SCENE I. The Piazza of St. Mark.

Was ever Man so disappointed? I have no less than Fifteen Marriages on foot; four of 'em are already consummated, by the help of some flight Vows, without the solemn Perjury in a Church: five or six more are finely warm'd and soften'd, and ready for the Seal; and all are at a stand, for want of these same little scraps of Paper, call'd Bills of Credit: and, besides, now I think on't, I am to pursue my Legitimate pre­tensions to my rich Mistress Anrana; but a Pox; these Marri­ages in earnest come time enough, and spoil the others. The Oaths and Promises of Batchelors pass currant, and are not disproveable; but a marry'd Man, that swears Virtuous Love to others, is perjur'd in a Court of Record.

[Page 2]

Who the Devil sent for thee to condole?

How many Letters, Legs, Cringes, Compliments, does this Money save you? most Women's Pride is greater than their Lust, and if they Love to see themselves admir'd, how much then must they needs love them that make 'em ad­mirable!

I Sir, and make 'em insolent and inaccessible to them­selves. Those that give fine things to their Mistresses, like Dutchmen, in time of War, sell Weapons to their Enemies.

Faith, Sir, I believe the Ladies need not fear your Li­berality at this time. But, to be plain (Friend) if thou hast receiv'd no Bills of Exchange, try the old Banquer Cornanti, your Father's Friend, who (by the way) has a lovely Wo­man to's Wife, and is as jealous of her, as becomes old age, that knows its own Wants: he'll lend at first, for fear you should come twice.

'S life, so I will; but is she to be seen?

Nay, stay a little. Now has he as clearly forgot the thought of Money, as if he had the Indies in his pocket. Don't you consider that you must put your self in Equipage, to do Honor to your Countrey-man Sforza, who is this day design'd to be Gentleman of Venice, and Admiral of the Gal­lies, for his exemplary service the last year, against the Turks, in Candia; where you know, he slew two Bassa's with his own hands? After his Election, he intends to Feast the Senators a week, and desires our assistance at the entertainment.

Is this the day design'd? Faith, 'tis a noble fellow,

He is the very Soul and Quintescence of Honour; and has reduc'd that wandring Science, made up of Vice and Vir­tue, ana from Moot-points, to judg'd Cases: he has tam'd that Monster got betwixt Pride and Justice.

[Page 3]

O, I; he is a Man of so much Honor, one would not be troubled with it: 'tis as squeamish and as sore as a tender Conscience. But who told you this?

I just now parted from him, and Intrigo.

Ha, ha, he; Intrigo! that insufferable Coxcomb, that Ape of Wisdom and Gravity, that haunts the Court and Council of Ten, and places of Judicature, and brings away all the Shells of business, and leaves the Kernels behind?

I, the very same; He will sit you seven hours alone in the Lobby, next to the Doge's Bed-chamber, to be thought a Privado; and, for the most part, when the Doge and all the Court's abroad, but Turn-keys and Bed-makers: he will watch you a Twelvemonth to pick up Papers that drop from Senators and Ladies, though torn in pieces for the worst of uses; and has a Frame like a Bone-setter, to put those dis­joynted fragments together; and when, with much labor, he has trac'd out the insignificant Sence, Glories as much as a Countrey Parson, that has found out a piece of Hebrew, to make an easie Text the harder.

Oh, I! he has all the mechanick parts of a Statesman: he's a notable Herauld too, an Antiquary, and Cabalist; and affects all those conjuring Studies, that fools cannot easi­ly judge of, and wise Men will not take the pains to enquire into. How do I long to see this fellow again!

Mistake him not; his company is not so cheap to such hair-brain'd light fellows: unless you can pretend some great affair, or can raise his attention with some reverend Lye; he's as busy, as if his Head were a Bee-hive.

I, as secret, as if his Mother's Confessor got him.

And as formal, and full of ceremomy, as if he was descended from one of Moses his Gentlemen-Ushers. But his principal Virtue is his love to Decency, and Order. As others at their Festivals, have their Lords of Mis-rule; so he has his Muster-masters of the Moveables, and his Clerks of the Uniformity.

That's more than e'r I heard.

If a Dish comes up to his Table out of its rank and file, he will eat no more meat that day; if his Cheese be cut [Page 4] awry, he is ready to cut his own Throat: his Stools and Chains move like Chess-men; if one of 'em be remov'd by chance out of its walk, which his Servants know by privy Tokens; he is in a cold sweat, and never forgives the Male-factor. He turn'd away a Servant t'other day, for not making him three Legs, at his coming in; though he came to tell him his House was on fire. If he were call'd away in haste to Heaven, he would not stir a foot, till he had out on a clean Band, a pair of white Gloves, up to his Elbows, brush'd his Cloaths, and erected his Mustacho's.

I, and he walks as stately as an affronted Turky-cock. As sure as I live, the Doge has spoke to him, if it were but to call him Rogue or Rascal, or bid him stand out of the way.

He takes no notice of us, because he thinks he's in better company. Your servant Signior Intrigo.

Pshaw! the loss of Candia was inconsiderable; a Plot of the Grand Council, to betray the Turks into a greater secu­rity: O'my knowledge, a meer Trap. But do you hear the news?

What, Sir, I beseech you?

Marry, Sir, the Great Doge of Venice yesterday morning and no longer since, about eight of the clock, in a most ad­mirable grave, prudential Temper, put on a pair of great French Pantaloons.

Is't possible! but what will the people say of these innovations?

I'marry, Sir, that's the worst on't. I'm afraid (under the Rose ) pray let it go no farther, 'twill breed no good Bloud with the ill-affected. An high point of the Prerogative, to al­ter the sumptuary Laws, without advice of the Senate. There [Page 5] are some persons about his Highness—Well, I'll say no more; yet, if it appears to be done, with the approbation of the Grand Council, I warrant you 'tis an Hieroglyphic that imports something.

Not otherwise—

What did Agesilaus ride on a Hobby-horse for, but to teach his Children Humility? What did Augustus lye with Senators Wives for? not for his Lechery, I warrant you; but to discover their Councils, as Tacitus

admirably has it.—O brave! do you ever think to be a Privy Counsellor, at this rate?—

Well, Trivultio, I pity thee: thou hast a great deal of Wit, but no Judgement at all.

Then I should be a mad-man.

Thou'lt never make a States-man.

I'm sorry for't. But shall I ever make a Courtier?

I'm afraid not. Let me see.

Scarce tall enough; he must be a pro­per, straight, or at least, a stiff-going uniform Man, that undertakes that Province; else no hopes of him: he must strive to be always in the Prince's Eye, and seen in a Croud.

Sejanus lost himself with a pair of low heel'd Shooes.

Very right, Sir: Moreover, give me leave to tell you, you understand not the language of the upper Sphere.

What's that, good Sir?

Marry, Sir, under the Types of Balls, Playes, Hawking and Hunting, and such small matters, are comprehended the greatest secrets of State: and you seldom hear Courtiers talk­ing of any thing else.

That's true enough.

And do you think Courtiers so ignorant, as a man would take 'em to be? by no means: they appear so only to deceive us: As for example; in the Parable of Hunting, Horses signify Princes; Hounds, Soldiers; Foxes and Hares, Rebels and Sectaries; Gunners and Pochers, are Jesuits: and if ever you chance to hear 'em talk of on old grave Man in [Page 6] the Field, with a gret Montero Cap on, then you may swear the Pope has a hand in the business.

Bless us all! very strange!

Oh horrid! the scum of the Earth, the reproach of the Republick, an inundation of Vanity!

Well said Boys, to him again;

these fellows know him as well as we.

How properly they abuse him!.

To him again long Nose; this fellow will never out­live the Carnival; come, now let's away to Cornanti's.

But, in good earnest, Madam, did you never acquaint the Count with your Passion, by words, or Message?

Never; but now will I appear to him in Dreams and Visions, and make him love by Inspiration: I'll haunt him in as many shapes as a Spirit, that invites a Man to find out a hid­den Treasure: I'll try his Love, by all the Arts of Woman.

What needs that torture, Madam? Men on the Rack will still out-talk the Truth; Swear, Lye, Blaspheme, for present ease.

To your Guard, Madam; the Count comes up to­wards us, but our Gallants are fled.

That's as I would have it; clap on your Masks, and let's give him a broad side.

The SCENE Cornanti's House.

This Trivultio is a pretender to my Cousin Aurana; He's a handsome young fellow, and talks well.

And the other is Signiora Melinda's Servant.

The very same.

But I think their Mi stresses are kept up so close, That the Gallants are at liberty.

[Page 9]

The SCENE, The Piazza of St. Mark.

Well, Circumstantio, now give account of the Message I gave you this morning, and all the memorable occurrences of your journey; but remember withal, that you must make your approaches regularly to your Betters, and in due form: not leap upon 'em, and take 'em by assault, or storm 'em.

Then, Sir, with due submission to your Honourable prudence.—

Or rather thus. Striking sail to your intellectual Gra­vity.

Striking sail to your Hectical Gravity—

Why, I hope it is no Disease, Circumstantio, but the most perfect state of mind.

[Page 11]

Why, did not your Worship bid me make my re­proaches regularly to your Honor's Worship?

Still erroneous. Well, go on to thy Message.

Well then, Sir, going to go, according to your Wor­ships Command, as much as to say, according to my Duty, as much as to say, to fetch the Naples Wastcoats of Don Henri­quez the Spanish Merchant; I had no sooner got to the end of the street, but, as sure as my Grandfather was at Lepanto, who should I meet with but honest Lorenzo, Count Sforza's Man, my old Comrogue; if your Worship chance to see him, he's a Red-headed fellow, and goes with his Hat turn'd up on one side, with a silver Button, and a brown Suit of Cloaths, a little out at the Elbows.

Wondrous exact!

So in we went into a little House, to take our morn­ings draught together; by the same token there was in the room we sate in, an old Worm-eaten Cup-board, two Tables, with a greazy Curtain betwixt 'em, four Forms, and three Joyn'd-stools.

Admirably punctual! He improves daily.

And on the Walls were decypher'd certain Warlike Instruments, like Cannons or Battering Rams, which I con­ceive to have been done with the smoak of a Candle.

Alas! some antient Fresco-piece of a Romane Battel: I'll enquire farther of it.

Our Liquor exhausted, and our reckoning paid, out I went into the street again towards Don Henrique's as fast as ever I could run, but, as sure as my Grandfather was at Lepanto, who should I meet with at the next turning, but a whorson Chimny-sweeper—

Well, Circumstantio, I'm a little in haste, I will dispense with any farther occurrences: go on to the point, and give me an account of the Naples Wastcoats.

Oh Lord, Master, are you mad, to interrupt me? why, then my story's at an end; I cannot tell one syllable more, it I were to dye for't, unless I begin again, word for word.

