think to sate your lust! you would love a horse, Inf. Twas thus; he gave me this battery first. Mistake, believe me, all this in beaten gold: Common, but foul; so shall not your disgrace. Inf. Oh, men! You were created angels, pure and fair; But, since the first fell, worse than devils you are. "Beside, this feat body of mine doth not crave Half the meat, drink, and cloth, one of your bulks will have." 24 Bred in a country where no venom prospers.-That Ireland is free from all venomous or poisonous creatures, is a fact which is asserted by almost every one who hath written concerning that country. Dericke, in The Image of Irelande, 1581, Sign. C 2, says: "Within the compasse of this land, no poysonyng beast doeth live; But with a deadly percyng blowe, eche vermine it doeth smite. As sone as they doe touche the grounde, And hope, of longer life to live, from every one doeth flye. For where tyme past it did possesse The hissing serpent with her mate, and worme of poyson least ; Yet now no such it will retaine, it voucheth not to see; The frogge, the tode, nor viper vile, within her bounds to bee. The same author says, that the country was exempted from these poisonous creatures by the means of St Patrick. He likewise adds, "No beast that noyeth mortall man is procreated theare; It brynges forthe no lion feare, nor yet the ravnyng beare. No beast (I saie) which do possesse Excepte the wolfe, that nosome is, Bryan. I, do predy, I had rather have thee Into her eyes this jealousy! Yet I'll on, Lawless desires are seas scorning all bounds; Struggling with madmen, madness nothing tames; Enter BELLAFRONT and ORLANDO. Bel. How now, what ails your master? [Exit. you may see that another hath entered into hatband for him too. Six and four have put him in‐ to this sweat. Bel. Where's all his money? Orl. 'Tis put over by exchange. His doublet was going to be translated, but for me: if any man would have lent but half a ducat on his beard, the hair of it had stuft a pair of breeches by this time. I had but one poor penny, and that I was glad to niggle out, and buy a holly wand to grace him through the street. As hap was, his boots were on; and them I dustied, to make people think he had been riding, and I had run by him. Bel. Oh me, how does my sweet Matheo! Math. Must have money, must have some; must have a cloak, and rapier, and things. Will you go set your lime-twigs, and get me some birds, some money? Bel. What lime-twigs should I set? Math. You will not, then? Must have cash and pictures: Do you hear, frailty, shall I walk in a Plymouth cloak, 25 that's to say, like a rogue, Orl. He's taken a younger brother's purge, for- in my hose and doublet, and a crabtree cudgel in sooth, and that works with him. Bel. Where is his cloak and rapier? Orl. He has given up his cloak, and his rapier is bound to the peace; if you look a little higher, my hand, and you swim in your satins? Must have money, come. Orl. Is't bed-time, master, that you undo my mistress? Barnaby Rych, in his Description of Ireland, p. 44. says, "I will not contend whether it were Saint Patricke who, by his praiers, hath thus purged Ireland from toads, from snakes, from adders, and from other like venomous wormes; but there are other, as well beasts as birds, as the roebuck, the moule, the pianet, the nytingale, that are meer strangers in Ireland, as the other; and I cannot thinke but that it was one man's worke to expell all these together, and all at one time. But if it were Saint Patrick, or whosoever otherwise, that was so severe against the nytingale, the sweete querrister of the wood, whose delectable harmony is pleasing to every eare, I would he had been as strict in justice against that foulmouthed bird the cuckow, whose notes were never yet pleasing to any man's eare, that was jealous of his wife." 25 Plymouth cloak-" That is," says Ray, in his Proverbs, 1742, p. 238. " a cane, a staff; whereof this is the occasion. Many a man of good extraction, coming home from far voyages, may chance to land here, and, being out of sorts, is unable for the present time and place to recruit himself with clothes. Here (if not friendly provided) they make the next wood their draper's shop, where a staff cut out serves them for a covering. For we use, when we walk in cuerpo, to carry a staff in our hands, but none when in a cloak." A Plymouth cloak is mentioned in The Wandering Jew, Sign. D: "But let fortune snatch her wheel from you, a poor ale-house is your inn, an old freeze jerkin, in summer, your Sonday suit, and a Plimouth eloake your caster." Bel. Undo me? Yes, yes, at these riflings I have been too often. Math. Help to flea, Pacheco. Orl. Fleaing call you it ? Math. I'll pawn you, by the Lord, to your very eye-brows. Bel. With all my heart; since heaven will have me poor, As good be drowned at sea, as drowned at shore. | Orl. Why hear you, sir? i'faith, do not make away her gown. Math. Oh, it's summer, it's summer; your only fashion for a woman now, is to be light, to be light. Orl. Why, pray, sir, employ some of that money you have of mine. Math. Thine? I'll starve first, I'll beg first: when I touch a peuny of that, let these fingers ends rot. Orl. So they may, for that's past touching. saw my twenty pounds fly high. I Math. Knowest thou never a damned broker about the city? Orl. Damned broker? yes, five hundred. Math. The gown stood me in above twenty❘ ducats, borrow ten of it; cannot live without sil ver. Orl. I'll make what I can of it, sir; I'll be your broker, But not your damned broker.