Chapter III: Introduction (3)

LUS. Yet for my hate's sake,
Go, wind him this way. I'll see him bleed myself.

HIP. What now, brother? [_Aside._

VEN. Nay, e'en what you will--y' are put to't, brother. [_Aside._

HIP. An impossible task, I'll swear,
To bring him hither, that's already here. [_Aside._

[_Exit_ HIPPOLITO.

LUS. Thy name? I have forgot it.

VEN. Vendice, my lord.

LUS. 'Tis a good name that.

VEN. Ay, a revenger. [_Aside._

LUS. It does betoken courage; thou shouldst be valiant,
And kill thine enemies.

VEN. That's my hope, my lord.

LUS. This slave is one.

VEN. I'll doom him.

LUS. Then I'll praise thee.
Do thou observe me best, and I'll best raise thee.

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

VEN. Indeed, I thank you.

LUS. Now, Hippolito, where's the slave-pander?

HIP. Your good lordship
Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive.
He's not in case now to be seen, my lord.
The worst of all the deadly sins is in him--
That beggarly damnation, drunkenness.

LUS. Then he's a double slave.

VEN. 'Twas well convey'd upon a sudden wit.

LUS. What, are you both
Firmly resolv'd? I'll see him dead myself.

VEN. Or else let not us live.

LUS. You may direct your brother to take note of him.

HIP. I shall.

LUS. Rise but in this, and you shall never fall.

VEN. Your honour's vassals.

LUS. This was wisely carried. [_Aside._
Deep policy in us makes fools of such:
Then must a slave die, when he knows too much. [_Exit_ LUSURIOSO.

VEN. O thou almighty patience! 'tis my wonder
That such a fellow, impudent and wicked,
Should not be cloven as he stood;
Or with a secret wind burst open!
Is there no thunder left:[90] or is't kept up
In stock for heavier vengeance? there it goes!

HIP. Brother, we lose ourselves.

VEN. But I have found it;
'Twill hold, 'tis sure; thanks, thanks to any spirit,
That mingled it 'mongst my inventions.

HIP. What is't?

VEN. Tis sound and good; thou shalt partake it;
I'm hir'd to kill myself.

HIP. True.

VEN. Prythee, mark it;
And the old duke being dead, but not convey'd,
For he's already miss'd too, and you know,
Murder will peep out of the closest husk.

HIP. Most true.

VEN. What say you then to this device?
If we dress'd up the body of the duke?

HIP. In that disguise of yours?

VEN. Y' are quick, y' have reach'd it.

HIP. I like it wondrously.

VEN. And being in drink, as you have publish'd him.
To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him,
Which claims most interest in such sluggy men?

HIP. Good yet; but here's a doubt;
We, thought[91] by th' duke's son to kill that pander,
Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke.

VEN. Neither; O thanks, it is substantial:
For that disguise being on him which I wore,

It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did kill the
duke, and fled away in his apparel, leaving him so disguised to
avoid swift pursuit.

HIP. Firmer and firmer.

VEN. Nay, doubt not, 'tis in grain: I warrant it holds colour.

HIP. Let's about it.

VEN. By the way, too, now I think on't, brother,
Let's conjure that base devil out of our mother. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[79] [Weak, treacherous.]

[80] _The Nobles enter_ is printed in the 4o, as if it were a part of the speech of Lusurioso.--_Collier._

[81] [Edits., _god_.]

[82] [Edits., _on't_.]

[83] Poultry.

[84] A vulgar corruption of _certiorari_.--_Pegge._

[85] Mr Gilchrist would substitute _Lusurioso_ for _Hippolito_ here; but the change is not necessary to the sense, and is not supported by the quartos.--_Collier._

[86] ["Mark the transition from prose to verse."--_MS. note in former edit._]

[87] [Like.]

[88] _How art thou now?_ the inquiry has stood in previous editions, but _How are they now?_ is the correct reading restored from the old copy. The words have reference to Vendice's eyes.--_Collier._

[89] [Edits., _five_.]

[90] The same thought occurs in "Othello," act v. sc. 2--

"Are there no stones in heaven.
But what serve for the thunder?"

[91] The 4o reads, _methought_.--_Collier._

ACTUS V.[92]

_Enter the_ DUCHESS, _arm in arm with_ SPURIO: _he_
_seemeth lasciviously to look on her. After them,_
_enter_ SUPERVACUO _running, with a rapier;_
AMBITIOSO _stops him_.

SPU. Madam, unlock yourself;
Should it be seen, your arm would be suspected.

DUCH. Who is't that dares suspect or this or these?
May not we deal our favours where we please?

SPU. I'm confident you may. [_Exeunt._

AMB. 'Sfoot, brother, hold.

SUP. Woult let the bastard shame us?

AMB. Hold, hold, brother! there's fitter time than now.

SUP. Now, when I see it!

AMB. 'Tis too much seen already.

SUP. Seen and known;
The nobler she's, the baser is she grown.

AMB. If she were bent lasciviously (the fault
Of mighty women, that sleep soft)--O death!
Must she needs choose such an unequal sinner,
To make all worse?--

SUP. A bastard! the duke's bastard! shame heap'd on shame!

AMB. O our disgrace!
Most women have small waists the world throughout;
But their desires are thousand miles about.

SUP. Come, stay not here, let's after, and prevent,
Or else they'll sin faster than we'll repent. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO, _bringing out their_
_mother, one by one shoulder, and the other by_
_the other, with daggers in their hands._

VEN. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough!

GRA. What mean my sons? what, will you murder me?

VEN. Wicked, unnatural parent!

HIP. Fiend of women!

GRA. O! are sons turn'd monsters? help!

VEN. In vain.

GRA. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples
Upon the breast that gave you suck?

VEN. That breast
Is turn'd to quarled poison.[93]

GRA. Cut not your days for't! am not I your mother?[94]

VEN. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud,
For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd.

GRA. A bawd! O name far loathsomer than hell!

HIP. It should be so, knew'st thou thy office well.

GRA. I hate it.

VEN. Ah! is't possible, you powers on high,
That women should dissemble when they die?

GRA. Dissemble!

VEN. Did not the duke's son direct
A fellow of the worst[95] condition hither,
That did corrupt all that was good in thee?
Made thee uncivilly forget thyself,
And work our sister to his lust?

