SCENE II.

_A Public Place._

_Enter_ ALBANO _with_ SLIP, _his Page_.

_Alb._ Can it be? Is't possible? Is't within the bounds of faith? O villainy!

_Slip._ The clapper of rumour strikes on both sides, ringing out the French knight is in firm possession of my mistress, your wife.

_Alb._ Is't possible I should be dead so soon In her affects? How long is't since our shipwrack?

_Slip._ Faith, I have little arithmetic in me, yet I remember the storm made me cast up perfectly the whole sum of all I had receiv'd; three days before I was liquor'd soundly; my guts were rinced 'fore the heavens. I look as pale ever since, as if I had ta'en the diet[471] this spring. 13

_Alb._ But how long is't since our shipwrack?

_Slip._ Marry, since we were hung by the heels on the batch of Sicily, to make a jail-delivery of the sea in our maws, 'tis just three months. Shall I speak like a poet?--_thrice hath the horned moon----_

_Alb._ Talk not of horns. O Celia! How oft, When thou hast laid thy cheek upon my breast, 20 And with lascivious petulancy sued For hymeneal dalliance, marriage-rites;-- O then, how oft, with passionate protests And zealous vows, hast thou obliged thy love, In dateless bands, unto Albano's breast! Then, did I but mention second marriage, With what a bitter hate would she inveigh 'Gainst retail'd wedlocks! "O!" would she lisp, "If you should die,"--then would she slide a tear, And with a wanton languishment intwist 30 Her hands,--"O God, and you should die! Marry? Could I love life, my dear Albano dead? Should any prince possess his widow's bed?" And now, see, see, I am but rumour'd drown'd.

_Slip._ She'll make you prince;--your worship must be crown'd. O master, you know the woman is the weaker creature! She must have a prop. The maid is the brittle metal; Her head is quickly crack'd. The wife is queasy-stomach'd, She must be fed with novelties. But, then, what's your widow? _Custom is a second nature_;--I say no more, but think you the rest. 40

_Alb._ If love be holy; if that mystery Of co-united hearts be sacrament; If the unbounded goodness have infused A sacred ardour, if a mutual love, Into our species, of those amorous joys, Those sweets of life, those comforts even in death, Spring from a cause above our reason's reach;-- If that clear flame deduce his heat from heaven;-- 'Tis like his cause,[472] eternal, always One, As is th' instiller of divinest love, 50 Unchanged by time, immortal maugre death! But O, 'tis grown a figment, love a jest, A comic poesy! The soul of man is rotten, Even to the core;--no sound affection. Our love is hollow-vaulted--stands on props Of circumstance, profit, or ambitious hopes! The other tissue gown, or chain of pearl, Makes my coy minx to nuzzel[473] 'twixt the breasts Of her lull'd husband; t'other carkanet Deflowers that lady's bed. One hundred more 60 Marries that loathèd blowze;--one ten-pound odds, In promised jointure, makes the hard-palm'd sire Enforce his daughter's tender lips to start At the sharp touch of some loath'd stubbèd beard; The first pure time, the golden age, is fled. Heaven knows I lie,--'tis now the age of gold,-- For it all marreth, and even virtue's sold!

_Slip._ Master, will you trust me, and I'll----

_Alb._ Yes, boy, I'll trust thee. Babes and fools I'll trust; But servants' faith, wives' love, or female's lust,-- 70 A usurer and the devil sooner. Now, were I dead, Methinks I see a huff-cap swaggering sir Pawning my plate, my jewels mortgage; nay, Selling outright[474] the purchase of my brows, Whilst my poor fatherless, lean, totter'd[475] son-- My gentry's relics, my house's only prop-- Is saw'd asunder, lies forlorn, all bleak Unto the griefs of sharp necessities, Whilst his father-in-law, his father-in-devil, or d-d-d-d-devil-f-f-f-father, Or who, who, who, who,--What You Will!-- 80 When is the marriage morn?

_Slip._ Even next rising sun.

