Chapter LXVIII: Act I: Scene I.2260 (3)

_Vio._ Girt about him like a madman! What, has he lost his cloak too?
This is the maddest fashion that e’er I saw. What said he, George,
when he passed by thee? 34

_Geo._ Troth, mistress, nothing: not so much as a bee, he did not
hum; not so much as a hawd, he did not hem; not so much as a cuckold,
he did not ha; neither hum, hem, nor ha; only stared me in the face,
passed along, and made haste in, as if my looks had worked (40) with
him, to give him a stool.

_Vio._ Sure he ’s vext now, this trick has mov’d his spleen,
He ’s anger’d now, because he utt’red nothing;
And wordless wrath breaks out more violent.
May be he ’ll strive for place, when he comes down, 45
But if thou lov’st me, George, afford him none.

_Geo._ Nay, let me alone to play my master’s prize,[2417] as long
as my mistress warrants me. I ’m sure I have his best clothes on,
and I scorn to give place to any that is inferior in apparel (50) to
me; that ’s an axiom, a principle, and is observ’d as much as the
fashion. Let that persuade you then, that I ’ll shoulder with him for
the upper hand in the shop, as long as this chain will maintain it. 55

_Vio._ Spoke with the spirit of a master, though with the tongue of a
prentice.
_Re-enter_ CANDIDO _like a_ Prentice.
Why how now, madman? What in your tricksy-coats?

_Cand._ O peace, good mistress.
_Enter_ CRAMBO _and_ POLI.
See, what you lack? What is ’t you buy? (60) Pure calicoes, fine
hollands, choice cambrics, neat lawns? See, what you buy? Pray come
near, my master will use you well, he can afford you a penny-worth.

_Vio._ Ay, that he can, out of a whole piece of lawn, i’ faith. 66

_Cand._ Pray see your choice here, gentlemen.

_Vio._ O fine fool! what, a madman! a patient madman! Who ever heard
of the like? Well, sir, I ’ll fit you and your humour presently. 70
What, cross-points? I ’ll untie ’em all in a trice:
I ’ll vex you i’ faith: boy take your cloak, quick, come.
_Exit_ [_with_ 1 Prentice].

_Cand._ Be covered, George, this chain and welted[2418] gown
Bare to this coat? Then the world ’s upside down.

_Geo._ Umh, umh, hum. 75

_Cram._ That ’s the shop, and there ’s the fellow.

_Poli._ Ay, but the master is walking in there.

_Cram._ No matter, we ’ll in.

_Poli._ ’Sblood, dost long to lie in limbo?

_Cram._ An limbo be in hell, I care not. 80

_Cand._ Look you, gentlemen, your choice: cambrics?

_Cram._ No, sir, some shirting.

_Cand._ You shall.

_Cram._ Have you none of this strip’d canvas for doublets? 85

_Cand._ None strip’d, sir, but plain.

_2 Pren._ I think there be one piece strip’d within.

_Geo._ Step, sirrah, and fetch it, hum, hum, hum.
[_Exit_ 2 Pren., _and returns with the piece_.]

_Cand._ Look you, gentleman, I ’ll make but one spreading, here ’s a
piece of cloth, fine, (90) yet shall wear like iron. ’T is without
fault; take this upon my word, ’t is without fault.

_Cram._ Then ’t is better than you, sirrah.

_Cand._ Ay, and a number more. Oh, that each soul
Were but as spotless as this innocent white, 95
And had as few breaks in it!

_Cram._ ’T would have some then:
There was a fray here last day in this shop.

_Cand._ There was, indeed, a little flea-biting.

_Poli._ A gentleman had his pate broke; call you that but a
flea-biting? 100

_Cand._ He had so.

_Cram._ Zounds, do you stand to it? _He strikes him._

_Geo._ ’Sfoot, clubs, clubs! Prentices, down with ’em!
[_Enter several_ Prentices _with clubs, who disarm_ CRAMBO _and_
POLI.]
Ah, you rogues, strike a citizen in ’s shop?

_Cand._ None of you stir, I pray; forbear, good George. 105

_Cram._ I beseech you, sir, we mistook our marks; deliver us our
weapons.

_Geo._ Your head bleeds, sir; cry clubs!

_Cand._ I say you shall not; pray be patient,
Give them their weapons. Sirs, y’ are best be gone; 110
I tell you here are boys more tough than bears.
Hence, lest more fists do walk about your ears.

_Cram._, _Poli._ We thank you, sir. _Exeunt._

_Cand._ You shall not follow them;
Let them alone, pray; this did me no harm.
Troth, I was cold, and the blow made me warm,
I thank ’em for ’t: besides, I had decreed[2419] 116
To have a vein prickt, I did mean to bleed:
So that there ’s money sav’d. They ’re honest men,
Pray use ’em well when they appear again. 119

_Geo._ Yes, sir, we ’ll use ’em like honest men.

_Cand._ Ay, well said, George, like honest men, though they be arrant
knaves, for that ’s the phrase of the city. Help to lay up these
wares.

_Re-enter his_ Wife _with_ Officers.

_Vio._ Yonder he stands.

_1 Off._ What in a prentice-coat?

_Vio._ Ay, ay; mad, mad; pray take heed. 125

_Cand._ How now! what news with them?
What make they with my wife?
Officers, is she attach’d?—Look to your wares.

_Vio._ He talks to himself: oh, he ’s much gone indeed.

_1 Off._ Pray, pluck up a good heart, be not so fearful: 130
Sirs, hark, we ’ll gather to him by degrees.

_Vio._ Ay, ay, by degrees I pray. Oh me!
What makes he with the lawn in his hand?
He ’ll tear all the ware in my shop. 134

_1 Off._ Fear not, we ’ll catch him on a sudden.

_Vio._ Oh! you had need do so; pray take heed of your warrant.

_1 Off._ I warrant, mistress. Now, Signor Candido.

_Cand._ Now, sir, what news with you, sir?

_Vio._ What news with you? he says: oh, he ’s far gone! 140

_1 Off._ I pray, fear nothing; let ’s alone with him.
Signor, you look not like yourself, methinks,—
Steal you a’ t’ other side;—you ’re chang’d, you ’re alt’red.

_Cand._ Chang’d sir, why true, sir. Is change strange? ’T is not
The fashion unless it alter! Monarchs turn 145
To beggars, beggars creep into the nests
Of princes, masters serve their prentices,
Ladies their serving-men, men turn to women.