GRA. Who, I?
That had been monstrous. I defy that man
For any such intent! none lives so pure,
But shall be soil'd with slander. Good son, believe it not.

VEN. O, I'm in doubt,
Whether I am myself, or no---- [_Aside._
Stay, let me look again upon this face.
Who shall be sav'd, when mothers have no grace?

HIP. 'Twould make one half despair.

VEN. I was the man.
Defy me now; let's see, do't modestly.

GRA. O hell unto my soul!

VEN. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son,
Tried you, and found you base metal,
As any villain might have done.

GRA. O, no,
No tongue but yours could have bewitch'd me so.

VEN. O nimble in damnation, quick in ru'n![96]
There is no devil could strike fire so soon:
I am confuted in a word.

GRA. O sons, forgive me! to myself I'll prove more true;
You that should honour me, I kneel to you. [_Kneels and weeps._

VEN. A mother to give aim to her own daughter![97]

HIP. True, brother; how far beyond nature 'tis,
Though many mothers do't!

VEN. Nay, and you draw tears once, go you to bed;
Wet will make iron blush and change to red.
Brother, it rains. 'Twill spoil your dagger: house it.

HIP. 'Tis done.

VEN. I'faith, 'tis a sweet shower, it does much good.
The fruitful grounds and meadows of her soul
Have been long dry: pour down, thou blessed dew!
Rise, mother; troth, this shower has made you higher!

GRA. O you heavens! take this infectious spot out of my soul,
I'll rinse it in seven waters of mine eyes!
Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace.
To weep is to our sex naturally given:
But to weep truly, that's a gift from heaven.

VEN. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother:
Let's marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust,
And honourably love her.

HIP. Let it be.

VEN. For honest women are so seld[98] and rare,
'Tis good to cherish those poor few that are.
O you of easy wax! do but imagine
Now the disease has left you, how leprously
That office would have cling'd unto your forehead!
All mothers that had any graceful hue
Would have worn masks to hide their face at you:
It would have grown to this--at your foul name,
Green-colour'd maids would have turned red with shame.

HIP. And then our sister, full of hireling[99] baseness----

VEN. There had been boiling lead again,
The duke's son's great concubine!
A drab of state, a cloth-o'-silver slut,
To have her train borne up, and her soul trail i' th' dirt![100]

HIP. Great, to be miserably great; rich, to be eternally wretched.

VEN. O common madness!
Ask but the thrivingest harlot in cold blood,
She'd give the world to make her honour good.
Perhaps you'll say, but only to the duke's son
In private; why she first begins with one,
Who afterward to thousands proves a whore:
"Break ice in one place, it will crack in more."

GRA. Most certainly applied!

HIP. O brother, you forget our business.

VEN. And well-remember'd; joy's a subtle elf,
I think man's happiest when he forgets himself,
Farewell, once dry, now holy-water'd mead;
Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead.

GRA. I'll give you this--that one I never knew
Plead better for and 'gainst the devil than you.

VEN. You make me proud on't.

HIP. Commend us in all virtue to our sister.

VEN. Ay, for the love of heaven, to that true maid.

GRA. With my best words.

VEN. Why, that was motherly said.[101] [_Exeunt._

GRA. I wonder now, what fury did transport me!
I feel good thoughts begin to settle in me.
O, with what forehead can I look on her,
Whose honour I've so impiously beset?
And here she comes--

_Enter_ CASTIZA.

CAS. Now, mother, you have wrought with me so strongly,
That what for my advancement, as to calm
The trouble of your tongue, I am content.

GRA. Content, to what?

CAS. To do as you have wish'd me;
To prostitute my breast to the duke's son;
And put myself to common usury.

GRA. I hope you will not so!

CAS. Hope you I will not?
That's not the hope you look to be sav'd in.

GRA. Truth, but it is.

CAS. Do not deceive yourself,
I am as you, e'en out of marble wrought.
What would you now? are ye not pleas'd yet with me?
You shall not wish me to be more lascivious
Than I intend to be.

GRA. Strike not me cold.

CAS. How often have you charg'd me on your blessing
To be a cursed woman? When you knew
Your blessing had no force to make me lewd,
You laid your curse upon me; that did more,
The mother's curse is heavy; where that lights,
Suns set in storm, and daughters lose their rights.[102]

GRA. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark
Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee,
O, let my breath revive it to a flame!
Put not all out with woman's wilful follies.
I am recover'd of that foul disease,
That haunts too many mothers; kind, forgive me,
Make me not sick in health! If then
My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness,
How much more now, when they are just and good?

CAS. I wonder what you mean! are not you she,
For whose infect persuasions I could scarce
Kneel out my prayers, and had much ado
In three hours' reading to untwist so much
Of the black serpent as you wound about me?

GRA. 'Tis unfruitful, child,[103] [and] tedious to repeat
What's past; I'm now your present mother.

CAS. Pish! now 'tis too late.

GRA. Bethink again: thou know'st not what thou say'st.

CAS. No! deny advancement! treasure! the duke's son!

GRA. O, cease![104] I spoke those words, and now they poison me!
What will the deed do then?
Advancement? true; as high as shame can pitch!
For treasure! who e'er knew a harlot rich?
Or could build by the purchase of her sin
An hospital to keep her[105] bastards in?
The duke's son! O, when women are young courtiers,
They are sure to be old beggars;
To know the miseries most harlots taste,
Thou'dst wish thyself unborn, when thou art unchaste.

CAS. O mother, let me twine about your neck,
And kiss you, till my soul melt on your lips!
I did but this to try you.

GRA. O, speak truth!

CAS. Indeed I did but;[106] for no tongue has force
To alter me from honest.
If maidens would, men's words could have no power;
A virgin's honour is a crystal tower
Which (being weak) is guarded with good spirits;
Until she basely yields, no ill inherits.

GRA. O happy child! faith, and thy birth hath sav'd me.
'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others:
Be[107] thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO.

VEN. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother.

HIP. I warrant you my life for yours.

VEN. That's a good lay, for I must kill myself. Brother, that's
I, that sits for me: do you mark it? And I must stand ready
here to make away myself yonder. I must sit to be killed,
and stand to kill myself. I could vary it not so little as
thrice over again; 't has some eight returns, like Michaelmas
term.[108]

HIP. That's enou', o' conscience.

VEN. But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single?

