ACT V., SCENE I.

_Enter +Decastro+ and his Army._

+Dec.+ My fortune yet forsakes me not. There's something Whispers my soul that, though a storm did cloud My morning, I shall set the envy of My yet prevailing enemy. Had you, My fellow-soldiers, not been three hours' march From aiding us when the Castilian army Made the assault, we had given their fate a check, And taught them how unsafe it is to court Dangers abroad. I must entreat your courage To suffer for some moments; a short time Will bring us the queen's answer; if she yield (As reason may persuade her), we shall spare Much loss of blood; if not, your valour will Have liberty to show itself. Yet still Remember, that the city's forc'd t' obey A stranger; in their votes they fight for us. Did no man see the Lord Ossuna since Our fight i' th' morning?

+Capt.+ He appear'd not, since We left the city to the enemy; Which hath bred jealousy, my lord, that he Chang'd with the present fortune.

+Dec.+ Doubt him not: He hath a heart devoted to the greatness And safety of his country. Well, he may Be lost i' th' number of the slain; but fate Cannot enforce him stoop beneath the vow Of rescuing Arragon from foreign arms.

_Enter two common +Soldiers+ haling +Ossuna+ in as a hermit._

What insolence is this? Unhand the man! Methinks his habit should beget respect.

+Sol.+ My lord, we guess he is some spy, he came Skulking from th' enemy's camp. Pray, guard Your person; mischief often lurks in shapes As holy.

+Dec.+ I allow your care, and thank it: Leave him to me, and for awhile retire. [_Exeunt._

+Oss.+ Your lordship knows me not?

+Dec.+ Ossuna, welcome! Bless'd be thy better angel who preserv'd thee! How happy to the fortune of this war Art thou restor'd! I should have fought unarm'd, Had I not had the fate t' embrace thee thus. How was my friend preserv'd?

+Oss.+ By virtue of This sacred habit. In the midst of war Disguis'd I thus escap'd, though close pursued By some of the queen's faction. To this weed I owe my safety.

+Dec.+ Quickly throw it off, And reinvest thy body in that steel, With which thou still hast triumph'd. O my lord, How oft have we, all bath'd in blood and sweat, Through clouds of dust, found out the way to force Back victory to our side, when Fortune seem'd To doat on th' enemy! We two have grown Like cedars up together, and made all Seem shrubs to us, no man sleeping secure But in our shadows.

+Oss.+ Yes, we have been happy.

+Dec.+ Thou speak'st so hollow, as there were a doubt We might not be so still.

+Oss.+ But there's no faith In human fate. An emperor[286] did serve As footstool to the conqueror, and are we Better assur'd of destiny?

+Dec.+ What strange Unworthy faintness weakens his great soul Who heretofore ne'er understood the language Danger speaks in? Hath one defeat lost you That mighty courage, which hath fix'd upon Your name a glorious memory? Reassume Yourself, my lord: let no degenerate fear Benight the lustre of your former acts.

+Oss.+ I call yourself and Arragon to witness, My life hath yet been such, the reverend shades Of my great ancestors need not look pale, Or blush to know my story. To yourself, To whose brave youth I tied my youth a servant, I ever have perform'd all offices, Due to so brave a friendship.

+Dec.+ 'Tis confess'd.

+Oss.+ And here I vow, setting aside those fears Distract me as a Christian, I could smile, Smile like some wanton mistress upon death, Whatever shape it wears.

+Dec.+ My lord, this war Is warranted by casuists for lawful; But they (you'll say) flatter the present state, And make divinity serve human ends. But in itself it's just: a war your judgment Gave approbation to, and urg'd me first To undertake. Therefore make good your own, And throw off this unuseful habit.

+Oss.+ Never.

+Dec.+ What said my friend?

+Oss.+ By all things sacred, never. In this I will grow old, and with the weight Of years bend to the earth. In this I'll breathe A happier air than you in all your soft And varied silks.

+Dec.+ Some coward devil, sure, Possesseth him. [_Aside._

+Oss.+ My lord, I am instructed T' a patience far above your injuries; Nor shall your scorn or anger triumph o'er My resolution. I'm fix'd here, unmov'd As is the centre.

+Dec.+ I was much to blame: This may be a brave virtue. Pray, my lord, Give me your reasons why you tread this path, So little beaten by the feet of courtiers? I would not have the world mistake your aim, And construe it to fear or melancholy.