_1 Off._ And women turn to men.

_Cand._ Ay, and women turn to men, you say true. Ha, ha, a mad world,
a mad world. 151
[Officers _seize_ CANDIDO.]

_1 Off._ Have we caught you, sir?

_Cand._ Caught me? Well, well, you have caught me.

_Vio._ He laughs in your faces.

_Geo._ A rescue, prentices! my master ’s catch-poll’d. 155

_1 Off._ I charge you, keep the peace, or have your legs
Gartered with irons! We have from the duke
A warrant strong enough for what we do.

_Cand._ I pray, rest quiet, I desire no rescue.

_Vio._ La, he desires no rescue, ’las poor heart, 160
He talks against himself.

_Cand._ Well, what ’s the matter?

_1 Off._ Look to that arm. Pray, make sure work, double the cord.
[Officers _bind_ CANDIDO.]

_Cand._ Why, why?

_Vio._ Look how his head goes. Should he get but loose, 165
Oh ’t were as much as all our lives were worth!

_1 Off._ Fear not, we ’ll make all sure for our own safety.

_Cand._ Are you at leisure now? Well, what ’s the matter?
Why do I enter into bonds thus, ha?

_1 Off._ Because y ’are mad, put fear upon your wife. 170

_Vio._ Oh ay, I went in danger of my life every minute.

_Cand._ What, am I mad, say you, and I not know it?

_1 Off._ That proves you mad, because you know it not.

_Vio._ Pray talk to him as little as you can, 175
You see he ’s too far spent.

_Cand._ Bound, with strong cord!
A sister’s thread, i’ faith, had been enough,
To lead me anywhere.—Wife, do you long?
You are mad too, or else you do me wrong.

_Geo._ But are you mad indeed, master?

_Cand._ My wife says so, 180
And what she says, George, is all truth, you know.—
And whither now, to Bethlem Monastery?
Ha! whither?

_1 Off._ Faith, e’en to the madmen’s pound.

_Cand._ A’ God’s name! still I feel my patience sound.
_Exeunt_ [Officers _with_ CANDIDO].

_Geo._ Come, we ’ll see whither he goes. If (185) the master be mad,
we are his servants, and must follow his steps; we ’ll be mad-caps
too. Farewell, mistress, you shall have us all in Bedlam. _Exeunt_
[GEORGE _and_ Prentices].

_Vio._ I think I ha’ fitted you now, you and your clothes.
If this move not his patience, nothing can; 190
I ’ll swear then I ’ve a saint, and not a man. [_Exit._]

SCENE [IV].[2420]

_Enter_ DUKE, Doctor [BENEDICT], FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

_Duke._ Give us a little leave.
[_Exeunt_ FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.]
Doctor, your news.

_Doct._ I sent for him, my lord; at last he came,
And did receive all speech that went from me,
As gilded pills made to prolong his health. 4
My credit with him wrought it; for some men
Swallow even empty hooks, like fools that fear
No drowning where ’t is deepest, ’cause ’t is clear.
In th’ end we sat and eat: a health I drank
To Infelice’s sweet departed soul.
This train[2421] I knew would take.

_Duke._ ’T was excellent. 10

_Doct._ He fell with such devotion on his knees,
To pledge the same—

_Duke._ Fond, superstitious fool!

_Doct._ That had he been inflam’d with zeal of prayer,
He could not pour ’t out with more reverence.
About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek, 15
Kist it, and swore he would adore my lips,
Because they brought forth Infelice’s name.

_Duke._ Ha, ha! alack, alack.

_Doct._ The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said;
“Here, noble maid!”—drinks, and was poisoned. 20

_Duke._ And died?

_Doct._ And died, my lord.

_Duke._ Thou in that word
Hast piec’d mine aged hours out with more years
Than thou hast taken from Hippolito.
A noble youth he was, but lesser branches 24
Hind’ring the greater’s growth, must be lopt off,
And feed the fire. Doctor, we ’re now all thine,
And use us so: be bold.

_Doct._ Thanks, gracious lord—
My honoured lord:—

_Duke._ Hum.

_Doct._ I do beseech your grace to bury deep,
This bloody act of mine.

_Duke._ Nay, nay, for that, 30
Doctor, look you to ’t, me it shall not move;
They ’re curst that ill do, not that ill do love.

_Doct._ You throw an angry forehead on my face:
But be you pleas’d backward thus far to look,
That for your good, this evil I undertook— 35

_Duke._ Ay, ay, we conster[2422] so.

_Doct._ And only for your love.

_Duke._ Confest: ’tis true.

_Doct._ Nor let it stand against me as a bar
To thrust me from your presence; nor believe
As princes have quick thoughts, that now my finger 40
Being dipt in blood, I will not spare the hand,
But that for gold,—as what can gold not do?—
I may be hir’d to work the like on you.

_Duke._ Which to prevent—

_Doct._ ’T is from my heart as far.

_Duke._ No matter, doctor; ’cause I’ll fearless sleep, 45
And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion,
I banish thee for ever from my court.
This principle is old, but true as fate,
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate. _Exit._

_Doct._ Is’t so? Nay then, duke, your stale principle, 50
With one as stale, the doctor thus shall quit.
He falls himself that digs another’s pit.
_Enter the_ Doctor’s Man.
How now! where is he? will he not meet me?

_Man._ Meet you, sir? He might have met with three fencers in this
time, and have received (55) less hurt than by meeting one doctor of
physic. Why, sir, he has walkt under the old abbey-wall yonder this
hour, till he’s more cold than a citizen’s country house in Janivere.
You may smell him behind, sir: la, you, yonder he comes.

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Doct._ Leave me. 61

_Man._ I’th’ lurch, if you will. _Exit._

_Doct._ O my most noble friend!

_Hip._ Few but yourself,
Could have entic’d me thus, to trust the air
With my close sighs. You sent for me; what news? 65

_Doct._ Come, you must doff this black, dye that pale cheek
Into his own colour, go, attire yourself
Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride.
The duke has done much treason to thy love;
’T is now reveal’d, ’t is now to be reveng’d. 70
Be merry, honour’d friend, thy lady lives.

_Hip._ What lady?

