TO MY EQUAL READER I have never more endeavored to know myself than to be known of others; and rather to be unpartially beloved of all, than factiously to be admired of a few. Yet so power- fully have I been enticed with the delights of poetry, and (I must iungeniously confess) above better desert so fortunate in these stage-pleasings, that (let my resolutions be never so fixed to call mine eyes into myself) I much fear that most lamentable death of him, %Qui nimis notus omnibus%, %Ignotus moritur sibi.%_Seneca. But since the over-vehement pursuit of these delights hath been the sickness of my youth, and now is grown to be the vice of my firmer age since to satisfy others, I neglect myself, let it be the courtesy of my peruser, rather to pity my self hind'ring labors than to malice me, and let him be pelased to be my reader, and not my interpreter, since I would fain reserve that office in my own hands, it being my daily prayer: %Absit a\ jocorum nostrorum simplicitate malignus% %interpres.%_Martial. If any shall wonder why I print a comedy, whose life rests much in the actor's voice, let such know that it cannot avoid publishing. Let it therefore stand with good excuse, that I have been my own setter out. If any desire to understand the scope of my comedy, know it hath the same limits which Juvenal gives to his satires: %Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas%, %Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.%_Juvenal. As for the factious malice and studied detractions of some few that tread in the same path with me, let all know I most easily neglect them, and (carelessly slumb'ring to their vicious endeavors) smile heartily at their self-hurting baseness. My bosom friend, good Epictetus, makes me easily to contemn all such men's malice. Since other men's tongues are not within my teeth, why should I hope to govern them? For mine own interest for once, let this be printed, that of men of my own addiction, I love most, pity some, hate none. For let me truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving them, and surely, I shall ever rest so constant to my first affection that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous whisperings, never so treacherously labor to undermine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as long as I have being) love the least of their graces, and only pity the greatest of their vices. And now to kill envy, I know you that affect to be the only minion of Phoebus, I am not so blushlessly ambitious as to hope to gain any the least supreme eminency among you. I affect not only the "'Euge' tuum et 'Belle'"! 'Tis not my fashion to think no writer virtuously confident that is not swellingly impudent. Nor do I labor to be held the only spirit whose poems may be thought worthy to be kept in cedar chests. %Heliconidasque, pallidamque Pyrenen% %Illis relinquo quorum imagines lambunt% %Hederae sequaces....%_Persius. He that pursues fame shall for me without any rival have breath enough. I esteem felicity to be a more solid content- ment; only let it be lawful for me, with unaffected modesty and full thought, to end boldly with that of Perseus: %_Ipse semipaganus% %Ad sacra vatum carmen affero nostrum.%_Persius. JOHN MARSTON Reader, know I have perused this copy to make some satis- faction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my business, that some errors have still passed, which thy discretion may amend. Comedies are writ to be spoken, not read. Remember the life of these things consists in action, and for your such couteous survey of my pen, I will present a tragedy to you which shall boldly abide the most curious perusal. PROLOGUS Let those once know that here with malice lurk, 'Tis base to be too wise in other's work. The rest sit thus saluted: Spectators know, you may with freest faces Behold this scene, for here no rude disgraces Shall taint a public, or a private name. This pen at viler rate doth value fame, That at the price of others' infamy To purchase it. Let others dare the rope, Your modest pleasure is our author's scope. The hurdle and the rack to them he leaves, that have naught left to be accompted any, But by not being. Nor doth he hope to win Your louder hand wih that most common sin Of vulgar pens, rank bawdry, that smells Even through your masks, %usque ad nauseam.% The Venus of this scene doth loath to wear So vile, so common, so immodest clothings, But if the nimble form of comedy, Mere spectacle of life and public manners, May gracefully arrive to your pleased ears, For boldly dare the utmost death of fears; For we do know that this most fair-fill'd room I sloaden with most Attic judgments, ablest spirits, Than whom there are none more exact, full, strong, Yet none more soft, benign in censuring. I know there's not one ass in all this presence, Not one calumnius rascal, or base villain Of emptiest merit, that would tax and slander If innocency herself should write, not one we know't. O you are all the very breath of Phoebus. In your pleas'd gracings all the true life blood Of our poor author lives; you are his very graces. Now if that any wonder why he's drawn To such base soothings, know his play's_%The Fawn.% INTERLOCUTORES HERCULES, %disguised Faunus, Duke of Ferrara% GONZAGO, %Duke of Urbin, a weak lord of a self-admiring wisdom% TIBERIO, %son of Hercules% DULCIMEL, %daughter to Gonzago% PHILOCALIA, %an honorable learned lady, companion to the Princess% %Dulcimel% GRANUFFO, %a silent lord% DON ZUCCONE, %A causelessly jealous lord% DONNA ZOYA, %a virtuous, fair witty lady, his wife% SIR AMOROSO DEBILE-DOSSO, %a sickly knight% DONNA GARBETZA, %his lady% HEROD FRAPPATORE, %brother to Sir Amoroso and a vicious braggart% NYMPHADORO, %a young courtier and a common lover% DONDOLO, %a bald fool% RENALDO, %brother to Hercules% POVEIA %two ladies, attendants on Dulcimel% DONETTA PUTTOTA, %a poor laundress of the court that washeth and diets footmen% PAGES [CUPID] THE FAWN %Enter% Hercules %and% Renaldo. See, yonder's Urbin. Those far-appearing spires rise from the city. You shall conduct me no further. Return to Ferrara; my dukedom by your care in my absence shall rest constantly united, and most religiously loyal. My prince and brother, let my blood and love challenge the freedom of one question. You have't. Why, in your steadier age, in strength of life And firmest wit of time, will you break forth Those stricter limits of regardful state (Which with severe distinction you still kept) And now to unknown dangers you'll give up Yourself, Ferrara's Duke, and in yourself The state and us? O, my lov'd brother, "Honor avoids not only just defame, But flies all means that may ill voice his name." Busy yourself with no fears, for I shall rest most wary of our safety; only some glimpses I will give you for your satis- faction why I leave Ferrara. I have vowed to visit the court of Urbin in some disguise, as thus: my son, as you can well witness with me, could I never persuade to marriage, although myself was then an ever-resolved widower, and though I proposed to him this very lady to whom he is gone in my right to negotiate. Now how his cooler blood will behave itself in this business would I have an only testimony. Other contents shall I give myself, as not to take love by at- torney, or make my regard would fain make sound to me: something of much you know; that and what else you must not know, bids you excuse this kind of my departure. I commend all to your wisdom, and yours to the Wisest. Think not but I shall approve that more than folly which even now appears in a most ridiculous expectation. Be in this assured: "The bottom of gravity is nothing like the top." Once more, fare you well. %Exit% Renaldo. And now, thou ceremonious sovereignty, Ye proud, severer, stateful complements, The secret arts of rule, I put you off; Nor ever shall those manacles of form Once more lock up the appetite of blood. 'Tis now an age of man, whilst we all strict Have liv'd in awe of carriage regular Apted unto my place, or hath my life Once tasted of exorbitant affects, Wild longings, or the least of disrank'd shapes. But we must once be wild, 'tis ancient truth. O fortunate, whose madness falls in youth! Well, this is text, whoever keeps his place In servile station, is all low and base. Shall I because some few may cry, "Light, vain," Beat down affection from desired rule (He that doth strive to please the world's a fool), To have that fellow cry, "O mark him, grave, See how austerely he doth give example Of repressed heat and steady life," Whilst my forc'd life against the stream of blood Is tugg'd along, and all to keep the God Of fools and women: nice opinion, Whose strict preserving makes oft great men fools And fools oft great men. No, thou world, know thus, "There's nothing free but it is generous." %Exit.% %Enter% Nymphadoro, Herod [%and% Page]. How now, my little more than nothing, what news is stirring? All the city's afire-- On fire? With joy of the Princess Dulcimel's birthday. There's show upon show, sport upon sport. What sport, what sport? Marry, sir, to solmenize the princess' birthday. There's first crackers which run into the air, and when they are at the top, like some ambitious strange heretic, keep a-cracking and a-cracking, and then break, and down they come. A pretty crab! He would yield tart juice and he were squeez'd. What sport else? Other fireworks. Spirit of wine, I cannot tell how these fireworks should be good at the solmenizing the birth of men or women. I am sure they are dangerous at their begetting. What more fireworks, sir? There be squibs, sir; which squibs running upon lines like some of our gaudy gallants, sir, keep a smother, sir, with flishing and flashing, and in the end, sir, they do, sir_ What, sir? Stink, sir. 'Fore heaven, a most sweet youth. %Enter% Dondolo. News, news, news, news! What, in the name of prophecy? Art thou grown wise? Doth the duke want no money? Is there a maid found at twenty-four? Speak, thou three-legg'd tripod, is thy ship of fools afloat yet? I ha' many things in my head to tell you. Ay, thy head is always working. It rolls and it rolls, Dondolo, but it gathers no moss, Dondolo. Tiberio, the Duke of Ferrara's son, excellently horsed, all upon Flanders mares, is arrives at the court this very day, somewhat late in the nighttime. An excellent nuntius. Why, my gallants, I have had a good wit. Yes, troth, but now 'tis grown like an almanac for the last year, past date; the mark's out of thy mouth, Dondolo. And what's the prince's ambassage? Thou art private with the duke; thou belongest to his close stool. Why, every fool knows that. I know it myself, man, as well as the best man. he is come to solicit a marriage betwixt his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our Duke of Urbin's daughter, Dulcimel. Pity of my passions, Nymphadoro shall lose one of his mistresses. Nay, if thou hast more than one, the loss can ne'er be grievous since 'tis certain he that loves many formally, never loves any violently. Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand the weaker because it is divided into many fingers? No, 'tis the more strongly nimble. I do now love threescore and nine ladies all of them most extremely well, but I do love the princess most extremely best: but in very sighing sadness, I ha' lost all hope, and with that hope a lady that is most rare, most fair, most wise, most sweet, most_ Anything. True, but remember still this fair, this wise, this sweet, this all of excellency has in the tail of all, a woman. Peace, the presence fills againt the prince approacheth. Mark who enters. My brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso. Not he. No, not he? How is he chang'd? Why, grown the very dregs of the drabs' cup. O Babylon, thy walls are fallen. Is he married? Yes, yet still the ladies' common_or the common ladies'_ servant. How does his own lady bear with him? Faith, like the Roman Milo, bore with him when he was a calf, and now carries him when he's grown an ox. Peace, the duke's at hand. %Cornets. Enter% Granuffo, Gonzago, Dulcimel, Philocalia, Poveia. Daughter, for that our last speech leaves the firmest print, be thus advis'd. When young Tiberio negotiates his father's love, hold heedy guard over thy passions, and still keep his full thought firm in thy reason: 'tis his old father's love the young man moves_[%to Granuffo%] is't not well thought, my lord? We must bear brain_and when thou shalt behold Tiberio's life-full eyes and well-fill'd veins, complexion firm, and hairs that curl with strength of lusty moisture_[%to Granuffo%] I think we yet can speak, we ha' been eloquent_thou must shape thy thoughts to apprehend his father well in years. A grave wise prince, whose beauty is his honor, And well-pass'd life, and do not give thy thoughts Least liberty to shape a divers scope_[%to Granuffo%] My Lord Granuffo, pray ye note my phrase_ So shalt thou not abuse thy younger hope, nor afflict us, who only joy in life, To see thee his. Gracious my father, fear not; I rest most duteous to your dispose. %Consort of music.% Set on then, for the music gives us notice the prince is hard at hand. [%Enter%] Tiberio %with his train with% Hercules %disguised% [%as% Faunus]. You are most welcome to our long-desiring father. To us you are come_ From our long-desiring father. Shows a picture. Is this your father's true proportion? No, lady, but the perfect counterfeit. And the best grac'd_ The painter's art could yield. I wonder he would send a counterfeit to move our love. [%to Granuffo%]. Hear, that's my wit. When I was eighteen old such a pretty toying wit had I, but age hath made us wise. hast not, my lord? Why, fairest princess, if your eye dislike that deader piece, behold me, his true form and livelier image. Such my father hath been. My lord, please you to scent this flower. 'Tis withered, lady; the flower's scent is gone. This hath been such as you are, hath been, sir. They say in England that a far-fam'd friar had girt the island round with a brass wall, if that they could have catched "Time is"; but "Time is past" left is still clipp'd with aged Neptune's arm. Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon's bed. Yet blushes at it when she rises. Pretty, pretty. Just like my younger wit. You know it, my lord. But is your father's age thus fresh; hath yet his head so many hairs? More, more, by many a one. More, say you? More. Right, sir, for this hath none. Is his eye so quick as this same piece makes him show? The courtesy of art hath fiven more life to that part than the sad cares of state would grant my father. This model speaks above forty. Then doth it somewhat flatter, for our father hath seen more years, and is a little shrunk from the full strength of time. Somewhat coldly prais'd. Your father hath a fair solicitor; And be it spoke with virgin modesty, I would he were no elder. Not that I do fly His side for years, or other hopes of youth, But in regard the malice of lewd tongues, Quick to deprave on possibilities, (Almost impossibilities) will spread Rumors, to honor dangerous. Dulcimel %and% Tiberio %confer privately.% What? Whisper? Ay, my Lord Granuffo, 'twere fit To part their lips. Men of discerning wit That have read Pliny can discourse, or so, But give practice; well experienc'd age Is the true Delphos. I am no oracle, But yet I'll prophesy. Well, my Lord Granuffo, 'Tis fit to interrupt their privacy, Is't not, my lord? Now sure thou art a man Of a most learned silence, and one whose words Have been most precious to me. Right, I know thy heart, 'Tis true, thy legs discourse with right and grace, And thy tongue is constant._[%To Tiberio.%] Fair my lord, Forbear all private closer conference. What from your father comes, comes openly, And so must speak: for you must know my age Hath seen the beings and the %quid% of things. I know %dimensions% and the %termini% Of all %existens.