This is a modern-English version of The Works of John Marston. Volume 2, originally written by Marston, John.
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The English Dramatists
English Playwrights
JOHN MARSTON
JOHN MARSTON
VOLUME THE SECOND
VOLUME 2
THE WORKS
OF
JOHN MARSTON
EDITED BY
A. H. BULLEN, B.A.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOLUME THE SECOND
VOLUME 2
LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
MDCCCLXXXVII
LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14 King William Street, Strand, W.C.
1887
Two hundred copies of this Edition on Laid paper, medium 8vo, have been printed, viz., 120 for the English Market and 80 for America. Each copy numbered as issued.
Two hundred copies of this edition on laid paper, medium 8vo, have been printed, viz. 120 for the English market and 80 for America. Each copy is numbered as issued.
No. 30
No. 30
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
| PAGE | |
| THE DUTCH COURTEZAN Act I Act II Act III Act IV Act V |
1 |
| THE FAWN Act I Act II Act III Act IV Act V |
105 |
| THE WONDER OF WOMEN; OR, THE TRAGEDY OF SOPHONISBA Act I Act II Act III Act IV Act V |
231 |
| WHAT YOU WILL Act I Act II Act III Act IV Act V |
317 |
THE DUTCH COURTEZAN.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
PLAY SUMMARY.
Young Freevill, being about to marry Beatrice, daughter to Sir Hubert Subboys, determines to break his connection with Franceschina, the Dutch Courtezan. He introduces to Franceschina his friend Malheureux. This gentleman, who had hitherto led a strict life, is violently inflamed with passion at first sight of Franceschina. She promises to gratify his passion on one condition,—that he kills Freevill. As proof that the deed has been accomplished, he is to bring her a ring that had been presented to Freevill by Beatrice. Malheureux discloses the plot to Freevill, who undertakes to help him out of his difficulty. At a masque given in honour of the approaching marriage, Malheureux pretends to pick a quarrel with Freevill, and retires with him as though to fight a duel. Freevill is to lie hid at the house of a jeweller, while Malheureux posts with the ring to Franceschina. She hastens to communicate the news to Freevill’s father and Beatrice, Freevill accompanying her in the disguise of a pander. Thereupon old Freevill and Sir Hubert Subboys, attended by officers, proceed to Franceschina’s lodging, conceal themselves behind the curtain, and await the arrival of Malheureux, who comes at the hour appointed by Franceschina. They hear from his own lips a confession of the murder, arrest him, and lead him away to prison. Malheureux protests his innocence, but, as Freevill has not been near the jeweller’s house, his protestations are disregarded and the day for his execution is fixed. At the last moment Freevill presents himself and begs forgiveness for the device that he had adopted in order to cure his friend’s passion. Franceschina is condemned to “the whip and jail;” and all ends happily.
Young Freevill, about to marry Beatrice, the daughter of Sir Hubert Subboys, decides to end his relationship with Franceschina, the Dutch courtesan. He introduces Franceschina to his friend Malheureux. This gentleman, who has lived a strict life until now, becomes intensely infatuated with Franceschina at first sight. She promises to satisfy his desire on one condition—that he kills Freevill. As proof that he has done the job, he must bring her a ring that Freevill received from Beatrice. Malheureux reveals the plot to Freevill, who agrees to help him out of his predicament. At a masquerade held in honor of the upcoming wedding, Malheureux pretends to pick a fight with Freevill and retires with him as if to duel. Freevill is to hide at a jeweler's house while Malheureux rushes to Franceschina with the ring. She quickly informs Freevill's father and Beatrice, with Freevill accompanying her disguised as a go-between. Then, old Freevill and Sir Hubert Subboys, along with officers, go to Franceschina’s place, hide behind a curtain, and wait for Malheureux, who arrives at the time agreed upon by Franceschina. They hear him confess to the murder, arrest him, and take him away to prison. Malheureux insists he is innocent, but since Freevill hasn’t been near the jeweler’s house, his claims are ignored, and the date for his execution is set. At the last moment, Freevill shows up and asks for forgiveness for the scheme he used to cure his friend's obsession. Franceschina is sentenced to "the whip and jail," and everything ends happily.
The play is enlivened by an underplot, which deals with the various tricks played by a clever knave called Cocledemoy on a vintner of Cheap, Master Mulligrub.
The play is brought to life by a subplot that revolves around the various tricks pulled by a clever con artist named Cocledemoy on a wine merchant from Cheap, Master Mulligrub.
Slight hasty labours in this easy play
Present not what you would, but what we may:
For this vouchsafe to know,—the only end
Of our now study is, not to offend.
Yet think not but, like others, rail we could
(Best art presents not what it can but should);
And if our pen in this seem over-slight,
We strive not to instruct, but to delight.
As for some few, we know of purpose here
To tax and scout, know firm art cannot fear 10
Vain rage; only the highest grace we pray
Is, you’ll not tax until you judge our play.
Think, and then speak: ’tis rashness, and not wit,
To speak what is in passion, and not judgment fit.
Sit then with fair expectance, and survey
Nothing but passionate man in his slight play,
Who hath this only ill, to some deem’d worst—
A modest diffidence, and self-mistrust.
A bit of hurried work in this straightforward play.
Displays not what you desire, but what we are capable of:
Please understand this—the only goal
Our current goal is to avoid offending anyone.
But don't think we couldn't criticize just like everyone else.
(True art reveals not what it is capable of, but what it ought to be);
If our writing appears too casual here,
Our goal is not to educate, but to entertain.
As for some who intentionally come here
True art isn't afraid to criticize and mock.
Of pointless anger; the only kindness we seek
You won’t judge until you see our performance.
Think before you speak: it’s stupid, not smart, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
To express what comes from passion rather than from careful consideration.
So sit with positive expectations and pay attention.
Just a passionate guy in his straightforward performance,
Who has just one flaw, seen as the worst—
A modest insecurity and self-doubt.
Fabulæ Argumentum.
Storyline.
The difference betwixt the love of a courtezan and a wife is the full scope of the play, which, intermixed with the deceits of a witty city jester, fills up the comedy.
The difference between a courtesan's love and a wife's love is the main theme of the play, which, combined with the tricks of a clever city jester, makes up the comedy.
Sir Lionel Freevill, and
Sir Hubert Subboys, two old knights.
Young Freevill, Sir Lionel’s son.
Malheureux, Young Freevill’s unhappy friend.
Tysefew, a blunt gallant.
Caqueteur, a prattling gull.
Cocledemoy, a knavishly witty City Companion.
Master Mulligrub, a vintner.
Master Burnish, a goldsmith.
Lionel, his man.
Holifernes Reinscure, a barbers boy.
Sir Lionel Freevill, and
Sir Hubert Subboys, two old knights.
Young Freevill, Sir Lionel’s son.
Unlucky, Young Freevill’s unhappy friend.
Tysefew, a straightforward guy.
Flirt, a chatterbox.
Cocledemoy, a cunningly witty city companion.
Master Mulligrub, a wine merchant.
Master Burnish, a goldsmith.
Lionel, his servant.
Holifernes' Reinscure, a barber's apprentice.
Beatrice, and
Crispinella, Sir Hubert’s daughters.
Putifer, their nurse.
Mistress Mulligrub.
Franceschina, a Dutch Courtezan.
Mary Faugh, an old woman.
Three Watchmen; Pages; Officers.
Bea, and
Crispinella, Sir Hubert’s daughters.
Putifer, their nurse.
Mrs. Mulligrub.
Franceschina, a Dutch courtesan.
Mary Faugh, an old woman.
Three watchmen; pages; officers.
Scene—London.
Scene—London.
THE DUTCH COURTEZAN.[1]
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
A Street.
A Street.
Enter three Pages, with lights. Mulligrub, Freevill, Malheureux, Tysefew, and Caqueteur.
Enter three Pages, with lights. Mulligrub, Freevill, Malheureux, Tysefew, and Caqueteur.
Free. Nay, comfort, my good host Shark; my good Mulligrub.
Free. No, it's alright, my good host Shark; my good Mulligrub.
Mal. Advance thy snout; do not suffer thy sorrowful nose to drop on thy Spanish[2] leather jerkin, most hardly-honest Mulligrub.
Mal. Lift your face; don’t let your sad nose hit your Spanish[2] leather jacket, you miserable grump.
Free. What, cogging Cocledemoy is run away with a neast[3] of goblets? True, what then? they will be hammered out well enough, I warrant you.
Free. What, is that jerk Cocledemoy really off with a bunch[3] of goblets? Sure, so what? They'll be sorted out just fine, I promise you.
Free. Yes, sure, if we could find out some wise man presently.
Free. Yeah, definitely, if we could find a wise person right now.
Mal. How was the plate lost? how did it vanish?
Mal. How did the plate go missing? How did it disappear?
Free. In most sincere prose, thus: that man of much money, some wit, but less honesty, cogging Cocledemoy, comes this night late into mine hostess Mulligrub’s tavern here; calls for a room; the house being full, Cocledemoy consorted with his movable chattel, his instrument of fornication, the bawd Mrs. Mary Faugh, are imparlour’d next the street; good poultry was their food, blackbird, lark, woodcock; and mine host here comes in, cries “God bless you!” and departs. A blind harper enters, craves audience, uncaseth, plays; the drawer, for female privateness’ sake, is nodded out, who knowing that whosoever will hit the mark of profit must, like those that shoot in stone-bows,[4] wink with one eye, grows blind o’ the right side, and departs. 27
Free. In the most genuine way: that guy with a lot of money, some cleverness, but even less honesty, scheming Cocledemoy, comes into my hostess Mulligrub’s tavern late tonight; asks for a room; since the place is packed, Cocledemoy teams up with his movable property, his instrument of pleasure, the bawd Mrs. Mary Faugh, and they settle down next to the street; they had good food, like poultry, blackbird, lark, woodcock; and our host comes in, says "God bless you!" and leaves. A blind harper comes in, asks for an audience, takes out his instrument, plays; the waiter, for the sake of female privacy, is given a signal to leave, knowing that anyone who wants to hit the target of profit must, like those who shoot with slingshots,[4] close one eye, become blind on the right side, and leaves. 27
Caq. He shall answer for that winking with one eye at the last day.
Caq. He will have to account for that winking with one eye on the last day.
Mal. Let him have day[5] till then, and he will wink with both his eyes.
Mal. Let him enjoy the day[5] until then, and he will wink with both eyes.
Free. Cocledemoy, perceiving none in the room but the blind harper (whose eyes Heaven had shut up from beholding wickedness), unclasps a casement to the street very patiently, pockets up three bowls unnaturally, thrusts his wench forth the window, and himself most preposterously, with his heels forward, follows: the unseeing harper plays on, bids the empty dishes and the treacherous candles much good do them. The drawer returns, but, out alas! not only the birds, but also the neast of goblets, were flown away. Laments are raised—— 42
Free. Cocledemoy, seeing only the blind harper in the room (whose eyes Heaven had closed to shield him from witnessing evil), patiently opens a window to the street, awkwardly pockets three bowls, pushes his girl out the window, and, in a completely ridiculous manner, follows her feet-first. The sightless harper continues to play, wishing the empty dishes and treacherous candles good luck. The drawer comes back, but alas! not only had the birds flown away, but so had the collection of goblets. There are cries of despair. raised—— 42
Tys. Which did not pierce the heavens.
Tys. Which did not reach the skies.
Free. The drawers moan, mine host doth cry, the bowls are gone.
Free. The drawers creak, the host is calling out, the bowls are missing.
Mul. Hic finis Priami!
Mul. Here ends Priam!
Mal. Nay, be not jaw-fall’n, my most sharking Mulligrub.
Mal. No, don’t look so shocked, my overly serious Mulligrub.
Free. ’Tis your just affliction; remember the sins of the cellar, and repent, repent! 50
Free. It’s your rightful punishment; remember the sins of the cellar and repent, repent!
Mul. I am not jaw-fall’n, but I will hang the coney-catching Cocledemoy; and there’s an end of’t.
Mul. I'm not letting this go, but I will expose the sneaky Cocledemoy; and that's all there is to it.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Caq. Is it a right stone? it shows well by candle-light.
Caq. Is this a good stone? It looks great by candlelight.
Free. So do many things that are counterfeit, but I assure you this is a right diamond.
Free. Many things are fake, but I promise you this is a real diamond.
Caq. Might I borrow it of you? it will not a little grace my finger in visitation of my mistress.
Caq. Could I borrow it from you? It would look quite nice on my finger when I visit my lady.
Free. Why, use it, most sweet Caqueteur, use it.
Free. Come on, my dear Caqueteur, go ahead and use it.
Caq. Thanks, good sir; ’tis grown high night: gentles, rest to you.
Caq. Thanks, good sir; it’s late at night: everyone, have a good rest.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Tys. A torch! Sound wench, soft sleep, and sanguine dreams to you both. On, boy! 62
Tys. A torch! Good night, gentle friend, and sweet dreams to you both. Let's go, boy!
Free. Let me bid you good rest.
Free. Let me wish you a good night's sleep.
Free. Most necessary buildings, Malheureux; ever since my intention of marriage, I do pray for their continuance. 70
Free. Essential establishments, Malheureux; ever since I planned to get married, I truly hope they remain. continuation. 70
Mal. Loved sir, your reason?
Mal. Loved, sir, what’s your reason?
Free. Marry, lest my house should be made one. I would have married men love the stews as Englishmen loved the Low Countries: wish war should be maintain’d there, lest it should come home to their own doors. What, [not] suffer a man to have a hole to put his head in, though he go to the pillory for it! Youth and appetite are above the club of Hercules.
Free. Seriously, or else my house will end up being one. I’d prefer married men to enjoy the brothels like the Englishmen enjoyed the Low Countries: hoping the war stays there so it doesn’t come knocking at their own door. What, [not] allow a man to have a place to rest his head, even if he ends up in the stocks for it! Youth and desire are beyond the strength of Hercules.
Mal. This lust is a most deadly sin, sure.
Mal. This desire is a very serious sin, for sure.
Free. Nay, ’tis a most lively sin, sure. 80
Free. No, it’s definitely a vibrant sin, for sure. 80
Mal. Well, I am sure, ’tis one of the head sins.
Mal. Well, I’m sure it’s one of the main sins.
Free. Nay, I am sure it is one of the middle sins.
Free. No, I’m sure it’s one of the lesser sins.
Mal. Pity ’tis grown a most daily vice.
Mal. It's a shame that it has become such a common vice.
Free. But a more nightly vice, I assure you.
Free. But definitely a more nighttime sin, I promise you.
Mal. Well, ’tis a sin.
Mal. Well, it’s a sin.
Free. Ay, or else few men would wish to go to heaven: and, not to disguise with my friend, I am now going the way of all flesh.
Free. Yeah, or else not many men would want to go to heaven: and, to be honest with my friend, I’m now following the path that everyone takes.
Mal. Not to a courtezan?
Mal. Not to a hooker?
Free. A courteous one. 90
Free. A polite one. 90
Mal. What, to a sinner?
Mal. What, to a sinner?
Free. A very publican.
Free. A very publican vibe.
Mal. Dear, my loved friend, let me be full with you:
Know, sir, the strongest argument that speaks
Against the soul’s eternity is lust,
That wise man’s folly, and the fool’s wisdom:
But to grow wild in loose lasciviousness,
Given up to heat and sensual appetite,
Nay, to expose your health and strength and name,
Your precious time, and with that time the hope 100
Of due preferment, advantageous means,
Of any worthy end, to the stale use,
The common bosom of a money creature,
One that sells human flesh—a mangonist!
Mal. Dear, my cherished friend, I need to be straightforward with you:
You should know, sir, that the strongest argument against __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
the soul's eternity is desire,
which is the foolishness of the wise and the insight of the fool:
But to indulge wildly in careless sensual pleasure,
gave in to passion and desire,
to put your health, strength, and reputation at risk,
your valuable time, and with that time the hope 100
of rightful progress, beneficial opportunities,
or any worthwhile goal, is to squander it all
on a messy life,
like someone who sells human flesh—a pander!
Free. Alas, good creatures! what would you have
them do? Would you have them get their living by
the curse of man, the sweat of their brows? So they do:
every man must follow his trade, and every woman her
occupation. A poor decayed mechanical man’s wife,
her husband is laid up, may not she lawfully be laid
down, when her husband’s only rising is by his wife’s
falling? A captain’s wife wants means; her commander
lies in open fields abroad, may not she lie in civil arms
at home? A waiting gentlewoman, that had wont to
take say[6] to her lady, miscarries or so; the court
misfortune throws her down; may not the city courtesy
take her up? Do you know no alderman would pity
such a woman’s case?[7] Why, is charity grown a sin,
or relieving the poor and impotent an offence? You
will say beasts take no money for their fleshly entertainment:
true, because they are beasts, therefore beastly;[8]
only men give to loose, because they are men, therefore
manly: and indeed, wherein should they bestow their
money better? In land, the title may be crack’d; in
houses, they may be burnt; in apparel, ’twill wear; in
wine, alas for our pity! our throat is but short: but
employ your[9] money upon women, and a thousand to
nothing, some one of them will bestow that on you
which shall stick by you as long as you live; they are
no ungrateful persons, they will give quid [10] for quo: do
ye protest, they’ll swear; do you rise, they’ll fall; do
you fall, they’ll rise; do you give them the French
crown, they’ll give you the French—O justus justa
justum! They sell their bodies: do not better persons
sell their souls? nay, since all things have been sold,
honour, justice, faith, nay, even God Himself, 136
Aye me, what base ignobleness is it
To sell the pleasure of a wanton bed!
Why do men scrape, why heap to full heaps join?
But for his mistress, who would care for coin?
For this I hold to be denied of no man,
All things are made for man, and man for woman.
Give me my fee.
Free. Alas, good people! What do you expect them to do? Do you want them to earn a living through the curse of mankind, by sweating and struggling? Well, that’s what they do: every man must pursue his trade, and every woman her work. A poor mechanical man’s wife, whose husband is unable to work, can’t she legally seek help when her husband’s only way up is through her downfall? A captain’s wife needs support; her husband is serving in the fields far away, can’t she take up civil work at home? A lady-in-waiting, who once served her mistress, faces misfortune and is pushed down; can’t the kindness of the city lift her up? Don’t you know that no alderman would feel sorry for such a woman? Is charity now considered a sin, or helping the needy an offense? You might say animals don’t charge for their physical needs: true, because they’re animals, thus acting beastly; only men give for pleasure, because they’re human, thus acting nobly: and truly, how should they spend their money better? In land, the ownership might be disputed; in houses, they could burn down; in clothing, it will wear away; in wine, oh, how unfortunate for us! Our throats can only take so much: but spend your money on women, and for every thousand, at least one will return something that stays with you for life; they’re not ungrateful, they’ll give in return: if you offer something, they’ll respond; if you rise, they’ll fall; if you fall, they’ll rise; if you give them the French crown, they’ll give you the French—O justus justa justum! They sell their bodies: don’t better people sell their souls? Indeed, since everything has been sold, honor, justice, faith, even God Himself, 136
Oh, what low disgrace it is
To sell the delights of an indulgent bed!
Why do men accumulate wealth? Why stack it up so high?
But for a girlfriend, who would care about money?
For this, I believe no one would disagree,
Everything is created for humanity, and humanity is created for each other.
Pay me my fee.
Mal. Of ill you merit well. My heart’s good friend,
Leave yet at length, at length; for know this ever,
’Tis no such sin to err, but to persever.
Mal. You’ve earned the trouble you’ve faced. My dear friend,
Please leave now; always remember this,
It's not a big deal to make mistakes, but continuing to make them is.
Mal. Whither?
Mal. Where to?
Free. To a house of salvation.
Free. To a house of hope.
Mal. Salvation?
Mal. Salvation?
Free. Yes, ’twill make thee repent. Wilt go to the family of love?[11] I will show thee my creature; a pretty nimble-ey’d Dutch tanakin;[12] an honest soft-hearted impropriation; a soft, plump, round-cheek’d froe,[13] that has beauty enough for her virtue, virtue enough for a woman, and woman enough for any reasonable man in my knowledge. Wilt pass along with me? 162
Free. Yes, it will make you regret it. Are you going to the family of love?[11] I’ll show you my girl; a cute, quick-eyed Dutch beauty;[12] a genuinely kind-hearted treasure; a soft, plump, round-cheeked sweetheart,[13] who has enough beauty for her goodness, enough goodness for a woman, and enough womanhood for any reasonable man I know. Will you come along with me? 162
Mal. What, to a brothel?—to behold an impudent prostitution;[14] fie on’t, I shall hate the whole sex to see her. The most odious spectacle the earth can present is an immodest vulgar woman.
Mal. What, to a brothel?—to witness a shameless act of prostitution;[14] ugh, I’ll despise all women if I see her. The most disgusting sight on this earth is an immodest, common woman.
Free. Good still; my brain shall keep’t. You must go as you love me.
Free. I'm still doing well; I'll hold onto that. You have to leave if you care about me.
Free. The sight of vice augments the hate of sin! Very fine, perdy!
Free. Seeing wrongdoing just increases the dislike of sin! Really great, wow!
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.]
[1] In the old eds., opposite the title, is written, “Turpe est difficiles habere nugas.” The quotation is from Martial, ii. 86.
[1] In the old editions, next to the title, it says, “Turpe est difficiles habere nugas.” The quote is from Martial, ii. 86.
[2] Spanish leather was held in great esteem.—See Middleton, viii. 70.
[2] Spanish leather was highly regarded.—See Middleton, viii. 70.
[3] The word “nest” was frequently written “neast.” (Cotgrave has—“Nicher. To neastle, build or make a neast in;” “Nid: neast.”) A “nest of goblets” was a large goblet containing several others of gradually diminishing size.
[3] The word “nest” was often written as “neast.” (Cotgrave notes—“Nicher. To neastle, build or make a neast in;” “Nid: neast.”) A “nest of goblets” referred to a large goblet that held several smaller ones that got progressively smaller in size.
[4] A cross-bow for shooting stones or bullets. (“Arbaleste à boulet.” A stone-bow.—Cotgrave.)
[4] A crossbow for shooting stones or bullets. (“Arbaleste à boulet.” A stone-bow.—Cotgrave.)
[5] A debtor was said to have day (or longer day) when his creditors allowed him to defer payment.
[5] A debtor was said to have day (or longer day) when his creditors let him postpone payment.
[6] “Take say” is used here with a double meaning. “Say” was a sort of delicate serge; but the waiting-woman takes say (i.e., assay) because she tastes before her mistress (and is suitably rewarded for her lickorousness).
[6] “Take say” is used here with a double meaning. “Say” was a type of fine fabric; but the waiting-woman takes say (i.e., assay) because she tastes before her mistress (and is properly rewarded for her greed).
[7] A play on words: (1) case; (2) kaze (= pudendum muliebre).
[7] A pun: (1) case; (2) kaze (= female genitals).
[8] Compare the witticism of Julia, daughter of Augustus, in Macrobius (Saturn., ii. 5).
[8] Check out the clever remark from Julia, the daughter of Augustus, in Macrobius (Saturn., ii. 5).
[9] Ed. 2. “you.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “you.”
[10] Old eds. “quite” and “quit.”
Old eds. “quite” and “quit.”
[11] For an account of the religious sect called The Family of Love, see Middleton, iii. 3-5.
[11] For information about the religious group known as The Family of Love, check out Middleton, iii. 3-5.
[12] Halliwell (Dict. of Arch. and Prov. Words) quotes from Armin’s Nest of Ninnies:—“Out she would, tucks up her trinkets, like a Dutch tannikin sliding to market on the ice, and away she flings.”
[12] Halliwell (Dict. of Arch. and Prov. Words) quotes from Armin’s Nest of Ninnies:—“Out she goes, tucks up her belongings, like a Dutch tannikin sliding to the market on the ice, and off she goes.”
[13] Woman (Dutch).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Woman (Dutch).
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
A Brothel.
A Brothel.
Enter Cocledemoy and Mary Faugh.
Enter Cocledemoy and Mary Faugh.
Coc. Mary, Mary Faugh.
Coc. Mary, Mary, Ugh.
Coc. Come, my worshipful rotten rough-bellied bawd! ha! my blue-tooth’d patroness of natural wickedness, give me the goblets.
Coc. Come on, my esteemed, shameless friend! Ha! my blue-toothed supporter of earthly mischief, hand me the goblets.
Mar. By yea and by nay, Master Cocledemoy, I fear you’ll play the knave, and restore them.
Mar. Honestly, Master Cocledemoy, I'm worried you'll be sneaky and bring them back.
Coc. No, by the lord, aunt,[16] restitution is catholic, and thou know’st we love——
Coc. No, seriously, aunt,[16] restitution is universal, and you know we love
Mar. What? 10
Mar. What? 10
Coc. Oracles are ceased: tempus præteritum, doest hear, my worshipful glysterpipe, thou ungodly fire that burnt Diana’s temple?—doest hear, bawd?
Coc. Oracles have stopped: tempus præteritum, can you hear, my respected shiny pipe, you wicked fire that burned Diana’s temple?—can you hear, pimp?
Mar. In very good truthness, you are the foulest-mouth’d, profane, railing brother, call a woman the most ungodly names: I must confess, we all eat of the forbidden fruit, and for mine own part, though I am one of the family of love, and, as they say, a bawd that covers the multitude of sins, yet I trust I am none of the wicked that eat fish o’ Fridays. 20
Mar. Honestly, you are the most foul-mouthed, vulgar, and insulting brother, calling women the most immoral names. I must admit, we all indulge in the forbidden fruit, and for my part, even though I’m part of the family of love, and, as they say, a bawd that covers a multitude of sins, I still believe I’m not one of those wicked people who eat fish on Fridays.
Coc. Hang toasts! I rail at thee, my worshipful organ-bellows that fills the pipes, my fine rattling fleamy cough o’ the lungs, and cold with a pox? I rail at thee? what, my right precious pandress, supportress of barber-surgeons, and enhanceress[17] of lotium[18] and diet-drink?[19] I rail at thee, necessary damnation? I’ll make an oration, I, in praise of thy most courtly in-fashion and most pleasureable function, I.
Coc. Hang on, toasts! I'm shouting at you, my revered organ-bellows that fill the pipes, my annoying rattling cough of the lungs, and cold with an illness? Am I really shouting at you? What, my beloved pander, supporter of barber-surgeons, and enhancer of all sorts of drinks and diet concoctions? I'm shouting at you, necessary curse? I’ll give a speech, I will, praising your incredibly stylish and most enjoyable function, I.
Mar. Ay, prithee do, I love to hear myself praised, as well as any old lady, I. 30
Mar. Yes, please do! I love hearing myself praised, just like any old lady. I. 30
Coc. List then:—a bawd; first for her profession or vocation, it is most worshipful of all the twelve companies; for, as that trade is most honourable that sells the best commodities—as the draper is more worshipful than the pointmaker, the silkman more worshipful than the draper, and the goldsmith more honourable than both, little Mary, so the bawd above all: her shop has the best ware; for where these sell but cloth, satins, and jewels, she sells divine virtues, as virginity, modesty, and such rare gems; and those not like a petty chapman, by retail, but like a great merchant, by wholesale; wa, ha, ho! And who are her customers? Not base corn-cutters or sowgelders, but most rare wealthy knights, and most rare bountiful lords, are her customers. Again, whereas no trade or vocation profiteth but by the loss and displeasure of another—as the merchant thrives not but by the licentiousness of giddy[20] and unsettled youth; the lawyer, but by the vexation of his client; the physician, but by the maladies of his patient—only my smooth-gumm’d bawd lives by others’ pleasure, and only grows rich by others’ rising. O merciful gain, O righteous in-come! So much for her vocation, trade, and life. As for their death, how can it be bad, since their wickedness is always before their eyes, and a death’s[21] head most commonly on their middle-finger? To conclude, ’tis most certain they must needs both live well and die well, since most commonly they live in Clerkenwell,[22] and die in Bride-well. Dixi, Mary. 158
Coc. So, here’s the list:—a pimp; first, in her profession, she’s the most esteemed of all the twelve trades; because just like the most respectable businesses sell the best goods—like the cloth merchant is more reputable than the lace maker, the silk merchant is more esteemed than the cloth merchant, and the goldsmith is the most respected of all, little Mary, the pimp is above all: her shop has the finest products; for while they sell just fabric, silks, and jewels, she sells divine qualities like virginity, modesty, and other rare treasures; and she sells them not like a small-time vendor, by retail, but like a major wholesaler; ha, ha, ho! And who are her clients? Not lowly scoundrels or common workers, but exceptionally wealthy knights and generous lords are her buyers. Moreover, while no trade thrives without harming or displeasing another—like the merchant succeeds only at the expense of carefree and reckless youth; the lawyer benefits from the troubles of his client; the doctor, from the illnesses of his patient—only my smooth-talking pimp profits from others’ enjoyment, and grows wealthy by others’ success. Oh, what a profitable business, oh, what a just income! That's enough about her profession, trade, and life. As for their death, how could it be bad, since their wrongdoing is always in front of them, and a skull is usually on their middle finger? In conclusion, it's pretty clear they must both live well and die well, since they typically live in Clerkenwell and die in Bridewell. Dixi, Mary. 158
Enter Freevill and Malheureux.
Enter Freevill and Malheureux.
Free. Come along, yonder’s the preface or exordium to my wench, the bawd. Fetch, fetch! What! Mr. Cocledemoy, is your knaveship yet stirring? Look to it, Mulligrub lies[23] for you.
Free. Come on, over there’s the introduction to my girl, the madam. Hurry up, hurry up! What’s going on, Mr. Cocledemoy, are you still asleep? Be careful, Mulligrub is waiting for you.
Coc. The more fool he; I can lie for myself, worshipful friend. Hang toasts! I vanish. Ha! my fine boy, thou art a scholar, and hast read Tully’s Offices, my fine knave. Hang toasts!
Coc. What a fool he is; I can handle my own lies, esteemed friend. Forget the toasts! I’m out of here. Ha! You, my clever boy, are a scholar, and you’ve read Tully’s Offices, you clever rascal. Forget the toasts!
Free. The vintner will toast you, and he catch you.
Free. The winemaker will raise a glass to you, and he will catch you.
Coc. I will draw the vintner to the stoop, and when he runs low, tilt him. Ha! my fine knave, art going to thy recreation? 170
Coc. I’ll bring the winemaker to the porch, and when he’s had enough, I’ll tip him over. Ha! my good friend, are you off to your fun?
Free. Yes, my capricious rascal.
Free. Yes, my mischievous rascal.
Coc. Thou wilt look like a fool then, by and by.
Coc. You'll look like a fool then, sooner or later.
Free. Look like a fool, why?
Free. Why look like a fool?
Coc. Why, according to the old saying: a beggar when he is lousing of himself, looks like a philosopher; a hard-bound philosopher, when he is on the stool, looks like a tyrant; and a wise man, when he is in his belly act, looks like a fool. God give your worship good rest! grace and mercy keep your syringe straight, and your lotium unspilt. 180
Coc. Well, as the saying goes: a beggar, when he's getting rid of his lice, looks like a philosopher; a serious philosopher, when he's on the toilet, looks like a tyrant; and a wise man, when he's drunk, looks like a fool. May your worship get good rest! May grace and mercy keep your syringe straight, and your lotium unspilt. 180
Enter Franceschina.
Enter Franceschina.
Free. See, sir, this is she.
Free. Look, sir, this is her.
Mal. This?
Mal. This?
Free. This.
Free. This.
Mal. A courtezan?—Now, cold blood defend me! What a propension[24] afflicts me!
Mal. A courtesan?—Now, cold blood, defend me! What a strange urge[24] is taking over me!
O, mine aderliver[25] love, vat sall me do to requit dis your mush affection?
Free. Marry, salute my friend, clip his neck, and kiss him welcome.
Free. Come on, greet my friend, give him a hug, and kiss him to say welcome.
A’ mine art, sir, you bin very velcome. 190
In my art, sir, you have been very welcome. 190
Free. Kiss her, man, with a more familiar affection, so. Come, what entertainment? go to your lute.
Free. Kiss her, dude, with a little more love, like that. So, what's going on? Grab your lute.
[Exit Franceschina.
[Exit Franceschina.
And how dost approve my sometimes elected? She’s none of your ramping cannibals that devour man’s flesh, nor any of your Curtian gulfs that will never be satisfied until the best thing a man has be thrown into them. I loved her with my heart, until my soul showed me the imperfection of my body, and placed my affection on a lawful love, my modest Beatrice, which if this shortheels knew, there were no being for me with eyes before her face. But, faith, dost thou not somewhat excuse my sometimes incontinency, with her enforcive beauties? Speak. 203
And how do you approve of my occasional choices? She’s not one of those wild cannibals who devour human flesh, nor one of those never-satisfied pits that will take the best a man has to offer. I loved her with all my heart until my soul made me aware of my body's flaws and led me to a more appropriate love, my modest Beatrice. If this little man knew about that, I wouldn't even be able to stand in front of her. But honestly, can you not excuse my occasional lack of restraint given her overwhelming beauty? Speak.
Mal. Hah! she is a whore, is she not?
Mal. Hah! She's a prostitute, isn’t she?
Free. Whore? fie, whore! you may call her a courtezan, a cockatrice,[26] or (as that worthy spirit of an eternal happiness said) a suppository. But whore! fie, ’tis not in fashion to call things by their right names. Is a great merchant a cuckold, you must say he is one of the livery. Is a great lord a fool, you must say he is weak. Is a gallant pocky, you must say he has the court scab. Come, she’s your mistress or so. 212
Free. Whore? Ugh, whore! You can call her a courtesan, a cockatrice,[26] or (as that noble spirit of eternal happiness said) a suppository. But whore! Ugh, it’s not stylish to call things by their true names. If a great merchant is a cuckold, you have to say he’s one of the livery. If a great lord is a fool, you have to say he’s weak. If a gallant has pocks, you have to say he has the court scab. Come on, she’s your mistress or something like that. 212
Enter Franceschina, with her lute.
Enter Franceschina, with her guitar.
Come, siren, your voice.
Come, siren, your song.
Fra. Vill not you stay in mine bosom to-night, love?
Fra. Won't you stay in my arms tonight, love?
Free. By no means, sweet breast; this gentleman has vow’d to see me chastely laid.
Free. Not at all, sweet heart; this guy has promised to see me kept pure.
Fra. He shall have a bed too, if dat it please him.
Fra. He can have a bed too if that suits him.
Free. Peace, you tender him offence; he is one of a professed abstinence. Siren, your voice and away.
Free. Calm down, you’re bothering him; he’s someone who has chosen to abstain. Siren, just use your voice and go.
She sings to her Lute.
She sings to her guitar.
THE SONG.
THE TUNE.
So it's the nightingale's;
My music is at night,
So is the nightingale's;
My body is small,
So is the nightingale’s;
I love to sleep against prickles,
So does the nightingale.
Thanks; buss; so. The night grows old; good rest.
Thanks; bye; so. The night is getting late; get some good rest.
Fra. Rest to mine dear love; rest, and no long absence. 230
Fra. Take a break, my dear love; rest, and don’t be gone for too long. 230
Free. Believe me, not long.
Free. Trust me, not long.
Fra. Sall ick not believe you long?
Fra. Shall I believe you for much longer?
[Exit Franceschina.
[Leave Franceschina.
Free. O yes, come, via![27]—away, boy—on!
O yes, come, via!—away, boy—on!
[Exit, his Page lighting him.
[Exit, his page lighting him.]
Re-enter Freevill, and seems to overhear Malheureux.
Come back Freevill, and appears to overhear Malheureux.
Mal. Is she unchaste—can such a one be damn’d?
O love and beauty! ye two eldest seeds
Of the vast chaos, what strong right you have
Even in things divine—our very souls!
Mal. Is she not innocent—how can someone like her be judged?
Oh love and beauty! You two timeless forces.
From the endless chaos, what a strong claim you have!
Even in spiritual matters—our very souls!
Free. [aside.] Wha, ha, ho! come, bird, come. Stand, peace!
Free. [aside.] Wow, hey! Come here, bird, come. Wait, be quiet!
Mal. Are strumpets then such things so delicate?
Can custom spoil what nature made so good? 240
Or is their custom bad? Beauty’s for use—
I never saw a sweet face vicious!
It might be proud, inconstant, wanton, nice,
But never tainted with unnatural vice.
Their worst is, their best art is love to win—
O that to love should be or shame, or sin!
Mal. Are prostitutes really that delicate?
Can society destroy what nature created so well? 240
Or is their behavior really that terrible? Beauty is meant to be appreciated—
I've never seen a beautiful face that's corrupt!
It could be proud, changeable, flirtatious, or choosy,
But it's never tainted by unnatural wrongdoing.
Their biggest flaw is that their greatest talent is winning love—
Oh, why is love considered shameful or sinful!
Free. [aside.] By the Lord! he’s caught! Laughter eternal!
Free. [aside.] Oh my God! He’s been caught! Hilarious!
Mal. Soul, I must love her! Destiny is weak
To my affection.—A common love!—
Blush not, faint breast! 250
That which is ever loved of most is best.
Let colder eld the strong’st objections move,
No love’s without some lust, no life without some love.
Mal. Soul, I have to love her! Destiny is powerless.
Despite my feelings.—Just a typical love!—
Don’t be shy, timid heart! 250
What a lot of people love the most is the best.
Let older, more traditional people express their strongest objections,
There's no love without a bit of desire, and no life without some love.
Free. Nay, come on, good sir; what, though the most odious spectacle the world can present be an immodest vulgar woman? yet, sir, for my sake——
Free. No, come on, good sir; even if the most disgusting sight the world can show is a shameless, vulgar woman? Still, sir, for my sake
Mal. Well, sir, for your sake, I’ll think better of them.
Mal. Okay, sir, for your sake, I’ll try to view them more positively.
Free. Do, good sir; and pardon me that have brought you in:
You know the sight of vice augments the hate of sin.
Free. Please do, kind sir; and I apologize for involving you:
You know that witnessing wrongdoing makes you dislike sin even more.
Mal. Hah! will you go home, sir; ’tis high bedtime? 260
Mal. Hah! Are you heading home, sir? It's late and time to sleep. 260
Free. With all my heart, sir; only do not chide me.
I must confess——
Free. I mean it, sir; just don’t yell at me.
I have to admit—
Mal. A wanton lover you have been.
Mal. You've been an unfaithful partner.
Free. O that to love should be or shame or sin!
Free. Oh, why should love be considered shameful or wrong!
Mal. Say ye?
Mal. What do you say?
Free. Let colder eld the strongest objections move!
Free. Let a more mature perspective raise the strongest objections!
Mal. How’s this?
Mal. How's this going?
Free. No love’s without some lust, no life without some love.
Free. You can't have love without some lust, and you can't have life without a bit of love.
Go your ways for an apostata! I believe my cast garment
must be let out in the seams for you when all is
done. 270
Go away, you traitor! I think my old clothes will need to be let out in the seams for you when everything is done. 270
Of all the fools that would all man out-thrust,
He that ’gainst Nature would seem wise is worst.
Among all the fools anyone could mention,
The person who acts wise against Nature is the worst.
[Exeunt.
[Exit.]
[15] Cf. Middleton, iv. 246.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Cf. Middleton, iv. 246.
[16] Cant term for a bawd.
Slang for a pimp.
[17] “Encherisseur. A high bidder or out-bidder of others; a raiser or enhancer of the price of things,” &c.—Cotgrave.
[17] “Encherisseur. A person who bids high or outbids others; someone who raises or enhances the price of items,” &c.—Cotgrave.
[18] Old eds. “lotinus.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “lotinus.”
[19] “Diet-drink”—medicine prescribed for a patient who was taking diet (i.e., being treated for the pox).
[19] “Diet drink”—medication given to a patient who was on a diet (i.e., being treated for syphilis).
[20] Ed. 2. “giddy youth, and unsetled.”
“excitable youth, and unsettled.”
[21] It appears from many passages in old writers that bawds were accustomed to wear rings with death’s heads on them. Cf. Dekker and Webster’s Northward Ho, iv. 1:—“And as if I were a bawd no ring pleases me but a death’s head.”
[21] It seems from various sections in old texts that pimps used to wear rings with skulls on them. Cf. Dekker and Webster’s Northward Ho, iv. 1:—“And as if I were a pimp, no ring satisfies me except a skull.”
[22] Turnmill Street, the headquarters of Elizabethan whores, was situated in Clerkenwell.
[22] Turnmill Street, the hub of Elizabethan sex workers, was located in Clerkenwell.
[23] i.e., is in ambush.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ is lying in wait.
[24] Old eds. “proportion.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "proportion."
[26] A term for a courtezan; particularly applied to a captain’s mistress.
[26] A term for a courtesan; especially used for a captain’s girlfriend.
[27] “Via”—away, on!
“Via”—away, on!
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Outside Sir Hubert Subboy’s house, under Beatrice’s window.
Outside Sir Hubert Subboy’s house, under Beatrice’s window.
Enter Freevill, Pages with torches and Gentlemen with music.
Enter Freevill, Pages with torches and gentlemen with music.
Free. The morn is yet but young. Here, gentlemen,
This is my Beatrice’ window—this the chamber
Of my betrothèd dearest, whose chaste eyes,
Full of loved sweetness and clear cheerfulness,
Have gaged my soul to her enjoyings;
Shredding away all those weak under-branches
Of base affections and unfruitful heats.
Here bestow your music to my voice.
Free. The morning is just getting started. Here, gentlemen,
This is my Beatrice's window—this is the room.
Of my beloved, with those pure eyes,
Overflowing with sweet love and bright happiness,
Have taken hold of my soul for her pleasure;
Cutting away all those weak branches
Of superficial feelings and unworthy desires.
Here, let your music complement my voice.
[A song.
A song.
Enter Beatrice above.
Enter Beatrice above.
Always a virtuous name to my chaste love!
Always a respectable name to my true love!
Bea. Loved sir, 10
The honour of your wish return to you.
I cannot with a mistress’ compliment,
Forcèd discourses, or nice art of wit,
Give entertain to your dear-wishèd presence:
But safely thus,—what hearty gratefulness,
Unsullen silence, unaffected modesty,
And an unignorant shamefastness can express,
Receive as your protested due. ’Faith, my heart,
I am your servant.
O let not my secure simplicity 20
Breed your mislike, as one quite void of skill;
’Tis grace enough in us not to be ill.
I can some good, and, faith, I mean no hurt;
Do not then, sweet, wrong sober ignorance.
I judge you all of virtue, and our vows
Should kill all fears that base distrust can move.
My soul, what say you—still you love?
Bea. Loved, sir, 10
I return the favor of your wish.
I can't give you compliments from a mistress,
Forced small talk or witty banter,
To welcome your eagerly awaited presence:
But truly, what heartfelt gratitude,
Quiet peace, true humility,
And a genuine sense of shame can reveal,
Accept what is rightfully yours. Truly, my heart,
I’m your servant.
Oh, let my genuine simplicity
Not make you dislike me as someone totally unskilled;
It's enough grace for us to not be difficult.
I can do some good, and honestly, I have no intention of causing harm;
So please, darling, don’t misunderstand innocent ignorance.
I believe you are all good people, and our commitments
Should eliminate all fears that distrust can generate.
My dear, what do you think—do you still love?
Free. Still!
My vow is up above me, and, like time,
Irrevocable: I am sworn all yours.
No beauty shall untwine our arms, no face 30
In my eyes can or shall seem fair;
And would to God only to me you might
Seem only fair! Let others disesteem
Your matchless graces, so might I safer seem;
Envy I covet not. Far, far be all ostent—
Vain boasts of beauties, soft joys, and the rest:
He that is wise pants on a private breast.
So could I live in desert most unknown,
Yourself to me enough were populous;[28]
Your eyes shall be my joys, my wine that still 40
Shall drown my often cares; your only voice
Shall cast a slumber on my list’ning sense;
You, with soft lip, shall only ope mine eyes
And suck their lids asunder; only you
Shall make me wish to live, and not fear death,
So on your cheeks I might yield latest breath.
O he that thus may live and thus shall die,
May well be envied of a deity.[29]
Free. Still!
My promise is greater than me, and, like time,
I'm all yours.
No beauty will divide us, no face __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
In my opinion, nothing can or will ever seem attractive.
And I wish to God that it could be just me that you might
Seem truly beautiful! Let others underestimate.
Your unique charms might make me seem safer;
I don't want envy. Let all the flashy things stay far away—
Empty claims of beauty, fleeting pleasures, and everything else:
The wise person relies on a personal sense of understanding.
I could live in a desert, completely anonymous,
Only you can make me feel truly surrounded; [28]
Your eyes will bring me joy, the wine that always __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Will drown my constant worries; your voice alone
Will soothe my listening senses to sleep;
You, with your soft lips, will be the one to open my eyes.
And pull their lids apart; only you
Will make me want to live, without being afraid of death,
So that I could take my last breath on your cheeks.
Oh, the one who can live like this and die like this,
Must be envied by a god. [29]
Bea. Dear, my loved heart, be not so passionate;
Nothing extreme lives long. 50
Bea. My dear, my beloved, don’t be so intense;
Nothing extreme lasts forever. 50
Free. But not to be extreme[30]—nothing in love’s extreme—
My love receives no mean.
Bea. I give you faith; and, prithee, since, poor soul!
I am so easy to believe thee, make it much more pity to
deceive me!
Wear this slight favour in my remembrance.
Bea. I believe in you; and really, since you’re struggling so much!
I’m so quick to trust you, it just makes it even more disappointing to be deceived!
Wear this small gift to remember me.
[Throweth down a ring to him.
Throws him a ring.
Free. Which, when I part from,
Hope, the best of life, ever part from me.
Free. Whenever I exit it,
Hope, the most important part of life, always seems to leave me.
Free. Good morrow, graceful mistress: our nuptial day holds.
Free. Good morning, lovely lady: our wedding day is set.
Bea. With happy constancy a wishèd day.
Bea. With joyful determination, a long-awaited day.
[Exit.
Exit.
Free. Myself and all content rest with you.
Free. Everything about me and all the content belongs to you.
Enter Malheureux.
Enter Unfortunate.
Mal. The studious morn, with paler cheek, draws on
The day’s bold light. Hark how the free-born birds
Carol their unaffected passions!
Mal. The clear morning, with a brighter vibe, is coming in.
the day's bright light. Listen to the wild birds
share their true feelings!
[The nightingales sing.
The nightingales are singing.
Now sing they sonnets—thus they cry, We love!
O breath of heaven! thus they, harmless souls, 70
Give entertain to mutual affects.
They have no bawds, no mercenary beds,
No polite restraints, no artificial heats,
No faint dissemblings; no custom makes them blush,
No shame afflicts their name. O you happy beasts!
In whom an inborn heat is not held sin,
How far transcend you wretched, wretched man,
Whom national custom, tyrannous respects
Of slavish order, fetters, lames his power,
Calling that sin in us which in all things else 80
Is Nature’s highest virtue.
O miseri quorum gaudia crimen habent!
Sure Nature against virtue cross doth fall,
Or virtue’s self is oft unnatural.
That I should love a strumpet! I, a man of snow!
Now, shame forsake me—whither am I fallen!
A creature of a public use! my friend’s love, too!
To live to be a talk to men—a shame
To my professed virtue! O accursed reason,
How many eyes hast thou to see thy shame, 90
And yet how blind once to prevent defame!
Now they sing sonnets—shouting, We love!
Oh breath of heaven! They, innocent souls, 70
Foster shared feelings.
They have no pimps, no paid partners,
No polite limits, no insincere emotions,
No weak pretenses; no customs make them embarrassed,
No shame stains their reputation. Oh, you fortunate beings!
In whom a natural desire isn't wrong,
How much higher are you, pitiful, pitiful man,
Societal norms, oppressive expectations
In a submissive state, bind and diminish your strength,
Identifying the sin within us that exists in everything else __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Is nature's greatest virtue.
Oh miserable ones, your joys are nothing but crimes!
Surely nature opposes virtue,
Sometimes, virtue itself can feel unnatural.
That I should love a prostitute! Me, a man of integrity!
Now, shame has left me—where have I gone wrong!
A creature for everyone to use! My friend's affection, as well!
Living only to be the subject of gossip is shameful.
To my claimed virtue! Oh, cursed logic,
How many eyes do you have to witness your shame, 90
And yet how blind people were once to avoid embarrassment!
Free. Diaboli virtus in lumbis est! Morrow, my friend. Come, I could make a tedious scene of this now; but what——Pah! thou art in love with a courtezan! Why, sir, should we loathe all strumpets, some men should hate their own mothers or sisters: a sin against kind, I can tell you.
Free. The power of the devil is in your loins! Tomorrow, my friend. Come on, I could drag this out and make it boring; but what—ugh! you’re in love with a prostitute! Why, sir, should we despise all sex workers? Some men might as well hate their own mothers or sisters: that’s a sin against nature, let me tell you.
Mal. May it beseem a wise man to be in love?
Mal. Is it fitting for a wise man to be in love?
Free. Let wise men alone, ’twill beseem thee and me well enough. 100
Free. Just let the wise men be; that suits you and me just fine. enough. 100
Mal. Shall I not offend the vowe[d] band of our friendship?
Mal. Should I not violate the sacred bond of our friendship?
Free. What, to affect that which thy friend affected? By Heaven, I resign her freely; the creature and I must grow off; by this time she has assure[d]ly heard of my resolved marriage, and no question swears “God’s sacrament, ten towsand divells.” I’ll resign, i’faith.
Free. What, to go after what your friend wanted? I swear, I let her go willingly; the both of us need to part ways; by now she’s definitely heard about my planned marriage, and no doubt she’s cursing “God’s sacrament, ten thousand devils.” I’ll let her go, I truly will.
Mal. I would but embrace her, hear her speak, and at the most, but kiss her.
Mal. I would just hold her, listen to her talk, and at most, just kiss her.
Free. O friend, he that could live with the smoke of roast-meat might live at a cheap rate! 111
Free. Oh friend, anyone who can stand the smell of roasting meat could definitely survive on a budget! rate! 111
Mal. I shall ne’er prove heartily received;
A kind of flat ungracious modesty,
An insufficient dulness stains my ’haviour.
Mal. I will never be fully accepted;
A kind of boring, unappreciative modesty,
A lack of energy is affecting my behavior.
Free. No matter, sir; insufficiency and sottishness are much commendable in a most discommendable action: now could I swallow thee, thou hadst wont to be so harsh and cold: I’ll tell thee,—hell and the prodigies of angry Jove are not so fearful to a thinking mind as a man without affection. Why, friend, philosophy and nature are all one; love is the centre in which all lines close, the common bond of being. 122
Free. No matter, sir; being insufficient and foolish is often praised in a really terrible action: now I could take you in, you used to be so harsh and cold: I’ll tell you,—hell and the terrifying feats of an angry Jupiter aren't as frightening to a thoughtful mind as a person without feelings. Why, my friend, philosophy and nature are the same; love is the center where all lines meet, the common bond of being. 122
Mal. O but a chaste reservèd privateness,
A modest continence!
Mal. Oh, but a pure and modest privacy,
A simple self-discipline!
Free. I’ll tell thee what, take this as firmest sense:—
Incontinence will force a continence;
Heat wasteth heat, light defaceth light,
Nothing is spoiled but by his proper might.
This is something too weighty for thy floor.
Free. Let me be clear:—
More excess means more restraint;
Heat consumes heat, light dims light,
Nothing gets harmed except by its own strength.
This is something that's too heavy for your floor.
Mal. But howsoe’er you shade it, the world’s eye 130
Shines hot and open on’t;
Lying, malice, envy, are held but slidings,
Errors of rage, when custom and the world
Calls lust a crime spotted with blackest terrors.
Mal. But no matter how you look at it, the world's attention
Shines brightly and openly on it;
Lying, malice, and envy are viewed as minor mistakes,
Mistakes made in anger, when society and the world
Label desire a crime stained by our deepest fears.
Free. Where errors are held crimes, crimes are but errors.
Free. Where mistakes are treated like crimes, crimes are merely mistakes.
Along, sir, to her; she’s an arrant strumpet; and a strumpet is a sarpego, venom’d gonorrhy to man—things actually possessed [Offers to go out, and suddenly draws back]—yet since thou art in love,—and again, as good make use of a statue—a body without a soul, a carcass three months dead—yet since thou art in love——
Along, sir, to her; she’s a complete floozy; and a floozy is a poisonous disease to men—things actually possessed [Offers to go out, and suddenly draws back]—yet since you are in love,—and really, it’s just as good to make use of a statue—a body without a soul, a corpse three months dead—yet since you are in love
Mal. Death, man! my destiny I cannot choose. 142
Mal. Death, dude! I can't control my destiny. 142
Free. Nay, I hope so. Again, they sell but only flesh,
No jot affection; so that even in the enjoying,
Free. No, I really hope so. Once again, they only sell the physical,
Without any sign of love; so that even in the enjoyment,
Absentem marmoreamque putes.[31] Yet since you needs must love——
You would think him absent but like marble.[31] Yet since you must love
Mal. Unavoidable, though folly—worse than madness!
Mal. Unavoidable, but foolish—worse than crazy!
Free. It’s true; but since you needs must love, you must know this,—
He that must love, a fool and he must kiss.
Free. It's true; but because you have to love, you should be aware of this—
Anyone who has to love is a fool, and they have to kiss.
Enter Cocledemoy.
Enter Cocledemoy.
Master Cocledemoy, ut vales, Domine! 150
Master Cocledemoy, ut vales, Domine! 150
Coc. Ago tibi gratias, my worshipful friend, how does your friend?
Coc. Thank you, my dear friend, how is your friend doing?
Free. Out, you rascal!
Free. Get out, you rascal!
Coc. Hang toasts, you are an ass; much o’ your worship’s brain lies in your calves; bread o’ god, boy, I was at supper last night with a new-wean’d bulchin; bread o’ god, drunk, horribly drunk—horribly drunk! there was a wench, one Frank Frailty, a punk, an honest polecat, of a clean instep, sound leg, smooth thigh, and the nimble devil in her buttock. Ah, feast o’ grace! when saw you, Tysefew, or Master Caqueteur, that prattling gallant of a good draught, common customs, fortunate impudence, and sound fart? 163
Coc. Hang on, you’re such a fool; most of what you think is in your legs. Goodness, I was at dinner last night with a baby calf; my goodness, I was so drunk—absolutely wasted! There was a girl, Frank Frailty, a lovely troublemaker, a clean girl, with a fit leg, smooth thigh, and a mischievous spirit. Ah, what a feast! When did you last see Tysefew, or Master Caqueteur, that boastful guy known for his good drinks, usual antics, boldness, and decent flatulence? fart?
Free. Away, rogue!
Free. Go away, you rogue!
Coc. Hang toasts, my fine boy, my companion as worshipful.
Coc. Hang toasts, my good boy, my esteemed companion.
Mal. Yes, I hear you are taken up with scholars and churchmen.
Mal. Yes, I hear you are involved with scholars and church leaders.
Hol. Does[33] your worship want a barber-surgeon? 170
Hol. Does __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ your honor need a barber-surgeon? 170
Free. Farewell, knave; beware the Mulligrubs.
Free. Goodbye, dude; watch out for the Mulligrubs.
[Exeunt Freevill and Malhereux.
[Exit Freevill and Malhereux.
Coc. Let the Mulligrubs beware the knave. What, a barber-surgeon, my delicate boy?
Coc. Let the Mulligrubs watch out for the trickster. What, a barber-surgeon, my sensitive boy?
Hol. Yes, sir, an apprentice to surgery.
Hol. Yes, sir, I'm a surgical intern.
Coc.[34] ’Tis, my fine boy. To what bawdy-house doth your master belong? What’s thy name?
Coc.[34] It is, my good boy. Which brothel does your master go to? What’s your name?
Hol. Holifernes Reinscure.
Hol. Holifernes Reinscure.
Coc. Reinscure! Good Master Holifernes, I desire your further acquaintance; nay, pray ye be covered, my fine boy: kill thy itch, and heal thy scabs. Is thy master rotten? 181
Coc. Reinscure! Good Master Holifernes, I’d like to get to know you better; come on, cover up, my fine boy: scratch your itch and heal your sores. Is your master rotten? 181
Hol. My father, forsooth, is dead——
Hol. My father, indeed, is dead——
Coc. And laid in his grave.
Alas! what comfort shall Peggy then have![35]
Coc. And laid in his grave.
Oh no! What comfort will Peggy have then![35]
Hol. None but me, sir; that’s my mother’s son, I assure you.
Hol. Just me, sir; that's my mother's son, I promise you.
Coc. Mother’s son? A good witty boy, would live to read an homily well: and to whom are you going now?
Coc. Is that your mother's son? A clever, funny kid, would actually enjoy reading a sermon well: and who are you off to see now?
Coc. Do you know Master Mulligrub?
Coc. Do you know Master Mulligrub?
Hol. My godfather, sir.
My godfather, sir.
Coc. Good boy: hold up thy chops. I pray thee do one thing for me: my name is Gudgeon.
Coc. Good boy: lift up your mouth. Please do one thing for me: my name is Gudgeon.
Hol. Good Master Gudgeon.
Good Master Gudgeon.
Coc. Lend me thy basin, razor, and apron.
Coc. Give me your bowl, razor, and apron.
Hol. O Lord, sir![36]
O Lord, sir! __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Coc. Well spoken; good English. But what’s thy furniture worth?
Coc. Well said; good English. But what's your furniture worth?
Hol. O Lord, sir, I know not. 200
O Lord, sir, I don't know.
Coc. Well spoken; a boy of a good wit: hold this pawn; where dost dwell?
Coc. Well spoken; a clever boy: keep this pawn; where do you live?
Hol. At the sign of the Three Razors, sir.
Hol. At the Three Razors bar, sir.
Coc. A sign of good shaving, my catastrophonical fine boy. I have an odd jest to trim Master Mulligrub, for a wager; a jest, boy; a humour. I’ll return thy things presently. Hold!
Coc. A sign of good shaving, my extremely fine boy. I have a funny plan to shave Master Mulligrub, just for a bet; a joke, boy; some humor. I'll bring your things back soon. Wait!
Hol. What mean you, good Master Gudgeon?
Hol. What do you mean, good Master Gudgeon?
Coc. Nothing, faith, but a jest, boy: drink that; I’ll recoil presently. 210
Coc. Seriously, it's just a joke, kid: take this drink; I'll be back in a bit. 210
Hol. You’ll not stay long.
You won't stay long.
Coc. As I am an honest man. The Three Razors?
Coc. Since I am an honest man. The Three Razors?
Hol. Ay, sir.
Yeah, sir.
[Exit Holifernes.
[Exit Holifernes.
Coc. Good; and if I shave not Master Mulligrub, my wit has no edge, and I may[37] go cack in my pewter. Let me see,—a barber: my scurvy tongue will discover me: must dissemble, must disguise; for my beard, my false hair; for my tongue—Spanish, Dutch or Welsh—no, a Northern barber; very good. Widow Reinscure’s man, well; newly entertain’d, right; so, hang toasts! all cards have white backs, and all knaves would seem to have white breasts: so proceed now, worshipful Cocledemoy.
Coc. Good; and if I don't shave Master Mulligrub, my wit has no edge, and I might as well go mess around in my pewter. Let me think,—a barber: my scabby tongue will give me away: I must hide, must disguise; for my beard, my fake hair; for my tongue—Spanish, Dutch, or Welsh—no, a Northern barber; that works. Widow Reinscure’s guy, alright; just hired, perfect; so, forget the toasts! all cards have white backs, and all fools seem to have white chests: so let's proceed now, honorable Cocledemoy.
[Exit Cocledemoy, in his barber’s furniture.
[Exit Cocledemoy, in his barber's chair.
[28] “It is impossible to resist the idea that Marston was here thinking of Shakespeare: ‘Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company. For you, in my respect, are all the world.’”—Halliwell.
[28] “It’s hard to ignore the thought that Marston had Shakespeare in mind: ‘And this forest has no shortage of company. For you, to me, are everything.’”—Halliwell.
[29] Ed. 1. “dietie,”—a recognised form of the word deity. See the index to Old Plays, ed. Bullen, sub Diety.
[29] Ed. 1. “dietie,”—a recognized form of the word deity. See the index to Old Plays, ed. Bullen, sub Diet.
[30] I suggest the following arrangement:—
I suggest this setup:—
“Free. Be not extreme!
Nothing in love’s extreme, my love receives
No mean.
Bea. I give you faith, and prithee since,
Poor soul! I am so easy to believe thee,
Make it much more [a] pity to deceive me.”
“Free. Don't be too hard!
There's no limit in love; my love embraces everything.
No boundaries.
Bea. I trust you, and please, because,
Poor thing! I easily believe you,
"It would be even more heartbreaking if you lied to me."
[31] Martial, xi. 60.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Martial, 11. 60.
[33] “Does ... surgeon” given to Cocledemoy in the old eds.
[33] “Does ... surgeon” attributed to Cocledemoy in the old editions.
[34] Not marked in old eds.
Not marked in previous editions.
[35] On 26th September 1588 “A ballad intytuled Peggies Complaint for the Death of her Willye” was entered in the Stationers’ Registers: I suppose that Cocledemoy is quoting from this ballad. In The Three Lords and Three Ladies of London, 1590 (Hazlitt’s Dodsley, vi. 393), the ballad of “Peggy and Willy” is mentioned.
[35] On September 26, 1588, “A ballad titled Peggie's Complaint for the Death of her Willy” was recorded in the Stationers’ Registers: I believe that Cocledemoy is referencing this ballad. In The Three Lords and Three Ladies of London, 1590 (Hazlitt’s Dodsley, vi. 393), the ballad of “Peggy and Willy” is mentioned.
[36] See note 2, vol. i. p. 32.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note 2, vol. 1, p. 32.
[37] Omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 2.
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Franceschina’s lodging.
Franceschina’s place.
Enter Mary Faugh, and Franceschina with her hair loose, chafing.
Enter Mary Faugh, and Franceschina with her hair down, fidgeting.
Mar. Nay, good sweet daughter, do not swagger so; you hear your love is to be married, true; he does cast you off, right; he will leave you to the world,—what then? though blue and white, black and green, leave you, may not red and yellow entertain you? is there but one colour in the rainbow?
Mar. No, darling, don’t act so full of yourself; you know your love is getting married, right? He’s letting you go, that's true; he’ll leave you for good—so what? Even if blue and white, black and green, abandon you, can’t red and yellow bring you some joy? Is there only one color in the rainbow?
Fra. Grand grincome[38] on your sentences! God’s sacrament, ten towsand divels take you!—you ha’ brought mine love, mine honour, mine body, all to noting! 10
Fra. Great job ruining your sentences! Damn it, ten thousand devils take you!—you’ve turned my love, my honor, my body, all into nothing! 10
Mar. To nothing! I’ll be sworn I have brought them to all the things I could; I ha’ made as much o’ your maidenhead—and you had been mine own daughter, I could not ha’ sold your maidenhead oft’ner than I ha’ done. I ha’ sworn for you, God forgive me! I have made you acquainted with the Spaniard, Don Skirtoll,—with the Italian, Messer Beieroane,—with the Irish lord, S. Patrick,—with the Dutch merchant, Haunce Herkin Glukin Skellam Flapdragon,—and specially with the greatest French, and now lastly with this English, yet, in my conscience, an honest gentleman. And am I now grown one of the accursed with you for my labour? Is this my reward? Am I call’d bawd? Well, Mary Faugh, go thy ways, Mary Faugh; thy kind heart will bring thee to the hospital. 25
Mar. To nothing! I swear I’ve introduced you to every possible option; I’ve made as much of your virginity—and if you were my own daughter, I couldn’t have sold your virginity any more than I already have. I’ve sworn for you, God forgive me! I’ve introduced you to the Spaniard, Don Skirtoll, the Italian, Messer Beieroane, the Irish lord, S. Patrick, the Dutch merchant, Haunce Herkin Glukin Skellam Flapdragon, and especially to the greatest Frenchman, and now lastly to this Englishman, who, in my opinion, is a decent guy. And now am I cursed along with you for my efforts? Is this my reward? Am I called a pimp? Well, Mary Faugh, go your way, Mary Faugh; your kind heart will lead you to the hospital. 25
Fra. Nay, good naunt, you’ll help me to an oder love, vil you not?
Fra. No, good aunt, will you help me find another love?
Mar. Out, thou naughty belly! wouldst thou make me thy bawd?—thou’st best make me thy bawd. I ha’ kept counsel for thee: who paid the apothecary,—was’t not honest Mary Faugh? who redeem’d thy petticoat and mantle,—was’t not honest Mary Faugh? who helped thee to thy custom,—not swaggering Ireland captains, nor of two-shilling inns-o’-court men,—but with honest flat-caps,[39] wealthy flat-caps, that pay for their pleasure the best of any men in Europe, nay, which is more, in London? And dost thou defy me, vile creature? 37
Mar. Out, you naughty belly! Are you trying to make me your pimp?—you'd better make me your pimp. I've kept secrets for you: who paid the pharmacist,—was it not honest Mary Faugh? Who got your skirt and cloak back,—was it not honest Mary Faugh? Who helped you with your customers,—not arrogant Irish captains, nor the two-shilling guys from inns at court,—but with good honest men in flat caps,[39] wealthy flat-caps, who pay the best for their fun of all men in Europe, not to mention, in London? And you dare to defy me, vile creature? 37
Fra. Foutra[40] pon you,—vitch, bawd, polecat,—paugh! Did not you praise Freevill to mine love?
Fra. Foutra[40] on you,—witch, whore, skunk,—ugh! Didn’t you compliment Freevill to my love?
Fra. It is, it is, vile woman!—reprobate woman!—naughty woman! it is: vat sall become of mine poor flesh now? mine body must turn Turk for twopence. O Divela, life o’ mine art! ick sall be reveng’d!—do ten thousand hell damn me, ick sall have the rogue trote cut! and his love, and his friend, and all his affinity, sall smart! sall dye! sall hang! Now legion of devil seize him!—de gran pest, St. Anthony’s fire, and de hot Neapolitan poc, rot him! 52
Fra. It is, it is, wicked woman!—shameless woman!—bad woman! It is: what will happen to my poor body now? My flesh must turn to a Turk for two cents. Oh God, my life! I will be avenged!—may ten thousand hells damn me, I will have the rogue's throat cut! And his love, and his friend, and all his family will suffer! Will die! Will hang! Now let a legion of devils seize him!—the great plague, St. Anthony’s fire, and the hot Neapolitan pestilence, rot him! 52
Enter Freevill and Malheureux.
Enter Freevill and Malheureux.
Free. Franceschina!
Free. Franceschina!
Fra. O mine seet, dear’st, kindest, mine loving! O mine towsand, ten towsand, delicated, petty[41] seet art!
Fra. O my sweet, dearest, kindest, my love! O my thousands, ten thousands, delicate, precious[41] sweet art!
[Cantat Gallicè.
Sing in French.
A[h] mine, a[h] dear leevest affection!
A mine, a dear sweetest affection!
Free. Why, monkey, no fashion in you! Give entertain to my friend.
Free. Why, monkey, you have no style! Entertain my friend.
Fra. Ick sall make de most of you dat courtesy may.
Aunt Mary, Mettre Faugh, stools, stools, for des gallants!
Mine mettre sing non oder song,[42]—frolic, frolic, sir!— 61
but still complain me do her wrong. Lighten your heart,
sir; for me did but kiss her,—for me did but kiss her—and
so let go. Your friend is very heavy; ick sall ne’er
like such sad company.
Fra. I'll make the most of whatever courtesy you have to offer.
Aunt Mary, Set up the stools for the gentlemen!
Mine mettre sing non oder song,[42]—come on, let's have some fun, sir!— 61
but still complain me do her wrong. Lighten up,
sir; because I only kissed her,—I only kissed her—and
so let it go. Your friend is in a bad mood; I’ll never
like such gloomy company.
Free. No, thou delightest only in light company.
Free. No, you only enjoy the company of others.
Fra. By mine trot, he been very sad; vat ail you, sir?
Fra. By my word, he has been very sad; what’s wrong with you, sir?
Mal. A tooth-ache, lady, a paltry rheum.
Mal. A toothache, ma'am, just a little cold.
Fra. De diet is very goot for de rheum.
Fra. This diet is really good for the rheumatism.
Free. How far off dwells the house-surgeon, Mary Faugh? 71
Free. How far away is the house-surgeon, Mary? Fuh? 71
Mar. You are a profane fellow, i’faith; I little thought to hear such ungodly terms come from your lips.
Mar. You’re a foul-mouthed guy, seriously; I never expected to hear such blasphemous words come from you.
Fra. Pre de now, ’tis but a toy, a very trifle.
Fra. It's just a toy, a complete trifle.
Free. I care not for the value, Frank, but i’faith——
Free. I don't care about the value, Frank, but I—honestly
Fra. I’fait, me must needs have it (dis is Beatrice’ ring, oh could I get it!); seet, pre de now, as ever you have embraced me with a hearty arm, a warm thought, or a pleasing touch, as ever you will profess to love me, as ever you do wish me life, give me dis ring, dis little ring. 81
Fra. I must have it (this is Beatrice’s ring, oh how I want it!); so now, as you have always held me with open arms, shared warm thoughts, or offered a nice touch, as long as you claim to love me, and as long as you wish me well, give me this ring, this little ring. 81
Free. Prithee be not uncivilly importunate; sha’ not ha’t; faith, I care not for thee, nor thy jealousy; sha’ not ha’t, i’faith.
Free. Please don't be overly persistent; she doesn't want you; honestly, I don't care about you or your jealousy; she doesn't want you, truly.
Fra. You do not love me. I hear of Sir Hubert Subboys’ daughter, Mistress Beatrice. God’s sacrament, ick could scratch out her eyes, and suck the holes!
Fra. You don't love me. I've heard about Sir Hubert Subboys’ daughter, Mistress Beatrice. For God's sake, I could scratch her eyes out and suck the holes!
Free. Go; y’ are grown a punk rampant!
Free. Go; you’ve become a total rebel!
So, get thee gone; ne’er more behold min eyes, by thee made wretched! 90
So, leave me; never let me see your face again, you who made me so miserable! wretched!
Free. Mary Faugh, farewell!—farewell, Frank!
Free. Goodbye, Mary Faugh!—goodbye, Frank!
Free. No, by the Lord!
Free. No, I swear!
Fra. By te Lord?
By the Lord?
Free. By the Lord!
Free. Oh my God!
Fra. Go to your new blouze,—your unproved sluttery,—your modest mettre, forsooth!
Fra. Go to your new blouse,—your untested promiscuity,—your modest outfit, for real!
Free. Marry, will I, forsooth!
Free. I will marry, for real!
Fra. Will you marry, forsooth?
Fra. Will you marry, truly?
Free. Do not turn witch before thy time.— 100
With all my heart, sir, you will stay.
Free. Don’t turn into a witch before you're ready.— 100
I sincerely hope, sir, that you will stay.
Mal. I am no whit myself. Video meliora proboque,
But raging lust my fate all strong doth move;
The gods themselves cannot be wise and love.
Mal. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I see better things and I approve of them,
But my overwhelming desire controls my fate;
Even the gods can't be both wise and in love.
Free. Your wishes to you!
Free. Best wishes to you!
[Exit Freevill.
[Exit Freevill.
Mal. Beauty entirely choice—
Mal. Beauty is all about choice—
Fra. Pray ye prove a man of fashion, and neglect the neglected.
Fra. Please show that you are a man of style and pay attention to those who are overlooked.
Mal. Can such a rarity be neglected?—can there be measure or sin in loving such a creature?
Mal. Can something so unique be overlooked?—is there any standard or wrongdoing in loving such a being?
Fra. O min poor forsaken heart! 110
O my poor forsaken heart!
Mal. I cannot contain,—he saw thee not that left thee.
If there be wisdom, reason, honour, grace,
Of any foolishly-esteemèd virtue,
In giving o’er possession of such beauty,
Let me be vicious, so I may be loved.
Passion, I am thy slave; sweet, it shall be my grace,
That I account thy love my only virtue:
Shall I swear I am thy most vowèd servant?
Mal. I can’t hold back—he didn’t notice you when you left.
If there's any wisdom, logic, honor, or kindness,
Of any virtue that's wrongly prized,
In releasing such beauty,
Then let me be bad, so I can be loved.
I'm a slave to my passion; sweet, it’ll be my pleasure.
I see your love as my only virtue.
Should I swear that I'm your most devoted servant?
Fra. Mine vowed? Go! go! go! I cannot more of love. No! no! no! You bin all unconstant. O unfaithful men—tyrants—betrayers—de very enjoying us loseth us; and when you only ha’ made us hateful, you only hate us. O mine forsaken heart! 123
Fra. Love me? Go! go! go! I can’t take any more of it. No! no! no! You’ve all been so unfaithful. Oh, unfaithful men—tyrants—betrayers—by truly enjoying us, you lose us; and when you make us loathsome, you only end up hating us. Oh, my forsaken heart! 123
Mal. I must not rave. Silence and modesty two customary virtues. Will you be my mistress?
Mal. I shouldn’t lose my cool. Silence and modesty are two usual virtues. Will you be my girlfriend?
Fra. Mettres? Ha! ha! ha!
Fra. Mettres? LOL!
Mal. Will you lie with me?
Mal. Will you stay with me?
Fra. Lie with you? O no; you men will out-lie any woman; fait, me no more can love.
Fra. Sleep with you? Oh no; you guys can lie more than any woman; honestly, I can't love anymore.
Mal. No matter, let me enjoy your bed. 130
Mal. No worries, just let me enjoy your bed. 130
Fra. O! vile man, vat do you tinck on me? Do you take me to be a beast—a creature that for sense only will entertain love, and not only for love—love? O! brutish abomination!
Fra. Oh! vile man, what do you think of me? Do you see me as a beast—a creature that values love only for pleasure, and not for love itself? Oh! what a disgusting thing!
Mal. Why, then I pray thee love, and with thy love enjoy me——
Mal. Well, then I ask you to love me, and with your love enjoy me
Fra. Give me reason to affect you. Will you swear you love me?
Fra. Give me a reason to care about you. Will you promise that you love me?
Mal. So seriously, that I protest no office so dangerous—no deed so unreasonable—no cost so heavy, but I vow to the utmost tentation of my best being to effect it. 141
Mal. Seriously, I swear that no job is too risky—no action is too unreasonable—no price is too great, but I promise to do everything I can to make it happen. it. 141
Fra. Sall I, or can I trust again? O fool!
How natural ’tis for us to be abused!
Sall ick be sure that no satiety,
No enjoying,
Not time shall languish your affection?
Fra. Should I trust again, or can I? Oh, what a fool!
It's so easy for us to be exploited!
No excess, for sure.
No fun,
Will time even weaken your feelings?
Mal. If there be ought in brain, heart, or hand,
Can make you doubtless, I am your vow’d servant.
Mal. If there's anything in my thoughts, feelings, or behavior,
That can persuade you; I am your loyal servant.
Fra. Will you do one ting for me?
Fra. Will you do one thing for me?
Fra. Yes, yes; but ick do not love dis same Freevill.
Fra. Yes, yes; but I do not love this same Freevill.
Mal. Well?
Mal. So?
Fra. Nay, I do hate him.
Nah, I really hate him.
Mal. So.
Mal. So.
Fra. By this kiss I hate him.
Fra. With this kiss, I hate him.
Mal. I love to feel such oaths; swear again.
Mal. I love to hear such promises; swear again.
Fra. No, no. Did you ever hear of any that loved at the first sight?
Fra. No, no. Have you ever heard of anyone that fell in love at first sight?
Mal. A thing most proper.
Mal. A very proper thing.
Fra. Now fait, I judge it all incredible until this hour I saw you: pretty fair-eyed yout, would you enjoy me? 162
Fra. Honestly, I thought it was all unbelievable until I saw you just now: beautiful, fair-eyed youth, would you want me? 162
Mal. Rather than my breath, even as my being.
Mal. Instead of my breath, just like my existence.
Fra. Vel! had ick not made a vow——
Fra. Well! I had not made a promise
Mal. What vow?
Mal. What promise?
Fra. O let me forget it; it makes us both despair!
Fra. Oh, let me forget it; it just makes us both feel hopeless!
Mal. Dear soul, what vow?
Mal. Dear soul, what promise?
Fra. Ha, good morrow, gentle sir; endeavour to forget me, as I must be enforced to forget all men. Sweet mind rest in you. 170
Fra. Ha, good morning, kind sir; try to forget me, as I must be forced to forget all men. May peace be with you. 170
Mal. Stay, let not thy desire burst me. O my impatient heat endures no resistance—no protraction! there is no being for me but your sudden enjoying.
Mal. Wait, don't let your desire overwhelm me. My restless passion can't handle any delay—no waiting! There's no existence for me but in your immediate pleasure.
Fra. I do not love Freevill.
Fra. I don't love Freevill.
Mal. But what vow? what vow?
Mal. But which vow? Which vow?
Fra. So long as Freevill lives, I must not love.
Fra. As long as Freevill is alive, I can't love.
Mal. Then he—
Mal. Then he—
Fra. Must—
Fra. Must—
Mal. Die!
Mal. Drop dead!
Mal. Will you be mine when he is not?
Mal. Will you be with me when he isn't?
Fra. Will I? Dear, dear breast, by this most zealous kiss! but I will not persuade you; but if you hate him that I loathe most deadly; yet as you please—I’ll persuade noting.
Fra. Will I? My dear, sweet heart, with this passionate kiss! But I won’t try to change your mind; if you despise him, whom I hate the most intensely, that's up to you—I won't push it.
Mal. Will you be only mine?
Will you be mine?
Fra. Vill I? How hard ’tis for true love to dissemble.
I am only yours.
Fra. Am I really? True love finds it so hard to hide its feelings.
I'm all yours.
Mal. ’Tis as irrevocable as breath: he dies. 190
Your love!
Mal. It's as certain as breathing: he’s going to die. 190
Your love!
Fra. My vow,—not until he be dead;
Which that I may be sure not to infringe,
Dis token of his death sall satisfy:
He has a ring, as dear as the air to him,
His new love’s gift; tat got and brought to me,
I shall assurèd your professèd rest.
Fra. I promise—I’ll stick to it until he’s gone;
To ensure I don't break it,
A sign of his death would be enough for me:
He has a ring that is as valuable to him as air.
A gift from my new love; once I get it and bring it to me,
I’ll guarantee your promised peace.
Mal. To kill a man?
Kill a man?
Fra. O! done safely; a quarrel sudden pick’d,
With an advantage strike—then bribe—a little coin,
All’s safe, dear soul; but I’ll not set you on. 200
Fra. Oh! It was managed well; a conflict came up out of nowhere,
With a smart move—then just settle with some cash,
Everything's okay, my dear; but I won't force you into it. 200
Mal. Nay, he is gone—the ring! Well, come, little more liberal of thy love.
Mal. No, he’s gone—the ring! Well, come on, show a little more love.
Fra. Not yet; my vow.
Fra. Not yet; my vow.
Mal. O Heaven! there is no hell but love’s prolongings.
Dear, farewell.
Mal. Oh God! There’s no hell worse than the endless waiting for love.
Take care, love.
Fra. Farewell.
Now does my heart swell high, for my revenge
Has birth and form; first friend sall kill his friend.
He dat survives I’ll hang; besides de chaste
Beatrice I’ll vex. Only de ring; 210
Dat got, the world sall know the worst of evils:
Woman corrupted is the worst of devils.
Fra. See you later.
Now my heart is full of excitement because my revenge __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
It's come together; my first friend is going to kill his friend.
Whoever makes it out alive, I’ll hang; and on top of that, I’ll torment the pure.
Beatrice. I just need the ring; 210
Once I have that, the world will recognize the greatest of evils:
A corrupt woman is the worst kind of devil.
[Exit Franceschina.
[Exit Franceschina.
Mal. To kill my friend! O ’tis to kill myself!
Yet man’s but man’s excrement—man breeding man
As he does worms; or this, to spoil this nothing.
Mal. To kill my friend! Oh, that’s like killing myself!
Yet a person is just the result of another person—one person leading to the creation of another.
Just like he does with worms; or this, to destroy this nothing.
[He spits.
He spits.
The body of a man is of the self-same mould[43]
As ox or horse; no murder to kill these.
As for that only part which makes us man,
Murder wants power to touch’t. O wit, how vile!
How hellish art thou, when thou raisest nature 220
’Gainst sacred faith! Think more: to kill a friend
To gain a woman! to lose a virtuous self
For appetite and sensual end, whose very having
Loseth all appetite, and gives satiety!
That corporal end, remorse and inward blushings,
Forcing us loathe the steam of our own heats;
Whilst friendship closed in virtue, being spiritual,
Tastes no such languishings, and moments’ pleasure
With much repentance; but like rivers flow,
And further that they run they bigger grow. 230
Lord, how was I misgone! how easy ’tis to err,
When passion will not give us leave to think!
A learn’d, that is an honest man, may fear,
And lust, and rage, and malice,[44] and anything,
When he is taken uncollected suddenly:
’Tis sin of cold blood, mischief with waked eyes,
That is the damnèd and the truly[45] vice;
Not he that’s passionless, but he ’bove passion’s wise.
My friend shall know it all.
The body of a man is made from the same materials[43]
It's not a crime to kill an ox or a horse.
Regarding that aspect that defines our humanity,
Murder requires power to engage with it. Oh, how terrible!
How terrible you are when you go against nature 220
In violation of sacred trust! Think about this: to kill a friend.
To win a woman! To sacrifice a virtuous self.
For desire and physical pleasure, whose fulfillment is its own
Eliminates all cravings and fosters contentment!
That physical end, guilt, and inner shame,
Make us hate the intensity of our own emotions;
While friendship, based on virtue and spirituality,
Doesn’t taste like that kind of fading and temporary pleasure.
With great sadness; instead, it flows like rivers,
The more they run, the larger they become. 230
Lord, how was I so wrong! It's so easy to make mistakes,
When passion clouds our judgment!
An educated man who is honest may still feel fear,
And experience desire, anger, spite,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and everything,
When he's unexpectedly taken by surprise:
It's the sin of cold blood, troublemaking with watchful eyes,
That is the cursed and truly__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ vice;
It's not the person who lacks passion, but the one who is wise beyond it.
My friend will know all.
[Exit.
[Leave.
[38] “Grand grincome”—the pox.
“Grand grincome”—the pox.
[39] A nickname for citizens. (Ed. 1. “atte-cappes;” ed. 2. “art-caps.”)
[39] A nickname for citizens. (Ed. 1. “atte-cappes;” ed. 2. “art-caps.”)
[40] A contemptuous exclamation.
A dismissive remark.
[41] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “pretty.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “pretty.”
[42] From a song in Robert Jones’s First Book of Songs and Airs [1601]:
[42] From a song in Robert Jones’s First Book of Songs and Airs [1601]:
“My mistress sings no other song
But still complains I did her wrong:
Believe her not, it is not so,
I did but kiss her and let her go,” &c.
"My lady sings no other song"
Yet she keeps saying that I've hurt her:
Don’t believe her, it’s not true.
"I just kissed her and let her go," etc.
[43] Old eds. “soule.”
Old eds. “soule.”
[44] The verb malice is not uncommon. It is used by Spenser, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, &c.
[44] The verb malice isn't rare. It’s used by Spenser, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, etc.
[45] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “truest.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “truest.”
SCENE III.
SCENE 3.
A Tavern.
A Pub.
Enter Master Mulligrub and Mistress Mulligrub, she with a bag of money.
Enter Master Mope and Mistress Mulligrub, she carrying a bag of money.
Mistress Mul. It is right, I assure you, just fifteen pounds.
Mistress Mul. I promise you, it's exactly fifteen pounds.
Mul. Well, Cocledemoy, ’tis thou putt’st me to this charge; but, and I catch thee, I’ll charge thee with as many irons. Well, is the barber come? I’ll be trimm’d, and then to Cheapside to buy a fair piece of plate, to furnish the loss. Is the barber come?
Mul. Well, Cocledemoy, you’ve put this responsibility on me; but if I catch you, I’ll give you as much trouble in return. So, has the barber arrived? I want to get a trim, and then I’ll head to Cheapside to buy a nice piece of silver to make up for the loss. Is the barber here yet?
Mistress Mul. Truth, husband, surely heaven is not pleased with our vocation. We do wink at the sins of our people. Our wines are protestants; and I speak it to my grief, and to the burthen of my conscience, we fry our fish with salt butter. 12
Mistress Mul. Truth, my dear, heaven must not be happy with what we do. We ignore the sins of our community. Our wines are protestants; and I say this with sorrow and a heavy conscience, we fry our fish in salty butter. 12
Mul. Go, look to your business; mend the matter, and score false with a vengeance.
Mul. Go, take care of your duties; fix the issue, and cheat with all your might.
[Exit Mistress Mulligrub.
[Exit Mistress Mulligrub.
Enter Cocledemoy like a barber..
Enter Cocledemoy like a stylist.
Welcome, friend, whose man?
Welcome, friend, whose dude?
Coc. Widow Reinscure’s man; and shall please your good worship, my name’s Andrew Shark.
Coc. Widow Reinscure’s man; and if it pleases you, I'm Andrew Shark.
Mul. How does my godson, good Andrew?
Mul. How's my godson, Andrew?
Coc. Very well, he’s gone to trim Master Quicquid, our parson. Hold up your head. 20
Coc. Fine, he's gone to get Master Quicquid, our priest, all spruced up. Keep your head up. 20
Mul. How long have you been a barber, Andrew?
Mul. How long have you been cutting hair, Andrew?
Coc. Not long, sir; this two year.
Coc. Not long, sir; just two years.
Mul. What! and a good workman already. I dare scarce trust my head to thee.
Mul. What! You're already a skilled worker. I can hardly trust my head to you.
Coc. O, fear not; we ha’ poll’d better men than you; we learn the trade very quickly. Will your good worship be shaven or cut?
Coc. Oh, don’t worry; we’ve dealt with better people than you; we pick up the skill pretty fast. Would you like to be shaved or clipped?
Mul. As you will. What trade didst live by before thou turnedst barber, Andrew?
Mul. As you wish. What did you do for a living before you became a barber, Andrew?
Coc. I was a pedlar in Germany; but my countrymen thrive better by this trade. 31
Coc. I used to be a peddler in Germany, but my fellow countrymen do better in this trade. 31
Mul. What’s the news, barber? thou art sometimes at court.
Mul. What's the news, barber? You’re sometimes at the court.
Coc. Sometimes poll a page or so, sir.
Coc. Sometimes take a look at a page or so, sir.
Mul. And what’s the news? How do all my good lords and all my good ladies, and all the rest of my acquaintance?
Mul. So, what's the news? How are all my good lords, all my good ladies, and everyone else I know?
Mul. And what news—what news, good Andrew? 40
And what's the news, good Andrew?
Coc. Marry, sir, you know the Conduit at Greenwich, and the under-holes that spouts up water?
Coc. Indeed, sir, you know the waterway at Greenwich and the holes underneath that shoot up water?
Mul. Very well; I was wash’d there one day, and so was my wife—you might have wrung her smock, i’faith! But what o’ those holes?
Mul. Alright; I was washed there one day, and so was my wife—you could have wrung out her dress, seriously! But what about those holes?
Coc. Thus, sir. Out of those little holes, in the midst of the night, crawl’d out twenty-four huge, horrible, monstrous, fearful, devouring——
Coc. So, sir. From those little holes, in the middle of the night, crawled out twenty-four huge, terrifying, monstrous, fearsome, eating voraciously
Mul. Bless us! 49
Mul. Bless us! 49
Coc. Serpents, which no sooner were beheld, but they turn’d to mastiffs, which howl’d; those mastiffs instantly turn’d to cocks, which crowed; those cocks, in a moment, were changed to bears, which roar’d; which bears are at this hour to be yet seen in Paris Garden, living upon nothing but toasted cheese and green onions.
Coc. Serpents, which as soon as they were seen, turned into mastiffs that howled; those mastiffs quickly changed into cocks that crowed; those cocks, in an instant, transformed into bears that roared; and those bears can still be seen today in Paris Garden, living on nothing but toasted cheese and green onions.
Mul. By the Lord! and this may be, my wife and I will go see them. This portends something.
Mul. By God! If that's the case, my wife and I will go see them. This means something.
Coc. [aside.] Yes, worshipful fist,[46] thou’st feel what portends by and by. 59
Coc. [aside.] Yes, respected one, [46] you’ve sensed what’s coming little by little. 59
Mul. And what more news? You shave the world—especially you barber-surgeons—you know the ground of many things. You are cunning privy searchers: by the mass, you scour all. What more news?
Mul. So, what’s the latest? You’re all over the place—especially you barber-surgeons—you have the inside scoop on a lot of things. You’re clever and nosy: seriously, you dig up everything. What’s the latest?
Coc. They say, sir, that twenty-five couple of Spanish jennets are to be seen, hand in hand, dance the old measures,[47] whilst six goodly Flaunders mares play to them on a noise[48] of flutes.
Coc. They say, sir, that twenty-five pairs of Spanish jennets can be seen dancing the old measures hand in hand, while six fine Flemish mares play for them on a tune of flutes.
Mul. O monstrous! this is a lie o’ my word. Nay, and this be not a lie—I am no fool, I warrant—nay, make an ass of me once? 70
Mul. Oh no! This is a lie, I swear. No, if this isn't a lie—I’m not an idiot, I promise—don’t make a fool out of me once? 70
Coc. Shut your eyes close—wink; sure, sir, this ball will make you smart.
Coc. Close your eyes tight—just a little blink; trust me, this ball will definitely make you feel sharp.
Mul. I do wink.
Mul. I do wink.
Coc. Your head will take cold;
Coc. You’ll catch a cold;
[Cocledemoy puts on a coxcomb on Mulligrub’s head.]
[Cocledemoy places a coxcomb on Mulligrub’s head.]
I will put on your good worship’s nightcap whilst I shave you. So, mum, hang toasts! Faugh, via![49] sparrows must peck and Cocledemoy munch. 77
I’ll put on your nice nightcap while I shave you. So, shh, hold the toasts! Ugh, come on![49] sparrows have to peck and Cocledemoy munch. 77
Mul. Ha, ha, ha! Twenty-five couple of Spanish jennets to dance the old measures. Andrew makes my worship laugh, i’faith. Dost take me for an ass, Andrew?—dost know one Cocledemoy in town? He made me an ass last night, but I’ll ass him! Art thou free, Andrew? Shave me well—I shall be one of the common council shortly—and then, Andrew—why, Andrew, Andrew, dost leave me in the suds?
Mul. Ha, ha, ha! Twenty-five pairs of Spanish jennets to dance the traditional dances. Andrew makes me laugh, seriously. Do you take me for a fool, Andrew?—do you know a guy named Cocledemoy in town? He made a fool of me last night, but I’ll get back at him! Are you free, Andrew? Give me a good shave—I’ll be on the common council soon—and then, Andrew—what’s going on, Andrew, why are you leaving me hanging?
CANTAT.
CANTAT.
Why, Andrew, I shall be blind with winking. Ha! Andrew—wife—Andrew, what means this? Wife!—my money, wife! 88
Why, Andrew, I’ll be blind from all this blinking. Ha! Andrew—wife—Andrew, what does this mean? Wife!—my money, wife!
Mistress Mul. What’s the noise with you? What ail you?
Mistress Mul. What’s going on with you? What’s wrong?
Mul. Where’s the barber?
Mul. Where's the hairdresser?
Mistress Mul. Gone. I saw him depart long since. Why, are not you trimm’d?
Mistress Mul. Gone. I saw him leave a while ago. Why, aren't you dressed up?
Mul. Trimm’d! O wife! I am shaved. Did you take hence the money?
Mul. Cleaned up! Oh, wife! I'm all shaved. Did you take the money from here?
Mistress Mul. I touch’d it not, as I am religious.
Mistress Mul. I didn’t touch it, since I’m a good person.
Mul. O Lord! I have wink’d fair.
Mul. Oh Lord! I've really been making an effort.
Enter Holifernes.
Enter Holofernes.
Hol. I pray, godfather, give me your blessing.
Hol. I ask you, godfather, please give me your blessing.
Mul. O Holifernes—O where’s thy mother’s Andrew? 100
Mul. O Holifernes—O where’s your mom’s Andrew? 100
Hol. Blessing, godfather!
Blessing, godfather!
Mul. The devil choke thee! where’s Andrew, thy mother’s man?
Mul. The devil take you! Where's Andrew, your mother's man?
Hol. My mother hath none such, forsooth.
Hol. My mother doesn't have anything like that, for sure.
Mul. My money—fifteen pounds—plague of all Andrews! who was’t trimm’d me?
Mul. My money—fifteen pounds—curse all Andrews! Who got me trimmed?
Hol. I know not, godfather; only one met me, as I was coming to you, and borrowed my furniture, as he said, for a jest’ sake.
Hol. I don't know, godfather; just one person approached me while I was on my way to you and borrowed my furniture, claiming it was just for a joke.
Mul. What kind of fellow? 110
What kind of guy?
Hol. A thick, elderly, stub-bearded fellow.
Hol. A thick, old guy with a stubby beard.
Mul. Cocledemoy, Cocledemoy! Raise all the wise men in the street! I’ll hang him with mine own hands! O wife! some rosa solis.[50]
Mul. Cocledemoy, Cocledemoy! Gather all the wise men in the street! I’ll hang him with my own hands! Oh, wife! some rosa solis.[50]
Mistress Mul. Good husband, take comfort in the Lord; I’ll play the devil, but I’ll recover it. Have a good conscience, ’tis but a week’s cutting[51] in the term!
Mistress Mul. Good husband, find solace in the Lord; I’ll act the devil, but I’ll bounce back. Keep a clear conscience; it’s just a week of stress[51] in the term!
Mul. O, wife! O, wife! O, Jack! how does thy mother? Is there any fiddlers in the house?
Mul. Oh, wife! Oh, wife! Oh, Jack! How is your mother? Are there any musicians in the house?
Mistress Mul. Yes, Master Creak’s[52] noise? 120
Mistress Mul. Yes, Master Creak's __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ noise? 120
Mul. Bid ’em play, laugh, make merry; cast up my accounts, for I’ll go hang myself presently. I will not curse, but a pox on Cocledemoy; he has poll’d and shaved me, he has trimm’d me!
Mul. Tell them to play, laugh, and have fun; I’m going to check my finances because I’ll hang myself soon. I won’t curse, but damn Cocledemoy; he has messed with my hair and groomed me!
[Exeunt.
[Exit.
[46] Old eds. “fiest.” Fist is a term of contempt (= fister, stinkard). “Vessifier, to breed a fyste, to make breake wind or let a fyste.”—Cotgrave.
[46] Old eds. “fiest.” Fist is a derogatory term (like fister, stinkard). “Vessifier, to breed a fyste, to break wind or let a fyste.”—Cotgrave.
[47] A grave stately dance.
A serious formal dance.
[48] Noise in old writers usually means a company of musicians.
[48] Noise in classic literature typically refers to a group of musicians.
[50] A cordial.
A friendly drink.
[51] Mistress Mulligrub consoles her husband with the thought that in one week of term-time the fifteen pounds may be recovered by help of a little sharping (in the way of adulterating the liquors, frothing the cans, &c.).
[51] Mistress Mulligrub reassures her husband by saying that in just one week during the term, they could make back the fifteen pounds with a bit of sharping (like watering down the drinks, frothing the cans, etc.).
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Enter Beatrice, Crispinella and Nurse Putifer.
Enter Beatrice, Crispinella and Nurse Putifer.
Put. Nay, good child o’ love, once more Master Freevill’s sonnet o’ the kiss you gave him.
Put. No, dear child of love, once again Master Freevill’s sonnet about the kiss you gave him.
Bea. Sha’t, good nurse:
Bea. Thanks, good nurse:
[Sings.
Sings.
Purest lips, soft banks of blisses,
Self alone deserving kisses;
O give me leave to, &c.
Purest lips, soft banks of happiness,
Only you deserve kisses;
Oh, let me, &c.
Cri. Pish! sister Beatrice, prithee read no more; my stomach o’ late stands against kissing extremely.
Cri. Ugh! Sister Beatrice, please don’t read anymore; my stomach has not been in the mood for kissing lately.
Bea. Why, good Crispinella? 9
Bea. Why, hey Crispinella? 9
Cri. By the faith and trust I bear to my face, ’tis grown one of the most unsavoury ceremonies: body o’ beauty! ’tis one of the most unpleasing injurious customs to ladies: any fellow that has but one nose on his face, and standing collar and skirts also lined with taffety sarcenet, must salute us on the lips as familiarly—Soft skins save us! there was a stub-bearded John-a-Stile with a ployden’s face saluted me last day and struck his bristles through my lips; I ha’ spent ten shillings in pomatum since to skin them again. Marry, if a nobleman or a knight with one lock visit us, though his unclean goose-turd-green[53] teeth ha’ the palsy, his nostrils smell worse than a putrified marrowbone, and his loose beard drops into our bosom, yet we must kiss him with a cursy, a curse! for my part, I had as lieve they would break wind in my lips. 25
Cri. By the faith and trust I have in my appearance, this has become one of the most unpleasant ceremonies: body of beauty! It’s one of the most annoying and harmful customs for ladies: any guy with just one nose on his face, a standing collar, and skirts lined with fancy fabric must kiss us on the lips as casually—Oh, soft skins save us! There was a rough John-a-Stile with a ployden’s face who kissed me the other day and jabbed his stubble through my lips; I’ve spent ten shillings on pomade since to smooth them again. Truly, if a nobleman or a knight with a single lock visits us, even if his dirty goose-turd-green teeth are shaking, his nostrils smell worse than a rotten marrowbone, and his loose beard falls into our bosom, we still have to kiss him with a curtsy, a curse! For my part, I’d rather they break wind in my lips. 25
Bea. Fie, Crispinella, you speak too broad.
Bea. Come on, Crispinella, you're being too direct.
Cri. No jot, sister; let’s ne’er be ashamed to speak what we be not ashamed to think: I dare as boldly speak venery as think venery.
Cri. Not at all, sister; let’s never be embarrassed to say what we’re not ashamed to think: I’m just as confident to talk about desire as I am to think about it.
Bea. Faith, sister! I’ll begone if you speak so broad.
Bea. Seriously, sis! I’ll leave if you talk like that.
Cri. Will you so? Now bashfulness seize you, we pronounce boldly, robbery, murder, treason, which deeds must needs be far more loathsome than an act which is so natural, just, and necessary, as that of procreation; you shall have an hypocritical vestal virgin speak that with close teeth publicly, which she will receive with open mouth privately; for my own part, I consider nature without apparel; without disguising of custom or compliment, I give thoughts words, and words truth, and truth boldness; she whose honest freeness makes it her virtue to speak what she thinks will make it her necessity to think what is good. I love no prohibited things, and yet I would have nothing prohibited by policy, but by virtue; for as in the fashion of time those books that are call’d in are most in sale and request,[54] so in nature those actions that are most prohibited are most desired. 47
Cri. Are you really going to do that? Now let shyness take over you, we boldly declare, robbery, murder, treason—acts that must be way more disgusting than something as natural, just, and necessary as procreation; you will have a hypocritical virgin speak about this with clenched teeth in public, while she’ll be totally open about it in private; as for me, I see nature without any clothes; without any disguises of social norms or flattery, I give thoughts their words, and words their truth, and truth its boldness; she who has the honest freedom to say what she thinks will find it necessary to think good thoughts. I don’t love anything that’s forbidden, and yet I wouldn’t want anything to be banned by rules, only by virtue; because just like in the times when the books that are banned are the ones most bought and wanted, in nature, those actions that are most prohibited are the most desired. 47
Bea. Good quick sister, stay your pace; we are private, but the world would censure you, for truly severe modesty is women’s virtue.
Bea. Good quick sister, slow down; we’re alone, but people would criticize you because, honestly, extreme modesty is a woman's virtue.
Cri. Fie, fie! virtue is a free, pleasant, buxom quality. I love a constant countenance well; but this froward ignorant coyness, sour austere lumpish uncivil privateness, that promises nothing but rough skins and hard stools; ha! fie on’t, good for nothing but for nothing. Well, nurse, and what do you conceive of all this? 57
Cri. Ugh, seriously! Virtue is a free, enjoyable, lively quality. I really appreciate a steady demeanor, but this stubborn, ignorant shyness, sour, grumpy, and rude secrecy, promises nothing but rough experiences and discomfort; ha! Ugh, it’s good for nothing. So, nurse, what do you think of all this? 57
Put. Nay, faith, my conceiving days be done. Marry for kissing, I’ll defend that; that’s within my compass; but for my own part, here’s Mistress Beatrice is to be married with the grace of God; a fine gentleman he is shall have her, and I warrant a strong; he has a leg like a post, a nose like a lion, a brow like a bull, and a beard of most fair expectation: this week you must marry him, and I now will read a lecture to you both, how you shall behave yourselves to your husbands the first month of your nuptial; I ha’ broke my skull about it, I can tell you, and there is much brain in it.
Put. No, really, my days of dreaming are over. Sure, when it comes to kissing, I’ve got that covered; that’s in my area of expertise. But as for my own situation, here’s Mistress Beatrice about to get married with the grace of God; she’s getting a fine gentleman, I assure you, and a strong one at that. He has legs like a post, a nose like a lion, a brow like a bull, and a beard that promises a lot. This week, you both have to get married, and now I’m going to give you a talk about how to behave with your husbands during the first month of your marriage; I’ve really thought a lot about it, believe me, and there’s a lot of thought into it.
Cri. Read it to my sister, good nurse, for I assure you I’ll ne’er marry. 70
Cri. Read it to my sister, good nurse, because I promise you I’ll never marriage. 70
Put. Marry, God forfend, what will you do then?
Put. Seriously, God forbid, what will you do then?
Cri. Faith, strive against the flesh. Marry! no, faith, husbands are like lots in the lottery: you may draw forty blanks before you find one that has any prize in him. A husband generally is a careless, domineering thing, that grows like coral, which as long as it is under water is soft and tender, but as soon as it has got his branch above the waves is presently hard, stiff, not to be bowed but burst; so when your husband is a suitor and under your choice, Lord how supple he is, how obsequious, how at your service, sweet lady! Once married, got up his head above, a stiff, crooked, nobby, inflexible tyrannous creature he grows; then they turn like water, more you would embrace the less you hold. I’ll live my own woman, and if the worst come to the worst, I had rather prove a wag than a fool. 86
Cri. Seriously, resist the temptation of desire. Honestly, husbands are like lottery tickets: you might draw forty duds before you find one that's worth anything. A husband is usually a careless, overbearing guy who’s soft and agreeable as long as he’s trying to win you over, but as soon as he thinks he has you, he turns hard and inflexible, impossible to bend without breaking. When your husband is pursuing you and you still have a choice, oh, how charming he is, how eager to please, how devoted, dear lady! But once you're married, he suddenly becomes an unyielding, stubborn, tyrannical creature. They shift like water; the more you want to hold them close, the more they slip away. I’ll live my own life, and if it comes down to it, I’d rather be witty than foolish. 86
Bea. O, but a virtuous marriage.
Bea. Oh, what a noble marriage.
Cri. Virtuous marriage! there is no more affinity betwixt virtue and marriage than betwixt a man and his horse; indeed virtue gets up upon marriage sometimes, and manageth it in the right way; but marriage is of another piece, for as a horse may be without a man, and a man without a horse, so marriage, you know, is often without virtue, and virtue, I am sure, more oft without marriage. But thy match, sister—by my troth I think ’twill do well; he’s a well-shaped, clean-lipp’d gentleman, of a handsome, but not affected, fineness, a good faithful eye, and a well-humour’d cheek; would he did not stoop in the shoulders, for thy sake. See, here he is.
Cri. A virtuous marriage! There's not much connection between virtue and marriage, much like there’s not much connection between a man and his horse; sometimes virtue steps into marriage and handles it well, but marriage is a different matter altogether. Just like a horse can exist without a man, and a man can exist without a horse, marriage often exists without virtue, and virtue, I'm sure, often exists without marriage. But your match, sister—honestly, I think it will work out well; he’s a handsome, clean-lipped guy, with a good, genuine look and a pleasant smile; I just wish he didn’t slouch for your sake. Look, here he comes.
Enter Freevill and Tysefew.
Enter Freevill and Tysefew.
Free. Good day, sweet! 100
Free. Good day, sweet!
Cri. Good morrow, brother! nay, you shall have my lip. Good morrow, servant!
Cri. Good morning, brother! No, you’ll get a response from me. Good morning, servant!
Tyse. Good morrow, sweet life!
Tyse. Good morning, sweet life!
Cri. Life! dost call thy mistress life?
Cri. Life! Do you refer to your mistress as life?
Tyse. Life! yes, why not life?
Tyse. Life! Yes, why not live?
Cri. How many mistresses hast thou?
Cri. How many mistresses do you have?
Tyse. Some nine.
Tyse. About nine.
Cri. Why then thou hast nine lives, like a cat.
Cri. So, you have nine lives, just like a cat.
Tyse. Mew, you would be taken up for that. 109
Tyse. Mew, you’d get in trouble for that. 109
Cri. Nay, good, let me still sit; we low statures love still to sit, lest when we stand we may be supposed to sit.
Cri. No, please, let me stay seated; we who are shorter prefer to sit, so that when we stand we aren’t assumed to still be sitting.
Cri. Monstrous ones: I am, as many other are, pieced above and pieced beneath.
Cri. Strange beings: I am, like many others, stitched together above and below.
Tyse. Still the best part in the——
Tyse. Still the best part in the——
Cri. And yet all will scarce make me so high as one of the giants’[56] stilts that stalks before my Lord Mayor’s pageant:
Cri. And yet all of that will barely make me as tall as one of the giants’[56] stilts that walks in front of my Lord Mayor’s parade:
Cri. She might well enough, and long enough, before I would be ashamed of my shortness: what I made or can mend myself I may blush at; but what nature put upon me, let her be ashamed for me, I ha’ nothing to do with it. I forget my beauty.
Cri. She might be fine with it for a long time before I feel embarrassed about my height. I might be self-conscious about what I can change or improve, but as for what I was born with, let her feel embarrassed for me; I have nothing to do with that. I don’t think about my looks anymore.
Tyse. Faith, Joyce is a foolish bitter creature.
Tyse. Honestly, Joyce is a foolish and bitter person.
Cri. A pretty mildewed wench she is.
Cri. She's a pretty, but moldy, girl.
Tyse. And fair——
Tyse. And fair——
Cri. As myself! 130
As me!
Tyse. O you forget your beauty now.
Tyse. Oh, you forget your beauty now.
Cri. Troth, I never remember my beauty, but as some men do religion,—for controversy’s sake.
Cri. Honestly, I never think about my looks except like some guys think about religion—just for the sake of arguing.
Bea. A motion,[57] sister.
Cri. Nineveh,[58] Julius Cæsar, Jonas, or the destruction of Jerusalem.
Cri. Nineveh,[58] Julius Caesar, Jonah, or the destruction of Jerusalem.
Bea. My love, hear.
Bea. My love, listen.
Cri. Prithee call him not love, ’tis the drab’s phrase: nor sweet honey, nor my coney, nor dear duckling, they[59] are citizen terms, but call him—— 140
Cri. Please don’t call him love, that’s what the common folks say: neither sweet honey, nor my darling, nor dear little one, they[59] are everyday terms, but call him—— 140
Bea. What?
Bea. What’s up?
Cri. Anything.—What’s the motion?
Cri. Anything.—What's the plan?
Free. You’ll make one, Tysefew, and Caqueteur shall fill up a room.
Free. You’ll create one, Tysefew, and Caqueteur will fill a room.
Tyse. ’Fore heaven, well-remember’d; he borrowed a diamond of me last night to grace his finger in your visitation. The lying creature will swear some strange thing on it now. 151
Tyse. For heaven's sake, it's well known; he borrowed a diamond from me last night to wear on his finger during your visit. The deceitful guy will probably make some wild claim about it now. now.
Enter Caqueteur.
Enter Caqueteur.
Cri. Peace, he’s here; stand close, lurk.
Cri. Chill, he’s here; stay close, and hide.
Caq. Good morrow, most dear, and worthy to be most wise. How does my mistress?
Caq. Good morning, my dear, and deserving of wisdom. How is my mistress?
Cri. Morrow, sweet servant; you glister,—prithee, let’s see that stone.
Cri. Morrow, sweet servant; you shine,—please, let’s see that stone.
Caq. A toy, lady, I bought to please my finger.
Caq. A toy, madam, I bought to entertain my fingers.
Cri. Why, I am more precious to you than your finger.
Cri. Why, I am more valuable to you than your own finger.
Caq. Yes, or than all my body, I swear. 160
Caq. Yes, or rather my whole body, I swear.
Cri. Why, then let it be bought to please me; come, I am no professed beggar.
Cri. Well, then let it be bought to make me happy; come on, I'm not a professional beggar.
Caq. Troth, mistress! Zoons! Forsooth, I protest!
Caq. Seriously, ma'am! Wow! Honestly, I swear!
Cri. Nay, if you turn Protestant for such a toy.
Cri. No way, if you become Protestant for something so trivial.
Caq. In good deed, la; another time I’ll give you a——
Caq. Honestly, yeah; another time I'll give you a——
Cri. Is this yours to give?
Is this yours to give?
Caq. O God! forsooth mine, quoth you; nay, as for that—— 170
Caq. Oh God! Truly mine, you say; no, as for that—— 170
Caq. Such another.
Caq. That's another one.
Cri. Nay, I am sure this is it.
Cri. No, I’m sure this is it.
Caq. Troth, ’tis forsooth. The poor fellow wanted money to pay for supper last night, and so pawn’d it to me; ’tis a pawn, i’faith, or else you should have it.
Caq. Honestly, it's true. The poor guy needed money to cover dinner last night, so he pawned it to me; it's a pawn, I swear, or else you would have it.
Tyse. Hark ye, thou base lying—How dares thy impudence hope to prosper? Were’t not for the privilege of this respected company, I would so bang thee. 180
Tyse. Listen you, you lowly liar—How dare your audacity think it can succeed? If it weren’t for the respect of this company, I would seriously hit you. thee. 180
Cri. Come hither, servant. What’s the matter betwixt you two?
Cri. Come here, servant. What's going on between you two?
Caq. Nothing; but hark you, he did me some uncivil discourtesies last night; for which, because I should not call him to account, he desires to make me any satisfaction. The coward trembles at my very presence; but I ha’ him on the hip; I’ll take the forfeit on his ring.
Caq. Nothing; but listen, he treated me rudely last night; and because I don't want to confront him about it, he wants to offer me some sort of compensation. The coward shakes at the sight of me; but I've got him cornered; I’ll claim the penalty on his ring.
Tyse. What’s that you whisper to her? 189
Tyse. What are you whispering to her? 189
Caq. Nothing, sir; but satisfy her that the ring was not pawn’d, but only lent by you to grace my finger; and so told her I craved pardon for being too familiar, or indeed over-bold with your reputation.
Caq. Nothing, sir; just convince her that the ring wasn’t pawned but was merely lent by you to adorn my finger; and I also told her I apologize for being too familiar or perhaps too bold regarding your reputation.
Cri. Yes, indeed, he did. He said you desired to make him any satisfaction for an uncivil discourtesy you did him last night; but he said he had you o’ the hip, and would take the forfeit of your ring.
Cri. Yes, he really did. He mentioned that you wanted to apologize for being rude to him last night; but he said he had you at a disadvantage and would accept your ring as compensation.
Tyse. How now, ye base poltroon.
Tyse. What's up, you coward?
Caq. Hold! hold! my mistress speaks by contraries.
Caq. Wait! wait! my mistress talks in opposites.
Tyse. Contraries! 200
Contradictions!
Cri. Sir, I’ll no more o’ your service—you are a child—I’ll give you to my nurse.
Cri. Sir, I won’t take your service anymore—you’re just a kid—I’ll give you to my nurse.
Put. And he come to me, I can tell you, as old as I am, what to do with him.
Put. And he came to me, I swear, as old as I am, telling me what to do with him.
Caq. I offer my service, forsooth.
Caq. I offer my service, truly.
Tyse. Why, so: now, every dog has his bone to gnaw on.
Tyse. Well, now every dog has its bone to chew on.
Free. The masque holds, Master Caqueteur.
Free. The show goes on, Master Caqueteur.
Caq. I am ready, sir. Mistress, I’ll dance with you, ne’er fear—I’ll grace you. 211
Caq. I’m ready, sir. Mistress, I’ll dance with you, don’t worry—I’ll make you look good. 211
Put. I tell you, I can my singles and my doubles, and my trick o’ twenty[60]—my carantapace—my traverse forward—and my falling back, yet, i’faith.
Put. I swear, I can do my singles and my doubles, and my fancy move of twenty[60]—my shield—my advance—and my retreat, truly.
Bea. Mine! The provision for the night is ours. Much must be our care; till night we leave you; I am your servant, be not tyrannous. Your virtue won me; faith, my love’s not lust; Good, wrong me not; my most fault is much trust.
Bea. It's ours! We’re responsible for the night’s arrangements. We have a lot to think about; we’re leaving you until nightfall. I’m here to serve you, so don’t be harsh. Your goodness won me over; honestly, my love isn’t just desire. Please don’t wrong me; my biggest flaw is trusting too much.
Free. Until night only, my heart be with you. Farewell, sister. 221
Free. Until nightfall, my heart is with you. Goodbye, sister. 221
Cri. Adieu, brother. Come on, sister, for these sweetmeats.
Cri. Goodbye, brother. Let's go, sister, for these treats.
Free. Let’s meet and practise presently.
Free. Let’s meet and practice soon.
Tyse. Content; we’ll but fit our pumps. Come, ye pernicious vermin.
Tyse. Happy; let's just get our shoes on. Come on, you troublesome pests.
[Exeunt all but Freevill.
[Everyone exits except Freevill.
Enter Malheureux.
Enter Unlucky.
Mal. The eldest child of nature ne’er beheld
So damn’d a creature. 230
Unl. The firstborn of nature has never seen
Such a cursed soul.
Free. What! In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas?
Which way bears the tide?
Free. What! My mind prompts me to speak of forms changed anew?
Which direction is the tide moving?
Mal. Dear loved sir, I find a mind courageously vicious may be put on a desperate security; but can never be blessed with a firm enjoying and self-satisfaction.
Mal. Dear beloved sir, I believe that a bold and wicked mindset can create a false sense of security, but it can never achieve true happiness and self-contentment.
Free. What passion is this, my dear Lindabrides?[61]
Free. What is this passion, my dear Lindabrides?[61]
Mal. ’Tis well; we both may jest; I ha’ been tempted to your death.
Mal. It's fine; we can both joke around; I've been tempted to see you dead.
Free. What, is the rampant cocatrice grown mad for the loss of her men? 241
Free. What, has the wild cockatrice gone crazy over the loss of her men? 241
Mal. Devilishly mad.
Devilishly angry.
Free. As most assured of my second love?
Free. Am I most certain about my second love?
Mal. Right.
Okay.
Free. She would have had this ring.
Free. She would have gotten this ring.
Mal. Ay, and this heart; and in true proof you were
slain, I should bring her this ring, from which she was
assured
You would not part until from life you parted;
For which deed, and only for which deed, I should
possess her sweetness. 251
Mal. Oh, and this heart; and to prove that you were truly killed, I would bring her this ring, which she knew
You wouldn’t leave her until you left this world;
For that act, and only for that act, I would have her sweetness. 251
Mal. My lust, not I, before my reason would; yet I must use her. That I, a man of sense, should conceive endless pleasure in a body whose soul I know to be so hideously black! 259
Mal. My desire, not me, goes ahead of my logic; still, I have to make use of her. It's crazy that I, a rational person, can find endless pleasure in a body whose soul I know is so disgustingly dark!
