Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub
[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.

Lod. How doest thou, Carolo? Enter at one Door Beraldo, CAROLO, FONTI• the world sick, and am well myself.

Car. Faith, as physicians do in a plague, see NELL, Astolfo, with Serving.men, or Pages,

Font. Here's a sweet morning, gentlemen. attending on them; at another Door enter Lo

Lod. Oh, a morning to tempt Jove from his Dovico, meeting them.

Ningle Ganimed, which is but to give dairy Lod. Good day, gallants.

wenches green gowns as they are going a milkOmnes. Good morrow, sweet Lodovico. ing; what, is thy lord stirring yet?

1

Langbaine says, “ The passage between the patient man and his impatient wife's going to fight for the breeches, with the happy event, is exprest by Sir John Harrington in verse. See his Epigrams at the end of Orlando Furioso, Book I. Epig. 16.”

Ast. Yes, he will not be horsed this hour, sure. faithful where they love; by my faith very pro

Ber. My lady swears he shall, for she longs to per men many of them, and as active as the be at court,

clouds, whirr, hah. Car. Oh, we shall ride switch and spur; would Omnes. Are they so? we were there once!

Lod. And stout ! exceeding stout; why, I warEnter BRYAN the Footman,

rant, this precious wild villain, if he were put to't,

would fight more desperately than sixteen DunLod. How now, is thy lord ready?

kerks. Bryan. No so crees sa me, my lady will have Ast. The women they say are very fair? some little ting in her pelly first.

Lod. No, no, our country bona robaes; oh! Car. Oh, then they'll to breakfast.

are the sugrest delicious rogues ! Lod. Footman, does my lord ride i'the coach Ast. Oh, look, he has a feeling of them. with my lady, or on horseback?

Lod. Not I, I protest. There's a sayiog when Bryan. No foot la, my lady will have me lord they commend nations : it goes, the Irishman for sheet wid her, 'my lord will sheet in de one side, his hand, Welshman for a leg, the Englishman for and my lady sheet in de toder side. [Exit. a face, the Dutchman for beard.

Lod. My lady sheet in de toder side ! did you Font. I faith, they may make swabbers of them. ever hear a rascal speak so like a Pagan? Is't not Lod. The Spaniard, let me see, for a little fout, strange that a fellow of bis star, should be seen I take it; the Frenchman, what a pox bath he? here so long in Italy, yet speak so froin a Chris- and so of the rest. Are they at breakfast yet? tian?

come walk. Enter Antonio Georgio, a poor Scholar.

Ast. This, Lodovico, is a notable-tongued fel

low. Ast, An Irishman in Italy! that so strange! Font. Discourses well. why, the nation have running-heads.

Ber. And a very honest gentleman.

[Erchange-walk. Ast. Oh! he's well valued by my lord. Lod. Nay, Carolo, this is more strange, I have been in France, there's few of them : marry, Eng

Enter BELLAFRONT with a Petition. Jand they count a warm chimney-corner, and Font. How dow, how now, what's she? there they swarm like crickets to the crevice of a Ber. Let's make towards her. brew-house; but, sir, i England I have noted one Bel. Will it be long, sir, ere my lord come forth? thing.

Ast. Would you speak with my lord? Omnes. What's that, what's that of England? Lod. How now, what's this, a nurse's till? hath Lod. Marry this, sir;-what's he yonder? any here got thee with child, and now will not Ber. A poor fellow would speak with rny lord. keep it?

Lod. In England, sir, troth I ever laugh when Bel. No, sir, my business is unto my lord. I think on't ; to see a whole nation should be Lod. He's about his own wife now, he'll hardmarked i'the forehead, as a man may say, with ly dispatch two causes in a morning. one iron : why, sir, there all coster-mongers Ast. No matter what he says, fair lady; he's a Irishmen.

knight, there's no hold to be taken at his words. Car. Oh, that's to shew their antiquity, as Font. My lord will pass this way presently. coming froin Eve, who was an apple-wife, and Ber. A pretty plump rogue. they take after the mother.

Ast. A good lusty bouncir.g baggage. Omnes Good, good, ha, ha.

Ber. Do you know her? Lod. Why, then, should all your chimney- Lod. A pox on her, I was sure her name was in sweepers likewise be Irishnien? answer that now; my table-book + once, I know not of what cut her come, your wit.

die is now, but she has been more common than Car. Faith, that's soon answered; for St Pa- tobacco : this is she that had the uame of the Hotrick, you know, keeps purgatory; he makes the nest Whore. fire, and his countrymen could do nothing, if Omnes. Is this she? they cannot sweep the chimnies.

