Chapter XXVII: Act III: , Scene I

_Enter +Bravo+ and +Boy+._

+Bravo.+ Boy, how sits my rapier?

+Boy.+ Close, sir, like a friend that means[323] to stick to
you.

+Bravo.+ He that will purchase honour and the name of Bravo
must, by consequence, be a brave fellow--his title requires it.

+Boy.+ But pray, sir, were you never put to the worst in your
days?

+Bravo.+ Who, I worsted? No, boy; I do manage my rapier with as
much readiness and facility as an unicorn does his antler.

+Boy.+ Sure, you must needs be very strong then.

+Bravo.+ Not so neither; 'tis courage in me. I do it by a
sleight, an activity, and by that I can control any man's point
whatsoever.

+Boy.+ Is it possible?

+Bravo.+ I tell thee, boy, I do as much surpass Hercules at
my rapier as he did me in club-fighting.[324] [I'll have you]
draw[325] a register of those men that have been forced by this
weak instrument to lay down their lives. I think it has cut
more lives than Atropos.

+Boy.+ But pray, sir, were they all your own exploits?

+Bravo.+ Indeed, boy, thou may'st question it; for, and they
were to perform again, they would hardly be done. What will
this age come to? Where be those stirring humours that were
wont to trouble the world? Peace, I think, will o'er-spread
them all like a gangrene, and men will die with a lethargy;
there's no malice extant, no jealousies, no employment to set
wickedness awork! 'tis never a dead time with me but when
there's nobody to kill.

+Boy.+ That's a miserable extremity indeed, sir.

+Bravo.+ Leave me, boy, to my meditations. [_Exit +Boy+_

_Enter +Mocinigo+._

Well, go thy ways, old Nick Machiavel, there will never be
the peer of thee for wholesome policy and good counsel. Thou
took'st pains to chalk men out the dark paths and hidden plots
of murther and deceit, and no man has the grace to follow thee;
the age is unthankful, thy principles are quite forsaken and
worn out of memory.

+Moc.+ There's a fellow walks melancholy, and that's commonly a
passion apt to entertain any mischief; discontent and honesty
seldom harbour together. How scurvily he looks, like one of the
devil's factors! I'll tempt him. By your leave, sir.

+Bravo.+ Ha!

+Moc.+ No hurt, good sir; be not so furious, I beseech you.

+Bravo.+ What are you?

+Moc.+ I am bold to disturb you, and would fain communicate a
business, if you had the patience to hear me.

+Bravo.+ Speak, what is't?

+Moc.+ You seem a man upon whom fortune, perhaps, has not cast
so favourable an aspect as you deserve.

+Bravo.+ Can you win her to look better?

+Moc.+ Though not her, yet, perhaps, a servant of hers, that
shall be as gracious to you and as profitable.

+Bravo.+ What's she?

+Moc.+ It may be you want money: there is a way to purchase it,
if you have the heart.

+Bravo.+ The heart! Hast thou the heart to speak, nay to
conceive, what I dare not undertake?

+Moc.+ A fit instrument for my purpose! How luckily has fortune
brought me to him! [_Aside._] Do you hear, sir, 'tis but the
slight killing of a man, or so--no more.

+Bravo.+ Is that all?

+Moc.+ Is that nothing?

+Bravo.+ Some queasy stomach might turn, perhaps, at such a
motion; but I am more resolved, better hardened. What is he?
For I have my several rates, salaries for blood: for a lord, so
much; for a knight, so much; a gentleman, so much; a peasant,
so much; a stranger, so much, and a native, so much.

+Moc.+ Nay, he is a gentleman, and a citizen of Venice.

+Bravo.+ Let him be what he will, and we can agree: it has
been a foolish ambition heretofore to save them, and men were
rewarded for it with garlands;[326] but I had rather destroy
one or two of them: they multiply too fast.

+Moc.+ Do you know one Signior Aurelio, then? He is the man; he
wooed my mistress, and sought to win her from me.

+Bravo.+ A warrantable cause! show me the man, and 'tis enough.

+Moc.+ And what must I give you?

+Bravo.+ At a word, thirty livres: I'll not bate you a
betso.[327]

+Moc.+ I'll give you twenty.

+Bravo.+ You bid like a chapman. Well, 'tis a hard time; in
hope of your custom hereafter, I'll take your money.

+Moc.+ There 'tis. Now for the means; how can you compass it?
Were you not best poison him, think you?

