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ACT II.

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(all fears!

SCENE I.

In the return, as many men have done, sir. Enter the Soldier, and the Lady.

I dare not justify what is to come of me,

Because I know it not; tho'I hope virtuously: Lady. THERE should be in this gallery- Marry, what's past, or present, I durst put Oh, they're here.

Into a good mau's hand; which if he take Pray sit down: believe me, sir, I'm weary: Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen Sold. It well becomes a lady to complain Sold. No, nor hereafter.

[him. a little

(inadam; Lady. It may hap so tvo, sir; Of what she never feels: your walk was short, A woman's goodness, when she is a wife, You can be but afraid of weariness,

Lies much upon a man's desert, believe it, sir; Which well implies the softness of your sex 10: If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't, As for the thing itself, you never came to't. "Tis first in him, if she were ever good" :

Lady. You're wondrously well read in That makes me, knowing not a husband yet, ladies, sir.

(madam, Or what he may be, promise no more virtues Sold. Shall I think such a creature as you, Than I may well perform; for that were coWas ever born to feel pain, but in travel?

zenage. There's your full portion,

Sold. Happy were he that had you,

with Besides a little tooth-ache in the breeding, That's my opinion, lady. Which a kind busband too takes from you, madam.

[kind husbands?

Enter Shumont and a Servant, listening. Ludy. But where do ladies, sir, find such Sero. What say you now, sir? Perhaps you have heard

now, Dare you give contidence to your own eyes? The rheumatic story of some loving chandler Sham. Not yet I dare not. Or some such melting fellow, that you talk Sero. No? So prodigal of men's kindness : I confess, sir, Sham. Scarce yet, or yet, Many of those wives are happy, their ambition Altho' I see 'tis he. Why, can a thing, Dues reach no bigher than to love and ige That's but myself divided, be so false? norance,

[fond one: Serv. Nay, do but mark how the chair Which makes an excellent husband, and a plays his part too: Now, sir, your great ones aim at' height and Ilow amorously 'tis bent. cunning,

Sham. Hell iake thy bad thoughts ! And so are oft deceiv’d, yet they must venture For they are strange ones. Never take delight For 'tis a laciy’s contumely, sir,

To make a torment worse. Look on 'em, To have a lord an ignorant; then the world's Heav'n! voice

(on't : For that's a brother, send me a fair enemy, Will deem hier for a wanton, ere she taste And take him! for a fouler fiend there breathe's But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection

I will not sin to think there's ill in her, The world resigns itself with all its envy", But what's of his producing; Tis less dishonour to us than to fall;

Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh, Because his believ'd wisdoun keeps out all. Holds out oit-times but sorrily. But as black,

Sold. 'Would I were the man, lady, that sir, should venture

As ever kindred was, I hate mine own blood, llis wisdom to your goodness!

Because it is so near thine. Live without Lady. You might fail

honesty; old reading was not absolute nonsense, supposing the points altered) is so easy, that I cannot fear the reader's concurrence. Seward.

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 ser.] What is it that employs the softness of the sex, weariness, or the fear of it? ""L'is scarcely sense in either light, and Mr. Sympson seems to have bit off the true reading, implics. Seward.

"With all his envy.] Corrected by Seward.
12 'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,

That makes one; knowing not a husband yet,
Or what he may be : I promise no more virtues,

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,

not.

And

[I loved you;

that way.

And mavst thou die with an unmoisten'd eye,

Enter First Gentleman. And no tear folion thee!

Sold. Now he dics,

shim! [E.reunt Sham. and Sero. Ladi. You're wondrous inerry, sir;

Were ali succeeding hopes stor'd up within I would your brother heard you?

1 Gent, Oh, fy! i'th'court, sir?

Sold. I most dearly thank you, sir. Suld. Or my sister'3 ;

[lady, I would not, out o'th’ way, let fall my words,

1 Gent. 'Tis rage ill spent upon a Passionate Madman.

[sir. For the precisest humour.

Sold. That shall not privilege him fo eier, Enter Passionate Lord.

A Madman call you him? i'ter found too

much reason Prs. Yea, so close ? [can report of 'em; Sold. They're merry, that's the worst you

Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so. They're neither dangerous, nor immodest.

1 Gent. If ever truth from man's lips may Pas. So, sir!

be held Shall I believe you, think you?

In reputation with you 6, give this confidence! Sold. Who's this, lady?

