THE WONDER OF A Kingdom.  
Quod non Dant proceres, Dabit Histrio.  
Written by THOMAS DEKKER.  
LONDON: Printed by Robert Raworth, for Nicholas Vavasour; and are to be sold at his Shop in the Inner Temple, near the Church-door. 1636.   

The Prologue.  

THus from the Poet, I am bid to say;  
He knows what judges sit to Doom each Play,  
(The Overcurious Critic, or the Wise)  
The one with squint; tother with sun-like eyes,  
Shoots through each scene; The one cries all things down  
Tother, hides strangers Faults, close as his Own:   

'las! Those that out of custom come to jeer,  
(Sung the full choir of the Nine Muses here)  
So Carping,— not from Wit, but Apish spite,  
And Feathered Ignorance,— Thus! o Poet does slight.   

'Tis not a gay suit, or Distorted Face,  
Can beat his Merit off,— Which has won Grace  
In the full Theater;— Nor can now fear  
The Teeth of any Snaky whisperer;  
But to the white, and sweet unclowded Brow,  
(The heaven where true worth moves) our Poet does bow:   

Patrons of Arts, and Pilots to the Stage,  
Who guide it (through all Tempests) from the Rage  
Of envious Whirlwinds,— o, do you but steer  
His Muse, This day; And bring her toth' wished shore,  
You are those Delphic Powers whom she'll adore.    

Dramatis Personae.  

Duke of Florence.  
Prince of Pisa.  
Lord Vanni.  
Trebatio his Son.  
Mutio. Courtiers. Philippo. Tornelli.  
Piero the Duke's Son.  
Gasparo his Friend.  
Tibaldo Neri, Lover of Dariene L. Vanni's wife.  
Angelo Lotti, Lover of Fiametta.  
Baptista, his friend.  
jacomo Gentili, The Noble Housekeeper.  
Signior Torrenti, The Riotous Lord.  
Fiametta, the Duke's Daughter.  
Dariene, Old Lord Vanny's Wife.  
Alisandra, her Daughter.  
Alphonsina, sister to Tibaldo Neri.  
Cargo, Lord Vanni's man.  
Two Courtesans.  
A Nurse.    

THE WONDER OF A Kingdom.  
Actus primus. Scaena prima.  Enter Duke of Florence, Prince of Pisae, Nicoletto Vanni, Trebatio his son, Mutio, Philippo, Tornelli, Gallants, Tibaeldo Neri, Alphonsina his sister, Daeriene Old Vanny's wife, Cargo a servingman. 
we surfeit here on Pleasures: Seas nor Land  
Cannot invite us to a Feast more glorious,  
Than this day we have sat at: my Lord Vanni,  
You have an excellent seat here; 'tis a building  
May entertain a Caesar: but you and I  
Should rather talk of Tombs, than Palaces,  
Let's leave all to our heirs, for we are old.  Nico. 
Old! hem? all heart of brass, sound as a bell,  
Old? why, I'll tell your Graces; I have gone  
But half the bridge over yet; there lies before me  
As much as I have passed, and I'll go it all.  Flo. 
Mad Vanni still.  Nic. 
Old Oaks do not easily fall:  
December's cold hand combs my head and beard,  
But May swims in my blood; and he that walks  
Without his wooden third leg, is never old.  Pisa. 
What is your age my Lord?  Nic. 
Age, what call you age?  
I have lived some half a day, some half an hour.  Flo. 
A tree of three-score-years' growth; nothing.  Tib. 
A mere slip, you have kept good diet my lord.  Nic. 
Let whores keep diet,  
Tibaldo ne'er; never did Rivers run  
In wilder, madder streams, than I have done,  
I'll drink as hard yet as an Englishman,  Flo. 
And they are now best Drinkers.  Pisa. 
They put down the dutchmen clean,  Nic. 
I'll yet upon a wager hit any fencer's button,  Car, 
Some of 'em ha' no buttons to their doublets.  Nic. 
Then knave I'll hit his flesh, and hit your cocks-  
If you cross mine once more. (comb  Flo. 
Nay be not angry.  Nic. 
I have my passes: and my Passadoes,  
My lunges, my Stoccadoes, Imbrocadoes,  
And all my Pimtoes, and Pimtillioes  
Here at my finger's ends.  Flo. 
By my faith 'tis well.  Nic. 
Old why; I ne'er took Physic, nor ever will,  
I'll trust none that has Art and leave to kill:  
Now for that chopping herb of hell Tobacco;  
The idle-man's-devil, and the drunkard's-whore,  
I never meddled with her, my smoke goes,  
Out at my kitchen chimney, not my nose.  Flo. 
And some Lords have no chimneys but their noses.  Nic. 
Tobacco-shops show like prisons in hell;  
Hot, smoky, stinking, and I hate the smell.  Pis. 
who'd think that in a coal of Ashy white,  
Such fire were glowing?  Flo. 
May not a snuff give light?  Tib. 
You see it does in him.  Alph. 
A withered-tree, doth oft bear branches.  Nic. 
What think you then of me sweet Lady.  Alph. 
Troth my Lord as of a horse, vilely, if he can  
Neither wehee, nor wagtail.  Flo. 
The Lady Alphonsina Neri, has given it you my Lord.  Nic. 
The time may come I may give it her too.  Flo, 
I doubt Lord Vanni she will crack no Nuts,  
With such a tough shell, as is yours and mine,  
But leaving this, let's see you pray, at Court,  Nico. 
I thank your grace.  Flo. 
Your wife, and your fair daughter,  
One of the stars of Florence with your son  
Heir to your worth and Honours, Trebatio Vanni.  Treb. 
I shall attend your grace.  Flo. 
The holy knot,  
Hymen shall shortly tie, and in fair bands,  
Unite Florence and Pisa by the hands,  
Or Fiametta and this Pisa Duke  
(Our Noble son in law) and at this day,  
Pray be not absent.  Nic. 
We shall your will obey,  Flo. 
We hear there is a gallant that outvies  
Us, and our court for bravery, and expense,  
For royal feasts, triumphs and revellings.  Nic. 
He's my near kinsman, mine own brother's son,  
Who desperately a prodigal race doth run,  
And for this riotous humour, he has the byname,  
Signior Torrenti, a swift Headlong stream.  Flo. 
But there's another lays on more than he.  Nic. 
Old jacomo? open handed charity,  
sits ever at his gates to welcome guests,  
He makes no bonfires, as my riotous kinsman,  
And yet his chimneys cast out braver smoke,  
The Bellows which he blows with are good deeds,  
The rich he smiles upon, the poor he feeds.  Flo. 
These gallants we'll be feasted by, and Feast  
Fame's praises of 'em, shall make us their guest,  
Mean time we'll hence  Exit. Florence, Pisa, &c. Enter Cargo. Car. 
I have News to tell your Lordship, Signior Angelo (of the Locti Family is banished.  Dari. 
How banished? alas poor Angelo Lotti.  Treb. 
Why must he go from Florence?  Cargo. 
Because he can stay there no longer.  Nic. 
To what end is he driven from the City?  Cargo. 
To the end he should go into some other my Lord.  Nic. 
Hoida.  Car. 
I hope this is news Sir.  Nic. 
What speak the people of him?  Car. 
As bells ring; some out, some in, all jangle, they say he Has dealt with the genoese against the state: but whether with the men, or the women; 'tis to be stood upon.  Nic. 
Away Sir knave and fool.  Car. 
Sir knave, a new word: fools, and knaves Sir?  Exit. Nic. 
This muttering long ago flew to mine ear,  
The genoese is but a line thrown out,  
But Fiametta's love, the net that chokes him.  Tre. 
He's worthy of her equal,  Nic. 
Peace foolish boy,  
At these state bonfires (whose flames reach so high)  
To stand aloof, is safer than too nigh.  Exit Enter Tibaldo Neri, and Alphonsina. Alp. 
Why brother, what's the matter?  Tib. 
I'm ill, exceeding ill.  Alp. 
That's not well.  Tib. 
Sure I did surfeit at Lord Vanny's.  Alp. 
Surfeit? you eat some Meat against your stomach.  Tib. 
No, but I had a stomach to one dish, and the not tasting it, makes me sick at heart.  Alp. 
Was it fish or flesh?  Tib. 
Flesh sure, if I hit the mark right.  Alp. 
is't not the missing of a mark (which you long to hit)  
Makes you draw sighs in stead of arrows?  Tib. 
Would I had been a thousand leagues from thence,  
When I sat down at's table or been partner  
With Angelo Lotti in his banishment;  
Oh! sister Alphonsina, there I drank  
My bane the strongest poison that e'er man  
Drew from a Lady's eye, now swelling in me.  Alp. 
By casting of thy water thy, I guess thou wouldst  
Have a medicine for the green sickness.  Tib. 
'Tis a green wound indeed.  Alp. 
Tent it, tent it, and keep it from rankling, you are  
Over head and ears in love.  Tib. 
I am and with such mortal Arrows pierced  
I shall fall down—  Alp. 
There's no hurt in that.  Tib. 
And die unless he her pity  
Send me a quick and sweet recovery.  Alp. 
And faith what doctress is she must call you patient?  Tib. 
Fair Dariene, the Lord Vanny's wife—  Alp. 
How! Dariene? can no feather fit you but the broach in an  
Old man's hat? were there so many dainty dishes  
To fill your belly, and must you needs long for that dish  
The master of the house sets up for his own tooth.  Tib. 
Could love be like a subject, tied to laws,  
Then might you speak this language.  Alp. 
Love? a disease as common with young-gallants as  
Swaggering and drinking Tobacco, there's not one  
Of 'em all but will today lie drawing on for a  
Woman, as if they were puffing and blowing at a straight boot,  
And tomorrow be ready to knock at death's door,  
But I would fain see one of you enter and set in  
His staff.  Tib. 
You shall see me then do so.  Alp. 
I shall look so old first, I shall be taken for thy grandam; come, come 'tis but a worm between the skin And the flesh, and to be taken out with the point of a Waiting-woman's needle, as well as a great Countesses.  Tib. 
If this be all the comfort you will lend me,  
Would you might leave me—  Alp. 
Leave thee in sickness? I had more need give thee a Caudle; and thrust thy addle-head into a nightcap, for look you brother—  Tib. 
Even what you will must out  Alp. 
If what you will might so too, then would you be in  
Tune: I warrant, if the sucket stood here before  
Thee, thy stomach would go against it.  Tib. 
Yes sure my stomach would go against it:  
'Tis only that which breeds in me despair.  Alp. 
Despair for a woman? they hang about men's  
Necks in some places thicker than hope upon poles.  Tib. 
Her walls of chastity cannot be beaten down.  Alp. 
Walls of chastity? walls of wafer-cakes, I have  
Known a woman carry a featherbed, and a man in't  
In her mind, when in the street she cast up the white of  
Her eye like a Puritan.  Tib. 
Sister you do but stretch me on the rack  
And with a laughing cheek increase my pain,  
Be rather pitiful and ease my torments  
By teaching me how in this dreadful storm,  
I may escape shipwreck and attain that shore  
Where I may live, here else I'm sure to die.  Alp. 
Well brother, since you will needs sail by such a  
Star as I shall point out, look you here it is; if she were  
Your feather-makers, Tailors or barber's wife,  
Bait a hook with gold, and with it—  Tib. 
I do conjure you by that noble blood  
Which makes me call you sister, cease to pour  
Poison into a wound, so near my heart,  
And if to cure Loves-pains there be an Art.  
Woman methinks should know it cause she breeds it,  Alp. 
That cunning woman you take me to be, and because  
I see you dissemble not, here's my medicine.  Tib. 
I shall for ever thank you.  Alp. 
First send for your Barber.  Tib. 
For heaven's sake.  Alp. 
Your barber shall not come to rob you of your beard,  
I'll deal in no concealments—  Tib. 
Oh! fie, fie, fie—  Alp. 
But let him by rubbing of you quicken  
Your spirits.  Tib. 
So so.  Alp. 