+Bravo.+ With a bullet or stiletto. Poison him! I scorn to do
things so poorly; no, I'll use valour in my villany, or I'll do
nothing.

+Moc.+ You speak honourably: and, now I think on't, what if you
beat him well-favouredly, and spare his life?

+Bravo.+ Beat him! stay there; I'll kill him for this sum, but
I'll not beat him for thrice the value; so he might do as much
for me: no, I'll leave him impotent for all thought of revenge.

_Enter +Lucretia+._

+Moc.+ Well, sir, use your pleasure. Look you, here's the
gentlewoman for whose sake it is done. Lady, you are come most
opportunely to be a witness of my love and zeal to you; he is
the man that will do the feat.

+Luc.+ What feat?

+Moc.+ That you and I consulted of; kill the rascal Aurelio,
take him out of the way: what should he live any longer for?
I'll have no man breathe that you disgust.

+Luc.+ Then ought you to go and hang yourself.

+Moc.+ Who, I hang myself! for what? my good service and
respect to your quiet? If he have any mind to haunt your
chamber hereafter, he shall do it as a ghost, without any
substantial shape, I assure you.

+Luc.+ I think the fool is in earnest: I must use policy,
and not play away a man's life so. [_Aside._] Nay, prythee,
sweetheart, be not angry, 'twas but to try thee: this kiss and
my love. [_Kisses him._

+Moc.+ Why, here's some amends yet: now 'tis as it should be.

+Luc.+ I am as deep and eager in this purpose
As you are, therefore grant me leave a little
To talk with him: I have some private counsel
To give him for the better execution.

+Moc.+ May I not hear?

+Luc.+ No, as you love me, go.

+Moc.+ Her humour must be law: we that are suitors
Must deal with women as with towns besieg'd,
Offer them fair conditions till you get them,
And then we'll tyrannise. Yet there's a doubt
Is not resolv'd on.

+Luc.+ Good sir, begone.

+Moc.+ I vanish. Were I best trust this fellow with my mistress?
Temptations may arise: 'tis all one, I am
A right Italian, and the world shall see
That my revenge is above jealousy. [_Exit._

+Bravo.+ Now, lady, your pleasure?

+Luc.+ I would not allow myself any conference with you, did
my reason persuade me that you were as bad as you seem to be.
Pray, what are you?

+Bravo.+ I am, sweet creature, a kind of lawless
justicer,[328] or usurping martialist of authority, that will
kill any man with my safety.

+Luc.+ And you purpose the death of this gentleman?

+Bravo.+ I will do anything for hire.

+Luc.+ Have you no conscience?

+Bravo.+ Conscience! I know not what it is.
Why should any man live, and I want money?

+Luc.+ Have you no regard then of innocence?

+Bravo.+ 'Tis crime enough he has a life.

+Luc.+ How long have you been vers'd in this trade?

+Bravo.+ 'Tis my vocation.

+Luc.+ Leave it; 'tis damnable;
And thou the worst and basest of all villains:
It had been better for the womb that bare thee,
If it had travail'd with a pestilence.
What seed of tigers could beget thee to
Such bold and rash attempts for a small lucre,
Which will be straight as ill-spent as 'twas got,
To destroy that whose essence is divine;
Souls, in themselves more pure than are the heavens,
Or thy ill-boding stars; more worth than all
The treasure lock'd up in the heart of earth;
And yet do this unmov'd or unprovok'd.

+Bravo.+ I have no other means nor way of living.

+Luc.+ 'Twere better perish than be so supported;
There are a thousand courses to subsist by.

+Bravo.+ Ay, but a free and daring spirit scorns
To stoop to servile ways, but will choose rather
To purchase his revenue from his sword.

+Luc.+ I see you are grown obdurate in your crimes,
Founded to vice, lost to all piety;
Without the apprehension of what wrong
You do your country in depriving her
Of those she now enjoys as useful members,
And killing their posterity who, perhaps,
Might with their art or industry advance her.

+Bravo.+ What courteous itch, I wonder, has possess'd
Your virtuous ladyship to give me advice?
Best keep your wits until you get a husband,
Who may perhaps require your learned counsel.

+Luc.+ 'Tis true, such as do act thy villanies,
Hate to be told or think of them; but hear me.
Hast thou no sense nor no remorse of soul?
No thought of any Deity who, though
It spare thee for awhile, will send at last
A quick return of vengeance on thy head,
And dart thee down like Phaeton?

