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 Zhc lEnglisb H)ramati6t6 
 
 JOHN MARSTON 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN MARSTON 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 A. H. BULLEN, B.A. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOLUME THE FIRST 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN C NIMMO 
 
 14, Kllscr WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C. 
 
 MDCCCLXXXVII
 
 TBnHantgne ^rtss 
 
 BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 eOINBVRCH AND LONDON
 
 ?R 
 
 I/. I 
 
 TO 
 AN OLD FRIEND AND FELLOW-STUDENT, 
 
 CHARLES H. FIRTH, 
 
 Ubcec Volumes 
 
 ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 G2666t}
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Marston's Works were edited in 1856 by Mr. Halliwell 
 (3 vols. 8vo.) for Mr. Russell Smith's Library of Old 
 Authors. I yield to none in my admiration for the best 
 and the most accurate of living Shakespearean scholars ; 
 but I am sure that Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, who in his 
 Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare has set so singularly 
 high a standard of excellence, would be the first to 
 acknowledge that his edition of Marston's Works needs 
 revision. 
 
 In the present volumes I have done my best to 
 regulate the text, which is frequently very corrupt ; but 
 I am painfully conscious that I have left plenty of work 
 for future editors. 
 
 A valuable edition of Marston'sjpoems was published 
 in 1879, for private circulation, by Dr. Grosart. I have 
 availed myself freely of the results of Dr. Grosart's
 
 viii Preface. 
 
 biographical researches ; and I am indebted to his 
 edition for the text of the Entertaininejit in vol. iii. 
 
 Dr, Brinsley Nicholson, whose recently published 
 edition of Reginald Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft met 
 with the enthusiastic welcome that it deserved, has 
 helped me liberally with advice and suggestions ; and I 
 have to thank Mr. P. A. Daniel, whose scholarship is 
 as sound as it is acute, for his kindness in reading my 
 Introduction. 
 
 In deference to friendly criticism, I have prefixed to 
 each play a brief summary of the plot. 
 
 \Zth March 1887.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE vii 
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 FIRST PART OF ANTONIO AND MELLIDA . . . i 
 ANTONIO'S REVENGE : THE SECOND PART OF 
 
 ANTONIO AND MELLIDA 95 
 
 THE MALCONTENT 193 
 
 PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. 
 
 Seven hundred and fifty copies of this Edition have been 
 printed and the type distributed; viz. — Four hundred copies 
 for the Enghsh Market, and three hundred and fifty for 
 America. N'o more will be published. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 When other poets were repeating Horace's boast, " Exegi 
 monumentum," &c., John Marston dedicated the firstfruits 
 of his genius "To everlasting ObUvion." In much of 
 Marston's satire there is an air of evident insincerity, 
 but the dedicatory address at the close of The Scourge of 
 Villainy is of startling earnestness : — 
 
 "Let others pray 
 For ever their fair poems flourish may ; 
 But as for me, hungry Oblivion, 
 Devour me quick, accept my orison, 
 My earnest prayers, which do importune thee, 
 With gloomy shade of thy still empery 
 To veil both me and my rude poesy." 
 
 Those lines were printed in 1598. Six and thirty years 
 afterwards the poet was laid in his grave, and on the 
 grave-stone was inscribed " Oblivioni sacrum." But 
 prayers cannot purchase oblivion ; and the rugged Timon 
 of the Elizabethan drama, who sought to shroud himself 
 "in the uncomfortable night of nothing," will be forced 
 from time to time to emerge from the shades and pass 
 before the eyes of curious scholars.
 
 X i i hitrodticiioji . 
 
 It was established by the genealogical researches of 
 that acute and indefatigable antiquary, Joseph Hunter,^ 
 that John Marston belonged to the old Shropshire family 
 of Marstons. The dramatist's father, John Marston, 
 third son of Ralph Marston of Gayton (or Heyton), co. 
 Salop, was admitted a member of the Middle Temple in 
 1570; married Maria, daughter of Andrew Guarsi- (or 
 Guersie), an Italian surgeon who had settled in London, 
 and had married Elizabeth Gray, daughter of a London 
 merchant ; migrated to Coventry ; was lecturer of the 
 Middle Temple in 1592. 
 
 The year of the poet's birth is unknown, but it may 
 be fixed circ. 1575, and we shall probably not be wTong 
 in assuming that the birthplace was Coventry. For his 
 early education Marston was doubtless indebted to the 
 Coventry free-school. On 4th February 1591-2, "John 
 Marston, aged 16, a gentleman's son, of co. Warwick," 
 was matriculated at Brazennose College, Oxford (Grosart's 
 Introduction^ p. x.). There is not the slightest doubt 
 that this John Marston, who was admitted Bachelor of 
 Arts on 6th February 1593-4 as the "eldest son of an 
 Esquire" (Wood's Fasti, ed. Bliss, i. 602), was the poet; 
 and Wood went wrong in identifying our John Marston 
 with another John IMarston, or Marson, who belonged to 
 Corpus. In the will of the elder Marston, proved in 
 T599, there is a curious passage which shows that the 
 poet, contrary to his father's wishes, abandoned the pro- 
 
 1 Add. MS. 24,487 (" Chorus Vatum "). 
 
 2 Grosart's Introduction to Marston's Poems, 1879 (privatelj- printed).
 
 hitroduction. xiii 
 
 fession of the law. An abstract of the will (communi- 
 cated by Col. Chester) has been printed by Dr. Grosart, 
 and is here reprinted ; — 
 
 "John Marston of City of Coventry Gent dated 24 
 Oct. 1599 to Mary my wife, my mansion &c. in Crosse 
 Cheepinge in Coventry and other premises for life rem' to 
 John my son and heirs of body rem'' to heirs of body of 
 Raphe Marston Gent my father dec'* rem' to right heirs of 
 my s'' son[;] to s** wife my interest in certain lands &c. after 
 death of John Butler ^ my father in law and Margaret his 
 now wife in par. Cropedy co. Oxon and others in War- 
 dington co. Oxon rem' to John my son to s** wife \ of plate 
 and household stuff &c. to s** son John my furniture &c. in 
 my chambers in the Middle Temple my law books &c. to 
 my s'* son whom I hoped would have profited by tJiem in the 
 study of tlie law but 7nan proposeth and God disposeth &c. 
 to kinsman and servant Tho^ Marston 20 nobles to my 
 poorest brother Rich'* Marston 20 nobles for him and his 
 children all residue to Mary my wife &c. (G. Gascoigne a 
 witness) Proved 29 Nov. 1599." In the Prerogative Court 
 of Canterbury (82 Kidd.). 
 
 Wood vaguely says that the poet (the John Marston 
 of Brazennose College) " after completing that degree 
 [the degree of B.A.] by determination, went his way and 
 improved his learning in other faculties." It is clear from 
 his father's will that he found legal studies distasteful, and 
 we may conjecture that he quickly turned from the pro- 
 fessional career on which he had entered and devoted his 
 attention to literature and the stage. Few biographical 
 
 1 Elizabeth Guarsi, the poet's grandmother, on the death of her hus- 
 band, Andrew Guarsi, had married John Butler of Wardington, co. 
 Oxon.
 
 xiv Introduction. 
 
 facts concerning Marston have come down. He nnarried 
 (but at what precise date we cannot determine) Mary, 
 daughter of the Rev. WiUiam Wilkes, Chaplain to James 
 I., and Rector of St. Martin's, co. Wilts. Ben Jonson 
 told Drumniond of Hawthornden that " Marston wrote 
 his father-in-law's preachings, and his father-in-law his 
 comedies ; " a witty remark, contrasting the asperity of 
 Marston's comedies with the blandness of his father-in- 
 law's sermons. Marston's plays — with the exception of 
 The Insatiate Cojintess — were published between 1602 
 and 1607. He seems to have definitely abandoned 
 play- writing about the year 1607 ; but the date at which 
 he entered the Church is not clearly ascertained. On 
 loth October 1616 he was presented to the living of 
 Christ Church in Hampshire ; ^ he compounded for the 
 firstfruits of Christ Church on 12th February 1616-7; 
 and he formally resigned the living (probably from ill- 
 health) on 13th September 1631. William Sheares 
 the publisher issued in 1633 a collective edition of 
 Marston's plays, and in the dedicatory address to Lady 
 Elizabeth Carey, Viscountess Falkland, speaks of the 
 author as "in his autumn and declining age "and "far 
 distant from this place." On 25th June 1634 Marston 
 died in Aldermanbury parish, London. His will, dated 
 17th June 1634, was drawn up when he was so ill as to 
 
 1 I have to thank the Dean of Winchester for supplying me, from the 
 books of the Dean and Chapter of Winchester, with the date of Marston's 
 presentation. The date of his resignation had been previously com- 
 municated to me by Dr. Brinsley Nicholson, who procured it from the 
 Diocesan Registry, Winchester.
 
 hth'oduction. xv 
 
 be compelled to make a mark instead of affixing his 
 signature. The will ^ runs thus : — 
 
 *' In the name of God Amen I John Marston of London 
 Clarke being sicke in bodie but of perfect and sound mind 
 and memorie doe make my last Will and Testament in 
 manner and forme following Imprimise I give and be- 
 queath my soule into the hands of AUmightie God my 
 Maker and Redeemer and my bodie to be buried in Christian 
 buriall in some convenient place where my executor here- 
 after named shall appointe Item I give and bequeath to 
 James Coghill and James Boynton both of Christchurch in 
 the County of South'" the somme of fortie shillinges apeece 
 to be paide within six mounthes after my decease Item I 
 give and bequeath to Marie Fabian the wife of W™ Fabian 
 of Christchurch aforesaide towards the educac'on of hir five 
 sonnes the somme of twentie eight pound of currant money 
 of England to be paide to hir within sixe monthes after my 
 decease Item I give to the parrish Church of Christchurch 
 aforesaide the somme of five poundes to be paide within 
 sixe monthes next after my decease Item I give and be- 
 queath to my couzin Hunt of Ashford in the countie of 
 Saloppe the somme of twentie poundes to be paide within 
 sixe moneths after my decease Item I give and bequeath 
 to my cozen Griffins daughter of Kingston in the Countie 
 of Surrey the somme of five poundes to be paide unto 
 hir within sixe monthes after my decease Item I give to 
 Marie CoUice the daughter of my cozen Anne Collis of 
 Chancerie Lane the somme of five poundes to be paide unto 
 hir sixe monthes after my decease Item I give and be- 
 queath to my cozen Richard Marston of Newe Inne in the 
 Countie of Midd' my silver bason and ewre but my will is 
 
 1 The will was printed in Halliwell's preface to his edition of Marston. 
 Dr. Grosart gives a literatim copy (which I have followed) collated by 
 Col. Chester with the original.
 
 xvi IntroductioJi. 
 
 that my wife shall have the use of it untill it shalbe 
 demaunded of hir by the said Richard or his attorney in 
 that behalfe lawfullye deputed Item I give and bequeath 
 unto George Wallie and James Walley sonnes of M' Henry 
 Wallie the somme of five poundes apeece to be paide to the 
 saide Henrie for theier vse within sixe monthes after my 
 decease Item all the rest of my goodes and catties move- 
 able and vnmoveable my debts and legacies and funeral 
 expences being charged I give and bequeathe to my wel 
 beloved wiefe Marie whome I ordaine my soule Executrixe 
 of this my last Will and Testament And I doe hereby 
 renounce and make voide all former Wills by me heretofore 
 made In Witnes whereof I have herevnto putt my hand 
 and seale the seaventeenth dale of June in the tenth yeere 
 of the rainge [jzV] of oure Soveraigne Lord Charles 1634." 
 
