The duke of Sienna, child! Pray, use him Duke. An angel beauty! Bel. Your grace is fairly welcome! And what in modesty a blushing maid may Wish to a gentleman of your great goodnessBut wishes are too poor a pay for princes. Duke. You've made me richer than all states and titles! [nours: One kiss of this white hand's above all hoMy faith, dear lady, and my fruitful service, My duteous zeal Bel. Your grace is a great master, And speak too pow'rfully to be resisted. Once more, you're welcome, sir: to me you're welcome, [sir; To her that honours you! I could say more, But in another's tongue 'twere better spoken. Duke. As wise as fair! you've made your servant happy: I never saw so rich a mine of sweetness. Duch. Will your grace please, after your painful journey, [ready? To take some rest? Are the duke's lodgings Lard. All, madam. [to-morrow, sir, Duch. Then wait upon his grace, all! And We'll shew you in what high esteem we hold 'Till then, a fair repose! [you: Duke. My fairest service! [Exit Duke, &c. you, Ask freely; and if I forget my promise-- Bel. You're too royal to me; To me that have so foolishly transgress'd you, that coarse thing, [now, despis'd thing! That wretched thing, call'd Silvio! that, And lose an object of that graceful sweetness, That god-like presence, as Sienna is! Darkness and cheerful day had not such difference. But I must ever bless your care, your wisdom, from you, More like a man in triumph, than condemn'd? Why did you make his penance but a ques A riddle, every idle wit unlocks! Duch. 'Tis not so, [tion, Nor do not fear it so; he will not find it: Bel. 'Tis subject to construction? [madam: Bel. It may be then absolv'd, And then are we both scorn'd and laugh'd at. Beside the promise you have tied upon it, Which you must never keep Duch. I never meant it. [my suit to you, Bel. For Heav'n's sake, let me know't! 'tis The boon you'd have me ask: let me but see it, That, if there be a way to make't so strong No wit nor powerful reason can run thro' it For my disgrace, I may beg of Heav'n to grant it. [judgments Duch. Fear not! it has been put to sharper Into your bosom I'll commit this secret, SCENE II. Enter Penurio. Pen. Methinks I'm batten'd well of late, grown lusty, [teous Rugio! Fat, high, and kicking, thanks to the bounAnd now, methinks, I scorn these poor repasts, [pilchers: Cheese-parings, and the stinking tongues of But why should I remember these? they're odious, [now, They're odious in mine eyes; the full fat dish The bearing dish, is that I reverence, The dish an able serving-man sweats under, And bends i' th' hams, as if the house hung on him, quets, That dish is the dish; hang your bladder banOr half a dozen of turnips and two mushrooms! [but two belches: These, when they breed their best, hatch The state of a fat turkey, the decorum He marches in with, all the train and circumstance; 'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter! And then his sauce with oranges and onions, And he display'd in all parts! for such a dish now, And at my need, I would betray my father, And, for a roasted conger, all my country16. Enter Bartello. Bart, What, my friend Lean-gut! how does thy beauteous mistress? And where's your master, sirrah? where's that hornpipe? Pen. My mistress, sir, does as a poor wrong'd gentlewoman, [injuries) (Too much, Heav'n knows, oppress'd with May do, and live. Bart. Is the old fool still jealous? Bart. He must have cause, he must have And would he had with all my heart! [porridge. [rascal? Pen. For then he had salt to his saffron Bart. Why Don't I see thee sometime? why, thou starv'd Why don't you come to me, you precious Low-case? I keep good meat at home, good store. Bart. As thou lov'st butter'd eggs, swear. Pen. Let me kiss the book first: But here's my hand, brave captain. Bart. Look you hold, sirrah. [Exit. Pen. Oh, the most precious vanity of this world! [and larded When such dry neats' tongues must be soak'd With young fat supple wenches! Oh, the devil, What can he do? he cannot suck an egg off, But his back's loose i' th' hilts: go thy ways, captain! Well may thy warlike name work miracles; But if e'er thy founder'd courser win match Or stand right but one train- [more, Enter Three Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Now, signor Shadow, What art thou thinking of? how to rob thy [undertakes that, master Pen. Of his good deeds? The thief that Must have a hook will poze all hell to ham mer. [pose? Have you din'd, gentlemen, or do you pur 2 Gent. Din'd, two long hours ago. Pen. Pray ye take me with ye. 3 Gent. To supper, dost thou mean? Pen. To any thing [true, gentlemen; That has the smell of meat in't. Tell me Are not you three now going to be sinful? To jeopard a joint, or so? I've found your faces17, And see whore written in your eyes. 1 Gent. 16 All my country.] To betray a father, and all a country, sounds something harsh. I would suppose the line once run so, And for a roasted conger sell my country. Sympson. 