HIP. No; there's the hell on't: his faith's too feeble to go
alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will buzz against
supper-time, and hum for his coming out.

VEN. Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! Here
was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made
my revenge familiar with him; show him the body of the duke
his father, and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in
hugger-mugger,[109] made no man acquainted with it; and in
catastrophe slain him over his father's breast. O, I'm mad to
lose such a sweet opportunity!

HIP. Nay, pish! prythee, be content! there's no remedy present;
may not hereafter times open in as fair faces as this?

VEN. They may, if they can paint so well.

HIP. Come now: to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake this room,
and be going to meet the duke's son.

VEN. Content: I'm for any weather. Heart! step close: here he
comes.

_Enter_ LUSURIOSO.

HIP. My honour'd lord!

LUS. O me! you both present?

VEN. E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship entered now:
about this place we had notice given he should be, but in some
loathsome plight or other.

HIP. Came your honour private?

LUS. Private enough for this; only a few
Attend my coming out.

HIP. Death rot those few! [_Aside._

LUS. Stay, yonder's the slave.

VEN. Mass, there's the slave indeed, my lord.
'Tis a good child: he calls his father slave! [_Aside._

LUS. Ay, that's the villain, the damn'd villain.
Softly. Tread easy.

VEN. Puh! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle-in our breaths.

LUS. That will do well:
Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last; 'tis policy
To have him kill'd in's sleep; for, if he wak'd,
He would betray all to them.

VEN. But, my lord----

LUS. Ha, what say'st?

VEN. Shall we kill him now he's drunk?

LUS. Ay, best of all.

VEN. Why, then he will ne'er live to be sober.

LUS. No matter, let him reel to hell.

VEN. But being so full of liquor, I fear he will put out all
the fire.

LUS. Thou art a mad beast.[110]

VEN. And leave none to warm your lordship's golls[111] withal;
for he that dies drunk falls into hell-fire like a bucket of
water--qush, qush!

LUS. Come, be ready: nake your swords:[112] think of your
wrongs; this slave has injured you.

VEN. Troth, so he has, and he has paid well for't.

LUS. Meet with him now.

VEN. You'll bear us out, my lord?

LUS. Puh! am I a lord for nothing, think you? quickly now!

VEN. Sa, sa, sa, thump--there he lies.

LUS. Nimbly done.--Ha! O villains! murderers!
'Tis the old duke my father.

VEN. That's a jest.

LUS. What, stiff and cold already!
O, pardon me to call you from your names:
'Tis none of your deed: that villain Piato,
Whom you thought now to kill, has murdered
And left him thus disguis'd.

HIP. And not unlikely.

VEN. O rascal! was he not asham'd
To put the duke into a greasy doublet?

LUS. He has been cold and stiff--who knows how long?

VEN. Marry, that I do. [_Aside._

LUS. No words, I pray, of anything intended.

VEN. O my lord.

HIP. I would fain have your lordship think that we have small
reason to prate.

LUS. Faith, thou say'st true; I'll forthwith send to court
For all the nobles, bastard, duchess; tell,
How here by miracle we found him dead,
And in his raiment that foul villain fled.

VEN. That will be the best way, my lord,
To clear us all; let's cast about to be clear.

LUS. Ho! Nencio, Sordido, and the rest!

_Enter_ ALL.

1ST NOBLE. My lord.

2D NOBLE. My lord.

LUS. Be witnesses of a strange spectacle.
Choosing for private conference that sad room,
We found the duke my father geal'd in blood.

1ST NOBLE. My lord the duke! run, hie thee, Nencio,
Startle the court by signifying so much.

VEN. This much by wit a deep revenger can:
When murder's known, to be the clearest man.
We're farthest off, and with as bold an eye
Survey his body as the standers-by. [_Aside._

LUS. My royal father, too basely let blood
By a malevolent slave!

HIP. Hark! he calls thee slave again. [_Aside._

VEN. He has lost: he may. [_Aside._

LUS. O sight! look hither, see, his lips are gnawn
With poison.

VEN. How! his lips? by the mass, they be.
O villain! O rogue! O slave! O rascal!

HIP. O good deceit! he quits him with like terms.

AMB. [_Within._] Where?

SUP. [_Within._] Which way?

_Enter_ AMBITIOSO _and_ SUPERVACUO.

AMB. Over what roof hangs this prodigious comet
In deadly fire?

LUS. Behold, behold, my lords, the duke my father's murdered by
a vassal that owes this habit, and here left disguised.

_Enter_ DUCHESS _and_ SPURIO.

DUCH. My lord and husband?

2D NOBLE. Reverend majesty!

1ST NOBLE. I have seen these clothes often attending on him.

VEN. That nobleman has been i' th' country, for he does not lie.

[_Aside._

SUP. Learn of our mother; let's dissemble too:
I am glad he's vanish'd; so, I hope, are you.

AMB. Ay, you may take my word for't.

SPU. Old dad dead?
I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates
Most hearty commendations by his own son;
I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done.

LUS. Where be those two that did affirm to us,
My lord the duke was privately rid forth?

1ST NOBLE. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that charge--
Upon our lives, if he were miss'd at court,
To answer so; he rode not anywhere;
We left him private with that fellow here.

VEN. Confirmed. [_Aside._

LUS. O heavens! that false charge was his death.
Impudent beggars! durst you to our face
Maintain such a false answer? Bear him straight
To execution.

1ST NOBLE. My lord!

LUS. Urge me no more.
In this the excuse may be call'd half the murder.

VEN. You've sentenc'd well. [_Aside._

LUS. Away; see it be done.

VEN. Could you not stick? See what confession doth!
Who would not lie, when men are hang'd for truth? [_Aside._

HIP. Brother, how happy is our vengeance!

[_Aside._

VEN. Why, it hits past the apprehension of
Indifferent wits. [_Aside._

LUS. My lord, let post-horses be sent
Into all places to entrap the villain.

VEN. Post-horses, ha, ha! [_Aside._

NOBLE. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty.
Your father's accidentally departed;
The titles that were due to him meet you.

LUS. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord.
I've many griefs to despatch out o' th' way.
Welcome, sweet titles!-- [_Aside._
Talk to me, my lords,
Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones;
That's thought for me.

VEN. So one may see by this
How foreign markets go;
Courtiers have feet o' th' nines, and tongues o' th' twelves;
They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves.

