The holy land of friendship, [and forbearing] To talk your wants.-Fie!
Aur. By that sacred thing
Last issued from the temple where it dwelt, I mean our friendship, I am sunk so low In my estate, that, bid me live in Genoa
But six months longer, I survive the remnant Of all my store.
Aurel. Umph!
Aur. In my country, friend,
Where I have sided my superior, friend, Sway'd opposition, friend; friend, here to fall Subject to scorn, or rarely-found compassion, Were more than man that hath a soul could bear, A soul not stoop'd to servitude.
Nor certainty, nor weak assurance yet Of reparation in this course, in case Command be proffer'd.
Aur. He who cannot merit
Preferment by employments, let him bare His throat unto the Turkish cruelty,
Or die, or live a slave without redemption! Aurel. For that, so! but you have a wife, a young, A fair wife; she, though she could never claim Right in prosperity, was never tempted
The holy land of friendship in forsaking, &c.] There can, I think, be no question but the last two words in the second line were inadvertently copied from the first at the press. I have given what may be supposed the sense of the original expression; the words themselves are irrecoverable.
By trial of extremes; to youth and beauty Baits for dishonour, and a perish'd fame.
Aur. Shew me the man that lives, and to my face Dares speak, scarce think, such tyranny against Spinella's constancy, except Aurelio—
Aurel. There lives not then a friend Dares love you like Aurelio; that Aurelio, Who, late and early, often said, and truly, Your marriage with Spinella would entangle As much the opinion due to your discretion, As your estate; it hath done so to both. Aur. I find it hath.
Aurel. He who prescribes no law, No limits of condition to the objects Of his affection, but will merely wed
A face, because 'tis round, or limn'd by nature In purest red and white; or, at the best, For that his mistress owes an excellence Of qualities, knows when and how to speak, Where to keep silence, with fit reasons why; Whose virtues are her only dower, (else [none,] In either kind,) ought of himself to master Such fortunes as add fuel to their loves; For otherwise-but herein I am idle,
Have fool'd to little purpose.
Aur. She's my wife.
Aurel. And being so, it is not manly done. To leave her to the trial of her wits, Her modesty, her innocence, her vows: This is the way that points her out an art Of wanton life.
'Aur. Sir, said ye?
Aurel. You form reasons,
Just ones, for your abandoning the storms Which threaten your own ruin; but propose No shelter for her honour: what my tongue Hath utter'd, Aria, is but honest doubt, And you are wise enough in the construction. Aur. Necessity must arm my confidence, Which, if I live to triumph over, friend, And e'er come back in plenty, I pronounce Aurelio heir of what I can bequeath; Some fit deduction for a worthy widow, Allow'd, with caution she be like to prove so. Aurel. Who? I your heir! your wife being yet so young,
In every probability so forward
To make you a father? leave such thoughts. Aur. Believe it,
Without replies, Aurelio: keep this note, A warrant for receiving from Martino Two hundred ducats; as you find occasion Dispose them in my absence to Spinella: I would not trust her uncle, he, good man, Is at an ebb himself; another hundred I left with her, a fourth I carry with me. Am I not poor, Aurelio, now? Exchange Of more debates between us, would undo My resolution; walk a little, prithee,
Friends we are, and will embrace; but let's not
A Room in the House of ADURNI.
Enter ADURNI, and FUTELLI, with a letter which he presents to Adurni.
Adur. With her own hand?
Fut. She never used, my lord,
A second means, but kiss'd the letter first, O'erlook'd the superscription; then let fall Some amorous drops, kiss'd it again, talk'd to it Twenty times over, set it to her mouth,
Then gave it me, then snatch'd it back again, Then cry'd, "Oh, my poor heart!" and, in an instant,
" Commend my truth and secrecy." Such medley Of passion yet I never saw in woman.
Adur. In woman? thou'rt deceiv'd; but that we both
Had mothers, I could say how women are, In their own natures, models of mere change; Of change of what is naught to what is worse.-- She feed you liberally?
She forced on me; vow'd, by the precious love She bore the best of men, (I use, my lord,
Her very words,) the miracle of men,
Malfato, then she sigh'd,—this mite of gold
Was only entrance to a farther bounty: 'Tis meant, my lord, belike, press-money. Adur. Devil!
How durst she tempt thee [thus,] Futelli, knowing Thy love to me?
Fut. There lies, my lord, her cunning,
Rather her craft; first she began, what pity It was, that men should differ in estates Without proportion; some so strangely rich, Others so miserable poor; " and yet," Quoth she," since 'tis [in] very deed unfit All should be equals, so I must confess, It were good justice that the properest men Should be preferr'd to fortune, such as nature Had mark'd with fair abilities; of which Genoa, for aught I know, hath wond'rous few, Not two to boast of."
Adur. Here began her itch.
Fut. I answer'd, she was happy then, whose choice
In you, my lord, was singular.
Adur. Well urg'd,
Fut. She smiled, and said, it might be so; and
There stopp'd: then I closed with her, and con
The title of a lord was not enough,
For absolute perfection; I had seen Persons of meaner quality, much more Exact in fair endowments-but.
Will pardon me, I hope.
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