Chapter 18

_Bal_. If men should pull the Sun out of heaven every time 'tis ecclips'd, not all the Wax nor Tallow in Spaine woo'd serve to make us Candles for one yeare.

_Med_. No way to purge the sicke State but by opening a veine.

_Bal_. Is that your French Physicke? if every one of us shoo'd be whip'd according to our faults, to be lasht at a carts taile would be held but a flea-biting.

_Enter Signeor No:[216] Whispers Medina_.

_Med_. What are you? come you from the King?

_No_. No.

_Bal_. No? more no's? I know him, let him enter.

_Med_. Signeor, I thanke your kind Intelligence. The newes long since was sent into our eares, Yet we embrace your love; so fare you well.

_Carl_. Will you smell to a sprig of Rosemary?

_No_. No.

_Bal_. Will you be hang'd?

_No_. No.

_Bal_. This is either Signeor No, or no Signeor.

_Med_. He makes his love to us a warning-peece To arme our selves against we come to Court, Because the guard is doubled.

_Omnes_. Tush, we care not.

_Bal_. If any here armes his hand to cut off the head, let him first plucke out my throat. In any Noble Act Ile wade chin-deepe with you: but to kill a King!

_Med_. No, heare me--

_Bal_. You were better, my Lord, saile 500 times to _Bantam_[217] in the West-Indies than once to _Barathrum_ in the Low-Countries. It's hot going under the line there; the Callenture of the soule is a most miserable madnesse.

_Med_. Turne, then, this wheele of Fate from shedding blood, Till with her owne hand Iustice weyes all.

_Bal_. Good.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Queen_. Must then his Trul be once more sphear'd in Court To triumph in my spoyles, in my ecclipses? And I like moaping _Iuno_ sit whilst _Iove_ Varies his lust into five hundred shapes To steale to his whores bed? No, _Malateste_; Italian fires of Iealousie burn my marrow: For to delude my hopes the leacherous King Cuts out this robe of cunning marriage To cover his Incontinence, which flames Hot (as my fury) in his black desires. I am swolne big with child of vengeance now, And, till deliver'd, feele the throws of hell.

_Mal_. Iust is your Indignation, high and noble, And the brave heat of a true Florentine. For Spaine Trumpets abroad her Interest In the Kings heart, and with a black cole drawes On every wall your scoff'd at injuries. As one that has the refuse of her sheets, And the sick Autumne of the weakned King, Where she drunke pleasures up in the full spring.

_Queen_. That, _Malateste_, That, That Torrent wracks me; But _Hymens_ Torch (held downe-ward) shall drop out, And for it the mad Furies swing their brands About the Bride-chamber.

_Mal_. The Priest that joyns them Our Twin-borne malediction.

_Queen_. Lowd may it speake.

_Mal_. The herbs and flowers to strew the wedding way Be Cypresse, Eugh, cold Colloquintida.

_Queen_. Henbane and Poppey, and that magicall weed[218] Which Hags at midnight watch to catch the seed.

_Mal_. To these our execrations, and what mischiefe Hell can but hatch in a distracted braine Ile be the Executioner, tho it looke So horrid it can fright e'ne murder backe.

_Queen_. Poyson his whore to day, for thou shalt wait On the Kings Cup, and when, heated with wine, He cals to drinke the Brides health, Marry her Alive to a gaping grave.

_Mal_. At board?

_Queen_. At board.

_Mal_. When she being guarded round about with friends, Like a faire Iland hem'd with Rocks and Seas,-- What rescue shall I find?

_Queen_. Mine armes? dost faint? Stood all the Pyrenaean hills, that part Spaine and our Country, on each others shoulders, Burning with Aetnean flame, yet thou shouldst on, As being my steele of resolution First striking sparkles from my flinty brest. Wert thou to catch the horses of the Sunne Fast by their bridles and to turne back day, Wood'st thou not doo't (base coward) to make way To the Italians second blisse, revenge?

_Mal_. Were my bones threatned to the wheele of torture, Ile doo't.

_Enter Lopes_.

_Queen_. A ravens voyce, and it likes me well.

_Lop_. The King expects your presence.

_Mal_. So, so, we come, To turne this Brides day to a day of doome.

[_Exeunt_.

(SCENE 4.)