% Sir, I know what shapes Appetite forms, but policy and states Have more elected ends. Your father's suit Is with all public grace received, and private love Embraced. As for our daughter's bent of mind, She must seem somewhat nice; 'tis virgin's kind To hold long out. If yet she chance deny, Ascribe it to her decent modesty. We have been a philosopher and spoke With much applause; but now age makes us wise, And draws our eyes to search the heart of things, And leave vain seemings. Therefore you must know, I would be loath the gaudy shape of youth Should one provoke, and not-allow'd-of-heat Or hinder, or_for, sir, I know, and so. Therefore before us time and place affords Free speech, else not. Wise heads use but few words. In short breath, know the Court of Urbin holds Your presence and your embassage so dear That we want means once to express our heart But with our heart. Plain meaning shunneth art. You are most welccome_Lord Granuffo, a trick, A figure, note_we use no rhetoric. [%Exeunt.%] %Remanent% Hercules, Nymphadoro %and% Herod. Did not Tiberio call his father fool? No, he said years had weaken'd his youthful quickness. He swore he was bald. No, but not thick-hair'd. By this light, I'll swear he said his father had the hipgout, the strangury, the fistula in %ano%, and a most unabideable breath; no teeth, less eyes, great fingers, little legs, an eternal flux, and an everlasting cough of the lungs. Fie, fie, by this light he did not. By this light he should ha' done then. Horn on him, threescore and five, to have and to hold a lady of fifteen. O Mezentius! a tyranny equal if not above thy torturing. Thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies together, and forced them so to pine and rot, but cruelty binds breast to breast, not only different bodies, but if it were possible most unequal minds together, with an enforcement even scandalous to nature. [%seeing% Hercules.] Now the jail delicer me, an intelligencer! Be good to me ye cloisters of bondage. Of whence art thou? Of Ferrara. A Ferrara's what to me? Camest thou in with the Prince Tiberio? With the Prince Tiberio. What to that? You will not rail at me, will you? Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara, a Ferrarese? No, Didst thou ride? No. Hast thou worn socks? No. Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt thy toes. I do prophesy the tyrannizing itch shall be honorable, and thy right worshipful louse shall appear in full pre- sence. Art thou an officer to the prince? I am, what o' that? My cap, what officer? Yeoman of his bottles. What to that? My lip, thy name good yeoman of the bottles? Faunus. Faunus? An old courtier? I wonder thou art in no better clothes and place, Faunus! I may be in better place, sir, and with you of more regard if this match of our duke's intermarriage with the heir of Urbin proceed, the Duke of Urbion dying, and our lord coming in his lady's right title to your dukedom. Why, then shalt thou, O yeoman of the bottles, become a maker of magnificoes. Thou shalt beg some odd suit, and change thy old shirt, pare thy beard, cleanse thy teeth, and eat apricocks, marry a rich widow, or a crack's lady, whose case thou shalt make good. Then, my Pythagoras, shalt thou and I make a transmigration of souls. Thou shalt marry my daughter, or my wife shall be thy gracious mistress. Seventeen punks shall be thy proportion. Thou shalt beg to thy comfort of clean linen, eat no more fresh beef at supper, or save the broth for next day's porridge, but the flesh pots of Egypt shall fatten thee, and the grass- hopper shall flourish in thy summer. And what dost thou think of the duke's overture of marriage? What do you think? May I speak boldly as at Aleppo? Speak till thy lungs ache, talk out thy teeth, here are none of those cankers, these mischiefs of society, intelli- gencers, or informers, that will cast rumor into the teeth of some Laelius Balbus, a man cruelly eloquent and bloodily learned. No, what sayest thou, Faunus? With an undoubted breast thus, I may speak boldly. By this night I'll speak broadly first and thou wilt, man. Our Duke of Urbin is a man very happily mad, for he thinks himself right perfectly wise, and most demonstratively learned; nay, more_ No more, I'll on. Methinks the young lord our prince of Ferrara so bounteously adorned with all of grace, feature, and best-shaped proportion, fair use of speech, full oppor- tunity, and that which makes the sympathy of all, equality of heat, of years, of blood. Methinks these loadstones should attract the metal of the young princess rather to the son than to the noisome, cold, and the most weak side of his half-rotten father. Th'art ours, th'art ours. Now dare we speak as boldly as if adam had not fallen, and made us all slaves. Hark ye, the duke is an arrant, doting ass, an ass; and in the knowledge of my very sense, will turn a foolish animal, for his son will prove like one of Baal's priests, have all the flesh presented to the idol his father, but he in the night will feed on't, will devour it. He will, yeoman of the bottles, he will. Now gentleman, I am sure the lust of speech hath equally drenched us all; know I am no servant to this Prine Tiberio. Not? Not, but one to him out of some private urging most vowed; one that pursues him but for the opportunity of safe satisfaction. Now if ye can prefer my service to him, I shall rest yours wholly. Just in the devil's mouth! Thou shalt have place, Fawn, thou shalt. Behold this generous Nymphadoro, a gallant of a clean boot, straight back, and beard of a most hopeful expectation. he is a servant of fair Dulcimel's, her very creature, born to the princess' sole adoration, a man so spent in time to her that pity (if no more of grace) most follow him when we have gained the room, second his suit. I'll be your intelligence, your very heart, and if need be work to most desparate ends. Well urged. Words fit acquaintance, but full actions friends. Thou shalt not want, Faunus. You promise well. Be thou but firm, that old doting iniquity of age, that oily- eyed lecherous duke thy lord shall be baffl'd to extremest derision; his son prove his fool father's own issue. And we, and thou with us, blessed and enriched past all misery of possible contempt, and above the hopes of greatest conjectures. Nay, as far wealth, %vilia miretur vulgus.% I know by his physiognomy, for wealth he is of my addiction, and bids a %fico% for't. Why, thou art but a younger brother, but poor Baldazozo. Faith, to speak truth, my means are written in the book of fate, as yet unknown, and yet I am at my fool and my hunting gelding. Come, %via%, to this feastful entertainment. %Exeunt. Remanet% Hercules. I never knew till now how old I was. By Him by Whom we are, I think a prince Whose tender sufferance never felt a gust Of bolder breathings, but still liv'd gently fann'd With the soft gales of his own flatteres' lips, Shall never know his own complexion. Dear sleep and lust, I thank you. But for you, Mortal till now, I scarce had known myself. Thou grateful poison, sleek mischief, flattery, Thou dreamful slumber (that doth fall on kings As soft and soon as their first holy oil), Be thou forever damn'd. I now repent Severe indictions to some sharp styles; Freeness, so't grow not to licentiousness, Is grateful to just states. Most spotless kingdom, And me, O happy born under good stars, Where what is honest you may freely think, Speak what you think, and write what you do speak, Not bound to servile soothings. But since our rank Hath ever been afflicted with these flies (That blow corruption on the sweetest virtues), I will revenge us all upon you all With the same stratagem we still are caught, Flattery itself; and sure all knows the sharpness Of reprehensive language is even blunted To full contempt. Since vice is now term'd fashion, And most are grown to ill even with defense, I vow to waste this most prodigious heat, That falls into my age like scorching flames In depth of numb'd December, in flattering all In all of their own lov'd race they fall most lame, And meet full butt the close of vice's shame. [%Enter%] Herod %and% Nymphadoro %with napkins in their hands, followed% by pages with stools and meat.% Come, sir, a stool, boy. These court feasts are to us servitors, court fasts. Such scrambling, such shift for to eat, and where to eat. Here a squire of low degree hath got the carcass of a plover; there pages of the chamber divide the spoils of a tatter'd pheasant; here the sewer has friended a country gentleman with a sweet green goose, and there a young fellow that late has bought his office, has caught a wood- cock by the nose, "with cups full ever flowing." But is not Faunus preferr'd with a right hand? Did you ever see a fellow so spurted up in a moment? He has got the right ear of the duke, the prince, princess, most of the lords, but all the ladies; why, he is become their only minion, usher, and supporter. He hath gotten more lov'd reputation of virtue, of learning, of all graces, in one hour, than all your snarling reformers have in_ Nay, that's unquestionable, and indeed what a fruitless labor, what a filling of Danae's tub, is ti become to inveigh against folly! Community takes away the sense, and example the shame. No, praise me these fellows, hang on their chariot wheel. And mount with them whom fortune heaves, nay drives; A stoical sour virtue seldom thrives. Oppose such fortune, and then burst with those are pitied. The hill of chance is pav'd with poor men's bones, And bulks of luckless souls, over whose eyes Their chariot wheels must ruthless grate, that rise. %Enter% Hercules %freshly suited.% Behold that thing of most fortunate, most prosperous impudence, Don Faunus himself. Blessed and long lasting be thy carnations ribbon, O man of more that wit, much more than virtue, of fortune! Faunus, wilt eat any of a young spring sallet? Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where did they grow? Hard by in the city here. No, I'll none. I'll eat no city roots, for here in the city a man shall have his excrements in his teeth again within four and twenty hours. I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? How the poor snake wriggles with this sudden warmth. Herod %drinks.% Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female. 'Fore Jove, we must be more endear'd. How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn? Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly taken with your virtues. Are you married? Yes. Why, I like you well for it. No, troth, Fawn, I am not married. Why, I like you better for it; 'fore heaven, I must love you. Why, Fawn, why? 'Fore heaven you are blest with three rare graces: fine linen, clean linings, a sanguine complexion, and I am sure, an excellent wit, for you are a gentleman born. Thank thee, sweet Fawn, but why is clean linen such a grace, I prithee? O my excellent and inward dearly approved friend_What's your name, sir? Clean linen is the first our life craves, and the last our death enjoys. But what hope rests for Nymphadoro? Thou art now within the buttons of the prince. Shall the duke his father marry the lady? 'Tis to be hoped, not. That some relief as long as there's hope. But sure, sir, 'tis almost undoubted the lady will carry him. O pestilent air, is there no plot so cunning, no surmise so false, no way of avoidance? Hast thou any pity, either of his passion or the lady's years? A gentleman in the summer and hunting season of his youth, the lady met in the same warmth; wer't not to be wept that such a sapless, chafing-dish-using old dotard as the Duke of Ferrara with his withered hand should pluck such a bud, such a_O, the life of sense! Thou art now a perfect courtier of just fashion; good grace, canst not relieve us? Ha' ye any money? Pish, Fawn, we are young gallants. The liker to have no money. But my young gallants, to speak like myself, I must hug your humor. Why look you, there is fate, destiny, constellations, and planets (which though they are under nature, yet they are above women). Who hath read the book of chance? No, cherish your hope, sweeten your imaginations with thoughts of_ah, why women are the most giddy, uncertain motions under heaven; 'tis neither proportion of body, virtue of mind, amplitude of fortune, greatness of blood, but only mere chanceful appetite sways them; which makes some one like a man, be it but for the paring of his nails. %Via%! As for inequality, art not a gentleman? That I am, and my beneficence shall show it. I know you are, by that only word beneficence, which only speaks of the future tense ("shall" know it); but may I breathe in your bosoms? I only fear Tiberio will abuse his father's trust, and so make your hopes desperate. How? the prince? Would he only stood cross to my wishes, he should find me an Italian. How, an Italian? By thy aid, an Italian. Dear Faunus, thou art now wriggled into the prince's bosom, and thy sweet hand should minsiter that nectar to him, should make him immortal. Nymphadoro, in direct phrase, thou shouldst murder the prince, so revenge thine own wrongs, and be rewarded for that revenge. Afore the light of my eyes, I think I shall admire, wonder at you. What? Ha' ye plots, projects, correspondences, and stratagems? Why are not you in better place? %Enter% Sir Amoroso. Who's this? My eldest brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso. O, I know him. God bless thine eyes, sweet Sir Amoroso, a rouse, a %vin de monte%, to the health of thy chine, my dear sweet signior. Pardon me, sir. I drink no wine this spring. O no, sir; he takes the diet this spring always. Boy, my brother's bottle. Faith, Fawn, an odd unwholesome cold makes me still hoarse and rhuematic. Yes, in troth, a paltry murr. Last morning he blew nine bones out of his nose with an odd unwholesome murr. How does my sister, your lady? What, does she breed? I perceive, knight, you have children. O, 'tis a blessed assurance of heaven's favor, and long-lasting name, to have many children. But I ha' none, Fawn, now. O, that's most excellent, a right special happines; he shall not be a drudge to his cradle, a slave to his child. He shall be sure not to cherish another's blood, nor toil to advance peradventure some rascal's lust. Without children a man unclogg'd, his wife almost a maid. Messalina, thou criedst out, "O blessed barrenness." Why, once with child, the very Venus of a lady's entertainment hath lost all pleasure. By this ring, Faunus, I do hug thee with most passionate affection, and shall make my wife thank thee. Nay, my brother grudgeth not at my probable inheritance. He means once to give a younger brother hope to see fortune. And yet I hear, sir Amoroso, you cherish your loins with high art, the only ingrosser of eringoes, prepar'd cantharides, cullesses made of dissolved pearl and bruis'd amber; the pitch of parkets and candied lambstones are his perpetual meats. Beds made of the down under pigeons' wings and goose necks, fomentations, baths, electuaries, fricions, and all the nurses of most forcible excited concupiscence, he useth with most nice and tender industry. Pish, zoccoli. No, Nymphadoro, if Sir Amoros would ha' children, let him lie on a mattress, plow or thresh, eat onions, garlic, and leek porridge. Paraoh and his council were mistaken, and their device to hinder the increase of procreation in the Israelites, with enforcing them to much labor of body, and to geed hard with beets, garlic, and onions (meat that make the original of man most sharp and taking), was absurd. No, he should have given barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers, huge store of veal, and freah beef, blown up their flesh, held them from exercise, roll'd them in feathers, and most severely seen them drunk once a day. Then would they at their best have begotten but wenches, and in short time their generation enfeebled to nothing. O, divine Faunus, where might a man take up forty pound in a commodity of garlic and onions? Nymphadoro, thine ear. Come, what are you fleering at? There's some weakness in your brother you wrinkle thus. Come, prithee impart. What? We are mutually incorporated, turn'd one into another, brewed together. Come, I believe you are familiar with your sister, and it were known. Witch, Faunus, witch. Why, how dost dream I live? Is't fourscore a year, thinkst thou, maintains my geldings, my pages, foot-cloths, my best feeding, high play, and ex- cellent company. No, 'tis from hence, from hence, I mint some four hundred pound a year. Dost thou live like a porter, by thy back, boy? As for my weak-rein'd brother, hang him! He has sore shins. Damn him heteroclite, his brain's perished. His youth spent his fodder so fast on other's cattle that he now wants for his own winter. I am fain to supply, Fawn, for which I am supplied. Dist thou branch him, boy? What else, Fawn? What else? Nay, 'tis enough. Why, many men corrupt other men's wives, some their maids, others their neighbors' daughters, but to lie with one brother's wedlock, O, my dear Herod, 'tis vile and uncommon lust. 