+Bravo.+ Sweet virgin,
Faces[329] about to some other discourse:
I cannot relish this.

+Luc.+ So I believe; but yet
Compose your thoughts for speedy penitence,
Your life for an amendment, or I vow
To lay your actions open to the senate.

+Bravo.+ Did not your sweetheart tempt me to this deed,
And will you now betray me?

+Luc.+ He my sweetheart!
I hate you both alike: that very word
Is enough to divorce thee from my pity
Past hope of reconcilement; for what mercy
Is to be had of two such prodigies?
Will you recant yet? speak, will you be honest?

+Bravo.+ I think you'll force me to become your patient.

+Luc.+ It is the way to heal thee of a sore,
Whose cure is supernatural. What art,
What mirror is sufficient to demonstrate
The foulness of thy guilt, whose leprous mind
Is but one stain seas cannot cleanse? Why, murder,
'Tis of all vices the most contrary
To every virtue and humanity;
For they intend the pleasure and delight,
But this the dissolution, of nature.

+Bravo.+ She does begin to move me. [_Aside._

+Luc.+ Think of thy sin,
It is the heir-apparent unto hell.
And has so many and so ugly shapes,
His father Pluto and the furies hate
To look on their own birth: yet thou dar'st act
What they fear to suggest, and sell thy soul
To quick perdition.

+Bravo.+ This has wak'd me more
Into a quicker insight of my evils,
That have impal'd me round with horrid shapes,
More various than the sev'ral forms of dreams,
That wait on Morpheus in his sleepy den.

+Luc.+ Then, 'tis a fearful sin, and always labours
With the new birth of damn'd inventions
And horrid practices: for 'tis so fearful,
It dares not walk alone, and where it bides
There is no rest nor no security,
But a perpetual tempest of despair.

+Bravo.+ All this I feel by sad experience.
Where have I been, where have I liv'd a stranger,
Exil'd from all good thoughts? Never till now
Did any beam of grace or good shine on me.

+Luc.+ Besides, 'tis so abhorr'd of all that's good
That, when this monster lifts his cursed head
Above the earth, and wraps it in the clouds,
The sun flies back, as loth to stain his rays
With such a foul pollution; and night,
In emulation of so black a deed,
Puts on her darkest robe to cover it.

+Bravo.+ O, do not grate too much upon my suff'rings!
You have won upon my conscience, and I feel
A sting within me tells my troubled soul,
That I have trod too long those bloody paths,
That lead unto destruction.

+Luc.+ Then be sorry,
And with repentance purge away thy sin.

+Bravo.+ Will all my days and hours consum'd in prayers,
My eyes dissolv'd to tears, wash off such crimes?

+Luc.+ If they be serious and continued.

+Bravo.+ You are a virgin, and your vows are chaste;
Do you assist me.

+Luc.+ So you'll do the like
For me in what I shall propose.

+Bravo.+ I will,
And joy to be employ'd: there is no thought,
Which can proceed from you, but which is virtuous;
And 'tis a comfort and a kind of goodness
To mix with you in any action.

+Luc.+ Nay more, in recompense of your fair proffer,
Because you say you are destitute of means,
I'll see that want supply'd.

+Bravo.+ Divinest lady,
Command my service.

+Luc.+ Walk then in with me,
And then I will acquaint you with the project. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Duke+, +Lionel+, and +Leonardo+, +Petrucio+
following._

+Duke.+ I see him coming: let's fall into admiration of his
good parts, that he may over-hear his own praise.

+Lio.+ I have, methinks, a longing desire to meet with Signior
Petrucio.

+Pet.+ I hear myself named amongst them. 'Tis no point of
civility to listen what opinion the world holds of me, I shall
conceive it by their discourse: a man behind his back shall be
sure to have nothing but truth spoke of him. [_Aside._

+Leo.+ Pray, sir, when saw you that thrice noble and
accomplished gentleman Petrucio?

+Pet.+ Thrice noble and accomplish'd! there's a new style
thrust upon me. [_Aside._

+Duke.+ It pleased the indulgency of my fate to bless me
with his company this morning, where he himself was no less
favourable to grace me with the perusal of a madrigal or an
essay of beauty, which he had then newly compos'd.

+Lio.+ Well, gallants, either my understanding misinforms me,
or he is one of the most rare and noble-qualified pieces of
gentility, that ever did enrich our climate.

