SCENE I.

_Enter_ ANTONIO _in a fool's habit, with a little toy of a walnut shell, and soap to make bubbles_: MARIA _and_ ALBERTO.

_Mar._ Away with this disguise in any hand!

_Alb._ Fie, 'tis unsuiting to your elate spirit: Rather put on some transhaped cavalier, Some habit of a spitting critic, whose mouth Voids nothing but gentile and unvulgar Rheum of censure: rather assume----

_Ant._ Why, then should I put on the very flesh Of solid folly. No, this cock's comb is a crown Which I affect even with unbounded zeal.

_Alb._ 'Twill thwart your plot, disgrace your high resolve. 10

_Ant._ By wisdom's heart, there is no essence mortal That I can envy, but a plump-cheek'd fool: O, he hath a patent of immunities Confirm'd by custom, seal'd by policy, As large as spacious thought.

_Alb._ You cannot press among the courtiers, And have access to----

_Ant._ What? not a fool? Why, friend, a golden ass, A babled[285] fool, are sole canonical, Whilst pale-cheek'd wisdom, and lean-ribbèd art 20 Are kept in distance at the halbert's point; All held Apocrypha, not worth survey. Why, by the genius of that Florentine, Deep, deep observing, sound-brain'd Machiavel, He is not wise that strives not to seem fool. When will the Duke hold fee'd intelligence, Keep wary observation in large pay, To dog a fool's act?

_Mar._ Ay, but feigning known disgraceth much.

_Ant._ Pish! Most things that morally adhere to souls, 30 Wholly exist in drunk opinion: Whose reeling censure, if I value not, It values nought.

_Mar._ You are transported with too slight a thought, If you but meditate of what is past, And what you plot to pass.

_Ant._ Even in that note a fool's beatitude: He is not capable of passion; Wanting the power of distinction, He bears an unturned sail with every wind: 40 Blow east, blow west, he stirs his course alike. I never saw a fool lean: the chub-faced fop Shines sleek with full-cramm'd fat of happiness, Whilst studious contemplation sucks the juice From wisards'[286] cheeks: who making curious search For nature's secrets, the first innating cause Laughs them to scorn, as man doth busy apes When they will zany men. Had Heaven been kind, Creating me an honest senseless dolt, A good poor fool, I should want sense to feel 50 The stings of anguish shoot through every vein; I should not know what 'twere to lose a father; I should be dead of sense to view defame Blur my bright love; I could not thus run mad, As one confounded in a maze of mischief, Stagger'd, stark, fell'd with bruising stroke of chance; I should not shoot mine eyes into the earth, Poring for mischief that might counterpoise Mischief, murder and----

_Enter_ LUCIO.

How now, Lucio?

_Lu._ My lord, the Duke, with the Venetian states,[287] 60 Approach the great hall to judge Mellida.

_Ant._ Ask'd he for Julio yet?

_Lu._ No motion[288] of him: dare you trust this habit?

_Ant._ Alberto, see you straight rumour me dead. Leave me, good mother; leave me, Lucio; Forsake me, all.

[_Exeunt omnes, saving_ ANTONIO.

Now patience hoop my sides With steelèd ribs, lest I do burst my breast With struggling passions. Now disguise, stand bold: Poor scornèd habits oft choice souls enfold.

[_The cornets sound a senet._

_Enter_ CASTILIO, FOROBOSCO, BALURDO, _and_ ALBERTO, _with pole-axes_, LUCIO _bare; followed by_ PIERO _and_ MARIA _talking together; two_ Senators, GALEATZO, MATZAGENTE, _and_ NUTRICHE.

_Pier._ Entreat me not: there's not a beauty lives 70 Hath that imperial predominance O'er my affects[289] as your enchanting graces: Yet give me leave to be myself--

_Ant._ [_Aside._] A villain.

_Pier._ Just--

_Ant._ [_Aside._] Most just.

_Pier._ Most just and upright in our judgment seat. Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish Of most loath'd looseness, I would scratch it out. Produce the strumpet in her bridal robes, That she may blush t'appear so white in show, 80 And black in inward substance. Bring her in.

[_Exeunt_ FOROBOSCO _and_ CASTILIO.

I hold Antonio, for his father's sake, So very dearly, so entirely choice, That knew I but a thought of prejudice Imagined 'gainst his high ennobled blood, I would maintain a mortal feud, undying hate, 'Gainst the conceiver's life. And shall justice sleep In fleshly lethargy, for mine own blood's favour, When the sweet prince hath so apparent scorn By my--I will not call her daughter? Go, 90 Conduct in the loved youth Antonio:

[_Exit_ ALBERTO _to fetch_ ANTONIO.

