which took name from that Europa, should likewise hold by the horn. So that I say, it is universal over the face of the world, general over the face of Europe, and common over the face of this country. What city, what town, what village, what street, nay, what house, can quit itself of this prerogative? I have read that the lion once made a proclamation through all the forest, that all horned beasts should depart forthwith upon pain of death; if this pro unmatchably powerful, that it is able to raise any man from a beggar to an emperor's fellow, a duke's fellow, a nobleman's fellow, alderman's fellow; so glorious, that it deserves to be worn (by most opinions) in the most conspicuous place about a man for what worthier crest can you bear than the horn? which if it might be seen with our mortal eyes, what a wonderful spectacle would there be ! and how highly they would ravish the beholders. But their substance is in-clamation should be made through our corporal, not falling under sense, nor mixed of the gross concretion of elements, but a quintessence beyond them; a spiritual essence invisible and everlasting. And this hath been the cause that many men have called their being in question, whether there be such a thing in rerum naturâ, or not; because they are not to be seen, as though nothing were that were not to be seen. Who ever saw the wind? yet what wonderful effects are seen of it! it drives the clouds, yet no man sees it; it rocks the house, bears down trees, castles, steeples, yet who sees it? In like sort does your horn it swells the forehead, yet none sees it; it rocks the cradle, yet none sees it; so that you plainly perceive sense is no judge of essence. The moon to any man's sense seems to be horned; yet who knows not the moon to be ever perfectly round? so, likewise your heads seem ever to be round, when indeed they are oftentimes horned. For their original, it is unsearchable, natural they are not; for where is beast born with horns more than with teeth? created they were not, for Ex nihilo nihil fit; then will you ask me, how came they into the world? I know not; but I am sure women brought them into this part of the world; howsoever, some doctors are of opinion that they came in with the devil, and not unlike, for as the devil brought sin into the world, but the woman brought it to the man; so it may very well be that the devil brought horns into the world, but the woman brought them to the man. For their power, it is general over the world: no nation so barbarous, no country so proud, but doth equal homage to the horn. Europa when she was carried through the sea by the Saturnian bull, was said (for fear of falling) to have held by the horn; and what is this but a plain showing to us, that all Europa, forest, Lord! what pressing, what running, Go. Notable wag; come, sir, shake In whose high honour you have made this speech. Ma. And you sir, come, join hands; y'are one amongst them. Go. Very well done; now take your several wives, And spread like wild-geese, though you Live merrily together, and agree. EPILOGUE. SINCE all our labours are as you can like, Sometimes the guests, and curious cooks Our dishes we entirely dedicate To our kind guests; but since ye differ so, Some to like only mirth without taxations, Some to count such works trifles, and suchlike, We can but bring you meat, and set you stools, And to our best cheer say, you all are* welcome. Between these last two words of the Epilogue, there is in the old edition a parenthesized batus, thus, {), which, taken in connexion with the title of the play, seems to imply that a very obvious rhyme to the precedent line was intended to be suggested as an alternative reading to the werd actually printed. Another instance of this ingenious device (ie., of substituting a word which is no rhyme for an objectionable rhyming word) will be found in the doggerel lines in An Humorous Day's Mirth (p. 44).-ED. The Gentleman Usher.* ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Enter Strozza, Cynanche, and Pogio. St. Haste, nephew! what, a sluggard? Fie for shame! Shall he that was our morning cock, turn owl, And lock out daylight from his drowsy eyes? Po. Pray pardon me for once, lord uncle, for I'll be sworn I had such a dream this morning methought one came with a commission to take a sorrel curtoll that was stolen from him, wheresoever he could find him. And because I feared he would lay claim to my sorrel curtoll in my stable, I ran to the smith to have him set on his mane again and his tail presently, that the commission-man might not think him a curtoll. And when the smith would not do it, I fell a beating of him, so that I could not wake for my life till I was revenged on him. Cy. This is your old valour, nephew, that will fight sleeping as well as waking. Po. 'Slud, aunt; what if my dream had been true (as it might have been for anything I knew); there's never a smith in Italy shall make an ass of me in my sleep, if I can choose. St. Well said, my furious nephew; but St. Toward Count Lasso's house his grace will hunt, Where he will visit his late honour'd mistress. Po. Who, Lady Margaret, that dear young dame? Will his antiquity never leave his iniquity? Cy. Why, how now, nephew? turn'd Parnassus lately? Po. Nassus? I know not; but I would I had all the duke's living for her sake; I'd make him a poor duke, i'faith. St. No doubt of that, if thou hadst all his living. Po. I would not stand dreaming of the matter as I do now. Cy. Why, how do you dream, nephew? Po. Marry, all last night methought I was tying her shoe-string. St. What, all night tying her shoe-string? Po. Ay, that I was, and yet I tied it not neither; for, as I was tying it, the string broke methought, and