+Oss.+ That cannot shake me: he who by the card O' th' world's opinion steers his course, shall harbour In no safe port. But to your ear, my lord, I give this free account. Seven winters pass'd, When I set sail from Sicily, a storm O'ertook the ship, so powerful, that the pilot Gave up the stern to the ordering of the waves, His art and hand grown useless; those kind stars The sailors used t' invoke were lost i' th' tempest, And nothing but a night, not to be seen, Was seen by us. When every one began T' advance himself toward death, as men condemn'd To th' axe, when hope of pardon is shut out; I, spite o' th' envious cloud, look'd up to heaven. And darted my faith thither, vowing to Forsake the flatter'd pomp and business of The faithless world, if I with safety might Attain the land.

+Dec.+ Was not I there, my lord?

+Oss.+ You were.

+Dec.+ And made not I the selfsame vow?

+Oss.+ Heaven hath recorded that we both did vow it-- O' th' sudden, night forsook us, and the loud Unruly winds fled to their unknown dwellings; When a soft breath 'gan whisper to our sails, A calm was to ensue.

+Dec.+ My memory Afflicts me much. But these are feeble vows, Made only by our fears: we ought to have Our reason undismay'd, whene'er a promise Can force performance.

+Oss.+ I dispute it not-- Soon as I reach'd the shore, I courted on Those vanities which had my youth enamour'd, Yet still with some remorse. Honours betray'd me Into a glorious trouble, and I grew Proud of my burthen; but if Heaven had been Severe to my delays in this diseas'd Surfeit of pomp, my soul might have been call'd T' her last account: and, O my lord, where then Had breach of vow been safe?

+Dec.+ These are sad thoughts.

+Oss.+ But necessary. When the morning's loss Made me search out a shape for flight, this habit Itself presented, and again redeem'd me; And know, I am resolv'd ne'er to forsake it, Till in the vault my earth and it together Shall wear away to dust.

+Dec.+ My lord, you have Good title to your virtue. Pray, retire Into my tent: this sudden change, if known, May much amaze the soldier, and endanger The glory of th' attempt. I shall entreat Your prayer, since you deny your arm.

+Oss.+ My lord, may Heaven direct you! [_Exit +Ossuna+._

+Dec.+ What have I obtain'd By all this sweat of business? Like the wind, Prosperous ambition only swell'd my sail, To give me courage to encounter with A tempest. Early cares and midnight frights, Faint hopes and causeless fears, successively, Like billows, have moved in me. What a fool Is human wisdom; what a beggar wealth; How scorn'd a nothing that proud state we doat on! Time laughs us out of greatness, and shuts up Our wide designs in a dark narrow room, Whence, when the valiant monarch shall creep forth, He will, like some poor coward, hide his eyes, And hope to skulk away. But these are thoughts, And now 'tis time for action.

_Enter +Soldier+._

+Sol.+ If your lordship Will please for some few moments to retire Into your tent, her majesty in person Will give you parley here.

+Dec.+ In person, sir? The favour bears some omen! She who in The tempest of misfortune still did spread Her sails at large, why doth she strike them now, The wind so prosperous? This is a descent Beneath her greatness.

+Sol.+ I reach not, my lord, The mysteries of princes; but this message She charg'd me to return.

+Dec.+ The acts of princes Are govern'd often by as frail a passion As those are of the vulgar: the same rage That stirs two footmen to a fray, creates War between kingdoms; but the zealous subject, Gazing afar on th' actions of the proud, Finds towers and lions in an empty cloud. But I'll obey her leisure. Watch you here Till you discover her advanc'd this way. [_Exit +Decastro+._

_Enter +Ascanio+, +Florentio+._

+Flo.+ Sir, you created me, and rais'd me up To th' state of duke, when I was common dust; And, had not fortune given me interest I' th' favour of the queen, I had continued In the worst fate of man, ingratitude. Now I can boast I have restored you back A love rich as the bounty you shower'd on me: 'Tis all the stock of my poor life.

+Asc.+ Sad fate! That I must wound thee to the heart to cure My leprosy with thy blood. Florentio, search I' th' stock of women; there's some other beauty.

+Flo.+ O, no! no other.

+Asc.+ I'll endow her with The wealth of all Castile.

+Flo.+ Poor empty nothing!

+Asc.+ If sovereignty be the idol of thy soul, I will divide my kingdom. Thou shalt reign As independent as myself.