+Leo.+ Believe it, sir, 'twere a kind of profanation to make
doubt of the contrary.

+Pet.+ How happy am I in such acquaintance! A man shall have
his due, when your meaner society has neither judgment to
discern worth, nor credit to commend it. [_Aside._

+Duke.+ 'Twas my happiness, th' other day, to be in the
presence with certain ladies, where I heard him the most
extolled and approved: one of them was not ashamed to pronounce
it openly, that she would never desire more of heaven, than to
enjoy such a man for her servant.

+Pet.+ It shall be my next employment to inquire out for that
lady. [_Aside._

+Lio.+ 'Tis a miracle to me how, in so small a competency
of time, he should arrive to such an absolute plenitude of
perfection.

+Leo.+ No wonder at all; a man that has travelled, and been
careful of his time.

+Lio.+ But, by your favour, sir, 'tis not every man's happiness
to make so good use on't.

+Duke.+ I'll resolve you something: there is as great a mystery
in the acquisition of knowledge, as of wealth. Have you not a
citizen will grow rich in a moment, and why not he ingenious?
Besides, who knows but he might have digged for it, and so
found out some concealed treasure of understanding.

+Pet.+ Now, as I am truly noble, 'tis a wrongful imputation
upon me. [_Aside._

+Leo.+ Well, if he had but bounty annexed to his other
sufficiencies, he were unparalleled.

+Duke.+ Nay, there's no man in the earth more liberal: take it
upon my word, he has not that thing in the world so dear or
precious in his esteem, which he will not most willingly part
with upon the least summons of his friend.

+Pet.+ Now must I give away some two or three hundred pounds'
worth of toys, to maintain this assertion. [_Aside._

+Lio.+ You spoke of verses e'en now; if you have the copy, pray
vouchsafe us a sight of them.

+Duke.+ I cannot suddenly resolve you: yes, here they are.

+Lio.+ What's this?

A MADRIGAL OF BEAUTY.

_If I should praise her virtue and her beauty,
as 'tis my duty;
And tell how every grace doth her become:
'tis ten to one,
But I should fail in the expression._

+Leo.+ Ay marry, sir, this sounds something like excellent.

+Lio.+

_Then, by your leave,
Although I cannot write what I conceive;
'tis my desire,
That what I fail to speak, you would admire._

+Leo.+ Why, this has some taste in't: how should he arrive to
this admirable invention?

+Duke.+ Are you so preposterous in your opinion, to think that
wit and elegancy in writing are only confined to stagers and
book-worms? 'Twere a solecism to imagine that a young bravery,
who lives in the perpetual sphere of humanity, where every
waiting-woman speaks perfect Arcadia,[330] and the ladies lips
distil with the very quintessence of conceit, should be so
barren of apprehension, as not to participate of their virtues.

+Leo.+ Now I consider, they are great helps to a man.

+Duke.+ But when he has travelled, and delibated the
French[331] and the Spanish; can lie a-bed, and expound
_Astræa_,[332] and digest him into compliments; and when he is
up, accost his mistress with what he had read in the morning;
now, if such a one should rack up his imagination, and give
wings to his muse, 'tis credible, he should more catch your
delicate court-ear, than all you head-scratchers, thumb-biters,
lamp-wasters of them all.

+Leo.+ Well, I say the iniquity of fortune appears in nothing
more, than not advancing that man to some extraordinary honours.

+Lio.+ But I never thought he had any genius that way.

+Duke.+ What, because he has been backward to produce his good
qualities? Believe it, poetry will out; it can no more be hid
than fire or love.

+Pet.+ I'll break them off, they have e'en spoken enough in
my behalf for nothing, o' conscience. [_Aside._] Save you,
Cavalieros!

+Duke.+ My much honoured Petrucio, you are welcome; we were
now entered into a discourse of your worth. Whither do your
occasions enforce you so fast?

+Pet.+ Gentlemen, to tell you true, I am going upon some
raptures.

+Leo.+ Upon raptures, say you.

+Pet.+ Yes, my employment is tripartite: I have here an anagram
to a lady I made of her name this morning, with a poesy to
another, that must be inserted into a ring; and here's a paper
carries a secret word too, that must be given, and worn by a
knight and tilter; and all my own imaginations, as I hope to be
blessed.

+Lio.+ Is't possible? how, have you lately drunk of the
horsepond,[333] or stepped on the forked Parnassus, that you
start out so sudden a poet?