'Fore heaven, I love thee to the heart. Well, I may praise God for my brother's weakness, for I assure thee, the land shall descend to me, my little Fawn. To thee, my little Herod? O, my rare rascal, I do find more and more in thee to wonder at, for thou art indeed_ if I prosper, thou shalt know what. Who's this? %Enter% Don Zuccone. What? Know you not Don Zuccone, the only desperately railing lord at's lady that ever was confidently melancholy: that egregious idiot, that husband of the most witty, fair, and (be it spoken with many men's true grief) most chase Lady Zoya? But we have entered into a confederacy of afflicting him. Plots ha' you laid? Inductions dangerous? A quiet bosom to my sweet Don. Are you going to vist your lady? What o'clock is't? Is it past three? Past four, I assure you, sweet Don. O, then, I may be admitted; her afternoon's private nap is taken. I shall take her napping. I hear there's one jealous that I lie with my own wife, and begins to withdraw his hand. I protest, I vow_and you will, on my knees I'll take my sacrament on it_I lay not with her this four year, this four year. Let her not be turn'd upon me, I beseech you. My dear Don! O, Faunus, do'st know our lady? Your lady? No, our lady. For the love of charity incorporate with her; I would have all nations and degrees, all ages know our lady, for I covet only to be undoubtedly notorious. For indeed, sir, a repressed fame mounts like camomile, the more trod down, the more it grows; things known common and undoubted, lose rumor. Sir, I hope yet your conjectures may err; your lady keeps full face, unbated roundness, cheerful aspect. Were she so infamously prostitute, her cheek would fall, her color fade, the spirit of her eye would die. O, young man, such women are like Danae's tub, and indeed all women are like Achelous, with whom Hercules wrestling, he was no sooner hurl'd to the earth, but he rose up with double vigor. Their fall strengtheneth them. News, news, news, news! O, my dear Don, be rais'd, be jovial, be triumphant, ah, my dear Don. To me first in private, thy news, I prithee. Will you be secret? O' my life. As you are generous? As I am generous. Don Zuccone's lady's with child. Nymph, Nymph, what is't? What's the news? You will be secret? Silence itself. Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently. Herod, Herod, what's the matter prithee? The news? You must tell nobody. As I am generous_ Don Zuccone's lady's with child apparently. Fawn, what's the whisper? What's the fool's secret news? Truth, my lord, a thing, that, that_well, i'faith, it is not fit you know it. Not fit I know it? As thou art baptiz'd, tell me, tell me. Will you plight your patience to it? Speak, I am a very block. I will not be mov'd. I am a very block. But if you should grow disquiet (as I protest, it would make a saint blaspheme), I should be unwilling to procure your impatience. Yes, do, burst me, burst me, burst me with longing. Nay, faith, 'tis no great matter. Hark ye, you'll tell nobody? Not. As you are noble? As I am honest. Your lady wife is apparently with child. With child? With child. Fool! My Don. With child! By the pleasure of generation, I proclaim I lay not with her this_give us patience, give us patience_ Why? My lord, 'tis nothing to wear a forker. Heaven and earth! All things under the moon are subject to their mistress' grace. Horns! Lend me your ring, my Don. I'll put it on my finger. Now 'tis on yours again. Why, is the gold now ere the worse in luster or fitness. Am I us'd thus? Ay, my lord, true. May, to be (look ye, mark ye) to be us'd like a dead ox, to have your own hide pluck'd on, to be drawn on, with your own horn, to have the lordship of your father, the honor of your ancestors, maugre your beard, to descend to the base lust of some groom of your stable, or the page of your chamber! O, Phalaris, thy bull! Good Don, ha' patience. You are not the only cuckold. I would now be separated. 'Las, that's but the least drop of the storm of my revenge. I will unlegitimate the issue. What I will do shall be horrible but to think. But, sir_ But sir! I will do what a man of my form may do, and_ laugh on, laugh on, do, Sir Amorous, you have a lady, too. But, my sweet lord_ Do not anger me, lest I most dreadfully curse thee, and wish thee married. O, Zuccone, spit white, spit thy gall out. The only boon I crave of heaven is_but to have my honors inherited by a bastard! I will be most tyrannous, bloodily tyrannous in my revenge, and most terrible in my curses. Live to grow blind with lust, senseless with use, loathed after, flattered before, hated always, trusted never, abhorred ever, and last may she live to wear a foul smock seven weeks together, heaven, I beseech thee! %Enter% Zoya %and% Poveia. Is he gone? Is he blown off? Now, out upon him, un- sufferably jealous fool. Lady_ Didst thou give him the fam'd report? Does he believe I am with child? Does he give faith? In most sincerity, most sincerely. Nay, 'tis a pure fool. I can tell ye he was bred up in Germany. But the laughter rises, that he vows he lay not in your bed this four year with such exquisite protestations. That's most full truth. He hath most unjustly severed his sheets ever since the old Duke Pietro (heaven rest his soul)_ Fie, you may not pray for the dead. 'Tis indifferent to them what you say. Wellsiad, fool. Ever since the old Duke Pietro, the great devil of hell torture his soul._ O, lady, yet charity! Why? 'Tis indifferent to the what you say, fool. But does my lord ravel out? Does he fret? For pity of an afflicted lady, load him soundly. Let him not go clear from vexation. He had the most dishonorably, with the most sinful, most vicious obstinacy, persevered to wrong, that, were I not of a male constitution, 'twere impossible for me to survive it. But in madness' name, let him on. I ha' not the weak fence of some fo your soft-eyed whimpering ladies, who, if they were us'd like me, would gall their fingers with wringing their hands, look like bleeding Lucreces, and shed salt water enough to powder all the beef int he duke's larder. No, I am resolute Donna Zoya. Ha, that wives were of my metal! I would make these ridiculously jealous fools howl like a starved dog efore he got a bit. I was created to be the affliction of such an unsanctified member, and will boil him in his own syrup. %Enter% Zuccone %Listening.% Peace, the wolf's ear takes the wind of us. The enemy is in ambush. If any man ha' the wit, now let him talk wantonly, but not bawdily. Come, gallants, who'll be my servants? I am now very open-hearted, and full of entertainment. Grace me to call you mistress. Or me. Or me. Or me. Or all! I am taken with you all, with you all. As indeed, why should any woman only love any one man, since it is reasonable women should affect all perfection, but all perfection never rests in one man. Many men have many virtues, but ladies should love many virtues; there- fore ladies should love many men. For as in women, so in men, some woman hath only a good eye, one can discourse beautifully, if she do not laugh, one's well favored to her nose, another hath only a good brow, t'other a plump lip, a third only holds beauty to the teeth, and there the soil alters; some, peradventure, hold good to the breast, and then downward turn like the dreamt-of image, whose head was gold, breast silver, thighs iron, and all beneath clay and earth. One only winks eloquently, another only ksises well, t'other only talks well, a fourth only lies well. So in men, one gallant has only a good face, another has only a grave methodical beard, and is a noteable wise fellow, until he speaks; a third only makes water well, and that's a good provoking quality; one only swears well, another only speaks well, a third only does well. All in their kind good: goodness is to be affected, therefore they. It is a base thing, and indeed an impossible, for a worthy mind to be contented with the whole world, but most vile and abject to be satis- fied with one point of the world. Excellent, faunus, I kiss thee for this, by this hand. I thought as well; kiss me, too, dear mistress. No, good Sir Amorous, your teeth hath taken rust, your breath wants airing, and indeed I love sound kissing. Come, gallants, who'll run a caranto, or leap a lavolto? Take heed, lady, from offending a bruising the hope of your womb. No matter, now I ha' the sleight, or rather the fashion of it, I fear no barrenness. O, but you know not your husband's aptness. Husband? husband? as if women could have no children without husbands. Ay, but then they will not be so like your husband. No matter, they'll be like their father. 'Tis honor enough to my husband that they vouchsafe to call him father, and that his land shall descend to them. (Does he not gnash his very teeth in anguish?) Like our husband? I had rather they were ungroan'd for. Like our husband? Prove such a melancholy jealous ass as he is? (Does he not stamp?) But troth, your husband has a good face. Faith, good enough face for a husband. Come, gallants, I'll dance to mine own whistle: I am as light now as_ Ah! (%She sings and dances.%) A kiss to you, to my sweet free servants. Dream on me, and adieu. %Exit% Zoya. Zuccone %discovers himself.% I shall lose my wits. Be comforted, dear Don, you ha' none to lose. My wife is grown like a Dutch crest, always rampant, rampant. 'Fore I will endure this affliction, I will live by raking cockles out of kennels. Nay, I will run my country, forsake my religion, go weave fustians, or roll the wheel- barrow at Rotterdam. I would be divorced despite her friends, or the oath of her chambermaid. Nay, I will be divorced in despite of 'em all. I'll go to law with her. That's excelent; nay, I would go to law. Nay, I will go to law. Why, that's sport alone. What though it be most exacting? Wherefore is money? True, wherefore is money? What though you shall pay for every quill, each drop of ink, each minim, letter, title, comma, prick, each breath, nay, not only for thine own orator's prating, but for some other orator's silence, though thou must buy silence with a full hand. 'Tis well known Demosthenes took above two thousand pound once only to hold his peace. Though thou a man of noble gentry, yet you must wait and besiege his study door, which will prove more hard to be enter'd than old Troy, for that was gotten into by a wooden horse, but the entrance of this may chance cost thee a whole stock of cattle, %Oves et boves, et caetera pecora campi%, though then thou must sit there, thrust and contemned, bareheaded to a gro- graine scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, press'd to get in, "with your leave, sir," to some surly groom, the third son of a ropemaker; what of all this? To a resolute mind, these torments are not felt. A very arrant ass, when he is hungry, will feed on, though he be whipt to the bones, and shall a very arrant ass be more virtuously patient than a noble Don? No, Fawn, the world shall know I have more virtue than so. Do so and be wise. I will, I warrant thee. So I may be revenged, what care I what I do? Call a dog worshipful! Nay, I will embrace_nay I will embrace a jakes-farmer after eleven o'clock at night. I will stand bare and give wall to a bellows-mender, awn my lordship, sell my foot-cloth, but I will be reveng'd. Does she thinks she has married an ass? A fool? A coxcomb? A ninny-hammer? No, she shall find that I ha' eyes. And brain. And nose. And forehead. She shall, i'faith, Fawn, she shall, she shall, sweet Fawn, she shall, i'faith, old boy. It joys my blood to think on't. She shall, i'faith. Farewell, lov'd Fawn, sweet Fawn, fare- well. She shall, i'faith, boy. %Enter% Gonzago, %and% Granuffo %with% Dulcimel. We would be private; only Faunus stay. %Exeunt% [%all but% Gonzago, Granuffo, Hercules %and% Dulcimel]. He is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow for he is still just of my opinion. My Lord Granuffo, you may likewise stay, for I know you'll say nothing. Say on, daughter. And as I told you, sir, Tiberio being sent, Grac'd in high trust as to negotiate His royal father's love, if he neglect The honor of this faith, just care of state, And every fortune that gives likelihood To his best hopes, to draw our weaker heart To his own love (as I protest he does)_ I'll rate the prince with such a heat of breath His ears shall glow. Nay, I discovered him. I read his eyes, as I can read an eye, Though it speak in darkest characters I can. Can we not, Fawn? Can we not, my lord? Why, I conceice you now, I understand you both. You both admire, yes, say is't not hit? Though we are old, or so, yet we ha' wit. And you may say (if so your wisdom please As you are truly wise) how Weak a creature Soft woman is to bear the siege and strength Of so prevailing feature and fair language, As that of his is ever: you may add (If so your wisdom please, as you are wise)_ As mortal man may be. I am of years apt for his love, and if he should proceed In private urgent suit, how easy 'twere To win my love, for you may say (if so Your wisdom please) you find in me A very forward passion to enjoy him. And therefore you beseech him seriously Straight to forbear, with such close-cunning art To urge his too-well-graced suit: for you (if so your lordship please) may say I told you all. Go to, go to, what I will say or so, Until I say, none but myself shall know. But I will say, go to; does not my color rise? It shall rise, for I can force my blood To come and go, as men of wit and state, Must sometimes feign their loce, sometimes their hate. That's policy now. But come. With his free heat, Or this same Estro or Enthusiasm (For these are phrases both poetical), Will we go rate the prince, and make him see Himself in us; that is, our grace and wits, Shall show his shapeless folly; vice kneels whiles virtue sits. %Enter Tiberio. But see, we are prevented. Daughter, in! It is not fit thyself should hear what I Must speak of thy most modest, wise, wise mind. For th'art careful, sober, in all most wise %Exit% Dulcimel. And indeed our daughter. My Lord Tiberio, A horse but yet a colt may leave his trot, A man but yet a boy may well be broke From vain addictions. The head of rivers stopp'd, The channel dries. He that doth dread a fire, Must put sparks, and he who fears a bull, Must cut his horns off when he is a calf. %Principiis obsta%, saith a learned man Who, though he was no duke, yet he was wise, And had some sense or so. What means my Lord? La, sir! thus men of brain can speak in clouds Which weak eyes cannot pierce. But, my fair lord, In direct phrase, thus: my daughter tells me plain You go, about with most direct entreats To gain her love, and to abuse your father. O, my fair lord, will you, a youth blest With rarest gifts of fortune and sweet graces, Offer to love a young and tender lady, Will you I say abuse your most wise father, Who though he freeze in August, and his calves Are sunk into his toes, yet may well wed our daughter As old as he in wit? Will you, I say (For, by my troth, my lord, I must be plain)? My daughter us but young, and apt to love So fit a person as your proper self, And so she pray'd me tell you. Will you now Entice her easy breast to abuse your trust, Her proper honor, and your father's hopes? I speak no figures, but I charge you check Your appetite and passions to ou daughter Before it head, nor offer conference Or seek access but by and before us. What, judge you as weak, or as unwise? No, you shall find that Venice' duke has eyes; And so think on't. %Exeunt% Gonzago %and% Granuffo. Astonishment and wonder, what means this? Is the duke sober? Why ha' not you endeavor'd Courses that only seconded appetite, And not your honor, or your trust of place? Do you not court the lady for yourself? Fawn, thou dost love me. If I ha' done so, 'Tis past my knowledge, and I prithee, Fawn, If thou observ'st I do I know or what, Make me to know it, for by the dear light I ha' not found a thought that way. I apt for love? Let lazy idleness fill'd fruit full of wine, Heated with meats, high fed with lustful ease, Go dote on color. As for me, why, death o'sense, I court the lady? I was not born in Cyprus. I love, when? how? whom? Think, let us yet keep Our reason sound. I'll think, and sleep. Amaz's, even lost in wond'ring, I rest full Of covetous expectation. I am left As on a rock, from whence I may discern The giddy sea of humor flow beneath, Upon whose back the vainer bubbles float And forthwith break. O mighty flattery, Thou easiest, common'st, and most grateful venom That poisons courts and all societies, How grateful dost thou make me? Should one rail? And come to fear a vice, beware leg-rings And the turn'd key on thee, when, if softer hand Suppling a sore that itches (which should smart)_ Free speech gain foes, base fawnings steal the heart. Swell, you impostum'd members, till you burst, Since 'tis in vain to hinder; on I'll thrust, And when in shame you fall, I'll laugh from hence, And cry, "So end all desperate impudence." Another's court shall show me where and how Vice may be cur'd; fro now beside myself, Possess'd with almost frenzy, from strong fervor I know I shall produce things near divine. Without immoderate heat, no virtues shine. For I speak strong, though strange: the dewa that steep Our souls in deepest thoughts, are fury and sleep. %Exit.