Nay, prithee proceed for once; I'm in haste.

Why, I tell you 'tis impossible, Your Worship com­manded [Page 12] me to forget no circumstances of my journey, and my Head is so full of 'em, and they are rang'd in such order, that, being once put out of it, I cannot speak one word more for­wards, if I were to be hang'd.

Believe it, I fear this admirable method turns to an in­firmity. Well, we will rectify this at another time.

I, were there no Religion.

No, not the least.

No, faith, don't I.

Not a Wife?

No, work of all,

[Page 13]

Not a belov'd one, or a Mistress?

That may require Reflexion.

Then know you not the fair and young Wife of old Signior Cornanti.

I hope, if she be so, he is too wife t'expose her to be known.

Alas, who can be secure from inquisitive Adultery?

Who, I, Sir,—What the Devil means this?

Add not one sin to another, by denying it: the circumstances will convince you.

'Tis true, Sir, I saw her at her House this morning, and put the jealous Coxcomb her Husband into a cold sweat; but, what more?

Oh, Sir, deny it not, for Heaven's sake. The truth of this was witness'd by her Tears. You came afterwards to her Window, which looks to the Strada Nuova, and gave her some Musick.

Oh, are you there, Sir? I never did this; but it seems she has a mind I should do it. Rare Wench.

And an excellent one, y'faith, for thy Coat! Oh most Divind Bellinganna! this was a Master-piece: there is Leche­ry [Page 14] in the very contrivance. As sure as I live, her Husband has so streightly confin'd her, that she can make use of no body else. A man had need to have his wits about him, in this quick-sighted Philosophical Age, wherein whoring is improv'd to a liberal Science, and deserves the consideration of a Society. I'll lose as little time as I can, but to the Window by and by towards the Strada Nuova.

Sforza, Sforza.

Ha! A Woman's voice!

[Page 15] [Page 16]

Oh, admirable, Divine Person! Oh I am all, on fire! If this Lady should have an ill Face, to so excellent a Soul, it were the greatest Cheat that ever was put upon the World. But, if it be so, 'tis in mercy to Mankind; an Antidote to her poison, as most destructive Creatures carry with them:

SCENE I.

THis is the backside of Cornanti's Palace, and this his Ladies Chamber Window the Confessor spoke of. There is no failing of Women it their critical mi­nutes, if you do, they'l hate you ever after, and think you want vigor, or apprehension. Counsels in Love, like Strata­gems in War, are to be taken on the suddain, when you find the Enemy in disorder, or your own Men sittest for action. I'll give her a Song; but none of your whining Ditties to Wo­men of experience. Boy, play the Tune I told you of.

'Tis Trivultio.

Ha! now shall I find one of his Mistresses Lodgings, and be reveng'd of him for his Dilapidations. Trust me, 'tis the backside of Cornanti's Palace. A brave Lady indeed.

A very indifferent Lover! What, Tri­vltio attempting the Honor of a Senator's Wife? Here's a penitential Note for you.

Blest Vision, stay a little, She's gone: but that's her Body, here's her Soul.

My Husband fears no Devils but your White ones: there­fore for the security of his Person, he has just now sent out his servant Jacomo, to buy a Negro Slave: put your self into that Colour and Habit, and find means to be sold to him, and you shall be assu'rd of a kind Reception.

Ha! a Negro Lover? for ought I know to abude mr. I'll not leave my self wholy to your discretion, Madam, for all my great Passion; I'll find a cleanlier way than that, sure; Let me see: I'll send for the old Gossip that appear'd at the Window, and corrupt her: there's none of 'em proof against ten Checquins; and Sforza has supply'd me with Money enough. How Sanctify'dly shall I look in along Veil and a Chin-cloth!

Oh, Sir, I know a Chare-woman that haunts the House everyday.

Send her away presently, and let her promise the Dueg­na ten Checquins to come to my Lodging. In the mean time will I go see what divertisement the Church affords, where I shall [Page 18] meet all the good company. I love to shoot at a whole Co­vey at once; ten to one but some drop.

What a Jewel is here neglected by this idle young fel­low! no wiser than AEsop's Cock. Oh the giddiness of these Kickshaw-Gallants! 'tis a high point of Wisdom to take occa­sion by the forelock: take heed of her bald Pate as long as you live. I must not let this slip however.

The SCENE, A Church, full of Ladies.

Your Courting the Count in a Masque, is the whole Town-talk.

And everybody's guessing who you are.

And no body right I hope.

I'm sure we suffer for't, and could hardly get leave to come to Church to day.

Alas, poor prisoners; I'm in perfect freedom.

But do you hear how Cornanti guards my poor Cou­sin Bellinganna?

I hear from her hourly. But hark you Melinda, shall I ask you a hard question? will you lend me your Gallant for an hour or two, for a design I have?

Content, Madam.

I am inform'd Count Sforza will be here presently. In this new Habit 'tis impossible to know me: I'll pretend to be another Woman, and try his constancy.

What a pretty device will that be!

I'll leave you, that he may not guess me by my company.

Oh, Sir, Devotion brings unthought of Blessings; But happinesses here on Earth are short.

Whither so fast?

I cannot chuse but love this young fellow, for all his, indifference: I love a Man that knows how to value his own Sex, and cheapen slight-wrought Woman.

Here are Riches, but Marriage attends it: a Golden Trap. My free-born Genius moves for Bellinganna. Lying with another Man's Wife, is like invading an Enemies Coun­trey: there's both-Love and Ambition in't; 'tis an enterprize. fit for a great Spirit.

Oh, pray let's humour him a little, I think indeed the strictness of it was but a kind of juggle, betwixt the Women and the Fryars.

True, Such a devilish thing could never have been found out else. 'Twas worse than the invention of Gunpow­der; and 't has alter'd the course of Love, more than the other has done of War.

[Page 21]

I, or at any time. If People love well, there needs no Marriage to confine 'em, if not, 'tis cruelty to couple two churlish disagreeing Curs, and sin not to unloose 'em. I would not use my Dogs so. True; Men are chain'd in Gallies, Horses bridled, and Oxen yoak'd to work:

Sir, if you please to withdraw into this private Chap­pel, I shall acquaint you with a thing that may concern you.

So, faith, he's engag'd, the Lord knows with whom; whether my Mistress, or another Man's Wife, no matter. The World runs round, and I'll be behind hand with none of 'em, But I must slip away to the old Woman.

Another Familiar! Let me see, Who may this be? or who may it not be? O' my conscience, this credulous Man of Honor, will have his Throat cut, by one of these Curtezans.

What does she say to you?

I'll tell you presently. Let me go. Death, how is she lost in the croud!

Let her go, with a pox to her; she'l come again, when the fit's upon her. Look, look, here's a pretty Woman, with­out a Mask.

The SCENE, Cornanti's House.

This fellow's no better company than one of my Master's Sta­tues. A murrain of this jealousie, we shall never have but Mopes and Owls in our House.

Oh, Vigilia, how does thy swell'd Face?

Something better, Madam, with a Medicin I had from the Speciale.

May not this be an occasion Adaequate, or Quadra­ting to my Designe? She is never to be spoke with, with­out her Duegna; and if she over-hears, they are all one.

Who are you?

Oh, 'tis I, 'tis I, 'tis more discreet not to name Tri­vultio.

Which of the I's? there's many of the name, Sir.

'Tis I my self.

Better and better: but who are you yourself?

Oh, Madam, I tell you 'tis I my self; who should it be else? Your Beauty is the cause of my present deformity.

Well, Sir, I'm sorry I could not contrive a better dis­guise; my Husband is so extreamly careful of my conver­sation, a less would not have blinded him.

So, so, y'faith, the next word is into the Bed-chamber; But I'll forbid the Banes.

[Page 24]

Madam, to my Conception, this Disguise is a most prudent Veil for illicite Love.

And, withal, let me tell you, Madam, under the Rose, (pray let it go no farther) you are not the first Lady, whose Secrets I have participated; and, though I say it that should not, manag'd with circumspection and taciturnity.

Ha, ha, he! Under the Rose! nay then I smell a Rat.

Trivultio! why Trivultio?

Ay me! Nay, if these Confessors betray us, what will become of us poor Women: But who could have thought this Man of Heaven could have pick'd out the meaning of an amorous Message?

And did not I see you throw down a Note to Tri­vultio.?

I, to abuse him.

I take it very unkindly, that I, that have been em­ploy'd by you, upon so many difficult occasions, should now be left out. Turn out your Black, that we may talk more freely.

Pray, Sir, stay without, and have a little patience.

Patience, Madam! there lies my Talent. I have wait­ed seven years for the kiss of a fair Lady's Hand, and when it came, 'twas with her Glove on too.

Oh admirable!

God b'ye, good patient Pack-Horse. Well, Madam, you sent for Trivultio, it seems; but suppose he were here, would you not discover him to your Hus­band?

No, indeed: I would employ him about some busi­ness; but, it may be, not such as he imagines. He shall have free Ingress and Regress: that's as much as a civil Woman can say.

[Page 25]

Why then here he is.

At my Lodging.

Oh the crafty old Quean! you paid her well for this. Who would have thought this wild fellow would have come upon so slight an invitation! But I'll make use of the occasi­on, for my Cousin Aurana's sake, and to plague my Husband for his jealousie.

Oh, I shall dye!—Oh, 'tis I, 'tis I

'Tis he himself, indeed, Madam; the first of the name. An Original. Who should it be else?

Oh, I know him: the Statesman and the Courtier!

And the most peerless Coxcomb that ever Nature made, or Art improv'd; but how he came hither in this re­verend Form I was design'd for, I cannot guess; unless it were by instinct to be jear'd.

'Tis strange, unless my Husband sent him for a spy.

No, no, 'twas his destiny: no conceited trick could scape him.

Put on your Veil, and call him in.

Come hither, Sir; why do you injure your self so much, by concealing your name? your grave and wise deportment, speaks you to be an excellent person, whom Fame has made known to me, by the name of Intrigo.

Well, Madam. that you may not think your Favours mis-plac'd, I will not say I am the person you speak of, but ne­ver a man in Italy could have manag'd this design with so much dexterity, as the person you wot of: and, now I have said so much of him, I must beg your pardon, I shall say no more.

You're a modest Man, Sir. Well, you are better read in Women, than to doubt my kindness to you. But this kind of Amours must be manag'd with much Prudence, Circum­spection, and Taciturnity.

Taciturnity! my own words! 'Tis a signe she likes e'm

Here is my Duegna, without whose consent we can do nothing. The greatest tye upon her secrecy, will be to make her party to the crime: make your addresses to her first, and oblige her with your Love. You know the Out-works must be taken, before the main Garrison: when that's done, I will not say you shall command me, but I leave you to guess it.