He shall behold me spurn my private good; Piero loves his honour more than 's blood.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] The devil he does more than both.

_Bal._ Stand back there, fool; I do hate a fool most, most pathetically. O, these that have no sap of retort and obtuse wit in them: faugh!

_Ant._ Puff, hold, world; puff, hold, bubble; puff, hold, world; puff, break not behind; puff, thou art full of wind; puff, keep up thy[290] wind; puff, 'tis broke! and now I laugh like a good fool at the breath of mine own lips, he, he, he, he, he! 102

_Bal._ You fool!

_Ant._ You fool, puff!

_Bal._ I cannot disgest[291] thee, the unvulgar fool. Go, fool.

_Pier._ Forbear, Balurdo; let the fool alone. Come hither.[292] Is he your fool?

_Mar._ Yes, my loved lord.

_Pier._ [_Aside._] Would all the states[293] in Venice were like thee! O then I were secur'd. 110 He that's a villain, or but meanly soul'd, Must still converse and cling to routs of fools, That can not search the leaks of his defects. O, your unsalted fresh fool is your only man: These vinegar tart spirits are too piercing, Too searching in the unglued joints of shaken wits. Find they a chink, they'll wriggle in and in, And eat like salt sea in his siddow[294] ribs, Till they have opened all his rotten parts Unto the vaunting surge of base contempt, 120 And sunk the tossèd galleasse[295] in depth Of whirlpool scorn. Give me an honest fop.-- Dud a dud a! Why lo, sir, this takes he As grateful now as a monopoly.

[_The still flutes sound softly._

_Enter_ FOROBOSCO _and_ CASTILIO: MELLIDA _supported by two waiting-women_.

_Mel._ All honour to this royal confluence.

_Pier._ Forbear, impure, to blot bright honour's name With thy defilèd lips. The flux of sin Flows from thy tainted body: thou so foul, So all dishonour'd, canst no honour give, No wish of good, that can have good effect 130 To this grave senate, and illustrate bloods. Why stays the doom of death?

_1st. Sen._ Who riseth up to manifest her guilt?

_2d Sen._ You must produce apparent proof, my lord.

_Pier._ Why, where is Strotzo?--he that swore he saw The very act, and vow'd that Feliche fled Upon his sight: on which I brake the breast Of the adulterous lecher with five stabs. Go, fetch in Strotzo. Now, thou impudent, If thou hast any drop of modest blood 140 Shrouded within thy cheeks, blush, blush for shame, That rumour yet may say thou felt'st defame.

_Mel._ Produce the devil; let your Strotzo come: I can defeat his strongest argument, With----

_Pier._ With what?

_Mel._ With tears, with blushes, sighs, and claspèd hands; With innocent uprearèd arms to Heaven; With my unnookt[296] simplicity. These, these Must, will, can only quit my heart of guilt: 150 Heaven permits not taintless blood be spilt. If no remorse live in your savage breast----

_Pier._ Then thou must die.

_Mel._ Yet dying, I'll be blest.

_Pier._ Accurst by me.

_Mel._ Yet blest, in that I strove To live, and die----

_Pier._ My hate.

_Mel._ Antonio's love.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] Antonio's love!

_Enter_ STROTZO, _with a cord about his neck_.

_Str._ O what vast ocean of repentant tears Can cleanse my breast from the polluting filth Of ulcerous sin! Supreme Efficient, Why cleavest thou not my breast with thunderbolts 160 Of wing'd revenge?

_Pier._ What means this passion?

_Ant._ [_Aside._] What villainy are they decocting now? Umh!

_Str. In[297] me convertite ferrum, O proceres. Nihil iste, nec ista._

_Pier._ Lay hold on him! What strange portent is this?

_Str._ I will not flinch. Death, hell more grimly stare Within my heart than in your threatening brows. Record, thou threefold guard of dreadest power,[298] What I here speak is forcèd from my lips By the [im]pulsive strain of conscience. 170 I have a mount of mischief clogs my soul, As weighty as the high-noll'd[299] Apennine, Which I must straight disgorge, or breast will burst. I have defam'd this lady wrongfully, By instigation of Antonio, Whose reeling love, tost on each fancy's surge, Began to loath before it fully joyed.

_Pier._ Go, seize Antonio! guard him strongly in!

[_Exit_ FOROBOSCO.