_Doct._ Infelice, she’s reviv’d.
Reviv’d? Alack! death never had the heart,
To take breath from her.

_Hip._ Umh: I thank you, sir,
Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save; 75
This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave,
You do some wrong to mock me.

_Doct._ By that love
Which I have ever borne you, what I speak
Is truth: the maiden lives; that funeral, 79
Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit.
A sleepy draught coz’ned the world and you:
I was his minister, and then chamb’red up,
To stop discovery.

_Hip._ O treacherous duke!

_Doct._ He cannot hope so certainly for bliss,
As he believes that I have poison’d you. 85
He woo’d me to ’t; I yielded, and confirm’d him
In his most bloody thoughts.

_Hip._ A very devil!

_Doct._ Her did he closely coach to Bergamo,
And thither—

_Hip._ Will I ride. Stood Bergamo 89
In the low countries of black hell, I’ll to her.

_Doct._ You shall to her, but not to Bergamo.
How passion makes you fly beyond yourself!
Much of that weary journey I ha’ cut off;
For she by letters hath intelligence
Of your supposed death, her own interment, 95
And all those plots which that false duke, her father,
Has wrought against you; and she’ll meet you—

_Hip._ Oh, when?

_Doct._ Nay, see; how covetous are your desires.
Early to-morrow morn.

_Hip._ Oh where, good father? 100

_Doct._ At Bethlem Monastery: are you pleas’d now?

_Hip._ At Bethlem Monastery! The place well fits;
It is the school where those that lose their wits
Practise again to get them. I am sick
Of that disease; all love is lunatic. 105

_Doct._ We’ll steal away this night in some disguise.
Father Anselmo, a most reverend friar,
Expects our coming; before whom we’ll lay
Reasons so strong, that he shall yield in bands
Of holy wedlock to tie both your hands. 110

_Hip._ This is such happiness,
That to believe it, ’t is impossible.

_Doct._ Let all your joys then die in misbelief; I will reveal no
more.

_Hip._ O yes, good father,
I am so well acquainted with despair, 115
I know not how to hope: I believe all.

_Doct._ We ’ll hence this night. Much must be done, much said;
But if the doctor fail not in his charms,
Your lady shall ere morning fill these arms.

_Hip._ Heavenly physician! for thy fame shall spread, 119
That mak’st two lovers speak when they be dead. _Exeunt._

[ACT V]

[SCENE I.][2423]

_Enter Candido’s wife_ [VIOLA _with a petition_] _and_ GEORGE. PIORATTO _meets them_.

_Vio._ Oh watch, good George, watch which way the duke comes.

_Geo._ Here comes one of the butterflies; ask him.

_Vio._ Pray, sir, comes the duke this way?

_Pio._ He’s upon coming, mistress. 5

_Vio._ I thank you, sir. [_Exit_ PIORATTO.] George, are there many
mad folks where thy master lies?

_Geo._ Oh yes, of all countries some: but especially mad Greeks, they
swarm. Troth, (10) mistress, the world is altered with you; you had
not wont to stand thus with a paper humbly complaining; but you’re
well enough serv’d; provender prickt[2424] you, as it does many of
our city wives besides. 15

_Vio._ Dost think, George, we shall get him forth?

_Geo._ Truly, mistress, I cannot tell; I think you’ll hardly get him
forth. Why, ’t is strange! ’Sfoot, I have known many women that (20)
have had mad rascals to their husbands, whom they would belabour by
all means possible to keep ’em in their right wits; but of a woman
to long to turn a tame man into a madman, why the devil himself was
never us ’d so by his dam. 25

_Vio._ How does he talk, George? Ha! good George, tell me.

_Geo._ Why, you’re best go see.

_Vio._ Alas, I am afraid!

_Geo._ Afraid! you had more need be (30) asham’d. He may rather be
afraid of you.

_Vio._ But, George, he’s not stark mad, is he? He does not rave, he
is not horn-mad, George, is he?

_Geo._ Nay I know not that, but he talks (35) like a justice of
peace, of a thousand matters, and to no purpose.

_Vio._ I’ll to the monastery. I shall be mad till I enjoy him, I
shall be sick until I see him; yet when I do see him I shall weep out
mine eyes. 40

_Geo._ I’d fain see a woman weep out her eyes!
That’s as true as to say, a man’s cloak burns,
when it hangs in the water. I know you’ll weep,
mistress, but what says the painted cloth?[2425]
Trust not a woman when she cries, 45
For she’ll pump water from her eyes
With a wet finger,[2426] and in faster showers
Than April when he rains down flowers.

_Vio._ Ay, but George, that painted cloth is worthy to be hanged up
for lying. All women (50) have not tears at will, unless they have
good cause.

_Geo._ Ay, but mistress, how easily will they find a cause, and as
one of our cheese-trenchers[2427] says very learnedly, 55
As out of wormwood bees suck honey,
As from poor clients lawyers firk money,
As parsley from a roasted cony:
So, though the day be ne’er so funny,
If wives will have it rain, down then it drives, 60
The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives.

_Vio._ Tame, George. But I ha’ done storming now.

_Geo._ Why that’s well done. Good mistress, throw aside this fashion
of your humour, be (65) not so fantastical in wearing it; storm no
more, long no more. This longing has made you come short of many a
good thing that you might have had from my master. Here comes the
duke.

_Enter_ DUKE, FLUELLO, PIORATTO, _and_ SINEZI.

_Vio._ O, I beseech you, pardon my offence, 70
In that I durst abuse your grace’s warrant;
Deliver forth my husband, good my lord.

_Duke._ Who is her husband?

_Flu._ Candido, my lord.

_Duke._ Where is he?

_Vio._ He’s among the lunatics;
He was a man made up without a gall; 75
Nothing could move him, nothing could convert
His meek blood into fury; yet like a monster,
I often beat at the most constant rock
Of his unshaken patience, and did long
To vex him.

_Duke._ Did you so?

_Vio._ And for that purpose 80
Had warrant from your grace, to carry him
To Bethlem Monastery, whence they will not free him
Without your grace’s hand that sent him in.

_Duke._ You have long’d fair; ’t is you are mad, I fear:
It’s fit to fetch him thence, and keep you there. 85
If he be mad, why would you have him forth?

_Geo._ An please your grace, he’s not stark mad, but only talks like
a young gentleman, somewhat fantastically, that’s all. There’s a
thousand about your court, city, and country (90) madder than he.

