Had they dreamt this, they would have truth'd it heaven;9 I mean an earthly heaven; less it is not! Troy. Yet is this bachelor-miracle not free From the epidemical headach. Liv. The yellows? Troy. Huge jealous fits; admitting none to enter But me, his page and barber, with an eunuch, "Tis ominous in nature. Troy. Not in policy : Being his heir, I may take truce a little, With mine own fortunes. Liv. Knowing how things stand too. Troy. At certain seasons, as the humour takes him, A set of music are permitted peaceably To cheer their solitariness, provided They are strangers, not acquainted near the city; They would have truth'd it heaven.] Our poet uses truth, whether as a substantive (vol. i. p. 16), or, as in this place, a verb, in a way somewhat peculiar to himself. It here means, they would have affirmed, maintained, as a truth, that this society was heaven. His barber is the master to instruct The lasses both in song and dance, by him Liv. A caution Happily studied. Troy. Farther to prevent Suspicion, he has married his young barber Liv. Yes, and properly, Since all his recreations are in fancy. So to bestow them all, and turn them Fancies!- Troy. Something remains, which in conclusion shortly, Shall take thee fuller. [Music within. -Hark, the wedding jollity! With a bride-cake on my life, to grace the nuptials! Perhaps the ladies will turn songsters. Liv. Silence! A SONG within. After which, enter in procession, with the bride-cake, SECCO and MOROSA, with CASTAMELA, FLORIA, CLARELLA, SILVIA, SPADONE, and Musicians. Sec. Passing neat and exquisite, I protest, fair creatures. These honours to our solemnity are liberal and uncommon; my spouse and myself, with our posterity, shall prostitute our services to your bounties:-shall's not, duckling? Mor. Yes, honeysuckle; and do as much for them one day, if things stand right as they should stand. Bill, pigeon, do; thou'st be my cat-a-mountain, and I thy sweet-briar, honey. We'll lead you to kind examples, pretty ones, believe it; and you shall find us, one in one, whilst hearts do last. Sec. Ever mine own, and ever. Spa. Well said, old touch-hole. Liv. All happiness, all joy! Troy. A plenteous issue, A fruitful womb!-thou hast a blessing, Secco. Mor. Indeed he has, sir, if you know all, as I conceive you know enough, if not the whole; for you have, I may say, tried me to the quick, through and through, and most of my carriage, from time to time. Spa. 'Twould wind-break a mule, or a ringed mare, to vie burthens with her. [Aside. Mor. What's that you mumble, gelding, hey? Spa. Nothing, forsooth, but that you are a bouncing couple well met, and 'twere pity to part you, though you hung together in a smoky chimney. Mor. "Twere e'en pity, indeed, Spadone; nay, thou hast a foolish loving nature of thine own, and wishest well to plain dealings, o' my conscience. Spa. Thank your brideship—your bawdship. [Aside. Flo. Our sister is not merry. Clar. Sadness cannot Become a bridal harmony. Sil. At a wedding, Free spirits are required. Troy. You should dispense With serious thoughts now, lady. Mor. Well said, gentlefolks. Liv. Fie, Castamela, fie! All. A dance, a dance! Troy. By any means, the day is not complete else. Cast. Indeed, I'll be excused. Troy. By no means, lady. Sec. We all are suitors. Cast. With your pardons, spare me For this time, grant me licence to look on. [Troy.] Command your pleasures, lady.—Every one hand Your partner :-nay, Spadone must make one; These merriments are free. Spa. With all my heart; I'm sure I am not the heaviest in the company. Strike up for the honour of the bride and bridegroom. [Music. A DANCE. Troy. So, so, here's art in motion! On all parts, You have bestirr'd you nimbly. [Troy.] Command your pleasures, lady.] The 4to gives this as a continuation of Castamela's speech. It evidently belongs to Troylo. Mor. I could dance now, E'en till I dropt again; but want of practice Sec. Light as a feather. Spa. Sure you are not without a stick of liquorice in your pocket, forsooth. You have, I believe, stout lungs of your own, you swim about so roundly without rubs; 'tis a tickling sight to be young still. Enter NITIDO. Nit. Madam Morosa! Mor. Child. Nit. To you in secret. [Takes her aside. Spa. That ear-wig scatters the troop now; I'll go near to fit him. Liv. My lord, upon my life Troy. Then we must sever. Mor. Ladies and gentlemen, your ears. [Whispers them. Spa. Oh, 'twas ever a wanton monkey—he will wriggle into a starting-hole so cleanly—an it had been on my wedding-day,-I know what I know. Sec. Say'st so, Spadone? Spa. Nothing, nothing; I prate sometimes beside the purpose-whoreson, lecherous weazle! Sec. Look, look, look, how officious the little knave is!-but— Spa. Why, there's the business; buts on one's forehead are but scurvy buts. |