then methought, having but one point at my hose, methought I gave her that to tie her shoe withal. Cy. A point of much kindness, I assure you. Po. Whereupon, in the very nick methought, the Count came rushing in, and I ran rushing out, with my heels about my hose for haste. St. So will you leave your dreaming, and dispatch? Po. Mum, not a word more, I'll go before, and overtake you presently. [Exit. Cy. My lord, I fancy not these hunting sports, When the bold game you follow turns again And stares you in the face. Let me behold A cast of falcons on their merry wings, Daring the stooped prey, that shifting flies: Or let me view the fearful hare or hind, Toss'd like a music point with harmony Of well-mouth'd hounds. This is a sport for princes, The other rude boars yield fit game for boors. St. Thy timorous spirit blinds thy judgment, wife. Those are most royal sports, that most approve The huntsman's prowess, and his hardy mind. Cy. My lord, I know too well your virtuous spirit; Take heed for God's love, if you rouse the boar, You come not near him, but discharge aloof Your wounding pistol, or well-aimed dart. St. Ay, marry, wife, this counsel rightly flows Out of thy bosom; pray thee take less care, Let ladies at their tables judge of boars, Lords, in the field. And so farewell, sweet love; Fail not to meet me at Earl Lasso's house. Cy. Pray pardon me for that. You know I love not These solemn meetings. St. You must needs for once Constrain your disposition: and indeed I would acquaint you more with Lady Margaret For special reason. Cy. Very good, my lord. Then I must needs go fit me for that pre sence. St. I pray thee do, farewell. [Exit Cyn. Here comes my friend. Good day, my lord! Why does your grace confront So clear a morning with so cloudy looks? Vi. Ask'st thou my griefs that know'st my desperate love Curb'd by my father's stern rivality? Must not I mourn that know not whether yet I shall enjoy a stepdame or a wife? St. A wife, prince-never doubt it; your deserts And youthful graces have engaged so far, The beauteous Margaret, that she is your own. Vi. Oh, but the eye of watchful jealousy Robs my desires of means t'enjoy her favour. St. Despair not there are means enow for you: Suborn some servant of some good respect, That's near your choice, who, though she needs no wooing, May yet imagine you are to begin So miserable, that his own few men For he gives none for any service done him, Or any honour, any least reward. St. 'Tis pity such should live about a prince : I would have such a noble counterfeit, nail'd Upon the pillory, and after, whipt, Vi. Faith, I would fain disgrace him by all means, As enemy to his base-bred ignorance, That being a great lord, cannot write nor read. St. For that, we'll follow the blind side of him, And make it sometimes subject of our mirth. Enter Pogio post. Vi. See, what news with your nephew Pogio? St. None good, I warrant you. St. What's the huge haste with you? Po. But you may hap to hop without your hope for the truth is, Kilbuck is run mad. St. What's this? Po. Nay, 'tis true, sir: and Kilbuck being run mad, bit Ringwood so by the left buttock, you might have turned your nose in it. Vi. Out, ass! Po. By heaven, you might, my lord: d'ye think I lie? Vi. Zounds, might I? Let's blanket him, my lord a blanket here! Po. Nay, good my Lord Vincentio, by this rush I tell you for good will: and Venus your brache there, runs so proud, that your huntsman cannot take her down for his life. St. Take her up, fool, thou wouldst say. Po. Why, sir, he would soon take her down, and he could take her up, I warrant her. Vi. Well said, hammer, hammer. Po. Nay, good now, let's alone, and there's your horse, Gray Strozza, too has the staggers, and has strook bay-Bettrice, your Barbary mare so, that she goes halting a this fashion, most filthily. St. What poison blisters thy unhappy tongue Evermore braying forth unhappy news? Enter Alphonso, Medice, Sarpego, with attendants. can nor write nor read; and what of that? I can both see and hear as well as you. Al. Still are your wits at war? here, read this poem. .་ Vi. The red-faced sun hath firk'd the flundering shades, And cast bright ammel on Aurora's brow." Al. High words and strange: read on, Vincentio. Vi. "The busky groves that gag tooth'd boars do shroud With cringle-crangle horns do ring aloud." Po. My lord, my lord, I have a speech here worth ten of this, and yet I'll mend it too. Al. How likes Vincentio? Vi. It is strangely good, No inkhorn ever did bring forth the like. Could these brave prancing words with actions spur, Be ridden thoroughly, and managed right, "Twould fright the audience, and perhaps delight. Sa. Doubt you of action, sir? Vi. Ay, for such stuff. Sa. Then know, my lord, I can both act and teach To any words; when I in Padua school'd it, I play'd in one of Plautus' comedies, Al. Is this the copy of the speech you Namely, Curculio, where his part I acted, wrote, Signor Sarpego? Sa. It is a blaze of wit poetical. Read it, brave duke, with eyes pathetical. Al. We will peruse it straight well met, Vincentio, And good Lord Strozza, we commend you both For your attendance: but you must conceive, 'Tis no true hunting we intend to-day, But an inducement to a certain show, Wherewith we will present our beauteous love, And therein we bespeak your company. Projecting from the poor sum of four lines Forty fair actions. Al. Let's see that, I pray. Sa. Your highness shall command. But pardon me, if in my action's heat, Entering in post post haste, I chance to take up Some of your honour'd heels. Po. Y'ad best leave out that action for a thing that I know, sir. Sa. Then shall you see what I can do without it. Al. See, see! he hath his furniture and all. |