Chapter XX: Act III: , Scene 1

PANDOLFO, CRICCA.

PAN. While the astrologer hews out Trincalo,
Squaring and framing him t' Antonio,
Cricca, I'll make thee partner of a thought,
That something troubles me.

CRI. Say, sir, what is't?

PAN. I have no heart to give Albumazar
The chain I promis'd him.

CRI. Deliver it me,
And I'll present it to him in your name.

PAN. 'T has been an heirloom[310] to our house four hundred years,
And, should I leave it now, I fear good fortune
Would fly from us, and follow it.

CRI. Then give him
The price in gold.

PAN. It comes to a hundred pounds;[311]

And how would that, well-husbanded, grow in time?
I was a fool to promise, I confess it;
I was too hot and forward in the business.

CRI. Indeed I wonder'd that your wary thriftiness,
Not wont to drop one penny in a quarter
Idly, would part with such a sum so easily.

PAN. My covetous thrift aims at no other mark
Than in fit time and place to show my bounty.
Who gives continually may want at length
Wherewith to feed his liberality.
But, for the love of my dear Flavia,
I would not spare my life, much less my treasure.
Yet if with honour I can win her cheaper,
Why should I cast away so great a sum?

CRI. True: I have a trick now hatching in my brain,
How you may handsomely preserve your credit,
And save the chain.

PAN. I would gladly do it,
But fear he understands us what we say.

CRI. What can you lose to try't? If it take,
There's so much sav'd, if otherwise, nothing lost.

PAN. What is't, good Cricca?

CRI. Soon as Albumazar comes, loaded with news
Of th' transmutation of your servant Trincalo,
I'll entertain him here; meanwhile, steal you
Closely into the room, and quickly hide
Some special piece of plate: then run out amaz'd,
Roaring, that all the street may know y' are robb'd.
Next threaten to attach him, and accuse him
Before a justice; and in th' end agree,
If he restore the plate, you'll give the chain,
Otherwise not.

PAN. But if we be discover'd!
For by his instruments and familiars
He can do much.

CRI. Lay all the fault on Trincalo.
But here's the main point. If you can dissemble
Cunningly, and frame your countenance to express
Pity and anger, that so learn'd a man
Should use his friend so basely--if you can call
An outcry well, roar high and terrible.

PAN. I'll fetch a cry from th' bottom of my heels,
But I'll roar loud enough; and thou must second me
With wonder at the sudden accident.

CRI. But yours is the main part; for, as you play't,
You win or lose the chain.

PAN. No more, no more; he comes.

SCENE II.

ALBUMAZAR, PANDOLFO, CRICCA.

ALB. Signior Pandolfo, three-quarters of an hour
Renders your servant perfectly transform'd.
[PANDOLFO _retires_.

CRI. Is he not wholly chang'd? What parts are wanting?

ALB. Antonio's shape hath cloth'd his bulk[312] and visage;
Only his hands and feet, so large and callous,
Require more time to supple.

CRI. Pray you, sir,
How long shall he retain this metamorphosis?

ALB. The complete circle of a natural day.

CRI. A natural day! are any days unnatural?

ALB. I mean the revolution of th' first mover,
Just twice twelve hours, in which period the rap'd motion
Rolls all the orbs from east to occident.

PAN. [_Returning._] Help, help! thieves, thieves! neighbours, I am robb'd: thieves, thieves!

CRI. What a noise make you, sir.

PAN. Have I not reason,
That thus am robb'd? Thieves, thieves! call constables,
The watch and serjeants, friends and constables;
Neighbours, I am undone.

CRI. This is well begun,
So he hold out still with a higher strain. [_Aside._
What ails you, sir?

PAN. Cricca, my chamber's spoil'd
Of all my hangings, clothes, and silver plate.
[_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR.

CRI. Why, this is bravely feign'd; continue, sir.

PAN. Lay all the goldsmiths, keepers, marshals, bailiffs.

CRI. Fie, sir, your passion falls; cry louder--roar,
That all the street may hear.

PAN. Thieves, thieves, thieves!
All that I had is gone, and more than all.

CRI. Ha, ha, ha! hold out; lay out a lion's throat;
A little louder.

PAN. I can cry no longer,
My throat's sore; I am robb'd, I am robb'd, all's gone,
Both my own treasure, and the things I borrow'd.
Make thou an outcry, I have lost my voice:
Cry fire, and then they'll hear thee.