Then whistle your goldfinches (your gallants) to your fist.  Tib. 
Y'are mad, y'are mad.  Alp. 
Into a tavern, Drink stiff, swear stiff; have your music, and your brace, dance, and whiff Tobacco,  
Till all smoke Again, and split Sir.  Tib. 
You split my very heart in pieces.  Alp. 
And do thus, but till the moor cuts off her horns; Laugh in the day, and sleep in the night: and this wenching fire will be burnt out of you.  Tib. 
Away, away, cruel you are to kill,  
When to give life, you have both power and skill.  Exit. Alp. 
Alas, poor brother now I pity thee and would do  
Any thing to help thee to thy longing, but that a  
Gap must be broken, in another man's hedge to rob  
His orchard, within there Luca Angelo, give him  
Music:  
Music has helped some madmen, let it then  
Charm him, Love makes fools of the wisest men.  Exit. Enter at one door, Angelo Lotti, and Baptista, at the other, Piero, and jaspero. Pier. 
Yonder's that villain, keep off jaspero:  
This prey I'll cease.  All draw. Iasp. 
Be more advised Sir.  Bap. 
At whose life shoot you?  Pier. 
At that slaves there.  Ang. 
Slave? I know you for the Duke's son, but I know no cause of quarrel, or this base reproach.  Pier. 
Thou art a villain.  Ang. 
Wherein?  Pier. 
And by witchcraft,  
Had stole my sister Fiametta's heart,  
Forcing her leave a Prince his bed for thine.  Ang. 
If for her love you come to kill me; here  
I'll point you to a door where you may enter and fetch out a loathed life.  Pier. 
jaspero.  Iasp. 
Oh my Lord.  Ang. 
Let him come, I owe her all;  
And that debt will I pay her gladly.  Iasp. 
Dear Sir hear him—  Ang. 
But if on any other fire of rage;  
You thirst to drink my blood, here I defy  
You, and your malice; and return the villain  
Into your throat.  Pier. 
So brave sir.  Change a thrust or two. Enter Nicolletto, and Cargo. Nico. 
I charge you in the Duke's name, keep the peace;  
Beat down their weapons, knock 'em down Cargo.  Car. 
I have a justice's warrant to apprehend your weapons,  
Therefore I charge you deliver.  Nico. 
Oh my Lord: make a fray in an open street? 'tis to  
Make a bonfire to draw children and fools  
Together; Signior Angelo, pray be wise, and begone.  Ang. 
I do but guard my life (my Lord) from danger.  Bapt. 
Sir, you do exercise your violence;  
Upon a man, stabbed to the heart with wounds;  
You see him sinking, and you set your foot  
Upon his head, to kill him with two deaths;  
Trample not thus on a poor banished man.  Nico. 
If he be banished, why dwells he i'th' house, whose  
Tiles are pulled down over his head? You must hunt  
No more in this Park of Florence; why then  
Do you lie sneaking here, to steal venison?  Ang. 
My Lords, I take my last leave of you all;  
Of love, and fortunes—  Bapt. 
Lower thou canst not fall.  Exit. Iasp. 
Trust me, my Lord, This Lotti is a man,  
(Setting aside his rivalship in love,  
For which you hate him) so abundant rich  
In all the Virtues of a Gentleman,  
That had you read their file, as I have done,  
You would not only fall in love with him,  
And hold him worthy of a Princess bed,  
But grieve, that for a woman, such a man  
Should so much suffer; in being so put down,  
Never to rise again.  Nicol. 
A terrible case, I'd not be in't for all Florence.  Pie. 
Troth dear friend,  
The praises which have crowned him with thy judgement,  
Make me to cast on him an open eye,  
Which was before shut, and I pity him.  
I Never heard 'mongst all your Roman spirits.  Iasp. 
That any held so bravely up his head,  
In such a sea of troubles (that come rolling  
One on another's neck) as Lotti doth,  
He puts the spite of Fortune to disgrace,  
And makes her, when she frowns worst, turn her face.  Pier. 
No more: I love him; and for all the Dukedom,  
Would not have cut so Noble a spreading Vine,  
To draw from it one drop of blood; Lord Vanni,  
I thank you that you cured our wounded peace,  
So fare you well.  Exit. Nico. 
A good health to you both.  Iasp. 
You play the Constable wisely.  Carg. 
And I his Beadle, I hope as wisely.  Nico. 
The Constable wisely; Cargo he calls me fool by craft,  
But let 'em pass.  Carg. 
As Gentlemen do by Creditors (muffled)  Nico. 
I have another case to handle: thou know'st the Donna Alphonsina, of the Neri Family.  Carg. 
The little paraquito that was here when the Duke  
Was feasted, she had quicksilver in her mouth, for  
Her tongue, like a Bride the first night, never lay still.  Nico. 
The same Aspenleaf, the same; is't not a Galley for  
The Great Turk to be rowed in?  Carg. 
I think my Lord, in calm weather, she may set upon  
A galleass big as your Lordship.  Nico. 
Commend me to this Angelica.  Carg. 
Angelica-water is good for a cold stomach.  Nico. 
I am all fire.  Carg. 
she's a cooler.  Nico. 
Would 'twere come to that.  Carg. 
A small thing does it my Lord; in the time a  
Flemming drinks a Flap-dragon.  Nico. 
Give her this paper, and this; in the one she may know my mind, in the other, feel me: this a Letter, this a jewel:  
Tell her, I kiss the little white nail of her little white  
Finger, of her more little white hand, of her most  
Little white body.  Carg. 
Her tell-tale, for all this will I be.  Nico. 
Thou hast been my weaver's shuttle to run betwixt me and my stuffs of Procreandi causa.  Carg. 
A suit of Stand-farther-off, had been better sometimes.  Nico. 
No Cargo, I have still the Lapis mirabilis; be thou close—  Carg. 
As my Lady's Chambermaid.  Nico. 
Away then, nay quick knave, thou rackest me.  Exit. Carg. 
I go to stretch you to your full length.  Exit. Enter jocomo Gentili, in a suit of grey, Velvet-gown, Cap, Chain, Steward, and Serving-men, Mutio, Philippo, Tornelli Montinello. Gent. 
Happy be your arrival, Noble friends;  
You are the first, that like to Doves repair  
To my new building; you are my firstborn guests,  
My eldest sons of hospitality;  
Here's to my hearty welcomes.  Mutio. 
Worthy Lord,  
In one word, and the word of one, for all,  
Our thanks are as your welcomes, Infinite.  Phil. 
Rome in her Ancient pride, never raised up  
A work of greater wonder, than this building.  Gent. 
'tis finished, and the cost stands on no score,  
None can for want of payment, at my door,  
Curse my foundation, praying the roof may fall  
On the proud builder's head, seeing the smoke go  
Out of those Chimneys, for whose bricks I owe.  Tor. 
To erect a frame so glorious, large, and high,  
Would draw a very sea of silver dry.  Mont. 
My Lord jocomo Gentili, pray tell us,  
How much money have you buried under this kingly building?  Gent. 
Pray call it not so:  
The humble shrub, no Cedar here shall grow;  
You see Three hundred Doric pillars stand  
About one square, Three hundred Noble friends  
Laid (in their loves) at raising of those Columns,  
A piece of gold under each Pedestal,  
With his name graved upon the bottom stone,  
Except that cost, all other was mine own;  
See here, each day's expenses are so great,  
They make a volume, for in this appears,  
It was no task of weeks, or months, but years:  
I trust my steward only with the key,  
Which keeps that secret; here's Arithmetic  
For churls to cast up, there's the root of all;  
If you have skill in numbers, number that.  Mont. 
Good Mr. Steward read it.  Stew. 
All the charge  
In the gross sum, amounteth to—  Gent. 
To what?  
Thou vain vainglorious fool, go burn that Book,  
No Herald needs to blazon charity's Arms;  
Go burn it presently.  Stew. 
Burn it?  Exit. Gent. 
Away,  
I launch not forth a ship, with drums and guns,  
And Trumpets, to proclaim my gallantry;  
He that will read the wasting of my gold,  
Shall find it writ in ashes, which the wind  
Will scatter ere he spends it; Another day,  
The wheel may turn, and I that built thus high,  
May by the storms of want, be driven to dwell  
In a thatched Cottage; Rancour shall not then  
Spit poison at me, pinning on my back  
This card; He that spent thus much, now does lack.  Mont. 
Why to your house add you so many gates?  Gent. 
My gates fill up the number of seven days,  
At which, of guests, seven several sorts I'll welcome:  
On Monday, Knights whose fortunes are sunk low;  
On Tuesday, those that all their life-long read  
The huge voluminous wonders of the deep,  
Seamen (I mean) and so on other days,  
Others shall take their turns.  Phi. 
Why have you then built twelve such vast rooms.  Gent. 
For the years twelve moons;  
In each of which, twelve Tables shall be spread;  
At them, such whom the world scorns, shall be fed,  
The windows of my building, which each morn,  
Are Porters, to let in man's comfort (light)  
Are numbered just three hundred sixty five,  
And in so many days the sun does drive  
His chariot stuck with beams of Burnished gold,  
My Alms shall such diurnal progress make  
As does the sun in his bright-Zodiack.  Tor. 
You differ from the guise of other lands,  
Where Lords lay all their livings on the rack,  
Not spending it in bread, but on the back.  Gent. 
Such Lords eat men, but men shall eat up me,  
My uncle the Lord Abbot had a soul  
Subtle and quick, and searching as the fire,  
By Magic-stayers he went as deep as hell,  
And if in devil's possession gold be kept,  
He brought some sure from thence, 'tis hid in caves  
Known (save to me) to none, and like a spring  
The more 'tis drawn, the more it still doth rise,  
The more my heap wastes, more it multiplies.  
Now whither (as most richmen do) he pawned  
His soul for that dear purchase none can tell,  
But by his bedside when he saw death stand  
Fetching a deep groan, me he catch't-by'th hand  
Called me his heir, and charged me well to spend  
What he had got ill, deal (quoth he) a dole  
which round (with good men's prayers) may guard my soul  
Now at her setting forth: let none feel want  
That knock but at thy gates: do wrong to none,  
And what request to thee so ear is made,  
If honest, see it never be denied.  Mont. 
And you'll perform all this?  Gent. 
Fair & upright,  
As are the strict vows of an Anchorite:  
A benefit given by a Niggard's hand  
Is stale and gravelly bread, the hunger-starved  
Takes it, but cannot eat it; I'll give none such.  
Who with free heart shakes out but crumbs, gives much.  Mont. 
In such a ship of worldly cares my Lord  
As you must sail now in, you'll need more Pilots  
Than your own self to sit and steer the Helm.  
You might do therefore well to take a wife;  Gent. 
A wife? when I shall have one hand in heaven,  
To write my happiness in leaves of stars;  
A wife would pluck me by the other down:  
This Bark hath thus long sailed about the world,  
My soul the Pilot, and yet never listened  
To such a mermaid's song: a wife, oh fetters,  
To man's blessed liberty! All this world's a prison,  
Heaven the high wall about it, sin the jailer,  
But the iron-shackles weighing down our heels,  
Are only women, those light Angels turn us,  
To fleshly devils, I that Sex admire,  
But never will sit near their wanton fire.  Mut. 
Who then shall reap the golden corn you sow?  Phi. 
'Tis half a curse to them, that build, and spare, and hoard up wealth, yet cannot name an heir.  Gent. 
My heirs shall be poor children fed on alms,  
Soldiers that want limbs, scholars poor and scorned.  
And these will be a sure inheritance;  
Not to decay: Manors and Towns will fall,  
Lordships and Parks, Pastures and woods be sold;  
But this Land still continues to the Lord:  
No subtle tricks of law, can me beguile of this.  
But of the beggars-dish, I shall drink healths  
To last for ever; whilst I live, my roof  
Shall cover naked wretches; when I die,  
'Tis dedicated to St. Charity.  Mut. 
The Duke informed, what trees of goodness grow,  
Here of your planting, in true love to your virtues;  
Sent us to give you thanks, for crowning Florence,  
With fame of such a subject, and entreats you  
(Until he come himself) to accept this token,  
Of his fair wishes towards you.  Gent. 