[_Aside._

NOBLE. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us.

LUS. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April.

NOBLE. You're now my lord's grace.

LUS. My lord's grace! I perceive you'll have it so.

NOBLE. 'Tis but your own.

LUS. Then, heavens, give me grace to be so!

VEN. He prays well for himself. [_Aside._

NOBLE. Madam, all sorrows
Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time
Will make the murderer bring forth himself.

VEN. He were an ass then, i' faith. [_Aside._

NOBLE. In the mean season,
Let us bethink the latest funeral honours
Due to the duke's cold body. And withal,
Calling to memory our new happiness
Speed[113] in his royal son: lords, gentlemen,
Prepare for revels.

VEN. Revels. [_Aside._

NOBLE. Time hath several falls.
Griefs lift up joys: feasts put down funerals.

LUS. Come then, my lords, my favour's to you all.
The duchess is suspected foully bent;
I'll begin dukedom with her banishment.

HIP. Revels!

VEN. Ay, that's the word: we are firm yet;
Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit.

[_Exeunt_ HIPPOLITO _and_ VENDICE.

SPU. Well, have at the fairest mark[114]--so said the duke when
he begot me;
And if I miss his heart, or near about,
Then have at any; a bastard scorns to be out.

SUP. Note'st thou that Spurio, brother?

ANT. Yes, I note him to our shame.

SUP. He shall not live: his hair shall not grow much longer.
In this time of revels, tricks may be set afoot. See'st thou
yon new moon? it shall outlive the new duke by much; this hand
shall dispossess him. Then we're mighty.

A mask is treason's licence, that build upon:
'Tis murder's best face, when a vizard's on. [_Exit._

AMB. Is't so? 'tis very good!
And do you think to be duke then, kind brother?
I'll see fair play; drop one, and there lies t'other.

[_Aside. Exit._

_Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO, _with_ PIERO
_and other Lords_.

VEN. My lords, be all of music, strike old griefs into other countries
That flow in too much milk, and have faint livers,
Not daring to stab home their discontents.
Let our hid flames break out as fire, as lightning,
To blast this villainous dukedom, vex'd with sin;
Wind up your souls to their full height again.

PIERO. How?

1ST LORD. Which way?

3D LORD. Any way: our wrongs are such,
We cannot justly be reveng'd too much.

VEN. You shall have all enough. Revels are toward,
And those few nobles that have long suppress'd you,
Are busied to the furnishing of a masque,
And do affect to make a pleasant tale on't;
The masquing suits are fashioning: now comes in
That which must glad us all. We too take pattern
Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion,
E'en to an undistinguish'd hair almost:
Then entering first, observing the true form,
Within a strain or two we shall find leisure
To steal our swords out handsomely;
And when they think their pleasure sweet and good,
In midst of all their joys they shall sigh blood.

PIERO. Weightily, effectually!

THIRD. Before the t'other masquers come----

VEN. We're gone, all done and past.

PIERO. But how for the duke's guard?

VEN. Let that alone,
By one and one their strengths shall be drunk down.

HIP. There are five hundred gentlemen in the action,
That will apply themselves, and not stand idle.

PIERO. O, let us hug your bosoms!

VEN. Come, my lords,
Prepare for deeds: let other times have words.[115] [_Exeunt._

_In a dumb show, the procession[116] of the young duke,_
_with all his nobles; then sounding music. A_
_furnished table is brought forth; then enter the_
_duke and his nobles to the banquet. A blazing_
_star appeareth._

1ST NOBLE. Many harmonious hours and choicest pleasures
Fill up the royal number of your years!

LUS. My lords, we're pleas'd to thank you, though we know
'Tis but your duty now to wish it so.

1ST NOBLE. That shine makes us all happy.

3D NOBLE. His grace frowns.

2D NOBLE. Yet we must say he smiles.

1ST NOBLE. I think we must.

LUS. That foul incontinent duchess we have banish'd;
The bastard shall not live. After these revels,
I'll begin strange ones: he and the step-sons
Shall pay their lives for the first subsidies;
We must not frown so soon, else't had been now.

[_Aside._

1ST NOBLE. My gracious lord, please you prepare for pleasure.
The masque is not far off.

LUS. We are for pleasure.
Beshrew thee, what art thou'? [thou] mad'st me start!
Thou hast committed treason. A blazing star!

1ST NOBLE. A blazing star! O, where, my lord?

LUS. Spy out.

2D NOBLE. See, see, my lords, a wondrous dreadful one!

LUS. I am not pleas'd at that ill-knotted fire,
That bushing, flaring star. Am not I duke?
It should not quake me now. Had it appear'd
Before, I might then have justly fear'd;
But yet they say, whom art and learning weds,
When stars wear locks, they threaten great men's heads:
Is it so? you are read, my lords.

1ST NOBLE. May it please your grace,
It shows great anger.

LUS. That does not please our grace.

2D NOBLE. Yet here's the comfort, my lord: many times,
When it seems most near, it threatens farthest off.

LUS. Faith, and I think so too.

1ST NOBLE. Beside, my lord,
You're gracefully establish'd with the loves
Of all your subjects; and for natural death,
I hope it will be threescore years a-coming.

LUS. Do you?[117] no more but threescore years?

1ST NOBLE. Fourscore, I hope, my lord.

2D NOBLE. And fivescore, I.

3D NOBLE. But 'tis my hope, my lord, you shall ne'er die.

LUS. Give me thy hand; these others I rebuke:
He that hopes so is fittest for a duke:
Thou shalt sit next me; take your places, lords;
We're ready now for sports; let 'em set on:
You thing! we shall forget you quite anon!

3D NOBLE. I hear 'em coming, my lord.

_Enter the masque of Revengers, the two brothers, and_
_two Lords more._

[_The Revengers' dance: at the end steal out their_
_swords, and these four kill the four at the_
_table, in their chairs. It thunders._

VEN. Mark, thunder!
Dost know thy cue, thou big-voic'd crier?
Dukes' groans are thunder's watchwords.

HIP. So, my lords, you have enough.

VEN. Come, let's away, no lingering.

HIP. Follow! go! [_Exeunt._

VEN. No power is angry when the lustful die;
When thunder claps, heaven likes the tragedy.

[_Exit_ VENDICE.

LUS. O, O!