 Wood tells us that he was buried beside his father 
 " in the church belonging to the Temple in the suburb 
 of London, under the stone which hath written on it 
 Oblivioni Sacrum." Dr. Grosart prints the following 
 entry from the Temple Church burial-register : 
 
 *' 1634, June 26. Mr. John Marston, Minister, some- 
 times of the Middle Temple, who died in Aldermanbury 
 parish: buried below the Communion Table on the 
 Middle Temple side." 
 
 The will was proved on 9th July 1634 in the Pre- 
 rogative Court of Canterbury by his widow, who was 
 buried by his side on 4th July 1657. She had desired 
 in her will,^ dated 12th June 1657, that she should 
 
 1 An abstract of her will, communicated by CoL Chester, is printed 
 in Dr. Grosart's Introduction (p. xxiv. ). To her "reverend Pastor 
 Master Edward Calamy " — the famous puritan minister, Edmund 
 Calamy — she leaves " 6 angels as a token of my respect."
 
 Introduction, - xvii 
 
 be buried "by the body of my dear husband dec**;" 
 and she bequeathed her " dear husband's picture " to 
 Master Henry Wally of Stationers' Hall. Neither in 
 Marston's will nor in his widow's is there mention of 
 children. 
 
 Marston's earliest publication was The Metamorphosis 
 of Pygmaliotis Image :^ And Certahi Satires, which was 
 entered in the Stationers' Registers on 27th May 1598, 
 and issued in the same year. Another series of satires, 
 The Scourge of Villainy, was published later in 1598 ; it 
 had been entered in the Stationers' Registers on 8th 
 September. A second edition of the Scourge, containing 
 an additional satire (the tenth), appeared in 1599. 
 
 Pyg?nalion is written in the same metre as Venus and 
 Adonis (from which poem Marston drew his inspiration) 
 — a metre which Lodge had handled with considerable 
 success. A poet who would approach the subject of 
 Pygmalion and his image ought to be gifted with tact 
 and delicacy. In our own day Mr. Morris (in The 
 Earthly Paradise) has told the old Greek story in choice 
 and fluent narrative verse ; no poet could have treated 
 it more gracefully. Tact and delicacy were precisely 
 the qualities in which Marston was deficient ; but the 
 versification is tolerably smooth, and the licentious- 
 ness does not call for any special reprehension. In 
 the Scourge of Villainy (sat. vi.) Marston pretends that 
 
 1 Pygmalion' s Image was republished, without the satires, in 1613 
 and 1628, in a volume containing the anonymous poem Alcilia and 
 S. P.'s [Samuel Page's?] Amos and Laura.
 
 xviii Introduction. 
 
 Pygmalion was written to bring contempt on the class 
 of poems to which it belongs : — 
 
 " Hence, thou misjudging censor ! know I wrote 
 Those idle rhymes to note the odious spot 
 And blemish that deforms the lineaments 
 Of modern poesy's habiliments." 
 
 But it would require keener observation than most 
 readers possess to discover in Pygmalion any trace of 
 that moral motive by which the poet claimed to have 
 been inspired. Archbishop Whitgift did not approve 
 of its moral tone, for in 1599 he ordered it to be com- 
 mitted to the flames with Sir John Davies' Epigrams, 
 Cutwode's Caltha Poetarum, and other works of a 
 questionable character. In Cranley's Amanda, 1635, 
 it is mentioned, in company with Hero and Leander and 
 Venus and Adonis, as part of a courtezan's library. 
 
 There is not much pleasure or profit to be derived 
 from a perusal of Marston's satires. The author de- 
 liberately adopted an uncouth and monstrous style of 
 phraseology; his allusions are frequently quite unin- 
 telligible to modern readers, and even the wits of his 
 contemporaries must have been sorely exercised. After 
 a course of Marston's satires Persius is clear as crystal. 
 In the second satire there are some lines which aptly 
 express the reader's bewilderment : 
 
 " O darkness palpable ; Egypt's black night ! 
 My wit is stricken blind, hath lost his sight : 
 My shins are broke with searching for some sense 
 To know to what his words have reference."
 
 In trodudion. x i x 
 
 Our sense is deafened by the tumult of noisy ver- 
 biage " as when a madman beats upon a drum." In 
 Marston's satires there is little of the raciness and 
 buoyancy that we find in the elder satirists — Skelton, 
 Roy, and William Baldwin — who dealt good swashing 
 blows in homely vigorous English. Persius would not 
 have been flattered by Marston's or Hall's attempts at 
 imitation : " nee pluteum caedit nee demorsos sapit 
 ungues " would have been his comment on the spurious 
 pseudo-classical Elizabethan satire. Hall claimed to 
 have been the first to introduce classical satire into Eng- 
 land. In the prologue to the first book of Virgidemice, 
 1597, he writes : — 
 
 " I first adventure with foolhardy might 
 To tread the steps of perilous despight : 
 I first adventure : follow me who list, 
 And be the second English satirist." 
 
 It matters little whether Hall's claim was well-founded 
 or not ; but it has been often pointed out that there is 
 extant a MS. copy of Donne's satires dated 1593. Hall, 
 who lived to be one of the glories of the English Church, 
 in early manhood certainly did not present an example 
 of Christian meekness and charity. He took a very 
 low view of contemporary writers, but never had the 
 slightest misgivings about his own abilities. It is not 
 easy to ascertain how his quarrel with Marston arose, but 
 it seems clear that he was the aggressor. Pygvialion was 
 published a year later than Virgidemice, but it had pro- 
 bably been circulated in manuscript, according to the
 
 XX Introduction. 
 
 custom of the time, before it issued from the press. 
 There can be little doubt that the ninth satire of book i. 
 of Virgidemice, is directed against Marston. The opening 
 lines run thus : — 
 
 " En\'}-, ye Muses, at your thrilling mate, 
 Cupid hath crowned a new laureat ; 
 I saw his statue gaily tired in green, 
 As if he had some second Phcebus been ; 
 His statue trimm'd with the Venerean tree 
 And shrined fair within your sanctuary. 
 What ! he that erst to gain the rhyming goal, 
 The worn recital-post of capitol, 
 Rhymed in rules of stewish ribaldry 
 Teaching experimental bawdery, 
 Whiles th' itching vulgar, tickled with the song. 
 Hanged on their unready poet's tongue ? 
 Take this, ye patient Muses, and foul shame 
 Shall wait upon your once profaned name." 
 
 When Pygmalion was published Hall wrote a poor 
 epigram (see vol. iii. p. 369), which he contrived to paste 
 in those copies of the poem " that came to the stationers 
 at Cambridge."^ One of the satires, entitled "Reactio,"^ 
 
 1 In the epigram he refers to the nom de plume " Kinsayder" which 
 Marston had adopted, and we learn that it was derived from the 
 " kinsing " (cutting the tails?) of dogs. It is to be noticed that the 
 name "Kinsayder" does not occur in the Pygmalion volume. The 
 dedicatory verses to " The World's Mighty Monarch, Good Opinion," 
 are merely subscribed with the initials " W. K." We first find the full 
 name " W. Kinsayder" in the address "To those that seem judicial 
 perusers," prefixed to The Scourge of Villainy. 
 
 ^ The title shows Hall was the original aggressor (at least in Marston's 
 opinion). Guilpin in the sixth satire of Skiahtheia alludes to Marston's 
 " Reactio " in a somewhat enigmatic manner. See note, voL iii. p. 287.
 
 Introduction. xxi 
 
 appended to Pygmalion, is a violent attack on Hall. In 
 his " Defiance to Envy," prefixed to Virgidemice, Hall had 
 boasted that he could, an' that he would, hold his own 
 with any of the poets, — even hinting that he was a match 
 for Spenser, The " Defiance " is a well-written piece of 
 verse, but it gave Marston an excellent opportunity, 
 which he used to the full in " Reactio," of making a 
 very effective attack. In the first satire of book vi. 
 of Virgidcmice Hall replies to Marston's raillery with 
 less vigour than we should have expected. Again and 
 again in The Scourge of Villainy Marston attacks Hall ; 
 he would not let the quarrel drop, but worried his 
 adversary with the pertinacity of a bull-dog. In 1601 
 a certain "W. I.," who has been doubtfully identified 
 (by Dr. Nicholson) with a Cambridge man, William 
 Ingram, published The Whipping of the Satire, which 
 was chiefly directed against Marston (with gibes at Ben 
 Jonson and others). There is a lengthy and spirited 
 preface, in which Marston is taken to task after this 
 fashion : — 
 
 " Think you that foul words can beget fair manners ? 
 If you do I will not bate you an ace of an ass, for experi- 
 ence gives you the lie to your face. But your affection 
 over-rules your reason, and therefore you are as sudden 
 of passion in all matters as an interjection and yet as 
 defective in most cases as an heteroclite : you gathered up 
 men's sins as though they had been strawberries, and 
 picked away their virtues as they had been but the stalks. 
 They shall not make me believe but that you were the 
 devil's intelligencer, for there went not a lie abroad but it 
 was presently entertained of your ear ; and every sin kept
 
 xxii Introduction. 
 
 under writing for fear lest the devil waxing almost six 
 thousand years of age should fail in his memory and so 
 chance to forget it." 
 
