You pluck her heart out too: besides, of late days, The duke of Milan, who could never win her By love, nor treaty, laid a close train for her In her own private walks, some forty horsemen, [with; So to surprise her, which we found, and dealt And sent 'em running home to the duke their master, Like dogs with bottles at their tails. Sil. Since that, I heard, sir, Sli' has sent her to your citadel to secure her, My cousin Rodope, your wife, attending her. Bart. You hear a truth; and all convenient pleasures Are there proportion'd for her. Sil. I would fain, sir, Like one, that owes a duteous service to her, Sometimes, so please you Bart. Gentle cousin, pardon me! I must not, nor you must not dare to offer: The last edict lies on his life pursues it. Your friend, sir, to command abroad, to love you, [you; To lend you any thing I have, to wait upon But, in the citadel where I stand charg'd, Not a bit upon a march: no service, sir, No, good sir, by no means! I kiss your hands, sir. [Exit. Sil. To your keeping only? none else to look upon her? None but Bartello worthy her attendance? No faith but his to serve her? Oh, Belvidere, Thou saint to whom my youth is sacrific'd, Thou point to which my life turns, and my fortune! [comforts, Art thou lock'd from me now? from all my Art thou snatch'd violently?? Thou hear'st me not; Nor canst thou see, fair soul, thy servant's mournings; Yet let thy gentle heart feel what is absence3, The great divorce of minds so truly loving, So long, and nurs'd in one affection, Ev'n from our infant eyes suck'd in, and nourish'd[constant, Oh! let it feel but that, and there stand And I am blest. My dear aunt Rodope, That is her governess, did love me dearly; There's one hope yet to see her: When he's absent, [closely. It may be ventur'd, and she may work it I know the lady's will goes equal with me, Enter Claudio and Soto. Soto. Will you go yonder, sir? Clau. By that ladder, coxcomb. Soto. Have you any more necks at home when this is broken? [has, sir; For this will crack with the best friend he Or, can you pitch of all four, like an ape now? Let me see you tumble. Clau. You are very pleasant, sir. Soto. No, truly, sir; I should be loath to see you [cry squab, Come fluttering down like a young rook, And take you up with your brains beaten into your buttocks. [stands musing here? Clau. Hold your peace, ass!—Who's this Silvio? My cousin Rodope, your wife, &c.] We have a mighty jumble through the play, of cou sin and aunt, as the reader will easily perceive. 2 From all my comforts Sympson. Art thou snatch'd violently?] Silvio is not lamenting the lady's condition, but his own, and therefore I should think it would be better to read, From me all my comforts Are they snatch'd violently. Sympson. The text is much best; and though loosely expressed, means to represent Silvio lamenting his own condition. 3 Yet let thy gentle heart feel what his absence.] A letter too much in his, makes strange stuff in this passage: our authors possibly wrote, feel what is absence. Sympson. Sil. He dares not love her! [purpose? I've heard that too: But whither points your Clau. Oh, Silvio, let me speak that none may hear me, [long, None but thy truth! I've lov'd this lady Long giv'n away my life to her devotion, Long dwelt upon that beauty to my ruin. Sil. Does she know this? Clau. No; there begins my misery! Ixion-like, I've only yet clasp'd clouds, [me. And fed upon poor empty dreams that starve Sil. And what d' you mean to do now? Clau. Tho' I die for't, Tho' all the tortures in the world hung on me, Arm'd with imperious Love, I stand prepar'd [her, now With this to reach her chamber; there to see The hardest things are sweetest in possession. And he that looks for reason there, far blinder. And arm'd against that all. Sil. Her honour too? woman, To hold commerce with strange tongues? This only hazard of my life, must tell her, Clau. 'Tis too late, sir. Sil. Then I must say, you shall not go. Sil. You shall not, go: that part bred Bids me say boldly so, and you observe me. The honour that I bear that spotless virtue [master. Soto. This will be worse than climbing. Clau. Why d' you draw, sir? Sil. To kill thee, if thy base will be thy Clau. I ever was your friend. Sil. Whilst thou wert honest, And not a night-thief of another's honour: I never call'd a fool my friend, a mad man, That durst expose his fame to all opinions, His life t' unhonest dangers; I ne'er lov'd him, VOL. III. Durst know his name, that sought a virgin's ruin; Nor ever took I pleasure in acquaintance With men, that give as loose reins to their fancies As the wild ocean to his raging fluxes: Clau. I will not fight with you; [ger: The sacred name of friend ties up that anRather I'll study Sil. Do, to be a friend still. Clau. If this way, I shall never hold. [for't, And, if