17 To iropard a point.] Mr. Theobald and Mr. Seward read with ine jeopard, and the oldest folio retains pretty near the same reading, To jeabard a point, But what are we to make of, I've found your faces? The reader may put what sense he pleases to this place. But I cannot help thinking but we ought to read, I've con'd your faces, i. e. consider'd, view'd, study'd 'em. Sympson. Why Mr. Sympson, in his quotations in this note, substitutes point for joint, we are at a loss to know; and so we are to find out where the difficulty of, I've found your faces, lies: Penurio 1 Gent. A parlons rascal! Thou'rt much upon the matter. Pen. Have a care, gentlemen! 'Tis a sore age, very sore age, lewd age; And women now are like old knights' adventures, Full of enchanted flames, and dangerous. 2 Gent. Where the most danger is, there's the most honour. [sufferance; Pen. I grant ye, honour most consists in And by that rule you three should be most honourable. [tell, Penurio, But canst thou 3 Gent. A subtle rogue! Where we may light upon— Pen. A learned surgeon? 3 Gent. Pox take ye, fool! I mean good wholesome wenches. [spoil ye too, Pen. 'Faith, wholesome women will but For you are so us'd to snap-haunches18_ But take my counsel; Take fat old wonen, fat, and five and fifty; The dog-days are come in. 2 Gent. Take fat old women? [better! Pea. The fatter and the older, still the You do not know the pleasure of an old dame, [knack on't : A fat old dame; you do not know the They're like our country grots, as cool as Christmas, And sure i' th' keels. [us! 1 Gent. Hang him, starv'd fool, he mocks 3 Gent. Penurio, thou know'st all the handsome wenches: [now? What shall I give thee for a merchant's wife Pen. I take no money, gentlemen; that's base! [ye I trade in meat: A merchant's wife will cost 1 Gent. And what a haberdasher's? (But you must send it out o' th' country to me, It will not do else) with a piece of bacon, And, if you can, a pot of butter with it. 2 Gent. Now do I aim at horse-flesh: what a parson's? [her; Pen. A tithe-pig has no fellow, if I fetch If she be puritan 19, plumb porridge does it, And a fat loin of veal, well sauc'd and roasted. 2 Gent. We'll meet one night, and thou shalt have all these, O' that condition we may have the wenches. A dainty rascal! Pen. When your stomachs serve ye, (For mine is ever ready) I'll supply yc. 1 Gent. Farewell! and there's to fill thy 2 Gent. Hold, sirrah! there. All these are courtiers; but they are mere coxcombs, And only for a wench their purses open; Nor have they so much judgment left to chuse her. Penurio asks them coarsely, Are not you three going to be sinful? and afterwards adds, I've found your faces; i. e. I have discovered the meaning of your looks, and see whore written in your eyes.' This interpretation is unforced, and shews found to be the better, as well as the older reading. Con'd conveys a weaker sense. 18 Snap-haunces.] So the former editions. 19 If she be Puritan, plumb porridge-] I read, If she ben't Puritan, &c. The Puritans have several of them very warmly opposed the observance of church festivals, and of consequence the feasting upon them, which Hudibras has finely burlesqued, in part i. canto i. Rather than fail, they will defy That which they love most tenderly; Their best and dearest friend plum porridge; Fat pig and goose itself oppose, And blaspheme custard thro' the nose. From whence it will appear that a negative is wanting in the line above, which I have inserted. The reader will observe that in this and another banter on the fanatics, our poets have brought their scene back to England; for I believe there was never any sect of them, that held these doctrines on the other side the Alps. Seward. This note confirms, we think, instead of shaking the text. Duch. Duch. To the duke's health, and all the joys I wish him! [sic? Let no man miss this cup. Have we no muDuke. Your noble favours