+Flo.+ Great sir, Continue but your favour, and my stars Cannot afford a greatness equals it. The treasures of th' ambitious are the scorn Of those who seriously contemplate life. My fortune's high enough: and now my thoughts Grow temperate. Not for the empire of the east, (Which yet retains the treasures man enjoy'd Ere he grew black with sin), would I have wanted This bless'd occasion to express the zeal I owe my prince. Here, with as free a soul I give her to your arms as e'er you threw A smile upon my service.

+Asc.+ Thanks, dear friend! (That word must speak our loves). By this great gift Thou hast redeem'd me from the torture, and Possess'd me of the fairest.

+Flo.+ O!

+Asc.+ The fairest nature e'er made for wonder.

+Flo.+ She is fair.

+Asc.+ Enjoying her, thy king shall live, who else Were desperate beyond cure. He shall be envied; And every year, as age threatens decay, He shall regain new life from her. Florentio, Believe't, there's miracle in such a beauty.

+Flo.+ Surely there is.

_Enter +Queen+, +Sanmartino+, +Oniate+, +Cleantha+, +Floriana+._

And see sh' appears! how like some heavenly vision, That kills with too much glory!

+Asc.+ Stand still, and wonder with me.

+Queen.+ Cleantha! O, the prodigy! And how Wilt thou endure his serious face? Can'st thou, Whom nothing tempted but wit parcel-gilt And the last fashion, suffer Oniate?

+Cle.+ Madam, I undertake him for a penance: Perhaps he was enjoin'd me.

+Queen.+ It was Love You went to shrift with then. And yet how that Young wanton Idleness should counsel you To this conversion, still is more my riddle.

+Cle.+ The court is full of wonders, madam; and 'Tis handsome to do things extravagant.

+Queen.+ But how, in th' heat of war, your thoughts should be So apt for Love's impression?

+Cle.+ Love will dance As nimbly to the trumpet, fife, or drum, As to those many violins which play So loud at court. Moreover, it concern'd My safety; I so straitly was besieg'd, And by so strong a Cæsar.

+Queen.+ O my lord! I am informed with how fierce a spirit You do assault our ladies.

+San.+ Pray, your mercy! And if your majesty will please to banish The art of making love quite from the court, I'll not be out of fashion.

+Queen.+ For your sake I will contrive it so: and, good my lord, Will you begin th' example, you will see How soon the fine young lords will follow you.-- Your pardon, sir; had I but seen your highness, I had not lost so much of language from A most expressive gratitude.

+Asc.+ Madam, you pay a trivial debt with too great interest; For how contemn'd a slightness was my life Until employ'd to serve you?

+Flo.+ She glanced this way, And love's artillery played from her eye. Unhappy bankrupt, what a kingdom have I forfeited! So often in a calm Some vessel, rich in freight and proud in sail, Doth spring a sudden leak, and sinks for ever.

+Asc.+ But, madam, is there hope your heart can yield To an exchange in love? My title's good, Florentio having given up his claim.

_Enter +Decastro+, &c._

+Queen.+ But, sir, th' estate is still my own; nor have I need to sell it. But Decastro's here; And if your majesty will deign your presence Unto the parley, 'twill advance the honour And purpose of our meeting.

+Asc.+ I'm your servant.

+Queen.+ My lord, you see how near the safety of Our subjects toucheth us: we can stoop thus Beneath our majesty, and enter parley Even with a rebel.

+Dec.+ Madam, 'tis in vain To hold dispute 'gainst what you will condemn; And it were insolence to boast my power Or speak my right, now when the hearts of all men Confirm the justice of my taking arms. Cast but your eye on this vast body, which The kingdom doth unite in my defence, And see how ruinous is your error, that Must lean to foreign succours.

+Queen.+ 'Tis a refuge Your practice forc'd me to.

+Dec.+ But would your highness Had lent a gentler ear to the safe counsel Of him who had no crime but too much love!

+Flo.+ My lord, that word fell rudely from your tongue, And, I may say, unmannerly: 'tis duty You owe the queen.

+Dec.+ Right, sir; an humble duty, Ambitious to expose my life to dangers, Greater than any other soul dares fancy.

+Asc.+ Pray stay, Florentio: this is now my cause, And I (proud man) will tell you, your great heart Doth want expansion to receive a love Worthy her scorn.

+Dec.+ And I will answer you, Proud monarch of Castile, what mould Soever nature casts me in, my mind Is vaster than your empire; and I can Love equally with him whose name did conquer Kingdoms as large as yours.

+Asc.+ Your majesty Must license here my rage, to teach his folly (Presumptuous folly) a submiss repentance.