Free. That a man at twenty-three should cry, O sweet pleasure! and at forty-three should sigh, O sharp pox! But consider man furnished with omnipotence, and you overthrow him; thou must cool thy impatient appetite. ’Tis fate, ’tis fate!
Free. It's funny how a man at twenty-three can cry, "Oh, sweet pleasure!" and at forty-three sigh, "Oh, sharp pain!" But think about a man with all the power in the world, and you might bring him down; you have to temper your restless desires. It's destiny, it's destiny!
Mal. I do malign my creation that I am subject to passion. I must enjoy her.
Mal. I criticize my creation because I'm overwhelmed by passion. I must embrace her.
Free. I have it, mark. I give a masque to-night
To my love’s kindred; in that thou shalt go.
In that we two make show of falling out.
Give seeming challenge—instantly depart, 270
With some suspicion to present fight.
We will be seen as going to our swords;
And after meeting, this ring only lent,
I’ll lurk in some obscure place, till rumour
(The common bawd to loose suspicions)
Have feign’d me slain, which (in respect myself
Will not be found, and our late seeming quarrel)
Will quickly sound to all as earnest truth.
Then to thy wench; protest me surely dead;
Show her this ring, enjoy her, and, blood cold, 280
We’ll laugh at folly.
Free. I've got it, so pay attention. I'm throwing a masquerade party tonight.
for my partner's family; you're going to be a part of that.
Let's act like we had a disagreement.
Let's pretend to challenge each other—then walk away, 270
creating the feeling that a fight is about to occur.
We'll pretend we're drawing swords;
afterwards, with this borrowed ring,
I’ll stay hidden in a secluded place until the rumors
(the usual rumors that ease doubts)
have made it seem like I’m dead, which (since I
won't actually be found, and our recent argument)
will soon seem true to everyone.
Then go to your girl; convince her that I'm actually dead;
show her this ring, have fun with her, and, stay calm and relaxed, 280
we'll laugh at the nonsense.
Free. Think of it! come away; virtue, let sleep thy passions;
What old times held as crimes, are now but fashions.
Free. Can you believe it? Let's take a moment; stay virtuous and control your desires;
What used to be considered sins are now just trends.
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.]
[53] Old eds. “goose-turnd-greene.”—“Merde oye. A Goose-turd-greene.”—Cotgrave.
[54] Tacitus has the same sensible observation about prohibited books:—“Convictum Veientonem Italia depulit [Nero] et libros exuri jussit, conquisitos lectitatosque, donec cum periculo parabantur: mox licentia habendi oblivionem attulit.”—Ann., xiv. 50. But in these days of “anthropological” research a public censor of morals might to the advantage of the community be allowed to exercise authority. Discretion, of course, would have to be used; otherwise this edition of Marston might be called in; absit omen!
[54] Tacitus makes a good point about banned books:—“Nero expelled the people of Veii from Italy and ordered their books to be burned, gathered and read until they were prepared with danger: soon after, the freedom to hold them brought forgetfulness..”—Ann., xiv. 50. However, in today's world of “anthropological” studies, it might benefit society to have a public censor of morals with some authority. Of course, discretion would be necessary; otherwise, this edition of Marston might be banned; absit omen!
[55] See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[56] For information about the city-giants see Fairholt’s excellent History of Lord Mayors’ Pageants, p. 76 (Percy Society).
[56] For details about the city-giants, check out Fairholt’s great book History of Lord Mayors’ Pageants, p. 76 (Percy Society).
[57] Proposal, scheme.
Proposal, plan.
[58] Nineveh was one of the most famous of the motions (i.e., puppet-shows); Julius Cæsar was also a favourite (see Middleton, viii. 95-6). Ben Jonson alludes to the motion of “Jonas and the Whale” in Every Man out of his Humour. In Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair, v. 1, there is a mention of the motion of Jerusalem:—“O the motions that I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to, in my time, since my master Pod died! Jerusalem was a stately thing, and so was Nineveh,” &c.
[58] Nineveh was one of the most well-known puppet shows; Julius Caesar was also a popular one (see Middleton, viii. 95-6). Ben Jonson references the show “Jonas and the Whale” in Every Man out of his Humour. In Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair, v. 1, there’s a mention of the show of Jerusalem:—“O the shows that I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to, in my time, since my master Pod passed away! Jerusalem was a grand thing, and so was Nineveh,” & c.
[59] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “’tis the.”
So ed. 2—Ed. 1. “it’s the.”
[60] See note, vol. i. p. 276.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, vol. 1 p. 276.
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
House of Master Burnish, the jeweller.
House of Master Burnish, the jeweler.
Mul. I am not at this time furnish’d; but there’s my bond for your plate.
Mul. I'm not able to provide it right now, but here's my bond for your plate.
Mul. ’Tis my hard fortune; I will hang the knave. No, first he shall half rot in fetters in the dungeon—his conscience made despairful. I’ll hire a knave o’ purpose—shall assure him he is damn’d; and after see him with mine own eyes, hang’d without singing any psalm. Lord, that he has but one neck! 12
Mul. It's my bad luck; I will hang that worthless guy. No, first he’ll spend some time rotting in chains in the dungeon—driven to despair by his own conscience. I’ll hire a scoundrel just for this—who will convince him he's doomed; and then I’ll watch him, with my own eyes, hanged without humming any hymns. Man, how does he only have one neck! 12
Bur. You are too tyrannous;—you’ll use me no further?
Bur. You're too controlling; you won't take advantage of me anymore?
Mul. No, sir; lend me your servant, only to carry the plate home. I have occasion of an hour’s absence.
Mul. No, sir; just let me borrow your servant to take the plate home. I need to be away for about an hour.
Bur. With easy consent, sir.—Haste and be careful.
Bur. Sure, no problem, sir. — Hurry up and be cautious.
[Exit Burnish.
[Exit Burnish.
Mul. Be very careful, I pray thee,—to my wife’s own hands.
Mul. Please be very careful, I ask you— in my wife's own hands.
Lio. Secure yourself, sir. 20
Lio. Lock it down, sir. 20
Mul. To her own hand!
To her own hand!
Lio. Fear not, I have delivered greater things than this to a woman’s own hand.
Lio. Don’t worry, I’ve given better things directly to a woman.
Coc. Mounsier, please you to buy a fine delicate ball, sweet ball—a camphor ball?
Coc. Sir, would you like to buy a nice, delicate ball, a sweet ball—a camphor ball?
Mul. Prithee, away!
Mul. Please, go away!
[Exit Lionel.
[Leave Lionel.
Coc. Wun’[66] a ball to scour—a scouring ball—a ball to be shaved!
Coc. Wun’[66] a ball to clean—a cleaning ball—a ball to be trimmed!
Mul. For the love of God! talk not of shaving. I have been shaved—mischief and a thousand devils seize him!—I have been shaved! 31
Mul. For the love of God! Don’t even mention shaving. I’ve been shaved—curse him a thousand times!—I’ve been shaved!
[Exit Mulligrub.
Exit Mulligrub.
Coc. The fox grows fat when he is cursed—I’ll shave ye smoother yet. Turd on a tile stone! my lips have a kind of rheum at this bole. I’ll have’t—I’ll gargalise my throat with this vintner, and when I have done with him, spit him out. I’ll shark! Conscience does not repine. Were I to bite an honest gentleman, a poor grogaran poet, or a penurious parson that had but ten pigs’ tails in a twelvemonth, and, for want of learning, had but one good stool in a fortnight, I were damn’d beyond the works of supererogation; but to wring the withers of my gouty-barm’d spiggod-frigging jumbler of elements, Mulligrub, I hold it as lawful as sheep-shearing, taking eggs from hens, caudles from asses, or butter’d shrimps from horses—they make no use of them, were not provided for them. And, therefore, worshipful Cocledemoy, hang toasts! On, in grace and virtue to proceed, only beware, beware degrees. There be rounds in a ladder, and knots in a halter; ware carts, hang toasts, the common council has decreed it! I must draw a lot for the great goblet.
Coc. The fox gets fat when he's cursed—I’ll make you even smoother. A piece of crap on a stone! My lips are kind of sticky at this point. I’ll do it—I’ll clear my throat with this wine, and once I’m done with him, I’ll spit him out. I’ll hustle! Conscience doesn't complain. If I were to bite an honest guy, a poor, struggling poet, or a broke priest who only had ten pig's tails in a year, and who, due to lack of education, had only one decent stool in a fortnight, I’d be damned beyond what’s acceptable; but to mess with my cranky, gouty buddy, Mulligrub, I think it’s as fair as shearing sheep, taking eggs from hens, getting milk from donkeys, or catching shrimp from horses—they don’t need them and weren't meant for them anyway. So, dear Cocledemoy, forget the toasts! Let’s move on in grace and virtue, but just be cautious about the levels. There are rungs on a ladder and knots in a noose; watch out for carts, forget the toasts, the city council has made that clear! I need to draw a lot for the big goblet.
[Exit. 51
Exit.
[62] Old eds. “Garnish.”
Old eds. “Garnish.”
[63] Bond.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Bond.
[64] Mulligrub is good as Antonio was good in Shylock’s eyes:—“My meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand that he is sufficient.”
[64] Mulligrub is good like Antonio was good in Shylock’s eyes:—“What I mean by saying he is a good man is to make you understand that he is capable.”
[65] Partly gilt,—with part of the work gilt and part left ungilded.
[65] Partly gold-plated,—with some of the work coated in gold and some left uncoated.
[66] i.e., want.—Old eds. “One.”
Want.—Old eds. “One.”
SCENE III.
SCENE III.
A Tavern.
A Bar.
Enter Mistress Mulligrub, and Lionel with a goblet.
Enter Mistress Mulligrub, and Lionel holding a goblet.
Mistress Mul. Nay, I pray you, stay and drink; and how does your mistress? I know her very well—I have been inward with her, and so has many more. She was ever a good, patient creature, i’faith! With all my heart, I’ll remember your master, an honest man. He knew me before I was married! An honest man he is, and a crafty. He comes forward in the world well, I warrant him; and his wife is a proper woman, that she is. Well, she has been as proper a woman as any in Cheap. She paints now, and yet she keeps her husband’s old customers to him still. In troth, a fine-faced wife, in a wainscot-carved seat,[67] is a worthy ornament to a tradesman’s shop, and an attractive, I warrant; her husband shall find it in the custom of his ware, I’ll assure him. God be with you, good youth; I acknowledge the receipt. [Exit Lionel.] I acknowledge all the receipt—sure, ’tis very well spoken—I acknowledge the receipt. Thus ’tis to have good education, and to be brought up in a tavern. I do keep as gallant and as good company, though I say it, as any she in London. Squires, gentlemen, and knights diet at my table, and I do lend some of them money; and full many fine men go upon my score, as simple as I stand here, and I trust them; and truly they very knightly and courtly promise fair, give me very good words, and a piece of flesh when time of year serves. Nay, though my husband be a citizen, and’s cap’s made of wool,[68] yet I ha’ wit, and can see my good as soon as another, for I have all the thanks; my silly husband, alas! he knows nothing of it; ’tis I that bear—’tis I that must bear a brain[69] for all.
Mistress Mul. No, please stay and have a drink; how is your mistress? I know her really well—I’ve been close with her, and so have many others. She’s always been a good, patient person, truly! I’ll certainly remember your master, an honest man. He knew me before I got married! He’s a good man and also quite clever. He’s doing well in the world, I assure you; and his wife is a lovely woman, no doubt about it. She’s been as lovely as any woman around Cheapside. She wears makeup now, yet she still keeps her husband’s old customers loyal to him. Honestly, a beautiful wife in a nicely carved seat is a worthy decoration for a tradesman’s shop, and very appealing, I guarantee; her husband will see it in his sales, I assure him. God be with you, good young man; I acknowledge the receipt. [Exit Lionel.] I acknowledge all the receipt—sure, that’s very well said—I acknowledge the receipt. This is what having a good education and growing up in a tavern can do. I keep just as fine and quality company, though I say it, as anyone in London. Squires, gentlemen, and knights dine at my table, and I lend some of them money; and many fine gentlemen run up a bill with me, as simple as I stand here, and I trust them; and honestly, they promise to pay me back like true knights and nobles, give me good words, and a piece of meat when the season allows. Even though my husband is a citizen and his cap is made of wool, I’m clever and can see my benefits just like anyone else, because I get all the thanks; my silly husband, poor thing! He knows nothing about it; it’s me who has to handle—it’s me who has to be the brain for everything.
Coc. Fair hour to you, mistress! 31
Coc. Good day to you, ma'am! 31
Mistress Mul. Fair hour!—fine term!—faith, I’ll score it up anon.—A beautiful thought to you, sir.
Mistress Mul. Good day!—great phrase!—honestly, I’ll note it down soon.—A lovely idea for you, sir.
Coc. Your husband, and my master, Mr. Burnish,[70] has sent you a jole of fresh salmon, and they both will come to dinner to season your new cup with the best wine, which cup your husband entreats you to send back by me, that his arms may be graved a’ the side, which he forgot before it was sent.
Coc. Your husband, my boss, Mr. Burnish,[70] has sent you a gift of fresh salmon, and they will both come to dinner to fill your new cup with the best wine. Your husband asks you to return the cup with me so that his arms can be engraved on the side, which he forgot to do before it was sent.
Mistress Mul. By what token are you sent?—by no token? Nay, I have wit. 41
Mistress Mul. What message do you bring?—no message? No, I have sense. 41
Coc. He sent me by the same token, that he was dry shaved this morning.
Coc. He also told me that he was dry-shaved this morning.
Mistress Mul. A sad token, but true. Here, sir, I pray you commend me to your master, but especially to your mistress. Tell them they shall be most sincerely welcome.
Mistress Mul. It's a sad reminder, but it's true. Here, sir, please let your master know about me, but especially your mistress. Tell them they will be most warmly welcomed.
[Exit.
Exit.
Coc. Shall be most sincerely welcome! Worshipful Cocledemoy, lurk close. Hang toasts! Be not ashamed of thy quality! Every man’s turd smells well in’s own nose. Vanish, foyst! 51
Coc. Will be truly welcome! Honorable Cocledemoy, stay nearby. Raise your glasses! Don’t be embarrassed about who you are! Everyone thinks their own stuff smells good. Go away, foyst! 51
[Exit.
[Leave.
Re-enter Mistress Mulligrub, with servants and furniture for the table.
Re-enter Mistress Mopey, with servants and furniture for the table.
Mistress Mul. Come, spread these table diaper napkins, and—do you hear—perfume this parlour; does so smell of profane tobacco. I could never endure this ungodly tobacco, since one of our elders assured me, upon his knowledge, tobacco was not used in the congregation of the family of love. Spread, spread handsomely—Lord? these boys do things arsy-versy—you show your bringing up. I was a gentlewoman by my sister’s side—I can tell ye so methodically. Methodically! I wonder where I got that word? O! Sir Aminadab Ruth bad me kiss him methodically!—I had it somewhere, and I had it indeed. 63
Mistress Mul. Come on, spread these table cloths, and—do you hear—freshen up this room; it really smells like bad tobacco. I can’t stand this awful tobacco since one of our elders told me, from what he knows, that tobacco wasn’t used in the congregation of the family of love. Spread it out nicely—Lord? these boys do things all wrong—you can tell how they were raised. I was a lady next to my sister—I can tell you that so clearly. Clearly! I wonder where I picked up that word? Oh! Sir Aminadab Ruth told me to kiss him properly!—I remembered it from somewhere, and I definitely had it. 63
Enter Master Mulligrub.
Enter Master Mulligrub.
Mul. Mind, be not desperate; I’ll recover all.
All things with me shall seem honest that can be profitable,
He must ne’er winch, that would or thrive or save,
To be call’d niggard, cuckold, cut-throat, knave!
Mul. Don't worry; I’ll recover everything.
Everything I do will look great if it can make me money,
You can't hesitate if you want to succeed or stay out of danger.
You definitely don't want to be seen as stingy, cheated, ruthless, or dishonest!
Mistress Mul. Are they come, husband?
Mistress Mul. Are they here, husband?
Mul. Who?—what?—how now? What feast towards in my private parlour? 70
Mul. Who?—what?—what's going on? What celebration is happening in my private parlor? 70
Mistress Mul. Pray leave your foolery! What, are they come?
Mistress Mul. Please stop your nonsense! What, are they here?
Mul. Come—who come?
Mul. Come—who's coming?
Mistress Mul. You need not make’t so strange!
Mistress Mul. You don't need to act so weird!
Mul. Strange?
Mul. Weird?
Mistress Mul. Ay, strange. You know no man that sent me word that he and his wife would come to dinner to me, and sent this jole of fresh salmon beforehand?
Mistress Mul. Yeah, it's strange. You don’t know any guy who told me that he and his wife would come over for dinner and sent this nice piece of fresh salmon ahead of time?
Mistress Mul. Other men’s cost! Why, did not you send this jole of salmon?
Mistress Mul. Other men’s expenses! Did you not send this piece of salmon?
Mul. No.
No.
Mistress Mul. By Master Burnish’[71] man?
Mistress Mul. by Master Burnish’s __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ man?
Mul. No.
No.
Mistress Mul. Sending me word that he and his wife would come to dinner to me? 90
Mistress Mul. letting me know that he and his wife would come to dinner at my place? me?
Mul. No, no.
No way.
Mistress Mul. To season my new bowl?
Mistress Mul. To season my new bowl?
Mul. Bowl!
Mul. Let's bowl!
Mistress Mul. And withal will’d me to send the bowl back.
Mistress Mul. And yet insisted that I send the bowl back.
Mul. Back!
Mul. Go away!
Mistress Mul. That you might have your arms graved on the side?
Mistress Mul. So, you want your arms engraved on the side?
Mul. Ha!
Mul. Haha!
Mistress Mul. By the same token you were dry-shaven this morning before you went forth. 101
Mistress Mul. Similarly, you were clean-shaven this morning before you went out. 101
Mul. Pah! how this salmon stinks!
Mul. Ugh! This salmon smells bad!
Mistress Mul. And thereupon sent the bowl back, prepar’d dinner—nay, and I bear not a brain.
Mistress Mul. And then sent the bowl back, ready for dinner—no, and I can't think at all.
Mul. Wife, do not vex me! Is the bowl gone?—is it deliver’d?
Mul. Wife, don’t annoy me! Is the bowl gone?—has it been delivered?
Mistress Mul. Deliver’d! Yes, sure, ’tis deliver’d.
Mistress Mul. Delivered! Yes, it's delivered.
Mistress Mul. Gone? God is my witness, I deliver’d it with no more intention to be cozen’d on’t than the child new born; and yet——
Mistress Mul. Gone? I swear, I sent it with no intention of being tricked into it, just like a newborn baby; and yet
Mul. Look to my house! I am haunted with evil spirits! Hear me; do hear me! If I have not my goblet again, heaven! I’ll to the devil,—I’ll to a conjurer. Look to my house! I’ll raise all the wise men i’ the street.
Mul. Look at my house! I'm being haunted by evil spirits! Listen to me; please listen! If I don't get my goblet back, I swear, I'll go to the devil—I’ll summon a conjurer. Look at my house! I’ll gather all the wise men in the street.
[Exit.
Exit.
Mistress Mul. Deliver us! What words are these? I trust in God he is but drunk, sure. 120
Mistress Mul. Help us! What are these words? I really hope he's just drunk, for sure. 120
Re-enter Cocledemoy.
Re-enter Cocledemoy.
Coc. I must have the salmon too; worship[ful] Cocledemoy, now for the masterpiece. God bless thy neckpiece, and foutra!—Fair mistress, my master——
Coc. I need to have the salmon as well; worshipful Cocledemoy, now for the masterpiece. God bless your neckpiece, and nonsense!—Fair mistress, my master
Mistress Mul. Have I caught you?—what, Roger?
Mistress Mul. Did I catch you?—what, Roger?
Coc. Peace, good mistress. I’ll tell you all. A jest; a very mere jest: your husband only took sport to fright you:—the bowl’s at my master’s; and there is your husband, who sent me in all haste lest you should be over-frighted with his feigning, to come to dinner to him. 130
Coc. Calm down, good lady. I’ll explain everything. It was just a joke; a simple joke: your husband only meant to scare you a little. The bowl is at my master's place, and there’s your husband, who sent me quickly so you wouldn’t be too frightened by his pretending. He wants you to come to dinner with him. him. 130
Mistress Mul. Praise heaven it is no worse.
Thank goodness it could be worse.
Coc. And desired me to desire you to send the jole of salmon before, and yourself to come after to them; my mistress would be right glad to see you.
Coc. And asked me to ask you to send the salmon ahead, and for you to come after; my mistress would be very happy to see you.
Coc. So now, figo! worshipful Mall Faugh and I will munch; cheaters and bawds go together like washing and wringing. 140
Coc. So now, let’s go! Worshipful Mall Faugh and I will grab a bite; cheaters and hustlers go together like washing and wringing. 140
[Exit.
Exit.
Enter Mulligrub.
Enter Mulligrub.
Mul. Whither now?—what’s the matter with you now?—whither are you a-gadding?
Mul. Where are you going now?—what's wrong with you now?—where are you off to?
Mistress Mul. Come, come, play the fool no more. Will you go?
Mistress Mul. Come on, stop acting foolish. Are you going to leave?
Mul. Whither, in the rank name of madness—whither?
Mul. Where, in the terrible name of madness—where?
Mistress Mul. Whither?—why to Master Burnish,[74] to eat the jole of salmon. Lord, how strange you make it! 153
Mistress Mul. Where to?—why, to Master Burnish,[74] to eat the salmon fillet. Wow, how odd you make it! It!
Mul. Why so?—why so?
Mul. Why is that?
Mistress Mul. Why so? Why, did not you send the self-same fellow for the jole of salmon that had the cup?
Mistress Mul. Why's that? Didn't you send the same guy for the salmon that had the cup?
Mul. ’Tis well,—’tis very well.
Mul. It’s good—really good.
Mistress Mul. And will’d me to come and eat it with you at the goldsmith’s?
Mistress Mul. And asked me to come and eat it with you at the goldsmith’s?
Mistress Mul. Do you hear?—make a fool of somebody else; and you make an ass of me, I’ll make an ox of you,—do ye see?
Mistress Mul. Do you hear me?—don’t make a fool of someone else; if you make a fool out of me, I'll make a fool out of you—got it?
Mul. Nay, wife, be patient; for, look you, I may be mad, or drunk, or so; for my own part, though you can bear more than I, yet I can do well. I will not curse nor cry,[75] but Heaven knows what I think. Come, let’s go hear some music; I will never more say my prayers. Let’s go hear some doleful music. Nay, if Heaven forget to prosper knaves, I’ll go no more to the synagogue. Now I am discontented, I’ll turn sectary; that is fashion.
Mul. No, honey, just be patient; look, I might be crazy or drunk or something. For my part, even though you can handle more than I can, I'm doing alright. I won’t curse or shout, [75] but God knows what I really think. Come on, let’s go listen to some music; I will never say my prayers again. Let’s go hear some sad music. If God forgets to help the crooks, I won’t be going back to the synagogue. Now that I’m unhappy, I’ll choose a new belief system; that’s the trend.
[Exeunt.
[They exit.
[67] Tradesmen were frequently accused of using their wives as lures to attract customers. We shall hear more of this subject when we reach the satires.
[67] Tradespeople were often accused of using their wives as bait to draw in customers. We’ll discuss this topic further when we get to the satires.
[68] For the benefit of cappers an act was passed in 1571 that caps of wool (“statute-caps”) should be worn by citizens on the Sabbath and on holidays.
[68] In 1571, a law was enacted requiring citizens to wear wool caps (“statute-caps”) on Sundays and holidays for the benefit of cap makers.
[70] Old eds. “Garnish.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old editions “Garnish.”
[71] Old eds. “Garnish.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Garnish.”
[72] Ed. 1. “about, abour.”
“about, abour.”
[73] Old form of “apron,” (which is the reading of ed. 2).
[73] An old version of “apron,” (which is how it appears in ed. 2).
[74] Old eds. “Garnish.”
Old eds. “Garnish.”
[75] Ed. 1. “cary.”—Ed. 2. “care I.”
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Enter Sir Hubert Subboys, Sir Lionel Freevill, Crispinella; servants with lights.
Enter Sir Hubert Subboys, Sir Lionel Freevill, Crispinella; servants with lights.
Sir Hub. More lights! Welcome, Sir Lionel Freevill! brother Freevill, shortly. Look to your lights!
Sir Hub. More lights! Welcome, Sir Lionel Freevill! Brother Freevill, shortly. Keep an eye on your lights!
Serv. The masquers are at hand.
Serv. The performers are here.
Sir Lio. Call down our daughter. Hark! they are at hand: rank handsomely.
Sir Lio. Bring our daughter here. Listen! They are coming: dress nicely.
Enter the Masquers; they dance. Enter Beatrice, Freevill, and Malheureux. Malheureux takes Beatrice from Freevill: they draw.
The Masquers walk in; they start dancing. Enter Bea, Freevill, and Unfortunate. Unfortunate pulls Bea away from Freevill: they start to draw.
Free. Know, sir, I have the advantage of the place;
You are not safe: I would deal even with you.
Free. Just so you know, sir, I’m in control here;
You're not safe: I would challenge you too.
Mal. So.
Mal. Okay.
[They exchange gloves as pledges.
They swap gloves as promises.
Free. So.
Free. So.
Bea. I do beseech you, sweet, do not for me provoke your fortune. 11
Bea. Please, I urge you, don’t put your luck at risk for my sake. fortune. 11
Sir Hub. From whence comes this?
Sir Hub. Where does this come from?
Free. An ulcer, long time lurking, now is burst.
Free. An ulcer, which has been hidden for a long time, has now finally erupted.
Sir Hub. Good sir, the time and your designs are soft.
Sir Hub. Good sir, your timing and plans are relaxed.
Bea. Ay, dear sir, counsel him, advise him; ’twill relish well
From your carving. Good my sweet, rest safe.
Bea. Yes, dear sir, help him out and give him some advice; it will be appreciated.
Based on your advice. Take care, my dear.
Free. All’s well! all’s well!—this shall be ended straight.
Free. Everything's okay! Everything's okay!—this will be taken care of immediately.
Sir Hub. The banquet stays;—there we’ll discourse more large.
Sir Hub. The banquet is still going on; that’s where we can discuss things in more detail.
Free. Marriage must not make men cowards.
Free. Getting married shouldn't turn men into cowards.
Sir Lio. Nor rage fools. 19
Sir Lio. Don’t anger fools. 19
Sir Hub. ’Tis valour not where heat but reason rules.
Sir Hub. It’s courage when it’s not passion but logic that takes charge.
[Exeunt; only Tysefew and Crispinella stay.
Exeunt; only Tysefew and Crispinella stay.
Tyse. But do you hear, lady?—you proud ape, you! What was the jest you brake of me even now?
Tyse. But do you hear me, lady?—you arrogant fool, you! What was the joke you just made about me?
Cris. Nothing. I only said you were all mettle;—that you had a brazen face, a leaden brain, and a copper beard.
Cris. Nothing. I just said you all have grit;—that you have a tough face, a dull brain, and a reddish beard.
Tyse. Quicksilver,—thou little more than a dwarf, and something less than a woman.
Tyse. Quicksilver,—you're barely more than a dwarf, and a bit less than a woman.
Cris. A wisp! a wisp! a wisp!—will you go to the banquet?
Cris. A wisp! a wisp! a wisp!—are you going to the banquet?
Tyse. By the Lord, I think thou wilt marry shortly too; thou growest somewhat foolish already. 31
Tyse. Honestly, I think you’ll be getting married soon too; you're getting a bit silly already. 31
Cris. O, i’faith, ’tis a fair thing to be married, and a necessary. To hear this word must! If our husbands be proud, we must bear his contempt; if noisome, we must bear with the goat under his armholes; if a fool, we must bear his bable;[76] and, which is worse, if a loose liver, we must live upon unwholesome reversions; where, on the contrary side, our husbands—because they may, and we must—care not for us. Things hoped with fear, and got with strugglings, are men’s high pleasures, when duty palls and flats their appetite. 41
Cris. Oh, truly, it’s a good thing to be married, and necessary. To hear this word must! If our husbands are proud, we have to put up with their disdain; if they're unpleasant, we have to deal with their bad habits; if they’re foolish, we have to endure their nonsense; [76] and, worse yet, if they’re unfaithful, we have to live with unwholesome leftovers; meanwhile, our husbands—because they can, and we have to—don’t care about us. Things we hope for with fear and struggle for are men’s greatest pleasures, when duty dulls and flattens their appetite. 41
Tyse. What a tart monkey is this! By heaven! if thou hadst not so much wit, I could find in my heart to marry thee. Faith, bear with me for all this!
Tyse. What a cheeky monkey you are! Honestly! If you weren't so clever, I might actually consider marrying you. Seriously, just bear with me through all of this!
Cris. Bear with thee? I wonder how thy mother could bear thee ten months in her belly, when I cannot endure thee two hours in mine eye.
Cris. Put up with you? I can't believe your mother managed to carry you for ten months when I can't stand having you in my sight for even two hours.
Cris. Why, i’faith, yet, servant, you of all others should bear with my known unmalicious humours: I have always in my heart given you your due respect. And Heaven may be sworn, I have privately given fair speech of you, and protested——
Cris. Honestly, you of all people should be patient with my usual lightheartedness: I've always respected you. And I swear, I've quietly spoken well of you and announced
Tyse. Nay, look you; for my own part, if I have not as religiously vow’d my heart to you,—been drunk to your health, swallowed flap-dragons,[80] ate glasses, drunk urine,[81] stabb’d arms,[82] and done all the offices of protested gallantry for your sake; and yet you tell me I have a brazen face, a leaden brain, and a copper beard! Come, yet, and it please you. 64
Tyse. No, listen; as for me, if I haven’t dedicated my heart to you in the most sincere way—celebrated your health with drinks, swallowed crazy concoctions,[80] eaten strange things, drank unusual liquids,[81] harmed myself,[82] and done all sorts of bold gestures to win your affection; and still you say I have a shameless face, a dull mind, and a cheap beard! Come on, that’s enough to please you. 64
Cris. No, no;—you do not love me.
Cris. No, no; you don’t love me.
Tyse. By —— but I do now; and whosoever dares say that I do not love you, nay, honour you, and if you would vouchsafe to marry——
Tyse. I definitely do now; and anyone who says I don't love you, or respect you, and if you would be willing to get married
Cris. Nay, as for that, think on’t as you will, but God’s my record,—and my sister knows I have taken drink and slept upon’t,—that if ever I marry, it shall be you; and I will marry, and yet I hope I do not say it shall be you neither. 73
Cris. No, think what you want, but I swear by God—and my sister knows I’ve been drinking and sleeping on it—that if I ever get married, it will be to you; and I will get married, and I hope I’m not saying it will be you either. neither. 73
Tyse. By Heaven, I shall be as soon weary of health as of your enjoying!—Will you cast a smooth cheek upon me?
Tyse. I swear, I'll get tired of being healthy just as quickly as I get tired of you enjoying yourself!—Will you give me a sweet smile?
Cris. I cannot tell. I have no crump’d shoulders, my back needs no mantle, and yet marriage is honourable. Do you think ye shall prove a cuckold?
Cris. I can’t say. I don’t have hunched shoulders, I don’t need a cloak, and yet marriage is respectable. Do you think you'll end up being a cuckold?
Tyse. No, by the Lord, not I! 80
Tyse. No, I swear, not me! 80
Tyse. If you will be mine, you shall be your own:—my purse, my body, my heart, is yours,—only be silent in my house, modest at my table, and wanton in my bed;—and the Empress of Europe cannot content, and shall not be contented, better. 89
Tyse. If you will be mine, you will also be your own:—my wealth, my body, my heart, are yours,—just be quiet in my home, respectful at my table, and passionate in my bed;—and the Empress of Europe cannot satisfy, and will not be satisfied, better. 89
Cris. Can any kind heart speak more discreetly affectionately? My father’s consent; and as for mine——
Cris. Can anyone speak about love with more care and respect? My dad's approval; and as for mine
Tyse. Then thus, and thus, so Hymen should begin; Sometimes a falling out proves falling in.
Tyse. So, here's how it should go; sometimes a breakup leads to a makeup.
[Exeunt.
Exeunt.
[76] The word is used in the double sense of (1) babble, (2) bauble (which was frequently written bable).
[76] The word is used in two ways: (1) to mean babble, and (2) to mean bauble (which was often written as bable).
[77] Euphues and his England is the title of the second part (first published in 1580) of John Lyly’s famous and tedious romance.
[77] Euphues and his England is the name of the second part (first published in 1580) of John Lyly’s well-known and lengthy romance.
[78] One of the romances published in the series that bears the general title of The Mirrour of Knighthood.
[78] One of the stories released in the series under the general title of The Mirrour of Knighthood.
[79] The Legend of Lies is, of course, a fictitious book.
[79] The Legend of Lies is, of course, a made-up book.
[81] This nasty feat of gallantry is mentioned by Middleton, ii. 351.
[81] This unpleasant act of bravery is referenced by Middleton, ii. 351.
[82] It appears (from passages in Ben Jonson, Middleton, &c.) that gallants were accustomed to puncture their arms, and letting the blood drip into the wine, drink off the mixture to their mistress’ health.
[82] It seems (from passages in Ben Jonson, Middleton, etc.) that stylish men used to puncture their arms and let their blood drip into the wine, then drink the mixture to toast their mistress’s health.
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Near Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Close to Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Enter Freevill, speaking to some within; Malheureux at the other door.
Enter Freevill, talking to some people inside; Unfortunate at the other door.
Free. As you respect my virtue, give me leave
To satisfy my reason, though not blood.—
So all runs right; our feignèd rage hath ta’en
To fullest life: they are much possess’d
Of force most, most all quarrel. Now, my right friend,
Resolve me with open breast, free and true heart;
Cannot thy virtue, having space to think
And fortify her weakened powers with reason,
Discourses, meditations, discipline,
Divine ejaculatories, and all those aids against devils,—
Cannot all these curb thy low appetite 11
And sensual fury?
Free. Since you value my honor, let me
Satisfy my logic, even if not my emotions.
So everything is going well; our pretend anger has taken
Living life to the fullest: they are quite absorbed.
By nature, nearly everything revolves around conflict. Now, my real friend,
Respond to me with an open heart, truthfully and genuinely;
Can your virtue, after considering it for a while
And boost its diminished abilities with reasoning,
Dialogue, introspection, self-control,
Divine prayers and all those tools to resist temptation—
Can none of these manage your basic desires __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__?
And passionate anger?
Free. No.
Free. Nope.
Mal. Then I must enjoy Franceschina.
Mal. Then I have to enjoy Franceschina.
Free. You shall.
I’ll lend this ring: show it to that fair devil:
It will resolve me dead;
Which rumour, with my artificial absence,
Will make most firm: enjoy her suddenly. 20
Free. You will.
I'll give you this ring: show it to that gorgeous troublemaker:
It will make me feel completely drained;
That rumor, about my planned absence,
It will all come together: enjoy her right away. 20
Mal. But if report go strong that you are slain,
And that by me,—whereon I may be seized,—
Where shall I find your being?
Mal. But if people insist that you were killed,
And I'm responsible for it—which could cause me problems—
Where can I find you?
Free. At Master Shatewe’s the jeweller’s, to whose breast
I’ll trust our secret purpose.
Free. At Master Shatewe’s, the jeweler, where I’ll share our secret plan.
Mal. Ay, rest yourself;
Each man hath follies.
Hey, take a break;
Everyone has their flaws.
Free. But those worst of all,
Who, with a willing eye, do seeing fall.
Free. But those are the absolute worst of all,
Who, with keen eyes, chooses to see and trips.
Mal. ’Tis true, but truth seems folly in madness’ spectacles. I am not now myself, no man: farewell.
Mal. It’s true, but truth looks crazy through the lens of madness. I’m not myself right now, not a man: goodbye.
Free. Farewell. 30
Free. Goodbye. 30
Mal. When woman’s in the heart, in the soul hell.
Mal. When a woman is in the heart, it feels like hell in the soul.
[Exit Malheureux.
[Exit Unlucky.
Free. Now, repentance, the fool’s whip, seize thee;
Nay, if there be no means I’ll be thy friend,
But not thy vices’; and with greatest sense
I’ll force thee feel thy errors to the worst;
The wildest of dangers thou shalt sink into.
No jeweller shall see me; I will lurk
Where none shall know or think; close I’ll withdraw,
And leave thee with two friends—a whore and knave;
But is this virtue in me? No, not pure, 40
Nothing extremely best with us endures;
No use in simple purities; the elements
Are mix’d for use; silver without allay[83]
Is all too eager[84] to be wrought for use:
Nor precise virtues, ever purely good,
Holds useful size with temper of weak blood.
Then let my course be borne, though with side-wind;
The end being good, the means are well assign’d.
Free. Now, regret, the fool's punishment, has come for you;
No, if there's no way I can be your friend,
But not a friend to your bad habits; and with the deepest understanding
I’ll make you really understand the impact of your mistakes.
You'll face the craziest dangers.
No jeweler will see me; I’ll stay hidden.
Where no one will know or suspect, I’ll hold back.
And leave you with two companions—a sex worker and a dishonest person;
But do I have this virtue? No, not really, 40
Nothing really great lasts with us;
There’s no advantage in just being pure; the elements __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Are combined for practicality; pure silver without any alloy __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Is way too eager__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to use:
Nor exact virtues, ever completely good,
Have a practical size with the quality of weak blood.
Let me follow my path, even if it's not straight;
If the outcome is good, then the methods are appropriately chosen.
[Exit.
Exit.
[83] Old form of alloy.
Old version of alloy.
SCENE III.
SCENE III.
Franceschina’s lodging.
Franceschina’s inn.
Enter Franceschina melancholy, Cocledemoy leading her.
Enter Franceschina sad, Cocledemoy guiding her.
Coc. Come, catafugo, Frank o’ Frank-hall! who, who ho! Excellent! Ha, here’s a plump-rump’d wench, with a breast softer than a courtier’s tongue, an old lady’s gums, or an old man’s mentula. My fine rogue——
Coc. Come on, Frank from Frank-hall! Who, who ho! Excellent! Ha, here’s a curvy woman, with a chest softer than a courtier’s tongue, an old lady’s gums, or an old man’s mentula. My fine renegade
Fra. Pah, you poltroon!
Fra. Pah, you coward!
Coc. Goody fist,[85] flumpum pumpum; ah, my fine wag-tail, thou art as false, as prostituted, and adulterate as some translated manuscript. Buss, fair whore, buss!
Coc. Goody fist,[85] flumpum pumpum; ah, my lovely wag-tail, you are as deceitful, corrupt, and mixed-up as some translated manuscript. Kiss me, beautiful flirt, kiss me!
Fra. God’s sacrament, pox! 10
Fra. God's blessing, pox! 10
Coc. Hadamoy key, dost thou frown, medianthon teukey? Nay, look here. Numeron key, silver blithefor cany, os cany goblet: us key ne moy blegefoy oteeston pox, on you gosling!
Coc. Hadamoy key, why do you frown, medianthon teukey? No, look here. Numeron key, silver blithefor cany, os cany goblet: us key ne moy blegefoy oteeston pox, on you gosling!
Fra. By me fait, dis bin very fine langage; ick sall bush ye now; ha, be garzon, vare had you dat plate?
Fra. Honestly, that’s really fine language; I’ll get you now; hey, buddy, where did you get that plate?
Coc. Hedemoy key, get you gone, punk rampant, key, common up-tail!
Coc. Hedemoy key, get out of here, wild troublemaker, key, common nuisance!
Enter Mary Faugh in haste.
Enter Mary Faugh quickly.
Mar. O daughter, cousin, niece, servant, mistress!
Mar. O daughter, cousin, niece, servant, mistress!
Coc. Humpum, plumpum squat, I am gone. 20
Coc. Humpum, plump squat, I am gone.
[Exit Cocledemoy.
[Exit Cocledemoy.
Mar. There is one Master Malheureux at the door desires to see you. He says he must not be denied, for he hath sent this ring; and withal says ’tis done.
Mar. There's a Master Malheureux at the door who wants to see you. He insists he can't be turned away, since he sent this ring; and he also says it’s done.
Fra. Vat sall me do now, God’s sacrament! Tell him two hours hence he sall be most affectionately velcome; tell him (vat sall me do?), tel him ick am bin in my bate, and ick sall perfume my feets, mak a mine body so delicate for his arm, two hours hence.
Fra. What should I do now, for goodness' sake! Tell him that in two hours he will be warmly welcomed; tell him (what should I do?), tell him I’ve been waiting, and I’ll freshen up, make my body so inviting for his embrace, in two hours.
Mar. I shall satisfy him: two hours hence, well. 29
Mar. I will make him happy: in two hours, for sure. 29
[Exit Mary.
[Leave Mary.
Fra. Now ick sall revange; hay, begar, me sal tartar de whole generation! Mine brain vork it. Freevill is dead, Malheureux sall hang; and mine rival, Beatrice, ick sall make run mad.
Fra. Now I shall take my revenge; hey, I swear, I will mess up the whole generation! My brain is working. Freevill is dead, Malheureux will hang; and my rival, Beatrice, I will drive mad.
Mar. He’s gone, forsooth, to eat a caudle of cock-stones, and will return within this two hours.
Mar. He’s gone, seriously, to eat a dish of cock-stones, and will be back in two hours.
Fra. Verie vel, give monies to some fellow to squire me; ick sal go abroad.
Fra. Verie well, give some money to a guy to be my servant; I’m going out.
Mar. There’s a lusty bravo beneath, a stranger, but a good stale[86] rascal. He swears valiantly, kicks a bawd right virtuously, and protests with an empty pocket right desperately. He’ll squire you. 41
Mar. There’s a bold guy underneath, a stranger, but a good old rascal. He swears passionately, kicks a brothel keeper with determination, and complains about being broke desperately. He’ll take care of you. you. 41
Fra. Very velcom; mine fan; ick sall retorn presantly. Now sal me be revange; ten tousant devla! der sall be no got in me but passion, no tought but rage, no mercy but bloud, no spirit but divla in me. Dere sal noting tought good for me, but dat is mischievous for others.
Fra. Very welcome; my friend; I’ll be back shortly. Now I will take my revenge; ten thousand devils! There will be nothing in me but passion, no thought but anger, no mercy but blood, no spirit but a devil in me. There will be nothing that I consider good for me, except that it is harmful to others.
[Exit.
Exit.
[86] Quy. “tall”?
Quy. "tall?"
SCENE IV.
SCENE 4.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Room in Sir Hubert Subboys’ house.
Enter Sir Hubert, Sir Lionel, Beatrice, Crispinella, and Nurse, Tysefew following.
Enter Sir Hubert, Sir Lionel, Beatrice, Crispinella, and Nurse, Tysefew following.
Sir Lio. Did no one see him since?—pray God!—nay, all is well.
A little heat; what? he is but withdrawn;
And yet I would to God!—but fear you nothing.
Sir Lio. Has anyone seen him since?—I hope he's alright!—no, everything's fine.
Just a little tension, right? He just walked away.
And I still wish to God!—but don’t stress about anything.
Bea. Pray God that all be well, or would I were not!
Bea. I hope everything is okay, or I wish I weren't here!
Tyse. He’s not to be found, sir, anywhere.
Tyse. He's nowhere to be found, sir.
Sir Lio. You must not make a heavy face presage an ill event. I like your sister well, she’s quick and lively: would she would marry, faith.
Sir Lio. You shouldn't look so worried like something bad is going to happen. I like your sister; she's sharp and full of life. I really wish she would get married, honestly.
Sir Lio. Ha, mass! and so he is.
Sir Lio. Ha, wow! And that's true.
Cri. You are a widower?
Cri. Are you a widower?
Sir Lio. That I am, i’faith, fair Crisp; and I can tell you, would you affect me, I have it in me yet, i’faith.
Sir Lio. That's who I am, truly, lovely Crisp; and I can tell you, if you want me, I've still got it in me, really.
Cri. Troth I am in love; let me see your hand: would you cast yourself away upon me willingly?
Cri. Honestly, I’m in love; let me see your hand: would you willingly throw yourself away on me?
Sir Lio. Will I? Ay, by the——
Sir Lio. Will I? Yes, by the——
Cri. Would you be a cuckold willingly? By my troth ’tis a comely, fine, and handsome sight, for one of my years to marry an old man; truth, ’tis restorative; what a comfortable thing it is to think of her husband, to hear his venerable cough o’ the everlastings, to feel his rough skin, his summer hands and winter legs, his almost no eyes, and assuredly no teeth; and then to think what she must dream of, when she considers others’ happiness and her own want! ’tis a worthy and notorious comfortable match. 27
Cri. Would you willingly be a cuckold? Honestly, it’s quite an attractive and interesting sight for someone my age to marry an old man; truthfully, it’s refreshing. How nice it is to think of her husband, to hear his aged cough, to feel his rough skin, his summer hands and winter legs, his almost non-existent eyes, and definitely no teeth; and then to think about what she must dream of when she considers others’ happiness and her own lack of it! It’s a worthy and definitely comfortable match. 27
Sir Lio. Pish, pish! will you have me?
Sir Lio. Oh, come on! Will you take me?
Cri. Will you assure me——
Cri. Will you promise me——
Sir Lio. Five hundred pound jointure?
Sir Lio. £500 jointure?
Cri. That you will die within this fortnight?
Cri. Are you saying that you'll die within the next two weeks?
Sir Lio. No, by my faith, Cris.
Sir Lio. No, I promise, Cris.
Cri. Then Crisp by her faith assures you she’ll have none of you.
Cri. Then Crisp, by her faith, assures you she won’t have any of you.
Enter Young Freevill disguised like a pander, and Franceschina.
Enter Young Freevill disguised as a pander, and Franceschina.
Fra. Sir, mine speech is to you; you had a son, matre Freevill?
Fra. Sir, I need to speak with you; did you have a son, matre Freevill?
Sir Lio. Had, ha! and have. 40
Sir Lio. Had, haha! and have. 40
Fra. No point,[87] me am come to assure you dat one mestre Malheureux hath killed him.
Fra. No point, [87] I've come to assure you that a certain Mr. Malheureux has killed him.
Bea. O me! wretched, wretched!
Bea. Oh no! So miserable!
Sir Hub. Look to our daughter.
Sir Hub. Check on our daughter.
Sir Lio. How art thou inform’d?
Sir Lio. How did you hear?
Fra. If dat it please you to go vid me, ick sall bring you where you sall hear Malheureux vid his own lips confess it, and dare ye may apprehend him, and revenge your and mine love’s blood.
Fra. If it pleases you to come with me, I will take you to where you will hear Malheureux confess it with his own lips, and there you can capture him and avenge our love's blood.
Sir Hub. Your love’s blood! mistress, was he your love? 51
Sir Hub. Your love’s blood! Mistress, was he your love?
Fra. He was so, sir; let your daughter hear it: do not veep, lady; de young man dat be slain did not love you, for he still lovit me ten tousant tousant times more dearly.
Fra. He really was, sir; let your daughter know this: don't worry, ma'am; the young man who was killed didn't love you; he loved me ten thousand times more.
Bea. O my heart, I will love you the better; I cannot hate what he affected. O passion, O my grief! which way wilt break, think, and consume!
Bea. Oh my heart, I will love you even more; I can't hate what he pretended. Oh passion, oh my sadness! Which way will you break, think, and wear me down!
Cri. Peace!
Cri. Chill out!
Bea. Dear woes cannot speak. 60
Bea. Dear troubles cannot speak. 60
Fra. For look you, lady, dis your ring he gave me, vid most bitter jests at your scorn’d kindness.
Fra. Well, lady, see this ring he gave me, with the most bitter jokes about your rejected kindness.
Bea. He did not ill not to love me, but sure he did not well to mock me: gentle minds will pity, though they cannot love; yet peace and my love sleep with him. Unlace, good nurse; alas! I was not so ambitious of so supreme an happiness, that he should only love me; ’twas joy enough for me, poor soul, that I only might only love him.
Bea. He didn’t mean to love me, but he definitely shouldn’t have mocked me: kind souls will feel pity, even if they can’t love; yet my peace and love rest with him. Please unlace me, good nurse; oh! I wasn’t so eager for such great happiness that he should only love me; it was happiness enough for me, poor thing, that I could only love him.
Fra. O but to be abused, scorn’d, scoff’d at! O ten tousand divla, by such a one, and unto such a one! 71
Fra. Oh, to be mistreated, mocked, and ridiculed! Oh, ten thousand devils, by someone like that, and for someone like that! 71
Bea. I think you say not true, sister; shall we know one another in the other world?
Bea. I don’t think you’re telling the truth, sister; will we recognize each other in the next life?
Cri. What means my sister?
Cri. What does my sister mean?
Bea. I would fain see him again! O my tortured mind!
Freevill is more than dead, he is unkind!
Bea. I really want to see him again! Oh, my troubled thoughts!
Freevill isn't just gone; he's ruthless!
[Exeunt Beatrice, Crispinella, and Nurse.
[Exit Beatrice, Crispinella, and Nurse.]
Sir Hub. Convey her in, and so, sir, as you said, Set a strong watch.
Sir Hub. Bring her in, and as you mentioned, make sure to keep a close watch.
Sir Lio. Ay, sir, and so pass along with this same common woman; you must make it good. 80
Sir Lio. Yes, sir, and so go ahead with this ordinary woman; you need to make it work. 80
Fra. Ick sall, or let me pay for his mine bloud.
Fra. I will do it, or let me cover the cost for his blood.
Sir Hub. Come, then, along all, with quiet speed.
Sir Hub. Alright, everyone, let's move quickly and quietly.
Sir Lio. O fate!
Sir Lio. Oh no!
Tyse. O sir, be wisely sorry, but not passionate.
Tyse. Oh sir, be appropriately sorry, but don't be overly emotional.
[Exeunt all but Young Freevill.
[Everyone exits except Young Freevill.
Free. I will go and reveal myself! stay, no, no;
Grief endears love. Heaven! to have such a wife
Is happiness to breed pale envy in the saints.
Thou worthy dove-like virgin without gall,
Cannot (that woman’s evil) jealousy,
Despite disgrace, nay, which is worse, contempt, 90
Once stir thy faith? O truth, how few sisters hast thou!
Dear memory!
With what a suffering sweetness, quiet modesty,
Yet deep affection, she received my death!
And then with what a patient, yet oppressed kindness,
She took my lewdly intimated wrongs!
O the dearest of heaven! were there but three
Such women in the world, two might be saved.
Well, I am great
With expectation to what devilish end 100
This woman of foul soul will drive her plots;
But Providence all wicked art o’ertops;
And impudence must know (tho’ stiff as ice),
That fortune doth not always dote on vice.
Free. I'm going to put myself out there! Wait, no, no;
Grief makes love more powerful. Oh, to have a wife like that.
Is happiness that creates envy even among the saints?
You, a worthy and kind virgin without malice,
Can't, because of that woman's flaw—jealousy,
Despite disgrace and contempt, 90
Will you stir your faith for once? Oh truth, how few sisters you have!
Dear memories!
With a gentle pain and calm humility,
But with deep affection, she accepted my death!
And then with such a patient, yet heavy-hearted kindness,
She accepted my incorrectly suggested offenses!
Oh, the most precious gift from heaven! If only there were three.
In the world, only two of such women might be saved.
I'm feeling anxious.
With anticipation for what evil outcome __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
This woman with a wicked heart will continue with her plans;
But Providence prevails over all evil;
And shamelessness must understand (even though it feels cold as ice),
Luck doesn't always favor wrongdoing.
[Exit.
[Leave.
SCENE V.
SCENE 5
A Street.
A Street.
Enter Sir Hubert, Sir Lionel, Tysefew, Franceschina, and three with halberds.
Enter Sir Hubert, Sir Lionel, Tysefew, Franceschina, and three with halberds.
Sir Hub. Plant a watch there! be very careful, sirs; the rest with us.
Sir Hub. Keep a lookout over there! Be extra cautious, guys; the rest of us will stay here.
Tyse.
The heavy night grows to her depth of quiet;
’Tis about mid-darkness.
Tyse.
The deep night falls into silence;
It's about halfway through the dark.
Sir Lio. Deep silence! On!
Sir Lio. Quiet! Go!
[Exeunt.
Exeunt.
Coc. (within). Wa, ha, ho!
Wa, ha, ho!
Enter Mulligrub.
Enter Mulligrub.
Mul. It was his voice, ’tis he: he sups with his cupping-glasses. ’Tis late; he must pass this way: I’ll ha’ him—I’ll ha’ my fine boy, my worshipful Cocledemoy; I’ll moy him; he shall be hang’d in lousy linen; I’ll hire some sectary to make him an heretic before he die; and when he is dead I’ll piss on his grave. 15
Mul. It's his voice, it's him: he's having dinner with his cupping glasses. It’s late; he must pass this way: I’ll get him—I’ll get my fine boy, my esteemed Cocledemoy; I’ll take care of him; he’ll be hung in filthy linen; I’ll hire someone to make him a heretic before he dies; and when he’s dead, I’ll piss on his grave. 15
Enter Cocledemoy.
Enter Cocledemoy.
Coc. Ah, my fine punks, good night, Frank Frailty, Frail o’ Frail-hall! Bonus noches, my ubiquitari.
Coc. Ah, my good friends, good night, Frank Frailty, Frail of Frail-hall! Good night, my everywhere folks.
Mul. Ware polling and shaving, sir.
Mul. Preparing the polls and grooming, sir.
Coc. A wolf, a wolf, a wolf!
Coc. A wolf, a wolf, a wolf!
[Exit Cocledemoy, leaving his cloak behind him.
[Exit Cocledemoy, leaving his cloak behind.
Mul. Here’s something yet, a cloak, a cloak! Yet I’ll after; he cannot ’scape the watch; I’ll hang him if I have any mercy. I’ll slice him.
Mul. Here’s something else, a cloak, a cloak! But I’ll go after him; he can't escape the watch. I'll hang him if I have any mercy. I’ll cut him up.
[Exit.
Exit.
Enter three Constables; to them Cocledemoy.
Enter three Constables; to them Cocledemoy.
1st Con. Who goes there? Come before the constable. 24
1st Con. Who's there? Step forward to the constable. 24
Coc. Bread o’ God! constable, you are a watch for the devil. Honest men are robb’d under your nose; there’s a false knave in the habit of a vintner set upon me; he would have had my purse, but I took me to my heels: yet he got my cloak, a plain stuff cloak, poor, yet ’twill serve to hang him. ’Tis my loss, poor man that I am! 31
Coc. Bread of God! Officer, you’re supposed to keep watch against the devil. Honest people are getting robbed right in front of you; there’s a dishonest guy dressed as a wine seller who tried to rob me. He would have taken my wallet, but I ran away. Still, he got my cloak—a simple, cheap one—but it’ll be enough to hang him. It’s my loss, poor me! am! 31
[Exit.
Exit.
Enter Mulligrub running with Cocledemoy’s cloak.
Enter Mulligrub running with Cocledemoy’s cloak.
2d Con. Masters, we must watch better; is’t not strange that knaves, drunkards, and thieves should be abroad, and yet we of the watch, scriveners, smiths, and tailors, never stir?
2d Con. Masters, we need to be more alert; isn't it weird that crooks, drunks, and thieves are roaming around, yet we watchmen, scribes, blacksmiths, and tailors never move?
1st Con. Hark, who goes there?
1st Con. Hey, who’s there?
Mul. An honest man and a citizen.
Mul. A decent guy and a member of the community.
2d Con. Appear, appear; what are you?
2d Con. Show yourself, show yourself; who are you?
Mul. A simple vintner.
Mul. A basic wine producer.
1st Con. A vintner ha! and simple; draw nearer, nearer; here’s the cloak. 41
1st Con. A winemaker, huh? Just stay close; here’s the cloak. 41
2d Con. Ay, Master Vintner, we know you: a plain stuff cloak; ’tis it.
2d Con. Yes, Master Vintner, we recognize you: a simple cloth cloak; that's it.
1st Con. Right, come! O thou varlet, dost not thou know that the wicked cannot ’scape the eyes of the constable?
1st Con. Alright, let’s go! You scoundrel, don’t you know that the wicked can’t escape the watchful eyes of the constable?
Mul. What means this violence? As I am an honest man I took the cloak——
Mul. What is this violence about? As I'm an honest man, I took the cape
1st Con. As you are a knave, you took the cloak, we are your witnesses for that. 50
1st Con. Since you’re a crook, you took the cloak, and we can testify to that. that. 50
Mul. But, hear me, hear me! I’ll tell you what I am.
Mul. But listen to me, listen to me! I’ll tell you who I am.
2d Con. A thief you are.
You’re a thief.
Mul. I tell you my name is Mulligrub.
Mul. I’m telling you, my name is Mulligrub.
Mul. Why, but I tell thee——
Mul. Why, but I'm telling you——
2d Con. Why, but I tell thee, we’ll tell thee now.
2d Con. Look, I'm telling you, we'll let you know now.
Mul. Am I not mad? am I not an ass? Why, scabs, God’s-foot! let me out. 60
Mul. Am I not crazy? Am I not a fool? Seriously, come on! Just let me out. 60
2d Con. Ay, ay, let him prate; he shall find matter in us scabs, I warrant: God’s-so, what good members of the commonwealth do we prove!
2d Con. Yeah, let him talk; he'll find issues with us, I bet: Seriously, what great citizens of the community we are!
1st Con. Prithee, peace; let’s remember our duties, and let’s[88] go sleep, in the fear of God.
1st Con. Please, let’s be quiet; let’s remember our responsibilities, and let’s[88] go to sleep, with the fear of God.
[Exeunt, having left Mulligrub in the stocks.
[Exit, having left Mulligrub in the stocks.
Mul. Who goes there? Illo, ho, ho: zounds, shall I run mad—lose my wits! Shall I be hang’d? Hark; who goes there? Do not fear to be poor, Mulligrub; thou hast a sure stock now.
Mul. Who's there? Illo, hey, hey: damn, am I going to lose my mind—go crazy! Am I going to get hanged? Listen; who’s there? Don't worry about being poor, Mulligrub; you’ve got a secure future now.
Re-enter Cocledemoy like a bellman.
Come back in Cocledemoy like a bellhop.
Coc. The night grows old, 70
And many a cuckold
Is now—Wha, ha, ha, ho!
Maids on their backs
Dream of sweet smacks,
And warm—Wo, ho, ho, ho!
Coc. It's getting late, 70
And lots of guys with broken hearts
Are now—Ha, ha, ha, ho!
Girls lounging
Dream of sweet kisses,
And warm—Woo, ho, ho, ho!
I must go comfort my venerable Mulligrub, I must
fiddle him till he fist.[89] Fough!
I need to go comfort my dear Mulligrub, I must cheer him up until he feels better.[89] Ugh!
Excellent, excellent! Who’s there? Now, Lord, Lord—Master Mulligrub—deliver us! what does your worship in the stocks? I pray come out, sir.
Excellent, excellent! Who’s there? Now, Lord, Lord—Master Mulligrub—get us out of this! What are you doing in the stocks? Please come out, sir.
Mul. Zounds, man, I tell thee I am lock’d!
Mul. Wow, dude, I'm stuck!
Coc. Lock’d! O world! O men! O time! O night! that canst not discern virtue and wisdom, and one of the common council! What is your worship in for? 90
Coc. Locked! Oh world! Oh people! Oh time! Oh night! You can’t recognize virtue and wisdom, and you call yourself part of the council! What do you stand for? 90
Mul. For (a plague on’t) suspicion of felony.
Mul. For (a curse on it) being suspected of a crime.
Coc. Nay, and it be such a trifle, Lord, I could weep, to see your good worship in this taking. Your worship has been a good friend to me, and tho’ you have forgot me, yet I knew your wife before she was married, and since I have found your worship’s door open, and I have knock’d, and God knows what I have saved: and do I live to see your worship stocked?
Coc. No, if it's just a small thing, my Lord, it makes me want to cry to see you in this state. You've been such a good friend to me, and even if you’ve forgotten me, I knew your wife before she got married. Since I found your door open, I’ve knocked, and God knows what I’ve saved. Am I really living to see you in this situation?
Mul. Honest bellman, I perceive
Thou knowest me: I prithee call the watch. 100
Inform the constable of my reputation,
That I may no longer abide in this shameful habitation,
And hold thee all I have about me.
Mul. Honest bellman, I get it.
You know me; please call the watch. 100
Inform the constable about my reputation,
I can't stay in this embarrassing place any longer,
I'll give you everything I have with me.
[Gives him his purse.
Gives him his wallet.
Coc. ’Tis more than I deserve, sir: let me alone for your delivery.
Coc. It's more than I deserve, sir: just leave it to me for your release.
Re-enter the Constables.
Re-enter the Cops.
Coc. Maids in your——
Master Constable, whose that ith’ stocks?
Coc. Maids in your——
Master Constable, whose is that in the stocks?
1st Con. One for a robbery: one Mulligrub, he calls himself. Mulligrub? Bellman, knowest thou him? 111
1st Con. One for theft: a guy named Mulligrub, he says. Mulligrub? Bellman, do you know him?
Coc. Know him! O, Master Constable, what good service have you done! Know him? He’s a strong thief; his house has been suspected for a bawdy tavern a great while, and a receipt for cut-purses, ’tis most certain. He has been long in the black book, and is he ta’en now?
Coc. Do you know him? Oh, Master Constable, what great work you've done! Know him? He's a notorious thief; his place has been thought to be a brothel for quite some time, and it's definitely a hangout for pickpockets. He’s been on the blacklist for a long time, and is he caught now?
2d Con. By’r lady, my masters, we’ll not trust the stocks with him, we’ll have him to the justices, get a mittimus to Newgate presently. Come, sir, come on, sir. 121
2d Con. By God, gentlemen, we aren’t going to leave him in those stocks; we’ll take him to the judges and get a mittimus to Newgate right away. Come on, sir, let’s go. sir. 121
Mul. Ha! does your rascalship yet know my worship in the end?
Mul. Ha! Do you still know who I am in the end, you little troublemaker?
1st Con. Ay, the end of your worship we know.
1st Con. Yeah, we know what you're after.
Mul. Ha! goodman constable, here’s an honest fellow can tell you what I am?
Mul. Ha! Officer, here’s a decent guy who can tell you what I am.
2d Con. ’Tis true, sir; y’are a strong thief, he says, on his own knowledge. Bind fast, bind fast! we know you. We’ll trust no stocks with you. Away with him to the jail instantly. 130
2d Con. It’s true, sir; you’re a skilled thief, he says, based on what he knows. Tie him up securely, tie him up! We know you. We won’t leave any valuables with you. Take him to jail immediately. 130
Mul. Why, but dost hear? Bellman, rogue, rascal! God’s—why, but—
Mul. Why, do you hear that? Bellman, scoundrel, trickster! God—why, but—
[The Constables drag away Mulligrub.
The Constables drag away Mulligrub.
Coc. Why, but! wha, ha, ha! excellent, excellent! ha, my fine Cocledemoy, my vintner fists. I’ll make him fart crackers before I ha’ done with him; to-morrow is the day of judgment. Afore the Lord God, my knavery grows unperegall;[90] ’tis time to take a nap, until half an hour hence. God give your worship music, content, and rest.
Coc. Why, wow! Haha, amazing, amazing! Haha, my good Cocledemoy, my wine seller. I’ll make him burst with laughter before I’m done with him; tomorrow is the day of reckoning. Honestly, my scheming is unmatched; [90] it’s time for a nap, until about half an hour from now. May God bless you with music, happiness, and rest.
[Exit.
Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Franceschina’s lodging.
Franceschina's accommodation.
Enter Franceschina, Sir Lionel, Tysefew, with Officers.
Enter Franceschina, Sir Lionel, Tysefew, with Officers.
Fra. You bin very velcom to mine shambra.
Fra. You are very welcome to my chamber.
Sir Lio. But, how know ye, how are ye assured,
Both of the deed, and of his sure return?
Sir Lio. But how do you know, how can you be certain,
Both the act and his definite return?
Fra. O min-here, ick sall tell you. Metre Malheureux came all bretless running a my shambra, his sword all bloudy: he tel a me he had kil Freevill, and pred a me to conceal him. Ick flatter him, bid bring monies, he should live and lie vid me. He went, whilst ick (me hope vidout sins), out of mine mush love to Freevill, betray him. 10
Fra. Oh my lord, I need to tell you. Master Malheureux came barging into my room, his sword all bloody: he told me he had killed Freevill and begged me to hide him. I flattered him and said if he brought money, he could live and sleep with me. He left, while I (hoping without guilt) out of my great love for Freevill, betrayed him. 10
Sir Lio. Fear not, ’tis well: good works get grace for
sin.
Sir Lio. Don't worry, it's all good: doing good things earns you forgiveness for your mistakes.
[She conceals them behind the curtain.
She hides them behind the curtain.
Fra. Dere, peace, rest dere; so, softly, all go in.—
De net is lay, now sal ick be revenge.
If dat me knew a dog dat Freevill love,
Me would puisson him; for know de deepest hell
As a revenging woman’s naught so fell.
Fra. There, peace, settle down; now, gently, everyone go inside.—
The trap is ready; now I will get my revenge.
If I knew a dog that Freevill loves,
I would poison him; because no one understands hell.
Nothing is fiercer than a woman seeking revenge.
Mar. Ho! Cousin Frank, the party you wot of, Master Malheureux—
Mar. Hey! Cousin Frank, the party you know about, Master Malheureux—
Fra. Bid him come up, I prede.
Fra. Ask him to come up, please.
[Cantat saltatque cum cithara.
Sings and dances with a lyre.
Enter Malheureux.
Enter Unlucky.
Fra. O min-here man, a dere liver love, 20
Mine ten tousant times velcom love!
Ha! by mine trat, you bin de just—vat sall me say?
Vat seet honie name sall I call you?
Fra. Oh my dear man, a real love, 20
A thousand welcomes, my love!
Ha! Honestly, you are just—what can I say?
What cute name should I use for you?
Mal. Any from you
Is pleasure. Come, my loving prettiness,
Where’s thy chamber? I long to touch your sheets.
Anyone from you
Is pleasure. Come, my beautiful dear,
Where's your room? I can't wait to feel your sheets.
Fra. No, no, not yet, mine seetest soft-lipp’d love,
You sall not gulp down all delights at once.
Fra. No, not yet, my dear gentle-lipped love,
You can't just take in all the pleasures at once.
Be min trat, dis all-fles-lovers, dis ravenous wenchers[91]
dat sallow all down hole, vill have all at one bit; fie, fie,
fie! be min fait, dey do eat comfets vid spoons. 31
Be mindful, you flesh-loving gluttons, you greedy wenches that indulge every desire, beware! They will take everything at once; shame on you! Truly, they do eat sweets with spoons. 31
No, no, I’ll make you chew your pleasure vit love;
De more degrees and steps, de more delight,
De more endearèd is de pleasure height.
No, no, I'll help you enjoy your pleasure with love;
The more levels and stages there are, the more joy there is.
The greater the pleasure, the more cherished it is.
Mal. What, you’re a learn’d wanton, and proceed by art?
Mal. What, you’re a smooth talker, and you really know how to charm?
Mal. Why, quarrelled o’ set purpose, drew him out,
Singled him, and, having the advantage
Of my sword and might, ran him through and through.
Mal. So, I intentionally started a fight to draw him out,
singled him out, and with the strength
of my sword and power, stabbed him fully.
Fra. Vat did you vid him van he was sticken?
Fra. What did you see him do when he was unwell?
Mal. I dragg’d him by the heels to the next wharf,
And spurn’d him in the river.
Mal. I pulled him by the feet to the next dock,
and pushed him into the river.
[Those in ambush rusheth forth and take him.
Those in hiding rush forward and grab him.
Sir Lio. Seize, seize him!
O monstrous! O ruthless villain!
Sir Lio. Get him, get him!
Oh, how terrible! Oh, what a cruel villain!
Mal. What mean you, gentlemen? By heaven——
Mal. What do you mean, guys? By heaven——
Tyse. Speak not of anything that’s good. 49
Tyse. Don’t talk about anything good. 49
Mal. Your errors gives you passion: Freevill lives.
Mal. Your mistakes give you passion: Freevill lives.
Sir Lio. Thy own lips say thou liest.
Sir Lio. Your own lips say you’re lying.
Mal. Let me die, if at Shatewe’s the jeweller he lives not safe untouch’d.
Mal. Let me die if he isn't living safely and untouched at Shatewe’s, the jeweler.
Tyse. Meantime to strictest guard, to sharpest prison.
Tyse. In the meantime, to the strictest guard, to the sharpest prison.
Mal. No rudeness, gentlemen: I’ll go undragg’d.
O, wicked, wicked devil!
Mal. No offense, gentlemen: I'll leave without being left behind.
Oh, wicked, wicked devil!
[Exit.
[Leave.
Sir Lio. Sir, the day of trial is this morn; let’s prosecute
The sharpest rigour and severest end:
Good men are cruel when they’re vice’s friend.
Sir Lio. Sir, the trial is this morning; let's go.
The severest punishment and the strictest sentence:
Good people can be brutal when they back bad behavior.
Sir Hub. Woman, we thank thee with no empty hand;
Strumpets are fit[92] for something. Farewell. 61
Sir Hub. Ma'am, we sincerely thank you;
Women like you have their uses. Goodbye. 61
[All save Young Freevill depart.
Everyone except Young Freevill leaves.
Free. Ay, for hell!
O, thou unreprievable, beyond all
Measure of grace damn’d irremediably![93]
That things of beauty created for sweet use,
Soft comfort, as[94] the very music of life,
Custom should make so unutterably[95] hellish!
O, heaven!
What difference is in women and their life!
What man, but worthy name of man, would leave 70
The modest pleasures of a lawful bed—
The holy union of two equal hearts
Mutually holding either dear as health—
Th’ undoubted issues, joys of chaste sheets,
Th’ unfeign’d embrace of sober ignorance—
To twine th’ unhealthful loins of common loves,
The prostituted impudence of things,
Senseless like those by cataracts of Nile,
Their use so vile takes away sense! How vile
To love a creature made of blood and hell, 80
Whose use makes weak, whose company doth shame,
Whose bed doth beggar, issue doth defame!
Free. Oh, come on!
Oh, you hopeless one, beyond all
Limits of grace, damned forever![93]
Beautiful things are made for pure enjoyment.
Soft comfort, like__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the essence of life's music,
Custom should make it so unbelievably __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ hellish!
Oh my god!
What a difference there is among women and their lives!
What man, deserving of the title, would abandon 70
The simple joys of a legal marriage—
The sacred connection between two equal hearts
Valuing each other as essential for our well-being—
The undeniable joys of true love,
The real acceptance of true ignorance—
To get involved with the unhealthy bodies of casual flings,
The boldness of things,
Pointless like those near the waterfalls of the Nile,
Their terrible usage strips away common sense! How gross!
To love a being made of blood and shame, 80
Whose usage weakens, whose company is awkward,
Whose bed brings poverty, and whose children bring shame!
Re-enter Franceschina.
Re-enter Franceschina.
Fra. Metre Freevill live? ha, ha, live at Mestre Shatewe’s! Mush[96] at Metre Shatewe’s! Freevill is dead, Malheureux sall hang: and, sweet divel, dat Beatrice would but run mad, dat she would but run mad! den me would dance and sing. Metre Don Dubon, me pre ye now go to Mestres Beatrice. Tell her Freevill is sure dead, and dat he curse herself especially, for dat he was sticked in her quarrel, swearing in his last gasp, dat if it had bin in mine quarrels ’twould never have grieved him.
Fra. Does Mr. Freevill live? Ha, ha, live at Master Shatewe’s! Mush[96] at Master Shatewe’s! Freevill is dead, poor fellow will hang: and, sweet devil, that Beatrice would only go mad, that she would only go mad! Then I would dance and sing. Mr. Don Dubon, I ask you to now go to Mistress Beatrice. Tell her Freevill is definitely dead, and that he curses her especially because he was caught up in her conflict, swearing in his last breath that if it had been in my fights it would never have bothered him.
Free. I will. 92
Free. I will.
Fra. Prede do, and say any ting dat vil vex her.
Fra. Pretend to, and say anything that will annoy her.
Free. Let me alone to vex her.
Free. Let me handle it and annoy her on my own.
Fra. Vil you, vil you mak a her run mad? Here, take dis ring, see me scorn to wear anyting dat was hers or his. I prede torment her, ick cannot love her; she honest and virtuous, forsooth!
Fra. Will you, will you make her go crazy? Here, take this ring, see how I refuse to wear anything that belonged to her or him. I’d rather torment her; I can’t love her; she’s honest and virtuous, for real!
Free. Is she so? O vile creature! then let me alone with her. 100
Free. Really? What a disgusting being! Then just leave me with her. 100
Fra. Vat, vil you mak a her mad? seet, by min trat, be pretta servan; bush,[97] ick sall go to bet now.
Fra. Vat, will you make her mad? Look, by my treat, be a pretty servant; now I shall go to bed.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Free. Mischief, whither wilt thou? O thou tearless woman!
How monstrous is thy devil,
The end of hell as thee!
How miserable were it to be virtuous,
If thou couldst prosper!
I’ll to my love, the faithful Beatrice;
She has wept enough, and faith, dear soul, too much.
But yet how sweet is it to think how dear 110
One’s life was to his love: how mourn’d his death!
’Tis joy not to be express’d with breath:
But O let him that would such passion drink,
Be quiet of his speech, and only think!
Free. Mischief, where are you headed? Oh, you heartless woman!
How monstrous is your demon,
The end of hell as you know it!
How terrible it would be to be virtuous,
If you could really succeed!
I'll go to my love, the faithful Beatrice;
She has cried enough, and honestly, dear one, too much.
But still, how wonderful it is to think about how precious __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
One's life was for their love: how they mourned their passing!
It's a joy that can't be put into words:
But oh, let anyone who wants to experience such passion,
Be quiet and think!
[Exit.
[Leave.
[91] Old eds. “wenches.”
Old eds. "wenches."
[92] Ed. 1. “fit, fit.”
"Fit, fit."
[93] Old eds. “immediatlie.”
Old eds. “immediatlie.”
[94] Ed. 1. “and as.”
“and as.”
[95] Ed. 2. “vnutterable.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. "vnutterable."
[96] Ironical exclamation.
Irony alert.
[97] i.e., buss (kiss).
buss (kiss)
Beatrice’s chamber.
Beatrice’s room.
Enter Beatrice and Crispinella.
Enter Beatrice and Crispinella.
Bea. Sister, cannot a woman kill herself? is it not lawful to die when we should not live?
Bea. Sister, can a woman end her own life? Is it not allowed to die when we shouldn't have to live?
Cri. O sister, ’tis a question not for us; we must do what God will.
Cri. Oh sister, it’s a question beyond our control; we must accept what God decides.
Bea. What God will? Alas, can torment be His
glory, or our grief His pleasure! Does not the nurse’s
nipple, juiced over with wormwood, bid the child it
should not suck? And does not Heaven, when it hath
made our breath bitter unto us, say we should not live?
O my best sister, 10
To suffer wounds when one may ’scape this rod
Is against nature, that is against God!
Bea. What does God want? Oh, can pain be His glory, or our suffering His joy? Doesn’t a nurse's nipple, soaked in wormwood, tell the child not to suck? And doesn’t Heaven, when it makes our breath bitter, say we shouldn’t live?
Oh my dear sister,
To bear pain when one could avoid this punishment.
Goes against nature, which means it goes against God!
Cri. Good sister,
Do not make me weep; sure Freevill was not false.
I’ll gage my life that strumpet, out of craft
And some close second end, hath maliced[98] him.
Good sis,
Please don't make me cry; Freevill was definitely not unfaithful.
I’d bet my life that that manipulative woman, out of deceit
And some hidden agenda has wronged him.
Bea. O sister! if he were not false, whom have I lost?
If he were, what grief to such unkindness!
From head to foot I am all misery;
Only in this, some justice I have found— 20
My grief is like my love, beyond all bound.
Bea. Oh sister! If he weren't a liar, who have I lost?
If that's the case, what a sorrow from such cruelty!
From head to toe, I'm in pain;
In this, I've discovered some justice— 20
My sadness is as boundless as my love.
Nur. My servant, Master Caqueteur, desires to visit you.
Nur. My servant, Master Caqueteur, wants to see you.
Cri. For grief’s sake keep him out; his discourse is like the long word Honorificabilitudinitatibus,[99] a great deal of sound and no sense: his company is like a parenthesis to a discourse,—you may admit it, or leave it out, it makes no matter.
Cri. For pity's sake, keep him away; his talk is like the long word Honorificabilitudinitatibus,[99] a lot of noise with no meaning: having him around is like an extra part in a conversation—you can include him or skip him, it doesn’t change anything.
Enter Freevill in his disguise.
Enter Freevill in disguise.
Free. By your leave, sweet creatures.
Free. With your permission, lovely beings.
Cri. Sir, all I can yet say of you is, you are uncivil.
Cri. Sir, all I can say about you is that you're rude.
Free. You must deny it. By your sorrow’s leave, 31
I bring some music to make sweet your grief.
Free. You need to turn it down. Now that your sadness is recognized, 31
I've brought some music to help ease your pain.
Bea. Whate’er you please. O break my heart!
Canst thou yet pant? O dost thou yet survive?
Thou didst not love him if thou now canst live!
Bea. Do whatever you want. Go ahead, break my heart!
Can you still breathe? Oh, are you still alive?
You didn't really love him if you can still go on with your life!
Freevill sings.[100]
Freevill sings. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
[Beatrice swounds.[101]
Beatrice swoons. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Cri. Hold, peace!—the gentlest soul is sownd. O my best sister!
Cri. Wait, calm down!—the kindest person is asleep. Oh, my dear sister!
Free. Ha, get you gone, close the doors! My Beatrice!
Free. Ha, get out of here, close the doors! My Beatrice!
[Discovers himself.
Discovers himself.
Cursed be my indiscreet trials! O my immeasurably loving—
Cursed be my reckless attempts! Oh my incredibly loving
Cri. She stirs, give air, she breathes!
Cri. She stirs, takes a breath, she lives!
Bea. Where am I? Ha! how have I slipp’d off life?
Am I in heaven? O my lord, though not loving, 51
By our eternal being, yet give me leave
To rest by thy dear[102] side! Am I not in heaven?
Free. O eternally much loved,[103] recollect your spirits!
Bea. Ha, you do speak! I do see you, I do live!
I would not die now: let me not burst with wonder.
Bea. Ha, you’re really talking! I can see you, I’m alive!
I don’t want to die right now: please, don’t let me burst with amazement.
Free. Call up your blood; I live to honour you
As the admired glory of your sex.
Nor ever hath my love been false to you;
Only I presum’d to try your faith too much, 60
For which I most am grieved.
Free. Tap into your inner strength; I exist to honor you.
As the respected pride of your gender.
And my love has always been true to you;
I just tested your faith too much, 60
I sincerely apologize for that.
Cri. Brother, I must be plain with you, you have
wrong’d us.
Cri. Brother, I need to be upfront with you; you have done us wrong.
Free. I am not so covetous to deny it;
But yet, when my discourse hath stay’d your quaking,
You will be smoother lipp’d; and the delight
And satisfaction which we all have got,
Under these strange disguisings, when you know,
You will be mild and quiet, forget at last:
It is much joy to think on sorrows past.
Free. I'm not so greedy that I would refuse it;
But once my words have eased your trembling,
You'll feel more comfortable, and the happiness
And we have all gained satisfaction,
Under these unusual circumstances, when you comprehend,
You'll be gentle and calm, finally releasing:
It's really uplifting to think about the challenges we've faced in the past.
Bea. Do you then live? and are you not untrue? 70
Let me not die with joy; pleasure’s more extreme
Than grief; there’s nothing sweet to man but mean.
Bea. So, are you truly alive? And are you sincere? 70
I don’t want to die from happiness; pleasure is more intense.
Nothing is sweeter to people than modesty; everything else is just sorrow.
Free. Heaven cannot be too gracious to such goodness.
I shall discourse to you the several chances;
But hark, I must yet rest disguis’d;
The sudden close of many drifts now meet:
Where pleasure hath some profit, art is sweet.
Free. Heaven must be really generous to such goodness.
I'll share the various options with you;
But hold on, I still have to remain incognito;
The surprising conclusion of many journeys is here:
Where enjoyment brings some benefits, creativity is truly enjoyable.
Enter Tysefew.
Enter Tysefew.
Tyse. News, news, news, news!
Tyse. Updates, updates, updates, updates!
Cri. Oysters, oysters, oysters, oysters! 79
Oysters, oysters, oysters, oysters!
Tyse. Why, is not this well now? Is not this better than louring and pouting and puling, which is hateful to the living and vain to the dead? Come, come, you must live by the quick, when all is done; and for my own part, let my wife laugh at me when I am dead, so she’ll smile upon me whilst I live: but to see a woman whine, and yet keep her eyes dry: mourn, and yet keep her cheeks fat: nay, to see a woman claw her husband by the feet when he is dead, that would have scratched him by the face when he was living—this now is somewhat ridiculous. 90
Tyse. So, isn’t this good now? Isn’t this better than sulking and pouting and complaining, which is annoying to the living and pointless for the dead? Come on, you have to live in the moment when all is said and done; and as for me, let my wife laugh at me when I’m gone, as long as she smiles at me while I’m still here: but to see a woman cry and keep her eyes dry? To grieve but keep her face looking healthy? No, to see a woman claw at her husband’s feet when he’s dead, after having scratched him by the face when he was alive—that’s just a bit ridiculous. 90
Cri. Lord, how you prate.
Cri. Lord, can you stop talking?
Cri. But what’s the news?—the news, I pray you?
Cri. But what's the news?—the news, I ask you?
Tyse. I pray you? ne’er pray me: for by your leave
you may command me. This ’tis:
The public sessions, which this day is past,
Hath doom’d to death ill-fortuned Malheureux.
Tyse. I ask you, don't pray for me: with your permission, you can command me. Here's the deal:
The public sessions that just happened today,
Have sentenced the unfortunate Malheureux to death.
Cri. But, sir, we heard he offer’d to make good, 100
That Freevill lived at Shatewe’s the jeweller’s——
Cri. But, sir, we heard he said he would fix it, 100
That Freevill was staying at Shatewe's, the jeweler's—
Bea. And that ’twas but a plot betwixt them two.
Bea. And that was just a scheme between the two of them.
Tyse. O, ay, ay, he gaged his life with it; but know,
When all approach’d the test, Shatewe[104] denied
He saw or heard of any such complot,
Or of Freevill; so that his own defence
Appeared so false, that, like a madman’s sword,
He stroke his own heart; he hath the course of law,
And instantly must suffer. But the jest
(If hanging be a jest, as many make it) 110
Is to take notice of one Mulligrub,
A sharking vintner.
Tyse. Oh, definitely, he put his life on the line for it; but you need to be aware,
When everyone showed up for the challenge, Shatewe__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ denied it.
That he saw or heard of any such plan,
Or of Freevill; so that his own defense
It felt so untrue that, like a madman's sword,
He stabbed his own heart; he has the law on his side,
And must face the consequences right away. But the joke
(If hanging is a joke, as many say) 110
It's important to take note of one Mulligrub,
A crafty wine seller.
Free. What of him, sir?
Free. What about him, sir?
Tyse. Nothing but hanging: the whoreson slave is mad before he hath lost his senses.
Tyse. All he's doing is hanging there: that loser slave is crazy before he even loses his mind.
Free. Was his fact[105] clear and made apparent, sir?
Free. Was his fact[105] clear and obvious, sir?
Tyse. No, faith, suspicious; for ’twas thus protested:
A cloak was stol’n; that cloak he had; he had it,
Himself confess’d, by force; the rest of his defence
The choler of a justice wronged in wine, 120
Join’d with malignance of some hasty jurors,
Whose wit was lighted by the justice’ nose;
The knave was cast.
But, Lord, to hear his moan, his prayers, his wishes,
His zeal ill-timèd, and his words unpitied,
Would make a dead man rise and smile,
Whilst he observed how fear can make men vile.
Tyse. No, I'm serious, something feels off; because it was stated like this:
A cloak was stolen; he had that cloak; he had it.
He admitted it himself, under pressure; the rest of his defense
The anger of a judge who was wronged after drinking, 120
Joined with the resentment of some hasty jurors,
Whose judgment was affected by the judge’s drinking;
The rogue received a sentence.
But, wow, to hear his groans, his prayers, his dreams,
His poorly timed excitement and his ignored words,
Would bring a dead man back to life and make him smile,
He realized how fear can turn people into monsters.
Cri. Shall we go meet the execution?
Cri. Should we go see the execution?
Bea. I shall be ruled by you.
Bea. I will let you take control.
Tyse. By my troth, a rare motion;[106] you must haste,
For malefactors goes like the world, upon wheels. 130
Bea. Will you man us? You shall be our guide.
Bea. Will you lead us? You'll be our guide.
[To[107] Freevill.
To __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Freevill.
Free. I am your servant.
Free. I'm your servant.
Tyse. Ha, servant? Zounds, I am no companion for panders! you’re best make him your love.
Tyse. Ha, servant? Wow, I’m not someone for players! You’d be better off making him your love.
Bea. So will I, sir; we must live by the quick, you say.
Bea. Yeah, me too, sir; we have to survive by what’s immediate, as you say.
Tyse. ’Sdeath o’ virtue! what a damn’d thing’s this!
Who’ll trust fair faces, tears, and vows? ’Sdeath! not I.
She is a woman,—that is,—she can lie.
Tyse. Damn! What a crazy situation this is!
Who can trust attractive faces, tears, and promises? Not me, that's for sure!
She's a woman—so, she can lie.
Cri. Come, come, turn not a man of time,[108] to make all ill
Whose goodness you conceive not, since the worst of chance 140
Is to crave grace for heedless ignorance.
[Exeunt.
[They exit.
[99] This word, which occurs in Love’s Labour Lost (and in several old plays), was invented long before Shakespeare’s time. See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[99] This word, found in Love’s Labour Lost (and in several old plays), was created long before Shakespeare’s era. See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[100] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “He sings, she sounds.”
[101] Swoons. (The stage direction is from ed. 2.)
[101] Faints. (The stage direction is from ed. 2.)
[102] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “dead.”
So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “dead.”
[103] Ed. 1. “laved.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “washed.”
[104] Ed. 1. “Shatews.”
“Shatews.”
[105] Guilt.
Guilt.
[106] Proposal.
Proposal.
A Public Place.
A Public Place.
Enter Cocledemoy, like a sergeant.
Enter Cocledemoy, like a boss.
Coc. So, I ha’ lost my sergeant in an ecliptic mist, drunk! horrible drunk! he is fine. So now will I fit myself; I hope this habit will do me no harm; I am an honest man already. Fit, fit, fit, as a punk’s tail, that serves everybody. By this time my vintner thinks of nothing but hell and sulphur; he farts fire and brimstone already. Hang toasts! the execution approacheth.
Coc. So, I’ve lost my sergeant in a crazy mist, drunk! Really, really drunk! He’s fine. So now I’ll prepare myself; I hope this habit won’t harm me; I’m an honest man already. Ready, ready, ready, like a party girl who’s down for anything. By now my wine merchant can only think about hell and sulfur; he’s already spewing fire and brimstone. Forget toasts! The execution is coming.
Enter Sir Lionel, Sir Hubert; Malheureux, pinioned; Tysefew, Beatrice, Freevill, Crispinella, Franceschina, and halberds.
Enter Sir Lionel, Sir Hubert; Malheureux, pinned; Tysefew, Beatrice, Freevill, Crispinella, Franceschina, and halberds.
Mal. I do not blush, although condemned by laws;
No kind of death is shameful but the cause,
Which I do know is none; and yet my lust 10
Hath made the one (although not cause) most just.
May I not be reprieved? Freevill is but mislodg’d;
Some lethargy hath seiz’d him—no, much malice;
Do not lay blood upon your souls with good intents;
Men may do ill, and law sometime repents.
Unf. I don't feel ashamed, even though I’m judged by the law;
No type of death is shameful, only the reason for it is.
And I know that there isn't one; still, my desire __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Has made things appear fair (even if that's not the actual reason).
Can’t I get a second chance? Freevill is just confused;
He feels a sense of lethargy creeping in—no, it's far worse;
Don't taint your souls with blood, even if your intentions are good;
People can make mistakes, and sometimes the law recognizes that.
[Cocledemoy picks Malheureux’ pocket of his purse.
[Cocledemoy picks Malheureux’ wallet.
Sir Lio. Sir, sir, prepare; vain is all lewd defence.
Sir Lio. Sir, get ready; all shameless excuses are useless.
Coc. Ay, sir; and it shall please you, the poor has your purse already. 21
Coc. Yes, sir; and if it pleases you, the poor already have your money. 21
Mal. You[109] are a wily[110] man.
—But now, thou source of devils, oh, how I loathe
The very memory of that I adored!
He that’s of fair blood, well mien’d, of good breeding,
Best famed, of sweet acquaintance, and true friends,
And would with desperate impudence lose all these,
And hazard landing at this fatal shore,—
Let him ne’er kill, nor steal, but love a whore.
Unlucky You__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ are a smart__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__ man.
—But now, you source of evil, oh, how I hate you.
The memory of what I used to love!
Someone of noble heritage, polite, and cultured,
Well-known, with kind companions, and genuine friends,
And would carelessly throw all of these away,
And risk ending up on this cursed shore,—
He should never kill or steal, but rather love a sex worker.
Fra. De man does rave; tinck a got, tinck a got, and bid de flesh, de world, and the dible, farewell. 31
Fra. The man is raving; drink up, drink up, and say goodbye to the flesh, the world, and the devil, goodbye. 31
Mal. Farewell!
Mal. Goodbye!
Free. Farewell!
Free. Goodbye!
[Freevill discovers himself.
[Freevill finds himself.
Fra. Vat ist you see?—Hah!
Fra. What do you see?—Hah!
Free. Sir, your pardon, with my this defence:
Do not forget protested violence
Of your low affections: no requests,
No arguments of reason, no known danger,
No assured wicked bloodiness,
Could draw your heart from this damnation. 40
Free. Sir, I seek your forgiveness with this defense:
Don't forget the violence you said you experienced.
From your superficial feelings: no requests,
No logical arguments, no clear threat,
No guaranteed violence,
Could pull your heart away from this damnation. 40
Mal. Why, stay!
Mal. Wait!
Fra. Unprosperous devil, vat sall me do now?
Fra. Unlucky devil, what am I going to do now?
Free. Therefore, to force you from the truer danger,
I wrought the feignèd; suffering this fair devil
In shape of woman to make good her plot:
And, knowing that the hook was deeply fast,
I gave her line at will, till, with her own vain strivings,
See here she’s tired. O thou comely damnation!
Dost think that vice is not to be withstood?
O what is woman, merely made of blood! 50
Free. To keep you safe from the real threat,
I created a lie; allowing this beautiful devil
In the form of a woman, execute her plan:
And, knowing that the trap was securely set,
I let her play with it as she wanted, until, through her own silly attempts, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Look, she's exhausted. Oh you beautiful curse!
Do you think that doing wrong is something you shouldn't fight against?
Oh, what is a woman, merely made of flesh! 50
Sir Lio. You maze us all; let us not be lost in darkness!
Sir Lio. You bewilder us all; let’s not be caught in darkness!
Free. All shall be lighted; but this time and place
Forbids longer speech; only what you can think
Has been extremely ill, is only hers.
Free. Everything will be revealed; but this time and place
Doesn't permit long speeches; just what you can think of.
Has been very sick; it belongs only to her.
Sir Lio. To severest prison with her! With what heart canst live—
What eyes behold a face?
Sir Lio. Take her to the worst prison! How can you live with that kind of heart—
What eyes can bear to look at her face?
Fra. Ick vil not speak; torture, torture your fill,
For me am worse than hang’d; me ha’ lost my will.
Fra. I won’t say anything; torture me as much as you want,
Because this is worse than being hanged; I've lost my desire to keep going.
[Exit Franceschina with the guard.
[Exit Franceschina with the guard.
Sir Lio. To the extremest whip and jail.
Sir Lio. To the harshest punishment and imprisonment.
Free. Frolic, how is it, sirs? 60
Free. Frolic, how's it going, sirs?
Mal. I am myself. How long was’t ere I could
Persuade my passion to grow calm to you!
Rich sense makes good bad language, and a friend
Should weigh no action, but the action’s end.
I am now worthy yours; when before
The beast of man, loose blood, distemper’d us:
He that lust rules cannot be virtuous.
Mal. I am who I am. How long did it take before I could
Cool my passion for you!
Strong emotions can justify using bad language, and a friend
An action should only be judged by its results.
I am now deserving of you; before this
When the beast within us, driven by desire, unsettled us:
A person driven by desire can't be virtuous.
Enter Mulligrub, Mistress Mulligrub, and Officers.
Enter Mulligrub, Ms. Mulligrub, and Officers.
Off. On afore there! room for the prisoners!
Off. Over there! Make space for the prisoners!
Mul. I pray you do not lead me to execution through Cheapside. I owe Master Burnish, the goldsmith, money, and I fear he’ll set a sergeant on my back for it.
Mul. Please don’t take me to execution through Cheapside. I owe money to Master Burnish, the goldsmith, and I’m worried he’ll send someone after me for it.
Mul. Well, I am not the first honest man that hath been cast away; and I hope shall not be the last.
Mul. Well, I’m not the first honest man to be stranded, and I hope I won’t be the last.
Coc. O, sir, have a good stomach and maws; you shall have a joyful supper.
Coc. Oh, sir, have a good appetite and enjoy yourself; you’ll have a wonderful dinner.
Mul. In troth I have no stomach to it; and it please you, take my trencher; I use to fast at nights. 81
Mul. Honestly, I have no appetite for it; if you don’t mind, take my plate; I usually skip dinner at night. 81
Mistress Mul. O husband! I little thought you should have come to think on God thus soon;[111] nay, and you had been hang’d deservedly it would never have grieved me; I have known of many honest innocent men have been hang’d deservedly: but to be cast away for nothing!
Mistress Mul. O husband! I never expected you would start thinking about God so soon; [111] and honestly, if you had been hanged, it would not have bothered me at all; I know of many innocent men who were hanged justifiably: but to be condemned for no good reason!
Coc. Good woman, hold your peace, your prittles and your prattles, your bibbles and your babbles; for I pray you hear me in private: I am a widower, and you are almost a widow; shall I be welcome to your houses, to your tables, and your other things? 92
Coc. Good woman, please be quiet with your nonsense; I ask that you listen to me privately: I'm a widower, and you’re almost a widow; will I be welcome in your homes, at your tables, and in your other affairs? 92
Mistress Mul. I have a piece of mutton and a featherbed for you at all times; I pray make haste.
Mistress Mul. I always have some mutton and a featherbed ready for you; please hurry.
Mul. I do here make my confession: if I owe any man anything, I do heartily forgive him; if any man owe me anything, let him pay my wife.
Mul. I'm here to confess: if I owe anyone anything, I completely forgive them; if anyone owes me anything, let them pay my wife.
Coc. I will look to your wife’s payment, I warrant you.
Coc. I'll make sure your wife gets paid, I promise you.
Mul. And now, good yoke-fellow, leave thy poor Mulligrub. 101
Mul. And now, my good friend, leave your poor Mulligrub. 101
Mistress Mul. Nay, then I were unkind; i’faith I will not leave you until I have seen you hang.
Mistress Mul. No, that would be cruel; I really won't leave you until I've seen you hang.
Coc. But brother,[112] brother, you must think of your sins and iniquities; you have been a broacher of profane vessels; you have made us drink of the juice of the whore of Babylon: for whereas good ale, perrys, bragots,[113] cyders, and metheglins, was the true ancient British and Troyan drinks, you ha’ brought in Popish wines, Spanish wines, French wines, tam Marti quam Mercurio, both muscadine and malmsey, to the subversion, staggering, and sometimes overthrow of many a good Christian. You ha’ been a great jumbler; O remember the sins of your nights! for your night works ha’ been unsavoury in the taste of your customers. 115
Coc. But brother,[112] brother, you need to think about your sins and wrongdoings; you have been the one peddling forbidden drinks; you've made us sip the poison of the whore of Babylon: because while good ale, perries, bragots,[113] ciders, and metheglins were the true ancient British and Trojan beverages, you’ve introduced Popish wines, Spanish wines, French wines, tam Marti quam Mercurio, both muscadine and malmsey, leading to the downfall, confusion, and sometimes ruin of many good Christians. You’ve been a terrible mixologist; O remember the sins of your nights! because your nighttime activities have left a bad taste for your customers. 115
Mul. I confess, I confess; and I forgive as I would be forgiven. Do you know one Cocledemoy?
Mul. I admit it, I admit it; and I forgive as I would like to be forgiven. Are you familiar with someone named Cocledemoy?
Coc. O very well. Know him!—an honest man he is, and a comely; an upright dealer with his neighbours, and their wives speak good things of him. 120
Coc. Oh, absolutely. Do I know him?—he's a good guy, really trustworthy; he treats his neighbors right, and their wives have nice things to say about him. 120
Mul. Well, wheresoe’er he is, or whatsoe’er he is, I’ll take it on my death he’s the cause of my hanging. I heartily forgive him, and if he would come forth he might save me; for he only knows the why and the wherefore.
Mul. Well, wherever he is, or whatever he is, I swear on my life he's the reason I'm going to be hanged. I completely forgive him, and if he would just come forward, he could save me; because he alone knows the why and the how of it.
Coc. You do, from your hearts and midrifs and entrails, forgive him then? you will not let him rot in rusty irons, procure him to be hang’d in lousy linen without a song, and after he is dead piss on his grave?
Coc. Do you really, from your hearts and guts, forgive him then? You won’t let him rot in rusty chains, have him hanged in filthy cloth without a song, and after he’s dead, just piss on his grave?
Mul. That hard heart of mine has procured all this; but I forgive as I would be forgiven. 131
Mul. That tough heart of mine has brought all this on; but I forgive as I hope to be forgiven. 131
Coc. [Discovering himself] Hang toasts, my worshipful Mulligrub. Behold thy Cocledemoy, my fine vintner; my castrophomical fine boy; behold and see!
Coc. [Discovering himself] Here’s to you, my esteemed Mulligrub. Look at your Cocledemoy, my great winemaker; my incredibly talented boy; take a good look!
Tyse. Bliss o’ the blessed, who would but look for two knaves here?
Tyse. What a blessing! Who would expect to find two scoundrels here?
Coc. No knave, worshipful friend, no knave; for observe, honest Cocledemoy restores whatsoever he has got, to make you know that whatsoever he has done, has been only euphoniæ gratia—for wit’s sake. I acquit this vintner, as he has acquitted me; all has been done for emphasis of wit, my fine boy, my worshipful friends.
Coc. No way, my esteemed friend, no way; because look, honest Cocledemoy gives back everything he has to show you that what he’s done has only been for the sake of humor—just for laughs. I clear this vintner of any wrongdoing, as he has cleared me; it’s all been for the sake of wit, my dear boy, my valued friends.
Tyse. Go, you are a flatt’ring knave. 143
Tyse. Go, you are a flattering knave. 143
Coc. I am so; ’tis a good thriving trade; it comes forward better than the seven liberal sciences, or the nine cardinal virtues; which may well appear in this, you shall never have flattering knave turn courtier. And yet I have read of many courtiers that have turned flattering knaves.
Coc. I definitely am; it’s a prosperous trade; it does better than the seven liberal arts or the nine cardinal virtues; and it’s clear in this, you’ll never see a flattering crook become a courtier. And yet I’ve read about plenty of courtiers who have turned out to be flattering crooks.
Sir Hub. Was’t even but so? why, then all’s well. 150
Sir Hub. Was it really like that? Well, then everything's good. well.
Mul. I could even weep for joy.
Mul. I could even cry tears of happiness.
Tyse. Here’s another tack to be given—your son and daughter.
Tyse. Here’s another approach to consider—your son and daughter.
Sir Hub. Is’t possible? heart, ay, all my heart; will you be joined here?
Sir Hub. Is it possible? My heart, yes, with all my heart; will you join me here?
Tyse. Yes, faith, father; marriage and hanging are spun both in one hour.
Tyse. Yes, truly, father; marriage and execution can both happen in the same hour.
Coc. Why, then, my worshipful good friends, I bid
myself most heartily welcome to your merry nuptials
and wanton jigga-joggies.—And now, my very fine
Heliconian gallants, and you, my worshipful friends in
the middle region, 164
If with content our hurtless mirth hath been,
Let your pleased minds at our much care be seen;[114]
For he shall find, that slights such trivial wit,
’Tis easier to reprove than better it.
We scorn to fear, and yet we fear to swell;
We do not hope ’tis best,—’tis all, if well.
Coc. So then, my respected friends, I warmly welcome myself to your joyful wedding and lively celebrations. — And now, my distinguished friends from Helicon, and you, my esteemed acquaintances from the middle ground, 164
If our genuine happiness has made you feel joyful,
Let your happy thoughts reflect our true care;[114]
For he will understand that brushing off such straightforward humor,
It's easier to criticize than to make it better.
We choose not to be afraid, but we are scared of being vain;
We believe it's not just the best—it's everything, if executed correctly.
[Exeunt. 170
Exeunt.
[109] Ed. 1. “Thou art.”
[110] Old eds. “Welyman” and “wely-man.”
Old eds. “Welyman” and “wely-man.”
[111] The reader will be reminded of Mistress Quickly’s description of Falstaff’s last moments:—“‘How now, Sir John,’ quoth I, ‘what, man! be o’ good cheer.’ So a’ cried out ‘God, God, God!’ three or four times. Now I to comfort him, bid him a’ should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.”
[111] The reader will be reminded of Mistress Quickly’s description of Falstaff’s last moments:—“‘Hey, Sir John,’ I said, ‘what’s wrong, man? Stay positive!’ So he cried out, ‘God, God, God!’ three or four times. To comfort him, I told him he shouldn’t be thinking about God; I hoped there was no need for him to worry about such thoughts just yet.”
[112] Old eds. “brothers, brothers.”
Old eds. “brothers, brothers.”
THE FAWN.
Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Hath Bene Divers Times Presented at the blacke Friars, by the Children of the Queenes Maiesties Reuels, and since at Powles. Written by Iohn Marston. And now corrected of many faults, which by reason of the Author’s absence, were let slip in the first edition. At London Printed by T. P. for W. C. 1606. 4to.
Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Has Been Presented Several Times at the Blackfriars, by the Children of the Queen's Majesty's Revels, and later at St. Paul's. Written by John Marston. Now corrected of many errors that slipped through in the first edition due to the author's absence. Printed in London by T. P. for W. C. 1606. 4to.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
PLOT OF THE PLAY.
Hercules, the widowed Duke of Ferrara, is anxious that his son Tiberio should marry Dulcimel, daughter of Gonzago, Duke of Urbin; but, finding that he cannot persuade his son to marriage, he declares that he will himself marry Dulcimel. Tiberio is sent to the Court of Urbin to negotiate on his father’s behalf. Hercules follows in disguise to watch the issue, and attaches himself (under the name of Faunus) to Tiberio’s train at Urbin, where by adroit flattery he quickly gains the favour of Gonzago and the confidence of the courtiers. Dulcimel falls in love with Tiberio, and determines to make him her husband. She imposes on her father, Gonzago, a weak-minded lord with a boundless belief in his own wisdom, by a pretended discovery of Tiberio’s love to her; and Gonzago, acting throughout under the impression that he is foiling Tiberio, becomes in the hands of his witty daughter the instrument by which her project is accomplished. Taxed by Gonzago with having made love to Dulcimel, Tiberio warmly denies the charge, but at length he perceives that the lady is making amorous advances, and his blood is fired. In the courtyard of the palace grew a plane-tree by which it was possible to ascend to the window of Dulcimel’s bedchamber. Dulcimel informs her father that Tiberio intended to climb the plane-tree at night and enter her chamber, and that he had asked her to have a priest to be in readiness to conduct the marriage service. Gonzago upbraids Tiberio with his perfidy, and commands him to leave the court before the next morning. Tiberio asks for an explanation, and Gonzago then repeats what his daughter had said. Tiberio is not slow to avail himself of Dulcimel’s invitation; he mounts the plane-tree, the priest is ready, and the marriage is consummated. Gonzago’s chagrin is changed to satisfaction when Hercules, putting off his disguise, expresses his approval of the match.
Hercules, the widowed Duke of Ferrara, is eager for his son Tiberio to marry Dulcimel, the daughter of Gonzago, Duke of Urbin. However, after realizing he can't convince his son to get married, he claims that he will marry Dulcimel himself. Tiberio is sent to the Court of Urbin to negotiate for his father. Hercules, disguised, follows to see how things go and attaches himself (under the name Faunus) to Tiberio's entourage at Urbin, where he quickly wins over Gonzago and the courtiers with clever flattery. Dulcimel falls in love with Tiberio and decides she wants him to be her husband. She tricks her father, Gonzago—who is easily manipulated and highly confident in his own judgment—into believing that Tiberio loves her. Unknowingly, Gonzago becomes an unwitting tool in his daughter’s scheme to achieve her goals. When Gonzago accuses Tiberio of pursuing Dulcimel, Tiberio passionately denies it, but he soon realizes that Dulcimel is making advances at him, igniting his passion. In the palace courtyard, there is a plane tree that allows access to Dulcimel’s bedroom window. Dulcimel tells her father that Tiberio plans to climb the plane tree at night to enter her room and has asked her to have a priest ready for the marriage ceremony. Gonzago angrily confronts Tiberio about his supposed betrayal and orders him to leave the court before morning. Tiberio asks for clarification, and Gonzago shares his daughter’s claims. Tiberio quickly takes advantage of Dulcimel’s invitation; he climbs the plane tree, the priest is prepared, and the marriage takes place. Gonzago's frustration turns to satisfaction when Hercules, revealing his identity, shows his approval of the match.
Much of the play is devoted to an exposure of the faults and follies of Gonzago’s courtiers. At the close of the fifth act there is holden a court of Cupid, at which the delinquents are arraigned.
Much of the play focuses on highlighting the mistakes and foolishness of Gonzago’s courtiers. At the end of the fifth act, there is a court of Cupid held, where the wrongdoers are put on trial.
I have ever more endeavoured to know myself, than to be known of others; and rather to be unpartially beloved of all, than factiously to be admired of a few; yet so powerfully have I been enticed with the delights of poetry, and (I must ingeniously[115] confess) above better desert so fortunate in the stage-pleasings, that (let my resolutions be never so fixed to call mine eyes into myself) I much fear that most lamentable death of him,
I have always tried harder to understand myself than to be understood by others, and I prefer to be genuinely loved by everyone rather than admired by just a few. However, I've been so drawn in by the joys of poetry, and I must honestly confess that, despite having less talent, I've been quite lucky with what pleases the audience. So, no matter how determined I am to focus inward, I fear that most tragic loss of him,
“Qui nimis notus omnibus,
Ignotus moritur sibi.”—Seneca.[116]
"Someone who is too well-known to everyone,
dies unaware of himself.”—Seneca.[116]
But since the over-vehement pursuit of these delights hath been the sickness of my youth, and now is grown to be the vice of my firmer age—since to satisfy others, I neglect myself—let it be the courtesy of my peruser rather to pity my self-hindering labours than to malice[117] me; and let him be pleased to be my reader, and not my interpreter, since I would fain reserve that office in my own hands, it being my daily prayer:—“Absit[118] a jocorum nostrorum simplicitate malignus interpres.”—Martial.
But since the intense pursuit of these pleasures has been the weakness of my youth, and now has become the flaw of my more mature years—since to please others, I neglect myself—let my reader have the kindness to pity my self-sabotaging efforts rather than to criticize me; and let him be happy to be my reader, not my interpreter, since I wish to keep that role in my own hands, as it is my daily prayer:—“May no malicious interpreter arise from the simplicity of our jokes.”—Martial.
If any shall wonder why I print a comedy, whose life rests much in the actor’s voice, let such know that it cannot avoid publishing; let it therefore stand with good excuse that I have been my own setter out.
If anyone is curious about why I'm publishing a comedy that relies heavily on the actor's voice, let them know it can't be avoided. So, it's only fair to say that I've taken it upon myself to do this.
If any desire to understand the scope of my comedy, know it hath the same limits which Juvenal gives to his Satires:—
If you want to understand the range of my comedy, know that it has the same boundaries that Juvenal sets for his Satires:—
“Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.”—Juvenal.
“Whatever people do—desires, fears, anger, joy,
"Joy and discussions—this is the essence of our little book." —Juvenal.
As for the factious malice and studied detractions of some few that tread in the same path with me, let all know I most easily neglect them, and (carelessly slumbering to their vicious endeavours) smile heartily at their self-hurting baseness. My bosom friend, good Epictetus, makes me easily to contemn all such men’s malice: since other men’s tongues are not within my teeth, why should I hope to govern them? For mine own interest for once, let this be printed,—that of men of my own addiction I love most, pity some, hate none; for let me truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving them, and surely I shall ever rest so constant to my first affection, that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous whisperings, never so treacherously labour to undermine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as long as I have being) love the least of their graces, and only pity the greatest of their vices.
As for the spiteful malice and calculated insults from a few who walk the same path as me, let it be known that I easily ignore them, and while I remain indifferent to their harmful efforts, I genuinely laugh at their self-destructive behavior. My close friend, good Epictetus, helps me to look past the malice of these individuals: since I can’t control what others say, why should I try? For my own sake, let’s make this clear—among those like me, I love the most, feel sorry for some, and hate none; I can honestly say that I once only loved myself for loving them, and I will always stay true to that first feeling. No matter how much their unkind plots or rude whispering try to undermine my unprotected reputation, as long as I live, I will appreciate the smallest of their good qualities and only pity their biggest flaws.
And now, to kill envy, know you, that affect to be the only minions of Phœbus, I am not so blushlessly ambitious as to hope to gain any the least supreme eminency among you; I affect not only the “‘Euge’ tuum et ‘Belle!’”[119]—’tis not my fashion to think no writer virtuously confident that is not swellingly impudent; nor do I labour to be held the only spirit whose poems may be thought worthy to be kept in cedar[120] chests:—
And now, to put envy to rest, let me say that while I strive to be one of Apollo's favorites, I’m not so shamelessly ambitious as to think I can reach any significant height among you. I don’t just want your “Well done!” and “Beautiful!” [119]— it’s not my style to believe that a writer is truly confident if they aren’t also annoyingly arrogant; nor do I work to be seen as the only person whose poems deserve to be stored in cedar [120] chests:—
“Heliconidasque pallidamque Pyrenen
Illis relinquo quorum imagines lambunt
Hederæ sequaces....”—Persius.
“Heliconidas and pale Pyrene
I leave to those whose images linger
In the ivy that follows....”—Persius.
He that pursues fame shall, for me, without any rival, have breath enough. I esteem felicity to be a more solid contentment; only let it be lawful for me, with unaffected modesty and full thought, to end boldly with that of Persius:—
He who chases fame will, in my view, have plenty of energy. I believe happiness is a deeper satisfaction; I just hope I can respectfully and sincerely conclude with the words of Persius:—
“Ipse semipaganus
Ad sacra vatum carmen affero nostrum.”—Persius.
"I'm kind of pagan."
"I present our song to the revered poets." — Persius.
JO. MARSTON.
JO. MARSTON.
[115] Ed. 3 (i.e., the 8vo of 1633) “ingenuously.” I have retained the reading of the earlier eds., as ingenious was commonly used in the sense of ingenuous (Middleton, iv. 14, &c.)
[115] Ed. 3 (i.e., the 8vo of 1633) “openly.” I have kept the reading from the earlier editions, as ingenious was often used to mean ingenuous (Middleton, iv. 14, &c.)
[116] Thyestes, 402-3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Thyestes, 402-3.
[118] From the prose preface to Martial’s epigrams.
[118] From the prose preface to Martial’s epigrams.
[119] Persius, Sat. i. l. 49.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Persius, Sat. i. l. 49.
[120] “Cedro digna locutus.”—Persius, Sat. i. l. 42.
TO THE READER.[121]
TO THE READER. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Reader, know I have perused this copy, to make some satisfaction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my business that some errors have still passed, which thy discretion may amend. Comedies are writ to be spoken, not read; remember the life of these things consists in action; and for such courteous survey of my pen, I will present a tragedy[122] to you, which shall boldly abide the most curious perusal.
Reader, I want you to know that I’ve gone through this copy to fix some issues from the first flawed version; however, I've been so busy that some errors have slipped by, which you might want to correct. Comedies are meant to be performed, not just read; keep in mind that the essence of these works is in their action. As a gesture of appreciation for your kind attention to my writing, I’ll present a tragedy[122] to you, which will confidently stand up to even the most discerning review.
[121] This note is from the second 4to.
[121] This note is from the second edition in quarto format.
[122] “Sophonisba.”—Marginal note in the second 4to.
"Sophonisba."—Marginal note in the second 4to.
PROLOGUS.
PROLOGUE.
Let those once know that here with malice lurk,
’Tis base to be too wise in others’ work;
The rest sit thus saluted:—
Spectators, know you may, with freest faces,
Behold this scene; for here no rude disgraces
Shall taint a public or a private name;
This pen at viler rate doth value fame,
Than at the price of others’ infamy
To purchase it. Let others dare the rope,
Your modest pleasure is our author’s scope. 10
The hurdle and the rack to them he leaves
That have naught left to be accompted any,
But by not being; nor doth he hope to win
Your louder hand with that most common sin
Of vulgar pens, rank bawdry, that smells
Even through your masks, usque ad nauseam.
The Venus of this scene doth loathe to wear
So vile, so common, so immodest clothings;
But if the nimble form of comedy,
Mere spectacle of life and public manners, 20
May gracefully arrive to your pleased ears,
We boldly dare the utmost death of fears;
For we do know that this most fair-fill’d room
Is loaden with most attic judgments, ablest spirits,
Than whom there are none more exact, full, strong,
Yet none more soft, benign in censuring.
I know there’s not one ass in all this presence—
Not one calumnious rascal, or base villain
Of emptiest merit—that would tax and slander,
If innocency herself should write, not one we know’t. 30
O you are all the very breath of Phœbus;
In your pleas’d gracings all the true lifeblood
Of our poor author lives,—you are his very grace.
Now if that any wonder why he’s drawn
To such base soothings, know his play’s—The Fawn.[123]
Let those who know that evil is hiding here,
It's not right to be overly critical of other people's work;
The others are recognized like this:—
Viewers, you can feel free to take in this scene;
No rude disgrace here
Will tarnish a public or private reputation;
This pen values fame more highly.
Rather than at the expense of someone else's disgrace.
To obtain it. Let others deal with the consequences,
Your simple pleasure is our author's aim. 10
He leaves the torture and the rack to those
Who have nothing left to be considered as anything,
Besides just existing, he doesn’t expect to win either.
Your loud applause for the most common sin.
Of low-quality writing, crude garbage that reeks
Even through your masks, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
The Venus in this scene hates to wear
Such disgusting, ordinary, and revealing clothing;
But if the vibrant nature of comedy,
A simple showcase of life and public behavior, 20
Can gracefully reach your happy ears,
We bravely face our biggest fears;
For we know that this beautifully decorated room
Is filled with the best judgments and most capable minds,
None are more precise, complete, or powerful than these.