 The following stanzas have a sting in them : — 
 
 " Can you seem wise to any simple men 
 That seem'd so simple unto all the wise 
 And fitter far to hold the plough than pen, 
 Such incompt stuff you rudely poetise ? 
 Yet I confess there's much conceipt in it, 
 For you have shown great store of little wit. 
 
 Take me your stafiF and walk some half-score miles, 
 
 And I'll be hang'd if in that quantity 
 
 You find me out but half so many stiles 
 
 As you have made within your poesy : 
 
 Nay for your style there's none can you excel, 
 
 You may be called John-a-Stile full well. 
 
 But he that mounts into the air of Fame 
 Must have two wings, Nature and Art, to fly ; 
 And that he may soar safely with the same 
 Must take his rise low from humility ; 
 And not with you a goose's quill to take, 
 Thinking with that an eagle's flight to make. 
 
 Your stately Muse, starched with stiff-neck'd pride, 
 Dain'd it amongst us, most imperiously ; 
 With lavish laughter she did each deride 
 That came within the prospect of her eye : 
 Despising all, all her again despise, 
 Contemn'd of foolish and condemn'd of wise." 
 
 At this easy rate " W. I." ambles on; and the 
 quiet leisurely stanzas are a relief after the fury of the
 
 Introduction. xxiii 
 
 Scourge. Modern readers will feel that Marston was 
 not driven by "saeva indignatio" to write satire, and 
 they will not be inclined to accept the young author of 
 Pygmalion as a sedate moralist. " W. I." puts the 
 matter clearly : 
 
 " He scourgeth villainies in young and old 
 As boys scourge tops for sport on Lenten day." 
 
 The publication of The Whipping of the Satire could 
 hardly have been agreeable to Marston, but it is highly 
 improbable that he is to be held responsible for the 
 poor answer to The Whipping, published anonymously 
 in the same year, under the title of The Whipper of the 
 Satire, his Penance in a White Sheet ; or the Beadle's 
 Confutatiofi.^ If I have read The Whipper aright, it is 
 the work of one of Marston's personal friends, or of 
 some admirer who had more zeal than wit. There are 
 some general remarks, of slight account, on the use of 
 satire ; and Marston is exhorted to persist in his task 
 of scourging the vices of the age. It will be enough to 
 quote two stanzas : — 
 
 " Meantime, good satire, to thy wonted train, 
 As yet there are no lets to hinder thee : 
 Thy touching qtiill with a sweet moving strain 
 Sings to the soul a blessed lullaby : 
 Thy lines beget a timorous fear in all, 
 And that same fear deep thoughts angelical. 
 
 1 Both T/ie Whipping and The Whipper are exceedingly rare. Sir 
 Charles Isham, Bart., of Lamport Hall, possesses a little volume (the 
 loan of which I gratefully acknowledge) which contains these two tracts 
 and Nicholas Breton's No Whipping No Tripping.
 
 xxiv Introduction. 
 
 So that the whilom lewd lascivious man 
 
 Is now remote from his abhorred life, 
 
 And cloathes [loathes ?] the dalliance of a courtezan ; 
 
 And every breathing wicked soul at strife, 
 
 Contending which shall first begin to mend 
 
 That they may glory in a blessed end." 
 
 The italicised lines give a delightfully ludicrous descrip- 
 tion of The Scourge of Villainy. 
 
 It is abundantly clear that Marston's uncouth satires, 
 which to-day are so difficult to read, caused much 
 excitement at the time of their publication. Meres in 
 Palladis Tamia, 1598, reckons Marston among the 
 leading English satirists. John ^Veever, in his Epigrams, 
 1599, couples Marston's name with Jonson's : — 
 
 "Ad Jo. Marston et Ben Johnson. 
 
 Marston, thy muse enharbours Horace' vein, 
 
 Then some Augustus give thee Horace' merit ! 
 
 And thine, embuskin'd Johnson, doth retain 
 
 So rich a style and wondrous gallant spirit. 
 
 That if to praise your Muses I desired 
 
 My Muse would muse. Such wits must be admired." 
 
 The following address is from Charles Fitzgeoffrey's 
 Affanice, 1601 : — 
 
 '■'■Ad Joannem Marstonium. 
 
 Gloria, Marstoni, satirarum proxima primae, 
 Primaque, fas primas si numerare duas ! 
 
 Sin primam duplicare nefas, tu gloria saltern, 
 Marstoni, primae proxima semper eris. 
 
 Nee te poeniteat stationi?, Jane : secundus, 
 
 Cum duo sint tantum, est neuter at ambo pares." 
 
 But the most elaborate notice that any contemporary
 
 Introduction. xxv 
 
 has given of Marston's satires is to be found in The 
 Return from Parnassus} The passage has been often 
 quoted, but it must find a place here : — 
 
 "What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your leg and pissing 
 against tlie world? put up, man ! put up, for sliame ! 
 Methinks he is a ruffian in his style, 
 Witliouten bands or garters' ornament : 
 He quaffs a cup of Frenchman's Helicon, 
 Then roister-doister in his oily terms ; 
 Cuts, thrusts, and foins at whomsoever he meets 
 And strews about Ram-Alley meditations. 
 Tut, what cares he for modest close-couch'd terms 
 Cleanly to gird our looser libertines ? 
 Give him plain naked words stripp'd from their shirts, 
 That might become plain-dealing Aretine. r e4ino 
 Ay, there is one that backs a paper-steed 
 And manageth a pen-knife gallantly : 
 Strikes his poynado at a button's breadth, 
 Brings the great battering-ram of terms to towns, ^ 
 And at first volly of his cannon-shot 
 Batters the walls of the old fusty world. " 
 
 Under date 28th September 1599 Henslowe records 
 in his Diary {]), 156, ed. Collier) that he lent "unto 
 Mr. Maxton, the new poete (Mr. Mastone), the sum of 
 forty shillings" in earnest of an unnamed play. The 
 name " Mastone " is interlined in a different hand as a 
 correction for " Maxton ; " but there can be no doubt 
 that the "new poete," whose name the illiterate manager 
 misspelled, was John Marston. There is no other mention 
 
 1 Dr. Nicholson suggests that the character of Furor Poeticus in this 
 play was intended as a satirical portrait of Marston. The suggestion is 
 very plausible. 
 
 2 "This should be iown. To dring to town = io bring home." — P. A. 
 Daniel. (I prefer the old reading.) 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 xxvi Introduction. 
 
 of him in the Diary. In 1602 were published Marston's 
 First Part of Antonio and Mellida and Antonio's Eeve?ige, 
 which had been entered in the Stationers' Registers on 
 24th October 1601, and had been ridiculed in that year by 
 Ben Jonson in The Poetaster. Considered as a work of art 
 the two parts of Afitonio and Alellida cannot be rated 
 highly. The plot is clumsy and grotesque, and the 
 characters, from the prodigious nature of their sins and 
 sorrows, fail to excite in us any real interest. Marston 
 was possessed of high tragic power, but he has not done 
 himself justice. The magnificent prologue to Antonio's 
 Revenge prepares us to expect an impressive tale of tragic 
 woe, but the promise is not worthily redeemed. He 
 could conceive a fine situation, and he had at his 
 command abundance of striking imagery. But we are 
 never sure of him : from tragic solemnity he passes to 
 noisy rhodomontade ; at one moment he gives us a 
 passage -^schylean in its subtle picturesqueness, at 
 another he feebly reproduces the flaccid verbosity of 
 Seneca's tragedies. Lamb quoted in his Specimens the 
 finest scene of Antonio and Mellida^ — the scene where 
 the old Andrugio on the Venice marsh, overthrown by 
 the chance of war and banished from his kingdom, gives 
 tongue to the conflicting passions that shake his breast. 
 That scene deserves the eloquent praise that it received 
 from the hands of Lamb; and if Marston had been able 
 to keep the rest of the play at that level the First Part of 
 Antonio and Mellida would rank with the masterpieces of 
 Webster. But what is to be said of a writer who, in describ- 
 ing a shipwreck, gives us such lines as the following? —
 
 Introduction. xxvii 
 
 " Lo ! the sea grew mad, 
 His bowels rumbling with wind-passion ; 
 Straight swarthy darkness popp'd out Phoebus' eye, 
 And blurr'd the jocund face of bright-cheok'd day ; 
 Whilst crudled fogs mask'd even darkness' brow : 
 Heaven bad 's good niglit, and the rocks groan'd 
 At the intestine uproar of the main. 
 Now gusty flaws strook up the very heels 
 Of our mainmast, whilst the keen lightning shot 
 Through the black bowels of the quaking air ; 
 Straight chops a wave, and in his sliftred paunch 
 Down falls our ship, and there he breaks his neck ; 
 Which in an instant up was belkt again." 
 
 This is hardly a fair specimen of Marston's powers, 
 but it exhibits to perfection his besetting fault of strain- 
 ing his style a peg too high ; of seeking to be impressive 
 by the use of exaggerated and unnatural imagery. When 
 he disencumbers himself of this fatal habit his verse is 
 clear and massive. Neither Webster nor Chapman ever 
 gave utterance to more dignified reflections than Mar- 
 ston puts into the mouth of the discrowned Andrugio 
 in the noble speech beginning, " Why, man, I never was 
 a prince till now" (vol. i., p. 64). There is nothing of 
 bluster in that speech ; there is not a word that one 
 would wish to alter. Nor is Marston without something 
 of that power, which Webster wielded so effectively, of 
 touching the reader's imagination with a vague sense of 
 dread. He felt keenly the mysteries of the natural 
 world ; the weird stillness that precedes the breaking of 
 the dawn, and 
 
 " the deep affright 
 That pulseth in the heart of night."
 
 xxvlii Introduction. 
 
 Antonio and Mdlida amply testifies that Marston pos- 
 sessed a strangely subtle and vivid imagination ; but few 
 are the traces of that " sanity " which Lamb declared to 
 be an essential condition to true genius. 
 
