Acquaintance with mine own-keep your first distance.

[He draws back. Camillo! who is near? Vespucci!

Enter Julio, Camillo, and VESPUCCI.
Jul. What!
Our lady's cast familiar?

Flav. Oh, my stomach
Wambles, at sight of—sick, sick, I am sick-
I faint at heart-kiss me, nay prithee quickly,

[TO JUL. Or I shall swoon. You've staid a sweet while

from me. And this companion too-beshrew him!

Jul. Dearest, Thou art my health, my blessing :—turn the

bankrupt
Out of my doors!—sirrah, I'll have thee whipt,
If thou com’st here again.

Cam. Hence, hence, you vermin! [Exit Fab.
Jul. How is't, my best of joys?

Flav. Prettily mended,
Now we have our own lord here; I shall never
Endure to spare you long out of my sight.-
See, what the thing presented. [Gives him the paper.

Jul. A petition,
Belike, for some new charity?

Flav. We must not
Be troubled with his needs; a wanting creature
Is monstrous, is as ominous—fie, upon't!
Dispatch the silly mushroom once for all,

And send him with some pittance out o' th' coun

try,
Where we may hear no more of him.

Jul. Thy will
Shall stand a law, my Flavia.

Flav. You have been
In private with our fellow peers now: shall not we
Know how the business stands? sure, in some

country, Ladies are privy-counsellors, I warrant ye; Are they not, think ye? there the land is, doubt

less, Most politicly govern'd; all the women Wear swords and breeches, I have heard most

certainly: Such sights were excellent.

Jul. Thou’rt a matchless pleasure; No life is sweet without thee: in my heart Reign empress, and be stiled thy Julio's sovereign, My only, precious dear.

Flav. We'll prove no less t'ye. [Ereunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter Troelo and Livio.

Troy. Sea-sick ashore still! thou could'st rarely

scape A calenture in a long voyage, Livio, Who in a short one, and at home, art subject

To such faint stomach-qualms; no cordials comfort The business of thy thoughts, for aught I see: What ails thee, man? be merry, hang up jea

lousies. Liv. Who, I? I jealous ? no, no, here's no cause In this place; 'tis a nunnery, a retirement For meditation; all the difference extant But puzzles only bare belief, not grounds it. Rich services in plate, soft and fair lodgings, Varieties of recreations, exercise Of music in all changes, neat attendance, Princely, nay royal furniture of garments, Satiety of gardens, orchards, waterworks, Pictures so ravishing, that ranging eyes Might dwell upon a dotage of conceit, Without a single wish for livelier substance!— The great world, in a little world of Fancy, Is here abstracted: no temptation proffer'd, But such as fools and mad folks can invite to;

And yet

Troy. And yet your reason cannot answer Th’ objections of your fears, which argue danger.

Liv. Danger? dishonour, Troylo: were my sis

ter

In safety from those charms, I must confess
I could live here for ever.

Troy. But you could not,
I can assure you; for 'twere then scarce possible
A door might open t’you, hardly a loop-hole.

Liv. My presence then is usher to her ruin, And loss of her, the fruit of my preferment?

Troy. Briefly partake a secret; but be sure
To lodge it in the inmost of thy bosom,
Where memory may not find it for discovery;
By our firm truth of friendship, I require thee.

Liv. By our firm truth of friendship, I subscribe To just conditions.

Troy. Our great uncle-marquis, Disabled from his cradle, by an impotence In nature first, that impotence since seconded And render'd more infirm, by a fatal breach Received in fight against the Turkish gallies, Is made incapable of any faculty Of active manhood, more than what affections Proper unto his sex, must else distinguish; So that no helps of art can warrant life, Should he transcend the bounds his weakness

limits. Liv. On; I attend with eagerness.

Troy. 'Tis strange
Such natural defects at no time check
A full and free sufficiency of spirit,
Which flows, both in so clear and fix'd a strength,
That to confirm belief, it seems, where nature
Is in the body lame, she is supplied
In fine proportion of the mind; a word
Concludes all—to a man his

enemy,
He is a dangerous threat’ning; but to women,
However pleasurable, no way cunning
To shew abilities of friendship, other
Than what his outward senses ean delight in,
Or charge and bounty court with.

Liv. Good, good-Troylo. Oh, that I had a lusty faith to credit it, Though none of all this wonder should be possible!

Troy. As I love honour, and an honest name, I faulter not, my Livio, in one syllable. Liv. News admirable ! ’tis, 'tis so-pish, I know

itYet he has a kind heart of his own to girls, Young, handsome girls; yes, yes, so he may; 'Tis granted:-he would now and then be piddling, And play the wanton, like a fly that dallies About a candle's flame; then scorch his wings, Drop down, and creep away, ha ?

Troy. Hardly that too; To look upon fresh beauties, to discourse In an unblushing merriment of words, To hear them play or sing, and see them dance; To pass the time in pretty amorous questions, Read a chaste verse of love, or prattle riddles, Is th' height of his temptations.

Liv. Send him joy on't!

Troy. His choices are not of the courtly train, Nor city's practice; but the country's innocence; Such as are gentle born, not meanly; such, To whom both gawdiness and ape-like fashions Are monstrous ; such as cleanliness and decency Prompt to a virtuous envy; such as study A knowledge of no danger, but themselves. Liv. Well, I have liv'd in ignorance: the an

cients, Who chatted of the golden age, feign'd trifles.