Chapter V: Act I: Scene IV

ENTER THORELLO, GIULIANO, PISO.

THO. Piso, come hither: there lies a note within, upon my desk;
here, take my key: it's no matter neither, where's the boy?

PIS. Within, sir, in the warehouse.

THO. Let him tell over that Spanish gold, and weigh it, and do you
see the delivery of those wares to Signior Bentivole: I'll be
there myself at the receipt of the money anon.

PIS. Very good, sir.

[EXIT PISO.]

THO. Brother, did you see that same fellow there?

GIU. Ay, what of him?

THO. He is e'en the honestest, faithful servant that is this day
in Florence; (I speak a proud word now;) and one that I durst trust
my life into his hands, I have so strong opinion of his love, if
need were.

GIU. God send me never such need: but you said you had somewhat
to tell me, what is't?

THO. Faith, brother, I am loath to utter it,
As fearing to abuse your patience,
But that I know your judgment more direct,
Able to sway the nearest of affection.

GIU. Come, come, what needs this circumstance?

THO. I will not say what honour I ascribe
Unto your friendship, nor in what dear state
I hold your love; let my continued zeal,
The constant and religious regard,
That I have ever carried to your name,
My carriage with your sister, all contest,
How much I stand affected to your house.

GIU. You are too tedious, come to the matter, come to
the matter.

THO. Then (without further ceremony) thus.
My brother Prospero (I know not how)
Of late is much declined from what he was,
And greatly alter'd in his disposition.
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me, if I was not proud of him:
Methought he bare himself with such observance,
So true election and so fair a form:
And (what was chief) it shew'd not borrow'd in him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as perfect, proper, and innate,
Unto the mind, as colour to the blood,
But now, his course is so irregular,
So loose affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fallen off
From his first place, that scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood;
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house as common as a Mart,
A Theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and diseased riot,
And there, (as in a tavern, or a stews,)
He, and his wild associates, spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, and dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants: and indeed what not?

GIU. Faith, I know not what I should say to him: so God save me,
I am e'en at my wits' end, I have told him enough, one would think,
if that would serve: well, he knows what to trust to for me: let
him spend, and spend, and domineer till his heart ache: an he get
a penny more of me, I'll give him this ear.

THO. Nay, good brother, have patience.

GIU. 'Sblood, he mads me, I could eat my very flesh for anger: I
marle you will not tell him of it, how he disquiets your house.

THO. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me,
But would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance,)
It would both come much better to his sense,
And savour less of grief and discontent.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Confirms and warrants your authority:
Which (seconded by your aspect) will breed
A kind of duty in him, and regard.
Whereas, if I should intimate the least,
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, rear a huge pile of hate,
That in the building would come tottering down,
And in her ruins bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother; if I should speak,
He would be ready in the heat of passion,
To fill the ears of his familiars,
With oft reporting to them, what disgrace
And gross disparagement I had proposed him.
And then would they straight back him in opinion,
Make some loose comment upon every word,
And out of their distracted phantasies,
Contrive some slander, that should dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? marry, this,
They would give out, (because my wife is fair,
Myself but lately married, and my sister
Here sojourning a virgin in my house,)
That I were jealous: nay, as sure as death,
Thus they would say: and how that I had wrong'd
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.

GIU. Mass, perhaps so.

THO. Brother, they would, believe it: so should I
(Like one of these penurious quack-salvers)
But try experiments upon myself,
Open the gates unto mine own disgrace,
Lend bare-ribb'd envy opportunity
To stab my reputation, and good name.

[ENTER BOBA. AND MAT.]

MAT. I will speak to him.

BOB. Speak to him? away, by the life of Pharaoh, you shall not,
you shall not do him that grace: the time of day to you,
gentlemen: is Signior Prospero stirring?

GIU. How then? what should he do?

BOB. Signior Thorello, is he within, sir?

THO. He came not to his lodging to-night, sir, I assure you.