_A Banquet set out, Cornets sounding; Enter at one dore Lopez, Valasco, Alanzo, No: after them King, Cardinall, with Don Cockadillio, Bridegroome; Queene and Malateste after. At the other dore Alba, Carlo, Roderigo, Medina and Daenia, leading Onaelia as Bride, Cornego and Iuanna after; Baltazar alone; Bride and Bridegroome kisse, and by the Cardinall are join'd hand in hand: King is very merry, hugging Medina very lovingly_.

_King_. For halfe Spaines weight in Ingots I'de not lose This little man to day.

_Med_. Nor for so much Twice told, Sir, would I misse your kingly presence, Mine eyes have lost th'acquaintance of your face So long, and I so little late read o're That Index of the royall book your mind, That scarce (without your Comment) can I tell When in those leaves you turne o're smiles or frownes.

_King_. 'Tis dimnesse of your sight, no fault i'th letter; _Medina_, you shall find that free from Errata's: And for a proofe, If I could breath my heart in welcomes forth, This Hall should ring naught else. Welcome, _Medina_; Good Marquesse _Daenia_, Dons of Spaine all welcome! My dearest love and Queene, be it your place To entertaine the Bride and doe her grace.

_Queen_. With all the love I can, whose fire is such, To give her heat, I cannot burne too much.

_King_. Contracted Bride and Bridegroome sit; Sweet flowres not pluck'd in season lose their scent, So will our pleasures. Father Cardinall, Methinkes this morning new begins our reigne.

_Car_. Peace had her Sabbath ne're till now in Spaine.

_King_. Where is our noble Souldier, _Baltazar_? So close in conference with that Signior?

_No_. No.

_King_. What think'st thou of this great day _Baltazar_?

_Bal_. Of this day? why, as of a new play, if it ends well all's well. All men are but Actors; now if you, being the King, should be out of your part, or the Queene out of hers or your Dons out of theirs, here's No wil never be out of his.

_No_. No.

_Bal_. 'Twere a lamentable peece of stuffe to see great Statesmen have vile Exits; but I hope there are nothing but plaudities in all your Eyes.

_King_. Mine, I protest, are free.

_Queen_. And mine, by heaven!

_Mal_. Free from one goode looke till the blow be given.

_King_. Wine; a full Cup crown'd to _Medina's_ health!

_Med_. Your Highnesse this day so much honors me That I, to pay you what I truly owe, My life shall venture for it.

_Daen_. So shall mine.

_King_. _Onaelia_, you are sad: why frownes your brow?

_Onae_. A foolish memory of my past ills Folds up my looke in furrowes of old care, But my heart's merry, Sir.

_King_. Which mirth to heighten Your Bridegroome and your selfe first pledge this health Which we begin to our high Constable.

(_Three Cups fild: 1 to the King, 2 to the Bridegroome, 3 to Onaelia, with whom the King complements_.)

_Queen_. Is't speeding?

_Mal_. As all our Spanish figs[219] are.

_King_. Here's to _Medina's_ heart with all my heart.

_Med_. My hart shal pledge your hart i'th deepest draught That ever Spanyard dranke.

_King_. _Medina_ mockes me Because I wrong her with the largest Bowle: Ile change with thee, _Onaelia_.

(_Mal. rages_)

_Queen_. Sir, you shall not.

_King_. Feare you I cannot fetch it off?

_Queen_. _Malateste_!

_King_. This is your scorne to her, because I am doing This poorest honour to her.--Musicke sound! It goes were it ten fadoms to the ground.

_Cornets. King drinkes; Queen and Mal. storms_.

_Mal_. Fate strikes with the wrong weapon.

_Queen_. Sweet royall Sir, no more: it is too deepe.

_Mal_. Twill hurt your health, Sir.

_King_. Interrupt me in my drinke! 'tis off.

_Mal_. Alas, Sir, You have drunke your last: that poyson'd bowle I fill'd, Not to be put into your hand but hers.

_King_. Poyson'd?

_Omnes_. Descend black speckled soule to hell. (_kil Mal. dyes_.)

_Mal_. The Queene has sent me thither?

_Card_. What new furie shakes now her snakes locks?

_Queen_. I, I, tis I, Whose soule is torne in peeces till I send This Harlot home.

_Car_. More Murders? save the lady.

_Balt_. Rampant? let the Constable make a mittimus.

_Med_. Keepe 'em asunder.

_Car_. How is it royall sonne?