Oh, Divine Madam. Malvezzi, nor Paruta could not have deliverd a more Political Precept. Let me alone for this Province. Now the God of Love and Prudence assist me.

SCENE, Grimani's House.

With much ado I got leave to make this visit. Well, let us make the best use of our time, since our Fathers let us be together so seldom. How goes it with thy Heart, sweet Cousin, Does thy Lovers go true to 't?

As punctually as two Watches that are seldom wound up together.

My Cousin Bellinganna has just now sent me word to come to her House, where I shall meet my wandring dear Tri­vultio, and fix him.

[Page 27]

How comes he there?

Nay, I know not.

And I'll tell you something more: we must all meet at the Doge's Villa; whence, if we ever part uncou­pled, may oportunity never favour Flesh and Bloud again.

Right; we are no frozen Lovers here in Italy. In luke-warm England, they'l slabber, kiss, make Love like Cats at midnight, break Gold, promise, contract, and sometimes ne'r enjoy, or Marry seven years after.

I, I, they'l sit at dinner when their Meat is cold: Ita­lian Stomachs scarce will stay for Grace.

Indeed I have heard 'em say, they're an odd sort of puling people in those parts, though they're something mend­ed of late years.

Now, Cousin, to let you see I'm as forward as you can be, do you know this Genleman? a French Master of mine.

Ha, ha, he: Visconti! how odly he looks!

Well, Mounsou, what wind brought you into these parts?

De natural inclinaseeon dat me have had from a Shilde to see de Vorld, and de Payes Estranger.

Very good. Of other Nations, none travel but rich Men, but the French go a begging all over the World, and live better than at home.

Me have ver good Estate in France, but me had de mal heur, to have a kerelle wid meen Cousin Germain, and had de good fortune to wound him dangerously wid de Boutevilles trust, Comme sa!

So me is retiré for a littel, and in de mean teem, me do cher­cher de condiseeon.

A true Frenchman; for at their first acquaintance, they will tell you all the Quarrels, and all the Claps that ever they had, and show their Wounds in any part.—

Well, Mounson, besides the speaking your own natural [Page 28] Language, what are the qualities you are good at?

Oh, me be good at de many ding; me can make de Perukes.

This speaks my Master a Man of Quality.

Me can sing as well as de Eunuch Italien.

I would he were one too, then I might securely ad­mit him into my Family.—

Well, what else Mounsou?

Oh, me can Fence, reed de great Oarse, me is good Barbier, good Cuisinier, good Button-makere; and in case de necessité, me can mend de Breeshes, de Stockings, and de Ladies Cowns.

Oh the Monster! from riding the Great Horse, to Footing of Stockings! these travelling Frenchmen are like their Pottages, made up of every thing.

He Acts it rarely!—

But, Mounsou, methinks all these good qualities should maintain you in cleaner Linnen.

Oh, de Nobless de France never put on de under Shirt but once in de halfe year; but for de Jentilesses dat ap­peare, de clean Sleeve, and de clean Crevat, every oder month.

The SCENE, Cornanti's House.

Where had you this Black?

I bought him at the Porto Santo,

Methinks he is a better favour'd Moor than ordinary.

I, Sir, his Nose is not so flat as most of theirs, and he has not altogether such a black Mossy Pate.

I like him never the better for his good Features: but speaks he not our Language?

Not a word, Sir.

Oh, then 'tis well enough. But, a pox, these strait­chin'd Moors will make plaguy signs to a Woman.

[Page 29]

I, and understand him too.—My Master, I'm sure, speaks no Morisco; I'll pass for a Learned Man.

How didst thou come to learn their Language?

Oh, Sir, I was a Slave fourteen months at Algiers. I was taken in Cavalier Strozzi's Ship, about twenty years ago, and learn'd their Language so perfectly, that I was made In­terpreter to the Ambassadors that came to the Governor.

Now for some hard words or I'm undone.

What's that now?

Why, marry Sir, I told him, that you said he should be well us'd; and he made an answer, that shew'd a great deal of Respect, but little manners: in fine, 'tis a great com­pliment in their Countrey.

Come, come, what is it?

Why, Sir, the Sence of it is, He takes it to be an Ho­nor to be employ'd in your most contemptible Offices.

Come, you're a Rogue: this is no humane Language; but the Dialect of the Barbary Stallions. Say that over again.

Dilloron losicon hu.

You Rogue you, that's not the same.

Pox o' this dull memory of mine.

'Tis very near the same, Sir. I confess I cannot now speak it so well; but never a man in Italy understands it better.

You're a bold Knave, Sirrah. I'll go in, to my Wife, and bring her to see her new Servant.

This Steward, be like, is a grave well-Letter'd Man. He was Interpreter to the King of Algiers. Upon se­cond thoughts, he must needs know that I speak not good Morisco. Now is the Critical time, in the absence of his Ma­ster, to bribe him to silence. Pray Sir, come near, here's something for you.

Oh Lord, all Languages! this is sure the Devil him­self.

[Page 30] Nay, I see his cloven Foot too.

This fellow's going to tell.

Indeed, good Signior Diavolo. I dare not take it; for I am afraid I must give a Note under my hand for't, I have heard of many a good Soul lost by that means.

Come, come, I am no such person as you take me for: I am come hither, as many Heroes have done, upon a certain Politick, private account, or rather (under the Rose) Amorous one.

Indeed your Worship has got a very fine wooing Face. I guess who this may be.

Well, if the Devil will make a man a Present, with­out a dangerous condition, I know not what should hinder him to take it.

These are not Air neither, there is Flesh, and Bloud, and Bones in 'em. Well, I will cut one piece of knavery into two pieces of honesty. First, I will take his Money, and let him make my Master a Cuckold: that's a valuable consideration; there's my Justice. Then will I dutifully acquaint my Master with it: there's my Fidelity.

Well, Sir, I'll do your busi­ness for you. I thought indeed your Worship did not speak good Morisco.

Come, Wife, how do you like the countenance of your new Servant?

'Tis hard to read a Book that Nature has so blotted: His Soul, I hope, is white and innocent.

It were not amiss to take the Latitude of his Capacity by his experience of our Fashions. Show him the Glass.

You might use some moderation in your abases.

You look like an Ass, and you don't love to be told on't.

Truly, Sir, I am afraid your Worship and my Lady will be offended with me, if I tell you.

No, no.

Will you not indeed?

Upon my Honor I will not.

Why, then, Sir, he asks what Devil that is that stands by you, meaning my Lady.

Oh the innocent wretch!

Sir, in their Countrey the Devil's painted White, and their Beauties are all Blacks: you must excuse his ignorance.

This Master of mine is one of the most prudent Cuckolds that I have known. He will stave it off a little long­er. I wonder married Men do not more patiently submit to destiny: for these same Lovers will invent strategems; and those are more talkt of, than the feat it self; nay, they are writ of to Posterity, when many thousands of easy Cuckolds sleep in their Graves forgotten.

Have you acquainted your Lady with my passion for her?

So; y'faith, here has been tampering with my Pre­decessor.—

I, I, Sir, and she receives it very well.

[Page 32]

Has she appointed a meeting?

Not yet, Sir; but I'll go in and ask. If she is kind to him, 'tis more than I could obtain for my self.

She will meet you this afternoon, in General Mocce­nigo's Wilderness, in the Walk of Statues; but you must bring your Passport along with you.

I understand thee: I'll present her nobly.

Farewel, Sir.

Was there ever such an old Goat as this Hircanio?

Was there ever such a frolique Saint as Bellinganna!

My Husband's gone out, and will not be back a great while, and your Mistress will be here presently: put off all this ug­ly Habit, and appear like your self. I hear the last time you were at the Church, you talk'd very coldly to her; now Court her with the Passion she deserves.

What a Witch have I made of my self, to no purpose! Would I were hang'd if I grow not weary of these Fatigues of Fornication. Well, I'll take her counsel: Marriage is con­venient. If my old humour return again, a rich Wife makes an excellent Bawd.

The SCENE, a Street.

The Princess Parhelia has ingag'd me here upon one [Page 33] of her froliques: and I cannot play the fool in a better Habit.

Why, Mounsou, you are provided for a seven years War.

How do me ken-now but me must feeght wid de Regi­ment des Espagniol; and begar, me do deseer to have de ho­neur of the first Sharge.

Pray let him have it, for they seldom charge twice.

Me have de natural Antipaty to des Spagnols, and de Milanees, de Sujets of de Roy d'Espagne, and me de love to chercher l'occasion. Begar, dare is no man in de verld can feeght in de partees like a de French Academists, and de Me­tre Fence, and de Metre Dance, Francois. One Man will beat twantee. De agilité of de Hoarse in de Academiste, and of de Fout in de Metre Dance, and Metre Fence, Sa, Sa, here, dare: sometime de grand Saut de recule, de pyroiste, de caprioles; de animee can no tell how to level de Muskets, nor de Guns.

I, Mounsou, I know he that kills a Frenchman, must shoot flying.

I begar: den dare is an oder ding, to kill a man wid de good grace, de bonne mine, and de address; 'twill doe good to de anemee to be kill so.

Here comes Sforza: now we shall hear some of the Lovers Litany.

Still overcast? when will my Heav'n appear?

Oh, Sir, this Mift will make the day more clear.

Oh cruel Saint! that fatal voice revoke.

[Page 34]

De Diable is in dis Love; no ding but de feere, de flame, de smock, de wound, de death, and de Bougre de Lovere is ver vell, ver gay, fresh, frolick, and feel no pain in de vol verld! Ke Diable est Sa!

Villains stand off.

Ai, Ai! Shrieks.

How now, Mounsou? you have a natural Antipatee to the King of Spain's Subjects, you dare not come near 'em.

Dat is ver true, me do keep my self for de Reserve, dat is de kalitee of de good Soldat.

Oh, I know the reason now, de Spagnol cannot kill you wid de good grace.

Stand still, or you're a dead Man.

Slaves, Dogs.

Murder, murder, Help, help.

Into this Chair, Sir, quick: it is a mercy shew'd you.

Murder, murder, Help, help.

She unmasks, So, is he gone? I'll be with him presently, and and Laughs search him to the quick. How bravely Visconti perform'd his part! Little does Sforza know, what pains Par­helia takes to cheat him of the Doge's Daughter. Woman scarce knows her self:

Mr. Black, you belong to some Nobleman of this quar­ter, did you not see my Master Signior Intrigo hereabouts.

Oh every body knows him.

However, 'twill be some delight to hear my own Cha­racter from a Domestick: Germanicus disguis'd himself in a [Page 35] Calfe-Skin to hear the commendations of his Soldiers, with­out offence to his modesty.