 In 1604 was published The Malcontent;'^ another 
 edition, augmented by Webster, appeared in the same 
 year. From the Induction we learn that it had been 
 originally acted by the Children's Company at the Black- 
 friars ; and that when the Children appropriated The 
 Spa7iish Tragedy, in which the King's Company at the 
 Globe had an interest, the King's Company retaliated 
 by acting Marston's play, with Webster's additions. 
 The Malcontefit has more dramatic interest than Antonio 
 and Mellida ; it is also more orderly and artistic. Jon- 
 
 1 There were really two separate editions of the unrevised play pub- 
 lished in 1604, I too hastily assumed that the copy in the Dyce Library 
 was identical with the copy in the British Museum, apart from such 
 textual variations as are frequently found in copies of the same impres- 
 sion of an old play ; but I have since discovered that the two copies 
 belong to separate editions. The title of the enlarged edition is curious : 
 The Malcontent. Augmented by Marston. With t/ie Additions played 
 by the Kings Maiesties Servants. Written by Ihon Webster. Slovenly 
 wording and vicious punctuation. 
 
 John Davies of Hereford, in the Scourge of Folly {1611I), has the 
 following epigram on T/ie Malcontent : — 
 
 " To acute Mr. John Marston. 
 " Thy Malcontent or Malcontentedness 
 Hath made thee change thy muse, as some do guess ; 
 If time misspent made her a malcontent 
 Thou need'st not then her timely change repent. 
 The end will show it ; meanwhile do but please 
 With virtuous pains as erst thou didst with ease, 
 Thou shalt be praised and kept from want and woe ; 
 So blest are crosses that do bless us so."
 
 Introduction. xxix 
 
 son's criticism evidently had a salutary effect, for we 
 find no such flowers of speech as " glibbery urchin," 
 " sliftred paunch," " the fist of strenuous vengeance is 
 clutch'd," &c. Marston has been at pains to give a 
 more civil aspect to his " aspera Thalia." Moreover, 
 the moralising is less tedious, and the satire more pun- 
 gent than in the earlier plays. There is less of declama- 
 tion and more of action. The atmosphere is not so 
 stifling, and one can breathe with something of freedom. 
 There are no ghosts to shout " Vindicta ! " and no boys 
 to be butchered at midnight in damp cloisters ; nobody 
 has his tongue cut out prior to being hacked to pieces. 
 Marston has on this occasion contrived to write an 
 impressive play without deeming it necessary to make 
 the stage steam like a shambles. As before, the scene 
 is laid in Italy ; and again we have a vicious usurper, 
 and a virtuous deposed duke ; but the characters are 
 more human than in the earlier plays, Mendoza, the 
 upstart tyrant, is indeed a deeply debased villain, but 
 he is not deformed, like Piero, beyond all recognition, j 
 Altofronto, the banished duke, who disguises himself 
 in the character of a malcontent and settles at the 
 usurper's court, is a more possible personage than 
 Andrugio. The description that the malcontent gives 
 of himself in iii. i, and the other description of the 
 hermit's cell in iv. 2, exemplify Marston's potent gift 
 of presenting bold conceptions in strenuously compact 
 language. 
 
 The Malcontent was dedicated by Marston in very 
 handsome terms to Ben Jonson, and there is a compli-
 
 XXX Introduction. 
 
 mentary allusion to Jonson in the epilogue. At this 
 distance of time it is impossible to fully understand 
 the relations that existed between Jonson and Marston. 
 There seem to have been many quarrels and more than 
 one reconciliation. During his visit to Hawthornden, 
 Jonson told Drummond that " He had many quarrels 
 with Marston, beat him and took his pistol from him, 
 wrote his Poetaster on him ; the beginning of them were 
 that Marston represented him in the stage in his youth 
 given to venery." ^ The original quarrel seems to have 
 begun about the year 1598. In the apology at the end 
 of The Poetaster, Jonson writes : 
 
 " Three years 
 They did provoke me with their petulant styles 
 On every stage : and I at last unwilling, 
 But weary, I confess, of so much trouble, 
 Thought I would try if shame could win upon 'em." 
 
 The Poetaster was produced in 1601 ; so these attacks 
 on Jonson, in which Marston must have taken a leading 
 part, began about 1598. In the address "To those 
 that seem judicial Perusers " prefixed to I'he Scourge of 
 Villainy, Marston undoubtedly ridicules Ben Jonson 
 for his use of " new-minted epithets ^ (as real, intrinse- 
 cate, Delphic)." "Real" occurs in Every Man out of 
 his Humour (ii. i); " intrinsecate " in Cynthia's Revels 
 (v. 2); and "Delphic" in an early poem of Jonson's. 
 
 1 Perhaps some sage commentator of the future will tell us that Syphax 
 in Sophonisba was intended as a satirical portrait of Ben. 
 
 2 It is hard to see why Jonson should be ridiculed for using these 
 epithets. Marston uses two of them {" real " and " Delphic ") himself. 
 
 1
 
 Introductiojt. xxxi 
 
 But, as Every Man out of his Humour was first pro- 
 duced at Christmas 1599, and Cynthia s Revels in 1600, 
 these "new-minted epithets" must have been used by 
 Jonson in some early plays that have perished. Jonson 
 retaliated by attacking Marston in Every Man out of his 
 Humour ^ and Cynthia's Revels. In the former play 
 (iii, i) he introduces two characters, Clove and Orange, 
 who are expressly described as "mere strangers to the 
 whole scope of our play." They are on the stage only 
 for a few minutes. Clove is represented as a pretender 
 to learning: "he will sit you a whole afternoon some- 
 times in a bookseller's shop, reading the Greek, Italian, 
 and Spanish, when he understands not a word of either." 
 Orange is a mere simpleton who can say nothing but 
 "O Lord, sir," and "It pleases you to say so, sir." In 
 the "characters of the persons" (prefixed to the play) 
 we are told that this "inseparable case of coxcombs . , . 
 being well flattered " will " lend money and repent when 
 they have done. Their glory is to invite players and 
 make suppers." Dr. Brinsley Nicholson suggests that 
 Orange was intended as a caricature of Dekker, and 
 that Clove stands for Marston. This view is, doubt- 
 less, partly correct, but we must not insist on it too 
 strongly. Dekker — whatever may be said of Marston — 
 had no money to lend, and would rather have expected 
 to sup at the players' expense than to be made the shot- 
 clog of the feast : again and again in The Poetaster he 
 is ridiculed on the score of poverty. It is undeniable 
 that Jonson, to raise a laugh against Marston, puts into 
 Clove's mouth grotesque words culled from The Scourge
 
 xxxii InU'oduction. 
 
 of Villainy. " Monsieur Orange," whispers Clove to his 
 companion, as they are walking in the middle aisle 
 of Paul's, " yon gallants observe us ; prithee let's talk 
 fustian a little and gull them ; make them believe we 
 are great scholars." Presently we have the passage 
 containing the Marstonian words (which I have printed 
 in italics) : — 
 
 " Now, sirs, whereas the ingenuity of the time and the 
 soul's synderisis are but effibryo?is in nature, added to the 
 paunch of Esquiline.^ and the intervallum of the zodiac^ 
 besides the ecliptic line being optic and not mental, but by 
 the contemplative and theoric part thereof doth demonstrate 
 to us the vegetable circumference and the ventosity of the 
 tropics, and whereas our intellectual, or mincing capreal 
 (according to the metaphysics) as you may read in Plato's 
 Histriojnastix.'^ You conceive me, sir?" 
 
 In the first scene of the second act, Puntarvolo 
 addresses Carlo Buffone as " thou Grand Scourge, or 
 Second Untruss of the time," in allusion to Marston's 
 Scourge of Villainy. 
 
 Cynthia's Revels v; 2.% produced in 1600 and printed in 
 1601. In this play, Anaides and Hedon are represented 
 as being jealous of Crites, and as seeking by underhand 
 
 1 We have " Port Esquiline" twice in the Scourge of Villainy ; but 
 ^zszxy \i\\\2i%^ Paunch of Esquiline occurs in Histriomastix (Simpsons 
 School of Shakspere, ii. 51), an anonymous play which undoubtedly 
 contains some of Marston's work. " Zodiac," " ecliptic line," " demon- 
 strate," and " tropics" are also found in Histriomastix (ibid. ii. 25-6) ; 
 they are not in Marston's satires. The other words will be found in 
 the Scourge of Villainy. 
 
 * Of Histriomastix I shall have to speak later.
 
 IntrodMctio7t. xxxiii 
 
 means to bring him into discredit. It is certain that 
 Jonson was glancing particularly at Marston and Dekker. 
 In the second scene of the third act, Crites, defending 
 himself against his two traducers, observes : — 
 
 " If good Chrestus, 
 Euthus, or Phronimus, had spoke the words, 
 They would have moved me, and I should have call'd 
 My thoughts and actions to a strict account 
 Upon the hearing ; but when I remember 
 'Tis Iledon and Anaides, alas, then 
 I think but what they are, and am not stirr'd. 
 The one a light voluptuous reveller. 
 The other a strange arrogating puff, 
 Both impudent and arrogant enough ; 
 That talk as they are wont, not as I merit ; 
 Traduce by custom, as most dogs do bark ; 
 Do nothing out of judgment, but disease ; 
 Speak ill because they never could speak well : 
 And who'd be angry with this race of creatures ? " 
 
 Dekker in Satiromastix'^ puts four of these lines (" I 
 think but what they are . . . arrogant enough ") into the 
 mouth of Horace (Jonson), plainly assuming that the 
 abuse was intended for Marston and himself. Marston, 
 too, in What You Will (p. xlviii.), fastens on this speech 
 of Crites and uses it as a weapon against Jonson. 
 Cynthia's Revels was quickly followed by The Poetaster, 
 which was produced in 1601 by the Children of the 
 Queen's Chapel. Hitherto, Jonson had merely skirmished 
 with his adversaries ; in The Poetaster he assails them 
 might and main with all the artillery of invective. Marston 
 
 1 Dekker's Works (Pearson's Reprint), L 195.
 
 xxxiv Introductiofi. 
 
 is ridiculed as Crispinus, and Dekker as Demetrius Fan- 
 nius. Crispinus is represented as a coarse-minded, ill- 
 conditioned fellow, albeit of gentle parentage, who, like the 
 bore encountered by Horace in the Via Sacra, is prepared 
 to adopt the meanest stratagems in order to gain admit- 
 tance to the society of courtiers and wits. He plots with 
 the shifty out-at-elbows Demetrius (a witless " dresser of 
 plays about the town here." to wit, Thomas Dekker), 
 and a huffing Captain Tucca, to disgrace Horace (Ben 
 Jonson). But the attempt results in a ludicrous failure ; 
 Crispinus and Demetrius are arraigned at a session of 
 the poets, and, after receiving a severe rebuke for their 
 calumnies, are contemptuously dismissed on taking oath 
 for their future good behaviours. In court a dose of 
 hellebore is administered to Crispinus, who thereupon 
 proceeds to vomit up gobbets of Marston's fustian 
 vocabular}'. When the physic has worked its effect 
 Virgil gives Crispinus such advice as Lycinus gave to 
 Lexiphanes in Lucian's dialogue ; bidding him form his 
 style on classical models and not 
 
 " hunt for wild outlandish terms 
 
 To stuff out a peculiar dialect." 
 