_King_. I feele no poyson yet; only mine eyes Are putting out their lights: me thinks I feele Deaths Icy fingers stroking downe my face; And now I'me in a mortall cold sweat.

_Queen_. Deare my Lord.

_King_. Hence! call in my Physicians.

_Med_. Thy Physician, Tyrant, Dwels yonder: call on him or none.

_King_. Bloody _Medina_! stab'st thou, _Brutus_, too?

_Daen_. As hee is so are we all.

_King_. I burne; My braines boyle in a Caldron: O, one drop Of water now to coole me!

_Onae_. Oh, let him have Physicians!

_Med_. Keepe her backe.

_King_. Physicians for my soule: I need none else. You'll not deny me those? Oh, holy Father, Is there no mercy hovering in a cloud For me, a miserable King, so drench'd In perjury and murder?

_Car_. Oh, Sir, great store.

_King_. Come downe, come quickly downe.

_Car_. I'll forthwith send For a grave Fryer to be your Confessor.

_King_. Doe, doe.

_Car_. And he shall cure your wounded soule: --Fetch him, good Souldier.

_Bal_. So good a work I'le hasten.

_King_. _Onaelia_! oh, shee's drown'd in tears. _Onaelia_! Let me not dye unpardoned at thy hands.

_Enter Baltazar, Sebastian as a Fryer, with others_.

_Car_. Here comes a better Surgeon.

_Seb_. Haile my good Sonne! I come to be thy ghostly Father.

_King_. Ha! My child? tis my _Sebastian_, or some spirit Sent in his shape to fright me.

_Bal_. 'Tis no gobling, Sir, feele: your owne flesh and blood, and much younger than you tho he be bald, and calls you son. Had I bin as ready to cut his sheeps throat as you were to send him to the shambles, he had bleated no more. There's lesse chalke upon you[r] score of sinnes by these round o'es.

_King_. Oh, my dul soule, looke up; thou art somewhat lighter. Noble _Medina_, see, _Sebastian_ lives: _Onaelia_, cease to weepe, _Sebastian_ lives. Fetch me my Crowne: my sweetest pretty Fryer, Can my hands doo't, He raise thee one step higher. Th'ast beene in heavens house all this while, sweet boy?

_Seb_. I had but coarse cheere.

_King_. Thou couldst nere fare better: Religious houses are those hyves where Bees Make honey for mens soules. I tell thee, Boy, A Fryery is a Cube which strongly stands, Fashioned by men, supported by heavens hands: Orders of holy Priest-hood are as high, I'th eyes of Angels, as a Kings dignity. Both these unto a Crowne give the full weight, And both are thine: you that our Contract know, See how I scale it with this Marriage; My blessing and Spaines kingdome both be thine.

_Omnes_. Long live _Sebastian_!

_Onae_. Doff that Fryers course gray, And since hee's crown'd a king, clothe him like one.

_King_. Oh no; those are right Soveraigne Ornaments: Had I been cloth'd so I had never fill'd Spaine's Chronicle with my blacke Calumny. My worke is almost finish'd: where's my Queene?

_Queen_. Heere, peece-meale torne by Furies.

_King_. _Onaelia_! Your hand, _Paulina_, too; _Onaelia_, yours: This hand (the pledge of my twice broken faith), By you usurp'd, is her Inheritance. My love is turn'd, see, as my fate is turn'd: Thus they to day laugh, yesterday which mourn'd: I pardon thee my death. Let her be sent Backe into Florence with a trebled dowry. Death comes: oh, now I see what late I fear'd; A Contract broke, tho piec'd up ne're so well, Heaven sees, earth suffers, but it ends in hell. (_Moritur_.)

_Onae_. Oh, I could dye with him!

_Queen_. Since the bright spheare I mov'd in falls, alas, what make I here? [_Exit_.

_Med_. The hammers of blacke mischiefe now cease beating, Yet some irons still are heating. You, Sir Bridegroome, (Set all this while up as a marke to shoot at) We here discharge you of your bed fellow: She loves no Barbars washing.

_Cock_. My Balls are sav'd then.

_Med_. Be it your charge, so please you, reverend Sir, To see the late Queene safely sent to Florence: My Neece _Onaelia_, and that trusty Souldier, We doe appoint to guard the infant King. Other distractions Time must reconcile; The State is poyson'd like a Crocodile.