still you heap upon me! [feast, But where's my virtuous mistress? such a And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it? Methinks it should not be; it shews not fully. Duch. Young ladies, sir, are long and cu- In putting on their trims 20, forget how day Go some and call her, and wait upon her on, For ruffs and gowns; cast this away, these Suited to these and these knots: O' my life, sir, [else. She fears your curious eye will soon discover Why stand ye still? why gape ye on one another? Did I not bid ye go, and tell my daughter? Are you nail'd here? Nor stir, nor speak? And who are you? [Who am I? 1 Lord. Pardon me, gracious lady! [of, The fear to tell you that you would not hear Makes us all dumb: the princess is gone, madam. [fellow answer me! Duch. Gone? whither gone? Some wiser 2 Lord. We sought the court all over; and, believe, lady, [hence. No news of where she is, nor how conveyed Duch. It cannot be, it must not be! 1 Lord. 'Tis true, madam; [thro' it. No room in all the court, but we search'd Her women found her want first, and they [dishonour'd. cried to us. Is this your welcome? this your favour to Duch. Your grace mistakes me; as I have a life, sir [this, Duke. And I another, I will never bear Never endure this dor21! Duch. But hear me patiently! Duch. As soon as care can find her; And all care shall be us'd. Duke. And all my care too, [rank; To be reveng'd: I smell the trick; 'tis too Fy, how it smells o' th' mother! you've half arm'd us. Be careful of the town, of all the castles, And see supplies of soldiers every where, And musters for the field when he invites us; For he shall know, 'tis not high words can fright us. [me? My daughter gone? Has she so finely cozen'd This is for Silvio's sake sure; oh, cunning false one! Publish a proclamation thro' the dukedom, That whosoe'er can bring to the court young Silvio, Alive or dead, beside our thanks and favour, Shall have two thousand ducats for his labour! See it dispatch'd and sent in haste. Oh, base one! [Exeunt. 20 Trims.] In our ancient writers, trim almost always signifies dress. It plainly does so here, and in another passage in act v. So, in Shakespeare's King John, a bride undrest is called an untrimmed bride. See act iii. scene 1. R. 21 Dor.] See note 35 on Love's Pilgrimage. Pen. And this end to my finger. I'll lie down, Lopez. Thou secret friend 22, how am I bound to love thee! And how to hug thee for thy private service! No tread of living thing! The light is in And this sweet soul the mirror of perfection. SONG. Oh, fair sweet face, oh, eyes celestial bright, Twin stars in Heav'n, that now adorn the night; Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow, And damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow; Oh thou, from head to foot divinely fair! Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice, What a devil's this? tied to her finger too? [goes, I'll follow this: soft, soft! to th' door it And thro' to th' other side! a damn'd string 'tis! I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded, Ridden to death, to madness! Stay, this helps not; Stay, stay! and now invention help me! you; With all your cunning, sir, I shall light on I felt it pull sure; yes, but wondrous softly; 'Tis there again, and harder now: have at you! Now an thou scap'st, the devil's thy ghostly father! [Exit. Isab. Sure 'twas my husband's voice! The string is gone too; [betray'd, II' has found the trick on't! I'm undone, And if he meet my friend, he perishes; What fortune follows me, what spiteful forHoa, Jaquenet! Enter Jaquenet. [tune! Lopez. Have you put your light out? I shall stumble to you, [your rogue too s You whore, you cunning whore! I shall catch H' las light legs, else I had so ferret-claw'd him! [sleep still, whore? Oh, have I found you? Do you play at dogD'you think that can protect you? Yes, I'll [lainies, kill thee; But first I'll bring thy friends to view thy vilThy whorish villainies: and first I'll beat thee, Beat thee to pin-dust, thou salt whore, thou varlet, [ing visage! Scratch out thine eyes: I'll spoil your temptAre you so patient? I'll put my nails in deeper. Is it good whoring? whoring, ye base rascal? Is it good tempting men with strings to ride you? [whore; So! I'll fetch your kindred, and your friends, And such a justice I will act upon thee[Exit. Enter Isabella. Isub. What, is he gone? 22 Thou secret friend.] His private key. Sympson. II' has |