% %Enter% Hercules %and% %Nymphadoro.% Faith, Faunus, 'tis my humor, the natural sin of my sanguine complexion. I ma most enforcedly in love with all women, almost affecting them all with an equal flame. An excellent justice of an upright virtue. You love all God's creatures with an unpartial affection. Right, neither am I inconstant to any one in particular. Though you love all in general, true; for when you vow a most devoted love to one, you swear not to tender a most devoted love to another, and indeed why should any man over-love any thing? 'Tis judgment for a man to love every- thing proportionably to his virtue. I love a dog with a hunting pleasure, as he is pleasurable in hunting; my horse after a journeying easiness, as he is easy in journeying;my hawk, to the goodness of his wing, and my wench_ How, sweet Fawn, how? Why, according to her creation. Nature made them pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect creatures; even so I would in justice affect them, with a pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect affection; and as indeed they are only created for show and pleasure, so would I only love them for show and pleasure. Why, that's my humor to the very thread; thou dost speak my proper thoughts. But, sir, with what possibility can your constitution be so boundlessly amorous as to affect all women of what degree, form, or complexion soever? I'll tell thee: for mine own part, I am a perfect Ovidian, and can with him affect all. If she be a virgin of a modest eye, shamefac'd, temperate aspect, her very modesty inflames me, her sober blushes fires me. If I behold a wanton, pretty, courtly, petulant ape, I am extremely in love with her, because she is not clownishly rude, and that she assures her lover of no ignorant, dull, unmoving Venus. Be she sourly severe, I think she wittily counterfeits, and I love her soul, and for her soul, her body. Be she a lady of profess'd ignorance, O, I am infinitely taken with her simplicity as one assured to find no sophistication about her. Be she slender and lean, she's the Greek's delight. Be she thick and plump, she's the Italian's pleasure. If she be tall, she's of a goodly form, and will print a fair proportion in a large bed. If she be short and low, she's nimbly deleightful, and ordinarily quick-witted. Be she young, she's for mine eye. Be she old, she's for my discourse as one well knowing; there's much amiableness in a grave matron. But be she young or old, lean, fat, short, tall, white, red, brown, nay, even black, my discourse shall find reason to love her, if my means may procure opportunity to enjoy her. Excellent, sir. May, if a man were of competent means, wer't not a notable delight for a man to have for every month in the year? Nay, for every week of the month? Nay, for every day of the week? Nay, for every hour of that day? Nay, for every humor of a man in that hour, to have a several mistress to entertain him, as if were saturnine, or melan- choly, to have a black-haired, pale-fac'd, sallow, thinking mistress to clip him. If jovial and merry, a sanguine, light- tripping, singing_indeed a mistress that would dance a caranto as she goes to embrace him. If choleric, impatient, or ireful, to have a mistress with red hair, little ferret eyes, a lean cheek, and a sharp nose to entertain him. And so of the rest. %Enter% Donetta. O, sir, this were too great ambition. Well I love and am beloved of a great many, for I court all in the way of honor, in trade of marriage, Fawn, but above all I affect the Princess. She's my utmost end. O, I love a lady whose beauty is joined with fortune, beyond all, yet one of beauty without fortune for some uses, nay one of fortune without beauty is for some ends, but never any that has neither fortune nor beauty but for necessity. Such a one as this is Donna Donetta. Here's one has loved all the court just once over. O, this is the fair lady with the foul teeth. Nature's hand shook when she was in making, for the red that should have spread her cheeks, nature let fall upon her nose; the white of her skin slipp'd into her eyes, and the gray of her eyes leapt before his time into her hair; and the yellowness of her hair fell without providence into her teeth. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected; and I speak by way of protestation, I shall no longer wish to be, than that your only affection shall rest in me, and mine only in you. But if you shall love any other? Any other? Can any man love any other that knows you, the only perfection of your sex, and astonishment of mankind? Fie, ye flatter me. Go wear and understand my favor, this snail: slow, but sure. This kiss. Farewell. The integrity and only vow if my faith to you, ever urge your well deserved requital to me. %Exit% Donetta. Excellent. See, here's another of_ %Enter% Garbetza. Of your most only elected. Right, Donna Garbetza. O, I will acknowledge this is the lady made of cutwork, and all her body like a sand box, full of holes, and contains nothing but dust. She chooseth her servants as men choose dogs, by the mouth; if they open well and full, their cry is pleasing. She may be chaste, for she has a bad face, and yet questionless, she may be made a strumpet, for she is covetous. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected; and I speak it by way of protestation, I shall no longer wish to be, than all your affections shall only rest in me, and all mine only in you. Excellent. This piece of stuff is good on both sides. He is so constant, he will not change his phrase. But shall I give faith? May you not love another? Another? Can any man love another that knows you, the only perfection of your sex, and admiration of mankind? Your speech flies too high for your meaning to follow, yet my mistrust shall not precede my experience. I wrought this favor for you. The integrity and only vow of my faith to you, ever urge your well deserv'd requital to me. %Exit% Garbetza. Why, this is puure wit, nay, judgment. Why, look thee, Fawn, observe me. I do, sir. I do love at this instant some nineteen ladies all in the trade of marriage. Now sir, whose father dies first, or whose portion appeareth most, or whose fortunes betters soonest, her with quiet liberty at my leisure will I elect, for that's my humor. %Enter% Dulcimel %and% Philocalia. You profess a most excellent mystery, sir. 'Fore heaven, see the princess, she that is_ Your most only elected, too. O, ay, O, ay, but my hope's faint yet. _By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected and_ There's a ship of fools going out. Shall I prefer thee, Nymphadoro? Thou mayst master's mate. My father hath made Dondolo captain, else thou shouldst have his place. By Jove, Fawn, she speaks as sharply and looks as sourly as if she had been new squeezed out of a crab orange. How term you that lady with whom she holds discourse? O, Fan, 'tis a lady even above ambition, and like the vertical sun, that neither forceth others to cast shadows, nor can others force or shade her. Her style is Donna Philocalia. Philocalia! What, that renowned lady whose ample report hath struck wonder into remotest strangers, and yet her worth above that wonder? She whose noble industries hath made her breast rich in true glories, and undying habilities? She that whilst other ladies spend the life of earth, Time, in reading their glass, their jewels, and (the shame of poesy) lustful sonnets, goves her soul meditation, those meditations wings that cleave the air, fan bright celestial fires, whose true reflections makes her see herself and them? She whose pity is ever above her envy, loving nothing less htan insolent prosperity, and pitying nothing more than virtue destitute of fortune. There were a lady for Ferrara's duke: one of great blood, firm age, undoubted honor, above her sex, most modestly artful, though naturally modest, too excellent to be left unmatch'd, though few worthy to match with her. I cannot tell_my thoughts grow busy. The princess would be private. Void the presence. %Exeunt%[%all but% dulcimel %and% Philocalia]. May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret? Yes, madam. How may I rest truly assur'd? Truly thus: do not tell it me. Why, canst thou not conceal a secret? Yes, as long as it is a secret. But when two know it, how can it be a secret? And indeed with what justice can you expect secrecy in me that cannot be private to yourself? Faith, Philocalia, I must of force trust thy silence, for my breast breaks if I confer not my thoughts upon thee. You may trust my silence. I can command that. But if I chance to be questioned I must speak truth. I can conceal but not to deny my knowledge. That must command me. Fie on these philosophical discoursing women! Prithee confer with me like a creature made of flesh and blood, and tell me if it be not a scandal to the soul of all being, proportion, that I, a female of fifteen, of a lightsome and civil discretion, healthy, lusty, vigorous, full, and idle, should forever be shacked to the crampy shins of a wayward, dull, sour, austere, rough, rheumy, threescore and four. Nay, threescore and ten at the least. Now, heaven bless me, as it is pity that every knave is not a fool, so it is shame that every old man is not and resteth not a widower. They saw in China, when women are past child- bearing, they are all burnt to make gunpowder. I wonder what men should be done withal, when they are past child-getting? Yet, upon my love, Philocalia (which with ladies is often above their honor), I do even dote upon the best part of the duke. What's that? His son, yes, sooth, and so love him, that I must marry with him. And wherefore love him, so to marry him? Because I love him. And because he is virtuous, I love to marry_ His virtues? Ay, with him his virtues. Ay, with him. Alas, sweet princess, love or virtue are not of the essence of marriage. A jest upon you understanding! I'll maintain that wisdom in a woman is most foolish quality. A lady of a good complexion, naturally well witted, perfectly bred, and well exercised in discourse of the best men, shall make fools of a thousand of these book-thinking creatures. I speak it by way of justification. I tell thee_look that nobody eavesdrop us_ I tell thee I am truly learned, for I protest ignorance; and wise, for I love myself; and virtuous enough for a lady of fifteen. How virtuous? Shall I speak like a creature of a good healthful blood, and not like one of these weak, green sickness, lean phthisic starvelings? Firt for the virtue of magnanimity, I am very valiant, for there is no heroic action so particularly noble and glorious to our sex as not to fall to action. The greatest deed we can do is not to do (look that nobody listen). Then am I full of patience, and can bear more than a sumpter-horse, for (to speak sensibly) what burden is there so heavy to a porter's back as virginity to a well- complexioned young lady's thoughts? (Look nobody harken.) By this hand, the noblest vow is that of virginity, because the hardest. I will have the prince. But by what means, sweet madam? O, Philocalia, in heavy sadness and unwanton phrase, there lies all the brain work. By what means? I could fall into a miserable verse presently. But, dear madam, your reason of loving him? Faith, only a woman's reason: because I was expressly forbidden to love him, at the first view I lik'd him, and no sooner had my father's wisdom mistrusted my liking, but I grew loath his judgment should err. I pitied he should prove a fool in his old age, and without cause mistrust me. But when you saw no means of manifesting your affection to him, why did not your hopes perish? O, Philocalia, that difficulty only inflames me. When the enterprise is easy, the victory is inglorious. No, let my wise, aged, learned, intelligent father, that can interpret eyes, understand the language of birds, interpret the grumbling of dogs and the conference of cats, that can read even silence, let him forbid all interviews, all speeches, all tokens, all messages, all (as he thinks) humanmeans. I will speak to the prince, court the prince that he shall understand me. Nay, I will so stalk on the blind side of my all-knowing father's wit that, do what his wisdom can, he shall be my only mediator, my only messenger, my only honorable spokesman. He shall carry my favors, he shall amplify my affection. Nay, he shall direct the prince the means, the very way to my bed, he and only he. When he only can do this, and only would not do this, he only shall do this. Only you shall then deserve such a husband. O, love, how violent are thy passages! Pish, Philocalia, 'tis against the nature of love not to be violent. And against the condition of violence to be constant. Constancy? Constancy and patience are virtues in no living creatures but sentinels and anglers. Here's our father. %Enter% Gonzago, Hercules %and% Granuffo. What, did he think to walk invisibly before our eyes? And he had Gyges' ring, I would find him. 'Fore Jove, you rated him with emphasis. Did we not shake the prince with energy? With Ciceronian elocution! And most pathetic piercing oratory? If he have any wit in him, he will make sweet use of it. Nay, he shall make sweet use of it ere I have done. Lord, what overweening fools these young men be, that think us old men sots. Arrant asses. Doting idiots, when we, God wot_ha, ha; 'las, silly souls! Poor weak creatures to men of approved reach. Full years. Of wise experience. And approved wit. Nay, as for your wit_ Count Granuffo, as I live, this Faunus is a rare under- stander of men, is 'a not? Faunus, this Granuffo is a right wise good lord, a man of excellent discourse, and never speaks. His signs to me, and men of profound reach, instruct abundantly. He begs suits with signs, gives thanks with signs, puts off his hat leisurely, maintains his beard learnedly, keeps his lust privately, makes a nodding leg courtly, and lives happily. Silence is an excellent modest grace, but especially before so instructing a wisdom as that of your excellency's. As for his advancement, you gave it most royally, because he deserves it least duly, since to give to virtuous desert is rather a due requital than a princely magnificence, when to undeservingness it is merely all bounty and free grace. Well spoke, 'tis enough. Don Granuffo, this Faunus is a very worthy fellow, and an excellent courtier, and belov'd of most of the princes of Christendom, I can tell you; for howsoever some severer dissembler grace him not when he affronts him in the full face, yet if he comes behind or on the one side, he'll leer and put back his head upon him, be sure. Be you two precious to each other. Sir, myself, my family, my fortunes, are all devoted, I protest most religiously, to your service. I vow my whole self only proud in being acknowledged by you, but as your creature, and my only utmost ambition is by my sword or soul to testify how sincerely I am consecrated to your adoration. 