 The Poetaster was entered in the Stationers' Register 
 on 2ist December 1601, and Satiromastix had already 
 been entered on the nth of the preceding month. The 
 title-page of Satiromastix bears only Dekker's name, and 
 to Dekker the play is attributed in the Stationers' 
 Register. It was doubtless with Marston's approval 
 that Dekker took up the cudgels against the truculent
 
 Introduciioti. xxxv 
 
 Ben, but there is no evidence to show that Marston had 
 any share in the authorship of Satiromasiix. It is not 
 necessary to deal here with Dekker's spirited rejoinder, 
 but there is one difficult passage, put into the mouth of 
 Horace, to which passing attention must be called : — 
 
 "As for Crispinus, that Crispin-ass and Fannius his play-dresser, 
 who (to make the Muses believe their subjests' \_sic\ ears were 
 starved and that there was a dearth of poesy) cut an innocent Moor 
 i'th middle, to serve him in twice, and when he had done made 
 Poules' work of it ; as for these twins, these poet-apes, 
 
 Their mimic tricks shall serve 
 
 With mirth to feast our muse whilst their own starve." 
 
 ( Works, 1873, i. 212.) 
 
 The meaning of this obscure passage seems to be that 
 Marston and Dekker wrote in conjunction a play which 
 had a Moor for its leading character ; that the writers' 
 barren invention prompted them to treat the story again 
 in a Second Part ; and that the two parts, when they had 
 served their time upon the stage, were published in 
 Paul's Churchyard. At least that is the only intelligible 
 explanation that I can give to the words; but I am 
 altogether unable to fix on any extant play, in which a 
 Moor figures, that could be attributed to Marston and 
 Dekker. From Henslowe's Diary we know that Dekker 
 was concerned in the authorship of a play called The 
 Spanish Moor's Tragedy (which has been doubtfully 
 identified with Lusfs Dominion, printed in 1657 as a 
 work of Marlowe's) ; but Dekker's coadjutors m that 
 play were William Haughton and John Day. 
 
 It is curious to note that in the very year (1601) when
 
 xxxvi Introduction. 
 
 the quarrel between Marston and Jonson reached a 
 climax, the two enemies are contributing poems to the 
 Divers Poetical Essays appended to Robert Chester's 
 tedious and obscure Lovers Martyr. The other con- 
 tributors were Shakespeare and Chapman ; jNIarston's 
 verses follow Shakespeare's Phoenix and Turtle. In 
 1604, as we have noticed, Marston dedicated his Mal- 
 content to Jonson in very cordial terms ; and in 1605 he 
 prefixed some complimentary verses to Sejanus. 
 
 In 1605 was published the comedy of The Dutch 
 Courtezan, which had been acted by the Children's 
 Company at the Blackfriars. There is more of life and 
 movement in this play than in any other of Marston's 
 productions. The character of the passionate and im- 
 placable courtesan, Franceschina, is conceived with 
 masterly ability. Few figures in the Elizabethan drama 
 are more striking than this fair vengeful fiend, who is 
 as playful and pitiless as a tigress ; whose caresses are 
 sweet as honey and poisonous as aconite. All the 
 characters are drawn with skill and spirit. Young Free- 
 vill is a typical Elizabethan gallant, very frank in his 
 utterances, and not burthened with an excess of modesty. 
 Malheureux, his moody friend, is noted for his strictness 
 of life, but a glance from Franceschina scatters his virtu- 
 ous resolutions, and he is ready at the temptress' bidding 
 to kill his friend in order to satisfy his passion. The inno- 
 cent shamefaced Beatrice, affianced to young Freevill, is 
 drawn with more tenderness than Marston usually shows ; 
 and her gay prattling sister Crispinella recalls (longo inter- 
 vallo) another more famous Beatrice. Cockledemoy, the
 
 Introduciioti. xxxvii 
 
 droll and nimble trickster, who at every turn dexterously 
 cozens Master MuUigrub, the vintner, affords abundance 
 of amusement ; but his plain speaking shocks the sensi- 
 tively chaste ears of Mary Faugh, the old bawd. Antony 
 Nixon, in The Black Year, 1606, speaks of the play as 
 " corrupting English conditions " ; ^ but Nixon's pro- 
 test went for little. In December 1613 TJie Dutch 
 Courtezan was acted at Court (Cunningham's Extracts 
 from the Accoimts of the Revels, p. xliv.). Having re- 
 ceived some alterations at the hands of Betterton, it was 
 revived in 1680 under the title of The Revenge, or A 
 Match in Newgate. 
 
 A singularly fresh and delightful study of city- life is 
 the comedy of Eastward Ho, published in 1605. Three 
 dramatists combined to produce this genial masterpiece 
 — Chapman, Jonson, and Marston. It seems to have 
 been written shortly after James' accession, when the 
 hungry Scots were swarming southwards in quest of 
 preferment. Englishmen were justly indignant at the 
 favours bestowed by James on these Scotch adventurers, 
 and a passage in Eastward Ho stated the grievance very 
 
 1 " Some booksellers this year," says Nixon, "shall not have cause to 
 boast of their winnings, for that many write that flow with phrases and 
 yet are barren in substance, and such are neither wise nor witty ; others 
 are so concise that you need a commentary to understand them, others 
 have good wits but so critical that they arraign other men's works at the 
 tribunal seat of every censurious Aristarch's understanding, when their 
 own are sacrificed in Paul's Churchyard for bringing in the Dutch 
 Courtezan to corrupt English conditions and sent away westward for 
 carping both at court, city, and country. For they are so sudden-witted 
 that a flea can no sooner frisk forth but they must needs comment on 
 her. "
 
 xxxviii Introduction. 
 
 plainly. "You shall live freely there " \i.e., in Virginia], 
 says Seagull, "without sergeants, or courtiers, or lawyers, 
 or intelligencers, only a few industrious Scots, perhaps, 
 who, indeed, are dispersed over the face of the whole 
 earth. But as for them, there are no greater friends to 
 Englishmen and England, when they are out on't, in the 
 world, than they are. And for my part, I would a hun- 
 dred thousand of 'hem were there, for we are all one 
 countrymen now, ye know ; and we should find ten 
 times more comfort of them there than we do here." At 
 the instance of Sir James Graham, one of James' newly- 
 created knights, the playwrights were committed to 
 prison * for their abuse of the Scots, and the report went 
 that their ears were to be cut and their noses slit. Ben 
 
 1 Among the Hatfield MSS. is a letter (communicated to Gifford by 
 the elder Disraeli), dated " 1605," of Ben Jonson to Lord Salisbury, in 
 which Jonson writes that he had been committed to prison unexamined 
 and unheard, "and with me a gentleman (whose name may perhaps 
 have come to your lordship), one Mr. George Chapman, a learned and 
 honest man," for introducing into a play some matter which had given 
 offence. With mu5h warmth he declares that, since his " first error," 
 he had been scrupulously careful not to write anything against which 
 objection could be taken. Gifford assumed that "first error" referred 
 to Eastward Ho, and that Jonson was suffering for another offence 
 when the letter w.as written. What the "first error" was cannot be 
 determined with certainty, for it is not improbable that Jonson was 
 frequently in trouble. It is quite possible that the letter was written 
 when Jonson and Chapman were in prison on the Eastward Ho charge. 
 Jonson may have written on Chapman's behalf and his own, leaving 
 Marston to shift for himself. But such conduct would have been un- 
 generous ; and I prefer to adopt Gifford's view that the imprisonment 
 of which the letter complains was not connected with Eastward Ho. 
 Besides, the satirical reflections on the Scots, and any particular allu- 
 sions to Sir James Graham, would have been more pertinent in 1603 
 than in 1C05.
 
 IntrodtLction. xxxix 
 
 Jonson told Drummond that he had not contributed 
 the objectionable matter, and that he voluntarily im- 
 prisoned himself with Chapman and Marston, who "had 
 written it amongst them." After his release from prison 
 Jonson gave a banquet to "all his friends," Camden and 
 Selden being among the guests. In the middle of the 
 banquet his old mother drank to him and produced a 
 paper containing " lusty strong poison," which she had 
 intended, if the sentence had been confirmed, to take to 
 the prison and mix in his drink ; and she declared — to 
 show "that she was no churl" — that " she minded first 
 to have drunk of it herself." The passage about the 
 Scots is found only in some copies of the 4tos ; in 
 others it was expunged. Scotch pride seems to have 
 been easily wounded. On 15th April, 1598, George 
 Nicolson, the English agent at the Scotch Court, writing 
 from Edinburgh to Lord Burghley, stated that "it is 
 regretted that the Comedians of London should scorn 
 the king and the people of this land in their play ; and 
 it is wished that the matter be speedily amended, lest 
 the king and the country be stirred to anger" {Cal. of 
 State Papers, Scotland, ii. 749). Certainly the reflections 
 in Eastward Ho have somewhat more of bitterness than 
 banter ; but one would have thought that the favoured 
 Scots about the Court would be content to let the 
 matter pass. Sir James Murray was the person who 
 acted as delator, and it is not improbable that he found 
 in the play some uncomplimentary allusions to himself, 
 in addition to the sweeping satire on his countrymen. 
 In the first scene of the fourth act there is a curious
 
 xl Introduction. 
 
 passage which has no point unless we suppose that it is 
 directed against some particular courtier : 
 
 " \st Gent. I ken the man weel ; he's one of my thirty 
 pound knights. 
 