[_Exeunt_.

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The title, I suppose, of "Cuckold."

[2] Tacitus in a few words gives a most masterly description of Poppea: --"Huic mulieri cuncta alia fuere praeter honestum animum: quippe mater eius, aetatis suae feminas pulchritudine supergressa, gloriam pariter et formam dederat: opes claritudini generis sufficiebant: sermo comis, nec absurdum ingenium: modestiam praeferre et lascivia uti: rarus in publicum egressus, idque velata parte oris, ne satiaret aspectum, vel quia sic decebat. Famae numquam pepercit, maritos et adulteros non distinguens, neque affectui suo aut alieno obnoxia: unde utilitas ostenderetur, illuc libidinem transtulit."--Ann. XIII. 45.

[3] 4to. Why? Is he rais'd.

[4] Cf. Dion Cassius, [Greek: X G] 20.

[5] 4to. cleare th'ayre.

[6] "Push" and "pish" are used indifferently by Elizabethan writers.

[7] Cf. Verg. Aen. vi. 805-6:--

"Nec qui pampineis victor iuga flectit habenis, Liber, agens celso Nysae de vertice tigres."

[8] 4to. Turpuus. (Vid. Sueton. Vit. Ner. 20.)

[9] Tacitus (Ann. xvi. 14) mentions an astrologer of this name, who was banished by Nero.

[10] Vid. Sueton. Vit. Ner. 25.

[11] 4tos. _Servinus_.

[12] Tacit. Ann. xv. 49.

[13] By those "wicked armes" is meant, I suppose, the struggle between Caesar and Pompey. Posterity will think the horrors of civil war compensated by the pleasure of reading Lucan's epic!

[14] 4tos. Ciria.

[15] 4tos. beeds.

[16] 4tos. begins.

[17] A certain Volusius Proculus was one of the infamous agents in the murder of Agrippina, and afterwards betrayed the fearless woman Epicharis who confided to him the secret of Piso's conspiracy; but no one of this name was executed by Nero.

[18] Quy. How! bruised, &c.

[19] Quy. Say that I had no skill!--If the reading of the 4tos. is right the meaning must be, "As for his saying that I had no skill."

[20] A copy of the 1633 4to. gives "shoulder-eac't," which is hardly less intelligible than the reading in the text. Everybody knows that Pelops received an ivory shoulder for the one that was consumed; but the word "shoulder-packt" conveys no meaning. "Shoulder-pieced," i.e., "fitted with an (ivory) shoulder," would be a shade more intelligible; but it is a very ugly compound.

[21] Dion Cassius ([Greek: XB]. 14. ed. Bekker) reports this brutal gibe of Nero's; Rubellius Plautus was the luckless victim:--[Greek: "ho de dae Neron kai gelota kai skommata, ta ton syngenon kaka hepoieito ton goun Plauton apokteinas, hepeita taen kephalaen autou prosenechtheisan oi idon, 'ouk haedein,' hephae 'oti megalaen rina eichen,' osper pheisamenos an autou ei touto proaepistato."]

[22] Persius' tutor, immortalised in his pupil's Fifth Satire.

[23] Quy. with.

[24] _Machlaean_--a word coined from [Greek: machlos] (sc. libidinosus).

[25] Partly a translation from Persius, Sat. I. 11. 99-102:--

"Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis, Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo Bassaris, et lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis Euion ingeminat: reparabilis assonat Echo";

which lines are supposed to be a parody of some verses of Nero. Persius' comment--

"summa delumbe saliva Hoc natat: in labris et in udo est Maenas et Attis; Nec pluteum caedit, nec demorsos sapit ungues"--

agrees with the judgment of Tacitus (Ann. xiv. 16). Suetonius (Vit. Ner. 52), who had seen some of Nero's MSS., speaks of the extreme care that had been given to correction; and the few verses preserved by Seneca make against the estimate of Tacitus and Persius.

[26] 4tos. Ennion.

[27] Vid. Dion Cassius [Greek: XB]. 29.

[28] 4tos. conductors.

[29] 4tos. again.

[30] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xv. 48.

[31] The 4to. points the passage thus:--

"The thing determinde on our meeting now, Is of the meanes, and place, due circumstance, As to the doing of things t'is requir'd, So done, it names the action."

The words "t'is requir'd ... action," I take to mean, "The assassination must be accomplished in such a way as to appear an act of patriotism and make the actors famous."