And this his love-tit, which we observe still Lady. On, the duke's cousin; he came late

By's flattering; and his fineness, at some frown travel, sir.

other time Sold. Respect helongs to him.

lle'll go as slovenly as heart can wish. Pas. For, as I said, lady, (port of 'em;

The love and pity that his highness shews to

him, "They're merry, that's the worst you can reThey're neither dangerous, nor immodest.'

Makes every man the more respectful of him: Sold. ilow's this?

H'has never a passion, but is well provided Pris. And there I think I left.

for, Sold Abuses me !

As this of love; he is full fed in all (tience, Pus. Now to proceed, lady: perlaps I swore

His swinge, as I may terin it: have but pa

And you shall witness somewhat! If you believe menot, you're much the wiser-

Sold. Still he inocks ine : Sold. He speaks still in my person, and derides me!

Look you! in action, in behaviour, sir. Pas. For I can cog with you

Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to Lady. You can ail do so;

you!

sirWe make no question of men's promptness

Or I'll set so much strength upon your heart,

Pas. I feel some power has restrain'd ine, Pas. And sinile, and wave a chair with

lady:

If it be sent from Lore, say, I obey it, comely grace too,

things, Play with our tassel gent!y14, and do tine

And ever keep a voice to welcome it.
That catch a lady sooner than a virtue.

SONG.
Sold. I never us'd to let man live so long, Thou deity, swift-winged Love,
That wrong'd me!

Sometiines helow, sometimes above, Pas. Talk of battalions, wooe you in a skir- Little in shape, but great in power; mish's;

Tbou that mak'st a heart thy tower, Discharge my mind to you, lady; and, being And thy loop-holes ladies' eyes, sharp-set,

(weapon, From whence thou strik'st the tond and wise'; Can court you at half-pike; or name your Did all the shafts in thy fair quiver We cannot fail you, lady.

Stick fast in my ainbitious liver, 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 shirmish; Divine

my mind to you.) Divine so entirely loses the metaphor and consequently the humour, that it is most probable a corruption. We should voi 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 subunit. This I take to be the present case, and I therefore read,

wooe you in a skirmish; Discharge my mind to you.

Seuurd. 15 In reputation with you give this confidence!

And this his love-fit, which we observe still,

By's flattering und 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 fonil, but the wise also : as it will bear this sense, I let it stand without putting a more obvious antithesis to wise, fools. Seward,

Pond is used in the sense of fools, according to the usage of our old authors.
VOL. III.

3U

Yet

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that power

Yet thy power would I adore,

Pas. What a felicity of whores are here's! And caii upon thee to shoot more,

And all my concubines struck bleeding new! Shoot more, shoot inore !

A man can in his life-time make but one

woman, Enter one like a Cupid, offering to shoot at

But be may make his fifty queans a month. him.

Cupid. Have you remember'd a priest, Pas. I prithee hold tho', sweet celestial honest brothers?

[gentleman; boy!

1 Bro. Yes, sister, and this is the young I'm not requited yet with love enough Make you no question of our faithfulness. For the first arrow that I have within me; 2 Bio. Your growing shame'', sister, proAnd if thou be an equal archer, Cupid,

vokes our care. Shoot this lady, and twenty more for me. Priest. He must be taken in this fit of love, Ludy. Me, sir?

(not, lady! gentlemen ? 1 Gent. 'Tis nothing but device; fear it 1 Bro. What else, sir? be shall do't. You may be as good a inaid after that shaft, 2 Bro. Enough. madam,

1 Bro. Be chearful, wench! As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half:

[4 dance, Cupid lending. 'Tis like the boy that draws it, ’t has no sting Pus. Now, by the struke of pleasure, (a yet. [that draws it, deep oath)

[bear too! Cupid (aside]. 'Tis like the miserable maid Nimbly bopt, ladies all! What height they That sces no comfort yet, seeing him so pas- A story higher than your common statures; sionate.

A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em: Pas. Strike me the duchess of Valois in What a great space there is love withi mc,

(women! Betwixt Love's dining-chamber and his garWith all the speed thou canst, and two of her ret!

methinks: Cupid. You shall have more.

Exit. I'll try the utmost height. The garret stoops, | Pus. Tell 'em, I tarry for 'em. I

The rooms are made all bending, I see that, 1 Gent. Who would be angry with that And not so high as a man takes 'em for. walking trouble now,

Cupid. Now, if you'll follow me, sir, I've That hurts none but itself?

Sold. I am better quieted. [time for me To make 'em follow you.

Pas. I'll have all woman-kind struck in Pas. Are they all shot? After thirteen once.