+Dec.+ Sir, here I stand prepar'd. [_A shout within._

+Queen.+ What noise is that?

+Oni.+ The city's all in mutiny, and vow To perish in the Lord Decastro's cause: They're ready now to lay rude hands upon The garrisons of Castile. Your majesty Should hinder mischief, if you suddenly Return, and by your presence stop their fury.

+Dec.+ Pray, Oniate, take this signet: tell The magistrates her majesty and I Are now accorded, with a due regard To th' public safety. Take some of my army, To give authority to what you say. Assure them all is well. [_Exit +Oniate+._

+Asc.+ What means this wonder?

+Flo.+ This speaks him noble, even to our envy.

+Queen.+ My lord, in this you have oblig'd us. Pray, Inform us of your thoughts, that we may study To make this parley happy.

+Dec.+ Mighty lady, I find my love hath not been dress'd so smooth To tempt your liking: and I must confess, My passion (like the spleen of witches) hath Begot whirlwinds and thunder. Would I might Have found a softer way t' have wrought my ends! For by your beauty (the most sacred oath A lover can swear by) that was the mark, The sole fair mark I aim'd at. For, if pride Had oversway'd my love, I could have stood O' th' level with that prince, so much your people Were vow'd to my devotion.

+Queen.+ O my lord, You fairly speak your virtues.

+Dec.+ And but view The vastness and good order of my camp, Your best towns sworn to run my fortune, and You'll say 'twas love did beg this interview.

+Asc.+ My lord, your language cannot fright us from The queen's defence.

+Dec.+ Great sir, she needs it not. Down on your knees, my fellow-soldiers, and With me bow to your sovereign: swear with me Never to lift your arm 'gainst her command. Thus as your subject; as your lover thus-- Thus to the earth I fall, and with my lips Seal my obedience. [_Kisseth the ground._

+Queen.+ Pray, rise up, my lord. Would I could merit thus much favour; but----

+Dec.+ Pardon. I interrupt you--but you cannot Find love to answer mine; nor will I force it. Be happy in your choice, and wheresoe'er You fix, shine ever glorious. From this hour I'll never more disturb you.

+Queen.+ Now beshrew me, Methinks I feel compassion. [_Aside._] Good my lord, Write in that blank all your demands, and, by The honour of a princess, I'll deny Nothing you shall insert. [_He looks on it, and returns it._

+Dec.+ There 'tis again, The paper innocent as when you gave it.

+Queen.+ My lord, you have writ nothing.

+Dec.+ And 'tis nothing, Now I have miss'd yourself, I can demand. Fortune, contract thy treasure from all nations, And gild it o'er with honour and with beauty, Yet hast thou not the power to force one wish, Now I have lost this lady.

+Asc.+ A great spirit!

+Dec.+ One humble prayer I have, which must not be Denied: and 'tis, your majesty will give Me leave ne'er more to see you.

+Queen.+ O my lord----

+Dec.+ My vow's irrevocable. I shall secure Your kingdom best by absence, and my eye Will never brook so rich a treasure made The purchase[287] of another. To a cave, Some undiscover'd cave, to which no path Doth lead the wandering lover, I have vowed The remnant of my days.

_Enter +Ossuna+._

+Flo.+ A strange conversion! And 'twill behove my fate to follow him.

+Dec.+ My Lord Ossuna here and I have sworn Our lives to solitude, which we'll observe Religiously: and since I cannot prove Possessor, I'll be conqueror, in love.

+Asc.+ Pray stay, my lord. Behold Florentio there, He hath outdone you: he, for love of me, Hath done what you for love of heaven. All The interest he had in that bright queen He hath resign'd to me.

+Dec.+ He hath paid you for your favours.

+Flo.+ 'Tis confess'd: what's mine is yours.

+Asc.+ Thanks, my Florentio; for with her my youth May be still happy, and my age disdain To know a weakness. From her eyes I may Draw still new vital heat, and find what fools Have studied for, th' elixir: in her arms I may be safe 'gainst all invasion from Abroad, or civil dangers nurs'd at home.

+Queen.+ Your highness' pardon. I confess how high Your merits rise in my esteem; but must not, To honour your deserts, myself become Unworthy after-story, blemish'd with That scorn which still defames our sex, register'd A most inconstant woman; or, what's much More infamous, one who reserves her love To serve her profit, and exposeth it To the merchant that bids fairest.