_Duke._ Provide a warrant, you shall have our hand.

_Geo._ Here ’s a warrant ready drawn, my lord.

_Duke._ Get pen and ink, get pen and ink. [_Exit_ GEORGE.]

_Enter_ CASTRUCHIO.

_Cas._ Where is my lord the duke?

_Duke._ How now! more madmen? 95

_Cas._ I have strange news, my lord.

_Duke._ Of what? Of whom?

_Cas._ Of Infelice, and a marriage.

_Duke._ Ha! where? with whom?

_Cas._ Hippolito.

_Re-enter_ GEORGE, _with pen and ink_.

_Geo._ Here, my lord.

_Duke._ Hence, with that woman! Void the room! 100

_Flu._ Away! the duke’s vext.

_Geo._ Whoop, come, mistress, the duke’s mad too.
_Exeunt_ [VIOLA _and_ GEORGE].

_Duke._ Who told me that Hippolito was dead?

_Cas._ He that can make any man dead, the doctor: but, my lord, he’s
as full of life as wildfire, (105) and as quick. Hippolito, the
doctor, and one more rid hence this evening; the inn at which they
light is Bethlem Monastery; Infelice comes from Bergamo and meets
them there. Hippolito is mad, for he means this day to (110) be
married; the afternoon is the hour, and Friar Anselmo is the knitter.

_Duke._ From Bergamo? Is ’t possible? it cannot be.
It cannot be.

_Cas._ I will not swear, my lord;
But this intelligence I took from one 115
Whose brains work in the plot.

_Duke._ What’s he?

_Cas._ Matheo.

_Flu._ Matheo knows all.

_Pior._ He’s Hippolito’s bosom.

_Duke._ How far stands Bethlem hence?

_All._ Six or seven miles.

_Duke._ Is ’t so? Not married till the afternoon:
Stay, stay, let ’s work out some prevention. How! 120
This is most strange; can none but mad men serve
To dress their wedding dinner? All of you
Get presently to horse, disguise yourselves
Like country-gentlemen,
Or riding citizens, or so: and take 125
Each man a several path, but let us meet
At Bethlem Monastery; some space of time
Being spent between the arrival each of other,
As if we came to see the lunatics.
To horse, away! Be secret on your lives. 130
Love must be punisht that unjustly thrives.
_Exeunt_ [_all but_ FLUELLO].

_Flu._ Be secret on your lives! Castruchio,
You ’re but a scurvy spaniel. Honest lord,
Good lady! Zounds, their love is just, ’t is good, 134
And I ’ll prevent you, though I swim in blood. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][2428]

_Enter_ Friar ANSELMO, HIPPOLITO, MATHEO, _and_ INFELICE.

_Hip._ Nay, nay, resolve,[2429] good father, or deny.

_Ans._ You press me to an act both full of danger
And full of happiness; for I behold
Your father’s frowns, his threats, nay, perhaps death
To him that dare do this: yet, noble lord, 5
Such comfortable beams break through these clouds
By this blest marriage, that your honour’d word
Being pawn’d in my defence, I will tie fast
The holy wedding-knot.

_Hip._ Tush, fear not the duke.

_Ans._ O son! wisely to fear, is to be free from fear. 10

_Hip._ You have our words, and you shall have our lives,
To guard you safe from all ensuing danger.

_Mat._ Ay, ay, chop ’em up, and away.

_Ans._ Stay, when is ’t fit for me, and safest for you,
To entertain this business?

_Hip._ Not till the evening. 15

_Ans._ Be ’t so, there is a chapel stands hard by,
Upon the west end of the abbey wall;
Thither convey yourselves, and when the sun
Hath turn’d his back upon this upper world,
I ’ll marry you; that done, no thund’ring voice
Can break the sacred bond: yet, lady, here 21
You are most safe.

_Inf._ Father, your love ’s most dear.

_Mat._ Ay, well said; lock us into some little room by ourselves,
that we may be mad for an hour or two. 25

_Hip._ O, good Matheo, no, let ’s make no noise.

_Mat._ How! no noise! Do you know where you are? ’Sfoot, amongst all
the madcaps in Milan; so that to throw the house out at window will
be the better, and no man will (30) suspect that we lurk here to
steal mutton.[2430] The more sober we are, the more scurvy[2431] ’t
is. And though the friar tell us that here we are safest, I am not of
his mind; for if those lay here that had lost their money, none would
ever look (35) after them; but here are none but those that have lost
their wits, so that if hue and cry be made, hither they ’ll come; and
my reason is, because none goes to be married till he be stark mad. 40

_Hip._ Muffle yourselves, yonder ’s Fluello.

_Enter_ FLUELLO.

_Mat._ Zounds!

_Flu._ O my lord, these cloaks are not for this rain! The tempest is
too great. I come sweating to tell you of it, that you may get out of
it.

_Mat._ Why, what ’s the matter? 45

_Flu._ What ’s the matter? You have matter’d it fair; the duke ’s at
hand.

_All._ The duke?

_Flu._ The very duke.

_Hip._ Then all our plots
Are turn’d upon our heads and we ’re blown up
With our own underminings. ’Sfoot, how comes he? 50
What villain durst betray our being here?

_Flu._ Castruchio told the duke, and Matheo here told Castruchio.

_Hip._ Would you betray me to Castruchio?

_Mat._ ’Sfoot, he damn’d himself to the pit (55) of hell, if he spake
on ’t again.

_Hip._ So did you swear to me: so were you damn’d.

_Mat._ Pox on ’em, and there be no faith in men, if a man shall not
believe oaths. He took bread and salt, by this light, that he would 60
never open his lips.

_Hip._ O God, O God!

_Ans._ Son, be not desperate,
Have patience, you shall trip your enemy
Down by his own slights.[2432] How far is the duke hence?

_Flu._ He ’s but new set out: Castruchio, 65 Pioratto, and Sinezi
come along with him. You have time enough yet to prevent[2433] them,
if you have but courage.

_Ans._ Ye shall steal secretly into the chapel,
And presently be married. If the duke 70
Abide here still, spite of ten thousand eyes,
You shall scape hence like friars.

_Hip._ O blest disguise! O happy man!