Yet none are softer or kinder in criticism.
I know there isn’t a single fool in this audience—
Not a single slanderous jerk or low-life villain
Of no value — that would criticize or defame,
If innocence itself were to write, it wouldn't be someone we recognize. 30
Oh, you are all the very essence of Apollo;
In your happy moods, the true lifeblood
Of our struggling author’s life—you are his true blessing.
Now, if anyone's curious about why he's attracted to her
Be aware that his work—The Fawn.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__—is subject to such insincere praise.
Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, disguised as Faunus.
Gonzago, Duke of Urbin, a weak lord of a self-admiring wisdom.
Tiberio, son to Hercules.
Granuffo, a silent lord.
Don Zuccone, a causelessly jealous lord.
Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso, a sickly knight.
Herod Frappatore, brother to Sir Amoroso.
Nymphadoro, a young courtier and a common lover.
Dondolo, a bald fool.
Renaldo, brother to Hercules.
Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, disguised as Faunus.
Gonzago, Duke of Urbino, a weak lord with self-admiring wisdom.
Tiberius, son of Hercules.
Granuffo, a silent lord.
Don Zucchini, an unjustly jealous lord.
Sir Amorous Weak-Dosso, a sickly knight.
Herod Frappatore, brother of Sir Loving.
Nymphadora, a young courtier and an ordinary lover.
Dondolo, a bald fool.
Renaldo, brother of Hercules.
Dulcimel, daughter to Gonzago.
Philocalia, an honourable learned lady, companion to the Princess Dulcimel.
Donna Zoya, a virtuous, fair, witty lady, wife to Don Zuccone.
Donna Garbetza, wife to Sir Amoroso.
Poveia, and
Donnetta, two ladies, attendants on Dulcimel.
Puttotta, a poor laundress of the court that washeth and diets footmen.
Pages.
Dulcimer, Daughter of Gonzago.
Philocalia, An esteemed and educated lady, companion to Princess Dulcimer.
Donna Zoya, A virtuous, beautiful, and witty woman, wife of Don Zucchini.
Donna Garbage, Wife of Sir Loving.
Poveia, and
Donnetta, Two ladies, attendants to Dulcimer.
Puttotta, A poor laundress at court who washes and prepares footmen.
Pages.
Scene—Urbin.
Scene—Urban.
THE FAWN.
ACT I.[124]
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Neighbourhood of Urbin.
Urban Neighborhood.
Enter Hercules[125] and Renaldo.
Herc. See, yonder’s Urbin! Those far-appearing spires rise from the city. You shall conduct me no further: return to Ferrara: my dukedom, by your care in my absence, shall rest constantly united, and most religiously loyal.
Herc. Look, there's Urbin! Those distant towers are from the city. You don't need to take me any further: go back to Ferrara. My dukedom, thanks to your efforts while I'm away, will remain united and truly loyal.
Herc. You have’t.
You haven't.
Ren. Why, in your steadier age, in strength of life
And firmest wit of time, will you break forth 10
Those stricter limits of regardful state
(Which with severe distinction you still kept),
And now to unknown dangers you’ll give up
Yourself, Ferrara’s duke, and in yourself
The state and us? O, my loved brother!
Honour avoids not only just defame,
But flies all means that may ill voice his name. 17
Ren. Why, in your older years, when you're more established in life
And once you have a clear understanding of time, will you break free from 10
Those stricter guidelines for appropriate behavior
(Which you still upheld with great distinction),
And now confront unknown dangers, surrendering.
You, the Duke of Ferrara, and along with you
The state and us? Oh, my dear brother!
Honor not only prevents unfair shame,
But avoids any paths that could damage its reputation. 17
Herc. Busy yourself with no fears, for I shall rest most wary of our safety; only some glimpses I will give you for your satisfaction why I leave Ferrara. I have vowed to visit the court of Urbin in some disguise, as thus: my son, as you can well witness with me, could I never persuade to marriage, although myself was then an ever-resolved widower, and tho’ I proposed to him this very lady, to whom he is gone in my right to negotiate; now, how[126] cooler blood will behave itself in this business, would I have an only testimony; other contents shall I give myself, as not to take love by attorney, or make my election out of tongues; other sufficings there are which my regard would fain make sound to me: something of much you know; that, and what else you must not know, bids you excuse this kind of my departure. 33
Herc. Don't worry; I'll make sure we're safe. I’ll just share a few reasons for my departure from Ferrara. I’ve promised to visit the court of Urbin in disguise because my son, as you can see, I could never convince to marry, even though I was a dedicated widower at the time. I proposed this very lady to him, whom he is now going to negotiate for on my behalf. Now, how things will unfold depends on how cool-headed he can be in this situation; that’s all I need to see. I won’t let love be decided by anyone but myself or pick my choice based on hearsay. There are other things I wish to understand: you know a lot already, but what you’re not meant to know asks that you forgive my way of leaving. 33
Ren. I commend all to your wisdom, and yours to the Wisest.
Ren. I trust in your judgment, and I offer mine to the greatest wisdom.
Herc. Think not but I shall approve that more than folly which even now appears in a most ridiculous expectation: be in this assured,—The bottom of gravity is nothing like the top. Once more, fare you well.
Herc. Don't think that I'll accept anything more than the foolishness that seems so ridiculous right now: you can be sure of this—what seems serious at the bottom is nothing like what seems serious at the top. Once again, take care.
[Exit Renaldo.
[Exit Renaldo.
And now, thou ceremonious sovereignty— 40
Ye proud, severer, stateful compliments,
The secret arts of rule—I put you off;
Nor ever shall those manacles of form
Once more lock up the appetite of blood.
’Tis now an age of man whilst we, all strict,
Have lived in awe of carriage regular,
Apted unto my place; nor hath my life
Once tasted of exorbitant affects,
Wild longings, or the least of disrank’d shapes.
But we must once be wild; ’tis ancient truth,— 50
O fortunate, whose madness falls in youth!
Well, this is text, who ever keeps his place
In servile station, is all low and base.
Shall I, because some few may cry, “Light! vain!”
Beat down affection from desirèd rule?
He that doth strive to please the world’s a fool.
To have that fellow cry, “O mark him, grave,
See how austerely he doth give example
Of repressed heat and steady life!”
Whilst my forced life against the stream of blood 60
Is tugg’d[127] along, and all to keep the god
Of fools and women, nice Opinion,
Whose strict preserving makes oft great men fools,
And fools oft[128] great men. No, thou world, know thus,
There’s nothing free but it is generous.
And now, your formal authority— 40
You proud, serious, official praises,
The hidden skills of leadership—I’m over you;
Those chains of convention will never again
Control the desire for passion.
It’s time for humanity, while we, all serious,
Have been afraid of normal behavior,
Conforming to my role; my life
Has never experienced intense desires,
Intense cravings, or any sign of disorder.
But we need to be wild sometimes; it’s an old truth,— 50
How lucky are those whose craziness happens in their youth!
Well, those who remain in their assigned places
All servile roles are low and undignified.
Should I, just because a few people shout, “Light! Superficial!”
Should I hold back my desire for a certain role?
Those who try to please everyone are foolish.
To hear that guy yell, “Oh look at him, serious,
Notice how rigorously he sets an example.
Of repressed passion and a stable life!
While my constrained life battles against the tide of passion __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Is pulled__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ along, all to keep the god
Of fools and women, selective views, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Whose strict rules often make great men look foolish,
And fools often__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ great men. No, you world, understand this,
Nothing is free unless it's given with kindness.
[Exit.
[Leave.
[124] In the margin of old eds. is the motto “Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas” (Juvenal, Sat. ii. 63).
[124] In the margin of old editions is the motto “Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas” (Juvenal, Sat. ii. 63).
[125] “Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, is thus noticed in Thomas’s ‘Historye of Italye,’ ed. 1561, fol. 212:—‘He is a goodly man of personage, hyghe of stature, strong and well proporcyonate in all his members, bald on the crowne of the head, and amiable enough of countenance. He hath a good witte, and is somewhat learned, and indifferent in the administracyon of justice. And one thyng special I remember of him, worthy to be recited. The emperour, at his being in Italy, borowed money of all handes, and demaundyng amongst the rest a hundred thousand crownes in lone of this duke, he brought him a bagge of fifty thousand crownes, excusyng himself that to lend a hundred thousand crownes he was not hable, but to geve his majestee those fifty thousand he could be contented with all his hert; and, by this shift, kept the other fifty thousand crownes in hys purse. Finally of the religion he is no more earnest than most prynces are, and in his life he foloweth the court of love, to lose no time of pleasure. He is frendly to faire women, and cherisheth change. By his fathers daies, he maried Madame Renea, daughter unto Lewys the xii. French kinge.’ The names of his two sons, here given, are Alfonso and Luigi.”—Halliwell.
[125] “Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, is mentioned in Thomas’s ‘Historye of Italy,’ ed. 1561, fol. 212:—‘He is an impressive man in appearance, tall, strong, and well-proportioned in all his features, bald on the top of his head, and quite pleasant-looking. He has a good mind, is somewhat educated, and is fairly just in his administration of justice. One thing I remember about him, which is worth noting. When the emperor was in Italy, he borrowed money from everyone, and while asking the duke for a hundred thousand crowns, the duke brought him a bag with fifty thousand crowns, explaining that he couldn't lend a hundred thousand but was happy to give his majesty those fifty thousand with all his heart; and with this trick, he kept the other fifty thousand crowns in his pocket. Ultimately, he is no more serious about religion than most princes are, and in his life, he pursues the court of love, not wanting to miss any opportunity for pleasure. He is friendly towards beautiful women and enjoys change. In his father's time, he married Madame Renea, daughter of Louis the xii. French king.’ The names of his two sons, listed here, are Alfonso and Luigi.”—Halliwell.
[126] Eds. 1. and 3. “how his cooler.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “how his cooler.”
[127] Eds. 1. and 3. “lugg’d.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “lugged.”
[128] Eds. 1. and 3. “of.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 “of.”
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Palace of the Duke of Urbin.
Palace of the Duke of Urbin.
Enter Nymphadoro, Herod, and Page.
Enter Nymphadoro, Herod, and Page.
Herod. How now, my little more than nothing, what news is stirring?
Herod. What's up, my little bit more than nothing? Any news going on?
Page. All the city’s a-fire!
Page. The city's on fire!
Nym. On fire?
Nym. On fire?
Page. With joy of the Princess Dulcimel’s birthday: there’s show upon show; sport upon sport.
Page. With joy for Princess Dulcimel's birthday: there's performance after performance; fun after fun.
Herod. What sport? what sport?
Herod. What game? What game?
Page. Marry, sir, to solemnise the princess’ birthday. There’s first, crackers, which run into the air, and when they are at the top, like some ambitious strange heretic, keep a cracking and a cracking, and then break, and down they come. 12
Page. Well, sir, to celebrate the princess's birthday. First, there are crackers that shoot up into the sky, and when they reach the top, like some ambitious and strange rebel, keep crackling and crackling, and then they burst, and down they come. 12
Herod. A pretty crab; he would yield tart juice and he were squeez’d.
Herod. A nice little crab; he would give sour juice if you squeezed him.
Nym. What sport else?
Nym. What other sport?
Page. Other fireworks.
Page. Other fireworks.
Herod. Spirit of wine, I cannot tell how these fireworks should be good at the solemnising the birth of men or women. I am sure they are dangerous at their begetting. What, more fireworks, sir? 20
Herod. Spirit of wine, I don’t understand how these fireworks can be good for celebrating the birth of people. I know they are risky when they’re being created. What, more fireworks, sir?
Page. There be squibs, sir; which squibs, running upon lines,[129] like some of our gaudy gallants, sir, keep a smother, sir, with flishing and flashing, and, in the end, sir, they do, sir——
Page. There are firecrackers, sir; which firecrackers, moving along the lines,[129] like some of our flashy gentlemen, sir, create a lot of fuss, sir, with their flashing and flaring, and, in the end, sir, they do, sir
Nym. What, sir?
Nym. What’s up, sir?
Page. Stink, sir.
Page. Smells bad, sir.
Herod. ’Fore Heaven, a most sweet youth!
Herod. For heaven's sake, what a lovely young man!
Enter Dondolo.
Go in Dondolo.
Don. News! news! news! news!
Don. News! News! News! News!
Herod. What, in the name of prophecy?
Herod. What, for real?
Nym. Art thou grown wise? 30
Nym. Have you become wise? 30
Herod. Doth the duke want no money?
Herod. Does the duke not want any money?
Nym. Is there a maid found at twenty-four?
Nym. Is there really a maid available at twenty-four?
Herod. Speak, thou three-legg’d tripos, is thy ship of fools,[130] afloat yet?
Herod. Speak, you three-legged tripod, is your ship of fools,[130] still sailing?
Don. I ha’ many things in my head to tell you.
Don. I have a lot on my mind that I want to tell you.
Herod. Ay, thy head is always working; it rolls, and it roils, Dondolo, but it gathers no moss, Dondolo.
Herod. Yes, your mind is always busy; it spins and churns, Dondolo, but it doesn’t gather any wisdom, Dondolo.
Don. Tiberio, the Duke of Ferrara’s son, excellently horsed, all upon Flanders mares, is arrived at the court this very day, somewhat late in the night-time. 40
Don. Tiberio, the son of the Duke of Ferrara, who rides exceptionally well on Flanders mares, has arrived at the court today, somewhat late at night.40
Herod. An excellent nuntius.
Herod. An excellent messenger.
Don. Why, my gallants, I have had a good wit.
Don. Well, my friends, I’ve had a sharp mind.
Herod. Yes, troth, but now ’tis grown like an almanac for the last year—past date; the mark’s out of thy mouth, Dondolo.
Herod. Yes, really, but now it’s like an outdated almanac from last year—past its time; the point's gone from your words, Dondolo.
Nym. And what’s the prince’s ambassage? Thou art private with the duke; thou belongest to his close-stool.
Nym. So what's the prince's message? You're in on it with the duke; you're in his inner circle.
Don. Why, every fool knows that; I know it myself, man, as well as the best man: he is come to solicit a marriage betwixt his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our Duke of Urbin’s daughter, Dulcimel. 51
Don. Well, everyone knows that; I know it too, just like the best of them: he’s here to ask for a marriage between his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our Duke of Urbino’s daughter, Dulcimel. 51
Nym. Pity of my passions! Nymphadoro shall lose one of his mistresses.
Nym. Oh, the sorrow of my feelings! Nymphadoro is about to lose one of his lovers.
Herod. Nay, if thou hast more than one, the loss can ne’er be grievous, since ’tis certain he that loves many formally, never loves any violently.
Herod. No, if you have more than one, the loss can't be that painful, since it's clear that someone who loves many doesn't love any of them deeply.
Nym. Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand the weaker because it is divided into many fingers? No, ’tis the more strongly nimble. I do now love threescore and nine ladies, all of them most extremely well, but I do love the princess most extremely best; but, in very sighing sadness, I ha’ lost all hope, and with that hope a lady that is most rare, most fair, most wise, most sweet, most—— 64
Nym. Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand weaker because it has many fingers? No, it’s actually more skillful. I now love sixty-nine ladies, all of them very well, but I love the princess the most; however, in deep sadness, I have lost all hope, and with that hope, a lady who is very rare, very beautiful, very wise, very sweet, most—— most—— 64
Herod. Anything; true, but remember, still this fair, this wise, this sweet, this all-of-excellency, has in the tail of all—a woman.
Herod. Anything; true, but remember, this beautiful, this wise, this sweet, this all-around excellent person is ultimately a woman.
Nym. Peace! the presence fills against the prince approacheth. Mark who enters.
Nym. Quiet! The atmosphere shifts as the prince arrives. Look who’s coming in.
Herc. My brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso. 70
Herc. My brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso.
Nym. Not he.
Nym. Not him.
Herc. No, not he?
Herc. No, really?
Nym. How, is he changed?
Nym. How has he changed?
Herc. Why, grown the very dregs of the drabs’ cup.
Herc. Why, I've become the very bottom of the barrel.
Nym. O Babylon, thy walls are fallen! Is he married?
Nym. Oh Babylon, your walls have collapsed! Is he married?
Herc. Yes; yet still the ladies’ common—or the common ladies’—servant.
Herc. Yes; but still the ladies' typical—or the typical ladies'—servant.
Nym. How does his own lady bear with him?
Nym. How does his own lady put up with him?
Herc. Faith, like the Roman Milo, bore with him when he was a calf, and now carries him when he’s grown an ox. 81
Herc. Honestly, just like the Roman Milo, he carried him when he was a calf, and now supports him as he’s grown into an ox. 81
Nym. Peace! the duke’s at hand.
Nym. Chill! The duke's coming.
Cornets. Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, Dulcimel, Philocalia, Zoya.
Cornets. Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, Dulcimel, Philocalia, Zoya.
Gon. Daughter, for that our last speech leaves the
firmest print, be thus advised. When young Tiberio
negotiates his father’s love, hold heedy guard over thy
passions, and still keep this full thought firm in thy
reason: ’tis his old father’s love the young man moves
(is’t not well thought, my lord, we must bear brain[131]),
and when thou shalt behold Tiberio’s lifeful eyes and
well-fill’d veins, complexion firm, and hairs that curls
with strength of lusty moisture (I think we yet can speak,
we ha’ been eloquent), thou must shape thy thoughts to
apprehend his father well in years— 93
A grave wise prince, whose beauty is his honour,
And well-pass’d life; and do not give thy thoughts
Least liberty to shape a diverse scope
(My Lord Granuffo, pray ye note my phrase):
So shalt thou not abuse thy younger hope,
Nor afflict us, who only joy in life,
To see thee his.
Gon. Daughter, since our last conversation left a strong impression, take this advice. When young Tiberio is trying to win his father’s affection, keep a close watch on your feelings and always remember this: it’s his old father’s love that the young man is seeking (isn’t it clear, my lord, we must think carefully), and when you look into Tiberio’s lively eyes and strong veins, his firm complexion, and hair that curls with youthful vitality (I believe we can still communicate, we have been eloquent), you must make sure to consider his father, who is older— 93
A wise and dignified prince, whose appearance he takes pride in,
And has lived a good life; and don’t let your thoughts
Explore a different direction
(My Lord Granuffo, please take note of my wording):
So you don’t waste your youthful hopes,
Or make us upset, because all we want is for you to be happy,
Seeing you with him.
Dul. Gracious my father, fear not; 100
I rest most duteous to your dispose.
Dul. Don't worry, Dad; 100
I am here to assist you fully.
[Consort of music.
Music partner.
Gon. Set on then; for the music gives us notice
The prince is hard at hand.
Gon. Let’s get going; the music is ready for us.
The prince is right here.
Tiberio with his train, with Hercules disguised.
Tiberio with his entourage, with Hercules in disguise.
Dul. You are most welcome to our long-desiring father. To us you are come——
Dul. You're very welcome to our long-awaited father. To us, you have arrived
Tib. From our long-desiring father.
Tib. From our long-waiting father.
Dul. Is this your father’s true proportion?
Dul. Is this really how your father looks?
[Shows a picture.
[Displays a picture.
Tib. No, lady; but the perfect counterfeit.
Tib. No, ma'am; just the perfect imitation.
Dul. And the best graced——
Dul. And the best graced——
Tib. The painter’s art could yield.
Tib. The painter's art could produce.
Gon. Hear, that’s my wit, when I was eighteen old—such a pretty toying wit had I; but age hath made us wise. Hast not, my lord?
Gon. Listen, that was my cleverness when I was eighteen—such a playful wit I had; but age has made us wiser. Haven't you, my lord?
Tib. Why, fairest princess, if your eye dislike
That deader piece, behold me his true form
And livelier image. Such my father hath been.
Tib. Well, beautiful princess, if your eye isn’t pleased
that lifeless statue, see my true self
and a more vibrant image. That's how my dad was.
Dul. My lord, please you to scent this flower.
Dul. My lord, would you please smell this flower?
Tib. ’Tis withered, lady—the flower’s scent is gone.
Tib. It's wilted, lady—the flower's fragrance is lost.
Dul. This hath been such as you are—hath been, sir.
They say, in England, that a far-famed[132] friar 120
Had girt the island round with a brass wall,
If[133] they could ha’ catched Time is: but Time is past
Left it still[134] clipt with agèd Neptune’s arm.
Dul. This has been exactly how you are—exactly, sir.
They say that in England, there's a famous __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ friar.
Surrounded the island with a brass wall,
If__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ they could have captured Time is: but Time has passed
Left it still__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ caught by old Neptune’s grip.
Tib. Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon’s bed.
Tib. Aurora still remains faithful to old Tithon’s bed.
Dul. Yet blushes at it when she rises.
Dul. Yet she still blushes when she gets up.
Gon. Pretty, pretty—just like my younger wit—you know it, my lord.
Gon. Beautiful, beautiful—just like my younger self—you know it, my lord.
Dul. But is your father’s age thus fresh—hath yet his head so many hairs?
Dul. But is your father really that young—does he still have that much hair?
Tib. More, more, by many a one. 130
Tib. More, more, by many. 130
Dul. More, say you?
More to say?
Tib. More.
Tib. More.
Tib. The courtesy of art hath given more life to that part than the sad cares of state would grant my father.
Tib. The kindness of art has brought more life to that part than the heavy burdens of state would allow my father.
Dul. This model speaks about forty.
Dul. This model is about forty.
Tib. Then doth it somewhat flatter, for our father hath seen more years, and is a little shrunk from the full strength of time. 140
Tib. That does make me feel a bit better, since our father has lived longer and has lost some of his strength over the years. time. 140
Gon. Somewhat coldly praised.
Gon. Kind of coldly praised.
Dul. Your father hath a fair solicitor,
And be it spoke with virgin modesty,
I would he were no elder; not that I do fly
His side for years, or other hopes of youth,
But in regard the malice of lewd tongues,
Quick to deprave[135] on possibilities
(Almost impossibilities), will spread
Rumours to honour dangerous.
Dul. Your dad has a good lawyer,
And if I may speak with genuine humility,
I wish he were younger; it's not that I want to ignore __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
His youthful hopes and dreams,
But due to the hurtful rumors spread by spiteful people,
Eager to explore__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ possibilities
(Almost impossible), will spread
Harmful rumors to damage reputation.
[Dulcimel and Tiberio confer privately.
Dulcimel and Tiberio talk privately.
Gon. What? whisper? Ay, my Lord Granuffo, ’twere fit 150
To part their lips. Men of discerning wit
That have read Pliny can discourse or so;
But give me practice: well experienced age
Is the true Delphos. I am no oracle,
But yet I’ll prophesy. Well, my Lord Granuffo,
’Tis fit to interrupt their privacy,
Is’t not, my lord? Now, sure, thou art a man
Of a most learned silence, and one whose words
Have been most precious to me. Right, I know thy heart;
’Tis true, thy legs discourse with right and grace, 160
And thy tongue is constant.—Fair my lord,
Forbear all[136] private closer conference;
What from your father comes, comes openly,
And so must speak: for you must know my age
Hath seen the beings and the quid of things:
I know the dimensions and the termini
Of all existence. Sir, I know what shapes
Appetite forms; but policy and states
Have more elected ends: your father’s suit
Is with all public grace received, and private love 170
Embraced. As for our daughter’s bent of mind,
She must seem somewhat nice; ’tis virgins’ kind
To hold long out; if yet she chance deny,
Ascribe it to her decent modesty.
We have been a philosopher and spoke
With much applause; but now age makes us wise,
And draws our eyes to search the heart of things
And leave vain seemings; therefore you must know
I would be loath the gaudy shape of youth
Should once[137] provoke a[138] not-allow’d-of heat, 180
Or hinder, or——for, sir, I know; and so,
Therefore, before us time and place affords
Free speech, else not. Wise heads use but few words:
In short breath, know the Court of Urbin holds
Your presence and your embassage so dear,
That we want means once to express[139] our heart
But with our heart. Plain meaning shunneth art;
You are most welcome (Lord Granuffo, a trick,
A figure, note); we use no rhetoric.
Gon. What? Whisper? Yes, my Lord Granuffo, that’s fitting 150
To speak up. People who are quick-witted
Those who have read Pliny can engage in a proper conversation;
But give me experience: real wisdom comes with age.
That’s the real oracle. I’m not a seer,
But I have a prediction to share. Well, my Lord Granuffo,
It’s important to break into their private moment,
Isn't that right, my lord? Now, you really are a person.
In deep thought and silence, and your words
You have always been very valuable to me. Yes, I understand your heart;
It’s true, your actions reflect goodness and kindness, 160
Your speech is unwavering.—Kind sir,
Avoid all __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ private chats;
What you inherit from your father is presented openly,
And it needs to be said: you should know my age.
Has perceived the essence and the quid of things:
I understand the dimensions and limits.
Of all existence. Sir, I'm aware of what desires...
Desire drives creation, but strategy and politics
Have chosen different goals: your father's suggestion
Is welcomed with widespread public approval and personal affection. 170
Accepted. Regarding our daughter's behavior,
She might seem a bit tough to approach; that's just how virgins are.
To hold out for a bit; if she ends up saying no,
Give credit to her true modesty.
We have been philosophers and have spoken
With a lot of praise; but now that we’re older, we’ve gained wisdom,
And encourages us to find the essence of things.
Forget about superficial appearances; so you need to understand
I wouldn't want the flashy appeal of youth
To once provoke an unjust passion,
Or interfere, or—because, sir, I know; and so,
Therefore, the time and place in front of us allows
Engage in open conversation; otherwise, don't. Wise people speak less:
In short, the Court of Urbin holds
Your presence and your message are so precious,
That we don't have the ability to express__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ our true feelings.
Except with our hearts. Speaking plainly avoids pretense;
You are very welcome (Lord Granuffo, a gesture,
Please note a sign; we don't use rhetoric.
[Exeunt all but Hercules, Nymphadoro, and Herod.
[Everyone exits except Hercules, Nymphadoro, and Herod.
Herod. Did not Tiberio call his father fool? 190
Herod. Didn't Tiberius call his father a fool? 190
Nym. No; he said years had weakened his youthful quickness.
Nym. No; he said that years had made his youthful agility slow down.
Herod. He swore he was bald?
Herod. He claimed he was bald?
Nym. No; but not thick-hair’d.
Nym. No; but not thick-haired.
Herod. By this light, I’ll swear he said his father had the hipgout, the strangury, the fistula in ano, and a most unabideable breath, no teeth, less eyes, great fingers, little legs, an eternal flux, and an everlasting cough of the lungs.
Herod. By this light, I swear he said his father had gout, a painful urinary condition, a fistula, and a terrible breath, no teeth, very few eyes, big hands, small legs, constant diarrhea, and a never-ending cough.
Nym. Fie, fie! by this light he did not. 200
Nym. Ugh, no way! I swear he did not. 200
Herod. By this light he should ha’ done then. Horn on him, threescore and five, to have and to hold a lady of fifteen. O Mezentius! a tyranny equal if not above thy torturing; thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies together, and forced them so to pine and rot; but this cruelty binds breast to breast not only different bodies, but, if it were possible, most unequal minds together, with an enforcement even scandalous to Nature. Now the jail deliver me an intelligencer! be good to me, ye cloisters of bondage! Of whence art thou? 210
Herod. He should have done this then. It's absurd for a man who's sixty-five to have and hold a girl of fifteen. Oh Mezentius! Your tyranny is just as bad, if not worse; you bound the living and the dead together, forcing them to suffer and decay. But this cruelty links not only different bodies but, if it were possible, the most incompatible minds, in a way that’s even shocking to Nature. Now, let the jail give me some news! Be kind to me, ye places of confinement! Where are you from? you? 210
Herod. A Ferrarese! what to me? Camest thou in with the Prince Tiberio?
Herod. A Ferrarese! What does that mean to me? Did you come in with Prince Tiberio?
Herc. With the Prince Tiberio. What o’[140] that? You will not rail at me, will you?
Herc. With Prince Tiberio. What’s up with that? You won’t shout at me, will you?
Herod. Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara—a Ferrarese?[141] No. Didst thou ride?
Herod. Who, me? Am I attacking someone from Ferrara—a Ferrarene? [141] No. Did you ride?
Herc. No.
No.
Herod. Hast thou worn socks?
Herod. Have you worn socks?
Herc. No. 220
No.
Herod. Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt thy toes! I do prophesy thy tyrannising itch shall be honourable, and thy right worshipful louse shall appear in full presence. Art thou an officer to the prince?[142]
Herod. Then blessed be the happy gravel between your toes! I predict that your desire to dominate will be respected, and your esteemed pest will show up in full view. Are you an officer to the prince?[142]
Herc. I am; what o’ that?
Herc. I am; so what?
Herod. My cap! what officer?
Herod. Where's my cap? Which officer?
Herc. Yeoman of his bottles. What to that?
Herc. Butler of his drinks. So what?
Herod. My lip! thy name, good yeoman of the bottles? 230
Herod. My word! What do they call you, good man of the bottles?
Herc. Faunus.
Herc. Faunus.
Nym. Faunus? an old courtier? I wonder thou art in no better clothes and place, Faunus!
Nym. Faunus? An old courtier? I wonder why you're in such shabby clothes and a place like this, Faunus!
Herc. I may be in better place, sir, and with them[143] of more regard, if this match of our duke’s intermarriage with the heir of Urbin proceed, the Duke of Urbin dying, and our lord coming in his lady’s right of title to your dukedom. 238
Herc. I might be in a better situation, sir, and connected with people of higher status, if this arrangement of our duke’s marriage with the heir of Urbin goes through, since the Duke of Urbin has passed away, and our lord will inherit your dukedom through his lady's claims.
Herod. Why then shalt thou, O yeoman of the bottles, become a maker of magnificoes. Thou shalt beg some odd suit, and change thy old shirt,[144] pare thy beard, cleanse thy teeth, and eat apricocks,[145] marry a rich widow, or a crack’d lady, whose case thou shalt make good. Then, my Pythagoras, shall thou and I make a transmigration of souls: thou shalt marry my daughter, or my wife shall be thy gracious mistress. Seventeen punks shall be thy proportion. Thou shalt beg to thy comfort of clean linen, eat no more fresh beef at supper, or save[146] the broth for next day’s porridge; but the fleshpots of Egypt shall fatten thee, and the grasshopper shall flourish in thy summer. 251
Herod. So why should you, bottle keeper, become a maker of magnificoes? You'll ask for some strange favor, change your old shirt,[144] trim your beard, brush your teeth, and eat apricots,[145] marry a rich widow, or an eccentric lady, and you'll make a case for her. Then, my Pythagoras, you and I will experience a shift of souls: you'll marry my daughter, or my wife will be your kind mistress. You will have seventeen lovers as your share. You'll beg for clean clothes, won't have fresh beef for dinner anymore, or save[146] the broth for the next day's porridge; but the sumptuous meals of Egypt will nourish you, and the grasshopper will thrive in your summer. 251
Nym. And what dost thou think of the duke’s overture of marriage?
Nym. So, what do you think of the duke’s proposal of marriage?
Herod. What do you think?
Herod. What are your thoughts?
Herc. May I speak boldly as at Aleppo?
Herc. Can I speak freely like I did in Aleppo?
Nym. Speak till thy lungs ache, talk out thy teeth; here are none of those cankers, these mischiefs of society, intelligencers, or informers, that will cast rumour into the teeth of some Lælius Balbus,[147] a man cruelly eloquent and bloodily learned. No; what sayest thou, Faunus? 261
Nym. Talk as much as you want, shout until your lungs hurt; there are none of those who spread gossip, those troublemakers, spies, or informers, who will throw rumors at some Lælius Balbus,[147] a man who is cruelly articulate and disturbingly knowledgeable. No; what do you say, Faunus?
Herc. With an undoubted breast thus:—I may speak boldly?
Herc. With a confident heart, I can speak freely?
Herod. By this night,[148] I’ll speak broadly first, and thou wilt, man. Our Duke of Urbin is a man very happily mad, for he thinks himself right perfectly wise, and most demonstratively learned—nay, more——
Herod. By tonight,[148] I’ll speak openly first, and you will, man. Our Duke of Urbin is quite happily insane, as he believes he is perfectly wise and undeniably learned—more—
Herc. No more—I’ll on. Methinks the young lord our Prince of Ferrara so bounteously adorned with all of grace, feature, and best shaped proportion, fair use of speech, full opportunity, and that which makes the sympathy of all, equality of heat, of years, of blood; methinks these loadstones should attract the metal of the young princess rather to the son than to the noisome, cold, and most weak side of his half-rotten father. 276
Herc. No more—I’ll go on. I think the young lord, our Prince of Ferrara, is so graciously blessed with charm, looks, and a well-proportioned figure, good communication, ample opportunities, and what really connects people—similarity in passion, age, and background; I believe these qualities should draw the young princess more towards him than to his unpleasant, cold, and weakly half-rotten father. 276
Herod. Tha’rt ours—tha’rt ours. Now dare we speak as boldly as if Adam had not fallen, and made us all slaves. Hark ye, the duke is an arrant doting ass—an ass—and in the knowledge of my very sense, will turn a foolish animal; for his son will prove like one of Baal’s priests, have all the flesh presented to the idol his father, but he in the night will feed on’t—will devour it.[149] He will, yeoman of the bottles, he will. 285
Herod. You're ours—you're ours. Now we can speak as boldly as if Adam hadn't fallen and made us all slaves. Listen, the duke is a total fool—an idiot—and despite what I know, he'll act like a foolish animal; his son will end up like one of Baal’s priests, presenting all the meat to his father's idol, but in the dark, he’ll consume it—he’ll devour it.[149] He will, bartender, he will. 285
Herc. Now, gentlemen, I am sure the lust of speech hath equally drenched us all; know I am no servant to this Prince Tiberio.
Herc. Now, gentlemen, I’m sure we’re all equally eager to talk; just so you know, I’m not a servant to this Prince Tiberio.
Herod. Not?
Herod. Really?
Herc. Not, but one to him out of some private urging most vowed—one that pursues him but for opportunity of safe[150] satisfaction. Now, if ye can prefer my service to him, I shall rest yours wholly. 293
Herc. No, just one person who is secretly pushing him on—only someone who goes after him when they have a chance for safe[150] satisfaction. Now, if you can choose my help over his, I will be completely yours. 293
Herod. Just in the devil’s mouth! thou shalt have place! Fawn, thou shalt! Behold this generous Nymphadoro, a gallant of clean boot, straight back, and beard[151] of a most hopeful expectation. He is a servant of fair Dulcimel’s, her very creature, born to the princess’ sole adoration; a man so spent in time to her, that pity (if no more of grace) must follow[152] him when we have gained the room. Second his suit, Faunus;[153] I’ll be your intelligencer. 302
Herod. Right in the devil’s mouth! You’ll have your chance! Bow down, you will! Look at this generous Nymphadoro, a nobleman with clean shoes, a straight back, and a beard[151] full of promise. He serves the beautiful Dulcimel, her very own, meant solely for the princess’ affection; a man so dedicated to her that pity (if not grace) must follow[152] him once we get our place. Support his request, Faunus;[153] I’ll be your informant. 302
Herc. Our very heart, and, if need be, work[154] to most desperate ends.
Herc. Our very heart, and if necessary, work[154] to the most desperate lengths.
Herod. Well urged.
Herod. Good point.
Herc. Words fit acquaintance, but full actions friends.
Herc. Words suit acquaintances, but actions define true friends.
Nym. Thou shalt not want, Faunus.
Nym. You won’t need anything, Faunus.
Herc. You promise well.
You make a good promise.
Herod. Be thou but firm, that old doting iniquity of age—that horny-eyed[155] lecherous duke, thy lord—shall be baffled to extremest derision; his son prove his fool father’s own issue. 312
Herod. Just be strong, that old foolish wickedness of age—that lecherous duke with his lustful eyes, your lord—will be reduced to the greatest ridicule; his son will show himself to be his foolish father's own offspring. 312
Nym. Why, thou art but a younger brother: but poor Baldazozo. 320
Nym. Why, you're just a younger brother: but poor Baldazozo. 320
[Exeunt. Remanet Hercules.
Exeunt. Remains Hercules.
Herc. I never knew till now how old I was.
By Him by whom we are, I think a prince,
Whose tender sufferance never felt a gust
Of bolder breathings, but still lived gently fann’d
With the soft gales of his own flatterers’ lips,
Shall never know his own complexion. 330
Dear sleep and lust, I thank you; but for you,
Mortal till now I scarce had known myself.
Thou grateful poison, sleek mischief, flattery,
Thou dreamful slumber (that doth fall on kings
As soft and soon[160] as their first holy oil),
Be thou for ever damn’d; I now repent
Severe indictions to some sharp styles;
Freeness, so’t grow not to licentiousness,
Is grateful to just states. Most spotless kingdom,
And men, O happy born under good stars, 340
Where what is honest you may freely think,
Speak what you think, and write what you do speak,
Not bound to servile soothings! But since our rank
Hath ever been afflicted with these flies
(That blow corruption on the sweetest virtues),
I will revenge us all upon you all
With the same stratagem we still are caught,
Flattery itself; and sure all know the sharpness
Of reprehensive language is even blunted
To full contempt. Since vice is now term’d fashion, 350
And most are grown to ill, even with defence
I vow to waste this most prodigious heat,
That falls into my age like scorching flames
In depth of numb’d December, in flattering all
In all of their extremest viciousness,
Till in their own lov’d race they fall most lame,
And meet full butt the close of Vice’s shame.
Herc. I never realized until now how old I actually am.
By the one who gives us life, I believe a prince,
Whose gentle suffering never felt intense
Bolder words were spoken, but still lived softly.
By the gentle whispers of his admirers’ words,
Will never truly know his own character. 330
Dear sleep and desire, thank you; without you,
Until now, I hardly recognized myself as human.
You deceitful charm, clever trickery, and flattery,
You dreamy sleep (that comes upon kings
As gently and swiftly__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ as their initial holy oil),
Curse this forever; I regret it now.
Harsh judgments from some critical people;
Freedom, so it doesn’t become excessive,
Is valued in just societies. Most ideal kingdom,
And men, oh, lucky to be born under good stars, 340
Where honesty allows you to think openly,
Say what you think, and write down what you say,
Not compelled to give insincere flattery! But since our status
Has always been bothered by these pests.
(That corrupt the best virtues),
I will get revenge on all of you.
Using the same trick that always catches us,
Flattery itself; and surely everyone knows how it feels.
Of critical words is muted
To complete disdain. Since vice is now referred to as fashion, 350
And most have gone astray, even with justifications,
I promise to channel this intense anger,
That feels like burning flames.
In the cold depths of December, complimenting everyone
In all their extreme evil,
Until they become incapacitated in their own beloved circle,
And face the end of Vice's shame.
[Exit.
[Leave.
[129] Cf. Dekker and Webster’s Northward Ho (1606), iv. 3:—
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Cf. Dekker and Webster’s Northward Ho (1606), iv. 3:—
“Bell. But what say you to such gentlemen as these are?
Bell. But what do you think about gentlemen like these?
“Bawd. Foh! they, as soon as they come to their lands, get up to London and like squibs that run upon lines, they keep a spitting of fire and cracking till they ha’ spent all; and when my squib is out what says his punk? foh, he stinks!”
Bawd. Ugh! As soon as they get their estates, they rush up to London and like firecrackers on a string, they make a lot of noise and sparks until they burn out; and when my firecracker goes out, what does his girl say? Ugh, he smells!
[130] “Ship of Fools”—an allusion to Sebastian Brandt’s famous work, translated by Alexander Barclay.
[130] “Ship of Fools”—a reference to Sebastian Brandt’s well-known work, translated by Alexander Barclay.
[132] Eds. 1. and 3. “farre found.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “far found.”
[133] Old eds. “If that they could have,” &c. (The speech is printed as prose in old eds.) The “far-famed friar” is of course Friar Bacon. See the extract from The Famous History of Fryer Bacon appended to Dyce’s edition of Robert Greene’s Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay.
[133] Old eds. “If only they could have,” &c. (The speech is printed as prose in old eds.) The “legendary friar” refers to Friar Bacon. See the excerpt from The Famous History of Fryer Bacon included in Dyce’s edition of Robert Greene’s Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay.
[134] Ed. 2. “hill.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “hill.”
[135] Defame. “Mesdire. To deprave, reproach, revile, rayle on,” &c.—Cotgrave.
[135] Defame. “To speak badly of. To corrupt, criticize, insult, complain about,” &c.—Cotgrave.
[136] Ed. 2. “all, all.”
“all, all.”
[137] Old eds. “one.”
Old eds. “one.”
[138] Old eds. “and.”
Old eds. “and.”
[139] Ed. 2. “oppresse.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “oppressed.”
[140] Ed. 2. “to.”
Ed. 2. “to.”
[141] Old eds. “Ferazees.”
Old eds. “Ferazees.”
[142] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “princes;” ed. 3. “princesse.”
[143] Ed. 2. “you.”
“you.”
[144] Eds. 1. and 3. “sute.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 “sute.”
[145] “Abricot, the abricot or apricocke plum.”—Cotgrave.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Abricot, the apricot plum.”—Cotgrave.
[147] Old eds. “Baldus.”—Lælius Balbus was a noted informer in the days of Tiberius. When he was banished (A.D. 37) there was great rejoicing because “truci eloquentia habebatur, promptus adversum insontes” (Tacitus, Ann. vi. 48).
[147] Old eds. “Baldus.”—Lælius Balbus was a well-known informant during the time of Tiberius. When he was exiled (CE 37), there was widespread celebration because he was “truci eloquentia habebatur, promptus adversum insontes” (Tacitus, Ann. vi. 48).
[148] Quy. “light”?
Quy. “light”?
[149] “The allusion is to the story of Bel and the Dragon in the Apocrypha.”—Dilke.
[149] “This refers to the story of Bel and the Dragon in the Apocrypha.”—Dilke.
[150] Eds. 1. and 3. “false.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “false.”
[151] Eds. 1. and 3. “head.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “head.”
[152] Eds. 1. and 3. “follow him second.... Serv’d his,” &c.
[152] Eds. 1. and 3. “follow him second.... Served his,” &c.
[153] Old eds. “Hercules.”
Old eds. “Hercules.”
[154] Eds. 1. and 3. “workes.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 “works.”
[155] Old eds. “only eyed.”
Old eds. “only glanced.”
[156] Ovid, Amores, xv. 36.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ovid, Amores, 15 36.
[157] See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
A banqueting-hall.
A banquet hall.
Herod and Nymphadoro with napkins in their hands, followed by Pages with stools and meat.
Herod and Nymphadora holding napkins, followed by Pages carrying stools and food.
Herod. Come, sir; a stool, boy! these court-feasts are to us servitors court-fasts—such scambling, such shift for to eat, and where to eat. Here a squire of low degree hath got the carcass of a plover, there pages of the chamber divide the spoils of a tatter’d pheasant; here the sewer[161] has friended a country gentleman with a sweet green goose, and there a young fellow that late has bought his office, has caught a woodcock by the nose, with cups full ever-flowing.[162] 9
Herod. Come on, man; get me a stool, boy! These court banquets feel like fasts for us servants—such scrambling, such a struggle to find food and a place to eat. Here a low-ranking squire has snagged the carcass of a plover, while over there the chamber pages are dividing the remains of a tattered pheasant; here the sewer[161] has made friends with a country gentleman and scored a nice green goose, and there’s a young guy who just bought his position and caught a woodcock by the nose, with cups full ever-flowing.[162] 9
Nym. But is not Faunus preferr’d with a right hand?
Nym. But isn’t Faunus preferred with the right hand?
Nym. He hath gotten more lov’d reputation of virtue, of learning, of all graces, in one hour, than all your snarling reformers have in——
Nym. He has gained a more loved reputation for virtue, for learning, for all graces, in one hour, than all your whining reformers have in
Herod. Nay, that’s unquestionable; and, indeed, what
a fruitless labour, what a filling of Danae’s[163] tub, is it
become to inveigh against folly! Community takes
away the sense, and example the shame. No, 22
Praise me these fellows, hang on their chariot wheel,
And mount with them whom Fortune heaves, nay, drives;
A stoical sour virtue seldom thrives.
Oppose such fortune, and then burst with those are pitied.
The[164] hill of Chance is paved with poor men’s bones,
And bulks of luckless souls, over whose eyes
Their chariot wheels must ruthless grate that rise.
Herod. No, that’s undeniable; and honestly, what a pointless effort, what a waste of Danae’s[163] tub, it is to complain about foolishness! Society dulls the senses, and examples erase the shame. No, 22
Praise those guys, hold on to their chariot wheels,
And elevate yourself with those whom Fortune raises, or rather compels;
A tough, unyielding virtue seldom prevails.
Reject such fortune, and then endure with those who are sympathized with.
The__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ hill of Chance is filled with the bones of unfortunate men,
And the bodies of unfortunate souls, over whose eyes
Their chariot wheels must harshly grind as they ascend.
Enter Hercules, freshly suited.
Enter Hercules, dressed up.
Nym. Behold that thing of most fortunate, most prosperous impudence,[165] Don Faunus himself. 31
Nym. Look at that most fortunate and bold figure, [165] Don Faunus himself. 31
Herod. Blessed and long-lasting be thy carnation ribbon, O man of more than wit, much more than virtue—of fortune! Faunus,[166] wilt eat any of a young spring sallet?
Herod. May your carnation ribbon be blessed and last forever, O man of more than cleverness, much more than goodness—of fortune! Faunus, [166] will you eat any of a young spring salad?
Herc. Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where did they grow?
Herc. Where did the herbs grow, my brave friend, where did they grow?
Herod. Hard by in the city here.
Herod. Right here in the city.
Herc. No, I’ll none—I’ll eat no city herbs, no city roots; for here in the city a man shall have his excrements in his teeth again within four and twenty hours. I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? 42
Herc. No way—I'm not eating any city veggies or city roots; because in this city, a guy will have his waste back in his mouth in less than a day. I can't stand city salads. Do you have any canary? 42
Nym. How the poor snake wriggles with his sudden warmth!
Nym. Look how the poor snake squirming feels the heat all at once!
Herod. Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female.
Herod. Here, Faunus, a health as profound as a woman.
[Herod drinks.
Herod drinks.
Herc. ’Fore Jove! we must be more endear’d.
Herc. By Jupiter! we need to be closer.
Nym. How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn?
Nym. How do you feel now, Fawn?
Herc. Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly taken with your virtues. Are you married? 50
Herc. Very much like a woman, with my fingers. Honestly, I think I'll love you. Are you married? I'm really impressed by your qualities. Are you married?
Herod. Yes.
Herod. Yeah.
Herc. Why, I like you well for it.
Herc. I actually like you for it.
Herod. No, troth, Fawn, I am not married.
Herod. No, honestly, Fawn, I'm not married.
Herc. Why, I like you better for it; ’fore heaven, I must love you!
Herc. Honestly, I like you more because of it; I swear, I must love you!
Herod. Why, Fawn, why?
Herod. Why, Fawn, why?
Herc. ’Fore heaven! you are blest with three rare graces—fine linen, clean linings, a sanguine complexion, and I am sure, an excellent wit, for you are a gentleman born. 60
Herc. By heaven! you are gifted with three rare qualities—nice clothes, neat linings, a healthy complexion, and I bet you have a great sense of humor, because you are clearly a gentleman by birth. 60
Herc. O, my excellent and inward dearly-approved friend! What’s your name, sir? Clean linen is the first our life craves, and the last our death enjoys.
Herc. Oh, my wonderful and truly cherished friend! What’s your name, sir? Fresh clothes are the first thing our lives desire and the last thing our deaths appreciate.
Herod. But what hope rests for Nymphadoro? Thou art now within the buttons of the prince. Shall the duke his father marry the lady?
Herod. But what hope does Nymphadoro have? You are now in the prince's favor. Will the duke, his father, marry the lady?
Herc. ’Tis to be hoped not.
Hope not.
Nym. That’s some relief as long as there’s hope. 70
Nym. That's a relief as long as there's hope. 70
Herc. But sure, sir, ’tis almost undoubted the lady will carry him.
Herc. But really, sir, it’s almost certain that the lady will win him over.
Nym. O pestilent air! is there no plot so cunning, no surmise so false, no way of avoidance?
Nym. Oh, this toxic atmosphere! Is there no scheme so clever, no suspicion so mistaken, no way to escape?
Herc. Hast thou any pity either of his passion or the lady’s years—a gentleman in the summer and hunting season of his youth, the lady met in the same warmth. Were’t not to be wept that such a sapless chafing-dish-using old dotard as the Duke of Ferrara, with his withered hand, should pluck such a bud, such a—oh, the life of sense! 81
Herc. Do you have any compassion for his suffering or the lady’s age—a gentleman in the prime and vigor of his youth, who met the lady in the same vibrant moment? Isn't it tragic that such a dried-up, old fool like the Duke of Ferrara, with his frail hand, should pick such a beautiful flower, such a—oh, the essence of life! 81
Nym. Thou art now a perfect courtier of just fashion; good grace, canst not relieve us?
Nym. You are now a perfect courtier in style; good grace, can you not help us?
Herc. Ha’ ye any money?
Herc. Do you have any cash?
Nym. Pish, Fawn, we are young gallants!
Nym. Come on, Fawn, we’re young and full of life!
Herc. The liker to have no money. But, my young gallants, to speak like myself, I must hug your humour. Why, look you, there is fate, destiny, constellations, and planets (which, though they are under nature, yet they are above women). Who hath read the book of chance? No, cherish your hope, sweeten your imaginations with thoughts of—ah! why, women are the most giddy, uncertain motions under heaven. ’Tis neither proportion of body, virtue of mind, amplitude of fortune, greatness of blood, but only mere chanceful appetite, sways them; which makes some one like a man, be it but for the paring of his nails. Via! as for inequality, art not a gentleman? 98
Herc. I’d rather have no money. But, my young friends, to speak like myself, I have to embrace your humor. Look, there is fate, destiny, constellations, and planets (which, even though they're part of nature, are still above women). Who has read the book of chance? No, hold onto your hope, sweeten your imagination with thoughts of—ah! why, women are the most fickle, uncertain beings under heaven. It’s not about their body shape, intelligence, wealth, or lineage; it’s simply chance that influences them; which makes someone like a man, even if it’s just because of how he trims his nails. Wow! And as for inequality, aren’t you a gentleman?
Nym. That I am; and my beneficence shall show it.
Nym. That's me; and my generosity will prove it.
Herc. I know you are, by that only word beneficence, which only speaks of the future tense (shall know it); but may I breathe in your bosoms? I only fear Tiberio will abuse his father’s trust, and so make your hopes desperate.
Herc. I know you are, just by that word beneficence, which only refers to the future (shall know it); but can I share my feelings with you? I only worry that Tiberio will betray his father’s trust and make your hopes bleak.
Nym. How?—the prince? Would he only stood cross to my wishes, he should find me an Italian.
Nym. How?—the prince? If he only opposed my wishes, he would discover that I’m as Italian as they come.
Herc. How an Italian? 107
Herc. How an Italian? 107
Herod. By thy aid an Italian; dear Faunus, thou art now wriggled into the prince’s bosom, and thy sweet hand should minister that nectar to him should make him immortal. Nymphadoro, in direct phrase, thou shouldst murder the prince, so revenge thine own wrongs, and be rewarded for that revenge.
Herod. With your help, Italian; dear Faunus, you have now wormed your way into the prince’s heart, and your gentle touch should provide the nectar that would make him immortal. Nymphadoro, to be straightforward, you should eliminate the prince to avenge your wrongs and reap the rewards for that revenge.
Herc. Afore the light of my eyes, I think I shall admire, wonder at you. What! ha’ ye plots, projects, correspondences, and stratagems? Why are not you in better place? 117
Herc. Before the light of my eyes, I think I will admire and be amazed by you. What! Do you have schemes, plans, communications, and tricks? Why aren’t you in a better place? 117
Enter Sir Amoroso.
Enter Sir Amoroso.
Who’s this?
Who is this?
Herod. My eldest brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso.
Herod. My oldest brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso.
Sir Amor. Pardon me, sir; I drink no wine this spring.
Sir Amor. Excuse me, sir; I'm not drinking any wine this spring.
Herod. O no, sir; he takes the diet this spring always. Boy, my brother’s bottle.
Herod. Oh no, sir; he always follows that diet this spring. Kid, hand me my brother’s bottle.
Sir Amor. ’Faith, Fawn, an odd unwholesome cold makes me still hoarse and rheumatic. 127
Sir Amor. Honestly, Fawn, there's a strange, uncomfortable chill that still makes me hoarse and rheumatic.
Herod. Yes, in troth, a paltry murr.[169] Last morning, he blew nine bones out of his nose with an odd unwholesome murr. How does my sister, your lady? What, does she breed?
Herod. Yes, truly, a worthless disease.[169] Last morning, he blew nine bones out of his nose with a strange, unhealthy condition. How is my sister, your lady? Is she expecting?
Herc. I perceive, knight, you have children. O! ’tis a blessed assurance of Heaven’s favour, and long-lasting name, to have many children.
Herc. I see, knight, that you have kids. Oh! It's a wonderful sign of Heaven’s favor and a lasting legacy to have many children.
Sir Amor. But I ha’ none, Fawn, now. 135
Sir Amor. But I don’t have any, Fawn, now. 135
Herc. O that’s most excellent—a right special happiness. He shall not be a drudge to his cradle, a slave to his child; he shall be sure not to cherish another’s blood, nor toil to advance, peradventure, some rascal’s lust. Without children, a man is unclogg’d, his wife almost a maid. Messallina, thou criedst out, O blessed barrenness! Why, once with child, the very Venus of a lady’s entertainment hath lost all pleasure.
Herc. Oh, that’s amazing—a truly special happiness. He won’t be a slave to his crib, tied down to his child; he’ll definitely not be nurturing someone else’s blood, nor working hard to further some jerk’s desires. Without kids, a man is free, and his wife is almost like a single woman. Messallina, you exclaimed, oh blessed childlessness! Because once a woman is pregnant, even the most desirable lady loses all her charm.
Herod. Nay, my brother grudgeth not at my probable inheritance. He means once to give a younger brother hope to see fortune.
Herod. No, my brother doesn’t resent my potential inheritance. He wants to give a younger brother hope of seeing success.
Nym. And yet I hear, Sir Amoroso, you cherish your loins with high art, the only engrosser of eringoes; prepared cantharides, cullisses[170] made of dissolved pearl and bruised amber; the pith of parkets,[171] and candied lamb-stones are his perpetual meats; beds made of the down under pigeons’ wings and goose-necks, fomentations, baths, electuaries, frictions, and all the nurses of most forcible excited concupiscence, he useth with most nice and tender industry. 158
Nym. And yet I hear, Sir Amoroso, you indulge yourself with fine art, the only supplier of rare delicacies; prepared aphrodisiacs, luxurious dishes made of dissolved pearls and crushed amber; the essence of rare fruits, and sweetened treats of lamb are always on your menu; beds made from the softest down of pigeons’ wings and goose feathers, soothing balms, baths, medicinal sweets, massages, and all the methods that stimulate intense desire, you use with the utmost care and attention. 158
Herc. Pish, Zoccoli! No, Nymphadoro, if Sir Amoroso would ha’ children, let him lie on a mattress, plow or thresh, eat onions, garlic, and leek porridge. Pharaoh and his council were mistaken; and their device to hinder the increase of procreation in the Israelites with enforcing them to much labour of body, and to feed hard, with beets, garlic, and onions (meat that make the original of man most sharp and taking), was absurd. No, he should have given barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers, huge store of veal and fresh beef, blown up their flesh, held them from exercise, rolled them in feathers, and most surely seen them drunk once a day; then would they at their best have begotten but wenches, and in short their generation enfeebled to nothing. 172
Herc. Come on, Zoccoli! No, Nymphadoro, if Sir Amoroso wants to have kids, he should just lie on a mattress, do some farming or threshing, and eat onions, garlic, and leek porridge. Pharaoh and his advisors were wrong; their plan to stop the Israelites from having more children by making them work too hard and feed them things like beets, garlic, and onions (foods that make a man sharp and attractive) was ridiculous. No, he should have given them barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers, a lot of veal and fresh beef, kept them from exercising, rolled them in feathers, and definitely made sure they were drunk once a day; then, at best, they would only have produced girls, and eventually their generation would have fizzled out to nothing. 172
Sir Amor. O, divine Faunus, where might a man take up forty pound in a commodity of garlic and onions? Nymphadoro, thine ear.
Sir Amor. Oh, divine Faunus, where can a guy get forty pounds worth of garlic and onions? Nymphadoro, can you hear me?
Herc. Come, what are you fleering at? There’s some weakness in your brother you wrinkle at thus; come, prithee, impart; what? we are mutually incorporated, turn’d one into another, brued [sic] together. Come, I believe you are familiar with your sister, and it were known.
Herc. Come on, what are you smirking at? There’s something off about your brother that you’re sneering at; come on, please share it. What? We’re all bound together, merged into one, connected closely. Come on, I think you know something about your sister, and it’s obvious.
Herod. Witch, Faunus, witch! Why, how dost dream I live? Is’t four score a year, think’st thou, maintains my geldings, my pages, foot-cloths, my best feeding, high play, and excellent company? No, ’tis from hence, from hence, I mint some four hundred pound a year. 185
Herod. Witch, Faunus, witch! How do you think I manage to live? Do you really believe that eighty years provides for my horses, my servants, fancy clothes, lavish meals, fun activities, and great company? No, it comes from here; I make about four hundred pounds a year. 185
Herc. Dost thou live like a porter, by the[172] back, boy?
Herc. Do you live like a porter, always working behind the scenes, kid?
Herod. As for my weak-rein’d brother, hang him! He has sore shins. Damn him, heteroclite! his brain’s perished! His youth spent his fodder so fast on others’ cattle, that he now wants for his own winter. I am fain to supply, Fawn, for which I am supplied.
Herod. As for my weak-minded brother, forget him! He has sore legs. Screw him, weirdo! His mind's gone! He blew through his resources so quickly on other people's businesses that now he can't even take care of his own needs. I'm eager to help, Fawn, for which I am helped.
Herc. Dost thou branch him, boy?
Herc. Do you branch him, boy?
Herod. What else, Fawn? 193
Herod. What else, Fawn? 193
Herod. ’Fore Heaven, I love thee to the heart! Well, I may praise God for my brother’s weakness, for I assure thee the land shall descend to me, my little Fawn. 201
Herod. I swear to God, I love you deeply! Honestly, I can thank God for my brother’s weakness because I promise you, the land will come to me, my little Fawn. 201
Herc. To thee, my little Herod? O, my rare rascal, I do find more and more in thee to wonder at, for thou art, indeed—if I prosper, thou shalt know what. Who’s this?[175]
Herc. To you, my little Herod? Oh, my unique troublemaker, I discover more and more to admire in you, because you are, truly—if things go well for me, you'll find out what. Who’s this?[175]
Enter Don Zuccone.
Enter Don Zuccone.
Herod. What! know you not Don Zuccone, the only desperately railing lord[176] at’s lady that ever was confidently melancholy—that egregious idiot, that husband of the most witty, fair (and be it spoken with many men’s true grief), most chaste Lady Zoya! But we have entered into a confederacy of afflicting him. 211
Herod. What! Don't you know Don Zuccone, the only lord who's been angrily shouting at his wife, the one who was ever so confidently sad—that total fool, that husband of the most clever, beautiful (and let’s be honest, with many men’s true sadness), most pure Lady Zoya! But we have formed a pact to torment him. 211
Herc. Plots ha’ you laid, inductions dangerous?[177]
Herc. What schemes have you planned, dangerous ones? [177]
Nym. A quiet bosom to my sweet Don. Are you going to visit your lady?
Nym. A calm heart for my dear Don. Are you planning to see your lady?
Zuc. What o’clock is’t? Is it past three?
Zuc. What time is it? Is it after three?
Herod. Past four, I assure you, sweet Don.
Herod. It's past four, I guarantee it, sweet Don.
Zuc. O, then, I may be admitted. Her afternoon’s private nap is taken. I shall take her napping. I hear there’s one jealous that I lie with my own wife, and begins to withdraw his hand. I protest, I vow,—and you will, on my knees I’ll take my sacrament on it,—I lay not with her this four years—this four years; let her not be turn’d upon me, I beseech you. 223
Zuc. Oh, then I can come in. She’s taken her afternoon nap. I’ll catch her while she’s sleeping. I hear there’s someone jealous that I sleep with my own wife and is starting to pull away. I swear, I promise—I'll say it on my knees—I haven’t been with her for four years—four years; please don’t turn against me, I ask you. 223
Herc. My dear Don!
Herc. My dear friend Don!
Zuc. O, Faunus, do’st know our lady?
Zuc. Oh, Faunus, do you know our lady?
Herc. Your lady?
Herc. Your girl?
Zuc. No, our lady. For the love of charity, incorporate with her; I would have all nations and degrees, all ages, know our lady; for I covet only to be undoubtedly notorious. 230
Zuc. No, our lady. Please, for the sake of charity, connect with her; I want people from all nations and backgrounds, of all ages, to know our lady; for I only wish to be undeniably famous. 230
Herc. For indeed, sir, a repressed fame mounts like camomile[178]—the more trod down, the more it grows. Things known common and undoubted, lose rumour.
Herc. Because really, sir, when someone’s fame is suppressed, it rises up like chamomile— the more it’s pushed down, the more it flourishes. Things that are well-known and certain lose their buzz.
Nym. I hope yet your conjectures may err. Your lady keeps full face, unbated roundness, cheerful aspect. Were she so infamously prostitute, her cheek would fall, her colour fade, the spirit of her eye would die.
Nym. I still hope your guesses are wrong. Your lady shows a full face, unblemished roundness, and a cheerful look. If she were truly as dishonorable as you suggest, her cheeks would sag, her color would fade, and the spark in her eyes would be gone.
Zuc. O, young man, such women are like Danaus’ tub; and, indeed, all women are like Achelous,[179] with whom Hercules wrestling, he was no sooner hurl’d to the earth, but he rose up with double vigour. Their fall strengthened them. 242
Zuc. Oh, young man, women like that are just like the tub of Danaus; in fact, all women are like Achelous,[179] whom Hercules wrestled with. No sooner was he thrown to the ground than he sprang back up with even more strength. Their downfall only makes them stronger. 242
Enter Dondolo.
Enter Dondolo.
Don. News, news, news, news! O, my dear Don, be raised—be jovial[180]—be triumphant! Ah, my dear Don!
Don. News, news, news, news! Oh, my dear Don, be happy—be cheerful[180]—be victorious! Ah, my dear Don!
Nym. To me first, in private, thy news, I prithee.
Nym. Please tell me your news first, in private.
Don. Will you be secret?
Don. Will you keep it a secret?
Nym. O’ my life.
O my life.
Don. As you are generous?
Don. Are you feeling generous?
Nym. As I am generous. 250
Nym. I am generous. 250
Don. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child.
Don. Don Zuccone’s partner is pregnant.
Herc. Nymph, Nymph, what is’t?—what’s the news?
Herc. Nymph, Nymph, what's going on?—what's the news?
Nym. You will be secret?
Nym. Will you keep it secret?
Herod. Silence itself.
Herod. Silence itself.
Nym. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child apparently.
Nym. Don Zuccone’s lady is apparently expecting a baby.
Herc. Herod, Herod, what’s the matter, prithee? the news?
Herc. Herod, Herod, what’s going on, please? Any news?
Herod. You must tell nobody?
Herod. You can't tell anyone?
Herc. As I am generous——
Herc. As I am generous—
Herod. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child apparently.
Herod. Don Zuccone's wife is apparently pregnant.
Zuc. Fawn, what’s the whisper?—what’s the fool’s secret news? 262
Zuc. Fawn, what's the gossip?—what's the idiot's secret news?
Herc. Truth, my lord, a thing that—that—well, i’faith, it is not fit you know it: now[181]—now—now—
Herc. Honestly, my lord, it's something that—that—well, honestly, you shouldn't know about it: now[181]—now—now—
Zuc. Not fit I know it? As thou art baptized, tell me—tell me.
Zuc. I know I'm not good enough, right? Since you’ve been baptized, just tell me—tell me.
Herc. Will you plight your patience to it?
Herc. Will you promise to stay calm about it?
Zuc. Speak, I am a very block. I will not be moved—I am a very block.
Zuc. Speak, I am very stubborn. I will not be swayed—I am very stubborn.
Herc. But if you should grow disquiet (as, I protest, it would make a saint blaspheme), I should be unwilling to procure your impatience. 272
Herc. But if you start to feel uneasy (which, I swear, would drive even a saint to curse), I would hate to cause your frustration. 272
Zuc. Yes,[182] do! Burst me! burst me! burst me with longing!
Zuc. Yes,[182] do! Make me explode! make me explode! make me explode with desire!
Herc. Nay, faith, ’tis no great matter! Hark ye, you’ll tell nobody?
Herc. No, really, it’s not a big deal! Now listen, you won’t tell anyone?
Zuc. Not.
Zuc. Nope.
Herc. As you are noble?
Herc. Are you noble?
Zuc. As I am honest.
Zuc. As I’m honest.
Herc. Your lady-wife is[183] apparently with child. 280
Zuc. With child?
Zuc. Pregnant?
Herc. With child.
Herc. Expecting a baby.
Zuc. Fool!
Fool!
Herc. My Don.
Herc. My dude.
Zuc. With child!—by the pleasure of generation, I proclaim I lay not with her this——Give us patience!—give us patience!
Zuc. Expecting a child!—by the joy of creation, I declare I haven't been with her this——Grant us patience!—grant us patience!
Herc. Why? my lord, ’tis nothing to wear a forker.[184]
Herc. Why? my lord, it’s nothing to wear a fork. [184]
Zuc. Heaven and earth!
Wow!
Herc. All things under the moon are subject to their mistress’ grace. Horns! Lend me your ring, my Don—I’ll put it on my finger. Now ’tis on yours again. Why is the gold now e’er the worse in lustre or fitness? 293
Herc. Everything beneath the moon is at the mercy of its mistress. Horns! Give me your ring, my Don—I’ll wear it on my finger. Now it’s back on yours. Why does the gold seem any less shiny or suitable? 293
Zuc. Am I used thus?
Zuc. Am I being used like this?
Herc. Ay, my lord, true. Nay, to be—(look ye, mark ye)—to be used like a dead ox—to have your own hide pluck’d on—to be drawn on with your own horn,—to have the lordship of your father, the honour of your ancestors, maugre your beard, to descend to the base lust of some groom of your stable, or the page of your chamber! 301
Herc. Yes, my lord, that’s true. No, to be—(you see, pay attention)—to be treated like a dead animal—to have your own skin taken off—to be used for your own advantage, to have your father's title, the honor of your ancestors, despite your dignity, to end up at the mercy of some stable hand or the servant in your room! 301
Zuc. O, Phalaris! thy bull!
Zuc. Oh, Phalaris! your bull!
Sir Amor. Good Don, ha’ patience! you are not the only cuckold! I would now be separated.
Sir Amor. Good Don, have patience! You're not the only one dealing with this! I want to be apart now.
Zuc. ’Las! that’s but the least drop of the storm of my revenge! I will unlegitimate[185] the issue! What I will do shall be horrible but to think.
Zuc. Ah! That’s just the smallest part of the storm of my revenge! I will make the outcome illegitimate[185]! What I’m about to do will be horrifying to even imagine.
Herc. But, sir——
Herc. But, sir——
Zuc. But, sir, I will do what a man of my form may do; and laugh on, laugh on, do Sir Amorous—you have a lady, too. 311
Zuc. But, sir, I’ll do what someone like me can do; and keep laughing, keep laughing, do Sir Amorous—you’ve got a lady, too. 311
Herod. But, my sweet lord——
Herod. But, my dear lord——
Zuc. Do not anger me, lest I most dreadfully curse thee, and wish thee married! O, Zuccone, spit white, spit thy gall out. The only boon I crave of Heaven is——But to have my honours inherited by a bastard! I will be most tyrannous—bloodily tyrannous in my revenge, and most terrible in my curses! Live to grow blind with lust, senseless with use, loathed after, flattered before, hated always, trusted never, abhorred ever! and last, may she live to wear a most foul smock seven weeks together, Heaven, I beseech thee! 322
Zuc. Don’t make me angry, or I’ll curse you in the worst way and wish for your marriage! Oh, Zuccone, spit white, spit out your bitterness. The only favor I ask from Heaven is—just to have my honors passed down to a bastard! I will be incredibly cruel—violently cruel in my revenge and absolutely terrifying in my curses! May you live to grow blind from desire, numb from use, admired in public, despised in private, never trusted, always hated, and forever loathed! And finally, may she wear the dirtiest shirt for seven weeks straight, Heaven, I beg you! thee! 322
[Exit.
[Leave.
Zoy. Is he gone?—is he blown off? Now; out upon him, insufferably jealous fool.
Zoy. Is he gone?—is he out of here? Ugh, what an unbearable jealous idiot.
Don. Lady!
Hey, lady!
Zoy. Didst thou give him the famed report? Does he believe I am with child? Does he give faith?
Zoy. Did you give him the famous report? Does he think I'm pregnant? Does he believe it?
Don. In most sincerity, most sincerely.
Don. Honestly, truly.
Zoy. Nay, ’tis a pure fool! I can tell ye he was bred up in Germany. 330
Zoy. No, he’s a complete fool! I can tell you he was raised in Germany.
Nym. But the laughter rises, that he vows he lay not in your bed this four year, with such exquisite protestations.
Nym. But the laughter grows, as he insists he hasn’t slept in your bed for these four years, despite such elaborate claims.
Zoy. That’s most full truth. He hath most unjustly severed his sheets ever since the old Duke Pietro (Heaven rest his soul!)——
Zoy. That’s pretty much the whole truth. He’s unfairly split his sheets ever since the old Duke Pietro (May he rest in peace!)——
Don. Fie! You may not pray for the dead; ’tis indifferent to them what you say.
Don. Ugh! You can't pray for the dead; it doesn't matter to them what you say.
Nym. Well said, fool.
Well said, idiot.
Zoy. Ever since the old Duke Pietro, the great devil of hell torture his soul—— 341
Zoy. Ever since the old Duke Pietro, the great devil of hell tortured his soul—— 341
Don. O, lady! yet charity!
Don. Oh, lady! Show some kindness!
Zoy. Why? ’tis indifferent to them what you say, fool. But does my lord ravel out? does he fret? For pity of an afflicted lady, load him soundly; let him not go[186] clear from vexation: he has the most dishonourably, with the most sinful, most vicious obstinacy, persevered to wrong me, that, were I not of a male constitution, ’twere impossible for me to survive it; but in madness’ name, let him on. I ha’ not the weak sense[187] of some of your soft-eyed whimpering ladies, who, if they were used like me, would gall their fingers with wringing their hands, look like bleeding Lucreces, and shed salt water enough to powder all the beef in the duke’s larder. No, I am resolute Donna Zoya. Ha! that wives were of my metal! I would make these ridiculously jealous fools howl like a starved dog before he got a bit. I was created to be the affliction of such an unsanctified member, and will boil him in his own syrup. 359
Zoy. Why? It doesn’t matter to them what you say, fool. But is my lord unraveling? Is he stressed? Out of pity for a suffering lady, make sure he feels it; don’t let him escape from his frustration: he has dishonorably and sinfully, with the most stubborn and wicked obstinacy, continued to wrong me, to the point that if I weren’t made of stronger stuff, it would be impossible for me to endure it; but in the name of madness, let him carry on. I don’t have the feeble sensibility of some of your soft-eyed, sobbing ladies, who, if they were treated like me, would tear their hands wringing them, look like bleeding Lucreces, and cry enough tears to salt all the beef in the duke’s pantry. No, I am the strong-willed Donna Zoya. Ha! If only wives were like me! I would make these ridiculously jealous fools howl like a starving dog before he gets any food. I was made to be the bane of such a unholy man, and I will boil him in his own syrup
Enter Zuccone, listening.
Enter Zuccone, listening.
Herc. Peace! the wolf’s ear takes the wind of us.
Herc. Hold on! The wolf can hear us coming.
Herod. The enemy is in ambush.
Herod. The enemy is lying in wait.
Zoy. If any man ha’ the wit, now let him talk wantonly but not bawdily. Come, gallants, who’ll be my servants? I am now very open-hearted and full of entertainment.
Zoy. If any man has the brains, let him speak playfully but not vulgarly. Come on, gentlemen, who will be my attendants? I'm feeling very generous and ready for a good time.
Herc. Grace me to call you mistress?
Herc. May I call you my lady?
Nym. Or me?
Nym. Or is it me?
Herod. Or me?
Herod. Or me?
Sir Amor. Or me? 368
Sir Amor. Or me? 368
Zoy. Or all! I am taken with you all—with you all.
Zoy. Or everyone! I am enchanted by all of you—with all of you.
Herc. As, indeed, why should any woman only love any[188] one man, since it is reasonable women should affect all perfection,[189] but all perfection never rests in one man. Many men have many virtues, but ladies should love many virtues, therefore ladies should love many men; for as in women, so in men; some women hath only a good eye,—one can discourse beautifully, if she do not laugh,—one’s well-favoured to her nose,—another hath only a good brow,—t’other a plump lip,—a third only holds beauty to the teeth, and there the soil alters; some, peradventure, hold good to the breast, and then downward turn like the dreamt-of image,[190] whose head was gold, breast silver, thighs iron, and all beneath clay and earth; one only winks eloquently,—another only kisses well,—t’other only talks well,—a fourth only lies well; so, in men, one gallant has only a good face,—another has only a grave methodical beard, and is a notable wise fellow until he speaks,—a third only makes water well, and that’s a good provoking quality,—one only swears well,—another only speaks well,—a third only does well. All in their kind good: goodness is to be best affected, therefore they; it is a base thing, and indeed an impossible, for a worthy mind to be contented with the whole world, but most vile and abject to be satisfied with one point or prick[191] of the world. 394
Herc. Why should any woman only love one man? It makes sense for women to appreciate all kinds of perfection, but no single man embodies all perfection. Many men have various virtues, so women should love many virtues, which means they should love many men. Just like with women, some women have just one appealing trait—one might have a beautiful way of speaking if she doesn’t laugh, another might have a nice nose, one has a lovely brow, another has full lips, and a third focuses on beauty in a superficial way; some might consider beauty to come from the chest and then fade elsewhere, like that imagined figure whose head was gold, chest silver, thighs iron, and everything below was clay and dirt. One woman winks eloquently, another kisses well, one talks beautifully, and another lies well; similarly, for men, one handsome guy has just a nice face, another has a serious, well-groomed beard and sounds wise until he speaks, a third excels at relieving himself, and that’s a notable trait, one knows how to swear well, another talks well, and a third simply acts well. Each has their own type of goodness, which should be appreciated; it is petty and really impossible for a great mind to be satisfied with the whole world, but it's even more pathetic to be pleased with just one tiny part of it.
Zoy. Excellent Faunus! I kiss thee for this, by this hand.
Zoy. Great Faunus! I kiss you for this, with this hand.
Sir Amor. I thought as well: kiss me too, dear mistress.
Sir Amor. I thought the same: kiss me too, dear mistress.
Zoy. No, good Sir Amoroso;[192] your teeth hath taken rust, your breath wants airing, and indeed I love sound kissing. Come, gallants, who’ll run a caranto, or leap a levalto? 401
Zoy. No, good Sir Amoroso;[192] your teeth have rusted, your breath needs freshening, and I really enjoy a good kiss. Come on, guys, who’ll do a caranto, or jump a levalto?
Herc. Take heed, lady, from offending or bruising the hope of your womb.
Herc. Be careful, lady, about hurting or damaging the hope within you.
Zoy. No matter; now I ha’ the sleight, or rather the fashion of it, I fear no barrenness.
Zoy. It doesn't matter; now I have the skill, or rather the style of it, I fear no emptiness.
Herc. O, but you know not your husband’s aptness.
Herc. Oh, but you don't realize how capable your husband is.
Zoy. Husband! husband! as if women could have no children without husbands.
Zoy. Husband! husband! as if women couldn’t have children without husbands.
Nym. Ay, but then they will not be so like your husband. 410
Nym. Yes, but then they won't resemble your husband. 410
Zoy. No matter, they’ll be like their father; ’tis honour enough to my husband that they vouchsafe to call him father, and that his land shall descend to them. (Does he not gnash his very teeth in anguish?) Like our husband? I had rather they were ungroan’d for. Like our husband?—prove such a melancholy jealous ass as he is? (Does he not stamp?)
Zoy. It doesn't matter, they'll be just like their father; it's enough of an honor for my husband that they choose to call him father, and that his land will pass down to them. (Doesn’t he grind his teeth in pain?) Like our husband? I would prefer they were never born. Like our husband?—to turn out such a sad, jealous fool as he is? (Doesn’t he stomp around?)
Nym. But troth, your husband has a good face.
Nym. But honestly, your husband has a nice face.
Zoy. Faith, good enough face for a husband. Come, gallants, I’ll dance to mine own whistle: I am as light now as——Ah! [she sings and dances]. A kiss to you, to my sweet free servants. Dream on me, and adieu.
Zoy. Faith, I’ve got a decent look for a husband. Come on, guys, I’ll dance to my own tune: I feel really carefree right now——Ah! [she sings and dances]. A kiss for you, my lovely free servants. Think of me, and goodbye.
[Exit Zoya.
[Exit Zoya.
Zuccone discovers himself.
Zuccone finds himself.
Zuc. I shall lose my wits. 423
Zuc. I'm losing my mind. 423
Zuc. My wife is grown like a Dutch crest, always rampant, rampant: ’fore I will endure this affliction, I will live by raking cockles out of kennels; nay, I will run my country,—forsake my religion,—go weave fustians,—or roll the wheel-barrow at Rotterdam.
Zuc. My wife is like a wildflower, always thriving: before I put up with this misery, I’d rather make a living digging through rubbish; no, I’d take over the country,—give up my faith,—go make cheap fabrics,—or push a wheelbarrow in Rotterdam.
Herc. I would be divorced, despite her friends, or the oath of her chamber-maid. 431
Herc. I would be divorced, regardless of her friends or the oath of her maid. 431
Zuc. Nay, I will be divorced, in despite of ’em all; I’ll go to law with her.
Zuc. No, I will get a divorce, regardless of what they all think; I’ll take her to court.
Herc. That’s excellent; nay, I would go to law.
Herc. That’s great; actually, I would take legal action.
Zuc. Nay, I will go to law.
Zuc. No, I will take legal action.
Herc. Why, that’s sport alone; what though it be most exacting? wherefore is money?
Herc. Why, that’s just for fun; so what if it’s really challenging? What’s the point of money?
Zuc. True, wherefore is money? 438
Zuc. True, why is money? 438
Herc. What, though you shall pay for every quill, each drop of ink, each minim, letter, tittle, comma, prick, each breath, nay, not only for thine own orator’s prating, but for some other orator’s silence,—though thou must buy silence with a full hand,—’tis well known Demosthenes[193] took above two thousand pound once only to hold his peace,—though thou a man of noble gentry, yet you must wait, and besiege his study door, which will prove more hard to be entered than old Troy, for that was gotten into by a wooden horse; but the entrance of this may chance cost thee a whole stock of cattle, oves et boves, et cœtera pecora campi;—though then thou must sit there, thrust and contemned, bare-headed to a grograine scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, press’d to get in, “with your leave, sir,” to some surly groom, the third son of a rope-maker:[194]—what of all this? 454
Herc. So, even if you have to pay for every quill, every drop of ink, every tiny detail, comma, and every little mark, for every breath, not just for your own speaker's rambling, but for other speakers' silence too—though you have to buy silence with a lot of money—it's well known that Demosthenes[193] once took over two thousand pounds just to stay quiet. Even though you're a person of noble birth, you'll still have to wait and knock on his study door, which will be harder to get through than old Troy was, since that was taken with a wooden horse; but getting through this might end up costing you a whole herd of cattle, oves et boves, et cœtera pecora campi;—and then you'll have to sit there, pushed aside and ignored, bare-headed, at the mercy of a lazy scribe, always ready to leap at the sound of the door creaking, eager to get in, "if you please, sir," to some grumpy servant, the third son of a rope-maker:[194]—what about all this? this?
Zuc. To a resolute mind these torments are not felt.
Zuc. A determined mind doesn't feel these struggles.
Herc. A very arrant ass, when he is hungry, will feed on, though he be whipt to the bones, and shall a very arrant ass, Zuccone, be more virtuously patient than a noble——
Herc. A complete fool, when he’s hungry, will eat even if he’s beaten to the bone, and will a complete fool, Zuccone, be more virtuous and patient than a noble
Don. No, Fawn, the world shall know I have more virtue than so—— 461
Don. No, Fawn, the world will see that I have more virtue than so—— 461
Herc. Do so, and be wise.
Herc. Do it, and be smart.
Zuc. I will, I warrant thee: so I may be revenged, what care I what I do?
Zuc. I will, I promise you: as long as I can get my revenge, I don't care what I do.
Herc. Call a dog worshipful?
Call a dog devoted?
Zuc. Nay, I will embrace,—nay, I will embrace a jakes-farmer, after eleven o’clock at night,—I will stand bare, and give wall to a bellows-mender,—pawn my lordship,—sell my foot-cloth,[195]—but I will be revenged. Does she think she has married an ass? 470
Zuc. No, I will embrace—no, I will embrace a toilet cleaner after eleven o’clock at night—I will stand exposed and give space to a repairman—I will pawn my title—I will sell my footcloth,[195]—but I will get my revenge. Does she think she married an idiot? 470
Herc. A fool?
Herc. An idiot?
Zuc. A coxcomb?
Zuc. A clown?
Herc. A ninny-hammer?
A fool?
Zuc. A woodcock?
A woodcock?
Herc. A calf?
A calf?
Herc. And brain.
Herc. And brainpower.
Zuc. And nose.
And nose.
Herc. And forehead.
And forehead.
Zuc. She shall, i’faith, Fawn; she shall, she shall, sweet Fawn; she shall, i’faith, old boy; it joys my blood to think on’t; she shall, i’faith. Farewell, loved Fawn; sweet Fawn, farewell: she shall, i’faith, boy. 483
Zuc. She will, for sure, Fawn; she will, she will, sweet Fawn; she will, honestly, old buddy; it makes me happy to think about it; she will, for sure. Goodbye, dear Fawn; sweet Fawn, goodbye: she will, for sure, buddy. 483
[Exit Zuccone.
[Exit Zuccone.
Enter Gongazo and Granuffo with Dulcimel.
Enter Gongazo and Granuffo with Dulcimel.
Gon. We would be private, only Faunus stay; He is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow, for he is still just of my opinion. My Lord Granuffo, you may likewise stay, for I know you’ll say nothing. Say on, daughter.
Gon. We’ll keep this private, just Faunus can stay; He’s a clever guy, daughter, really clever, because he shares my views. My Lord Granuffo, you can stay too, since I know you won’t speak. Go ahead, daughter.
[Exeunt all but Gonzago, Granuffo, Hercules and Dulcimel.
[Everyone leaves except Gonzago, Granuffo, Hercules and Dulcimel.
Dul. And as I told you, sir, Tiberio being sent,
Graced in high trust, as to negotiate 490
His royal father’s love, if he neglect
The honour of this faith, just care of state,
And every fortune that gives likelihood
To his best hopes, to draw our weaker heart
To his own love (as I protest he does)——
Dul. As I said before, sir, Tiberio has been sent,
Given a significant responsibility, to manage 490
His royal father's love. If he overlooks
The importance of this commitment and the significant issues at hand,
And every chance that shows potential
To his greatest ambitions, to influence our more vulnerable hearts.
Toward his own love (which I strongly believe he does)——
Gon. I’ll rate[196] the prince with such a heat of breath,
His ears shall glow; nay, I discover’d him;
I read his eyes, as I can read any[197] eye—
Tho’ it speak in darkest characters, I can;
Can we not, Fawn?—can we not, my lord? 500
Why, I conceive you now; I understand you both.
You both admire; yes, say is ’t not hit?
Though we are old, or so, yet we ha’ wit.
Gon. I will judge__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the prince with great intensity,
His ears are definitely going to turn red; actually, I’ve got him all figured out;
I can read his eyes just like I can read any__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ eye—
Even if it uses the darkest symbols, I can;
Can we not, Fawn?—can we not, my lord? 500
I get it now; I understand both of you.
You both admire it; yes, tell me, isn't that true?
Even though we’re older, we still have our wits about us.
Dul. And you may say (if so[198] your wisdom please,
As you are truly wise), how weak a creature
Soft woman is to bear the siege and strength
Of so prevailing feature and fair language,
As that of his is ever: you may add
(If so your wisdom please, as you are wise)——
Dul. You could say (if it fits your understanding,
Since you are truly wise, how fragile a being
Soft women are those who, when confronted with challenges and strength
With a strong presence and articulate speech,
Just like he always does: you might want to add
(If it fits your wisdom, since you are wise)——
Gon. As mortal man may be.
As a mortal man might be.
Dul. I am of years 510
Apt for his love; and if he should proceed
In private urgent suit, how easy ’twere
To win my love: for you may say (if so
Your wisdom please) you find in me
A very forward passion to enjoy him,
And therefore you beseech him seriously
Straight to forbear, with such close-cunning art
To urge his too well gracèd suit: for you
(If so your lordship please) may say I told you all.
I'm at an age
Ready for his love; and if he continued on
With a personal, urgent request, it would be really easy.
To win my heart: because you could say (if that
Makes sense to you) that you see in me
A deep desire to be with him,
And that's why you're genuinely asking him.
To restrain, with such skill
To emphasize his perfectly timed request: because you
(If it suits your lordship) can say I shared everything with you.
Gon. Go to, go to; what I will say, or so, 520
Until I say, none but myself shall know.
But I will say—Go to; does not my colour rise?
It shall rise; for I can force my blood
To come and go, as men of wit and state
Must sometimes feign their love, sometimes their hate.
That’s policy now; but come with this free heat,
Or this same Estro[199] or Enthusiasm
(For these are phrases both poetical);
Will we go rate the prince, and make him see
Himself in us; that is, our grace and wits 530
Shall show his shapeless folly,—vice kneels while virtue
sits.
Gon. Let’s go, let’s go; what I’m about to say, or something like that, 520
Until I say otherwise, no one except me will know.
But I have to say this—Come on; doesn't my face turn red?
It will flush because I can control my blood.
To come and go like smart and influential people.
Sometimes pretend to love, other times to hate.
That's politics today; but with this sincere passion,
Or this same Estro__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ or Excitement
(Because these are both poetic expressions);
Should we go criticize the prince and let him see?
Himself in us; referring to our charm and intelligence 530
Will expose his foolishness—evil bows down while goodness remains seated.
Enter Tiberio.
Enter Tiberio.
But see, we are prevented: daughter, in!
It is not fit thyself should hear what I
Must speak of thy most modest, wise, wise mind;
For th’art careful, sober, in all most wise,
And indeed our daughter. [Exit Dulcimel.] My Lord Tiberio,
A horse but yet a colt may leave his trot,
A man but yet a boy may well be broke
From vain addictions; the head of rivers stopp’d,
The channel dries; he that doth dread a fire, 540
Must put out sparks; and he who fears a bull,
Must cut his horns off when he is a calf.
Principiis obsta,[200] saith a learned man,
Who, though he was no duke, yet he was wise,
And had some sense or so.
But look, we can't let her stay: daughter, come in!
It's not fair for you to hear what I__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
I have to say that you have a very humble, wise, and intelligent mind;
Because you're careful, sensible, and very wise,
And really, our daughter. [Exit Dulcimel.] My Lord Tiberio,
A young horse that’s still a colt can break into a gallop,
A man who is still a boy can be educated.
To escape from bad habits; when rivers are obstructed,
The channel dries up; the one who fears a fire, 540
Must put out the sparks; and whoever fears a bull,
You have to remove its horns while it's still a calf.
"Stop at the beginning," __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ says a wise man,
Who, even though he wasn't a duke, was still wise,
And had some common sense, or something like that.
Tib. What means my lord?
Tib. What does my lord mean?
Gon.[201] La, sir! thus men of brain can speak in clouds,
Which weak eyes cannot pierce; but, my fair lord,
In direct phrase thus, my daughter tells me plain,
You go about with most direct entreats
To gain her love, and to abuse her father. 550
O, my fair lord, will you, a youth so blest
With rarest gifts of fortune and sweet graces,
Offer to love a young and tender lady;
Will you, I say, abuse your most wise father,
Who, tho’ he freeze in August, and his calves
Are sunk into his toes, yet may well wed our daughter,
As old as he in wit? Will you, I say
(For by my troth, my lord, I must be plain)?
My daughter is but young, and apt to love
So fit a person as your proper self, 560
And so she pray’d me tell you. Will you now
Entice her easy breast to abuse your trust,
Her proper honour, and your father’s hopes?
I speak no figures, but I charge you check
Your appetite and passions to our daughter,
Before it head, nor offer conference,
Or seek access, but by and before us.
What, judge you us as weak or as unwise?
No, you shall find that Venice duke has eyes;
And so think on’t.
Gon.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Well, sir! This is how smart people can talk in generalities,
Those with weak perception can't understand this; but, my dear lord,
In simple terms, my daughter clearly tells me,
You go after her with straightforward requests.
To win her affection and to take advantage of her father. 550
Oh, my dear lord, will you, a young man so lucky
With the uncommon blessings of luck and charm,
Choose to love a young and innocent woman;
Will you, I ask, trick your wise father,
Who, even if he’s freezing in August, and his calves
Are literally frozen to his toes, can still marry our daughter,
Just as smart as he is old? Will you, I ask?
(Because honestly, my lord, I have to be direct)?
My daughter is still young and open to love.
Someone as perfect as you, 560
And she asked me to tell you this. Will you now?
Entice her trusting heart to break your trust,
Her own reputation, and your father's expectations?
I'm not being metaphorical; I'm urging you to take control.
Your feelings and desires for our daughter,
Before it gets worse, don't suggest a meeting,
Or try to approach her, but only in our presence.
What, do you think we’re weak or stupid?
No, you'll see that the Duke of Venice pays attention;
So keep that in mind.
[Exeunt Gonzago and Granuffo.
[Exit Gonzago and Granuffo.
Tib. Astonishment and wonder! what means this?
Is the duke sober?
Tib. Shock and disbelief! What’s happening here?
Is the duke actually sober?
Herc. Why, ha’ not you endeavour’d 572
Courses that only[202] seconded appetite,
And not your honour, or your trust of place?
Do you not court the lady for yourself?
Herc. Why, haven't you given it a shot? 572
Things that just increase your desire,
What about your reputation or your position?
Aren't you going after the lady for yourself?
Tib.
Fawn, thou dost love me. If I ha’ done so,
’Tis past my knowledge; and I prithee, Fawn,
If thou observ’st I do I know not what,
Make me to know it; for by the dear light,
I ha’ not found a thought that way. I apt for love?
Let lazy idleness, fill’d full of wine, 581
Heated with meats, high fed, with lustful ease,
Go dote on colour. As for me, why, death[203] o’ sense!
I court the lady? I was not born in Cyprus.
I love! when?—how?—whom? Think, let us yet keep
Our reason sound. I’ll think, and think, and sleep.
Tib.
Fawn, you love me. If I've done something to earn that,
I can’t possibly know; and I’m asking you, Fawn,
If you notice that I'm feeling something I can't make sense of,
Help me figure this out because, honestly,
I’ve never thought of it that way. Me, able to love?
Let lazy inactivity, full of wine, 581
Savoring food, surrounded by indulgent comfort,
Go ahead and fixate on looks. As for me, it feels like death__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to my senses!
Am I going after the lady? I didn’t grow up in Cyprus.
Love! When?—How?—Whom? Come on, let’s keep
Our minds are clear. I’ll think, keep thinking, and then sleep.
[Exit.
Exit.
Herc. Amazed! even lost in wond’ring! I rest full
Of covetous expectation. I am left
As on a rock, from whence I may discern
The giddy sea of humour flow beneath, 590
Upon whose back the vainer bubbles float,
And forthwith break. O mighty flattery!
Thou easiest, common’st, and most grateful venom,
That poisons courts and all societies,
How grateful dost thou make me? Should one rail,
And come to fear[204] a vice, beware leg-rings
And the turn’d key on thee, when, if softer hand
Suppling a sore that itches (which should smart)—
Free speech gains foes, base fawnings steal the heart.
Swell, you imposthum’d members, till you burst, 600
Since ’tis in vain to hinder, on I’ll thrust;
And when in shame you fall, I’ll laugh from hence,
And cry, “So end all desperate impudence!”
Another’s court shall show me where and how
Vice may be cured, for now beside myself,
Possess’d with almost frenzy, from strong fervour
I know I shall produce things mere divine:
Without immoderate heat, no virtues shine.
For I speak strong, tho’ strange,—the dews that steep
Our souls in deepest thoughts are fury and sleep. 610
Herc. I'm amazed! I'm completely lost in wonder!
Caught up in greedy anticipation. I'm left
Like someone sitting on a rock, from where I can see
The wild mix of jokes swirling beneath, 590
Where empty bubbles float on the surface,
And then pop. Oh, powerful flattery!
You're the easiest, most common, and most tempting poison,
That spreads to courts and all social events,
I can't express how grateful I am! If someone criticizes,
And fears __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ are a vice; watch out for leg shackles.
And the door is locked on you, when, if only it had a softer touch
Relieves a bothersome itch (which might sting)—
Free speech attracts critics, while compliments win people over.
Great, you infected members, until you explode, 600
Since it's useless to try to stop, I’ll keep going;
And when you face humiliation, I’ll laugh from here,
And shout, “So ends all reckless boldness!”
Another court will show me where and how.
Vice can be overcome; for now, it’s out of my thoughts.
Driven to the brink of madness by overwhelming passion.
I know I will create truly amazing things:
Without heat, no virtues stand out.
I speak boldly, even though it’s unusual—the ideas that soak
Our souls, in deep thought, experience both rage and rest. 610
[Exit.
[Leave.
[161] The officer who set on the dishes and removed them at a banquet.
[161] The server who brought out the dishes and cleared them away at a banquet.
[162] Ed. 3. “overflowing.” The italicised words seem to be a quotation.
[162] Ed. 3. “overflowing.” The italicized words appear to be a quote.
[163] So the old eds.; but probably “Danae’s” is a misprint for “the Danaides’.” Later we have “Danau’s tubbe.”
[163] So the old editions say; but likely “Danae’s” is a typo for “the Danaides’.” Later we see “Danau’s tubbe.”
[164] “The hill ... that rise” (ll. 27-29). These lines are found only in the second 4to.
[164] “The hill ... that rise” (ll. 27-29). These lines are found only in the second 4to.
[165] “Impudence”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Impudence”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[166] “Faunus”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Faunus”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[167] Possibly a corrupt abbreviation of Ital. Vino di Montepulciano.
[167] Maybe a corrupted short form of Italian Vino di Montepulciano.
[168] So ed. 2.—Eds. 1. and 3. “to health [and to’th health] of thy chin.”
[168] So ed. 2.—Eds. 1. and 3. “to the health [and to the health] of your chin.”
[169] See note, vol. i. p. 153.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, vol. 1 p. 153.
[170] Rich broths.—Cf. Middleton, iii. 285:—“Let gold, amber, and dissolved pearl be common ingrediences, and that you cannot compose a cullice without ’em.”
[170] Rich broths.—Cf. Middleton, iii. 285:—“Make sure to use gold, amber, and dissolved pearl as common ingredients, because you can’t create a good broth without them.”
[171] i.e., parroquets?—Cf. The Fox, iii. 6:
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ i.e., parrots?—Cf. The Fox, iii. 6:
“The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks and of estriches,
Shall be our food.”
“The heads of parrots, the tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks and ostriches, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Will be our food.”
[172] Eds. 1. and 3. “thy.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “you.”
[173] Wife.—See Middleton, iv. 62, vii. 212.
Wife.—See Middleton, iv. 62, vii. 212.
[174] This must be a misprint.—Should we read “royal”?
[174] This has to be a typo.—Should we say “royal”?
[176] “Lord”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Lord”—omitted in eds. 1 and 3.
[177] Richard III., i. 1. l. 32: “Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous.”
[177] Richard III., i. 1. l. 32: “I’ve made plans that are risky.”
[178] Cf. 1 Henry IV., ii. 4:—“For though the camomile the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.” The comparison was very common.
[178] Cf. 1 Henry IV., ii. 4:—“For although the chamomile grows faster the more it is stepped on, youth wears away more quickly the more it is wasted.” The comparison was quite common.
[179] See Ovid’s Metamorphoses, lib. ix.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book 9
[180] So ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. “Iouiald.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. "Iouiald."
[181] “Now—now—now”—omitted in ed. 2.
“Now—now—now”—omitted in ed. 2.
[182] Eds. 1. and 3. “Ye.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “You.”
[183] Omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 2.
[184] Eds. 1. and 3. “forke.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “fork.”
[185] Ed. 1. “vnlegittimall.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “vnlegittimall.”
[186] Eds. 1. and 3. “worke.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “work.”
[187] Old eds. “fence.”
Old eds. “fence.”
[188] “Any one man.”—So ed. 2.; eds. 1. and 3. “such an one.”
[188] “Any one man.”—So ed. 2.; eds. 1. and 3. “such a person.”
[189] Eds. 1. and 3. proceed thus:—“yea, all should court many vertues, therefore ladies should court many men; for as in women, so in men, some woman hath,” &c.
[189] Eds. 1. and 3. proceed like this: “yes, everyone should pursue many virtues, so women should seek many men; because just as there are certain qualities in women, there are in men as well.” &c.
[190] See the second chapter of The Book of Daniel.
[190] See the second chapter of The Book of Daniel.
[191] “Or prick”—omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Or prick”—omitted in ed. 2.
[192] Eds. 1. and 3. “Amorous.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “Amorous.”
[193] Plutarch tells the story in his account of Demosthenes (Orat. Vit.):—“Πώλου δέ ποτε τοῦ ὑποκριτοῦ πρὸς αὐτὸν εἰπόντος, ὅτι δυσὶν ἡμέραις ἀγωνισάμενος τάλαντον λάβοι μισθὸν, Ἐγὼ δὲ, εἶπε, τέντε τάλαντα, μίαν ἡμέραν σιωπήσας.”
[193] Plutarch tells the story in his account of Demosthenes (Orat. Vit.):—“Πώλου δέ ποτε τοῦ ὑποκριτοῦ πρὸς αὐτὸν εἰπόντος, ὅτι δυσὶν ἡμέραις ἀγωνισάμενος τάλαντον λάβοι μισθὸν, Ἐγὼ δὲ, εἶπε, τέντε τάλαντα, μίαν ἡμέραν σιωπήσας.
[194] Nashe persistently twitted Gabriel Harvey with being the son of a ropemaker.
[194] Nashe constantly mocked Gabriel Harvey for being the son of a ropemaker.
[195] The housings of a horse.
Horse gear.
[196] Ed. 1. “hate.”
“hate.”
[197] Eds. 1. and 3. “an.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “an.”
[198] “So”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “So”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[199] “The œstrum or gadfly is here meant, which extremely torments cattle in the summer. It is metaphorically used for inspired fury of any kind.”—Dilke.
[199] “The gadfly is referred to here, which greatly bothers cattle in the summer. It is used metaphorically to describe any kind of inspired fury.” —Dilke.
[200] Ovid, Remed. Am., l. 91.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ovid, Remed. Am., l. 91.
[201] Not marked in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Not marked in eds. 1. and 3.
[203] Eds. 1. and 3. “earth.” (“Death o’ sense” is a sort of meaningless oath. Cf. p. 138, l. 81. “Oh, the life of sense!” Later we have “Death o’ man! is she delivered?” iv. 1.)
[203] Eds. 1. and 3. “earth.” (“Death o’ sense” is a kind of empty oath. Cf. p. 138, l. 81. “Oh, the life of sense!” Later we see “Death o’ man! is she delivered?” iv. 1.)
[204] i.e., frighten.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ i.e., scare.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Palace of the Duke of Urbin.
Palace of the Duke of Urbin.
Enter Faunus and Nymphadoro.
Enter Faunus and Nymphadoro.
Nym. Faith, Fawn, ’tis my humour, the natural sin of my sanguine complexion. I am most enforcedly in love with all women, almost affecting them all with an equal flame.
Nym. Honestly, Fawn, it’s just my personality, the inherent flaw of my cheerful nature. I'm deeply in love with all women, almost feeling the same intense passion for each one.
Herc. An excellent justice of an upright virtue: you love all God’s creatures with an unpartial affection.
Herc. A great example of true virtue: you care for all of God’s creations with an unbiased love.
Nym. Right; neither am I inconstant to any one in particular.
Nym. Right; I'm not unfaithful to anyone in particular either.
Herc. Tho’ you love all in general, true; for when you vow a most devoted love to one, you swear not to tender a most devoted love to another; and indeed why should any man over-love anything? ’Tis judgment for a man to love everything proportionably to his virtue: I love a dog with a hunting pleasure, as he is pleasurable in hunting; my horse, after a journeying easiness, as he is easy in journeying; my hawk, to the goodness of his wing; and my wench—— 17
Herc. Although you love everyone in general, that's true; because when you commit to loving someone deeply, you can’t promise that same deep love to anyone else. And really, why should anyone over-love anything? It's wise for a person to love everything according to its worth: I love a dog for the joy he brings while hunting; my horse for being easy to ride after a long journey; my hawk for the strength of its wings; and my wench—— 17
Herc. Why, according to her creation. Nature made them pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect creatures; even so I would in justice affect them, with a pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect affection; and as indeed they are only created for show and pleasure, so would I only love them for show and pleasure.
Herc. Well, according to their nature. They were created to be attractive, playful, carefree, whimsical, and flawed beings; and I would, fairly, love them with a charming, playful, carefree, whimsical, and flawed affection; just as they are made for entertainment and enjoyment, I would only love them for entertainment and enjoyment.
Nym. Why, that’s my humour to the very thread; thou dost speak my proper thoughts.
Nym. That’s exactly how I feel; you’re expressing my true thoughts.
Herc. But, sir, with what possibility can your constitution be so boundlessly amorous as to affect all women, of what degree, form, or complexion soever? 29
Herc. But, sir, how could your character possibly be so endlessly romantic that it attracts all women, no matter their status, appearance, or skin color? 29
Nym. I’ll tell thee: for mine own part I am a perfect Ovidian, and can with him affect all. If[205] she be a virgin, of a modest eye, shamefaced, temperate aspect, her very modesty inflames me, her sober blushes fires me; if I behold a wanton, pretty, courtly, petulant ape, I am extremely in love with her, because she is not clownishly rude, and that she assures her lover of no ignorant, dull, unmoving[206] Venus; be she sourly severe, I think she wittily counterfeits, and I love her for her wit; if she be learned, and censures poets, I love her soul, and for her soul her body; be she a lady of profess’d ignorance, oh, I am infinitely taken with her simplicity, as one assured to find no sophistication about her; be she slender and lean, she’s the Greek’s delight; be she thick and plump, she’s the Italian’s pleasure; if she be tall, she’s of a goodly form, and will print a fair proportion in a large bed; if she be short and low, she’s nimbly delightful, and ordinarily quick-witted; be she young, she’s for mine eye; be she old, she’s for my discourse, as one well knowing there’s much amiableness in a grave matron; but be she young or old, lean, fat, short, tall, white, red, brown, nay, even black, my discourse shall find reason to love her, if my means may procure opportunity to enjoy her. 53
Nym. Let me tell you: as for me, I’m a true romantic and can be swayed by anyone. If she’s a virgin with modest eyes, shy demeanor, and a gentle look, her very modesty turns me on, and her subtle blushes ignite my passion; if I see a bold, attractive, stylish, mischievous girl, I’m really into her, because she’s not harshly rude, and she guarantees her lover won’t be boring, dull, or unresponsive. If she’s strict and serious, I think it’s just an act, and I admire her cleverness; if she’s knowledgeable and criticizes poets, I love her mind, and I appreciate her body because of it; if she’s proudly ignorant, I’m completely charmed by her simplicity, reassured that she’s not sophisticated in any way; if she’s slender, she’s the Greek’s ideal; if she’s curvy and plump, she’s the Italian's delight; if she’s tall, she’s well-proportioned and will look great in a big bed; if she’s short, she’s lively and usually quick-witted; if she’s young, she’s what I’m looking for; if she’s old, she’s great for conversation, as I know there’s a lot to appreciate in a wise older woman; but whether she’s young or old, thin or thick, short or tall, fair, red, brown, or even black, I’ll always find a reason to love her, as long as I have the chance to be with her. 53
Herc. Excellent, sir: nay, if a man were of competent means, were’t not a notable delight for a man to have for every month in that year?
Herc. Great, sir: come on, if someone had enough money, wouldn't it be an amazing pleasure for them to have that every month of the year?
Nym. Nay, for every week of the month?
Nym. No, for every week of the month?
Herc. Nay, for every day of the week?
Herc. No, for every day of the week?
Nym. Nay, for every hour of that day?
Nym. No, for every hour of that day?
Herc. Nay, for every humour of a man in that hour, to have a several mistress to entertain him; as if he were saturnine, or melancholy, to have a black-haired, pale-faced, sallow, thinking mistress to clip him; if jovial and merry, a sanguine, light-tripping, singing,—indeed a mistress that would dance a[207] caranto as she goes to embrace him; if choleric, impatient, or ireful, to have a mistress with red hair, little ferret eyes, a lean cheek, and a sharp nose, to entertain him. And so of the rest. 68
Herc. No, because every mood a man has at that moment needs a different kind of girl to keep him company; if he's feeling down or melancholic, he should have a pale-faced, dark-haired girl who can comfort him; if he's cheerful and lively, a bright, energetic, singing girl—really, a girl who would dance a[207] caranto while coming to hug him; if he's angry or irritable, he should have a girl with red hair, sharp little eyes, a thin face, and a pointed nose to keep him entertained. And so it goes for the rest. 68
Enter Donnetta.
Enter Donnetta.
Nym. O, sir, this were too great ambition! Well, I love and am beloved of a great many; for I court all in the way of honour, in the trade of marriage, Fawn; but above all, I affect the princess,—she’s my utmost end. O, I love a lady whose beauty is joined with fortune, beyond all! yet one of beauty without fortune, for some uses; nay, one of fortune without beauty, for some ends; but never any that has neither fortune nor beauty, but for necessity; such a one as this is Donna Donnetta: here’s one has loved all the court just once over.
Nym. Oh, sir, this is too much ambition! Well, I love and am loved by many; I pursue everyone honorably, in the context of marriage, Fawn; but above all, I desire the princess—she’s my ultimate goal. Oh, I love a lady whose beauty is matched with wealth, beyond anything! Yet I could settle for a beautiful woman without fortune for certain purposes; or even a wealthy one without beauty for some reasons; but I’ve never met anyone who lacks both beauty and wealth, except out of necessity; such a person is Donna Donnetta: here’s someone who has loved the entire court just once.
Herc. O, this is the fair lady with the foul teeth! Nature’s hand shook when she was in making, for the red that should have spread her cheeks, Nature let fall upon her nose; the white of her chin slipp’d into her eyes; and the gray of her eyes leapt before his time into her hair; and the yellowness of her hair fell without providence into her teeth. 85
Herc. Oh, this is the beautiful lady with the terrible teeth! Nature must have been clumsy when she was created, because the blush that should have brightened her cheeks ended up on her nose; the brightness of her chin slipped into her eyes; the gray of her eyes prematurely appeared in her hair; and the yellow of her hair carelessly landed in her teeth. teeth. 85
Nym. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected; and I speak by way of protestation, I shall no longer wish to be than that your only affection shall rest in me, and mine only in you.
Nym. I swear from the bottom of my heart, you are the one I choose above all; and to be clear, I no longer want anything other than for your affection to be solely with me, just as mine is with you.
Don. But if you shall love any other? 90
Don. But if you love someone else? 90
Nym. Any other? Can any man love any other that knows you,—the only perfection of your sex, and astonishment of mankind?
Nym. Anyone else? Can any man love anyone besides you—the only ideal woman and a wonder to mankind?
Don. Fie! ye flatter me. Go, wear and understand my favour: this snail[’s] slow, but sure.
Don. Come on! You're just flattering me. Go ahead, wear my favor and understand it: this may be slow, but it's reliable.
Nym. This kiss!
This kiss!
Don. Farewell!
Don. Goodbye!
Nym. The integrity and only vow of my faith to you; ever urge your well-deserved requital to me.
Nym. The honesty and sole promise of my loyalty to you; always encourage your well-deserved reward for me.
[Exit Donnetta.
[Leave Donnetta.
Enter Garbetza.
Enter Garbetza.
Herc. Excellent! 100
Herc. Awesome! 100
Herc. Of your most only elected.
Of your most recently elected.
Nym. Right, Donna Garbetza.
Okay, Donna Garbetza.
Herc. O, I will acknowledge this is the lady made of cutwork, and all her body like a sand-box, full of holes, and contains nothing but dust. She chooseth her servants as men choose dogs, by the mouth; if they open well and full, their cry is pleasing. She may be chaste, for she has a bad face; and yet, questionless, she may be made a strumpet, for she is covetous. 110
Herc. Oh, I’ll admit this is the woman made of delicate work, and her body is like a sand box, full of holes, containing nothing but dust. She chooses her servants like people choose dogs, based on how they respond; if they react well and confidently, their voices are pleasing. She might be pure because of her unattractive looks; however, there’s no doubt she could also become promiscuous because she is greedy.
Nym. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected (and I speak it by way of protestation), I shall no longer wish to be than all your affections shall only rest in me, and all mine only in you.
Nym. I promise you, my heart is completely yours, and I say this with conviction. I no longer want to be anyone else but the one who holds your heart, and I want your affections to be solely directed at me, just as mine are only for you.
Herc. Excellent! this piece of stuff is good on both sides; he is so constant, he will not change his phrase.
Herc. Awesome! This guy is solid on both sides; he's so consistent, he won't change his line.
Gar. But shall I give faith? may you not love another?
Gar. But should I really believe you? Is it possible that you love someone else?
Nym. Another? Can any man love another that knows you,—the only perfection of your sex, and admiration of mankind? 120
Nym. Another? Can any man love someone who knows you—the only perfect example of your gender, and the admiration of mankind?
Gar. Your speech flies too high for your meaning to follow, yet my mistrust shall not precede my experience: I wrought this favour for you.
Gar. Your words are too elevated for your point to be understood, but I won't let my doubts overshadow my experiences: I did this favor for you.
Nym. The integrity and only vow of my faith to you; ever urge your well-deserved requital to me.
Nym. The honesty and one promise of my loyalty to you; always push for the reward I deserve.
[Exit Garbetza.
Exit Garbetza.
Herc. Why, this is pure wit, nay, judgment.
Herc. Wow, this is true cleverness, no, real judgment.
Nym. Why, look thee, Fawn, observe me.
Nym. Hey, Fawn, check me out.
Herc. I do, sir.
I do, sir.
Nym. I do love at this instant some nineteen ladies, all in the trade of marriage. Now, sir, whose father dies first, or whose portion appeareth most, or whose fortunes betters soonest, her with quiet liberty at my leisure will I elect; for[208] that’s my humour. 133
Nym. Right now, I'm really interested in about nineteen ladies, all looking to get married. So, sir, whichever father dies first, or whose dowry looks the best, or whose situation improves the fastest, I’ll choose her at my own convenience; because[208] that’s my style. 133
Enter Dulcimel and Philocalia.
Enter Dulcimel and Philocalia.
Herc. You profess a most excellent mystery, sir.
Herc. You claim a very impressive secret, sir.
Nym. ’Fore Heaven! see the princess—she that is——
Nym. Oh my God! Look at the princess—she that is——
Herc. Your most only elected, too?
Herc. You're also the only elected?
Nym. Oh! ay—oh! ay—but my hope’s faint yet.—By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected and——
Nym. Oh! yeah—oh! yeah—but my hope's still weak.—By the vow of my heart, you are my one and only chosen and—
Dul. There’s a ship of fools going out! Shall I prefer thee, Nymphadoro? Thou mayst be master’s mate. My father hath made Dondolo captain, else thou shouldest have his place. 143
Dul. There’s a ship full of clueless people setting sail! Should I choose you, Nymphadoro? You could be the first mate. My father has made Dondolo the captain; otherwise, you would have his spot. place. 143
Nym. By Jove, Fawn, she speaks as sharply, and looks as sourly, as if she had been new squeezed out of a crab orange.
Nym. By Jove, Fawn, she talks just as sharply and looks as sour as if she had just been squeezed from a bitter orange.
Herc. How term you that lady with whom she holds discourse?
Herc. What do you call that lady she's talking to?
Nym. O, Fawn, ’tis a lady even above ambition; and like the vertical sun, that neither forceth others to cast shadows, nor can others force or shade her. Her style is Donna Philocalia. 152
Nym. Oh, Fawn, she’s a lady who rises above ambition; like the sun at its peak, she doesn’t make others cast shadows, nor can anyone overshadow her. Her name is Donna Philocalia. 152
Herc. Philocalia! What! that renowmed[209] lady, whose ample report hath struck wonder into remotest strangers? and yet her worth above that wonder? She, whose noble industries hath made her breast rich in true glories and undying habilities? she, that whilst other ladies spend the life of earth, Time, in reading their glass, their jewels, and (the shame of poesy) lustful sonnets, gives her soul meditations—those meditations wings that cleave the air, fan bright celestial fires, whose true reflection makes her see herself and them? she whose pity is ever above her envy, loving nothing less than insolent prosperity, and pitying nothing more than virtue destitute of fortune? 164
Herc. Philocalia! What! That renowned[209] lady, whose extraordinary reputation has amazed people from distant lands? And yet her true worth goes beyond that wonder? She, whose noble efforts have filled her life with genuine glory and everlasting abilities? She, who while other ladies waste their lives focusing on their appearance, their jewelry, and (the shame of poetry) flirtatious sonnets, dedicates her soul to deep reflections—those reflections give her wings that soar through the air, stoking bright celestial fires, whose true light allows her to see herself and others? She whose compassion is always greater than her envy, loving nothing less than arrogant success, and feeling more sympathy for virtue lacking fortune?
Nym. There were a lady for Ferrara’s duke!—one of great blood, firm age, undoubted honour, above her sex, most modestly artful, tho’ naturally modest; too excellent to be left unmatch’d, tho’ few worthy to match with her.
Nym. There was a lady for the Duke of Ferrara!—one of high birth, a respectable age, undeniable honor, modestly clever, yet genuinely humble; too exceptional to be without a match, although few are worthy to be with her.
Herc. I cannot tell—my thoughts grow busy. 169
Hercules: I can’t say—I’m overwhelmed.
Phi. The princess would be private. Void the presence!
Phi. The princess wanted to be alone. Get rid of everyone!
[Exeunt.
[Exit.
Dul. May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret?
Dul. Can I be confident that you'll keep a secret?
Phi. Yes, madam.
Phi. Yes, ma'am.
Dul. How may I rest assured?
Dul. How can I be sure?
Phi. Truly thus—do not tell it me.
Phi. Seriously, don't say anything.
Dul. Why, canst thou not conceal a secret?
Dul. Why can't you keep a secret?
