That fault's reform'd; and now 'tis to be tried And give you cause (and with content) to say, Their care was good that did revive this play. For 'twere in me a kind of breach of faith, Viola. Sweet, speak softly; For tho' the venture of your love to me Ric. How shall he know it? [advancement, At the request and much intreaty of [me; But he hath spies upon me: yet, I know not, Ric. Why, do you think I can be false? You have an honest face; but, if you should— Ric. Let all the stored vengeance of Hea- Viola. No more! I do believe you. The Which this free woman's guests have vow'd to have [me Ere they depart, I will make home, and store trusted 'ted some scenes and passages (with the author's consent) as occasion led 'em! and when 'private friends desired a copy, they then (and justly too) transcribed what they acted. But, now you have both all that was acted, and all that was not; even the perfect full originals, without the least mutilation: so that were the authors living (and sure they can never die) · they themselves would challenge neither more nor less than what is here published.'-But what a glaring contradiction to this whole passage are the words of the prologue, cited at the head of this note? Was it not condemn'd for its length by the ignorant multitude? And upon reviving of it, is it not as plain as words can make it, that it was mutilated then? What other sense can we put upon this passage? That fault's reform'd-Who the curtailer or curtailers were, is not possible now to be known: I could have wished that he, or they, who undertook the charge of reforming the length of this piece, had had sufficient wit and strength to have gone through that business neatly. But it seems as if his or their judgment was as little in the shortning, as the rabble's was in condemning it for its length. Had we but the original manuscript, I don't doubt but we should see a strange difference betwixt that and the play, as it now stands. The first note on this performance is a specimen, to let the reader see what strange work has been made by the reviver, or revivers of this piece: and how little he or they thought on (supposing they knew it) that rule of Horace, Versate diu, quid ferre recusent, Quid valeant Humeri Sympson. The Stationers' Preface is no glaring contradiction to the prologue,' but rather confirms the assertion, that the Actors (with the author's consent) omitted scenes and passages, as 'occasion led them, and afterwards transcribed what they acted: but the booksellers gave all that was acted, and all that was not.' Who the curtailers were, therefore, is easily known; certainly THE ACTORS, with the AUTHOR'S CONSENT, To To make my wants your own; allow me manners! [crease Which you must grant I want, should I inThe bond in which your courtesies have tied me, By still consuming of you: give me leave To take mine own ways now, and I shali often, [thank you. With willingness, come to visit you, and Ant. By this hand, I could be angry! What do you think me? Must we, that have so long time been as one, Seen cities, countries, kingdoms, and their wonders, Been bedfellows, and in our various journey Mix'd all our observations, part (as if We were two carriers at two several ways, And as the fore-horse guides, cry God be with you) Without or compliment, or ceremony? In travellers that know Transalpine garbs, Tho' our designs are ne'er so serious, friend, It were a capital crime; it must not be; Nay, what is more, you shall not. You cre long [mine Shall see my house, and find what I call Is wholly at your service. Merc. 'Tis this tires me! Sir, I were easily woo'd, if nothing else But my will lay i'th' choice; but 'tis not so: Justly expect the tender of my love Ant. I will not, cannot; to conclude, I Can any thing conferr'd upon my friend [said! By a traveller's faith, you should not! I have And then, you know my humour, there's no contending. I shall be drown'd with folly, if I go ; Ant. Are you yet resolv'd? Merc. 