Cupid. All, all, sir; every mother's daughI see this Cupid will not let me want;

ter of 'em,

(they be And let him spend his forty shafts an hour, Pas. Then there's no fear of following: if They shall be all found from the duke's ex- Once shot, they'll follow a man to th' devil. He's come already.

(chequer. As for you, sir

[ Èrit with the Lady and the Masquers. Enter again the same Cupid, Two Brothers, Sold. Me, sir? Sir Ilomen, Masquers, Cupid's bow bent

1 Gent. Nay, sweet sir! all the way towards them, the first ll’omun

Sold. A noise, a threatning! did you not singing and playing, und a Priest.

hear it, sir?

[hear you, SONG.

i Gent. Without regard, sir; so would I

Sold. This must come to something; never Oh, turn thy bow!

talk of that, sir!
Thy power we feel and know,

You never saw it otherwise.
Fair Cupid, turn away thy bow!

1 Gent. Nay, dear Merit-
They be those golden arrows,

Soid. Me, above all men ?
Bring ladies all their sorrows;.

1 Gent. Troth, you wrong your anger. And 'till there be more truth in men, Sold. I will be arm’d, my honourable le Nerer shoot at maid again!

cher18 What a felicity of whores are here!] Mr. Sympson thinks felicity stands as a designed mistake for multiplicity. But be does not observe the common conciseness of poetry, which instead of saying, what a felicity it is to have such a nunber of whores here? expresses it by two words, félicity of whores. The very nerves and almost the essence of poetry consists in this conciseness. Seucard.

Still the expression is rather hard, and very possibly corrupt.

19 His grou ing shume.] Growing shume 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.)

Make you no question of our faithfulness. 2 Bro. Her growing shaine, sir, provokes all our care. Seward.

1 Gent, 3 U 2

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1 Gent. Oh, fy, sweet sir! (lumps, By this I would have op'd my way to him.

Sold. That devours women's honesties by It could not be you, sir; excuse him not, And never chew'st thy pleasure.

Whate'er he be, as you are dear to Honour, 1 Gent. What do you mean, sir?

That I may find my peace again! Sold. What does he mean, t'engross all to Duke. Forbear, I say! himself?

(sir. Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I. There's others love a whore as well as he, Sham. Still miserable !

1 Gent. Oh, an that be part o'th' fury, we Duke. Come, come; what ails you, sir? have a city

Sham. Never sat shame cooling so long Is very well provided for that case:

upon me, Let him alone with her, sir! we have women Without a satisfaction in revenge; Are very charitable to proper men,

And Ileav'n has made it here a sin to wish it, And to a soldier that has all his limbs:

Duke. Hark you, sir !
Marry, the sick and lamegets not a penny; Sham. Oh, you've undone me!
Right women's charity! and the husbands Duke. How?
follow't too.

Shum. Cruelly undone ine;
Here comes his highness, sir.

I've lost my peace and reputation by you!
Enter Duke und Lords.
Sir, pardon ine; I can ne'er love you more.

[Erit. Sold. I'll walk to cool myself. [E.rit. Duke. What language call you this, sirs? Duke. Who's that?

1 Gent. Truth, my lord, 1 Gent. The brother of Shamont.

I've seldoin heard a stranger. Dukc. He's brother then

[cretely, 2 Gent. He is a man of a most curious van To all the court's love, they that love dis- lour,

[tue. And place their friendliness upon desert: Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virAs for the rest, that with a double face

Duke. But why to me so punctual? my Look upon Merit much like Fortune's visagezo, last thought That looks two ways, both to life's calms and Was most entirely fix'd on his advancement. storips,

Why, I came now to put bim in possession I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him, Of his fair fortunes, (what a mis-conceiver He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their 'tis!) envies.

And, from a gentleman ofourchamber merely, And here comes my Sbamont.

Make him vice-adıniral; I was settled in't: Enter Shamont.

I love him next to health. Call him, gentlemen!

much, Sham. That lady's virtues are my only joys; Why, would not you, or you, ba' taken as And he to offer to lay siege to thein !

And never murinur'd? (Erit First Gent. Duke. Shamont!

[discourses,

2 Gent. Troth, I think we should, my lord; Sham. Her goodness is my pride: in all And there's a fellow walks about the court As often as I hear rash-tongu'd gallants Would take a hundred of 'em. Speak rudely of a woman, presently

Duke. I hate you all for it; I give in but her name, and they are all silent, And rather praise his high-pitch'd fortitude, Oh, who would lose this benefit?

Tho' in extremnes for niceness: now I think Duke. Come hither, sir.

