SCENE I. ACT II. Enter the Soldier, and the Lady. Lady.THERE should be in this galleryOh, they're here. Pray sit down believe me, sir, I'm weary. Sold. It well becomes a lady to complain a little [inadam; Of what she never feels: your walk was short, You can be but afraid of weariness, Which well implies the softness of your sex 10: As for the thing itself, you never came to't. Lady. You're wondrously well read in ladies, sir. [madam, Sold. Shall I think such a creature as you, Was ever born to feel pain, but in travel? There's your full portion, Besides a little tooth-ache in the breeding, Which a kind husband too takes from you, madam. [kind husbands? Lady. But where do ladies, sir, find such Perhaps you have heard [now, The rheumatic story of some loving chandler Or some such melting fellow, that you talk So prodigal of men's kindness: I confess, sir, Many of those wives are happy, their ambition Does reach no higher than to love and ig[fond one: norance, [it; Which makes an excellent husband, and a To have a lord an ignorant; then the world's voice [on't: Will deem her for a wanton, ere she taste The world resigns itself with all its envy", His wisdom to your goodness! old reading was not absolute nonsense, supposing Seward. In the return, as many men have done, sir. Lady. It may hap so too, sir; zenage. Sold. Happy were he that had you, with That's my opinion, lady. Enter Shamont and a Servant, listening. Serv. What say you now, sir? Dare you give confidence to your own eyes? Sham. Not yet I dare not. Serv. No? Sham. Scarce yet, or yet, Altho' I see 'tis he. Why, can a thing, How amorously 'tis bent. Sham. Hell take thy bad thoughts! For they are strange ones. Never take delight To make a torment worse. Look on 'em, Heav'n! For that's a brother, send me a fair enemy, And take him! for a fouler fiend there breathes not. I will not sin to think there's ill in her, Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh, Holds out oft-times but sorrily. But as black, sir, As ever kindred was, I hate mine own blood, Because it is so near thine. Live without honesty; the points altered) is so easy, that I cannot We really think the old reading most spirited and best, only making a full point after mistress. 10 Which well employs the softness of your sex.] What is it that employs the softness of the sex, weariness, or the fear of it? "Tis scarcely sense in either light, and Mr. Sympson seems to have hit off the true reading, implies. That makes one; knowing not a husband yet, Seward. Than I will well perform.] The punctuation amended by Seward; who also discarded the pronoun I. We have altered one to me: the error of the press is probable, and the sense requires it. And And mayst thou die with an unmoisten'd eye, And no tear follow thee! [Exeunt Sham. and Serv. [lady, I would not, out o' th' way, let fall my words, Enter Passionate Lord. Pas. Yea, so close? [can report of 'em; Sold. They're merry, that's the worst you They're neither dangerous, nor immodest. Pas. So, sir! Shall I believe you, think you? Sold. Who's this, lady? Lady. Oh, the duke's cousin; he came late from travel, sir. Sold. Respect belongs to him. Pas. For, as I said, lady, [port of 'em ; Pas. And there I think I left. [I lov'd you; Pus. Now to proceed, lady: perhaps I swore If you believe me not, you're much the wiser-Sold. He speaks still in my person, and derides me! Pas. For I can cog with you— We make no question of men's promptness Pas. And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too, [things, Play with our tassel gently14, and do fine That catch a lady sooner than a virtue. Sold. I never us'd to let man live so long, That wrong'd me! Pas. Talk of battalions, wooe you in a skir- mind to you, lady; and, being Can court you at half-pike; or name your In reputation with you, give this confidence! He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish. Makes every man the more respectful of him: As this of love; he is full fed in all {tience, Sold. Still he mocks ine: Look you! in action, in behaviour, sir. [sirOr I'll set so much strength upon your heart, Pas. I feel some power has restrain'd ine, lady: If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it, Thou deity, swift-winged Love, From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise17; 13 O my sister.] First folio. Subsequent editions, Oh, my sister. The text by Seward. 