Lod. This is the blackamore that by washing Omnes. Good again.

was turned white: this is the birding piece new Lod. Then, sir, have you many of them, (like scoured : this is she that, if any of her religion this fellow) especially those of his hair, footmen cau be saved, was saved by my lord Hipolito, to noblemen and others, and the knaves are very .4st. She has been a goodly creature.

2

are

2 Cos'er-mongers.- Sellers of apples.
3 St Patrick's purgatory._see sote to The Four P's, p. 5.
4 Table-book.-See Mr Steevens's Note on Much ado about Nothing, A. I. S. 1

ten.

Lod. She has been ! that's the epitaph of all Bel. No, my lord. whores. I'm well acquainted with the poor gen- Hip. Your turner, tleman her husband; lord ! what fortunes that That made you smouth to run an even bias. man has over-reached! She knows not me, yet I You know I loved you when your very soul have been in her company. I scarce know her, Was full of discord : art not a good wench still? for the beauty of her cheek hath, like the moon, Bel. Umph, when I had lost my way to heaven, suffered strange eclipses since I beheld it: but you shewed it: I was new born that day. women are like medlars, no sooner ripe but rot

Enter LODOVICO. A woman last was made, but is spent first, Yet man is oft proved in performance worst. Lod. 'Sfoot, my lord, your lady asks if you have Omnes. My lord is come.

not left your wench yet? When you get in once, Enter HIPOLITO, INFELICE, and two Waiting

you never have done: come, come, come, pay Women.

your old score, and send her packing, come.

Hip. Ride softly on before, I'll overtake you. Hip. We have wasted half this morning : mor- Lod. Your lady swears she'll have no riding on row, Lodovico.

before, without ye. Lod. Morrow, madam.

Hip. Pr’ythee, good Lodovico. Hip. Let's away to horse.

Lod. My lord, pray basten. Omnes, Aye, aye, to horse, to horse.

Hip. I come :-to-morrow let me see you, fare Bel. I do beseech your lordship, let your eye you well: commend ine to Matheo. Pray, one read o'er this wretched paper.

word more: Does not your father live about the Hip. I'm in haste; pray thee, good woman, court? take some apter tiine.

Bel. I think he does, but such rude spots of Inf. Good woman, do.

shame Bel. Oh 'las! it does concern a poor man's life. Stick on my cheek, that he scarce knows my name.

Hip. Life! sweet heart? Seat yourself, I'll but Hip. Orlando Friscobaldo, is't not? read this and come.

Bel. Yes, my lord. Lod. What stockings have you put on this Hip. What does he for you? morning, madam? if they be not yellow, change Bel. All he should: when children them; that paper is a letter from some wench to From duty start, parents from love may swerve : your busband.

He nothing does, for nothing I deserve. Inf. Oh, sir, that cannot make me jealous. Hip. Shall I join him unto you, and restore you

[Ercunt. to wonted grace? Hip. Your business, sir, to me?

Bel. It is impossible. [Exit BELLAFRONT. Ant. Yes, my good lord.

Hip. It shall be put to trial; fare

you

well: Hip. Presently, sir.--Are you Matheo's wife? The face I would not look on ! sure then 'twas Bel. That most unfortunate woman.

rare, Hip. I'm sorry these storms are fallen on him; When in despite of grief, 'tis still thus fair.I love Matheo,

Now, sir, vour business with me. And any good shall do him; he and I

Ant. I am bold to express my love and duty to Have sealed two bonds of friendship, which are your lordship in these few leaves. strong

Hip. A book! In me, however fortune does him wrong;

Ant. Yes, my good lord. He speaks here he's condemned. Is't so?

Hip. Are you a scholar? Bel. Too true.

Ant. Yes, my lord, a poor one. Hip. What was he whom he killed ? oh, bis Hip. Sir, you honour me. name's here; old Jacomo, son to the Florentine Kings may be scholars' patrons; but faith tell me, Jacomo, a dog, that, to meet profit, would to the To how many hands besides hath this bird flown; very eye-lids wade in blood of his own children. How many partners share with me? Tell Matbeo, the duke my father hardly shall de- Ant. Not one in troth, not one : your name I ny his signed pardon ; 'twas fair fight, yes, if ru

held more dear; mour's tongue go true, --so writes he here. I'm not, my lord, of that low character. To-morrow morning I return from court,

Hip. Your name, I pray? Praybe you here then. I'll have done, sir, straight: Ant. Antonio Georgio. But in troth say, are you Matheo's wife?