'Tis enough. Art a gentleman, Fawn? Not uneminently descended; for were the pedigrees of some fortunately mounted, searched, they would be secretly found to be of the blood of the poor Fawn. 'Tis enough. You two I love heartily, for thy silence never displeaseth me, nor thy speech ever offend me. See, our daughter attends us. _My fair, my wise, my chaste, my duteous, and indeed, in all my daughter (for such a pretty soul for all the world have I been). What, I think we have made the prince to feel his error. What, did he think he had weak fools in hand? No, he shall find, as wisely said Lucullus, Young men are fools that go about to gull us. But sooth, my wisest father, the young prince is yet forgetful, and resteth resolute in his much unadvised love. Is't possible? Nay, I protest, whate'er he feign to you (as he can feign most deeply)_ Right, we know it; for if you mark'd, he would not once take sense of any such intent from him. O, impudence, what mercy canst thou look for! And as I said, royually wise and wisely royal father_ I think that eloquence is hereditary. Though he can feign, yet I presume your sense is quick enough to find him. Quick, is't not, Granuffo? Is't not, Fawn? Why I did know you feigned, nay I do know (by the just sequence of such impudence) that he hath laid some second siege unto thy bosom, with most miraculous coveyances of some rich present to thee. O bounteous heaven, how liberal are your graces to my Nestor-like father! Is't not so, say! 'Tis so, oraclous father. He hath now more than courted with bare phrases. See, father, see, the very bane of honor, Corruption of justice and virginity, Gifts, hath he left with me. O view this scarf. This, as he call'd it, most envied silk, That should embrace an arm, or waist, or side, Which he much fear'd should never_this he left, Despite my much resistance. Did he so? Giv't me. I'll giv't him. I'll regive his token with so sharp advantage. Nay, my worthy father, read but these cunning letters. Letters! Where? [%Reads%] "Prove you but justly loving and conceive thee. Till justice leave the gods, I'll never leave thee. For though the duke seem wise, he'll find this strain, Where two hearts yield consent, all thwarting's vain." _And darst thou then aver this wicked writ? O world of wenching wiles, where is thy wit? %Enter% Tiberio. But other talk for us were far more fit, For see, here comes the prince Tiberio. Daughter, upon thy obedience, instantly take thy chamber. Dear father, in all duty, let me beseech your leave, that I may but_ Go to, go to, you are a simple fool, a very simple animal. Yet let me (the loyal servant of simplicity)_ What would you do? What, are you wiser than your father? Will you direct me? Heavens forbid such insolence, yet let ,me denounce my hearty hatred. To what end? Though't be but in the prince's ear (since fits not maiden's blush to rail aloud)_ Go to, to to! Let me but check his heart. So, so, I say once more, go in. %Exeunt% Dulcimel %and% Philocalia. I will not lose the glory of reproof. Is this th' office of ambassadors, my lord Tiberio? Nay, duty of a son; nay, piety of a man? (A figure call'd in art %gradatio:% With some learned, %climax%)_to court a royal lady, For's master, father, or perchance his friend, And yet intend the purchase of such beauty, To his own use? Your Grace doth much amaze me. Ay, feign, dissemble. 'Las, we are now grown old, Weak-sighted. Alas, anyone fools us. I deeply vow, my lord_ Peace, be not damned; have pity on your soul. I confess, sweet prince, for you to love my daughter, Young and witty, of equal mixture both of mind and body, Is neither wondrous nor unnatural. Yet to forswear and vow against one's heart, Is full of base, ignoble cowardice, Since 'tis most plain, such speeches do contemmn Heaven, and fear men (that's sententious now). My gracious lord, if I unknowingly have err'd_ Unknowingly? Can you blush, my lord? Unknowingly? Why, can you write these lines, Present this scarf, unknowingly, my lord, To my dear daughter? Um, unknowingly? Can you urge your suit, prefer your gentlest love, In your own right, to her too easy breast That, God knows, takes too much compassion on ye (And so she pray'd me say), unknowingly, my lord! If you can act these things unknowingly, Know we can know your actions so unknown, For we are old, I will not say in wit (For even just worth must not approve itself); But take your scarf, for she vows she'll not wear it. Nay, but my lord_ Nay, but my lord, my lord, You must take it, wear it, keep it, For by the honor of our house and blood, I will deal wisely, and be provident. Your father shall not say I panderiz'd, Or fondly wink'd at your affection. No, we'll be wise; this night our daughter yields Your father's answer. This night we invite Your presence therefore to a feastful waking. Tomorrow to Ferrara you return, With wished to answer to your royal father. Meantime, as you respect our best relation Of your fair bearing (Granuffo, is't not good?)_ Of your fair bearing, rest more anxious (No, anxious is not a good word)_rest more vigilant Over your passion, both forbear and bear, %Anechou e\ apechou% (that's Greek to you now)_ Else your youth shall find Our nose not stuff'd, but we can take the wind And smell you out_I say no more but thus_ And smell you out. What, ha' not we our eyes, Our nose and ears? What, are these hairs unwise? Look to't, %quos ego%_(a figure called %aposiopesis% or increpatio.%) %Exeunt% Gonzago %and% Granuffo. Tiberio %reads the embroidered scarves.% "Prove you but justly loving and conceive me, Justice shall leave the gods beore I leave thee."_ Imagination prove as true as thou art sweet!_ "And though the duke seem wise, he'll find this strain, When two hearts yield consent, all thwarting's vain."_ O, quick, deviceful, strong-brain'd Dulcimel! Thou art too full of wit to be a wife. Why dost thou love? Or wwhat strong heat gave life To such faint hopes? O, woman, thou art made Most only of, and for deceit. Thy form is nothing but delusion of our eyes, Our ears, our hearts, and sometimes of our hands; Hypocrisy and vanity brought forth, Without male heat, thy most, most monstrous being! Shall I abuse my royal father's trust, And make myself a scorn, the very food of rumour infamous? Shall I, that ever loathed A thought of woman, now begin to love My worthy father's right? break faith to him That got me, to get a faithless woman? True, my worthy lord, your grace os %vere\ pius.% To take from my good father the pleasure of his eyes, And of his hands, imaginary solace of his fading life. His life that only live to your sole good! And my self good, his life's most only end. Which, O, may never end! Yes, Fawn, in time. We must not prescribe to nature every- thing. There's some end in everything. But in a woman. Yet as she is a wife, she is oftentimes the end of her husband. Shall I, I say?_ Shall you, I say, confound your own fair hopes, Cross all your course of life, make yourself vain To your once steady graveness, and all to second The ambitious quickness of a monstrous love, That's only out of difficulty born, And follow'd only for the miracle In the obtaining? I would ha' ye now, Tell her father all. Uncompassionate, vild man, Shall I not pity, if I cannot love? Or rather shall I not for pity love So wondrous wit in so most wondrous beauty, That with such rarest art and cunning means Entreats what I (thing valueless) am not Worthy but to grant, my admiration? Are fathers to be thought on in our loves? True right, sir. Fathers or friends, a crown and love Hath none, but are allied to themselves alone. Your father, I may boldly say, he's and ass, To hope that you'll forbear to swallow What he cannot chew. Nay 'tis injustice, truly, For him to judge it fits that you should starve For that which only he can feast his eye withal, O, Fawn, what man of so cold earth But must love such a wit in such a body? Thou last and only rareness of heaven's works, From best of man made model of the gods! Divinest woman, thou perfection Of all proportion's beauty, made when Jove was blithe, Well filled with nectar, and full friends with man. Thou dear as air, necessary as sleep To careful man! Woman, O, who can sin so deeply As to be curs'd from knowing of the pleasures Thy soft society, modest amorousness, Yields to our tedious life! Fawn, the duke shall not know this. Unless you tell him. But what hope can live in you When your short stay, and your most shorten'd conference, Not only actions, but even looks observ'd, Cut off all possibilities of obtaining? Tush, Fawn, to violence of women's love and wit, Nothing but not obtaining is impossible. %Notumque furens quid faemina possit.% But then how rest you to your father true? To him that only can give dues, she rests most due. %Exit.% Even so? He that with safety would well lurk in courts To best elected ends, of force is wrung To keep broad eyes, soft feet tongue? For 'tis of knowing creatures the main art To use quick harms, wide arms, and most close heart. %Enter% Hercules %and% Garbetza. [IV,i] Why 'tis a most well-in-fashion affection, Donna Garbetza. Your knight, Sir Amorous, is a man of a most unfortunate back, spits white, has an ill breath, at three after dinner goes to the bath, takes the diet, nay, which is more, takes tobacco; therefore, with great authority, you may cuckold him. I hope so, but would that friend my brother discover me, would he wrong himself to prejudice me? No prejudice, dear Garbetza; his brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest brother, true; he gets her with child, just. Sure, there's no wrong in right, true, and just. And indeed, since the virtue of procreation growed hopeless in your husband, to whom should you rather commit your love and honor to, than him that is most like and near your husband, his brother? But are you assured your friend and brother rests entirely constant solely to you? To me? O, Fawn, let me sigh it with joy into thy bosom, my brother has been wooed by this and that and t'other lady entertain them (for I ha' seen their letters) but his vow to me, O Fawn, is most immutable, unfeigning, peculiar, and indeed deserved. %Enter% Puttota %and a% Page, Puttota %with a letter in her hand.% [Hercules %and% Garbetza %conceal themselves.%] Never entreat me, never beseech me to have pity forsooth on your master, M. Herod. Let him never be so daringly ambitious as to hope with all his vows and protestations to gain my affection. God's my discretion! Has my sutlery, tapstry, laundry made me be ta'en up at the court? Pre- ferr'd me to a husband? And have I advanc'd my husband, with the labor of mine own body, from the black guard to be one of the duke's drummers, to make him one of the court forkers? Shall I that purify many lords and some ladies, can tell who wears perfumes, who plasters, and for why, know who's a gallant of a chaste shirt and who not; shall I become, or dares your master think I will become, or if I would become, presumes your master to hope I would become one of his brother's wife. I scorn his letters and her leavings at my heel, i'faith, and so tell him. Nay softly, deat Puttota, Mistress Puttota, Maddam Puttota, O, be merciful to my languishing master. He may in time grow a great and well-grac'd courtier, for he wears yellow already. Mix therefore your loves. As for Madam Garbetza, his brother's wife, you see what he writes there. I must confess he says she is a spiny, green creature, of an unwholesome barren blood and cold embrace, a bony thing of most unequal hips, uneven eyes, ill-rank'd teeth, and indeed one, but that she hires him, he endures not. Yet, for all this, does he hope to dishonest me? I am for his betters. I would he should well know it, for more by many than mt husband know I am a woman of a known, sound, and upright carriage and so he shall find if he deal with me, and so tell him, I pray you. What, does he hope to make me one of his gills, his punks, polecats, flirts, and feminines? %Exit. As% Puttota %goes out, she flings away the letter. The% Page %puts it up%, %and as he is talking%, Hercules %steals it out of his pocket.% Alas, my miserable master, what suds art thou wash'd into? Thou art born toi be scorn'd of every carted com- munity! And yet he'll outcrack a German when he is drunk, or a Spaniard after he hath eaten a fumatho, that he has lien with that and that and t'other lady, that he lay last night in such a madonna's chamber, t'other night he lay in such a countess's couch, tonight he lies in such a lady's closet, when poor I know all this while he only lied in his throat. %Exit.% [%reads%]. "Madam, let me sigh it in your bosom, how immutable and unfainting and indeed_" Fawn, I will undo that rascal. He shall starve for any further maintenance. You make him come to the covering and recovering of his old doublets. He was in fair hope of proving heir to his elder brother, but he has gotten me with child. So, you withdrawing your favor, his present means fail him; and by getting you with child, his future means forever rest despairful to him. O heaven, that I could curse him beneath damnation, impudent varlet. By my reputation, Fawn, I only lov'd him because I thought I only did not love him. He vowed infinite beauties doted on him. Alas, I was a simple coutry lady, wore gold buttons, trunk sleeves, and flaggon bracelets. In this state of innocency was I brought upto the court. And now instead of country innocency, have you got court honesty. Well, madam, leave your brother to my placing. He shall have a special cabin in the ship of fools. Right. Remember he got his elder brother's wife with child, and so depriv'd himself of th'inheritance. That will stow him under hatches, I warrant you. And so depriv'd himself of inheritance. Dear Fawn, be my champion. The very scourge of your most basely offending brother. Ignoble villain, that I might but see thee wretched without pity and recovery. Well_ %Enter% Herod %and% Nymphadoro. Stand, Herod. You are full met, sir. But not met full, sir. I am as gaunt as a hunting gelding after three train'd scents. 