But pray, Sir, let me know; I have some earn­est business with him from the Doge's Lock-smith, that makes his Keys for the Privy Garden, and the Anti-Ca­meras,

I'm overjoy'd I shall prevail for a Key; but this is no time to take notice of it.

Why, honest friend; possibly your Master is in close Council with the Doge, or the Council of Ten; and therefore not to be spoke with.

Think you so indeed? I never knew any Man pretend to so much familiarity with the great ones, as he does: every morning our House is full of under-Clerks and Door-keepers; and they get a world of Money of him, by feeding him with Lies, or impertinent Truths, by telling him how many Caps, and what Cloaths the Doge puts on every day; what he eats and drinks, and how many Stools he has.

Your Masters a discreet Man, I will not say wise and grave: you do ill to abuse him.

What's that to you, Sir? I need none of your teach­ing, Goodman Black, 'Twas never a good World, since there were so many Black moors and Frenchmen in the Nation.

You're a saucy Knave, Sirrah.

Call me saucy Knave, who am chief Man to Signior In­trigo, you whorson Blackmore Dog you! No, Sir, I'de have you know, though my Master be one of the simpler sort of wise Men, yet, being his Servant, I'll take the Knave of ne'r a Man in Italy. Call me knave, you saucy Jack!

Poor Circumstantio! yet he shows some re­spect to me in even his wrath: he glories in being my servant, and quarrell'd with me in my own behalf, to uphold my Honor.

Incognito! do you steal my Master's words, you impu­dent Rascal you? my Honorable Master's own words? are such words fit for your mouth, you pitiful Rogue? have at you once more for your fine word Incognito, forsooth! In­cognito, with a vengeance, Incognito.

The SCENE, Cornanti's House.

I have watch'd my Cousin Cornanti out, and now is a good time to talk farther of my business to the Duegna.— Ha! what Trade's here, my Daughter!

Say you so, Madam? [Page 37] Then, faith, dear Aurana, I love thee to that desperate extre­mity, that, if you'll take me in the humour, I am resolv'd to undergo the scorn of all wise Men, and my own repentance, and sneakingly submit to that solemn Conjuring Cheat call'd Marriage; though my Reason kecks at it, and I shall certainly swoon at the sight of a Priest.

Ha! what do I hear? as if this young fellow was to marry my Daughter? You impudent Slut, you, are these your harmless frolicks?

Aime, my Father! Shrieks.

Will nothing serve but Matrimonial Gambols? Come away with me, Huswife. Do you think to steal Procu­rators Daughters so easily? Exit with Aurana.

Oh, she's lost for ever.

I warrant you we'll retrive her.

Ha! Trivultio! have I caught the wild Beast in my toils?

[Page 38]

O Lord, Sir, I have never a Sword; but I'll talk to him. Thou 'rt a Knave, Trivultio. Stand to him Master.

'Slife, I think this Man of mine's an errant Coward.

Oh Lord, Master, I'm afraid of your Worship's Sword behind me, and would not take the Victory out of your hands,

'Twould anger a Man to be a Cuckold, and be kill'd too. I'll go call for help. Jacomo, lock the door upon 'em.

Did you ever see such Cowards! I'm sorry I did not force my way out: but now the door's lock'd, what shall we do, Madam? shall I leap out of the Window?

No, the Barrs are too close.

Or hide my self? Can you find no way for your self and me? Now for a Woman's Wit at a dead life.

But, Madam, he'll know I can't get out of the room.

No matter, dispatch. Now your Hoods and Muffler.

We'll maul the Rogue.

We'll make him sure.

No, take him alive, and kill him by degrees.

Where's the Rogue?

Where's the Rogue?

What Rogue, Sir,? what d'ye mean?

What, have you hid him, Witch?

There has been none but I, and my Duegna here these four hours.

That shall not serve your turn, seek in the Alcove.

Are you distracted: Sir? whom do you seek?

Peace, Strumpet. Vigilia, dost thou know where he is?

Indeed, Master, I neither heard nor saw any body; I was in the Closet, Preserving, when your Worship and Jacomo was here: but I'll endeavour to find him out, an't be possible. Mayn't he be here? or here? or here?

I, Marry, a likely place!

Now I'm confident we have search'd is much as is possible: there's only one Box more in the room.

Search it, search it.

Here 'tis, Sir.

What a Snuff-box! You Whore, do you abuse me:

Pray, Sir, be patient; sure there is no body in the room, nor the Closet, nor Alcove.

'Tis strange, Sir, you should trouble your Neighbor­hood, and abuse me for such a fancy.

Well then, now I find it, y'faith. Jacomo has betray'd me, and let him out. Oh you treacherous Villain!

No indeed, Sir, not I, nor any body else; for I stirr'd not a foot from the door, after I lock'd it.

Go, go, Sirrah, no excuse: provide your self of ano­ther service. A fine juggle indeed!

Say you saw him not, and save your self and me.

Turn'd away from the best service in Venice, for my honesty!—Why, Sir, I believe your Worship's mistaken; for I saw no body here, but my Lady and your self, Sir.

Why, you impudent Rogue you, did you not see him, and speak to him by his name, and was afraid of him too?

Indeed I heard your Worship call one Trivultio all to [Page 40] naught, and I thought it was my duty to call him so too, and be afraid of him too; (how did I know but he might lye in Ambuscade, in the Alcove, and shoot us?) but the devil a'bit of Mankind did I see, but your self, Sir.

This is strange!

Say'st thou so? The plain truth of it is, I did not hear him speak a word; but I'll swear I saw him, or his Ghost, as plain as I see thee.

Then't must be some Spirit.

Think you so, friends? Verily, I must confess, I had an extraordinary fear and trembling came upon me; an Army of Men could not have frighted me worse.

Why, then, 'tis as clear as the Sun, neither your Lady, nor your Servants saw him, and your self did not hear him speak, nor touch him.

Methoughts I ran him through and through, yet he never cry'd oh for't; and then, indeed, I began to be a little afraid.

A body of Air, of the Devil's compounding: 't could be nothing else.

Why, Sir, Did you never hear the House was haunt­ed before?

Never.

Why, Sir, we were loath to tell you on't; but, Sir, though I never saw any thing worse than my self in my life, yet I'll take my death on't, I have heard some things walk at midnight, when we have all been a bed and asleep.

O' my word 'tis more than I heard ever.

I believe so, if you were asleep. This is a rare Rogue, make much of him.

Well, Neighbors, I thank you.

Madam, you're in my debt; but my Master much more.

SCENE I The Doge's Villa.

NOw indeed the Lady in the Church is as good as her word. How suddainly these Women exe­cute their designes! and how impatient they are in Love affairs!

Sure this is Paradise it self!

She's gone. Brightest of Angels, in form and intellect, couldst thou not find some nobler Mansions, uninhabited, to fix thy glories in, but thou must claim a Cottage all on fire already? Oh what a conflict's this? You Gods, that make unchangeable Decrees, assist my wavering constancy. I'll try if I be Captive still.

Whither now?

Whider now, Bougre Espagnol Milanois? Begar, me vill be revengé for me Metre de King de France. Cent coups de pieds, Bougre.

The arm'd Masquerades here still! How can this be answer'd to the jealous Senate? a capital Crime.

Sir, you may have leave to walk in the Gallery, if you please. Here's your way.

The SCENE, Cornanti's House.

Bless me! what do I hear? oh horrid! insufferable! The Moor in discourse with the Duegna? Treason, Jacomo, Treason.

What, is the fool talking to her, and sees not my Ma­ster?

What does she come on apace?

Oh I, she softens; she will come Piani piano.

[Page 44]

Oh Heav'ns, my Wife tool Execrable Villain: fetch me my Dagger; I will let out his filthy black Soul.—. But stay!—may not he have some privy weapons about him?

Believe it, Sir, there are few Men that come about these stolen-Love businesses, but bring along with them suf­ficient Weapons.

Then call the Sbirri that live hard by.

There are two of 'em sitting at the door.

Shall I approach this lovely Citadel?

You are too bold, Sir, with the Sentinel.

When shall I seal my Happiness, on these Vermillion Lips?

And yet he sees 'em not.

Indeed, Sir, I dare not venture the cold Air; but you may squeeze the Wax through the Paper, if you please.

Kissing too! fine work, y'faith!

When shall we interchange the duty of the Sexes?

Dear Sir, will you please to walk into a more pri­vate room?

Oh, the easie conquest! See what it is to Court regu­larly!

I Arrest you of Treason, at the information of Sig­nior Cornanti.

Me of Treason, that have (under the Rose) for these seven years, by my vigilance, preserv'd the State from Forreign Invasions, and Domestique Plots? I Arrested for Treason?

Rose me no rosing, but come away.

Oh the disappointment!

[Page 45]

Oh Lord, my Husband!

Queki sini baski. Ahi puli tinderis.

Did not I observe this Rascal talking to my Wife and Vigilia?

Cajiski oli melan. Ahi poluki, Ahi.

Alas, good Signior Intrigo, this is worse than A hone, Ahone. No, Sir, I scorn to betray my Master. To come a spy thus from Taffaletta, Under the Rose, it was not welle.

Oh the false knave!

Bless me! is this Intrigo?

That grave knavish Fop! Away with him to Prison, away with him.—Ah you Whores! you Devil-ridden Witches!

In the name of the Duke and Senate, we Arrest you.

Arrest me! for what?

For Treason, in keeping intelligence with the Turk­ish Ambassadors.

Heavens guard my innocence.

And you are to appear before the Council of Death within this half hour.

I, Sir, 'tis present death. On the admirable wisdom of the Senate, to prefer the Publick before the Private still that [Page 46] gives no time to any, though innocent, to defend themselves, when it is for the publick good!

Honest Intrigo still!

Oh, Sir, I could have told you of all this before; I knew the whole design of your Treason, the time, the place, your Confederates, the Orders of the Senate, the Critical Minute of your surprisal, and the utmost date of your mise­rable life.

Take heed what you say, Sir. Do not I know the whole model of your business have not been employ'd, as an instrument, to convict you? and a spy upon your actions? Don't you see, under the Rose, how I disguis'd my self on purpose? Do you think this was a wooing Face?

Here's a turn y'faith! This Intrigo will prove a plaguy fellow.

Say you so, Sir? Then we summon you to appear before the Council.

I shall most readily attend the Clarissimo's.

Oh, good Sir, pardon my misapprehensions of you; speak but the truth, and no more, and endeavour to support my oppressed innocence. Alas, Sir, you may have free access to my House, at anytime, and what sort of conversation you please with any of my Family, none excepted; very intimate, unrestrained conversation.

Very good y'faith, Oh that my Master could com­pound for one night's Lodging!

Ah, Husband, I doubt this was a judgement upon you, for your causeless jealousie. How could I prevent this?

