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A Room in the House of ADUrni.

Enter ADURNI, and FUTELLI, with a letter which he presents to Adurni.

Adur. With her own hand?

Fut. She never used, my lord,

A second means, but kiss'd the letter first, O'erlook'd the superscription; then let fall Some amorous drops, kiss'd it again, talk'd to it Twenty times over, set it to her mouth,

Then gave

it me,

then snatch'd it back again, Then cry'd, "Oh, my poor heart!" and, in an in


"Commend my truth and secrecy." Such medley Of passion yet I never saw in woman.

Adur. In woman? thou'rt deceiv'd; but that

we both

Had mothers, I could say how women are,
In their own natures, models of mere change;
Of change of what is naught to what is worse.--
She feed you liberally?

Fut. Twenty ducats

She forced on me; vow'd, by the precious love
She bore the best of men, (I use, my lord,
Her very words,) the miracle of men,

Malfato, then she sigh'd;-this mite of gold

Was only entrance to a farther bounty:
'Tis meant, my lord, belike, press-money.
Adur. Devil!

How durst she tempt thee [thus,] Futelli, knowing Thy love to me?

Fut. There lies, my lord, her cunning,

Rather her craft; first she began, what pity
It was, that men should differ in estates
Without proportion; some so strangely rich,
Others so miserable poor;
"and yet,"

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Quoth she, "since 'tis [in] very deed unfit
All should be equals, so I must confess,
It were good justice that the properest men
Should be preferr'd to fortune, such as nature
Had mark'd with fair abilities; of which
Genoa, for aught I know, hath wond'rous few,
Not two to boast of."


Adur. Here began her itch.

Fut. I answer'd, she was happy then, whose choice

you, my lord, was singular.

Adur. Well urg'd,

Fut. She smiled, and said, it might be so; and


There stopp'd: then I closed with her, and con


The title of a lord was not enough,

For absolute perfection; I had seen

Persons of meaner quality, much more

Exact in fair endowments-but your lordship
Will pardon me, I hope.

Adur. And love thee for it.

Fut. "Phew! let that pass," quoth she,
now we prattle

Of handsome gentlemen, in my opinion,
Malfato is a very pretty fellow;

" and

Is he not, pray, sir?" I had then the truth
Of what I roved at, and with more than praise
Approv❜d her judgment in so high a strain,
Without comparison, my honour'd lord,
That soon we both concluded of the man,
The match and business.

Adur. For delivering

A letter to Malfato?

Fut. Whereto I

No sooner had consented, with protests--
(I did protest, my lord)—of secrecy
And service, but she kiss'd me, as I live,
Of her own free accord-I trust your lordship
Conceives not me amiss-pray rip the seal,
My lord, you'll find sweet stuff, I dare believe.
Adur. [reads.] Present to the most accomplished
of men, Malfato, with this love a service.
Kind superscription! prithee, find him out,
Deliver it with compliment; observe
How ceremoniously he does receive it.

Fut. Will not your lordship peruse the contents? Adur. Enough, I know too much; be just and cunning;

A wanton mistress is a common sewer.-
Much newer project labours in my brain."

7 Much newer project, &c.] The old copy, by a slight mistake, reads "Much never project," &c.

Enter PIERO.

Your friend! here's now the Gemini of wit:
What odd conceit is next on foot? some cast
Of neat invention, ha, sirs?

Piero. Very fine,

I do protest my lord.

Fut. Your lordship's ear

Shall share i' th' plot.

Adur. As how?

Piero. You know, my lord,

Young Amoretta, old Trelcatio's daughter;

An honest man, but poor.

Fut. And, my good lord,

He that is honest must be poor, my lord;
It is a common rule.

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Pray, one at once-my knowledge is not much Of her, instruct me.

Piero. Speak, Futelli.

Fut. Spare me.

Piero has the tongue more pregnant.

Piero. Fie!

Play on your creature?

Fut. Shall be your's.

Piero. Nay, good.

Adur. Well, keep your mirth, my dainty honies;


Some two days hence, till when

Piero. By any means,

Partake the sport, my lord; this thing of youth

Fut. Handsome enough, good face, quick eye,

well bred.

Piero. Is yet possest so strangely-

-Fut. With an humour

Of thinking she deserves——

Piero. A duke, a count,

At least a viscount, for her husband, that——

Fut. She scorns all mention of a match beneath

One of the foresaid nobles; will not ride

In a caroch without eight horses.

Piero. Six

She may be drawn to; four

Fut. Are for the poor:

But for two horses in a coach-

Piero. She says,

They're not for creatures of Heaven's making; fitter

Fut. Fitter for litters to convey hounds in, Than people Christian: yet herself

Piero. Herself

Walks evermore a-foot, and knows not whether A coach doth trot or amble

Fut. But by hearsay.

Adur. Stop, gentlemen, you run you run a gallop


Are out of breath sure: 'tis a kind of compliment
Scarce enter'd to the times; but certainly

You coin a humour; let me understand
Deliberately your fancy.

Piero. In plain troth,

My lord, the she whom we describe is such,
And lives here, here in Genoa, this city,
This very city, now, the very now.

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