'Fore Venus, Fawn, I have been shaling of peascods. Upon four great madonnas have I this afternoon grafted the forked tree. Is't possible? Possible? Fie on this satiety, 'tis a dull, blunt, weary, and drowsy passion. Who would be a proper fellow to be thus greedily devoured and swallowed among ladies? Faith, 'tis my torment, my very rack. Right, Herod, true, for imagine all a man possess'd with a perpetual pleasure, like that of generation, even in the highest lusciousness, he straight sinks as unable to bear so continual, so pure, so universal a sensuality. By even truth, 'tis very right, and for my part would I were eunuch'd rather than thus suck'd away with kisses, en- feebling dalliance, and_O, the falling sickness on them all! Why did reasonable nature give so strange, so rebellious, so tyrannous, so insatiate parts of appetite to so weak a governess as woman? Or why, O custom, didst thou oblige them to modesty, such cold temperance, that they must be wooed by men, courted by men? Why, all know they are more full of strong desires, those desires most impatient of delay of hindrance; they have more unruly passions than men, and weaker reason to temper those passions than men. Why then hath not the discretion of nature thought it just that customary coyness, old fashions, terms of honor and of modesty forsooth, all laid aside, they court not us, beseech not us, rather, for sweets of love, than we them? Why? By Janus, women are but men turn'd the wrong side outward. O, sir, nature is a wise workman. She knows right well that if women should woo us to the act of love, we should all be utterly sham'd. How often should they take us un- provided, when they are always ready? Ay, sir, right, sir. To some few such unfortunate hand- some fellows as myself am, to my grief I know it. Why, here are two perfect creatures. The one, Nymphadoro, loves all, and my Herod here enjoys all. Faith, some score or two of ladies or so ravish me among them, divide my presence, and would indeed engross me were I indeed such an ass as to be made a monopoly of. Look, sirrah, what a vild hand one of them writes. Who would ever take this for a "d," "dearest," or read this for "only," "only dearest." Here's a "lie" indeed. True, but here's another much more legible, a good secretary: "My most affected Herod, the utmost ambition of my hopes and only_" There is one "lie" better shap'd by odds. Right, but here's a lady's roman hand to me is beyond all. Look ye: :To her most elected servant and worthy friend, Herod Baldonzozo, Esquire." I believet you knowest what countess's hand this is. I'll show thee another. No, good HErod, I'll show thee one now: "To his most elected mistress and worthy laundress, divine mistress Puttota at her tent in the woodyard, or elsewhere, give these_" Prithee ha' silence, what's that! "If my tears or vows, my faithful'st protestations on my knees_" Good, hold. "Fair and only loved laundress_" Do not shame me to the day of judgment. "Alas, I write it in passion. Alas, thou knowest besides my loathed sister, thou art_" For the Lord's sake. "The only hope of my pleasure, the only pleasure of my hopes. Be pleas'd therefore to_" Cease, I beseech thee. Pish, ne'er blush man, 'tis an uncourtly quality. Aa for thy lying, as long as there's policy in't, it is very passable. Wherefore has heaven given man tongue but to speak to a man's own glory? He that cannot swell bigger than his natural skin, nor seem to be in more grace than he is, has not learn'd the very rudiments or A, B, C, of courtship. Upon my heart, Fawn, thou pleasest me to the souk. Why, look you, for mine own part, I must confess_ %Enter% Dondolo. See, here's the duke's fool. Aboard, aboard, aboard! All manner of fools of court, city, or country, of what degree, sex or nature. Fool? Herod? What, are ye full freighted? Is your ship well fool'd? O, 'twas excellently thronged full. A justice of peace, though he had been one of the most illiterate asses in a country, could hardly ha' got a hanging cabin. O, we had first some long fortunate great politician, that were so sottishly paradised as to think, when popular hate seconded princes' displeasure to them, any unmerited violence could seem to the world injustice; some purple fellows whom chance reared, and their own deficiencies of spirit hurled down. We had some courtiers that o'erbought their offices, and yet durst fall in love; priests that forsook their functions to avoid a thwart stroke with a wet finger. But now, alas, Fawn, now there's space and place. Why, how gat all these forth. Was not the warrant strong? Yes, yes, but they got a supersedas. All of them proved themselves either knaves or madmen and so were all let go. There's none left now in our ship but a few citizens that let their wives keep their shopbooks, some philosophers, and a few critics; one of which critics has lost his flesh with fishing at the measure of Plautus' verses; another has vow'd to get the consumption of the lungs, or to leave to posterity the true orthography and pronunciation of laughing; a third hath melted a great deal o' suet, worn out his thumbs with turning, read out his eyes, and stufies his face out of a sanguine into a meager, spawling, fleamy loathsomeness, and all to find but why %mentula% should be the feminine gender, since the rule is %Propria qua maribus tribuntur mascula% %dicas.% These philosophers, critics, and all the maids we could find at sixteen, are all our freight now. O, then, your ship of fools is full? True, the maids at seventeen fill it. Fill it, quoth you. Alas, we have very few, and these we were fain to take up in the counry, too. But what philosophers ha' ye? O, very strange fellows. One knows nothing; dares not aver he lives, goes, sees, feels. A most insensible philosopher. Another, that there is no present time, and that one man today and tomorrow is not the same man; so that he that yesterday owed money, today owes none, because he is not the same man. Would that philosophy would hold good in law! But why has the duke thus labor'd to have all the fools shipp'd out of his dominions? Marry, because he would play the fool himself alone, with- out any rival. 'Ware your breech, fool. I warrant thee, old lad, 'tis the privilege of poor fools to talk before an intelligence. Marry, if I could fool myself into a lordship, as I know some ha' fool'd themselves out of a lordship_were I grown some huge fellow and got the leer of the people upon me, if the fates had so decreed it_ I should talk treason, though I ne'er open'd my lips. Indeed, %fatis agimur, cedite fatis!% But how runs rumor? What breath;s strongest in the palace now? I think you know all. Yes, we fools think we know all. The prince hath audience tonight, is feasted, and after supper is entertain'd with no comedy, masque, or barriers, but with_ What, I prithee? What, I prithee? With a most new and special shape of delight. What, for Jove's sake? Marry, gallants, a session, a general council of love summon'd in the name of Don Cupid, to which upon pain of their mistress' displeasure shall appear all favor-wearers, sonnet-mongers, health-drinkers, and neat enrichers of barbers and perfumers. And to conclude, all that can wyhee or wag the tail are, upon grievous pains of their back, summon'd to be assistant in that session of love. Hold, hold! Do not pall the delight before it come to our palate. And what other rumor keeps air in men's lungs? O, the egregiousness of folly! Ha' you not heard of Don Zuccone? What of him, good fool? He is separated. Divorc'd? That salt, that criticism, that very all epigram of a woman, that analysis, that compendium of wittines_ Now, Jesu, what words the fool has! We ha' still such words, but I will not unshale the jest before it be ripe, and therefore kissing your worship's fingers in most sweet terms without any sense, and with most fair looks without any good meaning, I most courtlike take my leave, %basilus manus de vostro signiora.% Stay, fool, we'll follow thee; for 'fore heaven, we must prepare ourselves for this session. %Exeunt [all but% Hercules]. %Enter% Zuccone, %pursued by% Zoya %on her knees, attended by Ladies.% I will have no mercy, I will not relent. Justice' beard is shaven, and it shall give thee no hold. I am separated, and I will be separated. Dear my lord, husband. Hence, creature! I am none of thy husband, or father of thy bastard. No, I will be tyrannous, and a most deep revenger. The order shall stand. Ha, thou quean, I ha' no wife now. Sweet, my lord. Hence! avaunt! I will marry a woman with no womb, a creature with two noses, a wench with no hair, rather than remarry thee. Nay, I will first marry_mark me_ I will first marry_observe me_I will rather marry a woman that with thirst drinks the blood of man. Nay_ heed me_a woman that will thrust in crowds, a lady that, being with child, ventures the hope of her womb, nay, gives two crowns for a room to beholf a goodly man three parts alive quartered, his priviites hackled off, his belly launch'd up. Nay, I'll rather marry a woman to whom these smoking, hideous, bloodful, horrid, though most just spectacles, are very lust, rather than re-accept thee. Was I not a handsome fellow, from my foot to my feather? Had I not wit? Nay, which is more, was I not a Don, and didst thou Actaeon me? Did I not make thee a lady? And did she not make you a more worshipful thing, a cuckold? I married thee in hope of children. And has not she showed herself fruitful that was got with child without help of her husband? Ha, thou ungrateful, immodest, unwise, and one that, God's my witness, I ha' lov'd. But go thy ways, twist with whom thou wilt. For my part, th'ast spun a fair thread. Who'll kiss thee now. Who'll court thee now. Who'll ha' thee now? Pity the frailty of my sex, sweet lord. No, pity is a fool, and I wear his coxcomb. I have vow'd to loathe thee. The Irishman shall hate %aqua% %vitae%, the Welshman cheese, the Dutchman shall loathe salt butter, before I relove thee. Does the babe pule? Thou shouldst ha' cried before, 'tis too late now. No, the trees in autumn shall sooner call back the spring with shedding of their leaves, than thou reverse my just, irrevocable hatred with thy tears. Away! go! vaunt! %Exeunt% Zoya %and the ladies.% Nay, but most of this is your fault, that for many years, only upon mere mistrust, sever'd your body from your lady, and in that time gave opportunity, turn'd a jealous ass, and hired some to try and tempt your lady's honor, whilst she, with all possible industry of apparent merit, diverting your unfortunate suspicion_ I know't, I confess. All this I did, and I do glory in't. Why, cannot a young lady for many months keep honest? No, I misthought it. My wife had wit, beauty, health, good birth, fair clothes, and a passing body; a lady of rare discourse, quick eye, sweet language, alluring behavior, and exquisite entertainment. I misthought it, I fear'd, I doubted, and at last I found it out, I praise my wit. I knew I was a cuckold. An excellent wit. True, Fawn; you shall read of few dons that have had such a wit, I can tell you; and I found it out that I was a cuckold. Which now you have found, you will not be such an ass as Caesar, great Pompey, Lucullus, Anthony, or Cato, and divers other Romans, cuckolds, who all knew it, and yet were ne'er divorc'd upon't; or like that smith-god Vulcan, who, having taken his wife taking, yet was presently appeased, and entreated to make an armmor for a bastard of hers, Aeneas. No, the Romans were asses, and thought that a woman might mix her thigh with a stranger wantonly, and yet still love her husband matrimonially. As indeed they say many married men lie sometime with strange women, whom, but for the instant use, they abhor. And as for Vulcan, 'twas humanity more than human. Such excess if goodness, for my part, only belong to the gods. Ass for you_ As for me, my Fawn, I am a bachelor now. But you are a cuckold still, and one that knows himself to be a cuckold. Right, that's it. And I knew it not. 'twere nothing. And if I had not pursu'd it too, it had lien in oblivion, and shadowed in doubt, but now I ha' blaz'd it. The world shall know what you are. True, I'll pocket up no horns, but my revenge shall speak in thunder. Indeed, I must confess I know twenty are cuckolds, honestly and decently enough. A worthy gallant spirit (whose virtue suppresseth his mishap) is lamented but not disesteem'd by it. Yet the world shall know_ I am none of those silent coxcombs. It shall out. And although it be no great part of injustice for him to be struck with the scabbard that has struck with the blade (for there is few of us but hath made someone cuckold or other)_ True, I ha' done't myself. Yet_ Yet I hope a man of wit may prevent his own mishap, or if he cannot prevent it_ Yet_ Yet make it known yet, and so known that the world may tremble with only thinking of it. Well, Fawn, whom shall I marry now? O heaven, that God made for a man no other means of procreation and maintaining the world peopled but by women! O, that we could increase like roses by being slipp'd one from another, or like flies procreate with blowing, or any other way than by a woman_by women, who have no reason in their love, or mercy in their hate, no rule in their pity, no pity in their revenge, no judgment to speak, and yet no patience to hold their tongues: Man's opposite, the more held down, they swell; Above them naught but will, beneath them naught but hell. Or, that since heaven hath given us no other means to allay our furious appetite, no other way of increasing our progeny, since we must entreat and beg for assuagement of our passions, and entertainment of our affections, ehy did noy heaven make us a nobler creature than women to sue unto? Some admirable deity, of an uncorruptible beauty, that might be worth our knees, the expense of our heat, and the crinkling of our hams. But that we must court, sonnet, flatter, bribe, knee, sue to so feeble and imperfect, inconstant, idle, vain, hollow bubble, as woman is! O, my Fawn! O, my lord, look who here comes. %Enter% Zoya, %supported by a gentleman usher, followes by% Herod %and% Nymphadoro %with much state, soft music playing.% Death o' man, is she delivered? Deliver'd? Yes, O my Don, delivered! Yes, Donna Zoya, the grace of society, the music of sweetly agreeing perfection, more clearly chaste than ice or frozen rain, that glory of her sex, that wonder of wit, that beauty more fresh'd than any cool and trembling wind, that now only wish of a man, is delivered, is delivered! How? From Don Zuccone, that dry scaliness, that sarpego, that barren drought, and shame of all humanity. What fellow's that? Don Zuccone, your sometime husband. %Enter% Philocalia. Alas, poor creature. The princess prays your company. I wait upon her pleasure. %All but% Hercules, Zuccone, Herod, %and% Nymphadoro %depart.% Gentleman, why hazard you your reputation in shameful company with such a branded creature? Miserable man, whose fortune were beyond tears to be pitied, but that thou art the ridiculous author of thine own laugh'd-at mischief. Without paraphrase, your meaning? Why, thou woman's fool_ Good gentlemen, let one die but once. Was not thou most curstfully mad to sever thyself from such an unequal'd rarity? Is she not a strumpet? Is she not with child? Yes, with feathers. Why, weakness of reason, couldst not perceive all was feign'd to be rid of thee? Of me? She with child? Untrodden snow is not so spotless. Chaste as the first voice of a newborn infant. Know, she grew loathing of thy jealousy. Thy most pernicious curiosity. Whose suspicions made her unimitable graces motive of thy base jealousy. Why, beast of man! Wretched above expression, that snored'st over a beauty which thousands desired, neglectedst her bed, for whose enjoying a very saint would have sued. Defam'd her! Suggested privily against her! Gave foul language publicly of her! And now, lastly, done that for her which she only pray'd for, and wish'd as wholesome air for, namely, to be rid from such an unworthy_ Senseless_ Injurious_ Malicious_ Suspicious_ Mishaped_ Ill-languag'd_ Unworthy_ Ridiculous_ Jealous_ Arch coxcomb as thou art! %Enter% Nymphadoro %and% Herod. O, I am sick, my blood has the cramp, my stomach o'erturns. O, I am very sick. Why, my sweet Don, you are no cuckold. That's the grief on't. That's_ That I ha' wrong'd so sweet (and now, in my knowledge) so delicate a creature! O methinks I embrace her yet. Alas, my lord, you have done her no wrong, no wrong in the world. You have done her a pleasure, a great pleasure. A thousand gentlemen, nay dukes, will be proud to accept your leavings_your leavings! Now she courted! This heir sends her jewels, that lord proffers her jointures, t'other knight proclaims challenges to maintain her the only not beautiful but very beauty of women. But I shall never embrace her more. Nay, that's true, that's most true. I would not afflict you, only thhink how unrelentless you were to her but supposed fault. O, 'tis true, too true. Think how you scorn'd her tears. Most right. Tears that were only shed_I would not vex you_in very grief to see you covet your own shame. Too true, too true. For, indeed, she is the sweetest modest soul, the fullest of pity. O yes, O yes. The softness and very courtesy of her sex, as one that never lov'd any_ But me. So much that he might hope to dishonor her, nor any so little that he might fear she disdain'd him. O, the graces made her a soul as soft as spotless down upon the swan's fair breast that drew bright Cytherea's chariot. Yet think (I would not vex you), yet think how cruel you were to her. As a tiger, as a very tiger. And never hope to be reconcil'd, never dream to be re- concil'd, never. Never? Alas, good Fawn, what wouldst wish me to do now? Faith, go hang yourself, my Don. That's best, sure. Nay, that's too good, for I'll do worse that that, I'll marry again. Where canst pick out a morsel for me, Fawn? There is a modest, matron-like creature_ What years, Fawn? Some fourscore, wanting one. A good sober age. Is she wealthy? Very wealthy. Excellent! She has three hairs on her scalp and four teeth in her head, a brow wrinkled and pucker'd like an old parchment half burnt. She has had eyes. No woman's jawbones are more apparent. Her sometimes envious lips now shrink in, and give her nose and her chin leave to kiss each other very moistly. As for her reverend mouth, it seldom opens, but the very breath that flies out of it infects the fowls of the air, and makes them drop down dead. Her breasts hang like cobwebs. Her flesh will never make you cuckold. Her bones may. But is she wealthy? Very wealthy. And will she ha' me, art sure? No, sure she will not have you. Why, do you think that a waiting-woman of three bastards, a strumpet nine times carted, or a hag whose eyes shoot poison, that has been an old witch, and is now turning into a gib-cat, will ha' you? Marry Don Zuccone, the contempt of women and the shame of men, that has afflicted, comtemn'd so choice a perfection as Donna Zoya's! Alas, Fawn, I confess. What wouldst ha' me do? Hang yourself you shall not, marry you cannot. I'll tell ye what you shall do. There is a ship of fools setting forth. If you make good means and entreat hard, you may obtain a passage, man. Be master's mate, I warrant you. Fawn, thou art a scurvy bitter knave, and dost flout Dons to their faces. 