_Ans._ Talk not of Happiness till your clos’d hand
Have her by th’ forehead, like the lock of Time. 75
Be nor too slow, nor hasty, now you climb
Up to the tower of bliss; only be wary
And patient, that ’s all. If you like my plot,
Build and despatch; if not, farewell, then not.

_Hip._ O yes, we do applaud it! we ’ll dispute 80
No longer, but will hence and execute.
Fluello, you ’ll stay here: let us be gone.
The ground that frighted lovers tread upon
Is stuck with thorns.

_Ans._ Come, then, away, ’t is meet,
To escape those thorns, to put on winged feet. 85
_Exeunt_ ANSELMO, HIPPOLITO, _and_ INFELICE].

_Mat._ No words, I pray, Fluello, for ’t stands us upon.

_Flu._ Oh, sir, let that be your lesson! [_Exit_ MATHEO.]
Alas, poor lovers! On what hopes and fears
Men toss themselves for women! When she ’s got, 90
The best has in her that which pleaseth not.

_Enter to_ FLUELLO _the_ DUKE, CASTRUCHIO, PIORATTO, _and_ SINEZI _from several doors, muffled_.

_Duke._ Who ’s there?

_Cas._ My lord.

_Duke._ Peace; send that “lord” away.
A lordship will spoil all; let ’s be all fellows.
What ’s he?

_Cas._ Fluello, or else, Sinezi, by his little 95
legs.

_All._ All friends, all friends.

_Duke._ What? Met upon the very point of time?
Is this the place?

_Pio._ This is the place, my lord.

_Duke._ Dream you on lordships? Come no more “lords,” I pray: 100
You have not seen these lovers yet?

_All._ Not yet.

_Duke._ Castruchio, art thou sure this wedding feat
Is not till afternoon?

_Cas._ So ’t is given out, my lord.

_Duke._ Nay, nay, ’t is like; thieves must observe their hours;
Lovers watch minutes like astronomers; 105
How shall the interim hours by us be spent?

_Flu._ Let ’s all go to see the madmen.

_All._ Mass, content.

_Enter a_ Sweeper.[2434]

_Duke._ Oh, here comes one; question him, question him. 110

_Flu._ Now, honest fellow? dost thou belong to the house?

_Sweep._ Yes, forsooth, I am one of the implements; I sweep the
madmen’s rooms, and fetch straw for ’em, and buy chains to tie ’em, 115
and rods to whip ’em. I was a mad wag myself here, once, but I
thank Father Anselmo, he lasht me into my right mind again.

_Duke._ Anselmo is the friar must marry them;
Question him where he is. 120

_Cas._ And where is Father Anselmo now?

_Sweep._ Marry, he ’s gone but e’en now.

_Duke._ Ah, well done.—Tell me, whither is he gone?

_Sweep._ Why to God a’mighty.

_Flu._ Ha, ha! this fellow ’s a fool, talks (125) idly.

_Pio._ Sirrah, are all the mad folks in Milan brought hither?

_Sweep._ How, all? There ’s a question indeed! Why if all the mad
folks in Milan (130) should come hither, there would not be left ten
men in the city.

_Duke._ Few gentlemen or courtiers here, ha?

_Sweep._ O yes, abundance, abundance! Lands no sooner fall into their
hands, (135) but straight they run out a’ their wits. Citizens’
sons and heirs are free of the house by their fathers’ copy.[2435]
Farmers’ sons come hither like geese, in flocks, and when they ha’
sold all their cornfields, here they sit and pick the (140) straws.

_Sin._ Methinks you should have women here as well as men.

_Sweep._ Oh, ay, a plague on ’em, there ’s no ho![2436] with ’em;
they ’re madder than March (145) hares.

_Flu._ Are there no lawyers amongst you?

_Sweep._ Oh no, not one; never any lawyer. We dare not let a lawyer
come in, for he ’ll make ’em mad faster than we can recover (150) ’em.

_Duke._ And how long is ’t ere you recover any of these?

_Sweep._ Why, according to the quantity of the moon that ’s got into
’em. An alderman’s (155) son will be mad a great while, a very great
while, especially if his friends left him well. A whore will hardly
come to her wits again. A puritan, there ’s no hope of him, unless he
may pull down the steeple, and hang himself i’ (160) th’ bell-ropes.

_Flu._ I perceive all sorts of fish come to your net.

_Sweep._ Yes, in truth, we have blocks[2437] for all heads; we have
good store of wild-oats (165) here; for the courtier is mad at the
citizen, the citizen is mad at the countryman; the shoemaker is mad
at the cobbler, the cobbler at the carman; the punk is mad that the
merchant’s wife is no whore, the merchant’s wife is mad (170) that
the punk is so common a whore. Gods so, here ’s Father Anselmo; pray
say nothing that I tell tales out of the school. _Exit._

_Re-enter_ ANSELMO [_and_ Servants].

_All._ God bless you, father.

_Ans._ I thank you, gentlemen.

_Cas._ Pray, may we see some of those wretched souls, 175
That here are in your keeping?

_Ans._ Yes, you shall;
But gentlemen, I must disarm you then.
There are of mad men, as there are of tame,
All humour’d not alike: we have here some,
So apish and fantastic, play with a feather, 180
And, though ’t would grieve a soul to see God’s image
So blemisht and defac’d, yet do they act
Such antic and such pretty lunacies,
That spite of sorrow they will make you smile.
Others again we have like hungry lions, 185
Fierce as wild-bulls, untameable as flies,
And these have oftentimes from strangers’ sides
Snatcht rapiers suddenly, and done much harm,
Whom if you ’ll see, you must be weaponless.

_All._ With all our hearts.
[_Giving their weapons to_ ANSELMO.]

_Ans._ Here, take these weapons in.— 190
[_Exit_ Servant _with weapons_.]
Stand off a little, pray; so, so, ’t is well.
I ’ll show you here a man that was sometimes
A very grave and wealthy citizen;
Has serv’d a prenticeship to this misfortune,
Been here seven years, and dwelt in Bergamo. 195

_Duke._ How fell he from his wits?

_Ans._ By loss at sea;
I ’ll stand aside, question him you alone,
For if he spy me, he ’ll not speak a word,
Unless he ’s th’roughly vext.
_Discovers an_ old man, _wrapt in a net_.

_Flu._ Alas, poor soul!

_Cas._ A very old man. 200

_Duke._ God speed, father!