Phi. Yes, as long as it is a secret, but when two know it, how can it be a secret? and, indeed, with what justice can you expect secrecy in me that cannot be private to yourself? 179
Phi. Yes, as long as it’s a secret, but when two people know it, how can it still be a secret? And honestly, how can you expect me to keep something private that you can't keep to yourself? Yourself?
Dul. Faith, Philocalia, I must of force trust thy silence; for my breast breaks if I confer not my thoughts upon thee.
Dul. Honestly, Philocalia, I have to rely on your silence; my heart feels heavy if I don't share my thoughts with you.
Dul. Fie on these philosophical discoursing women! Prithee confer with me like a creature made of flesh and blood, and tell me if it be not a scandal to the soul of all being, proportion, that I, a female of fifteen,[210] of a lightsome and civil discretion—healthy, lusty, vigorous, full, and idle—should for ever be shackled to the crampy shins of a wayward, dull, sour, austere, rough, rheumy threescore and four? 194
Dul. Enough of these philosophical women! Please talk to me like a real person and tell me if it isn't a scandal to the very essence of existence and balance that I, a fifteen-year-old girl,[210] full of energy and good sense—healthy, lively, strong, and free—should be forever tied to the grumpy, boring, harsh, rough, old man who's over sixty-four? 194
Phi. Nay, threescore and ten at the least.
Phi. No, at least 70.
Dul. Now, Heaven bless me! as it is pity that every knave is not a fool, so it is shame that every old man is not, and resteth not, a widower. They say in China, when women are past child-bearing, they are all burnt to make gunpowder. I wonder what men should be done withal when they are past child-getting. Yet, upon my love, Philocalia (which with ladies is often above their honour), I do even dote upon the best part of the duke.
Dul. Now, good heavens! Just as it's a shame that every rogue isn't a fool, it's equally sad that every old man isn't, and doesn’t remain, a widower. They say in China, when women are past their childbearing years, they're all burned to make gunpowder. I wonder what should be done with men when they can no longer father children. Yet, honestly, Philocalia (which with women often exceeds their dignity), I truly have a soft spot for the best part of the duke.
Phi. What’s that? 204
Phi. What’s that? 204
Dul. His son; yes, sooth, and so love him, that I must marry him.
Dul. His son; yes, truly, and I love him so much that I must marry him.
Phi. And wherefore love him so, to marry him?
Phi. And why do you love him so much that you want to marry him?
Dul. Because I love him; and because he is virtuous I love to marry.
Dul. Because I love him; and because he is virtuous, I want to get married.
Dul. Ay, with him, his virtues.
Yeah, with him, his virtues.
Phi. Ay, with him! alas, sweet princess, love or virtue are not of the essence of marriage!
Phi. Yes, with him! Oh no, dear princess, love or virtue aren’t fundamental to marriage!
Dul. A jest[211] upon your understanding! I’ll maintain that wisdom in a woman is most foolish quality. A lady of a good complexion, naturally well witted, perfectly bred, and well exercised in discourse of the best men, shall make fools of a thousand of these book-thinking creatures. I speak it by way of justification, I tell thee (look that nobody eavesdrop us),—I tell thee, I am truly learned, for I protest ignorance;[212] and wise, for I love myself; and virtuous enough for a lady of fifteen. 223
Dul. A joke upon your understanding! I’ll assert that wisdom in a woman is the most foolish quality. A woman with a good complexion, naturally clever, well-mannered, and skilled in conversation with the best men, can make fools out of a thousand of these book-smart people. I say this to justify myself, I tell you (make sure nobody is listening to us),—I tell you, I am truly knowledgeable, for I admit my ignorance; and wise, because I love myself; and virtuous enough for a lady of fifteen. 223
Phi. How virtuous?
Phi. How righteous?
Dul. Shall I speak like a creature of a good healthful blood, and not like one of these weak, green sickness, lean, phthisic starvelings? First, for the virtue of magnanimity, I am very valiant, for there is no heroic action so particularly noble and glorious to our sex, as not to fall to action; the greatest deed we can do is not to do (look that nobody listen). Then am I full of patience, and can bear more than a sumpter-horse; for (to speak sensibly), what burthen is there so heavy to a porter’s back as virginity to a well-complexioned young lady’s thoughts? (Look no body hearken.) By this hand the noblest vow is that of virginity, because the hardest. I will have the prince. 237
Dul. Should I speak like someone with healthy blood, and not like one of these weak, sickly, emaciated individuals? First of all, speaking of virtue and courage, I am quite brave, because there is no heroic act so specifically noble and glorious for our gender as choosing not to act; the greatest deed we can accomplish is to refrain from action (make sure no one hears). Also, I am full of patience and can endure more than a pack horse; because, realistically, what burden is heavier on a porter’s back than virginity on a well-looking young lady’s mind? (Make sure no one listens.) Honestly, the noblest vow is that of virginity, because it’s the hardest. I will have the prince. 237
Dul. O Philocalia, in heavy sadness and unwanton phrase, there lies all the brain-work. By what means! I could fall into a miserable blank verse presently!
Dul. Oh Philocalia, in deep sorrow and unrefined words, that's where all the thinking is. How can this be! I could easily slip into a sad, awkward poem right now!
Phi. But, dear madam, your reason of loving him?
Phi. But, dear madam, what are your reasons for loving him?
Dul. Faith, only a woman’s reason, because I was expressly forbidden to love him. At the first view I liked him; and no sooner had my father’s wisdom mistrusted my liking, but I grew loth his judgment should err; I pitied he should prove a fool in his old age, and without cause mistrust me. 248
Dul. Honestly, it’s just a woman’s reasoning, since I was explicitly told not to love him. From the moment I saw him, I liked him; as soon as my father’s wisdom doubted my feelings, I didn’t want his judgment to be wrong. I felt sorry that he might look foolish in his old age and wrongly suspect me. 248
Phi. But, when you saw no means of manifesting your affection to him, why did not your hopes perish?
Phi. But when you didn't see any way to show your feelings for him, why didn't your hopes die?
Dul. O Philocalia! that difficulty only enflames me: when the enterprise is easy, the victory is inglorious. No, let my wise, aged, learned, intelligent father,—that can interpret eyes, understand the language of birds, interpret the grumbling of dogs and the conference of cats,—that can read even silence,—let him forbid all interviews, all speeches, all tokens, all messages, all (as he thinks) human means,—I will speak to the prince, court the prince, that he shall understand me;—nay, I will so stalk on the blind side of my all-knowing father’s wit, that, do what his wisdom can, he shall be my only mediator, my only messenger, my only honourable spokesman;—he shall carry my favours, he shall amplify my affection;—nay, he shall direct the prince the means, the very way to my bed;—he, and only he, when he only can do this, and only would not do this, he only shall do this. 267
Dul. O Philocalia! That challenge just motivates me more: when the task is easy, the win feels insignificant. No, let my wise, elderly, learned, and clever father—who can read eyes, understand the language of birds, interpret dogs' growls, and the conversations of cats—who can even decipher silence—let him ban all meetings, all conversations, all signs, all messages, and whatever else he thinks are human efforts. I will reach out to the prince, pursue him, so he'll understand me; I will navigate my father’s cleverness so that, no matter what his wisdom tries, he will be my only mediator, the sole messenger for my cause; he will carry my affection, he will elaborate on my feelings; indeed, he will direct the prince to the means, the very path to my bed; he, and only he, when he alone can do this, and when he simply chooses not to do this, he alone will get it done. this. 267
Dul. Pish, Philocalia! ’tis against the nature of love not to be violent.
Dul. Come on, Philocalia! It's just not in the nature of love to be anything but intense.
Phi. And against the condition of violence to be constant.
Phi. And to always maintain the condition of being free from violence.
Dul. Constancy?—constancy and patience are virtues in no living creatures but centinels and anglers. Here’s our father!
Dul. Constancy?—constancy and patience are qualities only found in sentinels and anglers. Here’s our father!
Enter Gonzago, Hercules, and Granuffo.
Enter Gonzago, Hercules, and Granuffo.
Gon. What, did he think to walk invisibly before our eyes? And he had Gyges’ ring I would find him.
Gon. What, did he think he could walk in front of us without us seeing him? If he had Gyges' ring, I would track him down.
Herc. ’Fore Jove, you rated him with emphasis.
Herc. Before God, you really criticized him strongly.
Gon. Did we not shake the prince with energy? 280
Gon. Didn’t we inspire the prince? 280
Herc. With Ciceronian elocution?
Herc. With Ciceronian eloquence?
Gon. And most pathetic, piercing oratory?
And the most pathetic, emotional speech?
Herc. If he have any wit in him, he will make sweet use of it.
Herc. If he has any sense, he'll make good use of it.
Gon. Nay, he shall make sweet use of it ere I have done. Lord, what overweening fools these young men be, that think us old men sots!
Gon. No, he'll make good use of it before I'm finished. Man, how foolish these young guys are, thinking we old men are just drunks!
Herc. Arrant asses.
Herc. Complete idiots.
Gon. Doting idiots, when we, God wot—ha, ha! ’las, silly souls! 290
Gon. Ridiculous fools, when we, God knows—ha, ha! Oh, dear, silly souls! 290
Herc. Poor weak creatures, to men of approved reach.
Herc. Poor, vulnerable beings, to men of proven capability.
Gon. Full years.
Gon. Full years.
Herc. Of wise experience.
Herc. Of great wisdom.
Gon. And approved wit.
Gon. And clever humor.
Gon. Count Granuffo, as I live, this Faunus is a rare understander of men—is a’ not? Faunus, this Granuffo is a right wise good lord, a man of excellent discourse and never speaks his signs to me, and men of profound reach instruct abundantly; he begs suits with signs, gives thanks with signs, puts off his hat leisurely, maintains his beard learnedly, keeps his lust privately, makes a nodding leg courtly, and lives happily. 303
Gon. Count Granuffo, as I live, this Faunus really understands people—right? Faunus, this Granuffo is a wise and good lord, a man of excellent conversation who never directly communicates with me. He teaches me a lot without words; he asks for things with gestures, expresses gratitude with gestures, takes off his hat with ease, maintains his beard thoughtfully, keeps his desires private, gives a courteous nod, and lives happily
Herc. Silence is an excellent modest grace, but especially before so instructing a wisdom as that of your excellency’s. As for his advancement, you gave it most royally, because he deserves it least duly, since to give to virtuous desert is rather a due requital than a princely magnificence, when to undeservingness it is merely all bounty and free grace. 310
Herc. Silence is a great display of modesty, especially in front of someone as wise as you. Regarding his promotion, you granted it generously, even though he doesn't truly deserve it. Giving to those who have earned it is more about fulfilling a duty than showing princely generosity, while giving to someone undeserving is simply an act of kindness and grace. 310
Gon. Well spoke, ’tis enough. Don Granuffo, this Faunus is a very worthy fellow, and an excellent courtier, and beloved of most of the princes of Christendom, I can tell you; for howsoever some severer dissembler grace him not when he affronts him in the full face, yet, if he comes behind or on the one side, he’ll leer and put back his head upon him. Be sure, be you two precious to each other.
Gon. Well said, that's enough. Don Granuffo, this Faunus is a really good guy and a great courtier, loved by most of the princes in Christendom, I can assure you; even though some serious people might not acknowledge him when he confronts them directly, if he approaches from behind or the side, he’ll smirk and tilt his head toward them. Make sure you two treasure each other.
Herc. Sir, myself, my family, my fortunes, are all devoted, I protest, most religiously to your service. I vow my whole self only proud in being acknowledged by you, but as your creature; and my only utmost ambition is by my sword or soul to testify how sincerely I am consecrated to your adoration. 324
Herc. Sir, I swear that my family, my fortunes, and I are all completely dedicated to your service. I pledge my whole self, only feeling proud to be recognized by you as your servant; my only true ambition is to prove how sincerely I am devoted to your adoration. 324
Herc. Not uneminently[213] descended; for were the pedigrees of some fortunately mounted, searched, they would be secretly found to be of the blood of the poor Fawn. 329
Herc. Not insignificantly[213] descended; for if the backgrounds of some well-placed individuals were examined, they would be quietly discovered to be related to the lineage of the lowly Fawn. 329
Gon. ’Tis enough; you two I love heartily; for thy
silence never displeaseth me, nor thy speech ever offend
me. See, our daughter attends us.—My fair, my wise,
my chaste, my duteous, and indeed, in all, my daughter
(for such a pretty soul for all the world have I been),
what! I think we have made the prince to feel his error.
What! did he think he had weak fools in hand?
No, he shall find, as wisely said Lucullus,
Young men are fools that go about to gull us. 338
Gon. That's enough; I truly care for both of you. Your silence never bothers me, and your words never upset me. Look, our daughter is here with us.—My beautiful, wise, chaste, dutiful daughter (for I've cherished such a lovely soul above all), do you think we've made the prince realize his mistake?
What? Did he think he was dealing with dumb weaklings?
No, he will find out, as Lucullus wisely mentioned,
Young men are silly and think they can trick us. 338
Dul. But sooth, my wisest father, the young prince is yet forgetful, and resteth resolute in his much-unadvised love.
Dul. But truly, my wise father, the young prince is still forgetful and remains stubborn in his ill-considered love.
Gon. Is’t possible?
Is it possible?
Dul. Nay, I protest, what ere he feign to you (as he can feign most deeply)——
Dul. No, I swear, whatever he pretends to you (and he can pretend quite convincingly)——
Gon. Right, we know it; for if you mark’d, he would not once take sense of any such intent from him. O impudence, what mercy canst thou look for!
Gon. Right, we get it; if you pay attention, he wouldn’t even notice any such intention from him. Oh, how bold! What mercy can you expect!
Dul. And as I said, royally wise and wisely royal father——
Dul. And as I mentioned, regal in wisdom and wisely regal dad
Gon. I think that eloquence is hereditary. 350
Gon. I think eloquence is inherited. 350
Dul. Tho’ he can feign, yet I presume your sense is quick enough to find him.
Dul. Although he can pretend, I believe your intuition is sharp enough to see through him.
Gon. Quick, is’t not, Granuffo?[214] Is’t not, Fawn? Why, I did know you feigned, nay, I do know (by the just sequence of such impudence) that he hath laid some second siege unto thy bosom, with most miraculous conveyances of some rich present on thee.
Gon. Quick, isn’t it, Granuffo?[214] Isn’t it, Fawn? I knew you were faking, and I can tell (by the obviousness of such boldness) that he’s made another attempt to win your heart, with some amazing gifts for you.
Dul. O bounteous Heaven, how liberal are your graces to my Nestor-like father!
Dul. Oh generous Heaven, how kind are your gifts to my father, who is like Nestor!
Gon. Is’t not so, say? 360
Gon. Is it not so, say?
Dul. ’Tis so, oraculous father; he hath now more than
courted with bare phrases.
See, father, see, the very bane of honour,
Corruption of justice and virginity:
Gifts hath he left with me. O view this scarf;
This, as he call’d it, most envièd silk,
That should embrace an arm, or waist, or side,
Which he much fear’d should never—this he left,
Despite my much resistance. 369
Dul. It's true, wise father; he has now done more than just flirt with empty words.
Hey, Dad, check it out, the true poison of honor,
The corruption of justice and integrity:
He left me gifts. Oh, look at this scarf;
This, as he referred to it, the most envied silk,
That should fit around an arm, waist, or side,
Which he feared would never happen—this he abandoned,
Despite my strong resistance.
Gon. Did he so? Give’t me. I’ll give’t him. I’ll regive his token with so sharp advantage.
Gon. Did he really? Hand it over. I’ll give it to him. I’ll return his token with a much sharper edge.
Dul. Nay, my worthy father, read but these cunning letters.
Dul. No, my dear father, just read these clever letters.
Gon. Letters—where?
Gon. Letters—where are they?
[Reads.
Reads.
Prove you but justly loving, and conceive me,
Till justice leave the gods, I’ll never leave thee.
For tho’ the duke seem wise, he’ll find this strain,
Where two hearts yield consent, all thwarting’s vain.
And darest thou then aver this wicked writ?
O world of wenching wiles, where is thy wit? 380
Show me your true love, and know me,
As long as there's justice, I won't leave you.
Even if the duke appears wise, he will come to understand this truth,
When two hearts are in agreement, no obstacles can stand in their way.
Do you really have the guts to call this writing evil?
Oh world of deceitful tricks, where is your reason? 380
Enter Tiberio.
Enter Tiberio.
Dul. But other talk for us were far more fit, For, see, here comes the Prince Tiberio.
Dul. But other conversations for us are much more suitable, Because, look, here comes Prince Tiberio.
Gon. Daughter, upon thy obedience, instantly take thy chamber.
Gon. Daughter, go to your room right now as I instructed.
Dul. Dear father, in all duty, let me beseech your leave, that I may but——
Dul. Dear father, please grant me your permission, so I can but—
Gon. Go to, go to! you are a simple fool, a very simple animal.
Gon. Come on, come on! You're just a clueless idiot, a really simple creature.
Dul. Yet[215] let me (the loyal servant of simplicity)——
Dul. Yet[215] let me (the faithful servant of simplicity)——
Gon. What would you do? What! are you wiser than your father?—will you direct me? 391
Gon. What would you do? What! Are you wiser than your father?—Will you tell me?
Dul. Heavens forbid such insolence! Yet let me denounce my hearty hatred.
Dul. Heaven forbid such disrespect! But let me express my deep hatred.
Gon. To what end?
Gon. What's the point?
Dul. Tho’t be but in the prince’s ear (since fits not maiden’s blush to rail aloud).
Dul. Just put a word in the prince's ear (since it doesn't suit a maiden's blush to shout it out).
Gon. Go to, go to!
Go on, go on!
Dul. Let me but check his heat.
Dul. Let me just see how angry he is.
Gon. Well, well.
Well, well.
Dul. And take him down, dear father, from his full pride of hopes. 401
Dul. And bring him down, dear father, from his complete arrogance of hopes. 401
Gon. So, so, I say once more, go in.
Gon. Alright, I’ll say it again, go inside.
[Exeunt Dulcimel and Philocalia.
[Exit Dulcimel and Philocalia.
I will not lose the glory of reproof.
Is this the office of ambassadors,
My Lord Tiberio?
Nay, duty of a son; nay, piety of a man?—
(A figure call’d in art gradatio:
With some learned, Climax)—to court a royal lady
For’s master, father, or perchance his friend,
And yet intend the purchase of his beauty 410
To his own use?
I won’t give up the privilege of speaking out.
Is this what ambassadors do,
Sir Tiberio?
No, it’s a son's responsibility; no, it’s a man's virtue?—
A concept in art referred to as gradatio:
Together with some educated, Climax)—to go after a royal lady
For his master, father, or perhaps his friend,
And still intend to use her beauty __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
For his own gain?
Tib. Your grace doth much amaze me.
Tib. Your grace amazes me a lot.
Gon. Ay, feign dissemble; ’las! we are now grown old, weak-sighted; alas! any one fools us.
Gon. Oh, pretend and hide; sadly, we have now grown old, weak-eyed; unfortunately, anyone can trick us.
Tib. I deeply vow, my lord——
Tib. I sincerely swear, my lord——
Gon. Peace, be not damn’d, have pity on your soul.
I confess, sweet prince, for you to love my daughter,
Young and witty,
Of equal mixture both of mind and body,
Is neither wondrous nor unnatural;
Yet to forswear and vow against one’s heart, 420
Is full of base, ignoble cowardice,
Since ’tis most plain, such speeches do contemn
Heaven and fear men (that’s sententious[216] now).
Gon. Please, don’t bring this upon yourself; have some empathy for your soul.
I admit, dear prince, that your love for my daughter,
Smart and resourceful,
With a healthy balance of mind and body,
Isn't surprising or unnatural;
Yet to deny and go against one's heart, 420
Is really low and cowardly,
Since it’s obvious that those words are disrespectful
Heaven and fear others (that's a serious point__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ now).
Tib. My gracious lord, if I unknowingly have err’d.
Tib. My gracious lord, if I have made a mistake without realizing it.
Gon. Unknowingly! can you blush, my lord?
Unknowingly! why, can you write these lines,
Present this scarf, unknowingly, my lord,
To my dear daughter? Um, unknowingly?
Can you urge your suit, prefer your gentlest love,
In your own right, to her too easy breast, 430
That, God knows, takes too much compassion on ye?
(And so she pray’d me say) unknowingly?
My lord, if you can act these things unknowingly,
Know we can know your actions so unknown;
For we are old, I will not say in wit
(For even[217] just worth must not approve itself);
But take your scarf, for she vows she’ll not wear it.
Gon. Unknowingly! Can you blush, my lord?
Unknowingly! Why, can you write these lines,
Present this scarf, unknowingly, my lord,
To my dear daughter? Uh, unknowingly?
Can you iron your suit, express your kindest love,
In your own way, to her too trusting heart, 430
That, God knows, shows way too much compassion for you?
(And so she asked me to say) without knowing?
My lord, if you can do these things without realizing it,
Be aware that we can observe your actions as if they are unknown;
For we are old, but I won't claim it's because of wisdom.
(For even __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ just worth must not approve itself);
But take your scarf, because she promises she won’t wear it.
Tib. Nay, but my lord——
Tib. No, but my lord——
Gon. Nay, but my lord, my lord,
You must take it, wear it, keep it,
For by the honour of our house and blood, 440
I will deal wisely, and be provident;
Your father shall not say I pandarised,
Or fondly wink’d at your affection;
No, we’ll be wise. This night our daughter yields
Your father’s answer; this night we invite
Your presence therefore to a feastful waking;
To-morrow to Ferrara you return,
With wishèd answer to your royal father;
Meantime, as you respect our best relation
Of your fair bearing (Granuffo, is’t not good?)— 450
Of your fair bearing, rest more anxious—
(No, anxious is not a good word)—rest more vigilant
Over your passion, both forbear and bear,
Anechou e apechou[218] (that’s Greek to you now),
Else your youth shall find
Our nose not stuff’d, but we can take the wind
And smell you out—I say no more but thus—
And smell you out. What! ha’ we not our eyes,
Our nose and ears? What! are these hairs unwise?
Look to’t, quos ego,[219]— 460
(A figure called Aposiopesis or Increpatio).
No, my lord,
You have to accept it, embrace it, and hold on to it.
Because of our family's honor and our bloodline, 440
I will be smart and cautious;
Your dad won't admit that I helped with this,
Or foolishly ignored your feelings;
No, we'll be smart. Tonight our daughter will share
Your father's reply; tonight we invite
You're invited to a festive gathering;
Tomorrow, you'll go back to Ferrara,
With the answer your royal father wants;
In the meantime, as you appreciate our best connection
Of your noble character (Granuffo, isn’t that correct?)— 450
Be more careful of your noble nature—
(No, cautious isn't the right word)—stay more aware.
Control your emotions by both managing and enduring them,
Anechou e apechou__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ (that might sound like Greek to you now),
Otherwise, your kids will find out
We’re not clueless, but we can feel
And I'll figure you out—I won’t say anything else—
And understand you. What! Don't we have our eyes,
Our noses and ears? What! Are these instincts foolish?
Watch out, quos ego,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__— 460
(A figure called __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ or __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__).
[Exeunt Gonzago and Granuffo.
[Exit Gonzago and Granuffo.
Tib. [reads the embroidered scarfs]
Prove you but justly loving and conceive me,
Justice shall leave the gods before I leave thee:
Imagination prove as true as thou art sweet!
And tho’ the duke seem wise, he’ll find this strain,
When two hearts yield consent, all thwarting’s vain.
O quick, deviceful, strong-brain’d Dulcimel!
Thou art too full of wit to be a wife.
Why dost thou love? or what strong heat gave life
To such faint hopes? O woman! thou art made 470
Most only of, and for, deceit; thy form
Is nothing but delusion of our eyes,
Our ears, our hearts, and sometimes of our hands;
Hypocrisy and vanity brought forth,
Without male heat, thy most, most monstrous being.
Shall I abuse my royal father’s trust,
And make myself a scorn—the very food
Of rumour infamous? Shall I, that ever loath’d
A thought of woman, now begin to love
My worthy father’s right?—break faith to him 480
That got me, to get a faithless woman?
Tib. [looks at the embroidered scarves]
Just show that you really love me and understand me,
I will choose justice over leaving you:
May your imagination be as real as your sweetness!
And even though the duke appears wise, he will come to understand this truth,
When two hearts are in agreement, any opposition is meaningless.
Oh quick, smart, strong-minded Dulcimel!
You’re too clever to be just a wife.
Why do you love? What intense passion brought life?
To such faint hopes? Oh woman! You are made
Mostly about, and for, deception; your appearance
Is just an illusion of our eyes,
Our ears, our hearts, and sometimes our hands;
Hypocrisy and vanity emerged,
Without male passion, your most monstrous self.
Should I betray my royal father's trust,
And make myself a joke—the very topic
Of notorious rumors? Should I, who have always despised
The concept of a woman, now beginning to love
My father's legacy?—to betray him __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Who fathered me, just to end up with an unfaithful woman?
Herc. True,
My worthy lord, your grace is verè pius.
Herc. It's true,
My respected lord, you are truly devout.
Herc. His life, that only lives to your sole good!
Herc. His life exists only for your benefit!
Tib. And myself good—his life’s most only end.
Tib. And I'm good—his life is mostly just about the end.
Herc. Which, O! may never end!
Herc. Which may never end!
Tib. Yes, Fawn, in time. We must not prescribe to nature everything. There’s some end in everything. 490
Tib. Yes, Fawn, eventually. We can’t expect nature to dictate everything. There’s a purpose in everything. 490
Herc. But in a woman. Yet, as she is a wife, she is oftentimes the end of her husband.
Herc. But in a woman. Yet, since she is a wife, she often becomes the downfall of her husband.
Tib. Shall I, I say——
Tib. Should I, I say——
Herc. Shall you, I say, confound your own fair hopes,
Cross all your course of life, make your self vain
To your once steady graveness, and all to second
The ambitious quickness of a monstrous love,
That’s only out of difficulty born,
And followed only for the miracle
In the obtaining? I would ha’ ye now 500
Tell her father all.
Herc. Are you really going to throw away your own bright future,
Discard everything about your life's journey and indulge in vanity.
From your formerly serious attitude, just to support
The intense longing of a wild love,
That only comes from hardship,
And is only sought after for the miracle.
of achieving it? I wish you would now 500
Tell her dad everything.
Tib. Uncompassionate vild man!
Shall I not pity if I cannot love?
Or rather, shall I not for pity love
So wondrous wit in so most wondrous beauty,
That with such rarest art and cunning means
Entreats[220] what I (thing valueless) am not
Worthy to grant, my admiration?
Are fathers to be thought on in our loves?
Tib. Heartless savage!
Should I not feel compassion if I can’t love?
Or should I not love out of compassion instead?
Such amazing intelligence in such stunning beauty,
That with such unique talent and smart techniques
Seeks__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ what I (a useless thing) cannot.
Am I worthy of your admiration?
Should we think about fathers in our relationships?
Herc. True, right, sir;
Fathers or friends, a crown and love hath none, 510
But are allied to themselves alone.
Your father, I may boldly say, he’s an ass
To hope that you’ll forbear to swallow
What he cannot chew; nay, ’tis injustice, truly,
For him to judge it fit that you should starve
For that which only he can feast his eye withal,
And not disgest.[221]
Herc. True, correct, sir;
Fathers or friends, a crown and love don't belong to anyone, 510
But are only connected to themselves.
I can say with confidence that your father is foolish.
To expect you to refrain from taking
What he can’t deal with; honestly, it’s not fair,
For him to believe it’s okay for you to suffer
For something that only he can appreciate visually,
And can't digest.[221]
Tib. O! Fawn, what man of so cold earth
But must love such a wit in such a body!
Thou last and only rareness of Heaven’s works,
From best of man made model of the gods! 520
Divinest woman, thou perfection
Of all proportion’s beauty, made when Jove was blithe—
Well filled with nectar, and full friends with man—
Thou dear as air, necessary as sleep
To careful man! Woman! O who can sin so deeply
As to be curs’d from knowing of the pleasures
Thy soft society, modest amorousness,
Yields to our tedious life!
Fawn, the duke shall not know this.
Tib. Oh! Fawn, what man is there on such a cold earth
I can't help but love a mind like yours in a body like that!
You are the final and only unique creation of Heaven.
The best example of humanity created in the likeness of the gods! 520
Divine woman, you are perfection.
Of all the beautiful proportions created when Jove was happy—
Well filled with nectar and friendly toward humanity—
You are as precious as air and as essential as sleep.
To a considerate person! Woman! Oh, who could commit such deep sins?
To be cursed for experiencing joy.
Your kind presence and genuine love
Bring excitement to our lives!
Fawn, the duke can't find out about this.
Herc. Unless you tell him. But what hope can live in you, 530
When your short stay and your most shorten’d conference,
Not only actions, but even looks observ’d,
Cut off all possibilities of obtaining?
Herc. Unless you speak up. But what hope do you have, 530
During your brief stay here and your quick conversation,
Not just actions, but even expressions are closely observed,
Are you going to eliminate any chance of getting what you want?
Herc. But then, how rest you to your father true?
Herc. But then, how do you stay true to your father?
Tib. To him that only can give dues, she rests most due.
Tib. She shows her deepest respect to the person who can deliver what is rightfully deserved.
[Exit.
Exit.
Herc. Even so. He that with safety would well lurk in courts 540
To best-elected ends, of force is wrung
To keep broad eyes, soft feet, long ears, and most short tongue;
For ’tis of knowing creatures the main art
To use quick hams, wide arms, and most close heart.
Herc. But if you want to be safe in the courts, 540
You have to be pushed to strive for the best results.
Stay alert, move stealthily, pay attention, and speak as little as you can;
Because for intelligent beings, the key skill
It means being quick to respond, decisive in your actions, and careful with your emotions.
[205] Compare with this speech the fourth elegy of Book II. of Ovid’s Amores.
[205] Compare this speech with the fourth elegy of Book II. of Ovid’s Amores.
[206] Eds. 1. and 3. “moving.”
“moving.”
[207] Eds. 1. and 3. “and.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 “and.”
[208] So ed. 2.—Eds. 1. and 3. “for if my humour love.”
[208] So ed. 2.—Eds. 1. and 3. “because if I feel like loving.”
[209] So ed. 1.—Eds. 2. and 3. “renowned.” (For the form “renowmed” cf. Marlowe, i. 24, &c.)
[209] So ed. 1.—Eds. 2. and 3. “famous.” (For the form “renowmed” cf. Marlowe, i. 24, &c.)
[210] Eds. 1. and 3. “13.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “13.”
[211] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “I iest;” ed. 3. “I rest.”
[212] Eds. 1. and 3. “protest ignorant.”—Ed. 2. “prote ignorance.”
[212] Eds. 1. and 3. “protest ignorance.”—Ed. 2. “protect ignorance.”
[213] So eds. 1. and 3.—Ed. 2. “Not one eminently.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So eds. 1 and 3.—Ed. 2. “Not one outstanding.”
[214]
Old eds. give:—
“Gon. Quicke, ist not?
Gra. Ist not Fawne Why,” &c.
[214]
Old eds. say:—
“Gon. Fast, isn’t it?
Gra. Isn’t it Fawn Why,” & etc.
[215] Eds. 1. and 3. “Yet let me be the loyal,” &c.
[215] Eds. 1. and 3. “But let me be the faithful,” &c.
[216] Ed. 2. “sentious.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “sentious.”
[217] Ed. 3. “every.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 3. “every.”
[218] Eds. 1. and 2. “anexou e ampexou.”—Ed. 3. “anechon, eapechon.” The reference is to the maxim of Epictetus (reported by Aulus Gellius, xvii. 19)—Ἀνέχου καὶ Ἀπέχου.
[218] Eds. 1. and 2. “hold on and let go.”—Ed. 3. “hold on, let go.” This refers to the saying of Epictetus (noted by Aulus Gellius, xvii. 19)—Ἀνέχου καὶ Ἀπέχου.
[219] Virg., Æn. i. 135.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Virg., Æn. i. 135.
[220] Eds. 1. and 2. read:—“Entreates? What (I thing valules) am not, Worthie but to graunt,” &c. Ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1. give:—“Entreates? What I thinke valulesse and not Worthy but to graunt,” &c.
[220] Eds. 1 and 2 read:—“Entreaties? What (I think is worthless) am I, deserving only to agree,” &c. Ed. 3 and some copies of ed. 1 say:—“Entreaties? What I think is worthless and not deserving but to agree,” &c.
[221] Old form of “digest.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old version of “digest.”
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Palace of the Duke of Urbin.
Palace of the Duke of Urbino.
Enter Hercules and Garbetza.
Enter Hercules and Garbetza.
Herc. Why, ’tis a most well-in-fashion affection, Donna Garbetza. Your knight, Sir Amorous, is a man of a most unfortunate back, spits white, has an ill breath; at three, after dinner, goes to the bath, takes the diet, nay, which is more, takes tobacco; therefore, with great authority, you may cuckold him.
Herc. Why, it’s a pretty common thing these days, Donna Garbetza. Your knight, Sir Amorous, is a man with quite the unfortunate body, has a bad cough, and terrible breath; at three, after lunch, he hits the bath, controls his diet, and, what’s more, smokes tobacco; so, you can confidently cheat on him.
Gar. I hope so; but would that friend my brother discover me—would he wrong himself to prejudice me—
Gar. I hope so; but if my brother finds me out—would he do himself a disservice by holding a grudge against me—
Herc. No prejudice, dear Garbetza: his brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest brother, true; he gets her with child, just. 11
Herc. No hard feelings, dear Garbetza: your husband is his brother, right; he cheated on his older brother, that's true; he got her pregnant, exactly. 11
Gar. Sure there’s no wrong in right, true, and just?
Gar. Is there really no such thing as being absolutely right, true, or just?
Herc. And, indeed, since the virtue of procreation growed hopeless in your husband, to whom should you rather commit your love and honour to, than him that is most like and near your husband, his brother? But are you assured your friend and brother rests entirely constant solely to you?
Herc. And really, since your husband has lost hope in being able to father children, who better to trust with your love and honor than someone who is so similar to him and close to him, his brother? But are you sure that your friend and brother is completely devoted just to you?
Gar. To me? O Fawn, let me sigh it with joy into thy bosom, my brother has been wooed by this and that and t’other lady, to entertain them (for I ha’ seen their letters); but his vow to me, O Fawn! is most immutable, unfeigning, peculiar, and indeed deserved. 23
Gar. To me? O Fawn, let me joyfully share this with you. My brother has been pursued by this lady and that lady, trying to please them (because I’ve seen their letters); but his promise to me, O Fawn! is unbreakable, sincere, unique, and truly merited. 23
Enter Puttotta and a Page. Puttotta with a letter in her hand.
Enter Puttotta with a Page. Puttotta holding a letter.
Put. Never entreat me—never beseech me to have pity, forsooth, on your master, M.[222] Herod. Let him never be so daringly ambitious as to hope, with all his vows and protestations, to gain my affection! God’s my discretion! Has my sutlery, tapstry, laundry, made me be ta’en up at the court—preferr’d me to a husband; and have I advanced my husband, with the labour of mine own body, from the black-guard[223] to be one of the duke’s drummers, to make him one of the court forkers? Shall I, that purify many lords and some ladies, can tell who wears perfumes, who plasters, and for why, know who’s a gallant of a chaste shirt and[224] who not, shall I become—or dares your master think I will become—or if I would[225] become, presumes your master to hope I would become one of his common feminines? No, let M. Herod brag of his brother’s wife. I scorn his letters and her leavings at my heel—i’faith, and so tell him. 41
Put. Don’t beg me—don’t plead with me to have mercy on your master, M. Herod. He should never be so shamelessly ambitious as to expect, despite all his promises and claims, to win my affection! For goodness' sake! Have my tavern, tapestries, laundry, made me accepted at court—preferred to a husband; and have I elevated my husband, through my own hard work, from a nobody to one of the duke’s drummers, to make him part of the court? Shall I, who cleanses many lords and some ladies, know who wears perfumes, who uses cosmetics, and for what reason, know who is a nobleman in a clean shirt and who is not, shall I become—or does your master dare to think I will become—or if I might even consider becoming, does your master presume I would become one of his common women? No, let M. Herod boast about his brother’s wife. I have no regard for his letters or her remnants at my feet—indeed, and tell him that. 41
Pag. Nay, softly,[226] dear Puttotta—Mistress Puttotta—Madam Puttotta! O be merciful to my languishing master! He may in time grow great and well-graced courtier, for he wears yellow already! Mix, therefore, your loves. As for Madam Garbetza, his brother’s wife, you see what he writes there.
Pag. No, hold on,[226] dear Puttotta—Mistress Puttotta—Madam Puttotta! Please be kind to my suffering master! He might eventually become a distinguished and graceful courtier, since he's already wearing yellow! So, mix your affections. As for Madam Garbetza, his brother's wife, you can see what he writes about her.
Put. I must confess he says she is a spiny, green creature, of an unwholesome barren blood and cold embrace—a bony thing, of most unequal hips, uneven eyes, ill-rank’d teeth, and indeed one, but that she hires him, he endures not; yet, for all this does he hope to dishonest me? I am for his betters, I would he should well know it; for more by many than my husband know I am a woman of a known sound and upright carriage; and so he shall find if he deal with me; and so tell him, I pray you. What! does he hope to make me one of his gills, his punks, polecats, flirts, and feminines? 58
Put. I have to admit he says she’s a prickly, green creature, with unhealthy, barren blood and a cold embrace—a bony thing, with mismatched hips, uneven eyes, and poorly ranked teeth; and indeed, if she didn’t pay him, he wouldn’t put up with her. Yet, despite all this, does he really think he can deceive me? I aim for better than him; he should know that well. Many more than just my husband know I’m a woman of good reputation and strong character; and he’ll find that out if he tries to deal with me. So please tell him that. What? Does he really think he can make me one of his flings, his mistresses, his lowlifes, and his flirtations? feminine? 58
[Exit. As Putotta goes out, she flings away the letter. The Page puts it up, and, as he is talking, Hercules steals it out of his pocket.
[Exit. As Putotta leaves, she throws the letter away. The Page picks it up, and while he is talking, Hercules sneaks it out of his pocket.
Pag. Alas! my miserable master, what suds art thou wash’d into! Thou art born to be scorn’d of every carted community, and yet he’ll out-crack a German when he is drunk, or a Spaniard after he hath eaten a fumatho,[227] that he has lien with that and that and t’other lady; that he lay last night in such a madonna’s[228] chamber, t’other night he lay[229] in such a countess’s couch, to-night he lies in such a lady’s closet; when poor I know all this while he only[230] lied in his throat.
Pag. Alas! my unfortunate master, what a mess have you gotten yourself into! You were meant to be ridiculed by every lowly crowd, and yet you can outboast a German when you're drunk, or a Spaniard after he’s had a big meal, bragging about the women you’ve been with; claiming that you slept last night in some noble lady’s room, the night before in another countess’s bed, and tonight you’re supposedly in yet another lady’s closet; when I know all along you’ve just been lying through your teeth.
[Exit.
Exit.
Herc. Madam, let me sigh it in your bosom, how immutable and unfainting, and, indeed——
Herc. Ma'am, let me share my sighs with you, how unchanging and tireless, and, indeed
Gar. Fawn, I will undo that rascal! He shall starve for any further maintenance. 71
Gar. Fawn, I will take care of that troublemaker! He won't get another dime for his support. 71
Herc. You may make him come to the covering and recovering of his old doublets.
Herc. You can get him to come and fix up his old coats.
Gar. He was in fair hope of proving heir to his elder brother, but he has gotten me with child.
Gar. He was hopeful about becoming the heir to his older brother, but he has made me pregnant.
Herc. So, you withdrawing your favour, his present means fail him; and by getting you with child, his future means for ever rest despairful to him.
Herc. So, if you stop supporting him, he loses his current opportunities; and if you end up pregnant, his future opportunities will forever be filled with despair.
Gar. O Heaven! that I could curse him beneath damnation! Impudent varlet! By my reputation, Fawn, I only loved him because I thought I only did not love him. He vowed infinite beauties doted on him! Alas! I was a simple country lady, wore gold buttons, trunk[231] sleeves, and flaggon bracelets. In this state of innocency was I brought up to the court. 85
Gar. Oh heaven! How I wish I could curse him into damnation! What an arrogant jerk! Honestly, Fawn, I only loved him because I thought I didn't love him at all. He claimed countless beautiful women were in love with him! Unfortunately, I was just a simple country girl, wearing gold buttons, trunk sleeves, and jug bracelets. In this innocent state, I was brought to the court. 85
Gar. Right. Remember he got his elder brother’s wife with child, and so deprived himself of th’ inheritance.
Gar. Right. Remember he got his older brother’s wife pregnant and ended up losing his inheritance because of it.
Herc. That will stow[232] him under hatches, I warrant you.
Herc. That will keep[232] him below deck, I promise you.
Gar. And so deprived himself of inheritance! Dear Fawn, be my champion! 95
Gar. And so he gave up his inheritance! Dear Fawn, be my champion!
Herc. The very scourge of your most basely offending brother.
Herc. The absolute bane of your most despicable brother.
Gar. Ignoble villain! that I might but see thee wretched without pity and recovery! Well!
Gar. Despicable villain! I wish I could just see you suffering, without compassion or recovery! Well!
Enter Herod and Nymphadoro.
Enter Herod and Nymphadoro.
Herc. Stand, Herod; you are full met, sir. 100
Herc. Hold on, Herod; you’re completely ready, man. 100
Herc. Is’t possible?
Herc. Is it possible?
Herod. Possible! Fie on this satiety!—’tis a dull, blunt, weary, and drowsy passion. Who would be a proper fellow to be thus greedily devoured and swallowed among ladies? Faith, ’tis my torment—my very rack! 111
Herod. Possible! Ugh, this boredom!—it’s a dull, lifeless, exhausting, and sleepy desire. Who would want to be so greedily consumed and swallowed up among women? Honestly, it’s my torment—my very rack! 111
Herc. Right, Herod, true; for imagine all a man possess’d with[235] a perpetual pleasure, like that of generation, even in the highest lusciousness, he straight sinks as unable to bear so continual, so pure, so universal a sensuality.
Herc. Right, Herod, that's true; because just think about a person who has a constant pleasure, like that of creating life, even in the most intense enjoyment—he would quickly become overwhelmed, unable to handle such a constant, pure, and all-encompassing sensual experience.
Herod. By even truth, ’tis very right; and, for my part, would I were eunuch’d rather than thus suck’d away with kisses, enfeebling dalliance; and O the falling sickness on them all! why did reasonable nature give so strange, so rebellious, so tyrannous, so insatiate parts of appetite to so weak a governess—a[236] woman? 122
Herod. Honestly, it’s quite right; and as for me, I’d rather be a eunuch than be drained by kisses, weak affection; and oh, the madness in all of them! Why did rational nature give such strange, rebellious, oppressive, and insatiable desires to such a fragile leader—a[236] woman? 122
Herc. Or why, O custom! didst thou oblige them to modesty, such cold temperance, that they must be wooed by men—courted by men? Why, all know they are more full of strong desires—those desires most impatient of delay or hindrance, they have more unruly passions than men, and weaker reason to temper those passions than men.
Herc. Or why, oh tradition! did you require them to be so modest and restrained, that they have to be pursued by men—courted by men? Everyone knows they are full of strong desires—those desires that can't stand delay or obstacles; they have wilder passions than men and weaker reason to keep those passions in check than men.
Nym. Why, then, hath not the discretion of Nature thought it just that customary coyness, old fashions, terms of honour and of modesty, forsooth, all laid aside, they court not us, beseech not us rather, for sweets of love than we them? Why, by Janus! women are but men turn’d the wrong side outward. 135
Nym. Then why hasn’t Nature decided that, with all the usual shyness, old customs, standards of honor, and modesty thrown out the window, they should seek us out, rather than us seeking them for the pleasures of love? By Janus! Women are just men turned inside out. 135
Herc. O, sir, Nature is a wise workman. She knows right well that if women should woo us to the act of love, we should all be utterly shamed. How often should they take us unprovided, when they are always ready! 140
Herc. Oh, sir, Nature is a clever creator. She understands perfectly that if women were to pursue us in matters of love, we would all feel completely embarrassed. How often would they catch us off guard, since they are always prepared! 140
Herod. Ay, sir, right, sir; to some few such unfortunate handsome fellows as myself am; to my grief, I know it.
Herod. Yes, sir, that's right, sir; to a handful of unlucky handsome guys like me I belong; to my sorrow, I realize this.
Herc. Why, here are two perfect creatures—the one, Nymphadoro, loves all, and my Herod here enjoys all.
Herc. Look at these two amazing beings—the one, Nymphadoro, loves everyone, and my Herod here enjoys everything.
Herod. ’Faith, some score or two of ladies or so ravish me among them, divide my presents, and would indeed engross me, were I indeed such an ass as to be made a monopoly of. Look, sirrah, what a vild hand one of them writes. Who would ever take this for a d.—dearest, or read this for only—only dearest? 152
Herod. Honestly, some twenty or so ladies are trying to win me over, sharing my gifts, and would definitely take over my life if I were foolish enough to let them. Look, my friend, look at how poorly one of them writes. Who would ever think this is a d.—dearest, or read this as only—only dearest? 152
Herc. Here’s a lie indeed.
Herc. Here’s a real lie.
Herod. True, but here’s another much more legibly, a good secretary,—My most affected Herod, the utmost ambition of my hopes and only——
Herod. True, but here’s another much clearer, a good secretary,—My most affected Herod, the highest ambition of my hopes and only——
Herc. There is one lie better shaped by odds!
Herc. There's one lie that's crafted better by chances!
Herod. Right; but here’s a lady’s Roman hand to me is beyond all. Look ye,—To her most elected servant and worthy friend, Herod Baldonzozo, Esquire. I believe thou knowest what countess’s hand this is. I’ll show thee another. 162
Herod. Exactly; but here’s a lady’s Roman hand that’s beyond all. Look here,—To her most honored servant and esteemed friend, Herod Baldonzozo, Esquire. I’m sure you know whose hand this is. I’ll show you another. 162
Herc. No, good Herod; I’ll show thee one now.—To his most elected mistress and worthy laundress, divine Mistress Puttotta, at her tent in the wood-yard, or elsewhere, give these——
Herc. No, good Herod; I'll show you one now.—To his most chosen mistress and esteemed laundress, the divine Mistress Puttotta, at her tent in the wood-yard, or wherever, give these——
Herod. Prithee, ha’ silence! What’s that?
Herod. Please, be quiet! What’s that?
Herc. If my tears or vows, my faithfulst[237] protestations on my knees——
Herc. If my tears or promises, my most devoted[237] pleas on my knees——
Herod. Good, hold! 170
Herod. Good, stop! 170
Herc. Fair and only-loved laundress!—
Herc. Fair and beloved laundress!—
Herod. Forbear, I beseech thee!
Herod. Please wait, I beg you!
Herc. Might move thy stony heart to take pity on my sighs——
Herc. Could you move your cold heart to feel sorry for my sighs——
Herod. Do not shame me to the day of judgment!
Herod. Don’t embarrass me on the day of judgment!
Herc. Alas! I write it in passion!—alas! thou knowest besides my loathed sister, thou art——
Herc. Oh no! I write this in passion!—oh, you know that besides my hated sister, you are——
Herod. For the Lord’s sake!
Herod. For goodness' sake!
Herc. The only hope of my pleasure, the only pleasure of my hopes! Be pleased, therefore, to—— 180
Herc. The only hope for my happiness, the only joy in my dreams! So please,—— 180
Herod. Cease, I beseech thee!
Herod. Please, stop!
Herc. Pish! ne’er blush, man; ’tis an uncourtly quality! As for thy lying, as long as there’s policy in’t, it is very passable! Wherefore has Heaven given man tongue but to speak to a man’s own glory? He that cannot swell bigger than his natural skin, nor seem to be in more grace than he is, has not learn’d the very rudiments or A B C of courtship.
Herc. Come on! Don't blush, man; it's not a dignified look! As for your lying, as long as there's a good reason behind it, it's totally acceptable! Why has Heaven given man a tongue if not to speak to his own glory? Anyone who can't make themselves seem more impressive than they are or appear more graceful than they actually are hasn't even learned the basics of courtship.
Herod. Upon my heart, Fawn, thou pleasest me to the soul; why, look you, for mine own part, I must confess——
Herod. Honestly, Fawn, you truly delight me; you know, for my part, I have to confess
Enter Dondolo.
Enter Dondolo.
See, here’s the duke’s fool!
Look, here’s the duke’s jester!
Herod. Fool!
Herod. Idiot!
Don. Herod!
Herod!
Herc. What, are ye full freighted? Is your ship well fool’d?
Herc. What, are you fully loaded? Is your ship well stocked?
Don. O, ’twas excellently thronged full: a justice of peace, tho’ he had been one of the most illiterate asses in a country, could hardly ha’ got a hanging cabin. O, we had first some long fortunate great politicians, that were so sottishly paradised as to think, when popular hate seconded princes’ displeasure to them, any unmerited violence could seem to the world injustice; some purple fellows, whom chance reared, and their own deficiencies of spirit hurled down. We had some courtiers that o’er-bought their offices, and yet durst fall in love; priests that forsook their functions to avoid a thwart stroke with a wet finger.[238] But now, alas, Fawn! there’s space[239] and place.
Don. Oh, it was so crowded: a justice of the peace, even if he was one of the most ignorant fools in the country, could hardly have gotten a hanging cabin. Oh, we had some long-winded, fortunate politicians who were foolishly optimistic, thinking that when public hatred matched the displeasure of the princes against them, any unwarranted violence could appear to the world as injustice; some privileged individuals, lifted by chance, and then brought down by their own lack of character. We had some courtiers who overspent on their positions and still dared to fall in love; priests who abandoned their duties to avoid a minor conflict with a wet finger.[238] But now, sadly, Fawn! there’s opportunity[239] and space.
Herc. Why, how gat all these forth? Was not the warrant strong?
Herc. How did all these come out? Wasn't the warrant strong?
Don. Yes, yes; but they got a supersedeas: all of them proved themselves either knaves or madmen, and so were all let go; there’s none left now in our ship, but a few citizens, that let their wives keep their shop-books, some philosophers, and a few critics; one of which critics has lost his flesh with fishing at the measure of Plautus’ verses; another has vow’d to get the consumption of the lungs, or to leave to posterity the true orthography and pronunciation of laughing;[240] a third hath melted a great deal o’ suet, worn out his thumbs with turning, read out his eyes, and studied his face out of a sanguine into a meagre, spawling, fleamy loathsomeness,—and all to find but why mentula should be the feminine gender, since the rule is Propria quæ maribus tribuuntur mascula dicas. These philosophers, critics, and all the maids we could find at sixteen, are all our fraught now. 230
Don. Yes, yes; but they got a stay: all of them showed themselves to be either crooks or crazy, and so they were all let go; there’s no one left now on our ship, except for a few citizens, who let their wives manage their shop records, some philosophers, and a few critics; one of those critics has lost his mind obsessing over the meter of Plautus’ verses; another has sworn to get tuberculosis, or to leave behind the true spelling and pronunciation of laughter; [240] a third has melted a lot of fat, worn out his thumbs from turning pages, read his eyes out, and turned his face from rosy to a pale, gaunt, disgusting mess—all just to figure out why mentula should be feminine, when the rule is Propria quæ maribus tribuuntur mascula dicas. These philosophers, critics, and all the girls we could find who were sixteen, are all we have left now.
Herc. O, then, your ship of fools is full.
Herc. Oh, so your ship of fools is packed.
Nym. True, the maids at seventeen fill it.
Nym. True, the girls at seventeen occupy it.
Don. Fill it, quoth you; alas! we have very few, and these we were fain to take up in the country too.
Don. Fill it, you say; unfortunately! we have very few, and we had to gather these from the countryside as well.
Herc. But what philosophers ha’ ye?
Herc. But what philosophers do you have?
Don. O, very strange fellows: one knows nothing; dares not aver he lives, goes, sees, feels.
Don. Oh, such strange people: one knows nothing; doesn't dare to say he lives, moves, sees, feels.
Nym. A most insensible philosopher.
Nym. A very insensitive philosopher.
Don. Another, that there is no present time, and that one man to-day and to-morrow is not the same man; so that he that yesterday owed money, to-day owes none, because he is not the same man. 242
Don. Another point is that there’s no such thing as the present moment, and that a person today and tomorrow isn’t the same person; so, the person who owed money yesterday owes none today, because he’s not the same man. 242
Herod. Would that philosophy[241] would hold good in law!
Herod. I wish philosophy[241] applied to the law!
Don. Marry, because he would play the fool himself alone, without any rival.
Don. Sure, because he would act foolishly on his own, without any competition.
Herc. Ware your breech, fool.
Herc. Put on your pants, fool.
Don. I warrant thee, old lad, ’tis the privilege of poor fools to talk before an intelligencer; marry, if I could fool myself into a lordship, as I know some ha’ fool’d[242] themselves out of a lordship,—were I grown some huge fellow, and got the leer of the people upon me, if the fates had so decreed it,—I should talk treason, tho’ I ne’er open’d my lips. 256
Don. I assure you, my old friend, it’s the right of foolish people to speak before someone smart; but if I could trick myself into being a lord, like I know some have managed to trick themselves out of being a lord—if I became some big, important person, and people started looking at me that way, if fate had decided it—I'd be talking nonsense, even if I never said a word. 256
Herc. Indeed![243] fatis agimur, cedite fatis! But how runs rumour?—what breath’s strongest in the palace, now? I think you know all.
Herc. Really![243] we are driven by fate, yield to fate! But what’s the gossip?—what’s everyone saying in the palace right now? I believe you know everything.
Don. Yes, we fools think we know all. The prince hath audience to-night,—is feasted, and after supper is entertain’d with no comedy, masque, or barriers; but with——
Don. Yes, we fools think we know everything. The prince will have an audience tonight—he’s being treated to dinner, and after supper, there’s no comedy, masquerade, or games; but with
Nym. What, I prithee?
Nym. What, please?
Herod. What, I prithee?
Herod. What, I ask you?
Don. With a most new and special shape of delight.
Don. With a completely fresh and unique kind of joy.
Nym. What, for Jove’s sake? 267
Nym. What, for Jove’s sake? 267
Don. Marry, gallants, a session, a general council of love, summon’d in the name of Don Cupid, to which, upon pain of their mistress’ displeasure, shall appear,—all favour-wearers, sonnet-mongers, health-drinkers, and neat enrichers[244] of barbers and perfumers; and to conclude, all that can wyhee or wag the tail, are, upon grievous pains of their back, summon’d to be assistant in that session of love.
Don. Listen up, everyone! We’re having a big meeting, a general council of love, called in the name of Don Cupid. Everyone who cares about love—poets, drinkers of health tonics, and those who benefit from the fine work of barbers and perfumers—must attend, or risk displeasing their lady. And if you can play a tune or wag a tail, you’re also strongly encouraged to join us in this love gathering.
Herc. Hold! hold! Do not pall the delight before it come to our palate; and what other rumour keeps air in[245] men’s lungs?
Herc. Wait! Wait! Don't spoil the fun before we get to enjoy it; and what other gossip keeps people talking?
Don. O, the egregiousness of folly! Ha’ you not heard of Don Zuccone? 280
Don. Oh, the absurdity of stupidity! Haven't you heard of Don Zuccone?
Nym. What of him, good fool?
Nym. What about him, good fool?
Don. He is separated.
Don. He is divorced.
Nym. Divorced?
Divorced?
Don. That salt,—that criticism,—that very all epigram of a woman,—that analysis,—that compendium of wittiness!
Don. That salt,—that criticism,—that complete epitome of a woman,—that analysis,—that collection of cleverness!
Nym. Now, Jesu, what words the fool has!
Nym. Now, Jesus, what nonsense this fool talks!
Don. We ha’ still such words, but I will not unshale the jest before it be ripe, and therefore, kissing your worship’s fingers, in most sweet terms, without any sense, and with most fair looks, without any good meaning, I most courtlike take my leave, basilus[246] manus de vostro signioria. 293
Don. We still have those words, but I won't reveal the joke until it’s ready, and so, kissing your fingers in the sweetest way, with no real meaning and the nicest expressions, I politely take my leave, basilus[246] manus de vostro signioria. 293
Herod. Stay, fool, we’ll follow thee: for, ’fore Heaven, we must prepare ourselves for this session.
Herod. Wait, fool, we’ll follow you: for, by Heaven, we need to get ready for this meeting.
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.]
Zuc. I will have no mercy, I will not relent;—Justice’ beard is shaven, and it shall give thee no hold. I am separated, and I will be separated.
Zuc. I won’t show any mercy, I won’t back down;—Justice’s beard is cut, and it won’t give you any leverage. I'm apart, and I will stay apart.
Zoy. Dear my lord, husband!
Zoy. Dear husband!
Zuc. Hence, creature! I am none of thy husband, or father of thy bastard. No, I will be tyrannous, and a most deep revenger: the order shall stand. Ha, thou quean, I ha’ no wife now! 303
Zuc. Listen, creature! I’m neither your husband nor the father of your illegitimate child. No, I’ll be ruthless and seek revenge: the plan will stay as it is. Ha, you shameless woman, I have no wife now!
Zoy. Sweet my lord!
Zoy. Sweetness, my lord!
Zuc. Hence! avaunt! I will marry a woman with no womb,—a creature with two noses,—a wench with no hair,—rather than remarry thee! Nay, I will first marry,—mark me, I will first marry,—observe me, I will rather marry a woman that with thirst drinks the blood of man! nay, heed me, a woman that will thrust in crowds,—a lady, that, being with child, ventures the hope of her womb,—nay, gives two crowns for a room to behold a goodly man[247] three parts alive quartered, his privities hackled off, his belly lanch’d[248] up! Nay, I’ll rather marry a woman to whom these smoking, hideous, bloodful, horrid, tho’ most just spectacles, are very lust, rather than reaccept thee. Was I not a handsome fellow, from my foot to my feather? Had I not wit?—nay, which is more, was I not a Don, and didst thou Acteon me? Did I not make thee a lady? 320
Zuc. Get lost! I’d rather marry a woman who can’t have kids—somebody with two noses—a girl with no hair—than marry you again! No, first I'm going to marry—let me be clear, I’m going to marry first—notice this, I’d rather marry a woman who drinks human blood out of thirst! No, listen, a woman who pushes through crowds—a lady who, while pregnant, risks the future of her baby—no, she pays two crowns just to see a decent man, partially alive, his private parts cut off, his belly sliced open! No, I’d prefer to marry a woman who finds excitement in these gruesome, bloody, horrible, yet completely just spectacles, than to take you back. Wasn’t I a handsome guy, from my feet to my head? Didn’t I have brains?—and more importantly, wasn’t I a Don, and did you really treat me like Acteon? Didn’t I make you a lady?
Herc. And did she not make you a more worshipful thing,—a cuckold!
Herc. And didn’t she turn you into something more worthy of worship—a cuckold!
Zuc. I married thee in hope of children.
Zuc. I married you hoping to have children.
Herc. And has not she showed herself fruitful that was got with child without help of her husband?
Herc. And hasn’t she proven to be fruitful, having conceived without her husband’s help?
Zuc. Ha, thou ungrateful, immodest, unwise, and one[249] that, God’s my witness, I ha’ lov’d! But, go thy ways; twist with whom thou wilt: for my part, tha’st spun a fair thread;—who’ll kiss thee now,—who’ll court thee now,—who’ll ha’ thee now? 330
Zuc. Ha, you ungrateful, shameless, foolish person that, I swear to God, I have loved! But go on your way; hook up with whoever you want: as for me, you’ve woven a nice tale;—who will kiss you now,—who will chase after you now,—who will want you now?
Zoy. Pity the frailty of my sex, sweet lord.
Zoy. Feel sorry for the weakness of my gender, dear lord.
Zuc. No; pity is a fool, and I will not wear his[250] coxcomb. I have vowed to loathe thee. The Irishman shall hate aqua vitae,—the Welshman cheese,—the Dutchman shall loath salt butter,—before I relove thee. Does the babe pule? Thou shouldst ha’ cried before, ’tis too late now. No, the trees in autumn shall sooner call back the spring with shedding of their leaves, than thou reverse my just, irrevocable hatred with thy tears. Away! go! vaunt! 340
Zuc. No; pity is foolish, and I won’t wear his[250] coxcomb. I’ve promised to despise you. The Irishman will hate aqua vitae,—the Welshman cheese,—the Dutchman will loathe salt butter,—before I ever love you again. Does the baby whine? You should’ve cried earlier; it’s too late now. No, the trees in autumn will call back spring with their shedding leaves sooner than you can change my rightful, unchangeable hatred with your tears. Go away! Leave!
[Exeunt Zoya and the Ladies.
[Exit Zoya and the Ladies.
Herc. Nay, but most of this is your fault, that for many years, only upon mere mistrust, sever’d your body from your lady, and in that time gave opportunity, turn’d a jealous ass, and hired[251] some to try and tempt your lady’s honour, whilst she, with all possible industry of apparent merit, diverting your unfortunate suspicion——
Herc. No, but a lot of this is your fault. For many years, you cut yourself off from your lady simply because of your own mistrust. During that time, you gave a jealous fool the chance to hire some people to try to tempt your lady's honor, while she was working hard to prove her worth and distract you from your unfortunate suspicion—
Zuc. I know’t; I confess, all this I did, and I do glory in’t. Why? cannot a young lady for many months keep honest? No, I misthought it. My wife had wit, beauty, health, good birth, fair clothes, and a passing body; a lady of rare discourse, quick eye, sweet language, alluring behaviour, and exquisite entertainment. I misthought it, I fear’d, I doubted, and at the last I found it out. I praise my wit: I knew I was a cuckold.
Zuc. I know it; I admit, I did all this, and I take pride in it. Why? Can’t a young woman stay faithful for many months? No, I was mistaken. My wife had intelligence, beauty, health, a good background, nice clothes, and an attractive body; a woman of exceptional conversation, sharp wit, sweet words, charming behavior, and delightful company. I was mistaken, I was afraid, I doubted, and in the end, I figured it out. I acknowledge my intelligence: I knew I was a cuckold.
Herc. An excellent wit. 355
Herc. A great wit. 355
Zuc. True, Fawn; you shall read of some lords that have had such a wit, I can tell you; and I found it out that I was a cuckold!
Zuc. True, Fawn; you'll read about some lords who had that kind of wit, I can tell you; and I figured out that I was a cuckold!
Herc. Which now you have found, you will not be such an ass as Cæsar, great Pompey, Lucullus, Anthony, or Cato, and divers other Romans,—cuckolds, who all knew it, and yet were ne’er divorced upon’t:—or, like that smith-god, Vulcan, who, having taken his wife taking, yet was presently appeased, and entreated to make an armour for a bastard of hers, Æneas.[252] 365
Herc. Now that you’ve figured this out, don’t be as foolish as Caesar, the great Pompey, Lucullus, Anthony, or Cato, and many other Romans—fools who all knew it but were never divorced for it:—or like that god of fire, Vulcan, who, despite knowing his wife was cheating, quickly forgave her and agreed to make armor for her son, Aeneas.[252] 365
Zuc. No, the Romans were asses, and thought that a woman might mix her thigh with a stranger wantonly, and yet still love her husband matrimonially.
Zuc. No, the Romans were idiots, believing that a woman could casually hook up with a stranger and still love her husband in a committed way.
Herc. As indeed they say a many married men lie sometime with strange women, whom, but for the instant use, they abhor.
Herc. As they say, many married men sometimes cheat with strange women, whom they would otherwise despise if not for the moment.
Herc. Ass for you!
Herc. Ass for you!
Zuc. As for me, my Fawn, I am a bachelor now.
Zuc. As for me, my Fawn, I’m a bachelor now.
Herc. But you are a cuckold still, and one that knows himself to be a cuckold.
Herc. But you’re still a cuckold, and you know it.
Zuc. Right, that’s it; and I knew it not, ’twere nothing; and if I had not pursued it too, it had lyen in oblivion, and shadowed in doubt, but now I ha’ blazed it. 381
Zuc. Okay, that's it; and I didn't realize it would be nothing; and if I hadn't gone after it too, it would have remained forgotten and covered in doubt, but now I have brought it to light. It.
Herc. The world shall know what you are.
Herc. The world will know who you really are.
Zuc. True; I’ll pocket up no horns; but my revenge shall speak in thunder.
Zuc. That's right; I won't take the blame; but my revenge will be loud and clear.
Herc. Indeed, I must confess I know twenty are cuckolds,[253] honestly and decently enough: a worthy gallant spirit (whose virtue suppresseth his mishap) is lamented but not disesteem’d by it; yet the world shall know——
Herc. Honestly, I have to admit that I know of twenty men who’ve been cheated on,[253] who are quite respectable: a noble guy (whose good character keeps him from falling apart) is pitied but not looked down upon because of it; still, the world will know
Zuc. I am none of those silent coxcombs—it shall out.
Zuc. I'm not one of those quiet fools—this will be revealed.
Herc. And although it be no great part of injustice for him to be struck with the scabbard that has struck with the blade (for there is few of us but hath made some one cuckold or other)—— 393
Herc. And even though it's not really unfair for him to be hit with the scabbard after being struck with the blade (since most of us have made at least one person a fool in love)—— 393
Zuc. True, I ha’ done’t myself.
Zuc. True, I have done it myself.
Herc. Yet——
Herc. But——
Zuc. Yet I hope a man of wit may prevent his own mishap, or if he can prevent it——
Zuc. But I hope a clever man can avoid his own troubles, or if he can stop that
Herc. Yet——
Herc. But——
Zuc.
Yet make it known yet, and so known that the
world may tremble with only thinking of it. Well,
Fawn, whom shall I marry now? O Heaven! that God
made for a man no other means of procreation and maintaining
the world peopled but by women! O![254] that we
could increase like roses, by being slipp’d one from
another,[255]—or like flies, procreate with blowing, or any
other way than by a woman,—by women, who have no
reason in their love or mercy in their hate, no rule in
their pity, no pity in their revenge, no judgment to speak,
and yet no patience to hold their tongues;
Man’s opposite, the more held down, they swell; 410
Above them naught but will, beneath them naught but hell.
Zuc.
But let it be known, so that the world trembles just thinking about it. Well, Fawn, who should I marry now? Oh Heaven! Why did God create it so that the only way for men to reproduce and keep the world populated is through women! Oh![254] If only we could multiply like roses, separating one from another,[255]—or like flies, reproducing by blowing, or any other way that doesn’t involve a woman,—through women, who have no logic in their love or kindness in their hate, no standard in their compassion, no compassion in their revenge, no sense to speak, and yet no patience to keep quiet;
The more they're kept down, the more they swell up; 410
Above them lies only determination, and beneath them lies nothing but chaos.
Herc. Or, that since Heaven hath given us no other means to allay our furious appetite, no other way of increasing our progeny,—since we must entreat and beg for assuagement of our passions, and entertainment of our affections,—why did not Heaven make us a nobler creature than women, to show unto?—some admirable deity, of an uncorruptible beauty, that might[256] be worth our knees, the expense of our heat, and the crinkling of our hams.[257] 420
Herc. Or, since Heaven hasn’t given us any other way to calm our intense desires or to expand our family—since we have to plead and ask for relief from our passions and companionship for our affections—why didn’t Heaven create a more noble being than women for us to worship?—perhaps an admirable deity, with an unblemished beauty, who would be worth our devotion, the energy of our desires, and the bending of our wills.420
Zuc. But that we must court, sonnet, flatter, bribe, kneel, sue to so feeble and imperfect, inconstant, idle, vain, hollow bubble, as woman is! O, my Fawn![258]
Zuc. But that we have to woo, write sonnets, flatter, bribe, kneel, and plead to someone so weak and imperfect, unreliable, lazy, vain, and superficial, as a woman is! Oh, my Fawn![258]
Herc. O, my lord, look who here comes!
Herc. Oh, my lord, look who’s arriving!
Enter Zoya, supported by a Gentleman Usher, followed by Herod and Nymphadoro, with much state; soft music playing.
Enter Zoya, assisted by a Gentleman Usher, followed by Herod and Nymphadora, with great importance; soft music playing.
Zuc. Death o’ man! is she delivered?
Zuc. Oh no! Is she having the baby?
Herc. Delivered! Yes, O my Don, delivered! Yes, Donna Zoya,—the grace of society,—the music of sweetly agreeing perfection,—more clearly chaste than ice or frozen rain,—that glory of her sex,—that wonder of wit,—that beauty more fresh’d than any cool and trembling wind,—that now only wish of a man,—is delivered!—is delivered! 432
Herc. Delivered! Yes, my Lord, delivered! Yes, Donna Zoya—the epitome of elegance—the sound of sweet harmony—more pure than ice or frozen rain—that glory of her gender—that marvel of intelligence—that beauty fresher than any cool, gentle breeze—that one desire of a man—is delivered!—is delivered!
Zuc. How?
Zuc. Why?
Herc. From Don Zuccone, that dry scaliness,—that sarpego,—that barren drouth, and shame of all humanity!
Herc. From Don Zuccone, that dry scaliness—that sarpego—that arid drought, and the disgrace of all humanity!
Zoy. What fellow’s that?
Who's that guy?
Nym. Don Zuccone, your sometime husband.
Don Zuccone, your occasional husband.
Enter Philocalia.
Enter Philocalia.
Zoy. Alas! poor creature.
Zoy. Poor thing.
Phil. The princess prays your company.
The princess requests your company.
Zoy. I wait upon her pleasure. 440
I wait for her pleasure.
[All but Hercules, Zuccone, Herod, and Nymphadoro, depart.
All except Hercules, Zuccone, Herod, and Nymphadoro, depart.
Herod. Miserable man! whose fortune were beyond tears to be pitied, but that thou art the ridiculous author of thine own laugh’d-at mischief.
Herod. Poor guy! Your situation is so sad that it would be hard to feel sorry for you, except that you’re the silly creator of your own talked-about trouble.
Zuc. Without paraphrase, your meaning?
Zuc.
Nym. Why, thou woman’s fool?
Nym. Why are you such a fool?
Zuc. Good gentlemen, let one die but once.
Zuc. Good gentlemen, let a person die only once.
Herod. Was not thou most curstfully mad to sever thyself from such an unequall’d rarity? 450
Herod. Were you not absolutely insane to distance yourself from such an unmatched rarity? 450
Zuc. Is she not a strumpet? Is she not with child?
Zuc. Isn't she a slut? Isn't she pregnant?
Nym. Yes, with feathers.
Nym. Yeah, with feathers.
Herc. Why, weakness of reason, couldst not perceive all was feign’d to be rid of thee?
Herc. Why couldn't you see that everything was fake just to get rid of you?
Zuc. Of me?
Zuc. About me?
Nym. She with child? Untrodden snow is not so spotless!
Nym. Is she pregnant? Untouched snow isn't that clean!
Herod. Chaste as the first voice of a new-born infant!
Herod. Pure as the first cry of a newborn baby!
Herc. Know, she grew loathing of thy jealousy!
Herc. Just know, she started to hate your jealousy!
Nym. Thy most pernicious curiosity. 460
Nym. Your most troublesome curiosity. 460
Herc. Whose suspicions made her inimitable graces motive of thy base jealousy.
Herc. Whose suspicions turned her unique charm into the reason for your petty jealousy.
Herod. Why, beast of man!
Herod. Why, you animal!
Nym. Wretched above expression! that snored’st over a beauty which thousands desired!—neglectedst[259] her bed, for whose enjoying a very saint would have sued!
Nym. Wretched beyond words! You slept through a beauty that thousands wished for!—you ignored[259] her bed, for which even a saint would have begged!
Herc. Defamed her!
Herc. Slandered her!
Herod. Suggested privily against her!
Herod. Secretly plotted against her!
Herc. And now, lastly, done that for her which she only pray’d for, and wish’d as wholesome air for, namely, to be rid from such an unworthy—
Herc. And now, finally, I’ve done for her what she only prayed for and wished for like fresh air, which is to be freed from such an not worthy—
Herod. Senseless—
Herod. Mindless—
Nym. Injurious—
Nym. Harmful—
Herc. Malicious—
Herc. Evil—
Herod. Suspicious—
Herod. Skeptical—
Nym. Misshaped—
Nym. Awkward—
Herc. Ill-languaged—
Herc. Ill-mannered—
Herod. Unworthy—
Unworthy—
Nym. Ridiculous— 480
Nym. Ridiculous
Herc. Jealous—
Jealous—
Herod. Arch coxcomb as thou art!
Herod. Arrogant fool that you are!
[Exeunt Nymphadoro and Herod.
[Exit Nymphadoro and Herod.
Zuc. O I am sick!—my blood has the cramp! my stomach o’erturns!—O I am very sick!
Zuc. Oh, I'm feeling awful! My blood is all tense! My stomach is in knots!—Oh, I feel really sick!
Herc. Why, my sweet Don, you are no cuckold!
Herc. Why, my dear Don, you are definitely not a cuckold!
Zuc.[260] That’s the grief on’t.
That’s the grief of it.
Herc. That’s——
Herc. That’s—
Zuc. That I ha’ wrong’d so sweet (and now, in my knowledge), so delicate a creature! O methinks I embrace her yet! 490
Zuc. That I've wronged such a sweet (and now, in my understanding), such a delicate person! Oh, I think I still embrace her yet! 490
Herc. Alas! my lord, you have done her no wrong—no wrong in the world; you have done her a pleasure—a great pleasure! A thousand gentlemen—nay, dukes—will be proud to accept your leavings—your leavings! Now is she courted! This heir sends her jewels, that lord proffers her jointures, t’other knight proclaims challenges to maintain her the only not beautiful, but very beauty of women.
Herc. Oh no! My lord, you haven't wronged her at all—no wrong whatsoever; you've actually done her a favor—a huge favor! A thousand gentlemen—no, dukes—would be thrilled to take what you've left behind—what you've left behind! Now she’s the center of attention! This heir sends her jewels, that lord offers her money and property, and another knight declares challenges to prove that she’s not just beautiful, but the epitome of beauty among women.
Zuc. But I shall never embrace her more! 499
Zuc. But I will never hold her again! more! 499
Herc. Nay, that’s true—that’s most true. I would not afflict you, only think how unrelentless you were to her but supposed fault.
Herc. No, that’s true—that’s absolutely true. I wouldn’t want to upset you, but just consider how harsh you were toward her for what you thought was a mistake.
Zuc. O! ’tis true—too true!
Zuc. Oh! It’s true—way too true!
Herc. Think how you scorn’d her tears!
Herc. Imagine how you looked down on her tears!
Zuc. Most right!
Zuc. You got it!
Herc. Tears that were only shed (I would not vex you) in very grief to see you covet your own shame!
Herc. Tears that were shed (I wouldn't upset you) just out of sorrow to see you desire your own disgrace!
Zuc. Too true—too true!
So true—so true!
Herc. For, indeed, she is the sweetest modest soul, the fullest of pity! 510
Herc. Because, honestly, she is the sweetest, most modest person, overflowing with compassion!
Zuc. O[261] ay! O ay!
O hey! O hey!
Herc. The softness and very courtesy of her sex, as one that never lov’d any——
Herc. The gentleness and kindness of her gender, as someone who has never loved any
Zuc. But me!
But not me!
Herc. So much that he might hope to dishonour her, nor any so little that he might fear she disdain’d[262] him. O! the graces made her a soul as soft as spotless down upon the swan’s fair breast that drew bright Cytherea’s chariot. Yet think (I would not vex you), yet think how cruel[263] you were to her. 520
Herc. He hoped for nothing that would disgrace her, nor was there anything so minor that he feared she would look down on him. Oh! Her beauty gave her a spirit as soft as the flawless down on a swan's white breast that pulled bright Cytherea's chariot. But just think (I don't want to upset you), think about how cruel you were to her. 520
Zuc. As a tiger—as a very tiger!
Zuc. Like a tiger—like a really fierce tiger!
Herc. And never hope to be reconciled, never dream to be reconciled—never!
Herc. And don’t ever think you can make things right again, don’t even dream of it—never!
Herc. Faith, go hang yourself, my Don; that’s best, sure.
Herc. Honestly, just go kill yourself, my dude; that’s the best option, for sure.
Zuc. Nay, that’s too good; for I’ll do worse than that—I’ll marry again. Where canst pick out a morsel for me, Fawn? 530
Zuc. No way, that’s too good; I’ll do even worse—I’ll get married again. Where can you find someone for me, Fawn?
Herc. There is a modest, matron-like creature——
Herc. There is a humble, motherly creature——
Zuc. What years, Fawn?
What years, Fawn?
Herc. Some fourscore, wanting one.
Herc. Almost eighty.
Zuc. A good sober age! Is she wealthy?
Zuc. What a nice mature age! Is she rich?
Herc. Very wealthy.
Herc. Super rich.
Zuc. Excellent!
Zuc. Awesome!
Herc. She has three hairs on her scalp and four teeth in her head; a brow wrinkled and pucker’d like old parchment half burnt. She has had eyes. No woman’s jawbones are more apparent; her sometimes envious lips now shrink in, and give her nose and her chin leave to kiss each other very moistly. As for her reverend mouth, it seldom opens, but the very breath that flies out of it infects the fowls of the air, and makes them drop down dead. Her breasts hang like cobwebs; her flesh will never make you cuckold; her bones may. 547
Herc. She has three strands of hair on her head and four teeth in her mouth; a brow wrinkled and creased like old parchment that's half burnt. She used to have eyes. No woman’s jawbones are more pronounced; her sometimes envious lips now pull in, allowing her nose and chin to touch each other very closely. As for her impressive mouth, it seldom opens, but the very breath that escapes from it contaminates the birds in the air, causing them to drop down dead. Her breasts hang like cobwebs; her flesh will never betray you; her bones may. 547
Zuc. But is she wealthy?
But is she rich?
Herc. Very wealthy.
Herc. Super rich.
Zuc. And will she ha’ me, art sure?
Zuc. And will she have me, are you sure?
Herc. No, sure, she will not have you. Why, do you think that a waiting-woman of three bastards, a strumpet nine times carted, or a hag whose eyes shoot poison—that has been an old witch, and is now turning into a gib-cat,[264]—what![265] will ha’ you? Marry Don Zuccone, the contempt of women and the shame of men, that has afflicted, contemn’d so choice a perfection as Donna Zoya’s! 557
Herc. No way, she won't want you. Do you really think a maid with three kids, a woman who's been used and tossed around nine times, or an old hag with eyes like daggers—that's turned from a witch into a bitter cat—will want you? Marry Don Zuccone, the scorn of women and the disgrace of men, who has disrespected someone as amazing as Donna Zoya! 557
Zuc. Alas! Fawn, I confess. What wouldst ha’ me do?
Zuc. Oh no! Fawn, I admit it. What do you want me to do?
Herc. Hang yourself! You shall not marry—you cannot. I’ll tell ye what ye shall do: there is a ship of fools setting forth; if you make[266] good means, and intreat hard, you may obtain a passage, man—be master’s mate, I warrant you.
Herc. Forget about getting married! You can't do it. Here’s what you should do: there’s a ship of fools about to set sail; if you plan well and ask nicely, you might be able to get a spot on it—I'll bet you can be the first mate.
Zuc. Fawn, thou art a scurvy bitter knave, and dost flout Dons to their faces; ’twas thou flattered’st me to this, and now thou laugh’st at me, dost? though indeed I had a certain proclivity, but thou madest me resolute: dost grin and gern?[267] O you comforters of life, helps in sickness, joys in death, and preservers of us, in our children, after death, women, have mercy on me! 570
Zuc. Fawn, you’re a nasty, bitter jerk, and you mock Dons to their faces; it was you who flattered me into this, and now you’re laughing at me, aren’t you? I admit I had a certain tendency, but you made me determined: are you grinning and laughing?[267] Oh you comforters of life, helpers in sickness, joys at death, and preservers of us through our children after death, women, have mercy on me! 570
Herc. O my Don, that God made no other means of procreation but by these women! I speak it not to vex you.
Herc. Oh my God, why did He create no other way to reproduce except through these women? I'm not saying this to annoy you.
Zuc.
O Fawn, thou hast no mercy in thee: dost thou
leer on me? Well, I’ll creep upon my knees to my wife:
dost laugh at me? dost gern at me? dost smile? dost
leer on me, dost thou? O I am an ass; true, I am a
coxcomb; well, I am mad; good: a mischief on your
cogging tongue, your soothing throat, your oily jaws, your
supple hams,[268] your dissembling smiles, and O the grand
devil on you all! When mischief favours our fortunes,
and we are miserably,[269] tho’ justly wretched, 582
More pity, comfort, and more help we have
In foes profess’d, than in a flattering knave.
Zuc.
Oh Fawn, you have no mercy: are you staring at me? Fine, I’ll crawl to my wife on my knees: do you laugh at me? Do you mock me? Do you smile? Are you leering at me? Oh, I’m a fool; yes, I’m a jester; well, I’m crazy; good: curse your deceptive tongue, your smooth voice, your slick words, your flexible body, your false smiles, and oh, the devil take you all! When trouble favors our fortunes, and we are wretched, though rightly so, 582
We receive more support, comfort, and assistance.
I'd rather deal with open enemies than a deceitful flatterer.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Herc.
Thus few strike sail until they run on shelf;
The eye sees all things but his proper self;
In all things curiosity hath been
Vicious at least, but herein most pernicious.
What madness is’t to search and find a wound
For which there is no cure, and which unfound 590
Ne’er rankles, whose finding only wounds?
But he that upon vain surmise forsakes
His bed thus long, only to search his shame;
Gives to his wife youth, opportunity,
Keeps her in idleful deliciousness,
Heats and inflames imagination,
Provokes her to revenge with churlish wrongs,—
What should he hope but this? Why should it lie in women,
Or even in chastity itself (since chastity’s a female),
T’ avoid desires so ripened, such sweets so candied? 600
But she that hath out-born such mass of wrongs,
Out-dured all persecutions, all contempts,
Suspects, disgrace, all wants, and all the mischief,
The baseness of a canker’d churl could cast upon her,
With constant virtue, best feign’d[270] chastity,
And in the end turns all his jealousies
To his own scorn, that lady, I implore,
It may be lawful not to praise, but even adore.
Herc.
So few people lower their sails until they run aground on a sandbar;
The eye observes everything except for itself;
In all things, curiosity has been
It's at least harmful, but here it's the most harmful.
What madness is it to look for and discover a wound?
That has no cure, and if it's left untreated 590
It never stays hidden, but discovering it just brings pain?
But the person who, out of unfounded suspicion, walks away
His bed for so long just to search for his guilt;
Gives his wife youth and chances,
Keeps her in carefree comfort,
Sparks her imagination,
Encourages her to seek revenge for the severe injustices, —
What else can he expect? Why should it be up to women,
Or even in chastity itself (since chastity is associated with women),
How can one resist such strong desires and tempting pleasures? 600
But she who has suffered through so many wrongs,
Survived all persecution and disdain,
Suspicion, shame, all the needs, and all the damage,
The bitterness of a cruel man could be directed at her,
With steady virtue, best feigned __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ chastity,
And in the end, turns all his jealousies
For his own shame; that lady, I plead,
It might be okay not only to praise but even to worship.
Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, with full state. Enter the Cornets sounding.
Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, with full state. Enter the Cornets sounding.
Gon. Are our sports ready? is the prince at hand?
Gon. Are our games ready? Is the prince here?
Herc. The prince is now arrived at the court gate. 610
Herc. The prince has now arrived at the court gate. 610
Gon. What means our daughter’s breathless haste?
Gon. What’s with our daughter’s breathless hurry?
Enter Dulcimel in haste.
Enter Dulcimel quickly.
Dul. O my princely father, now or never let your princely wisdom appear!
Dul. Oh my royal father, it's now or never for your royal wisdom to shine!
Gon. Fear not, our daughter, if it rest within human reason, I warrant thee; no, I warrant thee, Granuffo, if it rest in man’s capacity. Speak, dear daughter.
Gon. Don't worry, our daughter, if it’s within human understanding, I promise you; no, I promise you, Granuffo, if it’s within a man's ability. Go ahead and speak, dear daughter.
Dul. My lord, the prince——
Dul. My lord, the prince—
Gon. The prince, what of him, dear daughter?
Gon. What about the prince, dear daughter?
Dul. O Lord, what wisdom our good parents need to shield their chickens from deceits and wiles of kite-like youth! 621
Dul. Oh Lord, how much wisdom our good parents need to protect their kids from the tricks and schemes of young people! 621
Gon. Her very phrase displays whose child she is.
Gon. Her words clearly show who her parent is.
Gon. ’Fore God! she speaks very passionately. Alas! daughter, Heaven gives every man his talent; indeed, virtue and wisdom are not fortune’s gifts, therefore those that fortune cannot make virtuous, she commonly makes rich; for our own part, we acknowledge Heaven’s goodness; and, if it were possible to be as wise again as we are, we would ne’er impute it to ourselves: for, as we be flesh and blood, alas! we are fools; but as we are princes, scholars, and have read Cicero de Oratore, I must confess there is another matter in’t. What of the prince, dear daughter? 637
Gon. For God’s sake! She talks with so much passion. Oh, daughter, God gives every man his own talents; truly, virtue and wisdom aren’t gifts from chance, so those who luck can’t make virtuous are often made rich instead. As for us, we recognize God’s goodness; and if it were possible to be as wise again as we are, we wouldn’t credit it to ourselves: because, being just human, we are fools; but as princes and scholars who have read Cicero de Oratore, I must admit there’s more to it than that. What about the prince, dear daughter?
Dul. Father, do you see that tree, that leans just on my chamber window?
Dul. Dad, do you see that tree that's leaning right outside my bedroom window?
Gon. What of that tree?
What about that tree?
Enter Tiberio with his train.
Enter Tiberio with his entourage.
Dul.
O, sir, but note the policy of youth;
Mark but the stratagems of working love.
The prince salutes me, and thus greets my ear.
Dul.
Oh, sir, please pay attention to the ways of young people;
Just observe the strategies of love in play.
The prince recognizes me, and this is how it sounds to me.
Gon. Speak softly; he is enter’d.
Gon. Speak quietly; he has entered.
Dul. Although he knew I yet stood wavering what to
elect, because, though I affected, yet destitute of means
to enjoy each other, impossibility of having might kill
our hope and with our hope desires to enjoy, therefore,
to avoid all faint excuses and vain fears, thus he devised
—To Dulcimel’s chamber-window 650
A well-grown plane tree spreads his happy arms
By that, in depth of night, one may ascend
(Despite all father’s jealousies and fears)
Into her bed.
Dul. Even though he knew I was still uncertain about what to choose, because, while I was attracted to her, I lacked the means to be with her. The impossibility of having her could kill our hope, and with that hope, our desires to be together. So, to avoid any weak excuses and pointless fears, he came up with this plan:
—To Dulcimel’s room window 650
A well-grown plane tree spreads its welcoming branches.
In the middle of the night, one can climb
(Even with all of Dad's jealousy and fears)
Into her bed.
Gon. Speak low; the prince both marks and listens.
Gon. Talk quietly; the prince is both watching and listening.
Dul. You shall provide a priest (quoth he). In truth I promised, and so you well may tell him; for I temporised, and only held him off——
Dul. You need to get a priest (he said). Honestly, I promised, and you can definitely tell him that; I was just stalling and kept him off
Gon. Politely; our daughter to a hair.
Gon. Politely; our daughter is a perfect match.
Dul. With full intention to disclose it all to your preventing wisdom.
Dul. I plan to reveal everything to your wise judgment.
Gon. Ay, let me alone for that; but when intends he this invasion?—when will this squirrel climb? 663
Gon. Yeah, let me handle that; but when is he planning this invasion? — when will this squirrel climb? 663
Dul. O, sir, in that is all:—when but this night?
Dul. Oh, sir, that's everything:—when exactly is this happening tonight?
Gon. This night?
Gon. Tonight?
Dul. This very night, when the court revels had o’erwaked your spirits, and made them full of sleep, then——
Dul. Tonight, when the court celebrations have kept you awake and left you feeling sleepy, then
Gon. Then, verbum sat sapienti! Go, take your chamber, down upon your knees; thank God your father is no foolish sot, but one that can foresee and see. 671
Gon. Then, a word is enough for the wise! Go, take your room, get down on your knees; thank God your father is not a foolish drunk, but someone who can predict and understand. 671
[Exit Dulcimel.
[Exit Dulcimel.
My lord, we discharge your presence from our court.
My lord, we dismiss your presence from our court.
Tib. What means the duke?
Tib. What does the duke mean?
Gon.
And if to-morrow past you rest in Urbin,
The privilege of an ambassador
Is taken from you.
Gon.
And if by tomorrow you’re in Urbin,
You’ll lose the perks of being an ambassador.
That will be taken away from you.
Tib. Good, your grace: some reason?
Tib. Good, your grace: what's the reason?
Gon.
What! twice admonish’d, twice again offending,
And, now grown blushless? You promis’d to get into
Her chamber, she to get a priest:
Indeed she wish’d me tell you she confess’d it: 680
And there, despite all father’s jealous fears,
To consummate full joys. Know, sir, our daughter
Is our daughter, and has wit at will
To gull a thousand easy things like you.
But, sir, depart: the parliament prepar’d,
Shall on without you: all the court this night
Shall triumph that our daughter has escaped
Her honour’s blowing up: your end you see
We speak but short but full, Socratice.
Gon.
What! You've been warned twice and you messed up again,
And now you're acting like nothing's wrong? You promised to sneak into
Her room, and she was supposed to get a priest:
She even wanted me to let you know that she confessed it: 680
And there, despite all the father’s jealous concerns,
To fully enjoy each other. Just so you know, sir, our daughter
Is definitely our daughter, and she’s smart enough
To trick a thousand naive people like you.
But, sir, go away: the meeting we planned
Will continue without you: everyone at court tonight
Will celebrate that our daughter has escaped
Having her reputation tarnished: your fate is obvious.
We have short but meaningful conversations, Socratic style.
[Exeunt all but Hercules and Tiberio.
Exeunt everyone except Hercules and Tiberio.
Tib.
What should I think, what hope, what but imagine 690
We speak but short but full, Socratice.
Of these enigmas?[271]
Tib. What should I think, what hope do I have, what else can I imagine 690
We communicate briefly but with purpose, in a Socratic way.
About these riddles? __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Herc.
Sure, sir, the lady loves you
With violent passion, and this night prepares
A priest with nuptial rites, to entertain you
In her most private chamber.
Herc.
Of course, sir, the lady is really interested in you.
With strong desire, and tonight she’s getting
A priest with wedding vows will be there to host you.
In her private space.
Tib.
This I know,
With too much torture, since means are all unknown
To come unto these ends. Where’s this her chamber?
Then what means shall without suspicion
Convey me to her chamber? O these doubts
End in despair——
I know this well,
With too much suffering, since all paths are unclear.
To achieve these results. Where is her room?
So, how can I get to her room without drawing attention?
Oh, these doubts
Lead only to despair—
Enter Gonzago hastily.
Enter Gonzago quickly.
Gon.
Sir, sir, this plane-tree was not planted here 700
To get into my daughter’s chamber, and so she pray’d
me tell you.
What though the main arms spread into her window,
And easy labour climbs it, sir, know
She has a voice to speak, and bid you welcome
With so full breast that both your ears shall hear on’t,
And so she pray’d me tell you. Ha’ we no brain!
Youth thinks that age, age knows that youth is vain.
Gon.
Sir, this plane tree wasn't planted here 700
I just wanted to give you access to my daughter's room, and she asked me to let you know that.
Even though the branches reach into her window,
Climbing it is an easy job, just so you know.
She has a voice that speaks and welcomes you.
So that both your ears will hear it clearly,
And that’s what she wanted me to tell you. Do we really have no sense!
Young people see age as foolish, but older people understand that youth can be naive.
[Exit.
Exit.
Tib. Why, now I have it, Fawn,—the way, the means, and meaning. Good duke, and ’twere not for pity, I could laugh at thee. Dulcimel, I am thine most miraculously; I will now begin to sigh, read poets, look pale, go neatly, and be most apparently in love; as for—— 713
Tib. Well, I’ve got it now, Fawn—the way, the means, and the meaning. Good duke, if it weren’t for pity, I could laugh at you. Dulcimel, I'm yours in a truly miraculous way; I’ll start to sigh, read poetry, look pale, dress nicely, and be very obviously in love; as for—— 713
Herc. As for your old father——
Herc. As for your dad——
Tib.
Alas! he and all know, this an old saw hath bin,
Faith’s breach for love and kingdoms is no sin.
Tib.
Unfortunately! He and everyone know this has been an old saying.
Faith's betrayal for love and power isn’t a crime.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Herc.
Where are we now, Cyllenian Mercury?
And thou, quick issue[272] of Jove’s broken pate,
Aid and direct us; you better stars to knowledge,
Sweet constellations, that affect[273] pure oil, 720
And holy vigil of the pale-cheek’d muses,
Give your best influence, that with able spright
We may correct and please, giving full light
To every angle of this various sense:
Works of strong birth end better than commence.
Herc. Where are we at now, Cyllenian Mercury?
And you, swift offspring__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ of Jove’s shattered head,
Help and guide us; you great sources of knowledge,
Sweet constellations that inspire __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ pure creativity, 720
And the holy watch of the pale-faced muses,
Give your best efforts so that you are willing and ready.
We can improve and satisfy, providing complete clarity.
To every part of this diverse meaning:
Great works end better than they begin.
[Exit.
Exit.
[222] As I am not sure whether we should read “Master” or “Messer,” (Ital.), I follow the old copies.
[222] Since I’m not certain if we should read “Master” or “Messer,” (Ital.), I’ll stick to the old versions.
[223] “Black-guard”—the kitchen-drudges.
"Black-guard"—the kitchen workers.
[224] “And who not, shall”—omitted in ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1.
[224] “And who shall not”—omitted in ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1.
[225] “Would”—omitted in ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1.
[225] “Would”—left out in ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1.
[226] So Dilke.—Old eds. “costly.”
So Dilke.—Old eds. “costly.”
[227] Pilchard.—“If Cornish pilchards, otherwise called fumadoes, be so saleable as they are in France, Spain, and Italy,” &c.—Nash’s Lenten Stuff.
[227] Pilchard.—“If Cornish pilchards, also known as fumadoes, are as marketable as they are in France, Spain, and Italy,” &c.—Nash’s Lenten Stuff.
[229] Ed. 1. “laide.”—Ed. 3. “layd.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “laide.”—Ed. 3. “laid.”
[230] Omitted in ed. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 3.
[233] Shelling.
Shelling.
[234] Ed. 3. “upon fair Madonna.”
"to the fair Madonna."
[235] Ed. 3. “were.”
“were.”
[237] Ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1. “doubtlest.”
[237] Ed. 3. and some copies of ed. 1. “doubtlest.”
[238] “With a wet finger”—nimbly, easily.
“By touch”—quickly, effortlessly.
[240] Probably a hit at Ben Jonson, who in Volpone (acted in 1605) makes laughter rhyme with slaughter:—
[240] Probably a jab at Ben Jonson, who in Volpone (performed in 1605) makes laughter rhyme with slaughter:—
“E’en his face begetteth laughter,
And he speaks truth free from slaughter” (i. 1).
“Even his face makes people laugh,
"And he speaks the truth without causing harm" (i. 1).
[241] Eds. 1. and 2. “philosopher.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 2 "philosopher."
[242] So ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. “foole.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So Ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. “fool.”
[243] Eds. 1. and 3. omit “Indeed,” and read “In fatis agimur.”
[243] Eds. 1. and 3. leave out “Indeed,” and say “In fatis agimur.”
[244] So ed. 2.—Eds. 1. and 3. “in riches.”
[245] Ed. 1. “on.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. "on."
[246] “Basilus manus”—corrupt Spanish (for besár los manos). Cf. Dyce’s Beaumont and Fletcher, viii. 77; Old Plays, ed. Bullen, ii. 114, iv. 316, &c.
[246] “Basilus manus”—corrupted Spanish (for besár los manos). Cf. Dyce’s Beaumont and Fletcher, viii. 77; Old Plays, ed. Bullen, ii. 114, iv. 316, &c.
[247] Possibly there is an allusion to the execution of Sir Everard Digby, who, for his share in the Gunpowder Plot, was drawn, hanged, and quartered on 30th January 1606. Cf. Middleton, i. 255.
[247] This may reference the execution of Sir Everard Digby, who was drawn, hanged, and quartered on January 30, 1606, for his involvement in the Gunpowder Plot. Cf. Middleton, i. 255.
[248] Lanch was an old form of lance. Cf. 1 Tamburlaine, i. 2:—
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Lanch was an old form of lance. Cf. 1 Tamburlaine, i. 2:—
“And either lanch his greedy thirsting throat,
Or take him prisoner.”
“And either launch his greedy, thirsting throat,
Or capture him.”
[249] Omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in eds. 1 and 3.
[250] Ed. 2. “hir.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “hir.”
[251] Ed. 1. “heard some so try.”
“heard some so try.”
[252] Omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
[253] Eds. 1. and 3. “cuckolds, and decently and stately enough.”
[253] Eds. 1. and 3. “men who have been cheated on, and properly and elegantly enough.”
[254] I have followed the reading of ed. 2. Eds. 1. and 3. read:—“O that we could get one another with child, Fawn, or like flies,” &c.
[254] I have gone through the second edition. The first and third editions say: “Oh, that we could get each other pregnant, Fawn, or like flies,” etc.
[255] The reader will recall a famous passage of Sir Thomas Browne’s Religio Medici:—“I could be content that we might procreate like trees, without conjunction, or that there were any way to perpetuate the world without this trivial and vulgar way of union: it is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life.” Montaigne has some reflections of a similar kind. See also the complaint in Euripides’ Hippolytus, ll. 616-24.
[255] The reader will remember a well-known passage from Sir Thomas Browne’s Religio Medici:—“I would be okay with us reproducing like trees, without joining together, or if there were any way to continue the world without this simple and common method of coming together: it’s the silliest thing a wise person does in their whole life.” Montaigne has some similar thoughts. Also, see the complaint in Euripides’ Hippolytus, ll. 616-24.
[256] “Might”—omitted in ed. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Might”—removed in ed. 1.
[257] “Hams”—omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Ham” — omitted in eds. 1 and 3.
[258] Ed. 1. “face.”—Ed. 3. “fate.”
[259] So ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. “neglecst.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 3.—Eds. 1. and 2. “neglecst.”
[260] Eds. 1. and 3. read:—“Thats the griefe on’t Herc. [Hercules, ed. 3.] thats the griefe ont that I,” &c.
[260] Eds. 1. and 3. read:—“That's the problem with it Herc. [Hercules, ed. 3.] that's the issue with that I,” &c.
[261] Ed. 2. “O yes! O yes!”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “Oh yes! Oh yes!”
[262] Eds. 1. and 3. “disclaim’d.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “disclaimed.”
[263] Ed. 1. “ciuill.”
“ciuill.”
[264] A spayed cat.—“Why witches are turned into cats, he [Bodin] alledgeth no reason, and therefore (to help him forth with that paraphrase) I say that witches are curst queans, and many times scratch one another or their neighbours by the faces; and therefore perchance are turned into cats. But I have put twenty of these witchmongers to silence with one question: to wit—whether a witch that can turn a woman into cat can also turn a cat into a woman.”—Scot’s Discovery of Witchcraft, book v., chap. 1.
[264] A spayed cat.—“Bodin doesn’t give a reason for why witches are turned into cats, so to support him with that idea, I say that witches are cursed women, and often scratch each other or their neighbors in the face; maybe that's why they turn into cats. But I have silenced twenty of these witch-hunters with one question: can a witch who can turn a woman into a cat also turn a cat into a woman?”—Scot’s Discovery of Witchcraft, book v., chap. 1.
[265] Omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 2.
[267] “Gern” = snarl.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ “Gern” = growl.
[268] Eds. 1. and 3. “thumbes.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “thumbs.”
[269] Eds. 1. and 3. “miserable.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “miserable.”
[270] Quy. “’fined” (= refined)?
Quy. “'fined” (= refined)?
[271] Eds. 1. and 3. “engines.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “engines.”
[272] Eds. 1. and 3. “messenger.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 "messenger."
[273] Eds. 1. and 3. “effect.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1 and 3 “effect.”
ACT V.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Courtyard of the Palace.
Palace Courtyard.
Whilst the Act is a-playing, Hercules and Tiberio Enters; Tiberio climbs the tree, and is received above by Dulcimel, Philocalia, and a Priest: Hercules stays beneath.
While the play is going on, Hercules and Tiberius Enter; Tiberius climbs the tree, and is welcomed above by Dulcimer, Philocalia, and a Priest: Hercules stays below.
Herc.
Thou mother of chaste dew, night’s modest lamp,
Thou by whose faint shine the blushing lovers
Join glowing cheeks, and mix their trembling lips
In vows well kiss’d, rise all as full of splendour
As my breast is of joy! You genital,
You fruitful well-mix’d heats, O, bless the sheets
Of yonder chamber, that Ferrara’s dukedom,
The race of princely issue, be not curs’d,
And ended in abhorrèd barrenness!
At length kill all my fears, nor let it rest 10
Once more my tremblings that my too cold son
(That ever-scorner of humaner loves)
Will still contemn the sweets of marriage,
Still kill[274] our hope of name in his dull coldness.
Let it be lawful to make use, ye powers,[275]
Of human weakness, that pursueth still
What is inhibited, and most affects
What is most difficult to be obtain’d:
So we may learn, that nicer love’s a shade—
It follows fled, pursued flies as afraid: 20
And in the end close all the various errors
Of passages most truly comical
In moral learning with like confidence
Of him that vow’d good fortune of the scene
Shall neither make him fat, or bad make lean.
Hercules
O mother of pure dew, quiet light of the night,
You, whose soft light allows shy lovers
Press their glowing cheeks together and blend.
Their trembling lips in sweet promises rise fully.
My heart is filled with joy! You fertile,
You generous mix of warmth, oh bless the sheets.
In that room over there, belonging to Ferrara's dukedom,
The lineage of noble heirs isn't cursed,
And it doesn’t result in the dreaded emptiness!
Finally, take away all my fears, and keep it moving 10
Once again, make me tremble, my son, who is too cold.
(That everlasting critic of human love)
Will always refuse the pleasures of marriage,
Still crush__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ our hopes of recognition with his boring indifference.
Let it be appropriate to take advantage, you powers,[275]
Of human weakness, which continues to seek
What is forbidden and most intensely desired
What’s the hardest to achieve:
So we can understand that fragile love is hard to grasp—
It runs away; chased, it escapes in fear: 20
And in the end, fix all the different mistakes.
Of moments that are genuinely funny
In moral lessons with the same assurance
As the one who promised good fortune in the scene
Will neither make him overweight nor underweight.
Enter Dondolo laughing.
Enter Dondolo laughing.
Don. Ha, ha, ha!
Ha, ha, ha!
Herc. Why dost laugh, fool, here’s nobody with thee?
Herc. Why are you laughing, idiot? There’s no one here with you!
Don. Why, therefore do I laugh, because there’s nobody with me. Would I were a fool alone! I’faith, I am come to attend—let me go,—I am sent to the princess, to come and attend her father to the end of Cupid’s Parliament. 32
Don. So why do I laugh? Because I'm all by myself. I wish I were a fool, just me! Honestly, I'm here to attend—let me go—I was sent to the princess to help her father until Cupid's Parliament. 32
Herc. Why, ha’ they sat already upon any statutes?
Herc. Why, have they already made any laws?
Don. Sat? ay, all’s agreed in the nether house!
Don. Ready? Yes, everything's settled in the lower house!
Herc. Why, are they divided?
Why are they divided?
Don. O ay, in Cupid’s Parliament all the young gallants are o’ the nether house, and all the old signiors that can but only kiss are of the upper house. Is the princess above?
Don. Oh yes, in Cupid’s Parliament, all the young guys are in the lower house, while all the old men who can only kiss are in the upper house. Is the princess up there?
Don. O yes, the confusion of tongues at the large table is broke up, for see the presence fills. A fool, a fool, a fool, my coxcomb for a fool!
Don. Oh yes, the confusion of voices at the big table has settled down, because look, the presence fills the space. A fool, a fool, a fool, my jester for a fool!
Enter Sir Amorous, Herod, Nymphadoro, Garbetza, Donnetta, and Poveia.
Enter Sir Amorous, Herod, Nymphadoro, Garbetza, Donnetta, and Poveia.
Herod. Stop, ass; what’s matter, idiot?
Herod. Stop, donkey; what’s the matter, fool?
Don. O gallants, my fools that were appointed to wait on Don Cupid have launch’d out their ship to purge their stomachs on the water, and before Jupiter, I fear they will prove defective in their attendance. 49
Don. Oh, my brave friends, the fools meant to serve Don Cupid have set sail to clear their heads on the water, and I swear by Jupiter, I worry they’ll end up being unreliable in their attendance. 49
Herod. Pish, fool, they’ll float in with the next tide.
Herod. Whatever, idiot, they'll drift in with the next wave.
Don. Ay, but when’s that? Let’s see mine almanack or prognostication.
Don. Oh, but when is that? Let’s check my calendar or prediction.
Sir Amor. What, is this for this year?
Sir Amor. What, is this for this year?
Don. In true wisdom, sir, it is. Let me see the moon, ’fore pity ’tis in the wayne. What grief is this, that so great a planet should ever decline or lose splendour! Full sea at——
Don. Truly, sir, it is wise. Let me see the moon before it fades away. What sorrow is this, that such a grand celestial body should ever diminish or lose its brilliance! Full sea at
Sir Amor. Where’s the sign now, fool?
Sir Amor. Where’s the sign now, you idiot?
Don. In Capricorn, Sir Amoroso.
Don. In Capricorn, Sir Amoroso.
Gar. What strange thing does this almanack speak of, fool? 61
Gar. What odd thing is this almanac talking about, idiot? 61
Don. Is this your lady, Sir Amorous?
Don. Is this your lady, Sir Amorous?
Sir Amor. It is; kiss her, fool.
Sir Amor. It is; kiss her, idiot.
Herod. You may kiss her now, she is married.
Herod. You can kiss her now; she's married.
Sir Amor. So he might ha’ done before.
Sir Amor. He could have done that before.
Don. In sober modesty, sir, I do not use to do it behind.
Don. Honestly, sir, I don't usually do that behind someone's back.
Don. I easily believe you, sir, for she hath a very vile[276] face, I assure you. 70
Don. I believe you completely, sir, because she has a really ugly[276] face, I promise you. 70
Gar. But what strange things does thy almanack speak of, good fool?
Gar. But what weird things does your calendar say, good fool?
Don. That this year no child shall be begotten but shall have a true father.
Don. This year, no child will be born without a real father.
Sir Amor. That’s good news, i’faith. I am glad I got my wife with child this year.
Sir Amor. That’s great news, really. I’m happy I got my wife pregnant this year.
Herc. Why, Sir Amorous, this may be, and yet you not the true father—may it not, Herod?
Herc. Well, Sir Amorous, this could be the case, and you still might not be the real father—couldn’t it, Herod?
Gar. But what more says it, good Fawn? 79
Gar. But what else does it say, good Fawn?
Herod. Faith, lady, very strange things! It says that some ladies of your hair shall have feeble hams, short memories, and very weak eyesight, so that they shall mistake their own page, or even brother-in-law, sometimes for their husbands.
Herod. Honestly, lady, very strange things! It says that some ladies with your hair will have weak legs, short memories, and really poor eyesight, so they might mistake their own page, or even their brother-in-law, for their husbands sometimes.
Sir Amor. Is that all, Fawn?
Sir Amor. Is that it, Fawn?
Herc. No, Sir Amorous; here’s likewise prophesied a great scarcity of gentry to ensue, so that some bores shall be dubbed Sir Amoroso. A great scarcity of lawyers is likewise this year to ensue, so that some one of them shall be entreated to take fees o’ both sides. 90
Herc. No, Sir Amorous; it's also predicted that there will be a big shortage of the gentry, which means some dullards will be called Sir Amoroso. There’s going to be a significant lack of lawyers this year too, so someone will be persuaded to take fees from both sides. 90
Enter Don Zuccone, following Donna Zoya on his knees.
Enter Don Zuccone, following Donna Zoya on his knees.
Zuc. Most dear, dear lady! Wife, lady, wife! O do not but look on me, and ha’ some mercy!
Zuc. Most beloved, dear lady! Wife, lady, wife! Oh, please just look at me and have some mercy!
Zuc. Sweet lady!
Hey there, sweet lady!
Zoy. The order shall stand; I am separated, and I will be separated!
Zoy. The order remains; I am apart, and I will stay apart!
Zuc. Dear! my love! wife!
Zuc. Dear! My love! Wife!
Zoy. Hence, fellow! I am none of thy wife! No, I will be tyrannous and a most deep revenger. The order shall stand! I will marry a fellow that keeps a fox in his bosom, a goat under his armholes, and a polecat in his mouth, rather than reaccept thee. 102
Zoy. So, my friend! I am not your wife! No, I will be cruel and seek revenge. The decision is final! I will marry a guy who has a fox in his pocket, a goat under his arms, and a weasel in his mouth, rather than take you back. thee. 102
Zuc. Alas! by the Lord, lady, what should I say? As Heaven shall bless me—what should I say?
Zuc. Oh man! Seriously, lady, what can I say? I swear—what can I say?
Herod. Kneel and cry, man!
Herod. Kneel and weep, man!
Zoy. Was I not handsome, generous, honest enough from my foot to my feather, for such a fellow as thou art?
Zoy. Was I not good-looking, kind, and honest enough from my toes to my head for someone like you?
Zuc. Alas! I confess—I confess!
Alas! I admit—I admit!
Zoy. But go thy ways, and wive with whom thou wilt, for my part. Thou hast spun a fair thread. Who’ll kiss thee now? who’ll court thee now? who’ll ha’ thee now? 113
Zoy. But go on, marry whoever you want. As for me, you’ve done a great job. Who’s going to kiss you now? Who’s going to chase after you now? Who’s going to want you now? now?
Zuc. Yet be a woman; and, for God’s sake, help me!
Zuc. But be a woman; and, for heaven's sake, help me!
Herod. And do not stand too stiffly.
Herod. And don’t stand so stiff.
Zuc. And do not stand too stiffly! Do you make an ass of me? But let these rascals laugh at me. Alas! what[277] could I do withal? ’twas my destiny that I should abuse you! 120
Zuc. And don’t stand so stiff! Am I a fool to you? Let these jerks laugh at me. Oh! What[277] could I do about it? It was my fate that I should mistreat you! 120
Zoy. So it is your destiny that I should thus revenge your abuse. No, the Irishman shall hate aqua vitæ, the Welshman cheese, and the Dutchman salt butter, before I’ll love or receive thee. Does he cry? does the babe pule? ’Tis too late now—thou shouldst ha’ cried before—’tis too late now. Go, bury thy head in silence; and let oblivion be thy utmost hope.
Zoy. So it’s your fate that I should take revenge for your mistreatment. No, the Irishman will hate aqua vitæ, the Welshman will hate cheese, and the Dutchman will hate salted butter before I will love or accept you. Is he crying? Is the baby whining? It’s too late now—you should have cried before—it’s too late now. Go ahead, bury your head in silence; let forgetting be your only hope.
[The Courtiers address themselves to dancing, whilst the Duke enters with Granuffo, and takes his state.[278]
[The Courtiers start dancing as the Duke walks in with Granuffo, and takes his position.[278]
Herc. Gallants, to dancing. Loud music, the duke’s upon entrance!
Herc. Let’s go, everyone! Time to dance. The music is loud, just like the duke’s entrance!
Gon. Are the sports ready? 130
Gon. Are the games ready? 130
Herc. Ready.
Herc. Set.
Gon. ’Tis enough. Of whose invention is this parliament?
Gon. That's enough. Who came up with this parliament?
Herc. Ours.
Ours.
Gon.
’Tis enough.
This night we will exult! O let this night
Be ever memorised with prouder triumphs—
Let it be writ in lasting character
That this night our great wisdom did discover
So close a practice—that this night, I say, 140
Our policy found out, nay, dash’d the drifts
Of the young prince, and put him to his shifts,
Nay, past his shifts (’fore Jove! we could make a good poet).—
Delight us. On! we deign our princely ear—
We are well pleased to grace you;[279] then scorn fear.
That's enough.
Tonight we’re going to celebrate! Oh, let this night
Be remembered forever for greater achievements—
Let it be written in lasting words.
That tonight our incredible insight revealed
Such a tight plan—that tonight, I say, 140
Our strategy revealed and completely disrupted the plans.
Of the young prince, and put him in a difficult situation,
Yes, beyond his limits (by gosh! we could write an amazing poem).—
Delight us. Let’s go! We give you our royal attention—
We're glad to celebrate you;__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ so don't be afraid.
[Cornets playing. Drunkenness, Sloth, Pride, and Plenty lead Cupid to his state, who is followed by Folly, War, Beggary, and Slaughter.[280]
[Cornets playing. Intoxication, Laziness, Pride, and Plenty lead Love to his state, who is followed by Foolishness, Conflict, Panhandling, and Kill.[280]
Stand, ’tis wisdom to acknowledge ignorance
Of what we know not; we would not now prove foolish.
Expound the meaning of your show.
Stand up, it's smart to acknowledge what we don't know;
We don't want to look foolish right now.
Explain your performance.
Herc.
Triumphant Cupid, that sleeps on the soft cheek
Of rarest beauty, whose throne’s in ladies’ eyes;— 150
Who[281] forced writhed lightning from Jove’s shaking hand,
Forced strong Alcides to resign his club,
Pluck’d Neptune’s trident from his mighty arm,
Unhelmèd Mars;—he (with those trophies borne,
Led in by Sloth, Pride, Plenty, Drunkenness,
Follow’d by Folly, War, Slaughter,[282] Beggary)
Takes his fair throne. Sit pleased; for now we move,
And speak not for our glory but for love.
Herc.
Victorious Cupid, who rests on the gentle cheek
Of rare beauty, whose power lies in the gaze of women;— 150
Who__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ unleashed lightning from Jove's trembling hand,
Strong Alcides set down his club,
Took Neptune's trident from his strong arm,
Unmasked Mars;—he (with those trophies in hand,
Led by Laziness, Pride, Abundance, and Drunkenness,
Followed by Foolishness, War, Death, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Poverty)
He takes his beautiful throne. Sit back and relax; we’re about to start.
We're here to speak not for our own glory but for love.
[Hercules takes a bowl of wine.
Hercules takes a bowl of wine.
Gon. A pretty figure.
What, begins this session with ceremony? 160
A great view.
What, are we really starting this meeting with a formal introduction? 160
Herc.
With a full health to our great mistress, Venus,
Let every state of Cupid’s parliament
Begin the session, et quod bonum faustumque sit precor.
Herc. Wishing good health to our great lady, Venus,
Let every member of Cupid’s council
Let's start the meeting, and I hope it goes well and is successful.
[Hercules drinks a health.
Hercules toasts.