CRI. Good, good: thieves!
What have you lost?

PAN. Wine, jewels, tablecloths,
A cupboard of rich plate.

CRI. Fie! you'll spoil all.
Now you outdo it. Say but a bowl or two.

PAN. Villain, I say all's gone; the room's as clean
As a wip'd looking-glass: O me, O me!

CRI. What, in good earnest?

PAN. Fool, in accursed earnest.

CRI. You gull me, sure.

PAN. The window towards the south stands ope, from whence
Went all my treasure. Where's the astrologer?

ALB. Here, sir;
And hardly can abstain from laughing, to see you vex
Yourself in vain.

PAN. In vain, Albumazar?
I left my plate with you, and 'tis all vanish'd;
And you shall answer it.

ALB. O, were it possible
By power of art to check what art hath done,
Your man should ne'er be chang'd: to wrong me thus
With foul suspicion of flat felony!
Your plate, your cloth of silver, wine and jewels,
Linen, and all the rest, I gave to Trincalo,
And for more safety lock'd them in the lobby.
He'll keep them carefully. But, as you love your mistress,
Disturb him not this half-hour, lest you'll have him
Like to a centaur, half-clown, half-gentleman.
Suffer his foot and hand, that's yet untouch'd,
To be ennobled like his other members.

PAN. Albumazar, I pray you pardon me,
Th' unlooked-for bareness of the room amaz'd me.

ALB. How! think you me so negligent, to commit
So rich a mass of treasure to th' open danger
Of a large casement and suspicious alley?
No, sir; my sacrifice no sooner done,
But I wrapp'd all up safe, and gave it Trincalo.
I could be angry, but that your sudden fear
Excuses you. Fie! such a noise as this,
Half an hour pass'd, had scar'd the intelligences,
And spoil'd the work: but no harm done. Go walk
Westward, directly westward, one half-hour;
Then turn back, and take your servant turn'd t' Antonio,
And, as you like my skill, perform your promise,
I mean the chain.

PAN. Content, let's still go westward----
Westward, good Cricca, still directly westward.
[_Exeunt_ PANDOLFO _and_ CRICCA.

SCENE III.

ALBUMAZAR, RONCA, HARPAX, FURBO.

ALB. Harpax, Furbo, and Ronca, come out: all's clear.
Why, here's a noble prize, worth vent'ring for.
Is not this braver than sneak all night in danger,
Picking of locks, or hooking clothes at windows?
Here's plate, and gold, and cloth, and meat, and wine,
All rich and eas'ly got. Ronca, stay hereabout.
And wait till Trincalo come forth; then call him
With a low reverence Antonio;
Give him this gold with thanks; tell him he lent it,
Before he went to Barbary.

RON. How! lose ten pieces?

ALB. There's a necessity in't: devise some course
To get't again; if not, our gain's sufficient
To bear that loss. Furbo, find out Bevilona
The courtesan; let her feign herself a gentlewoman
Enamour'd of Antonio; bid her invite him
To banquet with her, and by all means possible
Force him stay there two hours.

HAR. Why two hours?

ALB. That in that time thou mayest convey
Our treasure to the inn, and speak a boat
Ready for Gravesend, and provide a supper,
Where with those precious liquors and good meats
We'll cheer ourselves; and thus, well fed and merry,
Take boat by night.

FUR. And what will you do?

ALB. First in, and usher out our changeling, Trincalo.
Then finish up a business of great profit,
Begun with a rich merchant, that admires
My skill in alchemy. I must not lose it.

RON. Harpax, bestow the plate: Furbo, our beards,
Black patches for our eyes, and other properties,[313]
And at the time and place meet all at supper. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

ALBUMAZAR, TRINCALO.

ALB. Stand forth, transformed Antonio, fully mued
From brown soar feathers[314] of dull yeomanry,
To th' glorious bloom of gentry: prune yourself sleek;[315]
Swear boldly y' are the man you represent
To all that dare deny it.

TRIN. I find my thoughts
Most strangely alter'd; but methinks my face
Feels still like Trincalo.

ALB. You imagine so.
Senses are oft deceiv'd. As an attentive angler,
Fixing his steady eyes on the swift streams
Of a steep tumbling torrent, no sooner turns
His sight to land, but (giddy) thinks the firm banks
And constant trees more like the running water;
So you, that thirty years have liv'd in Trincalo.
Chang'd suddenly, think y' are so still; but instantly
These thoughts will vanish.