Hip. Of Milan? You have forgot me.

Ant. Yes, my lord.

s If they be not yellow.See Note to The Wits, A. 4.

VOL. I.

4 B

pray

gone

Hip. I'll borrow leave

Enter HIPOLITO.
To read you o'er, and then we'll talk; till then
Drink up this gold; good wits should love good Omnes. My lord's come.
wine :

Hip. How now, what news?
This of your loves, the earnest that of mine.- Omnes. None.
How now, sir, where's your lady? not gone yet? Lod. Your lady is with the duke her father.

Hip. And we'll to them both presently. Who's Enter BRYAN.

that: Bryan. I fait di lady is run away from dee

Enter ORLANDO FRISCOBALDO. a mighty deal of ground; she sent me back for dine own sweet face; I dee come, my lord, Omnes. Signior Friscobaldo. away,—wut tow go now?

Hip. Friscobaldo, oh! pray call him, and leave Hip. Is the coach gone?

me; we two have business. Saddle my horse, the sorel.

Car. Ho Signior! Signior Friscobaldo. Bryan. A pox a de horse's nose, he is a lousy The lord Hipolito.

[Ereunt. rascally fellow; when I came to gird his belly, Orl. My noble lord ! my lord Hipolito! the his scurvy guts rumbled, di horse farted in my duke's son! his brave daughter's brave husband ! face, and dow knowest an Irishman cannot abide how does your honour'd lordship? does your noa fart; but I have saddled de hobby-horse, di bility remember so poor a gentleman as Signior fine hubby is ready: I pray dee, my good sweet Orlando Friscobaldo! old mad Orlando! lord, wit tow go now, and I will run to de devil Hip. Oh, sir, our friends! they ought to be before dee?

unto us as our jewels, as dearly valued, being Hip. Well, sir. I pray let's see you, master locked up, and unseen, as when we wear them in scholar.

our hands. I see, Friscobaldo, age hath not comBryan. Come, I pray dee, wut come, sweet mand of your blood; for all time's sickle hath face? Go.

(Exeunt. over you, you are Orlando still.

Orl. Why, my lord, are not the fields mown Enter Lodovico, CAROLO, Astolfo, Beraldo. and cut down, and stript bare, and yet wear they

not pied coats again? though my head he like a Lod. Godso, gentlemen, what do we forget? leek, white, may not my heart be like the blade, Omnes. What?

Lod. Are not we all enjoined as this day, Hip. Scarce can I read the stories on your Thursday, is't not? Aye, as that day to be at the

brow, linen-draper's house at dinner?

Which age hath writ there; you look youthful Car. Signior Candido, the patient m

still, Ast. Afore Jove, true, upon this day he's mar- Orl. I eat snakes, my lord, I eat snakes. ried.

My heart shall never have a wrinkle in it, so long Ber. I wonder, that being so stung with a wasp

as I can cry before, he dares venture again to come about the Hem with a clear voice. eaves amongst bees.

Hip. You are the happier man, sir. Lod. Ob 'tis rare sucking a sweet honey-comb; Orl. Happy man! I'll give you, my lord, the pray heaven his old wife be buried deep enough, true picture of a happy man; I was turning leaves that she rise not up to call for her dance! The over this morning, and found it; an excellent Itapoor fiddlers instruments would crack for it, she'd lian painter drew it; if I have it in the right cotickle them : at any hand, lets try what mettle is lours, I'll bestow it on your lordship. in his new bride; if there be none, we'll put

in Hip. I stay for it. some. Troth it's a very noble citizen, I pity he Orl. He that makes gold his wife, but not bis should marry again : I'll walk along, for it is a

whore, good old fellow

He that at noon-day walks by a prison door, Car. I warrant, the wives of Millan would give He that i'the sun is neither beam nor moat, any fellow twenty thousand duckets, that could He that's not mad after a petticoat, but have the face to beg of the duke, that all the He for whom poor mens' curses dig no grave, citizens in Millan might be bound to the peace of He that is neither lord's nor lawyer's slave, patience, as the linen-draper is.

He that makes this his sea, and that his shore, Lod. Oh fie upon't, 'twould undo all us that He that in's coffin is richer than before, are courtiers; we should have no hue with the He that counts youth his sword, and age his staff, wenches then,

He whose right hand carves his own epitaph,

green?

man.