[32] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xv. 52

[33] Cf. Sueton. Vit. Ner. 49:--"Mirum et vel praecipue notabile inter haec fuerit, nihil eum patientius quam maledicta et convitia hominum tulisse, neque in ullos lemorem quam qui se dictis aut carminibus lucessissent exstitisse. Multa Graece Latineque proscripta aut vulgata sunt, sicut illa:--

* * * * * _Roma domus fiet: Veios migrate Quirites, Si non et Veios occupat ista domus_."

[34] 4tos. _Servi_.

[35] 4tos. Servinus.

[36] Cf. Tac. Ann. xvi. 5; and Sueton. Vit Ner. 23.

[37] 4to. time.

[38] Cf. Sueton. Vit. Ner. 23. "Itaque et enixae quaedam in spectaculis dicuntur, et multi taedio audiendi laudandique, clausis oppidorum portis, aut furtim desiluisse de muro aut morte simulata funere elati."

[39] 4tos. And.

[40] The 4tos. give "_Agrippa_," which is nonsense. By a slip of the tongue, Nero was going to say "Agrippina's death," when he hastily corrected himself. Tacitus and Suetonius tell us that Nero was always haunted with the memory of his murdered mother.

[41] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xvi. 5. "Ferebantque Vespasianum, tamquam somno conniveret, a Phoebo liberto increpitum aegreque meliorum precibus obtectum, mox imminentem perniciem maiore fato effugisse."

[42] 4tos. _Ile_.

[43] 4to. 1624. innocents.

[44] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xvi. 4.

[45] 4to. I'd.

[46] 4to. 1624. Aegamemnon.

[47] This magnificent speech is quoted in Charles Lamb's _Specimens_.

[48] 4tos. I'd.

[49] "Nec quisquam defendere audebat, crebris multorum minis restinguere prohibentium, et quia alii palam faces iaciebant atque esse sibi auctorem vociferabantur, sive ut raptus licentius exercerent, seu jussu."--Tac. Ann. xv. 37.

[50] The simile is from Vergil, Aen. ii. 304-308--

"In segetem veluti quum flamma furentibus Austris Incidit; aut rapidus montano flumine torrens Sternit agros, sternit sata laeta boumque labores, Praecipitesque trahit silvas: stupet inscius alto Accipiens sonitum saxi de vertice pastor."

[51] The author may have had in his mind a passage in Dion Cassius' description of the fire:--[Greek: thorybos te oun exaisios pantachou pantas katelambanen, kai dietrichon ohi men tae ohi de tae hosper emplaektoi, kai allois tines epamynontes epynthanonto ta oikoi kaiomena kai heteroi prin kai akousai hoti ton spheteron ti empepraestai,

emanthanon, hoti apololen. XB. 16].

[52] 4tos. _Cannos_.

[53] 4tos. _Allius_.

[54] The 4tos. give "thee gets." I feel confident that my emendation restores the true reading.

[55] The reading of the 4tos. is the, "The most condemned," &c. A tribe named the "Moschi" (of whom mention is made in Herodotus) dwelt a little to the south of the Colchians.

[56] So the 4tos. "Low hate" is nonsense. "_Long_ and native hate" would be spiritless; while "_bow and arrow laid_ apart" involves far too violent a change. I reluctantly give the passage up.

[57] I suppose that the sentence is left unfinished; but perhaps it is more likely that the text is corrupt.

[58] Quy. I now command the _Souldiery i'the Citie_.

[59] Sc. descendants. Vid. Nares, s.v.

[60] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xv. 53.

[61] 4tos. losse.

[62] 4tos. soft.

[63] Quy. they.--The passage, despite its obscurity of expression, seems to me intelligible; but I dare not venture to paraphrase it.

[64] 4tos. are we.

[65] "Call me cut" meant commonly nothing more than Falstaff's "call me horse"; but as applied to Sporus the term "cutt-boy" was literally correct. For what follows in the text cf. Sueton. Vit. Ner. cap. 28.

[66] 4to. Subius, Flavius.

[67] Quy. "I, [sc. aye] to himselfe; 'twould make the matter cleare," &c.

[68] 4tos. _Gallii_. Our author is imitating Juvenal (Sat. x. ll. 99-102):--

"Huius qui trahitur praetextam sumere mavis, An Fidenarum Gabiorumque esse potestas Et de mensura ius dicere, vasa minora Frangere, pannosus vacuis Aedilis Ulubris?"