+Asc.+ Madam, spare that breath to clear The air, when poison'd by contagion. I know your settled thoughts, and that my power Or title weighs not in your love. Florentio, I will no longer rack you: though the queen Be th' only fire e'er warm'd this heart, and I Despair ever to love again, I will Disdain to be unjust. I will not be O'ercome in friendship: reassume thy right.

+Flo.+ Sir, you undo me. In your injury I was less wretched: like a bankrupt now, Without all hope of payment, I must owe.

+Asc.+ Th' ambition of my service, and disguise, Was to advance your fortune, madam; nor Can I attempt you farther, though the conquest Would wreathe my temples with a prouder laurel Than the addition of the world unto My sceptre. Be safe in your choice, and happy.

+Queen.+ This goodness grows even to a miracle. In his behalf, sir, I must vow myself A subject, and your servant.

+Asc.+ O, command; For I have nothing, madam, but obedience. My kingdom shall be proud to share with yours In danger, and I'll glory to be styled Your soldier.

+Flo.+ I am lost in wonder! Sir, I know not how to entertain this blessing: I fear my joys will be my ruin.

+Dec.+ Be both happy; And may time never father that black moment, Which shall appear to you less fortunate!

+Asc.+ Join then your hands for ever. He doth live Mighty indeed, who hath power and will to give. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[286] Bajazet and Tamerlane.

[287] [Prize.]

THE EPILOGUE AT COURT.

We have nothing left us but our blushes now For your much penance; and though we allow Our fears no comfort, since you must appear Judges corrupt, if not to us severe: Yet in your majesty we hope to find A mercy, and in that our pardon sign'd. And how can we despair you will forgive Them who would please, when oft offenders live? And if we have err'd, may not the courteous say, 'Twas not their trade, and but the Author's play?

THE EPILOGUE AT THE FRIARS.

What shall the Author do? It madness were To entreat a mercy from you, who are severe Stern judges, and a pardon never give; For only merit with you makes things live. He leaves you therefore to yourselves, and may You gently 'quit, or else condemn, the play, As in an upright conscience you'll think fit: Your sentence is the life and death of wit. The Author yet hath one safe plea, that though A Middlesex jury on his play should go, They cannot find the murder wilful, since 'Twas acted by command in his own defence.

THE ANTIQUARY.

_EDITION._

_The Antiquary. A Comedy, Acted by her maiesties Servants, at the Cock-Pit. Written by Shackerly Mermion, Gent. London. Printed by F. K. for I. W. and F. E. and are to be sold at the Crane, in St. Paul's Church-yard. 1641. 4º._

INTRODUCTION.

Shakerley Marmion was born at Aynho,[288] near Brackley, in the county of Northampton, where his father was lord of the manor, and in possession of a considerable estate. He received the early part of his education at the free school, at Thame, in the county of Oxford, under the care of Richard Boucher, commonly called Butcher, the master thereof. In the year 1617 he became a gentleman-commoner of Wadham College, in Oxford, and in 1624,[289] took the degree of Master of Arts. Anthony Wood[290] says that he was "a goodly proper gentleman, and had once in his possession seven hundred pounds per annum at least." The whole of this ample fortune he dissipated; after which he went into the Low Countries; but not meeting with promotion according to his expectation, he returned to England, and was admitted one of the troop raised by Sir John Suckling for the use of King Charles I. in his expedition against the Scots, in the year 1639: but falling sick at York, he returned to London, where he died in the same year.[291] Besides several poems, scattered about in different publications,[292] he wrote three plays,[293] viz.--

1. "Holland's Leaguer,[294] an excellent comedy, as it hath bin lately and often acted with great applause by the high and mighty Prince Charles his servants, at the private house in Salisbury Court, 1632." 4º.

To the _Dramatis Personæ_ of this play the names of the several performers are added.[295]

2. "A Fine Companion,[296] acted before the king and queene, at White hall, and sundrie times with great applause, at the private house in Salisbury Court, by the Prince his servants. 1633." 4º.

3. "The Antiquary, a Comedy, acted by her Majesties servants, at the Cockpit. 1641." 4º.

He also published "Cupid and Psyche; or an epick poem of Cupid and his Mistress, as it was lately presented to the Prince Elector," 1637,[297] 1666.

Prefixed to this are complimentary verses by Richard Brome, Francis Tuckyr, Thomas Nabbes, and Thomas Heywood.

Wood says he left some things in MS. ready for the press, which were either lost or in obscure hands.