Hoe.See Note 70 to the First Part of this Play, p. 553.

[ocr errors]

He that upon his deathbed is a swan,

stuck upright out of hell, to be her props, that And dead, no crow, he is a happy man.

she may spread upon them: And, when she's Hip. It's very well; I thank you for this pic- ripe, every slave has a pull at her, then must she ture.

be prest. The young beautiful grape sets the Orh. After this picture, my lord, do I strive to teeth of lust on edge; yet to taste that lickrish have my face drawn:

wine, is to drink a man's own damnation. Is she For I am not covetous,

dead? Am not in debt,

Hip. She's turned to earth. Sit neither at the duke's side,

Qrl. Would she were turned to heaven; umb, Nor lie at his feet.

is she dead! I am glad the world has lost one of Wenching and I have done; no man I wrong,

his idols; no whoremonger will at midnight beat No man I fear, no man I fee.

at the doors; in her grave sleep all my shame, I take heed how far I walk, because I know yon and her own; and all my sorrows, and all her ders my home.

sins, I would not die like a rich man, to carry nothing Hip. I'm glad you are wax, not marble; you away save a winding sheet:

are made But like a good man, to leave Orlando behind me. Of man's best temper; there are now good hopes I sowed leaves in my yoạth, and I reap now That all these heaps of ice about your heart, books in my age.

By which a father's love was frozen up, I fill this hand, and empty this; and when the Are thawed in these sweet showers fetch'd from bell shall toll for me, if I prove a swan, and go

your eye: singing to my nest, why so :

We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies. If a crow! throw me out for carrion, and pick She is not dead, but lives under worse fate, out mine eyes.

I think she's poor; and, more to clip her wings, May not old Friscobaldo, my lord, be merry uow! Her husband at this hour lies in the jail, ha?

For killing of a man; to save his blood, Hip. You may; would I were partner in your Join all your force with mine: mine shall be mirth!

shown; Orl. I have a little, have all things ;

The getting of his life preserves your own. I have nothing; I have no wife, I have no child, Orl. In my daughter you will say! does she have no chick, and why should not I be in my jo

live then ? cundare?

I am sorry I wasted tears upon a harlot ! but the Hip. Is your wife then departed ?

best is, I have a kandkercher to drink thein up, Orl. She's an old dweller in those high coun- soap can wash them all out again, Is she poor? tries, yet not from me : Here, she's here; but be- Hip. Trust me, I think she is. fore when a knave and a quean are married, Orl. Then she's a right strumpet. I never knew they commonly walk like serjeants together; but any of their trade rich two years together; sieves a good couple are seldom parted.

can hold no water, nor harlots hoard up money; Hip. You had a daughter too, sir, had you not ? they bave many vents, tuo many sluices to let it Orl

. Oh, my lord ! this old tree had one branch, out; taverns, tailors, bawds, panders, fiddlers, and but one branch growing out of it: it was swaggerers, fools, and knaves, do all wait upon a young, it was fair, it was straight; I prun'd it common harlot's trencher : she is the gallypot to daily, drest it carefully, kept it from the wind, which these drones fly: not for love to the pot, help'd it to the sun; yet for all my skill in plant- but for the sweet sucket within it, her money, ing, it grew crooked, it bore crabs; I hewed it her money. down;-what's become of it, I neither know, nor Hip. I almost dare pawn my word, her bosom

gives warmth to no such snakes; when did you Hip. Then can I tell you what's become of it; see her? That branch is wither'd.

Orl. Not seventeen summers. Orl. So 'twas long ago.

Hip. Is your hate so old? Hip. Her name, I think, was Bellafront; she's Ori. Older; it has a white head, dead.

And shall never die till she be buried; Orl. Ha! dead?

Her wrongs shall be my bed-fellow. Hip. Yes, what of her was left, not worth the Hip. Work yet his life, since in it lives her keeping,

fame. Even in my sight was thrown into a grave. Orl. No, let him hang, and half her infamy

Orl. Dead ! my last and best peace go with departs out of the world; I hate him for her; he her! I see death's a good trencherman, he can taught her first to taste poison; I hate her for eat coarse homely meat, as well as the daintiest. herself, because she refused my physic.

Hip. Why, Friscobaldo, was she homely? Hip. Nay, but Friscobaldo. Orl. O, my lord! a strumpet is one of the de- Orl. I detest her, I defy both, she's not mine, vil's vines; all the sins, like so inany poles, are

she's

me,

care.

« PředchozíPokračovat »