_Alb._ Good, good, good! Go to my brother Andrea:[476] Tell him I'll lurk; stay, tell him I'll lurk: stay.-- Now is Albano's marriage-bed new hung With fresh rich curtains! Now are my valence up, Emboss'd with orient pearl, my grandsire's gift! Now are the lawn sheets fumed with violets,[477] To fresh the pall'd lascivious appetite! Now work the cooks, the pastry sweats with slaves; The march-panes[478] glitter: now, now, the musicians 90 Hover with nimble sticks o'er squeaking crowds,[479] Tickling the dried guts of a mewing cat. The tailors, starchers, sempsters, butchers, poulterers, mercers,--all, all, all,--now, now, now,--none think o' me,--the f-f-f-French is _te f-f-f-fine man, de p-p-p-pock man, de----_

_Slip._ Peace, peace! stand conceal'd. Yonder, by all descriptions, is he would be husband of my mistress;--your wife! hah, meat, hah!

_Alb._ Uds so, so, so soul! that's my velvet cloak! 100

_Slip._ O peace! observe him: ha!

_Enter_ LAVERDURE _and_ BIDET, _talking_; QUADRATUS, LAMPATHO, SIMPLICIUS, PEDANT, _and_ HOLOFERNES PIPPO.

_Bid._ 'Tis most true, sir. I heard all; I saw all; I tell all, and I hope you believe all. The sweet Francisco Soranza, the perfumer, is by your rival Jacomo, and your two brothers that must be, when you have married your wife that shall be--

_Ped._ With the grace of Heaven. 107

_Bid._ Disguised so like the drowned Albano, to cross your suit, that by my little honesty 'twas great consolation to me to observe them. "Passion of joy, of hope! O excellent!" cried Andrea. "Passingly!" cried Randolfo. "Unparallel'd!" lisps Jacomo. "Good, good, good!" says Andrea. "Now stut," says Jacomo. "Now stut," says Randolfo; whilst the ravish'd perfumer had like to have water'd the seams of his breeches for extreme pride of their applause.

_Lav._ Sest,[480] I'll to Celia, and, maugre the nose of her friends, wed her, bed her; my first son shall be a captain, and his name shall be what it please his godfathers; the second, if he have a face bad enough, a lawyer; the third, a merchant; and the fourth, if he be maim'd, dull-brain'd, or hard-shaped, a scholar; for that's your fashion. 123

_Qua._ Get them; get them, man, first. Now by the wantonness of the night, and I were a wench, I would not ha' thee, wert thou an heir, nay (which is more) a fool.

_Lav._ Why, I can rise high: a straight leg, a plump thigh, a full vein, a round cheek; and, when it pleaseth the fertility of my chin to be delivered of a beard, 'twill not wrong my kissing, for my lips are rebels, and stand out. 131

_Qua._ Ho! but there's an old fusty proverb, these great talkers are never good doers.

_Lam._ Why, what a babel arrogance is this! Men will put by the very stock of fate; They'll thwart the destiny of marriage, Strive to disturb the sway of Providence: They'll do it!

_Qua._ Come, you'll be snarling now.

_Lam._ As if we had free-will in supernatural Effects, and that our love or hate 140 Depended not on causes 'bove the reach Of human stature.

_Qua._ I think I shall not lend you forty shillings now.

_Lam._ Dirt upon dirt, fear is beneath my shoe. Dreadless of racks, strappadoes, or the sword-- Maugre informer and sly intelligence,-- I'll stand as confident as Hercules, And, with a frightless resolution, Rip up and lance our time's impieties.

_Sim._ Uds so, peace. 150

_Lam._ Open a bounteous ear, for I'll be free: Ample as Heaven, give my speech more room; Let me unbrace my breasts, strip up my sleeves, Stand like an executioner to vice, To strike his head off with the keener edge Of my sharp spirit.

_Lav._ Room and good licence: come on! when, when?

_Lam._ Now is my fury mounted. Fix your eyes; Intend your senses; bend your list'ning up; For I'll make greatness quake; I'll taw[481] the hide 160 Of thick-skinn'd Hugeness.

_Lav._ 'Tis most gracious; we'll observe thee calmly.

_Qua._ Hang on thy tongue's end. Come on! prithee do.

_Lam._ I'll see you hanged first I thank you, sir, I'll none. This is the strain that chokes the theatres; That makes them crack with full-stuff'd audience; This is your humour only in request, Forsooth to rail; this brings your ears to bed; This people gape for; for this some do stare. This some would hear, to crack the author's neck; 170 This admiration and applause pursues; Who cannot rail? my humour's changed, 'tis clear: Pardon, I'll none; I prize my joints more dear.