Pray return  
my duty to the Duke, tell him I value his love  
beyond all jewels in the world.  Phi. 
H'as vowed ere long to be your visitant.  Gent. 
He shall be welcome when he comes, that's all;  
Not to a Palace, but my hospital.  Omnes. 
we'll leave your Lordship.  Gent. 
My best thoughts go with you:  
My Steward?  Enter Steward, and a foolish Gentleman. Stew. 
Here my Lord.  Gent. 
Is the Book fired?  Stew. 
As you commanded Sir, I saw it burned.  Gent. 
Keep safe that jewel, and leave me; letters! from whom?  Buz. 
Signior jeronimo Guydanes.  Gent. 
Oh sir, I know the business: yes, yes, 'tis the same;  
Cuidanes lives amongst my bosom friends:  
He writes to have me entertain you sir.  Buz. 
That's the bough, my bolt flies at, my Lord.  Gent. 
What Qualities are you furnished with?  Buz. 
My Education has been like a Gentleman.  Gent. 
Have you any skill in song, or Instrument?  Buz. 
As a Gentleman should have, I know all, but play on none: I am no Barber.  Gent. 
Barber! no sir, I think it; Are you a Linguist?  Buz. 
As a Gentleman ought to be, one tongue serves one head;  
I am no Pedlar, to travel Countries.  Gent. 
What skill ha'you in horsemanship?  Buz. 
As other Gentlemen have, I ha' rid some beasts in my Time.  Gent. 
Can you write and read then?  Buz. 
As most of your Gentlemen do, my band has been  
Taken with my mark at it.  Gent. 
I see you are a dealer, give me thy hand, I'll entertain thee howsoever, because in thee I keep half a score Gentlemen; thy name.  Buz 
A sinius Buzardo——  Gent. 
I entertain thee, good Buzardo.  Buz. 
Thanks sir.  Gent. 
This fellow's a stark fool, or too wise,  
The trial will be with what wing he flies.  Exit.  

Actus secundus. Scaena prima.  Enter Tibaldo sick in his chair, Alphonsina, Mutio, Philippo, Tornelli, Montivello. Mut. 
IN Laws of courtesy, we are bound sweet Lady,  
(Being thus nigh) to see you and your brother,  
Our noble friend, tho' the Duke had not sent.  Alp. 
Thanks worthy sir.  Phil. 
Signior Tibaldo hath desire to sleep.  Tor. 
Then leave him, Company offends the sick.  Alp. 
Our humblest duty to my Lord the Duke;  
If in my Brother's name, and mine, you tender  
For this his noble love, we both shall rest  
Highly indebted to you all.  Mut. 
Sweet Madam,  
You shall command our lives to work your good.  Alp. 
Signior, your love.  Omnes. 
All at your service Madam.  Mut. 
A quick, and good health to your noble Brother.  Alp. 
And all fair fortunes doubled on yourself.  Exit. 
So: methinks a Lady had more need have a new pair of lips, than a new pair of gloves, for tho' they were both of one skin, yet one would wear out sooner than the other; I think these Courtiers have all offices in the Spicery, And taking my lips for sweetmeats, are as saucy with 'em, as if they were Fees; I wonder Tibaldo thou canst fit still, and not come in for a share; If old Vanni's wife had been here, all the parts about you had moved.  Tib. 
Thou think'st I lie in, here's such a gossipping, as if 'twere a Childbed Chamber.  Alp. 
So 'tis, for I'll swear, all this stir is about having a woman brought to bed; marry I doubt it must be a man's lying in.  Tib. 
I would thy tongue were a man then, to lie.  Alp. 
I had rather it were a woman, to tell truth.  Tib. 
Good sister Alphonsina, you still play  
The bad Physician, I am all on fire,  
And you to quench me, pour on scoops of oil;  
I feel ten thousand plummets at my heart,  
Yet you cry, Lay on more and are more cruel  
Than all my tortures.  Alp. 
Sadness, I pity thee,  
And will to do thee service, venture life,  
Mine honour being kept spotless.  Tib. 
Gentle sister,  
The easiest thing i'th' world to beg, I crave,  
And the poorest Alms to give.  Alp. 
But ask and have.  Tib. 
A friendly counsel, lo that's all.  Alp. 
'Tis yours.  
Be ruled by me then; in an ashy sheet,  
Cover these glowing embers of desire.  Tib. 
Embers? I would you telled 'em, 'tis afire—  Alp. 
Come, and set hand to paper, I'll indite.  Tib. 
And she'll condemn me; no, I will not write.  Alp. 
Then prithee take this Physic; be not the sea, to drink strange Rivers up, yet still be dry; Be like a noble stream, covet to run betwixt fair banks, which thou may'st call thine own, and let those banks be some fair Ladies arms, fit for thy youth, and birth.  Tib. 
Against your charms,  
Witch, thus I stop mine ears.  Alp. 
I'll hollow them: this deer runs in my Lord's Park,  
And if you steal it, look to have Bloodhounds scent you.  Tib. 
Are you mad?  Alp. 
Yes, you shall find venison-sauce dearer than other flesh.  Tib. 
No, no, none else must, none shall, none can,  
My hunger feed but this; down will I dive,  
And fetch this Pearl, or ne'er come up alive—  Alp. 
Are all my warm caudles come to this? now I see thouart too far gone, this Lady hath overspent thee therefore settle thine estate, pluck up a good heart, and I'll pen thy will.  Tib. 
Oh fie, fie.  Alp. 
Bequeath thy kisses to some tailor, that hunts out weddings every sunday; Item, Thy sighs to a noise of fiddlers ill paid, thy paleness to a Fencer fighting at sharp, thy want of stomach to one of the Duke's guard.  Tib. 
I beg it at thy hands, that being a woman, thou'lt make a wonder.  Enter Cargo. Alp. 
What's that?  Tib. 
Hold thy tongue.  Alp. 
It's an Instrument ever played on, cause well strung,  
Who's that come into the Chamber there? Oh, Mr. Cargo.  Carg. 
My Lord hath sent you a jewel, locked up in this paper, and the moisture of a goose quill, that's to say, words in that—  Alp. 
Oh sir, I thank your Lord, and this your pains; have him into the Buttery— let me see, Lady, that I love you, I dare swear like a Lord (I shall have oaths enough then) I send you all that is mine, in hope all shall be mine that is yours, for it stands to reason, that mine being yours, yours should be mine, and yours being mine, mine should be yours. Love me, or I die, If I die, you kill me, If you kill me, I will say nothing, but take the blow patiently. I hold my life this Lord has been bastinadoed, out upon him rammish fox, he stinks hither; Prithee good Brother read.  Tib. 
I will.  Reads. Alp. 
Is't Gander month with him? How the devil is my maidenhead blasted? that among such shoals of Gallants, that swim up and down the Court, no fish bites at the bait of my poor beauty, but this tough Codshead?  Tib. 
Oh sister, peace for heaven's sake; here lies health  
Even in this bitter pill (for me) so you  
Would play but my Physician, and say, take it;  
You are offered here, to sojourn at his house:  
Companion with his Lady.  Alp. 
Sir, I have you. And I going upon so weighty a business, as getting of children, you would ha' me pin you to my sleeve.  Tib. 
Most true.  Alp. 
You care not so I turn whore to pleasure you.  Tib. 
Oh Sister, your high worth is known full well  
'gainst base assault, a Fort Impregnable;  
And therefore, as you love my life, i'th' springe,  
Catch this old Woodcock.  Alp. 
In the flame I'll singe  
My wings, unless I put the candle out,  
That you i'th' darke may bring your hopes about.  
You have won me.  Tib. 
You revive me.  Alp. 
Have a care you cast not yourself down too soon now.  Tib. 
I warrant you.  Alp. 
As for my old huckster's artillery, I have walls of  
Chastity strong enough shoot he never so hard, to keep him  
From making any breach.  Tib. 
'Twill be a noble-battle on each side;  
Yet now my spirits are roused, a stratagem  
Lies hatching here, pray help me noble sister,  
to give it form and life.  Alp. 
My best.  Tib. 
What think you?  
(The mark of man not yet set in my face)  
If as your sister, or your kinswoman,  
I go in woman's habit, for thereby,  
Speech, free access, fair opportunity;  
Are had without suspicion.  Alp. 
Mine be your will;  
Oh me! what pains we take to bring forth ill!  
Such a disguise is safe too, since you never but once  
Were seen there.  Tib. 
My wise sister ever.  (Enter Cargo) Alp. 
Send in the fellow there that brought the letter;  
Why how now? do his legs fail him already?  
A staff for his declining age.  Carg. 
I have a pikestaff of mine own already, but I could not  
Keep our your scurvy desperate hogshead from coming  
In upon me, I'm cut i'th' coxcomb.  Alb. 
Nothing I see is so like an old-man, as a young man drunk.  Carg. 
Or when he comes from a wench.  Alp. 
Before he bear your answer let him sleep.  Tib. 
Whilst you laugh at what I could almost weep.  Exit. Enter Angelo, like a Doctor, Baptista, his man. Ang. 
Dear friend, I should both wrong my faith & fortunes,  
To make'em thus dance Antics; I shall never play the dissembler.  Bapt. 
Then never play the Lover;  
Death! for a woman, I'd be flayed alive,  
Could I but find one constant: is't such a matter  
For you then to put on a Doctors-gown,  
And his flat velvet-Cap, and speak the gibbering  
Of an Apothecary.  Ang. 
If thus disguised  
I'm taken all the physic in the world  
Cannot prolong my life.  Bapt. 
And dying for her,  
You venture bravely, all women o'er you grave  
will pray that they so kind a man may have,  
As to die for'em; say your banishment  
Had borne you hence, what hells of discontent,  
Had racked your soul for her as hers for you?  
Should you but faint, well might you seem untrue,  
Where this attempt your loyalty shall approve,  
Who ventures farthest wins a Ladies-love.  Ang. 
How are my beard and hair?  Bapt. 
Friend I protest,  
So rarely counterfeit, as if a painter  
Should draw a Doctor: were I sick myself,  
And met you with an urinal in my hand,  
I'd cast it at your head, unless you cast  
The water for me, come, all's passing well;  
Love which makes pale the cheeks, gives you complexion,  
Fit for a sallow Frenchman.  Ang. 
I will on then,  
In France I long have lived, And know the Garb  
Of the French-mountebanks, whose apish gesture,  
Although in them I hold ridiculous,  
myself shall practise.  Bapt. 
For a doctors-man,  
You see I'm fitted, foot by foot I'll walk,  
and meet all dangers sent against your breast.  Ang. 
I thank thee noble friend; let's then to court.  
The pangs a lover suffers are but short.  Exit. Enter Florence, Pisa, Nicolletto, Philippo, Tonell, Piero, met by an old Nurse. Flo. 
How now Nurse, how does my Fiametta?  Nurs. 
Oh my sweet Lord, she's at it again, at it again!  Flo. 
Who are with her? call for more help.  Nurs. 
More help! alas there's my Lady Vanni with her, and Ladies upon Ladies, and Doctors upon Doctors, but all cannot do.  Pisa. 
How does it take her Nurse?  Nurs. 
Oh sweet Princess, it takes her all over with a pricking; first about her stomach, and then she heaves and heaves, that no one man with all his weight, can keep her down.  Pier. 
At this I wonder, that her sickness makes her Doctors fools.  Nic. 
He that she finds most ease in, is Dr. jordan.  Flo. 
I will give half my Dukedom for her health.  Nic. 
Well, well, If death do take her, he shall have the sweetest bedfellow that ever lay by lean mans-side.  Flo. 
I entreat thee Nurse be tender over her.  Nurs. 
Tender quoth 'a? I'm sure my heels are grown as hard as hooves, with trotting for her, I'll put you in one comfort.  Flo. 
What's that Nurse?  Nurs. 
In her greatest conflict sh'as had a worthy feeling of herself.  Exit Flo. 