I catch you false, by Heav'n you die All love forgot! Clau. When I fear that, I'm fit for't. SCENE II. [Exeunt. Lopez at a Table with Jewels and Money Here's rubies of Bengala, rich, rich, glorious! Enter Penurio. Pen. Did you call, sir? What vanity holds her from her attendance? Pen. Getting a good stomach, sir, án she knew where to get meat to't; She's praying heartily upon her knees, sir, That Heav'n would send her a good bearing dinner. [thought on, Lopez. Nothing but gluttony and surfeit Health flung behind! had she not yesternight, sirrah, Two sprats to supper, and the oil allowable? Was she not sick with eating? Hadst not thou [satisfies) (Thou most ungrateful knave, that nothing F The The water that I boil'd my other egg in, Pen. 'Tis true, I had, sir; [stone on't; But I might as soon make the philosopher's You gave it me in water, and, but for manner's sake, [so hearty. I could give it you again, in wind, it was I shall turn pissing-conduit shortly.—My mistress comes, sir. Enter Isabella. Lopez. Welcome, my dove! Isab. Pray you keep your welcome to you, Unless it carries more than words to please me. [me, Is this the joy to be a wife? to bring with Lopez. Good Isabella- [famish me, Isab. Too good for you! D' you think to Or keep me like an alms-woman in such rai[ugly? ment, Such poor unhandsome weeds? am I old or ruin. Pen. Tickle him, mistress; to him! Or any part of man Pen. Follow that, mistress! Isub. Or had humanity but ever known you, You'd shame to use a woman of my way thus, So poor, and basely! You're strangely jeaIf I should give you cause- [lous of me; Lopez. How, Isabella? Įvoke meIsub. As do not venture this way to proPen. Excellent well, mistress! Lopez. How's this, Isabella? Isab. "Twill stir a saint, and I am but a woman, And by that tenure may— 4 Cater.] Probably we should read, caterer. Lopez. By no means, chicken! You know I love you. Fy, take no example By those young gadding dames, (you're noted virtuous) [on 'em, That stick their husbands' wealth in trifles And point 'em but the way to their own mi series. I am not jealous. Kiss me. Faith, I am not. And for your diet, 'tis to keep you healthful (Surfeits destroy more than the sword) that I'm careful [handled; Your meat should be both neat, and cleanly See, sweet, I'm cook myself, and mine own cater4. [fingers! Pen. A pox of that cook cannot lick his I oper. I'll add another dish; you shall have 'Tis nourishing and good. [milk to't; Pen. With butter in't, sir? Lopez. (This knave would breed a famine in a kingdom!) [must be wise then, And cloaths that shall content you; you And live sequester'd to yourself and me, Not wandring after every toy comes cross you, Nor struck with every spleen.—What's the knave doing? Penurio! [flies here; Pen. Hunting, sir, for a second course of They're rare new sallads. Lopez. For certain, Isabella, This rav'ning fellow has a wolf in's belly. Untemp'rate knave, will nothing quench thy appetite? I saw him eat two apples, which is monstrous. Pen. If you had giv'n me those, 't had been more monstrous. [lain. Lopez. "Tis a main miracle to feed this vilCome, Isabella, let us in to supper, And think the Roman dainties at our table! 'Tis all but thought. [Exeunt. Pen. Would all my thoughts would do it! The devil should think of purchasing that egg-shell, To victual out a witch for the Burmoothes": 'Tis treason to any good stomach living now To hear a tedious grace said, and no meat to't. I have a radish yet, but that's but transitory. [Exit. 5 Nor struck with every spleen.] Seward would alter spleen to sheen, which, says he, is the same as bright or brightness. The alteration proposed is, we think, a very poor one; and we do not remember sheen as a substantive. Nor struck with every spleen, we conceive, signifies, not put out of humour with trifles. 6 6 Bermoothes.] i. c. Burmudas.—Dr. Warburton remarks, that Smith, in his account of 'these islands, p. 172, says, that the Burmudas were so fearful to the world, that many called them, The Isle of Devils-P 171—to all seamen no less terrible than an inchanted den of furies. And no wonder, for the clime was extremely subject to storms and hurricanes; and the islands were surrounded with scattered rocks lying shallowly hid under the surface ' of the water.' wars. The opinion that Bermudas was haunted with evil spirits continued so late as the civil In a little piece of Sir John Berkinhead's, intitled, Two Centuries of Paul's Churchyard, una cum indice expurgatorio, &c. 12°. in page 62, under the title of Cases of Conscience, is this, 34. Whether Bermudas and the parliament-house lie under one planet, seeing both are haunted with devils.' Percy. SCENE SCENE III. Soto. Can any living man, unless a rascal That neither knows himself, nor a fashion'd gentleman, [now? Take me for