I, and your distrust of your poor old Servant.

Come, Sir, the time draws on.

But hold a little, my Masters. A fools bolt is soon that By what authority do you do this?

What authority, Sir? To satisfy your fools head, here's our Commission.

[Page 47]

Dominieo Loredano, the most Serene Doge of Venice, to the Officers of the Council of Death. Whereas we are inform'd, that certain wicked and disloyal persons have attempt­ed most unchristianly to betray the secret Deliberations of this Se­nate, to the Ambassadors of the Grand Signior, and have seduc'd, into their couspiracy, a certain Senator, Aulo Foscarini— Is Foscarini the man you seek for?

I, the very same.

But my name is Cornanti.

Look in your Commission.

I cannot read.

I, Sir, 'tis Foscarini indeed, and there is no other name in the Commission.

'Sdiggers, I remember 'twas a long name, and had four Syllabubs to't, as they call 'em.— Fos-ca-ri-ni: Cor-nan­ti; that's too short. I'll take my death on't 'twas Foscarini.

But we were told this Foscarini liv'd here.

We humbly beg pardon of your Magnificence.

I, I, 'tis well enough. 'Slid, I can hardly recover my self to talk to these Rogues. Sirrah, take heed—here­after how a man of my Robe—

Avant, you Rogues; we'll trounce you.

But, hark you, friends; though I'm clear of this Trea­son, here is a certain Gentleman knows of a Treason, the time, the place, the Confederates; and was employ'd, under the Rose, as a spy; to betray a Senator in his House, as you may see by his Face: you had best seoure him.

'Tis pity indeed he should lose his labor: let him be hang'd first, and examin'd after. 'Tis all for the publick good still.

Indeed our Commission extends not so same; but if your Magnificence please to command us, or so, we'll venture.

Oh, good Signior Cornanti, let me rather go with my friends here, the Sbirri.

Oh, by no means. This could be no wooing Face; but a most dangerous Politic Calves Face.

[Page 48]

You will I exercise my patience, and not betray my Mistress, nor the ocassion of my coming. Why should Hare­brain'd fools triumph upon my infidelity.

You would not aim so low as a Woman! the Publick! over as long as you live, before the Private. Therefore good Sbirri, take him for once; and be sure you let him have no private room, but the abominable, publick, stinking hole, a­mongst the poor prisoners: there let him lye, under the Rose, still.— This was a judgement upon me, Wife, and you, old Witch, for distrusting you, was it not! Messengers, you may be gone. Sbirri, away with him.

I thought I should have no good luck this day, for put­ting on my Breeches before my Doublet, and saying my Prayers before I wash'd my hands.

Well, Wife, 'tis enough; I believe you: this fellow's fool enough to attempt any ridiculous thing without incouragement, and Jacomo might be deceiv'd in him. But, deal ingenuously with me, was you never Courted by Trivultio?

Good Sir, be patient, and I'll tell you all. That there was ever any allowance to his Courtship, on my part, I ut­terly deny; but that he has made some addresses to me, I will not be so unjust to you as to conceal it.

But how, and where?

Why, Sir, at my Chamber Window, with Serenades.

But was he never within doors?

Did not you find that was a meer delusion?

True; but it runs in my head still. He's a wicked fel­low, the Devil would never have come in his shape else. But go on.

At last, tir'd with his importunity, I appointed him a meeting this afternoon about this time, in General Mocceni­go's Wilderness.

[Page 49]

Ha! what means this? A Man can never dive to the bottom of these Women,

How a meeting? an unlawful meeting?

No, good Sir, no unlawful one: there's to be none but us two there.

A dangerous lewd Conventicle.

But you know I have no power to go out, unless you give me leave, for once, or so.

Oh rare!

Come, Sir, in short, the whole scope of my design is, to give you satisfaction; therefore go along with me, and when you find his intentions, vindicate my Honor and your own, with all the severity Revenge can dictate.

Oh, now I understand her.

Brave wench, now I see thou art honest; but if thou hadst not a mind to be so, all the Devils in Hell could not compel thee to it. Come away.

SCENE, A Gallery in the Doge's Palace.

Sir, an old Gentleman, that past by the Gate, gave me this, with ten Checquins, and the promise of as many more, to deliver it safe to your hands: but the discovery may cost me my life. Pray be secret.

Hold.

I dare stay no longer.

If your Love be equal to mine, your resent­ment is as great for our violent separation. You are a Prison­er to no less a person, than the Princess Parhelia, the Doge's Daughter, who will spare no desperate attempt to give her self satisfaction. But I will suddainly redeem you from this Captivity, if your constancy deserve so great a favor.

What, can you love, or dye, Sir?

That grant of liberty, sweetens all your sharpness.

The SCENE, General Moccenigo's Wilderness by the Walk of Statues.

This is the place I appointed to meet Trivultio at Lay your Men in ambush hereabouts, and stand you behind this Arbor, and when you discover the wickedness of his in­tentions, call out the Bravo's to pistol him.

[Page 54]

But you must appear to be very forward and kind, to make him the bolder, that I may have the juster cause to kill him.

Very well thought of; but take notice, I'll make you some sport before, which you must not be angry at.

No unlawful sport, I hope?

Fy, fy, Sir; I mean with another business.

This is the Walk in the middle of the Wilderness, I was to meet her at—And there she is. Oh the blessed Image! Madam,

A very fair Jewel.

I had notice from a friend, that my Husband was to meet a Lady here. I, here's the Rogue presenting her with something.

Death, here's my Wife

Brave Wench, y'faith! Ha, ha, he. Didst not thou send for his Wife?

I, I Sir; take the Jewel, and to your place again.

Oh, Madam, such high blessings deserve some expectation.

But, Sir, I shall no longer torture your desires.

Dear Trivultio, I am wholly thine.

How can that be, when the illustrious Senator,

His was by purchase, Sir; but yours free gift.

Oh, impudence! Know, Madam, then I came to try what I could searce believe; but knowing it, abhor the in­jury, intended against my noble friend; which I durst not ac­quaint him with, till by this circumstance assur'd. I say, against my friend, and my Father's old Friend. 'Tis true, he refus'd to lend me Money; but I know he did it for my good.

Well, well, thou'lt never leave thy drolling, Trivultio.

No, no Madam, the Dignity of a Senator is not so cheaply to be valu'd. Were I dispos'd to those voluptuous sins, I'de quench my Flames in common Waters, and not cor­rupt the noble Streams, to viciate a Race of Princes.

Come, come, Sir, you do but jest.

Nay, then I'll be in earnest. Oh you vile Strumpet; abuse my noble friend, and an illustri­ous Senator! 'Tis: private justice, and 'tis publick too, to [Page 56] scourge thy sinful Carcase.

O spare my Wife, spare my Wife, she's Honest, she's very honest.

Bless me! the noble Clarissimo! How came you here, Sir? you're too good natur'd; no, no, it cannot be.

Hold, hold, for the Lord's sake: she is indeed, and plac'd me here to watch you.

She place you? 'twas a cunning honest trick of her. A man had been finely serv'd that had come with a dishonest intent, la.

I could do no less than acquaint my Husband with your sollicitations.

Nor I, than to vindicate his Honor. Pray, Madam, pardon my Zeal to your Husband.

Dear Trivultio, now shall I esteem thee, as the most faithful friend that I have in the World: my House and my Coffers are all open to thee.

Oh, good Sir, Virtue's its own reward.

That ever I could imagine there should be any base­ness in my old friend, Cavalier Trivultio's Son, that noble Gentleman! Dear Wife, I am sorry for thee: how is it, Honey?

Well enough, if it may tend to your satisfaction.

I shall never harbor an ill thought of thee, as long as I live again. Such a Wife and such a Friend!

But this old Satyr Hircanio! I cannot chuse but laugh at him How his Wife pepper'd him! Come, come away, my dear sweet Rogue!—to my House, to rejoyce with me and my Wife, upon this admirable confirmation, and settlement of my thoughts.

Now have I honestly accomplish'd one of my designs, to cure my Husband of his causeless jealousie: the next is, to help this wild young fellow to a Wife, to reclaim him.

Come let's away. Such a Wife, and such a Friend!

SCENE I. Cornanti's House.

HOw easy and light do I find my self, since I shak'd off this lazy disease of Jealousy! methinks I am not the same man. Let me see. (

) Why, no: thou ly'st in thy throat, old Cornanti, if thou say'st so. I renounce thee and thy Works. Well, now that I am new rigg'd and trimm'd, will I launch out into the Ocean of Bravery, and rout whole Squadrons of jealous Cuckolds. Woe be to the yellow Flags. What a world of Mistresses might a Man make, while he sits brooding over, and watching one Wife!

You're very bold with him, Sir. Not at home. This is some intimate acquaintance of my Husband's;

they will abuse him sometimes. 'Tis a flat-nos'd ugly fellow: he looks like one of my Husband's Bastards.

Abuse me! I'll try my Rhetorick.

'Slife, I think 'tis my Husband himself! How these fashionable Cloaths, and white Peruigs, (the great Levellers of Faces) alter Men! But I'll take no notice of him.

Oh very well, Sir: I love to lye cool.

Troth, Madam, to be plain with you, your Husband's my old acquaintance, and friend, my second-Self, and I have a great inclination to oblige him with a pair of Horns.

[Page 58]

Have you indeed, Sir? I know not what you see in me, can justify this liberty of talking. Be mannerly, or be­gone, Sir.

Well, well, Madam, I'll talk of something else. I was something the more free to droll with you, because they say your Husband, that was one of the most jealous Owls in na­ture, is now perfectly cur'd, and convinc'd of your honesty. I am the most contented Man the Earth bears.

Why, are you such a man?

I mean, Madam, He said he was. What a Block-head am I!

Now will I torment him a little. You're a goodly Man indeed to talk of being my Gallant! If I would be con­cern'd with any man in the World, it should be Trivultio. Ah, what a Genty man is this Trivultio!

Hell and Devils, Oh the crafty Strumpet! 'Tis too true I see.

Why, Husband; pretty, smug-fac'd Husband, did not I know thee? why wouldst thou conceal thy self? I was re­solv'd to vex thee a little for't.

Oh, was it nothing else? well enough. I did begin to relapse.

Why, Husband, you're another manner of Man. Pret­ty smirking Rogue, come kiss me.

That I am y'faith: I defy all the young fellows in Town for a Gallant. That I do, so I do.

Madam, yonder's Signior Hircanio without.

Very good: bid him come in; I'll leave you.

May I make bold to interrupt your Solitude?

A worse diversion were a favour, Sir. Faith, Sir, 'tis ill halting before a Cripple, I believe you're of my mind, you take an opportunity to visit the Lady, when her Husband's out of doors.