So, so, I'm glad of it my Lord of Pisa.  
Under this common blow, which might have struck the  
strongest heart, here pray do not you shrink.  Pisa. 
Sickness is life's retainer, Sir, and I  
(What is not to be shunned) bear patiently;  
But had she health as sound as hath the spring,  
She would to me prove sickly Autumn still.  Flo. 
Oh say not so,  Pis. 
I find it, for being loyal,  
As the touch-needle to one star still turning,  
I lose that star, my faith is paid with scorning.  
Who then with eademque wings of faith and truth,  
would in her sunbeams play away his youth,  
And kiss those flames, which burn but out mine eyes,  
With scalding rivers of her cruelties?  Flo. 
'Tis but her wayward sickness casts this eye of slightness on you.  Pis. 
'Tis my Lord her hate;  
For when death sits even almost on her brows,  
She spreads her arms abroad, to welcome him,  
When in my bridal-bed I find a grave.  Flo. 
Now Mutio?  Enter Mutio. Mut. 
There's a Frenchman come to court,  
A professed Doctor, that has seen the Princess,  
And will on her recovery pawn his life.  Flor. 
Comfort from heaven, I hope, let's see this Doctor.  Enter Angelo like a Doctor, Baptista his man. Flo. 
Welcome good Doctor: have you seen my daughter?  
Restore her health, and nothing in my Dukedom,  
Shall be too dear for thee, how do you judge her?  Ang. 
Be me trat me Lord, I find her a very bad lady, & no well.  Flo. 
Piero take the Duke of Pisa pray and be your sister's visi.  Piero. 
Sir we shall, if the Duke please— (tants.  Pisa. 
The poisoned may drink gall.  Exit. Flo. 
Attend the Duke.  Enter Cargo, with a letter. Caego. 
The party Sir.  Nico. 
Thou shalt have Caesar's pay— my Coach,  Car. 
Old january goes to lie with May.  Exit. Flo. 
Doctor I thus have singled you, to sound  
The depth of my girl's sickness, that if no skill  
Of man can save her, I against heavens will,  
May arm my breast with patience, therefore be free.  Ang. 
By my tro' and fa'my Lor', me no point can play  
The hound, and fawn upon de most puissant Roy in de world;  
A Frenchman bear the brave mind for dat.  Flo. 
So, so, I like him better.  Ang. 
Me gra tank you, now for de malady of de Princess,  
Me one two, three time, feel her pulse, and ron up and down all  
De oder parts of her body, and find noting but dat  
She be trobla with le grand desire of de man.  Flo. 
A great desire of a man?  Ang. 
A my trat 'tis verament, she longa to do some ting in Love uponle gentle home.  Flo. 
Doctor thou hittest her heart, 'tis there she's wounded,  
By a poisoned Arrow, shot from a villain's hand;  
One Angelo of the Lotti Family,  
And till that head be plucked out, she will pine,  
Unless controlled by some deep Art of thine.  Ang. 
All tings possibela me fall undergo, me ha' read Galen,  
Hippocratus, Avicen, but no point can peek out le remedy for de Madam in de briars of love.  Flo. 
No medicine you say in any of them for Love.  Ang. 
Aim, trat not worth a louse, only in my peregrination about le grand globe of de world, me find out a fine trick for make a de man, and Woman do, dat is tickla in love.  Flo. 
The man and the woman do? how do, how do?  Ang. 
To be cura, and all whole, Admirable vell.  Flo. 
As how pray?  Ang. 
Me have had under my fingera, many brave vench, and most Noble gentle Dames, dat have be much troubla, upon de wild vorme in de tail for de man.  Flo. 
Very good.  Ang. 
And be my troth my Lord, by experiment me find dat de heart of de man; you understanda me.  Flo. 
Yes, yes, the heart of the man.  Ang. 
we we, de heart of de man being all dry as peppera.  Flo. 
So so.  Ang. 
And rub upon de ting (vat you call it) fall make it moulder all to crumble and dust.  Flo. 
Oh, oh, a Grater.  Ang. 
Ee by my troth you say vell, rub a de man's dry Art upon de Grater, and drink de powder in de pot le Vine, by de Gentlewoman, and by gars-blor, she presentamently kick up de heel at de man she lova.  Flo. 
Excellent.  Ang. 
No point more remembra, but cry out le French poo upon le varlet.  Flo. 
So she will hate her lover.  Ang. 
Begar, as myself hate le puz-cat, cry mew at my shin; and vill have de rambling a de gut, for de other gentle home.  Flo. 
Thou com'st up close to me now, my brave Doctor.  Ang. 
Begar me hope so, and derfore my Lord apply le desperate Medicine, to le perilous malady, and have dis Angelo be cut in de troate, and be manslaughtered.  Flo. 
You then advise me to have Angelo slain.  Ang, 
we.  Flo. 
And then to have my daughter drink his heart.  Ang. 
we, we.  Flo. 
Grated and dried, and so—  Ang. 
we, we, we.  Flo. 
I would I gripped it fast now in this hand,  
And eat it panting hot, to teach a peasant  
To climb above his being, Doctor, he dies.  Ang. 
Knocka de pate down begar.  Flo. 
But stay, stay, he's fled Florence; It will be  
A work to find him first out, and being found,  
A task to kill him; for our Gallants speak  
Much of his worth; The varlet is valiant.  Ang. 
No matera for dat; for-two three four crown, dare be  
Rascals fall run him in on de backside.  Flor. 
He shall be sought for, and being found, he dies.  Ang. 
Pray my lord suffera le Princess and me for be in private,  
Le Doctor uses for toucha do Ooman—  Flo. 
Do, so, whilst I for Angelo's death use speed,  
For till I have his heart, mine own must bleed.  Exit. Enter Baptista. Ang. 
Oh my Baptista.  Bapt. 
I have heard the thunder aimed at your life.  Ang. 
And it will strike me dead,  
With a most sudden and Invisible blow.  Bapt. 
Now that you see his vengeance apt to fall,  
Fly from it.  Ang. 
How?  Bapt. 
By fair, and free access,  
Open your dangers to your Mistress eyes,  
Where she stark mad, so she be mad for love,  
You'll bring her to her wits, if wisely now  
You put her into th' way; Gold barred with locks,  
Is best being stolen; steal her then.  Ang. 
'Tis but a wrack at most,  
Oh on what boisterous Seas is True love tossed!  Exeunt.  

Actus Tertius. Scaena prima.  Trumpets sounding. Enter an Usher bare, perfuming a room, signior Torrenti gorgeously attired, a company of Gallants. Tor. 
THis Room smells.  1. Gal. 
It has been new perfumed.  Tor. 
Then 'tis your breeches; stand off— and shines there (say you) a Sun in our horizon full as glorious, as we ourself?  2. Gal. 
So cry the common people.  Tor. 
The common people are Rascals, lying devils,  
Dunghills, whose savour poisons brave men's fames,  
That Ape of greatness (imitating me)  
I mean that slavish Lord jacomo  
Shall die a beggar, If at the year's end,  
His total of expense dares equal mine;  
How is his house built?  1. Gal. 
Admirable fair.  Tor. 
Fair? I'll guild mine (like Pompey's Theater)  
All over to outshine his; the richest hangings  
Persian, or Turk, or Indian slaves can weave,  
Shall from my purse be bought at any rates;  
I'll pave my great hall with a floor of Clouds,  
Wherein shall move an artificial Sun,  
Reflecting round about me, golden beams,  
Whose flames shall make the room seem all on fire,  
And when 'tis night, just as that Sun goes down,  
A silver Moon shall rise, drawn up by stars,  
And as that moves, I standing in her Orb,  
Will move with her, and be that man i'th' moon,  
So mocked in old wives tales; then over head,  
A roof of Woods, and Forests full of deer,  
Trees growing downwards, full of singing quires.  
And this I'll do that men with praise, may crown  
My fame, for turning the world upside down:  
And what brave gallants are Gentili's guests?  1. Gal. 
The Lord jacomo Gentili feeds  
All Beggars at his Table.  Torr. 
Hang jacome,  
My board shallbe no manger for poor jades  
To lick up provender in.  2. Gal. 
He welcomes soldiers.  Tor. 
Let soldiers beg and starve, or steal and hang.  
would I had here ten-thousand Soldiers heads,  
Their skulls set all in silver, to drink healths  
To his confusion, first invented war,  
And the health drunk to drown the bowls i'th' Sea,  
That very name of Soldier, makes me shrug,  
And think I crawl with vermin; give me Lutes,  
Mischief on drums, for soldiers; fetch me whores,  
These are men's bliss; those every Kingdoms soars,  
we gave in charge to search through all the world  
For the best Cooks, rarest musicians,  
And fairest girls, that will sell sin for gold.  1. Gal. 
Some of all sorts you have  Tor. 
Let me have more  
Than the grand Signior, And my change as rare,  
Tall, low, and middle size, the brown, and fair;  
I'd give a PRINCE's ransom now to kiss  
Black Cleopatra's cheek; Only to drink  
A richer pearl, than that of Anthony's,  
That Fame (where his name stands) might put down mine.  
Oh that my Mother had been Paris Whore,  
And I had lived to see a Troy on fire,  
So that by that brave light, I might have danced  
But one Lavalto with my Courtesan.  Enter fourth Gallant. 4. Gal. 
Pattern of all perfection breathed in man,  
There's one without, before your Excellence  
Desires access.  Tor. 
What creature?  4. Gal. 
Your own brother,  
At least he terms himself so.  Tor. 
Is he brave?  4. Gal. 
he's new come from Sea.  Tor. 
'Tis true, that jason  
rigged out a Fleet to fetch the Golden-Fleece;  
'Tis a brave boy, all Elemental fire,  
His ships are great with Child of Turkish Treasure,  
And here shall be delivered; marshal him in  
Like the seas proud commander give our charge—  Omnes. 
Sound drums, and trumpets, for my Lord away.  Usher him in Pare and ragged. At which Torrenti starts, his hat falls off, Offer it him. Torr. 
Thou whoreson peasant, know me, burn that windfall,  
It comes not to my head that drops so low,— Another  1. Gall. 
Hats for my Lord,— hats brought in 3. or 4.  Torr. 
It smells of earth, stood it again so high,  
My head would on a dunghill seem to lie.  
How now? what scarecrow's this?  Broth. 
Scarecrow? thy brother,  
His blood clear as thine own, but that it smokes not,  
With perfumed fires as thine doth.  Torr. 
Has the poor snake, a sting; can he hiss?  
What begs the rogue for?  Broth. 
Vengeance  
From the just thunderer to throw Lucifer down;  
How high soever thou rearest thy Babell-browes,  
To thy confusion I this language speak:  
I am thy father's son.  Torr. 
Ha, ha, the Skipper raves.  Broth. 
The awed Venetian on St. Marks proud-day,  
Never went forth to marry the rich-sea,  
With casting in her lap a ring of gold;  
In greater bravery than myself did fraught,  
A fleet of gallant youthful Florentines,  
All vowed to rescue Rhodes, from Turkish-slavery:  
We went and waded up in our own bloods,  
Till most of us were drowned.  Torr. 
Fair riddance on you.  Broth. 
Where such a Peacock durst not spread his plumes;  
We fought and those that fell left Monuments  
Of unmatched valour to the whole race of man,  
They that were ta'en, ('mongst whom myself was chief)  
Were three years chained up to the tugging o'er,  
See here the relics of that misery, Chains,  
If thou wouldst know more, read it on my back,  
Printed with the bulls-pizzle.  Torr. 
Hang the dog.  
What tellest thou me of pizzles?  Broth. 
'Tis thy brother tells thee so, note me.  Torr. 
I know thee not;  
Set mastiffs on him, worry him from my gates.  Broth. 
The first unhappy breath I drew, moved here,  
And here I'll spend my last, ere braved from hence,  
Here I'll have meat and clothes.  Torr. 
Kick the cur out.  Bro. 
Who dares?  
Take from that sumpter-horses back of thine,  
Some of those gaudy trappings to clothe mine,  
And keep it from the keen air, fetch me food,  
You fawning spaniels  1. Gall. 