_Str._ By his ambition being only bribed, Fee'd by his impious hand, I poisonèd 180 His agèd father, that his thirsty hope[s] Might quench their dropsy of aspiring drought With full unbounded quaff.

_Pier._ Seize me, Antonio!

_Str._ O, why permit you now such scum of filth As Strotzo is to live and taint the air With his infectious breath!

_Pier._ Myself will be thy strangler, unmatched slave.

PIERO _comes from his chair, snatcheth the cord's end, and_ CASTILIO _aideth him: both strangle_ STROTZO.

_Str._ Now change your----

_Pier._ I--pluck Castilio!--I change my humour: pluck Castilio! Die, with thy death's entreats even in thy jaws.-- 190 [_Aside._] Now, now, now, now, now, my plot begins to work! Why, thus should statesmen do, That cleave through knots of craggy policies, Use men like wedges, one strike out another, Till by degrees the tough and knurly[300] trunk Be riv'd in sunder.--Where's Antonio?

_Enter_ ALBERTO, _running_.

_Alb._ O, black accursèd fate! Antonio's drown'd.

_Pier._ Speak, on thy faith, on thy allegiance, speak.

_Alb._ As I do love Piero, he is drown'd.

_Ant._ [_Aside._] In an inundation of amazement. 200

_Mel._ Ay, is this the close of all my strains in love? O me most wretched maid!

_Pier._ Antonio drown'd! how? how? Antonio drown'd!

_Alb._ Distraught and raving, from a turret's top He threw his body in the swollen sea, And as he headlong topsy turvy ding'd[301] down, He still cried "Mellida!"

_Ant._ [_Aside._] My love's bright crown!

_Mel._ He still cried "Mellida"!

_Pier._ Daughter, methinks your eyes should sparkle joy, Your bosom rise on tiptoe at this news. 210

_Mel._ Ay me!

_Pier._ How now? Ay, me! why, art not great of thanks To gracious Heaven for the just revenge Upon the author of thy obloquies!

_Mar._ Sweet beauty, I could sigh as fast as you, But that I know that, which I weep to know. [_Aside._] His[302] fortunes should be such he dare not show His open presence!

_Mel._ I know he lov'd me dearly, dearly, ay: And since I cannot live with him, I die. [_Swoons._ 220

_Pier._ 'Fore Heaven, her speech falters; look, she swouns. Convey her up into her private bed.

[MARIA, NUTRICHE, _and the Ladies bear out_ MELLIDA, _as being swooned_.

I hope she'll live. If not----

_Ant._ Antonio's dead! the fool will follow too. He, he, he! [_Aside._] Now works the scene; quick observation, scud To cote[303] the plot, or else the path is lost: My very self am gone, my way is fled: Ay, all is lost, if Mellida is dead.

[_Exit_ ANTONIO.

_Pier._ Alberto, I am kind; Alberto, kind. 230 I am sorry for thy coz, i'faith I am. Go, take him down, and bear him to his father. Let him be buried; look ye, I'll pay the priest.

_Alb._ Please you to admit his father to the court?

_Pier._ No.

_Alb._ Please you to restore his lands and goods again?

_Pier._ No.

_Alb._ Please you vouchsafe him lodging in the city?

_Pier._ God's fut, no, thou odd uncivil fellow! I think you do forget, sir, where you are. 240

_Alb._ I know you do forget, sir, where you must be.

_Foro._ You are too malapert, i'faith you are. Your honour might do well to----

_Alb._ Peace, parasite; thou bur, that only sticks Unto the nap of greatness.

_Pier._ Away with that same yelping cur--away!

_Alb._ I--I am gone; but mark, Piero, this. There is a thing call'd scourging _Nemesis_.[304]

[_Exit_ ALBERTO.

_Bal._ God's neaks, he has wrong, that he has: and s'fut, and I were as he, I would bear no coals.[305] Law, I, I begin to swell--puff. 251

_Pier._ How now, fool, fop, fool!

_Bal._[306] Fool, fop, fool! Marry muffe![307] I pray you, how many fools have you seen go in a suit of satin? I hope, yet, I do not look a fool i'faith! a fool! God's bores, I scorn't with my heel. 'S neaks, and I were worth but three hundred pound a year more, I could swear richly; nay, but as poor as I am, I will swear the fellow hath wrong.

_Pier._ Young Galeatzo! Ay, a proper man; 260 Florence, a goodly city: it shall be so, I'll marry her to him instantly. Then Genoa mine, by my Maria's match, Which I'll solemnise ere next setting sun: Thus Venice, Florence, Genoa, strongly leagued. Excellent, excellent! I'll conquer Rome, Pop out the light of bright religion; And then, helter skelter, all cock-sure.