Oh fy, Sir, she's a person of Honor,

Be not so over-wise, grave Sir; I'll deal frankly with you; I'm before hand with you: look, Sir; do you see this knot of Diamonds? A small gift of hers.

Death? my Jewel. This the happy Favorite: we spend to maintain others. But pray, Sir, did you ever obtain the Favour?

[Page 60]

Why, is not this a great one?

I, I; but the favor t'enjoy her, Sir.

Why, what d'ye think, we're no such Lenten-Lovers here in Italy, Jove be prais'd: I've layn with her five hundred times.

Oh the happy Man! but is she not a rare Bedfellow?

Faith, so, so: if it were not that she smells a little too much of the Frangipani in hot weather. But did you never kiss her too?

Never but in a civil Salute, or so.

Oh then she stops her Wind: but she has a breath more poisonous than the Pump-water of a Ship that never Leaks. The Devil's in him if he likes her now.

Oh pray, Sir, then spare your leavings, and speak a good word for me: I may chance to find you a Buona-Roba in another place.

Say you so, Sir? I'll go about it strait.

Do, good Sir.

But remember your promise to Pimp for me, good grave Senator: 'tis an Honourable employment, and fit for none but Statesmen.

I'll not fail, Sir. This is the most hopeful way; for I fear her appointment in the Wilderness was trecherous.

The SCENE, A Street.

So, now I know where I am: here dwells my Goddess.

Trust me, this noble Count, with Candor and Fami­liarity, owns my afflictions, is come to see me, and calls me Saint, because of my persecutions.

Certainly, Sir, it was a most unexpected and inhumane re­straint.

[Page 61]

I, and terrefy'd and threaten'd, and kept prisoner, with­out any Ground or Reason.

Yonder's the Count has stumbled upon some other Masqu'd Lady: some mistake. I must go to him: is he mad?

Verily, dear Sir, this was the most unjust captivity that ever was, since the Jews were in Babylon.

I, or the Spaniards under the Moors, in Granada.

Ha, Moors! does he abuse me? 'Tis true, I could not get out this Black yet.

What e'r the occasion was, is more then every body's aware of; but some shall hear on't on both sides of their Ears.

Nay, pray forget it now: Ladies hands strike gently.

Well consider'd indeed, and 'tis good manners to kiss the Rod, and bear it patiently.

How, can you tell my story better than my self?

Now does he abuse me, for taking up Bellinganna's Note.

Which I took to be yours. You might hear some­thing; but you saw nothing, but the beginning of the busi­ness.

Of what, dear Madam? Why do you speak so mysti­cally? Must your Sence, as well as Face, be still obscur'd from me?

Does he call me, Madam? Without doubt he abuses me.

For all your scoffs, Sir, some Ladies may have worse Faces; tho, I confess, I am a little Sun-burnt at present.

[Page 62]

Oh pardon me, Divinest Beauty, my Faith's as strong as ever.

Why, worse and worse? I can endure no longer.

I have incens'd my Goddess.

Well, what's the matter, Count?

Here comes the Enchantress.

Another Mistress? What, are you mad; or turn'd inconstant?

Avoid, Satan: you impudent Magician, Sorceress; the Earth shall swallow me, before I'll leave my first Engage­ments.

Why? I'm your first.

'Tis salfe, you Witch, Medaea, Conjurer.

There's, no talking to him now; but I'll stay to see th' event.

Ha! some Musick!

Ha, ha, he! Intrigo in Prison, black as he was at my Cousin Bellinganna's, which you take for a Masque; and here's the Prison. Come, view your Mistress nearer.

Death, 'tis the grave fool indeed!

Abuse me still! Oh the ignorance of Mankind, that judges all things by the event!

Look here, that's my window I spy'd you from.

Sir, Signior Cornanti has order'd you to release Intrigo.

Very well, Sir.

Methinks this imprisonment should, have so mortify'd him, that we shall hear no more of his Love-Adventures at our House: but 'tis ten to one but he will be launching out upon some new designe. He can no more conceal his counter­feit Wisdom, then a beggarly Gallant can stay within doors. with a Copper-Lac'd Suit.

Grave Signior Intrigo, you are injoyn'd not to speak a word of the occasion of your coming to our House. Farewel, Sir,

This release was certainly procur'd by some overture from the amorous Lady, and the mollify'd Duegna,

The SCENE, the Doge's Palace, with the same Furniture as before.

Bless me, great Gods, what do I see, my glorious Prison! the very same Room, the same Furniture, and the same Guards in Masks!

And Honor shall be judge what Love shall do.

A jolly company y'faith, if we had the Fiddles.

What, broke loose again, Cousin?

Pray, Madam, how came you to hear of my escape?

Oh, my Consin Bellinganna and I, have kept a con­stant correspondence. Well, Count, that you may not be mi­serable alone, here are some other fellow-Prisoners to Ma­trimony.

If happiness may be increas'd by participation, or if I can receive any addition to what I have already, it is to see my friend Trivultio so.

Thanks, dear Count.

[Page 65]

I have a pretty crochet just now come into my Head: Yonder

Trivultio, o'my conscience, is very ho­nest, and would not cuckold me, if he might; and my Wife's a Woman of Honor: I have try'd 'em both; therefore will I cuckold him. Ah quil est doux de faire, son cher amy Cocu. Come hither pretty Soul, I do intend to make Trivultio my Heir: will you give me leave to visit you, when your Husband's from home?

'Twill be the greater favor, Sir, that you will own me in his absence.

So, so; Done and Done; as plain as up and ride. Look how the poor fellows looks at me! As jea­lous

as a Goose! And my Wife too! I, Sir, if you knew how near you were being a Cuckold!

How sneakingly a man looks that's jea­lous!

But, me thinks the Rogue begins to look a squint at me.

I'll fright him a little. Hark you, Sir, do you endea­vour to corrupt my Mistress?

'Slife, what shall I say? Thy Mistress! not for a world? I'm not such a Rogue. Make a Whore of her I intend shall bring Heirs to my Family!

It seems you intend to get 'em your self. Come, come, Sir; 'tis no jesting matter; I over-heard you.

Ha, ha, he. Was it not fit for me to try whether she were honest, or no? Thou shouldst never have had her else: my Son and Heir marry a Whore! I'de see her burnt first. If it had been any other Woman, I had been in earnest, la.

Was it only so? I'm satisfy'd.

Faith, Sir, I want Arithmetick to count 'em. Shall I reckon by Julio's, or Halfe Crowns?

Halfe Crowns. A good Market-rate. Let me see, about eight hundred thousand of 'em. That's all. I have a project, that every one of these Women shall bear me two Male Chil­dren at a birth every year: so that about twenty years hence, I shall be able to bring every year a fresh Army of Sixteen hundred thousand fighting Men into the Field, out of my own Loyns, Boy. The old Patriarchs were Asses to me: poor impotent broken-belly'd Fumblers.

But, at this rate, you must get more Children in a night than Hercules.

Hercules! Why, Hercules never eat French Pottage, nor Jelly, nor Champignons. A poor Carret-eating Rogue! I'll have all the Cordials and Elixirs, that Nature treasures up for the industrious, payd by the rich. My Physitians shall study nothing else but the Art of Procreation; I'll have none but those that can turn all Nerves into Bones, and all Meat into Marrow.

Right, Sir. You shall have all the three Concoctions in a minute, and the time gain'd from them shall be employ'd to lengthen Generation.

Well escap'd, Madam. I see you're as good as your word.

Oh, Madam, I am as it were at home, under the wings of my Tutor here.

And, Begar, me vil now teche you de finest leson in de vol vorld.

No other Lesson, Mounsieur, but the French Song:

[Page 67]

What the Devil's this fellow that Melind has got?

Me be de Exant of de Guard to de Princesse: vat is dat to you?

Do you laughé at me?

Pray excuse me, Sir; 'tis new word I had not heard before, a fine word: but I honor your Person as much as any man living, good Mr. Ex­ang.

We shall have some Blood-shed by and by, between these two Heroes.

If I might be hang'd, I cannot forbear talking to him Hark you, Mounsieur Exang,—

are not you some Dancing-Master, or some such kind of fel­low? pray throw off your fighting Tools a little, and teach me a Corante.

Me Dancing-Metre! Begar you lye in de troate; me corn dat. Me Metre Dance?

What are you then? a Fencing-Master? will you teach me the Stocade? the Sa, Sa?

Morbleu: de affront to de Noblesse. Me no Metre-Dance, Metre-Fence, no Artizan, no Burgeois, no Fout-man. Me be Gentil homme. You be de Son of de Whore, and de Beech, and de Kishen Wench, to say so: me marry dis Lady de grand kalité. Me vil have satisfacseeon.

'Slife, what have you done? The Frenchmen are all Gentlemen abroad, unless their Cloaths disprove 'em. The Ladies never question it. We shall have a Challenge present­ly: will you please to accept of me for a Second?

No, no; I hope, no need of that.

Me Bourgeois! Me Roturier! Me Metre Dance!

I did not care neither, but that I strain'd my Arm t'o­ther day, fighting with the Watch: I can hardly stretch it out. And you know the chief Thrust lies in the Allongee. I hate to kill a man by halves.

Come, come, we lose time: are you ready to be married?

Oh Lord, we are undone! who would have thought. of any bodies coming here at this time?

Heaven defend us.

Que Diable est sa!

Have a good Heart, man, 'tis nothing.

Sayst thou so, Boy? Some frolick I warrant you.

Seize on the Conspirators.

Deliver, deliver.

If I had not come hither by accident, contrary to my custom, what a scandal had I layn under!

I humbly beg your Highness pardon: 'twas but harmless mirth.

Just Heaven, my Daughter with her hair-brain'd Gallant so soon again! Oh the wandring Whore!

Begar, me corn your word: me no Mushroom, no Stool-toad.

[Page 69]

If you be his Wife, you shall soon be Widow: I'll have our French Cock roasted alive, with his Gizards and Sausages about him there.

Oh Lord!

I'm sorry Sir, to find you here, after so late an Ho­nor given by the Senate.

Sir, you will find Ingratitude a stranger to my thoughts.

'Tis old Signior Cornanti in disguise.

No, 'tis false, Sir, 'tis young Signior Cornanti.

How have I been abus'd then.

The Metamorphosis!

What, you're but in jest, Cousin! 'will you never ha done? you'll fright the poor Wenches out of their little wits.

'Twill prove a sad jest, good Mounsieur.

Come, come, what a pox, this'll not pass. Ha, ha, he. Do you think to make a fool of me too? How you leer now! Do you think, if there had been any Treason in't, I, as a Se­nator, would not have discover'd it? Have not I as great a love for the Commonwealth, as your self, Sir?—Hark you, Sir, have you found out a Buona-roba for me yet?

