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Just. Oh, from the city; 'tis a reverend place

[mory, Curio. An his justice be as short as his meA dudgeon-dagger 37 will serve him to mow down [this? Sin withal: what clod-pole commissioner is Just. And, by my faith, govern'd by worthy Discreet and upright. [inembers, Curio. Sir, they're beholding to you; You've given some of them a commendation, They were not worthy of this twenty years. Just. Go to, go to! you have a merry meaning;

I've found you, sir; i'faith, you are a wag; Away, fy!-Now I'll read your letter.

Curio. Pray do, sir. What a misery it is To have an urgent business wait the justice Of such an old tuff-taffata, that knows not, Nor can be brought to understand, more

sense

Than how to restore suppress'd ale-houses, And have his man compound small trespasses, For ten groats!

Just. Sir, it seems here your Business is of a deeper circumstance Than I conceiv'd it for.-What do you mean, sir? [your worship.

Curio. "Tis for mine own ease, I'll assure Just. It shall not be, i'faith, friend.Here I have it,

That one Antonio, a gentleman

I take it so; yes, it is so-a gentleman,
Is lately thought to have been made away;
And, by my faith, upon a parlous ground too,
If you consider. Well, there's knavery in't;
I see that without spectacles.

Curio. Sure this fellow

Deals in revelation, he's so hidden:

Go thy ways! thou wilt stick a bench, spit 38 as formally,

And shew thy agot and hatch'd chain, as well As the best of them.

Just. And now I have consider'd, I believe
Curio. What, sir?

Just. That he was murder'd.
Curio. Did you know him?
Just, No.

Curio. Nor how it is suppos'd?
Just. No; nor

I care not two-pence, those are toys; and yet
I verily believe he was murder'd,

As sure as I believe thou art a man.

I never fail'd in these things yet. Ware a

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Curio. I think it be, sir;

I would be loth you should be the wisest.
Just. Well, sir, as 'tis, I will endeavour in it:
Yet, if't had come to me by name, I know
not,

But I think it had been as soon dispatch'd
As by another, and with as round a wisdom,
Ay, and as happily; but that's all one:
I've borne this place this thirty years, and
upwards,

And with sufficient credit, and they may
When they please know me better. To the
Well!
[nearest ?
Curio. Sir, 'tis not my fault, for had I known
You sooner-

Just. I thank you, sir; I know it.
Curio. I'll be sworn

You should have play'd, for any business now.
Just. And further, they have specified

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But will it please you to proceed in this? Just. An honest weaver, and as good a workman

As c'er shot shuttle, and as close--
But ev'ry man must die-this honest weaver,
Being a little mellow in his ale-
That was the evidence verbatim, sir-
God bless the mark, sprung his neck just in
this place:
Well, Jarvis, thou hadst wrongs, and if I
Some of the best shall sweat for't! Then a
wench--

[live,

Curio. But, sir, you have forgot my business.

"Dudgeon-dugger.] Cotgrave explains dague a roclles, a Scottish dagger, or dudgeon haft dagger.

R.

39 Stick a bench spit.] Amended in 1750.

Just.

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I'll do discreetly what is fitting. What,
Antonio!

Serv. [within] Your worship!
Just. Put on your best coat,

And let your fellow Mark go to the constable,
And bid him aid me with all the speed he can,
And all the power; and provide pen and ink to
Take their confessions; and my long sword 38!
I cannot tell what danger we may meet with.
You'll go with us?

Curio. Yes; what else?

I came to that end, to accuse both parties.
Just. May I crave what you are?
Curio. Faith, sir, one

That to be known would not profit you, more
Than a near kinsman of the dead Antonio's.
Just. 'Tis well. I'm sorry for my neigh-
bour, truly,

[mother: That he had no more grace; 'twill kill his She is a good old woman. Will you walk in? I will but put my cloak on, and my chain off, And a clean band, and have my shoes black'd

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The night, she could not wander far. Fair
Val. It is in vain to call; she sought a
Without all question.
[house,

Ric. Peace!-Fair Viola!