'Would you would spare me! Merc. Patience help me, And Heaven grant his folly be not catching! If't be, the town's undone: I now would give A reasonable sum of gold to any sheriff That would but lay an execution on me, And free me from his company. While he was abroad, His want of wit and language kept him dumb; But Balaam's ass will speak now, without spurring. Aut. Speak, have I won you? Enter Servant and Musicians. Serv. Be ready, I entreat you! The dance Besides a liberal reward, I have A bottle of sherry in my power, shall beget Musicians. Tush, fear not us! Ant. I know this fellow. [inform her, Serv. I serve the mistress. Ant. Pretty and short! Pray you, sir, then Two gentlemen are covetous to be honour'd With her fair presence. Serv. She shall know so much. This is a merry night with us, and forbids not Ant. Nay, follow! I've a trick in't. [Exeunt. Enter Uberto, Silvio, Ricardo, Maria, Pedro, Portia, Viola, with others. Uberto. Come, where is this masque3? Fairest, for our chear, Maria. Since you enforce it, Qur I will not plead the excuse of want of skill.] Quod dedit principium adveniens? may full as well be applied to the curtailer of this comedy, as the booby captain of whom it was first spoke. That a masque was in the original, is plain from the question, Where's this masque? but But half a welcome. Maria. Pray you, sir, excuse me! Uberto. We'll crown your liberal feast Maria. Since you enforce it, I will not plead the excuse of want of skill, Uberto. "Tis fit freedom. What's she that leads the dance? 1 Serv. A gentlewoman. Merc. I see that. But now to make him cuckold is a sin I have a wolf by th' ears, and am bitten both I'm very weary and ill-temper'd. Ant. You shall presently; the dance is done. 1 Serv. Mistress, these are the gentlemen. but it had been better never to have told us that, except it had been exhibited. Again, if they were to have music, some delightful strain; who was to play? Maria it seems, for she says, she won't plead the excuse of want of skill, but 'tis too plain she does no such thing. Further, we have a little lower a dance, but 'tis a dance without music, and yet 'tis quite clear the performers were actually in the house. Sympson. We do not believe any thing written by the authors is omitted:-The masque was, we apprehend, only an antic dance. It is not clear that Maria more than prepares to play, when she is interrupted by the Servant announcing Mercury and Antonio. The dance must have been without music, or the dialogue between the Servant, Mercury, and Antonio, which passes during the dance, could not be heard. Maria. My husband! Welcome home, Merc. She's fair still; [dear sir! Oh, that I were a knave, or durst be one, For thy sake, Coxcomb! He that invented honesty Undid me. · Ant. I thought you had not known me. You're merry; 'tis well thought. And how These worthy gentlemen? [is't with Uberto and Silvio. We're glad to see You here again. Ant. Oh, gentlemen, what ha’ you lost? But get you into travels; there you may learnI cannot say what hidden virtues. Merc. Hidden from you, I'm sure. Oh, what a blessing is gone by me, never If there be any ways to be dishonest, And save myself yet-No, it must not be! Why should I be a fool too?-Yet those eyes Would tempt another Adam! How they call [any thing! to me, And tell me 'Sfoot, they shall not tell me Ant. How is't, signor? [power, pray Maria. What ail you, sir? What's in my Make use of, sir. Merc. "Tis that must do me good! She does not mock me, sure!-An't please you, nothing; My disease is only weariness. Uberto. Come, gentlemen! We will not keep you from your beds too long. Ric. I ha' some business, and 'tis late, and Far from your lodging. Silvio. Well? Ty.u [yet scarce eleven. Uberto. What shall we do the while? Tis Silvio. There is no standing here; is not Ric. Yes. Pedro. And to go back [this the place? Unto her father's house may breed suspicion: Let's slip into a tavern for an hour; 'Tis very cold. Uberto. Content; there's one hard by. A quart of burnt sack will recover us : I am as cold as Christmas. This stealing flesh I' th' frosty weather may be sweet i'th' eating, But sure the woodmen have no great catch Shall's go? [of it. Ric. Thou art the strangest lover of A tavern! What shall we do there now? Lose The hour and