_Enter the other masque of intended murderers, step-sons,_
_Bastard, and a fourth man, coming in_
_dancing. The duke recovers a little in voice, and_
_groans, calls_, A guard! treason! _at which_
_they all start out of their measure, and, turning_
_towards the table, they find them all to be murdered_.

SPU. Whose groan was that?

LUS. Treason! a guard!

AMB. How now? all murder'd!

SUP. Murder'd!

4TH NOBLE. And those his nobles?

AMB. Here's a labour sav'd;
I thought to have sped him. 'Sblood, how came this?

SPU. Then I proclaim myself; now I am duke.

AMB. Thou duke! brother, thou liest.

SPU. Slave! so dost thou.

4TH NOBLE. Base villain! hast thou slain my lord and master?

_Enter the first men._

VEN. Pistols! treason! murder! Help! guard my lord the duke!

HIP. Lay hold upon these traitors.

LUS. O!

VEN. Alas! the duke is murder'd.

HIP. And the nobles.

VEN. Surgeons! surgeons! Heart! does he breathe so long? [_Aside._

ANT. A piteous tragedy! able to make[118]
An old man's eyes bloodshot.

LUS. O!

VEN. Look to my lord the duke. A vengeance throttle him! [_Aside._
Confess, thou murd'rous and unhallow'd man,
Didst thou kill all these?

4TH NOBLE. None but the bastard, I.

VEN. How came the duke slain, then?

4TH NOBLE. We found him so.

LUS. O villain!

VEN. Hark!

LUS. Those in the masque did murder us.

VEN. La you now, sir--
O marble impudence! will you confess now?

4TH NOBLE. 'Sblood, 'tis all false.

ANT. Away with that foul monster,
Dipp'd in a prince's blood.

4TH NOBLE. Heart! 'tis a lie.

ANT. Let him have bitter execution.

VEN. New marrow! no, it cannot be express'd.[119]
How fares my lord the duke?

LUS. Farewell to all;
He that climbs highest has the greatest fall.
My tongue is out of office.

VEN. Air, gentlemen, air.
Now thou'lt not prate on't, 'twas Vendice murder'd thee.

[_Whispers in his ear._

LUS. O!

VEN. Murder'd thy father. [_Whispers._

LUS. O! [_Dies._

VEN. And I am he: tell nobody--so, so, the duke's departed.

ANT. It was a deadly hand that wounded him.
The rest, ambitious who should rule and sway
After his death, were so made all away.

VEN. My lord was unlikely----

HIP. Now the hope
Of Italy lies in your reverend years.

VEN. Your hair will make the silver age again,
When there were fewer, but more honest men.

ANT. The burthen's weighty, and will press age down;
May I so rule, that heaven may keep the crown!

VEN. The rape of your good lady has been quitted
With death on death.

ANT. Just is the law above.
But of all things it put me most to wonder
How the old duke came murder'd!

VEN. O my lord!

ANT. It was the strangeliest carried: I not heard of the like.

HIP. 'Twas all done for the best, my lord.

VEN. All for your grace's good. We may be bold to speak it now,
'Twas somewhat witty carried, though we say it--
'Twas we two murder'd him.

ANT. You two?

VEN. None else, i' faith, my lord. Nay, 'twas well-manag'd.

ANT. Lay hands upon those villains!

VEN. How! on us?

ANT. Bear 'em to speedy execution.

VEN. Heart! was't not for your good, my lord?

ANT. My good! Away with 'em: such an old man as he!
You, that would murder him, would murder me.

VEN. Is't come about?

HIP. 'Sfoot, brother, you begun.

VEN. May not we set as well as the duke's son?[120]
Thou hast no conscience, are we not reveng'd?
Is there one enemy left alive amongst those?
'Tis time to die, when we ourselves our foes:[121]
When murderers shut deeds close, this curse does seal 'em:
If none disclose 'em, they themselves reveal 'em!
This murder might have slept in tongueless brass
But for ourselves, and the world died an ass.
Now I remember too, here was Piato
Brought forth a knavish sentence once;
No doubt (said he), but time
Will make the murderer bring forth himself.
'Tis well he died; he was a witch.
And now, my lord, since we are in for ever,
This work was ours, which else might have been slipp'd!
And if we list, we could have nobles clipp'd,
And go for less than beggars; but we hate
To bleed so cowardly: we have enough,
I' faith, we're well, our mother turn'd, our sister true,
We die after a nest of dukes. Adieu. [_Exeunt._

ANT. How subtlely was that murder clos'd![122] Bear up
Those tragic bodies: 'tis a heavy season;
Pray heaven their blood may wash away all treason! [_Exit._

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[92] In the 4o this play consists but of four acts. But as that division probably arose from the carelessness of the printer, I have made an alteration here, which appears to be a necessary one.

[93] Perhaps we should read _quarell'd poison_; _i.e._, such poison as arrows are imbued with. Quarels are square arrows. So in the "Romaunt of the Rose," v. 1823--

"Ground _quarelis_ sharpe of steele."

--_Steevens._

[The two words are the same, _quarled_ being a contracted form of _quarell'd_.]

[94] Alluding to the Fifth Commandment.--_Gilchrist._

[95] [Edits., _world's_.]

[96] [Edits., _tune_.]

[97] _i.e._, incite, encourage her.

[98] Seldom to be met with. In Shakespeare's "Coriolanus" we have "_seld_ seen flamens."--_Steevens._

[99] [Old copy, _hire and_.]

[100] The word _great_ is added in the 4o to this line, but it belongs to Hippolito, and what he says has been hitherto misprinted.--_Collier._

[101] ["The reality and life of this dialogue passes any scenical illusion I ever felt. I never read it but my ears tingle, and I feel a hot flush spread my cheeks, as if I were presently about to 'proclaim' some such 'malefactions' of myself as the brothers here rebuke in this unnatural parent, in words more keen and dagger-like than those which Hamlet speaks to his mother. Such power has the passion of shame, truly personated, not only to 'strike guilty creatures unto the soul,' but to 'appal' even those that are 'free.'"--_Lamb._]

[102] [Old copy, _lights_, and in the line before, _Sons--fights_.]

[103] [Edits., _held_.]

[104] [Edits., _see_.]

[105] [Edits., _their_.]

[106] [Edits., _not_.]