TRIN. Give me a looking-glass
To read your skill in these new lineaments.

ALB. I'd rather give you poison; for a glass,
By secret power of cross reflections
And optic virtue, spoils the wond'rous work
Of transformation; and in a moment turns you,
Spite of my skill, to Trincalo as before.
We read that Apuleius[316] was[317] by a rose
Chang'd from an ass to man: so by a mirror
You'll lose this noble lustre, and turn ass.
I humbly take my leave; but still remember
T' avoid the devil and a looking-glass.
Newborn Antonio, I kiss your hands.

TRIN. Divine Albumazar, I kiss your hands. [_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR.

SCENE V.

TRINCALO, RONCA.

TRIN. Now am I grown a gentleman and a fine one,
I know't by th' kissing of my hands so courtly.
My courteous knees bend in so true a distance,
As if my foot walk'd in a frame on purpose.
Thus I accost you; or thus, sweet sir, your servant:
Nay, more, your servant's servant: that's your grandservant.
I could descend from the top of Paul's to th' bottom,
And on each step strew parting compliments;
Strive for a door, while a good carpenter
Might make a new one. I am your shadow, sir,
And bound to wait upon you; i' faith, I will not:
Pray, sir, &c. O brave Albumazar!

RON. Just Æsop's crow, trink'd up in borrow'd feathers.

TRIN. My veins are fill'd with newness: O, for a chirurgeon
To ope this arm, and view my gentle blood,
To try if't run two thousand pounds a year.
I feel my understanding is enlarg'd
With the rare knowledge of this latter age:
A sacred fury oversways me. Prime!
Deal quickly, play, discard, I set ten shillings and sixpence.
You see't? my rest, five-and-fifty.[318] Boy, more cards!
And, as thou go'st, lay out some roaring oaths
For me; I'll pay thee again with interest.
O brave Albumazar!

RON. How his imagination
Boils, and works in all things he ever saw or heard!

TRIN. At gleek? content.
A murnival of aces, gleek of knaves:
Just nine apiece. Sir, my grey Barbary
'Gainst your dun cow, three train cents and th' course,
For fifty pound. As I am a gentleman,
I'll meet next cocking, and bring a haggard[319] with me,
That stoops as free as lightning,[320] strikes like thunder.
I lie? my reputation, you shall hear on't.
O brave Albumazar!

RON. He'll grow stark mad, I fear me.

TRIN. Now I know
I am perfectly transform'd; my mind incites me
To challenge some brave fellow for my credit;
And, for more safety, get some friend in private
To take the business up in peace and quiet.

RON. Signior Antonio!

TRIN. There's not a crumb of Trincalo
In all this frame but the love of
Armellina: Were't not for thee, I'd travel, and [come] home again,
As wise as I went over.

RON. Signior Antonio! welcome ten thousand times:
Bless'd be the heavens and seas for your return.

TRIN. I thank you, sir: Antonio is your servant,
I am glad to see you well--
Fie! I kiss your hands, and thus accost you.

RON. This three months all your kindred, friends, and children,
Mourn'd for your death.

TRIN. And so they well might do,
For five days I was under water; and, at length,
Got up and spread myself upon a chest,
Rowing with arms, and steering with my feet;
And thus, in five days more, got land. Believe it,
I made a most incredible escape
And safe return from Barbary. At your service.

RON. Welcome ten thousand times from Barbary;
No friend more glad to see Antonio
Than I: nor am I thus for hope of gain;
But that I find occasion to be grateful
By your return. Do you remember, sir,
Before you went, as I was once arrested,
And could not put in bail, you, passing by,
Lent me ten pound, and so discharg'd the debt?

TRIN. Yes, yes, as well as 'twere but yesterday.

RON. Oft have I waited at your house with money
And many thanks; but you were still beyond seas.
Now am I happy of this fair occasion
To testify my honest care to you;
For you may need it.

TRIN. Sir, I do indeed,
Witness my treasure cast away by shipwreck.

RON. Here, sir.

TRIN. Is the gold good? for mine was good I lent you.