-Oh, thou scurvy knave! What makes a wife turn whore, but such a slave? [Exit. Math. How now, little chick, what ailest? weeping, for a handful of tailors' shreds? Pox on them, are there not silks enow at mercers? Bel. I care not for gay feathers, I. Math. What doest care for then? why doest grieve? Bel. Why do I grieve? a thousand sorrows strike At one poor heart, and yet it lives. Matheo, Build not thy mind on me to coin thee more; you. Bel. Umh? it was indeed: if all men should be branded For sins long since laid up, who could be saved? Math. Why, do as all of our occupation do against quarter-days; break up house, remove, shift your lodgings: Pox a your quarters! Enter LODOVICO. Lod. Where's this gallant? Math. Signior Lodovico! How does my little mirror of knighthood? this is kindly done, i’faith: welcome, by my troth. Lod. And how dost, frolic? save you, fair lady. Thou lookest smug and bravely, noble Matheo. Math. Drink and feed, laugh and lie warm. Lod. Is this thy wife? Math. A poor gentlewoman, sir, whom I make use of a-nights. Lod. Pay custom to your lips, sweet lady. Math. Borrow some shells of him; some wine, sweetheart. Lod. I'll send for't then, i'faith. Math. You send for't? Some wine, I pr’ythee. Bel. I have no money. Math. 'Sblood, nor I: What wine love you, signior? Lod. Here, or I'll not stay, I protest; trouble the gentlewoman too much? [Exit BELLAFRONT.] And what news flies abroad, Matheo? Math. Troth none. Oh, signior, we have been merry in our days. Lod. And no doubt shall again. Math. You say true. Lod. Why should we grieve at want? Say the world made thee her minion, that World; that's all, and that all's nothing: the world's Greatest part cannot fill up one corner of thy heart. Say, the three corners were all filled, alas! No man wants all things, nor has all in measure, Math. I am the most wretched fellow: sure some left-handed priest christened me, I am so unlucky; I am never out of one puddle or another, still falling. Enter BELLAFRONT and ORLANDO. Math. Fill out wine to my little finger. With my heart, i'faith. Lod. Thanks, good Matheo. To your own sweet self. Orl. All the brokers' hearts, sir, are made of flint. I can, with all my knocking, strike but six sparks of fire out of them; here's six ducats, if you'll take them. Math. Give me them: an evil conscience gnaw them all! moths and plagues hang upon their lousie wardrobes! Lod. Is this your man, Matheo? an old ser ving-man. Orl. You may give me t'other half too, sir; That's the beggar. Lod. What hast there, gold? Lod. A word, Matheo: be not angry with me; Would shew well, if they were not borrowed. Math. Thanks, good noble knight. [Exit. Math. Hast angled? hast cut up this fresh salmon? Bel. Would'st have me be so base? Math. Its base to steal, its base to be a whore; Thou❜lt be more base, I'll make thee keep a door. [Exit. Orl. I hope he will not sneak away with all the money, will he? Bel. Thou seest he does. Orl. Nay, then, its well. I set my brains upon an upright last; though my wits be old, yet they are like a withered pippin, wholesome. Look you, mistress, I told him I had but six ducats of the (knave) broker; but I had eight, and kept these two for you. Bel. Thou should'st have given him all. Bel. Like waves, my misery drives on misery. Horse. Ordinary dishes, by my troth, sweet men; there's few good i'the city; I am as well furnisht as any, and though I say it, as well customed. Bots. We have meats of all sorts of dressing; we have stewed meat for your Frenchinen, pretty light picking meat for your Italian, and that which is rotten roasted for Don Spaniardo. Lod. A pox on't. Bots. We have poulterers' ware for your sweet bloods, as dove, chicken, duck, teal, woodcock, and so forth and butcher's meat for the citizen: yet muttons fall very bad this year. Lod. Stay, is not that my patient linen-draper yonder, and my fine young smug mistress, his wife? Car. Sirrah Grannam, I'll give thee for thy fee twenty crowns, if thou canst but procure me the wearing of yon velvet cap. Horse. You'd wear another thing besides the cap. You're a wag. Bots. Twenty crowns? we'll share, and I'll be your pully to draw her on. Lod. Do't presently, we'll have some sport. Horse. Wheel you about, sweet men: do you see, I'll cheapen wares of the man, whilst Bots is doing with his wife. Lod. To't; if we come into the shop to do you grace, we'll call you madans. Bots. Pox a your old face, give it the badge of all scurvy faces, a masque. Can. What is't you lack, gentlewoman? cambrick or lawns, or fine hollands? pray draw