'Twas thou flattered'st me to this, and now thou laugh'st at me, dost? Though indeed I had a certain proclivity, but thou madest me resolute. Dost grin and gern? O you comforters of life, helps in sickness, joys in death, and preservers of us in our children after death, women, have mercy on me! O my Don, that God made no other means of procreation but by these women! I speak it not to vex you. O Fawn, thou hast no mercy in thee. dost thou leer on me? Well, I'll creep upon my knees to my wife. Dost laugh at me? Dost gern at me? Dost smile? Dost leer on me, dost thou? O, I am an ass, true, I am a coxcomb. Well, I am mad, good. A mischief on your cogging tongue, your soothing throat, your oily jaws, your supple hams, your dissembling smiles, and O the grand devil on you all! When mischief favors our fortunes, and we are miseralby, though justly wretched, More pity, comfort, and more help we have In foes profess'd, than in a flattering knave. %Exit.% Thus few strike sail until they run on shelf; The eye sees all things but his proper self. In all things curiosity hath been Vicious at least, but herein most pernicious. What madness it't to search and find a wound For which there is no cure, and which unfound Ne'er rankles, whose finding only wounds? But he that upon vain surmise forsakes His bed thus long, only to search his shame, Gives to his wife youth, opportunity, Keeps her in idleful deliciousness, Heats and inflames imagination, Provokes her to revenge with churlish wrongs_ What should he hope but this? Why should it lie in women, Or even in chastity itself (since chastity's a female), T'avoid desires so ripened, such sweets so candied? But she that hath out-borne such mass of wrongs, Out-dur'd all persecutions, all contempts, Suspects, disgrace, all wants, and all the mishief, The baseness of a canker'd churl could cast upon her, With constant virtue, best feign'd chastity, And in the end turns all his jealousies To his own scorn, that lady, I implore, It may be lawful not to praise, but even adore. %Enter% Gonzago, Granuffo, %with full state. Enter the cornets sounding.% Are our sports ready? Is the prince at hand? The prince is now arriv'd at the court gate. What means our daughter's breathless haste? %Enter% Dulicimel %in haste.% O, my princely father, now or never let your princely wisdom appear. Fear not, our daughter. If it rest within human reason, I warrant thee. No, I warrant thee, Granuffo, if it rest in man's capacity. Speak, dear daughter. My lord, the prince_ The prince, what of him, dear daughter? O Lord, what wisdom our good parents need to shield their chickens from deceits and wiles of kite-like youth. Her very phrase displays whose child she is. Alas, had not your grace been provident, A very Nestor in advice and knowledge, Ha! where had you, poor Dulcimel, been now? What vainness had not I been drawn into! 'Fore God, she speaks very passionately. Alas, daughter, heaven gives every man his talent; indeed, virtue and wisdom are not fortune's gifts; therefore, those that for- tune cannot make virtuous, she commonly makes rich. For our own part, we acknowledge heaven's goodness, and if it were posible to be as wise again as we are, we would ne'er impute it to ourselves. For as we be flesh and blood, alas we are fools; but as we are princes, scholars, and have read %Gicero de Oratore%, I must confess there is another matter in't. What of the prince, dear daughter? Father, do you see that tree that leans just on my chamber window? What of that tree? %Enter% Tiberio %With his train.% O, sir, but note the policy of youth; Mark but the stratagems of working love. The prince salutes me, and thus greets my ear. Speak softly; he is enter'd. Although he knew I yet stood wavering what to elect because, though I affected, yet distitute of means to enjoy each other, impossibility of having might kill our hope and with out hope desires to enjoy; therefore, to avoid all faint excuses and vain fears, thus he devised: To Dulcimel's chamber window A well-grown plane tree spreads his happy arms. By that, in depth of night, one may ascend (Despite all father's jealousies and fears) Into her bed. Speak low; the prince both marks and listens. You shall provide a priest (quoth he). In truth I pomis'd, and so you well may tell him, for I temporized and only held him off_ Politicly; our daughter to a hair. With full intention to disclose it all to your preventing wisdom. Ay, let me alone for that. But when intends he this invasion? When will this squirrel climb? O, sir, in that is all. When but this night? This night? This very night, when the court revels had o'erwak'd your spirits, and made them full of sleep, then_ Then %verbum sat sapienti%! Go, take your chamber down upon your knees. Thank God your father is no foolish sot, but one that can foresee and see. %Exit% Dulcimel. My lord, we discharge your presence from our court. What means the duke? And if tomorrow past you rest in Urbin, The privilege of an ambassador Is taken from you. Good, your grace, some reason? What, twice admonish'd, twice again offending, And now grown blushless? You promis'd to get into Her chamber, she to get a priest; Indeed she wish'd me tell you she confess'd it; And there, despite all father's jealous fears, To consummate full joys. Know, sir, our daughter Is our daughter, and has wit at will To gull a thousand easy things like you. But, sir, depart; the parliament prepar'd, Shall on without you. All the court this night Shall triumph that our daughter has escap'd Her honor's blowing up. Your end you see. We speak but short but full, Socratice. %Exit. Remaineth% Hercules %and% Tiberio. What should I think, what hope, what but imagine Of these enigmas? Sure, sir, the lady loves you With violent passion, and this night prepares A priest with nuptial rites to entertain you In her most private chamber. This I know, With to much torture, since means are all unknown To come unto these ends. Where's this chamber? Then what means shall without suspicion Convey me to her chamber? O these doubts End in despair_ %Enter% Gonzago %hastily.% Sir, sir, this plane tree was not planted here To get into my daughter's chamber, and so she pray'd me tell you. What though the main arms spread into her window, And easy labor climbs it? Sir, know She has voice to speak, and bid you welcome With so full breast that both your ears shall And so she pray'd me tell you. Ha' we no brain? Youth thinks that age, age knows that youth is vain. %Exit. Why, now I have it, Fawn, he way, the means, and meaning. Good duke, and 'twere not for pity, I could laugh at thee. Dulcimel, I am thine most miraculously. I will now begin to sigh, read poets, look pale, go neatly, and be most apparently in love. As for_ As for your old father_ Alas, her and all know, this an old saw hath been, Faith's breach for love and kingdoms is no sin. Where are we now? Cyllenian Mercury, And thou quick issue of Jove's broken pate, Aid and direct us. You better stars to knowledge, Sweet constellations, that affect pure oil And holy vigil of the pale-cheek'd muses, Give your best influence, that with able spright We may correct and please, giving full light To every angle of this various sense: Works of strong birth and better than commence. %Whilst the act is a-playing%, Hercules %and% Tiberio %enter%; Tiberio %climbs% %the tree, and is received above by% Dulcimel, Philocalia, %and a Priest:%$ Hercules %stays beneath.% Thou mother of chaste dew, night's modest lamp, Thou by whose faint shine the blushing lovers Join glowing cheeks, and mix their trembling lips In vows well kiss'd, rise all as full of splendor As my breast is of joy! You genital, You fruitful well-mix'd heats, O, bless the sheets Of yonder chamber, that Ferrara's dukedom, The race of princely issue, be not curs'd, And ended in abhorred barrenness. At length kill all my fears, nor let it rest Once more my tremblings that my too cold son (That ever-scorner of humaner loves) Will still contemn the sweets of marriage, Still kill our hope of name in his dull coldness. Let it be lawful to make use, ye powers, Of human weakness, that pursueth still What is inhibited, and most affects What is most difficult to be obtain'd: So we may learn, that nicer love's a shade; It follows fled, pursu'd flies as afraid; And in the end close all the various errors Of passages most truly comical In moral learning, with like confidence Of him that vow'd good fortune of the scene Shall neither make him fat, or bad make lean. %Enter% Dondolo %laughing.% Ha, ha, ha! Why dost laugh, fool? Here's nobody with thee. Why, therefore do I laugh, because there's nobody with me. Would I were a fool alone. I'faith, I am come to attend_let me go, I am sent to the princess_to come and attend her father to the end of Cupid's parliament. Why, ha' they sat already upon any statutes? Sat? Ay, all's agreed in the nether house. Why, are they divided? O ay, in cupid's parliament all the young gallants are o' the nether house, and all the old signiors that can but only kiss are of the upper house. Is the princess above? No, sure, I think the princess is beneath, man. Ha' they supp'd, fool? O yes, the confusion of tongues at the large table is broke up, for see the presence fills. A fool, a fool, a fool, my coxcomb for a fool! %Enter% Sir Amoroso, Herod, Nymphadoro, Garbetza, Donetta, %and% Povia. Stop, ass. What's matter, idiot? O gallants, my fools that were appointed to wait on Don Cupid have launch'd out their ship to purge their stomachs on the water, and before Jupiter, I fear they will prove defective in their attendance. Pish, fool, they'll float in with the next tide. Ay, but when's that? Let's see mine almanac or prog- nostication. What, is this for this year? In true wisdom, sir, it is. Let me see the moon. 'Fore pity, 'tis in the wane. What grief is this, that so great a planet should ever decline or lose splendor? Full sea at_ In true wisdom, sir, it is. Let me see the moon. 'Fore pity, 'tis in the wane. What grief is this, that so great a planet should ever decline or lose splendor? Full sea at_ Where's the sign now, fool? In Capricorn, Sir Amoroso. What strange thing does this almanac speak of, fool? Is this your lady, Sir Amorous? It is. Kiss her, fool. You may kiss her now. She is married. So he might ha' done before. In sober modesty, sir, I do not use to do it behind. Good fool, be acquainted with this lady too. She's of a very honest nature, I assure thee. I easily believe you, sir, for she hath a very vile face, I assure you. But what strange things does thy almanac speak of, good fool? That this year no child shall be begotten but shall have a true father. That's good news, i'faith. I am glad I got my wife with child this year. Why, Sir Amorous, this may be, and yet you not the true father. May it not, Herod? But what more says it, good Fawn? Faith, lady, very strange things. It says that some ladies of your hair shall have feeble hams, short memories, and very weak eyesight, so that they shall mistake their own page, or even brother-in-law, sometimes for their husbands. Is that all, Fawn? No, Sir Amorous, here's likewise prophesied a great scarcity of gentry to ensue, and that some bores shall be dubbed. Sir Amoroso. A great scarcity of lawyers is likewise this year to ensue, so that some one of them shall be entreated to take fees o' both sides. %Enter% Don Zuccone, %following% Donna Zoya %on his knees.% Most dear, dear lady! Wife, lady, wife! O do not but look on me, and ha' some mercy! I will ha' no mercy. I will not relent. Sweet lady! The order shall stand. I am separated, and I will be separated. Dear! My love! Wife! Hence, fellow! I am none of thy wife. No, I will be tyrannous and a most deep revenger. The order shall stand. I will marry a fellow that keeps a fox in his bosom, a goat under his armholes, and a polecat in his mouth, rather than re-accept thee. Alas, by the Lord, lady, what should I say? As Heaven shall bless me_what should I say? Kneel and cry, man! Was I not handsome, generous, honest enough from my foot to my feather, for such a fellow as thou art? Alas, I confess, I confess. But go thy ways, and wive with whom thou wilt, for my part. Thou hast spun a fair thread. Who'll kiss thee now? Who'll court thee now? Who'll ha' thee now? Yet be a woman, and for God's sake help me. And do not stand too stiffly. And do not stand too stiffly! Do you make and ass of me? But let these rascals laugh at me. Alas, what could I do withal? 'Twas my destiny that I should abuse you. So it is your destiny that I should thus revenge your abuse. No, the Irishman shall hate %aqua vitae%, the Welshman cheese, and the Dutchman salt butter, before I'll love or re- ceive thee. Does he cry? Does the babe pule? 'Tis too late now. Go bury thy head in silence, and let oblivion be thy utmost hope. %The Courtiers address themselves to dancing, whilst the% Duke %enters with% Granuffo, %and takes his state.% Gallants, to dancing. Loud music, the duke's upon entrance! Are the sports ready? Ready. 'Tis enough. Of whose invention is this parliament? Ours. 'Tis enough. This night we will exult! O let this night Be ever memoriz'd with prouder triumphs. Let it be writ in lasting character That this night our great wisdom did discover So close a practice_that this night, I say, Our policy found out, nay, dash'd the drifts Of the young prince, and put him to his shifts, Nay, past his shifts ('fore Jove! we could make a good poet)_ Delight us. On! we deign our princely ear_ We are well pleas'd to grace you; then scorn fear. %Cornets playing.