This Gentleman's strangely alter'd, from a penurious Melancholly, to an exorbitant gayety. Sure he counterfeits.

No doubt on't, Sir,—I know this poor fellow's folly; but let him be hang'd however, that he may tell no tales.

Trivultio, dost thou see how finely they act their Parts! as if it were a Stage-Play.

Now, with this lye, will I come even with my Daughter's Ravisher, and my happy Rival though she hang for't too, no matter.

Great Gods, assert our innocence,

[Page 70]

Guards look to the Prisoners, and keep 'em all in several Rooms, with a Guard to each, that there may be no contri­ving, or packing of sett Tales. And you, Tipstaves, let the Council of Forty be Assembled immediately; and let the Pope's Legate, Cardinal Colonna, though he arriv'd here but last night, and has not yet appear'd in publick, be desir'd to attend the Senate, in case of Ecclesiastical Censure, upon the lesser Offendors of this numerous Riot:

Look especially to this wild Traytor Trivultio.

I'll warrant you, Sir.

What's become of the Frenchman?

I believe he's run away.

That's like 'em.

What a pox means this? Hark you, Ladies, if they should be in sober sadness after all, 'twould vex one.

'Tis too true, Cousin.

Pox o'these grave fellows, there's more malice in one of 'em, than in twenty of us young merry scabs.

Come away, Sir, do you rail at his Highness?

What, I warrant you, you're in good earnest, are you, you'll be hang'd as soon.

I'll try that.

Nay, prithee good Beef-eater, stay a little; prythee, prythee.

Come aloft, Sir.

The SCENE, A Street.

What a coil's here about this Master of thine? I tell thee he's not here.

Why there can be no affairs of State transacted with­out him.

Honest Circumstantio, I see thou hast little to do, and I have a great deal of business, prythee take my Tipstaff, and summon the Cardinal.

Oh I know the House that was taken for him in the Strada della Chiesa; I'll do't for you.

Stand; Whither so fast? Are not you one of the Conspirators?

Me be povré Estranger:

A Frenchman, a Frenchman.

A French Dog; all the Plots come from thence.

Knock him down.

Brain him. This is he that set my House o' fire. 'T could be no body but a Frenchman.

Keep the Peace neighbors, and let us bring him be­fore the Senate. He was in as much haste, as if he had been coming from Candia or Gygery.

I, I, away with him, away with him. A Plot, a Plot: the French, the French.

They'll burn the City.

They'll worry our Wives and Children.

They'll let in the Sea, and drown us.

Twas they that brought the Plague into Venice.

I, and the Pox too, formerly.

What's your name?

[Page 72]

No matter, you shall be hang'd for looking like one

I, for clipping the true Language.

You shall be hang'd Al-a-mode de France.

Come, come away.

Away with him, away with him.

The SCENE A Prison with a Bed in't.

Come, honest Guard, take thy Glass in thy hand.

God bless your Worship.

Now let us sing the Catch I show'd thee.

Now fill my Glass: faith, if we must dye, let's dye merrily however.

I have heard 'em say, Sir, that Drinking's the cure of all Diseases.

Why dost thou doubt it, man? They say every thing is more plentiful there, than here; and all Men are alike, and no poor.

Oh Lord, Master, how can you tell?

Why, there are several that have staid in the other World a little time: as some that have been in long Swoons, Apoplexies, and praeternatural Sleeps; others, that have been halfe-hang'd, cut down again, and recover'd. The other world, they say, is just such another place, as the Countreys of Ame­rica, Brazile, Mexico and Peru: there are few that venture to go there, but such as can live here no longer; but, when they come thither, they find every thing so good there, that they never think of coming back again.

Oh Lord, what would I give to speak with one of those Men that have been in the other World!

This fellow's deadly simple, and drunk to boot.

Why, thou shalt speak with one presently. I'm a dying man, thou know'st, and if I were hang'd out-right now, 'twere but some hours sooner; and a toy takes me i' th'head, to have thee put my Garter about my neck, and half hang me, that I may see what the other World is, we're going to: but be sure you leave pulling when I make signs to give o're.

Oh that would be fine, and pleasant, indeed, if I did not hurt you. But, Master, if I should hang you in good earnest, I should be hang'd for you.

Oh, never fear that. Here, take my Garter, make a running knot, and on with it.

Now ac­cording to the laudable custom of Malefactors, will I give this wicked World a short exhortation.

Oh, pray Master, do.

Good People, I am come hither to be a spectacle to Men and Angels, Criticks, and Devils; I am to pay a debt to Nature, which she has made over to a greedy Huswife call'd Fortune, [Page 74] who calls for it in before the day of payment. But Death is Ho­norable, Advantageous, and Necessary: Honourable in old Men, to make room for younger; Advantageous to those that get Lega­cies by it: and Necessary for Married people, that have no other Jayl-delivery. I am most justly brought hither to suffer this igno­minious death, and as my Legacy, do beqneath you an useful cau­tion, concerning that horrid and crying sin, that has brought me to this most Tragical end. My Godly Parents brought me up most virtuously, in hopes to have sold me to a Wife to the greater advan­tage: but at fifteen years of age, the Devil, the Devil grew pow­erful in me, and tempted me to a sin, Nature would never have thought of (good people: I tremble to name it)

getting my Mother's Maid with Child. Ah, Bettina, Bettina, thou taughtst me a trick I could never leave since. Thy Sweet-meats, and thy Sugar-plums, have brought me to the Gallows. Hangman, I freely forgive thee; and more freely, than ever any dying man did. Do thy Office.

Oh Gemini! what a brave Speech will he make when he comes to't in good earnest!

Pull down my Night-Cap that I may not fright thee, and that I may see more inwardly into the other world.

What do you see now, Master?

Nothing yet, but a Myst. Pull harder.

What do you see now Master? The Rope's very close: pray God he recover.

I see Rocks and Mountains, and

craggy places, and Men crawling upon 'em, like Snails or Maggots. Now I am come into a fair Plain, all set with Orange-Trees, Jessamin, and Rose-Trees: the most delicious place that in my life, I ever saw. But oh, oh, oh, now I see—

What, Master, what? he speaks mighty plain to be three quarters hang'd; but 'tis a lightning before death.

[Page 75]

Oh the blessed sight! At the end of this Plain, I see a great huge pair of blew Stairs, as broad as all the whole World, made all of Turky Stones, and Lapis Lazuli's, and they are stuck as thick with Checquins, as ever they can hold, with many broad Portagu'us, and English Jacobus's amongst 'em; and there is one piece of huge bright Gold, as broad as from hence to Padua, and another paler piece, as broad as from hence to Malamocco.

Now, o' my conscience, these same blew Stairs are the Skies; and the Stars, it seems, are nothing but Checquins; and the Planets, Portugu'us, and Cobus's: and the Sun and Moon are those same great gallant pieces. Pray Ma­ster let me be hang'd too, and go to Heaven presently.

No, no; I will see a little more. Oh the lovely Vision! Now do I see a great many of my old acquaintance, and some poor Tenants of my Father's, that are dead, going up and down these Stairs, and taking out the great pieces, and play­ing with 'em at Coits, and tossing about the little ones like Tennis-balls.

Oh Lord, Master, let me go to Heaven too, for God's sake: I can stay no longer. I will slacken the Rope.

Now the Devil take thee for a cross fool: its all gone again.

Nay, good Master, ben't angry, but hang me a little too.

Come, and thou wilt, on that condition thou'lt hang me again.

I will indeed, Master.

What dost thou see now?

Oh 'twill clear up by and by.

[Page 76]

Pull a little more. I see nothing in the World yet, but a great Fog. Pull, for God's sake, Master. Why don't you pull? Master, where are you?

Here, Boy, here: is the Myst clear'd up yet?

How the Devil got you there?

How many Checquins have you got in the other World? will you play at Coits, or Tennis with 'em? Are they as heavy as Venetian Money? sure they are light, they could not toss 'em so nimbly else.

Oh the Traytor! stop Thief, stop.

The Scene changes to a part of the Senate-House.

If you be discover'd I shall be sent to the Gallies; for none are admitted into the Senate-House, but Gentlemen of Venice.

Fear not, here's twenty Checquins for you.

Here, Sir, you may lye at large in this great Trunk of Records: 'tis a little Dining-room.

I'll get a hole made on purpose to put out your Head and Hands, that you may listen and take Notes.

Very well, How shall I hug my self, to hear the con­demnation of these imprudent Revellers! and besides, dive into the fresh Intrigues and Cabinet Councils, that come piping hot from Rome! How freely will this Cardinal empty himself into this bosom of mine, and know not who has drain'd him! This Art do we Politicians call pumping by Proxy, or the Magical Screw.

So so, I am got off clear. Now for another device to help my friends. The Cardinal Legate is newly come to Town, and scarce known to any man in Venice. Great Bodies move slowly, and he does not think the Senate is in such great haste; I will have a trick to prevent this Cardinal. The greatest, difficul­ty will be, to get Hircanio's Daughter; But Cornanti is bound to make the Match for me, for the kindness I did, in curing [Page 77] him of Jealousie. And shall I then attempt his wife again? In­grateful God of Love! Pox on't, in matter of Women, the de­ceit is Trivial. Civiliz'd Mankind that live in Towns, lye with one anothers Wives, as Gentlemen cheat in Horses, by a Tacit compact, and rule among themselves. Let Cornanti pursue his inclinations, I'll follow mine.

The SCENE, The Senate-House.

The Senate sitting, the Doge and Procurators of S. Marks and all the Officers: the Prisoners at Bar: Sfor. Parh. Cor. Bell. Visc. Mel. Trivultio disguis'd like the Cardinal Legat. All in form of Judicature.

The boldest frolick this wise State has known,

'Tis Treason in a high degree.

'Twas nothing but an amorous Gambol.

Spoke like his Ancestors.

This was a forreign project.

The King of Spain's,

This 'tis to favour Strangers.

Yet, some not stick to say, 't was but a Wedding;

Let 'em dye then.

Brave Boy!

Pshaw! now I am clearly convinc'd, there was no Treason in't.

No, none at all.

Yes, a treasonable piece of Leachery.

The Ladies could have no designe to betray their Fathers.

The severity of the Act of Ordelafo, has been miti­gated by two subsequent Statutes, in Gradonico and Friuli's times; so that now the Law stands thus. This Fact is death without mercy, if prov'd intentional for Treason, or for Murder; if otherwise, the Gallies, or Ecclesiastical Censure, according to the circumstances, which heighten or extenuate the crime, Gentlemen, which of these three are you resolv'd on?

Ecclesiastical Censure, Ecclesiastical Censure.

How bloodily this Cardinal looks! 'Twould troub­ble me to dye in the very Flower of my Age thus.