RON. It was, and so is this. Signior Antonio, for this courtesy
Call me your servant. [_Exit._

TRIN. Farewell, good servant; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I know not so much as his name! Ten pound! This change is better than my birth; for, in all the years of my yeomanry, I could never yoke two crowns, and now I have herded ten fair twenty-shilling pieces. Now will I go to this astrologer, and hire him to turn my cart to a caroch, my four jades to two pair of Dutch mares, my Mistress Armellina to a lady, my ploughboy Dick to two garded footmen[321]. Then will I hurry myself to the mercer's books, wear rich clothes, be called Tony by a great man, sell my lands, pay no debts, hate citizens, and beat Serjeants: and when all fails, sneak out of Antonio with a twopenny looking-glass, and turn as true Trincalo as ever.

SCENE VI.

HARPAX, TRINCALO.

HAR. Signior Antonio, welcome.

TRIN. My life, here's ten pound more,
I thank you heartily.

HAR. Never in fitter season could I find you.
If you remember, sir, before you went
To Barbary, I lent you ten pound in gold.

TRIN. Faith, I remember no such thing, excuse me.
What may I call your name?

HAR. My name is Harpax,
Your friend and neighbour, of your old acquaintance.

TRIN. What, Harpax! I am your servant; I kiss your hands.
You must excuse me; you never lent me money.

HAR. Sir, as I live, ten twenty-shilling pieces.

TRIN. Dangers at sea, I find, have hurt my memory.

HAR. Why, here's your own handwriting, seal'd and sign'd
In presence of your cousin Julio.

TRIN. 'Tis true, 'tis true; but I sustain'd great losses
By reason of the shipwreck. Here's five pieces;
Will that content you? and to-morrow morning
Come to my house and take the rest.

HAR. Well, sir,
Though my necessity would importune you
For all, yet, on your worship's word, the rest
I'll call for in the morning. Farewell, Antonio. [_Exit._

TRIN. I see we gentlemen can sometimes borrow
As well as lend; and are as loth to pay
As meaner men. I'll home, lest other creditors
Call for the rest.

SCENE VII.

RONCA, TRINCALO.

RON. Signior Antonio! I saw you as you landed,
And in great haste follow'd, to congratulate
Your safe return with these most wish'd embraces.

TRIN. And I accept your joy with like affection.
How do you call yourself?

RON. Have you forgot
Your dear friend Ronca, whom you lov'd so well?

TRIN. O, I remember now, my dear friend Ronca.

RON. Thanks to the fortune of the seas, that sav'd you.

TRIN. I fear I owe him money.
How shall I shift him? [_Aside._]
How does your body, Ronca?

RON. My dear Antonio,
Never so well as now I have the power
Thus to embrace my friend, whom all th' Exchange
Gave drown'd for three whole months. My dear Antonio!

TRIN. I thank you, sir.

RON. I thank you.

TRIN. While my dear Ronca
Clipp'd me,[322] my purse shook dangerously; yet both his arms
And hands embrac'd my neck. Here's none behind me.
How can this be?

RON. Most dear Antonio,
Was not your passage dangerous from Barbary?
We had great winds and tempests; and, I fear me,
You felt the force at sea.

TRIN. Yes, dearest Ronca.
How's this? I see his hands, and yet my purse is gone!

RON. Signior Antonio, I see your mind's much troubl'd
About affairs of worth; I take my leave,
And kiss your hands of liberality.

TRIN. And kiss my hands of liberality!
I gave him nothing. O, my purse, my purse!
Dear Master Ronca.

RON. What's your pleasure, sir?

TRIN. Show me your hand.

RON. Here 'tis.

TRIN. But where's th' other?

RON. Why, here.

TRIN. But I mean, where's your other hand?

RON. Think you me the giant with a hundred hands?

TRIN. Give me your right.

RON. My right?

TRIN. Your left.

RON. My left?

TRIN. Now both.

RON. There's both, my dear Antonio.
Keep yourself dark; eat broth. Your fearful passage
And want of natural rest hath made you frantic. [_Exit._

TRIN. Villain, rogue, cutpurse, thief! [_Aside._] Dear Ronca, stay.
He's gone--
I' th' devil's name, how could this fellow do it?
I felt his hands fast lock'd about my neck;
And still he spoke. It could not be his mouth:
For that was full of dear Antonio.
My life! he stole't with his feet. Such a trick more
Will work worse with me than a looking-glass:
To lose five pounds in court'sy, and the rest
In salutation!

_Re-enter_ RONCA, _disguised_.