% Drunkenness, Sloth, Pride, %and% Plenty %lead% Cupid %to his state, who is followed by% Folly, War, Beggary, %and% Laughter. Stand, 'tis wisdom to acknowledge ignorance Of what we know not. We would not now prove foolish. Expound the meaning of your show. Triumphant Cupid, that sleeps on the soft cheek Of rarest beauty, whose throne's in ladies' eyes, Whose force writh'd lightning from Jove's shaking hand, Forc'd strong Alcides to resign his club, Pluck'd Neptune's trident from his mighty arm, Unhelmed Mars: he (with those trophies borne, Led in by Sloth, Pride, Plenty, Drunkenness, Follow'd by Folly, Wat, Laughter, Beggary) Takes his fair throne. Sit pleas'd, for now we move And speak not for our glory, but for love. Hercules %takes a bowl of wine.% A pretty figure. What, begins this session with ceremony? With a full health to our great mistress, Venus, Let every state of Cupid's parliament Begin the session, %et quod bonum faustumque sit precor.% Hercules %drinks a health.% Give't us, we'll pledge. Nor shall a man that lives, In charity refuse it. I will not be so old As not be grac'd to honor Cupid. Give't us full. When we were young we could ha' troll'd it off, Drunk down a Dutchman. 'Tis lamentable; pity your grace has forgot it. Drunkenness! O 'tis a most fluent and swelling virtue, sure the most just of all virtues. 'Tis justice itself, for if it chance to oppress and take too much, it presently restores it again. It makes the king and the peasant equal, for if they are both drunk alike, they are both beasts alike. As for that most precious light of heaven. Truth, if Time be the father of her, I am sure Drunkenness is oftentimes the mother of her, and brings her forth. Drunkenness brings all out, for it brings all the drink out of the pot, all the wit out of the pate, and all the money out of the purse. My Lord Granuffo, this Fawn is an excellent fellow. Silence. I warrant you for my lord here. Since multitude of laws are signs either of much tyranny in the prince or much rebellious disobedience in the subject, we rather think it fit to study how to have our old laws thoroughly executed, than to have new statutes cum- brously invented. Afore Jove, he speaks very well. O, sir, Love is very eloquent, makes all men good orators; himself then must needs be eloquent. Let it therefore be the main of our assembly to survey our old laws, and punish their transgressions, for that continually the complaints of lovers ascend up to our deity, that love is abus'd, and basely bought and sold, beauty corrupted, affection feign'd, and pleasure herself sophisticated; that young gallants are proud in appetite and weak in per- formance; that young ladies are phantastically inconstant, old ladies impudently unsatiate. Wives complain of un- married women, that they steal the dues belonging to their sheets; and maids exclaim upon wives that they unjustly engross all into their own hands, as not content with their own husbands, but also purloining that which should be their comfort. Let us therefore be severe in our justice; and if any of what degree soever have approvedly offennded, let him be instantly unpartially arrested and punished. Read our statutes. "A statute made in the five thousand four hundred three- score and three year of the easeful reign of the mighty potent Don Cupid, emperor of sighs and protestations, great king of kisses, archduke of dalliance, and sole Lord of Hymen for the maintaining and relieving of his old soldiers, maimed or dismember'd in love." Those that are lightly hurt, shame to complain; those that are deeply struck are past recovery. On to the next. "An act against the plurality of mistresses." Read. "Whereas some over-amorous and unconscionable covetous young gallants, without all grace of Venus, or the fear of Cupid in their minds, have at one time engrossed the care of cures of divers mistresses, with the charge of ladies, into their own tenure or occupation, whereby their mistresses must of necessity be very ill and unsufficiently served, and likewise many able portly gallants live unfurnished of competent entertainment, to the merit of their bodies; and whereas likewise some other greedy strangers have taken in the purlieus, outset land, and the ancient commons of our sovereign liege Don Cupid, taking in his very highways, and enclosing them, and annexing them to their own lord- ships, to the much impoverishing and putting of divers of Cupid's true hearts and loyal subjects to base and abomin- able shifts: Be it therefore enacted by the sovereign authority and erected ensign of Don Cupid, with the assent of some of the lords, most of the ladies, and all the commons, that what person or persons soever shall, in the trade of honor, presume to wear at one time two ladies' favors, or at one time shall earnestly court two women in the way of marriage, or if any under the degree if a duke shall keep above twenty women of pleasure, a duke's brother fifteen, a lord ten, a knight or a pensioner or both four, a gentleman two, shall %ipso facto% be arrested by folly's mace, and instantly committed to the ship of fools, without either bail or main- prize, %Millesimo centesimo quingentesimo quadragesimo nono.% Cupidinis semper unius."%_Nymphadoro, to the bar! Shame o' folly, will Fawn now turn an informer? Does he laugh at me? Domina Garbetza, did he not ever protest you were his most only elected mistress? He did. Domina Donetta, did he not ever protest you were his most only elected mistress? He did. Domina Poveia, did he not ever protest, that you were his most only elected mistress? He did. Mercy! Our mercy is nothing, unless some lady will beg thee. Out upon him, dissembling, perfidious liar! Indeed 'tis no reason ladies should beg liars. Thus he that loveth many, if once known, Is justly plagued to be belov'd of none. "An act against counterfeiting of Cupid's royal coin, and abusing his subjects with false money."_To the bar, Sir Amorous!_"In most lamentable form complaineth to your blind celsitude your distressed orators, the women of the world, that in respect that many spendthrifts, who having exhausted and wasted their substance, and in stranger parts have with empty shows treasonably purchased ladies' affections, without being of ability to pay them for it with current money, and therefore have deceitfully sought to satisfy them with counterfeit metal, to the great displeasure and no small loss of your humblest subjects: May it there- fore with your pitiful assent be enacted, that what lord, knight, or gentleman soever, knowing himself insufficient, bankrout, exhausted, and wasted, shall traitorously dare to entertain any lady as wife or mistress, %ipso facto% to be severed from all commercement with women, his wife or mistress in that state offending to be forgiven with a pardon of course, and himself instantly to be pressed to sail in the ship of fools, without either bail or mainprize." Sir Amorous is arrested. Judgment of the court. I take my oath upon my brother's body, 'tis none of thine. By the heart of dissemblance, this Fawn has wrought with us as strange tailors work in corporate cities, where they are not free. All inward, inward he lurk'd in the bosom of us, and yet we know not his profession. Sir, let me have counsel! 'Tis in great Cupid's case; you may have not counsel. Death o' justice! Are we in Normandy? What is my lady's doom then? Acquitted by the express parole of the statute. Hence, and in thy ignorance be quietly happy. Away with him. On! "An act against forgers of love letters, false braggarts of ladies' favors, and vain boasters of counterfeit tokens." 'Tis I, 'tis I, I confess guilty, guilty. I will be most humane and right courteously languaged in thy correction, and only say, thy vice, from apparent heir, has made thee an apparent beggar, and mow of a false knave hath made thee a true fool. Folly, to the ship with him and twice a day let him be duck'd at the main yard. Proceed. "An act against slanderers of Cupid's liege, ladies' names, and lewd defamers of their honors." 'Tis I, 'tis I, I weep and cry out, I have been a most contumelious offender. My only cry is %misrere.% If your relenting lady will have pity on you, the dault against our deity be pardoned. Madam, if ever I have found favor in your eyes, if ever you have thought me a reasonable handsome fellow, as I am sure before I had a beard you might, O be merciful! Well, upon your apparent repentance, that all modest spectators may witness I have for a short time only thus feignedly hated you that you might ever after truly love me, upon these cautions I re-accept you: first you shall vow_ I do vow, as heaven bless me, I will do_ What? Whate'er it be. Say on, I beseech you. You shall vow_ Yes. That you shall never_ Never_ Feign love to my waiting-woman or chambermaid. No. Never promise them such a farm to their marriage_ No. If she'll discover but whom I affect. Never. Or if they know nonw, that they'll but take a false oath I do, only to be rid of me. I swear I will not. I will not only not counterfeitly love your women, but I will truly hate them; an't be possible, so far from maintaining them, that I will beggar them. I will never pick their trunks for letters, search their pockets, ruffle their bosoms, or tear their foul smocks; never, never! That if I chance to have a humor to be in a masque, you shall not grow jealous. Never. Or grudge at the expense. Never! I will eat mine own arms first. That you shall not search, if my chamber-door hinges be oil'd to avoid creaking. As I am a sensible creature_ Nor ever suspect the reason why my bedchamber floor is doubled-matted. Not as I have blood in me. You shall vow to wear clean linen, and feed wholesomely. Ay, and highly. I will take no more tobacco, or come to your sheets drunk, or get wenches. I will ever feed on fried frogs, broil'd snails, and boil'd lambstones. I will adore thee more than a mortal, observe and serve you as more than a mistress, do all duties of a husband, all offices of a man, all services of thy creature, and ever live in thy pleasure, or die in thy service. Then here my quarrel ends. Thus cease all strife. Until they lose, men know not what's a wife. We slight and dully view the lamp of heaven, Because we daily see't, which but bereaved, And held one little week from darkened eyes, With greedy wonder we should all admire. Opinion of command put out love's fire. "An act against mummers, false seemers, that abuse ladies with counterfeit faces, courting only by signs, and seeming wise only by silence." The penalty? To be urged to speak, and then, if inward ability answer not outward seeming, to be committed instantly to the ship of fools during great Cupid's pleasure. _My Lord Granuffo, to the bar! Speak, speak, is not this law just? Just, sure; for in good truth or in good sooth, When wise men speak, they still must open their mouth. The brazen head has spoken. Thou art arrested. Me? And judg'd. Away! %Exit% Granuffo. Thus silence and grave looks, with hums and haws, Makes many worship'd, when if tried th'are daws. That's the morality or %l'envoy% of it_ %L'envoy% of it. On. "An act against privy conspiracies, by which if any with ambitious wisdom shall hope and strive to outstrip Love, to cross his words, and make frustrate his sweet pleasures, if such a presumptuous wisdom fall to nothing, and die in laughter, the wizard so transgressing is %ipso facto% adjudged to offend in most deep treason, to forfeit all his wit at the will of the lord, and be instantly committed to the ship of fools for ever." Ay, marry, sir! O might Oedipus riddle me out such a fellow! Of all creatures breathing, I do hate those things that struggle to seem wise, and yet are indeed very fools. I remember when I was a young man in my father's days, there were four gallant spirits for resolution, as proper for body, as witty in discourse as any were in Europe, nay Europe had not such. I was one of them. We four did all love one lady, a modest, chaste virgin she was. We all enjoy'd her, I well remember, and so enjoy'd her that, despite the strictest guard was set upon her, we had her at our pleasure. I speak it for her honor and my credit. Where shall you find such witty fellows nowadays? Alas, how easy it is in these weaker times to cross love-tricks. Ha, ha, ha! Alas, alas, I smile to think I must confess with some glory to mine own wisdom, to think how I found out, and crossed and curb'd, and jerk'd and firk'd, and in the end made desperate Tiberio's hope. Alas, good silly youth, that dares to cope with age and such a beard. I speak it without glory. But what yet might your well-known wisdom think, If such a one, as being most severe, A most protested opposite to the match Of two young lovers_who having barr'd them speech, All interviews, all messages, all means, To plot their wished ends_even he himself Was by their cunning made the go-between, The only messenger, the token-carrier, Told them the times when they might fitly meet, Nay, show'd the way to one another's bed? May one have the sight of such a fellow for nothing? Doth there breathe such an egregious ass? Is there such a foolish animal in %rerum natura%? How is it possible such a simplicity can exist? Let us not lose our laughing at him, for God's sake! Let Folly's scepter light upon him, and to the ship of fools with him instantly. Of all these follies I arrest your grace. Me? Ha! Me? Me, varlet? Me, fool? Ha! to th' jail with him! What, varlet? Call me ass?_Me? What, grave Urbin's duke? Dares Folly's sceptor touch his prudent shoulders? Is he a coxcomb? No, my lord is wise, For we all know that Urbin's duke has eyes. God a-mercy, Fawn! Hold, varlet! Hold thee, good Fawn!_Railing reprobate! Indeed, I must confess your grace did tell And first did intimate your daughter's love To otherwise most cold Tiberio; After convey'd her private favor to him, A curious scarf, wherein her needle wrought Her private love to him. What! I do this? Ha! And last, by her persuasion, show'd the youth The very way and best elected time To come unto her chamber. Thus did I, sir? Thus did you, sir. But I must confess You meant not to do this, but were rankly gull'd. Made a plain natural. This sure, sir, you did. And in assurance, Prince Tiberio, Renowned, witted Dulcimel, appear! The acts of constant honor cannot fear. Hercules %Exit.% Tiberio %and% Dulcimel %above are discoverd hand in hand.% Royally wise, and wisely royal father_ That's sententious now, a figure call'd in art %Ironia.% I humbly thank your worthy piety That through your only means I have obtained So fit, loving and desired a husband. Death o' discretion! if I should prove a fool now. Am not I an ass, think you, ha? I will have them both bound together, and sent to the Duke of Ferrara presently. I am sure, good father, we are both bound together as fast as the priest can make us already. I thank you for it, kind father. I thank you only for't. Hercules %enters in his own shape.% And as for sending them to the Duke of Ferrara, see, my good lord, Ferrara's o'erjoy'd prince meets them in fullest wish. By the Lord, I am asham'd of myself, that's the plain troth. But I know now wherefore this parliament was. What a slumber have I been in! Never grieve or wonder. All things sweetly fit. There is no folly to protested wit. What still in wond'ring ignorance doth rest, In private conference your dear-lov'd breast Shall fully take._But now we change our face. EPILOGUS And thus in bold yet modest phrase we end. He whose Thalia with swiftest hand hath penn'd This lighter subject, and hath boldly torn Fresh bays from Daphne's arm, doth only scorn Malicious censures of some envious few, Who think they lose if others have their due. But let such adders hiss; know, all the sting, All the vain foam of all those snakes that rings Minerva's glassful shield, can never taint, Poison, or pierce; firm art disdains to faint. But yet of you that with impartial faces, With no prepared malice, but with graces Of sober knowledge, have survey'd the frame Of his slight scene, if you shall judge his flame Distemperately weak, as faulty much In style, in plot, in spirit; lo! if such, He deigns, in self-accusing phrase, to crave Not praise, but pardon, which he hopes to have; Since he protests he ever hath aspir'd To be belov'd, rather than admir'd. FINIS