And, begar, me have de Fievre quarte.

Hark you Mr. Exang, you shall have the Honor to be hang'd first, because of your Command; Mounsieur Exang, la Precedence Monsou.

Silence at the Bar.

That's to say, People in the solemn Act of Generation ought not to be disturb'd A pious Cardinal.

'Slife, this'll prove a brave Man of God!

O de good-man o' de Shourshe.

This fellow talks as if he were frighting away Crows; 'tis pity you should scape hanging, good Mr. Exang.

Begar old Man, if me be no hang'd, me vil have sa­tisfacseon for de affront in the Hoose of the great Dogue.

Bear witness, Gentlemen, he threatens me, I shall go in dread of my life; therefore for the security of my Person, good Mr. Cardinal, hang us both together.

Peace in the Court; Peace, Peace.

Whither now! shall we be transported?

Love was the cause, 'tis fit that Love should suffer.

I had rather dye, than lose my Mistriss.

Agreed, agreed. Admirable Divine Sentence!

peeps out. A Frenchman too in the Plot! o' my word, a shrewd deep-thinking Nation: they cover internal Wisdom, with external Folly.

Begar old Fader in de law, me noe Vagaboon, me noe Rogue wandring.

Mark his politick Accent, and his craftily transposed Sense. Who sees the bottom of this?

Sir, to perplex you no longer. I am not the first French-Master, that has run away with a Gentleman's Daughter.

Of Nature, Sir.

Visconti!

[Page 83]

Why, my dear friend, and no Exeng!

A good Match for your Daughter.

Our Vows are seal'd long since, Sir.

How does your Eminence dispose of the marry'd Couple?

I'll throw't away first!

This whorson long gown will utterly spoil my Boon meen.

Nay, if the Clarissimo's begin to go in Quirpo once farewel Christendom, unless it be done upon designe.

No matter, Husband, if your Reverend jealousie re­turn not.

The Devil lodge such Guests, Cornanti never.

To be married to her, assoon as e're he's caught. I have heard 'em say, he's a wandring Gallant; 'twill be a true punishment to him: if an ordinary Prison will not hold him, clap him into the Dungeon.

Oh that Trivultio was here, to thank this good Car­dinal.

I do not use to have Decrees so Canvas'd.

[Page 84]

He a rude fellow? 'Tis false, Sir. O' my knowledge he's as honest a young Man of his Body, as any's within a hundred mile of his Head, though I say it, that should not. I have try'd him, Sir if you go to that, and you too. Hold your prating, Hircanio: shall I tell all?

'Tis thus much, Sir: I have enough for him, and for my self too; and he shall have your Daughter, in spight of your teeth, if you go to that, la! say I told you so.

This old Gentleman's much improv'd of late in his Parts and Elocution: He has been an unknown wise. Man these for­ty years. Heaven guard the State.

Was ever Man thus Hector'd by a Priest and a Lunatic!

How does your Eminence adjudge the Complices?

Alas poor hirelings! Let 'em all be pardon'd.

Excellent Sentence!

Let all those Decrees be entred in the Journal.

I, I, I.

— No.

Do you observe the malicious feeble Negative?

But 'tis the same I think.

All old Cardinals look alike, as all old Women do.

[Page 85]

Rather a Spright: one of the Devils Prelates.

That he may be, and yet be Flesh and Bloud.

Fathers, look to the Honor of the Christian Faith.

Right, Such violence becomes not his Profession.

Forbear to affront his Eminence.

No rude action till the thing is known.

These Cardinals are spies one upon another, and know it not.

Tipstaff, Who was it that was sent to summon his Eminence?

A fellow that's without.

Call him in.

My man entred into the grand Intrigue! O' my word, he was always a hopeful fellow.

I marry did I, as I told you before,

will you not believe me? what are you skipt hither so soon?

Honest friend, did not you fetch me?

I, I'm sure I fetcht you, if you be the same with the o­ther; for I fetcht but one: but if your Worships be two of you, I know not which I fetch'd.

Why, dost thou not know me? and didst thou not come to me, to my House in the Strada della Chiesa?

I, that I'll be sworn I did, and I know your Worship very well: but, beshrew my heart, I think your Worship's a Strologer, or a Negromonster, that can make two people of one.

Strange Labyrinth?

The fellow himself cannot know it.

May it please your Highness, not I; but he told me, that one of our fellows did, who should have gone himself.

This may be a Rogue, then. Come, come, sirrah, tell the whole story, with all the circumstances of it, how, where, and from whom you receiv'd your Message; and how long since you deliver'd it, and where you met with the Cardinal, with other particulars.

I shall, Sir, tell you in short. Going to go this morn­ing towards a Club we have kept these two years, as much as to say a merry meeting, as much as to say, at the Three Tuns in the Piazza dei Jardini, as fine a Signe as any's in Venice, and as well Painted, by the same token, we had bespoke to Sup­per, a dish of stew'd Chesnuts, five stumps of Capons Legs [Page 87] we had borrow'd of our Masters, a Fricaceé of Frogs, and a dish of butter'd Snails; I had not gone half way, but as sure as my Grandfather was at Lepanto, who should I meet with by the way, but a great croud of people with Halberds, and Staves, carrying Thieves or Traytors to prison.

An excellent Narrative! Little does the Senate know, by whose Precepts he was form'd to this perfection.

A very impertinent fellow!

So, I stept aside into a Shop, to see 'em pass: the Shop­keeper ask'd me what I would buy; But, intending my Money for other uses, out I went into the Street again; and, as sure as my Grandfather was at Lepanto, the company was almost lost: yet I had a mind to follow 'em; but, for all my haste, I was resolved to take a dram of the Bottle by the way.

Honest friend, come to the point. You know where you found me, and what you found me doing, who was with me, and how I promis'd you to come presently, as soon as I had dispatch'd my business with the Canons of S. Mark, whom you saw there.

Oh Lord, Sir! what are you mad, Sir?—

Now have you clearly put me out, that I can­not remember one word more, if I were to be hang'd for't; unless I begin again, word for word.

Alas-a-day, his old infirmity! 'tmay spoil his State-course.

So so: this is a made tale.

A meer juggle, and contrivance between 'em.

And the fellow makes himself simple, to be the less suspected.

Indeed, my Lords, what I speak is very true; but I am a little out in may story, and the Lesson I learn'd of my Master.

So, so, he confesses the Master and the Schollar.

'Tis now as clear as day.

A meer study'd Lesson, and the fellow could say no farther; for he had it only by roat.

Away with the Mock-Cardinal, and his Man: clap [Page 88] the Master and Schollar close in Irons, till farther order.

Disrobe and whip him.

No, let him be sent in this Habit to Rome, and there punish'd.

A most impious Act.

Prophane.

Abominable.

We allow no Appeals. Away with him.

Away with him, away with him.

No, not at all.

Let him be pardon'd, and confess his knavery.

I, I, I.

Great thanks, Illustrious Fathers, for your Gracious Pardon.

Is't possible?

Trivultio! whough!

Look you there now; I knew 'twould end in this. But the poor fellow will be hang'd. This comes of his caper­ing and Dancing without designe stil. This 'tis to have the Bark of a Frenchman, but none of the Sap.

[Page 89]

This was a Master-piece, y'faith.

Deserves Reward as well as Pardon.

A Cheat, a Cheat, a new Sentence:

Your Pardon, Reverend Sir.

How now, Sir?

I marry has he, Sir, for all you, if you go to that.

Will't please your Eminence to assume your Seat?

The Sentence now is void, though the Impostor's pardon'd.

Pray, Sir, let's hear the Case.

I, I, I.

This 'll not pass. My Lord, we're abus'd and cheated, And our Daughters ruin'd.

If you talk more, Hircanio, your Daughter shan't have him, if she would down on her knees to him.

Thanks to your Eminence, thanks, thanks.

Inroll the Judgement, and this day's transactions.

Shallow proceedings! if I would but appear now, I could turn the whole business again.

Baffled again! Well, is not this business to be cur'd

Not possibly.

No quick in Law left? Try, good Satana.

'Tis in vain, Sir.

Come, here's your Fee.

By no means, Sir, 'tis not for that.

Pray, Sir, take it.

Not in this place, indeed Sir.

Well, well, then I'll keep it for you.

Who would have thought he would have pocketed it again! but I shall have it. Let me see

How this Fee works!

I have found a most material objection. Hark you, Sir.

What means this Caballing in Court? The Senate's ready to Adjourn.

Gentlemen, I humbly conceive this Sentence is voids For I conceive—

This Lawyer has infected him with their Dubious Salvo.

The Pope's Ordinary is not a Judge, but Minister of the Court; and I desire the Records may be search'd, to see if there were ever any Precedent of this Nature.

How's that?

What pow'r soever the Legat has, the Judgement has been confirm'd by us.

Nevertheless, let us search the Records for his satis­faction.

[Page 91]

Now shall I be rewarded for this my inquisitive care of the State.

Clerk, make a search.

I, we cannot deny that.

Bless me! the Parchments move.

If ever Book breath'd in this World, here's one.

What, are you mad?

A Spirit, a Spirit?

Some Rat that stirs among the Papers.

Oh Heavens! a Ghost, in humane shape!

'Tis strange!

What may this mean?

A general Consternation!

Strange fright!

I, that I am, grave Senators.

And, let me tell you, under the Rose. 't has been my sole em­ployment for some years, though I have little thanks for't: and, though I am not Ordelaso.

True; he has such a politic Lethargy upon him, he cannot feel the Pricks and Lancings of ill fortune.

Look, here's your Master.

Silence in the Court.

How came this fellow here?

An't please your Highness, I can't imagine, unless he clapt the Keys in Clay, or brib'd the Lock-smith.

Master Procurator, you see your remedy.

Lawyer, this search was not worth a Fee.

I'll take heed of being Meal-mouth'd hereafter.

Right. This sort of fools walk always with dark Lanthorns; and they ought more to be fin'd for wearing Vizors over their follies, than others over their faces.

Gentlemen, 'tis time to adjourn: There only rests, What punishment upon this grave offender?

Troth, Gentlemen, my opinion is, That all extraor­dinary fools ought to have Pensions, instead of Punishments, especially those that bring up a new Mode of Folly. There is Honor due to Eminence in all things, and rewards for new inventions.

True; if all men were wise, there would be none to make sport with. Fools serve for honest men to laugh at, as well as Knaves to prey upon.

If it were not for the amorous Foot in Tragedies, and the merry Fool in Comedies, what would become of the Players?

I, more than that; if there were no Fools, there would be no Wits. Every new Fool begets a new Play; either as the Subject, or the Composer.

No question but they are as necessary in a Common­wealth, as wiser men, for variety.