[69] Cf. Tacitus, Annals, xv. 59.

[70] 4tos. refuge.

[71] Quy. _Euphrates_.

[72] According to Tacitus, Piso retired to his house and there opened his veins. Vid. Ann. xv. 59.

[73] Cf. Shakespeare, "Make mad the guilty and appal the free." Hamlet, II. 2.

[74] So the 4tos; but Quy.

"The Emperour's much pleas'd _That_ some have named _Seneca_."

[75] Cf. Tacitus, Ann. xv. 45; Sueton. Vit. Ner. 32.

[76] In Tacitus' account (Ann. xv. 67) the climax is curious:-- "'Oderam te,' inquit; 'nec quisquam tibi fidelior militum fuit dum amari meruisti: odisse coepi, postquam parricida matris et uxoris, auriga et histrio et incendiarius extitisti.'"

[77] The verses would run better thus:--

"A feeling one; _Tigellinus_, bee't thy charge, And let me see thee witty in't.

_Tigell_. Come, sirrah; Weele see." &c.

[78] Quy. was oreheard to say.

[79] 4tos. your.

[80] Quy. even skies.

[81] Quy. I'the firmament.

[82] 4tos. loath by.

[83] Martial, in a clever but coarse epigram (lib. xi. 56), ridicules the Stoic's contempt of death:--

"Hanc tibi virtutem fracta facit urceus ansa, Et tristis nullo qui tepet igne focus, Et teges et cimex et nudi sponda grabati, Et brevis atque eadem nocte dieque toga. O quam magnus homo es, qui faece rubentis aceti Et stipula et nigro pane carere potes. * * * * * Rebus in angustis facile est contemnere vitam: Fortiter ille facit qui miser esse potest."

[84] Cf. Juv. Sat. v. 36, 37:--

"Quale coronati Thrasea Helvidiusque bibebant, Brutorum et Cassi natalibus."

The younger Pliny (Ep. iii. 7) relates that Eilius Italicus religiously observed Vergil's birthday.

[85] The 4tos. punctuate thus:--

"Here faire _Enanthe_, whose plumpe ruddy cheeke Exceeds the grape, it makes this; here my geyrle."

Petronius is speaking hurriedly. He begins to answer _Enanthe's_ question: "it makes this" (i.e. "means this"), he says, but breaks off his explanation, and pledges his mistress.

[86] 4tos. walles.

[87] 4tos. Ith.

[88] "Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum." Horat. Epist. i. 17, 36 ([Greek: ou pantos andros es Korinthon esth' ho plous]).

[89] Quy. Th'old _Anicean_ (sc. Anacreon).

[90] A paraphrase of Horace's well-known lines:

"Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens Uxor; neque harum, quas colis, arborum, Te, praeter invisas cupressos, Ulla brevem dominum sequeter."

--Odes, ii. 14, ll. 21-29.

[91] 4to. your.

[92] 4tos. thy.

[93] Cf. Horace, Od. i. 12, ll. 37, 38:--

"Regulum, et Scauros _animaeque magnae Prodigum_ Paulum."

[94] Vid. Tacitus, Ann. xi. 11; Sueton. Vit. Ner. 6.

[95] 4tos. have.

[96] 4tos. night.

[97] The punning on the fairies' names recalls Bottom's pleasantries (M.N.D. iii. 1), and the resemblance is certainly too close to be accidental.

[98] "Uncoth" here = wild, unfrequented; Cf. _As You Like It_, ii. 6, "If this _uncouth_ forest yield anything savage," &c.

[99] A "Hunts up" was a hunting song, a réveillée, to rouse the hunters. An example of a "_Hunts up_" may be found, set to music by J. Bennet, in a collection of Ravenscroft, 1614.

[100] Quy. "kind;" but our author is not very particular about his rhymes.

[101] "Rascal" was the regular name for a lean deer (_As You like It_, iii. 3, &c.).

[102] The whole scene is printed as verse in the 4to.

[103] This very uncommon word (French: légèreté) occurs in _Henry V_. (iv. i. l. 23).

[104] More commonly written "cote," a cottage.

[105] To "draw dry foot" meant to follow by the scent. (_Com. of Errors_, iv. 2.)