Some spirit of the buttery.  2. Gall. 
It should be by his hunger.  Broth. 
I am starved,  
Thirsty, and pined to th'bare bones, here; I'll eat at thine  
Own scornful board, on thine own meat, or tear it from  
Thy throat as 'tis chewing down.  Torr. 
I'll try that; if my dinner be prepared,  
Serve me in my great state alongst this way,  
And as you pass two there with pistols stand.  
To kill that ravenous Vulture; if he dare thrust his talents  
Forth to make one dish his prey.  (Exeunt all. Broth. 
Now view my face, and though perhaps you shamed  
To own so poor a brother, let not my heartstrings,  
In sunder crack, if we now being lone,  
You still disdain me.  Torr. 
Wretch I know thee not,  
And loathe thy sight.  Broth. 
Slave, thou shalt know me then;  
I'll beat thy brains out with my Galley-chain.  Torr. 
Wilt murder thine own brother?  Broth. 
Pride doth itself confound,  
What with both hands the Devil strove to have bound,  
Heaven with one little finger hath untied,  
This proves that thou mayest fall, because one blast  
Shakes thee already, fear not, I'll not take  
The whip out of your hand and tho' thou break'st  
Laws of humanity, and brotherhood;  
I'll not do so, but as a beggar should  
(Not as a brother) knock I at the gate  
Of thy hard heart for pity to come forth,  
And look upon my wretchedness, A shot  Kneels. 
tore to the keel that galley where I rowed;  
Sunk her, the men slain, I by diving scaped,  
And sat three leagues upon a broken-mast,  
Washed with the salt tears of the Sea, which wept,  
In pity, to behold my misery.  Torr. 
Pox on your, tarry misery.  Broth. 
And when heavens blest-hand hauled me to ashore  
To dry my wet-limbs, was I forced to fire,  
A deadman's straw-bed thrown into the street.  Torr. 
Foh, thouart infectious.  Broth. 
Oh remember this!  
He that does good deeds, here waits at a Table,  
Where Angels are his fellow servitors.  Torr. 
I am no robin-redbreast to bring straws  
To cover such a corpse.  Broth. 
Thou art turned devil,  Kizes. Trumpets sound. Enter an armed sewer, after him a company with covered dishes: Coronets on their heads. Two With pistols to guard it. Torr. 
Where's thy great stomach, eat, stand, let him choose  
What dish he likes.— snatches a pistol: ill fly off.  Broth. 
This then which I'll carve up  
On thy base bosom, see thou trivial fool,  
Thou art a Tyrant (o'er me) of short reign,  
This cock out crows thee, and thy petty kings,  
thouart a proud-bird, but fliest with rotten wings;  
To show how little for thy scorn I care,  
See my revenge turns all to idle-air,  Shoots up. 
It upward flies and will from thence I fear  
Shoot darts of lightning to confound thee here.  
Farewell thou huge Leviathan, when thoust drunk dry,  
That Sea thou roll'st in, on some base shore die.  Enter Gallants all drawn. Omnes. 
Where is the Traitor?  Tor. 
Now the house is fired,  Torr. 
You come to cast on waters; bar up my doors,  
But one such tattered ensign here being spread,  
Draws numbers hither, here must no rogues be fed;  
Command my carpenters invent odd engines.  
To manacle base beggars, hands and feet,  
And by my name call'em my whipping posts;  
If you spy any man that has a look,  
Stigmatically drawn, like to a fury's,  
(Able to fright) to such I'll give large pay,  
To watch and ward for poor snakes night and day,  
And whip'em soundly if they approach my gates;  
The poor are but the earths-dung fit to lie  
Covered on much-heaps not to offend the eye.  Enter 1. Gall. 1. Gall. 
Two Gentlemen sent from the Florence Duke,  
Require speech with your Lordship—  Torr. 
give ''em entrance  Enter Mutio, Philippe, 
What re you? and whence come you?  Mut. 
From the Duke.  Tor. 
Your business?  Mut. 
This, fame sounding forth your worth  
For hospitable princely housekeeping;  
Our Duke drawn by the wonder of report,  
Invites himself (by us) to be your guest.  Tor. 
The honour of Ambassadors be yours;  
Say to the Duke that Caesar never came;  
More welcome to the Capitol of Rome,  
Than he to us— healths to him— fill rich wines.  Mut. 
You have this wonder wrought, now rare to men;  
By you they have found the golden age again.  Tor. 
Which I'll uphold, so long as there's a sun,  
To play the Alchemist.  Phil. 
This proud fellow talks  
As if he grasped the Indies in each hand.  Torr. 
Health to your Duke.  Amb. 
We pledge it on our knees.  Tor. 
I'll stand to what I do, but kneel to none.  Music, drink, break the glass, they pledge it in plate, Which offering, both servitors refuse to take. Tor. 
Break not our custom (pray ye) with one beam;  
The god of metals makes both gold and wine  
To Imitate whose greatness; If on you  
I can bestow Wine, I can give gold too,  
Take them as free as Bacohus spends his blood;  
And in them drink our health.  Mut. 
Your bounty far  
Exceeds that of our Caesars.  Tor. 
Caesar ero, vel nihil ero:  
What are Gold heaps? but a rich dust for Kings  
To scatter with their breath, as chaff by wind?  
Let him then that hath gold, bear a king's mind,  
And give till his arm aches, who bravely powers  
But into a wench's lap his golden showers,  
May be jove's equal, oh but he that spends  
A world of wealth, makes a whole world his debtor,  
And such a Noble spender is jove's better;  
That man I'll be, I'm Alexander's heir  
To one part of his mind, I wish there were  
Ten Worlds, yet not to conquer, but to sell.  
For Alpine hills of silver, And that I.  
Might at one feast, spend all that treasure dry;  
Who hoards up wealth, is base; who spends it, brave,  
Earth breeds gold, so I tread but on my slave;  
Bear back our gratulations to your Duke.  Exit. Amb. 
we shall great sir.  Mut. 
Torrenti call you him; 'tis a proud rough stream.  Phil. 
he's of the Roman Family indeed.  Mut. 
Lord Vanni? rather my Lord Vanity.  Phil. 
And heaps of money sure have struck him mad.  Mut. 
he'll soon pick up his wits, let him but bleed  
Thus many ounces at one time; All day  
Could I drink these dear healths, yet ne'er be drunk.  Phil. 
And carry it away most cleanly.  Mut. 
Not a pin the worse;  
What might his father leave him?  Phil. 
A great estate,  
Of some 300000 Crowns a year.  Mut. 
Strange he's not begged, for fools are now grown  
An admirable Coxcomb! (dear;  Phi. 
Let wonder pass,  
he's both a brave-Lord, and a golden Ass.  Exit. A Bed discovered, Eyametta upon it. Enter two Dukes, Piero, Gallants, Nurse, Ladies, Angelo, Baptista, ut antea Fyametta. Ang. 
I pray you hush all, a little hush, le fair Lady by he own vo unter disposition, has take a ting dat is of such a grand operation, it shall make a de stone for sleep.  Flo. 
What, Noble Doctor, is the name of it?  Ang. 
'tis not your scurvy English Poppy, nor Mandragon, nor a ting so danger as Oppium, but 'tis de brave ting a de vorld, for knock a de brain asleep.  Pisa. 
I am glad she takes this rest.  Ang. 
Peace, be gour it is snore and snore, two mile long; now if your grace vill please for procure Music, be restore as brave as de fish.  Flo. 
Call for the Music.  Ang. 
Makea no noise, but bring in de Fiddlers, and play sweet—  Nico. 
Oh out upon this Doctor; hang him, does he think to cure dejected Ladies with Fiddlers—  Ang. 
De grand French poo stopa de troat, pray void le Shambera.  Flo. 
All, all part softly; peace Nurse, let her sleep.  Nurs. 
ay, ay, go out of her prospect, for she's not to be cured with a song.  Exit. Ang. 
Baptista, see the door fast, watch that narrowly.  Bapt. 
For one friend to keep door for another, is the office now amongst gallants, common as the Law; I'll be your porter Sir.  Ang. 
she does but slumber, Fiametta, Love.  Fia. 
The Pisan Prince comes: daggers at my heart.  Ang. 
Look up, I am not he, but Angelo?  Fia. 
Ha! who names Angelo?  Ang. 
Angelo himself,  
Who with one soot treads on the throat of death,  
Whilst tother steps to embrace thee, thus i'th' shape  
Of a French Doctor.  Fya. 
Oh my life, my soul.  Ang. 
Hear me.  Fya. 
I me now not sick, I'll have no Physic,  
But what thyself shall give me.  Ang. 
Let not joy confound our happiness, I am but dead,  
If it be known I am here.  Fya. 
Thou shalt not hence.  Ang. 
Be wise dear heart; see here the best of men,  
Faithful Baptista———  Fya. 
Oh, I love Baptista,  
'cause he loves thee; But my Angelo I love 'bove kings.  Bapt. 
Madam you'll spoil,  
Unless you join with us in the safe plot  
Of our escape.  Ang. 
Sweet Fiametta hear me.  
For you shall hence with us.  Fya. 
Over ten worlds,  
But I'll not hence; my Angelo shall not hence,  
True love, like gold, is best being tried in fire;  
I'll defy Father, and a thousand deaths— for thee——  Ang. 
Undone, undone.  Knock within. Bapt. 
At the Court gate,  
I see a jebbit already, to hang's both;  
Death! the Duke beats at the door.  Fya. 
He shall come in;  Enter Omnes. 
One frown at thee, my Tragedy shall begin;  
See Father—  Flo. 
I told you that I heard— her tongue—  Fya. 
See Father. Flo. What sweet girl?  Fya. 
That's Angelo, and you shall pardon him.  Flo. 
With all my heart.  Fya. 
He says he pardons thee with all his heart.  Ang. 
Me Lor, be all mad, le brain crow, and run whereabout like de windmill sail, pardon a moy, por quoy my sweet Madam, pardon your povera Doctor.  Fya. 
Because thou art my banish't Angelo.  Flo. 
Starke mad.  Pisa. 
This her recovery?  Fya. 
He is no Doctor,  
Nor that his man, but his dear friend Baptista;  
Has blacked this beard like a Comedian  
To play the mountebank; away, I'll marry  
None but that Doctor, and leave Angelo.  Ang. 
I do pray Artely, Madam.  Fya. 
Leave off thy gibberish, and I prithee speak  
Thy Native language.  Ang. 
Par-ma-soy all French be-gor she be mad as the moon.  Flo. 
Sweet girl, with gentle hands sir, take her hence.  Fya. 
Stand from me, I must follow Angelo.  Pisa. 
Thine eyes drink sleep from the sweet god of rest.  Fya. 
Oh, you shoot poisoned arrows thorough my breast.  Manent Florence, Angelo, Baptista. Flo. 
What strange new fury now possesseth her?  Ang. 
Begar her imaginashon be out a de vitts, and so dazzle de two nyes, and come down so into de belly, and possibla for make her tinke me or you to be le gentleman she lovea, and so she takea my man for a jackanapes, me know not who.  Bapt. 
For one Baptista.  Ang. 
Povera garshon a my trat.  Flo. 
I do believe you both, but honest Doctor,  
Strain all thy Art, and so thou leave her well,  
I care not if you call up fiends from hell.  Ang. 
Dar be too much devil in de body all ready be my trat my lord, me no stay here for ten hundred hundred coronas, she cry upon me 'tis Master Angelo, you tink so not one and two time, but a tired time, you smell a me out; And so cutta my troate; adieu my lord.  Flo. 
Still your opinion holds to kill that villain,  
And give her his heart dried.  Ang. 
In de pot a vine, we, very fine.  Flo. 
This gold take for thy pains to make her sound,  
There needs a desperate cure to a desperate wound.  Exit. Ang. 
How blows it now?  Bapt. 
Fair, with a prosperous gale.  Ang. 
Poor love, thou still art struck with thine own fate;  
My life hangs at a thread, friend I must fly.  Bapt. 