Fair Viola!-Who should have left her here On such a ground? If you had meant to lose her,

[here You might have found there were no echoes To take her name 39, and carry it about, When her true lover came to mourn for her, "Till all the neighbouring vallies and the hills, Resounded Viola; and such a place You should have chose! You pity us Because the dew a little wets our feet 40; (Unworthy far to seek her, in the wet!) And what becomes of her? where wander'd she, [eyes With two showers raining on her, from her Continually, abundantly, from which There's neither tree nor house to shelter

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38 Long sword.] In Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Capulet says, 'Give me my long sword;' and Dr. Johnson remarks, The long sword was the sword used in war, which was sometimes wielded with both hands.'

39 If you had meant to lose her,

You might have found there were no echoes here

To take her name.] Sympson reads,

If you meant to lose her,

You might have found where there no echoes were.

To take her name;

but surely the old text conveys the same sense.

40 You pity us because

The dew a little, &c.] These lines are so unworthy of our authors, that I can hardly think 'em theirs; and I am sure the author of Jeronimo (whom our poets, as well as Shakespeare and Jonson, abuse) might, when they quote in derision this line of his,

'Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed?'

have justly retorted,

where wandred she,

With two showers raining on her, from her eyes
Continually, abundantly, from which

There's neither tree nor house to shelter her?

Sympson.

Ric. But there is no hope

To gain my end in any shorter way. Val. Why, what's your end?

Ric. It is to search the earth,

'Till we have found two in the shapes of men, As wicked as ourselves.

Val. "Twere not so hard

To find out those.

Ric. Why, if we find them out,

It were the better; for what brave villainy Might we four do!-We would not keep together;

For every one has treachery enough [Asia; For twenty countries: one should trouble Another should sow strife in Africa; [rope, But you should play the knave at home in EuAnd for America let me alone.

Val. Sir, I am honester

Than you know how to be, and can no more Be wrong'd but I shall find myself a right.

Ric. If you had any spark of honesty, You would not think that honester than I Were a praise high enough to serve your turn: If men were commonly so bad as I, Thieves would be put in kalendars for saints; And bones of murd'rers would work miracles. I am a kind of knave, of knave so much, There is betwixt me, and the vilest elseBut the next place of all to mine is yours. Enter Viola, Nan, and Madge, with Pails. Val. That last is she; 'tis she! Ric. Let us away;

We shall infect her! let her have the wind, And we will kneel down here.

Viola. Wenches, away!

For here are men.

Val. Fair maid, I pray you stay.
[Takes hold of Viola.

Viola. Alas! again?
Ric. Why do you lay hold on her?

I pray heartily, let her go.

[hurt her.

Val. With all my heart; I do not mean to Ric. But stand away then! for the purest bodies

Will soonest take infection; stand away!
But for infecting her myself, by Heav'n,
I would come there, and beat thee further off.
Viola. I know that voice and face.
Val. You're finely mad!

God b'w'ye, sir! Now you are here together, I'll leave you so; God send you good luck, both!

When you are soberer you'll give me thanks.

[Exit.

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[away.

Man's mad to kneel there. Nay, come, come
Uds body, Nan, help! she looks black i'th'
She's in a swoon.
[face;

Non. An you be a man, come hither,
And help a woman!

Ric. Come hither? You are a fool.
Nan. And you a knave and a beast, that

vou are.

[near Ric. Come hither? 'twas my being now so That made her swoon; and you are wicked people,

Or you would do so too: my venom eyes Strike innocency dead at such a distance; Here I will kneel, for this is out of distance. Nan. Thou'rt a prating ass! there's no goodness in thee,

I warrant. How dost thou? [Viola recovers. Viola. Why, well.

Madge. Art thou able to go? Table Viola. No; pray go you and milk: If I be To come, I'll follow you; if not, I'll sit here 'Till you come back.

Nun. I'm loth to leave thee here with yon wild fool. [not hurt me. Viola. I know him well; I warrant thee he'll Madge. Come then, Nan. [Ere. Maids. Ric. How do you? Be not fearful, for I hold My hands before my mouth, and speak, and so My breath can never blast you.

Viola. "Twas enough

To use me ill, tho' you had never sought me To mock me too: why kneel you so far off? Were not that gesture better us'd in prayer? Had I dealt so with you, I should not sleep, 'Till Heav'n and you had both forgiven me.