_Bid._ Master, master, I ha' descried the Perfumer in Albano's disguise. Look you! look you! Rare sport! rare sport! 176

_Alb._ I can contain my impatience no longer. You, Monsieur Cavalier, Saint Dennis,--you, capricious sir, Signior Caranto French Brawl,[482]--you, that must marry Celia Galanto,--is Albano drown'd now? Go wander, avaunt, knight-errant! Celia shall be no cuck-quean,[483]--my heir no beggar,--my plate no pawn,--my land no mortgage,--my wealth no food for thy luxuries,--my house no harbour for thy comrades,--my bed no booty for thy lusts! My anything shall be thy nothing. Go hence! pack, pack! avaunt! caper, caper! aloun, aloun! pass by, pass by! cloak your nose! away! vanish! wander! depart! slink by! away! 188

_Lav._ Hark you, Perfumer. Tell Jacomo, Randolfo, and Andrea,[484] 'twill not do;--look you, say no more, but--'twill not do.

_Alb._ What Perfumer? what Jacomo?

_Qua._ Nay, assure thee, honest Perfumer, good Francisco, we know all, man. Go home to thy civet box; look to the profit, commodity, or emolument of thy musk-cat's tail: go, clap on your round cap--my "what do you lack," sir,--for i'faith, good rogue, all's descried!

_Alb._ What Perfumer? what musk-cat? what Francisco? What do you lack? Is't not enough that you kiss'd my wife? 200

_Lav._ Enough.

_Alb._ Ay, enough! and may be, I fear me, too much; but you must flout me,--deride me,--scoff me,--keep out,--touch not my porch;--as for my wife!----

_Lav._ Stir to the door: dare to disturb the match, And by the----

_Alb._ My sword! menace Albano 'fore his own doors!

_Lav._ No, not Albano, but Francisco: thus, Perfumer, I'll make you stink if you stir a----For the rest: well, _via, via!_

[_Exeunt all but_ ALBANO, SLIP, SIMPLICIUS, _and_ HOLOFERNES.

_Alb._ Jesu, Jesu! what intends this? ha! 211

_Sim._ O God, sir! you lie as open to my understanding as a courtezan. I know you as well----

_Alb._ Somebody knows me yet: praise Heaven, somebody knows me yet!

_Sim._ Why, look you, sir: I ha' paid for[485] my knowing of men and women too, in my days: I know you are Francisco Soranza, the perfumer; ay, maugre Signor Satin, ay----

_Alb._ Do not tempt my patience. Go to; do not----

_Sim._ I know you dwell in Saint Mark's Lane, at the sign of the Musk Cat, as well---- 222

_Alb._ Fool, or mad, or drunk, no more!

_Sim._ I know where you were dressed, where you were----

_Alb._ Nay, then, take all!--take all! take all!----

[_He bastinadoes_ SIMPLICIUS.

_Sim._ And I tell not my father; if I make you not lose your office of gutter-master-ship; and you be scavenger next year, well! Come, Holofernes; come, good Holofernes; come, servant. 230

[_Exeunt_ SIMPLICIUS _and_ HOLOFERNES.

_Enter_ JACOMO.

_Alb._ Francisco Soranza, and perfumer, and musk-cat, and gutter-master, hay, hay, hay!--go, go, go!--f-f-f-fut!--I'll to the Duke; and I'll so ti-ti-ti-tickle them!

_Jaco._ Precious! what means he to go out so soon, Before the dusk of twilight might deceive The doubtful priers? What, holla!

_Alb._ Whop! what devil now?

_Jaco._ I'll feign I know him not.-- What business 'fore those doors?

_Alb._ What's that to thee?

_Jaco._ You come to wrong my friend Sir Laverdure. 240 Confess, or----

_Alb._ My sword, boy!--s-s-s-s-soul, my sword!

_Jaco._ O, my dear rogue, thou art a rare dissembler!

_Alb._ See, see!

_Enter_ ANDREA[486] _and_ RANDOLFO.

_Jaco._ Francisco, did I not help to clothe thee even now? I would ha' sworn thee, Albano, my good sweet slave.