FOOTNOTES:

[288] Some authorities state that he was born "about the beginning of January 1602," and this date seems consistent with the time when he was entered at Wadham College.--_Collier._

[289] Langbaine, p. 345.

[290] "Athenæ Oxonienses," ii. 19. Oldys, in his MSS. notes on Langbaine, says it was our author's father who squandered away his fortune; but as he quotes no authority for this assertion, I have followed Wood's account.

[291] Oldys' MSS. notes to Langbaine.

[292] [Among the rest, there are some verses by Marmion before Thomas Heywood's "Dialogues and Dramas," 1637.]

[293] "The Crafty Merchant; or, The Soldier'd Citizen," has also been attributed to Shakerley Marmion, but on no sufficient evidence, as well as a pastoral, called "The Faithful Shepherd," which Philips assigns to him. The first of these, which evidently was a comedy, was never printed.--_Collier._ ["The Crafty Merchant," which seems to have been originally entitled "The Merchant's Sacrifice," is in the list of plays destroyed, according to Warburton the herald, by the ignorance of his cook. It is there given to Marmion. See Lansd. MS. 807.]

[294] [In 1632, Nicholas Goodman published a prose tract entitled: "Holland's Leagver; or, an Historicall Discourse of the Life and Actions of Dona Britanica Hollandia," &c. See the full title in Hazlitt, p. 232. "Holland's Leaguer," it may be well to explain, was the name of one of the licensed stews in Southwark. It was a large detached building, and stood till within some hundred years ago on the site of Holland Street, Surrey Road. Boydell published a print in 1818, containing a view of it.]

[295] They may be worth subjoining in a note: they were, William Browne, Ellis Worth, Andrew Keyne, Matthew Smith, James Sneller, Henry Gradwell, Thomas Bond, Richard Fowler, Edward May, Robert Huyt, Robert Stafford, Richard Godwin, John Wright, Richard Fouch, Arthur Savill, and Samuel Mannery. The last six played the female parts in the play.--_Collier._

[296] The Prologue is a short conversation between a Critic and the Author, which contains the following hit, perhaps at Ben Jonson:--

"+Critic.+ Are you the author of this play?

+Author.+ What then?

+Critic.+ Out o' this poetry! I wonder what You do with this disease, a seed of vipers Spawn'd in Parnassus' pool; whom the world frowns on, And here you vent your poison on the stage.

+Author.+ What say you, sir?

+Critic.+ Oh, you are deaf to all Sounds but a _plaudite_; and yet you may Remember, if you please, what entertainment Some of your tribe have had, that have took pains To be contemn'd and laugh'd at by the vulgar, And then ascrib'd it to their ignorance. I should be loath to see you move their spleens With no better success, and then with some Commendatory epistles, fly to the press To vindicate your credit.

+Author.+ What if I do?

+Critic.+ By my consent, I'll have you Banish'd the stage, proscrib'd and interdicted Castalian water, and poetical fire."

--_Collier._

[297] [In a copy now before me, which, a note on the fly-leaf says, sold at Sotheby's, in 1817, for £6. 16s. 6d., the date 1637 on the engraved title has been altered with the pen, the "7" being changed into "8." There is only one edition in 4º; but this circumstance has led to the mistaken notion that there were impressions in 1637 and 1638.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

+The Duke of Pisa.+[298] +Leonardo+, } _two courtiers_. +Donato+, } +Veterano+, _the Antiquary_. +Gasparo+, _a magnifico of Pisa_. +Lorenzo+, _an old gentleman_. +Mocinigo+, _an old gentleman that would appear young_. +Lionel+, _nephew to the Antiquary_. +Petrucio+, _a foolish gentleman, son to Gasparo_. +Aurelio+, _a young gentleman_. +Aurelio's Father+, _in the disguise of a bravo_. _His +Boy+._ +Petro+, _the Antiquary's boy_.

+Æmilia+, _wife to Lorenzo_. +Lucretia+, _daughter to Lorenzo_. +Angelia+, _sister to Lionel, in the disguise of a page_. +Julia+, } _two waiting-women_. +Baccha+, } _A +Cook+._ _Two +Servants+._

_The Scene, Pisa._

FOOTNOTES:

[298] The scene, however, seems to be laid at Venice. The Rialto is mentioned in act i., and Venice is again spoken of in act iii. as where the transactions of the play are carried on.--_Pegge._

[It may be added that there was never any _Duke of Pisa_, and that most of the names are Venetian.]

THE ANTIQUARY.[299]