 "•2d Geni. No, no, this is he that stole his knighthood 
 o' the grand day for four pound given to a page ; all the 
 money in's purse, I wot well.'' 
 
 Satirical references to King James' knights, the men 
 who purchased knighthood from the king, are as 
 common as blackberries ; but in the present passage 
 there must be a covert allusion to some person who 
 procured the honour by an unworthy artifice, and I 
 suspect that the allusion is to Sir James Murray. 
 It is surprising that, when the reflections on the Scots 
 were expunged, the passage in iv. i was allowed 
 to stand ; for, whether Sir James Murray was or 
 was not personally ridiculed, the mimicry of James' 
 Scotch accent is unmistakeable. Perhaps the king 
 joined in the laugh against himself, when the play was 
 acted before him by the Lady EHzabeth's Servants at 
 Whitehall on 25th January 1613-4 (Cunningham's Ex- 
 tracts fr07n the Account of the Ret'els, p. xliv.). 
 
 Of the merits of Eastward Ho it would be difficult to 
 speak too highly. To any who are in need of a pill to 
 purge melancholy this racy old comedy may be safely com- 
 mended. Few readers, after once making his acquaint- 
 ance, will forget Master Touchstone, the honest shrewd 
 old goldsmith, rough of speech at times but ever gentle 
 at heart, thrifty to outward show but bountiful as the 
 sun in May : he lives in our affections with Orlando
 
 Introduction. xli 
 
 Friscobaldo and Simon Eyre. Quicksilver, the rowdy 
 prentice, dazed from last night's debauch, reciting in 
 a thick voice stale scraps of Jeronymo as he reels about 
 Master Touchstone's shop, heedless of the maxims of tem- 
 perance which frown in print from the walls ; Golding, the 
 well-conducted prentice, the apple of his master's eye, 
 armed at all points with virtue and sobriety ; Gertrude, 
 the goldsmith's extravagant daughter, with her magnifi- 
 cent visions of coaches, and castles, and cherries at an 
 angel a pound ; Mildred, her sister, simple and dutiful ; 
 Mistress Touchstone, who has been infected with Ger- 
 trude's vanity, but quickly learns penitence in the school 
 of necessity ; Sir Petronel Flash, the shifty knight, eager 
 to escape from creditors and Serjeants to the new-found 
 land of Virginia ; Security, the blood-sucker and egregious 
 gull : — all these characters, and the list is not exhausted, 
 stand limned in all the warmth of life. Mr. Swinburne, in 
 his masterly essay on Chapman, says with truth that " in 
 no play of the time do we get such a true taste of the 
 old city life so often turned to mere ridicule by play- 
 wrights of less good humour, or feel about us such a 
 familiar air of ancient London as blows through every 
 scene." 
 
 It is very certain that Marston could never have 
 written single-handed so rich and genial a play. In 
 all Marston's comedies there is a strong alloy of 
 bitterness ; we are never allowed to rise from the comic 
 feast with a pleasant taste in the mouth. What precise 
 share Marston had in Eashvard Ho it would be difficult 
 to determine with any approach to certainty. In the 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 xlii Introduction. 
 
 very first scene (vol. iii. p. 8) we come across a passage 
 which is distinctly in Marston's manner : — 
 
 " I am entertained among gallants, true ; they call me 
 cousin Frank, right ; I lend them monies, good ; they 
 spend it well" 
 
 Compare a passage of The Fawn (vol. ii. p. i8i) : — 
 "His brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest 
 brother, true ; he get her with child, just." 
 
 But in the same opening scene there are equally 
 unmistakable signs of Jonson's presence. Touchstone 
 says of Golding : — " He is a gentleman, though my 
 prentice . . . ; well friended, well parted." The 
 curious expression ^'■well parted" will be at once 
 recognised as Jonsonian by the vigilant reader, who will 
 remember how Macilente, in " The Characters of the 
 Persons " prefixed to Every Man out of his Humour} is 
 described as "A man well parted, a sufficient scholar," 
 &c. Jonson and Marston worked on the first scene 
 together ; and it seems to me that throughout the first 
 two acts we have the mixed work of these two writers. 
 In the second scene of the third act, as Mr. Swinburne 
 notices, Chapman's hand is clearly seen in the quaint 
 allusion to "the ship of famous Draco." Quicksilver's 
 moralising, in iv. i, after he has scrambled ashore at 
 Wapping on the night of the drunken shipwreck, is 
 again in Chapman's manner ; but his elaborate devices 
 for blanching copper and sweating angels (later in the 
 
 J In Every Man out of his Humour, iii. 3, we have : — 
 " Whereas let him be poor and meanly clad, 
 Though ne'er so lichly parted," &c.
 
 Introduciion. xliii 
 
 same scene) must, without the shadow of a doubt, be 
 ascribed to the invention of the author of The Alchemist. 
 It would be of doubtful advantage to pursue the 
 inquiry at length. 
 
 Eastward Ho was revived at Drury Lane on Lord 
 Mayor's day 1751, under the title of The Prentices (n. d. 
 1 2 mo), and again in 1775 under the title of Old City 
 Manners. Hogarth is said to have drawn from East- 
 ward Ho the plan of his prints The Industrious and 
 Idle Prentices. Nahum Tate's farce Cuckold's Haven, 
 published in 1685, is drawn partly from Eastward Ho 
 and partly from The Devil is an Ass. 
 
 Parasitaster, or the Pawn, published in 1606, takes 
 us again to Italy, and once more we have to listen to a 
 satirical exposure of the courtiers' vices and follies. In 
 spite of occasional tediousness the play is interesting. 
 Dulcimel, Gonzago's witty daughter, who gulls her self- 
 conceited old father by a pretended discovery of 
 Tiberio's love for her, and succeeds by her blandish- 
 ments in converting the young misogynist into a perfervid 
 wooer, is a delightfully attractive heroine. The strata- 
 gem employed by Dulcimel is of ancient date : it is 
 found in Terence's Adelphi, Boccaccio's Decameron 
 (third tale of the third day), and Moliere's HEcole des 
 Maris. I am half inclined to suspect that Marston was 
 slily glancing at the " wise fool " King James in the 
 person of the silly and pedantic Gonzago ; and it is 
 probable that some social scandals of the time afforded 
 material for the description of the intrigues of Gonzago's 
 courtiers. Granuffo, who gains a reputation for wisdom
 
 xliv Introduction. 
 
 by never opening his mouth, might possibly be made an 
 amusing character by an actor skilled in facial contor- 
 tions ; but the humour of the thing is not very apparent 
 in print. Signior No in the Noble Spanish Soldier 
 (attributed to Samuel Rowley, though the play may 
 properly belong to Dekker), and Littleword in Nabbes' 
 Covent Garden, are somewhat similar characters. The 
 address To the Equal Reader, prefixed to Farasitaster, 
 is excellently written, and exhibits IMarston in a very 
 pleasant light. "For mine own interest for once," he 
 writes, with a frankness which is not without a touch of 
 pathos, "let this be printed, — that of men of my own 
 addiction I love most, pity some, hate none ; for let me 
 truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving them, 
 and surely I shall ever rest so constant to my first 
 affection, that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous 
 whisperings, never so treacherously labour to under- 
 mine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as long as I have 
 being) love the least of their graces and only pity the 
 greatest of their vices." A candid and creditable 
 avowal, but, alas, " words is wind and wind is mutable." 
 In the second edition there follows a briefer address, in 
 which the writer promises to " present a tragedy which 
 shall boldly abide the most curious perusal ; " and from 
 a marginal note we learn that the tragedy of Sophonisba^ 
 published in 1606, was the work which was so boldly 
 to challenge criticism. It is to be feared that this 
 cherished offspring of Marston's imagination will not be 
 regarded with affection by many readers. For hideous 
 blood-curdling realism the description of the witch
 
 hUroduction. xlv 
 
 Erictho and her cave is, I venture to think, without a 
 parallel in literature. Tough as whipcord must have 
 been the nerves of an audience which could listen 
 patiently to the recital of Erictho's atrocities. If there 
 were any women of delicate health among the audience, 
 a repetition of the mishaps connected with the per- . 
 formance of the Eumenides must surely have been un- 
 avoidable. Regarded, however, as a whole, the play is 
 not impressive. Sophonisba is a fearless and magnani- 
 mous heroine, but her temper is too masculine ; she 
 talks too much and too bluntly, and is too fond of 
 striking an attitude. Syphax, the villain of the play, is 
 so prodigiously brutal as to appear perfectly grotesque; 
 and the hero Massinissa bores us by his trite moral re- 
 tlections. Marston strove to produce a stately tragedy, 
 and was under the impression that his efforts had been 
 crowned with success; but candid readers will judge 
 the performance to be stiff and crude, wanting in energy 
 and dramatic movement, too rhetorical, " climbing to 
 the height of Seneca his style." In the prefatory address 
 he has a hit at Sejanus (to which in the previous year he 
 had contributed a copy of eulogistic verses), informing 
 us that " to transcribe authors, quote authorities, and 
 translate Latin prose orations into English blank verse, 
 hath, in this subject, been the least aim of my studies." 
 But Sejafius has certainly not less of dramatic interest 
 than Sophonisba, and in other respects it is far superior. 
 In 1607 was published the comedy of IVhai You 
 Will (written, I suspect, shortly after the appearance of 
 Cynthia s Revels), which is largely indebted for its plot
 
 xlvi l7itroductio7i. 
 
 to Plautus's Amphitruo. In the Induction, Marston 
 again has his fling at Ben Jonson. Philomusus' heated 
 denunciation of censorious critics, 
 
 " Believe it, Doricus, his spirit 
 Is higher blooded than to quake and pant 
 At the report of ScofFs artillery," &c., 
 
 was evidently written in derisive mimicry of Jonson's 
 scornful addresses to the audience ; and Doricus' remon- 
 strance, 
 
 " Now out upon 't, I wonder what tight brain 
 Wrung in this custom to maintain contempt 
 'Gainst common censure," &c., 
 
 was unquestionably intended as a stiff" rebuke to Jonson's 
 towering arrogance. But these strokes of personal satire 
 are not confined to the Induction. Quadratus' scathing 
 ridicule of Lampatho Doria, in the first scene of the 
 second act, was certainly aimed at some adversary of 
 Marston's ; and there can be little doubt that this 
 adversary was Ben Jonson. Lampatho is described in 
 the following terms by his admirer Simplicius Faber : — 
 "Monsieur Laverdure, do you see that gentleman? 
 He goes but in black satin, as you see, but, by Helicon ! 
 he hath a cloth of tissue wit. He breaks a jest;^ ha, 
 he'll rail against the court till the gallants — O God ! he 
 is very nectar : if you but sip of his love, you were 
 immortal." 
 