_1 Mad._ God speed the plough, thou shalt not speed me.

_Pio._ We see you, old man, for all you dance in a net. 205

_1 Mad._ True, but thou wilt dance in a halter, and I shall not see
thee.

_Ans._ Oh do not vex him, pray.

_Cas._ Are you a fisherman, father?

_1 Mad._ No, I am neither fish nor flesh. 210

_Flu._ What do you with that net then?

_1 Mad._ Dost not see, fool? There’s a fresh salmon in ’t; if you
step one foot further, you’ll be over shoes, for you see I’m over
head and ears in the salt-water: and if you fall into (215) this
whirl-pool where I am, y’ are drown’d: y’are a drown’d rat. I am
fishing here for five ships, but I cannot have a good draught, for my
net breaks still, and breaks; but I ’ll break some of your necks an I
catch you in my clutches. (220) Stay, stay, stay, stay, stay, where
’s the wind? where ’s the wind? where ’s the wind? where ’s the wind?
Out, you gulls, you goose-caps,[2438] you gudgeon-eaters![2439] Do
you look for the wind in the heavens? Ha, ha, ha, ha! no, no! Look 225
there, look there, look there! the wind is always at that door:
hark how it blows, puff, puff, puff!

_All._ Ha, ha, ha!

_1 Mad._ Do you laugh at God’s creatures? (230) Do you mock old age,
you rogues? Is this gray beard and head counterfeit that you cry, ha,
ha, ha? Sirrah, art not thou my eldest son?

_Pio._ Yes, indeed, father.

_1 Mad._ Then th’ art a fool, for my eldest (235) son had a
polt-foot,[2440] crooked legs, a verjuice[2441] face, and a
pear-colour’d beard. I made him a scholar, and he made himself a
fool.—Sirrah, thou there: hold out thy hand.

_Duke._ My hand? Well, here ’t is. 240

_1 Mad._ Look, look, look, look! Has he not long nails, and short
hair?

_Flu._ Yea, monstrous short hair, and abominable long nails.

_1 Mad._ Ten-penny nails, are they not? 245

_Flu._ Yes, ten-penny nails.

_1 Mad._ Such nails had my second boy. Kneel down, thou varlet, and
ask thy father’s blessing. Such nails had my middlemost son, and
I made him a promoter:[2442] and he scrapt, and (250) scrapt, and
scrapt, till he got the devil and all: but he scrapt thus, and thus,
and thus, and it went under his legs, till at length a company of
kites, taking him for carrion, swept up all, all, all, all, all, all,
all. If you love your (255) lives, look to yourselves: see, see, see,
see, the Turks’ galleys are fighting with my ships! Bounce goes the
guns! Oooh! cry the men! Rumble, rumble, go the waters! Alas, there;
’t is sunk, ’t is sunk: I am undone, I am undone! (260) You are the
damn’d pirates have undone me: you are, by the Lord, you are, you
are!—Stop ’em—you are!

_Ans._ Why, how now sirrah! Must I fall to tame you? 265

_1 Mad._ Tame me! No, I ’ll be madder than a roasted cat. See, see, I
am burnt with gunpowder,—these are our close fights!

_Ans._ I ’ll whip you, if you grow unruly thus.

_1 Mad._ Whip me? Out you toad! Whip (270) me? What justice is this,
to whip me because I am a beggar? Alas! I am a poor man: a very poor
man! I am starv’d, and have had no meat by this light, ever since the
great flood; I am a poor man. 275

_Ans._ Well, well, be quiet, and you shall have meat.

_1 Mad._ Ay, ay, pray do; for, look you, here be my guts: these are
my ribs—you may look through my ribs—see how my guts come out! 280
These are my red guts, my very guts, oh, oh!

_Ans._ Take him in there.
[Servants _remove_ 1 Madman.]

_All._ A very piteous sight.

_Cas._ Father, I see you have a busy charge.

_Ans._ They must be us’d like children, pleas’d with toys. 285
And anon whipt for their unruliness.
I ’ll show you now a pair quite different
From him that ’s gone. He was all words; and these
Unless you urge ’em, seldom spend their speech,
But save their tongues.
[_Opens another door, from which enter_ 2 _and_ 3 Madmen.]
La, you; this hithermost
Fell from the happy quietness of mind 291
About a maiden that he lov’d, and died.
He followed her to church, being full of tears,
And as her body went into the ground,
He fell stark mad. This is a married man, 295
Was jealous of a fair, but, as some say,
A very virtuous wife; and that spoil’d him.

_3 Mad._[2443] All these are whoremongers, and lay with my wife:
whore, whore, whore, whore, whore! 300

_Flu._ Observe him.

_3 Mad._ Gaffer shoemaker, you pull’d on my wife’s pumps, and
then crept into her pantofles.[2444] lie there, lie there!—This
was her tailor. (304) You cut out her loose-bodied gown, and put
in a yard more than I allowed her; lie there by the shoemaker. O
master doctor! are you here? You gave me a purgation, and then
crept into my wife’s chamber to feel her pulses, and (309) you
said, and she said, and her maid said, that they went pit-a-pat,
pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat. Doctor, I’ll put you anon into my wife’s
urinal. Heigh, come aloft, Jack! This was her school-master,
and taught her to play upon the virginals, (314) and still his
jacks[2445] leapt up, up. You prickt[2446] her out nothing but bawdy
lessons, but I’ll prick you all, fiddler—doctor—tailor—shoemaker
—shoemaker—fiddler—doctor—tailor! So! lie with my wife again,
now. 319

_Cas._ See how he notes the other, now he feeds.

_3 Mad._ Give me some porridge.

_2 Mad._ I’ll give thee none.

_3 Mad._ Give me some porridge.

_2 Mad._ I’ll not give thee a bit. 325

_3 Mad._ Give me that flap-dragon.[2447]

_2 Mad._ I’ll not give thee a spoonful. Thou liest, it’s no dragon,
’t is a parrot that I bought for my sweetheart, and I’ll keep it.

_3 Mad._ Here ’s an almond for parrot.[2448] 330

_2 Mad._ Hang thyself!

_3 Mad._ Here ’s a rope for parrot.[2448]

_2 Mad._ Eat it, for I’ll eat this.

_3 Mad._ I’ll shoot at thee, an thou ’t give me none. 335

_2 Mad._ Wu’t thou?

