SCENE I.

Enter LORENZO and PHILIPPO. Lor. Thou sha't try her once more. Phil. Fie, fie!

Lor. Thou shalt do 't.

If thou be'st my friend, thou'lt do 't.
Phil. Try your fair wife?

She's modest, but not sullen, and loves silence; Not that she wants apt words, (for when she speaks,

She inflames love with wonder) but because
She calls wise silence the soul's harmony.
She's truly chaste; yet such a foe to coyness,
The poorest call her courteous; and which is
excellent,

quent

In most of our Italian comedies.

Lor. What do I care for that? let him seek

new ones,

Cannot make old ones better; and this new point

(Young sir) may produce new smooth passages, Transcending those precedent. Pray, will ye do 't?

Phil. Pray, fool yourself no farther: twice you have sway'd me;

Twice I have try'd her; and 'tis not yet, ye know,

Ten days since our reconciliation.
How will it shew in you, so near a kinsman
To the duke; nay, having woven yourself into
The close-wrought mystery of opinion,
Where you remain a soldier, a man
Of brain and quality, to put your friend
Again on such a business, and to expose
Your fair wife to the tempest of temptation?
And, by the white unspotted cheek of truth,
She is-

To the opinion of strange eyes. seldom

She either Or never walks abroad but in your company; And then with such sweet bashfulness, as if She were venturing on crack'd ice; and takes delight

To step into the print your foot hath made, And will follow you whole fields; so she will drive

Tediousness out of time with her sweet cha

racter.

And therefore, good my friend, forbear to try The gold has past the fire.

Lor. Thou foolish friend,

Beauty, like the herb Larix, is cool i' th' water, But hot i' th' stomach. Women are smooth flatterers,

try again,

But this one time?

Phil. Condition'd you will stand

Ear-witness to our conference, that you may take
In at your ear a virtue that will teach
Your erring soul to wonder.

Lor. He would wittal me,

With a consent to my own horns: I will.
I'll give thee a new occasion: there lurks
In woman's blood a vindicating spirit.

Ab. I came, sir, to give you notice, [dulpho,
Count Lodovico, Stroimo, Spinoso, and Pau-
With the rest of the consiliadory, certify
They are setting forth to meet the duke your
kinsinan,

Returning from Venice.

Lor. Oh, there he has seen the duke your
brother.
[company.
Ab. Yes, sir, and they stay but for your
Lor. And you're cloy'd with 't-

[Kicks her, and exit. She weeps. Phil. And will you still be us'd thus? Oh, madam,

I do confess twice I have batter'd at
The fort I fain would vanquish, and I know
Ye hold out more, 'cause ye would seem a sol-
dier,

Than in hate to the assailant. I am again Inflam'd with those sweet fountains from whence flow

Such a pair of streams: Oh strong force of desire!
The quality should quench, hath set on fire.
I love you in your sorrows.

Ab. And I sorrow

In nothing but your love. Twice, Philippo,
Have I not beat back the impetuous storm
Of thy incessant rudeness? Wilt thou again
Darken fair honour with dishonesty?

Thou know'st my lord hath long and truly lov'd

vinegar

Lor. H' as given her some close nod that I am here.

Ab. Rip up the end of thy intent, and see How shame and fear do lurk where you would walk,

Like a pair of serpents in a flow'ry mead.
Lust sees with pleasure, but with fear doth tread.
Phil. Very brave, woman!

Ab. What is the pleasure thou pursu'st? A sin
Finish'd with infinite sorrows. Read, and find
How barb'rous nations punish it with death:
How a minute's sin so stolen, tho' in the face
Sit summer calms, all smooth; yet thou wilt hear,
From the eternal alarm of thy conscience,
How it sets within thy soul continual tempests,
Thunder, and dismal blackness! Mark but the

lady

To a more sociable affability? She will not kiss, Nor drink, nor talk, but against new fashions.

Lod. Oh, sir, she is my crown: nor is it requisite

Women should be so sociable. I have had such a coil with her, to bring her but to look out at window! When we were first married, she would not drink a cup of wine, unless nine parts of it were water.

Omnes. Admir'd temperance!

Lod. Nay, and ye knew all, my lords, ye would say so. T'other day I brought an English gentleman home with me, to try a horse I should sell him he (as ye know their custom, tho' it be none of ours) makes at her lips the first dash.

Clown. He dash'd her out of countenance, I'm sure of that.

Lod. She did so pout and spit, that my hotbrain'd gallant could not forbear but ask the cause. Quoth she

Clown. No, sir, she spit again, before quoth she left her lips.

Lod. I think she did indeed: but then quoth she, a kiss, sir, is sin's earnest-penny. Is't not true, Pambo?

Clown. Very true, sir. By the same token, quoth he to her again, if you dislike the penny, lady, pray let me change it into English halfpence; and so gave her two for't.

Lod. But how she vex'd then! then she rattled him, and told him roundly, tho' confidence make cuckolds in England, she could no coxcombs in Italy.

Clown. But did ye mark how bitterly he clos'd it with a middling jest?

Lod. What was that, I pr'ythee?

Clown. Why, quoth he again, Confidence

Dor. Have you chang'd the ditty you last set? Fran. I have, madam.

Dor. The conceit may stand; but I hope you have cloath'd the method in a more christian-like apparel.

Fran. I have, lady.

Dor. Pray, let me hear it now.