 1 The words " He \i.e., Lampatho] breaks a jest " have the look of a 
 stage-direction.
 
 Introduction. xlvii 
 
 At first Lampatho speaks the language of an affected 
 gallant ; it is nothing but " protest " with him. Quad- 
 ratus is disgusted with him : — 
 
 " A fusty cask 
 Devote to mouldy customs of hoary eld." 
 
 After listening to much abuse, Lampatho turns on his 
 assailant : — 
 
 "So Phoebus warm my brain, I'll rhyme thee dead. 
 Look for the satire : if all the sour juice 
 Of a tart brain can souse thy estimate, 
 I'll pickle thee." 
 
 The threat only irritates Quadratus the more : — 
 
 " Why, you Don Kinsayder ! 
 Thou canker-eaten rusty cur, thou snaffle 
 To freer spirits ! 
 
 Think'st thou a libertine, an ungyved breast, 
 Scorns not the shackles of thy envious clogs ? 
 You will traduce us unto public scorn ?" 
 
 Curious that Marston should apply his own nom 
 de plume "Kinsayder" to the adversary whom he is 
 bullying ! In the Scourge of Villainy he sneered at his 
 own poem Pygmalion, and here he is referring con- 
 temptuously to his own achievements in satire. A man 
 who openly ridicules himself blunts the edge of an 
 enemy's sarcasm. 
 
 We have seen (p. xxxiii.) that Crites' bitter abuse of 
 Anaides and Hedon {i.e., Marston and Dekker), in 
 Cynthia's Revels, was flung back in Jonson's face by
 
 xlviii Introduction. 
 
 Dekker. Marston puts into the mouth of Quadratus a 
 speech, modelled closely on those lines of Crites : — 
 
 "Za;«. O sir, you are so square, you scorn reproof. 
 
 " Qua. No, sir; should discreet Mastigophorus, 
 
 Or the dear spirit acute Canaidus 
 
 (That Aretine, that most of me beloved, 
 
 Who in the rich esteem I prize his soul, 
 
 I term myself) ; should these once menace me, 
 
 Or curb my humour with well-govern'd check, 
 
 I should with most industrious regard, 
 
 Observe, abstain, and curb my skipping lightness ; 
 
 But when an arrogant, odd, impudent, 
 
 A blushless forehead, only out of sense 
 
 Of his own wants, bawls in malignant questing 
 
 At others' means of waving gallanlr}', — 
 
 right foutra ! " 
 
 Who "discreet Mastigophorus" and "acute Canaidus " 
 were it would be useless to conjecture. But it is not to 
 be doubted that Quadratus' abuse of Lampatho was 
 levelled at Ben Jonson ; and that Marston was avenging 
 himself in this way for the insults showered upon him 
 by Jonson. In iv. i, Quadratus sneers at Lampatho's 
 verse. Lampatho threatens to be revenged. " How, 
 prithee ? " says Quadratus ; " in a play ? Come, come, 
 be sociable.'' 
 
 The tragedy of The Insatiate Countess was published 
 in 1613, with Marston's name on the title-page. In the 
 Duke of Devonshire's library there is a copy,^ dated 16 16, 
 with no name on the title-page. The play was reprinted 
 
 ^ The Insatiate Countesse. London, Printed by N. O. for Thomas 
 Archer, &c., i6i6, 410.
 
 Introduction. xlix 
 
 in 1 63 1, and Marston's name is found on the title-page 
 of most copies of that edition ; but the Duke of 
 Devonshire possesses a copy/ in which the author's 
 name is given as Wilham Barksteed. In the collected 
 edition of Marston's plays, 1633, The Insatiate Qountess 
 is not included. It is therefore clear that Marston's 
 authorship is not established by external evidence. 
 When we come to examine the play itself, which has 
 unfortunately descended in a most corrupt state, the 
 difficulty is not removed. Two picturesque lines at the 
 close of the last scene, 
 
 "Night, like a masque, is enter'd heaven's great hall, 
 With thousand torches ushering the way," 
 
 are found verbatim in Barksteed's poem Myrrha. We 
 know little of Barksteed, but it is probable that he is to 
 be indentified with the William Barksted, or Backsted, 
 who was one of Prince Henry's players in August 161 1 
 {CoWxQx's Memoirs of Edward Alleyn, p. 98), and belonged 
 to the company of the Prince Palatine's players in March 
 1615-6 (ibid., p. 126). He is the author of two poems,' 
 which display some graceful fancy (though the subject 
 of the first is ill-chosen), — Myrrha the Af other of Adonis, 
 1607, and Hiren and the Fair Greek, 161 1. As we read 
 The Insatiate Countess we cannot fail to notice passages 
 
 1 The full title is [ The] Insatiate Covntesse. A Tragedy : Acted, at 
 White-Friers. Written, By William Barksteed. London, Printed 
 for Hvgh Perrie, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Harrow 
 in Brittaines-Burse. 1631. 410. 
 
 * Reprinted in Dr. Grosart's valuable Occasional Issues.
 
 1 Introductio7i. 
 
 containing a richness of fancy, and a musical fluency of 
 expression, to which Marston's undoubted plays afford 
 no parallel. The italicised lines are certainly not in 
 Marston's vein : — 
 
 " Like to the lion when he hears the sound 
 Of Dian's bowstring in some shady wood, 
 I should have couched my lowly limb on earth 
 And held my silence a fraud sacrifice." 
 " Others, compared to her, show like faint stars 
 To the full moon of wonder in her face." 
 
 Again : the play contains an unusually large number of 
 imitations of Shakespearean passages. In fact I know 
 no play of this early date in which Shakespeare is so 
 persistently imitated or plagiarised. Again and again 
 we find images and expressions borrowed more or less 
 closely from Hamlet. Shakespeare's historical plays, too, 
 were laid under contribution. In the very first scene we 
 have these lines : — 
 
 " Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds ; 
 Or name an instrument fit for destruction, 
 That e'er was made to make away a man, 
 I'll meet thee on the ridges of the Alps, 
 Or some inhospitable wilderness." 
 
 A very cool piece of plagiarism from Richard II. 
 (1. I):- 
 
 " Which to maintain I would allow him odds 
 And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot 
 Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps 
 Or any other ground inhabitable."
 
 l7itroductio7i. li 
 
 In the lines, 
 
 " The ghosts of misers that imprison'd fjold 
 Within the harmless bowels of the earth," 
 
 the italicised words were unquestionably suggested by a 
 passage of Hotspur's famous speech in Henry IV., i. 2, — 
 
 " That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd 
 Out oi the bowels of the harmless earth." 
 
 When Don Sago in iv. 3 exclaims — 
 
 "A hundred times in life a coward dies," 
 
 we are immediately reminded of Shakespeare's Julius 
 Casar (ii. 2), 
 
 " Cowards die many times before their death ; " 
 
 and Sago's lament in v. i, 
 
 "Although . . . the waves of all the Northern sea 
 Should flow for ever through these guilty hands, 
 Yet the sanguinolent stain would extant be," 
 
 decidedly smacks of Macbeth. Occasionally, it is true, 
 Marston does not scruple to borrow from Shakespeare, 
 but in none of his plays are the Shakespearean echoes so 
 clear and frequent as in The Insatiate Countess. The 
 text, as I have said, is extremely corrupt, and the con- 
 fusion among the dramatis personcB is perplexing to the 
 last degree (see note, vol. iii. p. 154). I suspect that 
 Marston, on entering the church, left this tragedy in a 
 fragmentary state, and that it was completed by the actor 
 Barksteed. The whole interest centres in the beautiful
 
 Hi Introduction. 
 
 and sinful Isabella, whose wayward glances, as she 
 moves in splendour, fascinate all beholders ; who is 
 indeed a " glorious devil " without shame or pity, 
 boundless and insatiable as the sea in the enormity of 
 her caprices. 
 
 In addition to his plays, his poem of Pygmalion, and his 
 satires, Marston wrote a Latin pageant on the occasion of 
 the visit paid by the King of Denmark to James I. in 1606, 
 and an entertainment, which is not without elegance, in 
 honour of a visit paid by the Dowager Countess of Derby 
 to her son-in-law and daughter, Lord and Lady Hunting- 
 don, at Ashby, I strongly doubt whether The Mounte- 
 bank^ s Masque, performed at Court in February 1616-17 
 (when Marston was attending to his clerical duties in 
 Hampshire), has been correctly assigned to Marston. 
 
 There are two anonymous plays ^ in which Marston's 
 hand is plainly discernible, — Histriomastix, published in 
 1 610, zxidi. Jack DrunC s Entertainment, published in 16 16. 
 It has been mentioned (see note, p. xxxii.) that Jonson in 
 Every Man out of his Humour puts into Clove's mouth, 
 with the object of ridiculing Marston, words and ex- 
 pressions found in Uistriomastix (coupling them with 
 flowers of speech culled from The Scourge of Villainy), 
 and even mentions the play by name — " as you may read 
 in Plato's Histriomastix." Only in a few scenes of 
 Histriomastix can Marston's hand be detected. It is a 
 
 1 These plays are printed in the second volume of Simpson's School 
 of Shaksperc- 1 have not included them in this edition of Marston ; they 
 are of little value and are easily accessible. Marston's share in Histrio- 
 mastix was slight.
 