_3 Mad._ I’ll run a tilt at thee, an thou ’t give me none.

_2 Mad._ Wu’t thou? Do an thou dar’st.

_3 Mad._ Bounce! [_Strikes him._] 340

_2 Mad._ O—oh! I am slain! Murder, murder, murder! I am slain; my
brains are beaten out.

_Ans._ How now, you villains! Bring me whips: I’ll whip you. 345

_2 Mad._ I am dead! I am slain! ring out the bell, for I am dead.

_Duke._ How will you do now, sirrah? You ha’ kill’d him. 349

_3 Mad._ I’ll answer ’t at sessions: he was eating of almond-butter,
and I long’d for ’t. The child had never been delivered out of my
belly, if I had not kill’d him. I’ll answer ’t at sessions, so my
wife may be burnt i’ th’ hand, too. 354

_Ans._ Take ’em in both: bury him, for he’s dead.

_2 Mad._ Indeed, I am dead; put me, I pray, into a good pit-hole.

_3 Mad._ I’ll answer ’t at sessions. 359
[Servants _remove_ 2 _and_ 3 Madmen.]

_Enter_ BELLAFRONT _mad_.

_Ans._ How now, huswife, whither gad you?

_Bell._ A-nutting forsooth. How do you, gaffer? How do you, gaffer?
There’s a French curtsey for you, too.

_Flu._ ’T is Bellafront!

_Pio._ ’T is the punk, by th’ Lord! 365

_Duke._ Father, what’s she, I pray?

_Ans._ As yet I know not,
She came in but this day; talks little idly,
And therefore has the freedom of the house.

_Bell._ Do not you know me?—nor you?—nor you?—nor you? 370

_All._ No, indeed.

_Bell._ Then you are an ass,—and you an ass,—and you are an
ass,—for I know you.

_Ans._ Why, what are they? Come, tell me, what are they? 375

_Bell._ They’re fish-wives, will you buy any gudgeons?
God’s santy![2449] yonder come friars, I know them too.—
_Enter_ HIPPOLITO, MATHEO, _and_ INFELICE _disguised in the habits
of_ Friars.
How do you, friar?

_Ans._ Nay, nay, away, you must not trouble friars.— 379
[_Aside to_ HIPPOLITO, _etc._] The duke is here, speak nothing.

_Bell._ Nay, indeed, you shall not go: we’ll run at barley-break
first, and you shall be in hell.[2450] 384

_Mat._ My punk turn’d mad whore, as all her fellows are!

_Hip._ Say nothing; but steal hence, when you spy time.

_Ans._ I’ll lock you up, if you ’re unruly: fie!

_Bell._ Fie! Marry, so, they shall not go indeed, till I ha’ told ’em
their fortunes. 390

_Duke._ Good father, give her leave.

_Bell._ Ay, pray, good father, and I’ll give you my blessing.

_Ans._ Well then, be brief, but if you’re thus unruly,
I’ll have you lockt up fast. 395

_Pio._ Come, to their fortunes.

_Bell._ Let me see, one, two, three, and four. I’ll begin with the
little friar[2451] first. Hers’s a fine hand, indeed! I never saw
friar have such a dainty hand: here’s a hand for a lady! (400) Here’s
your fortune:—
You love a friar better than a nun;
Yet long you ’ll love no friar, nor no friar’s son.
Bow a little, the line of life is out, yet I’m afraid,
For all you ’re holy, you ’ll not die a maid. 405
God give you joy!
Now to you, Friar Tuck.

_Mat._ God send me good luck!

_Bell._ You love one, and one loves you:
You ’re a false knave, and she ’s a Jew, 410
Here is a dial that false ever goes—

_Mat._ O your wit drops!

_Bell._ Truth, so does your nose—
Nay let ’s shake hands with you too; pray open, here ’s a fine hand!
Ho friar, ho! God be here! 415
So he had need. You ’ll keep good cheer,
Here ’s a free table,[2452] but a frozen breast,
For you ’ll starve those that love you best;
Yet you have good fortune, for if I ’m no liar,
Then you are no friar, nor you, nor you no friar,
Haha, haha! _Discovers them._ 421

_Duke._ Are holy habits cloaks for villany?
Draw all your weapons!

_Hip._ Do: draw all your weapons.

_Duke._ Where are your weapons? Draw! 425

_All._ The friar has gull’d us of ’em.

_Mat._ O rare trick!
You ha’ learnt one mad point of arithmetic.

_Hip._ Why swells your spleen so high? Against what bosom
Would you your weapons draw? Her’s? ’T is your daughter’s: 429
Mine? ’T is your son’s.

_Duke._ Son?

_Mat._ Son, by yonder sun.

_Hip._ You cannot shed blood here but ’t is your own;
To spill your own blood were damnation.
Lay smooth that wrinkled brow, and I will throw
Myself beneath your feet:
Let it be rugged still and flinted ore, 435
What can come forth but sparkles, that will burn
Yourself and us? She ’s mine; my claim ’s most good;
She ’s mine by marriage, though she ’s yours by blood.

[_Ans. kneeling._] I have a hand, dear lord, deep in this act,
For I foresaw this storm, yet willingly 440
Put forth to meet it. Oft have I seen a father
Washing the wounds of his dear son in tears.
A son to curse the sword that struck his father,
Both slain i’ th’ quarrel of your families. 444
Those scars are now ta’en off; and I beseech you
To seal our pardon! All was to this end,
To turn the ancient hates of your two houses
To fresh green friendship, that your loves might look
Like the spring’s forehead, comfortably sweet;
And your vext souls in peaceful union meet. 450
Their blood will now be yours, yours will be theirs,
And happiness shall crown your silver hairs.

_Flu._ You see, my lord, there ’s now no remedy.

_All._ Beseech your lordship!

_Duke._ You beseech fair, you have me in place fit 455
To bridle me.—Rise friar, you may be glad
You can make madmen tame and tame men mad.
Since Fate hath conquer’d, I must rest content;
To strive now, would but add new punishment.
I yield unto your happiness; be blest, 460
Our families shall henceforth breathe in rest.

_All._ Oh, happy change!

_Duke._ Your’s now is my content,
I throw upon your joys my full consent.