Herc. ’Tis lamentable; pity your grace has forgot it. Drunkenness! O ’tis a most fluent and swelling virtue; sure the most just of all virtues: ’tis justice itself; for, if it chance to oppress and take too much, it presently restores it again. It makes the king and the peasant equal; for, if they are both drunk alike, they are both beasts alike. As for that most precious light of heaven—Truth—if Time be the father of her, I am sure Drunkenness is oftentimes the mother of her, and brings her forth. Drunkenness brings all out, for it brings all the drink out of the pot, all the wit out of the pate, and all the money out of the purse. 180
Herc. It's sad; I wish you hadn’t forgotten it. Drunkenness! Oh, it’s such an expressive and grand quality; certainly the most fair of all qualities: it’s justice itself; because, if it happens to take too much, it quickly gives it back. It makes the king and the peasant equal; because, if they’re both equally drunk, they’re both just as foolish. As for that most precious light of heaven—Truth—if Time is her father, then I’m sure Drunkenness is often her mother, and brings her to life. Drunkenness brings everything out, because it spills all the drink from the pot, all the wit from the head, and all the money from the purse. 180
Gon. My Lord Granuffo, this Fawn is an excellent fellow.
Gon. My Lord Granuffo, this Fawn is a great guy.
Don. Silence.
Don. Quiet.
Gon. I warrant you for my lord here.
Gon. I assure you I'm speaking for my lord here.
Cup. Since multitude of laws are signs either of much tyranny in the prince or much rebellious disobedience in the subject, we rather think it fit to study how to have our old laws thoroughly executed, than to have new statutes cumbrously invented.
Cup. Since a lot of laws are either signs of a tyrannical ruler or of rebellious disobedience from the people, we believe it's better to focus on making sure our existing laws are properly enforced rather than creating a bunch of new ones that complicate things.
Gon. Afore Jove, he speaks very well. 190
Gon. Before Jove, he speaks very well. 190
Herc. O, sir, Love is very eloquent, makes all men good orators: himself then must needs be eloquent.
Herc. Oh, sir, Love is incredibly expressive and turns everyone into great speakers: so he must be very articulate himself.
Cup. Let it therefore be the main of our assembly to survey our old laws, and punish their transgressions; for that continually the complaints of lovers ascend up to our deity, that love is abused, and basely bought and sold, beauty[’s] corrupted, affection feign’d, and pleasure herself sophisticated; that young gallants are proud in appetite and weak in performance; that young ladies are phantastically inconstant,—old ladies impudently unsatiate,—wives complain of unmarried women, that they steal the dues belonging to their sheets,—and maids exclaim upon wives, that they unjustly engross all into their own hands, as not content with their own husbands, but also purloining that which should be their comfort. Let us therefore be severe in our justice; and if any, of what degree soever, have approvedly offended, let him be instantly unpartially arrested and punished. Read our statutes. 209
Cup. Let's make it our main task to review our old laws and punish those who break them; because the complaints from lovers keep rising up to our deity, saying that love is being misused, bought and sold, beauty is corrupted, affection is fake, and pleasure is being compromised. Young men are eager but weak in action; young women are whimsically unreliable—older women are shamelessly insatiable—wives complain about single women stealing what’s rightfully theirs in the bedroom, and maids criticize wives for hogging everything for themselves, being unsatisfied with their own husbands and taking away what should provide them comfort. So, let's be strict in our justice; and if anyone, no matter their status, has clearly offended, let them be immediately arrested and punished. Read our statutes. 209
Herc. A statute made in the five thousand four hundred threescore and three year of the easeful reign of the mighty potent Don Cupid, emperor[283] of sighs and protestations, great king of kisses, archduke of dalliance, and sole loved of her,[284] for the maintaining and relieving of his old soldiers, maim’d or dismember’d in love.
Don. Those that are lightly hurt, shame to complain; those that are deeply struck are past recovery.
Don. Those who are slightly hurt are too ashamed to complain; those who are seriously injured are beyond healing.
Cup. On to the next.
Next up.
Herc. An act against the plurality of mistresses.
Herc. A move against having multiple lovers.
Cup. Read. 220
Cup. Read. 220
Herc. Whereas some over amorous and unconscionable covetous young gallants, without all grace of Venus, or the fear of Cupid in their minds, have at one time engrossed the care or cures of divers mistresses, with the charge of ladies, into their own tenure or occupation,[285] whereby their mistresses must of necessity be very ill and insufficiently served, and likewise many able portly gallants live unfurnished of competent entertainment, to the merit of their bodies; and whereas likewise some other greedy strangers have taken in the purlieus, outset land, and the ancient commons of our sovereign liege Don Cupid, taking in his very highways, and enclosing them, and annexing them to their own lordships, to the much impoverishing and putting of divers of Cupid’s true hearts and loyal subjects to base and abhominable[286] shifts: Be it therefore enacted, by the sovereign authority and erected ensign of Don Cupid, with the assent of some of the lords, most of the ladies, and all the commons, that what person or persons soever shall, in the trade of honour, presume to wear at one time two ladies’ favours, or at one time shall earnestly court two women in the way of marriage, or if any under the degree of a duke shall keep above twenty women of pleasure, a duke’s brother fifteen, a lord ten, a knight or a pensioner or both four, a gentleman two, shall ipso facto be arrested by folly’s mace, and instantly committed to the ship of fools, without either bail or main prize, Millesimo centesimo quingentesimo quadragesimo nono Cupidinis semper unius.—Nymphadoro, to the bar! 248
Herc. While some overly passionate and shamelessly greedy young guys, without any charm of Venus or fear of Cupid, have at some point taken on the care of multiple mistresses, practically monopolizing their attention,[285] resulting in their mistresses being poorly treated and inadequately served, and leaving many capable gentlemen without the proper respect they deserve; and while some other greedy outsiders have encroached on the lands and common grounds of our sovereign Don Cupid, taking over his very roads and claiming them for their own, severely harming and putting many of Cupid’s loyal hearts and subjects in dire straits:[286] Therefore, it is enacted by the supreme authority of Don Cupid, with the agreement of some lords, most ladies, and all the common people, that anyone who dares to wear the favors of two ladies at the same time, or to seriously court two women for marriage simultaneously, or if anyone below the rank of duke maintains more than twenty women for pleasure, a duke’s brother can have fifteen, a lord ten, a knight or a pensioner or both four, and a gentleman two, shall ipso facto be seized by folly's mace and immediately sent to the ship of fools, without bail or main prize,1659 of the single Cupid.—Nymphadoro, to the bar!
Nym. Shame o’ folly, will Fawn now turn an informer? Does he laugh at me?
Nym. What a shame! Is Fawn really going to snitch on me? Is he making fun of me?
Gar. He did.
Gar. He did.
Herc. Domina Donetta, did he not ever protest, you were his most only elected mistress?
Herc. Lady Donetta, did he never say that you were his one and only chosen mistress?
Don. He did.
He did.
Herc. Domina Poveia, did he not ever protest, that you were his most only elected mistress?
Herc. Lady Poveia, didn’t he always say that you were his one and only chosen mistress?
Pov. He did.
He sure did.
Nym. Mercy! 260
Nym. Help! 260
Cup. Our mercy is nothing, unless some lady will beg thee.
Cup. Our mercy means nothing unless some lady pleads for you.
Ladies. Out upon him, dissembling, perfidious liar!
Ladies. Get him, sneaky liar!
Herc. Indeed ’tis no reason ladies should beg liars.
Herc. Seriously, there's no reason for ladies to be asking for liars.
Nym.
Thus he that loveth many, if once known,
Is justly plagued to be belov’d of none.
Nym.
So, someone who loves many, once exposed,
Rightly suffers from not being loved by anyone.
[Exit.
Exit.
Herc. An act against counterfeiting of Cupid’s royal coin, and abusing his subjects with false money.—To the bar, Sir Amorous!—In most lamentable form complaineth to your blind celsitude your distressed orators, the women of the world, that in respect that many spendthrifts, who having exhausted and wasted their substance, and in stranger parts have with empty shows, treasonably purchased ladies’ affections, without being of ability to pay them for it with current money, and therefore have deceitfully sought to satisfy them with counterfeit metal, to the great displeasure and no small loss of your humblest subjects: may it therefore with your pitiful assent be enacted, that what lord, knight, or gentleman soever, knowing himself insufficient, bankrout, exhausted, and wasted, shall traitorously dare to entertain any lady, as wife or mistress, ipso facto to be severed from all commercement with women, his wife or mistress in that state offending to be forgiven with a pardon of course, and himself instantly to be pressed to sail in the ship of fools, without either bail or main-prize.—Sir Amorous is arrested. 286
Herc. An act against counterfeiting Cupid’s royal coins and cheating his subjects with fake money.—To the bar, Sir Amorous!—In a pitiful state, your devoted subjects, the women of the world, come before your highness. They complain that many reckless spenders, having depleted their resources, travel far and wide to win the affections of ladies with empty promises, without the means to pay them in real currency. Therefore, they deceitfully attempt to satisfy them with fake money, causing great displeasure and significant loss to your humblest subjects. We ask for your compassion to enact a law that states any lord, knight, or gentleman who knows he is unable, bankrupt, or depleted, shall traitorously entertain any lady as wife or mistress., ipso facto to be barred from any dealings with women, and his wife or mistress in that situation to be granted a pardon, while he shall be compelled to sail in the ship of fools, without any bail or rescue.—Sir Amorous is arrested.
Sir Amor.[287] Judgment of the court.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Court's decision.
Herc. I take my oath upon thy brother’s body, ’tis none of thine.
Herc. I swear on your brother’s body, it’s not yours.
Sir Amor. By the heart of dissemblance, this Fawn has wrought with us as strange tailors work in corporate cities, where they are not free; all inward, inward he lurk’d in the bosom of us, and yet we know not his profession. Sir, let me have counsel?
Sir Amor. By the heart of disguises, this Fawn has dealt with us like oddtailors in big cities, where they lack freedom; all hidden, he lurked deep within us, and yet we don't know what he does. Sir, can I get some advice?
Herc. ’Tis[288] in great Cupid’s case; you may have no counsel. 296
Herc. This is a big deal for Cupid; you might not have any advice. counsel. 296
Sir Amor. Death[289] o’ justice! are we in Normandy? What is my lady’s doom then?
Sir Amor. Death[289] of justice! Are we in Normandy? What is my lady's fate then?
Cup. Acquitted by the express parole of the statute. Hence, and in thy ignorance be quietly happy. Away with him—on!
Cup. Cleared by the specific terms of the law. So, in your ignorance, find your peace. Get rid of him—move on!
Herc. An act against forgers of love-letters, false braggarts of ladies’ favours, and vain boasters of counterfeit tokens.
Herc. A law against people who forge love letters, falsely brag about romantic conquests, and boast about fake gifts.
Herod. ’Tis I, ’tis I! I confess guilty, guilty! 305
Herod. It’s me, it’s me! I admit it, guilty! guilty!
Herc. I will be most humane and right courteously languaged in thy correction, and only say, thy vice, from apparent here, has made thee an apparent beggar, and now of a false knave hath made thee a true fool. Folly to the ship with him, and twice a day let him be duck’d at the main-yard.
Herc. I will be very kind and polite in your correction, and I’ll just say that your apparent vice has turned you into a visible beggar, and from being a fake liar, you’ve become a real fool. Send this fool to the ship, and let him be dunked at the main yard twice a day.
Cup. Proceed! 312
Cup. Go ahead! 312
Herc. An act against slanderers of Cupid’s liege ladies’ names, and lewd defamers of their honours.
Herc. A law against those who slander Cupid's ladies and disgrace their honor.
Zuc. ’Tis I, ’tis I! I weep and cry out, I have been a most contumelious offender. My only cry is Miserere!
Zuc. It's me, it's me! I weep and shout, I have been a terrible offender. My only plea is Miserere!
Cup.
If your relenting lady will have pity on you,
The fault against our deity be pardoned.
Cup.
If your tender-hearted lady has pity for you,
May the error against our God be forgiven.
Zuc. Madam, if ever I have found favour in your eyes, if ever you have thought me a reasonable handsome fellow, as I am sure before I had a beard you might, O be merciful! 322
Zuc. Ma'am, if I've ever caught your eye, if you've ever considered me a good-looking guy, which I’m sure you might have before I grew a beard, please be merciful!
Zoy. Well, upon your apparent repentance, that all modest spectators may witness I have for a short time only thus feignedly hated you that you might ever after truly love me, upon these cautions I reaccept you; first you shall vow——
Zoy. Well, seeing your apparent change of heart, I want all the onlookers to know that I've only pretended to hate you for a short time, so that you would truly love me from now on. With this understanding, I accept you back; first, you must promise
Zuc. I do vow, as Heaven bless me, I will do!
Zuc. I swear, as God is my witness, I will do it!
Zoy. What?
Zoy. What’s up?
Zuc. Whate’er it be; say on, I beseech you. 330
Zuc. Whatever it is; please, go on, I beg you. 330
Zoy. You shall vow——
Zoy. You will vow—
Zuc. Yes.
Zuc. Yeah.
Zoy. That you shall never——
Zoy. You will never——
Zuc. Never——
Zuc. Never—
Zoy. Feign love to my waiting-woman or chamber-maid.
Zoy. Pretend to love my waiting woman or chambermaid.
Zuc. No.
No.
Zuc. No.
No.
Zoy. If she’ll discover but whom I affect. 340
Zoy. If she finds out who I've impacted. 340
Zuc. Never.
Zuc. No way.
Zoy. Or if they know none, that they’ll but take a false oath I do, only to be rid of me.
Zoy. Or if they don’t know any, they'll just swear a fake oath to get rid of me.
Zuc. I swear I will not; I will not only not counterfeitly love your women, but I will truly hate them; an’t be possible, so far from maintaining them, that I will beggar them. I will never pick their trunks for letters, search their pockets, ruffle their bosoms, or tear their foul smocks;—never! never!
Zuc. I swear I won’t; not only will I not pretend to love your women, but I will genuinely hate them. It’s impossible for me to support them; I will actually leave them in poverty. I will never go through their trunks for letters, search their pockets, mess with their clothes, or rip their dirty garments;—never! never!
Zoy. That if I chance to have a humour to be in a masque, you shall not grow jealous. 351
Zoy. If I happen to be in a mask for a bit of fun, you shouldn't get jealous. 351
Zuc. Never.
Zuc. No way.
Zoy. Or grudge at the expense.
Zoy. Or hold a grudge.
Zuc. Never! I will eat mine own arms first.
Zuc. Never! I'll eat my own arms first.
Zoy. That you shall not search, if my chamber-door hinges be oil’d to avoid creaking.
Zoy. You shouldn’t look, as long as my door is oiled to keep it from creaking.
Zuc. As I am a sensible creature.
Zuc. Since I'm a rational person.
Zoy. Nor ever suspect the reason why my bedchamber floor is double-matted.
Zoy. And don't even guess why the floor of my bedroom is covered with two layers of mats.
Zuc. Not, as I have blood in me. 360
Zuc. Not, as long as I have blood in me. 360
Zoy. You shall vow to wear clean linen, and feed wholesomely.
Zoy. You will promise to wear clean clothes and eat healthy food.
Zuc. Ay, and highly. I will take no more tobacco, or come to your sheets drunk, or get wenches. I will ever feed on fried frogs, broil’d[290] snails, and boil’d lamb-stones;—I will adore thee more than a mortal,—observe and serve you as more than a mistress,—do all duties of a husband,—all offices of a man,—all services of thy creature,—and ever live in thy pleasure, or die in thy service. 370
Zuc. Yeah, definitely. I won't smoke any more tobacco, show up in your bed drunk, or hook up with women. I'll only eat fried frogs, grilled[290] snails, and boiled lamb's stones;—I will worship you more than any person—watch over and serve you as more than just a mistress—perform all the duties of a husband—all the responsibilities of a man—all the services of your servant—and always live for your pleasure or die in yourservice. 370
Zoy. Then here my quarrel ends; thus cease all strife.
Zoy. Then here my argument ends; let all conflict stop.
Zuc.
Until they lose, men know not what’s a wife.
We slight and dully view the lamp of heaven,
Because we daily see’t, which but bereaved,
And held one little week from darken’d eyes,
With greedy wonder we should all admire;
Opinion[291] of command puts out love’s fire.
Zuc.
Men don't truly grasp what a wife is until they go through loss.
We often overlook and take for granted the light from the sky,
Since we experience it daily; if we were denied it,
And it was kept away from us for just a week,
We would look at it with eager amazement;
The concept of authority kills love's passion.
Herc. An act against mummers, false seemers, that abuse ladies with counterfeit faces, courting only by signs, and seeming wise only by silence. 380
Herc. A law against actors and fakes who deceive women with artificial looks, flirting only through gestures, and pretending to be smart just by keeping quiet. 380
Cup. The penalty?
The punishment?
Herc. To be urged to speak, and then, if inward ability answer not outward seeming, to be committed instantly to the ship of fools during great Cupid’s pleasure.—My Lord Granuffo, to the bar! Speak, speak; is not this law just?
Herc. Being pushed to speak, and then, if my inner ability doesn’t match my outward appearance, to be thrown right onto the ship of fools while Cupid is having his fun.—My Lord Granuffo, to the bar! Speak, speak; isn’t this law fair?
Gra.
Just, sure; for in good truth or in good sooth,
When wise men speak, they still must open their mouth.
Just, of course; because honestly,
When wise people talk, they still need to be heard.
Herc. The brazen head has spoken.
Herc. The bold head has spoken.
Don. Thou art arrested.
Don. You are under arrest.
Gra. Me?
Me?
Herc. And judg’d: away!
Herc. And judged: go away!
[Exit Granuffo.
[Exit Granuffo.
Herc. An act against privy conspiracies, by which, if any with ambitions wisdom shall hope and strive to outstrip Love, to cross his words, and make frustrate his sweet pleasure,—if such a presumptuous wisdom fall to nothing, and die in laughter, the wizard so transgressing is ipso facto adjudged to offend in most deep treason, to forfeit all his wit at the will of the lord, and be instantly committed to the ship of fools for ever. 401
Herc. A law against secret plots, stating that if anyone with clever ambitions tries to outsmart Love, to contradict his words, and ruin his sweet joy—if such egotistical cleverness falls flat and ends in laughter, the person who breaks this rule is ipso facto considered guilty of the worst treason, losing all their wit at the lord's discretion, and will be immediately sent to the ship of fools forever. 401
Gon. Ay, marry, sir! O might Œdipus riddle me out such a fellow! Of all creatures breathing, I do hate those things that struggle to seem wise, and yet are indeed very fools. I remember, when I was a young man, in my father’s days, there were four gallant spirits, for resolution, as proper for body, as witty in discourse, as any were in Europe, nay, Europe had not such; I was one of them. We four did all love one lady,—a modest, chaste virgin she was; we all enjoy’d her, I well remember, and so enjoy’d her that, despite the strictest guard was set upon her, we had her at our pleasure: I speak it for her honour and my credit. Where shall you find such witty fellows nowadays? Alas! how easy it is, in these weaker times, to cross love-tricks. Ha! ha! ha! Alas! I smile to think I must confess, with some glory[292] to mine own wisdom, to think how I found out, and crossed, and curb’d, and jerk’d, and firk’d, and in the end made desperate Tiberio’s hope. Alas! good silly youth, that dares to cope with age and such a beard. I speak it without glory. 421
Gon. Oh, indeed, sir! If only Oedipus could figure out such a guy! Of all living creatures, I truly can't stand those who try to act smart but are actually complete fools. I remember when I was younger, back in my father's time, there were four brave souls, as strong in body as they were clever in conversation, unlike anyone else in Europe; I was one of them. We all loved the same woman—a modest, pure virgin. I clearly remember how we all enjoyed her, and despite the strictest watch over her, we had her whenever we wanted: I say this for her honor and my own reputation. Where can you find such clever guys today? Alas! How easy it is to outsmart love games in these weaker times. Ha! ha! ha! I can't help but smile thinking about how I must admit, with some pride[292] to my own cleverness, considering how I discovered, outmaneuvered, restrained, and frustrated desperate Tiberio's hopes. Poor silly youth, who dares to challenge age and such a beard. I say this without pride. 421
Herc.
But what yet might your well-known wisdom think,
If such a one, as being most severe,
A most protested opposite to the match
Of two young lovers,—who having barr’d them speech,
All interviews, all messages, all means,
To plot their wishèd ends,—even he himself
Was, by their cunning, made the go-between,
The only messenger, the token-carrier,
Told them the times when they might fitly meet, 430
Nay, show’d the way to one another’s bed?
Herc.
But what would your famous wisdom say,
If someone, being the most strict of all,
A strong critic of the relationship
Two young lovers—who have cut off their communication,
All meetings, all messages, every method,
To reach their goals—was, through their intelligence,
Became the go-between,
The only messenger, the one delivering the messages,
Letting them know the times they could get together, 430
And even helped them find their way to each other’s bed?
Gon.
May one have the sight of such a fellow for nothing?
Doth there breathe such an egregious ass?
Is there such a foolish animal in rerum natura?
Gon.
Can someone actually see a guy like that for free?
Does such a ridiculous fool really exist?
Is there really such a foolish creature in rerum natura?
How is it possible such simplicity can exist? Let us not lose our laughing at him, for God’s sake! Let Folly’s sceptre light upon him, and to the ship of fools with him instantly!
How can such simplicity exist? Let's not stop laughing at him, for goodness' sake! Let Folly’s scepter come down on him, and send him straight to the ship of fools!
Don. Of all these follies I arrest your grace.
Don. I hold your grace accountable for all these foolishness.
Gon. Me? ha! me? me, varlet? me, fool? Ha! to th’ jail with him! What, varlet? call me ass?—me?
Gon. Me? Ha! Me? Me, a servant? Me, a fool? Ha! Throw him in jail! What, servant? Call me an idiot?—Me?
Herc.
What! grave Urbin’s duke? 441
Dares Folly’s sceptre touch his prudent shoulders?
Is he a coxcomb? No, my lord is wise;
For we all know that Urbin’s duke has eyes.
What! The Duke of Urbino?
Does he really let Folly's scepter burden his sensible shoulders?
Is he an idiot? No, my lord is clever;
Because we all know that the Duke of Urbin has a clear view.
Gon. God ha’ mercy, Fawn! Hold fast, varlet!
Hold thee, good Fawn!—railing reprobate!
Gon. God help us, Fawn! Wait, you rascal!
Wait, good Fawn!—you worthless fool!
Gon. What! I do this? Ha!
Gon. What! Am I doing this? Ha!
Herc.
And last, by her persuasion, show’d the youth
The very way and best-elected time
To come unto her chamber.
Herc.
And finally, with her support, he told the young man
The best method and the perfect time
To go to her room.
Gon. Thus did I, sir?
Gon. Is that what I did, sir?
Herc.
Thus did you, sir; but I must confess
You meant not to do this, but were rankly gull’d—
Made a plain natural. This sure, sir, you did.
And in assurance, Prince Tiberio,
Renowned, witted Dulcimel, appear! 460
The acts of constant honour cannot fear.
Herc. You did that, sir, but I have to admit
You didn't intend to do this, but you got totally tricked—
Seriously, you're just being a fool. You actually did this, sir.
And in confidence, Prince Tiberio,
The renowned and clever Dulcimel, please come forward! 460
True acts of honor have nothing to fear.
[Exit Hercules.
[Exit Hercules.
Tiberio and Dulcimel above, are discovered hand in hand.
Tiberio and Dulcimel are holding hands.
Dul. Royally wise and wisely royal father——
Royally wise and wisely royal father—
Don. That’s sententious now—a figure call’d in art Ironia.
Don. That's pretty pretentious now—a figure called in art Irony.
Dul.
I humbly thank your worthy piety
That through your only means I have obtained
So fit, [so] loving, and desired a husband.
Dul.
I truly appreciate your kindness.
Because of your efforts, I have found.
What a perfect, loving, and attractive husband.
Gon. Death o’ discretion! if I should prove a fool now. Am not I an ass, think you, ha? I will have them both bound together, and sent to the Duke of Ferrara presently. 471
Gon. The death of discretion! What if I turn out to be a fool now? Do you really think I’m an idiot, huh? I’ll have them both tied together and sent to the Duke of Ferrara right away. now. 471
Tib. I am sure, good father, we are both bound together as fast as the priest can make us already. I thank you for it, kind father; I thank you only for’t.
Tib. I'm sure, good father, we're already tied together as closely as any priest could make us. I appreciate it, kind father; I only thank you for that.
Hercules Enters in his own shape.
Hercules Enters as himself.
Herc. And as for sending them to the Duke of Ferrara, see, my good lord, Ferrara’s o’erjoy’d prince meets thee in fullest wish.
Herc. And about sending them to the Duke of Ferrara, look, my good lord, Ferrara’s delighted prince is eager to meet you.
Gon. By the Lord! I am ashamed of myself, that’s the plain troth; but I know now wherefore this parliament[293] was. What a slumber have I been in! 480
Gon. By God! I'm ashamed of myself, that's the truth; but now I understand why this parliament[293] was held. What a deep sleep I’ve been in! 480
Herc. Never grieve nor wonder—all things sweetly fit.
Herc. Don't worry or question—everything falls into place perfectly.
Gon. There is no folly to protested wit.
Gon. There’s no foolishness in claiming to be clever.
Herc.
What still in wond’ring ignorance doth rest,
In private conference your dear-lov’d breast
Shall fully take.—But now we change our face.
Herc. What is still left in stunned ignorance,
In a private chat, your dear heart
We will fully understand. —But now we’re changing our approach.
[274] Ed. 1. “till.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “until.”
[275] Ed. 1. “sowers.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “sowers.”
[276] Eds. 1. and 3. “good.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “good.”
[277] “What could I do withal?” = how could I help it?
[277] “What could I do about it?” = how could I help it?
[278] Throne, chair of state.
Throne, state chair.
[279] Eds. 1. and 3. “him.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “him.”
[280] Ed. 2. “Laughter.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “Laughter.”
[281] Old eds. “Whose force writh’d.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Whose force writh’d.”
[282] Old eds. “Laughter.”
Old eds. “Laughter.”
[283] Compare Biron’s famous soliloquy in Love’s Labour Lost, iii. 1.
[283] Compare Biron’s famous speech in Love’s Labour Lost, iii. 1.
[284] Ed. 2. “him.”—Neither reading is intelligible.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “him.”—Neither reading makes sense.
[285] See Dyce’s Shakesp. Gloss., s. Occupy.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See Dyce’s Shakesp. Gloss., s. Occupy.
[286] The old form of spelling (ridiculed in Love’s Labour Lost) from the erroneous derivation ab homine.
[286] The outdated spelling (mocked in Love’s Labour Lost) from the incorrect origin ab homine.
[287] Eds. 1. and 3. “Don. Amor. Sir Judgement of the countrie.”
[287] Eds. 1 and 3. “Don. Amor. Sir Judgment of the Country.”
[288] Ed. 1. “’Tis in great case.”—Ed. 3. “’Tis in a great case.”
[288] Ed. 1. “It's in a big situation.”—Ed. 3. “It's in a great situation.”
[289] Eds. 1. and 3. “Sir death,” &c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “Sir death,” &c.
[290] Eds. 1. and 3. “wild.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eds. 1. and 3. “wild.”
[291] Ed. 1. “And prowde hayht.”—Ed. 3. “And proud height.”
[291] Ed. 1. “And proud height.”—Ed. 3. “And proud height.”
[292] Boasting.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Showing off.
[293] Omitted in eds. 1. and 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in eds. 1 and 3.
EPILOGUS.
EPILOGUE.
And thus, in bold yet modest phrase we end.
He whose Thalia with swiftest hand hath penn’d
This lighter subject, and hath boldly torn
Fresh bays from Daphne’s arm, doth only scorn
Malicious censures of some envious few, 490
Who think they lose if others have their due:
But let such adders hiss; know, all the sting,
All the vain foam of all those snakes that ring
Minerva’s glassful shield, can never taint,
Poison, or pierce; firm art disdains to faint:—
But yet of you that with impartial faces,
With no preparèd malice, but with graces
Of sober knowledge, have survey’d the frame
Of his slight scene, if you shall judge his flame
Distemperately weak, as faulty much 500
In style, in plot, in spirit; lo! if such,
He deigns, in self-accusing phrase, to crave
Not[294] praise, but pardon, which he hopes to have;
Since he protests he ever hath aspired
To be belovèd rather than admired.
And so, with confident yet modest words, we finish.
The one whose inspiration has swiftly written
This lighter topic has bravely taken
Fresh laurels from Daphne’s arm, merely mockery.
At the bitter criticism from a few jealous people, 490
Those who think they’re losing if others get what they deserve:
Let those snakes hiss; just know that their bite has no effect.
All the empty venom from those snakes that are around
Minerva’s clear shield can never get dirty,
Poison or injury; true art refuses to be diminished:—
But for you, who looks on with unbiased eyes,
Without any planned malice, but with the grace
With clear understanding, have reviewed the work.
If you discover his passion in his simple scene
Unduly weak, flawed in 500
Style, plot, and vibe; look! If that's the case,
He modestly requests, in a self-critical manner, for __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Not__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ praise, but forgiveness, which he hopes to get;
Since he claims he has always aimed
To be loved instead of admired.
[Exeunt omnes.
Exeunt all.
[294] Old eds. “For praise.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "For praise."
THE WONDER OF WOMEN;
OR,
or,
THE TRAGEDY OF
SOPHONISBA.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
Play's storyline.
Syphax and Massinissa, princes of Libya, are rivals for the hand of Sophonisba, daughter of Asdrubal, a powerful Carthaginian nobleman. Massinissa’s suit is accepted; whereupon Syphax enters into a league with Scipio, who is advancing against Carthage. On Sophonisba’s marriage-night news is brought that the Carthaginian forces stationed at Utica have been defeated by the united armies of Scipio and Syphax. Massinissa is ordered by the senate to march without delay against the enemy; he loyally obeys the command, and takes leave of his virgin-wife. While he is serving Carthage in the field, the Carthaginian senators at home proceed to plot against his life. They determine to gain Syphax to their side by giving him Sophonisba to wife; and Gisco, a physician and skilful empoisoner, is sent to the Carthaginian camp to despatch Massinissa. Among the senators there is an honest old man, Gelosso, who disguises himself, follows Gisco to the camp, and hands Massinissa a letter containing a disclosure of the plot. Massinissa has no sooner dismissed the empoisoner (whom he scorns to punish) than Jugurth, Massinissa’s nephew, enters, to announce that Syphax has been seen riding in the direction of Cirta, and that his horsemen are coming at a leisurely pace towards the camp as if to fraternise with Massinissa’s forces. By advice of Gelosso, who lays aside his disguise, Massinissa scatters the horsemen by a sudden onslaught, and hastens to make a league with Scipio. Meanwhile Sophonisba has been sent by the Carthaginian senators to the palace of Syphax at Cirta. She escapes by a subterranean passage that led from the palace to a forest, but through the treachery of her attendant, Zanthia, falls again into the hands of Syphax. In despair of effecting his purpose by persuasion, Syphax applies for help to a powerful enchantress, Erictho, who engages to force Sophonisba by magic to his arms, on condition that he shall speak no word, and have no lights burning, while he embraces her. On the appointed night Syphax discovers to his horror that his embraces have been given to Erictho. While he is cursing his fortunes, a messenger arrives to announce that Scipio and Massinissa are advancing against Cirta. He marches out to meet them; the troops on either side withdraw, while Syphax and Massinissa engage in single combat; Massinissa vanquishes his opponent, but spares his life on receiving assurance that Sophonisba has not suffered outrage. Leaving his prisoner in Scipio’s hands, Massinissa hastens to Cirta. He enters the palace with his beaver down, unrecognised by Sophonisba, who throws herself at his feet, and implores him to save her from falling into the hands of the Romans, or grant her instant death. Pledging his oath that he will protect her, he doffs his helmet. The joyful reunion is presently interrupted by the entrance of the Roman general, Lælius, who orders Massinissa to deliver Sophonisba into Scipio’s custody (Syphax having represented to Scipio that Sophonisba would quickly induce Massinissa to revolt from Rome). Lælius departs with Massinissa’s assurance that the command shall be obeyed. Massinissa is distracted; he must either break the oath that he had pledged to Sophonisba, or he must be faithless in the allegiance that he had sworn to Rome. Sophonisba’s heroism rescues him from his dilemma. She declares her willingness to die; he infuses poison in a bowl of wine, and the dauntless woman drinks, speaking words of comfort to her husband as the poison courses through her veins. The lifeless body, laid on a bier, is presented to Scipio by Massinissa.
Syphax and Massinissa, princes of Libya, are in competition for the hand of Sophonisba, daughter of Asdrubal, a powerful Carthaginian nobleman. Massinissa’s proposal is accepted, leading Syphax to form an alliance with Scipio, who is advancing against Carthage. On the night of Sophonisba’s wedding, news arrives that the Carthaginian forces stationed at Utica have been defeated by the combined armies of Scipio and Syphax. The senate commands Massinissa to march immediately against the enemy; he dutifully obeys and says goodbye to his new wife. While he fights for Carthage, the Carthaginian senators back home plot against his life. They decide to sway Syphax by offering him Sophonisba as his wife; Gisco, a physician and skilled poisoner, is sent to the Carthaginian camp to kill Massinissa. Among the senators is an honest old man, Gelosso, who disguises himself, follows Gisco to the camp, and hands Massinissa a letter revealing the plot. Massinissa, having dismissed the poisoner (whom he refuses to punish), is then approached by his nephew, Jugurth, who announces that Syphax has been seen riding towards Cirta and that his horsemen are approaching leisurely as if to meet with Massinissa’s forces. Following Gelosso’s advice, who removes his disguise, Massinissa surprises the horsemen with a sudden attack and hurries to ally with Scipio. Meanwhile, Sophonisba has been sent by the Carthaginian senators to Syphax’s palace in Cirta. She escapes through a secret passage leading from the palace to a forest, but due to the betrayal of her attendant, Zanthia, she falls back into Syphax's hands. In despair of achieving his goal through persuasion, Syphax seeks the help of a powerful enchantress, Erictho, who agrees to use magic to force Sophonisba into his arms, provided he doesn't speak a word or have any lights on while he embraces her. On the appointed night, Syphax discovers to his horror that he has embraced Erictho instead. As he curses his fate, a messenger arrives to inform him that Scipio and Massinissa are approaching Cirta. He rides out to confront them; the troops withdraw on both sides as Syphax and Massinissa engage in single combat. Massinissa defeats Syphax but spares his life upon receiving assurances that Sophonisba has not been harmed. Leaving Syphax as a prisoner in Scipio’s custody, Massinissa rushes to Cirta. He enters the palace with his helmet down, unrecognized by Sophonisba, who throws herself at his feet, begging him to save her from the Romans or to grant her immediate death. Swearing an oath to protect her, he removes his helmet. Their joyous reunion is soon interrupted by the Roman general, Lælius, who orders Massinissa to hand Sophonisba over to Scipio (as Syphax has convinced Scipio that Sophonisba could quickly lead Massinissa to revolt against Rome). Lælius leaves with Massinissa assuring him that he will comply with the order. Massinissa is torn; he must either break his oath to Sophonisba or betray his loyalty to Rome. Sophonisba’s bravery saves him from this dilemma. She declares her willingness to die; he pours poison into a bowl of wine, and the fearless woman drinks, offering words of comfort to her husband as the poison takes effect. Massinissa presents Sophonisba’s lifeless body, laid on a bier, to Scipio.
Know that I have not laboured in this poem to tie myself to relate anything as an historian, but to enlarge everything as a poet. To transcribe authors, quote authorities, and translate Latin prose orations into English blank verse, hath, in this subject, been the least aim of my studies.[295] Then (equal reader) peruse me with no prepared dislike; and, if ought shall displease thee, thank thyself; if ought shall please thee, thank not me: for I confess in this it was not my only end.
Understand that I didn’t work on this poem to bind myself to historical facts, but to expand everything as a poet. Transcribing authors, quoting experts, and translating Latin speeches into English verse have been the least of my goals in this area.[295] So, reader, approach this without any preconceived negativity; and if anything bothers you, take it up with yourself; if anything satisfies you, don’t credit me: I admit that this was not my sole intention.
ARGUMENTUM.
ARGUMENT.
A grateful heart’s just height; ingratitude,
And vow’s base breach with worthy shame pursued;
A woman’s constant love, as firm as fate;
A blameless counsellor well born for state;
The folly to enforce free love: these, know,
This subject with full light doth amply show.
A thankful heart is uplifting; ingratitude,
Breaking vows brings well-deserved shame.
A woman's unwavering love is as powerful as fate;
An innocent advisor suited for leadership;
The ridiculousness of forcing love: these, know,
This topic clearly reveals everything.
Massinissa, and
Syphax, Kings of Libya, rivals for Sophonisba.
Asdrubal, father to Sophonisba.
Gelosso, a senator of Carthage.
Bytheas, a senator of Carthage.
Hanno Magnus, Captain of Carthage.
Jugurth, Massinissa’s nephew.
Scipio, and
Lælius, Generals of Rome.
Vangue, an Æthiopian slave.
Carthalon, a senator of Carthage.
Gisco, a surgeon of Carthage.
Nuntius.
Massinissa, and
Syphax, Kings of Libya, rivals for Sophonisba.
Asdrúbal, father of Sophonisba.
Gleeful, a senator from Carthage.
Bytheas, a senator from Carthage.
Hanno Magnus, Commander of Carthage.
Jugurtha, Massinissa's nephew.
Scipio, and
Lælius, Generals of Rome.
Vague, An Ethiopian slave.
Carthalon, a senator from Carthage.
Gisco, a surgeon from Carthage.
Message.
Sophonisba, daughter to Asdrubal of Carthage.
Zanthia, her maid.
Erictho, an enchantress.
Arcathia, and
Nycea, waiting-women to Sophonisba.
Sophonisba, daugher of Asdrúbal from Carthage.
Zanthia, her maid.
Erictho, an enchantress.
Arcathia, and
Nycea, serving women to Sophonisba.
Scene—Cirta, Carthage, &c.
Scene—Cirta, Carthage, etc.
Cornets sounding a march.
Cornets playing a march.
Enter at one door the Prologue, two Pages with torches, Asdrubal and Jugurth, two Pages with lights, Massinissa leading Sophonisba, Zanthia bearing Sophonisba’s train, Arcathia and Nycea, Hanno and Bytheas: at the other door two Pages with targets and javelins, two Pages with lights, Syphax arm’d from top to toe, followed by Vangue.
Enter from one door the Prologue, two Pages carrying torches, Asdrúbal and Jugurtha, two Pages holding lights, Massinissa leading Sophonisba, Zanthia carrying Sophonisba's train, Arcathia and Nycea, Hanno and Bytheas: at the other door two Pages with targets and javelins, two Pages with lights, Syphax fully armed, followed by Vague.
These, thus enter’d, stand still, whilst the Prologue, resting between both troops, speaks.
These, having entered, stand still, while the Prologue, pausing between both groups, speaks.
The scene is Libya, and the subject thus:
Whilst Carthage stood the only awe of Rome,
As most imperial seat of Libya,
Govern’d by statesmen, each as great as kings
(For seventeen kings were Carthage feodars);
Whilst thus she flourish’d, whilst her Hannibal
Made Rome to tremble, and the walls yet pale:
Then in this Carthage Sophonisba lived,
The far-famed daughter of great Asdrubal:
For whom (’mongst others) potent Syphax sues, 10
And well-graced Massinissa rivals him,
Both princes of proud sceptres: but the lot
Of doubtful favour Massinissa graced,
At which Syphax grows black: for now the night
Yields loud resoundings of the nuptial pomp:
Apollo strikes his harp, Hymen his torch;
Whilst louring Juno, with ill-boding eye,
Sits envious at too forward Venus. Lo,
The instant night: and now ye worthier minds,
To whom we shall present a female glory 20
(The wonder of a constancy so fix’d,
That fate itself might well grow envious):
Be pleased to sit,[296] such as may merit oil,
And holy dew, still’d from diviner heat.
For rest thus knowing: what of this you hear,
The author lowly hopes, but must not fear:
For just worth never rests on popular frown,
To have done well is fair deeds’ only crown.
The story takes place in Libya and goes like this:
When Carthage was the only thing that frightened Rome,
As the most influential city in Libya,
Led by leaders who are as impressive as kings
(Since seventeen kings were loyal to Carthage);
While she flourished, while her Hannibal
Made Rome tremble, and the city walls went pale:
In Carthage, Sophonisba lived,
The renowned daughter of great Asdrubal:
For whom, among others, the powerful Syphax was looking, 10
And the well-respected Massinissa rivaled him,
Both princes from proud kingdoms: but the choice
Massinissa had mixed feelings.
At this point, Syphax is filled with rage because night has fallen.
Rings with the sounds of the wedding celebration:
Apollo strums his harp, while Hymen carries his torch;
While gloomy Juno, with a warning stare,
Sits envious of the overly eager Venus. Look,
It’s nighttime now, and you, noble minds,
To whom we will showcase a female glory 20
(The wonder of a loyalty so strong,
That even fate could be jealous of it):
Please take a seat,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ those who deserve recognition,
And sacred blessings, coming from divine warmth.
Know this: what you hear about this,
The modest author hopes, but shouldn't be afraid:
For true value doesn’t diminish in the face of public criticism,
Doing well is the only reward for good deeds.
Nec se quæsiverit extra.
Nec se quæsiverit extra.
Cornets sound a march.
Cornets play a march.
The Prologue leads Massinissa’s troops over the stage, and departs: Syphax’ troops only stay.
The Prologue leads Massinissa’s troops across the stage, and exits: Syphax troops remain.
[296] Quy. “see’t.”
Quy. “See it.”
THE TRAGEDY
OF
SOPHONISBA.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
The palace of Syphax at Cirta.
The palace of Syphax in Cirta.
Syphax and Vangue.
Syphax and Vangue.
Sy. Syphax, Syphax! why wast thou cursed a king?
What angry god made thee so great, so vile?
Contemn’d, disgracèd! think, wert thou a slave,
Though Sophonisba did reject thy love,
Thy low neglected head, unpointed at,
Thy shame unrumour’d, and thy suit unscoff’d,
Might yet rest quiet. Reputation,
Thou awe of fools and great men; thou that chok’st
Freest addictions, and makest mortals sweat
Blood and cold drops in fear to lose, or hope 10
To gain, thy never-certain seldom-worthy gracings;
Reputation,
Were’t not for thee, Syphax could bear this scorn,
Not spouting up his gall among his blood
In black vexations: Massinissa might
Enjoy the sweets of his preferrèd graces
Without my dangerous envy or revenge;
Were’t not for thy affliction, all might sleep
In sweet oblivion: but (O greatness’ scourge!)
We cannot without envy keep high name, 20
Nor yet disgraced can have a quiet shame.
Sy. Syphax, Syphax! Why were you doomed to be a king?
Which angry god gave you such power but also made you so miserable?
Hated, shamed! Just imagine, if you were a slave,
Even though Sophonisba rejected your love,
Your insignificant, overlooked head would remain unmentioned,
Your shame goes unheard, and your plea goes unmocked,
You could still find peace. Reputation, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
You terrorize both fools and the powerful; you who suffocate
The most liberated desires, causing humans to sweat
With blood and cold sweat, fearing loss or hoping for victory.
To receive your often doubtful, seldom deserving blessings;
Reputation,
If it weren't for you, Syphax could deal with this disdain,
Without letting his anger boil over inside him
In dark frustrations: Massinissa could
Enjoy the benefits of his favorite treats.
Without my intense jealousy or desire for revenge;
If it weren't for your suffering, we could all find peace.
In blissful ignorance: but (Oh, the pain of being great!)
We can't maintain a strong reputation without attracting some envy, 20
We can't endure shame and remain calm about it.
Van. Scipio——
Van. Scipio——
Sy. Some light in depth of hell. Vangue, what hope?
Sy. A glimpse of light in the depths of hell. Vangue, what hope is there?
Van. I have received assured intelligence,
That Scipio, Rome’s sole hope, hath raised up men,
Drawn troops together for invasion——
Van. I’ve confirmed reliable info,
That Scipio, Rome's only hope, has gathered people,
Mobilized troops for an invasion——
Sy. Of this same Carthage?
Sy. Is this the same Carthage?
Van. With this policy,
To force wild Hannibal from Italy——
Van. With this plan,
To expel the fierce Hannibal from Italy——
Sy. And draw the war to Afric?
Sy. And bring the war to Africa?
Van. Right.
Van. Got it.
Sy. And strike
This secure country with unthought of arms? 30
Sy. And go for it
This secure country with surprising weapons? 30
Van. My letters bear he is departed Rome,
Directly setting course and sailing up——
Van. My letters say he has departed from Rome,
Heading straight out and sailing up—
Sy. To Carthage, Carthage! O thou eternal youth,
Man of large fame, great and abounding glory,
Renownful Scipio, spread thy two-necked eagles,
Fill full thy sails with a revenging wind,
Strike through obedient Neptune, till thy prows[297]
Dash up our Libyan ooze,[298] and thy just arms
Shine with amazeful terror on these walls!
O now record thy father’s[299] honour’d blood 40
Which Carthage drunk; thy uncle Publius’[300] blood
Which Carthage drunk; thirty thousand souls
Of choice Italians Carthage set on wing:
Remember Hannibal, yet Hannibal,
The consul-queller: O then enlarge thy heart,
Be thousand souls in one! let all the breath,
The spirit of thy name and nation, be mix’d strong
In thy great heart! O fall like thunder-shaft,
The wingèd vengeance of incensèd Jove,
Upon this Carthage! for Syphax here flies off 50
From all allegiance, from all love or service,
His (now free’d) sceptre once did yield this city.
Ye universal gods, light, heat, and air,
Prove all unblessing Syphax, if his hands
Once rear themselves for Carthage but to curse it!
It had been better they had changed their faith,
Denied their gods, than slighted Syphax’ love;
So fearfully will I take vengeance.
I’ll interleague with Scipio.—Vangue,
Dear Ethiopian negro, go wing a vessel, 60
And fly to Scipio: say his confederate,
Vow’d and confirm’d, is Syphax: bid him haste
To mix our palms and arms; will him make up,
Whilst we are in the strength of discontent,
Our unsuspected forces well in arms;
For Sophonisba, Carthage, Asdrubal,
Shall feel their weakness in preferring weakness,
And one less great than we. To our dear wishes,
Haste, gentle negro, that this heap may know
Me and their wrong. 70
Sy. To Carthage, Carthage! Oh, you eternal youth,
A man of great fame, immense and overflowing glory,
Famous Scipio, spread your two-headed eagles,
Fill your sails with a furious wind,
Strike through obedient Neptune, until your prows[297]
Crush our Libyan soil,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and your just arms
Radiate with fierce terror on these walls!
Now let's remember your father's__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ respected lineage.
That Carthage drank; your uncle Publius’__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ blood.
That Carthage consumed; thirty thousand lives.
Carthage sent selected Italians flying:
Remember Hannibal, yes, Hannibal,
The consul killer: So then open your heart,
Be a thousand souls in one! Let all the breath,
The essence of your name and country merges powerfully.
In your big heart! Oh, fall like a lightning strike,
The furious wrath of Jove with wings,
Look at this Carthage! because Syphax is breaking away here. 50
From all loyalty, from all love or service,
His (now freed) scepter once took control of this city.
You universal gods, light, heat, and air,
Prove all worthless to Syphax if his hands
Ever try to lift themselves for Carthage only to curse it!
It would have been better if they had changed their beliefs,
Denied their gods, they ignored Syphax’s love;
I will take vengeance with great intensity.
I'll team up with Scipio.—Vangue,
Dear Ethiopian, go find a ship, 60
And go to Scipio: tell him his ally,
Sworn and confirmed, is Syphax: encourage him to hurry.
To join our hands and arms; get him ready,
While we have strength that comes from dissatisfaction,
Our surprise troops fully armed;
For Sophonisba, Carthage, Asdrubal,
Will feel their weakness in choosing weakness,
And someone less great than we are. For our deep desires,
Hurry, dear friend, so this crowd can know
Me and their mistakes.
Van. Wrong?
Van. Is that wrong?
Sy. Ay, tho’ ’twere not; yet know, while kings are strong,
What they’ll but think, and not what is, is wrong.
I am disgraced in and by that which hath
No reason,—love, and woman; my revenge
Shall therefore bear no argument of right;
Passion is reason when it speaks from might.
I tell thee, man, nor kings nor gods exempt,
But they grow pale if once they find contempt.
Haste! 80
Sy. Yes, even if it’s not true; just understand that as long as kings hold power,
What they believe, instead of what is actually true, is incorrect.
I feel humiliated by and through something that has
No logic—just love and women; my way of getting back at them.
Will not depend on any assertion of entitlement;
Passion turns into reason when it comes from strength.
I'm telling you, man, neither kings nor gods are exempt,
But they go pale if they ever experience contempt.
Hurry up!
[Exeunt.
[Exit.
[297] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. (i.e. 8vo of 1633) “powers.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. (i.e. 8vo of 1633) “powers.”
[298] Ed. 1. reads “ouse,” which becomes “house” in ed. 2.
[298] Ed. 1. reads “ouse,” which becomes “house” in ed. 2.
[299] Cn. Scipio, who fell fighting in Spain, B.C. 212. See Livy, xxv. 36.
[299] Cn. Scipio, who died in battle in Spain, BCE 212. See Livy, xxv. 36.
[300] See Livy, xxv. 34.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See Livy, xxv. 34.
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Sophonisba’s bedchamber.
Sophonisba’s bedroom.
Enter Arcathia; Nycea, with tapers; Sophonisba, in her night attire, followed by Zanthia.
Enter Arcathia; Nycea, with candles; Sophonisba, in her nightgown, followed by Zanthia.
So. Watch at the doors: and till we be reposed
Let no one enter. Zanthia, undo me.
So. Watch the doors, and until we’re settled
Don't let anyone in. Zanthia, please help me with this.
Zan. With this motto under your girdle:
You had been undone if you had not been undone.
Humblest service!
Zan. With this motto by your side:
You would have been done if you weren't already done.
Most humble service!
So. I wonder, Zanthia, why the custom is,
To use such ceremony, such strict shape,
About us women: forsooth the bride must steal
Before her lord to bed; and then delays,
Long expectations, all against known wishes. 10
I hate these figures in locution,
These about phases forced by ceremony;
We must still seem to fly what we most seek,
And hide ourselves from what we fain would find.
Let those that think and speak and do just acts,
Know form can give no virtue to their acts,
Nor detract vice.
So. I'm curious, Zanthia, why is it a tradition
to use these formalities, these strict rules
for us women? Honestly, the bride has to sneak
Get into bed before her husband; then there are delays,
long waits, all contrary to what we know we want. 10
I dislike these restrictions in conversation,
these mandatory phrases imposed by tradition;
we always have to pretend we're steering clear of what we really want,
and avoid confronting what we really want to discover.
Let those who think, speak, and act fairly
understand that appearance can't add value to their actions,
nor eliminate vice.
Zan. Alas, fair princess! those that are strongly form’d
And truly shap’d, may naked walk; but we,
We things call’d women, only made for show 20
And pleasure, created to bear children
And play at shuttlecock; we imperfect mixtures,
Without respective ceremony used,
And ever compliment, alas! what are we?
Take from us formal custom and the courtesies
Which civil fashion hath still used to us,
We fall to all contempt. O women, how much,
How much are you beholding to ceremony!
Zan. Oh, beautiful princess! Those who are strong
And truly shaped can walk around naked; but we,
We women are only meant to be seen.
And enjoyment, designed for having children
And play games; we are imperfect combinations,
Without the proper ceremonies done,
And always expected to flatter, oh! what are we?
Remove the formalities and the niceties.
That society has always shown us, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
We fall into utter disdain. Oh women, how much,
How much do you depend on ceremony!
So. You are familiar. Zanthia, my shoe.
So. You know her well. Zanthia, my dear.
Zan. ’Tis wonder, madam, you tread not awry. 30
Zan. It's amazing, ma'am, that you don't walk off course. 30
So. Your reason, Zanthia.
So. What's your reason, Zanthia?
Zan. You go very high.
Zan. You reach great heights.
So. Hark! music! music!
So. Listen! Music! Music!
The Ladies lay the Princess in a fair bed, and close the curtains, whilst Massinissa Enters.
The ladies place the princess in a beautiful bed and pull the curtains closed, while Massinissa enters.
Ny. The bridegroom!
The groom!
So. Haste, good Zanthia: help! keep yet the doors!
So. Hurry, good Zanthia: help! Hold the doors!
Zan. Fair fall you, lady; so, admit, admit.
Zan. Good day to you, ma'am; so please, accept it.
Enter four Boys, anticly attired, with bows and quivers, dancing to the cornets a fantastic measure; Massinissa in his nightgown, led by Asdrubal and Hanno, followed by Bytheas and Jugurth. The Boys draw the curtains, discovering Sophonisba, to whom Massinissa speaks.
Four boys enter, dressed in silly outfits, with bows and quivers, dancing to a lively tune played on cornets; Massinissa in his nightgown, is led by Asdrúbal and Hanno, followed by Bytheas and Jugurtha. The boys pull back the curtains, revealing Sophonisba, to whom Massinissa speaks.
Mass.
You powers of joy, gods of a happy bed,
Show you are pleased; sister and wife of Jove,
High-fronted Juno, and thou Carthage patron,
Smooth-chinn’d Apollo, both give modest heat
And temperate graces!
Mass.
You forces of happiness, gods of a joyful bond,
Show that you're happy; sister and wife of Jupiter,
Noble Juno, and you, guardian of Carthage,
Smooth-faced Apollo, both bring soft warmth.
And balanced beauty!
[Massinissa draws a white ribbon forth[301] of the bed, as from the waist of Sophonisba.
[Massinissa pulls out a white ribbon[301] from the bed, like from the waist of Sophonisba.
Lo, I unloose thy waist!
She that is just in love is god-like chaste. 40
Io to Hymen!
Look, I’ll loosen your waist!
A person who is genuinely in love is like a goddess in her purity. 40
Hooray for Hymen!
Chorus, with cornets, organ and voices. Io to Hymen!
Chorus, with trumpet, organ, and voices. Hooray for Hymen!
So.
A modest silence, though’t be thought
A virgin’s beauty and her highest honour;
Though bashful feignings nicely wrought,
Grace her that virtue takes not in, but on her;
What I dare think I boldly speak:
After my word my well-bold action rusheth.
In open flame then passion break!
Where virtue prompts, thought, word, act never blusheth.
Revenging gods, whose marble hands 50
Crush faithless men with a confounding terror,
Give me no mercy if these bands
I covet not with an unfeignèd fervour;
Which zealous vow when ought can force me t’lame,[302]
Load with that plague Atlas would groan at, shame.
Io to Hymen!
So.
A calm moment, although it’s thought
A virgin's beauty is her most valued asset;
While shyness cleverly plays its role,
That grace comes from a quality that isn't just something she possesses;
What I boldly think, I will say openly:
After I speak, I take decisive action.
Let passion ignite in the open flame!
Where virtue guides, thought, word, and action never waver.
Revengeful gods with stone hands
Overwhelm deceitful men with intense fear,
Show me no mercy if these connections
I don't want it with genuine passion;
If anything can make me break this promise, [302]
Let me take the shame that even Atlas would struggle with.
Yo to Hymen!
Chorus. Io to Hymen!
Chorus. Io to Wedding!
Asdru.
Live both high parents of so happy birth,
Your stems may touch the skies and shadow earth;
Most great in fame, more great in virtue shining.
Prosper, O powers! a just, a strong divining. 60
Io to Hymen!
Asdru. Live both proud parents of such a fortunate birth,
Your roots might stretch up to the sky and create shadows on the ground;
Most well-known for its reputation, even more remarkable in its shining virtue.
May the powers thrive! A fair, strong intuition. 60
Cheers to Hymen!
Chorus. Io to Hymen!
Chorus. Io to Wedding!
Enter Carthalon, his sword drawn, his body wounded, his shield struck full of darts; Massinissa being ready for bed.
Enter Carthalon, with his sword drawn, his body injured, his shield covered in darts; Massinissa getting ready for bed.
Car.
To bold hearts Fortune! be not you amazed,
Carthage! O Carthage! be not you amazed.
Car.
To courageous hearts, Fortune! Don't be shocked,
Carthage! Oh Carthage! Don’t be shocked.
Mass.
Jove made us not to fear; resolve, speak out;
The highest misery of man is doubt.
Speak, Carthalon!
Mass.
Jove didn't create us to live in fear. Be resolute and speak your mind;
The biggest misery for a person is uncertainty.
Talk, Carthalon!
Car.
The stooping sun, like to some weaker prince,
Let his shades spread to an unnatural hugeness,
When we, the camp that lay at Utica,
From Carthage distant but five easy leagues, 70
Descried from off the watch three hundred sail,
Upon whose tops the Roman eagles stretch’d
Their large spread wings, which fann’d the evening air,
To us cold breath; for well we might discern
Rome swam to Carthage.
Car.
The setting sun, like a less powerful leader,
Let its shadows expand to an unnatural size,
As we, the group that was at Utica,
Just five easy miles from Carthage, 70
From the lookout, we spotted three hundred ships.
On whose masts the Roman eagles are unfurled
Their broad wings, which stirred the evening air,
To us, a cool breeze; because we could easily see
Rome sailing to Carthage.
Asd.
Hannibal, our rancour[303] is come back; thy slight,
Thy stratagem, to lead war unto Rome,
To quite ourselves, hath now taught desperate Rome
T’assail our Carthage: now the war is here.
Mass. He is nor blest, nor honest, that can fear. 80
Mass. He is neither blessed nor honest if he can fear. 80
Han. Ay, but to cast the worst of our distress——
Han. Yeah, but to show the worst of our problems
Mass.
To doubt of what shall be, is wretchedness:
Desire, fear, and hope, receive no bond
By whom, we in ourselves are never but beyond.
On!
Mass.
Doubting what will happen is a source of misery:
Desire, fear, and hope are not connected.
By whom, we are always more than ourselves.
On!
Car.
Th’ alarum beats necessity of fight;
Th’ unsober evening draws out reeling forces,
Soldiers, half men, who to their colours troop
With fury, not with valour: whilst our ships
Unrigg’d, unus’d, fitter for fire than water, 90
We save in our barr’d haven from surprise.
By this our army marcheth toward the shore,
Undisciplin’d young men, most bold to do,
If they knew how, or what; when we descry
A mighty dust, beat up with horses’ hooves:
Straight Roman ensigns glitter; Scipio——
Car. The alarm signals it's time to fight;
The wild evening brings chaotic forces to life,
Soldiers, still young men, who come together under their banners
With anger, not courage: as our ships
Are stripped down, unused, better for burning than for sailing, 90
We stay safe in our protected harbor from surprises.
Meanwhile, our army is advancing toward the shore,
Undisciplined young men, eager to take action,
If only they knew how or what to do when we notice __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
A huge cloud of dust, stirred up by the horses' hooves:
Right away, Roman banners shine brightly; Scipio——
Asd. Scipio!
Scipio!
Car.
Scipio, advancèd like the god of blood,
Leads up grim war, that father of foul wounds,
Whose sinewy feet are steep’d in gore, whose hideous voice 100
Makes turrets tremble and whole cities shake;
Before whose brows flight and disorder hurry;
With whom march burnings, murder, wrong, waste, rapes;
Behind whom a sad train is seen, woe, fears,
Tortures, lean need, famine, and helpless tears.
Now make we equal stand in mutual view:
We judg’d the Romans eighteen thousand foot,
Five thousand horse; we almost doubled them
In number, not in virtue;[304] yet in heat
Of youth and wine, jolly, and full of blood, 110
We gave the sign of battle: shouts are raised
That shook the heavens; pell-mell our armies join;
Horse, targets, pikes, all against each opposed,[305]
They give fierce shock, arms thunder’d as they clos’d:
Men cover earth, which straight are coverèd
With men and earth; yet doubtful stood the fight,
More fair to Carthage, when lo, as oft we see,
In mines of gold, when labouring slaves delve out
The richest ore, being in sudden hope
With some unlook’d-for vein to fill their buckets, 120
And send huge treasure up, a sudden damp
Stifles them all, their hands yet stuff’d with gold,—
So fell our fortunes; for look, as we stood proud,
Like hopeful victors, thinking to return
With spoils worth triumph, wrathful Syphax lands
With full ten thousand strong Numidian horse,
And joins to Scipio. Then lo, we[306] all were damp’d;
We fall[307] in clusters, and our wearied troops
Quit all. Slaughter ran through us straight; we fly,
Romans pursue, but Scipio sounds retreat, 130
As fearing trains and night: we make amain
For Carthage most, and some for Utica,
All for our lives.—New force, fresh arms with speed!
Car. Scipio, moving forward like the god of war,
Leads a grim conflict, the source of deep wounds,
Whose powerful feet are drenched in blood, whose terrifying voice __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Makes towers shake and entire cities tremble;
Before whom panic and chaos descend;
With them come fire, killing, unfairness, devastation, and violence;
Behind whom a sad procession emerges: sorrow, fears,
Torture, extreme desperation, hunger, and silent tears.
Now let's stand facing each other equally:
We estimate that the Romans have eighteen thousand infantry soldiers,
Five thousand cavalry; we're almost outnumbering them.
In numbers, but not in bravery; __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ still in the passion
Of youth and wine, cheerful and full of life, 110
We signaled the battle: shouts erupted.
That shook the skies; our armies clashed;
Horses, shields, and spears all collided with one another,[305]
They attacked fiercely, and the sound of weapons crashed loudly as they approached:
Men filled the area, which quickly became
Filled with bodies and dirt; yet the outcome of the fight remained uncertain,
More advantageous for Carthage, when, as we frequently observe, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
In gold mines, when enslaved workers dig out
The richest ore, brimming with unexpected hope
To discover an unexpected source to fill their buckets, 120
And send up great treasures, a sudden obstacle.
Silences them all, their hands still filled with gold,—
Our fortunes changed; because just as we stood confidently,
Like hopeful winners, anticipating a comeback
With rewards worth celebrating, the fierce Syphax arrives.
With a complete force of ten thousand Numidian cavalry,
And joins Scipio. Then suddenly, we__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ all felt down.
We fell__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ into groups, and our tired troops
Left us behind. The massacre tore through our forces; we ran,
The Romans chased after them, but Scipio called for a retreat, 130
Fearing ambushes and the darkness, we hurried.
Most of us headed toward Carthage, while some went toward Utica.
All for our lives. We urgently need new strength and fresh weapons!
[Tearing his hair.
Pulling his hair out.
Mass.
Old lord, spare thy hairs:
What, dost thou think baldness will cure thy grief?
What decree the Senate?
Old lord, keep your hair:
What, do you think going bald will solve your sadness?
What did the Senate decide?
Enter Gelosso with commissions in his hand, sealed.
Enter Gloats with sealed commissions in his hand.
Gelo.
Ask old Gelosso, who returns from them,
Inform’d with fullest charge. Strong Asdrubal,
Great Massinissa, Carthage general, 140
So speaks the Senate: counsel for this war
In Hanno Magnus, Bytheas, Carthalon,
And us Gelosso, rests. Embrace this charge,
You never yet dishonour’d Asdrubal,
High Massinissa! by your vows to Carthage,
By th’ god of great men,—glory,—fight for Carthage!
Ten thousand strong Massulians, ready troop’d,
Expect their king; double that number waits
The leading of loved Asdrubal: beat loud
Our Afric drums! and, whilst our o’er-toil’d foe 150
Snores on his unlacked casque, all faint, though proud,
Through his successful fight, strike fresh alarms.
Gods are not if they grace not bold, just arms.
Gelo.
Ask old Gelosso, who returns from them,
Fully charged with information. Strong Asdrubal,
Great Massinissa, the general of Carthage, 140
This is what the Senate states: the recommendation for this war
Rests with Hanno Magnus, Bytheas, Carthalon,
And we Gelosso. Take on this task,
You have never brought shame to Asdrubal,
Great Massinissa! By your promises to Carthage,
By the god of great men—glory—fight for Carthage!
Ten thousand Massulians are ready,
Waiting for their king; twice that amount is
Eager for the leadership of beloved Asdrubal: beat loudly.
Our African drums! And while our exhausted enemy 150
He snores in his rough helmet, exhausted but proud.
From his successful fight, new alarms are raised.
Gods don't exist if they don't back bold actions, just words.
Mass.
Carthage, thou straight shalt know
Thy favours have been done unto a king.
Carthage, you'll soon realize
Your kindness has been recognized by a king.
[Exit with Asdrubal and the Page.
Exit with Asdrubal and the Page.
So.
My lords, ’tis most unusual such sad haps
Of sudden horror should intrude ’mong beds
Of soft and private loves; but strange events
Excuse strange forms. O you that know our blood,
Revenge if I do feign. I here protest, 160
Though my lord leave his wife a very maid,
Even this night, instead of my soft arms
Clasping his well-strung limbs with glossful steel,
What’s safe to Carthage shall be sweet to me.
I must not, nor am I once ignorant
My choice of love hath given this sudden danger
To yet strong Carthage: ’twas I lost the fight;
My choice vex’d Syphax, enraged Syphax struck
Arms’ fate;[310] yet Sophonisba not repents:
O we were gods if that we knew events. 170
But let my[311] lord leave Carthage, quit his virtue,
I will not love him; yet must honour him,
As still good subjects must bad princes. Lords,
From the most ill-graced hymeneal bed
That ever Juno frown’d at, I entreat
That you’ll collect from our loose-formèd speech
This firm resolve: that no low appetite
Of my sex’ weakness can or shall o’ercome
Due grateful[312] service unto you or virtue.
Witness, ye gods, I never until now 180
Repined at my creation: now I wish
I were no woman, that my arms might speak
My heart to Carthage. But in vain: my tongue
Swears I am woman still, I talk too[313] long.
So.
My lords, it's truly uncommon for such tragic events
A sudden shock to break the closeness
Of gentle and private loves; but unusual events
Consider unusual behavior. Oh, you who understand our history,
Revenge if I'm just acting. I swear right here, 160
Although my lord leaves his wife a pure maiden,
Even tonight, instead of my soft embrace
Embracing his strong physique with beautiful steel,
What’s good for Carthage will be great for me.
I must not, nor am I unaware.
My choice in love has led to this sudden danger.
To the enduring strength of Carthage: I was the one who lost the battle;
My decision made Syphax angry; in his fury, Syphax attacked.
With the outcome of warfare;__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ but Sophonisba has no regrets:
Oh, we would be gods if we could predict the future. 170
But let my__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ lord leave Carthage and give up his honor,
I won’t love him, but I have to respect him,
Even good subjects have to respect bad rulers. Lords,
From the most unfortunate marriage bed
I ask about whatever Juno disapproved of.
That you understand from our disconnected words.
This firm determination: that no petty desire
The weaknesses of my gender can be overcome.
Proper gratitude__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ in serving you or doing what's right.
Listen, you gods, I have never until now 180
I regret my creation: now I wish
I am not a woman, so my arms might express
My heart is with Carthage, but it’s pointless: my tongue
I swear I'm still a woman; I talk too__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ much.
Cornets, a march. Enter two Pages with targets and javelins; two Pages with torches. Massinissa armed cap-à-pie; Asdrubal armed.
Cornets, a march. Enter two Pages with targets and javelins; two Pages with torches. Massinissa fully armed; Asdrubal armed.
Mass.
Ye Carthage lords, know Massinissa knows
Not only terms of honour, but his actions;
Nor must I now enlarge how much my cause
Hath danger’d Carthage, but how I may show
Myself most prest[314] to satisfaction.
The loathsome stain of kings’ ingratitude 190
From me O much be far! And since this torrent,
War’s rage, admits no anchor—since the billow
Is risen so high we may not hull,[315] but yield
This ample state to stroke of speedy swords;
What you with sober haste have well decreed,
We’ll put to sudden arms; no, not this night,
These dainties, these firstfruits of nuptials,
That well might give excuse for feeble lingerings,
Shall hinder Massinissa. Appetite,
Kisses, loves, dalliance, and what softer joys 200
The Venus of the pleasing’st ease can minister,
I quit you all. Virtue perforce is vice;
But he that may, yet holds, is manly wise.
Lo then, ye lords of Carthage, to your trust
I leave all Massinissa’s treasure: by the oath
Of right good men stand to my fortune just:
Most hard it is for great hearts to mistrust.
Mass.
Hey, leaders of Carthage, just so you know, Massinissa is aware.
Not only of honorable words but also of his actions;
And I won’t keep talking about how much my actions
I've put Carthage in danger, but more importantly, how I can demonstrate
I am fully prepared__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to set things straight.
The repulsive stain of kings' ungratefulness 190
It should be far away from me! And since this hurry,
The chaos of war doesn't allow for a break—since the waves
We've risen so high we can't sail,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ but we must give.
This great state is under the swift strikes of swords;
Your wise decision,
We’ll put it into action right away; not tonight, though.
These joys, these first offerings of weddings,
That might justify any slight hesitations,
Will not hold Massinissa back. Desire,
Kisses, affection, flirting, and any other gentle pleasures 200
The goddess of comfort can provide, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
I leave all of you behind. Sometimes, being virtuous can actually be a flaw;
But the one who can, yet restrains themselves, is truly wise.
So then, lords of Carthage, I trust
All of Massinissa's treasure belongs to you: by the oath
Good men, support my fortune fairly:
It's difficult for kind-hearted people to lose trust.
Car. We vow by all high powers.
Car. We swear by all that is sacred.
Mass.
No, do not swear;
I was not born so small to doubt or fear.
No, don’t promise anything;
I wasn't born so insignificant that I would doubt or be afraid.
So. Worthy, my lord——
So. Worthy, my lord—
Mass.
Peace, my ears are steel; 210
I must not hear thy much-enticing voice.
Chill, my ears are tough; 210
I can't handle your really tempting voice.
So.
My Massinissa, Sophonisba speaks
Worthy thy wife: go with as high a hand
As worth can rear. I will not stay my lord.
Fight for our country; vent thy youthful heat
In field, not beds: the fruit of honour, Fame,
Be rather gotten than the oft disgrace
Of hapless parents, children. Go, best man,
And make me proud to be a soldier’s wife,
That values his renown above faint pleasures: 220
Think every honour that doth grace thy sword
Trebles my love. By thee I have no lust
But of thy glory. Best lights of heaven with thee!
Like wonder, stand or fall; so, though thou die,
My fortunes may be wretched, but not I.
So.
My Massinissa, Sophonisba is talking
You deserve to be my husband: go with all your strength.
As much as your worth permits. I won’t hold you back, my lord.
Fight for our country; let your youthful passion shine.
In battle, not in bed: the reward of honor, fame,
Is much better than the regular embarrassment
Of unfortunate parents and children. Go, my greatest man,
And make me proud to be a soldier's wife,
Who prioritizes your reputation over temporary pleasures: 220
Remember every honor that enhances your sword.
Multiplies my love for you. I have no desire
Except for your glory. May the best lights in heaven shine on you!
Like a miracle, stand or fall; so even if you die,
My situation might be unfortunate, but I won't let it bring me down.
Mass.
Wondrous creature! even fit for gods, not men:
Nature made all the rest of thy fair sex
As weak essays, to make thee a pattern
Of what can be in woman! Long farewell!
He’s sure unconquer’d in whom thou dost dwell, 230
Carthage Palladium.[316] See that glorious lamp—
Whose lifeful[317] presence giveth sudden flight
To fancies, fogs, fears, sleep, and slothful night—
Spreads day upon the world: march swift amain;—
Fame got with loss of breath is god-like gain!
Mass.
An incredible being! Made for gods, not humans:
Nature created all the other women.
As weak efforts to turn you into a role model.
What a woman can really be! Goodbye for now!
Whoever you live with is definitely unbeatable, 230
Carthage's Guardian.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Check out that amazing light—
Whose vibrant __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ presence drives away
Thoughts, doubts, fears, sleep, and a lazy night—
Brings light to the world: move ahead swiftly;—
Gaining fame at the sacrifice of one's breath is a divine triumph!
[The Ladies draw the curtains about Sophonisba; the rest accompany Massinissa forth: the cornets and organs playing loud full music for the Act.
[The Ladies pull the curtains around Sophonisba; the rest follow Massinissa out: the trumpets and organs play vibrant music for the Act.
[301] The maiden-girdle worn by unmarried women. It was loosed by the bridegroom on the marriage night.
[301] The maiden belt worn by single women. It was removed by the groom on the wedding night.
[302] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. (8vo of 1633) “claime.”
[303] Old eds. “ancor”—an obvious misprint. The meaning is “our rancorous hatred of the Romans has recoiled on our own heads.”
[303] Old eds. “anchor”—an obvious typo. The meaning is “our bitter hatred of the Romans has come back to hurt us.”
[304] Valour (Lat. virtus).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Courage (Lat. virtus).
[305] Ed. 1. “apposd.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “apposd.”
[306] Ed. 1. “yee.”
“Yee.”
[307] Ed. 2. “fell.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “fell.”
[308] Not marked in ed. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Not marked in ed. 1.
[309] The words “O wretched fortune!” are given to Bytheas in ed. 1.
[309] The phrase "Oh, terrible fate!" is spoken by Bytheas in ed. 1.
[310] Quy. “Arm’d hate”?
“Armed hate”?
[311] Ed. 1. “me.”
“me.”
[312] Ed. 2. “gracefull.”
“graceful.”
[313] Ed. 2. “so.”
so.
[314] Ready, forward.
Ready, set, go.
[315] See note 2, vol. i. p. 87.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note 2, vol. 1, p. 87.
[316] The image of Pallas at Troy. The safety of the city depended on its possession.
[316] The statue of Pallas in Troy. The city's safety relied on having it.
[317] Ed. 2. “lightfull.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “lightful.”
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
The Senate-house at Carthage.
The Senate House in Carthage.
Whilst the music for the first Act sounds, Hanno, Carthalon, Bytheas, Gelosso, Enter: they place themselves to counsel, Gisco, the impoisoner, waiting on them; Hanno, Carthalon, and Bytheas setting their hands to a writing, which being offered to Gelosso, he denies his hand, and, as much offended, impatiently starts up and speaks.
As the music for the first Act plays, Hanno, Carthalon, Bytheas, Giggling, enter: they gather to discuss, Gisco, the poisoner, waiting on them; Hanno, Carthalon, and Bytheas begin writing something, which, when offered to Gelosso, he refuses to sign, and, quite offended, jumps up and speaks.
Enter Gelosso, Hanno, Bytheas, Carthalon.
Enter Gelosso, Hanno, Bytheas, Carthalon.
Gel.
My hand? my hand? rot first; wither in aged shame.
Gel.
My hand? My hand? Let it rot first; let it fade in lingering embarrassment.
By.
Hold such preposterous zeal as stand[319] against
The full decree of Senate, all think fit?
By.
Is there really such absurd enthusiasm that contradicts
Is the full decision of the Senate, as everyone thinks is correct?
Car.
Nay, most inevitable[320] necessary
For Carthage’ safety, and the now sole good
Of present state, that we must break all faith
With Massinissa. Whilst he fights abroad,
Let’s gain back Syphax, making him our own,
By giving Sophonisba to his bed. 10
Han.
Syphax is Massinissa’s greater, and his force
Shall give more side to Carthage: as for’s queen,
And her wise father, they love Carthage fate;
Profit and honesty are not one in state.
Han. Syphax is Massinissa's more powerful ally, and his army
Will give more support to Carthage. Regarding the queen,
And her wise father cares about the future of Carthage;
Profit and honesty don’t go together in politics.
Gel.
And what decrees our very virtuous Senate
Of worthy Massinissa, that now fights,
And (leaving wife and bed) bleeds in good arms
For right old Carthage?
Gel.
So what does our honorable Senate decide?
Regarding the esteemed Massinissa, who is currently in battle,
And (leaving his wife and bed) is bleeding in courageous arms.
For the sake of the old Carthage?
Car.
Thus ’tis thought fit:
Her father, Asdrubal, on sudden shall take in
Revolted Syphax; so with doubled strength, 20
Before that Massinissa shall suspect,
Slaughter both Massinissa and his troops,
And likewise strike with his deep stratagem
A sudden weakness into Scipio’s arms,
By drawing such a limb from the main body
Of his yet powerful army: which being done,
Dead Massinissa’s kingdom we decree
To Sophonisba and great Asdrubal
For their consent; so this swift plot shall bring
Two crowns to her, make Asdrubal a king. 30
So it's believed:
Her father, Asdrubal, will suddenly team up with __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
Syphax rebelled; therefore, with greater power, 20
Before Massinissa knows what's happening,
He will kill both Massinissa and his soldiers,
And also deliver a sudden blow to Scipio,
By separating a section from the main part
From his still strong army: once that's completed,
We will give the dead Massinissa's kingdom.
To Sophonisba and the great Asdrubal
For their approval; therefore, this quick plan will bring
Give her two crowns and make Asdrubal a king. 30
Gel.
So, first faith’s breach, murder, adultery, theft!
Gel.
So, the first betrayal of trust results in murder, cheating, and theft!
Car. What else?
What else is there?
Gel. Nay, all is done, no mischief left.
Gel. Nope, it’s all over, and there’s no trouble left.
Gel. Let me not say gods are not.
Gel. Let me not say that gods don’t exist.
Car.
This is fit:
Conquest by blood is not so sweet as wit:
For howsoe’er nice virtue censures[321] it,
He hath the grace of war that hath war’s profit.
But Carthage, well advised that states come on 40
With slow advice, quick execution,
Have here an engineer long bred for plots,
Call’d an impois’ner, who knows this sound excuse:
Th’ only dew that makes men sprout in court is use.
Be’t well or ill, his thrift is to be mute;
Such slaves must act commands, and not dispute.
Knowing foul deeds with danger do begin,
But with rewards do end: sin is no sin,
But in respects——
This works well:
Gaining power through violence isn't as fulfilling as using intelligence:
No matter how much virtue criticizes__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ it,
The one who profits from war has its favor.
But Carthage, aware that choices are made __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
With thoughtful consideration and quick action,
There's a strategist here, well-trained in plotting,
Referred to as an imposter, who understands this valid reason:
The only thing that helps people succeed at court is experience.
Whether it's positive or negative, his advantage is staying silent;
Such followers must follow orders and not question them.
Understanding that bad choices begin with risk,
But finish with rewards: a sin isn’t really a sin,
Except in specific contexts——
Gel.
Politic lord, speak low: though Heaven bears
A face far from us, gods have most long ears; 51
Jove has a hundred marble marble hands.
Gel. Politician, use a gentle tone: even though Heaven feels far away, the gods are always listening closely; 51
Jove has a hundred marble hands.
Car. O ay, in poetry or tragic scene!
Car. Oh yes, in poetry or a tragic scene!
Gel. I fear gods only know what poets mean.
Gel. I worry that only the gods understand what poets are trying to say.
Car.
Yet hear me, I will speak close truth and cease:
Nothing in Nature is unserviceable,
No, not even inutility itself.
Is then for nought dishonesty in being?
And if it be sometimes of forcèd use,
Wherein more urgent than in saving nations? 60
State shapes are solder’d up with base, nay faulty,
Yet necessary functions: some must lie,
Some must betray, some murder, and some all;
Each hath strong use, as poison in all purges:
Yet when some violent chance shall force a state
To break given faith, or plot some stratagems,
Princes ascribe that vile necessity
Unto Heaven’s wrath. And sure, though’t be no vice,
Yet ’tis bad chance: states must not stick too nice,
For Massinissa’s death sense bids forgive: 70
Beware t’offend great men, and let them live;
For ’tis of empire’s body the main arm,—
He that will do no good shall do no harm.
You have my mind.
Car. But hear me out, I’ll say the truth plainly and then I’ll be done:
Nothing in Nature is wasteful,
Not even the uselessness itself.
Is dishonesty then pointless in life?
And if it occasionally serves a forced purpose,
Where is the need more immediate than in saving countries? 60
States are held together by a foundation, even if it's imperfect,
Yet necessary roles: some must deceive,
Some have to betray, some kill, and some do it all;
Each has a clear purpose, just like poison in every cure:
But when some violent fate compels a state
To go back on a promise or come up with some plans,
Leaders blame that harsh necessity
About Heaven’s anger. And indeed, even though it's not a fault,
It’s still bad luck: states should not be too precise,
The death of Massinissa teaches us about forgiveness: 70
Be cautious not to upset powerful people, and allow them to thrive;
For they are the primary support of the empire,—
Those who won't do good won't do any harm either.
You have my thoughts.
Gel.
Although a stage-like passion, and weak heat,
Full of an empty wording, might suit age,
Know I’ll speak strongly truth. Lords, ne’er mistrust,
That he who’ll not betray a private man
For his country, will ne’er betray his country
For private men; then give Gelosso faith. 80
If treachery in state be serviceable,
Let hangmen do it. I am bound to lose
My life, but not mine honour, for my country.
Our vows, our faith, our oaths, why they’re ourselves,
And he that’s faithless to his proper self
May be excus’d if he break faith with princes.
The gods assist just hearts, and states that trust
Plots before Providence are toss’d like dust.
For Massinissa (O, let me slack a little
Austere discourse and feel humanity!) 90
Methinks I hear him cry, “O fight for Carthage!
Charge home! wounds smart not for that so just, so great,
So good a city.” Methinks I see him yet
Leave his fair bride, even on his nuptial night,
To buckle on his arms for Carthage. Hark!
Yet, yet, I hear him cry,—“Ingratitude,
Vile stain of man, O ever be most far
From Massinissa’s breast! Up, march amain;
Fame got by loss of breath is god-like gain!”
And see, by this he bleeds in doubtful[322] fight, 100
And cries “For Carthage!” whilst Carthage—Memory,
Forsake Gelosso! would I could not think,
Nor hear, nor be, when Carthage is
So infinitely vile! See, see! look here!
Gel. Even with a theatrical passion and limited enthusiasm,
Filled with meaningless talk, might fit old age,
Know that I will speak the truth boldly. Lords, never question,
That someone who won't betray a person
For their country, they will never betray their country.
For individuals; so trust Gelosso. 80
If betrayal in politics is viewed as beneficial,
Let the executioners take care of it. I'm okay with losing.
My life, but not my dignity, for my country.
Our vows, our beliefs, our promises, they define who we are,
And someone who is disloyal to their true self
May be excused for losing trust in leaders.
The gods assist those with kind hearts and nations that have faith.
Plans made before fate are discarded like dust.
For Massinissa (Oh, let me lighten my serious
Words and feel my humanity!
I think I hear him yell, “Oh, fight for Carthage!
Charge ahead! Wounds don’t matter for something so righteous, so powerful,
"So great a city." I can still see him.
Leave his beautiful bride, even on his wedding night,
To put on his armor for Carthage. Listen!
I can still hear him crying, “Ingratitude, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.”
The awful stain of humanity, oh may it never
Be found in Massinissa’s heart! Get up, march boldly;
"Fame earned through losing your breath is a god-like accomplishment!"
And look, here he bleeds in an uncertain __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ fight, 100
And shouts "For Carthage!" while Carthage—Memory,
Forget Gelosso! I wish I could stop thinking,
Neither hear nor exist when Carthage is.
That's completely disgraceful! Look, look! Check this out!
Cornets. Enter two Ushers; Sophonisba, Zanthia, and Arcathia; Hanno, Bytheas, and Carthalon present Sophonisba with a paper, which she having perused, after a short silence, speaks.
Cornets. Two Ushers enter; Sophonisba, Zanthia, and Arcathia; Hanno, Bytheas, and Carthalon give Sophonisba a paper, which she reads, and after a brief silence, she speaks.
So.
Who speaks? What, mute? Fair plot! What? blush to break it?
How lewd to act when so shamed but to speak it.
Is this the Senate’s firm decree?[323]
So.
Who’s speaking? What, quiet? Nice intro! What? Too shy to say it?
It's so wrong to act this way while feeling ashamed but not admitting it.
Is this really the Senate's firm decision?[323]
Car. It is.
It is.
So. Is this the Senate’s firm decree?
So. Is this the Senate's final decision?
Car. It is.
It is.
So. Hath Syphax entertained the stratagem?
So. Has Syphax embraced the plan?
Car. No doubt he hath or will.
Car. There's no doubt he has or will.
So.
My answer’s thus, 110
What’s safe to Carthage shall be sweet to us.[324]
So.
Here's my response: 110
What's good for Carthage will be great for us.[324]
Car. Right worthy.
Right on.
Han. Royalest.
Royalty.
Gel. O very woman!
Oh, fierce woman!
So.
But ’tis not safe for Carthage to destroy.
Be most unjust, cunningly politic,
Your head’s still under heaven. O trust to Fate:
Gods prosper more a just than crafty state;
’Tis less disgrace to have a pitied loss,
Than shameful victory.
So.
But it's not safe for Carthage to destroy.
Be the most unfair, cleverly strategic,
Your head is still in the clouds. Oh, trust in Fate:
Gods prefer a fair state over a cunning one;
It's less shameful to experience a loss that inspires sympathy,
Better to attain a victory that one can be proud of than to win in a dishonorable way.
Gel. O very angel!
Oh, you angel!
So.
We all have sworn good Massinissa faith;
Speech makes us men, and there’s no other bond 120
’Twixt man and man but words. O equal gods!
Make us once know the consequence of vows—
So.
We have all sworn our loyalty to Massinissa;
Through speech, we become human, and there’s no other connection __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Between one person and another, there are just words. Oh, equal gods!
Let's really grasp the significance of our promises—
Gel. And we shall hate faith-breakers worse than man-eaters.
Gel. And we will hate those who break their promises even more than man-eaters.
So. Ha, good Gelosso, is thy breath not here?
So. Ha, good Gelosso, is your breath not here?
Gel.
You do me wrong: as long as I can die,
Doubt you that old Gelosso can be vile?
States may afflict, tax, torture, but our minds
Are only sworn to Jove. I grieve, and yet am proud
That I alone am honest: high powers, ye know
Virtue is seldom seen with troops to go. 130
Gel.
You're treating me unfairly: as long as I can die,
Do you think that old Gelosso could be dishonest?
Governments can harm, tax, or torture, but our thoughts
I'm only devoted to Jove. I feel sad, but I'm also proud.
I am the only one being honest: you know.
Virtue is seldom seen leading armies. 130
So.
Excellent man! Carthage and Rome shall fall
Before thy fame.—Our lords, know I the worst?
So.
Great man! Carthage and Rome are going to fall apart.
Before your reputation.—My lords, am I aware of the worst?
Car. The gods foresaw, ’tis fate we thus are forc’d.
Car. The gods predicted it; we are forced by fate.
So.
Gods naught foresee, but see, for to their eyes
Naught is to come or past; nor are you vile
Because the gods foresee; for gods, not[325] we,
See as things are; things are not as[326] we see.
But since affected wisdom in us women
Is our sex’ highest folly, I am silent;
I cannot speak less well, unless I were 140
More void of goodness. Lords of Carthage, thus:
The air and earth of Carthage owes[327] my body;
It is their servant; what decree they of it?
So. The gods can't predict everything, but they can see; to them,
Nothing exists in the future or the past; you’re not inferior.
Just because the gods know what's going to happen, it doesn't mean that we do. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
See things for what they are; they don't see things the way __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ do.
But since acting wise is
The biggest mistake of our gender, I'll keep quiet;
I can't express myself any worse, unless I were 140
More lacking in goodness. Lords of Carthage, so:
The air and ground of Carthage belong__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to my body;
It works for them; what do they think about it?
Car.
That you remove to Cirta, to the palace
Of well-form’d Syphax, who with longing eyes
Meets you: he that gives way to Fate is wise.
Car.
You should go to Cirta, to the palace.
Of the handsome Syphax, who is eagerly waiting
You: the one who embraces their fate is wise.
So.
I go: what power can make me wretched? what evil
Is there in life to him that knows life’s loss
To be no evil? show, show thy ugliest brow,
O most black chance; make me a wretched story: 150
Without misfortune virtue hath no glory;
Opposèd trees makes tempests show their power,
And waves forced back by rocks makes Neptune tower,—
Tearless O see a miracle of life,
A maid, a widow, yet a hapless wife!
So.
I ask: what power can make me unhappy? what damage
Is there a purpose in life for someone who understands loss?
To cause no harm? Reveal, show your worst side,
O most dreadful fate; craft a tragic tale for me: 150
Without hardship, virtue has no value;
Conflicting trees show that storms expose their strength,
And waves pushed back by rocks make Neptune rise,—
Tearless Oh, witness a miracle of life,
A young woman, a widow, yet still an unfortunate wife!
[Cornets. Sophonisba, accompanied with the Senators, departs; only Gelosso stays.
[Cornets. Sophonisba, along with the Senators, leaves; only Giddy remains.
Gel.
A prodigy! let Nature run cross-legg’d,
Ops go upon his head, let Neptune burn,
Cold Saturn crack with heat, for now the world
Hath seen a woman!
Leap nimble lightning from Jove’s ample shield, 160
And make at length an end! The proud hot breath
Of thee-contemning greatness; the huge drought
Of sole self-loving vast ambition;
Th’ unnatural scorching heat of all those lamps
Thou rear’dst to yield a temperate fruitful heat;
Relentless rage, whose heart hath no one drop
Of human pity;—all, all loudly cry,
Thy brand, O Jove, for now[328] the world is dry!
O let a general end save Carthage fame!
When worlds do burn, unseen’s a city’s flame. 170
Phœbus in me is great; Carthage must fall;
Jove hates all vice, but vows’ breach worst of all.
Gel.
A miracle! Let Nature stretch and warp,
Let fate run its course, let the sea storm,
Let old Saturn break with heat, because now the world
Has spotted a woman!
Let lightning flash from Jupiter’s wide shield, 160
And finally come to an end! The proud, hot breath
Of greatness that seems to overlook you; the severe drought
Of self-centered, grand ambition;
The intense, unnatural heat from all those lights
You were raised to create a balanced, nurturing environment;
Unyielding anger, that has not a single drop in its heart.
Of human compassion;—everyone, everyone is shouting,
Your sign, O Jove, for now__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the world is dry!
Oh, may a common resolution preserve Carthage's greatness!
When everything else is falling apart, a city's problems often go ignored. 170
Phoebus is powerful inside me; Carthage has to fall;
Jove hates all wrongdoing, but breaking promises is the worst of them all.
[Exit.
Exit.
[318] Distracted, mad.
Distracted and angry.
[319] Ed. 2. “stands.”
“stands.”
[320] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “vnevitable.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “inevitable.”
[321] Judges.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Judges.
[322] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “double.”
So Ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “double.”
[323] Ed. 1. “decrees.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “decrees.”
[324] Ed. 1. “me.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “me.”
[325] Ed. 1. “and.”
“and.”
[326] Ed. 1. “for.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “for.”
[327] Own.
Own it.
[328] Old eds. “know.”
Old eds. “know.”
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Near Cirta.
Nearby Cirta.
Cornets sound a charge. Enter Massinissa in his gorget[329] and shirt, shield, sword; his arm transfix’d with a dart. Jugurth follows, with his cuirass and casque.
Trumpets blare a charge. Massinissa wearing his gorget[329] and shirt, shield, and sword; his arm pierced by a dart. Jugurtha follows, in his breastplate and helmet.
Mass. Mount us again; give us another horse!
Mass. Mount us again; give us another horse!
Jug. Uncle, your blood flows fast: pray ye withdraw.
Jug. Uncle, you're getting worked up: please calm down.
Mass.
O Jugurth, I cannot bleed too fast, too much,
For that so great, so just, so royal Carthage!
My wound smarts not, blood’s loss makes me not faint,
For that loved city. O nephew, let me tell thee,
How good that Carthage is: it nourish’d me,
And when full time gave me fit strength for love,
The most adorèd creature of the city,
To us before great Syphax did they yield,— 10
Fair, noble, modest, and ’bove all, my [own],
My Sophonisba! O Jugurth, my strength doubles:
I know not how to turn a coward,—drop
In feeble baseness I cannot. Give me horse!
Know I’m Carthage’ very creature, and am grac’d
That I may bleed for them. Give me fresh horse!
Mass. O Jugurth, I can't bleed out too fast or too much,
For that amazing, just, royal Carthage!
My wound doesn’t hurt, and I’m not feeling weak from blood loss,
For that cherished city. Oh, nephew, let me tell you,
Carthage is amazing: it raised me,
And when the time came for me to love,
The most loved person in the city,
They gave up to us before the great Syphax,— 10
Beautiful, noble, humble, and most importantly, mine,
My Sophonisba! Oh Jugurth, my strength is increasing:
I don’t know how to behave like a coward—to back down.
I won't sink into weakness. Give me a horse!
I’m really a product of Carthage, and I’m honored.
I want to be able to fight for them. Get me a new horse!
Jug. He that doth public good for multitude,
Finds few are truly grateful.
Jug. People who contribute positively to society,
often find that few are truly grateful.
Mass.
O Jugurth! fie! you must not say so. Jugurth,
Some[330] common-weals may let a noble heart 20
Even bleed to death abroad, and not bemoan’d,
Neither revenged, at home. But, Carthage, fie!
It cannot be ungrate, faithless through fear:
It cannot, Jugurth: Sophonisba’s there.
Beat a fresh charge!
Mass. Oh Jugurth! No way! You can't say that. Jugurth,
Some__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ states might allow a noble heart
Even bleed to death somewhere else and not be missed,
Not avenged, at home. But Carthage? No way!
It can't be ungrateful or unfaithful out of fear:
It can't, Jugurth: Sophonisba's here.
Launch another strike!
Enter Asdrubal, his sword drawn, reading a letter; Gisco follows him.
Enter Asdrúbal, with his sword out, reading a letter; Gisco follows him.
Asd.
Sound the retreat; respect your health, brave prince;
The waste of blood throws paleness on your face.
Asd.
Sound the retreat; look after yourself, courageous prince;
You're looking pale because of blood loss.
Asd.
The day looks off from Carthage; cease alarms!
A modest temperance is the life of arms.
Take our best surgeon Gisco; he is sent
From Carthage to attend your chance of war.
Asd.
The day feels odd here in Carthage; shut off the alarms!
A balanced approach is crucial in warfare.
Consider our top surgeon, Gisco; he has been sent
From Carthage to help with your situation in the war.
Gis. We promise sudden ease.
We promise instant comfort.
Mass. Thy comfort’s good.
Your comfort is nice.
Asd.
—That nothing can secure us but thy blood!
Infuse it in his wound, ’twill work amain.
Asd. —The only thing that can protect us is your blood!
Pour it into his wound; it will be very effective.
Gis. —O Jove!
Gis. —Oh God!
Asd.
—What Jove? thy god must be thy gain,—
And as for me——Apollo Pythian, 40
Thou know’st a statist[331] must not be a man.
[Exit Asdrubal.
[Exit Asdrubal.
Enter Gelosso disguised like an old soldier, delivering to Massinissa (as he is preparing to be dressed by Gisco) a letter, which Massinissa reading, starts, and speaks to Gisco.
Enter Giggling disguised as an old soldier, handing a note to Massinissa (who is getting ready to be dressed by Gisco) and as Massinissa reads it, he starts talking to Gisco.
Mass. Forbear; how art thou call’d?
Mass. Wait; what’s your name?
Gis. Gisco, my lord.
Gis. Gisco, my lord.
Mass.
Um, Gisco. Ha! touch not my arm.—[To Gelosso.] Most only man!—
[To Gisco.] Sirra, sirra, art poor?
Mass.
Um, Gisco. Ha! Don't touch my arm.—[To Gelosso.] Most only man!—
[To Gisco.] Hey, are you out of money?
Gis. Not poor.
Gis. Not broke.
[Massinissa begins to draw.
[Massinissa starts to draw.
Our troops of horse make indisgraced retreat;
Trot easy off.—Not poor!—Jugurth, give charge
My soldiers stand in square battalia,
Our cavalry is retreating without any sense of honor;
Walk away calmly.—Not poor!—Jugurth, take the lead.
My soldiers are lined up in formation,
[Exit Jugurth.
[Exit Jugurth.
Entirely of themselves.—Gisco, th’ art old;
’Tis time to leave off murder; thy faint breath
Scarce heaves thy ribs, thy gummy blood-shut eyes 50
Are sunk a great way in thee, thy lank skin
Slides from thy fleshless veins: be good to men.
Judge him, ye gods: I had not life to kill
So base a creature. Hold, Gisco, live;
The god-like part of kings is to forgive.
All by yourself.—Gisco, you’re getting older;
It's time to stop the killing; your feeble breath
Barely moves your ribs, your bloodshot eyes 50
Are deeply sunken, your thin skin
Stay relaxed and open with your bony veins: treat others with kindness.
Judge him, you gods: I just can't bring myself to kill.
What a lowly creature. Hold on, Gisco, stay alive;
The noble quality of kings is to forgive.
Gis. Command astonish’d Gisco.
Gis. Command amazed Gisco.
Mass.
No, return.
Haste unto Carthage, quit thy abject fears,
Massinissa knows no use of murderers.
No, go back.
Rush to Carthage, leave your useless fears behind,
Massinissa doesn't need assassins.
[Exit Gisco.
[Exit Gisco.
Enter Jugurth, amazed, his sword drawn.
Enter Jugurth, astounded, his sword out.
Speak, speak! let terror strike slaves mute,
Much danger makes great hearts most resolute. 60
Speak out, speak out! Don't let fear keep the oppressed silent,
A lot of danger makes brave hearts fearless. 60
Jug.
Uncle, I fear foul arms; myself beheld
Syphax on high speed run his well-breath’d horse
Direct to Cirta, that most beauteous city
Of all his kingdom; whilst his troops of horse,
With careless trot, pace gently toward our camp,
As friends to Carthage. Stand on guard, dear uncle;
For Asdrubal, with yet his well-rank’d army,
Bends a deep threat’ning brow to us, as if
He waited but to join with Syphax’ horse,
And hew us all to pieces. O my king, 70
My uncle, father, captain, O over all!
Stand like thyself, or like thyself now fall!
Thy troops yet hold good ground. Unworthy wounds,
Betray not Massinissa!
Jug.
Uncle, I'm concerned about a threat; I just saw
Syphax raced toward Cirta on his well-bred horse,
the most beautiful city
in all his kingdom; while his cavalry,
casually trotting, heading gently toward our camp,
Acting like friends of Carthage. Stay vigilant, dear uncle;
because Asdrubal, with his powerful army,
is staring at us threateningly, as if
he's just waiting to team up with Syphax's cavalry,
and cut us all into pieces. Oh my king, 70
My uncle, my father, my leader, oh above all!
Stand strong as you are, or collapse as you are now!
Your troops are still holding strong. Don’t let Massinissa down!
Mass.
Jugurth, pluck,
Pluck! so, good coz.
Mass. Jugurth, bravery, Bravery! So, good cousin.
Jug. O God! Do you not feel?
Jug. Oh my God! Can't you feel?
Mass. Not, Jugurth, no; now all my flesh is steel.
Mass. Not at all, Jugurth; right now, every part of me feels like steel.
Gel.
Off base disguise! high lights scorn not to view
A true old man. Up, Massinissa! throw
The lot of battle upon Syphax’ troops,
Before he join with Carthage; then amain 80
Make through to Scipio; he yields safe abodes:
Spare treachery, and strike the very gods.
Gel.
Out-of-bounds disguise! Check out the highlights, don't miss the view.
A real old man. Get up, Massinissa! Throw
The likelihood of a conflict involving Syphax's troops,
Before he teams up with Carthage; then quickly 80
Head over to Scipio; he provides a safe haven:
Avoid betrayal and challenge the gods directly.
Mass.
Why wast thou born at Carthage! O my fate!
Divinest Sophonisba! I am full
Of much complaint, and many passions,
The least of which express’d would sad the gods,
And strike compassion in most[332] ruthless hell.
Up, unmaim’d heart, spend all thy grief and rage
Upon thy foe! the field’s a soldier’s stage,
On which his action shows. If you are just, 90
And hate those that contemn you, O you gods,
Revenge worthy your anger, your anger! O,
Down man, up heart! stoop Jove, and bend thy chin
To thy large breast; give sign th’art pleased, and just;
Swear good men’s foreheads must not print the dust.
Mass.
Why were you born in Carthage? Oh, my fate!
Holy Sophonisba! I’m overwhelmed
With so much sadness and a lot of feelings,
Even the smallest of these would make the gods sad,
And inspire pity even in the most __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ ruthless hell.
Come on, unbroken heart, let out all your sadness and anger.
To your enemy! The battlefield is where a soldier performs,
Where his actions are shown. If you are righteous, 90
And reject those who mock you, oh gods,
exact revenge that matches your anger, your anger! Oh,
Get up, man, and lift your spirits! Bow down, Jove, and lower your chin.
To your strong chest; show that you’re happy and fair;
Swear that good people shouldn’t have to kneel in the dirt.
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.]
[329] Armour for the throat.
Throat armor.
[330] I follow the reading of ed. 2.—Ed. 1. gives:—
[330] I'm following the reading of ed. 2.—Ed. 1. states:—
“Some common weales melt at a noble hart,
Too forward bleeds abrode and bleed bemond,
But not revengd at home.”
"Some common wounds heal in a noble heart,
Excessive generosity can cause widespread suffering,
"But it doesn’t take revenge at home."
[331] Statesman.—The word is used by Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, &c.
[331] Statesman.—The term is used by Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, etc.
[332] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “into ruthlesse hell.”
So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “into ruthless hell.”
Carthage.
Carthage.
Enter Asdrubal, Hanno, Bytheas.
Enter Asdrubal, Hanno, Bytheas.
Asd.
What Carthage hath decreed, Hanno, is done;
Advanced and born was Asdrubal for state;
Only with it, his faith, his love, his hate,
Are of one piece. Were it my daughter’s life
That, fate hath sung, to Carthage safety brings,
What deed so red but hath been done by kings?
Iphigenia—He that’s a man for men,
Ambitious as a god, must, like a god,
Live free from passions; his full aim’d at end,
Immense to others, sole self to comprehend, 10
Round in’s own globe; not to be clasp’d, but holds
Within him all; his heart being of more folds
Than shield of Telamon, not to be pierc’d, though struck:
The god of wise men is themselves, not luck.
Asd.
What Carthage has decided, Hanno, is final;
Asdrubal was brought up and destined to lead;
His faith, love, and hate are all connected.
If it were my daughter's life
That, as fate has predicted, brings safety to Carthage,
What violent act hasn't been carried out by kings?
Iphigenia—A man among men,
Ambitious like a god, must, just like a god,
Live free from desires; his ultimate goal,
Huge to others, but only he really understands, 10
Focused on his own reality; he can't be held back,
Inside him lies everything; his heart is more intricate.
Than Telamon's shield, unbreakable even when hit:
The true god of the wise is themselves, not luck.
Enter Gisco.
Enter Gisco.
See him by whom now Massinissa is not.
Gisco, is’t done?
Look at the one for whom Massinissa is gone.
Gisco, is it done?
Gis. Your pardon, worthy lord,
It is not done, my heart sunk in my breast,
His virtue mazed me, faintness seized me all:
Some god’s in kings, that will not let them fall. 19
Gis. I'm sorry, noble lord,
It hasn’t happened yet; my heart feels heavy,
His kindness left me feeling bewildered; I felt weak all over.
There’s a certain divine power in kings that prevents them from failing. 19
Asd.
His virtue mazed thee! (umh) why now I see
Th’art that just man that hath true touch of blood,
Of pity, and soft piety. Forgive?
Yes, honour thee; we did it but to try
What sense thou hadst of blood. Go, Bytheas,
Take him into our private treasury—
[Aside to Bytheas] And cut his throat; the slave hath all betray’d.
Asd.
Your kindness surprised me! (umh) now I get it.
You're that fair man who really gets blood,
Of compassion and gentle kindness. Can we forgive?
Yes, I respect you; we did it only to test.
What you felt about blood. Go, Bytheas,
Take him to our private treasury—
[Aside to Bytheas] And cut his throat; the slave has fully betrayed us.
By. —Are you assured?
—Are you sure?
Asd.
—Afear’d, for this I know,
Who thinketh to buy villainy with gold,
Shall ever find such faith so bought, so sold.—
Reward him thoroughly.
Asd. —I’m worried because I know this,
Those who think they can purchase evil with money,
You will always find that loyalty that can be bought and sold is worthless.
Compensate him well.
[A shout; the cornets giving a flourish.
[A shout; the cornets playing a flourish.]
Han. What means this shout? 30
What does this shout mean?
Asd.
Hanno, ’tis done. Syphax’ revolt by this
Hath secured Carthage; and now his force come in,
And join’d with us, give Massinissa charge,
And assured slaughter. O ye powers! forgive,
Through rotten’st dung best plants both sprout and live;
By blood[333] vines grow.
Asd. Hanno, it’s done. Syphax’s rebellion has secured Carthage, and now his troops are arriving.
and joined us, they gave Massinissa command,
and guaranteed slaughter. Oh, you powers! please forgive,
Even the dirtiest manure encourages the best plants to grow and thrive;
from blood__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ vines thrive.
Asd.
Tush, Hanno! let me prosper, let routs prate;
My power shall force their silence or my hate.
I scorn their idle malice: men of weight
Know, he that fears envy let him cease to reign;
The people’s hate to some hath been their gain.
For howsoe’er a monarch feigns his parts,
Steal anything from kings but subjects’ hearts.
Asd.
Come on, Hanno! Let me have this win, let the rumors spread;
My power will silence them, or my anger will.
I ignore their pointless anger: respected men
Understand that those who are afraid of jealousy should stop leading;
For some have benefited from the people's hatred.
No matter how a king acts like he's fulfilling his role,
Strip kings of everything except the loyalty of their subjects.
Enter Carthalon leading in bound Gelosso.
Enter Carthalon leading in from the front Gelosso.
Car.
Guard, guard the camp!—make to the trench!—stand firm!
Car.
Be careful, be careful of the camp!—go to the trench!—stay tough!
Asd. The gods of boldness with us!—how runs chance?
Asd. The gods of bravery are on our side!—what's the situation?
Car.
Think, think how wretched thou canst be, thou art; 50
Short words shall speak long woes.
Car.
Think about how unhappy you can feel; 50
Short words can convey profound sadness.
Gel. Mark, Asdrubal.
Gel. Mark, Asdrubal.
Car.
Our bloody plot to Massinissa’s ear
Untimely by this lord was all betrayed.
Car.
Our brutal scheme was exposed to Massinissa.
This lord revealed everything at the wrong moment.
Gel.
By me it was; by me, vile Asdrubal;
I joy to speak’t.
Gel. It was me; it was me, the contemptible Asdrubal;
I'm happy to say it.
Asd. Down, slave!
Down, servant!
Gel. I cannot fall.
I can't fall.
Car.
Our train’s disclosed, straight to his well-used arms
He took himself, rose up with all his force
On Syphax’ careless troops, Syphax being hurried
Before to Cirta, fearless of success,
Impatient Sophonisba to enjoy; 60
Gelosso rides to head of all our squadrons,
Commands make stand in thy name, Asdrubal,
In mine, in his, in all: they all obey;
Whilst Massinissa, now with more than fury,
Chargeth the loose and much-amazèd ranks
Of absent Syphax, who with broken shout
(In vain expecting Carthage secondings)
Give faint repulse. A second charge is given:
Then look, as when a falcon towers aloft,
Whole shoals of fowl and flocks of lesser birds 70
Crouch fearfully, and dive; some among sedge,
Some creep in brakes: so Massinissa’s sword,
Brandish’d aloft, toss’d ’bout his shining casque,
Made stoop whole squadrons; quick as thought he strikes,
Here hurls he darts, and there his rage-strong arm
Fights foot to foot; here cries he “strike! they sink!”
And then grim slaughter follows; for by this,
As men betray’d, they curse us, die, or fly, or both;
Six thousand fell at once. Now was I come,
And straight perceived all bled by his vile plot. 80
Car. Our troops have exposed our plans, moving directly into his well-prepared defenses.
He composed himself and stood up with all his strength.
Against Syphax's careless troops, with Syphax being taken by surprise.
Before arriving in Cirta, unshaken by the challenges,
Impatient for Sophonisba to have fun; 60
Gelosso rides to the front of all our troops,
Orders everyone to stand in your name, Asdrubal,
In mine, in his, in all: they all follow;
While Massinissa, now filled with more than anger,
Attacks the chaotic and easily surprised groups.
Of missing Syphax, who, with a broken shout
(Hoping for support from Carthage in vain)
Launches a weak counterattack. A second charge is initiated:
Then see, just like when a falcon flies high,
Large groups of birds and smaller animals 70
Crouch in fear and dive; some are hidden among the reeds,
Some hide in the bushes: just like Massinissa’s sword, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Held up high, gleaming around his shining helmet,
Made whole squadrons bow; as quick as thought, he strikes,
Here he throws darts, and over there, his strong arm
Engaging in close combat, he yells, "Hit them! They're going down!"
Then a brutal massacre follows; because of this,
Like betrayed people, they curse us, die, or run away, or do both;
Six thousand fell all at once. Now I had arrived,
And quickly noticed that everyone was hurt because of his disgusting plan. 80
Gel. Vile! Good plot! my good plot, Asdrubal!
Gel. Disgusting! What a great story! My great story, Asdrubal!
Car.
I forced our army beat a running march;
But Massinissa struck his spurs apace
Upon his speedy horse, leaves slaughtering;
All fly to Scipio, who with open ranks
In view receives them: all I could effect
Was but to gain him.
Car. I urged our army to march as quickly as possible;
But Massinissa kept pushing his horse ahead,
Leaving the chaos of battle behind;
Everyone ran to Scipio, who was prepared.
With open ranks to welcome them: all I could accomplish
Just had to reach him.
Asd. Die!
Die!
[Gelosso departs, guarded.
[Gelosso leaves, guarded.
Car.
Scipio and Massinissa by this strike
Their claspèd palms, then vow an endless love; 90
Straight a joint shout they raise, then turn they breasts
Direct on us, march strongly toward our camp,
As if they dared us fight. O Asdrubal,
I fear they’ll force our camp.
Car. Scipio and Massinissa, by making this move
Join their hands and promise eternal loyalty; 90
Immediately, they raise a united shout and then turn their chests.
Marching confidently toward our camp,
It's as if they dare us to battle. Oh Asdrubal,
I'm concerned they might break into our camp.
Asd.
Break up and fly.—
This was your plot.
Break up and leave.
This was your strategy.
Han. But ’twas thy shame to choose it.
Han. But it was your shame to choose it.
Car. He that forbids not offence, he does it.
Car. If you don't stop someone from doing something wrong, you're allowing it.
Asd.
The curse of women’s words go with you.—Fly!—
You are no villains!—Gods and men, which way?—
Advise vile things!
Asd.
The curse of women's words is haunting you. — Leave now! —
You're not bad!—Gods and humans, which path?—
Suggest awful things!
Han. Vile?
Nasty?
Asd. Ay!
Ay!
Car. Not?
Car. No?
By. You did all.
You did everything.
Asd. Did you not plot?
Did you not plan?
Car. Yielded not Asdrubal? 100
Car. Not yielded Asdrubal? 100
Asd. But you enticed me.
But you lured me in.
Han. How?
How?
Asd. With hope of place.
With hope for a spot.
Car. He that for wealth leaves faith, is abject.
Car. Anyone who abandons their faith for money is pathetic.
Han. Base.
Base.
Asd. Do not provoke my sword; I live.
Asd. Don't challenge my sword; I'm still here.
Car.
More shame,
T’ outlive thy virtue and thy once great name.
What a pity,
to compromise your integrity and your once great reputation.
Han. Hold!
Stop!
Car.
Know that only thou
Art treacherous: thou shouldst have had a crown.
Car.
You need to realize that you are being dishonest: you should have worn a crown.
Han.
Thou didst all, all; he for whom mischief’s done,
He does it.
Han.
You did it all; you’re the one who causes the trouble,
He's the one who makes it happen.
Asd.
Brook[334] open scorn, faint powers!—
Make good the camp!—No, fly!—yes, what?—wild rage!— 110
To be a prosperous villain! yet some heat, some hold;
But to burn temples, and yet freeze, O cold!
Give me some health; now your blood sinks: thus deeds
Ill nourish’d rot; without Jove nought succeeds.
Brook __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ open scorn, weak powers!—
Secure the campsite!—No, run!—yes, what?—anger!— 110
To be a successful villain! But also have some passion and some control;
But to destroy temples and remain unfeeling, oh how chilling!
Give me some strength; now your energy is fading: such actions
Poor nourishment leads to decay; without Jove, nothing flourishes.
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.
[333] Marston may here be alluding to a passage in Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride:—“ἢρξαντο δὲ πίνειν ἀπὸ Ψαμμητίχου, πρότερον δ᾽ οὐκ ἔπινον οἶνον, οὐδὲ ἔσπενδον, ὡς φίλιον θεοῖς, ἀλλ᾽ ὡς αἷμα τῶν πολεμησάντων ποτὲ τοῖς θεοῖς, ἑξ ὧν οἴονται πεσόντων καὶ τῇ γῇ συμμιγέντων ἀμτέλους γενέσθαι· διὸ καὶ τὸ μεθύειν ἔκφρονας ποιεῖ καὶ παραπλῆγας ἅτε δη τῶν προγόνων τοῦ αἵματος ἐμπιπλαμένους.”
[333] Marston might be referencing a passage from Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride:—“They began to drink from Psammetichus, but earlier they didn’t drink wine, nor did they pour libations as a sign of friendship to the gods, but as the blood of those who once fought for the gods, from which they believe that the fallen mingled with the earth to create grapevines; therefore, being intoxicated makes one irrational and brings about confusion, just like those who are filled with the blood of their ancestors.”
ACT III.[335]
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
The Palace of Syphax at Cirta.
The Palace of Syphax in Cirta.
Syphax, with his dagger twon[336] about her hair, drags in Sophonisba in her nightgown and petticoat; Zanthia and Vangue following.
Syphax, with his dagger drawn[336] around her hair, drags in Sophonisba in her nightgown and petticoat; Zanthia and Vague following.
Sy.
Must we entreat? sue to such squeamish ears?
Know, Syphax has no knees, his eyes no tears;
Enragèd love is senseless of remorse.
Thou shalt, thou must: kings’ glory is their force.
Thou art in Cirta, in my palace, fool:
Dost think he pitieth tears that knows to rule?
For all thy scornful eyes, thy proud disdain,
And late contempt of us, now we’ll revenge,
Break stubborn silence. Look, I’ll tack thy head
To the low earth, whilst strength of two black knaves 10
Thy limbs all wide shall strain. Prayer fitteth slaves,
Our courtship be our force: rest calm as sleep,
Else at this quake; hark, hark, we cannot weep.
Sy.
Do we really have to beg? Plead to such delicate ears?
Know that Syphax has no knees, and his eyes don’t shed tears;
Angry love feels no remorse.
You should, you have to: the greatness of kings lies in their power.
You're in Cirta, in my palace, idiot:
Do you think he feels sorry for tears when he knows how to take charge?
Despite all your scornful looks and your proud disdain,
And for your recent disrespect towards us, we will take our revenge,
Break your stubborn silence. Look, I’ll put your head__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
To the ground, while two strong men
Will stretch your limbs wide. Prayer is for those who are bound.
Our approach will be our strength: remain as calm as sleep,
Otherwise, during this earthquake; listen, listen, we can't cry.
Sy. Can? see.
Sy. Can you see?
So. Thou mayest enforce my body, but not me.
So. You can control my body, but not me.
Sy. Not?
Sy. Really?
So. No.
So. Nah.
Sy. No?
No?
So.
No: off with thy loathèd arms,
That lie more heavy on me than the chains
That wear deep wrinkles in the captive’s limbs!
I do beseech thee.
So.
No: put down your loathed weapons,
They weigh on me more than the chains.
That leaves deep scars on a captive’s limbs!
I'm begging you.
Sy. What?
Sy. What?
So.
Be but a beast,
Be but a beast.