Το

Ric. I do not mock; nor lives there such a
That can do any thing contemptible [villain
o you: but I do kneel, because it is
An action very fit and reverent,
In presence of so pure a creature;
And so far off, as fearful to offend
One too much wrong'd already.
Viola. You

Confess you did the fault, yet scorn to come
So far as hither, to ask pardon for't;
Which I could willingly afford to come
To you to grant. Good sir, if you have
A better love, may you be bless'd together!
She shall not wish you better than I will.
I but offend you! There are all the jewels
I stole; and all the love I ever had

I leave behind with you; I'll carry none
To give another: may the next maid you try,
Love you no worse, nor be no worse than I!

Ric. Do not leave me yet, for all my fault! Search out the next things to impossible, And put me on them; when they are effected, I may with better modesty receive Forgiveness from you.

Viola. I will set no penance,

To gain the great forgiveness you desire,
But to come hither, and take me and it;
Or else, I'll come and beg, so you will grant
That you will be content to be forgiven !
Ric. Nay, I will come, since you will have

it
SO,
And, since you please to pardon me, I hope
Free from infection. Here I am by you,
A careless man, a breaker of my faith,
A loathsome drunkard; and in that wild fury,
A hunter

A hunter after whores! I do beseech you
To pardon all these faults, and take me up
An honest, sober, and a faithful man!

Viola. For Heav'n's sake, urge your faults
no more, but mend!

All the forgiveness I can make you, is,
To love you; which I will do, and desire
Nothing but love again; which if I have not,
Yet I will love you still.
[will take
Ric. Oh, women! that some one of you
An everlasting pen into your hands,
And grave in paper (which the writ shalt

make

More lasting than the marble monuments)
Your matchless virtues to posterities;
Which the defective race of envious man
Strives to conceal!

[thing,

Viola. Methinks I would not now, for any
But you had miss'd me: I have made a story
Will serve to waste many a winter's fire,
When we are old: I'll tell my daughters then
The miseries their mother had in love,
And say, My girls, be wiser! yet I would not
Have had more wit myself. Take up those
jewels,

For I think I hear my fellows coming.

Enter Madge and Nan with their Pails.
Madge. How dost thou now?

Viola. Why, very well, I thank you. It is
late;

Shall I haste home?

Nan. I prithee! we shall be shent*1 Soundly.

[with us?
Madge. Why does that railing man go
Viola. I prithee, speak well of him: on my
He is an honest man!
[word,

Nan. There was never any so
On his complexion. A gentleman ?
I'd be asham'd to have such a foul mouth.

[Exeunt.

Enter Mother, Alexander, Andrugio, and
Rowland.

Mother. How now, Alexander? What
gentleman is this?

Alex. Indeed, forsooth, I know not;
I found him at the market, full of woe,
Crying a lost daughter, and telling all
Her tokens to the people; and, what you wot?
By all description in the world 42, it should be
Our new maid Melvia; (one would little
think it!)

Therefore I was bold to tell him of her, mistress.
Mother. Melvia? it cannot be, fool! Alas,

You know she is a poor wench, and
I took her in upon mere charity.
Andr. So seem'd my daughter when she
As she had made herself. [went away,
Mother. What stature was your child of, sir?
Andr. Not high, and of a brown complexion,
Her hair auburn, a round face, which some
friends,
[good one.
That flatter'd me, would say 'twould be a
Alex. This is still Melvia, mistress; that's
the truth on't!

Mother. It may be so, I'll promise you.
Alex. Well, go thy ways, the flower of our
town!
[fellow.
For a hand and a foot I shall ne'er see thy
Mother. But had she not such toys as
bracelets, rings, and jewels?

Andr. She was something bold indeed, to take such things

That night she left me.

[lie;

Mother. Then belike she run away?
Andr. Tho' she be one I love, I dare not
She did indeed.
Mother. What think you of this jewel?
Andr. Yes, this was one of them, and this
was mine;
[for it.
You've made me a new man! I thank you

Mother. Nay,

An she be given to filching, there's your jewel;
I am clear on't. But, by your leave, sir,

you

Shall answer me for what is lost since she
Came hither; I can tell you there lie things
Scattering in every place about the house.