+Pet.+ Tut! I leave your Helicons and your pale Pirenes,[334]
to such as will look after them. For my own part, I follow the
instigation of my brain, and scorn other helps.

+Lio.+ Do you so?

+Pet.+ I'll justify it: the multiplicity of learning does but
distract a man. I am all for your modern humours, and when I
list to express a passion, it flows from me with that spring of
amorous conceits, that a true lover may hang his head over, and
read in it the very phys'nomy of his affection.

+Duke.+ Why, this is a rare mirror! [_Aside._

+Leo.+ 'Tis so indeed, and beyond all the art of optics.
[_Aside._

+Pet.+ And when my head labours with the pangs of delivery, by
chance up comes a countess's waiting-woman, at whose sight, as
at the remembrance of a mistress, my pen falls out of my hand;
and then do I read to her half-a-dozen lines, whereat we both
sit together, and melt into tears.

+Leo.+ Pitiful-hearted creatures! [_Aside._

+Pet.+ I am now about a device that this gentleman has promis'd
shall be presented before his highness.

+Duke.+ Yes, upon my word, sir, and yourself with it.

+Pet.+ Shall the duke take notice of me too? O heavens! how you
transport me with the thought on't!

+Duke.+ I'll bring you to him, believe me, and you know not
what grace he may do you.

+Pet.+ 'Tis a happiness beyond mortals! I cannot tell, it may
be my good fortune to advance you all.

+Lio.+ We shall be glad to have dependence on you.

+Pet.+ Gentles, I would intreat you a courtesy.

+Duke.+ What's that, signior?

+Pet.+ That you would be all pleas'd to grace my lodging
to-morrow at a banquet: there will be ladies and gallants; and
among the rest, I'll send to invite your uncle the Antiquary;
and we'll be very merry, I assure you.

+Leo.+ Well, sir, your bounty commands us not to fail you.

+Pet.+ Bounty! there's a memorandum for me. [_Writes in his
note-book._] In the meantime, pray accept these few favours at
my hands,[335] as assurances that you will not fail me; till
when, I take my leave. [_Exit._

+Lio.+ Farewell, sir. Go thy ways; thou hast as dull a piece of
scalp as ere covered the brain of any traveller. [_Aside._

+Duke.+ For love's sake, Lionel, let's haste to thy uncle,
before the coxcomb prevent us.

+Lio.+ Why, sir, I stay for you.

+Leo.+ Has Petro prepar'd him for your entrance, and is your
disguise fit?

+Lio.+ I have all in readiness.

+Duke.+ On then, and when you are warm in your discourse, we'll
come with our device to affright him: 'twill be an excellent
scene of affliction.

+Leo.+ Be sure you mark your cue, sir, and do not fail to
approach.

+Duke.+ Trust to my care, I warrant you. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Aurelio+ and +Servant+._

+Aur.+ A gentlewoman without speak with me, say you?

+Ser.+ Yes, sir, and will by no means be put back.

+Aur.+ I am no lawyer, nor no secretary: what business can she
have here, I wonder?

+Ser.+ She is very importunate to enter.

+Aur.+ I was once in the humour never to admit any of them
to come near me again, but since she is so eager, let her
approach. I'll try my strength, what proof 'tis against her
enchantments: if ever Ulysses were more provident, or better
arm'd to sail by the Sirens, I'll perish; if she have the art
to impose upon me, let her beg my wit for an anatomy, and
dissect it!

_Enter +Lucretia+._

Now, Lady Humour, what new emotion in the blood has turn'd the
tide of your fancy to come hither?

+Luc.+ These words are but unkind salutes to a gentlewoman.

+Aur.+ They are too good for you. With what face dare you
approach hither, knowing how infinitely you have abused me? You
want matter to exercise your wits on; the world's too wise for
you; and, ere you ensnare me again, you'll have good luck.

+Luc.+ Pray, sir, do not reiterate those things which might
better be forgotten. I confess I have done ill, because I am a
woman and young, and 'will be nobleness in you not to remember
it.

+Aur.+ I'll sooner plough up [the] shore and sow it, and live
in expectation of a crop, before I'll think the least good
from any of your sex, while I breathe again.

+Luc.+ I hope, sir, that time and experience will rectify your
judgment to a better opinion of us.

+Aur.+ I'll trust my ship to a storm, my substance to a broken
citizen, ere I'll credit any of you.