Just be a savage,
Just be awesome.
Sy.
Do not offend a power 20
Can make thee more than wretched: yield to him
To whom fate yields. Know, Massinissa’s dead.
Don't anger a force
That can make you even more unhappy: give in to him.
To whom it may concern. Just know, Massinissa is dead.
So. Dead!
So. It's over!
Sy. Dead.
Sy. Deceased.
So. To gods’ and[337] good men’s shame.
So. To the shame of the gods and good men.
Sy. Help, Vangue, my strong blood boils.
Sy. Help, Vangue, my blood is boiling with rage.
So. O[338] yet save thine own fame.
So. O__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ but protect your reputation.
Sy.
All appetite is deaf; I will, I must.
Achilles’ armour could not bar[339] out lust.
Sy. I have an unquenchable desire; I will, I have to.
Achilles’ armor couldn’t stop __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ lust.
So.
Hold thy strong arm, and hear me. Syphax, know
I am thy servant now: I needs must love thee,
For (O, my sex, forgive!) I must confess
We not affect protesting feebleness, 30
Entreats, faint blushings, timorous modesty;
We think our lover is but little man,
Who is so full of woman. Know, fair Prince,
Love’s strongest arm’s not rude; for we still prove,
Without some fury there’s no ardent love.
We love our love’s impatience of delay;
Our noble[340] sex was only born t’obey,
To him that dares command.
So.
Hold your strength and hear me out. Syphax, listen carefully.
I’m your servant now: I have to love you,
For (Oh, my gender, forgive!) I have to confess
We don’t like acting weak, 30
Pleading, blushing, shy humility;
We don't believe our partner is much of a man,
Who is so full of femininity? Know this, fair Prince,
Love's strongest force isn't harsh; instead, we always demonstrate,
Without passion, there’s no true love.
We love how our love can't stand waiting.
Our noble__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ gender was created solely to obey,
To the one who is bold enough to give orders.
Sy.
Why, this is well;
Th’ excuse is good: wipe thy fair eyes, our Queen,
Make proud thy head; now feel more friendly strength
Of thy lord’s arm: come, touch my rougher skin 41
With thy soft lip. Zanthia, dress our bed.
Forget old loves, and clip him that through blood
And hell acquires his wish; think not but kiss,
The flourish fore love’s fight and[341] Venus’ bliss.
Sy. This is awesome;
The excuse is good: dry your beautiful eyes, our Queen,
Keep your head up; now feel the stronger support.
From your lord’s arm: come, touch my rough skin 41
With your soft lips, Zanthia, get our bed ready.
Forget past loves and embrace the one who brings you together through blood.
And hell gets what he wants; just think about kissing,
The show before love's struggle and__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Venus' happiness.
So.
Great dreadful lord, by thy affection,
Grant me one boon. Know I have made a vow—
So.
Great and powerful lord, by your love,
Please do me a favor. Just know that I have made a promise—
Sy. Vow! what vow? speak.
Sy. Vow! What vow? Speak.
So.
Nay, if you take offence,
Let my soul suffer first, and yet——
No, if you're upset,
Let my soul be the first to endure pain, and yet——
Sy.
Offence?
Not, Sophonisba; hold, thy vow is free 50
As——come, thy lips!
Offense?
No, Sophonisba; hold on, your promise is free __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
As——come, your lips!
Sy.
This? go, obtain.
What time?
Sy.
This? Go get it.
What time?
So. One hour.
So. One hour.
Sy.
Sweet, good speed, speed, adieu!—
Yet, Syphax, trust no more than thou may’st view.—
Vangue shall stay.
Take care, good luck, bye!—
But, Syphax, only believe what you can see.—
Vangue will stay.
So. He stays.
So. He's staying.
Enter a Page, delivering a letter to Sophonisba, which she privately reads.
Enter a Page, delivering a letter to Sophonisba, which she privately reads.
Sy.
Zanthia, Zanthia! 60
Thou art not foul, go to; some lords are oft
So much in love with their known ladies’ bodies,
That they oft love their—Vails:[342] hold, hold, thou’st find
To faithful care kings’ bounty hath no shore.
Zan. You may do much.
Zan. You can do a lot.
Sy. But let my gold do more.
Sy. But let my money do more.
Zan. I am your creature.
Zan. I'm your creature.
Sy.
Be yet;[343] ’tis no stain;
The god of service is however gain.
Hold on; __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ it’s not a flaw;
Serving others comes with its own rewards.
[Exit.
[Leave.
So.
Zanthia, where are we now? speak worth my service;
Ha’ we done well?
So.
Zanthia, what’s our status now? Let me know if my efforts have been worthwhile;
Did we do well?
Zan.
Nay, in height of best
I fear’d a superstitious virtue would spoil all, 70
But now I find you above women rare.
She that can time her goodness hath true care
Of her best good. Nature at home begins;
She, whose integrity herself hurts, sins.
For Massinissa, he was good, and so;
But he is dead, or worse, distress’d, or more
Than dead, or much distress’d. O sad, poor,—
Who ever held such friends? no, let him go;
Such faith is praised, then laugh’d at; for still know
Those are the living women that reduce 80
All that they touch unto their ease and use,
Knowing that wedlock, virtue, or good names,
Are courses and varieties of reason,
To use or leave, as they advantage them,
And absolute within themselves reposed,
Only to greatness ope, to all else closed.
Weak sanguine fools are to their own good nice;
Before I held you virtuous, but now wise.
Zan.
No, at the peak of the best
I was worried that a superstitious belief would ruin everything, 70
But now I see you as truly one of a kind among women.
The person who measures their kindness genuinely cares.
About her own well-being. Kindness begins at home;
A person who compromises their own integrity is committing a wrongdoing.
Regarding Massinissa, he was a good person,
But he's dead, or worse, suffering, or even more.
Than death or great suffering. Oh, how sad, poor—
Who ever had friends like that? No, just let him go;
Such loyalty is respected, then mocked; because always remember
These are the women who are changing the world. 80
Everything they manipulate to meet their needs,
Recognizing that marriage, virtue, or a good reputation,
Are methods and different ways of thinking,
To be used or thrown away as they choose,
And totally self-sufficient,
Only embracing greatness, ignoring everything else.
Weak, naïve people are too focused on their own well-being;
I used to see you as virtuous, but now I see you as wise.
So.
Zanthia, victorious Massinissa lives,
My Massinissa lives. O steady powers, 90
Keep him as safe as heaven keeps the earth,
Which looks upon it with a thousand eyes!
That honest valiant man! and Zanthia,
Do but record the justice of his love,
And my for ever vows, for ever vows!
So.
Zanthia, the victorious Massinissa is still alive,
My Massinissa is alive. Oh unwavering forces, 90
Keep him as safe as heaven keeps the earth,
Which views it from a thousand perspectives!
What a sincere and courageous man! And Zanthia,
Just remember the truth of his love,
And my eternal promises, eternal promises!
So. Hence! 100
Take, nay, with one hand.
So. Therefore!
Take, no, with one hand.
Zan. My service.
Zan. I'm here to help.
So. Prepare
Our sacrifice.
So. Get ready
Our offering.
Zan. But yield you, ay or no?
Zan. But will you give in, yes or no?
So. When thou dost know.
So. When you know.
Zan. What then?
Zan. What now?
So. Then thou wilt know.
So. Then you will know.
[Exit Zanthia.
[Leave Zanthia.
Let him that would have counsel ’void th’ advice
Of friends, made his with weighty benefits,
Whose much dependence only strives to fit
Humour, not reason, and so still devise
In any thought to make their friend seem wise.
But above all, O fear a servant’s tongue,
Like such as only for their gain do[344] serve. 110
Within the vast capacity of space,[345]
I know no vileness so most truly base.
Their lord’s their gain; and he that most will give,
With him (they will not die, but) they will live.
Traitors and these are one; such slaves once trust,
Whet swords to make thine own blood lick the dust.
Anyone looking for advice should steer clear of the guidance.
Of friends who only care about their own gain,
Whose dependence only attempts to please
Feelings, not logic, which is why they keep arising.
With methods to make their friend seem wise.
But above all, be cautious of what a servant says,
Just like those who are only in it for their own gain.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 110
In the vastness of space,[345]
I can’t think of anything more genuinely awful.
Their master is their gain, and the one who offers the most,
With them (they won’t die, but) they will flourish.
Betrayers are the same; don’t trust these individuals,
And they’ll sharpen their swords to make your blood spill on the ground.
Withdraw, withdraw; all but Zanthia and Vangue depart.—
Step back, step back; everyone except Zanthia and Vangue, please leave.
[Exeunt attendants.
Exeunt attendants.
I not invoke thy arm, thou god of sound,—
Nor thine, nor thine,—although in all abound
High powers immense. But jovial Mercury, 120
And thou, O brightest female of the sky,
Thrice-modest Phœbe, you that jointly fit
A worthy chastity and a most chaste wit,
To you corruptless honey and pure dew
Upbreathes our holy fire; words just and few,
O deign to hear! if in poor wretches’ cries
You glory not; if drops of withered eyes
Be not your sport, be just; all that I crave
Is but chaste life, or an untainted grave.
I can no more; yet hath my constant tongue 130
Let fall no weakness, tho’ my heart were wrung
With pangs worth hell; whilst great thoughts stop our tears,
Sorrow unseen, unpitied, inward wears:
You see now where I rest, come is my end.
Cannot Heaven virtue ’gainst weak chance defend?
When weakness hath out-borne what weakness can,—
What should I say?—’tis Jove’s, not sin of man.
—Some stratagem now! let wit’s God be shown,
Celestial powers by miracles are known.
I have’t; ’tis done.—Zanthia, prepare our bed. 140
Vangue!
I don’t summon you, god of sound, —
Neither you nor you—even if you are
All around, immense powers. But joyful Mercury, 120
And you, O most radiant woman in the sky,
Three times modest Phoebe, you who perfectly combine
A valuable purity and a genuinely innocent mind,
To you, pure honey and fresh dew
Our sacred fire burns; words sincere and brief,
Please pay attention! If you feel no pride
In the cries of the unfortunate, if tears
Do not be your entertainment; just be fair, that’s all I ask.
Is it just a pure life or a sealed tomb?
I can't handle any more; yet my unwavering tongue __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Shows no weakness, even though my heart is broken.
With pain that feels unbearable; while noble thoughts keep us from crying,
Unnoticed grief, without sympathy, is wearing me out:
You can see now where I am; my time is running out.
Can Heaven guard virtue against bad luck?
When weakness has lasted longer than it can, —
What should I say?—it’s Jupiter’s fault, not human wrongdoing.
—What a clever plan we have now! Let the god of wit show himself,
Celestial powers are revealed through miracles.
I got it; it's finished.—Zanthia, get our bed ready. 140
Vibe!
So.
Vangue, we have perform’d
Due rites unto the dead.
So.
Vangue, we've completed
the required rituals for the deceased.
[Sophonisba presents a carouse to Vangue.
Sophonisba hosts a party for Vangue.
Now to thy lord, great Syphax, healthful cups,
Which done, the king is right much welcome.
Now, to your lord, the great Syphax, healthy drinks,
Once that's finished, the king is very welcome.
Van. Were it as deep as thought, off it should thus.
Van. If it were as deep as thought, it should go like this.
[He drinks.
He drinks.
So. My safety with that draught.
So. My safety with that drink.
Van. Close the vault’s mouth lest we do slip in drink.
Van. Close the vault’s door before we accidentally spill our drinks.
So.
To what use, gentle negro, serves this cave,
Whose mouth thus opens so familiarly,
Even in the king’s bedchamber?
So.
What is the purpose of this cave, kind sir?
With its entrance so openly shown,
Even in the king's room?
Van.
O, my queen, 150
This vault with hideous darkness, and much length,
Stretcheth beneath the earth into a grove,
One league from Cirta (I am very sleepy);
Through this, when Cirta hath been strong begirt,
With hostile siege the king hath safely ’scaped
To, to——
Oh, my queen,
This vault is filled with deep darkness and extends far,
Reaching down to a grove underground,
One league from Cirta (I’m really tired);
Through this, when Cirta is heavily surrounded,
The king has successfully escaped.
To, to——
So. The wine is strong.
So. The wine is strong.
Van. Strong?
Van. Strong?
So. Zanthia!
So. Zanthia!
Zan. What means my princess?
Zan. What does my princess mean?
So.
Zanthia, rest firm
And silent. Help us; nay, do not dare refuse.
Zanthia, stay strong
And please be quiet. We need your help; seriously, don't even consider saying no.
Zan. The negro’s dead!
Zan. The black person's dead!
So. No, drunk.
So. No, you’re drunk.
Zan. Alas!
Zan. Oh no!
[They lay Vangue in Syphax’ bed and draw the curtains.
[They lie Vague in Syphax's bed and draw the curtains.
There lie Syphax’ bride; a naked man is soon undress’d;
There bide dishonoured passion.
Syphax's bride is there; a naked man is about to be undressed;
There’s still unfulfilled passion.
[They knock within, forthwith Syphax comes.
They knock, then Syphax enters.
Sy. Way for the king!
Sy. Move for the king!
So.
Straight for the king. I fly
Where misery shall see nought but itself.
Dear Zanthia, close the vault when I am sunk,
And whilst he slips to bed, escape; be true;
I can no more; come to me. Hark, gods, my breath
Scorns to crave life, grant but a well-famed death. 170
So.
I’m heading straight to the king.
Where suffering will only see itself.
Dear Zanthia, please lock the vault when I leave,
As he heads to bed, make your escape; be truthful;
I can't keep going; come to me. Listen, gods, my breath
Refuses to ask for life; just give me a glorious death. 170
[She descends.
She goes down.
Enter Syphax, ready for bed, with attendants.
Enter Syphax, ready for bed, with helpers.
Sy.
Each man withdraw, let not a creature stay
Within large distance.
Sy.
Everyone, step back. Don’t let anything linger.
across a wide range.
Zan. Sir!
Zan. Hey, Sir!
Sy.
Hence, Zanthia!
Not thou shalt hear; all stand without ear-reach
Of the soft cries nice shrinking brides do yield,
When——
So, Zanthia!
You won't hear it; everyone is too far away to hear.
Of the soft cries that shy brides let out,
When—
Zan. But, sir——
Zan. But, sir—
Sy.
Hence!—stay, take thy delight by steps,
Think of thy joys, and make long thy pleasures.
O silence, thou dost swallow pleasure right;
Words take away some sense from our delight.
Music! 180
Be proud, my Venus; Mercury, thy tongue;
Cupid, thy flame; ’bove all, O Hercules,
Let not thy back be wanting; for now I leap
To catch the fruit none but the gods should reap.
So wait!—savor your moments gradually,
Consider your happiness and broaden your joys.
Oh silence, you really welcome pleasure;
Words can take away some of our happiness.
Music!
Be proud, my Venus; Mercury, your words;
Cupid, your desire; above all, oh Hercules,
Don't hold back now; I'm about to jump.
To take the fruit that only the gods should possess.
[Offering to leap into bed, he discovers Vangue.
Offering to jump into bed, he finds Vague.
Hah! can any woman turn to such a devil?
Or—or—Vangue, Vangue——
Ha! Can any woman turn into such a monster?
Or—or—Vangue, Vangue
Van. Yes, yes.
Van. Yeah, yeah.
Sy.
Speak, slave!
How camest thou here?
Sy.
Speak, slave!
How did you get here?
Van. Here?
Van. Is this the place?
Sy. Zanthia, Zanthia!
Where’s Sophonisba? speak at full—at full.
Give me particular faith, or know thou art not——
Zanthia, Zanthia!
Where's Sophonisba? Speak clearly—super clearly.
Give me your honest assurance, or know that you are not—
Zan.
Your pardon, just-moved prince, and private ear. 190
Zan.
Excuse me, new prince and trusted friend. 190
Sy. Ill actions have some grace, that they can fear.
Sy. Bad actions have some grace because they can inspire fear.
Van.
How came I laid? which way was I made drunk?
Where am I? think I, or is my state advanced?
O Jove, how pleasant is it but to sleep,
In a king’s bed!
Van.
How did I end up like this? How did I get so drunk?
Where am I? Am I in a better situation?
Oh Jupiter, how wonderful it is just to sleep,
In a royal bed!
Sy.
Sleep there thy lasting sleep,
Improvident, base, o’er-thirsty slave.
Sy.
Rest now in your forever sleep,
Careless, lowly, overly greedy slave.
[Syphax kills Vangue.
[Syphax takes out Vangue.
Die pleased, a king’s couch is thy too-proud grave.—
Through this vault say’st thou?
Die fulfilled; a king's bed is your excessively proud grave.
Are you saying this through this vault?
Zan.
As you give me grace
To live, ’tis true.
Zan. As you show me kindness
To live, that’s true.
Zan. As to my life.
Zan. About my life.
[She descends after Sophonisba.
She goes down after Sophonisba.
Sy.
I’ll use this Zanthia,
And trust her as our dogs drink dangerous Nile[346]
(Only for thirst), that[347] fly the crocodile.
Wise Sophonisba knows love’s tricks of art:
Without much hindrance pleasure hath no heart.
Despite all virtue or weak plots I must:
Seven-wallèd Babel cannot bar[348] out lust.
Sy. I’ll use this Zanthia,
And trust her like our dogs drinking from the risky Nile[346]
(Only for thirst), that__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ keeps away from the crocodile.
Smart Sophonisba understands the tricks of love:
Without much interruption, pleasure lacks heart.
No matter how virtuous or poorly thought out my plans are, I have to:
Seven-walled Babel can't keep__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ lust out.
[Descends through the vault.
Descends through the vault.
[335] In the old eds. is the direction—“Organ mixt with recorders for this Act.”
[335] In the old editions is the direction—“Organ mixed with recorders for this Act.”
[336] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “twound.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “twound.”
[337] Ed. 1. “of good men shame.”
“Shame on good men.”
[339] Old eds. “beare.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "bear."
[340] Quy. “feeble”?
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Quy. "weak"?
[341] Ed. 1. “is.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “is.”
[342] Old eds. “That they oft love their vailes; hold,” &c.—If the text is not corrupt, we must suppose that a sentence breaks off at the word “their.” Marston is fond of employing the horrid figure aposiopesis. “Vails” is intelligible on the supposition that Syphax is feeing the waiting-woman.
[342] Old eds. “That they often love their veils; hold,” &c.—If the text is not damaged, we have to assume that a sentence stops at the word “their.” Marston likes using the jarring figure aposiopesis. “Veils” makes sense if we assume that Syphax is giving a tip to the waiting-woman.
[343] Old eds. “get.”
Old eds. “get.”
[344] Old eds. “to.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “to.”
[345] Old eds. “place.”
Old eds. “place.”
[346] Dogs on the banks of the Nile were supposed to drink by snatches, running, from fear of the crocodiles.—(Aelian, Var. Hist. i. 4.)
[346] Dogs by the banks of the Nile would quickly take sips of water while running, scared of the crocodiles.—(Aelian, Var. Hist. i. 4.)
[348] Old eds. “bear” and “beare.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “bear” and “beare.”
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
Neighbourhood of Utica.
Utica neighborhood.
Enter Scipio and Lælius, with the complements of Roman Generals before them. At the other door, Massinissa and Jugurth. Cornets sound marches.
Enter Scipio and Lælius, followed by the Roman Generals. At the other door, Massinissa and Jugurtha. Trumpets play marches.
Mass.
Let not the virtue of the world suspect
Sad Massinissa’s faith; nor once condemn
Our just revolt. Carthage first gave me life;
Her ground gave food, her air first lent me breath:
The earth was made for men, not men for earth.
Scipio, I do not thank the gods for life,
Much less vile men, or earth; know, best of lords,
It is a happy being, breath well famed,
For which Jove sees these thus.[349] Men, be not fool’d
With piety to place, tradition’s fear; 10
A just man’s country Jove makes everywhere.
Don’t let the world doubt
Sad Massinissa's loyalty; nor condemn
Our rightful rebellion. Carthage brought me to life;
Her land provided food, and her air gave me breath:
The earth was created for people, not the other way around.
Scipio, I don’t express gratitude to the gods for life,
Definitely not for ordinary people or the earth; understand, greatest of lords,
It’s a joyful life, a familiar breath,
Jove is watching this closely.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Don’t be deceived.
By establishing piety, fear of tradition; 10
Jove creates a just man's home wherever he goes.
Sci.
Well urgeth Massinissa; but to leave
A city so ingrate, so faithless, so more vile
Than civil speech can name, fear not; such vice
To scourge is Heaven’s grateful sacrifice.
Thus all confess, first they have broke a faith
To the[e] most due, so just to be observed,
That barbarousness itself may well blush at them:
Where is thy passion? They have shared thy crown,
The proper right of birth, contrived thy death: 20
Where is thy passion? Given thy beauteous spouse
To thy most hated rival. Statue, not man!
And last, thy friend Gelosso (man worth gods)
With tortures have they rent to death.
Sci. Massinissa is really going for it, but you don't need to stress about leaving.
a city that is so ungrateful, so disloyal, so much worse
than words can convey; punishing such evil
is a sacrifice that Heaven values.
Everyone acknowledges that they've broken their promise.
to you, the one who deserved it the most, who should have been celebrated,
that even savages would be embarrassed by their actions:
Where is your anger? They have taken your crown,
your rightful inheritance, planned your death: 20
Where is your anger? They've taken your beautiful wife.
to your most hated enemy. A statue, not a person!
And finally, your friend Gelosso (a man deserving of the gods)
has been tortured to death by them.
Mass. O Gelosso!
For thee full eyes——
Mass. Oh Gelosso!
For you, full eyes——
Sci. No passion for the rest?
Sci. No passion for anything else?
Mass.
O Scipio,
My grief for him may be expressed by tears,
But for the rest, silence, and secret anguish
Shall waste—shall waste! Scipio, he that can weep,
Grieves not, like me, private deep inward drops 30
Of blood. My heart! for god’s right give me leave
To be a short time man.
O Scipio,
I can express my sadness for him with tears,
But for everything else, there's silence and unspoken pain.
Will consume me—will consume me! Scipio, the one who is able to cry,
Doesn't experience pain like I do, with intense, internal lows 30
Of blood. My heart! For goodness' sake, let me
Be a man for a little while.
Sci. Stay, prince.
Sci. Wait, prince.
Mass.
I cease;
Forgive if I forget thy presence. Scipio,
Thy face makes Massinissa more than man,
And here before your steady power a vow
As firm as fate I make: when I desist
To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio,
Or fall from friend of Rome,[350] revenging gods
Afflict me with[351] your torture. I have given
Of passion and of faith, my heart.
Mass. I stop;
Forgive me if I forget you, Scipio.
Your face makes Massinissa feel more than just human,
I stand here before your steadfast strength and pledge my promise.
As certain as fate: when I stop
Let your virtue lead you, Scipio,
Or choose not to support Rome,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ may the vengeful gods
Afflict me with__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ your torment. I have given
My heart is full of passion and faith.
Sci.
To counsel then; 40
Grief fits weak hearts, revenging virtue men.
Thus I think fit, before that Syphax know
How deeply Carthage sinks, let’s beat swift march
Up even to Cirta, and whilst Syphax snores
With his, late thine——
Let's discuss strategy; 40
Grief impacts the vulnerable, but noble people seek revenge.
I think we should take action before Syphax figures it out.
Carthage is falling apart badly. Let's move quickly.
All the way to Cirta, while Syphax is sleeping.
With his, once yours
Mass.
With mine! no, Scipio;
Libya hath poison, asps, knives, and too much earth
To make one grave. With mine! Not; she can die.
Scipio, with mine! Jove, say it, thou dost lie.
Not with mine! No, Scipio;
Libya has poison, snakes, weapons, and way too much land.
To dig one grave? Not with mine! She can make it.
Scipio, not with mine! Jupiter, admit it, you’re lying.
Sci. Temperance be Scipio’s honour.
Sci. Temperance is Scipio's honor.
Læ. Cease your strife,
She is a woman.
Læ. Stop arguing,
She’s just a woman.
Mass. But she is my wife. 50
Mass. But she is my wife.
Læ. And yet she is no god.
Læ. And yet she is not a goddess.
Mass.
And yet she’s more:
I do not praise gods’ goodness, but adore;
Gods cannot fall, and for their constant goodness
(Which is necessited) they have a crown
Of never-ending pleasures; but faint man
(Framed to have his weakness made the heavens’ glory),
If he with steady virtue holds all siege
That power, that speech, that pleasure, that full sweets,
A world of greatness can assail him with,
Having no pay but self-wept misery, 60
A[352] beggar’s treasure-heap,—that man I’ll praise
Above the gods.
Mass.
But there's more to her:
I don’t praise the goodness of the gods, but I respect it;
Gods can't fall, and due to their continual goodness
(Which is required) they wear a crown.
Of endless pleasures; but frail humans
(Created to show their weaknesses and reveal the glory of the heavens),
If he stands firm with integrity against everyone
The power, speech, enjoyment, and nice rewards
That a world of greatness can challenge him,
With no reward except for his own sorrow, 60
A beggar’s treasure trove—that man I’ll praise
More than the gods.
Sci. The Libyan speaks bold sense.
Sci. The Libyan speaks confidently.
Mass.
By that by which all is, proportion,
I speak with thought.
Mass. Just like everything else, it's all about proportion.
I share my thoughts.
Sci. No more.
No more.
Mass.
Forgive my admiration:
You touch’d a string to which my sense was quick.
Can you but think? Do, do; my grief—my grief—
Would make a saint blaspheme! Give some relief;
As thou art Scipio, forgive that I forget
I am a soldier. Such woes Jove’s ribs would burst:
Few speak less ill that feel so much of worst.— 70
My ear attends.
Mass. Sorry for my admiration:
You've touched on something that really resonates with me.
Can you even imagine? Please, please; my pain—my pain—
It's enough to make a saint swear! Give me some comfort;
Since you are Scipio, please forgive me for forgetting.
I'm a soldier. Such sorrows would break even Jove’s heart:
Few people convey their pain as effectively as those who experience it the most.— 70
I'm all ears.
Sci.
Before then Syphax join,
With new-strength’d Carthage, or can once unwind
His tangled sense from out so wild[353] amaze,
Fall we like sudden lightning ’fore his eyes:
Boldness and speed are all of victories.
Sci. Before Syphax arrives,
With a more powerful Carthage, can he still unwind?
His bewildered thoughts from such a wild experience,
Let’s drop like lightning out of nowhere right in front of him:
Being bold and quick are essential for winning.
Sci.
Beat then a close quick march!
Before the morn shall shake cold dews through skies,
Syphax shall tremble at Rome’s thick alarms.
Then let's hurry out!
Before the morning brings cold dew in the air,
Syphax will shake at Rome's loud threats.
Mass. Ye powers, I challenge conquest to just arms.
Mass. Hey forces, I call for a fair fight for victory.
[With a full flourish of cornets, they depart.
They leave with a grand flourish of cornets.
[349] The text is corrupt.—“Sees me thus” (i.e., see me grateful), “sees the thus” (i.e., incense), and “sees this use” (i.e., interest of thanks) are alike unsatisfactory.
[349] The text is corrupt.—“Sees me this way” (i.e., see me thankful), “sees it this way” (i.e., incense), and “sees this purpose” (i.e., the importance of thanks) are all equally unsatisfactory.
[350] Old eds. “Romes.”
Old eds. “Romes.”
[351] Old eds. “worth.”
Old eds. “worth.”
[352] Old eds. “And beggars treasure heapt.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “And beggars treasure heaped.”
[353] Ed. 2. “vilde.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “wild.”
ACT IV.[354]
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Near Cirta.
Close to Cirta.
Enter Sophonisba and Zanthia, as out of a cave’s mouth.
Enter Sophonisba and Zanthia, as if emerging from a cave.
So. Where are we, Zanthia?
So. Where are we, Zanthia?
Zan. Vangue said the cave
Opened in Belos’ forest.
Zan. Vangue said the cave
Opened in Belos' woods.
So. Lord, how sweet
I scent the air! The huge long vault’s close vein,
What damps[355] it breath’d! In Belos’ forest, say’st?
Be valiant, Zanthia; how far’s Utica
From these most heavy shades?
So. Wow, the air smells great!
The high ceiling feels so near,
What an atmosphere it has! You said it's in Belos' forest?
Be brave, Zanthia; how far is Utica?
From these dark, thick shadows?
Zan. Ten easy leagues.
Zan. Ten easy miles.
So. There’s Massinissa: my true Zanthia,
Shall’s venture nobly to escape, and touch
My lord’s just arms? Love’s wings so nimbly[356] heave
The body up, that, as our toes shall trip 10
Over the tender and obedient grass,
Scarce any drop of dew is dash’d to ground.
And see the willing shade of friendly night
Makes safe our instant haste! Boldness and speed
Make actions most impossible succeed.
So. There's Massinissa: my real Zanthia,
Should we courageously break free and arrive at
My lord’s honorable embrace? Love’s wings elevate__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the
Body so effortlessly that our toes will touch.
The lush and inviting grass,
Hardly a drop of dew touches the ground.
And look, the welcoming shade of night
Protect our quick getaway! Daring and fast.
Make even the most improbable tasks successful.
Zan. But, madam, know the forest hath no way
But one to pass, the which holds strictest guard.
Zan. But, ma'am, just remember that the forest has only one path.
to get through, and it's well-protected.
So. Do not betray me, Zanthia.
So. Don’t betray me, Zanthia.
Zan. I, madam?
Zan. Me, ma'am?
So. No,
I not mistrust thee, yet—but——
So. No,
I don’t mistrust you, yet—but——
Zan. Here you may 20
Delay your time.
Zan. Here you may 20
Take your time.
So. Ay, Zanthia, delay,
By which we may yet hope—yet hope—alas!
How all benumb’d’s my sense! Chance hath so often struck
I scarce can feel. I should now curse the gods,
Call on the furies, stamp the patient earth.
Cleave my stretch’d cheeks with sound, speak from all sense,
But loud and full of players’ eloquence.
No, no; what shall we eat?
So. Yes, Zanthia, hold on,
So we can still hope—still hope—oh no!
How numb my senses are! Fate has struck me.
So many times I can barely feel anything. I should be cursing the gods,
Summon the furies, stamp the ground.
Tear my stretched cheeks with your cries, let everything out,
But loud and filled with dramatic flair.
No, no; what are we going to eat?
Zan. Madam, I’ll search
For some ripe nuts which autumn hath shook down
From the unleaved hazel, then some cooler air 30
Shall lead me to a spring. Or I will try
The courteous pale[357] of some poor foresters
For milk.
Zan. Ma'am, I’ll check.
For some ripe nuts that autumn has fallen from the trees
From the bare hazel trees, a cooler breeze then
Will lead me to a spring. Or I’ll see if I can
Kindly ask some local foresters
For dairy.
So. Do, Zanthia. O happiness
So. Go ahead, Zanthia. Oh happiness
[Exit Zanthia.
[Exit Zanthia.
Of those that know not pride or lust of city!
There’s no man bless’d but those that most men pity.
O fortunate poor maids, that are not forced
To wed for state, nor are for state divorced!
Whom policy of kingdoms doth not marry,
But pure affection makes to love or vary;
You feel no love which you dare not to show, 40
Nor show a love which doth not truly grow!
O you are surely blessèd of the sky!
You live, that know not death before you die.
For those who are unfamiliar with pride or the craving for status!
No one is truly blessed except for those whom most people feel sorry for.
Oh, lucky poor girls who aren't forced
Don't marry just for power, and don't get divorced just for power either!
You’re not connected by the politics of kingdoms,
But true affection leads to love or changes;
You feel no love that you can't express, 40
Don't express a love that doesn't genuinely develop!
Oh, you are definitely blessed from above!
You live, unaware of death until it comes.
[Through the vaut’s[358] mouth, in his nightgown, torch in his hand, Syphax Enters just behind Sophonisba.
[Through the vault's[358] opening, wearing his nightgown, with a torch in his hand, Syphax enters right behind Sophonisba.
You are——
You are—
Sy. In Syphax’ arms. Thing of false lip,
What god shall now release thee?
Sy. In Syphax’s arms. You trickster,
Which god will free you now?
So. Art a man?
So. Are you a man?
Sy. Thy limbs shall feel. Despite thy virtue, know
I’ll thread thy richest pearl. This forest’s deaf
As is my lust. Night and the god of silence
Swells my full pleasures; no more shalt thou delude
My easy credence. Virgin of fair brow, 50
Well-featured creature, and our utmost wonder,
Queen of our youthful bed, be proud.
Sy. You will sense what's coming. Even with your kindness, realize
I’ll thread your most precious pearl. This forest is completely silent
As I wish. The night and the god of silence.
Enhance my entire enjoyment; you won't deceive
I don't have my trusting nature anymore. A virgin with a beautiful face, 50
Well-formed being and our greatest wonder,
Queen of our youthful bed, hold your head high.
[Syphax setteth away his light, and prepareth to embrace Sophonisba.
[Syphax puts away his light and gets ready to embrace Sophonisba.
I’ll use thee.
I’ll use you.
[Sophonisba snatcheth out her knife.
[Sophonisba grabs her knife.
Sy. Do, strike thy breast; know, being dead, I’ll use,
With highest lust of sense, thy senseless flesh,
And even then thy vexèd soul shall see, 60
Without resistance, thy trunk prostitute
Unto our appetite.
Sy. Go ahead, hit your chest; understand that when you're gone,
With the utmost desire, I'll use your lifeless body,
And even then, your tormented soul will observe, 60
Without resistance, your body will be surrendered.
To satisfy our cravings.
So. I shame to make thee know
How vile thou speakest; corruption then as much
As thou shalt do; but frame unto thy lusts
Imagination’s utmost sin: Syphax,
I speak all frightless, know I live or die
To Massinissa; nor the force of fate
Shall make me leave his love, or slake thy hate.
I will speak no more.
So. I'm embarrassed to let you see
How awful your words are; corruption is just as much
As you will become; but surrender to your desires.
With one of the worst sins of imagination: Syphax,
I say this without fear, knowing that my fate is in the balance.
For Massinissa; neither fate's control
Will make me give up his love or ease your hate.
I won't say anything else.
Sy. Thou hast amazed us: woman’s forcèd use, 70
Like unripe fruits, no sooner got but waste;
They have proportion, colour, but no taste.—
[aside.] Think, Syphax.—Sophonisba, rest thine own.
Our guard!
Sy. You’ve caught us off guard: a woman’s unwilling involvement, 70
Like unripe fruits, they spoil as soon as they're picked;
They have shape and color, but no taste.—
[aside.] Think about it, Syphax.—Sophonisba, you belong to yourself.
Our security!
Enter a guard.
A guard enters.
So. Wilt thou keep faith?
So. Will you keep your word?
Sy. By thee, and by that power 80
By which thou art thus glorious, trust my vow.
Our guard convey the royal’st excellence
That ever was call’d woman to our palace:
Observe her with strict care.
Sy. By you, and by that power 80
You are so amazing; trust me on this.
Our guards provide the highest level of excellence.
That has ever been referred to as a woman in our palace:
Keep an eye on her.
So. Dread Syphax, speak!
As thou art worthy, is not Zanthia false?
So. Don't be afraid, Syphax, talk!
Since you are honorable, isn't Zanthia dishonest?
Sy. To thee she is.
She is to you.
So. As thou art then thyself,
Let her not be.
So. Just be yourself.
Let her be.
Sy. She is not!
She is not!
[The guard seizeth Zanthia.
The guard seizes Zanthia.
Za. Thus most speed:
When two foes are grown friends, partakers bleed.
Za. And so, they rush:
When two enemies become friends, they both go through a tough time.
Sy. When plants must flourish, their manure must rot.
Sy. For plants to thrive, their fertilizer has to decompose.
So. Syphax, be recompensed, I hate thee not. 90
So. Syphax, be rewarded; I do not hate you. 90
[Exeunt Sophonisba, Zanthia, and guard.
[Leave the stage Sophonisba, Zanthia, and guard.
Sy. A wasting flame feeds on my amorous blood,
Which we must cool, or die. What way all power,
All speech, full opportunity, can make,
We have made fruitless trial. Infernal Jove,
You resolute angels that delight in flames,
To you, all-wonder-working spirits, I fly!
Since heaven helps not, deepest hell we’ll try
Here in this desert, the great soul of charms,
Dreadful Erictho lives, whose dismal brow
Contemns all roofs or civil coverture. 100
Forsaken graves and tombs, the ghosts forced out,
She joys to inhabit.
A loathsome yellow leanness spreads her face,
A heavy hell-like paleness loads her cheeks,
Unknown to a clear heaven; but if dark winds
Or thick black clouds drive back the blinded stars,
When her deep magic makes forced heaven quake
And thunder spite of Jove,—Erictho then
From naked graves stalks out, heaves proud her head
With long unkemb’d hair loaden, and strives to snatch 110
The night’s quick sulphur; then she bursts up tombs,
From half-rot sear-cloths then she scrapes dry gums
For her black rites; but when she finds a corpse
But[359] newly graved, whose entrails are not turn’d
To slimy filth, with greedy havock then
She makes fierce spoil, and swells with wicked triumph
To bury her lean knuckles in his eyes;
Then doth she gnaw the pale and o’ergrown nails
From his dry hand; but if she find some life
Yet lurking close, she bites his gelid[360] lips, 120
And, sticking her black tongue in his dry throat,
She breathes dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror.
To her first sound the gods yield any harm,
As trembling once to hear a second charm:
She is——
Sy. A dying flame is draining my passionate energy,
We need to cool down, or we will perish. No amount of power,
Words or opportunities have worked for us.
Infernal Jupiter,
You fierce angels who delight in fire,
I turn to you, all-powerful spirits!
Since heaven provides no assistance, we'll go straight into the deepest hell.
Here in this desolate place, the brilliant master of charms,
Terrible Erictho is alive, with her grim face
Hates all rooftops and civilized housing. 100
Abandoned graves and tombs, with the spirits driven away,
She loves living in.
A gross yellowish pallor covers her face,
A heavy, ghostly pallor drapes over her cheeks,
Unfamiliar with the clear sky; but if dark winds
Or thick black clouds push back the blinded stars,
When her powerful magic shakes heaven.
And thunder defies Jove,—Erictho then
Emerges from empty graves, lifts her head high
With untidy long hair, and attempts to grab __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
The swift darkness of night; then she opens graves,
Removing dry herbs from partially decayed wraps
For her dark rituals; but when she discovers a corpse
That's recently buried, whose insides haven't started to decay yet.
Into slimy dirt, with eager destruction
She takes a fierce victory, filled with wicked pride.
To dig her bony fingers into his eyes;
Then she chews on the pale, overgrown nails.
From his dry hand; but if she finds a bit of life
Still hanging around, she bites his cold__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ lips.
And, inserting her black tongue into his dry throat,
She lets out terrible whispers, making him endure
Her cursed secrets to the spirits of fear.
At her first sound, the gods sense any danger,
As they shake at the idea of a second curse:
She is—
Eri. Here, Syphax, here; quake not, for know
I know thy thoughts: thou wouldst entreat our power
Nice Sophonisba’s passion to enforce
To thy affection, be all full of Jove.[361]
’Tis done, ’tis done; to us heaven, earth, sea, air, 130
And Fate itself obeys; the beasts[362] of death,
And all the terrors angry gods invented
(T’afflict the ignorance of patient man),
Tremble at us; the roll’d-up snake uncurls[363]
His twisted knots at our affrighting voice.
Are we incensed? the king of flames[364] grows pale,
Lest he be chok’d with black and earthy fumes,
Which our charms raise. Be joy’d, make proud thy lust:
I do not pray you, gods; my breath’s, “You must.”
Eri. Listen, Syphax, don't be afraid; understand this
I can read your thoughts: you want to tap into our power.
To support Nice Sophonisba’s passion
This is all aimed directly at you, thanks to Jove.[361]
It’s finished, it’s finished; sky, land, ocean, atmosphere, 130
And Fate itself follows our lead; the creatures__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ of death,
And all the fears that furious gods brought about
(To challenge the ignorance of a patient person),
Tremble before us; the coiled snake uncoils[363]
Its twisted body reacted to our frightening voice.
Are we angry? The king of flames__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ loses color,
Worried he’ll suffocate from the dark, musty smoke
Let our spells work their magic. Celebrate and indulge your desires:
I'm not asking you, gods; my command is, "You have to."
Sy. Deep knowing spirit, mother of all high 140
Mysterious science, what may Syphax yield
Worthy thy art, by which my soul’s thus eased?
The gods first made me live, but thou live pleased.
Sy. Deeply wise spirit, mother of all high 140
Mysterious knowledge, what can Syphax offer?
Your art is worthy, and it calms my soul.
The gods gave me life, but you bring me happiness.
Eri. Know then, our love, hard by the reverent[365] ruins
Of a once glorious temple rear’d to Jove,
Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall
Of virtue most unfortunate) yet bears
A deathless majesty, though now quite rased,
Hurl’d down by wrath and lust of impious kings,
So that, where holy flamens wont to sing 150
Sweet hymns to heaven, there the daw and crow,
The ill-voiced raven, and still-chattering pie,
Send out ungrateful sounds and loathsome filth;
Where statues and Jove’s acts were vively limn’d[366]
Boys with black coals draw the veil’d parts of nature,
And lecherous actions of imagin’d lust;
Where tombs and beauteous urns of well-dead men
Stood in assurèd rest, the shepherd now
Unloads his belly, corruption most abhorr’d
Mingling itself with their renownèd ashes: 160
Ourself quakes at it!
There once a charnel-house, now a vast cave,
Over whose brow a pale and untrod grove
Throws out her heavy shade, the mouth thick arms
Of darksome yew (sun-proof) for ever choke;
Within rests barren darkness; fruitless drought
Pines in eternal night; the steam of hell
Yields not so lazy air: there, that’s my cell;
From thence a charm, which Jove dare not hear twice,
Shall force her to thy bed. But, Syphax, know, 170
Love is the highest rebel to our art:
Therefore I charge thee, by the fear of all
Which thou know’st dreadful, or more, by ourself,
As with swift haste she passeth to thy bed,
And easy to thy wishes yields, speak not one word,
Nor dare, as thou dost fear thy loss of joys,
T’admit one light, one light.
Eri. So, my love, right next to the respected__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ ruins
Of a once magnificent temple built for Jupiter,
Whose very rubble (like the unfortunate collapse
Of the highest virtue) still stands
A timeless grandeur, even though it's now entirely ruined,
Brought down by the anger and desire of cruel kings,
So that, where priests used to sing __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 150 __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Sweet songs to heaven, now the jackdaw and crow,
The harsh-sounding raven and the restless magpie,
Create unpleasant noises and leave behind disgusting trash;
Where statues and the deeds of Jove were vividly shown[366]
Boys with black charcoal sketch the hidden aspects of nature,
And inappropriate actions of imagined desire;
Where tombs and elegant urns of noblemen
Standing confidently at ease, the shepherd now
Relieves himself, the most hated corruption.
Mixing with their honored ashes: 160
We shudder at it!
There used to be a burial vault, but now it's a huge cave,
Over whose entrance lies a pale and untouched grove
Casts its deep shade, the thick branches
Of dark yew (which blocks the sun) forever suffocate;
Inside is empty darkness; a dry, fruitless drought.
Simmers in endless darkness; the fire of hell
It doesn’t circulate air very well: there, that’s my room;
From there, a spell that Jove wouldn't want to hear again,
I will force her into your bed. But, Syphax, be aware that
Love is the biggest challenge to our work:
So I command you, out of fear for everyone
What you know is terrible, or even worse, by us.
As she quickly makes her way to your bed,
And effortlessly grants your wishes; just don’t say anything.
Nor do you dare, because you're afraid of losing your pleasures,
To let in one light, one light.
Sy. As to my fate
I yield my guidance.
Sy. About my future
I surrender my control.
Eri. Then, when I shall force
The air to music, and the shades of night
To form sweet sounds, make proud thy raised delight:
Meantime, behold, I go a charm to rear, 181
Whose potent sound will force ourself to fear.
Eri. Then, when I will do
The air becomes music, and the shadows of night.
To make beautiful sounds, let your happiness flow:
In the meantime, watch this, I'm going to cast a spell, 181
Whose strong voice will scare us.
Sy. Whither is Syphax heaved? at length shall’s joy
Hopes more desired than heaven? Sweet labouring earth,
Let heaven be unform’d with mighty charms;
Let Sophonisba only fill these arms,
Jove we’ll not envy thee. Blood’s appetite
Is Syphax’ god; my wisdom is my sense,
Without[367] a man I hold no excellence.
Give me long breath, young beds, and sickness’ ease;
For we hold firm, that’s lawful which doth please. 191
Sy. Where is Syphax now? At last, should joy
Bring hopes that are more treasured than heaven? Sweet, diligent earth,
Let the heavens be formless with strong magic;
Let Sophonisba be the only one in my arms,
We won't be jealous of you, Jove. The thirst for blood
Is Syphax’s god; my insights come from my emotions,
Without__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ a man has no real value.
Grant me deep breaths, peaceful nights, and freedom from illness;
For we truly believe that what makes us happy is allowed. 191
Infernal music, softly.
Soft infernal music.
[within.
within.
Now crack the trembling earth, and send
Shrieks that portend
Affrightment to the gods which hear
Erictho.
Erictho!
Now shake the ground and send
Screams that indicate
Fear to the gods who hear
Erictho.
Erictho!
[within.
within.
A treble viol, a base lute, &c., play softly within the canopy.
A treble viol, a bass lute, etc., play softly under the canopy.
Hark! hark! now softer melody strikes mute
Disquiet Nature. O thou power of sound,
How thou dost melt me! Hark! now even heaven
Gives up his soul amongst us. Now’s the time
When greedy expectation strains mine eyes
For their loved object; now Erictho will’d
Prepare my appetite for love’s strict gripes.
O you dear founts of pleasure, blood, and beauty,
Raise active Venus worth fruition 210
Of such provoking sweetness. Hark, she comes!
Listen! Listen! Now a gentler melody calms
Restless Nature. Oh, you force of sound,
How you inspire me! Listen! Now even heaven
Gives up its essence with us. Now is the time.
When excited anticipation stretches my eyes
For the one they cherish; now Erictho has
Ignited my longing for love's intense aches.
Oh, you wonderful sources of joy, passion, and beauty,
Awaken vibrant Venus deserving fulfillment 210
So sweet and tempting. Listen, she’s on her way!
A short song to soft music above.
A brief song to gentle music playing in the background.
Now nuptial hymns enforcèd spirits sing.
Hark, Syphax, hark! Now hell and heaven rings.
Now wedding songs lift everyone's spirits to sing.
Listen, Syphax, listen! Now hell and heaven echo.
CANTANT.
SINGING.
With music spite of Phœbus. Peace! She comes!
With music, despite Apollo. Quiet! She's coming!
Fury of blood’s impatient! Erictho,
’Bove thunder sit: to thee, egregious soul,
Let all flesh bend. Sophonisba, thy flame
But equal mine, and we’ll joy such delight,
That gods shall not admire, but even spite!
The bloodlust can't be held back! Erictho,
Above the thunder sitting: to you, dreadful spirit,
Let everyone bow down. Sophonisba, your fire
Is just as strong as mine, and we'll have so much fun,
The gods won't just admire; they'll feel jealous!
[Syphax hasteneth within the canopy, as to Sophonisba’s bed.
[Syphax quickly moves under the canopy, towards Sophonisba's bed.
[354] In old eds. is the direction—“Organs, Viols, and Voices play for this Act.”
[354] In old editions, the direction is—“Organs, Viols, and Voices play for this Act.”
[355] Old eds. “dumps.”
Old editions "dumps."
[356] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “justly.”
So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “fairly.”
[357] Enclosure.
Enclosure.
[358] Old form of “vault.”
Old term for “vault.”
[359] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “New graud whose entrailes yet not turne.”
[359] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “New grad whose insides haven't turned yet.”
[360] Ed. 1. “gelled;” ed. 2. “gellid.”—Gelid is here preferable to the form jellied that I adopted in vol. i. p. 114.
[360] Ed. 1. “gelled;” ed. 2. “gellid.”—Gelid is preferred here over the form jellied that I used in vol. i. p. 114.
[361] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “love.” (Persons born under the planet Jupiter were supposed to be of a jovial disposition.)
[361] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “love.” (People born under the planet Jupiter were thought to have a jovial personality.)
[362] Ed. 1. “heastes.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “heastes.”
[363] Ed. 1. “vncurlde.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “vncurlde.”
[364]
So Chapman in a magnificent passage of Bussy D’Ambois:—
“Terror of darkness, O thou king of
flames,” &c.
[364]
So Chapman in a stunning section of Bussy D’Ambois:Got it! Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize.
“Fear of darkness, O you ruler of flames,” &c.
[365] A recognised old form of reverend. It occurs so frequently in this sense that it cannot be regarded as a misprint.
[365] An established old version of reverend. It appears so often in this context that it can't be seen as a typo.
[366] “Vively limn’d,”—drawn to the life.
“Vividly captured”—depicted authentically.
[367] “Without a man”—outside of man’s senses.
“Without a man”—beyond human understanding.
ACT V.[368]
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Bed-chamber in the palace of Syphax.
Bedroom in the palace of Syphax.
Syphax draws the curtains, and discovers Erictho lying with him.
Syphax pulls back the curtains, revealing Erictho lying next to him.
Eri. Ha! ha! ha!
Eri. Haha!
Sy. Light, light!
Light, light!
Eri. Ha! ha!
Eri. Haha!
Sy.
Thou rotten scum of hell!
O my abhorrèd heat! O loath’d delusion!
You worthless scum!
Oh, my awful anger! Oh, despised illusion!
[They leap out of the bed; Syphax takes him to his sword.
[They jump out of bed; Syphax grabs his sword.
Eri.
Why! fool of kings, could thy weak soul imagine
That ’tis within the grasp of heaven or hell
To enforce love? Why, know love dotes the fates,
Jove groans beneath his weight: mere[369] ignorant thing,
Know we, Erictho, with a thirsty womb, 10
Have coveted full threescore suns for blood of kings.
We that can make enraged Neptune toss
His huge curl’d locks without one breath of wind;
We that can make heaven slide from Atlas’ shoulder;
We, in the pride and height of covetous lust,
Have wish’d with woman’s greediness to fill
Our longing arms with Syphax’ well-strung limbs:
And dost thou think, if philters or hell-charms
Could have enforced thy use, we would have deigned[370]
Brain sleights? No, no. Now are we full 20
Of our dear wishes. Thy proud heat, well wasted,
Hath made our limbs grow young! Our love, farewell!
Know he that would force love, thus seeks his hell.
Eri.
What! You foolish king, did you really think
That it's in the power of heaven or hell.
How do you make someone fall in love? Just so you're aware, love shapes destiny.
Jove struggles with its weight: a simple__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ clueless thing,
We know, Erictho, with a desperate need, 10
Have craved the blood of kings for thirty years.
We who can make angry Neptune furious
With his big curly hair, not a hint of wind;
We who can make heaven slide off Atlas’ shoulders;
We, in our greedy desire,
Have longed with a woman's yearning to fulfill
Our outstretched arms with Syphax's strong limbs:
Do you think that if potions or wicked charms
We could have made you willing; we would have accepted __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Mind tricks? No way. Now we are totally 20
Satisfied with our deepest desires. Your proud passion, well invested,
Has made us feel young again! Our love, farewell!
Anyone who tries to force love is only looking for their own misery.
[Erictho slips into the ground, as Syphax offers his sword to her.
[Erictho sinks into the ground, as Syphax hands her his sword.
Sy.
Can we yet breathe? Is any plagued like me?
Are we—let’s think—O now contempt, my hate
To thee, thy thunder, sulphur, and scorn’d name!
He whose life’s loath’d, and he who breathes to curse
His very being,[371] let him thus with me
Sy.
Can we still breathe? Is anyone else in pain like I am?
Let's think about it—oh now, it's disdain, my anger.
For you, your thunder, sulfur, and cursed name!
The person whose life is despised, and the one who lives to condemn
His very existence,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ allowed him to join me in this.
[Syphax kneels at the altar.
[Syphax kneels at the altar.
Fall ’fore an altar, sacred to black powers,
And thus dare heavens! O thou whose blasting flames
Hurl barren droughts upon the patient earth, 31
And thou, gay god of riddles and strange tales,
Hot-brainèd Phœbus, all add if you can
Something unto my misery! if aught
Of plagues lurk in your deep-trench’d brows,
Which yet I know not,—let them fall like bolts,
Which wrathful Jove drives strong into my bosom!
If any chance of war, or news ill-voiced,
Mischief unthought of lurk, come, give’t us all,
Heap curse on curse, we can no lower fall! 40
Kneel before an altar dedicated to dark forces,
And challenge the heavens! Oh, you with your blazing flames
Send dry droughts upon the patient earth, 31
And you, lively god of mysteries and unusual tales,
Hot-headed Phoebus, bring on more of my suffering if you can.
Anything at all! If there are any curses
Lurk in your deep brows,
Then let them hit me like lightning,
What vengeful Jupiter fiercely drives into my heart!
If there's any possibility of war or bad news,
Unexpected troubles are waiting, come, bring it all,
We've faced so many problems that we can't possibly go any lower! 40
[Out of the altar the ghost of Asdrubal ariseth.
[From the altar, the ghost of Asdrúbal rises.
Asd. Lower—lower!
Lower—lower!
Sy.
What damn’d air is form’d
Into that shape? Speak, speak, we cannot quake!
Our flesh knows not ignoble tremblings. Speak!
We dare thy terror. Methinks hell and fate
Should dread a soul with woes made desperate.
What cursed air has come?
this shape? Talk, talk, we won't budge!
Our flesh doesn’t experience cowardly shakes. Speak!
We confront your fear. I believe in hell and destiny.
should fear a person driven to despair.
Asd.
Know me the spirit of great Asdrubal,
Father to Sophonisba, whose bad heart
Made justly most unfortunate; for know,
I turn’d unfaithful, after that[372] the field
Chanced to our loss, when of thy men there fell 50
Six thousand souls, next fight of Libyans ten.
After which loss we unto Carthage flying,
Th’ enragèd people cried their army fell
Through my base treason. Straight my revengeful Furies[373]
Makes them pursue me; I with resolute haste
Made to the grave of all our ancestors,
Where poisoned, hoped my bones should have long rest:
But see, the violent multitude arrives,
Tear down our monument, and me now dead
Deny a grave; hurl us among the rocks 60
To staunch beasts’ hunger; therefore thus ungraved
I seek slow rest. Now dost thou know more woes,
And more must feel. Mortals, O fear to slight
Your gods and vows. Jove’s arm is of dread might.
Asd.
Know me, the spirit of mighty Asdrubal,
Father of Sophonisba, whose evil heart
Made her clearly the most unfortunate; for know,
I became a traitor after that__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ battle
That caused our defeat when one of your men fell. 50
Six thousand people, and then in the next battle with the Libyans, another ten.
After that defeat, we escaped to Carthage,
The furious people blamed me, claiming their army was defeated.
Because of my betrayal. Right away, my vengeful Furies[373]
I made them chase after me; I quickly moved ahead.
To the grave of all our ancestors,
Where I hoped to find long-lasting relief for my tortured body:
But look, the angry crowd is here,
Tear down our monument, and now that I'm gone
They deny me a grave; they throw us among the rocks __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
To feed the hunger of wild animals; therefore, unburied
I’m looking for a quiet break. Do you now know more sadness,
And it must feel even more. Mortals, oh, don't underestimate.
Your gods and promises. Jupiter's power is intimidating.
Sy. Yet speak: shall I o’ercome approaching foes?
Sy. But tell me: will I be able to defeat the enemies closing in?
Asd.
Spirits of wrath know nothing but their woes.
Asd.
Angry spirits only recognize their own unhappiness.
[Exit.
Exit.
Enter Nuntius.
Enter Messenger.
Nun.
My liege, my liege,
The scouts of Cirta bring intelligence
Of sudden danger; full ten thousand horse,
Fresh and well-rid, strong Massinissa leads, 70
As wings to Roman legions that march swift,
Led by that man of conquest, Scipio.
My lord, my lord,
The scouts from Cirta have brought news.
Of sudden danger; a complete ten thousand cavalry,
Fit and well-equipped, strong Massinissa takes the lead, 70
Like wings to the Roman legions that march swiftly,
Led by the conqueror Scipio.
Sy. Scipio?
Scipio?
Nun.
Direct to Cirta.
Nun. Direct to Cirta.
[A march far off is heard.
A distant march is audible.
Hark! their march is heard even to the city.
Listen! You can hear their march all the way to the city.
Sy.
Help! our guard! my arms!
Bid all our leaders march! beat thick alarms!
I have seen things which thou wouldst quake to hear.
Boldness and strength! the shame of slaves be fear.
Up, heart, hold sword! though waves roll thee on shelf,
Though fortune leave thee, leave not thou thyself! 81
Help! Our guard! My gun!
Tell all our leaders to rally! Sound the alarms!
I've witnessed things that would make you shudder to hear about.
Courage and strength! The shame of being a slave is fear.
Come on, heart, grab your sword! Even if waves crash over you,
Even if luck lets you down, don’t let yourself down! 81
[Exit, arming.
[Exit, arming.
[368] In old eds. is the direction—“A Base Lute and a Treble Violl play for the Act.”
[368] In old eds. is the direction—“A bass lute and a treble viol play for the act.”
[369] “Mere ignorant”—utterly ignorant. Old eds. “more ignorant.”
“Mere ignorant”—totally clueless. Old eds. “more clueless.”
[370] Old eds. “dam’d.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old editions “damned.”
[371] Old eds. “beings.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “beings.”
[372] Old eds. “which.”
Old eds. "which."
[373] Old eds. “fury.”
Old eds. "fury."
Neighbourhood of Cirta.
Neighborhood of Cirta.
Enter two Pages, with targets and javelins; Lælius and Jugurth, with halberds; Scipio and Massinissa armed; cornets sounding a march.
Enter two Pages, carrying targets and javelins; Lælius and Jugurtha, holding halberds; Scipio and Massinissa armed; music playing a march.
Sci. Stand!
Sci. Stop!
Mass. Give the word—Stand!
Mass. Give the command—Stand!
Sci. Part the file!
Sci. Split the file!
Mass.
Give way!
Scipio, by thy great name, but greater virtue,—
By our eternal love, give me the chance
Of this day’s battle! Let not thy envied fame
Vouchsafe t’oppose[374] the Roman legions
Against one weakened Prince of Libya.
This quarrel’s mine—mine be the stroke of fight!
Let us and Syphax hurl out well-forced darts
Each unto other’s breast. O (what should I say?)
Thou beyond epithet, thou whom proud lords of fortune
May even envy,—alas! my joy’s so vast 11
Makes me seem lost,—let us thunder and lightning
Strike from our brave arms! Look, look, seize that hill!
Hark! he comes near. From thence discern us strike
Fire worth Jove; mount up, and not repute
Me very proud, though wondrous resolute.
My cause, my cause is my bold heart’ning odds,
That sevenfold shield; just arms should fright the gods.
Mass. Coming through!
Scipio, by your remarkable name and even greater character, —
By our unbreakable bond, give me the chance.
Of today's battle! Don't let your coveted glory
Allow you to stand against__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the Roman legions.
Against one weakened prince of Libya.
This battle is mine—let me take the first hit!
Let's join Syphax and throw some well-aimed darts.
At the core of each other. Oh (what should I say?)
You who can't be described, you whom the arrogant lords of chance
I might even feel envy—oh! my happiness is just too much. 11
It makes me feel lost—let's release thunder and lightning.
From our brave forces! Look, look, take that hill!
Listen! He's coming closer. From here, let’s make our move.
With fire worthy of Jove; stand up, and don't hesitate
I may come off as very proud, but I'm also fiercely determined.
My cause, my cause is the strength of my brave heart,
That seven-layer shield; just the sight of it should scare the gods.
Mass.
Which we do scorn to fear, to Scipio state 20
Worthy his heart. Now let the forcèd brass
Sound on!
Mass.
We don't fear what we look down on, to Scipio say 20
Worthy of his bravery. Now let the forced brass
Keep playing!
Cornets sound a march. Scipio leads his train up to the mount.
Cornets sound a march. Scipio leads his group up to the mount.
Jugurth, clasp sure our casque,
Arm us with care; and Jugurth, if I fall
Through this day’s malice or our fathers’ sins,
If it in thy sword lie, break up my breast,
And save my heart that never fell nor sued[375]
To aught but Jove and Sophonisba. Sound,
Stern heart’ners unto wounds and blood—sound loud,
For we have namèd Sophonisba!
Jugurtha, ensure our helmet is fastened tight,
Get us ready carefully; and Jugurtha, if I fall
Due to the anger of today or the mistakes of our ancestors,
If it's in your sword, stab my heart,
And protect my heart that has never submitted or pleaded[375]
To everyone except Jove and Sophonisba. Listen,
Harsh voices to wounds and blood—echo loudly,
We've named her Sophonisba!
[Cornets, a flourish.
Cornets, a flourish.
So!
So!
[Cornets, a march far off.
Cornets, a march in the distance.
Hark, hark, he comes! stand blood! Now multiply 31
Force more than fury. Sound high, sound high, we strike
For Sophonisba!
Listen up, he’s on his way! Hold on tight! Now increase 31
Strength beyond anger. Sound the alarm, sound the alarm, we fight.
For Sophonisba!
Enter Syphax, arm’d, his Pages with shields and darts before; cornets sounding marches.
Enter Syphax, armed, with his attendants holding shields and darts in front; trumpets playing marches.
Sy. For Sophonisba!
Sy. For Sophonisba!
Mass. Syphax!
Mass. Syphax!
Sy. Massinissa!
Sy. Massinissa!
Mass.
Betwixt us two,
Let single fight try all.
Between us,
Let a one-on-one fight settle it all.
Mass.
Well granted.
Of you, my stars, as I am worthy you,
I implore aid; and O, if angels wait
Upon good hearts, my genius be as strong
As I am just.
Mass. That's fair.
To you, my stars, as I rightfully deserve you,
I ask for help, and oh, if there are angels around
With kind hearts, may my spirit remain strong.
Since my intentions are good.
Sy.
Kings’ glory is their wrong. 40
He that may only do just acts ’s a slave.
My god’s my arm;[376] my life my heaven; my grave
To me all end.
Kings’ glory is their crimes.
Someone who can only do one thing is a slave.
My God is my strength; my life is my paradise; my grave.
For me, everything eventually comes to an end.
Mass.
Give day, gods,—life, not death,—
To him that only fears blaspheming breath.
For Sophonisba!
Mass.
Give me life, gods, not death,
For the person who only fears a disrespectful word.
For Sophonisba!
Sy. For Sophonisba!
For Sophonisba!
Cornets sound a charge. Massinissa and Syphax combat. Syphax falls. Massinissa unclasps Syphax’ casque, and is[377] about to kill him when Syphax speaks.
Cornets sound a charge. Massinissa and Syphax fight. Syphax falls. Massinissa removes Syphax’s helmet, and is[377] about to kill him when Syphax speaks.
Sy. Unto thy fortune, not to thee, we yield.
Sy. We surrender to your fortune, not to you.
Mass.
Lives Sophonisba yet unstain’d, speak just—
Yet ours unforced?
Mass.
Is Sophonisba still innocent? Tell me the truth—
Is our situation really without pressure?
Sy.
Let my heart fall more low
Than is my body, if only to thy glory 50
She lives not yet all thine.
Sy.
Let my heart drop even further.
Than my body, just for your glory 50
She’s still not fully yours.
Mass.
Rise, rise! Cease strife!
Hear a most deep revenge—from us take life!
Mass.
Get up, get up! Cut out the fighting!
Listen to a serious act of revenge—take our lives!
To you all power of strength; and next to thee,
Thou spirit of triumph, born for victory,
I heave these hands. March we to Cirta straight,
My Sophonisba with swift haste to win,
In honour and in love all mean is sin.
To you all power and strength; and next to you,
You spirit of triumph, created for victory,
I lift these hands. Let’s head to Cirta immediately,
My Sophonisba, with a swift desire to succeed,
In honor and love, anything less is a mistake.
[Exeunt Massinissa and Jugurth.
[Exit Massinissa and Jugurth.
Sci.
As we are Rome’s great general, thus we press
Thy captive neck. But as still Scipio,
And sensible of just humanity, 60
We weep thy bondage. Speak, thou ill-chanced man,
What spirit took thee when thou wert our friend
(Thy right hand given both to gods and us,
With such most passionate vows and solemn faith),
Thou fled’st with such most foul disloyalty
To now weak Carthage? strengthening their bad arms,
Who lately scorn’d thee with all loath’d abuse,
Who never entertain for love but use?
Sci.
As Rome's great general, we have taken you prisoner.
But still, like Scipio,
And aware of real humanity, 60
We mourn your suffering. Tell us, you unfortunate man,
What mindset took over you when you were our ally?
(Your right hand promised both the gods and us,
With such strong promises and genuine belief,
You ran away with such awful betrayal.
To now weakened Carthage? Strengthening their poor cause,
Who recently looked down on you with all sorts of disdain,
Who never loved you and only wanted to use you?
Sy.
Scipio, my fortune is captived, not I,
Therefore I’ll speak bold truth; nor once mistrust 70
What I shall say, for now, being wholly yours,
I must not feign. Sophonisba, ’twas she,
’Twas Sophonisba that solicited
My forced revolt; ’twas her resistless suit,
Her love to her dear Carthage, ’ticed me break
All faith with men; ’twas she made Syphax false;
She that loves Carthage with such violence,
And hath such moving graces to allure,
That she will turn a man that once hath sworn
Himself on’s father’s bones her Carthage foe, 80
To be that city’s champion and high friend.
Her hymeneal torch burnt down my house;
Then was I captived, when her wanton arms
Threw[378] moving clasps about my neck. O charms,
Able to turn even Fate! But this, in my true grief,
Is some just joy, that my love-sotted foe
Shall seize that plague; that Massinissa’s breast
Her hands shall arm, and that ere long you’ll try
She can force him your foe as well as I.
Sy.
Scipio, my destiny is confined, not me,
I'll tell you the straight truth; don’t doubt it. 70
What I'm about to say is completely yours right now.
I can't pretend. Sophonisba, it was her,
It was Sophonisba who encouraged
My unwilling betrayal; it was her irresistible request,
Her love for her beloved Carthage made me leave.
She was loyal to no one but herself; she turned Syphax against us.
She who loves Carthage so passionately,
And has such captivating charms to attract,
That she can change a man who once promised
On his father's grave to be her Carthage enemy, 80
Into the champion and great ally of that city.
Her wedding torch burned down my house;
I was caught when her playful arms
Threw__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ their alluring arms around my neck. Oh, how captivating!
Capable of changing even Fate! Yet this, in my genuine sorrow,
It’s a small comfort that my lovesick enemy
I will accept that curse; that Massinissa’s heart.
Her hands will prepare, and soon you’ll see.
She can turn him into your enemy just as easily as I can.
Sci.
Lælius, Lælius, take a choice troop of horse, 90
And spur to Cirta. To Massinissa thus:
Syphax’ palace, crown’s spoil, city’s sack,
Be free to him. But if our new-leagued[379] friend
Possess that woman of so moving art,
Charge him with no less weight than his dear vow,
Our love, all faith, that he resign her thee;
As he shall answer Rome, will him[380] give up
A Roman prisoner to the Senate’s doom:
She is a Carthaginian. Now our law’s[381]—
Wise men prevent not actions, but ever cause. 100
Sci.
Lælius, Lælius, assemble a specific group of cavalry, 90
And ride to Cirta. Tell Massinissa:
Syphax's palace, the crown's treasure, the city's ruin,
Let it be his. But if our new ally __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Has that woman with such captivating charm,
Make sure he understands the seriousness of his promise,
Our love, our trust, that he hands her over to you;
Since he will have to answer to Rome, he must__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ surrender.
A Roman prisoner to the Senate's decision:
She is from Carthage. Now, according to our law__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__—
Wise people don’t stop actions; they always make them happen. 100
[Exeunt, cornets flourishing.
[They exit, trumpets playing.
[374] Ed. 1. “t’appose.”
“tagging.”
[376] So Mezentius in the Æneid, x. 772:—“Dextra mihi deus.”
[376] So Mezentius in the Æneid, x. 772:—“God helps me.”
[377] Old eds. “and as ready to kill him, speaks Syphax.”
[377] Old eds. “and as eager to kill him, says Syphax.”
[378] Ed. 1. “Threw mouing claspt.”—Ed. 2. “There mouing claspt.”
[378] Ed. 1. “Threw moving clasped.”—Ed. 2. “There moving clasped.”
[379] Old eds. “new laugh’d.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “new laughed.”
SCENE III.
SCENE III.
Cirta.
Cirta.
Cornets afar off sounding a charge. A soldier wounded at one door. Enter at the other Sophonisba, two Pages before her with lights, two women bearing up her train.
Cornets in the distance sound a charge. A soldier is wounded at one door. Enter from the other Sophonisba, two Pages in front of her with torches, two women carrying her train.
Sol.
Princess, O fly! Syphax hath lost the day,
And captived lies. The Roman legions
Have seiz’d the town, and with inveterate hate
Make slaves, or murder all. Fire and steel,
Fury and night, hold all. Fair Queen, O fly!
We bleed for Carthage, all for[382] Carthage die!
Sol.
Princess, you have to get out of here! Syphax has been defeated,
And is now a prisoner. The Roman legions
Have captured the city, and with intense hatred
Either enslave or kill everyone. It's all about chaos and destruction.
Fury and darkness are everywhere. Beautiful Queen, please escape!
We're fighting for Carthage, and if we don't succeed, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Carthage will fall!
[Exit.
Exit.
Cornets sounding a march. Enter Pages with javelins and targets. Massinissa and Jugurth; Massinissa’s beaver shut.
Trumpets playing a march. Pages enter with javelins and shields. Massinissa and Jugurtha; Massinissa's helmet down.
Mass. March to the palace.
Mass. March to the palace.
So.
Whate’er man thou art,
Of Libya thy fair arms speak, give heart
To amazed weakness; hear her, that for long time
Hath seen no wishèd light. Sophonisba, 10
A name for misery much known, ’tis she
Entreats of thy graced sword this only boon:—
Let me not kneel to Rome; for though no cause
Of mine deserves their hate, though Massinissa
Be ours to heart, yet Roman generals
Make proud their triumphs with whatever captives.
O ’tis a nation which from soul I fear,
As one well knowing the much-grounded hate
They bear to Asdrubal and Carthage blood;
Therefore with tears that wash thy feet, with hands 20
Unused to beg, I clasp thy manly knees:
O save me from their fetters and contempt,
Their proud insults and more than insolence!
Or, if it rest not in thy grace of breath
To grant such freedom, give me long-wish’d death;
For ’tis not now loath’d life that we do crave,—
Only an unshamed death and silent grave,
We will now deign to bend for.
So.
Whoever you are,
From Libya, your noble actions bring hope.
To the amazed weakness; listen to me, who for a long time
Has not seen the light it hoped for. Sophonisba, 10
A name famously associated with misery, that is her.
I humbly ask for one favor from your generous sword:—
Don’t make me kneel to Rome; even though there’s no reason
None of mine deserve their hatred, though Massinissa.
Is dear to us, still Roman generals.
Celebrate their victories with any prisoners.
Oh, it's a nation I really fear,
Aware of the deep-seated hatred
They support Asdrubal and the lineage of Carthage;
So with tears that cleanse your feet, with hands 20
Not used to begging, I hold onto your strong knees:
Oh, save me from their chains and contempt,
Their arrogant insults and overwhelming pride!
Or, if you can't grant that kind of freedom,
Give me the long-awaited death;
For it's not life we now hate to desire,—
Just an unashamed death and a quiet grave,
We will now respectfully bow for.
Mass.
Rarity!
Mass.
Unique!
[Massinissa disarms his head.
[Massinissa takes off his helmet.
By thee and this right hand, thou shalt live free!
With you and this right hand, you will live free!
So. We cannot now be wretched.
So. We can't be miserable now.
Mass.
Stay the sword! 30
Let slaughter cease; sounds soft as Leda’s breast
Put down the sword!
Let the violence end; as soothing as Leda's embrace.
[Soft music.
Soft music.
Slide through all ears. This night be love’s high feast.
Move gracefully and pay attention. Tonight is a big celebration of love.
So. O’erwhelm me not with sweets; let me not drink
Till my breast burst, O Jove, thy nectar-skink.[383]
So. Don't overwhelm me with kindness; I don't want to drink
Until my heart explodes, oh Jupiter, your heavenly drink.[383]
[She sinks into Massinissa’s arms.
She sinks into Massinissa's arms.
So.
Help—help to bar[384]
Some happiness, ye powers! I have joy to spare,
Enough to make a god! O Massinissa!
Help—help to stop __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Some happiness, oh powers! I have joy to share,
Enough to impress a god! Oh Massinissa!
Mass.
Peace!
A silent thinking makes full joys increase!
Mass. Peace!
Quiet reflection cultivates happiness!
Enter Lælius.
Enter Lælius.
Læ. Massinissa!
Læ. Massinissa!
Mass. Lælius!
Mass. Lælius!
Læ. Thine ear.
I need your attention.
Mass. Stand off.
Stand down.
Læ.
From Scipio thus: by thy late vow of faith, 40
And mutual league of endless amity,
As thou respects his virtue, or Rome’s force,
Deliver Sophonisba to our hand.
Læ. From Scipio like this: because of your recent commitment to loyalty, 40
And the connection of lasting friendship,
As much as you care for his honor or the power of Rome,
Give us Sophonisba.
Mass. Sophonisba?
Mass. Sophonisba?
Læ. Sophonisba.
Læ. Sophonisba.
So. My lord
Looks pale, and from his half-burst eyes a flame
Of deep disquiet breaks. The gods turn false
My sad presage!
So. My lord
Looks pale, and a fire of
A deep discomfort emerges from his half-closed eyes.
The gods have made my sorrowful prediction come true!
Mass. Sophonisba?
Mass. Sophonisba?
Læ. Even she.
Læ. Even she does.
Mass.
She kill’d not Scipio’s father, nor his uncle,
Great Cneius.
Mass. She didn't kill Scipio’s dad or his uncle,
Great Genius.
Læ. Carthage did!
Carthage did!
Læ.
Know ’twas her father Asdrubal strook[385] off 50
His father’s head. Give place to faith and fate!
Mass. ’Tis cross to honour.
Mass. It’s hard to honor.
Læ.
But ’tis just to state.
So speaketh Scipio. Do not thou detain
A Roman prisoner, due to this great triumph,
As thou shalt answer Rome and him.
Læ.
But it's only right to say.
So says Scipio. Don’t hold on
A Roman prisoner due to this significant victory,
Or you'll have to answer to Rome and him.
Mass.
Lælius,
We now are in Rome’s power. Lælius,
View Massinissa do a loathèd act,
Most sinking from that state his heart did keep.
Look, Lælius, look, see Massinissa weep!
Know I have made a vow, more dear to me 60
Than my soul’s endless being, she shall rest
Free from Rome’s bondage!
Mass. Lælius,
We are now under Rome's control. Lælius,
Watch Massinissa carry out a despised act,
Most painful to his heart, which was once so strong.
Hey, Lælius, check it out, see Massinissa crying!
Know that I have made a vow, which is more valuable to me __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
Than my soul's eternal existence, she will find peace.
Free from Rome’s shackles!
Læ.
But dost thou forget
Thy vow, yet fresh, thus breath’d: When I desist
To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio,
Or fall from friend of Rome, revenging gods,
Afflict me with your torture!
But have you forgotten?
Your promise, still new, that you made: When I stop
Being guided by your virtue, Scipio,
Or fall from the ally of Rome, vengeful gods,
Make me endure your torture!
Mass. Lælius, enough.
Mass. Lælius, that's enough.
Læ.
Salute the Roman, tell him we will act
What shall amaze him.
Læ.
Welcome the Roman and tell him we will perform.
Something that will surprise him.
Læ. Wilt thou yield her then?
Læ. Will you give her up?
Mass. She shall arrive there straight.
She'll arrive there directly.
Læ.
Best fate of men
To thee.
Best fate for men
To you.
[Exit Lælius with pages.
Exit Lælius with pages.
To be enforcedly perfidious?
To be untrustworthy by force?
So. What unjust grief afflicts my worthy lord?
So. What unfair sorrow troubles my deserving lord?
Mass.
Thank me, ye gods, with much beholdingness;
For mark, I do not curse you.
Mass. Thank you, gods, for always watching over us;
Just so you know, I don't blame you.
So.
Tell me, sweet,
The cause of thy much anguish.
So.
Tell me, love,
What’s causing you so much pain?
Mass.
Ha, the cause?
Let’s see: wreathe back thine arms, bend down thy neck,
Practise base prayers, make fit thyself for bondage.
Ha, what's the reason?
Let’s see: bend your arms back, drop your neck,
Offer some humble prayers and get ready for service.
So. Bondage!
So. Restraints!
Mass. Bondage—Roman bondage!
Slavery—Roman slavery!
So. No, no!
So. No way!
Mass. How then have I vow’d well to Scipio?
Mass. So how did I make a good promise to Scipio?
So. How then to Sophonisba?
So. How then to Sophonisba?
Mass.
Right, which way? 80
Run mad!—impossible!—distraction!
Mass.
Right, which way? 80
Lose it!—impossible!—chaos!
So.
Dear lord, thy patience; let it maze all power,
And list to her in whose sole heart it rests
To keep thy faith upright.
So. Dear lord, your patience; it should astonish everyone with power,
And listen to her who holds it solely in her heart.
To stay strong in your faith.
Mass. Wilt thou be slaved?
Are you going to be a slave?
So. No, free.
So. No, it's free.
Mass. How then keep I my faith?
Mass. So how do I hold onto my faith?
So. My death
Gives help to all. From Rome so rest we free;
So brought to Scipio, faith is kept in thee.
So. My death
Benefits everyone. We are now free from Rome;
So brought to Scipio, trust is given to you.
Mass.
Thou darest not die—some wine!—thou darest not die!
Mass.
You can't die—get me some wine!—you can't die!
So.
How near was I unto the curse of man. Joy!
How like was I yet once to have been glad! 90
He that ne’er laugh’d may with a constant face
Contemn Jove’s frown: happiness makes us base.
So.
How close was I to the curse of mankind? Joy!
How close I was to being happy! 90
Someone who never laughs can face
Jove's frown without fear: happiness makes us vulnerable.
[She takes the bowl, into which Massinissa puts poison.
[i class="stagedirection"]She takes the bowl, into which[/i] Massinissa [i class="stagedirection"]puts poison[/i].
Behold me, Massinissa, like thyself,
A king and soldier; and I prithee keep
My last command.
Look at me, Massinissa, just like you do.
A king and a soldier; and I ask you to follow.
My last command.
Mass. Speak, sweet.
Speak, darling.
So.
Dear, do not weep.
And now with undismay’d resolve behold,
To save you—you (for honour and just faith
Are most true gods, which we should much adore),
With even disdainful vigour I give up
An abhorr’d life. You have been good to me, 100
So.
Please, don’t cry.
And now, with steady determination, look
To save you—because you (for honor and true loyalty)
Are the highest beings we should deeply respect),
I boldly walk away
This life is terrible. You have been good to me, 100
[She drinks.
She drinks.
And I do thank thee, heaven! O my stars,
I bless your goodness, that with breast unstain’d,
Faith pure, a virgin wife, tried to my glory,
I die, of female faith the long-lived story;
Secure from bondage and all servile harms,
But more—most happy in my husband’s arms.
I truly thank you, heaven! Oh my gosh,
I appreciate your kindness, which comes from a pure heart,
Faith unshaken, a devoted wife, cherished in my life,
I die, a lasting story of women's faith;
Free from chains and all kinds of harm,
But even more—I’m happiest in my husband’s arms.
[She sinks.
She submerges.
Ju. Massinissa, Massinissa!
Ju. Massinissa, Massinissa!
Mass.
Covetous,
Fame-greedy lady, could no scope of glory,
No reasonable proportion of goodness,
Fill thy great breast, but thou must prove immense 110
Incomprehence in virtue! What, wouldst thou
Not only be admired, but even adored?
O glory ripe for heaven! Sirs, help, help, help!
Let us to Scipio with what speed you can;
For piety make haste, whilst yet we are man.
Jealous,
Attention-seeking woman, no level of fame,
No fair standard of goodness,
You can satisfy your huge heart, but you need to look for it.
Incredible goodness! What do you want
Not just to be admired, but even worshipped?
Oh glory, we’re so close to heaven! Gentlemen, help, help, help!
Let's head to Scipio as quickly as we can;
For the sake of devotion, let's act quickly while we are still alive.
[Exeunt, bearing Sophonisba in a chair.
[Exit, carrying Sophonisba in a chair.
[382] Ed. 1. “of.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “of.”
[383] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “O Ioue thy Nectar, thinke.” (“Nectar-skink”—draught of nectar.)
[383] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “Oh Jupiter, your nectar, think.” (“Nectar-drink”—sip of nectar.)
[384] Old eds. “beare,” but the sense clearly requires “bar” (pronounced “bear” to rhyme with “spare”). We have twice had the word “bar” spelt “beare” earlier in the present play.
[384] Old eds. "beare," but the meaning clearly needs "bar" (pronounced "bear" to rhyme with "spare"). We've seen the word "bar" spelled "beare" twice earlier in this play.
[385] Ed. 2. “struck.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “struck.”
SCENE IV.
SCENE IV.
Neighbourhood of Cirta.
Neighborhood of Cirta.
Cornets a march. Enter Scipio in full state, triumphal ornaments carried before him, and Syphax bound; at the other door, Lælius.
A march plays. Enter Scipio with full state, triumphal decorations carried in front of him, and Syphax bound; at the other door, Lælius.
Sci.
What answers Massinissa? Will he send
That Sophonisba of so moving tongue?[386]
Sci.
What’s Massinissa saying? Is he going to send
That Sophonisba with her enchanting words?[386]
Læ.
Full of dismay’d unsteadiness he stood,
His right hand lock’d in hers, which hand he gave
As pledge for Rome she[387] ever should live free.
But when I enter’d and well urged this vow
And thy command, his great heart sunk with shame,
His eyes lost spirit, and his heat of life
Sank from his face, as one that stood benumb’d,
All mazed, t’effect impossibilities; 10
For either unto her or Scipio
He must break vow. Long time he toss’d his thoughts;
And as you see a snow-ball being roll’d,
At first a handful, yet, long bowl’d about,
Insensibly acquires a mighty globe,—
So his cold grief through agitation grows,
And more he thinks, the more of grief he knows.
At last he seem’d to yield her.
Læ.
He stood there, filled with nervous doubt,
He offered her his right hand, which she locked in hers.
As a promise for Rome that __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ would always remain free.
But when I came in and encouraged him to stick to this vow
And at your command, his heart sank with shame.
His eyes lost their sparkle, and his energy
Drained from his face, like someone who was frozen in place,
All mixed up, trying to accomplish the impossible; 10
He had to break his promise, either to her or to Scipio.
For a long time, he struggled with his thoughts;
And just like you see a snowball being rolled,
Starting small but gaining momentum over time,
It slowly turns into a giant globe—
So his deep sadness grew amidst the chaos,
The more he thought about it, the deeper his sadness grew.
Eventually, he appeared to give in to her.
Sy.
Mark, Scipio!
Trust him that breaks a vow?
Mark, Scipio!
Can you trust someone who doesn't keep their promises?
Sci. How then trust thee? 19
Sci. How can I trust you? 19
Sy. O, misdoubt him not, when he’s thy slave like me.
Sy. Oh, don't doubt him, when he's your servant like I am.
Enter Massinissa, all in black.
Enter Massinissa, dressed in black.
Mass. Scipio!
Scipio!
Sci. Massinissa!
Sci. Massinissa!
Mass. General!
General!
Sci. King!
Sci. King!
Mass.
Lives there no mercy for one soul of Carthage,
But must see baseness?
Mass.
Is there no mercy for even one person from Carthage,
But do I really have to see such disgrace?
Sci.
Wouldst thou joy thy peace,
Deliver Sophonisba straight and cease;
Do not grasp that which is too hot to hold.
We grace thy grief, and hold it with soft sense;
Enjoy good courage, but ’void insolence.
I tell thee Rome and Scipio deign to bear
So low a breast as for her say—we fear.
Sci.
If you’re looking for peace,
Deliver Sophonisba now and stop;
Don’t cling to something that’s too hot to handle.
We understand your sadness and feel it sincerely;
Stay bold, but don't be arrogant.
I tell you, Rome and Scipio are kind enough to put up with
A heart so heavy that it worries for her.
Mass.
Do not, do not; let not the fright of nations 30
Know so vile terms. She rests at thy dispose.
Mass.
Please, please; don’t let the fear of nations 30
Know these terrible words. She is in your hands.
Sy.
To my soul[’s] joy. Shall Sophonisba then
With me go bound, and wait on Scipio’s wheel?
When th’ whole world’s giddy, one man cannot reel.
Sy.
To the joy of my soul. So, will Sophonisba then
Are you going to stay with me and see what happens with Scipio’s luck?
When the whole world is spinning, one person can't find their balance.
Organ and recorders play to a single voice. Enter in the meantime the mournful solemnity of Massinissa’s presenting Sophonisba’s body.
Organ and recorders play to a single voice. Meanwhile, the mournful solemnity of Massinissa’s is seen as he presents Sophonisba’s body.
Look, Scipio, see what hard shift we make
To keep our vows. Here, take, I yield her thee;
And Sophonisba, I keep vow, thou’rt still free.
Look, Scipio, see how tough it is for us.
To keep our promises. Here, take her; I’m handing her over to you.
And Sophonisba, I promise, you’re still free.
Sy.
Burst, my vex’d heart: the torture that most racks 40
An enemy is his foe’s royal acts.
Sy.
Calm down, my troubled heart: the pain that hurts the most 40
An enemy's actions are the noble deeds of their opponent.
Sci.
The glory of thy virtue live for ever;
Brave hearts may be obscured, but extinct never.
Sci. Your virtue will be remembered for eternity;
Brave hearts may fade, but they never really die.
[Scipio adorns Massinissa.
[Scipio decorates Massinissa.
Take from the general of Rome this crown,
This robe of triumph, and this conquest’s wreath,
This sceptre and this hand; for ever breathe
Rome’s very minion. Live worth thy fame,
As far from faintings as from now base name.
Remove this crown from the general of Rome,
This victory robe and this triumph wreath,
This scepter and this hand; always breathe.
Rome's true servant. Make sure to uphold your reputation,
You are as far from weakness as you are from a dishonorable reputation.
Mass.
Thou whom, like sparkling steel, the strokes of chance
Made hard and firm, and, like[388] wild-fire turn’d, 50
The more cold fate, the more thy virtue burn’d,
And in whole seas of miseries didst flame;
On thee, loved creature of a deathless fame,
[Massinissa adorns Sophonisba.
[Massinissa dresses up Sophonisba.
Rest all my honour! O thou for whom I drink
So deep of grief, that he must only think,
Not dare to speak, that would express my woe;
Small rivers murmur, deep gulfs silent flow.
My grief is here,[389] not here: heave gently then,
Women’s right wonder, and just shame of men.
Restore all my honor! Oh you, for whom I drink.
So overwhelmed by grief that I can only think,
Afraid to say anything that would reveal my sadness;
Small rivers whisper, and deep waters flow quietly.
My grief is present,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ not present: so please be gentle,
Women's right to question, and just shame for men.
[Exeunt all but Massinissa.
Exeunt all except Massinissa.
Cornets a short flourish.
Cornets a quick flourish.
[386] Ed. 2. “tongues.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “languages.”
[387] Ed. 1. “he.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “he.”
Mass.
And[390] now
With lighter passion, though with most just fear,
I change my person, and do hither bear
Another’s voice, who with a phrase as weak
As his deserts, now will’d me (thus form’d[391]) speak:
If words well sensed, best suiting subject grave,
Noble true story, may once boldly crave
Acceptance gracious; if he whose fires
Envy not others, nor himself admires;
If scenes exempt from ribaldry or rage 10
Of taxings indiscreet, may please the stage;—
If such may hope applause, he not commands,
Yet craves as due the justice of your hands.
But freely he protests, howe’er it is—
Or well, or ill, or much, not much amiss—
With constant modesty he does submit
To all, save those that have more tongue than wit.[392]
Mass. And__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ now
With a lighter passion, but with a valid fear,
I've changed my identity, and now I carry
Another's voice, which with a phrase as weak
As his achievements, now requested me (thus formed__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__) to speak:
If words are clearly understood, fitting the serious topic,
A genuine noble story can still confidently pursue
Gracious acceptance; if the one whose fires __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Doesn’t envy others or admire himself;
If scenes are free from vulgarity or anger 10
Indiscreet accusations might entertain the audience;—
If he hopes for applause, he doesn’t demand it.
Yet it asks for the fairness of your hands.
But he openly admits, no matter how it is—
Whether it's good or bad, or too much, or not much at all—
He submits with steady humility.
To everyone, except those who talk more than they think.[392]
[390] “And now ... fear.” Printed as one line in ed. 1. Ed. 2. reads, “And now with lighter passion, though just feare.”
[390] “And now ... fear.” Printed as one line in ed. 1. Ed. 2. reads, “And now with lighter passion, though just fear.”
[391] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “will’d me for him speake.”
[391] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “asked me to speak for him.”
[392] In ed. 1. is added the following note:—“After all, let me intreat my Reader not to taxe me for the fashion of the Entrances and Musique of this tragedy, for know it is printed only as it was presented by youths, and after the fashion of the private stage. Nor let some easily amended errors in the Printing afflict thee, since thy owne discourse will easily set vpright any such vneuennes.”
[392] In ed. 1, the following note is added:—“After all, please don’t judge me for the style of the entrances and music in this tragedy, since it’s printed just as it was performed by young actors, and in the style of a private stage. Also, don’t let a few easily fixable errors in the printing bother you, as your own understanding will easily correct any such inaccuracies.”
WHAT YOU WILL.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
PLOT OF THE PLAY.
Albano, a rich Venetian merchant, is reported to have been drowned at sea; whereupon his wife, Celia, is beset with suitors, and her choice falls upon a French knight, Laverdure. Jacomo, a disappointed suitor, plots with Albano’s brothers, Andrea and Randolfo, to disturb the match, and for this purpose they disguise Francisco, a perfumer, in the habiliments of Albano; but the plot is detected by Laverdure’s page, Bidet, who communicates the discovery to his master. The true Albano now arrives upon the scene, and encountering Laverdure, is accosted as Francisco, and is told that the plot has been discovered. Laverdure leaves him in a distraction of rage and amazement, which is not lessened when Jacomo and his own brothers approach and congratulate him on his powers of deception. A meeting between Albano and the disguised Francisco presently ensues. While Celia is entertaining her friends, Albano and Francisco clamour for admittance. Laverdure had told Celia (and the news had been spread abroad) that he intended to disguise a fiddler in the likeness of Albano as a foil to the disguised perfumer. When Albano and Francisco appear, Celia imagines that one is the fiddler and the other the perfumer. The true Albano and the counterfeit Albano, after engaging in a lively skirmish, declare that they will appeal to the Duke. When they retire Laverdure protests that he knows nothing of the new claimant, but his words are disregarded. The rivals appeal to the Duke, and the mystery is quickly solved when Albano, taking Celia aside, shows her a secret mark on his person, and reminds her of words that he had spoken on a certain memorable occasion.
Albano, a wealthy Venetian merchant, is said to have drowned at sea. Following this, his wife, Celia, is inundated with suitors, and she chooses a French knight, Laverdure. Jacomo, a rejected suitor, conspires with Albano’s brothers, Andrea and Randolfo, to disrupt the match by disguising Francisco, a perfumer, in Albano's clothes. However, the plot is uncovered by Laverdure’s page, Bidet, who informs his master. The real Albano soon arrives, and when he runs into Laverdure, he is mistaken for Francisco and is told that the scheme has been exposed. Laverdure leaves him in a mix of anger and surprise, which only grows when Jacomo and his own brothers come over to congratulate him on his cleverness. A confrontation between Albano and disguised Francisco quickly follows. While Celia is entertaining her guests, Albano and Francisco demand entry. Laverdure had informed Celia (and the word had spread) that he planned to disguise a fiddler to look like Albano as a counter to the disguised perfumer. When Albano and Francisco show up, Celia thinks one is the fiddler and the other the perfumer. The real Albano and the fake Albano, after engaging in a lively dispute, declare that they will take their case to the Duke. When they step back, Laverdure insists he doesn’t know anything about the new contender, but his claim is ignored. The rivals approach the Duke, and the mystery is quickly unraveled when Albano takes Celia aside, reveals a secret mark on his body, and reminds her of something he said during a memorable moment.
Before the music sounds for the Act, enter Atticus, Doricus, and Philomuse; they sit a good while on the stage before the candles are lighted, talking together, and on sudden Doricus speaks.
Before the music starts for the Act, enter Atticus, Doricus, and Philomuse; they sit for quite a while on the stage before the candles are lit, chatting together, and suddenly Doricus speaks.
Enter Tireman with lights.
Enter Tireman with lights on.
Dor. O fie, some lights! Sirs, fie! let there be no deeds of darkness done among us. Ay,—so, so, prithee, Tireman, set Signior Snuff a-fire: he’s a choleric gentleman; he will take pepper in the nose[393] instantly; fear not. ’Fore heaven, I wonder they tolerate him so near the stage.
Dor. Oh come on, some lights! Guys, seriously! Let’s not do anything shady here. Yeah, yeah, go ahead, please, Tireman, light up Signior Snuff: he’s a hot-headed guy; he'll get fired up in a flash; don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’m surprised they let him stay so close to the stage.
Phi. Faith, Doricus, thy brain boils; keel[394] it, keel it, or all the fat’s in the fire; in the name of Phœbus, what merry genius haunts thee to-day? Thy lips play with feathers. 10
Phi. Seriously, Doricus, you seem all worked up; calm down, calm down, or everything's going to go wrong. In the name of Apollo, what cheerful spirit is bothering you today? Your lips are filled with nonsense. feathers. 10
Dor. Troth, they should pick straws before they should be idle.
Dor. Honestly, they should draw straws rather than just sit around doing nothing.
Dor. O, well recall’d; marry, Sir Signior Snuff, Monsieur Mew, and Cavaliero Blirt, are three of the most-to-be-fear’d auditors that ever——
Dor. Oh, good memory! Well, Sir Signior Snuff, Monsieur Mew, and Cavaliero Blirt are three of the scariest judges there ever were—
Phi. Pish! for shame! stint thy idle chat.
Phi. Ugh! Come on, that's embarrassing! Stop your pointless talk.
Dor. Nay, dream whatsoe’er your fantasy swims on, Philomuse; I protest, in the love you have procured me to bear your friend the author, I am vehemently fearful this threefold halter of contempt that chokes the breath of wit, these aforesaid tria sunt omnia, knights of the mew,[395] will sit heavy on the skirts of his scenes, if—— 24
Dor. No, dream whatever your imagination conjures, Philomuse; I swear, because of the love you’ve inspired in me for your friend the author, I’m really worried that this triple burden of scorn that chokes the essence of creativity, these mentioned tria sunt omnia, knights of the mew,[395] will weigh heavily on the edges of his scenes, if—— 24
Phi.
If what? Believe it, Doricus, his spirit
Is higher blooded than to quake and pant
At the report of Scoff’s artillery.
Shall he be crest-fall’n, if some looser brain,
In flux of wit uncivilly befilth
His slight composures? Shall his bosom faint, 30
If drunken Censure belch out sour breath
From Hatred’s surfeit on his labour’s front?
Nay, say some half a dozen rancorous breasts
Should plant themselves on purpose to discharge
Imposthum’d malice on his latest scene,
Shall his resolve be struck through with the blirt
Of a goose-breath? What imperfect-born,
What short-liv’d meteor, what cold-hearted snow
Would melt in dolour, cloud his mudded eyes,
Sink down his jaws, if that some juiceless husk, 40
Some boundless ignorance, should on sudden shoot
His gross-knobb’d burbolt[396] with—“That’s not so good;
Mew, blirt, ha, ha, light chaffy stuff!”
Why, gentle spirits, what loose-waving vane,
What anything, would thus be screw’d about
With each slight touch of odd phantasmatas?
No, let the feeble palsey’d lamer joints
Lean on opinion’s crutches; let the——
Phi.
If what? Trust me, Doricus, his spirit
Is of a higher quality than to shake and sweat.
At the sound of Scoff's cannon.
Will he be brought down if some thoughtless person,
In a moment of carelessness, dirties
His delicate creations? Will his heart give out, 30
If drunken criticism spills out harsh words
From the hatred stemming from his hard work?
No, even if some resentful people
Joined forces to unleash
Their lingering resentment towards his latest work,
Will his determination be weakened by the chatter?
Of someone with no depth? What flawed individual,
What fleeting comet, what heartless snow
Would wither in sadness, cloud his murky eyes,
Drop his jaw, like some empty shell, 40
Some extreme ignorance, suddenly revealed
His blunt critique was, “That’s not that great;
"Mew, chatter, ha, ha, just some light silly things!”
Why, gentle souls, what carefree weathervane,
What could be so easily influenced?
By every subtle influence of unusual ideas?
No, let the weak, trembling limbs
Rely on the support of opinions; let the __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Dor.
Nay, nay, nay.
Heaven’s my hope, I cannot smooth this strain; 50
Wit’s death, I cannot. What a leprous humour
Breaks from rank swelling of these bubbling wits?
Now out upon’t, I wonder what tight brain,
Wrung in this custom to maintain contempt
’Gainst common censure;[397] to give stiff counter-buffs,
To crack rude scorn even on the very face
Of better audience. Slight, is’t not odious?
Why, hark you, honest, honest Philomuse
(You that endeavour to endear our thoughts
To the composer’s spirit), hold this firm: 60
Music and poetry were first approved
By common sense; and that which pleasèd most,
Held most allowèd pass: know,[398] rules of art
Were shaped to pleasure, not pleasure to your rules;
Think you, if that his scenes took stamp in mint
Of three or four deem’d most judicious,
It must enforce the world to current them,
That you must spit defiance on dislike?
Now, as I love the light, were I to pass
Through public verdict, I should fear my form, 70
Lest ought I offer’d were unsquared or warp’d.
The more we know, the more we want:
What Bayard[399] bolder than the ignorant?
Believe me, Philomuse, i’faith thou must,
The best, best seal of wit is wit’s distrust.
No way.
Heaven is my hope; I can't figure this out. 50
Honestly, I can't. What a pathetic attitude.
Does it come from the chaos of these bubbling minds?
Come on, I'm curious about which clever person,
Stuck in this habit of holding onto contempt
Against popular opinion; __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to deliver severe counterarguments,
To retaliate with harsh mockery right to someone's face.
For a better audience. Seriously, isn't that terrible?
Hey, listen to me, genuine, honest Philomuse.
(You who work to elevate our thoughts
To connect with the composer’s spirit, remember this: 60
Music and poetry were initially accepted
By common sense, and what was most enjoyable,
Was the most accepted: know, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the rules of art.
Were made to bring joy, not the other way around;
Do you think if his scenes received the stamp of __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__?
Three or four considered the wisest,
It has to make the world accept them,
You must firmly reject any dislike.
Now, since I love the light, if I had to confront
Public opinion makes me fear my own appearance, 70
In case anything I provided was incorrect or flawed.
The more we know, the more we want:
What could be bolder than someone who is clueless?
Trust me, Philomuse, I promise you have to,
The best evidence of intelligence is a mind that questions.
Phi. Nay, gentle Doricus.
Phi. No, gentle Doricus.
Dor. I’ll hear no more of him; nay, and your friend the author, the composer, the What You Will, seems so fair in his own glass, so straight in his own measure, that he talks once of squinting critics, drunken censure, splay-footed opinion, juiceless husks, I ha’ done with him, I ha’ done with him. 82
Dor. I don’t want to hear anything more about him; and your friend the author, the creator of What You Will, seems so confident in his own work, so assured in his own standards, that he mentions squinting critics, unfair judgments, clumsy opinions, worthless complaints. I’m done with him, I’m done with him. 82
Phi. Pew, nay then——
Phi. Pew, no way then
Dor. As if any such unsanctified stuff could find a being ’mong these ingenuous breasts.
Dor. As if any kind of unholy thing could exist among these innocent hearts.
Atti. Come, let pass, let pass; let’s see what stuff must clothe our ears. What’s the play’s name?
Atti. Come on, let’s move on; let’s see what we need to listen to. What’s the name of the play?
Phi. What You Will.
Phi. Whatever You Want.
Dor. Is’t comedy, tragedy, pastoral, moral, nocturnal, or history? 90
Dor. Is it comedy, tragedy, pastoral, moral, night-time, or history? 90
Dor. Why, I like this vein well now.
Dor. I really like this vibe right now.
Atti. Come, we strain the spectators’ patience in delaying their expected delights. Let’s place ourselves within the curtains, for good faith the stage is so very little, we shall wrong the general eye else very much.
Atti. Come on, we’re testing the audience’s patience by making them wait for what they’re excited to see. Let’s get behind the curtains, because honestly the stage is so small that we’d really block the view for everyone else.
Phi. If you’ll stay but a little, I’ll accompany you; I have engaged myself to the author to give a kind of inductive speech to his comedy. 102
Phi. If you’ll just stay a little while, I’ll join you; I’ve promised the author that I’ll give a sort of introductory speech for his comedy. 102
Atti. Away! you neglect yourself, a gentleman——
Atti. Go away! You're neglecting yourself, a gentleman——
Phi. Tut, I have vow’d it; I am double charged; go off as ’twill, I’ll set fire to it.
Phi. No way, I've made a promise; I'm feeling overwhelmed; whatever happens, I'll burn it down.
Dor. I’ll not stand it; may chance recoil, and be not stuffed with saltpetre: well, mark the report; mark the report.
Dor. I can’t take it anymore; it might backfire and not be filled with gunpowder: so pay attention to the news; pay attention to the news.
Phi. Nay, prithee stay; ’slid the female presence, the Genteletza, the women will put me out. 110
Phi. No, please stay; honestly, with the women around, the Genteletza, they’ll kick me out. out. 110
Dor. And they strive to put thee out, do thou endeavour to put them.
Dor. And if they try to push you out, you should try to push them back.
Atti. In good faith, if they put thee out of countenance, put them out of patience, and hew their ears with hacking imperfect utterance.
Atti. Honestly, if they make you lose your composure, annoy them back, and cut through their ears with your rough speech.
Dor. Go, stand to it; show thyself a tall man of thy tongue; make an honest leg; put off thy cap with discreet carriage: and so we leave thee to the kind gentlemen and most respected auditors.
Dor. Go on, stand tall; be a man of your word; bow respectfully; take off your hat with grace: and now we leave you to the kind gentlemen and esteemed audience.
[Exeunt, all but Philomuse.
Exeunt, everyone except Philomuse.
[393] “Se courroucer. To fret, fume, chafe, be angrie, take pet, or pepper in the nose.”—Cotgrave.
[393] “Se courroucer. To get upset, fume, complain, be angry, take offense, or get annoyed.”—Cotgrave.
[394] See note, vol. i. p. 77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, vol. 1, p. 77.
[395] Cat-calls.—See Middleton, iv. 9.
Cat-calls.—See Middleton, iv. 9.
[396] A short blunt arrow, for killing birds without piercing them.
[396] A short, straight arrow, designed to kill birds without going through them.
[397] Judgment.—Marston is here plainly referring to the truculent attitude assumed by Ben Jonson towards the audience.
[397] Judgment.—Marston is clearly pointing out the aggressive stance that Ben Jonson took towards the audience.
[398] Old eds. “not.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “nope.”
[399] “As bold as blind bayard” was a proverb (as old as Chaucer) applied to those who do not look before they leap. In R. B.’s Appius and Virginia, 1575, we have:—“As bold as blind bayard, as wise as a woodcock.” Bayard was the name for a bay-horse.
[399] “As bold as a blind bayard” was a saying (dating back to Chaucer) used for people who act without thinking. In R. B.’s Appius and Virginia, 1575, it states:—“As bold as a blind bayard, as wise as a woodcock.” Bayard referred to a bay-colored horse.
Nor labours he the favour of the rude,
Nor offers sops unto the Stygian dog,
To force a silence in his viperous tongues;
Nor cares he to insinuate the grace
Of loath’d detraction, nor pursues the love
Of the nice critics of this squeamish age;
Nor strives he to bear up with every sail
Of floating censure; nor once dreads or cares
What envious hand his guiltless muse hath struck;
Sweet breath from tainted stomachs who can suck?
But to the fair proportion’d loves of wit, 11
To the just scale of even, paizèd[400] thoughts;
To those that know the pangs of bringing forth
A perfect feature; to their gentle minds,
That can as soon slight of as find a blemish;
To those, as humbly low as to their feet,
I am obliged to bend—to those his muse
Makes solemn honour for their wish’d delight.
He vows industrious sweat shall pale his cheek,
But he’ll gloss up sleek objects for their eyes; 20
For those he is asham’d his best’s too bad.
A silly subject, too too[401] simply clad,
Is all his present, all his ready pay
For many debts. Give further day.[402]
I’ll give a proverb,—Sufferance giveth ease:
So you may once be paid, we once may please.
He doesn't look for the approval of the rude,
Nor does he bribe the hellhound,
To silence its toxic bark;
He doesn't care to compliment.
With hateful gossip, nor seeks the praise
Of discerning critics during this delicate period;
He doesn't try to fight every wave.
Of ongoing criticism; neither fears nor worries.
What envious hand might harm his innocent muse;
Who can find sweetness in spoiled things?
But for those who appreciate the right blend of humor, 11
To the fair balance of equal, thoughtful ideas;
To those who understand the challenges of creating __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
A perfect piece; to their kind hearts,
Who can just as easily overlook a flaw as identify one;
To those, as humble as to be at their feet,
I feel the need to bow—to those his muse
Values highly the joy they seek.
He promises that hard work will bring color to his cheeks,
But he'll make shiny things look good for them; 20
He feels ashamed that his best isn’t good enough for them.
A simple subject, way too __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ plain,
Is that all he has to offer, all his available payment?
For a lot of debts, just be patient.[402]
I’ll share a saying—Patience brings peace:
One day you might get paid, and we might be happy.
[Exit.
[Leave.
[400] Balanced.—Perhaps we should read “even-paizèd.”
Balanced.—Maybe we should read “steady.”
[401] Sometimes written “too-too” (a strengthened form of too), but quite as often printed as two separate words. I have followed the old copies.
[401] Sometimes spelled “too-too” (an intensified version of too), but just as often written as two separate words. I have adhered to the original versions.
Duke of Venice.
Albano, a merchant.
Jacomo, in love with Celia.
Andrea, and
Randolfo, brothers to Albano.
Quadratus.
Laverdure, a Frenchman.
Lampatho Doria.
Simplicius Faber.
Francisco, a perfumer.
Philus, page to Jacomo.
Bidet, page to Laverdure.
Slip, page to Albano.
Holofernes Pippo, page to Simplicius.
A Schoolmaster.
Battus,
Nous,
Nathaniel, and
Slip, schoolboys.
Noose,
Trip, and
Doit, pages.
Duke of Venice.
Albano, a merchant.
Jacomo, in love with Celia.
Andrea, and
Randolfo, brothers of Albano.
Quadratus.
Laverdure, a Frenchman.
Lampatho Doria.
Simplicius Faber.
Francisco, a perfumer.
Phil, page to Jacomo.
Bidet, page to Laverdure.
Slide, page to Albano.
Holofernes Pippo, page to Simplicius.
A Schoolmaster.
Battus,
Us,
Nathan, and
Slip, schoolboys.
Hanging loop,
Journey, and
Do it, pages.
Celia, wife to Albano.
Maletza, sister to Celia.
Lyzabetta.
Lucia, waiting-woman to Celia.
Celia, wife of Albano.
Maletza, sister of Celia.
Lyzabetta.
Lucia, lady-in-waiting to Celia.
The Scene—Venice.
The Scene—Venice.
WHAT YOU WILL.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
A Street.
A Street.
Enter Quadratus, Philus following him with a lute; a Page going before Quadratus with a torch.
Enter Quadratus, Phil following him with a lute; a Page walking ahead of Quadratus holding a torch.
Phi. O, I beseech you, sir, reclaim his wits;
My master’s mad, stark mad, alas! for love.
Phi. Please, sir, help him get his sanity back;
My master is insane, totally insane, oh! because of love.
Qua. For love? Nay, and he be not mad for hate,
’Tis amiable fortune. I tell thee, youth,
Right rare and geason.[403] Strange? Mad for love!
O show me him; I’ll give him reasons straight—
So forcible, so all invincible,
That it shall drag love out. Run mad for love?
What mortally exists, on which our hearts
Should be enamoured with such passion? 10
For love! Come, Philus; come, I’ll change his fate;
Instead of love, I’ll make him mad for hate.
But, troth, say what strain’s his madness of?
Qua. For love? No, he's not obsessed with hate either,
It's a good situation. Hey, young one,
Very rare and unique.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Odd? Obsessed with love!
Oh, show me him; I’ll give him reasons immediately—
So powerful, so utterly unstoppable,
It will drive love away. Go wild for love?
What is in this world that our hearts
Should it be such an intense infatuation? 10
For love! Come on, Philus; let’s change his fate;
Instead of love, I'll drive him crazy with hate.
But seriously, what kind of madness is this?
Phi. Fantastical.
Phi. Amazing.
Qua. Immure him; sconce him; barricado him in’t,
Fantastical mad! thrice blessèd heart!
Why hark, good Philus (O that thy narrow sense
Could but contain me now!), all that exists,
Takes valuation from opinion,
A giddy minion now. Pish! thy taste is dull, 20
And canst not relish me. Come; where’s Jacomo?
Qua. Lock him up; keep him out of sight; barricade him in there,
Wild and creative! What a wonderful heart!
Hey, good Philus (if only your narrow mindset
Please understand me right now! Everything that exists,
Gains value from opinion,
A dizzy fool now. Ugh! Your taste is so dull, 20
You can't appreciate me. Come on, where's Jacomo?
Enter Jacomo, unbraced, and careless dressed.
Enter Jacomo, unbothered, and casually dressed.
Phi. Look, where he comes. O map of boundless woe!
Phi. Look, here he comes. Oh, what a picture of never-ending suffering!
Jaco. Yon gleam is day; darkness, sleep, and fear,
Dreams, and the ugly visions of the night,
Are beat to hell by the bright palm of light;
Now roams the swain, and whistles up the morn:
Deep silence breaks; all things start up with light,
Only my heart, that endless night and day,
Lies bed-rid, crippled by coy Celia.[404]
Jaco. That shine is day; shadow represents sleep and fear,
Dreams and the unsettling visions of the night,
Are overwhelmed by the bright glow of light;
Now the shepherd wanders, whistling into the morning:
Deep silence shatters; everything comes to life with light,
Only my heart, that endless night and day,
Lies helpless, disabled by shy Celia.[404]
Qua. There’s a strain, law. 30
Nay, now I see he’s mad most palpable;
He speaks like a player: ha! poetical.
Qua. There’s some serious tension. 30
No, now I see he’s definitely lost his mind;
He speaks like an actor: ha! So poetic.
Jaco. The wanton spring lies dallying with the earth,
And pours fresh blood in her decayèd veins;
Look how the new-sapp’d branches are in child
With tender infants! how the sun draws out,
And shapes their moisture into thousand forms
Of sprouting buds! all things that show or breathe
Are now instaur’d,[405] saving my wretched breast,
That is eternally congeal’d with ice 40
Of frozed despair. O Celia! coy, too nice!
Jaco. The lively spring is teasing the earth,
And brings new energy to her tired veins;
Observe how the new branches filled with sap resemble children.
With gentle buds! how the sun emerges,
And molds their moisture into thousands of shapes
Of new leaves! Everything that appears or breathes
Is now revived,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ except for my miserable heart,
Which is eternally frozen in the ice 40
Of frozen despair. Oh Celia! timid, too fragile!
Qua. Still, sans question, mad?
Qua. Still, no doubt, crazy?
Jaco. O where doth piety and pity rest?
Jaco. Oh, where do kindness and compassion reside?
Qua. Fetch cords; he’s irrecoverable; mad, rank mad.
He calls for strange chimeras, fictions,
That have no being since the curse of death
Was thrown on man. Pity and piety,
Who’ll deign converse with them? Alas! vain head,
Pity and piety are long since dead.
Qua. Get some ropes; he’s beyond help; totally insane.
He discusses unusual fantasies and inventions, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
That doesn’t exist since the curse of death.
Was placed on humanity: compassion and spirituality.
Who would bother to interact with them? Unfortunately! foolish mind,
Compassion and spirituality have been missing for a long time.
Jaco. Ruin to chance, and all that strive to stand 50
Like swoll’n Colossus on her tottering base!
Fortune is blind—
Jaco. Ruin is up to chance, and anyone who attempts to stand 50
Like a massive Colossus on its unsteady foundation!
Fortune is blind.
Qua. You lie! you lie!
None but a madman would term fortune blind.
How can she see to wound desert so right,
Just in the speeding-place?[406] to girt lewd brows
With honor’d wreath? Ha! Fortune blind? Away!
How can she, hood-wink’d, then so rightly see
To starve rich worth and glut iniquity?
Qua. You're not telling the truth!
Only someone insane would say that luck is blind.
How is it that she hits the mark perfectly?
Those who deserve it, right on point?__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ to decorate shameless heads.
With honorable crowns? Ha! Blind luck? Not a chance!
How can she see with her eyes covered?
To ignore true value and give in to bad behavior?
Jaco. O love!
Jaco. Oh love!
Qua. Love! Hang love.
It is the abject outcast of the world. 60
Hate all things; hate the world, thyself, all men;
Hate knowledge; strive not to be over-wise:
It drew destruction into Paradise.
Hate honor, virtue; they are baits
That ’tice men’s hopes to sadder fates.
Hate beauty: every ballad-monger
Can cry his idle foppish humour.
Hate riches: wealth’s a flattering Jack;
Adores to face, mews ’hind thy back.
He that is poor is firmly sped; 70
He never shall be flatterèd.
All things are error, dirt and nothing,
Or pant with want, or gorged to loathing.
Love only hate, affect no higher
Than praise of Heaven, wine, a fire.
Suck up thy days in silent breath,
When their snuff’s out, come Signior Death.
Now, sir, adieu, run mad and wilt;[407]
The worst is this, my rhyme’s but spilt.
Love! Forget love.
It's the total outcast of the world. 60
Hate everything: hate the world, yourself, and everyone.
Don't dwell on negativity; avoid trying to be overly wise:
It brought chaos to Paradise.
Disregard honor and virtue; they are traps.
That leads people's hopes to more unfortunate outcomes.
Hate beauty: every artist
Can express his foolish, self-absorbed sense of humor.
Hate wealth: money is a deceptive flatterer;
It flatters you to your face, then talks behind your back.
The person who is poor is actually well-off; 70
They'll never be impressed.
Everything is flawed, messy, and meaningless.
Or desperate from need, or so full it's disgusting.
Just love hate, and strive for nothing more.
Than the praise of Heaven, wine, and a fire.
Spend your days taking quiet breaths,
When their light fades, come, Sir Death.
Alright, sir, goodbye, go crazy and fade away;[407]
The worst part is, my rhyme is just wasted.