[_Exit_ JACOMO.

_Alb._ See, see! Jesu, Jesu! Impostors! Coney-catchers! Sancta Maria! 249

_Ran._ Look you. He walks; he feigns most excellent.

_And._[487] Accost him first as if you were ignorant Of the deceit.

_Ran._ O, dear Albano! now thrice happy eyes, To view the hopeless presence of my brother!

_Alb._ Most lovèd kinsman, praise to Heaven, yet You know Albano. But for yonder slaves--well----

_And._[487] Success could not come on more gracious.

_Alb._ Had not you come, dear brother Andrea,[488] I think not one would know me. Ulysses' dog Had quicker sense than my dull countrymen; 260 Why, none had known me.

_Ran._ Doubt you of that? Would I might die, Had I not known the guile, I would ha' sworn Thou hadst been Albano, my nimble, coz'ning knave.

_Alb._ Whip, whip! Heaven preserve all! Saint Mark, Saint Mark! Brother Andrea,[488] be frantic, prithee be; Say I am a perfumer--Francisco. Hay, hay! Is't not some feast-day? You are all rank drunk! Rats, ra-ra-ra-rats, knights of the be-be-be-bell! be-be-bell!

_And._[487] Go, go! proceed: thou dost it rare. Farewell.

[_Exeunt_ ANDREA[488] _and_ RANDOLFO.

_Alb._ Farewell? Ha! Is't even so? Boy, who am I?

_Slip._ My Lord Albano!

_Alb._ By this breast you lie. 272 The Samian[489] faith is true, true! I was drown'd; And now my soul is skipp'd into a perfumer, A gutter-master.

_Slip._ Believe me, sir----

_Alb._ No, no! I'll believe nothing! no! The disadvantage of all honest hearts Is quick credulity. Perfect state-policy Can cross-bite[490] even sense. The world's turn'd juggler! Casts mists before our eyes. Hey-pass re-pass![491] 280 I'll credit nothing.

_Slip._ Good sir!

_Alb._ Hence, ass! Doth not opinion stamp the current pass Of each man's value, virtue, quality? Had I engross'd the choice commodities Of Heaven's traffic, yet reputed vile, I am a rascal! O, dear unbelief! How wealthy dost thou make thy owner's wit! Thou train of knowledge! what a privilege Thou givest to thy possessor! anchor'st him From floating with the tide of vulgar faith; 290 From being damn'd with multitude's dear unbelief! I am a perfumer: ay, think'st thou, my blood, My brothers know not right Albano yet? Away! 'tis faithless![492] If Albano's name Were liable to sense, that I could taste, or touch, Or see, or feel it, it might 'tice belief; But since 'tis voice, and air--Come to the Muskcat, boy; Francisco, that's my name; 'tis right: ay, ay, What do you lack? what is't you lack? right; that's my cry.

[_Exeunt._

[471] _i.e._, as if I had been treated for the pox.

[472] Ed. 2. "cause's."

[473] Cf. Prologue to _Second Part of Antonio and Mellida_:-- "And _nuzzled 'twixt the breasts_ of happiness."

[474] Ed. 2. "our right."

[475] _i.e._, tatter'd.

[476] Old eds. "Adrian."

[477] Spenser, in his _Epithalamion_, alludes to the practice of sprinkling the bridal-bed with violets:-- "Now day is doen and night is nighing fast, Now bring the Bryde into the brydall bowres: The night is come, now soone her disaray, And in her bed her lay; Lay her in lilies and in _violets_, And silken courteins over her display."

[478] A composition of almonds, sugar, &c.

[479] Fiddles.

[480] Probably a corruption of Fr. _cessez_. Cf. Shakespeare's perplexing _sessa_.--We have the expression again on p. 402.

[481] Dress leather with alum.

[482] The name of a dance.

[483] She-cuckold.

[484] Old eds. "Adrian."

[485] Ed. 2. "for knowing men."

[486] Old eds. "Adrian."

[487] Old eds. "Adri."

[488] Old eds. "Adrian."

[489] Pythagoras was of Samos.

[490] Cheat.--Marlowe, i. 89.

[491] "Hey-pass re-pass"--a juggler's term.

[492] Ed. 1. "faites."