[107] The 4o reads, _Buy_.--_Steevens._

[108] Michaelmas term now has but four returns. By the Statute 16 Car. I. c. vi. it was abridged of two; and again, by 24 Geo. II. c. xlviii. of the like number.

[109] In secret. This uncouth expression occurs in "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5, which many modern editors have altered to the more modern phrase of _in private_; but as Dr Johnson observes, "if phraseology is to be changed as words grow uncouth by disuse, or gross by vulgarity, the history of every language will be lost; we shall no longer have the words of any author; and as these alterations will often be unskilfully made, we shall in time have very little of his meaning." Mr Steevens, by several instances, has shown that the terms were in common use, and conveyed no low or vulgar ideas, and several others might be added: as in Ascham's "Toxophilus," 1571: "If shootinge fault at anye time, it hydes it not, it lurkes not in corners and _budder mother_."

[110] The 4o reads _breast_.--_Steevens._

[111] Hands.

[112] _i.e._, unsheathe them, let them be _naked_ swords.--_Steevens._

[113] [Edits., _spread_.]

[114] The 4o reads, _Well, have the fairest mark_.--_Collier._

[115] [A MS. note in one of the former edits., suggests, _to other times leave words_].

[116] [Old copy, _possessing_.]

[117] [Old copy, _True_.]

[118] The 4o reads, _wake_.

[119] The 4o reads, _I cannot be express'd_.--_Collier._

[120] [Edits., _so_.]

[121] ["Mark this--it was his intention from the first to die when his revenge had been consummated."--_MS. note in former edition._]

[122] _Clos'd_ for _disclos'd_.--_Gilchrist._

THE DUMB KNIGHT.

_EDITIONS._

_The dumbe Knight. A historicall Comedy, acted sundry times
by the children of his Maiesties Reuels. London, Printed by
Nicholas Okes, for Iohn Bache, and are to be sold at his
shop in Popes-head Palace, neere to the Royall Exchange._
1608. 4o.[123]

_The Dumbe Knight. An Historicall Comedy, acted sundry times
by the children of his Majesties Revells. London, Printed
by A.M. for William Sheares, and are to be sold at his
shoppe in Chancery Lane, near Seriants Inne._ 1633. 4o.

[MR COLLIER'S PREFACE.[124]]

Lewes Machin was assisted, as he states, in writing this play, by one "whose worth hath been often approved," and it is singular that until very recently the name of his coadjutor should have remained unknown, when in the Garrick Collection, always accessible in the British Museum, is a copy of "The Dumb Knight," edition of 1608, with the name of his "partner in the wrong" on the title-page, viz., Jervis or Gervase Markham. Another copy, with the same distinction, was sold in Mr Rhodes' collection. Why it was afterwards altered cannot now be ascertained; perhaps Markham wished to avoid the consequences of the "strange constructions" on the play to which Machin in his epistle refers, and therefore withdrew his name. Nevertheless the address of Machin "to the understanding reader" is prefixed to the copies with and without the name of his assistant.

Although Markham was a voluminous writer, little or nothing is known regarding the events of his life. A curious anecdote of a Gervase Markham is quoted by Sir E. Brydges, in his edition of Phillips's "Theatrum Poetarum," p. 279; but in all probability it is not the same individual, as that person was high sheriff of Nottinghamshire in 1625, and was robbed of £5000. Gervase Markham the poet and book-maker never could have possessed any such sum. He is said to have been the son of Robert Markham of Cotham; but this is very questionable. When and where he was born, and died, yet remains to be discovered. He began his career of authorship late in the reign of Elizabeth, viz., in 159[3, when his "Thyrsis and Daphne," a piece no longer known, was revised for the press. In the same year he produced "A Discourse of Horsemanship;" and] in 1595 he published "The Most Honourable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grinvile (Grenville), Knight." By this work he seems to have acquired much reputation.[125] Though called a _tragedy_, it is only a narrative and elegiac poem in the octave rhyme.

Ritson also assigns to Markham a translation of Solomon's Song, in the same year, but it has only the initials L.M. on the title-page. In 1597, he printed a translation from the French, called "Devoreux, Vertues Tears for the Loss of the Most Christian King Henry III." In 1608 appeared a translation of Ariosto's "Satires," with his name on the title-page, but the work was subsequently claimed by Robert Tofte. The blame belonged, perhaps, to some knavish bookseller who, having obtained the MS., availed himself of Markham's popularity. [Barnaby Rich's "Alarm to England," was reprinted in 1625 under the title of "Vox Militis," with a poem by Markham prefixed, and without any mention of the true writer.] He continued to write various works, some on agriculture and farriery, [during the reign of James I.[126]] His only other dramatic performance was a tragedy called "Herod and Antipater," which was printed in 1622, and in the composition of which he was joined by W. Sampson.

Of Lewis Machin merely the name has come down to us in connection with Markham and William Barkstead. The latter in 1607 printed "Mirrha, the Mother of Adonis," and at the end of it were placed "three Eglogs" by Lewis Machin. The first of "Menalcas and Daphnis," and the two others of "Apollo and Hyacinth." It is impossible now to ascertain what share he had in "The Dumb Knight," which appears to have been a successful play, although its merits are by no means conspicuous. It is mentioned in the following terms in Shirley's "Example," 1637, sig. A 4:--

"VAINMAN. You will give me leave to answer you,
If you should ask me anything?

"JACINTHA. Not a syllable,
Though I desir'd to know what o'clock 'tis;
There's your obedience: at six months' end
I may reward your silence.

"PUMICE-STONE. She'll make him the Dumb Knight.

"JACINTHA. I will not engage you to be a mute so long."

"The Dumb Knight" was entered on the stationers' books on the 6th October 1608, in which year it was first printed. It was reprinted in 1633, perhaps on its revival at one of the theatres, which led Shirley to allude to it in 1637. The edition of 1633 is a copy of that of 1608, with all the original errors, and the addition of some others. It sometimes happens that an obscure reading is explained or a misprint corrected in later copies, even if the mistakes generally are multiplied; but this is not the case with "The Dumb Knight." Mr Reed seems to have used the edition of 1633, and therefore included most of the errors of both of the old copies. He also introduced several conjectural alterations of his own, and in a manner not easily justified, since he gave no intimation of the liberty he had taken with the author. The play has now been carefully collated, and the more important variations pointed out in the notes.[127]

TO THE UNDERSTANDING READER.