RON. Signior Antonio,
What ails you?

TRIN. Ronca, a rogue, a cutpurse,
Hath robb'd me of five twenty-shilling pieces.

RON. What kind of man was he--something like me?

TRIN. H' had such a thievish countenance as your own,
But that he wore a black patch o'er his eye.

RON. Met you with Ronca? 'Tis the cunning'st nimmer
Of the whole company of Cut-purse Hall:
I am sorry I was not here to warn you of him. [_Exit._

SCENE VIII.

FURBO, BEVILONA, TRINCALO.

BEV. Furbo, no more, unless thy words were charms
Of power to revive him. Antonio's dead;
He's dead, and in his death hath buried
All my delights: my ears are deaf to music
That sounds of pleasure. Sing, then, the dolfull'st notes
That e'er were set by melancholy: O Antonio!

FURBO _sings this song_.

_Flow, streams of liquid salt from my sad eyes,
To celebrate his mournful exequies.
Antonio's dead; he's dead, and I remain
To draw my poor life in continual pain,
Till it have paid to his sad memory
Duty of love: O, then most willingly
Drown'd with my tears, as he with waves, I die._

BEV. Break thy sad strings, sad[323] instrument--
O, strange, he's here!
Signior Antonio! my heart's sweet content!
My life and better portion of my soul!
Are you return'd, and safe? for whose sad death
I spent such streams of tears and gusts of sighs?
Or is't my love, that to my longing fancy
Frames your desired shape, and mocks my senses?

TRIN. Whom do you talk withal, fair gentlewoman?

BEV. With my best friend, commander of my life,
My most belov'd Antonio.

TRIN. With me!
What's your desire with me, sweet lady?

BEV. Sir, to command me, as you have done ever,
To what you please: for all my liberty
Lies in your service.

TRIN. Now I smell the business.
This is some gentlewoman enamour'd
With him whose shape I bear. Fie, what an ass
Was I to strange myself, and lose the occasion
Of a good banquet and her company.
I'll mend it as I can. [_Aside._] Madam, I did but jest,
To try if absence caus'd you to forget
A friend that lov'd you ever.

BEV. Forget Antonio,
Whose dear remembrance doth inform the soul
Of your poor servant, Bevilona! No,
No; had you died, it had not quench'd one spark
Of th' sweet affection which your love hath kindl'd
In this warm breast.

TRIN. Madam, the waves had drown'd me,
But that your love held up my chin.

BEV. Will't please you
Enter, and rest yourself, refresh the weariness
Of your hard travel; I have good wine and fruits:
My husband's out of town; you shall command
My house, and all that's in't.

TRIN. Why, are you married?

BEV. Have you forgot my husband, an angry roarer?

TRIN. O, I remember him: but if he come?

BEV. Whence grows this fear? how come you so respectful?
You were not wont be numb'd with such a coldness.
Go in, sweet life, go in.

TRIN. I remember while I liv'd in Barbary,
A pretty song the Moors sing to a gridiron:
Sweet, madam, by your favour, I'll sing to this.

_Alcoch dolash_, &c. Thus 'tis in English--
_My heart in flames doth fry
Of thy beauty,
While I Die.
Fie!
And why
Shouldst thou deny
Me thy sweet company?
My brains to tears do flow,
While all below
Doth glow.
O!
Foe,
If so,
How canst thou go
About to say me no?_

This the Moors call two wings[324] upon a gridiron;
But it goes sweeter far o' th' iron instrument.

RON. There's one within my kitchen, ready-strung: go in.

TRIN. Sweet lady, pardon me, I'll follow you.
Happy Antonio in so rare a mistress!
But happier I, that in his place enjoy her:
I say still, there's no pleasure like transforming.

SCENE IX.

BEVILONA _and_ TRINCALO; _to them_ RONCA.

RON. Now is the ass expecting of a banquet,
Ready to court, embrace, and kiss his mistress.
But I'll soon stave him. What ho! [_Knocks at the door._

BEV. Who's that so boldly knocks? I am not within--
Or busy. Why so importunate? who is't?

RON. 'Tis I.

BEV. Your name?

RON. Thomas ap William ap Morgan ap Davy ap Roger, &c.

TRIN. Spinola's camp's broke loose: a troop of soldiers!

BEV. O me! my husband! O me, wretch! 'tis my husband.

TRIN. One man, and wear so many names!