+Luc.+ Good sir, be intreated: I come a penitent lover, with
a vow'd recantation to all former practices and malicious
endeavours, that I have wrought against you.

+Aur.+ How can I think better of you, when I consider your
nature, your pride, your treachery, your covetousness, your
lust; and how you commit perjury easier than speak?

+Luc.+ Sure, 'tis no desert in us, but your own misguided
thoughts that move in you this passion.

+Aur.+ Indeed, time was I thought you pretty foolish things
to play withal, and was so blinded as to imagine that your
hairs were golden threads,[336] that your eyes darted forth
beams, that laughter sat smiling on your lips, and the coral
itself looked pale to them: that you moved like a goddess, and
diffused your pleasures wide as the air: then could I prevent
the rising sun[337] to wait on you, observed every nod you
cast forth, had the patience to hear your discourse, and
admired you, when you talked of your visits, of the court, of
councils, of nobility, and of your ancestors.

+Luc.+ And were not these pleasing to you?

+Aur.+ Nothing but a heap of tortures: but since I have learned
the Delphic Oracle, to _know myself_, and ponder what a deal of
mischief you work, I am content to live private and solitary,
without any pensive thought what you do, or what shall become
of you.

+Luc.+ Sir, if you calculate all occasions, I have not merited
this neglect from you.

+Aur.+ Yes, and more. Do you not remember what tasks you
were wont to put me to, and expenses? when I bestowed on you
gowns and petticoats, and you in exchange gave me bracelets
and shoe-ties? how you fooled me sometimes, and set me to pin
plaits in your ruff, two hours together, and made a waiting
frippery of me? how you racked my brain to compose verses for
you--a thing I could never abide? Nay, in my conscience, and I
had not took courage, you had brought me to spin, and beat me
with your slippers.

+Luc.+ Well, sir, I perceive you are resolved to hear no
reason; but, before my sorrowful departure, know she that you
slight is the preserver of your life; therefore I dare be bold
to call you ingrate, and in that I have spoke all that can be
ill in man.[338]

+Aur.+ Pray, stay; come back a little.

+Luc.+ Not till you are better-tempered. What I have revealed
is true; and though you prove unthankful, good deeds reward
themselves: the conscience of the fact shall pay my virtue. So
I leave you. [_Exit._

+Aur.+ That I should owe my life to her! which way, I wonder?
Something depends on this, I must win out: well, I will not
forswear it, but the toy may take me in the head, and I may see
her. [_Exit._

_Enter +Antiquary+ and +Petro+._

+Ant.+ Has he such rare things, say you?

+Pet.+ Yes, sir, I believe you have not seen the like of them:
they are a couple of old manuscripts, found in a wall,[339] and
stored up with the foundation; it may be they are the writings
of some prophetess.

+Ant.+ What moves you to think so, Petro?

+Pet.+ Because, sir, the characters are so imperfect;
for time has eaten out the letters, and the dust makes a
parenthesis[340] betwixt every syllable.

+Ant.+ A shrewd, convincing argument! this fellow has a notable
reach with him. Go, bid him enter. A hundred to one some fool
has them in possession that knows not their value: it may be a
man may purchase them for little or nothing----

_Enter +Lionel+, like a scholar, with two books._

Come near, friend, let me see what you have there. Umph, 'tis,
as I said, they are of the old Roman binding. What's the price
of these?

+Lio.+ I would be loth, sir, to sell them under rate, only to
merit laughter for my rashness; therefore I thought good to
bestow them on you, and refer myself to your wisdom and free
nature for my satisfaction.

+Ant.+ You say well; then am I bound again in conscience to
deal justly with you: will five hundred crowns content you?

+Lio.+ I'll demand no more, sir.

+Ant.+ Petro, see them delivered. Now I need not fear to tell
you what they are: this is a book _de Republica_, 'tis Marcus
Tullius Cicero's own hand writing; I have some other books of
his penning give me assurance of it.[341]

+Pet.+ And what's the other, sir?

+Ant.+ This other is a book of mathematics, that was long lost
in darkness, and afterwards restored by Ptolemy.

+Lio.+ I wonder, sir, unless you were Time's secretary, how you
should arrive to this intelligence.

+Ant.+ I know it by more than inspiration. You had them out of
a wall, you say.

+Lio.+ Yes, sir.

+Ant.+ Well, then, however you came by them, they were first
brought to Venice by Cardinal Grimani,[342] a patriarch, and
were digged out of the ruins of Aquileia, after it was sacked
by Attila king of the Huns.