Rumour, that Hydra-headed monster, with more tongues than eyes, by help of his intelligencer Envy, hath made strange constructions on this Dumb Knight, which then could not answer for himself; but now this publication doth untie his tongue, to answer the objections of all sharp critical censures, which here-to-fore have undeservedly passed upon him. And for my part, I protest the wrongs I have received by some (whose worths I will not traduce), with a mild neglect I have laughed at their follies; for I think myself happy, because I have been envied, since the best now in grace have been subject to some slanderous tongues that want worth themselves, and think it great praise to them to detract praise from others that deserve it; yet having a partner in the wrong, whose worth hath been often approved, I count the wrong but half a wrong, because he knows best how to answer for himself; but I now in his absence make this apology, both for him and me. Thus leaving you and the book together, I ever rest yours,

LEWIS MACHIN.

FOOTNOTES:

[123] This edition had a different title-page to some of the copies, but in all other respects they were similar: it was as follows--

"The dumbe Knight. A pleasant Comedy, acted sundry times by the children of his Maiesties Reuels. Written by Iaruis Markham." [Imprint the same as above.]--_Collier._

[124] [To the play, as printed in the last edition of Dodsley's "Old Plays."]

[125] Charles Fitzgeoffry, writing a similar poem on Sir Francis Drake, in 1596, thus mentions Markham's work--

"Well hath this poet royalis'd his facts
And curiouslie describ'd his tragedie;
Quaintlie he hath eternized his acts
In lasting characters of memorie,
Even co-eternal with eternitie:
So that the world envies his happie state,
That he should live when it is ruinate."

[126] A person of the name of Robert Markham wrote and printed in 1628 "A description of that ever-to-be-famed knight Sir John Burgh." Whether he was in any way related to Gervase Markham is not known.

[127] [Yet many errors and misprints remained in the former edition, of which some were readily set right, while others seem to bid defiance to a revising hand. It is not even easy, in every case, to detect where the corruption lies.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

KING OF CYPRUS.
PHILOCLES, _his favourite, the Dumb Knight_.
DUKE OF EPIRE.
ALPHONSO.
FLORIO.
PRATE, _an Orator [lawyer]_.
MECHANT, }
VELOURS, } _Clients to Prate_.
DRAP, }
PRECEDENT, _Clerk to Prate_.
CÆLIO, _Marshal for the Queen_.
CHIP _and_ SHAVINGS, _Carpenters_.
_Heralds, Watchmen, Gentleman-Usher, Physician, Executioner, &c._

WOMEN.

QUEEN OF SICILY.
MARIANA, _her Companion, and Sister to the Duke of Epire_.
LOLLIA, _Wife to the Orator_.
COLLAQUINTIDA, _a Bawd_.
_Attendants, &c._

_Scene, Sicily._

THE DUMB KNIGHT.[128]

ACTUS I, SCÆNA 1.[129]

_Enter the_ KING OF CYPRUS, PHILOCLES, FLORIO,
_and Attendants in arms_. [_Music._

Enough; these loud sounds deaf my passions:
How long shall love make me a slave to hope,
And mix my calm desires with tyranny?
O Philocles! this[130] heresy I hold,
Thought and affection cannot be controll'd.

PHIL. Yet may't be bent and suppled with extremes,
Sith few foresee[131] the end of violence.
What makes the skilful leech[132] to use the fire,
Or war her engines, or states policy,
But to recover things most desperate?
Revolt is recreant, when pursuit is brave,
Never to faint doth purchase what we crave.

CYP. True, my Philocles, yet my recreant soul,
Slav'd to her beauty, would renounce all war,
And yield her right to love, did not thy spirit,
Mix'd with my longing, fortify these arms.
But I am now resolv'd, and this sad hour
Shall give an end to my distemperature.
Summon a parley.

_Enter aloft the_ QUEEN OF SICILY, MARIANA,[133] _the_
DUKE OF EPIRE, ALPHONSO, _and Attendants_.

QUEEN. What says our tyrant suitor, our disease in love,
That makes our thoughts a slave unto his sword:
What says my lord?

CYP. Madam, attend me, this is my latest summons:
The many suns my sorrows have beheld,
And my sad nights of longings, all through hope
T' enjoy the joy of earth (your own dear self),
Are grown so infinite in length and weight,
That like to wearied Atlas I enforce
These wars, as Hercules, to bear my load:
Briefly, I must enjoy you, or else lose
The breath of life which to prevent, behold
My sword must be my Cupid, and with feather'd steel
Force pity from your breast. Your city's walls,
Chidden with my cannons, have set ope a path,
And boldly bid me enter: all your men of war,
Feebled with famine and a weary siege,
Take danger from mine actions: only yourself,
Strong in your will, oppose even destiny,
And like the giants' war offend the heavens.
Which to prevent, do but descend and give
Peace to my love-suit, and as o'ercome thereby
I'll yield myself your prisoner, and be drawn
A thrall in your triumphant victory.
If otherwise, behold these fatal swords
Shall ne'er be sheath'd till we be conquerors:
And, not respecting innocence nor sex,
The cries of infants, nor the prayers of age,
All things shall perish, till within my arms
I fold yourself, my thrall and conqueror.

QUEEN. Thou may'st be master of my body's tomb;
But for my soul and mind they are as free
As their creation, and with angel's wings
Can soar beyond thy reach: trust me, King of Cyprus,
Those coals the Roman Portia did devour
Are not burnt out, nor have th' Egyptian worms[134]
Yet lost their stings; steel holds his temper still,
And these are ransoms from captivity.
But art thou noble? hast thou one royal thought?

CYP. Approve me by your question.

QUEEN. Then briefly thus:
To shun the great effusion of their bloods,
Who feel no touch in mine affections,
Dare you to single combat, two to two,
Refer your right in love?

CYP. Who are your combatants? we love equality.

QUEEN. This is the first, the Epire duke, a man
Sprung from the line of famous Scanderbeg.
The next Alphonso, sprung from noble blood;
Who, laden with rich Lusitanian prize,
Hath rode through Syracuse twice in pomp.

CYP. Their likings to the motion?

EPIRE. They are like wrath,
Never unarm'd to beat weak injury.

ALPH. Nay more, we are the sons of destiny:
Virtue's our guide, our aim is dignity.