How, to be safe?  Ang. 
I will take sanctuary,  
I know a reverend friar, in whose cell  
I'll lurk till storms blow over; If women knew  
What men feel for them, None their scorns should rue.  Enter Tibaldo in Woman's attire, Alphonsina. Alph. 
Is't come to this, have the walls of the Castle been besieged thus long, lain open for a breach; and dare you not  
Give fire to once piece? oh y'are a proper soldier, good  
Sister, brother follow your game more close, or I'll leave you.  Tib. 
What would you have me do?  Alp. 
Why I would ha'you (tho' youyou be in woman's apparel) to be yourself a man, and do what you come for.  Tib. 
I have been giving her a thousand on sets,  
And still a blushing cheek makes me retire;  
I speak not three words, but my tongue is ready  
To ask forgiveness of her.  Alp. 
Must thou needs at thy first encounter tell her thou art a man, why when you walk together, cannot you begin a tale to her, with once upon a time there was a loving couple that having tired themselves with walking, sat down upon a bank, and kissed, and embraced, and played, and so by degrees bring the tale about to your own purpose. Can you not? fie, you are the worst at these things Sir.  Tib. 
I am sister indeed.  Alp. 
And the more fool you indeed: you see how the old stinking fox her husband is still rubbing me as if I had the palsy, I'll not have his withered hands (which are as moist as the side of stockfish) lie piddling in my bosom, therefore determine some thing, or farewell.  Tib. 
I have dear sister, if you will but hear me.  Alp. 
Come on, out with't then.  Tib. 
Give you the old man promise of your love,  
And the next night appoint him for your bed;  
Raped with joy, he'll feign business of state,  
To leave his lady, and to lie alone,  Alp. 
Very good.  Tib. 
Then my request shall be, that for that night  
She would accept me for her bedfellow,  
And there's no question sister of the grant,  
Which being Enjoyed I doubt not but to manage  
And carry all so even on levill ground,  
That my offence shall in my love seem drowned.  Alp. 
The clock for your business thus far goes true, but now for me, what shall I do with the old cock in my Roost?  Tib. 
Sister, you have some trick (no doubt) to keep  
Him within compass.  Alp. 
No not I believe me, I know not what to do with him, unless I should give him a little Nux vomica, to make him sleep away the night, but brother, to pleasure you, I'll venture a joint, and yet it troubles me too, that I should prove a Traitor to my sex, I do betray an Innocent Lady, to what ill I know not.  
But Love the author of it will I hope  
Turn it quite otherwise, and perhaps it may be  
So welcome to her as a courtesy.  Tib. 
I doubt not but it shall.  Alp. 
We nothing can,  
Unless man woman help, and woman man.  Exeunt.  

Actus quartus. Scaena prima.  Trumpets sounding. Enter Torrenti very brave, between the two Dukes, attended by all the Courtiers, wondering at his costly habit. Enter a mask, woman in strange habits, Danee. Exit. He gives jewels, and ropes of pearl to the Duke; and a chain of gold to every Courtier. Exit. Nicholetto and he stay. Tor. 
THou art my noble kinsman, and but thy mother  
(Upon my soul) was chaste I should believe  
Some Emperor begot thee,  Tor. 
Why pray Uncle?  Nico. 
Suppose all kingdoms on the earth were balls,  
And that thou held'st a racket in thy hand,  
To toss 'em as thou wouldst, how wouldst thou play?  Tor. 
Why? as with balls, bandy 'em quite away.  Nico. 
A tennis-court of kings could do no more;  
But faith what dost thou think, that I now think,  
Of thy this days expense?  Torr. 
That it was brave.  Nico. 
I think thee a proud vainglorious bragging knave,  
That golden womb thy father left so full, thou  
Vulturelike eatest through: oh here's trimstuff;  
A goodman's state, in garters, strings and ruff;  
Hast not a saffron shirt on too? I fear thouart  
Troubled with the green-sickness, thou look'st wan.  Tor. 
With anger at thy snarling must my hose  
Match your old greasy codpiece?  Nico. 
No, but I'd have thee live in compass.  Tor. 
Fool, I'll be  
As the sun in the Zodiac; I am he  
That wood take Phaeton's fall, tho' I set fire  
On the whole world to be heaven's charioteer,  
(As he was) but one day.  Nico. 
Vain riotous coxcomb,  
thou'st fired too much already, Parks, Forests, chases,  
Have no part left of them, but names and places;  
'Tis voiced abroad thy lands are all at pawn.  Tor. 
They are, what then?  Nico. 
And that the money went to  
Entertain the pope's great Nuntio,  
On whom you spent the ransom of a king.  Tor. 
You lie.  Nico. 
I thank you Sir,  Tor. 
Say all this true  
That I spent millions, what's that to you.  
Were there for every day i'th' year a Pope,  
For every hour i'th' year a Cardinal;  
I'd melt both Indies, but I'd feast'em all.  Nico. 
And leave your courtesans bare, that leaving bare,  
Will one day leave thee naked, one nights waking,  
With a fresh-whore, cost thee 4000. ducats,  
Else the bawd lies.  Tor. 
Wert thou not mine uncle  
I'd send thee with thy frozen-beard where furies  
Should singe it off with firebrands, touching  
Wenching, that art thyself an old rotten whoremaster.  Nico. 
I a whoremaster?  
To show how much I hate it, hark, when next thy tumblers  
Come to dance upon the ropes,  
Play this jig to 'em.  Tor. 
Go, go, idle drone,  
Thou enviest bees with stings, because thine is gone,  
Plate, jewels, revenues all shall fly.  Nico. 
They shall.  Tor. 
And then Sir I'll turn pickled thief, a Pirate,  
For as I to feed Rayot, a world did crave,  
So nothing but the sea shall be my grave,  
Mean time that circle few began i've run, tho' the  
Devil stand i'th' Centre.  Nico. 
What's that circle?  Torr. 
The vanity of all mankind be mine,  
In me all prodigals looseness fresh shall flow,  
Wine, harlots, surfeits, rich embroidered clothes,  
Fashions, all sensual sins, all new coined oaths,  
Shall feed me, fill me; I'll feast every sense,  
Nought shall become me ill, but innocence.  Exit. Nico. 
I hope a wallet hanging at thy back,  
Who spends all young, ere age comes, all will lack.  Exit. Enter an Apothecary give a servingman gold, jacomo, Servants in blue-coats: Stew. Broker, Goldsmith, Torrenti's Brother, a Trumpet. Gent. 
What sounds this trumpet for?  Omnes. 
Dinner my Lord,  Gent. 
To feast whom this day are my tables spread?  St. 
For seamen, wracked, aged, or sick, or lame,  
And the late ransomed captives from the Turk.  Gent. 
Cheer them with hearty welcomes in my name,  
Attend them as great Lords, let no man dare,  
To send'em sad hence, bounty shall be placed  
At the boards upper end; For Mariners  
Are clocks of danger that do ne'er stand still,  
Their dials-hand ere points toth' stroke of death,  
And (albeit seldom windless) lose their breath;  
I love'em, for they eat the dearest bread,  
That life can buy, when the elements make wars;  
Water and air, they are said by their good stars.  
And for the galley-slaves, make much of those, love that man  
Who suffers only for being christian; What suitors wait?  St. 
Come near, one at once, keep back pray.  Bro. 
A sorry man, a very sorry man.  Gen. 
What makes thee sorry?  Brok. 
All I had is burnt, and that which touches me to the quick, a box of my sweet evidence my Lord.  Gent. 
Show me some proof of this.  Brok. 
Alas too good proof, all burnt, nor stick, nor stone, left.  Gent. 
What Wouldst have me do?  Brok. 
Bestow but a bare 100. l. on me, to set me up.  Gent. 
Steward deliver him a 100. l.  Brok. 
Now all the—  Gent. 
Nay kneel not Sir, but hear me.  Brok. 
Oh my honey Lord!  Gent. 
Faces are speaking pictures, thine's a book,  
Which if the leaf be truly printed shows  
A page of close dissembling.  Brok. 
Oh my Lord!  Gent. 
But say thou art such, yet the money's thine,  
Which I to Charity give, not to her shrine;  
If thou cheatest me, thou art cheated? how? thouhast got  
(Being liquorish) ratsbane from a galley-pot,  
Taking it for sugar; thou art now my debtor,  
I am not hurt, nor thou I fear, much better; farewell.  Enter lame legged Soldier. Soul. 
Cannons defend me, Gunpowder of hell,  
Whom dost thou blow up here?  Break. 
Some honest scullar, row this lame dog to hanging.  Gent. 
What noise is that?  Stew. 
My Lord calls to you.  Soul. 
Was there ever called  
A devil by name from hell? than this is one.  Gent. 
My friend, what is he?  Soul. 
A City pestilence,  
A moth that eats up gowns, doublets and hose,  
One that with Bills, leads smocks and shirts together  
To linen close adultery, and upon them  
Strews lavender, so strongly, that the owners  
Dare never smell them after; he's a broker.  Gent. 
Suppose all this, what hurt hath he done thee?  Soul. 
More than my limbs loss; in one week he eat  
My wife up, and three children, this christian jew did;  
Has a long lane of hellish Tenements,  
Built all with pawns.  Gen. 
All that he had is burnt.  Soul. 
He keeps a whore indeed, this is the Raven,  
Cried knock before you call, he may be fired,  
His lousy wardrobes are not; to this hellhound  
I pawned my weapons to buy brown bread  
To seed my brats and me; (they forfeited)  
Twice so much as his money him I gave,  
To have my Arms redeemed, the griping slave  
Swore (not to save my soul) unless that I  
Laid down my stump here, for the Interest,  
And so hop home.  Gent. 
Unheard of villain!  
Broker, is this true?  Brok. 
'Twere sin my Lord, to lie.  Gent. 
Soldier, what is't thou now cravest at my hands?  Soul. 
This my petition was, which now I tear,  
My suit here was, When the next place did fall,  
To be a Beadsman in your Hospital:  
But now I come most piteous complaining  
Against this three-pile rascal, widow's decayer,  
The orphan's beggerer, and the poors betrayer;  
Give him the Russian law for all these sins.  Gent. 
How?  Soul. 
But one hundred blows on his bare shins  Br. 
Come home and take thine Arms.  So. 
I'll have those legs  Gent. 
broker, my soul foresaw goods thus ill got,  
Would as ill thrive, you asked a hundred pound,  
'Tis yours; but crafty broker, you played the knave  
To beg, not needing. This man now must have  
His request too, 'tis honest, fair, and just,  
Take hence that varlet therefore, and on his shins,  
In ready payment, give him an hundred blows.  Rroak. 
My Lord, my pitiful Lord.  Soul. 
I must bestir my stumps too. justice; my Lord.  Gent. 
I will not ravel out time; broker, I offer you  
A hundred for a hundred.  Soul. 
That's his own usury.  Gent. 
A hundred pound, or else a hundred blows,  
Give him that money, he shall release you those.  Brok. 
Take it, and may'st thou rot with't.  Exit. Soul. 
Follow thee thy curse,  
would blows might make all Brokers still disburse.  Gent. 
What next?  Serv. 
The Party sir:  Gent. 
What party sir?  
If honest, speak, I love no whisperer.  Serv. 
This Gentleman is a great shuter.  Gent. 
In a Longbow? how far shoots he?  Serv. 
To your Lordship, to be your Apothecary.  Gent. 
Umph; what spy you in my face, that I should buy  
Your drugs and drenches? bears not my cheek a colour  
As fresh as any old man's? do my bones  
Ache with youth's riots? or my blood boil hot  
With fevers? or is't numbed with dropsies, cold  
Coughs, Rheums, Catarrhs, gouts, Apoplexy fits?  
The common sores of age, on me never ran,  
Nor Galenist, nor Paracelsian,  
Shall ere read Physical Lecture upon me.  Apot. 
Two excellent fellows my Lord.  Gent. 