ourselves too? Uberto. Lose a pudding! [muzzle us? What dost thou talk o' th' hour? will one quart Have we not ears to hear, and tongues to ask The drawers, but we must stand here like bawds To watch the minutes? Silvio. Prithee content thyself! fing, We shall scout here, as tho we went a-hayAnd have some mangy 'prentice, that can't sleep [go, sirs? For scratching, over-hear us. Come, will you When your love-fury is a little frozen, You'll come to us. Ric. Will you drink but one quart then? Pedro. No more, i'faith. Silvio. Content! Ric. Why then, have with you! But let's be very watchful. Silvio. Prithee content thyself.] Probably this belongs to Ricardo, and We shall scout here, to Silvio. Sympson.. Uberto. Uberto. As watcliful as the bellman. Come; Because I hate good manners; they're too Enter Viola, with a Key and a little Casket. Viola. The night is terrible, and I enclos'd With that my virtue and myself hate most, Darkness; yet must I fear, that which I wish, Some company; and every step I take Sounds louder in my fearful ears to-night, Than ever did the shrill and sacred bell That rang me to my prayers. The house will rise When I unlock the door! Were it by day, I'm bold enough, but then a thousand eyes Warn me from going. Might not Heav'n have made A time for envious prying folk to sleep, Whilst lovers met, and yet the sun have shone? Yet I was bold enough to steal this key I steal 'em for. Farewell, my place of birth! Enter Ricardo, Pedro, Uberto, Silvio, and Drawer with a Candle. Ric. No more, for God's sake! How's the night, boy? Drawer. Faith, sir, 'tis very late. Uberto. Faith, sir, you lie! is this your Jack i' th' clock-house"? [you varlet. Will you strike, sir? Give's some more sack, Ric. Nay, if you love me, good Uberto, go! I am monstrous hot with wine. Uberto. Quench it again with love! [then Gentlemen, I will drink one health more, and 5 Is this your Jack i'th' clock-house? If my legs say me not shamefully nay, Drawer. You shall, sir. [Exit. Pedro. We will, sir; and a dried tongue. Silvio. And an olive, boy, and a whole bunch of fidlers! [be claw'd. My head swims plaguily; 'uds precious, I shall Enter Drawer with four Quarts of Wine. Ric. Pray go? I can drink no more; think on your promise; 'Tis midnight, gentlemen. [now! Uberto. Oh, that it were dumb midnight Not a word more! every man on's knees, And betake himself to his saint: here's to your wench, signor! All this, and then away. Ric. I cannot drink it. Pedro. 'Tis a toy, a toy; away wi't! Speak any thing to any body living! Ric. I have broke [made it; My wind. Call you this sack? I wonder who He was a sure workman, for 'tis plaguy Is it gone round? [strong work. Uberto. "Tis at the last. Is the moon up yet? Out of my way, Drawer. Yes, sir. good boy! [boy. [boy. Uberto. We shall have rain and thunder, Drawer. When, sir? Uberto. I cannot tell; but sure we shall, Drawer. The gentleman is wine-wise. Uberto. Drawer! Drawer. Here, sir. Uberto. Can you procure? Drawer. What, sir? Uberto. A whore, or two, or three, As need shall serve, boy? [ney, boy. Silvio. Ay, a good whore were worth moDrawer. I protest, sir, we are altogether unprovided. [not 'vise us Ric. The more's the pity, boy; can you Where, my child? Drawer. Neither, in troth, sir. Will you strike, sir?] In Shakespeare's King Richard III. the King says to Buckingham, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke 'Betwixt thy begging and my meditation;' on which passage are the following notes: An image, like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street, and at the market-houses at several towns in this kingdom, was usually called a Jack of the clock-house. See Cowley's Discourse on the Government of Oliver Cromwell. Richard resembles Buckingham to one of those automatons, and bids him not suspend the stroke on the clock-bell, but strike, that the hour may be past, and himself be at liberty to pursue his meditations. Hawkins. So in The Fleire, a comedy, 1610-Their tongues are, like a Jack o' the clock, still in 'labour.' Steevens. Drawer. Neither in troth, sir.] This little speech is only in the first folio. Pedro. |