PHIL. 'Sfoot, king, shalt not forsake 'em: this I see,
Love, fight, and death are rul'd by destiny.

CYP. My spirit speaks thy motion,
Madam, although advantage might evade,
And give my love more hope, yet my bent will,
Bow'd to your pleasure, doth embrace your law.
We do accept the combat, and ourself
Will with that duke try fortunes; this my friend,
The more[135] part of myself, my dearest Philocles,
One of an angel's temper, shall with that lord
Try best and worst. The place? the time? the sword?

EPIRE. They are your rights, we claim as challengers.

CYP. And we would lose that 'vantage; but since fame
Makes virtue dullard,[136] we embrace our rights:
The place before these walls, the hour next sun,
The pole-axe and the hand-axe for the fight.

QUEEN. It is enough;
My hostage is my person and my love,

CYP. And mine my hope, my faith, and royalty.

EPIRE. They are of poise sufficient, and one light
Shall at one instant give us day and night.

[_Exeunt_ QUEEN, MARIANA, EPIRE, ALPHONSO, _&c._

CYP. She's gone, my Philocles: and as she goes, even so
The sun forsakes the heavens to kiss the sea;
Day in her beauty leaves us, and me thinks
Her absence doth exile all happiness.
Tell me, my Philocles, nay, prythee,
Tell me true, even from that love
Which to us both should blend one sympathy,
Discharge an open breast: dost thou not think
She is the mirror of her beauteous sex,
Unparallel'd and uncompanioned?

PHIL. Envy will say she's rare; then truth must vow
She is beyond compare, sith in her looks
Each motion hath a speaking majesty;
She is herself compared with herself:
For, but herself, she hath no companion.[137]
But when I think of beauty, wit and grace,
The elements of native[138] delicacy,
Those all-eye-pleasing harmonies of sight,
Which do enchant men's fancies, and stir up
The life-blood of dull earth--O, then methinks
Fair Mariana hath an equal place,
And if not outshine, shows[139] more beautiful.

CYP. More than my queen?

PHIL. More in the gloss of beauty; less in worth,
In wisdom and great thoughts: the one I find
Was made for wonder, the other for admire.

CYP. Thine equal praises make my fancies rich:
And I am pleas'd with thy comparisons;
Things of like nature live in best concent,
Beauty with subjects, majesty with kings.
Then let those two ideas lively move
Spirit beyond all spirit in our breasts,
That in the end of our great victory
We may attain both love and majesty.

PHIL. Although my first creation and my birth,
My thoughts and other tempers of my soul,
Took all their noble beings from the sword,
And made me only for the use of wars;
Yet in this combat, something (methinks) appears,
Greater than the greatest glory, and doth raise
My mind beyond herself:
'Sfoot, methinks Cæsar's Pharsalia,
Nor Scipio's Carthage, nor Emilius' acts,
Were worthy chairs of triumph: they o'er men's
Poor mangled bodies, and fire-wasted climes,
Made their triumphant passage; but we two
Must conquer thoughts and love more than the gods can do.

CYP. True, and therein
Consists the glorious garland of our praise--
But we neglect th' affairs of preparation.
Florio, be it your charge
To see th' erection of the squared lists,
Fit ground for either army, and what else
Belongs unto such royal eminence.

FLO. How near will your majesty have[140] the lists extend
Unto the city walls?

CYP. So as the dullest eye
May see the heedfull'st passage in the fight.

FLO. What square or circuit?

CYP. Threescore pace each way.

FLO. Your majesty shall have your will perform'd.

PHIL. Do, and you do us grace. And now, thou sun,
That art the eye of heaven, whose pure sight
Shall be our guide and Jove's great chronicler,
Look from thy sphere!
No guilt of pride, of malice, or of blood,
Puts on our armour; only pure naked love
Tutors our hopes, and doth our actions move.

CYP. Enough, my Philocles, thine orisons are heard.
Come, let's away. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ LOLLIA, _the wife of Prate the Orator._[141]

LOL. Now fie upon't, who would be an orator's wife, and not
a gentlewoman, if she could choose? A lady is the most sweet
lascivious life, congies and kisses--the tire, O the tire,
made castle upon castle, jewel upon jewel, knot upon knot;
crowns, garlands, gardings,[142] and what not? the hood, the
rebato,[143] the French fall,[144] the loose-bodied gown, the
pin in the hair; no clawing the pate, then picking the teeth,
and every day change; when we poor souls must come and go for
every man's pleasure: and what's a lady more than another body?
we have legs and hands, and rolling eyes, hanging lips, sleek
brows, cherry cheeks, and other things as ladies have--but the
fashion carries it away.

_Enter Mistress_ COLLAQUINTIDA.

COL. Why how now, Mistress Prate? i' th' old disease still?
will it never be better? cannot a woman find one kind man
amongst twenty? O the days that I have seen, when the law of a
woman's wit could have put her husband's purse to execution!

LOL. O Mistress Collaquintida, mine is even the unnaturallest
man to his wife----

COL. Faith, for the most part, all scholars are so, for they
take so upon them to know all things, that indeed they know
nothing; and besides, they are with study and ease grown so
unwieldy, that a woman shall ne'er want a sore stomach that's
troubled with them.

LOL. And yet they must have the government of all.

COL. True, and great reason they have for it: but a wise man
will put it in a woman's hand: what! she'll save what he
spends.

LOL. You have a pretty ruff, how deep is it?

COL. Nay this is but shallow; marry, I have a ruff is a quarter
deep, measured by the yard?

LOL. Indeed! by the yard?

COL. By the standard, I assure you: you have a pretty set too!
how big is the steel you set with?

LOL. As big as is[145] reasonable sufficient:--pity of my life,
I have forgot myself; if my husband should rise from his study,
and miss me, we should have such a coil.

COL. A coil, why what coil? if he were my husband, and did but
thwart me, I would ring him so many alarums, sound him so many
brass trumpets, beat him so many drums to his confusion, and
thunder him such a peal of great-shot, that I would turn his
brain in the pan, and make him mad with an eternal silence.

LOL. O Mistress Collaquintida, but my husband's anger is the
worst-favouredst, without all conscience, of any man's in all
Sicily; he is even as peevish as a sick monkey, and as waspish
as an ill-pleas'd bride the second morning.