I honour their profession,  
What the Creator does, they in part do,  
For a physician's a man-maker too,— but honest friend,  
My kitchen is my Doctor, and my Garden,  
Trusty Apothecary; when they give me pills,  
So gently work they, I'm not choked with bills,  
Which be a stronger purge than the disease.  Apo. 
Alas my Lord, and 'twere not for bills, our shops would  Gent. 
Sir, I believe you, bills nor pills I'll take; (down.  
I stand on sickness shore, and see men tossed  
From one disease to another, at last lost;  
But to such seas of surfeits, where they're drowned,  
I never venturing, am ever sound.  Apo. 
Ever sound my Lord? if all our gallants should be so, Doctors, Pothecaries, and Barber-surgeons, might feed upon Onions and Buttermilk; ever sound! a brave world then.  Gent. 
'Tis their own fault, if they fear springs or falls,  
Wineglasses filled too fast, make urinals;  
Man was at first borne sound, and he grows ill  
Seldom by course of nature, but by will—  
Distempers are not ours, there should be then  
(Were we ourselves) no Physic, men to men  
Are both diseases cause, and the disease,  
I'm free from (thanks good fate) either of these.  Apo. 
My 50. crowns.  Ser. 
Not I.  Apo. 
No, must I give you a Glister?  Ser. 
Hist, hist.  Apo. 
If your Lordship will not allow me minister to yourself, pray let me give your man a purgation.  Ser. 
Me a Purgation? my Lord, I'm passing well.  Gent. 
Him a Purge, why?  Apo. 
Or rather a vomit, that he may cast up 50 Crowns—  
Which he swallowed as a Bribe to prefer me.  Gent. 
My health is bought and sold sir then by you,  
A Doctor baits you next, whose mesh of potions  
Striking me full of ulcers, a gibberish Surgeon,  
For 50. crown's more, comes to draw my will,  
For money, slaves their Sovereigns thus kill;  
Nay, nay, so got, so keep it; for his Fifty,  
Give him a 100. crowns, because his will  
Aimed at my health I know, and not at ill:  
Fare you well sir.  Apo. 
Who pays me sir?  Ser. 
Follow me, I sir.  Exit Sar. & Apothe. Enter Goldsmith. Gold. 
The fellow, my Lord, is fast.  Gent. 
What fellow sir?  Gold. 
The thief that stole this jewel from your honour,  
He came unto my stall my Lord.  Gent. 
So.  Gold. 
And asked me  
Not the fourth part in money it was worth,  
And so smelling him out.  Gent. 
You did.  Golds. 
I did sir,  
Smell him out presently, and under hand  
Sent for a Constable, examined him,  
And finding that he is your Steward's man,  
Committed him toth' Jail.  Gent. 
What money had he upon this jewel of you?  Golds. 
None my good Lord, after I heard it yours.  Gent. 
Else you had bought it,  
And been the thief's receiver, y'are a varlet,  
Go to, a saucy knave; if I want money;  
And send my servant's servant (cause the world  
Shall not take notice of it) to pawn, or sell  
jewels, or Plate, tho' I lose half in half,  
Must you sir, play the Marshal, and commit him,  
As if he were a rogue; go and release him,  
Send him home presently, and pay his fees, do you see sir.  Gold. 
My Lord, I do see.  Gent. 
lest by the Innocent fellow,  
I lay you fast byth' heels, do this y'are best;  
You may be gone.  Gold. 
here's a most excellent jest.  Exit. Enter Steward. Gent. 
Hark you, the Duke of Florence sent me once  
A jewel, have ye'it? For you laid it up.  Ste. 
My Lord, I have it.  Gent. 
Are you sure you have it?  
Why change you colour? Know you this? do you know  
Your man, you sent to sell it? You belike  
Thought in my memory it had been dead,  
And so your honesty too came buried,  
'Tis well, out of mine eye; what would you with me?  Enter Brother, to Torrenti. Broth. 
Your pity on a wretch late wracked at sea,  
Beaten ashore by penury, 3. years' a Turkish  
Galleyslave.  Gent. 
Your birth?  Broth. 
Such Sir,  
As I dare write myself a gentleman,  
In Florence stood my cradle, my house great,  
In money, not in mercy; I am poor,  
And dare not with the beggar pass their door.  Gent. 
Name them, they shallbe forced to thy relief.  
To steal compassion from them like a thief,  
Good my Lord pardon me, under your noble wing,  
I had rather sit, then on the highest tree sing,  
That shadows their gay buildings.  Gent. 
Young man I do commend thee, where's my steward?  
Give me thy hand, I entertain thee mine,  
Make perfect your accounts, and see the books delivered  
To this Gentleman.  St. 
This poor rogue Sir?  Gent. 
Thou art a villain, so to term the man,  
Whom I to liking take; Sir I discharge you;  
I regard no man's outside, 'tis the linings  
Which I take care for,  St. 
Not if you knew how lousy they were.  Gent. 
Cast not thy scorn upon him, prove thou but just,  
I'll raise the Cedars spring out first from dust.  Exit. Enter Nicolletto, Dariene, Alphons, Alisandra, Tibaldo, Cargo. Nie. 
Madam this night I have received from court,  
A book of deep import, which I must read,  
And for that purpose will I he alone.  Dar. 
Be Mr. of your own content my Lord.  
I'll change you for some female bedfellow.  Nic. 
With all my heart.  Tib. 
Pray madam then take me.  Nic. 
Do prithee wife.  Dar. 
And Sr. she is most welcome.  Nic. 
would I were at it, for it is a book,  
My fingers itch till I be turning o'er;  
Good rest fair Alphonsina you'll not fail.  Alp. 
No, fear me not.  Nic. 
All all to bed, to bed.  Alp. 
Mine eyes are full of sleep; I'll follow you.  Exit. Dar. 
I to my closet, and then bedfellow  
Expect your company  Tibal. 
I will be for your Lady.  Aless. 
Madam so please you forfeit to my mother,  
And let yourself and I be bedfellows.  Tib. 
Dear heart I humbly thank you, but I must not.  Aless. 
Lady I rather wish your company,  
Because I know one maiden best conceals,  
What's bosomed in another: but I'll wait  
With patience a time fitting.  Tib. 
Worthy Lady,  
This time is yours and mine.  Aless. 
Thus I begin then,  
And if I cannot woe relief from you,  
Let me at least win pity, I have fixed  
Mine eye upon your brother; whom I never  
But once beheld here in this house yet wish  
That he beheld me now and heard me;  
You are so like your brother, that methinks I speak to him,  
And that provokes a blush to assail my cheek;  
He smiles like you, his eyes like you; pray Lady  
Where is the gentleman? 'twas for his sake  
I would have lain with you, would it were as lawful to fellow nights with him.  Tib. 
Troth I do wish it.  Aless. 
And if in this you enrich me with your counsel, I'll  
Be a grateful taker.  Tib. 
Sure my brother  
Is blessed in your affection, and shall have  
Good time to understand so.  Dar. 
Alesandra  within. Aless. 
Madam.  Dar. 
A word, come quickly.  Exit. Tib. 
O ye heavens! how strangely one hour works upon another. It was but now heartsick, and longed for meat,  
Which being set before me I abhor.  Alp. 
Brother.  Enter Alphonsina. Tib. 
What frights you thus from your chamber?  Alp. 
Such a fury as thou.  Tib. 
How now? hast lost thy wits?  Alp. 
I'll swear thou hast, for thou hast candled  
Thy sweet but poisonous language to dishonour  
Me thy most wretched sister, who no better than a vile  
Instrument to thy desires, deserves to be styled,  
bawd, worse than the bawds.  
Who every day i'th' week shake hands with hell.  Tib. 
Ha' patience dearest sister; I protest,  
By all the graces that become a man,  
I have not wronged Dariene nor her Lord.  Alp. 
Thou shalt not then by heaven.  Tib. 
By all goodness, not  
With a well blush discourse fair Alissandra  
Supposing me your sister hath discovered  
The true pangs of her fancy towards Tibaldo,  
And in it craved my aid, which heard, Even then,  
My Brutish purpose broke its neck, and I  
Will prove the daughter's husband, that came hither,  
A traitor to the Mother.  Alp. 
My noble brother,  
Our doings are alike, for by Trebatio  
(Whom I with honour name) his father's foulness shall be  
Cut off and crossed.  Tib. 
Get to your chamber;  
No longer will I play the woman's part,  
This night shall change my habit with my heart.  Exit. Enter Nicoletti with a light. Nichol. 
In this chamber she lies, and that's her window would I were in: the air bites, but the bit that I shall bite anon sharpens. my stomach, the watchword is a cornet, (Cornet within) it speaks, she bids me come without a light, and reason sheds light enough herself; wink thou one-eyed bawd, be thou an emblem of thy Mr. and burn in secret.  Enter Alphonsina, above. Alp. 
My Lord.  Nic. 
What says my most moist-handed sweet Lady.  Alp. 
Who is there with you?  Nico. 
No christian creature, I enter solus.  Alp. 
I fear I must entreat you to stay a little.  Nic. 
As long as thou desir'st, but-wilt come down?  Alp. 
I would be loath to lose all upon rest,  Nic. 
Shall I mount then?  Alp. 
For mine honour being once cracked.  Nic. 
Crack a pudding: I'll not meddle with thine honour.  Alp. 
Say you should get me with child.  Nic. 
I hope I am not the first Lord has got a lady with child.  Alp. 
Is the night hushed?  Nic. 
there's nothing stirring, the very mice are asleep, as I am noble, I'll deal with thee like a gentleman.  Alp. 
I'll do that then, which some Citizens will not do, to some Lord.  Nico. 
What's that?  Alp. 
Take your word, I come.  Nico. 
ud's my life!  Alp. 
What's the matter sir?  Music within. Nico. 
I hear a lute, and sure it comes this way.  Alp. 
My most loved Lord, step you aside, I would not have you seen for the saving of my right hand, preserve mine honour, as I preserve your love.  Enter Trebatio with Music. Nico. 
Pox on your cat's guts.  Alp. 
To an unworthy window, who is thus kind?  Treb. 
Look out of it, and 'tis th'-richest casement  
That ever let in Air.  Alp. 
Trebatio.  Treb. 
ay, my most fair Mistress.  Alp. 
Neither of both good sir;  
Pray play upon some other, you abuse me,  
And that which seems worse, in your father's house.  Nico. 
Brave girl.  Alp. 
But you are young enough to be forgiven,  
If you will mend hereafter, the night has in it  
Unwholesome fogs, and blasts; to bed my Lord,  
lest they attach your beauty: nothing more,  
I'll pay you for your song.  Exit. Treb. 
Are you gone so?  
Well, you hard-hearted one, you shall not ever  
Be Lady of yourself— away.  Exit. Enter Cargo running. Car. 
Oh my Lord, I have stood sentinel as you bade me, but I am frighted.  Nico. 
With what?  Carg. 
The Nightmare rides you, my Lady is conjured up.  Nic. 
Now the devil lay her down, prevented in the very Act.  Carg. 
She works by magic, and knows all.  Enter Dariene. Dari. 
Do you shrink back my Lord? you may with shame;  
Have I ta'en you napping my Lord?  Nico. 
But not with the manner my Lady.  Dar. 
Have you no bird to fly at, but what sits on your own son's fist?  Nicho. 
How! my son's fist? (Harlot  Darie. 
Yes, the Lady whom you wrought to have been your  
Your son has long since won to be his bride,  
Both they and I have this night exercised  
Our wits to mock your dotage.  Nico. 
Am I then gulled?  Dare. 
Yes my Lord, and bulled too, yonder's Tibaldo Neri come this morning.  Dare. 
So early, Is his sister with him?  Car. 
Not that I saw, but I saw him kiss my young Mistress, three or four times, I think 'twere good to ask the banes of Matrimony.  Nico. 
Wilt 'twere no worse, let's in, and give 'em the morning's Salutation.  Dare. 
I'll tell him all.  Nicho. 
Sweet Lady, seal my pardon with a kiss,  
He ne'er was borne, that never did amiss.  Exeunt.  