a worse man than my master I'm naturally proud in these cloaths: but if pride now Should catch a fall in what I am attempting! [ter! I think I shall be hang'd; but that's no inat- As an elephant. I have consider'd what [dow Tis plaguy high! Stay; at that lower win- Soto. What has he in's hand? I hope but a cudgel. Sil. Thy faults forgive, oh, Heav'n! Farewell, thou traitor! [Fires a pistol. Soto. I'm slain, I'm slain! This is no place now to repent in; only, I had miss'd thee, and thou wert once more Enter Claudio. [Exit. Clau. Why should I love thus foolishly? thus desp❜rately? And give away my heart where no hope's left me? Why should not the true counsel of a friend The devil's mouth I run into, affright me? [meOr what thou art, that plays the tyrant in Soto. Oh! Clau. What's that cry? Clau. 'Tis not far from me: Soto. Will you let me die here? [thee? His voice, and here he lies. How is it with Soto. I know not; But I am sure I'm kill'd. 7 By hook or crook here.] Mr. Warton observes, (Observations on Spenser, vol. ii.) that the proverb of getting any thing by hooke or by crooke was supposed to have arisen in the time of Charles I. when there were two learned judges, named Hooke and Crooke; and a difficult cause was to be gotten either by Hooke or by Crooke. This notion he shews to be groundless, and that the form was not then invented as proverb, but applied as a pun. He is, however, mistaken in imagining there was any judge of that time, of the name of Hooke. In Hudibras, part iii. c. ii. are the following lines: These are the courses that we took Line 933. Which, Dr. Gray says, alludes to the judgment of judge Crook and Hutton, who dissented from their brethren in the determination of the cause about ship-money, and occasioned the wags to say that the king carried it by Hook, but not by Crook. The phrase, however, is certainly (as Mr. Warton proves) of higher antiquity than the time of Charles I. as may appear by several passages in our ancient writers. In Lodge's Wit's Miserie and the World's Madnesse,' 1596, p. 7, He matcheth not according to his birth, but the increase of his fortune: and by hooke or crooke so stirreth in the world, that not only he attaineth préheminence in the city, but some place in court.'-Again, in the Life of Jasper Colignie, B. L. Therefore, having alwayes this saying in his mouth, what skills it whither a man use manlinesse or wylinesse ageinst his enemie? he determined to go intoo his camp as a revolter,. and to hunt for opportunitie to accomplish his device by hooke or by crooke? R. Clau. F 2 Clau. The devil a bullet has been here; thou'rt well, man. Soto. No, sure, I'm kill'd. Clau. Let me see thy thighs, and belly: As whole as a fish, for any thing I see yet; Thou bleed'st no where. Soto. I think I do not bleed, sir, [shot thee? Thou hast as much hurt as my nail. Who A pottle, or a pint? Soto. Signor Silvio shot me, [sceing In these cloaths, taking me for you, and The ladder in my hand here, which I stole from 'you, [and have spoke for you. Thinking to have gone to the lady myself, Clau. If he had hit you home, h' had serv'd you right, sirrah, [shews to me, You saucy rogue!--How poor my intent How naked now, and foolish! SCENE I. ACT II. Nearest my heart? Sil. I thank you, worthy aunt, But such at this time are my occasionsRod. You shall not go yet; by my faith, you shall not! [nephew? I will not be denied. Why look you sad, Sil. I'm seldom other.-Oh, this blood sits heavy! As I walk'd this way late last night, Sil. Why, methought I heard a piece, lady, A piece shot off, much about this place too, (But could not judge the cause, nor what it boaded) Under the castle-wall. Rod. We heard it too; [nothing, And the watch pursu'd it presently, but found Not any track. Sil. I am right glad to hear it! The ruffians surely that command the night Have found him, stript him, and into the river Convey'd the body. Rod. You look still sadder, nephew. Is any thing within these walls to comfort you? Speak, and be master of't. Sil. You're a right courtier ; A great professor, but a poor performer. Rod. D'you doubt my faith? You never found me that way, [friend. (I dare well speak it boldly) but a true Sil. Continue then. Rod. Try me, and see who falters. Sil. I will, and presently: 'tis in your power [courtesy. To make me the most bound man to your Rod. Let me know how, and if I failSil. "Tis thus then: Get me access to th' lady Belvidere, But for a minute, but to see her; your husband Now's safe at court; I left him full employ'd there. [power to grant you, Rod. You've ask'd the thing without my The law lies on the danger: If I lov'd you [for't. not, I'd bid you go, and there be found, and die Sil. I knew your love, and where there shew'd a danger [true friend, How far you durst step for me! Give me a That, |