+Lio.+ This to me is wonderful.

+Ant.+ Petro, I mean to retire, and give myself wholly to
contemplation of these studies; and because nothing shall
hinder me, I mean to lease out my lands and live confined:
inquire me out a chapman that will take them of me.

+Lio.+ If you please to let them, sir, I will help you to a
tenant.

+Ant.+ Will you, sir? with all my heart, and I'll afford him
the better bargain for your sake.

+Pet.+ He may pay the rent with counters, and make him believe
they are antiquities.

+Ant.+ What's the yearly rent of them, Petro?

+Pet.+ They have been racked, sir, to three thousand crowns;
but the old rent was never above fifteen hundred.

+Ant.+ Go to, you have said enough; I'll have no more than the
old rent. Name your man, and the indentures shall be drawn.

+Lio.+ Before I propose that, sir, I thought good to acquaint
you with a specialty I found among other writings which, having
a seal to it and a name subscribed, does most properly belong
to you.

+Ant.+ Let me see it. What's here? Signior Giovanni Veterano di
Monte Nigro! He was my great grandfather, and this is an old
debt of his that remains yet uncancelled. You could never have
pleased me better to my cost: this ought, in conscience, to be
discharged, and I'll see it satisfied the first thing I do.
Come along.

+Pet.+ Will you afford your nephew no exhibition out of your
estate, sir?

+Ant.+ Not a sol; not a gazet.[343] I have articles to propose
before the senate shall disinherit him.

+Lio.+ Have you, sir? Not justly, I hope. Pray, what are they?

+Ant.+ One of them is, he sent me letters beyond sea, dated
_Stilo Novo._[344]

+Lio.+ That was a great oversight.

+Ant.+ Then you remember, Petro, he took up commodities,
new-fashioned stuffs, when he was under age, too, that he might
cosen his creditors.

+Pet.+ Yes, sir.

+Ant.+ And afterwards found out a new way to pay them, too.

+Lio.+ He served them but in their kind, sir: perhaps they
meant to have cheated him.

+Ant.+ 'Tis all one; I'll have no such practices. But the worst
of all: one time, when I found him drunk, and chid him for his
vice, he had no way to excuse himself, but to say, he would
become a new man.

+Lio.+ That was heinously spoken, indeed!

+Ant.+ These are sufficient aggravations to any one that shall
understand my humour.

_Enter +Duke+ and +Leonardo+._

+Duke.+ Save you, sir!

+Ant.+ These gentlemen shall be witnesses to the bonds. You are
very welcome!

+Duke.+ I hardly believe it, when you hear our message.

+Ant.+ Why, I beseech you?

+Duke.+ I am sorry to be made the unkind instrument to wrong
you; but since 'tis a task imposed from so great a command, I
hope you will the easier be induced to dispense with me.

+Ant.+ Come nearer to your aim: I understand you not.

+Duke.+ Then thus, sir: the duke has been informed of your
rarities; and holding them an unfit treasure for a private man
to possess, he hath sent his mandamus to take them from you.
See, here's his hand for the delivery.

+Ant.+ O, O!

+Leo.+ What ails you, sir?

+Ant.+ I am struck with a sudden sickness: some good man help
to keep my soul in, that is rushing from me, and will by no
means be entreated to continue!

+Lio.+ Pray, sir, be comforted.

+Ant.+ Comfort! no, I despise it: he has given me daggers to my
heart!

+Leo.+ Show yourself a man, sir, and contemn the worst of
fortune.

+Ant.+ Good sir, could not you have invented a less studied way
of torture to take away my life?

+Duke.+ I hope 'twill not work so deeply with you.

+Ant.+ Nay, and 'twould stop there, 'twere well; but 'tis a
punishment will follow me after death, and afflict me worse
than a fury.

+Leo.+ I much pity the gentleman's case.

+Ant.+ Think what 'tis to lose a son when you have brought him
up, or, after a seven years' voyage, to see your ship sink in
the harbour!

+Duke.+ 'Twere a woeful spectacle, indeed!

+Ant.+ They are but tickling to this: I have been all my life
a-gathering what I must now lose in a moment. The sacking of a
city is nothing to be compared with it.

+Leo.+ And that's lamentable.

+Ant.+ 'Twill but only give you a light to conceive of my
misery.