Actus quintus. Scaena prima.  Enter Florence, Piero, Pisa, Mutio, Tornelli, Philippe. Pier. 
SIr, I have found Angelo with long and busy search.  Flo. 
And will he come?  Pier. 
Your honour (as you charged me) I impawned  
For his safe passage.  Flo. 
By my life he shall; when will he come?  Pie. 
My friend brings him along.  Flo. 
Philippo Mutio, go and persuade our daughter  
To walk, and take the air.  Pisa. 
I'll play that Orator.  Exit. Flo. 
Attend the Duke of Pisa; prithee Piero  
Discover where this Angelo lay lurking.  Pie. 
The world he has shut up, and now the book  
He reads, is only here, see where he comes.  Enter Angelo as a Friar, Fyametta. Flo. 
Way for my daughter; look you, there's Angelo.  Fya. 
Ha? yes, 'tis the star I sail by; hold me not,  
Why do you stick like rocks, to bar my way,  
And utterly to wrack me?  Flo. 
Art thou mad?  Fya. 
Yes, I am mad, oh my best life, my soul!  Runs to him. Ang. 
Whom seek you Lady?  Fya. 
Do you not know me sir?  Ang. 
Yes.  Fia. 
Dost thou not love me?  Ang. 
Yes.  Fya. 
At very heart?  Ang. 
Yes, at the very soul!  Fya. 
burns not your love,  
With that most holy fire, the god of marriage  
Kindles in man and woman?  Ang. 
Noah.  Fia. 
Ha, no?  Flo. 
He says no.  Fia. 
Then so, quod dedi perdidi.  Ang. 
How can I love you Lady?  
I have climbed too many of such fruitless trees.  Fia. 
Have you indeed?  Ang. 
Yes, and have pulled the apples.  Fya. 
Now I beshrew your fingers.  Ang. 
And when I touched 'em, found 'em turned to dust.  
Why should you love me? I have changed my pleasure  
In beauteous dames, more than I have my dreams,  
four in one night.  Flo. 
he'll prove a lusty Larrence;  
This is the star you sail by tho.  Ang 
Why should you love me? I am but a Tomb,  
Gay outside, but within, rotten and foul.  Fia. 
I'll swear thouart most diseased, even in thy soul;  
Oh thou, thou most perfidious man alive,  
So prosper, as my poor sick heart doth thrive;  
Give me thy hand, I hate thee, fare-thee-well.  
Come, I make thee my heaven, were't once my Hell.  To Pisa. Pisa. 
I'm rapt above the spheres, joy strikes me dumb.  Flo. 
thouhast lent unto mine age a score of years,  
More than ere nature promised, by thy loving  
This Noble Prince; thouart his then?  Fya. 
His— to prove it; hence  
Thou from me; ne'er more behold mine eyes.  Ang. 
Now find I, that a Lover's heart last dies.  Exit. Flo. 
ay, ay, so, so; If it die, it shall be buried.  Fya. 
Good reverend Sir, stay you, and as you witness  
This my divorce, so shall you seal my contract.  friar. 
I will, your pleasure.  Flo. 
Fiametta,  
Make choice thyself of thine own wedding day.  Fya. 
Tomorrow be it, Loves poison is delay,  
Gallants, pray stir betimes, and rouse your Mistresses;  
Let some invite Lord Vanni and his Lady;  
we dine today with Lord jacomo,  
Thither let's hasten: Sir, this holy man,  
Shall be this night my confessor; about midnight,  
Expect my sending for you.  Fryer. 
Your devotion  
Commands my service. W'are least i'th' friar's stead.  
The Prince be your confessor; girl prepare  
To play the bride tomorrow, and then being laid,  
One night passed o'er think ne'er to rise a maid.  Exit. Trumpets sounding services carried covered over the stage, Poor attending Torrents one, then enter jacomo bore betwixt the two Dukes, Piero, Philippo, Tornelli, Mutio. Flo. 
No more of compliment, my Lord Gentili;  
Such noble welcomes have we had this day,  
We must take blushing leaves, cause we can pay  
Nothing but thanks.  Gent. 
That's more than the whole debt comes to,  
ne'er saw I tables crowned with braver store;  
I know no man that spends my nor gives more,  
And yet a full sea still: why yonder fellow,  
The brave mock-prodigal has spent all indeed,  
He that made beggars proud, begs now himself for need.  Gent. 
But who relieves him now? none, for I know  
He that in riotous feasting, wastes his store,  
Is like a fair tree which in summer bore  
Boughs laden till they cracked, with leaves and fruit;  
Whose plenty lasting, all men came unto 't;  
And plucked and filled their laps and carry away;  
But when the boughs grow bare, and leaves decay:  
And the great tree stands sapless, withered dry,  
Than each one casts on it a scornful eye,  
And grieves to see it stand, nay do not grieve,  
Albeit the Axe down to the root it cleave;  
The fall of such a tree, will I beware,  
I know both when to spend, and when to spare.  Flo. 
'Tis nobly spoke  Pisa. 
Nay good my Lord make haste.  Pier. 
Here's a child lost i'th' staying.  Flo. 
Get 2. at night for't.  
What is the bride yet dressed?  Pier. 
She's rigging Sir.  Flo. 
'Tis well, music? from whence?  
What chambers that?  Mut. 
It joins close to the  
Lodgings of the bride.  Flo. 
Inquire.  
If she be ready, Mutio, say her bridegroom  
Attends on her below.  Mut. 
I shall my Lord.  Fiametta above. Pier. 
Tarry, she looks herself out.  Flo. 
Come, come loiterer;  Fia. 
Fair welcome to your grace, and to that Prince,  
That should have been my bridegroom.  Flo. 
Should ha' been?  Pier. 
Is the Moon changed already?  Fia. 
In her changes the  
Moon is constant, man is only varying,  
And never in one Circle long is tarrying,  
But one man in the moon at once appears,  
Such praise (being true to one) a woman bears.  Flo. 
Take thou that praise and to this Prince be true,  
Come down and marry him.  Fia. 
What would the world say,  
If I should marry two men in one day?  Flo. 
That villain has bewitched her.  Pier. 
Sir what villain?  Flo. 
That slave, the banished runagate.  Pier. 
Cast not on him  
Such foul aspersions, till you know his guilt;  
Even now you said he was a worthy spirit,  
Crowned him with praise, and do you now condemn  
An absent man unheard?  Flo. 
I'll hang thee traitor.  Pisa. 
Lock all the gates of Florence, lest he scape.  Flo. 
Our pardon, whosoever takes and kill him.  Pier. 
Oh! who would trust in Princes, the vain breath,  
Who in a minute gives one man life and death?  Fia. 
Come forth thou threatened man, here kill him all,  
Lower than what you stand on. none can fall.  Angelo above. Ang. 
I now must stand your arrows, but you shoot  
Against a breast as innocent—  Flo. 
As a traitor's.  Ang. 
Your patience Sir,  Pisa. 
Talk'st thou of patience? that by thy most perfidious—  Ang. 
Hear me pray.  Enter friar above. 
Or if not me, hear then this reverend man.  Pisa. 
What makes that friar there?  Pier. 
Father speak your mind.  Fryer. 
I was enjoined to be her confessor,  
And came but then she won me to a vow,  
By oath of all my orders, face to face,  
To hear her speak unto Angelo, 'twas done,  
He came, when falling down on both her knees,  
Her eyes drowned all in tears, she opes a book,  
Charging him read his oaths and promises,  
The contract of their hands, hearts, yea and souls,  
And asked if Angelo would marry her.  Flo. 
Very good.  Fry. 
He looking pale as death, said faintly no.  Pisa. 
Faintly, he then was willing?  Pier. 
Pray hear him out.  Fry. 
Thrice tried: he thrice cried no; At which this Lady  
Desperately snatching from her side two knives,  
Had stabbed herself to th'heart, but that we knit  
Our force against it, what should I do in this?  
Not marry her, or rob her of heaven's bliss?  
Which glory had been greater to have ta'en,  
A husband from her, or to have seen her slain?  Flo. 
Then you have married her?  Fry. 
I have.  Pier. 
Brave girl.  Pisa. 
I'll cut that knot asunder with my sword.  Fry. 
The hands which heaven hath joined, no man can part.  Fia. 
The hands they may, but never shall the heart,  Flo. 
Why didst thou make to him thy promise then?  Fia. 
Women are borne, but to make fools of men.  
She that's made sure to him, she loves not well,  
Her banes are asked here, but she weds in hell;  
Parents that match their children 'gainst their will,  
Teach them not how to live, but how to kill.  Flo. 
Parrot, Parrot,  
I'll stop your prating, break into her chamber,  
And lay the villain bleeding at her feet.  Draw. Fia. 
Villain? it is my husband.  Flo. 
Enter and kill him.  Pier. 
Enter, but kill him he that dares, I blush  
To see two Princes so degenerate  Fia. 
Oh noble brother!  Pier. 
What would you have him do?  
He well deserves to have her to his wife;  
Who gives to you a daughter, her a life,  
In sight of angels she to him was given,  
So that in striking him, you fight with heaven.  Flo. 
You see there is no remedy.  Pisa. 
Troth none;  
I threw at all (and gamester's luck) all's gone;  
Farewell brave spirited girl, he that 'gainst wind,  
Fire and the sea, law and a woman's mind,  
Strives, is a fool, that's I, I'll now be wise,  
And never more put trust in woman's eyes.  Fia. 
I love thee for that word x my heart.  Flo. 
Will you come down pray?  Fia. 
Swear as you are a Duke.  Flo. 
Yet more ado.  Pisa. 
Will you not trust your father?  Fia. 
Why should I? you see there is no trust i'th' daughter;  
Swear by your hopes of good you will not touch  
His nail to hurt him.  Flo. 
By my hopes I swear.  Fia. 
And you too?  Pisa. 
Yes, what's falling none can rear.  Fia. 
we come then noble friend, flag not thy wings,  
In this war I defy a camp of Kings.  Exit. Enter Nicolletto, Tibaldo, Alphonsin. Daariene, Alissand, Trebatio. Flo. 
See, see, more shoals of friends, most beauteous Ladies,  
Fair welcomes to you all.  Nic. 
My Lord those tides,  
Are turned, these Ladies are transformed to brides.  Flo. 
We heard the happy news, and therefore sent,  
To marry joys with joys, yours, with our own,  
Yours (I see) prosper, ours are overthrown.  Nic. 
How mean you overthrown?  Enter Angel. Fiametta. Flo. 
Your own eyes shall be witness how: nay, nay, pray rise,  
I know your heart is up, though your knees down.  Ang. 
All that we stand in fear of is your frown.  Fia. 
And all dear father which I beg of you,  
Is that you love this man but as I do.  Flo. 
What beg you of this Prince?  Fia. 
That he would take  
One favour from me, which myself shall make.  Pisa. 
Pray let it be of willow.  Fia. 
Well then it shall.  Alph. 
Why willow? is the noble Prince forsaken?  Pier. 
All women's faults, one for another taken,  Alp. 
Now in good sooth my Lord, she has but used you  
As watermen use their fares, for she looked one way,  
And rowed another, you but wore her glove,  
The hand was Angelo's, and she dealt wisely.  
Let woman ne'er love man, or if she do,  
Let him ne'er know it, make him write, wait woe,  
Court, cog, and curse, and swear, and lie, and pine,  
Till Love bring him to death's door, else he's not mine,  
That flesh eats sweetest that's picked close to th' bone,  
Water drinks best, that's hewed even from the stone;  
Men must be put to 't home.  Nico. 
He that loves ducking, let him come learn of thee.  Flo. 
She has good skill;  
At table will we hear a full discourse  
Of all these changes, and these Marriages,  
Both how they shuffled, cut, and dealt about,  
What cards are best, after the trumps were out,  
Who played false play, who true, who sought to save  
An Ace i'th' bottom, and turned up a knave;  
For Love is but a Card-play, and all's lost,  
Unless you cog, he that packs best, wins must,  Alp. 
Since such good gamesters are together met,  
As you like this, we'll play another set.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.