(viner:

on't, Sham. 'Tis like the gift of healing, but di

I would I'd never done't !-Now, sir, where For that but cures diseases in the body, This works a cure on fame, on reputation;

Enter First Gentleman. The noblest piece of surgery upon earth! 1 Gent. His suit is only, sir, to be cxcus'd. Duke. Shamont !-He minds me not.

Duke. He shall not be excus'd; I love him Sham. A brother do't?

dearlier :

(us. Duke. Shamont, I say!

Say, we entreat him; go! he must not leave [Gives him a touch with his suitch.

[Ereunt Tuo Gentlemen. Sham. Ha!

So Virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralIf he be mortal, by this hand he perishes ! leld!

[Draws. Why, he's more precious to me now than ever. Unless it be a stroke from Heav'n, hedies fort!

Enter Two Gentlemen and Shamont. Duke. Why, how now, sir? 'twas I. Sham. The more's my n misery.

2 Gent. With much fair language we have Duke. Why, what's the matter, prithee?

brought him. Sham. Can you ask it, sir?

him, Duke. Thanks! No man else should : stood forty lives before 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, it not superior, to the ancient classical portraitures of this fickle deity. Sewurd,

2 Gent. ciuli,

[is be? seen, sir.

sir :

2 Gent. Yonder, sir.

To serve you more. Duke. Come forward, man.

If your drum call me, I am vow'd to valour; Shum. Pray pardon me; I'm asham'd to be But peace shall never know me yours again,

[of? Because I've lost mine own. I speak to die, Duke. Was ever such a touchy man heard

[oti' shanie, Prithee, come nearer.

'Would you were gracious that way to take Sham. More into the light?

With the same swifi ness as you pour it on! Put not such cruelty into your requests, my And since it is not in the power of monarchs lord:

sme To make a gentleman, which is a substance First to disgrace me publicly, and then draw Only begot of merit, they should be careful Into men's eye-sight, with the shame yet lot Noi to destroy the worth of one so rare, Upon my reputation.

Which neither they can make, nor, lost, reDuke. What disgrace, sir?

pair.

Erit. Sham. What?

Duke. You've set a fair light, sir, before Such as there can be no forgiveness for, my judgment, That I can find in honour.

Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acDuke. That's most strange, sir.

knowledge it,

[love, Sham. Yet I have search'd my bosom to And your worth with it: but then, sir, my

My love--What, gone again?
And wresiled with my inclination; [sir ! 1 Gent. And full of scorn, iny lord.
But 'twill not be: 'would

you

had kill'd mic, Duke. That language will undo the man With what an ease had I forgiven you then! that keeps it, But to endure a stroke from any hand, Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt Under a punishing angels, which is justice, and manhood. dlonour disclaim that man! For my part Upon your love to goodness, gentlemen, chiefly,

Let me not lose him long?-ilow now? Ilad it been yet the malice of your sword, Tho' it had ciest me, it had been noble to me;

Enter a Huntsman. You should have found my thanks paid in a Hunts. The game's at height, my lord. smile,

Duke. Confound both thee and it ! Hence, If I bad fell unworded: but to shame ine break it off! With the correction that your borse should He hates me brings me news of any pleasure. have,

I felt not such a conflict, since I could Were you ten thousand times my royal lord, Distinguish betwixt worthiness and blood. I cannot love you, never, nor desire

[Exeunt.

tind one,

ACT III.

SCENE I. 'Enter the Two Brothers, First Gentleman,

with those that were the Masquers, and the

Cupid. 1 Gent. I HEARTILY commend your pro

ject, gentlemen; 'Twas wise and virtuous.

1 Bro. It was for the safety Of precious honour, sir, which near blood binds us to :

friage; He promis'd the poor easy fool there marThere was a good maidenbead lost i'th' belief Beshrew her basty confidence ! [on't,

1 Gent, Oh, no more, sir! You make ber weep ayain: alas, poor Cupid!

Shall she not shift herself?

1 Bro. Oh, by no means, sir;
We dare not have her seen yet: all the while
She keeps this shape, it is but thought device,
And she may follow him so without suspi-

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 indced.

1 Geni. You make her blush, in sooth.
1 Bro. I fear 'tis more the flag of shame
than grace, sir.

I colour, sit.
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 treeps
again.

bitter, sir; In truth you are too hard, much, much too Unless you mean to have her weep

her

eyes To play a Cupid truly.

[out, 1 Bro. Come, ha' done theu ! 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 conie forth.

1 Gent. Now 'ris so well, I'll leave yolt.

1 Sru

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