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Jaques. What name?
Mar. Dull rogue! what, hath the king bestow'd
Your grace's mercy !
Oh, sir, 'tis well;
Mar. I say, once more, go about it.
Lady. I am so, mighty duke
Nay, for the country
Yes; I am resolved
Lady. Why, sir, you are no: mad?
Lady. You are the first, sir, and I hope the last :
Forbear, good wife.
But to stay you here? and shall I have a hand
Enter BEAUFORT, LONGUEVILLE, GENTLEMAN, and MARIA.
Beau. What, doʻvn into the country?
Lady. Yes, 'faith. Was ever fool but he so cross ?
Long. According to his merits, he should have
Lady. If there be any woman that doth know
Long. (aside) Wait you here for him, whilst I go,
Go; be speedy.
Mar. I cannot choose but kiss thy royal lips,
Beau. You'd say so, if you knew all, goodman Duckling! [.Iside. Clerimont. (a foolish kinsman) This was the happiest fortune could be fall me!
Mar. Montez, montez! Jaques, be our querry !
An hour ago
Long. Stand, thou proud man!
Thieves, Jaques ! raise the people!
Mar. You are mistaken, Longueville,
Long. Oh, 'would I were ! This second whisk divides Thy earldom from thee ; thou art yet a baron.
Mar. No more whisks, if you love me, Longueville!
Long. Two whisks are past, and two are yet behind
Mar. Degraded from my honors ?
'Tis too certain. Lady. Oh, my poor husband! what a heavy fortune Is fallen upon him!
Beau. Methinks 'tis strange,
Gent. Why do you stand so dead, Monsieur Marine ?
Mar. So Cæsar fell, when in the capitol They gave his body two-and-thirty wounds. Be warned, all ye peers ; and, by my fall, Hereafter learn to let your wives rule all!
Marine is finally permitted to think himself a Duke, but only
Gent. (aside to Marine) Hark ye, sir;
No! does he ?
Mar. Here is my hand; and whilst I live or breathe,
Gent. Mark me directly, sir; your wife may know it.
Yes, he may.
Mayn't my cousin ? Gent. By no means, sir, if you love life and state. Mar. (out loud) Well then, know all, I'm no duke. Gent.
No, I'll swear it. Mar, Know all, I am no duke. Lady.
What say you? Mar
Jaques. [Aside to him Jaques.
Yes, 'faith; yes, 'faith, But it must only run amongst ourselves.
Lady. (aside) As I could wish. (Aloud) Let all young sprightly wives That have dull foolish coxcombs to their husbands, Learn by me all their duties, what to do, Which is, to make 'em fools, and please 'em tos!
THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.
This is a banter by some “fine old Queen Elizabeth gentleman" (or somebody writing in his character) on the new and certainly far less respectable times of James the First; an age in which a gross and unprincipled court took the place of a romantic one, and greatness became confounded with worldliness; an age in which a lusus nature was on the throne,-in which Beaumont and Fletcher were spoilt, the corruption and ruin of the great Bacon completed, Sir Walter Raleigh murdered, and a pardon given to Lord and Lady Somerset.
However, I must not injure the pleasant effect of an old song by pitching the critical prelude in too grave a tone.
It is here printed, as given with corrections in Percy's Reliques, from an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys collection of Ballads, Garlands, &c., preserved at Magdalen College in Cambridge. This Pepys is “our fat friend” of the Memoirs,—now a man of as jovial a reputation, as he was once considered staid and formal. He must have taken singular delight in the song
before us; for though a lover of old times, and an objector upon princi. ple to new, he had an inclination to the pleasures of both.
The song is admirable ; full of the gusto of iteration, and exquisite in variety as well as sameness.
It repeats the word “old” till we are enamored of antiquity, and prepared to resent the impertinence of things new. What a blow to retiring poverty is the “ thump on the back with the stone !" and what a climax of negative merit is that of the waiting-gentlewoman, who, when her lady has dined, “ lets the servants not eat !”