near, I can sell you a penny-worth. Bots. Some cambrick for my old lady. Can. Cambrick? you shall, the purest thread in Millan. Lod. and Car. Save you, Siguior Candido. Can. My worshipful good servant, view it well, for 'tis both fine and even. Car. Cry you mercy, madam, though mask'd, I thought it should be you by your man. Pray, I'llSignior, shew her the best, for she commonly deals for good ware. [Exit. Orl. Sell his wife's clothes from her back? Does any poulterer's wife pull chickens alive? He riots all abroad, wants all at home; he dices, whores, swaggers, swears, cheats, borrows, pawns: give him hook and line a little more for all this. Yet sure i'the end he'll delude all my hopes, And show me a French trick danced on the ropes. [Exit. Can. Then this shall fit her, this is for your ladyship. Bots. A word, I pray, there is a waiting gentlewoman of my lady's, her name is Ruyna, says she's your kinswoman, and that you should be one of her aunts. Enter at one Door Lopovico and CAROLO; at another Bors and Mistress HORSELEACH; CANDIDO and his Wife appear in the Shop. Wife. One of her aunts? troth, sir, I know her not. Lod. Hist, hist, lieutenant Bots, how dost, man? Bots. If it please you to bestow the poor laCar. Whither are you ambling, Madam Horse-bour of your legs at any time, I will be your conleach? Horse. About worldly profit, sir: how do your worships? Bots. We want tools, gentlemen, to furnish the trade; they wear out day and night, they wear out till no mettle be left in their back; we hear of two or three new wenches are come up with a carrier, and your old goshawk here is flying at them. Lod. And faith, what flesh have you at home? Voy thither? Wife. I am a snail, sir, seldom leave my house, if't please her to visit me, she shall be welcome. Bots. Do you hear? the naked troth is: my lady hath a young knight, her son, who loves you; you're made, if you lay hold upon't: this jewel ho sends you. Wife. Sir, I return his love and jewel with scorn; let go my hand, or I shall call You are an arrant knave. 4 D brick you wo'd deal in, there's the best, all Millan cannot sample it. Lod. Do you hear? one, two, three: S'foot, there came in four gallants; sure your wife is slipt up, and the fourth man I hold my life is grafting your wardentree. 26 Can. Ha, ha, ha: you gentlemen are full of jest. If she be up, she's gone some wares to show, I have above as good wares as below. Lod. Have you so? nay then Can. Now, gentlemen, is't cambricks? Bryan. I predee now let me have de best wares. Can. What's that he says, pray, gentlemen? Lod. Marry, he says we are like to have the best wares. Can. The best wares! all are bad, yet wares do good, And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdoms blood. Bryan. Faat a devil pratest tow so, a pox on Enter ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, and dee, I preddee let me see some hollen, to make BRYAN. Ast. I thought thou had'st been gone into thine own country. " Bryan. No faat la, I cannot go dis four or tree dayes. Ber. Look thee, yonder's the shop, and that's the man himself. Fonti. Thou shalt but cheapen, and do as we told thee, to put a jest upon him, to abuse his patience. Bryan. I faat, I doubt my pate shall be knocked: but sa crees sa me, for your shakes, I will runne to any linen-draper in hell come preddy. Omnes. Save you, gallants. Lod and Car. Oh, well met! linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy. Can. Indeed I understand no word he speaks. Car. Marry, he says, that at the siege in Holland there was much bawdry used among the soldiers, though they were lousy. Can. It may be so, that's likely, true indeed, In every garden, sir, does grow that weed. Bryan. Pox on de gardens, and de weeds, and de fooles cap dere, and de cloutes; hear, dost make a hobby-horse of me? Omnes. Oh, fire, he has torn the cambrick. Ast. It frets me to the soul. Can. So does not me.. My customers do oft for remnants call, Can. You'll give no more you say? I cannot But let me tell you, were my servants here, take it. Horse. Truly I'll give no more. It would have cost more.-Thank you, gentle men, Can. It must not fetch it. What wo'd you I use you well, pray know my shop again. have, sweet gentlemen? Ast. Nay, here's the customer. [Exeunt Bors and HORSELEACH. Lod. The garden-house you say? we'll bolt out your roguery. [Exit. Omnes. Ha, ha, ha; come, come, let's go, let's go. [Exeunt. Enter MATHEO (brave 27 ) and BELLAFRONT. Math. How, am I suited, Front? am I not Can. I will but lay these parcels by-My men are all at Customhouse unloading wares; if cam- 'gallant, ha? 26 Warden-tree-A pear tree. "Volemum. Plin. Volema autem pyra sunt prægrandia, ita dicta, quod impleant volam.” Barret's Alvearie. The French call this pear poire de garde. See Mr Steevens's Note on The Winter's Tale, A. 4. S. 2. 27 Brave-i. e. fine, gaudily dressed. As, in Lyly's Euphues and his England, p. 67 : “—another layeth all his living upon his backe, judging that women are wedded to braverie.” The Picture, by Massinger, A, 3. S, 6: |