Fran. She that in these days looks for truth, Seldom or never finds, in sooth.

Dor. That's wond'rous well.
Clown. Yes, in sadness.

Lod. Peace, sirrah; nay, she's built of
modesty.

Fran. Even as a wicked kiss defiles the lips, So do new fashions her that through them trips. Dor. Very modest language.

Fran. She that doth pleasure use for what 'twill bring her,

Will pluck a rose, altho' she prick her finger. Dor. Put in hurt her finger, good Francis; the phrase will be more decent. Pan. Y are a wondrous happy man in one so virtuous !

Lod. Nay, ye shall have no count Lorenzo of me, I warrant ye.

Clown. Nor no count Lorenzo's lady of your wife, I warrant ye.

Lod. Sweet chick, I come to take leave of thee: finger in nye already!

We are all to meet the duke this afternoon, bird, Who is now come from Venice: thou may'st walk

And see the count Lorenzo's lady.

Dor. Alas! she's too merry for my company. Jas. Too merry! I have seen her sad, But very seldom merry.

Dor. I mean, my lord,

That she can walk, tell tales, run in the garden. Clown. Why, then your ladyship may hold your tongue, say nothing, and walk in the orchard. Dor. She can drink a cup of wine not allay'd with water.

Clown. Why then you may drink a cup of water without wine.

Dor. Nay, if a nobleman come to see her

lord,

Dor. Nay, but they may not: she that will kiss,

They say, will do worse, I warrant her.

Jov. Why I have seen you, madam, kiss'd against your will.

Dor. Against my will it may be I have been kiss'd indeed.

Clown. Pshaw, there's nothing against a woman's will; and I dare be sworn, if my lady kiss but any one man, 'tis because she cannot do with all.

Lod. Nay, I know that to be true, my lords; and at this time,

Because you cannot do with all, pray kiss them in order;

Kiss her all over, gentlemen, and we are gone. Dor. Nay, good my lord, 'tis against our nation's custom.

Lod. I care not; let naturals love nations:

My humour's my humour.

Spin. I must have my turn too, then.

Jov. It must go round.

Dor. Fie, fie.

Lod. Look how she spits now!

Jas. The deeper the sweeter, lady.

Dor. Why Francis

Fran. I know too that you will lie with me. Dor. Nay, but Francis

Fran. Plague of Francis! I am neither Frank nor Francis,

But a gentleman of Millain, that even there
Heard of your beauty, which report there guarded
With such a chastity, the glittering'st sin
Held no artillery of power to shake it.
Upon which, I resolv'd to try conclusions;
Assum'd this name and fortune, sought this
service:

And I will tell ye truly what I guess you.
Dor. You will not ravish me, Francis?
Fran. No; but unravel ye, in two lines ex-

flesh, lady.

Dor. How now, sauce-box!

Clown. Did not my lord bid the gentlemen kiss you all over?

Lor. I have sweet cause to be jealous, have I not, gentlemen? no: Crede quod habes, et habes still; he that believes he has horns, has them. Will you go bring my horse, sir?

Clown. I will bring your horse, sir; and your horse shall bring his tail with him. [Exit. Lod. Francis, I pr'ythee stay thou at home with thy lady get thy instrument ready; this melancholy will spoil her: before these lords here, make her but laugh, when we are goneFran. Laugh before these lords when they are gone, sir!

Lod. Pish, I mean, make her laugh heartily before we come home; and before these lords, I promise thee a lease of forty crowns per annum. Fran. Can ye tell whether she be ticklish, sir? Lod. Oh, infinitely ticklish!

Fran. I'll deserve your lease, then, ere you come home, I warrant.

Lod. And thou shalt ha't, i'faith, boy.
Enter Clown.

Clown. Your horse is ready, sir. Lod. My lords, I think we have staid with the longest; farewel, Doll: Crede quod habes, et habes, gallants.

Pan. Our horses shall fetch it up again: farewel, sweet lady.

Jas. Adieu, sweet mistress: and whensoe'er I marry,

Fortune turn up to me no worse card than you

are.

Clown. And whensoe'er I marry, Venus send

Extreams in virtue, are but clouds to vice: She'll do i' th' dark, who is i' th' day too nice.

Dor. Indeed ye do not well to belye me thus. Fran. Come, I'll lie with thee, wench, and make all well again; tho' your confident lord makes use of Crede quod habes, et habes, and holds it impossible for any to be a cuckold, can believe himself none: I would have his lady have more wit, and clap them on.

Dor. And, truly Francis, some women now would do't.

Fran. Who can you chuse more convenient to practise with than me, whom he doats on? where shall a man find a friend but at home? so you break one proverb's pate, and give the other a plaister: Is't a match, wench?

Dor. Well, for once it is: but and ye do any more, indeed

I'll tell my husband.

Fran. But when shall this once be? now? Dor. Now? no indeed, Francis.

It shall be soon at night, when your lord's come home.

Fran. Then! how is it possible?

Dor. Possible! women can make any of these things possible, Francis: now many casualties may cross us; but soon at night, my lord, I'm sure, will be so sleepy, what with his journey, and deep healths for the duke's return, that before he goes to bed (as he uses still, when he has been hard a drinking) be will sleep upon the bed in's cloaths so sound, bells would not wake him, rung in the chamber.

Fran. The cuckold slumbers; and tho' his wife hit him o' th' forehead with her heel, he dreams of no such matter.