+Lio.+ Pray, sir, be not importunate to take them this time;
but try rather, if by any means you can revoke the decree.

+Duke.+ 'Twill be somewhat dangerous; but, for your sake, I'll
try.

+Ant.+ Shall I hope any comfort? Then, upon my credit,
gentlemen, I'll appoint you all mine heirs, so soon as I am
dead.

+Duke.+ You speak nobly.

+Ant.+ Nay, and because you shall not long gape after it, I'll
die within a month, and set you down all joint executors.

+Lio.+ But when you are freed from the terror of his
imposition, will you not recant?

+Ant.+ Nay, and you doubt me, walk along, and I'll confirm't
upon you instantly. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[323] [Old copy, _meant_.]

[324] Thus Armado, in "Love's Labour's Lost," edit. 1778, vol. ii. p. 394: "I do excel Samson in my rapier as much as he did me in carrying gates."--_Steevens._

[325] [Edits., _Have you ... drawn_; but the speaker evidently does not intend to ask the boy whether _he_ has drawn the register.]

[326] The Romans bestowed an oaken wreath on him who had preserved the life of a citizen. The mother of Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, boasts that he "returned, his brows bound with oak."--_Steevens._

[327] A coin of the least value of any current in Venice; it was worth no more than half a sol, that is, near a farthing. See Coriat's "Crudities," 1611, p. 286.

[328] This expression puts one in mind of Bacon's description of Revenge, when he says that it is "wild justice." A _Bravo_ is a revenger of injuries, and may therefore very fitly be called a _lawless justicer_.--_Collier._

[329] See note to "The Parson's Wedding," _post_.

[330] The romance by Sir Philip Sydney.

[331] _i.e._, Had a taste of, _Delibo_, Lat. So Claudian. _B. Get._ 351, "Contentus _delibasse_ cibos."--_Steevens._

[332] [A French romance by Honorè d'Urfè, which had been translated into English in 1620. It was formerly very popular. Another translation was made in 1657-8, 3 vols. folio.]

[333] [Hippocrene.] So Persius: "Fonte labra prolui _Caballino_."--_Steevens._

[334] So Persius: "Pallidamque Pyrenen."--_Steevens._

[335] [He probably distributes among them some of his MSS. verses.]

[336] "That your _hairs_ were golden threads," is the true reading; but Mr Reed allowed it to stand, "that your _hearts_ were golden threads," which is nonsense, or very near it. Shakespeare has the same expression in his "Rape of Lucrece"--

"Her _hair, like golden threads_, play'd with her breath."

--_Collier._

[337] _i.e._, Go before. So in the 119th Psalm: "Mine eyes _prevent_ the night watches."--_Steevens._

Again, in the office of consecrating Cramp Rings: "We beseech thee, O Lord, that the Spirit which proceeds from thee may _prevent_ and follow in our desires," &c.--_Reed._

One of the Collects of the Church Service begins, "_Prevent_ us, O Lord, in all our doings."--_Collier._

[338] Alluding to the ancient aphorism, _Ingratus si dixeris, omnia dixeris._

[339] [Possibly the author had in his recollection Wimbeldon's "Godlie Sermon," preached at Paul's Cross in 1388, and "found out hyd in a wall;" printed in 1584.]

[340] This is borrowed from the character of an Antiquary, in [Earle's] "Micro-Cosmographie, or a Piece of the World Discovered," 12º, 1628: "Printed books he contemnes as a novelty of this latter age; but a manuscript he pores on everlastingly, especially if the cover be all moth-eaten, and _the dust make a parenthesis between every syllable_."

[341] [The antiquary was fortunate in the possession of what is still unknown in a complete state. Fragments, recovered from a palimpsest, have been printed by Cardinal Mai.]

[342] [Old copy, _Girmanus_.]

[343] A _gazet_, says Coriat (p. 286), "is almost a penny; whereof ten doe make a liver, that is, nine pence." Newspapers being originally sold for that piece of money, acquired their present name of _Gazettes_.--See Junius "Etymol." voce Gazette.

[344] The manner of dating letters from abroad, before the alteration of the calendar, according to the reformation of it by Pope Gregory XIII. In "The Woman's Prize; or, the Tamer Tam'd," by Beaumont and Fletcher [Dyce's edit. vii. 194], Maria says to Petruchio, who had threatened to travel, in order to be rid of her--

"I do commit your reformation;
And so I leave you to your _stilo novo_."

--[Act. iv. sc. 5.]