_Bell._ Am not I a good girl, for finding (464) “the friar in the
well?”[2453] Gods so, you are a brave man! Will not you buy me some
sugar-plums, because I am so good a fortune-teller?

_Duke._ Would thou hadst wit, thou pretty soul, to ask,
As I have will to give. 469

_Bell._ Pretty soul? A pretty soul is better than a pretty body. Do
not you know my pretty soul? I know you. Is not your name Matheo?

_Mat._ Yes, lamb.

_Bell._ Baa lamb! there you lie, for I am mutton.[2454]—Look, fine
man! he was mad for me (475) once, and I was mad for him once, and he
was mad for her once, and were you never mad? Yes, I warrant; I had
a fine jewel once, a very fine jewel, and that naughty man stole it
away from me,—a very fine and a rich jewel. 480

_Duke._ What jewel, pretty maid?

_Bell._ Maid? Nay, that ’s a lie. O, ’t was a very rich jewel, called
a maidenhead, and had not you it, leerer?

_Mat._ Out, you mad ass! away. 485

_Duke._ Had he thy maidenhead?
He shall make thee amends, and marry thee.

_Bell._ Shall he? O brave Arthur of Bradley[2455] then!

_Duke._ And if he bear the mind of a gentleman, I know he will. 491

_Mat._ I think I rifled her of some such paltry jewel.

_Duke._ Did you? Then marry her; you see the wrong
Has led her spirits into a lunacy. 495

_Mat._ How? Marry her, my lord? ’Sfoot, marry a madwoman? Let a man
get the tamest wife he can come by, she ’ll be mad enough afterward,
do what he can.

_Duke._ Nay then, Father Anselmo here shall do his best, 500
To bring her to her wits; and will you then?

_Mat._ I cannot tell, I may choose.

_Duke._ Nay, then, law shall compel. I tell you, sir.
So much her hard fate moves me, you should not breathe
Under this air, unless you married her. 505

_Mat._ Well, then, when her wits stand in their right place,
I ’ll marry her.

_Bell._ I thank your grace.—Matheo, thou art mine.
I am not mad, but put on this disguise,
Only for you, my lord; for you can tell 510
Much wonder of me; but you are gone: farewell.
Matheo, thou didst first turn my soul black,
Now make it white again. I do protest,
I ’m pure as fire now, chaste as Cynthia’s breast.

_Hip._ I durst be sworn, Matheo, she ’s indeed.

_Mat._ Cony-catcht, gull’d! Must I sail in your fly-boat, 516
Because I helpt to rear your main-mast first?
Plague ’found[2456] you for ’t, ’t is well.
The cuckold’s stamp goes current in all nations,
Some men ha’ burns giv’n them at their creations; 520
If I be one of those, why so: ’t is better
To take a common wench, and make her good,
Than one that simpers, and at first will scarce
Be tempted forth over the threshold door,
Yet in one se’nnight, zounds, turns arrant whore! 525
Come wench, thou shalt be mine, give me thy golls,[2457]
We ’ll talk of legs hereafter.—See, my lord,
God give us joy!

_All._ God give you joy! 529

_Enter Candido’s wife_ [VIOLA] _and_ GEORGE.

_Geo._ Come mistress, we are in Bedlam now; mass and see, we come in
pudding-time, for here ’s the duke.

_Vio._ My husband, good my lord!

_Duke._ Have I thy husband? 534

_Cast._ It ’s Candido, my lord, he ’s here among the lunatics. Father
Anselmo, pray fetch him forth. [_Exit_ ANSELMO.] This mad woman is
his wife, and though she were not with child, yet did she long most
spitefully to have her (539) husband mad; and because she would be
sure he should turn Jew, she placed him here in Bethlem. Yonder he
comes.

_Enter_ CANDIDO _with_ ANSELMO.

_Duke._ Come hither, signor; are you mad?

_Cand._ You are not mad.

_Duke._ Why, I know that. 545

_Cand._ Then may you know I am not mad, that know
You are not mad, and that you are the duke.
None is mad here but one.—How do you, wife?
What do you long for now?—Pardon, my lord: 549
She had lost her child’s nose else. I did cut out
Pennyworths of lawn, the lawn was yet mine own:
A carpet was my gown, yet ’t was mine own:
I wore my man’s coat, yet the cloth mine own:
Had a crackt crown, the crown was yet mine own. 554
She says for this I ’m mad: were her words true,
I should be mad indeed. O foolish skill![2458]
Is patience madness? I ’ll be a madman still.

_Vio._ Forgive me, and I ’ll vex your spirit no more. [_Kneels._]

_Duke._ Come, come, we ’ll have you friends; join hearts, join
hands. 560

_Cand._ See, my lord, we are even,—
Nay, rise, for ill deeds kneel unto none but Heaven.

_Duke._ Signor, methinks patience has laid on you
Such heavy weight, that you should loathe it——

_Cand._ Loathe it!

_Duke._ For he whose breast is tender, blood so cool, 565
That no wrongs heat it, is a patient fool.
What comfort do you find in being so calm?

_Cand._ That which green wounds receive from sovereign balm. 568
Patience, my lord! why, ’t is the soul of peace;
Of all the virtues, ’t is nearest kin to Heaven;
It makes men look like gods. The best of men
That e’er wore earth about him, was a sufferer,
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,
The first true gentleman that ever breath’d.
The stock of patience, then, cannot be poor; 575
All it desires, it has; what monarch more?
It is the greatest enemy to law
That can be; for it doth embrace all wrongs,
And so chains up lawyers’ and women’s tongues.
’T is the perpetual prisoner’s liberty, 580
His walks and orchards: ’t is the bond slave’s freedom,
And makes him seem proud of each iron chain,
As though he wore it more for state than pain:
It is the beggars’ music, and thus sings, 584
Although their bodies beg, their souls are kings.
O my dread liege! It is the sap of bliss
Rears us aloft, makes men and angels kiss.
And last of all, to end a household strife,
It is the honey ’gainst a waspish wife.

_Duke._ Thou giv’st it lively colours: who dare say 590
He ’s mad, whose words march in so good array?
’T were sin all women should such husbands have,
For every man must then be his wife’s slave.
Come, therefore, you shall teach our court to shine,
So calm a spirit is worth a golden mine. 595
Wives with meek husbands that to vex them long,
In Bedlam must they dwell, else dwell they wrong. _Exeunt._

THE HONEST WHORE