Jaco. Thy rhymes are spilt! who would not run rank mad, 80
To see a wandering Frenchman rival, nay,
Outstrip my suit? He kiss’d my Celia’s cheek.
Jaco. Your lines are a disaster! Who wouldn’t lose their mind, 80
To see a wandering Frenchman compete, no,
Outdo my efforts? He kissed my Celia on the cheek.
Qua. Why, man, I saw my dog even kiss thy Celia’s lips.
Qua. Seriously, I saw my dog kiss your Celia’s lips.
Jaco. To-morrow morn they go to wed.
Jaco. Tomorrow morning they are getting married.
Jaco. Say quick.
Jaco. Be quick.
Qua. To bed.
Going to bed.
Jaco. I will invoke the Triple Hecate,
Make charms as potent as the breath of fate, 90
But I’ll confound the match!
Jaco. I will summon the Triple Hecate,
Create charms as strong as the breath of destiny, 90
But I'll ruin the game!
Qua. Nay, then, good day;
And you be conjuring once, I’ll slink away.
Qua. Alright, have a nice day;
And if you start conjuring again, I’ll slip away.
[Exit Quadratus.
[Exit Quadratus.
Jaco. Boy, could not Orpheus make the stones to dance?
Jaco. Wow, could Orpheus really make the stones dance?
Phi. Yes, sir.
Phi. Yes, sir.
Jaco. By’r Lady, a sweet touch. Did he not bring Eurydice out of hell with his lute?
Jaco. By the Lady, what a lovely gesture. Didn’t he bring Eurydice back from hell with his lute?
Phi. So they say, sir.
Phi. That's what they say, sir.
Jaco. And thou canst bring Celia’s head out of the
window with thy lute. Well, hazard thy breath. Look,
sir, here’s a ditty. 100
’Tis foully writ, slight wit, cross’d here and there,
But where thou find’st a blot, there fall a tear.
Jaco. And you can bring Celia’s head out of the window with your lute. Well, take a chance. Look, here’s a song. 100
It's poorly written, lacks much thought, and is messy in places.
But wherever you find a mistake, a tear will drop.
The Song.
The Tune.
Fie! peace, peace, peace! it hath no passion in’t.
O melt thy breath in fluent softer tunes,
That every note may seem to trickle down
Like sad distilling tears, and make—O God!
That I were but a poet, now t’ express my thoughts,
Or a musician but to sing my thoughts,
Or anything but what I am.—Sing’t o’er once more,
My grief’s a boundless sea that hath no shore. 110
Ugh! That's enough! It lacks any real emotion.
Oh, let your breath flow in gentler, softer melodies,
So every note feels like it’s slipping down.
Like sad, falling tears, and make—Oh my God!
If only I were a poet right now to express my thoughts,
Or a musician to express what I feel through song,
Or anything but who I am.—Sing it again,
My sadness is an endless ocean with no land in sight. 110
[He sings, and is answered; from above a willow[408] garland is flung down, and the song ceaseth.
He sings, and gets a response; from above, a willow[408] garland is thrown down, and the song stops.
Is this my favour? Am I crown’d with scorn?
Then thus I manumit my slaved condition.
Celia, but hear me execrate thy love.
By Heaven, that once was conscious of my love;
By all that is, that knows my all was thine,
I will pursue with detestation;
Thwart with outstretchèd[409] vehemence of hate,
Thy wishèd Hymen! I will craze my brain,
But I’ll[410] dissever all. Thy hopes unite:
What rage so violent as love turn’d spite! 120
Is this my reward? Am I treated with disdain?
Then I will free myself from this enslaved state.
Celia, just hear me out as I vent about your love.
By Heaven, that once felt my love;
By everything that exists, that knows all I had was yours,
I will pursue with disgust;
Counter with an outstretched __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ fierce hate,
You wanted to get married! It's going to drive me crazy.
But I’ll__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ cut all ties. Your hopes are linked:
What anger is more intense than love that has turned into hatred! 120
Enter Randolfo and Andrea, with a supplication, reading.
Enter Randolfo and Andrea, asking with a plea, reading.
Ran. Humbly complaining, kissing the hands of your excellence, your poor orators Randolfo and Andrea beseecheth, forbidding of the dishonour’d match of their niece Celia, widow, to their brother——
Ran. Humbly asking, kissing the hands of your excellence, your humble speakers Randolfo and Andrea plead, to stop the disgraceful marriage of their niece Celia, widow, to their brother——
O ’twill do; ’twill do; it cannot choose but do.
O it will work; it will work; it can't help but work.
Jaco. Nay, sir, her estimation’s mounted up.
She shall be ladied and sweet-madam’d now. 130
Jaco. No, sir, she has elevated her expectations.
She'll be treated like a lady and called "madam" from now on. 130
Ran. Be ladied? Ha! ha! O, could she but recall
The honour’d port of her deceasèd love!
But think whose wife she was! God wot no knight’s,
But one (that title off) was even a prince,
A Sultan Solyman. Thrice was he made,
In dangerous arms, Venice providetore.
Ran. Are you serious? Haha! Oh, if only she could remember.
The esteemed status of her deceased partner!
But consider whose wife she was! Not a knight's,
But one (dropping that title) was even a prince,
A Sultan Solyman. He was made three times, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
In perilous battles, Venice's leader.
And. He was a merchant; but so bounteous,
Valiant, wise, learned, all so absolute,
That naught was valued praiseful excellent,
But in it was he most praiseful excellent. 140
And. He was a merchant, but so generous,
Brave, wise, knowledgeable, truly amazing,
That nothing was considered worthy of praise,
Except for him, who deserved the most praise. 140
Jaco. O, I shall ne’er forget how he went clothed.
He would maintain ’t a base ill-usèd fashion
To bind a merchant to the sullen habit
Of precise black; chiefly in Venice state,
Where merchants gilt the top;
And therefore should you have him pass the bridge
Up the Rialto like a soldier
(As still he stood a potestate at sea).
Jaco. I'll never forget how he dressed.
He would argue that it was a humble, misused style.
To link a merchant to the dark tradition
Wearing all black, especially in Venice,
Where merchants decorate themselves with gold;
So, if you see him crossing the bridge
March up the Rialto like a soldier.
(As always, he stood as a leader at sea).
Ran. In a black beaver felt, ash-colour plain,
A Florentine cloth-of-silver jerkin, sleeves 150
White satin cut on tinsel, then long stock.[411]
Ran. Wearing a plain, gray felt hat,
A silver cloth jacket from Florence, with sleeves 150
White satin with glitter trim, followed by a long stock.[411]
Jaco. French panes[412] embroider’d, goldsmith’s work, O God!
Methinks I see him now how he would walk;
With what a jolly presence he would pace
Round the Rialto.[413] Well, he’s soon forgot;
A straggling sir in his rich bed must sleep,
Which if I cannot cross I’ll curse and weep.
Shall I be plain as truth? I love your sister:
My education, birth, and wealth deserves her.
I have no cross, no rub to stop my suit; 160
But Laverdure’s a knight: that strikes all mute.
Jaco. French windows__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ embellished, goldsmith’s craftsmanship, Oh God!
I can almost see him now, how he would walk;
How cheerfully he would walk around
Around the Rialto.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Well, he’s easily forgotten;
A traveling gentleman in his fancy bed must sleep.
If I can't get over that, I'll swear and cry.
Can I be direct? I love your sister:
My education, background, and wealth suit her well.
I have no barriers or obstacles to hold me back in my pursuit; 160
But Laverdure is a knight: that shuts everyone up.
And. Ay, there’s the devil, she must be ladied now.
And. Oh, there's the devil; she must be treated like a lady now.
Jaco. O ill-nursed custom!
No sooner is the wealthy merchant dead,
His wife left great in fair possessions,
But giddy rumour grasps it ’twixt his teeth,
And shakes it ’bout our ears. Then thither flock
A rout of crazèd fortunes, whose crack’d states
Gape to be solder’d up by the rich mass
Of the deceased labours; and now and then 170
The troop of “I beseech,” and “I protest,”
And “Believe it, sweet,” is mix’d with two or three
Hopeful, well-stock’d, neat clothèd citizens.
Jaco. Oh, what a bad tradition!
As soon as the rich merchant passes away,
His wife is left with a lot of money,
But wild rumors take hold and spread quickly,
And echoes around us. Then a crowd starts to gather.
Of desperate fortunes, whose shattered circumstances
Are excited to be fixed up by the wealth
Of the deceased’s hard work; and occasionally __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
The phrases "I ask you" and "I swear,"
And “You can trust me, darling,” is combined with two or three
Hopeful, wealthy, neatly dressed citizens.
Ran. But as we see the son of a divine
Seldom proves preacher, or a lawyer’s son
Rarely a pleader (for they strive to run
A various fortune from their ancestors),
So ’tis right geason[414] for the merchant’s widow
To be the citizen’s loved second spouse.
Ran. But as we see, the son of a god
Rarely becomes a preacher, and the son of a lawyer
Is rarely a good advocate (since they try to escape
Different fortunes inherited from their parents),
It's only fair for the merchant's widow.
To be the cherished second wife of a citizen.
Jaco. Variety of objects please us still; 180
One dish, though ne’er so cook’d, doth quickly fill,
When diverse cates the palate’s sense delight,
And with fresh taste creates new appetite;
Therefore my widow she cashiers the blacks,[415]
Forswears, turns off the furr’d-gowns, and surveys
The beadroll of her suitors, thinks and thinks,
And straight her questing thoughts springs up a knight;
Have after then amain, the game’s a-foot,
The match clapp’d up; tut, ’tis the knight must do’t!
Jaco. We still enjoy a mix of things; 180
One dish, no matter how it's prepared, satisfies you fast.
When different flavors delight the taste,
And fresh flavors spark new cravings;
My widow has let the servants go, [415]
She gives up her fancy clothes and looks over
The list of her suitors, she ponders and ponders,
And suddenly her wandering thoughts settle on a knight;
Then she runs after him, the game has begun,
The match is on; now it’s up to the knight to take action!
Ran.
Then must my pretty peat[416] be fann’d and coach’d? 190
Jaco. Muff’d, mask’d, and ladied, with “my more than most sweet madam!”
But how long doth this perfume of sweet madam last?
Faith, ’tis but a wash scent. My riotous sir
Begins to crack jests on his lady’s front,
Touches her new-stamp’d gentry, takes a glut,
Keeps out, abandons home, and spends and spends,
Till stock be melted; then, sir, takes up[417] here,
Takes up there, till nowhere ought is left.
Then for the Low Countries, hey for the French!
And so (to make up rhyme) good night, sweet wench.
Jaco. Dressed up, wearing a mask, and being all charming with “my dearest lady!”
But how long does this scent from my lady last?
Honestly, it's just a superficial fragrance. My wild friend __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Starts making jokes at his girlfriend's expense,
Mocks her new noble status, treats himself,
Stays out, ignores home, and continues to spend.
Until he runs out of money; then, my friend, he picks up__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ here,
Takes from here until there’s nothing remaining.
Then let's head to the Low Countries, cheers to the French!
So, to keep the rhyme, good night, beautiful lady.
Ran. By blessedness we’ll stop this fatal lot. 201
Ran. By a stroke of luck, we’ll end this deadly fate. lot. 201
Jaco. But how? But how?
Jaco. But how? But how?
Ran. Why, stay, let’s think a plot.
Ran. Wait, let’s come up with a plan.
And. Was not Albano Beletzo honourable-rich?
And. Wasn't Albano Beletzo wealthy and honorable?
Ran. Not peer’d in Venice, for birth, fortune, love.
Ran. Not matched in Venice for lineage, wealth, or love.
And. Tis scarce three months since fortune gave him dead.
And. It's barely three months since fate took him away.
Ran. In the black fight in the Venetian gulf.
Ran. In the dark battle in the Venetian Gulf.
And. You hold a truth.
And. You have a truth.
And. To match so sudden, so unworthily?
And. To pair up so abruptly, so undeserving?
Ran. Why, she might have——
Ran. Why, she could have
And. Who might not Celia have? 210
The passionate enamour’d Jacomo.
And. Who else can Celia have? 210
The lovestruck Jacomo.
Jaco. The passionate enamour’d Jacomo!
Jaco. The passionately in love Jacomo!
And. Of honour’d lineage, and not meanly rich.
And. From a respected family and not lacking in wealth.
Ran. The sprightful Piso; the great Florentine,
Aurelius Tuber.
Ran. The energetic Piso; the extraordinary Florentine,
Aurelius Tuber.
And. And to leave these all,
And wed a wand’ring knight, Sir Laverdure,
A God knows what!
And. And to give all this away,
And marry a traveling knight, Sir Laverdure,
Who knows anything!
Ran. Brother, she shall not. Shall our blood be mongrell’d
With the corruption of a straggling French?
Ran. Brother, she won't. Are we seriously going to mix our blood?
with the deceit of some wandering Frenchman?
And. Saint Mark, she shall not. 220
She[419] shall not, brother, by our father’s soul.
Ran. Good day.
Ran. Good day.
Jaco. Wish me good day? It stands in idle stead;
My Celia’s lost! all my good days are dead!
Jaco. Are you wishing me a good day? It's just sitting there doing nothing;
My Celia is gone! All my happy days are over!
[The cornets sound a flourish.
The cornets play a flourish.
Hark: Lorenzo Celso, the loose Venice Duke
Is going to bed; ’tis now a forward morn,
For he take rest. O strange transformèd sight,
When princes make night day, the day their night!
Listen: Lorenzo Celso, the easygoing Duke of Venice
It's time to go to bed; it's already early morning.
So he can get some rest. Oh, what a weird sight,
When princes make night feel like day and day feel like night!
And. Come, we’ll petition him.
And. Come, we'll ask him.
Jaco. Away! Away!
He scorns all plaints; makes jest of serious suit. 230
Jaco. Go away! Leave me alone!
He laughs at all complaints and makes fun of serious requests. 230
Ran. Fall out as ’twill, I am resolved to do’t.
Ran. Whatever happens, I've made up my mind to do it.
[The cornets sound.
The cornets play.
Enter the Duke coupled with a Lady; two couples more with them, the men having tobacco-pipes in their hands, the women sit; they dance a round. The petition is delivered up by Randolfo; the Duke lights his tobacco-pipe with it, and goes out dancing.
The Duke enters along with a Lady; two more couples follow, the men holding tobacco pipes, while the women sit; they start a dance. The petition is presented by Randolfo; the Duke uses it to light his tobacco pipe and joins in the dancing.
Ran. Saint Mark! Saint Mark!
Saint Mark! Saint Mark!
Jaco. Did not I tell you? lose no more rich time;
What can one get but mire from a swine?
Jaco. Didn't I say so? Don't waste any more valuable time;
What can you expect to get from a pig but mud?
And. Let’s work a cross; we’ll fame it all about
The Frenchman’s gelded.
And. Let's work together; we'll make it popular.
The Frenchman is no longer operational.
Ran. O that’s absolute.
O that’s totally true.
Ran. Pish! pish! Why, what of him? 240
Pish! Pish! What about him?
Jaco. Is he not wondrous like your deceased kinsman, Albano?
Jaco. Isn't he amazing like your late relative, Albano?
And. Exceedingly; the strangest, nearly like
In voice, in gesture, face, in——
And. Totally; the strangest, almost like
In voice, in gesture, in face, in __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Ran. Nay, he hath Albano’s imperfection too,
And stuts[420] when he is vehemently moved.
Jaco. Observe me, then; him would I have disguised,
Most perfect, like Albano; giving out,
Albano saved by swimming (as in faith
’Tis known he swome most strangely): rumour him 250
This morn arrived in Venice, here to lurk,
As having heard the forward nuptials;
T’ observe his wife’s most infamous lewd haste,
And to revenge——
Jaco. Just watch me; I want to make him look different.
Totally like Albano; letting it be known, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Albano, who was rescued by swimming (as is known,
He swam in the oddest way; rumors say he 250
Just got to Venice this morning, here to lay low,
After hearing about the quick wedding;
To see his wife's shocking urgency,
And to get back at
Ran. I have’t, I have’t, I have’t; ’twill be invincible.
Ran. I haven’t, I haven’t, I haven’t; it will be unstoppable.
Jaco. By this means now some little time we catch
For better hopes, at least disturb the match.
Jaco. This way, we'll have some time to catch up.
To improve your chances, at least make some changes.
And. I’ll to Francisco.
And. I’ll talk to Francisco.
Ran. Brother Adrian,
You have our brother’s picture; shape him to it. 259
Brother Adrian,
You have our brother’s picture; make him look like that. 259
And. Precise in each point:[421] tush, tush! fear it not.
And. Precise in each point:[421] come on, don’t worry about it.
Ran. Saint Mark then prosper once our hopeful plot!
Ran. Saint Mark will thrive once our hopeful plan comes together!
Jaco. Good souls, good day; I have not slept last night;
I’ll take a nap: then pell-mell broach all spite.
Jaco. Good people, good day; I didn’t sleep at all last night;
I'm going to take a nap, and then I'll jump into all the chaos.
[Exeunt.
[Exit.
[403] “Rare.—Rare, seld, unusuall, geason.”—Cotgrave. (Spenser has the word more than once. The derivation is uncertain.)
[403] “Rare.—Rare, seldom, unusual, geason.”—Cotgrave. (Spenser uses the word multiple times. The origin is unclear.)
[404] Old eds. “Lucea.”
Old eds. “Lucea.”
[405] Repaired, renovated.
Repaired, renovated.
[406] “Id est, in the place where a wound is fatal. Tharsalio, in the Widow’s Tears of Chapman, says:—’I have given’t him i’ th’ speeding-place for all his confidence.’”—Dilke.
[406] “That is, in the place where a wound is deadly. Tharsalio, in the Widow’s Tears by Chapman, says:—’I’ve given it to him in the place of urgency for all his confidence.’”—Dilke.
[407] Old eds. “’twilt.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "’twilt."
[409] Old eds. “thwart without stretched.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “thwart without stretched.”
[410] Old eds. “all.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “all.”
[412] Squares of coloured silk or velvet inserted in a garment.
[412] Patches of colored silk or velvet sewn into a piece of clothing.
[413] “To judge of the liberality of these notions of dress, we must advert to the days of Gresham and the consternation which a Phenomenon habited like a merchant here described would have excited among the flat round caps, and cloth stockings, upon Change, when those ‘original arguments or tokens of a citizen’s vocation were in fashion, not more for thrift and usefulness than for distinction and grace.’ The blank uniformity to which all professional distinctions in apparel have been long hastening is one instance of the Decay of Symbols among us, which, whether it has contributed or not to make us a more intellectual, has certainly made us a less imaginative people. Shakespeare knew the force of signs:—‘a malignant and a turban’d Turk.’ ‘This meal-cap miller,’ says the author of God’s Revenge against Murder, to express his indignation at the atrocious outrage committed by the miller Pierot upon the person of the fair Marieta.”—Charles Lamb.
[413] “To understand the openness of these ideas about clothing, we need to consider the days of Gresham and the shock that a figure dressed like a merchant would have caused among the round flat caps and cloth stockings on the trading floor, when those 'traditional signs or markers of a citizen’s profession were in style, valued not just for practicality but also for distinction and elegance.' The dull uniformity that has long been taking over professional attire is one example of the decline of symbols in our society, which, whether or not it has made us more intellectual, has certainly made us less imaginative. Shakespeare understood the power of symbols:—‘a malignant and a turban’d Turk.’ ‘This meal-cap miller,’ notes the author of God’s Revenge against Murder, expressing his outrage at the horrible act committed by the miller Pierot against the beautiful Marieta.” —Charles Lamb.
[414] See note, p. 331.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, p. 331.
[415] Mourning robes.
Mourning attire.
[416] Pet. (“A pretty peat.”—Taming of the Shrew, i. 1.)
[416] Pet. (“A nice peat.”—Taming of the Shrew, i. 1.)
[418] Wanton.
Unrestrained.
[419] Old eds. give this line to Jacomo and read:—“She shall not, fathers, by our brother souls.”
[419] Older editions attribute this line to Jacomo and read:—“She shall not, fathers, by our brother souls.”
[420] Stutters.
Stutters.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Laverdure’s lodging.
Laverdure’s accommodation.
One knocks: Laverdure draws the curtains, sitting on his bed, apparelling himself; his trunk of apparel standing by him.
Someone knocks: Laverdure pulls back the curtains, sitting on his bed, getting dressed; his trunk of clothes is beside him.
Lav. Ho! Bidet, lackey.
Hey! Bidet, servant.
Enter Bidet, with water and a towel.
Enter Bidet, with water and a towel.
Bid. Signior.
Bid. Sir.
Lav. See who knocks. Look, you boy; peruse their habits; return perfect notice. La la, ly ro!
Lav. Check who’s at the door. Hey, kid; observe their behavior; come back with a full report. La la, ly ro!
[Exit Bidet, and returns presently.
[Exit Bidet, and comes back shortly.
Bid. Quadratus.
Bid. Quadratus.
Lav. Quadratus, mon Dieu, ma vie! I lay not at my lodging to-night. I’ll not see him now, on my soul: he’s in his old perpetuana[422] suit. I am not within.
Lav. Quadratus, my God, my life! I won’t be staying at my place tonight. I won’t see him now, I swear: he’s in his old everlasting[422] suit. I’m not around.
Lav. And in good clothes?
Lav. And in nice clothes?
Bid. Accoutred worthy a presence.
Bid. Dressed to impress.
Lav. Uds so: my gold-wrought waistcoat and nightcap! Open my trunk: lay my richest suit on the top, my velvet slippers, cloth-of-gold gamashes:[423] where are my cloth-of-silver hose? lay them——
Lav. Uds so: my gold-embroidered waistcoat and nightcap! Open my trunk: place my finest suit on top, my velvet slippers, gold fabric trousers: [423] where are my silver fabric stockings? put them
Bid. At pawn, sir.
Bid. At pawn, sir.
Lav. No, sir; I do not bid you lay them at pawn, sir.
Lav. No, sir; I'm not asking you to pawn them, sir.
Bid. No, sir, you need not, for they are there already.
Bid. No, sir, you don't need to, because they're already there.
Lav. Mor du, garzone! Set my richest gloves, garters, hats, just in the way of their eyes. So let them in; observe me with all duteous respect: let them in. 23
Lav. Mor du, garzone! Get my finest gloves, garters, and hats, right in their line of sight. So let them in; watch me with all due respect: let them in. 23
Enter Quadratus, Lampatho Doria, and Simplicius Faber.
Enter Quadratus, Lampatho Doria, and Simplicius Faber.
Sim. Monsieur Laverdure, do you see that gentleman? He goes but in black satin, as you see, but, by Helicon! he hath a cloth of tissue wit. He breaks a jest; ha, he’ll rail against the court till the gallants—O God! he is very nectar; if you but sip of his love, you were immortal. I must needs make you known to him; I’ll induce your love with dear regard. Signior Lampatho, here is a French gentleman, Monsieur Laverdure, a traveller, a beloved of Heaven, courts your acquaintance.
Sim. Monsieur Laverdure, do you see that guy? He's wearing black satin, as you can see, but, seriously! he has a brilliant wit. He cracks jokes; ha, he’ll complain about the court until the fancy folks—Oh God! he is just amazing; if you get a taste of his affection, you’d feel immortal. I really have to introduce you to him; I’ll spark your interest with genuine care. Signior Lampatho, here's a French gentleman, Monsieur Laverdure, a traveler, a favorite of the heavens, wants to meet you.
Lam. Sir, I protest[426] I not only take distinct notice of your dear rarities of exterior presence, but also I protest I am most vehemently enamour’d, and very passionately dote on your inward adornments and liabilities of spirit! I protest I shall be proud to do you most obsequious vassalage. 43
Lam. Sir, I must insist[426] I not only notice your exquisite outer beauty, but I also declare that I am deeply in love and very passionately infatuated with your inner qualities and character! I promise I will proudly serve you in the most devoted manner. 43
Qua.
[Aside.] Is not this rare, now? Now, by Gorgon’s head,
I gape, and am struck stiff in wonderment
At sight of these strange beasts. Yon[427] chamlet[428] youth,
Simplicius Faber, that hermaphrodite,
Party[429]
per pale, that bastard mongrel soul,
Is nought but admiration and applause
Of yon[430] Lampatho Doria, a fusty cask, 50
Devote to mouldy customs of hoary eld;
Doth he but speak, “O tones of heaven itself!”
Doth he once write, “O Jesu admirable!”
Cries out Simplicius. Then Lampatho spits,
And says, “faith ’tis good.” But, O, to mark yon thing
Sweat to unite acquaintance to his friend,
Labour his praises, and endear his worth
With titles all as formally trick’d forth
As the cap of a dedicatory epistle.
Then, sir, to view Lampatho: he protests, 60
Protests and vows such sudden heat of love,
That O ’twere warmth enough of mirth to dry
The stintless tears[431] of old Heraclitus,—
Make Niobe to laugh!
Qua.
[Aside.] Isn’t this something special? Now, by Gorgon’s head,
I’m amazed and speechless with wonder.
At the sight of these strange creatures, that__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ young man,
Simplicius Faber, that gender-neutral person,
Party__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
split, that mixed-up soul,
Is nothing but respect and praise.
For that __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Lampatho Doria, an old-timer,
Trapped in old traditions from ancient times;
Whenever he speaks, “Oh, voices of heaven itself!”
Whenever he writes, "Oh Jesus, how amazing!"
Simplicius shouts. Then Lampatho spits,
And says, “Honestly, it’s good.” But, oh, to see that
Working hard to get closer to his friend,
Dedicating effort to commend him and show his value
With all titles carefully crafted
As the front of a dedication letter.
Then, sir, to consider Lampatho: he insists, 60
He insists and swears that such sudden warmth of love,
Oh, I wish it were warm enough to dry.
The endless tears of old Heraclitus,—
Make Niobe smile!
Lam. I protest I shall be proud to give you proof I hold a most religious affiance with your love.
Lam. I swear I'll be proud to show you that I have a deep commitment to your love.
Lav. Nay, gentle signior.
No, kind sir.
Lam. Let me not live else. I protest I will strain my utmost sinews in strengthening your precious estimate; I protest I will do all rights in all good offices that friendship can touch, or amplest virtue deserve. 71
Lam. I won't live any other way. I swear I will do everything I can to support your valued reputation; I promise I will perform all the rights and good deeds that friendship demands or the highest virtue deserves. 71
Qua. I protest, believe him not; I’ll beg thee, Laverdure,
For a conceal’d idiot,[432] if thou credit him;
He’s a hyena,[433] and with civet scent
Of perfumed words, draws to make a prey
For laughter of thy credit. O this hot crackling love,
That blazeth on an instant, flames me out
On the least puff of kindness, with “protest, protest!”
Catzo, I dread these hot protests, that press,
Come on so fast. No, no! away, away! 80
You are a common friend, or will betray.
Let me clip amity that’s got with suit;
I hate this whorish love that’s prostitute.
Qua. I promise, don’t trust him; I’m asking you, Laverdure,
For a secret fool,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ if you believe in him;
He's a hyena,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and has a smell
With sweet words, he entices you to become
The target of his mockery. Oh, this intense love,
That sparks instantly and consumes me.
At the smallest gesture of kindness, with "I promise, I promise!"
Damn, I'm really worried about these intense promises; they show up so suddenly.
No, no! Leave me alone, go away! 80
You’re either a false friend or you’ll betray me.
Let me end this friendship that was built out of necessity;
I hate this cheap love that’s up for sale.
Lam. O, in that last suit, gentle Laverdure, 90
Visit my lodging. By Apollo’s front,
Do but inquire my name. O straight they’ll say,
Lampatho suits himself in such a hose.
Lam. Oh, in that last outfit, kind Laverdure, 90
Come over to my place. By Apollo's face,
Just ask for my name. Oh, they'll quickly say,
Lampatho is slaying those pants.
Sim. Mark that, Quadratus.
Sim. Note that, Quadratus.
Lam. Consorts himself with such a doublet.
Lam. Associates himself with such a jacket.
Sim. Good, good, good! O Jesu! admirable.
Sim. Awesome, awesome, awesome! Oh Jesus! amazing.
Lav. La la, ly ro, sir!
La la, ly ro, dude!
Lam. O Pallas! Quadratus, hark! hark! A most complete phantasma, a most ridiculous humour; prithee shoot him through and through with a jest; make him lie by the lee, thou basilisco[434] of wit. 101
Sim. O Jesu! admirably well spoken; angelical tongue!
Sim. Oh wow! That was beautifully said; what an angelic way to express yourself!
Qua. Gnathonical coxcomb!
Qua. Gnathonical jerk!
Lam. Nay, prithee, fut, fear not, he’s no edge-tool; you may jest with him.
Lam. No, seriously, don’t worry, he’s no sharp weapon; you can joke around with him.
Sim. No edge-tool. Oh!
No tool. Oh!
Qua. Tones of heaven itself.
Heavenly tones.
Sim. Tones of heaven itself.
Heavenly sounds.
Qua. By blessedness, I thought so.
Qua. I thought so, for sure.
Lam. Nay, when?[435] when? 110
Nay, when? __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ when?
Qua. Why, thou pole-head![436] thou Janus! thou poltroon! thou protest! thou earwig that wrigglest into men’s brains! thou dirty cur, that bemirest with thy fawning! thou——
Qua. Why, you blockhead![436] you two-faced idiot! you coward! you claim you’re innocent! you pest that worms your way into people’s minds! you filthy mutt, that dirties everything with your licking! youUnderstood! Please provide the text for modernization.
Lam. Obscure me! or——
Lam. Cover me! or——
Qua. Signior Laverdure, by the heart of an honest man, this Jebusite—this, confusion to him! this worse than I dare to name—abuseth thee most incomprehensibly. Is this your protest of most obsequious vassalage? Protest to strain your utmost sum, your most—— 120
Qua. Mr. Laverdure, by the heart of an honest man, this Jebusite—this, what a mess for him! this worse than I dare to say—takes advantage of you in ways I can hardly comprehend. Is this your show of complete servitude? An attempt to stretch your limits, your most—— 120
Lam. So Phœbus warm my brain, I’ll rhyme thee dead.
Look for the satire: if all the sour juice
Of a tart brain can souse thy estimate,
I’ll pickle thee.
Lam. So, inspire me, Phœbus, I'll keep rhyming until you're overwhelmed.
Look out for the satire: if all the negative thoughts
Having a sharp mind can damage your reputation,
I’ll protect you.
Qua. Ha! he mount Chirall[437] on the wings of fame!
A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse![438]
Look thee, I speak play-scraps. Bidet, I’ll down,
Sing, sing, or stay, we’ll quaff, or anything.
Rivo,[439] Saint Mark, let’s talk as loose as air;
Unwind youth’s colours, display ourselves, 130
So that yon envy-starvèd cur may yelp
And spend his chaps at our fantasticness.
Qua. Ha! he rises Chirall__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ on the wings of fame!
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse![438]
Look, I'm speaking in short bursts. Bidet, I'm about to get serious,
Sing, sing, or stay; we’ll drink or do whatever.
Rivo,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Saint Mark, let’s talk openly and without restraint;
Unleash youth's colors, show ourselves, 130
So that the jealous dog can bark
And waste his breath talking about our greatness.
Sim. O Lord, Quadratus!
O Lord, Quadratus!
Qua. Away, idolater! Why, you Don Kynsader![440]
Thou canker-eaten rusty cur! thou snaffle
To freer spirits!
Think’st thou, a libertine, an ungyved breast,
Scorns not the shackles of thy envious clogs?
You will traduce us unto public scorn?
Qua. Leave, idolater! You, Don Kynsader![440]
You old, rusty dog! You snob!
To free spirits!
Do you really think that a libertine, someone who is free-spirited,
looks down on the chains of your jealous burdens?
Are you planning to drag us into public humiliation?
Lam. By this hand I will. 140
I will by this hand.
Qua. A foutra for thy hand, thy heart, thy brain!
Thy hate, thy malice, envy, grinning spite!
Shall a free-born, that holds antipathy——
Qua. A curse on your hand, your heart, and your mind!
Your hatred, your bitterness, jealousy, and mocking spite!
Should someone who is free, who has such strong dislike __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Lam. Antipathy!
Antipathy!
Qua. Ay, antipathy, a native hate
Unto the curse of man, bare-pated servitude,
Quake at the frowns of a ragg’d satirist—
A scrubbing railer, whose coarse, harden’d fortune,
Grating his hide, galling his starvèd ribs,
Sits howling at desert’s more battle fate[441]—
Who out of dungeon of his black despairs, 150
Scowls at the fortune of the fairer merit.
Yeah, resentment, a natural hatred
Towards the curse of humanity, headless servitude,
Fear the scowls of a rough satirist—
A harsh critic, whose tough, unyielding destiny,
Scrapes against his skin, tormenting his hungry ribs,
Sits howling at the harsher fate of the desert__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__—
Who from the depths of his dark despair, 150
Stares enviously at the success of those who are more deserving.
Lav. Tut, via! Let all run glib and square.
Lav. Come on! Let everyone move smoothly and openly.
Qua. Uds fut! He coggs and cheats your simpler thoughts,
My spleen’s a-fire in the heat of hate;
I bear these gnats that hum about our ears,
And blister[442] our credits in obscured shades.
Lav. Pewte bougra! La, la, la! Tit! Shaugh!
Shall I forbear to caper, sing, or vault?
To wear fresh clothes, or wear perfumèd sweets?
To trick my face, or glory in my fate? 160
T’ abandon natural propensitudes?
My fancy’s humour?—for a stiff jointed,
Tatter’d, nasty, taber-fac’d —— Puh, la, la, ly ro!
Lav. Wow, fantastic! La, la, la! Awesome! Shaugh!
Should I stop dancing, singing, or jumping?
Should I wear clean clothes or put on nice perfume?
Should I wear a mask, or embrace my destiny? 160
To give up my natural instincts?
My vibe?—for a stiff,
Ragged, disgusting, unattractive —— Puh, la, la, ly ro!
Qua. Now, by thy lady’s cheek, I honour thee,
My rich free blood. O my dear libertine!
I could suck the juice, the sirrup of thy lip,
For thy most generous thought!—my Elysium!
Qua. Now, for your lady's sake, I respect you,
My rich free spirit. Oh, my cherished free spirit!
I could enjoy the sweetness, the syrupy taste of your lips,
For your incredibly kind thought!—my paradise!
Lam. O, sir, you are so square, you scorn reproof.
Lam. Oh, sir, you are so stuck in your ways, you reject criticism.
Qua. No, sir; should discreet Mastigophoros,
Or the dear spirit acute Canaidus 170
(That Aretine, that most of me beloved,
Who in the rich esteem I prize his soul,
I term myself); should these once menace me,
Or curb my humours with well-govern’d check,
I should with most industrious regard,
Observe, abstain, and curb my skipping lightness;
But when an arrogant, odd, impudent,
A blushless forehead, only out of sense
Of his own wants, bawls in malignant questing
At others’ means of waving gallantry,— 180
Pight foutra!
Qua. No, sir; if the diligent Mastigophoros,
Or the beloved and clever Canaidus 170
That Aretine, whom I value the most,
I have great respect for their soul,
I think of myself; if either of them were to threaten me,
Or control my emotions with thoughtful moderation,
I would carefully watch, restrain, and manage my easygoing nature;
But when an impolite, odd, shameless person,
With a confident attitude, solely focused
He shouts in a bitter manner about his own needs.
In the way others use charm, — 180
Forget that!
Qua. I cannot tell; ’tis now grown fashion,
What’s out of railing’s out of fashion.
A man can scarce put on a tuck’d-up cap,
A button’d frizado suit, scarce eat good meat,
Anchovies, caviare, but he’s satired
And term’d fantastical by the muddy spawn
Of slimy newts, when, troth, fantasticness—
That which the natural sophisters term 190
Phantasia incomplexa—is a function
Even of the bright immortal part of man.
It is the common pass, the sacred door,
Unto the privy chamber of the soul;
That barr’d, nought passeth past the baser court
Of outward sense; by it th’ inamorate
Most lively thinks he sees the absent beauties
Of his loved mistress;
By it we shape a new creation
Of things as yet unborn; by it we feed 200
Our ravenous memory, our intention feast:
’Slid he that’s not fantastical’s a beast.
Qua. I can't say; it's become popular,
What's not being critiqued is outdated.
A guy can barely wear a nice hat,
A fitted jacket, barely enjoy good food,
Anchovies, caviar, no judgment
And considered pretentious by the ordinary crowd.
Of slimy creatures, when, to be honest, being unique—
What the wise call __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Phantasia incomplexa—is a skill
Of the shining, everlasting aspect of humanity.
It is the universal path, the sacred gateway,
Into the inner chamber of the soul;
If that’s blocked, nothing gets through to the lower realm.
Of our senses; through it, the lovesick
He clearly envisions the beauty in the distance.
Of his love;
Through it, we generate new ideas.
Of things that haven't been created yet; through it we provide sustenance 200
Our endless memory, our dreams:
Honestly, anyone who lacks imagination is a fool.
Lam. Most fantastical protection of fantasticness.
Lam. Most amazing protection of awesomeness.
Lav. Faith, ’tis good.
Lav. Faith, it's good.
Qua. So’t be fantastical ’tis wit’s lifeblood.
Qua. So it’s all about imagination; that’s the essence of wit.
Lav. Come, signior, my legs are girt.
Lav. Come on, sir, my legs are ready.
Qua. Fantastically?
Qua. Awesome?
Lav. After a special humour, a new cut.
Lav. After a unique sense of humor, a fresh style.
Lav. Nay, then, sweet sir, give reason. Come on: when?[443]
Lav. No, then, dear sir, explain yourself. Come on: when? [443]
Qua. ’Tis hell to run in common base of men.
Qua. It’s hell to run among ordinary men.
Lav. Has not run thyself out of breath, bully?[444]
Lav. Haven't you exhausted yourself, tough guy?[444]
Qua. And I have not jaded thy ears more than I have
tired my tongue, I could run discourse, put him out of
his full pace.
I could pour speech till thou criedst ho! but troth,
I dread a glut; and I confess much love
To freer gentry, whose pert agile spirits 220
Is too much frost-bit, numb’d with ill-strain’d snibs,[445]
Hath tenter-reach’d[446] my speech. By Brutus’ blood,
He is a turf that will be slave to man;
But he’s a beast that dreads his mistress’ fan.
Qua. And I haven’t worn you out with my words any more than I’ve exhausted myself speaking. I could keep talking until you cried out for me to stop! But honestly, I fear overwhelming you, and I admit I have a strong affection for those more easygoing folks whose lively spirits are too often dulled by harsh treatment, which has sadly limited my speech. By Brutus’ blood, he’s a character who would be subservient to man; but he’s also someone who fears his mistress’ fan.
Lav. Come, all mirth and solace, capers, healths, and whiffs;[447]
To-morrow are my nuptials celebrate.
All friends, all friends!
Lav. Come on, let’s enjoy all the fun and comfort—dancing, drinks, and laughter; [447]
Tomorrow, I'll be getting married.
All friends!
Lam. I protest——
I protest—
Lam. Why, content, and I protest——
Lam. Why, happy, and I swear—
Qua. I’ll no protest!
I won't protest!
Lam. Well, and I do not leave these fopperies, do not lend me forty shillings, and there’s my hand: I embrace you—love you—nay, adore thee; for by the juice of wormwood, thou hast a bitter brain!
Lam. Well, if I don't give up these silly things, don't lend me forty shillings, and there's my hand: I embrace you—I love you—no, I adore you; for by the juice of wormwood, you have a bitter mind!
Qua. You, Simplicius, wolt leave that staring fellow,
Admiration, and adoration of thy acquaintance,
wilt? A scorn! out; ’tis odious. Too eager a defence
argues a strong opposition; and too vehement a
praise draws a suspicion of others’ worthy disparagement. 245
Set[448] tapers to bright day, it ill befits;
Good wines can vent themselves, and not good wits?
Qua. You, Simplicius, are going to leave that staring guy,
Admiration, and adoration of your friend, right? It's ridiculous! Get out; it’s disgusting. Defending too eagerly shows strong opposition, and praising too intensely raises suspicion about others' true worth. 245
Set__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ candles to a bright day; it’s not appropriate;
Good wines can speak for themselves, but what about good minds?
Sim. Good truth, I love you; and with the grace of Heaven, I’ll be very civil and——
Sim. Honestly, I love you; and with God’s blessing, I’ll be very polite andI'm ready to help. Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Qua. Fantastical. 250
Qua. Awesome. 250
Sim. I’ll be something; I have a conceal’d humour in me; and ’twere broach’d ’twould spurt i’faith.
Sim. I’m going to be something; I have a hidden sense of humor in me; and if it were revealed, it would definitely come out strong.
Lav. Petit lacque, page, page, Bidet, sing!
Give it the French jerk—quick, spart, lightly—ha!
Ha, here’s a turn unto my Celia![449] 260
Qua. Stand stiff! ho, stand! take footing firm! stand sure!
For if thou fall before thy mistress
Thy manhood’s damn’d. Stand firm! Ho! good! so, so!
Qua. Stand up straight! Come on, stand up! Get your balance right! Stand firm!
Because if you trip in front of your lady
Your masculinity is destroyed. Stay strong! Hey! Good! Yes, that’s it!
The Dance and Song.
The Dance and Song.
Lav. Come, now, via, aloune,[450] to Celia.
Lav. Come on, let's go, send word to Celia.
Qua. Stay, take an old rhyme first; though dry and lean,
’Twill serve to close the stomach of the scene.
Qua. Wait, let’s begin with an old rhyme; even though it’s overused and faded,
It will wrap up the scene nicely.
Lav. This is thy humour to berhyme us still;
Never so slightly pleased, but out they fly.
Lav. This is how you keep us rhyming all the time;
Never satisfied, but they show up regardless.
Qua. They are mine own, no gleanèd poetry;
My fashion’s known. Out, rhyme; take’t as you list: 270
A fico[451] for the sour-brow’d Zoilist!
Qua. They are mine, not borrowed poetry;
My style is straightforward. Go ahead, rhyme; do whatever you like: 270
A big zero for the sour Zoilus!
Music, tobacco, sack, and sleep,
The tide of sorrow backward keep.
If thou art sad at others’ fate,
Rivo,[452] drink deep, give care the mate.
On us the end of time is come,
Fond fear of that we cannot shun;
Whilst quickest sense doth freshly last,
Clip time about, hug pleasure fast.
The sisters ravel out our twine, 280
He that knows little ’s most divine.
Error deludes; who’ll beat this hence,—
Naught’s known but by exterior sense?
Let glory blazon others’ deed,
My blood than breath craves better meed.
Let twattling fame cheat others’ rest,
I am no dish for rumour’s feast.
Let honour others’ hope abuse,
I’ll nothing have, so nought will lose.
I’ll strive to be nor great nor small, 290
To live nor die; fate helmeth[453] all.
When I can breathe no longer, then
Heaven take all: there put Amen.
Music, tobacco, a drink, and sleep,
Keep the wave of sadness away.
If you feel sorry for what happens to others,
Rivo,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ drink deeply, and let care be your companion.
The end of time has arrived for us,
A silly fear of what we can’t avoid;
While our senses are still sharp,
Embrace the moment, and enjoy pleasure to the fullest.
The fates unravel our bonds, 280
The one who knows little is the most divine.
Mistakes can be misleading; who can avoid this,—
Is anything known except through our senses?
Let glory honor others' achievements,
My life is worth more than just existing.
Let gossip undermine others' peace,
I'm not someone's gossip fodder.
Let honor betray others' dreams,
I won't want anything, so I won't lose anything.
I'll try to be neither too ambitious nor too modest, 290
To live or die; it's all up to fate.
When I can't breathe anymore,
God take everything: let’s just end it here.
How is’t? how is’t?
How's it going?
Lav. Faith, so, so; tellement, quellement;
As ’t please opinion to current it.
Lav. Of course, of course; so much, in every way;
It appears to be accepted.
Qua. Why, then, via! let’s walk.
Qua. Why not? Let’s go for a walk.
Lav. I must give notice to an odd pedant, as we pass, of my nuptials: I use him, for he is obscure, and shall marry us in private. I have many enemies, but secresy is the best evasion from envy. 300
Lav. I need to inform a quirky scholar, as we go by, about my wedding: I'm using him because he's not well-known, and he'll marry us discreetly. I have a lot of enemies, but keeping it a secret is the best way to avoid envy. 300
Qua. Holds it to-morrow?
Qua. Holds it tomorrow?
Lav. Ay firm, absolute.
I am firm, absolute.
Lam. I’ll say amen if the priest be mute.
Lam. I’ll agree if the priest stays quiet.
[Exeunt.
[They exit.
[422] A sort of coarse cloth.—“By this heaven I wonder at nothing more than our gentlemen ushers, that will suffer a piece of serge or perpetuana to come into the presence.”—Cynthia’s Revels, iii. 2.
[422] A type of rough fabric.—“By this heaven, I’m amazed at nothing more than our gentlemen ushers, who allow a piece of serge or perpetuana to enter their presence.”—Cynthia’s Revels, iii. 2.
[423] “A kind of loose drawers or stockings worn outside the legs over the other clothing.”—Halliwell.
[423] “A type of baggy pants or socks worn on the outside of the legs over other clothing.”—Halliwell.
[424] “Mignon.—A minion, favourite wanton, dilling, darling.”—Cotgrave.
“Mignon.—A favorite, cherished little darling, dilling.”—Cotgrave.
[425] Pudding tobacco is frequently mentioned by the dramatists. Cf. Cynthia’s Revels, ii. 1:—“Never kneels but to pledge healths, nor prays but for a pipe of pudding-tobacco.” Probably it was tobacco compressed into a solid shape.
[425] Pudding tobacco is often referenced by playwrights. Cf. Cynthia’s Revels, ii. 1:—“Never kneels except to toast healths, nor prays except for a pipe of pudding-tobacco.” It was likely tobacco pressed into a solid form.
[426] From numerous passages it appears that it was regarded as a piece of affectation to use the word protest. See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[426] From various excerpts, it seems that using the word protest was seen as pretentious. See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[427] Ed. 1. “You.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “You.”
[428] Chamlet (or camlet) was a mixed stuff of wool and silk.
[428] Chamlet (or camlet) was a blend of wool and silk.
[429] “‘Party per pale’ is a term in heraldry denoting that the field or ground on which the figures that make up a coat of arms are represented, is divided into two equal parts by a perpendicular line; and Quadratus means that the external appearances of the two sexes are, in Simplicius, divided with equal exactness.”—Dilke.
[429] “‘Party per pale’ is a heraldic term that means the background of a coat of arms is split into two equal halves by a vertical line; and Quadratus indicates that the outward appearances of the two sexes are, according to Simplicius, divided with equal precision.”—Dilke.
[430] Old eds. “you.”
Old eds. “you.”
[431] I beseech the reader to make “tears” equivalent to a dissyllable and not pronounce “Heraclītus” as “Heraclĭtus.”
[431] I urge the reader to treat “tears” as a two-syllable word and not to pronounce “Heraclītus” as “Heraclĭtus.”
[432] Formerly it was in the sovereign’s power to grant to any petitioner the care of the person and estates of a subject who had been legally proved to be an idiot.
[432] In the past, it was the ruler's authority to grant any requester the responsibility for the care of a person and their property who had been legally determined to be incompetent.
[433] Marston has made a slip here: he has confused the hyena with the panther. “The panther or pardal,” says Topsel, “smelleth most sweetly, which savour he hath received from a divine gift, and doth not only feel the benefit of it himself, but also bewray it unto other beasts; for when he feeleth himself to be hungry and stand in need of meat, then doth he get up into some rough tree, and by his savour or sweet smell, draweth unto him an innumerable company of wild goats, harts, roes, and hinds, and such other beasts, and so upon a sudden leapeth down upon them when he espieth his convenient time. And Solinus saith that the sweetness of his savour worketh the same effect upon them in the open fields, for they are so mightily delighted with his spotted skin and fragrant smell that they always come running unto him from all parts, striving who shall come nearest to him to be satisfied with the sight; but when once they look upon his fierce and grim face they all are terrified and turn away” (History of Four-footed Beasts, ed. 1658, p. 451).
[433] Marston made a mistake here: he mixed up the hyena with the panther. “The panther or pardal,” says Topsel, “smells very sweet, a gift from the divine, and not only enjoys this benefit himself, but also reveals it to other animals; for when he feels hungry and needs food, he climbs up into a rough tree, and with his scent, he attracts a countless number of wild goats, deer, and other animals, and then suddenly leaps down upon them when he spots the right moment. Solinus also states that the sweetness of his scent has the same effect in open fields, because they are so fascinated by his spotted coat and fragrant smell that they always come running to him from all directions, competing to get closest to him for a glimpse; but once they see his fierce and intimidating face, they all become frightened and turn away” (History of Four-footed Beasts, ed. 1658, p. 451).
[435] An exclamation of impatience.
An expression of impatience.
[436] Tadpole.—“Cavesot. A pole-head or bull-head; the little black vermine whereof toads and frogs do come.”—Cotgrave.
[436] Tadpole.—“Cavesot. A pole-head or bull-head; the little black creature that toads and frogs come from.”—Cotgrave.
[437] Dilke reads “cheval,” and Mr. J. R. Lowell (in My Study Windows) approves of the emendation. I suspect that “Chirall” is a corruption of the name of some horse famous in one of the old romances.—Curtal (= docked horse) would be preferable to cheval.
[437] Dilke reads “cheval,” and Mr. J. R. Lowell (in My Study Windows) supports the revision. I think “Chirall” is a twisted version of the name of a horse known in one of the old romances.—Curtal (= docked horse) would be better than cheval.
[438]
We have had in Parasitaster (p. 212) a travesty of this line of Richard
III. So in the Scourge of Villainy:—
“A man! a man! a kingdom for a man!”
Again in Eastward Ho:—
“A boat! a boat! a full hundred marks for a boat!”
[438]
We have seen a parody of this line from Richard III in Parasitaster (p. 212). Similarly, in Scourge of Villainy:—
“A man! A man! A kingdom for a man!”
And again in Eastward Ho:—
“A boat! A boat! A full hundred marks for a boat!”
[440] Kinsader was the pseudonym under which Marston published his Scourge of Villainy.
[440] Kinsader was the pen name used by Marston to publish his Scourge of Villainy.
[441] If the text is not corrupt, “more battle fate” must mean “more prosperous fortune.” Battle and batful, applied to land, had the meaning—fertile, fruitful.
[441] If the text isn't corrupted, “more battle fate” must mean “more prosperous fortune.” Battle and batful, when referring to land, meant fertile and fruitful.
[442] Old eds. “and sting-blister.”—I suspect that Marston first wrote “stinge,” and afterwards corrected it into “blister,”—the printer keeping both words.
[442] Old eds. “and sting-blister.”—I think Marston originally wrote “stinge,” then changed it to “blister,”—and the printer ended up including both words.
[445] Snubs.
Snubs.
[446] Ed. 1. “tender-reach’d.”
[447] A particular manner of smoking tobacco. In the Character of the Persons prefixed to Every Man out of his Humour it is said of Cavaliero Shift—“His chief exercises are taking the whiff, squiring a cockatrice, &c.” We learn from the Gull’s Horn-book (Dekker’s Works, ed. Grosart, ii. 242) that it was part of a gallant’s education to be skilled in taking the whiff.
[447] A specific way of smoking tobacco. In the character descriptions at the beginning of Every Man out of his Humour, it mentions Cavaliero Shift—“His main activities are taking a puff, flaunting a cockatrice, etc.” From the Gull’s Horn-book (Dekker’s Works, ed. Grosart, ii. 242), we learn that being skilled at taking a puff was part of a gallant’s education.
[448]
“With taper light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.”—King
John, iv. 2.
[448]
"In low light"
To search for the beautiful eye of heaven to adorn
"Is wasteful and foolish excess." — King John, iv. 2.
[449] Old eds. “Lucea.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Lucea.”
[450] A corruption of Fr. allons. Cf. Nashe’s Have with you to Saffron—“Alloune, alloune, let us march!” (Works, ed. Grosart, iii. 163.)
[450] A distortion of Fr. allons. Cf. Nashe’s Have with you to Saffron—“Alloune, alloune, let’s go!” (Works, ed. Grosart, iii. 163.)
[451] See Dyce’s Shakesp. Glossary.
[452] A bacchanalian exclamation.
A wild party shout.
[453] Ed. 2. “helpeth.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “helps.”
SCENE II.
SCENE II.
A School-room.
A Classroom.
Enter a schoolmaster, draws the curtains behind, with Battus, Nous, Slip, Nathaniel, and Holofernes Pippo, schoolboys, sitting, with books in their hands.
A schoolmaster enters, pulls the curtains behind him, with Battus, We, Slip, Nathan, and Holofernes Pippo, a group of schoolboys, sitting with books in their hands.
All. Salve, magister!
All. Hello, teacher!
Ped.[454] Salvete pueri, estote salvi, vos salvere exopto vobis salutem, Batte, mi fili, mi Batte!
Ped.[454] Hello kids, be safe, I wish you health, Batte, my son, my Batte!
Bat. Quid vis?
Bat. What do you want?
Ped. Stand forth: repeat your lesson without book.
Ped. Step forward: recite your lesson from memory.
Bat. A noun is the name of a thing that may be seen, felt, heard, or understood.
Bat. A noun is the name of something that can be seen, felt, heard, or understood.
Ped. Good boy: on, on.
Good boy: let's go.
Bat. Of nouns some be substantives and some be substantives. 10
Bat. Some nouns are substantives, and some are substantives. 10
Ped. Adjectives.
Adjectives.
Bat. Adjectives. A noun substantive either is proper to the thing that it betokeneth—
Bat. Adjectives. A noun is either specific to the thing it refers toUnderstood. Please provide the text for me to modernize.
Ped. Well, to numbers.
Ped. Well, to numbers now.
Bat. In nouns be two numbers, the singular and the plural: the singular number speaketh of one, as lapis, a stone; the plural speaketh of more than one, as lapides, stones.
Bat. Nouns come in two forms: singular and plural. The singular form refers to one item, like lapis, meaning a stone; the plural refers to more than one, like lapides, meaning stones.
Nous. I am in a verb, forsooth.
Us. I'm in a vibe, really.
Ped. Say on, forsooth: say, say.
Ped. Go on, truly: say it.
Nous. A verb is a part of speech declined with mood and tense, and betokeneth doing, as amo, I love.
We. A verb is a part of speech that changes with mood and tense, and indicates an action, like amo, I love.
Ped. How many kind of verbs are there?
Ped. How many types of verbs are there?
Nous. Two; personal and impersonal.
Us. Two; personal and impersonal.
Ped. Of verbs personals, how many kinds?
Ped. How many types of personal verbs are there?
Nous. Five; active, passive, neuter, deponent, and common. A verb active endeth in o, and betokeneth to do, as amo, I love; and by putting to r, it may be a passive, as amor, I am loved. 32
We. Five; active, passive, neuter, deponent, and common. An active verb ends in o and means to do, like amo, I love; and by adding r, it can become passive, like amor, I am loved. 32
Ped. Very good, child. Now learn to know the deponent and common. Say you, Slip.
Ped. Very good, kid. Now learn to recognize the different types of verbs, like deponents and common ones. Go ahead and say it, Slip.
Slip. Cedant[455] arma togæ, concedat laurea linguæ.
Ped. What part of speech is lingua: inflecte, inflecte.
Ped. What part of speech is lingua: inflecte, inflecte?
Slip. Singulariter, nominativo hæc lingua.
Slip. This language is singular nominative.
Ped. Why is lingua the feminine gender?
Ped. Why is lingua feminine?
Slip. Forsooth because it is the feminine gender. 39
Slip. Truly because it is the feminine gender. 39
Ped. Ha, thou ass! thou dolt! idem per idem, mark it: lingua is declined with hæc, the feminine, because it is a household stuff, particularly belonging and most commonly resident under the roof of women’s mouths. Come on, you Nathaniel, say you, say you next; not too fast; say tretably:[456] say.
Ped. Ha, you fool! You idiot! idem per idem, pay attention: lingua is declined with hæc, the feminine form, because it’s a household item, particularly associated with and most commonly found in the mouths of women. Come on, Nathaniel, you go next; not too fast; speak clearly:[456] speak.
Ped. Faster! faster!
Ped. Hurry! Hurry!
Nath.
Ut sal, sol, ren et splen: car, ser, vir, vas, vadis, as, mas,
Bes, cres, pres et pes, glis, glirens [sic] habens genetivo,
Mos, flos, ros et tros, muns [sic], dens, mons, pons— 50
Nath.
Like salt, sun, rain and sparkle: car, ser, man, vase, river, as, males,
Bes, grow, press and foot, glis, glirens [so] having genitive,
Mos, flower, rose and troll, muns [so], tooth, mountain, bridge—
Ped. Rup, tup, snup, slup, bor, hor, cor, mor. Holla! holla! holla! you Holofernes Pippo, put him down. Wipe your nose: fie, on your sleeve! where’s your muckender[457] your grandmother gave you? Well, say on; say on.
Ped. Rup, tup, snup, slup, bor, hor, cor, mor. Hey! hey! hey! you Holofernes Pippo, put him down. Wipe your nose: gross, on your sleeve! where’s your handkerchief[457] your grandmother gave you? Alright, go ahead; go ahead.
Hol. Pree,[458] master, what word’s this?
Ped. Ass! ass!
Ped. Donkey! Donkey!
Hol. As in presenti perfectum format in, in, in—
Hol. As in presenti perfectum format in, in, inPlease provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Ped. In what, sir?
Ped. In what way, sir?
Hol. Perfectum format. In what, sir? 60
Hol. Perfect format. In what, sir? 60
Ped. In what, sir?—in avi.
In what, sir?—in flight.
Hol. In what, sir?—in avi.
Ut no, nas, navi, vocito, vocitas, voci, voci, voci—
Hol. In what, sir? — in avi.
To be born, to be known, to be navigated, to be called, to be called, to be spoken, to be spoken, to be spoken—
Ped. What’s next?
What’s next?
Hol. Voci—what’s next?
Hol. Voci—what's up next?
Ped. Why, thou ungracious child! thou simple animal! thou barnacle! Nous,—snare him; take him up: and you were my father, you should up. 68
Ped. Why, you ungrateful child! You foolish creature! You parasite! Get him—capture him; take him away: if you were my father, you should up. 68
Hol. Indeed I am not your father. O Lord! now, for God sake, let me go out. My mother told a thing: I shall bewray[459] all else. Hark, you, master: my grandmother entreats you to come to dinner to-morrow morning.
Hol. I’m definitely not your father. Oh Lord! For God’s sake, let me leave. My mother said something: I will reveal[459] everything else. Listen, master: my grandmother invites you to dinner tomorrow morning.
Ped. I say, untruss—take him up. Nous, despatch! what, not perfect in an as in presenti?
Ped. I say, loosen up—pick him up. Come on, hurry up! What, can’t you do it perfectly in the as in presenti?
Hol. In truth I’ll be as perfect an as in presenti as any of this company, with the grace of God, law: this once—this once—and I do so any more——
Hol. Honestly, I’ll be as perfect as anyone in this group, with the grace of God and the law: just this once—just this once—and I won't do it again.
Ped. I say, hold him up! 79
Ped. I say, stop him! 79
Hol. Ha, let me say my prayers first. You know not what you ha’ done now; all the syrup of my brain is run into my buttocks, and ye spill the juice of my wit well. Ha, sweet! ha, sweet! honey, Barbary sugar,[460] sweet master.
Hol. Ha, let me say my prayers first. You have no idea what you’ve done now; all the creativity in my brain has gone to my butt, and you’ve spilled my smart ideas all over the place. Ha, sweet! Ha, sweet! Honey, Barbary sugar, [460] sweet master.
Ped. Sans tricks, trifles, delays, demurrers, procrastinations, or retardations, mount him, mount him.
Ped. Without tricks, distractions, delays, objections, procrastinations, or setbacks, get on with it, get on with it.
Enter Quadratus, Lampatho, Laverdure, and Simplicius.
Enter Quadratus, Lampatho, Laverdure, and Simplicius.
Qua. Be merciful, my gentle signior.
Be kind, my gentle sir.
Lav. We’ll sue his pardon out.
We’ll get his pardon.
Ped. He is reprieved: and now, Apollo bless your brains; facundius, and elaborate elegance make your presence gracious in the eyes of your mistress. 91
Ped. He has been given a second chance: now, may Apollo bless your mind; may your eloquence and refined style make your presence pleasing in the sight of your mistress. 91
Lav. You must along with us; lend private ear.
Lav. You need to come with us; listen privately.
Sim. What is your name?
Sim. What's your name?
Sim. Who gave you that name? Nay, let me alone for sposing [sic] of a scholar.
Sim. Who gave you that name? No, just let me handle my thoughts about a scholar.
Hol. My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism.
My godparents at my baptism.
Sim. Truly, gallants, I am enamoured on thee, boy; wilt thou serve me?
Sim. Honestly, guys, I'm in love with you, kid; will you be my servant?
Hol. Yes, and please my grandmother, when I come to years of discretion. 101
Hol. Yes, and to please my grandmother, when I reach the age of maturity. 101
Ped. And you have a propensitude to him, he shall be for you. I was solicited to grant him leave to play the lady in comedies presented by children; but I knew his voice was too small,[461] and his stature too low. Sing, sing a treble, Holofernes: sing.
Ped. And you’re inclined toward him; he’ll suit you just fine. I was asked to let him play the lady in comedies performed by kids, but I knew his voice was too high,[461] and he was too short. Sing, sing in a high voice, Holofernes: sing.
The Song.
The Song.
A very small sweet voice, I’ll assure you.
A really soft, sweet voice, I promise you.
Qua. ’Tis smally sweet indeed.
Qua. It's really not that sweet.
Sim. A very pretty child. Hold up thy head. There; buy thee some plums. 110
Sim. A really cute kid. Lift your head up. There; go get yourself some plums. 110
Qua. Nay, they must play; you go along with us.
Qua. No, they have to perform; you should come with us.
Ped. Ludendi venia est petita et concessa.
Ped. Permission to play has been requested and granted.
All. Gratias.
All. Thanks.
Sim. Pippo’s my page. How like you him? Ha! has he not a good face, ha?
Sim. Pippo's my servant. What do you think of him? Ha! Doesn't he have a nice face, huh?
Lav. Exceedingly amiable. Come away;
I long to see my love, my Celia.
Lav. Really nice. Let's go;
I can't wait to see my love, my Celia.
[Exeunt[462] all but Lampatho and Quadratus.
Lam. I relish not this mirth; my spirit is untwist;
My heart is ravell’d out in discontents. 121
I am deep-thoughtful, and I shoot my soul
Through all creation of omnipotence.
Lam. I don't find this joy enjoyable; I feel twisted inside;
My heart is filled with frustrations. 121
I'm deep in thought, and I send my soul
Throughout all of creation's power.
Qua. What, art melancholy, Lamp? I’ll feed thy humour:
I’ll give thee reason strait to hang thyself.
Mark’t, mark’t: in Heaven’s handiwork there’s naught—
Believe it.
Qua. What’s bothering you, Lamp? I’m here to cheer you up:
I’ll give you a reason to consider ending your life.
Look at that, look at that: in Heaven’s plan there’s nothing—
Believe it.
Lam. In Heaven’s handiwork there’s naught,
None more vile, accursed, reprobate to bliss,
Than man; and[463] ’mong men a scholar most. 130
Things only fleshly sensitive, an ox or horse,
They live and eat, and sleep, and drink, and die,
And are not touched with recollections
Of things o’er-past, or stagger’d infant doubts
Of things succeeding; but leave the manly beasts,
And give but pence apiece to have a sight
Of beastly man now——
In Heaven's creation, there's nothing.
More despicable, cursed, or undeserving of happiness,
Than humans; and__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ among people, a scholar is the worst. 130
They only have basic physical needs, just like an ox or a horse,
They live, eat, sleep, drink, and die.
And aren't weighed down by memories
About the past or the confusing doubts of childhood
Regarding what comes next; but set aside the fierce animals,
And pay only a few cents to see
The disgusting human now
Sim. [from within]. What so, Lampatho! Good truth, I will not pay your ordinary if you come not.
Sim. [from within]. What's up, Lampatho! Honestly, I won't pay your usual fee if you don't show up.
Lam. Dost thou hear that voice? I’ll make a parrot now 140
As good a man as he in fourteen nights.
I never heard him vent a syllable
Of his own creating since I knew the use
Of eyes and ears. Well, he’s perfect blest,
Because a perfect beast. I’ll gage my heart
He knows no difference essential
’Twixt my dog and him. The whoreson sot is blest,
Is rich in ignorance, makes fair usance on’t,
And every day augments his barbarism.
So love me calmness, I do envy him for’t. 150
I was a scholar: seven useful springs
Did I deflower in quotations
Of cross’d opinions ’bout the soul of man.
The more I learnt the more I learnt to doubt:
Knowledge and wit, faith’s foes, turn faith about.
Lam. Do you hear that voice? I’m about to sound like a parrot now 140
He’s as good a man as he was fourteen nights ago.
I never heard him say anything.
On my own since I learned to use
My eyes and ears. Well, he’s completely happy,
Because he's a complete fool. I'd wager my heart.
He doesn't understand the basic difference.
Between my dog and him. That useless drunk is lucky,
Full of ignorance, makes the most of it,
And every day his barbarism grows.
So love me for my calmness; I wish I had that too. 150
I was a scholar for seven productive years.
I spent time immersed in quotes.
About the nature of the human soul.
The more I learned, the more I began to doubt:
Knowledge and cleverness, the foes of faith, disrupt faith completely.
Sim. [from within]. Nay, come, good signior. I stay all the gentlemen here. I would fain give my pretty page a pudding-pie.
Sim. [from within]. No, come on, good sir. I’m keeping all the gentlemen here. I just want to treat my lovely page to a pudding pie.
Lam. Honest epicure.—Nay, mark, list. Delight,
Delight, my spaniel slept, whilst I baus’d leaves, 160
Toss’d o’er the dunces, pored on the old print
Of titled words, and still my spaniel slept.
Whilst I wasted lamp-oil, bated my flesh,
Shrunk up my veins; and still my spaniel slept.
And still I held converse with Zabarell,[464]
Aquinas, Scotus, and the musty saw
Of antic Donate; still my spaniel slept
Still went on went I; first an sit anima,
Then, and it were mortal. O hold, hold! at that
They’re at brain-buffets, fell by the ears amain 170
Pell-mell together; still my spaniel slept.
Then whether ’twere corporeal, local, fix’d,
Extraduce; but whether ’t had free will
Or no, ho philosophers
Stood banding factions all so strongly propp’d,
I stagger’d, knew not which was firmer part;
But thought, quoted,[465] read, observ’d, and pried,
Stuff’d noting-books; and still my spaniel slept.
At length he waked and yawn’d and by yon sky,
For aught I know he knew as much as I. 180
Lam. Truthful foodie.—Hey, listen up. Joy,
Joy, my spaniel, slept while I looked through the leaves. 160
I skimmed through the boring material, concentrating on the old text.
Of fancy words, and my spaniel was still sleeping.
While I wasted lamp oil, I deprived my body,
Shrank my veins; and my spaniel just kept on sleeping.
And I continued to talk with Zabarell,[464]
Aquinas, Scotus, and the old saying
Of ancient Donate; my spaniel was still sleeping.
I kept going; first __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__,
Then, if it were mortal. Oh, wait, hold on! At that
They're engaged in intellectual battles, clashing fiercely.
In the midst of chaos, my spaniel was still asleep.
Then whether it was physical, local, or fixed,
Extraduce; but whether it had free will
Or not, oh wise thinkers
Stood divided into well-supported groups,
I stumbled, unclear which perspective was stronger;
But I thought, quoted,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ looked into it, analyzed, and explored thoroughly,
I filled my notebooks, and my spaniel was still sleeping.
Eventually, he woke up, yawned, and looked up at the sky,
For all I know, he understood just as much as I did. 180
Sim. [from within]. Delicate good Lampatho, come away. I assure you I’ll give but twopence more.
Sim. [from within]. Gentle good Lampatho, come over here. I promise I'll give just two pennies more.
Lam. How ’twas created, how the soul exists:
One talks of motes, the soul was made of motes;
Another fire, t’other light, a third
A spark of star-like nature;
Hippo water, Anaximenes air,
Aristoxenus music; Critias, I know not what.
A company of odd phrenetici!
Did eat my youth; and when I crept abroad, 190
Finding my numbness in this nimble age,
I fell a-railing; but now, soft and slow,
I know I know naught but I naught do know.
What shall I do—what plot, what course pursue?
Lam. The way it was created, the way the soul exists:
Some people say it's made up of tiny particles;
One person talks about fire, another about light, and a third
A spark that has a star-like quality;
Hippo calls it water, while Anaximenes argues it's air,
Aristoxenus says it's music; Critias, I don't know.
A group of quirky thinkers!
They took away my youth, and when I went outside, 190
Feeling overwhelmed in this fast-paced world,
I began to complain, but now, gradually and softly,
I realize that I don't know anything except that I know nothing.
What should I do—what plan, what route should I follow?
Qua. Why, turn a temporist, row with the tide,
Pursue the cut, the fashion of the age.
Well, here’s my scholar’s course: first get a school,
And then a ten-pound cure; keep both. Then buy
(Stay, marry, ay, marry) then a farm, or so:
Serve God and mammon—to the devil go. 200
Affect some sect—ay, ’tis the sect is it,
So thou canst seem, ’tis held the precious wit.
And O, if thou canst get some higher seat,
Where thou mayest sell your holy portion
(Which charitable Providence ordained,
In sacred bounty, for a blessèd use),
Alien the glebe, entail it to thy loins,
Entomb it in thy grave,
Past resurrection to his native use!
Now, if there be a hell, and such swine saved,
Heaven take all—that’s all my hopes have craved. 210
Qua. Why not just fit in and go along with everything,
Keep up with the trends and what's popular these days.
Here’s my plan as a scholar: first, I need to get a job,
Make sure to secure a good income and hold onto both. Then buy __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
(Wait, actually, yes, actually) then a piece of land, or something similar:
Serve both God and money—let everything else go. 200
Embrace some kind of belief—yes, it's all about belief,
As long as you can fake it, it's considered smart.
And hey, if you can land a more prestigious job,
Where you can benefit from your important responsibilities
(Which charitable fate arranged,
In noble generosity, for a blessed purpose),
Sell the land, and pass it down to your family,
Bury it with you,
There’s no chance of bringing it back to its proper purpose!
Now, if there is a hell, and if those greedy pigs get saved,
Heaven take it all—that's all I've ever wished for. 210
Enter Pippo.
Enter Pippo.
Pip. My Simplicias master—
Pip. My Simplicias mentor—
Lam. Your master Simplicius.
Lam. Your boss Simplicius.
Pip. Has come to you to sent—
Pip. has come to you to sendUnderstood! Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Lam. Has sent to me to come.
Lam. asked me to come.
Pip. Ha! ha! has bought me a fine dagger, and a hat and a feather! I can say As in presenti now!
Pip. Ha! ha! has bought me a nice dagger, a hat, and a feather! Now I can say As in presenti!
Company of Boys within. Quadratus, Quadratus, away! away!
Company of Boys within. Quadratus, Quadratus, go away! go away!
Quad.[466] We come, sweet gallants; and grumbling hate lie still,
And turn fantastic! He that climbs a hill 220
Must wheel about; the ladder to account
Is sly dissemblance: he that means to mount
Must lie all level in the prospective
Of eager-sighted greatness. Thou wouldst thrive:
The Venice state is young, loose, and unknit,
Can relish naught but luscious vanities.
Go, fit his tooth. O glavering flattery!
How potent art thou! Front, look brisk and sleek.—
That such base dirt as you should dare to reek
In princes’ nostrils!—Well, my scene is long. 230
Quad.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ We're here, gentlemen; let's let go of anger and resentment,
And turn into something unusual! Anyone who climbs a hill 220
Must turn around; the important ladder
Is a clever disguise: whoever wants to elevate
Must present themselves flawlessly in vision
Of ambitious greatness. You will succeed:
The state of Venice is young, flexible, and unstable,
Can only enjoy sweet illusions.
Go fulfill his wishes. Oh, sweet compliments!
You’re so powerful! Show up and look sharp and polished.
That someone as worthless as you would have the audacity to smell bad
In the noses of princes!—Well, my scene is long. 230
All within. Quadratus!
All inside. Quadratus!
Qua. I come, hot bloods. Those that their state would swell,
Must bear a counter-face. The devil and hell
Confound them all! That’s all my prayers exact:
So ends our chat;—sound music for the act!
Qua. I'm here, passionate individuals. Those who want to boost their status,
Must maintain a facade. The devil and hell.
Curse them all! That’s all I ask for in my prayers:
That concludes our discussion—awesome music for the show!
[Exeunt.
[Leave the stage.
[455] Cicero, Off. i. 22, 77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Cicero, Off. i. 22, 77.
[456] Chaucer has tretable in the sense of tractable, well-disposed; but that sense does not suit the present passage.
[456] Chaucer uses tretable to mean tractable or well-disposed, but that meaning doesn’t fit the current passage.
[457] Handkerchief.
Tissue.
[458] Shortened form of “prithee.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Short form of “please.”
[459] See note, vol. i. p. 114.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, vol. 1, p. 114.
[460]
Dilke refers to Fletcher’s Beggars’ Bush, iv. 3:—
“Fourth Merchant. Or if you want fine sugar, ’tis but sending.
Goswin. No, I can send to Barbary.”
[460]
Dilke refers to Fletcher’s Beggars’ Bush, iv. 3:—
“Fourth Merchant. If you want good sugar, just let me know.
Goswin. No, I can send to Barbary.”
[461] “She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman.”—Merry Wives, i. 1.
[461] “She has brown hair, and talks softly like a woman.”—Merry Wives, i. 1.
[462] Not marked in old eds.
Not marked in old editions.
[463] Omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 2.
[464] Giacomo Zabarella (1533-1589), the Aristotelian commentator, professor of logic and philosophy at Padua.
[464] Giacomo Zabarella (1533-1589), the commentator on Aristotle, was a professor of logic and philosophy at Padua.
[465] Made notes.
Took notes.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Francisco’s house.
Francisco's place.
Enter Francisco, half-dressed, in his black doublet and round cap, the rest rich; Jacomo bearing his hat and feather; Andrea his doublet and band; Randolfo his cloak and staff. They clothe Francisco whilst Bidet creeps in and observes them. Much of this done whilst the Act is playing.
Enter Francisco, half-dressed, in his black doublet and round cap, the rest dressed lavishly; Jacomo holding his hat and feather; Andrea with his doublet and collar; Randolfo with his cloak and staff. They dress Francisco while Bidet sneaks in and watches them. Much of this happens while the Act is playing.
Fra. For God’s sake, remember to take special marks of me, or you will ne’er be able to know me.
Fra. For goodness' sake, make sure to remember specific things about me, or you'll never be able to recognize me.
And. Why, man?
And. Why, dude?
Fra. Why, good faith, I scarce know myself; already me thinks I should remember to forget myself; now I am so shining brave. Indeed Francisco was always a sweet youth, for I am a perfumer; but thus brave! I am an alien to it. Would you make me like the drown’d Albano? Must I bear’t mainly up? Must I be he?
Fra. Honestly, I barely recognize myself; I feel like I should remember to forget who I am because I’m feeling so confidently great. It’s true that Francisco has always been a charming young man since I’m a perfumer, but this confidence! It feels foreign to me. Are you trying to turn me into the drowned Albano? Do I have to carry it all myself? Am I supposed to be him?
Ran. What else, man? O, what else? 10
What else, man? Oh, what else?
Jaco. I warrant you, give him but fair rich clothes,
He can be ta’en, reputed anything.
Apparel’s grown a god, and goes[467] more neat;
Makes men of rags, which straight he bears aloft,
Like patch’d-up scarecrows to affright the rout
Of the idolatrous vulgar that worship images,
Stand awed and bare-scalp’d at the gloss of silks,
Which, like the glorious A-jax[468] of Lincoln’s-Inn
(Survey’d with wonder by me when I lay
Factor in London), laps up naught but filth 20
And excrements, that bear the shape of men,
Whose inside every daw[469] would peck and tear,
But that vain scarecrow clothes entreats forbear.
Jaco. I promise you, just give him some nice, stylish clothes,
and he can be viewed as anything.
Clothes have become almost like a god, and they look__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ even better;
They change worn-out men, who then stand proudly.
Like makeshift scarecrows to scare away the crowd
Of the adoring crowds that admire appearances,
They stand in awe, heads uncovered at the shine of silks,
Which, like the remarkable Ajax__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ of Lincoln's Inn
I was amazed by him when I was __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
a broker in London), consumes nothing but trash 20
And waste that resembles men,
Whose insides every crow__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ would pick at and rip apart,
If those ridiculous scarecrow clothes didn't command respect.
Fra. You would have me take upon me, Albano,
A valiant gallant Venetian burgomasco.
Well my beard, my feather, short sword, and my oath,
Shall do’t, fear not. What! I know a number,
By the sole warrant of a lappy beard,
A rain-beat plume, and a good chop-filling oath,
With an odd French shrug, and “by the Lord,” or so, 30
Ha’ leapt into sweet captain with such ease
As you would—Fear’t not. I’ll gage my heart I’ll do’t.
How sits my hat? Ha! Jack, doth my feather wag?
Fra. You want me to take on this part, Albano,
A bold and stylish Venetian man.
Well, my beard, my feather, short sword, and my word,
I've got it covered, don’t worry. What! I know a lot,
Simply by the power of a tough beard,
A worn-out feather and a strong promise,
With a casual French shrug and something like "by the Lord,"
I've taken on the role of captain so easily.
As you would—Don't worry. I promise I'll get it done.
How does my hat look? Ha! Jack, is my feather moving?
Jaco.
Methinks now, in the common sense of fashion,
Thou shouldst grow proud, and like a fore-horse view,
None but beforehand gallants; as for sides,
Study a faint salute, give a strange eye;
And those that rank in equal file with thee,
But as to those in rearward, O be blind!
The world wants eyes—it[470] cannot see behind. 40
Jaco.
I believe that, in the typical sense of style,
You should be proud, and like a lead horse, focus on what’s ahead,
Focus only on those who are ahead of you; as for the others,
Give a slight greeting and a curious look.
And those who walk with you,
But as for those who are behind, just ignore them!
The world is blind—it__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ cannot see what happened in the past. 40
Fra.
Where is the strumpet? Where’s the hot-vein’d French?
Lives not Albano? Hath Celia so forgot
Albano’s love, that she must forthwith wed
A runabout, a skipping Frenchman?
Fra.
Where's the hooker? Where's the passionate French guy?
Is Albano not alive? Has Celia totally forgotten?
Albano’s love that she must marry
a slacker, a carefree Frenchman?
Jaco. Now you must grow in heat, and stut.
Jaco. Now you need to heat things up and shine.
Fra. An odd phantasma—a beggar—a sir—a who, who, who—What You Will—a straggling go-go-go-gunds—f-f-f-f-fut——
Fra. A strange ghost—a beggar—a sir—a who, who, who—What You Will—a wandering go-go-go-gunds—f-f-f-f-futPlease provide the short piece of text for me to modernize.
And. Passing like him—passing like him. O ’twill strike all dead! 50
And. Passing like him—passing like him. Oh, it will shock everyone dead!
Ran. I am ravished! ’Twill be peerless exquisite
Let him go out instantly!
Ran. I’m so excited! It’s going to be totally amazing!
Let him go out right now!
Jaco.
O, not till twilight; meantime I’ll prop up
The tottering rumour of Albano’s scape,
And safe arrival; it begins to spread.
If this plot live, Frenchman, thy hopes are dead.
Jaco.
Oh, not until the evening; for now, I’ll back
The shaky news of Albano's escape,
And safe arrival; it's beginning to spread.
If this plan works out, Frenchman, your hopes are over.
[Exeunt.
Exeunt.
Bid. And if it live, strike off this little head.
Bid. And if it lives, chop off this little head.
[Exit.
[Leave.
[467] Ed. 1. “does.”
“does.”
[468] A jakes. The joke (originated by Sir John Harrington) is very common. Concerning the jakes of Lincoln’s Inn, see the droll, though not very delicate, story in Gayton’s Festivous Notes on Don Quixote, 1654, p. 74.
[468] A jakes. The joke (created by Sir John Harrington) is quite common. For more on the jakes of Lincoln’s Inn, check out the amusing, though not very polite, story in Gayton’s Festivous Notes on Don Quixote, 1654, p. 74.
[469] Old eds. “day” (which Dilke retains!).
Old eds. “day” (which Dilke retains!).
[470] Ed. 2. “and.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “and.”
A Public Place.
A Public Space.
Enter Albano with Slip, his Page.
Enter Albano with Slip, his assistant.
Alb. Can it be? Is’t possible? Is’t within the bounds of faith? O villainy!
Alb. Can it be? Is it possible? Is it within the realm of belief? Oh, the villainy!
Slip. The clapper of rumour strikes on both sides, ringing out the French knight is in firm possession of my mistress, your wife.
Slip. The gossip is loud on both sides, echoing that the French knight has firmly taken my mistress, your wife.
Alb. Is’t possible I should be dead so soon In her affects? How long is’t since our shipwrack?
Alb. Is it really possible that I could be dead so soon in her feelings? How long has it been since our shipwreck?
Slip. Faith, I have little arithmetic in me, yet I remember the storm made me cast up perfectly the whole sum of all I had receiv’d; three days before I was liquor’d soundly; my guts were rinced ’fore the heavens. I look as pale ever since, as if I had ta’en the diet[471] this spring. 13
Slip. Faith, I’m not great at math, but I remember that the storm forced me to tally up everything I had received; three days before that, I had been drinking heavily; my insides were cleaned out before the heavens. I’ve looked as pale ever since, as if I had gone on a diet[471] this spring. 13
Alb. But how long is’t since our shipwrack?
Alb. But how long has it been since our shipwreck?
Slip. Marry, since we were hung by the heels on the batch of Sicily, to make a jail-delivery of the sea in our maws, ’tis just three months. Shall I speak like a poet?—thrice hath the horned moon——
Slip. Hey, since we were stuck upside down in that bunch from Sicily, ready to bust out of the sea, it’s been exactly three months. Should I talk like a poet?—three times the horned moonUnderstood! Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Alb. Talk not of horns. O Celia! How oft,
When thou hast laid thy cheek upon my breast, 20
And with lascivious petulancy sued
For hymeneal dalliance, marriage-rites;—
O then, how oft, with passionate protests
And zealous vows, hast thou obliged thy love,
In dateless bands, unto Albano’s breast!
Then, did I but mention second marriage,
With what a bitter hate would she inveigh
’Gainst retail’d wedlocks! “O!” would she lisp,
“If you should die,”—then would she slide a tear,
And with a wanton languishment intwist 30
Her hands,—“O God, and you should die! Marry?
Could I love life, my dear Albano dead?
Should any prince possess his widow’s bed?”
And now, see, see, I am but rumour’d drown’d.
Alb. Don't mention horns. Oh Celia! How many times,
When you've laid your cheek against my chest, 20
And with playful teasing asked
For playful intimacy, wedding vows;—
Oh then, how often, with heartfelt declarations
And sincere promises, have you tied your love,
To Albano’s heart, for all time!
Then, if I just brought up a second marriage,
With what deep hatred would she express her complaints
About remarriages! "Oh!" she would whisper,
"If you were to die,"—then she would cry a tear,
And with exaggerated sadness wrap
Her hands—"Oh God, what if you died? Marry?
Can I enjoy life now that my beloved Albano is gone?
"Should a prince take the place of his widow?"
And now, look, I’m rumored to have drowned.
Slip. She’ll make you prince;—your worship must be crown’d.
O master, you know the woman is the weaker creature!
She must have a prop. The maid is the brittle metal;
Her head is quickly crack’d. The wife is queasy-stomach’d,
She must be fed with novelties. But, then, what’s your widow?
Custom is a second nature;—I say no more, but think you the rest. 40
Slip. She'll turn you into a prince; you just need to be crowned.
Oh master, you know women are the weaker sex!
They need support. The woman is vulnerable;
Her mind can be easily shattered. The wife is fragile,
She needs to be entertained. But what about your widow?
Custom is like a second nature;—I won’t say more, but feel free to consider the rest. 40
Alb. If love be holy; if that mystery
Of co-united hearts be sacrament;
If the unbounded goodness have infused
A sacred ardour, if a mutual love,
Into our species, of those amorous joys,
Those sweets of life, those comforts even in death,
Spring from a cause above our reason’s reach;—
If that clear flame deduce his heat from heaven;—
’Tis like his cause,[472] eternal, always One,
As is th’ instiller of divinest love, 50
Unchanged by time, immortal maugre death!
But O, ’tis grown a figment, love a jest,
A comic poesy! The soul of man is rotten,
Even to the core;—no sound affection.
Our love is hollow-vaulted—stands on props
Of circumstance, profit, or ambitious hopes!
The other tissue gown, or chain of pearl,
Makes my coy minx to nuzzel[473] ’twixt the breasts
Of her lull’d husband; t’other carkanet
Deflowers that lady’s bed. One hundred more 60
Marries that loathèd blowze;—one ten-pound odds,
In promised jointure, makes the hard-palm’d sire
Enforce his daughter’s tender lips to start
At the sharp touch of some loath’d stubbèd beard;
The first pure time, the golden age, is fled.
Heaven knows I lie,—’tis now the age of gold,—
For it all marreth, and even virtue’s sold!
Alb. If love is sacred; if that mystery
The union of hearts is a sacred bond;
If endless goodness has filled
A sacred enthusiasm, if love is shared,
Brings us those joyful loves,
Those precious moments, those comforts even in death,
Come from a source beyond our comprehension;—
If that bright flame gets its warmth from heaven;—
It's like its source,__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ eternal, always united,
As the source of the greatest love, 50
Untouched by time, eternal even in death!
But oh, it's turned into a fantasy, love is a joke,
A funny story! The human soul is corrupt,
Even at its core, there's no true affection.
Our love is empty—backed by
Circumstance, profit, or self-interest!
The other fabric dress, or string of pearls,
Makes my shy lover cuddle__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ between my breasts.
Of her husband who is asleep; another necklace.
Defiles that lady’s bed. A hundred more 60
Married that awful woman;—a ten-pound difference,
In the promised settlement, the greedy father makes... __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Make his daughter's delicate lips cringe.
At the rough touch of some disliked stubbly beard;
The first pure time, the golden age, is over.
Heaven knows I'm lying—it's the golden age now—
Everything is a mess, and even virtue can be bought!
Slip. Master, will you trust me, and I’ll——
Slip. Master, will you trust me, and I’ll——
Alb. Yes, boy, I’ll trust thee. Babes and fools I’ll trust;
But servants’ faith, wives’ love, or female’s lust,— 70
A usurer and the devil sooner. Now, were I dead,
Methinks I see a huff-cap swaggering sir
Pawning my plate, my jewels mortgage; nay,
Selling outright[474] the purchase of my brows,
Whilst my poor fatherless, lean, totter’d[475] son—
My gentry’s relics, my house’s only prop—
Is saw’d asunder, lies forlorn, all bleak
Unto the griefs of sharp necessities,
Whilst his father-in-law, his father-in-devil, or d-d-d-d-devil-f-f-f-father,
Or who, who, who, who,—What You Will!— 80
When is the marriage morn?
Alb. Yeah, kid, I’ll take your word for it. I trust kids and fools;
But I’d trust a servant’s loyalty, a wife’s love, or a woman’s desire— 70
I’d trust a loan shark or the devil before I’d trust them. Now, if I were dead,
I can nearly picture an arrogant idiot.
I'm pawning my silver and mortgaging my jewels; there's no other option.
Selling off completely__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the things I've worked hard for,
While my poor, fatherless, skinny, shaky__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ son—
The last traces of my nobility, the only support for my family—
Is ripped apart, left by itself, completely vulnerable
To the intense suffering of urgent needs,
While his father-in-law, his devil-father, or d-d-d-d-devil-f-f-f-father,
Or whoever, whoever, whoever—Whatever You Want!— 80
When is the wedding day?
Slip. Even next rising sun.
Slip. Even the next sunrise.
Alb. Good, good, good! Go to my brother Andrea:[476]
Tell him I’ll lurk; stay, tell him I’ll lurk: stay.—
Now is Albano’s marriage-bed new hung
With fresh rich curtains! Now are my valence up,
Emboss’d with orient pearl, my grandsire’s gift!
Now are the lawn sheets fumed with violets,[477]
To fresh the pall’d lascivious appetite!
Now work the cooks, the pastry sweats with slaves;
The march-panes[478] glitter: now, now, the musicians 90
Hover with nimble sticks o’er squeaking crowds,[479]
Tickling the dried guts of a mewing cat.
Alb. Great, great, great! Go to my brother Andrea:[476]
Tell him I’ll be waiting; stay, tell him I’ll be waiting: stay.
Now Albano’s marriage bed is freshly made.
With new, vibrant curtains! Now my valance is up,
Embroidered with eastern pearls, my grandfather's gift!
Now the linen sheets smell like violets,[477]
To reignite the dull, passionate desire!
The cooks are hard at work, and the kitchen is lively.
The pastry looks great:__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ now, now, the musicians 90
Glide with quick sticks over noisy crowds,[479]
Tickling the old strings of a cat that meows.
The tailors, starchers, sempsters, butchers, poulterers, mercers,—all, all, all,—now, now, now,—none think o’ me,—the f-f-f-French is te f-f-f-fine man, de p-p-p-pock man, de——
The tailors, starchers, seamstresses, butchers, poultry sellers, mercers—all of them—now, right now, none of them think of me. The F-F-F-French is the f-f-f-fine man, the p-p-p-pock man, theUnderstood! Please provide the text for me to modernize.
Slip. Peace, peace! stand conceal’d. Yonder, by all descriptions, is he would be husband of my mistress;—your wife! hah, meat, hah!
Slip. Quiet, quiet! Stay hidden. Over there, by all accounts, is the guy who wants to marry my girlfriend;—your wife! Ha, ridiculous, ha!
Alb. Uds so, so, so soul! that’s my velvet cloak! 100
Alb. You have so much soul! That’s my velvet cloak!
Slip. O peace! observe him: ha!
Slip. Oh peace! Look at him: ha!
Bid. ’Tis most true, sir. I heard all; I saw all; I tell all, and I hope you believe all. The sweet Francisco Soranza, the perfumer, is by your rival Jacomo, and your two brothers that must be, when you have married your wife that shall be—
Bid. It's true, sir. I heard everything; I saw everything; I’m telling you everything, and I hope you believe it all. The lovely Francisco Soranza, the perfumer, is with your rival Jacomo, and your two brothers will be there when you marry your future wife—
Ped. With the grace of Heaven. 107
Ped. With the grace of Heaven.
Bid. Disguised so like the drowned Albano, to cross your suit, that by my little honesty ’twas great consolation to me to observe them. “Passion of joy, of hope! O excellent!” cried Andrea. “Passingly!” cried Randolfo. “Unparallel’d!” lisps Jacomo. “Good, good, good!” says Andrea. “Now stut,” says Jacomo. “Now stut,” says Randolfo; whilst the ravish’d perfumer had like to have water’d the seams of his breeches for extreme pride of their applause.
Bid. Disguised just like the drowned Albano, to go against your request, it was a great comfort for me to see them. “What joy, what hope! Oh, amazing!” shouted Andrea. “So amazing!” exclaimed Randolfo. “Unmatched!” whispered Jacomo. “Great, great, great!” says Andrea. “Now be quiet,” says Jacomo. “Now be quiet,” says Randolfo; while the delighted perfumer nearly soaked the seams of his pants from excessive pride in their praise.
Lav. Sest,[480] I’ll to Celia, and, maugre the nose of her friends, wed her, bed her; my first son shall be a captain, and his name shall be what it please his godfathers; the second, if he have a face bad enough, a lawyer; the third, a merchant; and the fourth, if he be maim’d, dull-brain’d, or hard-shaped, a scholar; for that’s your fashion. 123
Lav. Sest,[480] I’m going to Celia, and despite what her friends might think, I’ll marry her and sleep with her; my first son will be a captain, and his name will be whatever his godfathers choose; the second, if he’s ugly enough, a lawyer; the third, a merchant; and the fourth, if he’s disabled, not very bright, or oddly shaped, a scholar; because that’s how it’s done. fashion. 123
Qua. Get them; get them, man, first. Now by the wantonness of the night, and I were a wench, I would not ha’ thee, wert thou an heir, nay (which is more) a fool.
Qua. Get them; get them, man, first. Now by the wildness of the night, if I were a woman, I wouldn’t want you, even if you were an heir, no (what’s more) a fool.
Lav. Why, I can rise high: a straight leg, a plump thigh, a full vein, a round cheek; and, when it pleaseth the fertility of my chin to be delivered of a beard, ’twill not wrong my kissing, for my lips are rebels, and stand out. 131
Lav. Well, I can really stand out: I've got straight legs, strong thighs, prominent veins, and chubby cheeks; and when my chin decides to grow a beard, it won't mess up my kissing because my lips are defiant and stick out. 131
Qua. Ho! but there’s an old fusty proverb, these great talkers are never good doers.
Qua. Hey! But there’s an old saying, those who talk a lot don’t usually do much.
Lam.
Why, what a babel arrogance is this!
Men will put by the very stock of fate;
They’ll thwart the destiny of marriage,
Strive to disturb the sway of Providence:
They’ll do it!
Lam.
What a puzzling arrogance this is!
People will ignore the true nature of fate;
They’ll go against the intentions of marriage,
Try to challenge the influence of Providence:
They're going to do it!
Qua. Come, you’ll be snarling now.
Qua. Come on, you're going to be angry now.
Lam. As if we had free-will in supernatural
Effects, and that our love or hate 140
Depended not on causes ’bove the reach
Of human stature.
Lam. As if we had free will in the supernatural.
effects, and that our love or hate
didn't rely on causes outside their control
of human knowledge.
Qua. I think I shall not lend you forty shillings now.
Qua. I don’t think I’m going to lend you forty shillings right now.
Sim. Uds so, peace. 150
Sim. You all, peace. 150
Lam. Open a bounteous ear, for I’ll be free:
Ample as Heaven, give my speech more room;
Let me unbrace my breasts, strip up my sleeves,
Stand like an executioner to vice,
To strike his head off with the keener edge
Of my sharp spirit.
Lam. Pay attention, because I’m going to be straightforward:
As wide as the sky, give my words more room;
Let me loosen my clothes, roll up my sleeves,
Stand firm like an executioner against wrongdoing,
Ready to behead it with the sharper edge.
Of my strong spirit.
Lav. Room and good licence: come on! when, when?
Lav. A room and permission: let's go! When, when?
Lam. Now is my fury mounted. Fix your eyes;
Intend your senses; bend your list’ning up;
For I’ll make greatness quake; I’ll taw[481] the hide 160
Of thick-skinn’d Hugeness.
Lam. I'm really pumped up right now. Check this out;
Listen up; pay attention;
Because I'm going to make the powerful shake; I'll remove __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ the skin.
From those who are tough-skinned.
Lav. ’Tis most gracious; we’ll observe thee calmly.
Lav. It’s very kind; we’ll watch you quietly.
Qua. Hang on thy tongue’s end. Come on! prithee do.
Qua. Hold on a second. Come on! Please do it.
Lam. I’ll see you hanged first I thank you, sir, I’ll none.
This is the strain that chokes the theatres;
That makes them crack with full-stuff’d audience;
This is your humour only in request,
Forsooth to rail; this brings your ears to bed;
This people gape for; for this some do stare.
This some would hear, to crack the author’s neck; 170
This admiration and applause pursues;
Who cannot rail? my humour’s changed, ’tis clear:
Pardon, I’ll none; I prize my joints more dear.
Lam. I'd rather see you hanged first. No thanks, sir.
This is what fills the theaters;
That makes them creak with full crowds;
This is the only style people want.
Honestly, just to make fun of this; this is what you all come for;
This is what people fixate on; for this, some would go as far as to kill the author.
This admiration and applause just come naturally;
Who can't make fun of others? It's clear that my mood has shifted:
Sorry, I’ll pass; I care more about my well-being.
Alb. I can contain my impatience no longer. You, Monsieur Cavalier, Saint Dennis,—you, capricious sir, Signior Caranto French Brawl,[482]—you, that must marry Celia Galanto,—is Albano drown’d now? Go wander, avaunt, knight-errant! Celia shall be no cuck-quean,[483]—my heir no beggar,—my plate no pawn,—my land no mortgage,—my wealth no food for thy luxuries,—my house no harbour for thy comrades,—my bed no booty for thy lusts! My anything shall be thy nothing. Go hence! pack, pack! avaunt! caper, caper! aloun, aloun! pass by, pass by! cloak your nose! away! vanish! wander! depart! slink by! away! 188
Alb. I can't hold back my impatience any longer. You, Monsieur Cavalier, Saint Dennis—you, unpredictable one, Signior Caranto French Brawl,[482]—you who must marry Celia Galanto—has Albano drowned now? Go off, knight-errant! Celia will not be a cuckold,[483]—my heir won't be a beggar—my possessions won't be pawned—my land won't be mortgaged—my wealth won't serve your luxuries—my house won't be a refuge for your friends—my bed won't be a target for your desires! My everything will be your nothing. Go away! Pack, pack! Leave! Dance, dance! Get lost, get lost! Pass by, pass by! Cover your nose! Leave! Disappear! Wander! Depart! Sneak away! away! 188
Lav. Hark you, Perfumer. Tell Jacomo, Randolfo, and Andrea,[484] ’twill not do;—look you, say no more, but—’twill not do.
Lav. Listen up, Perfumer. Tell Jacomo, Randolfo, and Andrea,[484] it won't work;—you see, don't say anything else, but—it won't work.
Alb. What Perfumer? what Jacomo?
Alb. Which Perfumer? Which Jacomo?
Qua. Nay, assure thee, honest Perfumer, good Francisco, we know all, man. Go home to thy civet box; look to the profit, commodity, or emolument of thy musk-cat’s tail: go, clap on your round cap—my “what do you lack,” sir,—for i’faith, good rogue, all’s descried!
Qua. No, trust me, honest Perfumer, good Francisco, we know everything, man. Go home to your civet box; focus on the profit, benefit, or earnings from your musk-cat’s tail: go, put on your round cap—my “what do you need,” sir,—because honestly, good rogue, everything’s been figured out!
Alb. What Perfumer? what musk-cat? what Francisco? What do you lack? Is’t not enough that you kiss’d my wife? 200
Alb. What Perfumer? What musk-cat? What Francisco? What do you need? Isn’t it enough that you kissed my wife?
Alb. Ay, enough! and may be, I fear me, too much; but you must flout me,—deride me,—scoff me,—keep out,—touch not my porch;—as for my wife!——
Alb. Ugh, that's enough! And maybe, I'm worried, too much; but you have to mock me—ridicule me—sneer at me—stay away—don’t come near my doorstep;—as for my wife!——
Lav. Stir to the door: dare to disturb the match, And by the——
Lav. Head to the door: don't hesitate to interrupt the game, And by theUnderstood! Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize.
Alb. My sword! menace Albano ’fore his own doors!
Alb. My sword! Threaten Albano right at his own doorstep!
Lav. No, not Albano, but Francisco: thus, Perfumer, I’ll make you stink if you stir a——For the rest: well, via, via!
Lav. No, not Albano, but Francisco: so, Perfumer, I’ll make you smell bad if you stir a——For the rest: well, via, via!
[Exeunt all but Albano, Slip, Simplicius, and Holofernes.
[Exit all but Albano, Slip, Simplicius, and Holofernes.
Alb. Jesu, Jesu! what intends this? ha! 211
Alb. Jesus, Jesus! What is this? ha! 211
Sim. O God, sir! you lie as open to my understanding as a courtezan. I know you as well——
Sim. Oh God, sir! You're as transparent to me as a hooker. I know you just as wellUnderstood! Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize.
Alb. Somebody knows me yet: praise Heaven, somebody knows me yet!
Alb. Someone still knows me: thank goodness, someone still knows me!
Sim. Why, look you, sir: I ha’ paid for[485] my knowing of men and women too, in my days: I know you are Francisco Soranza, the perfumer; ay, maugre Signor Satin, ay——
Sim. Look, sir: I’ve paid for my knowledge of people, both men and women, in my time. I know you are Francisco Soranza, the perfumer; yes, despite Signor Satin, yes—
Alb. Do not tempt my patience. Go to; do not——
Alb. Don't test my patience. Go on; do nope
Sim. I know you dwell in Saint Mark’s Lane, at the sign of the Musk Cat, as well—— 222
Sim. I know you live on Saint Mark’s Lane, at the sign of the Musk Cat, as well—— 222
Alb. Fool, or mad, or drunk, no more!
Alb. Fool, or crazy, or drunk, not anymore!
Sim. I know where you were dressed, where you were——
Sim. I know where you got your outfit, where you wereUnderstood. Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Alb. Nay, then, take all!—take all! take all!——
Alb. No, then, take everything!—take everything! take everything!
[He bastinadoes Simplicius.
He beats Simplicius.
[Exeunt Simplicius and Holofernes.
[Exit Simplicius and Holofernes.
Enter Jacomo.
Enter Jacomo.
Alb. Francisco Soranza, and perfumer, and musk-cat, and gutter-master, hay, hay, hay!—go, go, go!—f-f-f-fut!—I’ll to the Duke; and I’ll so ti-ti-ti-tickle them!
Alb. Francisco Soranza, a perfumer, a musk-cat, and a street cleaner, hey, hey, hey!—let’s go, go, go!—pfft!—I’m off to see the Duke; and I’m going to really entertain them!
Jaco.
Precious! what means he to go out so soon,
Before the dusk of twilight might deceive
The doubtful priers? What, holla!
Jaco.
Why is he going out this early?
Before the twilight could deceive
The nosy onlookers? Hey!
Alb. Whop! what devil now?
Alb. Whop! What now?
Jaco. I’ll feign I know him not.—
What business ’fore those doors?
Jaco. I'll act like I don't know him.—
What are you doing in front of those doors?
Alb. What’s that to thee?
What’s that to you?
Jaco. You come to wrong my friend Sir Laverdure. 240
Confess, or——
Jaco. You’ve got the wrong person, my friend Sir Laverdure. 240
Own up to it, or——
Alb. My sword, boy!—s-s-s-s-soul, my sword!
My sword, kid!—s-s-s-s-soul, my sword!
Jaco. O, my dear rogue, thou art a rare dissembler!
Jaco. Oh, my dear rascal, you are a rare deceiver!
Alb. See, see!
Alb. Look, look!
Enter Andrea[486] and Randolfo.
Jaco. Francisco, did I not help to clothe thee even now? I would ha’ sworn thee, Albano, my good sweet slave.
Jaco. Francisco, didn’t I just help you get dressed? I could have sworn you were my good, sweet servant, Albano.
[Exit Jacomo.
[Exit Jacomo.
Alb. See, see! Jesu, Jesu! Impostors! Coney-catchers! Sancta Maria! 249
Alb. Look, look! Jesus, Jesus! Pretenders! Con artists! Holy Mary!
And.[487] Accost him first as if you were ignorant
Of the deceit.
Ran. O, dear Albano! now thrice happy eyes,
To view the hopeless presence of my brother!
Ran. Oh, dear Albano! now three times blessed eyes,
To witness the heartbreaking sight of my brother!
Alb. Most lovèd kinsman, praise to Heaven, yet
You know Albano. But for yonder slaves—well——
Alb. Dearest relative, thank goodness, but
You know Albano. But for those people over there—well—
And.[487] Success could not come on more gracious.
Successful outcomes couldn't be better.
Alb. Had not you come, dear brother Andrea,[488]
I think not one would know me. Ulysses’ dog
Had quicker sense than my dull countrymen; 260
Why, none had known me.
Alb. If you hadn't shown up, my dear brother Andrea,[488]
I don't think anyone would recognize me. Ulysses' dog.
Had a better understanding than my uninspired fellow countrymen; 260
Honestly, no one would have recognized me.
Ran.
Doubt you of that? Would I might die,
Had I not known the guile, I would ha’ sworn
Thou hadst been Albano, my nimble, coz’ning knave.
Ran.
Do you really doubt that? I would die,
If I didn’t know about the deception, I would have sworn
You were Albano, my clever, playful friend.
Alb. Whip, whip! Heaven preserve all! Saint
Mark, Saint Mark!
Brother Andrea,[488] be frantic, prithee be;
Say I am a perfumer—Francisco. Hay, hay!
Is’t not some feast-day? You are all rank drunk!
Rats, ra-ra-ra-rats, knights of the be-be-be-bell! be-be-bell!
Alb. Hurry, hurry! God help us! Saint
Mark, St. Mark!
Brother Andrea, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ chill out, please;
Tell everyone I'm a perfumer—Francisco. Seriously?
Is it some kind of holiday? You all are totally wasted!
Rats, ra-ra-ra-rats, knights of the bell! bell!
And.[487] Go, go! proceed: thou dost it rare. Farewell.
And.[487] Go, go! Keep going: you do it well. Goodbye.
[Exeunt Andrea[488] and Randolfo.
[Exit Andrea__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and Randolfo.
Alb. Farewell? Ha! Is’t even so? Boy, who am I?
Alb. Goodbye? Really? Is that true? Kid, who am I?
Slip. My Lord Albano!
Slip. My Lord Albano!
Alb. By this breast you lie. 272
The Samian[489] faith is true, true! I was drown’d;
And now my soul is skipp’d into a perfumer,
A gutter-master.
Slip. Believe me, sir——
Slip. Trust me, sir——
Slip. Good sir!
Slip. Good sir!
Alb. Hence, ass!
Doth not opinion stamp the current pass
Of each man’s value, virtue, quality?
Had I engross’d the choice commodities
Of Heaven’s traffic, yet reputed vile,
I am a rascal! O, dear unbelief!
How wealthy dost thou make thy owner’s wit!
Thou train of knowledge! what a privilege
Thou givest to thy possessor! anchor’st him
From floating with the tide of vulgar faith; 290
From being damn’d with multitude’s dear unbelief!
I am a perfumer: ay, think’st thou, my blood,
My brothers know not right Albano yet?
Away! ’tis faithless![492] If Albano’s name
Were liable to sense, that I could taste, or touch,
Or see, or feel it, it might ’tice belief;
But since ’tis voice, and air—Come to the Muskcat, boy;
Francisco, that’s my name; ’tis right: ay, ay,
What do you lack? what is’t you lack? right; that’s my cry.
Alb. So silly!
Doesn't public opinion shape
What about each person's value, character, and traits?
Even if I had the best things
From Heaven's marketplace, if I'm viewed as worthless,
I'm still terrible! Oh, what a shock!
How much value you add to someone's mind!
Oh knowledge! What a privilege.
You give your owner permission! You keep him.
From going along with the current popular opinion; 290
From being rejected by the crowd's stubborn disbelief!
I'm a perfumer; do you think so, my friend?
My brothers still don't know the real Albano?
Come on! That's crazy!__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ If Albano's name
Could be felt—if I could taste, touch,
See it or feel it; it could inspire belief.
But since it’s just a name floating around—Come to the Muskcat, kid;
Francisco, that’s my name; yes, that’s right: oh yes,
What do you need? What is it you need? Yes, that's my call.
[Exeunt.
Exeunt.
[471] i.e., as if I had been treated for the pox.
[471] i.e., as if I had been treated for smallpox.
[472] Ed. 2. “cause’s.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “cause’s.”
[473]
Cf. Prologue to Second Part of Antonio and Mellida:—
“And nuzzled ’twixt the breasts of happiness.”
[473]
Cf. Prologue to Second Part of Antonio and Mellida:—
“And nestled between the breasts of happiness.”
[474] Ed. 2. “our right.”
“our right.”
[475] i.e., tatter’d.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ i.e., tattered.
[476] Old eds. “Adrian.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old editions "Adrian."
[477]
Spenser, in his Epithalamion, alludes to the practice of sprinkling
the bridal-bed with violets:—
“Now day is doen and night is nighing fast,
Now bring the Bryde into the brydall bowres:
The night is come, now soone her disaray,
And in her bed her lay;
Lay her in lilies and in violets,
And silken courteins over her display.”
[477]
Spenser, in his Epithalamion, refers to the custom of sprinkling the bridal bed with violets:—
"Now that the day is over, night is coming quickly,"
Now bring the bride into the wedding room:
Night has fallen, soon to reveal her,
And put her in her bed;
Place her among lilies and violets,
"And hang silky curtains over her."
[479] Fiddles.
Fiddles.
[481] Dress leather with alum.
Dress leather with alum.
[482] The name of a dance.
The name of a dance.
[483] She-cuckold.
She's being cheated on.
[484] Old eds. “Adrian.”
Old eds. “Adrian.”
[485] Ed. 2. “for knowing men.”
“for knowing men.”
[486] Old eds. “Adrian.”
Old eds. “Adrian.”
[487] Old eds. “Adri.”
Old eds. “Adri.”
[488] Old eds. “Adrian.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Adrian.”
[489] Pythagoras was of Samos.
Pythagoras was from Samos.
[490] Cheat.—Marlowe, i. 89.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Cheat.—Marlowe, i. 89.
[491] “Hey-pass re-pass”—a juggler’s term.
“Hey-pass re-pass”—a juggler's term.
[492] Ed. 1. “faites.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “do it.”
SCENE III.
SCENE III.
A Tavern.
A Bar.
Enter Slip and Noose; Trip, with the truncheon of a staff torch, and Doit with a pantofle;[493] Bidet, Holofernes following. The cornets sound.
Enter Slip and Hanging rope; Travel, with the staff torch, and Do it with a shoe;[493] Bidet, Holofernes following. The cornets sound.
Bid. Proclaim our titles!
Bid. Declare our titles!
Do. Bosphoros Cormelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet!
Do. Bosphoros Cormelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet!
Hol. I think your majesty’s a Welshman; you have a horrible long name.
Hol. I think your majesty is Welsh; you have a really long name.
Bid. Death or silence! Proceed!
Bid. Death or silence! Go ahead!
Bid. Ourself will give them their charge. Now let me stroke my beard, and I had it, and speak wisely, if I knew how. Most unconscionable, honest little, or little honest, good subjects, inform our person of your several qualities, and of the prejudice that is foisted upon you, that ourself may preview, prevent, and preoccupy the pestilent[497] dangers incident to all your cases.
Bid. I will give them their instructions. Now let me stroke my beard, think for a moment, and speak wisely, if I know how. Most unreasonable, honest little, or little honest, good subjects, tell us about your different qualities and the unfairness you face, so that I can foresee, prevent, and address the harmful dangers related to your situations.
Do. Here is a petition exhibited of the particular grievances of each sort of pages. 19
Do. Here is a petition showing the specific grievances of each type of pages. 19
Bid. We will vouchsafe, in this our public session, to peruse them. Pleaseth your excellent wagship to be informed that the division of pages is tripartite (tripartite), or threefold: of pages, some be court-pages, others ordinary gallant pages, and the third apple-squires,[498] basket-bearers, or pages of the placket: with the last we will proceed first. Stand forth, page of the placket,[499] what is your mistress?
Bid. We will, in this public session, take the time to read them. Please be informed, your esteemed wagship, that the division of pages is in three parts: some are court pages, others are regular gallant pages, and the third are apple-squires,[498] basket-bearers, or pages of the placket. We will start with the last. Step forward, page of the placket,[499] what is your mistress?
Bid. How live you? 29
How's it going?
Slip. Miserably, complaining to your crack-ship: though we have light mistresses, we are made the children and servants of darkness. What profane use we are put to, all these gallants more feelingly know than we can lively express; it is to be commiserated, and by your royal insight only to be prevented, that a male monkey and the diminutive of a man should be synonima, and no sense. Though we are the dross of your subjects, yet being a kind of page, let us find your celsitude kind and respective of our time-fortunes and birth’s abuse: and so, in the name of our whole tribe of empty basket-bearers, I kiss your little hands. 41
Slip. Sadly, complaining to your ship of fools: even though we have delightful mistresses, we are treated as the children and servants of darkness. The way we are misused is something these gentlemen know all too well, more than we could ever express; it's a shame, and only your royal wisdom can prevent it, that a male monkey and a tiny man are considered the same, and yet it makes no sense. Though we may be the lowest of your subjects, let us, as a kind of servant, find your greatness kind and respectful of our misfortunes and the abuses of our birth: and so, speaking for our whole group of empty basket-bearers, I kiss your little hands. 41
Bid. Your case is dangerous, and almost desperate. Stand forth, ordinary gallant’s page: what is the nature of your master?
Bid. Your situation is risky and nearly hopeless. Step forward, typical noble's page: what’s your master like?
No. He eats well and right slovenly; and when the dice favour him, goes in good clothes, and scours his pink colour silk stockings; when he hath any money, he bears his crowns; when he hath none, I carry his purse. He cheats well, swears better, but swaggers in a wanton’s chamber admirably; he loves his boy and the rump of a cramm’d capon; and this summer hath a passing thrifty humour to bottle ale; as contemptuous as Lucifer, as arrogant as ignorance can make him, as libidinous as Priapus. He keeps me as his adamant, to draw metal after to his lodging: I curl his perriwig, paint his cheeks, perfume his breath; I am his froterer[501] or rubber in a hot-house, the prop of his lies, the bearer of his false dice; and yet for all this, like the Persian louse, that eats biting, and biting eats, so I say sighing,[502] and sighing say, my end is to paste up a si quis.[503] My master’s fortunes are forced to cashier me, and so six to one I fall to be a pippin-squire. Hic finis Priami!—this is the end of pickpockets. 63
No. He eats well but messily; and when luck is on his side, he dresses nicely and shines his pink silk stockings. When he has money, he shows off his crowns; when he doesn’t, I carry his purse. He cheats easily, swears even better, and struts around a woman’s bedroom like a pro; he loves his boy and indulges in a rich capon’s backside; and this summer, he’s taken to bottling ale with surprising thriftiness; as contemptuous as the devil, as arrogant as ignorance can make him, and as lustful as Priapus. He keeps me around like a magnet, pulling in attention to his place: I style his wig, add color to his cheeks, freshen his breath; I am his gofer or assistant in a brothel, the support of his lies, the holder of his fake dice; and yet despite all this, like the Persian louse that feeds on bites, I find myself sighing,[501] and sighing wondering that my fate is to patch up a si quis.[502] My master’s luck is bound to get rid of me, and so six to one I end up as a petty servant. Hic finis Priami!—this is the end of pickpockets. 63
Trip. Most ridiculous Emperor.
Trip. Most absurd Emperor.
Bid. O, say no more. I know thy miseries;—what betwixt thy lady, her gentlewoman, and thy master’s late gaming, thou mayest look pale. I know thy miseries, and I condole thy calamities. Thou art born well, bred ill, but diest worst of all: thy blood most commonly gentle, thy youth ordinarily idle, and thy age too often miserable. When thy first suit is fresh, thy cheeks clear of court-soils, and thy lord fall’n out with his lady, so long may be he’ll chuck thee under the chin, call thee good pretty ape, and give thee a scrap from his own trencher; but after, he never beholds thee but when thou squirest him with a torch to a wanton’s sheets, or lights his tobacco-pipe; never useth thee but as his pander; never regardeth thee but as an idle burr that stick’st upon the nap of his fortune; and so, naked thou camest into the world, and naked thou must return.—Whom serve you? 81
Bid. Oh, don’t say anything more. I know your struggles; with your lady, her maid, and your master's recent gambling, it's no wonder you look pale. I understand your hardships, and I sympathize with your troubles. You were born into a good family but raised poorly, and you end up in the worst situations: your blood is usually from a decent background, your youth is typically wasted, and your old age more often than not is filled with misery. When your first requests are fresh, your cheeks clear of the court’s dirt, and your lord has a fight with his lady, he might for a while scratch you under the chin, call you a cute little monkey, and give you a bit from his own plate; but eventually, he won’t notice you except when you’re holding a torch for him to meet a lover, or lighting his tobacco pipe; he only uses you as his messenger; he only thinks of you as just a pesky bug stuck to the fabric of his fortune; and so, you came into this world with nothing, and you’ll leave with nothing. —Whom do you serve? you?