BEV. O sir,
H' has more outrageous devils in his rage
Than names. As you respect your life, avoid him:
Down at that window----

TRIN. 'Tis as high as Paul's;
Open the garden door.

BEV. He has the keys.
Down at some window, as you love your life,
Tender my honour, and your safety.

RON. Bevilona!
Down, or I'll break the doors, and with the splinters
Beat all thy bones to pieces: down, you whore.

BEV. Be patient but a little; I come instantly.

TRIN. Ha' you no trunk nor chest to hide me?

BEV. None, sir.
Alas, I am clean undone! it is my husband.

RON. Doubtless this whore hath some of her companions,
That wrong me thus. But if I catch the villain,
I'll bathe my hungry sword and sharp revenge
In his heart-blood. Come down!

BEV. I cannot. [_To_ TRINCALO.] Stay;
There stands an empty hogshead with a false bottom
To ope and shut at pleasure; come hither; in,
In, as you love your life.

TRIN. But hear you, madam,
Is there no looking-glass within't? for I hate glasses
As naturally as some do cats or cheese.

BEV. In, in, there's none.

RON. Who now? is the ass pass'd?

BEV. I tunn'd him up, ha, ha, ha! I fear he'll fall aworking.

RON. Second me handsomely, we'll entertain him
An hour or two, and laugh, and get his clothes
To make our sport up. [_Aside._] Wife, where's the empty hogshead,
That wont to stand under the stairs?

BEV. There still.

RON. Out with it quickly: I must have it fill'd.

BEV. Not to-day, good sir; to-morrow will serve as well.

RON. Out with it quickly: I must have it fill'd.

BEV. Not to-day, good sir; to-morrow will serve as well.

RON. I must ha't now.

BEV. 'Tis more than I can carry.

RON. I'll help thee: so, so. Foh! this vessel's musty.
Fetch out some water.

BEV. Fetch't out yourself.

TRIN. Pox of all transmutation, I am smother'd.
Lady, as you love me, give the hogshead vent,
The beer that's in't will work and break the vessel.

BEV. Signior Antonio, as you love your life,
Lie still and close, for, if you stir, you die.

RON. So, so; now shake it; so, so.

TRIN. O! I am drown'd! I drown!

RON. When comes this hollow sound?

TRIN. I drown! I smother!

RON. My life, 'tis Trincalo; for I have heard that coxcomb,
That ass, that clown, seeks to corrupt my wife,
Sending her[325] fruit and dainties from the country.
O, that 'twere he! how would I use the villain!
First crop his ears, then slit his nose, and geld him.
And with a red-hot iron sear his raw wounds;
Then barrel him again, and send the eunuch
To the great Turk to keep his concubines.
Tick, tock, who is within here? [_Knocks on the tub._

BEV. One that you dare not touch.

RON. One that I dare not? [TRINCALO _comes out_.

Out, villain, out--Signior Antonio!
Had it been any but yourself, he had died,
But, as you sav'd my life, before you went,
So now command mine in your services.
I would have sworn y' had drown'd in Barbary.

TRIN. 'Twas a hard pass;[326] but not so dangerous
As was this vessel. Pray you, conceive no ill;
I meant no harm, but call'd of your wife to know
How my son Lelio did, and daughter Flavia.

RON. Sir, I believe you.

TRIN. But I must tell you one thing:
You must not be so jealous; on my honour,
She's very honest.

RON. For you I make no question;
But there's a rogue called Trincalo, whom if I catch,
I'll teach him.

TRIN. Who? you mean Pandolfo's farmer.
Alas, poor fool, he's a stark ass, but harmless.
And though she talk with him, 'tis but to laugh,
As all the world does at him. Come, be friends
At my entreaty.

RON. Sir, for your sake.

BEV. I thank you.

TRIN. Let's have a fire; and, while I dry myself,
Provide good wine and meat. I'll dine with you.
I must not home thus wet. I am something bold with you.

RON. My house and self are at your service.

TRIN. Lead in.
Alas, poor Trincalo, hadst thou been taken,
Thou hadst been tunn'd for Turkey.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! fair fall Antonio's shape.
What a notorious wittol's this! ha, ha, ha! [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[310] "_Heirlooms_ are such goods and personal chattels as, contrary
to the nature of chattels, shall go by special custom to the heir,
along with the inheritance, and not to the executor of the last
proprietor. The termination, _loom_, is of Saxon original, in which
language it signifies a limb or member of the
inheritance."--Blackstone's "Commentaries," ii. 427.

