Ann. Comes this in sadness from you?
Giov. Let some mischief

Befall me soon, if I dissemble aught.

Ann. You are my brother Giovanni.
Giov. You

My sister Annabella; I know this,

And could afford you instance why to love
So much the more for this; to which intent
Wise nature first in your creation meant

To make you mine; else't had been sin and foul To share one beauty to a double soul.

Nearness in birth and blood, doth but persuade
A nearer nearness in affection.

I have ask'd counsel of the holy church,
Who tells me I may love you; and, 'tis just,
That, since I may, I should; and will, yes will:
Must I now live, or die?

Ann. Live; thou hast won

The field, and never fought: what thou hast urged;

My captive heart had long ago resolv'd.

I blush to tell thee,-but I'll tell thee now-
For every sigh that thou hast spent for me,
I have sigh'd ten; for every tear, shed twenty:
And not so much for that I loved, as that

I durst not say I loved, nor scarcely think it.
Giov. Let not this music be a dream, ye gods,
For pity's sake, I beg you!

Ann. On my knees,

[She kneels.

4 Comes this in sadness.] i. e. in seriousness.

Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you, Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;

Love me, or kill me, brother.

Giov. On my knees,

[He kneels.

Sister, even by my mother's dust I charge you,

Do not betray me to your mirth or hate;

Love me, or kill me, sister.

Ann. You mean good sooth, then?

Giov. In good troth, I do;

And so do you, I hope: say, I'm in earnest.

Ann. I'll swear it, I.

Giov. And I; and by this kiss,

[Kisses her.

(Once more, yet once more; now let's rise) [they rise] by this,

I would not change this minute for Elysium.

What must we now do?

Ann. What you will.

Giov. Come then;

After so many tears as we have wept,

Let's learn to court in smiles, to kiss, and sleep.

SCENE IV.
A Street.

Enter FLORIO and DONADO.

[Exeunt.

Flor. Signior Donado, you have said enough, I understand you; but would have you know, I will not force my daughter 'gainst her will. You see I have but two, a son and her;

'I'll swear it, I.] The old copy has and before I; evidently an oversight of the press.

L

And he is so devoted to his book,

As I must tell you true, I doubt his health:
Should he miscarry, all my hopes rely
Upon my girl. As for worldly fortune,
I am, I thank my stars, bless'd with enough.
My care is, how to match her to her liking;
I would not have her marry wealth, but love,
And if she like your nephew, let him have her;
Here's all that I can say.

Don. Sir, you say well,

Like a true father; and, for my part, I,

If the young folks can like, ('twixt you and me) Will promise to assure my nephew presently Three thousand florins yearly, during life,

And, after I am dead, my whole estate.

Flo. "Tis a fair proffer, sir; meantime your ne

phew

Shall have free passage to commence his suit:
If he can thrive, he shall have my consent;
So for this time I'll leave you, signior.

Don. Well,

[Exit.

Here's hope yet, if my nephew would have wit;
But he is such another dunce, I fear
He'll never win the wench. When I was young,
I could have don't, i'faith, and so shall he,
If he will learn of me; and, in good time,
He comes himself.

• Upon my girl.] Girl is here, and almost every where else in these plays, a dissyllable.-See pp. 19 and 153. The practice is not peculiar to our poet, for Fanshaw, and others of that age, have numerous examples of it.

Enter BERGETTO and POGGIO.

How now, Bergetto, whither away so fast?
Berg. Oh uncle! I have heard the strangest
news that ever came out of the mint; have I not,
Poggio?

Pog. Yes, indeed, sir.

Don. What news, Bergetto?

Berg. Why, look ye, uncle, my barber told me just now, that there is a fellow come to town, who undertakes to make a mill go without the mortal help of any water or wind, only with sandbags; and this fellow hath a strange horse, a most excellent beast, I'll assure you, uncle, my barber says; whose head, to the wonder of all Christian people, stands just behind where his tail is. Is't not true, Poggio?

Pog. So the barber swore, forsooth.

Don. And you are running thither?
Berg. Ay, forsooth, uncle.

Don. Wilt thou be a fool still? Come, sir, you shall not go; you have more mind of a puppetplay than on the business I told you: why, thou great baby, wilt never have wit? wilt make thyself a May-game to all the world?

Pog. Answer for yourself, master.

Berg. Why, uncle, should I sit at home still, and not go abroad to see fashions like other gallants? Don. To see hobby-horses! what wise talk, I pray, had you with Annabella, when you were at Signior Florio's house?

Berg. Oh, the wench!-Uds sa'me, uncle, I tickled her with a rare speech, that I made her almost burst her belly with laughing.

Don. Nay, I think so; and what speech was't? Berg. What did I say, Poggio?

Pog. Forsooth, my master said, that he loved her almost as well as he loved parmasent; and swore (I'll be sworn for him) that she wanted but such a nose as his was, to be as pretty a young woman as any was in Parma.

Don. Oh gross!

Berg. Nay, uncle;-then she ask'd me, whether my father had more children than myself? and I said no; 'twere better he should have had his brains knock'd out first.

Don. This is intolerable.

Berg. Then said she, will Signior Donado, your uncle, leave you all his wealth?

Don. Ha! that was good; did she harp upon that string?

Berg. Did she harp upon that string! ay, that she did. I answer'd, "Leave me all his wealth? why, woman, he hath no other wit; if he had, he should hear on't to his everlasting glory and confusion: I know, quoth I, I am his white boy,

8

7 Parmasent.] i. e. Parmasan; the cheese of Parma, where the scene is laid.-Reed suggests that this word may mean a trick in drinking so called; but poor Bergetto had no tricks of any kind : the allusion is evidently to the cheese, which is sufficiently strong to affect the breath, and therefore ridiculously put in competition with the lady.

White-boy.] A childish term of endearment. Warton says that Dr. Busby used to call his favourite scholars his white-boys. The word occurs in Massinger, and most of our old poets.