Hol. A fool!
A fool!
Bid. Thou art my happiest subject: the service of a fool is the only blessed’st slavery that ever put on a chain and a blue coat; they know not what nor for what they give, but so they give ’tis good, so it be good they give; fortunes are ordain’d for fools, as fools are for fortune, to play withal, not to use: hath he taken an oath of allegiance—is he of our brotherhood yet?
Bid. You are my happiest subject: serving a fool is the only truly blessed slavery that has ever put on a chain and a blue coat; they don’t know what they give or why they give it, but as long as they give, it's good, as long as it's good they give; fortunes are meant for fools, just as fools are meant for fortune, to be played with, not to be used: has he taken an oath of loyalty—is he one of us yet?
Hol. Not yet, right venerable Honorificac-cac-cac-cacu-minos Bidet! but as little an infant as I am I will, and with the grace of wit I will deserve it. 92
Hol. Not yet, right venerable Honorificac-cac-cac-cacu-minos Bidet! But as much of an infant as I am, I will, and with a touch of wit, I will deserve it. 92
Hol. What is’t?
Hol. What is it?
Bid. Cozen thy master; he is a fool, and was created for men of wit, such as thyself, to make use of.
Bid. Deceive your master; he’s a fool, made for clever people like you to take advantage of.
Hol. Such as myself? Nay, faith, for wit, I think, for my age, or so—But on, sir. 99
Hol. Someone like me? No, I’m serious, for my intelligence, I believe, for my age, or something like that—But go on, sir.
Bid. That thou mayst the easier purge him of superfluous blood, I will describe thy master’s constitution. He loves and is beloved of himself, and one more, his dog. There is a company of unbraced, untruss’d rutters[504] in the town, that crinkle in the hams, swearing their flesh is their only living, and when they have any crowns, cry “God a mercy, Mol!” and shrugging, “let the cock-holds[505] pay for’t;” intimating that their maintenance flows from the wantonness of merchants’ wives, when in troth the plain troth is, the plain and the stand, or the plain stand and deliver, delivers them all their living. These comrades have persuaded thy master that there’s no way to redeem his peach-colour satin suit from pawn but by the love of a citizen’s wife; he believes it: they flout him, he feeds them; and now ’tis our honest and religious meditation that he feed us, Holofernes Puppi. 115
Bid. To help you get rid of his unnecessary blood more easily, I’ll describe your master’s character. He loves himself and is also loved by his dog. There’s a group of unruly guys in town who brag about their bodies, claiming that their flesh is their only source of income, and when they have any money, they say, “Thank God, Mol!” and then shrug it off, saying, “Let the cuckolds pay for it,” suggesting that their living comes from the promiscuity of merchants’ wives, when in reality, the simple truth is that plain old work delivers all their income. These friends have convinced your master that the only way to get his peach-colored satin suit out of pawn is through the affection of a citizen’s wife; he believes them. They mock him while he supports them, and now our honest and sincere intention is that he supports us, Holofernes. 115
Hol. Pippo, and shall please you.
Hol. Pippo, and will that please you?
Bid. Pippo, ’tis our will and pleasure thou suit thyself like a merchant’s wife; leave the managing of the sequence unto our prudence.
Bid. Pippo, we want you to dress like a merchant’s wife; let us handle the details.
Bid. Our majesty dismounteth, and we put off our greatness; and now, my little knaves, I am plain Crack. As I am Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet, I am imperious, honour sparkles in mine eyes; but as I am Crack, I will convey,[508] crossbite,[509] and cheat upon Simplicius. I will feed, satiate, and fill your paunches; replenish, stuff, or furnish your purses: we will laugh when others weep—sing when others sigh—feed when others starve—and be drunk when others are sober. This is my charge at the loose.[510] As you love our brotherhood, avoid true speech, square dice, small liquor, and above all, those two ungentlemanlike protestations of indeed and verily. And so, 137
Bid. Our royal presence dismounts, and we let go of our grandeur; and now, my little rascals, I’m just Crack. While I’m Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet, I carry an air of authority, and honor sparkles in my eyes; but as Crack, I’m here to entertain,[508] trick,[509] and deceive Simplicius. I will feed you, satisfy you, and fill your bellies; provide for, stuff, or top off your wallets: we’ll laugh while others cry—sing while others moan—feast while others go hungry—and get drunk while others are sober. This is my mission for the night.[510] As you cherish our camaraderie, steer clear of honest words, fair dice, weak drinks, and especially those two ungentlemanly phrases of indeed and verily. And so, 137
Gentle Apollo, touch thy nimble string;
Our scene is done; yet ’fore we cease, we sing.
Gentle Apollo, play your quick strings;
Our scene is done; but before we finish, we sing.
[The Song, and exeunt.
The Song, and exit.
[493] Slipper.—It was part of a page’s duty to carry the pantofles of his master or mistress. On entering service he was said to be “sworn to the pantofle.”
[493] Slipper.—It was part of a page’s job to carry the slippers of their master or mistress. When starting in service, they were said to be “sworn to the slipper.”
[495] A game at cards.
A card game.
[496] Pair of dice.—It would seem that to cog a die was a favourite form of roguery among pages. Nashe, in an address to “the dapper messieurs pages of the court,” prefixed to The Unfortunate Traveller (1594), says:—“Thirdly, it shall be lawful for any whatsoever to play with false dice in a corner.”
[496] Pair of dice.—It seems that cheating with dice was a popular trick among pages. Nashe, in a message to “the dapper young pages of the court,” included in The Unfortunate Traveller (1594), states:—“Thirdly, anyone is allowed to play with loaded dice in a corner.”
[497] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “pustulent.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “pustulent.”
[499] Petticoat.
Skirt.
[500] Cant term for a whore.
Slang for a prostitute.
[501] Cf. Every Man out of His Humour, iv. 4:—“Let a man sweat once a week in a hot-house, and be well rubb’d and froted with a good plump juicy wench and sweet linen, he shall ne’er ha’ the pox.”
[501] Cf. Every Man out of His Humour, iv. 4:—“If a guy sweats once a week in a hot room, and gets a thorough rubdown with a good, plump, attractive woman and fresh linen, he'll never get the pox.”
[502] Old eds. “sithing and sithing.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "sithing and sithing."
[503] i.e., an advertisement for a situation: see Nares’ Glossary. The middle aisle of Paul’s was the favourite place for the display of such advertisements.
[503] i.e., an ad for a job: see Nares’ Glossary. The middle aisle of Paul’s was the preferred spot for showcasing such ads.
[504] Properly a German trooper (reiter or reuter); but the term was also applied to a roistering gallant.
[504] Technically, a German soldier (reiter or reuter); however, the term was also used to describe a swaggering dandy.
[505] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “cuckolds.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “cuckolds.”
[506] Red.
Red.
[507] Facings, trimmings.
Facings and trimmings.
[508] Pilfer.
Steal.
[509] Cozen.
Cozy.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Albano’s house.
Albano's place.
Enter Celia, Meletza, Lyzabetta, and Lucia.
Enter Celia, Meletza, Lyzabetta, and Lucia.
Cel. Faith, sister, I long to play with a feather! Prithee, Lucia, bring the shuttlecock.
Cel. Honestly, sister, I really want to play with a feather! Please, Lucia, bring the shuttlecock.
Mel. Out on him, light-pated fantastic! He’s like one of our gallants at——
Mel. Forget him, he's too light-hearted and unrealistic! He’s like one of our charming guys atI'm ready for the text. Please provide it.
Lyz. I wonder who thou speak’st well of.
Lyz. I wonder who you’re talking about.
Mel. Why, of myself; for, by my troth, I know none else will.
Mel. Well, it’s up to me because, honestly, I know no one else will.
Cel. Sweet sister Meletza, let’s sit in judgment a little, faith, of my servant, Monsieur[511] Laverdure.
Cel. Sweet sister Meletza, let’s take a moment to judge my servant, Monsieur[511] Laverdure.
Lyz. Why, why?
Lyz. Why? Why?
Mel. Why, he is not a plain fool, nor fair, nor fat, nor rich, rich fool. But he is a knight; his honour will give the passado in the presence to-morrow night; I hope he will deserve. All I can say is as, as the common fiddlers will say[514] in their “God send you well to do.”
Mel. Well, he’s not just a simple fool, nor is he good-looking, overweight, or wealthy—just a rich fool. But he is a knight; his honor will take center stage tomorrow night. I hope he lives up to it. All I can say is what the common musicians would say[514] in their “Hope everything goes well for you.”
Lyz. How think’st thou of the amorous Jacomo?
Lyz. What do you think of the charming Jacomo?
Mel. Jacomo? why, on my bare troth——
Mel. Jacomo? I swear on my honorUnderstood. Please provide the text you would like to modernize.
Cel. Why bare troth? 20
Cel. Why make a vow? 20
Mel. Because my troth is like his chin, t’hath no hair on’t. God’s me! his face looks like the head of a tabour; but trust me he hath a good wit.
Mel. Because my promise is like his chin, it’s completely bare. Wow, his face looks like a drumhead; but believe me, he has a sharp mind.
Lyz. Who told you so?
Lyz. Who said that?
Mel. One that knows; one that can tell.
Mel. Someone who understands; someone who can explain.
Cel. Who’s that?
Cel. Who is that?
Mel. Himself.
Mel. Him.
Lyz. Well, wench; thou hadst a servant, one Fabius; what hast thou done with him? 29
Lyz. Well, girl; you had a servant, one Fabius; what have you done with him? 29
Mel. I done with him? Out of him, puppy! By this feather, his beard is directly brick-colour, and perfectly fashion’d like the husk of a chestnut; he kisses with the driest lip. Fie on him!
Mel. Am I done with him? Get away from him, puppy! By this feather, his beard is brick-colored and shaped just like a chestnut shell; he kisses with the driest lips. Shame on him!
Cel. O, but your servant Quadratus, the absolute courtier!
Cel. Oh, but your servant Quadratus, the ultimate socialite!
Mel. Fie, fie! Speak no more of him: he lives by begging. He is a fine courtier, flatters admirable, kisses “fair madam,” smells surpassing sweet; wears and holds up the arras, supports the tapestry, when I pass into the presence, very gracefully; and I assure you—— 40
Mel. Ugh, stop talking about him! He survives by begging. He’s a charming courtier, gives excellent compliments, kisses “dear lady,” smells incredibly nice; holds up the hangings, supports the tapestry when I walk into the room, all very elegantly; and I assure you—— 40
Luc. Madam, here is your shuttlecock.
Luc. Madam, here is your birdie.
Cel. Why, sister, why?
Cel. Why, sis, why?
Mel. Because she can flatter. Prithee call her not: she has twenty-four hours to madam[515] yet. Come, you; you prate: i’faith, I’ll toss you from post to pillar!
Mel. Because she knows how to flatter. Seriously, don't call her that: she has a full day to go before madam[515] yet. Come on, you; you keep talking: honestly, I’ll throw you around!
Cel. You post and I pillar.
You post and I support.
Mel. No, no, you are the only post; you must support, prove a wench, and bear; or else all the building of your delight will fall—— 50
Mel. No, no, you are the only one holding things together; you need to support, show some strength, and endure; otherwise, all your happiness will fall—— 50
Cel. Down.
Cel. Sit down.
Lyz. What, must I stand out?
Lyz. What, do I have to stand out?
Mel. Ay, by my faith, till you be married.
Mel. Oh, I swear, until you get married.
Lyz. Why do you toss then?
Lyz. Why are you tossing then?
Mel. Why, I am wed, wench.
Mel. Why, I’m married, girl.
Cel. Prithee to whom?
Cel. Who are you asking?
Mel. To the true husband, right head of a woman—my will, which vows never to marry till I mean to be a fool, a slave, starch cambric ruffs, and make candles; (pur!)—’tis down, serve again, good wench. 60
Mel. To the true husband, the rightful head of a woman—my promise, which vows never to marry until I want to be a fool, a servant, wear stiff collars, and make candles; (pur!)—it’s done, serve again, good wench. 60
Luc. By your pleasing cheek, you play well.
Luc. Your charming face shows that you perform beautifully.
Mel. Nay, good creature, prithee do not flatter me. I thought ’twas for something you go cased in your velvet scabbard; I warrant these laces were ne’er stitch’d on with true stitch. I have a plain waiting-wench; she speaks plain, and, faith, she goes plain; she is virtuous, and because she should go like virtue, by the consent of my bounty, she shall never have above two smocks to her back, for that’s the fortune of desert, and the main in fashion or reward of merit; (pur)!—just thus do I use my servants. I strive to catch them in my racket, and no sooner caught, but I toss them away: if he fly well and have good feathers, I play with him[516] till he be down, and then my maid serves him to me again: if a slug, and weak-wing’d, if he be down, there let him lie. 75
Mel. No, dear, please don’t flatter me. I thought you had something for which you’re dressed up in your fancy velvet. I bet these laces were never sewn on properly. I have a simple maid; she speaks plainly and, honestly, she dresses plainly too. She's virtuous, and because she represents virtue, by my generosity, she’ll never have more than two shifts to wear, as that reflects the reward for her hard work; (ugh)!—this is how I treat my staff. I try to catch them in my game, and as soon as they’re caught, I toss them aside: if they can fly well and have good feathers, I play with them[516] until they’re down, and then my maid serves them to me again: but if they’re lazy and weak, if they’re down, then let them stay there. 75
Cel. Good Mell, I wonder how many servants thou hast.
Cel. Good Mell, I wonder how many servants you have.
Mel. Troth, so do I; let me see—Dupatzo.
Mel. Of course, I do; let me think—Dupatzo.
Lyz. Dupatzo, which Dupatzo?
Lyz. Dupatzo, which one?
Mel. Dupatzo, the elder brother, the fool; he that bought the halfpenny riband, wearing it in his ear,[517] swearing ’twas the Duchess of Milan’s favour; he into whose head a man may travel ten leagues before he can meet with his eyes. Then there’s my chub, my epicure, Quadratus, that rubs his guts, claps his paunch, and cries Rivo! entertaining my ears perpetually with a most strong discourse of the praise of bottle-ale and red herrings. Then there’s Simplicius Faber. 87
Mel. Dupatzo, the older brother, the fool; the one who bought the halfpenny ribbon and wore it in his ear,[517] claiming it was the Duchess of Milan’s favor; the guy you’d have to walk ten miles just to catch a glimpse of his eyes. Then there’s my chub, my foodie, Quadratus, who rubs his belly, pats his stomach, and exclaims Rivo! constantly entertaining me with a strong rant about the merits of beer and red herrings. Then there's Simplicius Faber. 87
Lyz. Why, he is a fool!
Lyz. Why, he's an idiot!
Mel. True, or else he would ne’er be my servant. Then there’s the cape-cloak’d courtier, Baltazar; he wears a double, treble, quadruple ruff, ay, in the summertime. Faith, I ha’ servants enow, and I doubt not but by my ordinary pride and extraordinary cunning to get more.—Monsieur Laverdure, with a troop of gallants, is ent’ring.
Mel. That's true, or he wouldn’t be my servant. Then there's the courtier in the cape and cloak, Baltazar; he wears a double, triple, quadruple ruff, even in the summer. Honestly, I have enough servants, and I have no doubt that through my usual pride and exceptional cleverness, I can get more. —Monsieur Laverdure is coming in with a group of smartly dressed guys.
Lyz. He capers the lascivious blood about Within heart-pants, nor leaps the eye nor lips: Prepare yourselves to kiss, for you must be kiss’d. 98
Lyz. He skips around with desire in his veins, heart racing, while his eyes and lips stay idle: Get ready to kiss, because you’re going to be kissed. 98
Mel. By my troth, ’tis a pretty thing to be towards marriage; a pretty loving—— Look, where he comes. Ha! ha!
Mel. I swear, it’s a lovely thing to be getting married; such a sweet love— Look, here he comes. Ha! ha!
Enter[518] Laverdure, Quadratus, Lampatho, and Simplicius.
Enter __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Laverdure, Quadratus, Lampatho, and Simplicius.
Lav. Good day, sweet love.
Hi there, sweet love.
Mel. Wish her good night, man.
Mel. Tell her good night, man.
Lav. Good morrow, sister.
Lav. Good morning, sister.
Mel. A curtsey to your[519] caper: to-morrow morn I’ll call you brother.
Mel. A quick bow to your[519] adventure: tomorrow morning I’ll call you brother.
Lav. But much much falls betwixt the cup and lip.
Lav. But a lot can go wrong between the cup and the lip.
Mel. Be not too confident, the knot may slip.
Mel. Don't be overly confident; the knot might loosen.
Qua. Bounty, blessedness, and the spirit of wine attend my mistress. 110
Qua. Abundance, happiness, and the spirit of wine surround my mistress. 110
Mel. Thanks, good chub.
Mel. Thanks, good buddy.
Sim. God[520] ye good morrow heartily, mistress; and how do you since last I saw you?
Sim. Good morning, mistress; how have you been since I last saw you?
Qua. God’s me, you must not enquire how she does; that’s privy counsel. Fie! there’s manners indeed!
Qua. For goodness' sake, you shouldn't ask how she does it; that's private information. Ugh! What bad manners!
Sim. Pray you, pardon my incivility. I was somewhat bold with you, but believe me I’ll never be so saucy to ask you how do you again as long as I live. La!
Sim. Please forgive my rudeness. I was a bit forward with you, but trust me, I’ll never be so bold as to ask you how you’re doing again for as long as I live. Wow!
Mel. Square chub, what sullen black is that? 119
Mel. Seriously, what is that gloomy black stuff? that? 119
Qua. A tassel that hangs at my purse-strings. He dogs me, and I give him scraps, and pay for his ordinary, feed him; he liquors himself in the juice of my bounty; and when he hath suck’d up strength of spirit he squeezeth it in my own face; when I have refined and sharp’d his wits with good food, he cuts my fingers, and breaks jests upon me. I bear them, and beat him; but by this light the dull-ey’d thinks he does well, does very well; and but that he and I are of two faiths—I fill my belly, and [he] feeds his brain—I could find in my heart to hug him—to hug him. 130
Qua. A tassel that hangs from my purse. He's always following me, and I give him scraps, pay for his meals, and feed him; he drinks up the benefits of my generosity. After he's soaked up enough energy, he throws it back in my face. After I’ve sharpened his mind with good food, he stabs my fingers and jokes about me. I put up with it and hit him back, but honestly, this dull-witted guy thinks he’s doing great, really great; and if it weren't for the fact that we have different beliefs—I fill my belly, and [he] feeds his brain—I might just find it in my heart to hug him—to hug him. 130
Mel. Prithee, persuade him to assume spirit, and salute us.
Mel. Please, convince him to lighten up and greet us.
Qua. Lampatho, Lampatho, art out of countenance? For wit’s sake, salute these beauties. How doest like them?
Qua. Lampatho, Lampatho, what's with the long face? For the sake of wit, greet these lovely ladies. What do you think of them?
Lam. Uds fut! I can liken them to nothing but great men’s great horse upon great days, whose tails are truss’d up in silk and silver.
Lam. You fools! I can compare them to nothing but great men's magnificent horses on important days, with their tails wrapped in silk and silver.
Qua. To them, man; salute them.
Qua. Greet them, man.
Lam. Bless you, fair ladies! God make you all his servants! 141
Lam. Bless you, beautiful ladies! May God make you all his servants! 141
Mel. God make you all his servants!
Mel. May God make you all His servants!
Qua. He is holpen well had need of you; for be it spoken without profanism, he hath more in this train. I fear me you ha’ more servants than he: I am sure the devil is an angel of darkness.
Qua. He really needs your help; let’s be honest, he has more issues in this situation. I’m afraid you have more people working for you than he does: I'm certain the devil is just a dark angel.
Qua. Light angels; prithee leave them; withdraw a little, and hear a sonnet; prithee hear a sonnet.
Qua. Light angels; please leave them; step back a bit, and listen to a sonnet; please listen to a sonnet.
Lam. Made of Albano’s widow that was, and Monsieur Laverdure’s wife that must be. 151
Lam. Made of Albano’s widow who was, and Monsieur Laverdure’s wife who must be. 151
Qua. Come, leave his lips, and command some liquor; if you have no bottle-ale, command some claret wine and borage,[521] for that’s my predominate humour; sleek-bellied Bacchus, let’s fill thy guts.
Qua. Come on, stop talking and get us some drinks; if you don’t have any beer, get some red wine with borage,[521] because that’s what I’m really in the mood for; smooth-bellied Bacchus, let’s fill you up.
Lam. Nay, hear it, and relish it judiciously.
Lam. No, listen to it and appreciate it wisely.
Qua. I do relish it most judicially.
I really enjoy it.
[Quadratus drinks.
Quadratus drinks.
Lam. Adored excellence! delicious, sweet!
Lam. Loved perfection! tasty, sweet!
Qua. Delicious, sweet! good, very good!
Qua. Delicious, sweet! Awesome, very awesome!
Lam. If thou canst taste the purer juice of love. 160
Lam. If you can experience the true essence of love.160
Qua. If thou canst taste the purer juice; good still, good still. I do relish it; it tastes sweet.
Qua. If you can taste the pure juice; good still, good still. I enjoy it; it tastes sweet.
Lam. Is not the metaphor good? Is’t not well followed?
Lam. Isn't the metaphor good? Isn't it well expressed?
Qua. Passing good, very pleasing.
Qua. Really good, very enjoyable.
Lam. Is’t not sweet?
Isn't it sweet?
Qua.
Let me see’t; I’ll make it sweet;
I’ll soak it in the juice of Helicon.
By’r Lady, passing sweet; good, passing sweet.
Qua.
Let me look into it; I'll make it delicious;
I’ll soak it in the nectar from Helicon.
By my lady, so sweet; honestly, so sweet.
Qua. The Irish flux upon thy muse, thy whorish muse.
Here is no place for her loose brothelry. 170
We will not deal with her. Go! away, away!
Qua. The Irish influence on your creativity, your unapologetic creativity.
This isn't the right place for her casual behaviors. 170
We're not going to interact with her. Go! Just leave!
Lam. I’ll be revenged.
Lam. I’ll get my revenge.
Qua. How, prithee? in a play? Come, come, be sociable.
In private severance from society;
Here leaps a vein of blood inflamed with love,
Mounting to pleasure, all addict to mirth;
Thou’lt read a satire or a sonnet now,
Clagging their airy humour with——
Qua. Seriously? In a play? Come on, let's be nice.
In private isolation from society;
Here flows a stream of blood fueled by love,
Embracing happiness, all focused on joy;
You'll read some satire or a sonnet now,
Stifling their cheerful spirit with
Lam. Lamp-oil, watch-candles, rug-gowns,[522] and small juice,
Thin commons, four o’clock rising,—I renounce you all. 180
Now may I ’ternally abandon meat,
Rust, fusty, you which most embraced disuse,
You ha’ made me an ass; thus shaped my lot,
I am a mere scholar, that is a mere sot.
Lam. Lamp oil, candles for watching, robe gowns, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and small juice,
I reject all of you—light meals and waking up at four o’clock. 180
Now I can permanently give up eating meat,
Rust, moldy items, you who are the most forgotten,
You've made a fool out of me; you've influenced my destiny,
I’m just a scholar who happens to be a drunken fool.
Qua. Come, then, Lamp, I’ll pour fresh oil into thee;
Apply thy spirit, that it may nimbly turn
Unto the habit, fashion of the age.
I’ll make thee man the scholar, enable thy behaviour
Apt for the entertain of any presence. 189
I’ll turn thee gallant: first thou shalt have a mistress:
How is thy spirit raised to yonder beauty?—
She with the sanguine cheek, the[523] dimpled chin;
The pretty amorous smile, that clips her lips
And dallies ’bout her cheek; she with the speaking eye,
That casts out beams as ardent as those flakes
Which singed the world by rash-brain’d Phaethon;
She with the lip;—O lips!—she, for whose sake
A man could find in his heart to inhell himself!
There’s more philosophy, more theorems,
More demonstrations, all invincible, 200
More clear divinity drawn on her cheek,
Than in all volumes’ tedious paraphrase
Of musty eld. O, who would staggering doubt
The soul’s eternity, seeing it hath
Of heavenly beauty but to case it up!
Who would distrust a supreme existence,
Able to confound, when it can create
Such heaven on earth able to entrance,
Amaze! O, ’tis Providence, not chance!
Qua. Come on, Lamp, I’ll fill you up with fresh oil;
Use your spirit to quickly adjust.
To the current style and trends.
I’ll turn you into a refined scholar and help you conduct yourself well.
Well for any business.
I'll make you charismatic: first, you'll have a romantic interest:
How does that beauty lift your spirit?
She with the rosy cheeks and the __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ dimpled chin;
That sweet, flirtatious smile that lights up her lips
And playfully touches her cheeks; she with the mesmerizing eyes,
That shine with a brightness as strong as those rays.
Which burned the earth with reckless Phaethon;
She with the lips;—Oh lips!—she for whom
A person could really find it in their heart to condemn themselves!
There’s more philosophy, more theories,
More undeniable evidence, 200
More divine beauty shone on her cheek,
Than in all the boring texts
Of dusty old texts. Oh, who would question
The soul's eternity, understanding that it is.
Wrapped in such divine beauty!
Who would question a supreme being,
Able to create and confuse
Such a paradise on earth that can captivate,
Amazing! Oh, it’s Providence, not luck!
Lam. Now, by the front of Jove, methinks her eye
Shoots more spirit in me. O beauty feminine; 211
How powerful art thou! What deep magic lies
Within the circle of thy speaking eyes!
Lam. Now, by the face of Jupiter, I believe her look
It gives me even more energy. Oh, feminine beauty; 211
How powerful you are! What incredible magic is
Inside the circle of your expressive eyes!
Qua. Why, now could I eat thee; thou doest please mine appetite. I can digest[524] thee. God make[525] thee a good fool, and happy, and ignorant, and amorous, and rich, and frail, and a satirist, and an essayist, and sleepy, and proud, and indeed a fool, and then thou shalt be sure of all these. Do but scorn her, she is thine own; accost her carelessly, and her eye promiseth she will be bound to the good abearing. 221
Qua. Well, now I could eat you; you really satisfy my appetite. I can handle[524] you. May God make[525] you a good fool, and happy, and clueless, and romantic, and wealthy, and fragile, and a critic, and a writer, and lazy, and arrogant, and really a fool, and then you will be certain of all these things. Just disregard her, she is yours; approach her casually, and her gaze promises she will be committed to the good abearing. 221
Cel. Now, sister Meletza, doest mark their craft; some straggling thoughts transport thy attentiveness from his discourse. Was’t Jacomo’s or our brother’s plot?
Cel. Now, sister Meletza, do you see their trick; some wandering thoughts are pulling your focus away from what he’s saying. Was it Jacomo’s plan or our brother’s?
Lav. Both, both, sweet lady; my page heard all: we met the rogue; so like Albano, I beat the rogue.
Lav. Both, both, sweet lady; my page heard everything: we ran into the crook; he was just like Albano, so I took him down.
Sim. Ay, but when you were gone the rogue beat me.
Sim. Yeah, but when you left, that jerk hit me.
Lav. Now, take my counsel: listen. 229
Lav. Now, take my advice: listen. 229
Mel. A pretty youth; a pretty well-shaped youth: a good leg, a very good eye, a sweet ingenious[526] face, and I warrant a good wit; nay, which is more, if he be poor, I assure my soul he is chaste and honest; good faith, I fancy I fancy him: ay, and I may chance;—well, I’ll think the rest.
Mel. A handsome young man; a well-built young man: he has a good leg, a great eye, a charming clever[526] face, and I bet he has a sharp mind; and what's even more, if he’s poor, I truly believe he’s pure and honest; honestly, I like him a lot: yeah, I might end up liking him more;—well, I’ll sort out the rest in my head.
Qua. I say, be careless still: court her without compliment; take spirit.
Qua. I say, keep being careless: pursue her without flattery; have some boldness.
Lav. Were’ not a pleasing jest for me to clothe
Another rascal like Albano, say,
And rumour him return’d, without all deceit? 240
Would not beget errors most ridiculous?
Lav. It wouldn't be a funny joke for me to get dressed up.
Another troublemaker like Albano, just to point out,
And act like he's back, without any deceit? 240
Wouldn't that lead to some really outlandish mistakes?
Mel. How would it please you I should respect ye?
Mel. How would it make you happy if I respected you?
Lam. As anything, What You Will, as nothing.
Lam. As anything, What You Will, as nothing.
Mel. As nothing! How will you value my love?
Mel. As if it means nothing! How do you expect me to value my love?
Lam. Why, just as you respect me—as nothing; for out of nothing, nothing is bred: so nothing shall not beget anything, anything bring nothing, nothing bring anything, anything and nothing shall be What You Will; my speech mounting to the value of myself, which is—— 252
Lam. You only value me as if I’m nothing; because out of nothing, nothing comes. So nothing won’t create anything, anything won’t produce nothing, nothing won’t lead to anything, and everything and nothing will be whatever you want them to be; my words will reflect my true worth, which is—— 252
Mel. What, sweet——
Mel. What, honey——
Lam. Your nothing, light as yourself, senseless as your sex, and just as you would ha’ me—nothing.
Lam. You're nothing, as weightless as you are, as meaningless as your gender, and just like how you want me—nothing.
Mel. Your wit skips a morisco; but, by the brightest
spangle of my tire, I vouchsafe you entire unaffected
favour.
Wear this, gentle spirit, be not proud;
Believe it, youth, slow speech swift love doth often shroud. 260
Mel. Your humor dances around; but, by the brightest sparkle of my outfit, I assure you of my genuine favor.
Wear this, kind soul, don't act superior;
Trust me, young one, slow words often conceal fast love. 260
Lam. My soul’s entranced; your favour doth transport
My sense past sense, by your adorèd graces;
I doat, am rapt!
Lam. I'm enchanted; your approval makes me feel uplifted.
Beyond all comprehension, by your beloved beauty;
I’m totally in love!
Mel. Nay, if you fall to passion and past sense,
My breast’s no harbour for your love. Go, pack! hence!
Mel. No, if you give in to your desires and lose control,
My heart isn't a safe space for your love. Just go! Leave!
Qua. Uds fut! thou gull! thou inky scholar! Ha, thou whoreson fop!
Wilt not thou clap into our fashion’d gallantry?
Couldst not be proud and scornful, loose and vain?
God’s my heart’s object! what a plague is this?
My soul’s entranced! Fut! couldst not clip and kiss?
My soul’s entranced! ten thousand crowns at least 271
Lost, lost. My soul’s entranced! Love’s life, O beast!
Qua. You idiot! You arrogant scholar! Ha, you pathetic dandy!
Will you join our stylish appeal?
Can't you be proud and distant, carefree and vain?
Oh my gosh! What in the world is this?
I'm totally captivated! Seriously, can't we just hug and kiss?
I'm totally amazed! At least ten thousand crowns 271
Gone, gone. I'm totally captivated! The essence of love, what a monster!
Alb. [without]. Celia, open; open, Celia: I would enter: open, Celia!
Alb. [without]. Celia, let me in; let me in, Celia: I would come in: let me in, Celia!
Fran. [without]. Celia, open; open, Celia: I would enter: open, Celia!
Fran. [without]. Celia, please open up; I want to come in: open up, Celia!
Alb. [without]. What, Celia, let in thy husband, Albano: what, Celia!
Alb. [without]. What’s up, Celia? Let in your husband, Albano: what’s up, Celia!
Fran. [without]. What, Celia, let in thy husband, Albano: what, Celia! 280
Fran. [without]. What’s up, Celia? Let your husband in, Albano: what, Celia!
Alb. [without]. Uds f-f-f-fut! let Albano enter.
Alb. [without]. You guys f-f-f-future! let Albano in.
Fran. [without]. Uds f-f-f-fut! let Albano enter.
Fran. [without]. You guys f-f-f-fut! let Albano in.
Cel. Sweet breast, you ha’ play’d the wag, i’faith!
Cel. Sweetheart, you’ve been quite the trickster, I swear!
Mel. Come, you have attired some fiddler like Albano, to fright the perfumer; there’s the jest.
Mel. Come on, you’ve dressed up some musician like Albano, to scare the perfumer; that’s the joke.
Enter[528] Randolfo, Andrea, and Jacomo.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Randolfo, Andrea, and Jacomo.
Ran. Good fortunes to our sister.
Best wishes to our sister.
Mel. And a speedy marriage.
And a quick wedding.
Cel. Ha, ha! My husband! Ha, ha!
Cel. Ha, ha! My husband! Ha, ha!
And.[530] Laugh you? Shameless! Laugh you?
And.[530] You think it's funny? How inappropriate! You think it's funny?
Cel. Come, come, your plot’s discover’d. Good faith, kinsmen, I am no scold. To shape a perfumer like my husband! O sweet jest!
Cel. Come on, your scheme is found out. Honestly, cousins, I'm not a nag. To make a perfumer out of my husband! What a funny joke!
Jaco. Lost[531] hopes! all known.
Cel. For penance of your fault, will you maintain a jest now? My love hath tired some fiddler like Albano, like the Perfumer. 302
Cel. As punishment for your mistake, will you tell a joke now? My love has worn out some musician like Albano, like the Perfume creator. 302
Lav. Not I: by blessedness, not I.
Lav. Not me: by my blessing, not me.
Mel. Come, ’tis true. Do but support the jest, and you shall surfeit with laughter.
Mel. Come on, it's true. Just go along with the joke, and you'll be overwhelmed with laughter.
Jaco.
Faith, we condescend; ’twill not be cross’d, I see.
Marriage and hanging go by destiny.
Jaco.
Honestly, I know we're not going to debate this.
Marriage and death are governed by fate.
Alb. [without]. B-b-b-bar out Albano! O adulterous, impudent!
Alb. [without]. B-b-b-bar out Albano! You cheating, shameless person!
Fran. [without]. B-b-b-bar out Albano! O thou matchless g-g-g-giglet![532] 311
Fran. [without]. B-b-b-bar out Albano! Oh, you one-of-a-kind g-g-g-giglet![532] 311
Qua. Let them in! Let them in! Now, now, now! Observe, observe! Look, look, look!
Qua. Let them in! Let them in! Right now, right now, right now! Watch, watch! Look, look, look!
Enter Albano and Francisco.
Enter Albano and Francisco.
Alb. Now, brothers; now, gallants; now, sisters; now call [me] a perfumer, a gutter-master. Bar me my house; beat me,—baffle[533] me,—scoff me,—deride me! Ha, that I were a young man again! By the mass, I would ha’ you all by the ears, by the mass, law! I am Francisco Soranza! am I not, giglet, strumpet, cutters,[534] swaggerers, brothel-haunters? I am Francisco! O God! O slaves! O dogs, dogs, curs!
Alb. Now, brothers; now, gentlemen; now, sisters; now call me a perfumer, a sewer worker. Block my entrance; beat me, confuse me, mock me, make fun of me! Ha, if only I were a young man again! By God, I would have you all by the ears, I swear! I am Francisco Soranza! Am I not, you flirts, you promiscuous ones, you show-offs, you regulars at brothels? I am Francisco! Oh God! Oh, you slaves! Oh, you dogs, mutts!
Jaco. No, sir; pray you, pardon us; we confess you are not Francisco, nor a perfumer, but even—— 327
Jaco. No, sir; please forgive us; we admit you are neither Francisco nor a perfumer, but even—— 327
Alb. But even Albano.
But even Albano.
Jaco. But even a fiddler,—a minikin-tickler,[535]—a pumpum!
Jaco. But even a fiddler—a little master of the art—what a joke!
Fran. A scraper, scraper!
Art not asham’d, before Albano’s face,
To clip his spouse? O shameless, impudent!
Fran. A cheater, a fraud!
Art unashamed, in front of Albano,
To trick his wife? How bold and shameless!
Jaco. Well said, perfumer.
Jaco. Well said, fragrance creator.
Alb. A fiddler,—a scraper,—a minikin-tickler,—a pum, a pum!—even now a perfumer,—now a fiddler!—I will be even What You Will. Do, do, do, k-k-k-kiss my wife be-be-be-be-fore——
Alb. A fiddler, a scraper, a little tickler, a pum, a pum!—now a perfumer, now a fiddler!—I'll be whatever you want. Come on, kiss my wife before—
Qua. Why, wouldst have him kiss her behind?
Qua. Why, would you have him kiss her behind?
Alb. Before my own f-f-f-face! 340
Alb. Before my own f-f-f-face! 340
Jaco. Well done, fiddler!
Jaco. Great job, fiddler!
Alb. I’ll f-f-fiddle ye!
I’ll mess with you!
Alb. Dost m-m-m-mock me?
Alb. Do you really mock me?
Fran. I’ll to the duke. I’ll p-p-p-paste up infamies on every post.
Fran. I'm going to the duke. I’ll stick up infamies on every post.
Jaco. ’Twas rarely, rarely done. Away, away! 347
Jaco. It was rarely, rarely done. Go away, away! 347
[Exit Francisco.
[Exit Francisco.
Alb. I’ll f-f-follow, though I st-st-st-stut; I’ll stumble to the duke: in p-p-plain language, I pray you use my wife well. Good faith, she was a kind soul, and an honest woman once: I was her husband, and was called Albano, before I was drown’d; but now, after my resurrection, I am I know not what; indeed, brothers, and indeed, sisters, and indeed, wife, I am What You Will. Doest thou laugh? dost thou ge-ge-ge-gern?[536] A p-p-p-perfumer,—a fiddler, a—Diabolo, matre de Dios,—I’ll f-f-f-firk you, by the Lord, now,[537] now I will!
Alb. I'll f-f-follow, even though I st-st-stutter; I’ll get to the duke: in plain terms, please treat my wife well. Honestly, she was a kind person and a decent woman once: I was her husband, and I was called Albano, before I drowned; but now, after my resurrection, I don’t know what I am; really, brothers, and really, sisters, and really, wife, I am What You Will. Do you laugh? Do you g-g-g-gawk? [536] A p-p-p-perfumer, a fiddler, a—Diabolo, matre de Dios,—I’ll f-f-f-fight you, by the Lord, now,[537] now I will!
[Exit Albano.
[Exit Albano.
Qua. Ha, ha! ’tis a good rogue, a good rogue!
Qua. Haha! He's quite the character, quite the character!
Lav. A good rogue! Ha! I know him not.
Lav. A great trickster! Ha! I don't know him.
Cel. No, good sweet love. Come, come, dissemble not. 360
Cel. No, my dear. Come on, don’t pretend. 360
Lav.
Nay, if you dread nothing, happy be my lot.
Come, via, sest;[538] come, fair cheeks; come, let’s dance:
The sweets of love is amorous dalliance.
Cel. All friends, all happy friends, my veins are light.
Cel. All friends, all happy friends, my veins feel light.
Lyz. Thy prayers are now, God send it quickly night!
Lyz. Your prayers are now, God, please make it night soon!
Mel. And then come morning.
Mel. And then comes morning.
Mel. Ay, there thou hitt’st it.
Mel. Yeah, you got it.
Qua. Pray God he hit it.
Qua. Hope he nails it.
Lav. Play!
Lav. Action!
The Dance.
The Dance.
Jaco. They say there’s revels and a play at court.
Jaco. They say there are festivities and a play at the court.
Lav. A play to-night?
Lav. A play tonight?
Qua. Ay, ’tis this gallant’s wit.
Qua. Yes, it’s this brave one’s wit.
Jaco. Is’t good? Is’t good?
Jaco. Is it good? Is it good?
Lam. I fear ’twill hardly hit. 370
Lam. I fear it won't hit.
Qua. I like thy fear well; ’twill have better chance;
There’s nought more hateful than rank ignorance.
Qua. I understand your fear; it gives you a better chance;
Nothing is more repulsive than total ignorance.
Cel.
Come, gallants, the table’s spread; will you to dinner?
Cel.
Come on, everyone, the table's ready; are you all set for dinner?
Qua. Yes; first a main at dice, and then we’ll eat.
Qua. Yeah; let’s play some dice first, and then we’ll eat.
Sim. Truly the best wits have the badd’st fortune at dice still.
Sim. Truly, the smartest people often have the worst luck with dice.
Qua. Who’ll play? who’ll play?
Qua. Who's playing? Who's playing?
Sim. Not I; in truth I have still exceeding bad fortune at dice.
Sim. Not me; honestly, I still have really bad luck with dice.
Cel. Come, shall we in? In faith thou art sudden sad.
Doest fear the shadow of my long-dead lord? 381
Cel. Come on, should we head inside? Seriously, you're acting really down.
Are you scared of the ghost of my long-dead lord? 381
Lav.
Shadow! Ha! I cannot tell.
Time trieth all things: well, well, well!
Lav.
Hey! I don't really know.
Time tests everything: okay, okay, okay!
Qua. Would I were Time, then. I thought ’twas for something that the old fornicator was bald behind. Go; pass on, pass on.
Qua. I wish I were Time, then. I thought there was a reason the old man was bald in the back. Go; move along, move along.
[Exeunt.
Exeunt.
[511] Omitted in ed. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Omitted in ed. 2.
[512] Lover, admirer.
Crush, fan.
[513] Old eds. “but for a husband (sigh) I.” Dilke reads “but for a husband, fie, I——”
[513] Old eds. “if only I had a husband (sigh).” Dilke reads “if only I had a husband, ugh, I——”
[514] It was customary for fiddlers to play beneath the bride’s window on the morning after the wedding.
[514] It was traditional for musicians to play under the bride’s window on the morning after the wedding.
[515] Celia was to marry the knight on the following day.
[515] Celia was set to marry the knight the next day.
[516] Old eds. “them.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “them.”
[517]
“Punt. Is she your mistress?
“Fast. Faith, here be some slight favours of hers, sir, that do speak it
she is; as this scarf, sir, or this riband in my ear, or so.”—Every Man
out of his Humour, ii. 1.
[517]
“Punt. Is she your girlfriend?
“Fast. Indeed, here are some small gifts from her, sir, that suggest she is; like this scarf, sir, or this ribbon in my ear, or something like that.”—Every Man out of his Humour, ii. 1.
[518] Not marked in old eds.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Not marked in old editions.
[519] Ed. 1. “you.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 1. “you.”
[520] A common abbreviation for “God give you good morrow.”
[520] A common shorthand for “God give you good morning.”
[521] Dilke has an extraordinary note:—“In Cotgrave’s French Dictionary, Bourrachon is explained ‘a tippler, quaffer, toss-pot, whip-can,’ &c. Burrage may therefore, I conceive, mean beverage.” In that detestable concoction, claret-cup, the herb borage is still used; and Gerard, in his Herbal (1597) tells us that “the leaves and flowers of borage put into wine maketh men and women glad and merry, and driveth away all sadness, dulness, and melancholy” (p. 654).
[521] Dilke has an interesting note:—“In Cotgrave’s French Dictionary, Bourrachon is described as ‘a drinker, toper, toss-pot, whip-can,’ etc. Burrage may therefore, I believe, mean beverage.” In that unpleasant mix, claret-cup, the herb borage is still used; and Gerard, in his Herbal (1597) tells us that “the leaves and flowers of borage added to wine make men and women happy and cheerful, and drive away all sadness, dullness, and melancholy” (p. 654).
[522] Cf. Every Man out of his Humour, iii. 2:—“You sky-staring coxcombs you, you fat-brains, out upon you! You are good for nothing but to sweat night-caps and make rug-gowns dear.” Gifford remarks:—“This was the usual dress of mathematicians, astrologers, &c., when engaged in their sublime speculations.”
[522] Cf. Every Man out of his Humour, iii. 2:—“You sky-gazing idiots, you lazy brains, shame on you! You're only good for sweating in nightcaps and making rug-gowns expensive.” Gifford notes:—“This was the typical outfit of mathematicians, astrologers, etc., when they were lost in their lofty thoughts.”
[523] Ed. 2. “that.”
“that.”
[524] Ed. 1. “disist.”
“disist.”
[525] Old eds. “made.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old editions "made."
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “ingenuous.” See __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, p. 109.
[527] Old eds. “Qua.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Qua.”
[528] Not marked in old eds.
Not marked in old editions.
[529] Old eds. “Adri.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old editions “Adri.”
[530] Old eds. “Adri.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Adri.”
[531] Old eds. “Last.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. "Last."
[532] Wanton woman.
Promiscuous woman.
[533] Insult.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Insult.
[534] Huffing gallants, roisterers.
Party animals, rowdy ones.
[535] Tickle the minikin—play on the fiddle. Cf. Middleton’s Family of Love, i. 3:—“One touches the bass, the other tickles the minikin.”
[535] Tickle the minikin—play the fiddle. Cf. Middleton’s Family of Love, i. 3:—“One plays the bass, the other tickles the minikin.”
[536] Grin, snarl.
Grin and snarl.
[537] Ed. 2. “now, now, now.”
“now, now, now.”
ACT V.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
Albano’s house; a Street; the Duke’s palace.
Albano's house; a street; the Duke’s palace.
The curtains are drawn by a Page, and Celia and Laverdure, Quadratus and Lyzabetta, Lampatho and Meletza, Simplicius and Lucia, displayed, sitting at dinner. The song is sung, during which a Page whispers with Simplicius.
The curtains are drawn by a Page, and Celia and Laverdure, Quadratus and Lyzabetta, Lampatho and Meletza, Simplicius and Lucia, are all sitting at dinner. The song is performed while a Page whispers with Simplicius.
Lam. I commend, commend myself to ye, lady.
Lam. I praise you, lady, and I praise myself as well.
Mel. In troth, sir, you dwell far from neighbours, that are enforced to commend yourself.
Mel. Honestly, sir, you live far from neighbors who are forced to praise you.
Qua. Why, Simplicius, whither now, man? for good fashion’s sake, stir not; sit still, sit still.
Qua. Why, Simplicius, where are you going now? For the sake of tradition, don’t move; just stay put, stay put.
Sim. I must needs rise; much good do it you.
Sim. I really need to get up; it’s great for you.
Qua. Doest thou think thy rising will do them much good? Sit still; sit still; carve me of that, good Meletza. Fill, Bacchus, fill! 11
Qua. Do you think your rise will do them much good? Sit down; sit down; carve me some of that, good Meletza. Fill, Bacchus, fill! 11
Sim. I must needs be gone; and you’ll come to my chamber to-morrow morning, I send you a hundred crowns.
Sim. I really have to go; and you'll come to my room tomorrow morning, I'll send you a hundred crowns.
Qua. In the name of prosperity, what tide of happiness so suddenly flow’d upon thee?
Qua. In the name of prosperity, what wave of happiness has suddenly washed over you?
Sim. I’ll keep a horse and four boys, with grace of fortune now.
Sim. I’ll have a horse and four guys, thanks to good luck now.
Qua. Now, then, i’faith, get up and ride. 19
Qua. Now, come on, really, get up and ride. 19
Sim. And I do not, I’ll thwack[541] a jerkin till he groan again with gold lace. Let me see; what should I desire of God? Marry, a cloak, lined with rich taffeta; white satin suit; and my gilt rapier from pawn: nay, she shall give me a chain of pearl, that shall pay for all. Good-bye, good signior; good-bye, good signior.
Sim. And I'm not going to stop until I hit him hard enough to make him cry out for help again with gold lace. Let me think; what should I ask God for? Definitely a cloak, lined with luxurious taffeta; a white satin suit; and my gold rapier back from the pawn shop: no, she should give me a pearl necklace that would cover all my expenses. Goodbye, good sir; goodbye, good sir.
Qua. Why, now, thou speaketh in the most embraced fashion that our time hugs; no sooner a good fortune or a fresh suit falls upon a fellow that would ha’ been gull’d to ha’ shoved into your society, but, and he me[e]t you, he fronts you with a faint eye, throws a squint glance over a wried shoulder, and cries ’twixt the teeth, as very parsimonious of breath, “Good-bye, good signior; good-bye, good signior.” Death, I will search the lifeblood of your hopes. 34
Qua. Why, now you’re talking in the most popular way that everyone loves; as soon as some good luck or a new opportunity comes to someone who would have been foolish enough to join your company, and he sees you, he looks at you with a half-hearted gaze, glances sideways over his shoulder, and mutters through clenched teeth, as if he’s being really stingy with his words, “Goodbye, good sir; goodbye, good sir.” Death, I will get to the heart of your hopes. 34
Sim. And a fresh pearl-colour silk stocking—— O ay, ay, ay, ay, I’ll go to the half-crown ordinary[542] every meal; I’ll have my ivory box of tobacco; I’ll converse with none but counts and courtiers. Now,—good-bye, good signior,—a pair of massy silver spurs, too, a hatch[543] short sword, and then your embroider’d hanger;[544] and, good signior—— 41
Sim. And a new pair of pearl-colored silk stockings—oh, I’ll go to the half-crown restaurant for every meal; I’ll have my ivory tobacco box; I’ll only talk to counts and nobles. Now—goodbye, good sir—I’ll also need a pair of heavy silver spurs, a short sword, and then your embroidered hanger; and, good sir—41
Qua. Shut the windows, darken the room, fetch whips; the fellow is mad: he raves, he raves,—talks idly,—lunatic: who procures thy——
Qua. Close the windows, dim the lights, grab the whips; this guy is crazy: he's shouting, he's shouting—talking nonsense—insane: who gets you yourI'm ready for your text. Please provide me with the short phrases you'd like modernized.
Sim. One that has ate fat capon, suck’d the boil’d chicken, and let out his wit with the fool of bounty, one Fabius. I’ll scorn him; he goes upon Fridays in black satin. 48
Sim. One who has eaten rich capon, enjoyed boiled chicken, and shared his humor with the generous fool, one Fabius. I’ll look down on him; he wears black satin on Fridays. 48
Qua. Fabius! By this light, a cogging cheator:[545] he lives on love of merchants’ wives; he stands on the base of mains;[546] he furnisheth your ordinary, for which he feeds scot-free; keeps fair gold in his purse, to put on upon mains, by which he lives, and keeps a fair boy at his heels: he is damn’d Fabius.
Qua. Fabius! By this light, what a deceitful cheat: [545] he makes his living off the affections of merchants' wives; he stands on the backs of the common people;[546] he supplies your usual needs, for which he gets to eat for free; he keeps decent cash in his pocket to spend on the common people, by which he survives, and he has a handsome boy always at his side: he is a thoroughly wicked Fabius.
Sim. He is a fine man, law, and has a good wit; for when he list he can go in black satin, ay, and in a cloak lined with unshorn velvet. 57
Sim. He is a great guy, really sharp, and has a good sense of humor; when he wants to, he can dress up in black satin, and even in a cloak lined with unshorn velvet. 57
Qua. By the salvation of humanity, he’s more pestilent than the plague of lice that fell upon Egypt; thou hast been knave if thou credit it; thou art an ass if thou follow it; and shalt be a perpetual idiot if thou pursue it: renounce the world, the flesh, the devil, and thy trust in men’s wives, for they will double with thee: and so I betake myself to the sucking of the juice capon, my ingle bottle-ale, and his gentleman usher, that squirers him, red herring. A fool I found thee and a fool I leave thee; bear record, Heaven, ’tis against the providence of my speech. Good-bye, good signior.
Qua. For the sake of humanity, he’s more harmful than the plague of lice that struck Egypt; you’ve been a fool if you believe it; you’re foolish if you follow it; and you’ll be a complete idiot if you chase after it: give up on the world, the flesh, the devil, and your trust in other men’s wives, because they will betray you: and so I turn to drinking the juice from the capon, my homebrew ale, and his page who serves him, red herring. I found you a fool and I leave you a fool; let Heaven bear witness, this goes against the intent of my words. Goodbye, good sir.
[Exit.
[Leave.
Enter Slip, Nous, Doit, and Bidet.
Enter Slip, Nous, Doit, and Bidet.
Sim. Ha, ha, ha! Good-bye, good signior! What a fool ’tis! Ha, ha, what an ass ’tis! Save you, young gentlemen, is she coming? Will she meet me? Shall’s encounter? Ha? 72
Sim. Ha, ha, ha! Goodbye, good sir! What a fool he is! Ha, ha, what an idiot he is! Hello, young gentlemen, is she on her way? Will she meet me? Are we going to meet? Ha?
Bid. You were not lapt in your mother’s smock:[547] you ha’ not a good cheek, an enticing eye, a smooth skin, a well-shaped leg, a fair hand: you cannot bring a wench into a fool’s paradise for you.
Bid. You weren't wrapped in your mother’s apron: [547] you don’t have a nice face, a charming eye, smooth skin, a nice leg, or a pretty hand: you can't lead a girl into a fool’s paradise for you.
Sim. Not I, by this garter. I am a fool, a very ninny, I! How call you her? How call you her?
Sim. Not me, I swear. I'm such a fool, a total idiot, I am! What do you call her? What do you call her?
Bid. Call her? You rise on your right side to-day, marry. Call her? her name is Mistress Perpetuana: she is not very fair, nor goes extraordinary gay. 81
Bid. Call her? You get up on your right side today, my friend. Call her? Her name is Mistress Perpetuana: she isn't very attractive, nor does she dress exceptionally well. gay. 81
Bid. A good skin? She is wealthy; her husband’s a fool: she’ll make you; she wears the breeches: she’ll make you——
Bid. A good appearance? She has money; her husband is an idiot: she’ll elevate your status; she’s in charge: she’ll do itUnderstood! Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Sim. I’ll keep two men, and they shall be tailors; they shall make suits continually, and those shall be cloth of silver. 88
Sim. I’ll hire two men, and they will be tailors; they will make suits non-stop, and those will be made of silver cloth. 88
Bid. You may go in beaten precious stones every day. Marry, I must acquaint you with some observances, which you must pursue most religiously. She has a fool; a natural fool waits on her, that is indeed her pander; to him, at the first, you must be bounteous; whatsoe’er he craves,—be it your hat, cloak, rapier, purse, or such trifle,—give’t, give’t; the night will pay all; and to draw all suspect from pursuing her love for base gain sake. 97
Bid. You can come in wearing valuable gemstones every day. But I need to share some important rules with you that you have to follow very closely. She has a fool; a natural fool who attends her, and he really is her go-between. To him, at first, you must be generous; whatever he asks for—whether it's your hat, cloak, sword, wallet, or some small thing—just give it to him; the night will take care of everything; and to prevent anyone from thinking you are pursuing her love for selfish reasons. sake. 97
Sim. Give’t? by this light, I’ll give’t, were’t—Gain! I care not for her chain of pearl, only her love: gain! The first thing her bounty shall fetch is my blush-colour satin suit from pawn: gain!
Sim. You want it? By this light, I'll give it, if it’s—Great! I don’t care about her pearl necklace, just her love: great! The first thing her generosity will get me back is my blush-colored satin suit from the pawnshop: great!
Bid. When you hear one wind a cornet, she is coming down Saint Mark’s Street: prepare your speech, suck your lips, lighten your spirits, fresh your blood, sleek your cheeks, for now thou shalt be made for ever (a perpetual and eternal gull).
Bid. When you hear someone playing a cornet, she is coming down Saint Mark’s Street: get ready to speak, moisten your lips, lift your spirits, invigorate your blood, smooth your cheeks, because now you will be made forever (a constant fool).
[Exit Bidet.
[Exit Bidet.
Slip. Two stones, man.
Slip. Two rocks, dude.
Sim. Call’d—’tis no matter what. I ha’ the eloquence; I am not to seek, I warrant you.
Sim. Called—it's not important what. I have the skills of persuasion; I'm not lacking, I assure you.
The cornet is winded. Enter Pippo, Bidet; Pippo attired like a merchant’s wife, and Bidet like a fool.
The cornet is blown. Enter Pippo, Bidet; Pippo dressed like a merchant’s wife, and Bidet like a fool.
Sweet lady, Ulysses’ dog, there’s a stone called—— O Lord! what shall I say?
Sweet lady, Ulysses’ dog, there’s a stone called—— Oh Lord! what should I say?
Slip. Is all your eloquence come to this?
Slip. Is this all your smooth talk amounts to?
Sim. The glorious radiant of your glimmering eyes, your glittering beauties blind my wit, and dazzle my——
Sim. The glorious shine of your sparkling eyes, your dazzling beauty overwhelms my thoughts and dazzles myUnderstood! Please provide the text you'd like modernized.
Pip. I’ll put on my mask, and please you; pray you, wink, pray you. 121
Pip. I'll put on my mask, and for your sake; I ask you, just wink, I ask you. 121
Bid. O fine man! my mistress loves you best. I dreamt you ga’ me this sword and dagger. I love your hat and feather, O——
Bid. Oh, what a wonderful man! My mistress loves you the most. I dreamt that you gave me this sword and dagger. I love your hat and feather, ohUnderstood. Please provide the text you would like to be modernized.
Sim. Do not cry, man; do not cry, man: thou shalt ha’ them. Ay, and they were——
Sim. Don’t cry, man; don’t cry, man: you’ll get them. Yeah, and they werePlease provide the text you would like me to modernize.
Bid. O, that purse, with all the white pence in it! Fine man! I love you! Give you the fine red pence soon at night? He! I thank you: where’s the fool now? 130
Bid. Oh, that wallet, filled with all those coins! Great guy! I really like you! Should I give you the nice red coins later tonight? Ha! Thanks a lot; where's the idiot now? 130
Sim. He has all my money; I have to keep myself, and——
Sim. He has all my money; I have to support myself, andUnderstood. Please provide the text for me to modernize.
Slip. Poght!
Slip. Oops!
Qua. [within]. What, Simplicius!
What’s up, Simplicius!
Sim. I come, Quadratus. Gentlemen, as yet I can but thank you; but I must be trusted for my ordinary soon at night: or stay, I’ll— The fool has unfurnish’d me; but ’twill come again, good bye. 141
Sim. I'm here, Quadratus. Gentlemen, for now, I can only thank you; but soon I’ll show you my usual self at night: or wait, I’ll— The fool has left me unprepared; but it’ll come back, good bye. 141
Qua. [within]. What, ho! Simplicius!
Qua. [inside]. Hey, Simplicius!
Sim. Good bye, good boys. I come, I come, good bye,[550] good boys.
Sim. Goodbye, good boys. I'm coming, I'm coming, goodbye,[550] good boys.
[Exit.
Exit.
Bid. The fool shall wait on thee. Now, do I merit to be yclept, Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet? Who, who has any square dice?
Bid. The fool will wait for you. Now, do I deserve to be called, Bosphoros Carmelydon Honorificacuminos Bidet? Who, who has any regular dice?
Pip. Marry, sir, that have I.
Pip. Yes, I do.
Bid. Thou shalt lose thy share for it in our purchase.[551]
Bid. You will lose your share in our purchase because of it.[551]
Pip. I pray you now, pray you now. 150
Pip. I'm asking you now, please.
Bid. Sooner the whistle[552] of a mariner
Shall sleek the rough curbs of the ocean back.—
Now speak I like myself: thou shalt lose thy share.
Enter Quadratus, Laverdure, and Celia; Simplicius, Meletza, Lyzabetta, Lucia, and Lampatho.
Enter Quadratus, Laverdure, and Celia; Simplicius, Meletza, Lyzabetta, Lucia, and Lampatho.
Pip. Ha! take all, then. Ha!
Pip. Ha! Take everything, then. Ha!
Qua. Without cloak, or hat, or rapier? Fie!
Qua. Without a cloak, hat, or sword? Seriously!
Bid. Mistress Perpetuana’s fool.
Bid. Mistress Perpetuana's jester.
Sim. Mistress Perpetuana’s fool! Ha, ha! there lies a jest. Signor, the fool promised me he would not leave me. 161
Sim. Mistress Perpetuana’s fool! Haha! That’s a joke. Sir, the fool promised me he wouldn’t leave me. 161
Bid. I know the fool well. He will stick to you: does not use to forsake any youth that is enamour’d on another man’s wife; he strives to keep company with a crimson satin suit continually; he loves to be all one with a critic; a good wit, self-conceited, a hawk-bearer, a dog-keeper, and great with the nobility; he doats upon a mere scholar, an honest flat fool; but, above all, he is all one with a fellow whose cloak hath a better inside than his outside, and his body richer lined than his brain. 171
Bid. I know that idiot well. He’ll cling to you; he never abandons any guy who's infatuated with another man's wife. He always hangs out in his crimson satin suit; he loves to align himself with critics; he’s witty, full of himself, a bird of prey handler, a dog owner, and tight with the aristocracy. He’s infatuated with a mere scholar, a truly simple fool; but above all, he’s just like a guy whose coat is nicer on the inside than on the outside, and his body’s better lined than his brain. 171
Sim. Uds so! I am cozened.
Uds so! I am fooled.
Pip. Pray you, master, pardon me; I must lose my share.
Pip. Please, sir, forgive me; I have to give up my part.
Sim. Give me my purse again.
Give me my purse back.
Bid. You gave it me, and I’ll keep’t.
Bid. You gave it to me, and I’ll hold onto it.
Qua. Well done, my honest crack, thou shalt be my ingle for’t.
Qua. Good job, my honest friend, you’ll be my light for it.
Lav. He shall keep all, maugre thy beardless chin, thy eyes. 180
Lav. He will keep everything, despite your lack of a beard and your eyes. 180
Sim. I may go starve till midsummer quarter.
Sim. I might starve until the middle of summer.
Qua. Fool! Get thee hence.
Qua. Fool! Get out of here.
Pip. I’ll to school again, that I will: I left in ass in presenti, and I’ll begin in ass in presenti; and so good night, fair gentry.
Pip. I’m going back to school, that’s for sure: I left in ass in presenti, and I’ll start in ass in presenti; and so good night, nice folks.
[Exit Pippo.
[Leave Pippo.
Qua.
The triple idiot’s coxcomb crown[553] thee,
Bitter epigrams confound thee;
Cuckold be whene’er thou bride thee;
Through every comic scene be drawn;
Never come thy clothes from pawn; 190
Never may thy shame be sheathed,
Never kiss a wench sweet-breathed.
[Cornets sound.
Cornets play.
Enter as many Pages with torches as you can; Randolfo, Andrea,[554] Jacomo bare-headed; the Duke with attendants.
Enter as many Pages with torches as you can; Randolfo, Andrea, [554] Jacomo without hats; the Duke with his attendants.
Ran.
Cease! the duke approacheth: ’tis almost night,
For the duke’s up: now begins his day.
Come, grace his entrance. Lights! lights! Now ’gins our play.
Ran.
Wait! The duke is approaching: it's getting close to night,
The duke is awake: his day is beginning now.
Come on, let’s make his entrance memorable. Lights! Lights! Now our show is starting.
Duke. Still these same bawling pipes: sound softer strains!
Slumber our sense: tut! these are vulgar strains.
Cannot your trembling wires throw a chain
Of powerful rapture ’bout our mazèd sense?
Why is our chair thus cushion’d tapestry, 200
Why is our bed tirèd with wanton sports,
Why are we clothed in glistering attires,
If common bloods can hear, can feel,
Can sit as soft, lie as lascivious,
Strut[555] all as rich as the greatest potentate:—
Soul! and you cannot feast my thristing[556] ears
With aught but what the lip of common birth can taste,
Take all away; your labour’s idly waste.
What sport for night?
Duke. These loud pipes again: can’t they play something quieter?
Let’s give our senses a break: ugh! this is just noise.
Can’t your shaking strings make a captivating
A series of strong emotions for our bewildered minds?
Why is our chair covered in fancy fabric? 200
Why is our bed filled with pleasurable comforts,
Why are we wearing shiny clothes,
If regular people can hear and feel,
Can sit comfortably, lie provocatively,
Strut__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ with as much confidence as the most powerful ruler.
Soul! And you can’t quench my thirsty__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ ears.
With anything beyond what an average person can enjoy,
Let go of everything; your efforts are in vain.
What's the fun in the evening?
Lam. A comedy, entitled Temperance. 210
A comedy called Temperance.
Duke. What sot elects that subject for the court?
What should dame Temperance do here? Away!
The itch on Temperance, your moral play!
Duke. Who picks that topic for the court?
What is Lady Temperance doing here? Just leave!
The frustration with Temperance, your moral performance!
Qua. Duke, prince, royal blood!—thou that hast the best means to be damn’d of any lord in Venice;—thou great man! let me kiss thy flesh. I am fat,[557] and therefore faithful; I will do that which few of thy subjects do,—love thee: but I will never do that which all thy subjects do,—flatter thee thy humour’s real, good. A comedy! 220
Qua. Duke, prince, royal blood!—you have the best chance of being damned of any lord in Venice;—you great man! let me kiss your flesh. I am fat,[557] and so I am loyal; I will do what few of your subjects do,—love you: but I will never do what all your subjects do,—flatter you. Your humor’s real, good. A comedy!
No, and thy sense would banquet in delights
Appropriate to the blood of emperors,
Peculiar to the state of majesty,
That none can relish but dilated greatness,
Vouchsafe to view the structure of a scene
That stands on tragic solid passion.
O that’s fit traffic to commerce with births,
Strain’d from the mud of base unable brains!
Give them a scene may force their struggling blood
Rise up on tiptoe in attention, 230
And fill their intellect with pure elixed wit;
O that’s for greatness apt, for princes fit!
No, and your senses would indulge in pleasures.
Worthy of emperors' lineage,
Exclusive to royal status,
Only those of high stature can genuinely appreciate,
Please check out the setup of a scene.
Rooted in profound, passionate tragedy.
Oh, that’s a suitable task to connect with origins,
Born from the murky waters of shallow thinking!
Give them a scene that gets their adrenaline pumping.
Stand up and pay attention, 230
And fill their minds with sharp, clear humor;
Oh, that’s perfect for greatness, fit for royalty!
Qua. Dare! Yes, my prince, I dare;—nay, more, I will.
And I’ll present a subject worth thy soul;—
The honour’d end of Cato Utican.
Qua. I will! Yes, my prince, I will;—actually, I will do even more.
And I’ll present a topic that's worth your very essence;—
The esteemed end of Cato of Utica.
Duke. Who’ll personate him?
Duke. Who will play him?
Qua. Marry, that will I, on sudden, without change.
Qua. Sure, I will do that right away, without any hesitation.
Duke. Thou want’st a beard. 240
Duke. You want a beard.
Qua. Tush! a beard ne’er made Cato, though many
men’s Cato hang only on their chin.
Suppose this floor the city Utica,
The time the night that prolonged Cato’s death;
Now being placed ’mong his philosophers,
These first discourse the soul’s eternity.
Qua. Nonsense! A beard doesn’t define Cato, even though many men think their Catos rest just on their chins.
Imagine this floor represents the city of Utica,
The night that followed Cato’s death;
Now with his philosophers,
These initially discuss the eternity of the soul.
Jaco. Cato grants that, I am sure, for he was valiant and honest, which an epicure ne’er was, and a coward never will be.
Jaco. Cato agrees, I'm sure, because he was brave and honest, traits that an epicure never has, and a coward never will.
Qua. Then Cato holds a distinct notion 250
Of individual actions after death.
This being argued, his resolve maintains
A true magnanimous spirit should give up dirt
To dirt, and with his own flesh dead his flesh,
’Fore chance should force it crouch unto his foe;
To kill one’s self, some ay, some hold it no.
O these are points would entice away one’s soul
To break indenture of base prenticage,
Qua. So Cato firmly believes 250
Afterlife individual actions.
In this debate, he contends that a genuinely noble spirit
Should surrender what belongs to the earthly to the earthly,
And with his own body dead, let it be his flesh,
Before chance makes it surrender to his enemy;
Opinions on taking one’s own life vary; some say yes, others say no.
Oh, these are issues that could lure one's soul.
To escape the limitations of a menial apprenticeship,
Enter Francisco.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. My liege, my royal liege, hear, hear my suit.
Fran. My lord, my noble lord, please listen to my request.
Qua. Now may thy breath ne’er smell sweet as long as thy lungs can pant, for breaking my speech, thou Muscovite! thou stinking perfumer! 266
Qua. From now on, may your breath never smell sweet for as long as you can breathe, for interrupting my speech, you Muscovite! You foul perfumer!
Enter Albano.
Enter Albano.
Duke. Is not this Albano, our sometimes courtier?
Duke. Isn't this Albano, our occasional courtier?
Fran. No, troth, but Francisco, your always perfumer.
Fran. No, really, but Francisco, you’re always the one with the scent.
Alb. Lorenzo Celso, our brave Venice Duke, Albano Belletzo, thy merchant, thy soldier, thy courtier, thy slave, thy anything, thy What thou Wilt, kisseth thy noble blood. Do me right, or else I am canonized a cuckold! canonized a cuckold! I am abused!—I am abused!—my wife’s abused!—my clothes abused!—my shape,—my house,—my all,—abused! I am sworn out of myself,—beated out of myself,—baffled,—jeer’d at,—laugh’d at,—barred my own house,—debarr’d my own wife!—whilst others swill my wines,—gormandize my meat, meat,—kiss my wife!—O gods! O gods! O gods! O gods! O gods! 280
Alb. Lorenzo Celso, our brave Duke of Venice, Albano Belletzo, your merchant, your soldier, your courtier, your servant, whatever you want—kissing your noble blood. Treat me right, or else I’ll be branded a fool! Branded a fool! I’m getting hurt!—I’m getting hurt!—my wife’s getting hurt!—my clothes are ruined!—my figure,—my house,—everything,—ruined! I feel like I’m not myself anymore,—beaten out of my own skin,—mocked,—laughed at,—locked out of my own house,—shut out from my own wife!—while others drink my wine,—stuff themselves with my food,—kiss my wife!—Oh gods! Oh gods! Oh gods! Oh gods! Oh gods!
Lav. Who is’t? Who is’t?
Lav. Who's that? Who's that?
Cel. Come, sweet, this is your waggery, i’faith; as if you knew him not.
Cel. Come on, sweet, this is your joke, I swear; as if you didn’t know him.
Lav. Yes, I fear I do too well: would I could slide away invisible.
Lav. Yes, I’m afraid I do know too well: I wish I could just disappear without a trace.
Duke. Assured this is he.
Duke. I'm sure this is him.
Duke. Art sure ’tis true?
Duke. Is art really true?
Mel. ’Tis confess’d ’tis right.
Mel. It's confessed it's right.
Alb. Ay, ’tis right, ’tis true; right; I am a fiddler, a fiddler, a fiddler,—uds fut! a fiddler. I’ll not believe thee; thou art a woman: and ’tis known, veritas non quærit angulos, truth seeks not to lurk under varthingalls; veritas non quærit angulos; a fiddler?
Alb. Yes, it's true; it's true; yes, I’m a fiddler, a fiddler, a fiddler—good grief! a fiddler. I won't believe you; you're a woman: and it's known, truth doesn’t hide in corners; truth doesn’t hide in corners; a fiddler?
Lav. Worthy sir, pardon; and permit me first to confess [to] yourself,—your deputation[558] dead, hath made my love live, to offend you. 301
Lav. Worthy sir, I'm sorry; let me first confess to you—your delegation[558] is dead, yet it has made my love live, to offend you. 301
Alb. Ay, mock on,—scoff on,—flout on,—do, do, do.
Alb. Yeah, keep mocking—keep scoffing—keep ridiculing—go on, go on, go on.
Lav. Troth, sir, in serious.
Lav. Really, sir, seriously.
Alb. Ay, good, good; come hither, Celia.
Burst, breast! rive, heart, asunder! Celia,
Why startest thou back? Seest thou this, Celia?
O me!
How often, with lascivious touch, thy lip
Hath kissed this mark? How oft this much-wrong’d breast
Hath borne the gentle weight of thy soft cheek? 310
Alb. Alright, great, great; come over here, Celia.
Break, heart! Tear, heart, apart! Celia,
Why are you holding back? Do you see this, Celia?
Oh no!
How many times, with eager touch, have your lips
Kissed this spot? How often has this hurt breast
Did you feel the gentle weight of your soft cheek? 310
Cel. O me, my dearest lord,—my sweet, sweet love!
Cel. Oh, my dearest lord—my sweet, sweet love!
Alb. What, a fiddler,—a fiddler? now thy love?
I am sure thou scorn’st it; nay, Celia, I could tell
What, on the night before I went to sea,
And took my leave, with hymeneal rites,
What thou lisped
Into my ear, a fiddler and perfumer now!
Alb. What, a fiddler—seriously? That's who you love?
I’m sure you think it’s beneath you; come on, Celia, I could see that.
What you said quietly
The night before I went to sea, I heard in my ear,
And said my goodbyes during the wedding ceremonies,
What you said
Now I have a fiddler and a perfumer in my ear!
And.[559] And——
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ And
Ran. Dear brother.
Dear bro.
Jaco. Most respected signior;
Believe it, by the sacred end of love, 320
What much, much wrong hath forced your patience,
Proceeded from most dear affièd love,
Devoted to your house.
Jaco. Most respected sir;
Trust me, by the sacred bond of love, 320
So much has gone wrong that it has tested your patience.
Made worse by the love that you cherish,
Stay loyal to your family.
And.[559] Believe it, brother.
And.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ You gotta believe it, bro.
Jaco. Nay, yourself, when you shall hear the occurrences, will say ’tis happy, comical.
Jaco. No, you will say that it’s amusing and fortunate when you hear what happened.
Ran. Assure thee, brother.
I assure you, brother.
Alb. Shall I be brave? Shall I be myself now? Love, give me thy love; brothers, give me your breasts; French knight, reach me thy hand; perfumer, thy fist. Duke, I invite thee; love, I forgive thee; Frenchman, I hug thee. I’ll know all,—I’ll pardon all,—and I’ll laugh at all!
Alb. Should I be brave? Should I be myself now? Love, give me your love; brothers, let me feel your support; French knight, lend me your hand; perfumer, your fist. Duke, I invite you; love, I forgive you; Frenchman, I embrace you. I’ll understand everything—I’ll forgive everything—and I’ll laugh at everything!
[Albano and his brothers talk apart.
Albano and his brothers talk aside.
Qua. And I’ll curse you all!—O ye ha’ interrupt a scene! 334
Qua. And I’ll curse you all!—Oh, you have interrupted a scene! 334
Duke. Quadratus, we will hear these points discuss’d,
With apter and more calm affected hours.
Duke. Quadratus, we'll talk about these points,
In more suitable and casual moments.
Qua. Well, good, good.
Qua. Alright, sounds good.
Alb. Was’t even so? I’faith, why then, capricious mirth,
Skip light moriscoes in our frolic blood,[560]
Flagg’d veins, sweat,[561] plump with fresh-infusèd joys!
Laughter, pucker our cheeks, make shoulders shog
With chucking lightness! Love, once more thy lips!
For ever clasp our hands, our hearts, our crests! 343
Thus front, thus eyes, thus cheek, thus all shall meet!
Shall clip, shall hug, shall kiss, my dear, dear sweet!
Duke, wilt thou see me revel? Come, love, dance
Court, gallants, court; suck amorous dalliance!
Alb. Is that really true? Honestly, if it is, let’s have some fun!
Jump around with cheerful excitement in our veins,[560]
Heart racing, excitement growing, filled with pure joy!
Laughter, stretching our cheeks, making our shoulders shake
With joy! Darling, let’s kiss again!
Let’s hold hands and unite our hearts and spirits! 343
With these eyes and these cheeks, we’ll come together!
We'll embrace, we'll hug, we'll kiss, my dear sweet one!
Duke, do you want to see me celebrate? Come on, babe, let’s dance.
Gather around, everyone; enjoy some loving affection!
Lam. Beauty, your heart!
Lam. Your heart is beautiful!
Mel. First, sir, accept my hands:
She leaps too rash that falls in sudden bands.
Mel. First, sir, hold my hands:
She jumps too recklessly and gets trapped unexpectedly.
Lam. Shall I despair? Never will I love more! 350
Lam. Should I give up hope? I will never love more! 350
Mel. No sea so boundless vast but hath a shore.
Mel. No sea is so infinitely wide that it doesn't have a shore.
Qua. Why, marry me;
Thou canst have but soft flesh, good blood, sound bones;
And that which fills up all your bracks,—good stones.
Qua. Why, marry me;
You can only achieve soft skin, healthy blood, and strong bones;
And what fills all your gaps? Good gems.
Lyz. Stones, trees, and beasts, in love still firmer prove
Than man; I’ll none; no hold-fasts in your loves.
Lyz. Rocks, trees, and animals express a love that's even stronger.
I want nothing to do with it; no clingy attachments in your feelings.
Lav. Since not the mistress,—come on, faith, the maid!
Lav. Since she’s not the lady—come on, really, it’s the maid!
Alb. Ten thousand duckets, too, to boot, are laid.
Alb. There are also ten thousand ducats thrown in as well.
Lav. Why, then, wind cornets, lead on, jolly lad.
Lav. Then, come on, play your cornets and lead the way, cheerful guy.
Alb. Excuse me, gallants, though my legs lead wrong,
’Tis my first footing; wind out nimble tongue. 361
Alb. Sorry, everyone, even if I'm stumbling around,
It’s my first time here; I hope my quick wit stands out. 361
Duke. ’Tis well, ’tis well:—how shall we spend this night?
Duke. It’s great, it’s great:—how should we spend this evening?
Alb. I home invite you all. Come, sweet, sweet wife.
My liege, vouchsafe thy presence.
Drink, till the ground look blue, boy!
Alb. I invite everyone to my house. Come on, my dear, lovely wife.
Sir, please be here.
Drink until the ground looks blue, kid!
Qua. Live still in springing hopes, still in fresh new joys!—
May your loves happy hit in fair-cheek’d wives, 370
Your flesh still plump with sapp’d restoratives.
That’s all my honest frolic heart can wish.
A fico for the mew and envious pish!
Till night, I wish good food and pleasing day;
But then sound rest. So ends our slight-writ play.
Qua. Keep living with hopeful dreams, still filled with new joys!—
May your romances lead you to wonderful wives, 370
Your bodies are still full of life-giving nourishment.
That's everything my genuine and playful heart can hope for.
A curse on the jealous and small-minded people!
Until night, I wish you good food and a great day;
But then, a good rest. So concludes our little play.
[Exeunt.
[Exit.
Deo op: max: gratias.
God bless: maximum thanks.
END OF VOL. II.
END OF VOL. II.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
[539] From the Battle of Alcazar, 1594 (attributed to Peele):—“Feed then and faint not, fair Calipolis.” Pistol in 2 Henry IV. quotes the line as it is given by Marston.
[539] From the Battle of Alcazar, 1594 (attributed to Peele):—“So go on and don't lose heart, beautiful Calipolis.” Pistol in 2 Henry IV. quotes the line as it is given by Marston.
[541]
i.e., cover or embroider thickly. Cf. Guilpin’s Skialetheia, epigr.
53:—
“He wears a jerkin cudgell’d with gold lace,
A profound slop, a hat scarce pipkin-high.”
[541]
i.e., cover or heavily embellish. Cf. Guilpin’s Skialetheia, epigr.
53:—
“He wears a jacket beaten with gold lace,
“Very deep pants and a hat that's almost as tall as a cooking pot.”
[542] Half-a-crown was a somewhat extravagant price for an ordinary. Two shillings or eighteenpence was the usual price for a good ordinary.
[542] Half a crown was a bit of a splurge for a regular meal. Two shillings or eighteen pence was the typical cost for a decent meal.
[543] Hatch’d sword was a sword with an engraved hilt.
[543] Hatch’d sword was a sword with a carved handle.
[544] See note, vol. i. p. 36.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See note, vol. 1, p. 36.
[545] Cheator was a cant term for a rogue who made his living by cheating at dice.—“Cheating Law—or the art of winning money by false dice: those that practise this study call themselves cheators, the dice cheaters, and the money which they purchase cheats.”—Dekker’s Bellman of London (Works, ed. Grosart, iii. 117).
[545] Cheator was slang for a crook who earned a living by cheating at dice.—“Cheating Law—or the skill of winning money through dishonest dice: those who practice this skill refer to themselves as cheators, the dice cheaters, and the money they acquire is called cheats.”—Dekker’s Bellman of London (Works, ed. Grosart, iii. 117).
[546] Throws at dice.
Rolls dice.
[547] “He was wrapt up in the tail of his mother’s smock,—saying of any one remarkable for his success with the ladies.”—Grose’s Class. Dict. of the Vulgar Tongue.
[547] “He was wrapped up in the tail of his mother’s dress,—referring to someone notable for his success with women.”—Grose’s Class. Dict. of the Vulgar Tongue.
[548] i.e., copiousness.—Ben Jonson was fond of using the word copy in this sense.
[548] i.e., abundance.—Ben Jonson liked to use the word copy in this way.
[549] Simplicius seems to be trying to recall some passage of Euphues.
[549] Simplicius appears to be attempting to remember a part of Euphues.
[550] Old eds. “boyes.”
Old editions "boys."
[551] Plunder.
Loot.
[552] “This may be an allusion,” says Dilke, “to a superstition still existing in a degree among sailors, that to whistle during a storm will increase its violence.” No such allusion is intended. The “whistle” is the boatswain’s whistle.
[552] “This might be a reference,” says Dilke, “to a superstition that still somewhat exists among sailors, that whistling during a storm will make it worse.” No such reference is meant. The “whistle” is the boatswain’s whistle.
[553] Old eds. “crownes.”
Old eds. “crownes.”
[554] Old eds. “Adrian.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Adrian.”
[555] Ed. 1. “stut.”
“stut.”
[556] Ed. 2. “thirsting.”—Spenser has thrist and thristy (for thirst and thirsty).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ed. 2. “thirsting.”—Spenser has thrist and thristy (for thirst and thirsty).
[557] Cf. Jul. Ceas., i. 2:—“Let me have men about me that are fat,” &c.
[557] Cf. Jul. Ceas., i. 2:—“I want to be surrounded by people who are successful,” &c.
[559] Old eds. “Adri.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Old eds. “Adri.”
[560] Cf. Second Part of Antonio and Mellida, v. 2:—
[560] Cf. Second Part of Antonio and Mellida, v. 2:—
“Force the plump-lipp’d god
Skip light lavoltas in your full-sapp’d veins.”
"Create the rosy-lipped god"
"Skip lightly through your veins filled with richness."
[561] Old eds. “sweete” and “sweet.”
Old eds. “sweete” and “sweet.”
INDEX.
- Abhominable, ii. 219
- Accourt, i. 52
- Accoustrements, iii. 261
- Accustrements, i. 24
- Achelous, ii. 144
- Actors (two or more parts taken by one actor), i. 8
- Adamant softened by goat’s blood, iii. 151
- Aderliver, ii. 18
- Admiral, iii. 84
- Adore and adorn (confusion between), iii. 362
- Ægina, iii. 290
- Affects (= affections), i. 119, 160
- A-jax, ii. 368; iii. 377
- Allay, ii. 73
- All-canning, iii. 263, 335
- Aloune (Fr. allons), ii. 355
- Ambages, iii. 173
- Anatomy, iii. 139, 236
- Ancome, iii. 51
- And ever she cried Shoot home, iii. 15
- Anechou e apechou, ii. 176
- An-end, iii. 164
- Aphrodisiacs, i. 239
- Apple-squire, ii. 383
- Aporn, ii. 65
- Apostata, iii. 220
- Approvement, i. 189
- Apricock, ii. 130
- Aquinian, iii. 327
- Aretine, Puttana Errante falsely ascribed to, iii. 377;
- Aretine’s Pictures, iii. 275
- Aristotle quoted, iii. 329;
- Aristotle’s Problems, i. 152
- Armed Epilogue, i. 93
- Assay (“give me assay”), i. 64
- Assured, i. 109
- At all, iii. 318
- Aunt, ii. 14
- Babies, iii. 362
- Babion, iii. 364
- Bable, i. 85, 158; ii. 69
- Bacchis, iii. 356
- Backside, iii. 101
- Bacon, Friar, ii. 125
- Badged coach, iii. 350
- Baffle, ii. 401
- Baldessar Castiglione, i. 222; iii. 264
- Bale of dice, ii. 382
- Balloon, iii. 17
- Bankrout, i. 138
- Banks, i. 21
- Barbary sugar, ii. 360
- Barksteed, William, iii. 243
- Barmy froth, iii. 339
- Barnes, Barnabe, iii. 358
- Bases, iii. 153
- Basilisco, ii. 348
- Basilus manus, iii. 192
- Basket (for collecting food for poor prisoners), iii. 111
- Bastard, Thomas, quoted by Marston, Addenda, vol. i.
- Battle fate, ii. 350
- Bawbees, i. 204
- Bayard (“bold as blind Bayard”), ii. 324
- Beaking, i. 133
- Bear a brain, ii. 60, 124
- Bear no coals, i. 168
- Beat, i. 146
- Beaver, iii. 350
- Becco, i. 214, 287
- Beg for a fool, i. 233; ii. 347; iii. 217
- Beggar-wench, jest about, iii. 302
- Bel and the Dragon, ii. 131
- Belly-cheer, iii. 366
- Bescumber, iii. 363
- Bessicler’s armour, i. 30
- Bewray and beray, i. 114; ii. 359
- Bezel, i. 240; iii. 275, 349
- Black ox trod o’ my foot, iii. 119
- Blackfriars, feather-makers reside at, i. 202;
- Blackfriars’ Theatre, i. 199
- Black-guard, ii. 182
- Blacks, ii. 339
- Blacksaunt, iii. 347
- Blind Gew, i. 13
- Blue coat, iii. 50, 301
- Books called in, ii. 48
- Boot-carouse, iii. 275
- Borage in wine, iii. 394
- Bottle-ale (term of reproach), iii. 339
- Brack, i. 9, 140
- Bragot, ii. 101
- Braided, iii. 325, 337
- Brakes, i. 320
- Brasil, iii. 272
- Brides serenaded on the morning after their wedding, ii. 389
- Brill, iii. 348
- Brittany, i. 26
- Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, ii. 197; iii. 151, 241
- Budge, iii. 346, 368
- Buffin, iii. 14
- Bully, i. 79; ii. 353
- Burbage, Richard, i. 201
- Burbolt, ii. 323
- Burgonian’s ward, iii. 373
- Buried treasure, iii. 219
- Burn, iii. 241
- Busk, i. 9
- Busk-point, i. 274; iii. 255
- Buss, ii. 90
- But a little higher, &c., Addenda, vol. i.
- Cable-hatband, i. 31
- Cables (used as a protection from the fire of the enemy), i. 30
- Camomile (“mount like camomile”), ii. 144
- Campion, Thomas, Addenda, vol. i.
- Cant, i. 132
- Carpet-boy, i. 20
- Carry coals, i. 288
- Carver (“you’re a cunning carver”), iii. 141
- Case (kaze), ii. 11
- Case (= covering), iii. 109
- Case of rapiers, i. 30
- Cast o’ ladies, i. 238
- Castilio, i. 222; iii. 264
- Casting-bottle, i. 13
- Catso, i. 216, 304, &c.
- Censure, i. 202; ii. 255, 323
- Chamlet, ii. 345
- Chaun, i. 46
- Cheat-bread, iii. 103
- Cheator, ii. 406
- Cherries at an angel a pound, iii. 15
- Chittizen, iii. 19
- Chopines, ii. 50
- Christ-Church Parish, iii. 12
- Chuck (term of endearment), iii. 104
- Cinædian, iii. 310
- Cinquepace, iii. 268
- Cipres, i. 258
- Cittern-heads, iii. 301
- Claw, i. 105
- Clerkenwell, ii. 16
- Close fight, i. 24
- Clove-stuck face, iii. 348
- Clumsy, i. 99
- Clutch, i. 144
- Cluttered, i. 120; iii. 356
- Coast, i. 312
- Cockatrice, i. 301; ii. 18; iii. 224
- Codpis, iii. 273
- Cog a die, i. 48
- Coistered, i. 293
- Collogue, i. 302
- Colour de roy, i. 111
- Come aloft Jack-an-apes, i. 214
- Come on five, iii. 318
- Commodities (“take up commodities”), i. 305, &c.
- Common-place book out of plays, iii. 372
- Complements, i. 233
- Consort, iii. 432
- Convey, ii. 387
- Copy, ii. 408
- Coranto, i. 32
- Corbed, i. 130
- Cork shoe, i. 81
- Cornish daws, iii. 332
- Coronel, iii. 212
- Corsive, iii. 151
- Cote, i. 167
- Crab’s baked guts, i. 239; iii. 320
- Crack (pert boy), ii. 383
- Creak’s noise, ii. 45
- Cressit light, i. 41
- Cross-bite, ii. 381, 387
- Crowds, ii. 373
- Crudled, i. 26
- Cuckold’s haven, iii. 68
- Cuckquean, ii. 377
- Cullion, i. 206; iii. 89
- Cullisses, ii. 141
- Culvering, iii. 365
- Curson’d, i. 55
- Curtain Theatre, Romeo and Juliet performed at, iii. 373
- Custard (“let custards quake”), iii. 312
- Cut (“in the old cut”), i. 11
- Cut and long tail, iii. 10
- Cutter, ii. 401
- Cutting, ii. 45
- Cyllenian, iii. 274
- Dametas, iii. 268
- Daniel the Prophet, ii. 150; iii. 341
- Daniel, Samuel, iii. 283
- Day (“let him have day”), ii. 8
- Day, John, his Humour out of Breath dedicated to Signior Nobody, i. 5;
- quotation from his Isle of Gulls, i. 289
- Death o’ sense, ii. 158
- Death’s head on rings, ii. 16
- Decimo sexto, i. 203
- Defend (“God defend!”), i. 204
- Demosthenes paid for his silence, ii. 152
- Denier, iii. 315
- Depaint, i. 90; iii. 271
- Deprave, ii. 126
- Diet, ii. 370;
- diet-drink, ii. 15
- Diety, ii. 24
- Digby, Sir Everard, ii. 193
- Dilling, ii. 344; iii. 10
- Ding, i. 11, 166; iii. 282
- Diogenes the Cynic, scandalous story about, iii. 319
- Dipsas, i. 238
- Discreet number, iii. 314
- Disgest, i. 140, 146, 161; ii. 179
- Divines and dying men may talk of hell, &c., iii. 225
- Division, i. 48, 81
- Do me right and dub me knight, i. 81
- Donne’s verses On a Flea on his Mistress’ Bosom, iii. 359
- Donzel del Phebo, i. 300
- Dowland, John, his First Book of Songs quoted, iii. 14, 55
- Drake’s ship at Deptford, iii. 59
- Drayton, Michael, iii. 283, 363
- Drink drunk, iii. 84
- Dropsy-noul, iii. 340
- Dun cow with a kettle on her head, i. 72
- Durance, iii. 15
- Dutch ancients, iii. 351
- Eager, ii. 73
- Eastward Ho! iii. 5;
- satirical reflections on the Scots, iii. 65
- Ela (“I have strained a note above Ela”), i. 86
- Enagonian, iii. 336
- Enginer, iii. 97
- Enhanceress, ii. 15
- Epictetus, saying of, ii. 176
- Erasmus, resemblance between a passage of his Colloquies and passage of First Part of Antonio and Mellida, i. 62
- Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, ii. 117
- Estro, ii. 156
- Euphues, ii. 69
- Fact, ii. 95; iii. 224
- Fage, iii. 308
- Fair, iii. 350
- Falls, iii. 267
- False lights, iii. 337
- Family of Love, ii. 13
- Far fet and dear bought is good for ladies, i. 306
- Fart (“get a fart from a dead man”), iii. 90
- Fawn, ii. 115
- Feak, iii. 265
- Fear (= frighten), ii. 158
- Fear no colours, iii. 153
- Featherbeds used in naval engagements as a protection against the fire of the enemy, i. 30
- Feature, iii. 251
- Feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis, ii. 404
- Fencing, terms in, iii. 373
- Fere, iii. 225
- Fetch, i. 127
- Fever-lurdens, iii. 420
- Fico, ii. 133; iii. 320
- Figent, iii. 60
- Fin (“the fin of his eyes”), i. 214
- Fist, ii. 42, 73, 82; iii. 90
- Flap-dragon, ii. 70
- Flat-cap, ii. 32; iii. 11
- Fleam, i. 230
- Fleamy, i. 133
- Flushing, i. 234
- Flyboat, i. 87
- Foisting-hound, iii. 41
- Foot-cloth, i. 213; ii. 153
- Foutra, ii. 32
- Fowl (fool), i. 260
- Frail commodities, iii. 40
- French brawl, ii. 377
- Froe, ii. 13
- Froterer, ii. 384
- Fumatho, ii. 184
- Galleasse, i. 87, 162
- Gallemawfrey, iii. 139
- Gamashes, ii. 344
- Garboil, iii. 356
- Geason, ii. 331, 339
- Gelded vicary, iii. 324, 337
- Gelid and jellied, ii. 291
- Gern, i. 55, 111; ii. 203, 403
- Get-penny, iii. 87
- Gew, the actor, i. 13; Addenda, vol. i.
- Ghosts of misers, iii. 219
- Giants at the Lord Mayor’s pageant, ii. 50
- Gib-cat, ii. 203
- Giglet, ii. 340, 400
- Gilt, iii. 323
- Give arms, iii. 11
- Give further day, ii. 328
- Glaired, iii. 277
- Glassy Priapus, iii. 309
- Glaver, iii. 263, 339
- Glibbery, i. 22
- Glory, ii. 225
- Gnatho, iii. 291
- Goat’s blood, iii. 151
- God you good even, iii. 5; God ye good morrow, ii. 393
- God’s neaks, i. 54
- Gold ends, iii. 28
- Gold-end man, iii. 103
- Goldsmiths’ Row, i. 205
- Good man (= wealthy man), ii. 57
- Goose-turd-green, ii. 47
- Gorget, ii. 260
- Gormand, iii. 327
- Granado netherstocks, iii. 301
- Grand grincome, ii. 31
- Great man’s head, iii. 348
- Gresco, iii. 93
- Griffith, Margaret, i. 233
- Griffon, i. 297
- Grillus, iii. 281
- Ground, i. 37; iii. 142
- Guarded, i. 232; iii. 346
- Guards, ii. 387; iii. 14
- Guilpin, Edward, iii. 287, 367
- Gundolet, i. 57
- Gurnet’s head, iii. 341
- Guzzel dogs, iii. 308
- Half-clam’d, i. 150
- Half-crown ordinary, ii. 406
- Hall, Joseph, iii. 281-6;
- Marston’s imitations of, iii. 310, 320, 323
- Hall (“A hall! a hall!”), iii. 372
- Hamlet, quoted in The Malcontent, i. 201, 264;
- early popularity of, iii. 49, 52;
- imitation of passages from, i. 224; iii. 133, 134, 137, 230
- Hangers, i. 36; ii. 406
- Harvey, John, i. 205
- Hatch short sword, ii. 406
- Hazard, iii. 100
- Head-men, iii. 37
- Healths in urine, ii. 70
- Heathy, i. 15; Addenda, vol. i.
- Hem, ii. 14
- Henry IV., Part I., imitation of passage from, iii. 219
- Herring-bones, iii. 344
- Hey-pass re-pass, ii. 381
- Heywood, Thomas, popularity of his If you know not me you know nobody, iii. 87
- High-lone, i. 172
- High-noll’d, i. 165
- Hipponax, iii. 359
- Hiren (“Hast thou not Hiren here?”), iii. 26
- Hogson, iii. 319
- Hole (part of a prison), iii. 106
- Honorificabilitudinitatibus, ii. 92
- Horn-fair, iii. 72
- Hout, i. 65
- Huddle, i. 213
- Hull, i. 87; ii. 250
- Hyena, iii. 115;
- confused by Marston with the panther, ii. 347
- Hymen represented in a saffron robe, i. 261
- Imagines Deorum, iii. 270
- Imbraid, i. 117, 283
- Incubus, i. 107, 172
- Inductions to plays, i. 7
- Ingenious, ii. 109, 397
- Injury (verb), iii. 381
- Instaur’d, ii. 333
- Intellectual, iii. 372
- Inward, i. 282
- Io! i. 183
- Irishmen, commendable bashfulness of, i. 265
- Italy, vices brought to England from, iii. 275
- Jakes of Lincoln’s Inn, ii. 368
- James I, his Poetical Exercises, iii. 281;
- James’ knights, sneer at, iii. 79
- Jawn, i. 129
- Jellied, i. 114, 126; ii. 291
- Jingling spurs, i. 233
- Jobbernole, iii. 301, 341
- Jones, Robert, quotation from his First Book of Songs and Airs, ii. 33
- Jonson, Ben, compliment to, i. 320;
- Jove (influence of the planet Jupiter), ii. 292
- Judas’ red beard, iii. 166
- Julia (daughter of Augustus), witty saying of, ii. 12
- Julius Cæsar, quoted, iii. 215
- Juvenal imitated, iii. 308-9
- Ka me, ka thee, iii. 30
- Keel, i. 77; ii. 321
- Kempe’s Jig, iii. 372
- King of flames, ii. 292
- King John, quoted, ii. 354
- Kinsing, iii. 369
- Kinsayder, ii. 350
- Knight’s ward, iii. 106
- Knighthood purchased from King James, iii. 79
- Knights of the mew, ii. 322
- Knock, i. 31
- Knurly, i. 166
- Lady-bird, iii. 104
- Lælius Balbus, ii. 130
- Lamb, Charles, his criticisms on Marston, i. 49, 100;
- his remarks on the Decay of Symbols, ii. 338
- Lanch (= lance), ii. 193
- Lanthorn and candle-light, i. 35; iii. 202
- Laver-lip, iii. 291
- Lavolta, i. 183
- Lay, iii. 88
- Lay in lavender, iii. 100
- Leese, iii. 346
- Leg of a lark is better than the body of a kite, iii. 104
- Legend of Lies, ii. 69
- Legs (= bows), iii. 264
- Lemon’s juice, iii. 350
- Lent, consumption of flesh forbidden during, iii. 203
- Leopards, their fondness for wine, iii. 238
- Lettuce, iii. 320
- Lie, ii. 16
- Lindabrides, ii. 55
- Linstock, i. 30
- Lion, curious belief concerning, iii. 237
- London licket, iii. 14
- Long stock, ii. 337
- Loose (“at the loose”), ii. 387
- Los guantes, i. 276
- Lovery, iii. 337
- Lozenges of Sanctified Sincerity, i. 255
- Lugg’d boot, iii. 378
- Lusk, iii. 335, 358
- Luskish, iii. 324
- Lusty Laurence, iii. 289
- Luxuriousness, iii. 349
- M. under your girdle, iii. 92
- Mace, iii. 277
- Main, ii. 406
- Make (“What should we make here?”), iii. 131
- Male lie, iii. 308
- Malice (verb), ii. 40, 91, 109
- Mandragora, iii. 114
- Mandrake, iii. 219
- Mannington, George, his woeful ballad, iii. 118
- March-panes, ii. 373
- Marry faugh, iii. 11
- Marry muff, i. 169
- Martial quoted, ii. 28, 110
- Mary Ambree, i. 22
- Mason’s Mulleasses, allusion to passage of, iii. 31;
- quoted, Addenda, vol. i.
- Maypole (term of abuse), i. 23
- Measure, i. 184, 276; ii. 43
- Measuring, iii. 311
- Merchant of Venice quoted, iii. 34
- Mere, merely, i. 236, 320; ii. 297
- Methodist Musus, iii. 308
- Metreza, i. 213
- Mincing capreal, iii. 372
- Minikin, i. 51, 80
- Minikin-tickler, ii. 401
- Minioning, i. 279
- Mirror of Knighthood, i. 300; ii. 69
- Mirror for Magistrates, iii. 283
- Modern, i. 11; iii. 364
- Monmouth caps, iii. 84
- Month’s mind, iii. 135
- Moorfields (favourite spot for beggars), iii. 13
- More hair than wit, iii. 199
- Mortimer’s numbers, iii. 363
- Motion (= proposal), i. 159; ii. 51, 96; iii. 123
- Motion (= puppet-show), ii. 51
- Mott, iii. 332
- Much (ironical), i. 243, 251, &c.
- Muckender, ii. 359
- Mumchance, ii. 382
- Murr, i. 153; ii. 140
- Muscovy glass, i. 234
- Music-houses, i. 185
- Mycerinus, iii. 243
- Naples’ canker, iii. 309;
- Naples’ pestilence, ii. 349
- Nashe, Thomas, quoted, iii. 48, 225, 273
- Natalis Comes, iii. 270
- Neast (nest) of goblets, ii. 7
- Nectar-skink, ii. 307
- Ne’er-crazed, iii. 355
- Nemis, iii. 289
- Nile, dogs drinking on the bank of, ii. 281
- Nitty, iii. 276, 370
- No point, ii. 77
- Noddy, iii. 189
- Noise, ii. 43
- Nuzzel, ii. 372
- O God, i. 32
- O hone, hone, iii. 98
- O Lord, sir, ii. 30
- Obligation, ii. 57
- Occupant, iii. 300, 349
- Occupation, ii. 219
- O’er-peise, i. 310
- Old cut (= old fashion), i. 11
- One and thirty, iii. 329
- Ophelia, iii. 52
- Ophiogeni, iii. 310
- Outrecuidance, iii. 95
- Owe, ii. 259
- Ox-pith, i. 239
- Packstaff epithets, iii. 338;
- packstaff rhymes, iii. 310
- Pages, their fondness for dicing, ii. 382
- Paize, i. 100, 121; ii. 327
- Palæphatus, iii. 311
- Pale, ii. 287
- Palladium, ii. 252
- Palmerin de Oliva, ii. 69
- Pane, ii. 337; iii. 349
- Pantable, pantofle, i. 29; ii. 382
- Parcel-gilt, ii. 57
- Parkets, ii. 141
- Parmeno (“nothing ad Parmenonis suem”), i. 204
- Parted, iii. 20
- Parthenophil, iii. 358
- Party per pale, ii. 345
- Passion, i. 90
- Pavin, iii. 340
- Peat, ii. 339; iii. 100
- Peele, Gronge, Merry Jests of, i. 40
- Peevish, iii. 254
- Peggy’s complaint for the death of her Willy, ii. 29
- Pepper in the nose, ii. 321
- Peregal, i. 55
- Perfumed jerkin, i. 314
- Perpetuana, ii. 343
- Persius quoted, ii. 111
- Peterman, iii. 38
- Petronel, i. 19
- Physic against Fortune, i. 255
- Pickhatch, iii. 319, 376
- Pill (= peel), i. 99
- Pillowbear, iii. 253
- Pin and the web, iii. 423
- Pirates hanged at Wapping, iii. 91
- Pistol, Ancient (scraps of his rant), iii. 11
- Placket, ii. 383
- Plastic, i. 234
- Plat, i. 54
- Play-bills stuck on posts, iii. 302
- Plunge, i. 105
- Plutarch quoted, ii. 152, 266
- Pole-head, ii. 348
- Pomander, i. 294
- Pommado reversa, iii. 375
- Pompey the huge, i. 214
- Ponado, iii. 42
- Poor John, i. 89
- Popeling, iii. 262
- Porcpisce, iii. 69
- Port Esquiline, iii. 351, 361
- Possessed persons able to speak in various tongues, i. 212
- Poting-stick, i. 308
- Prest, ii. 250; iii. 312
- Priapus’ gardens, iii. 302
- Proface, iii. 303
- Prostitution (= whore), ii. 13
- Protest (use of the word considered affected), ii. 345
- Pudding tobacco, ii. 344
- Pug, i. 29, 152
- Puisne, iii. 300
- Purchase, i. 303; ii. 410
- Purfled, i. 110
- Puritan (cant term for a whore), ii. 383
- Puritans’ ruffs, i. 13
- Put-pin, iii. 362
- Putry, i. 150
- Quelquechose, i. 216
- Quiblin, iii. 60
- Quote, ii. 364
- Ramp, i. 99
- Ramsey, Lady, iii. 87
- Rariety, iii. 213
- Rats of Nilus, iii. 342, 344
- Real (= regal), i. 34
- Reason (raisin), iii. 154
- Rebato, i. 31; iii. 351
- Red lattice, i. 86
- Reez’d bacon, iii. 322
- Remora, iii. 84
- Remorse, i. 21, 90
- Renowmed, ii. 165
- Respective (= respectful), i. 152
- Reverent (= reverend), ii. 292; iii. 29, &c.
- Rhinoceros’ horn, iii. 139
- Ribanded ears, ii. 391; iii. 301
- Richard II., quoted, i. 28;
- imitation of passage from, iii. 146
- Richard III., quoted, i. 47, 48; ii. 349; iii. 344
- Ride at the ring, i. 214
- Riding-wand, iii. 38
- Rings with death’s head, ii. 16
- Ringo-root, iii. 348
- Rivels (= wrinkles), i. 243;
- rivell’d, i. 108; iii. 234
- Rivo, ii. 349, 355
- Roast beef (a “commodity”), iii. 40
- Rochelle churchman, i. 252
- Rodio, iii. 267
- Room, i. 202, 206
- Romeo and Juliet performed at the Curtain Theatre, iii. 373;
- early popularity of, iii. 140
- Rope-maker’s son, ii. 153
- Rosa solis, ii. 45
- Rosemary, iii. 53, 138
- Rosicleer, i. 30, 300
- Ruff, iii. 182
- Ruffled boot, i. 83
- Rug-gowns, ii. 395
- Rutter, ii. 386
- Sacramental wine poisoned, iii. 241
- Sad, sadly, sadness, i. 71; iii. 258, 339
- St. Agnes’ Eve, iii. 141
- Salaminian, iii. 261
- Say (“take say”), ii. 11
- Sconce, i. 236; iii. 84
- Scotch barnacle, i. 256;
- Scotch boot, i. 257;
- Scotch farthingale, iii. 16
- Scots, satirised in Eastward Ho! iii. 64
- Seneca quoted, i. 20, 49, 122, 127, 130, 133, 141, 144-5, 149, 174, 237, 265, 304; ii. 109
- Servant (= suitor, lover), i. 33; ii. 388
- Sest, ii. 374, 402
- Sewer, ii. 135
- Shakespeare, imitated, i. 28, 47, 48, 224; ii. 23, 143, 218; iii. 133, 134, 137, 146, 215, 219, 230;
- burlesqued, i. 206; ii. 349; iii. 344
- Shaking of the sheets, iii. 165
- Shale, ii. 185
- Ship of Fools, ii. 122
- Shirley, James, iii. 344
- Shot-clog, iii. 13
- Si quis, ii. 304
- Sick Man’s Salve, iii. 107
- Siddow, i. 162
- Silver piss-pots, iii. 316
- Sink a-pace (cinquepace), iii. 156
- Sinking thought, i. 106
- Sinklo, the actor, i. 200
- Sip a kiss, i. 91
- Slatted, i. 281
- Sliftred, i. 27
- Slip, i. 81, 111
- Slop, i. 83
- Sluice (“sluiced out his life-blood”), i. 189; iii. 224
- Slur, iii. 371
- Sly, William, i. 199
- Small, ii. 361
- Snaphance, iii. 269, 330
- Snib, i. 264; ii. 353; iii. 379
- Snout-fair, iii. 320
- Snurling, i. 186
- Soil (“take soil”), i. 254
- Soldado, iii. 261, 357
- Sometimes, iii. 282
- Sophocles’ Antigone quoted, i. 128
- Souse, i. 279
- Southwell, Robert, iii. 281
- Spanish blocks, iii. 301
- Spanish leather, ii. 7
- Spanish Tragedy, i. 121, 168; iii. 12, 26, 28
- Speak pure fool, i. 85
- Speeding-place, ii. 333
- Spiders eaten by monkeys, i. 213
- Spur-royals, i. 109
- Spurs (jingling spurs affected by gallants), i. 233
- Squibs running on lines, ii. 121
- Stabb’d arms, ii. 70
- Stage, custom of gallants to sit (and smoke) on the, i. 199, 200, 206
- Stalking-horse, i. 283
- Stammel, ii. 387; iii. 14
- State (= throne), i. 36; ii. 215
- States (= nobles), i. 109, 159, 162
- Statist, ii. 262
- Statute-staple, iii. 322
- Stigmatic, iii. 359
- Stock (= stoccata), i. 111, 239
- Stockado, iii. 268
- Stone-bows, ii. 8
- Streak, iii. 323, 355
- Stut, ii. 342
- Suburbs (bawdy-houses in), i. 317
- Suffenus, iii. 306
- Surphule, i. 245; iii. 275, 310
- Surquedry, i. 50, 147; iii. 267
- Switzer, iii. 348
- Swound, ii. 93
- Sylvester, Joshua, iii. 281
- Tacitus, his remarks on prohibited books, ii. 48
- Take say, ii. 11
- Take the whiff, ii. 353
- Take up commodities, ii. 340; iii. 365
- Tamburlaine, iii. 25
- Tanakin, ii. 13
- Taw, ii. 376
- Tereus, iii. 266
- Termagant, iii. 240
- There goes but a pair of shears betwixt, i. 290
- Thou’st (= thou must), i. 283
- Thristing, ii. 413
- Thunder, eels roused from the mud by, iii. 347
- Thus while she sleeps I sorrow for her sake, iii. 14
- Thwack a jerkin, ii. 405
- Toderers, i. 210
- Too too, ii. 328; iii. 313
- Totter’d, ii. 373
- Touch (= perception), i. 105
- Toy to mock an ape withal, iii. 362
- Tradesmen’s wives used as lures to attract customers, ii. 60; iii. 266, 325
- Tragœdia cothurnata, i. 140
- Travellers, affected solemnity of, i. 12; iii. 274
- Traverse, iii. 394
- Trenchmore, iii. 272
- Tretably, ii. 358
- Trick of twenty, i. 276; ii. 54
- Trot the ring, i. 111, 142; iii. 378
- Trow (= think you?), iii. 74
- Trunk, iii. 31
- Trunk-sleeves, ii. 184
- Truss my hose, i. 10
- Tubrio, iii. 273
- Tumbrel, iii. 262, 346
- Turnmill Street, ii. 16
- Turn-spit dog bound to his wheel, iii. 41
- Tweer, i. 71
- Twelve-penny room, i. 202
- Twinest (= embraces), i. 117
- Twopenny ward, iii. 106
- Ulysses, his counterfeited madness, iii. 15
- Unheal, i. 243
- Unnookt simplicity, i. 163
- Unpaiz’d, i. 144
- Unperegall, ii. 85
- Unshale, i. 215
- Upbraid, iii. 379
- Ure, iii. 312, 329
- Vaunt-guard, iii. 261
- Vaut, ii. 288
- Velure, i. 79
- Via, ii. 20, 43, 133
- Vie, iii. 84
- Vin de monte, ii. 140
- Vincentio Saviolo, iii. 373
- Violets, bridal-beds strewn with, ii. 373
- Virgil imitated, i. 113
- Virginia, early settlers in, iii. 63
- Virgins, popularly supposed to have the right to save the lives of criminals, iii. 190
- Virtue, ii. 247
- Vively, ii. 293
- Voluntaries, iii. 261
- Wall-eyed, iii. 133
- Wandering whore, iii. 377
- Wards, treatment of, iii. 314
- Wedlock (= wife), ii. 143; iii. 47
- Weeping Cross, iii. 85
- Welshmen’s pride in their gentility, i. 258
- Westward Ho! comedy of, iii. 5
- Westward Ho! (i.e., to Tyburn), iii. 27
- Wet finger (“with a wet finger”), ii. 189
- What could I do withal? ii. 214
- When (exclamation of impatience) i. 241; ii. 348, &c.
- When Arthur first in Court began, i. 240
- When Sampson was a tall young man, iii. 32
- Whiblin, iii. 168
- Whiff, take the, ii. 353
- Who calls Jeronimo? iii. 12
- Who cries out murther? Lady, was it you? iii. 26
- Wighy, i. 56
- Will (= command), i. 125, ii. 305
- Willow garland, ii. 336
- Wimble, i. 58
- Wisards (wise men), i. 159; iii. 335
- With a wanion, iii. 53
- Witches turned into cats, ii. 203
- Without a man (i.e., outside of man’s sense), ii. 294
- Wolt, i. 27
- Wood, ii. 253
- Woodstock’s work, iii. 276
- Woollen caps, ii. 60
- Word (= motto), i. 77, 84; iii. 155
- Wounds of a murdered man supposed to bleed in the presence of the murderer, iii. 224
- Wrapt up in the tail of his mother’s smock, ii. 407
- Wrinkles, vulgar belief concerning, iii. 135
- Writhled, iii. 326
- Wrought shirt, i. 79
- Xylinum, iii. 288, 342
- Yellow, iii. 123
- You’st (= you must), i. 310
- Zabarella, Giacomo, ii. 363
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Punctuation, use of hyphens, and accent marks were standardized. Dialect and obsolete spellings were left unchanged. The author/editor used “Don.” to identify both Dondolo and Donnetta as speakers in “The Fawn.”
Punctuation, hyphen usage, and accent marks were standardized. Dialect and outdated spellings were left as they were. The author/editor used “Don.” to identify both Dondolo and Donnetta as speakers in “The Fawn.”
In the Table of Contents, links were added to the beginning of each act of the plays for the convenience of users. The index, which appears only in Volume 3, was duplicated and added for the convenience of users; links were added only to items in this volume.
In the Table of Contents, links have been added to the start of each act of the plays for user convenience. The index, which only appears in Volume 3, has been duplicated and added for user convenience; links have only been added to items in this volume.
Footnotes were moved to the end of the scene to which they pertain.
Footnotes were relocated to the end of the scene they refer to.
There are three anchors for footnote [487], and two for footnotes [488] and [559].
There are three links for footnote [487], and two for footnotes [488] and [559].
The referenced work in Footnote [450] is missing the word ‘Walden’ after ‘Saffron’ in the original.
The work mentioned in Footnote [450] is missing the word ‘Walden’ after ‘Saffron’ in the original.
The index is contained only in Volume 3 of Marston's Works. For the convenience of users, the index was added to the end of this volume, and links added to citations within this volume.
The index is included only in Volume 3 of Marston's Works. To make it easier for users, the index has been added at the end of this volume, along with links to citations within this volume.
The following changes were made within the text:
The following changes were made in the text:
- Dutch Courtezan:
- Footnote [54], ‘parabantar’ to ‘parabantur’
- Act IV, Scene V, line 99, ‘Mal.’ to ‘Mul.’
- Act V, Scene I, line 20, ‘Fa.’ to ‘Fra.’
- The Fawn:
- Footnote [133], added ‘Bacon’ to ‘History of Fryer Bacon’
- Act III, Scene I, line 540, ‘Her.’ to ‘Herc.’
- Act V, Scene I, line 254, ‘Donnella’ to ‘Donnetta’
- Footnote [149] ‘Theallusi on’ to ‘The allusion’
- Footnote [264], ‘ca’ to ‘cat’
... can turn a woman into a cat ...
- What You Will:
- Act I, Scene I, line 129, ‘Iaco.’ to ‘Jaco.’
- Act II, Scene I, line 6, ‘mor’ to ‘mon’
... OMG, my life ... - Act III, Scene I, line 51, ‘Pan.’ to ‘Ran.’
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