Aler. As I am virtuous, I have the lyingst Old gentlewoman to my mistress, and the most malicious

The devil a good word will she give a servant;
That's her old rule! and, God be thanked,

[sides.

they will Give her as few; there's perfect love on both It yearns my heart to hear the wench misconstrued;

A careful soul she is, I'll be sworn for her; And when she's gone, let them say what they will,

They may cast their caps at such another.

Audr. What you have lost by her, with all
my heart

I'll see you double paid for; you have sav'd,
With your kind pity, two that must not live,
Unless it be to thank you. Take this jewel;
This strikes off none of her offences, mistress*3.
'Would I might see her!

Mother. Alexander, run,

41 Shent.] This word occurs in Hamlet, and Mr. Steevens says, ' To shend is to treat with injurious language.'

42 By all subscription in the world.] If Alexander was an affecter of hard words, I should be inclined to let this stand; but as he seems throughout a sensible good-natured fellow, I would choose to read, description. Sympson.

43 This strikes off none of her offences.] Sympson, totally mistaking Andrugio's meaning, says, Why then he paid his jewel for nothing;' and reads,

This strikes off one of her offences, mistress.

It did not occur to him, that the jewel was meant as a gift, not as a payment.

And

And bid her make haste home; she's at the milking-close:

But tell her not by any means who's here; I know she'll be too fearful.

Aler. Well, we'll have

A posset yet at parting, that's my comfort; And one round too, or else I'll lose my will. [Exit.

Andr. You shall find Silvio, Uberto, and Pedro,

Enquiring for the wench at the next town: Tell them she's found, and where I am; and, with

The favour of this gentlewoman, desire them To come hither.

[come. Mother. I pray do; they shall be all wel[Exit Rowland.

Enter Justice, Curio, and Mark.

Just. By your leave, forsooth! you shall The parties by a sleight. [see me find

Mother. Who's that? Mr. Justice?

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Mother. For what? Just. Away, I say!

This gentleman shall certify you for what.

[Exeunt Officers. Mother. He can accuse my son of nothing; He came from travel but within these two Just. There hangs a tale.

[days. Mother. I should be sorry this should Fall out at any time, but especially now. Sir, will you favour me so much as to let me Of what you accuse him? [know

Curio. Upon suspicion of murder.
Mother. Murder? I defy thee!
Curio. I pray God be may

Prove himself innocent.

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Enter Mark and Officers, with Mercury and
Maria.

Oh, welcome, welcome, Mark! [minations
Your pen, ink, and paper, to take their exa-
Merc. Why do you pull me so? I'll go alone.
Just. Let them stand,
[min'd.
Let them stand quietly, whilst they're exa-
Maria. What will you examine us of?
Just. Of Antonio's murder.
Merc. Why, he was my friend.
Maria. He was my husband.

Just. The more shame for you both! Mark, your pen and ink. [knew Mother. Pray God all be well! I never Any of these travellers come to good. I beseech you, sir,

Be favourable to my son.

Just. Gentlewoman,

[that!

Hold you content; I would it were coine to Merc. For God's sake, mother,

Why kneel you to such a pig-brib'd fellow? H' has surfeited of geese, and they have put him

Into a fit of justice: let him do his worst!
Just. Is your paper ready?
Mark. I am ready, sir.

Enter Antonio.

Just. Accuse them, sir; I command thee to lay down Accusations against these persons, in behalf Of the state: and first look upon the parties To be accus'd, and deliver your name.

Curio. My name is Curio; my murder'd
kinsman,

If he were living now, I should not know him,
It is so long since we saw one another.
Ant. My cousin Curio?

Curio. But thus much (from the mouths Of his servants and others, whose examinations I have

In writing about me) I can accuse them of:
This Mercury, the last night but this last,
Lay in Antonio's house, and in the night
He rose, raising Antonio, where privately
They were in talk an hour, to what end I
know not;

But of likelihood, finding Antonio's house Not a fit place to murder him in, he suffer'd him

To go to bed again; but in the morning Early he train'd him I think forth; after which time

[found He never saw his home. His cloaths were Near the place where Mercury was, and the people

At first denied they saw him; but at last They made a frivolous tale, that there he shifted himself

Into a footman's habit: but in short,
The next hour this woman went to Mercury,
And in her coach they posted hither. True

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