_Bal._ Go to, 'tis just, the man hath wrong: go to.

_Pier._ Go to, thou shall have right. Go to, Castilio, Clap him into the palace dungeon; 271 Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime That smears the dungeon' cheek. Away with him.

_Bal._ In very good truth, now, I'll ne'er do so more; this one time and----

_Pier._ Away with him--observe it strictly--go!

_Bal._ Why then, O wight! Alas, poor knight! O, welladay, Sir Jefferay! 280 Let poets roar, And all deplore; For now I bid you good-night.

[_Exit_ BALURDO _with_ CASTILIO.

_Re-enter_ MARIA.

_Mar._ O piteous end of love! O too, too rude hand Of unrespective death! Alas, sweet maid!

_Pier._ Forbear me, Heaven. What intend these plaints?

_Mar._ The beauty of admired creation, The life of modest unmix'd purity, Our sex's glory, Mellida is----

_Pier._ What, O Heaven, what!

_Mar._ Dead! 290

_Pier._ May it not sad your thoughts, how?

_Mar._ Being laid upon her bed, she grasp'd my hand, And kissing it, spake thus: "Thou very poor, Why dost not weep? The jewel of thy brow, The rich adornment that enchased thy breast, Is lost: thy son, my love, is lost, is dead. And do I live to say Antonio's dead? And have I lived to see his virtues blurr'd With guiltless blots? O world, thou art too subtle For honest natures to converse withal, 300 Therefore I'll leave thee; farewell, mart of woe, I fly to clip my love, Antonio!" With that her head sunk down upon her breast; Her cheek changed earth, her senses slept in rest, Until my fool, that press'd unto the bed, Screech'd out so loud that he brought back her soul, Call'd her again, that her bright eyes gan ope, And stared upon him. He, audacious fool, Dared kiss her hand, wish'd her "soft rest, loved bride;" She fumbled out, "thanks, good;" and so she died. 310

_Pier._ And so she died! I do not use to weep; But by thy love (out of whose fertile sweet I hope for as fair fruit) I am deep sad.-- I will not stay my marriage for all this.-- Castilio, Forobosco, all, Strain all your wits, wind up invention Unto his highest bent, to sweet this night; Make us drink Lethe by your quaint conceits, That for two days oblivion smother grief. But when my daughter's exequies approach, 320 Let's all turn sighers. Come, despite of fate, Sound loudest music, let's pace out in state!

[_The cornets sound.--Exeunt._

[285] "Bable" was the old form of "bauble."

[286] "Wisards" = wise men. In the _Ode on the Nativity_ Milton styles the wise men from the East _wisards_:-- "The star-led _wisards_ hasten with odours sweet."

[287] Nobles.

[288] _I.e._, there has been no question asked about him.

[289] Affections.

[290] Old eds. "by."

[291] Old form of _digest_.

[292] Old eds. "Come hither (_ficto_)." The bracketed word is, I suppose, a direction to the actor; Piero is to talk in an affected voice to Antonio,--treat him as a simpleton.

[293] Nobles.

[294] "The word _siddow_ is of very unusual occurrence in early English, but it is preserved in the provincial dialect of the West of England. In Gloucestershire peas which become pulpy soft by boiling are then said to be _siddow_."--_Halliwell._

[295] Large galleon.

[296] "_Unnookt_ simplicity" (if the reading is right) must mean "simplicity in which no guile is hidden."

[297] A mangled quotation from _Æn._ ix. 427-8.

[298] The "threefold guard of dreadest power" is, I suppose, "tergemina Hecate." Cf. p. 176 "By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate."

[299] High-peaked.--_Nol_ = head, top.

[300] Full of _knurs_, _i.e._ knotted, gnarled.

[301] Dashed violently.--We have had the word before (p. 11) used transitively; but it is also used intransitively, as in Drayton's _Ballad of Agincourt_:-- "This while our noble king, His broadsword brandishing. Down the French host did _ding_ As to o'erwhelm it." (Text of ed. 1619.)

[302] _I.e._ alas, that his fortunes should be, &c.

[303] Cote (another form of _quote_) = mark, note.

[304] So Hieronymo in _The Spanish Tragedy_:-- "Well heaven is heaven still! And there is Nemesis and furies, And things call'd whips."

[305] "Bear coals" = put up with injuries.

[306] Not marked in ed. 1602.

[307] "Marry muffe"--a common expression of contempt.--Middleton, i. 42, 71, &c.]