GIU. Why, do you hear? you.

BOB. This gentleman hath satisfied me, I'll talk to no Scavenger.

GIU. How, Scavenger? stay, sir, stay.

[EXEUNT.]

THO. Nay, brother Giuliano.

GIU. 'Sblood, stand you away, an you love me.

THO. You shall not follow him now, I pray you,
Good faith, you shall not.

GIU. Ha! Scavenger! well, go to, I say little, but, by this good
day, (God forgive me I should swear) if I put it up so, say I am
the rankest -- that ever pist. 'Sblood, an I swallow this, I'll
ne'er draw my sword in the sight of man again while I live; I'll
sit in a barn with Madge-owlet first. Scavenger! 'Heart, and I'll
go near to fill that huge tumbrel slop of yours with somewhat, as I
have good luck, your Garagantua breech cannot carry it away so.

THO. Oh, do not fret yourself thus, never think on't.

GIU. These are my brother's consorts, these, these are his
Comrades, his walking mates, he's a gallant, a Cavaliero too, right
hangman cut. God let me not live, an I could not find in my heart
to swinge the whole nest of them, one after another, and begin with
him first, I am grieved it should be said he is my brother, and
take these courses, well, he shall hear on't, and that tightly too,
an I live, i'faith.

THO. But, brother, let your apprehension (then)
Run in an easy current, not transported
With heady rashness, or devouring choler,
And rather carry a persuading spirit,
Whose powers will pierce more gently; and allure
Th' imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim,
To a more sudden and resolved assent.

GIU. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.

[BELL RINGS.]

THO. How now! oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother Giuliano, I pray you go in and bear my wife company:
I'll but give order to my servants for the dispatch of some
business, and come to you presently.
[EXIT GIU., ENTER COB.]
What, Cob! our maids will have you by the back (i'faith)
For coming so late this morning.

COB. Perhaps so, sir, take heed somebody have not them
by the belly for walking so late in the evening.

[EXIT.]

THO. Now (in good faith) my mind is somewhat eased,
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish; well, I must be content,
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger at a vent,
So Prospero had ne'er lodged in my house,
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The sovereign state of chastity unscarr'd,
When such strong motives muster, and make head
Against her single peace? no, no: beware
When mutual pleasure sways the appetite,
And spirits of one kind and quality,
Do meet to parley in the pride of blood.
Well, (to be plain) if I but thought the time
Had answer'd their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold:
Marry, I hope they have not got that start.
For opportunity hath balk'd them yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the imposition of my heart:
My presence shall be as an iron bar,
'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire,
Yea, every look or glance mine eye objects,
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
When he forgets the limits of prescription.

[ENTER BIANCHA WITH HESPERIDA.]

BIA. Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch down the rose-water
above in the closet: Sweet-heart, will you come in to breakfast?

THO. An she have overheard me now?

[EXIT HESPERIDA.]

BIA. I pray thee, (good Muss) we stay for you.

THO. By Christ, I would not for a thousand crowns.

BIA. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good
Muss.

THO. Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.

BIA. Oh Jesu!

THO. How now! what!

BIA. Good Lord, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth,
it is this new disease, there's a number are troubled withall for
God's sake, sweet-heart, come in out of the air.

THO. How simple, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it.
Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.

BIA. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you
harm, in troth.

THO. I'll come to you presently, it will away, I hope.

BIA. Pray God it do.

[EXIT.]

THO. A new disease! I know not, new or old,
But it may well be call'd poor mortals' Plague;
For like a pestilence it doth infect
The houses of the brain: first it begins
Solely to work upon the phantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,
As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence,
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each of other catching the infection,
Which as a searching vapour spreads itself
Confusedly through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what error is it to know this,
And want the free election of the soul
In such extremes! well, I will once more strive
(Even in despite of hell) myself to be,
And shake this fever off that thus shakes me.

[EXIT.]