[311] In act i. sc. 7, he says that _it cost two hundred pounds_.

[312] _i.e._, Body.

[313] Properties are whatever little articles are wanted for the
actors, according to their respective parts, dresses and scenes
excepted. The person who delivers them out is to this day called the
_property man_. See Mr Steevens's note to "Midsummer Night's Dream,"
act i. sc. 2.

[314] The late ingenious Mr Robert Dodsley, whose modest merit is well
known to those who were acquainted with him, had little skill in our
ancient language, and therefore permitted many uncommon terms to be
exchanged for others, to the no small detriment of the scenes which he
undertook to publish. We had here a proof of the unpardonable licence,
where a word of no meaning, _soak_, was given instead of a technical
term belonging to falconry, in the language of which the present
metaphor is carried on. A young hawk, like a young deer, was called a
_soar_ or _soare:_ so that the brown _soar_ feathers are the remains
of its first plumage, or such feathers as resemble it in colour. These
birds are always mewed while they were moulting, to facilitate the
growth of fresh plumes, more strong and beautiful than those which
dropped off. Without this restoration and explanation, the passage
before us is unintelligible.--_Steevens._

Latham, in his book of falconry, says: "A _sore hawke_, is from the
first taking of her from the eiry, till she have mewed her feathers."
The error introduced into the play by Mr Dodsley is continued by Mr
Garrick who, in his alteration, reads brown _soak_ feathers.

Trincalo has already used a phrase that seems to be equivalent, in act
ii. sc. 4, where he says--

"But if I _mew_ these _flags of yeomanry_
Gild in the _sear_," &c.

See the explanatory notes, where _flags_ are called "the baser order
of feathers," and _sear_, we are told, is "the yellow part between the
beak and the eyes of the hawk." After all, _sear_ may be a misprint
for _soar_, and this would make the resemblance in the two passages
the stronger.--_Collier._

[315] The metaphor is taken from a cock, who in his pride _prunes
himself_, that is, picks off the loose feathers to smooth the rest.
See notes by Dr Johnson and Mr Steevens to "First Part of King Henry
IV.," act i. sc. 1.

The previous metaphors and phrases are from _falconry_, and probably
the allusion is meant to be continued here: a _hawk_ may be said to
_prune itself sleek_ just as well as a _cock_.--_Collier._

[316] See a translation of Apuleius's "Golden Asse," by William
Adlington, 4º, 1566.

[317] The 4º of 1615 omits _was_.--_Collier._

[318] This appears to be the same as if, in modern language, he had
said, _I stand_ at so many, a term still used at the game of
_commerce_, and once perhaps current at many others; for it is not
very certain at what particular game the deluded Trincalo supposes
himself to be playing.--_Steevens._

The terms in the text appear to have been used at primero. I believe,
therefore, Trincalo imagines himself to be playing at that game. It
appears from a passage in "Nugæ Antiquæ," that fifty-five was esteemed
a number which might safely be relied on. See note to "Lingua," [ix.
387, 388.]

[319] See note to "The City Nightcap," [act iv. sc. 4, vol. xiii.; and
Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," _v._ Haggard.]

[320] "_Stooping_," says Latham, "is when a hawke, being upon her
wings at the height of her pitch, bendeth violently down to strike the
fowle, or any other prey." So in "The Alchymist," act v. sc. 5--

"Here stands my dove: _stoop_ at her if you dare."

"Again, Milton, in "Paradise Lost," bk. xi. 1. 185.

"The bird of Jove, _stoop'd_ from his aery tour,
Two birds of gayest plume before him drove."

[321] _i.e._, Two footmen in _garded_ or _laced_ liveries. So
in "The Merchant of Venice," act ii. sc. 2--

"Give him a livery
More _garded_ than his fellows."

--_Steevens._

[322] _i.e._, Embraced me.

[323] [Old copy, _and_.]

[324] The two stanzas decrease and then increase, after the manner of
wings. See the Greek poet Simmias Rhodius.--_Pegge._

[325] [Old copy, _his_.]

[326] Hitherto the reading has been--

"'Twas a hard passage; but not so dangerous
As was this vessel."

The true word and the measure have been restored from the old
copy.--_Collier._