14 Play with our tassel gently.] Probably we should read your for our. wvoe you in a skirmish ; Divine my mind to you.] Divine so entirely loses the metaphor and consequently the humour, that it is most probable a corruption. We should not very willingly strike out a word when we hav'n't one to supply its place somewhat near the trace of the letters; but as we know that words are sometimes totally changed by the inattention of the transcriber or printer, so when the context not only points out but demands a word very unlike what has been hitherto in the text, we ought to submit. This I take to be the present case, and I therefore read, wooe you in a skirmish; Discharge my mind to you. 15 In reputation with you, give this confidence! And this his love-fit, which we observe still, Seward. By's flattering and his fineness, at some other time, &c.] Ilere seems something wanting. 17 From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise;] i. e. not only those who are foolishly fond, but the wise also: as it will bear this sense, I let it stand without putting a more obvious antithesis to wise, fools. Seward, Fond is used in the sense of fools, according to the usage of our old authors. VOL. III. 3U Yet Yet thy power would I adore, Enter one like a Cupid, offering to shoot at him. Pas. I prithee hold tho', sweet celestial I'm not requited yet with love enough 1 Gent. 'Tis nothing but device; fear it You may be as good a maid after that shaft, madam, As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half: 'Tis like the boy that draws it, 't has no sting yet. [that draws it, Cupid [aside].'Tis like the miserable maid That sces no comfort yet, seeing him so pas sionate. Pas. What a felicity of whores are here's! And all my concubines struck bleeding new! A man can in his life-time make but one woman, But he may make his fifty queans a month. Cupid. Have you remember'd a priest, [gentleman; honest brothers? 1 Bro. Yes, sister, and this is the young Make you no question of our faithfulness. 2 Bro. Your growing shame1, sister, provokes our care. Priest. He must be taken in this fit of love, 1 Bro. What else, sir? he shall do't. 1 Bro. Be chearful, wench! A dance, Cupid leading. Pus. Now, by the stroke of pleasure, (a deep oath) [bear too! Nimbly hopt, ladies all! What height they A story higher than your common statures; A little man must go up stairs to kiss ’em: What a great space there is Betwixt Love's dining-chamber and his gar ret! [methinks: I'll try the utmost height. The garret stoops, The rooms are made all bending, I see that, And not so high as a man takes 'em for. Cupid. Now, if you'll follow me, sir, I've that power To make 'em follow you. Pas. Are they all shot? ter of 'em. [they be Pas. Then there's no fear of following: if Once shot, they'll follow a man to th' devil. As for you, sir [Exit with the Lady and the Masquer Sold. Me, sir? 1 Gent. Nay, sweet sir! Sold. A noise, a threatning! did you not 1 Gent. Without regard, sir; so would I You never saw it otherwise. 1 Gent. Nay, dear Merit— Sold. Me, above all men? 1 Gent. Troth, you wrong your anger. Sold. I will be arm'd, my honourable le cher 18 What a felicity of whores are here!] Mr. Sympson thinks felicity stands as a designed mistake for multiplicity. But he does not observe the common conciseness of poetry, which instead of saying, What a felicity it is to have such a number of whores here? expresses it by two words, felicity of whores. The very nerves and almost the essence of poetry consists in this conciseness. Seward. Still the expression is rather hard, and very possibly corrupt. 19 His growing shame.] Growing shame plainly means the sister's being with child; the change therefore of his to your, unless we change sister, and make them speak to the Priest, which would be rather more natural as it would be in the two lines above, and the whole might perhaps have run thus, Yes, sister, this is the young gentleman [meaning the Madman.] 2 Bro. Her growing shame, sir, provokes all our care. Seward. 1 Gent, By this I would have op'd my way to him. It could not be you, sir; excuse him not, Whate'er he be, as you are dear to Honour, That I may find my peace again! Duke. Forbear, I say! Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I. Duke. Come, come; what ails you, sir? upon me, Without a satisfaction in revenge; And Heav'n has made it here a sin to wish it, Sham. Oh, you've undone me! Sham. Cruelly undone me; I've lost my peace and reputation by you! Sir, pardon ine; I can ne'er love you more. [Exit. Duke. What language call you this, sirs? 1 Gent. Truth, my lord, I've seldom heard a stranger. 2 Gent. He is a man of a most curious valour, [tue. Wondrous precise, and punctual in that vir Duke. But why to me so punctual? my last thought Was most entirely fix'd on his advancement. Why, I came now to put him in possession Of his fair fortunes, (what a mis-conceiver 'tis!) And, from a gentleman of our chamber merely, Make him vice-admiral; I was settled in't: I love him next to health. Call him, gentle→ men! [much, Why, would not you, or you, ha' taken as And never murmur'd? [Exit First Gent. 2 Gent. Troth, I think we should, my lord; And there's a fellow walks about the court Would take a hundred of 'em. Duke. I hate you all for it; And rather praise his high-pitch'd fortitude, Tho' in extremes for niceness: now I think on't, [is he? I would I'd never done't!—Now, sir, where Enter First Gentleman. 1 Gent. His suit is only, sir, to be excus'd. Duke. He shall not be excus'd; I love him dearlier : [us. Say, we entreat him; go! he must not leave [Exeunt Two Gentlemen. So Virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him parallel'd! Why, he's more precious to me now than ever. Enter Two Gentlemen and Shamont. 2 Gent. With much fair language we have brought him. Duke. Thanks! Where is he? 20 Fortune's visage.] Fortune, like Janus, being double-visag'd, the one face looking on the ealms, the other on the storms of life, is a picture, I believe, quite new, but equal, if not superior, to the ancient classical portraitures of this fickle deity. 3 U 2 Seward, 2 Gent. 2 Gent. Yonder, sir. Duke. Come forward, man. Shum. Pray pardon me; I'm asham'd to be scen, sir. [of? Duke. Was ever such a touchy man heard Prithee, come nearer. Sham. More into the light? Put not such cruelty into your requests, my lord: [me First to disgrace me publicly, and then draw Into men's eye-sight, with the shame yet hot Upon my reputation. Duke. What disgrace, sir? Sham. What? Such as there can be no forgiveness for, Duke. That's most strange, sir. Sham. Yet I have search'd my bosom to find one, [sir! And wrestled with my inclination; Had it been yet the malice of your sword, If I had fell unworded: but to shame ine With the correction that your horse should have, Were you ten thousand times my royal lord, I cannot love you, never, nor desire sir: To serve you more. If your drum call me, I am vow'd to valour; But peace shall never know me yours again, Because I've lost mine own. I speak to die, [off shame, 'Would you were gracious that way to take With the same swiftness as you pour it on! And since it is not in the power of monarchs To make a gentleman, which is a substance Only begot of merit, they should be careful No to destroy the worth of one so rare, Which neither they can make, nor, lost, repair. [Exit. Duke. You've set a fair light, sir, before my judgment, Which burns with wond'rous clearness; I acknowledge it, your [love, And worth with it: but then, sir, my My love-What, gone again? 1 Gent. And full of scorn, my lord. Duke. That language will undo the man that keeps it, Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt and manhood. Upon your love to goodness, gentlemen, Enter a Huntsman. Hunts. The game's at height, my lord. Duke. Confound both thee and it! Hence, break it off! He hates me brings me news of any pleasure. SCENE I. ACT III. To see if she can draw all his wild passions To one point only, and that's love, the main point: So far his highness grants, and gave at first Large approbation to the quick conceit; Which then was quick indeed. 1 Gent. You make her blush, in sooth. 1 Bro. I fear 'tis more the flag of shame than grace, sir. [colour, sir. 1 Gent. They both give but one kind of If it be bashfulness in that kind taken, It is the same with grace; and there, she weeps again. [bitter, sir; In truth you are too hard, much, much too 1 Bro. Come, ha' done then! We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain, When 'tis once lodg'd, tho' entertain'd in mirth, It must be wept out, if it e'er come forth. 1 Gent. New 'tis so well, I'll leave you. |