

_Flu._ Why, then, put it off till Friday; wu’t come then, coz?

_Bell._ Well.

_Re-enter_ ROGER.

_Mat._ You’re the waspishest ape. Roger, put your mistress in mind to
sup with us on (305) Friday next. You’re best come like a madwoman,
without a band, in your waistcoat,[2358] and the linings of your
kirtle outward, like every common hackney[2359] that steals out at
the back gate of her sweet knight’s lodging. 310

_Bell._ Go, go, hang yourself!

_Cas._ It’s dinner-time, Matheo; shall’s hence?

_All._ Yes, yes.—Farewell, wench. _Exeunt._

_Bell._ Farewell, boys.—Roger, what wine sent they for? 314

_Rog._ Bastard wine,[2360] for if it had been truly begotten, it
would not ha’ been asham’d to come in. Here ’s six shillings to pay
for nursing the bastard.

_Bell._ A company of rooks![2361] O good sweet Roger, run to the
poulter’s, and buy me some fine larks! 321

_Rog._ No woodcocks?[2362]

_Bell._ Yes, faith, a couple, if they be not dear.

_Rog._ I’ll buy but one, there’s one already here. _Exit._

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Hip._ Is the gentleman, my friend, departed, mistress? 326

_Bell._ His back is but new turn’d, sir.

_Hip._ Fare you well.

_Bell._ I can direct you to him.

_Hip._ Can you, pray?

_Bell._ If you please, stay, he’ll not be absent long.

_Hip._ I care not much.

_Bell._ Pray sit, forsooth.

_Hip._ I ’m hot. 330
If I may use your room, I’ll rather walk.