 Introduction. liii 
 
 poor semi-allegorical play, a clumsy piece of patchwork. 
 Marston's additions must have been made before Christ- 
 mas 1599 (when Every Man out of his Humour was 
 produced), on the occasion of some revival. The follow- 
 ing lines, which occur early in the second act, seem to 
 refer to Ben Jonson : — 
 
 " How, you translating scholar? You can make 
 A stabbing satire or an epigram, 
 And think you carry just Rhamnusia's whip 
 To lash the patient ! go, get you clothes : 
 Our free-born blood such apprehension loathes." 
 
 Jack Driim^s Entertainment, an indifferent comedy, 
 which appears to have been written about the year 1600,^ 
 bears the clearest traces of Marston's early style. All 
 the monstrous phraseology of The Scourge of Villainy 
 and Atitonio and Mellida is seen here in perfection. 
 When Jonson in The Poetaster (v. i) ridiculed Marston's 
 absurd vocabulary, he selected, i7iter alia, for castigation, 
 some expressions which occur only in Jack Drum, and 
 are not found (in so closely parallel a form) in the works 
 published under Marston's name : clear proof that the 
 authorship of this play is to be ascribed, at least in part 
 if not entirely, to Marston. In act iii. oi Jack Drum 
 we have — 
 
 ' ' Crack not the sinews of my patience," . 
 
 which is ridiculed in The Poetaster — 
 
 " As if his organons of sense would crack 
 The sinews of my patience." 
 
 i 'S^Q.^\mY''ioxi^ School of Shakespere, ii. 127.
 
 liv Introductio7i. 
 
 In act ii. are these ridiculous lines — 
 
 " Let clumsy chilblain'd gouty wits 
 Bung up their chief contents within the hoops 
 Of a stuff'd dry-fat ; " 
 
 SO in The Poetaster — 
 
 " Upon that puft-up lump of barmy froth, 
 Or clumsy chilblain'd judgment." 
 
 In act iv. Planet's reflections on the arrogant Old 
 Brabant are clearly directed against Jonson. 
 
 Collier in his Memoirs of Edward Alley n (p. 154) 
 printed a letter of Marston to Henslowe ; but, as " the 
 whole letter is manifestly a forgery, having been first 
 traced in pencil, the marks of which are in places 
 still visible " (Warner's Catalogue of Duhvich Manu- 
 scripts and Muniments, p. 49), this relic is of no 
 interest. Another letter, addressed to Lord Kimbolton 
 by a "John Marston,"^ is printed in Collier's Shake- 
 speare - (i. 179, ed. 1858) ; but as it was written in 1641, 
 the writer could not have been the dramatist, who died 
 in 1634. Among the additional MSS. (14,824-6) in 
 the British Museum is a poem entitled The New Meta- 
 
 1 Probably the Rev. John Marston, of St. Mary Magdalene, Canter- 
 bury, who published in 1642 A Sermon preached . . . before many . . . 
 Members of the House of Commons. 
 
 * In his Shakespeare Collier states that the letter was written in 1605, 
 and that it refers to the Gunpowder Plot ; but in his Bibliographical 
 Account, I. xxiv*, correcting his former statement, he says that the 
 letter was written in 1641, and that it concerns the arrest of the Five 
 Members.
 
 Introduction. Iv 
 
 tnorphosis, or a Feast of Faticy or Poetical Legends . . . 
 Written by J. M., Ge?it., 1600, which has been, not very 
 wisely, ascribed to Marston. I must confess that I have 
 only a superficial acquaintance with this poem ; but, as 
 the work fills nearly nine hundred closely-packed pages, 
 I trust that my confession will not be severely criticised. 
 After the title-page is a leaf containing the arguments of 
 books i.-vi. ; then comes a new title-page An Iliad of 
 Metamorphosis or the Arraignment of Vice, followed by a 
 dialogue between Cupid and Momus. Six lines headed 
 " The Author to his Book " follow the dialogue, and then 
 comes " The Epistle Dedicatory," consisting of a couple 
 of lines — 
 
 " To Momus, that same ever-carping mate, 
 And unto Cupid I this dedicate." 
 
 After the commendably brief epistle come two lines 
 which inform us that — 
 
 " My name is French, to tell you in a word ; 
 Yet came not in with conquering William's sword." 
 
 (Marston's name was certainly not French ; it was a 
 good old Shropshire name.) The prologue begins 
 thus : — 
 
 "Upon the public stage to Albion's eye 
 I here present my new-born poesy, 
 Not with vain-glory puft to make it known, 
 Nor Indian-like with feathers not mine own 
 To deck myself, as many use to do ; 
 To filching lines I am a deadly foe," &c.
 
 Ivi Introduction. 
 
 Presently the poet indulges in his invocation : — 
 " Matilda fair, guide you my wand'ring quill ! " 
 
 Having turned some thirty thousand verses off the reel, 
 "J. M., Gent." abruptly concludes, with the remark, — 
 
 " My leave I here of poetry do take, 
 
 For I have writ until my hand doth ache." 
 
 There is a fine field for an editor in TJie New Meta- 
 morphosis ; virgin soil, I warrant. 
 
 Manningham in his Diary, under date 21st November 
 1602, has been at the pains to record a bon viot of 
 Marston : — " Jo. Marstone, the last Christmas, when he 
 daunct with Alderman Mores wives daughter, a Spaniard 
 borne, fell into a strange commendation of hir witt and 
 beauty. When he had done she thought to pay him 
 home, and told him, she tJiought he was a poet. 'Tis 
 true, said he, for poets feigne and lye, and soe did I, 
 when I commended your beauty, for you are exceeding 
 foule." Not a very witty saying, and not very polite. 
 
 In 1633, William Sheares the publisher issued, in 
 I vol. sm. 8vo, The Workes"^ of Mr. John Alarston, being 
 Tragedies and Comedies collected into one volume contain- 
 ing the two parts of Antonio and Mellida, Sophonisba, 
 What You Will, The Fawn, and The Dutch Courtezan. 
 
 ^ In some copies the author's name is not given, and the title-page 
 runs, Tragedies and Comedies collected into one volume, viz. i. Antonio 
 and Mellida. 2. Antonio'' s Revenge. 3. The Tragedie of Sophonisba. 
 4. What You Will. 5. The Fawne, 6. The Dutch Courtezatt.
 
 Introduction. Ivii 
 
 The following dedicatory epistle to Viscountess Falk- 
 land, in which the publisher insists on the modesty 
 (save the mark !) of Marston's Muse, is found in some 
 copies : — 
 
 "To THE Right Honourable, the Lady Elizabeth 
 Carey, Viscountess Falkland. 
 
 " Many opprobies and aspersions have not long since 
 been cast upon Plays in general, and it were requisite and 
 expedient that they were vindicated from them ; but, I refer 
 that task to those whose leisure is greater, and learning 
 more transcendent. Yet, for my part, I cannot perceive 
 wherein they should appear so vile and abominable, that 
 they should be so vehemently inveighed against. Is it 
 because they are Plays 1 The name, it seems, somewhat 
 offends them ; whereas, if they were styled WORKS, they 
 might have their approbation also. I hope that I have 
 now somewhat pacified that precise sect, by reducing all 
 our Author's several Plays into one volume, and so styled 
 them The Works of Mr. John Marston, who was not 
 inferior unto any in this kind of writing, in those days 
 when these were penned ; and, I am persuaded, equal unto 
 the best poets of our times. If the lines be not answerable 
 to my encomium of him, yet herein bear with him, because 
 they were his Juvenilia and youthful recreations. How- 
 soever, he is free from all obscene speeches, which is the 
 chief cause that makes Plays to be so odious unto most 
 men. He abhors such writers, and their works ; and hath 
 professed himself an enemy to all such as stuff their scenes 
 with ribaldry, and lard their lines with scurrilous taunts 
 and jests ; so that, whatsoever, even in the spring of his 
 years, he hath presented upon the private and public 
 theatre, now, in his autumn and declining age, he need 
 not be ashamed of. And, were it not that he is so far 
 
 vol. i. e
 
 Iviii Introduction. 
 
 distant from this place, he would have been more careful 
 in revising the former impressions, and more circumspect 
 about this, than I can. In his absence, Noble Lady, I 
 have been emboldened to present these Works unto your 
 Honour's view; and the rather, because your Honour is 
 well acquainted with the Muses. In brief, Fame hath 
 given out that your Honour is the mirror of your sex, 
 the admiration, not only of this island, but of all adjacent 
 countries and dominions, which are acquainted with your 
 rare virtues and endowments. If your Honour shall vouch- 
 safe to accept this work, I, with my book, am ready 
 pressed and bound to be 
 
 " Your truly devoted, 
 
 "WILLIAM SHEARES." 
 
 Ben Jonson's copy of the 1633 edition of Marston's 
 plays is preserved in the Dyce Library at South Ken- 
 sington. 
 
 Marston's literary career barely covers a space of ten 
 years : his satires were published in 1598, and he seems 
 to have entered the Church, and to have abandoned 
 the writing of plays, about the year 1607. It is hard 
 to picture Marston as a preacher of the Gospel of Glad 
 Tidings. Were we to judge him by his writings we 
 should say that he was a scornful spirit, at strife with 
 himself and with the world; a man convinced of the 
 hollowness of present life, and yet not looking for- 
 ward hopefully to any future sphere of activity ; only 
 anxious to drop into the jaws of that oblivion which he 
 invoked in his verse and courted even on his grave- 
 stone. There was another, a greater than Marston, who
 
 Introduction. lix 
 
 began by writing satires and ended by writing sermons. 
 Marston's sermons have perished, but the sermons of 
 John Donne,' Dean of St. Paul's, are imperishable. At 
 the thought of that oblivion for which Marston hungered 
 the soul of Donne turned sick. " It is a fearful thing to 
 fall into the hands of the living God." f^earful indeed ; 
 but " to fall out of the hands of the livirig God" said 
 Donne in a sermon preached before the Earl of Car- 
 lisle, "is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our 
 imagination." In a strain of marvellous eloquence he 
 proceeds ; and surely no utterance of poet or divine is 
 more pitiful and passionate than this cry wrung from 
 the heart of the great Dean Donne : — 
 
 " That God should let my soul fall out of His hand into 
 a bottomless pit and roll an unremovable stone upon it, . . . 
 and never think more of that soul, never have more to do 
 with it ; that of that providence of God, that studies the 
 life of every weed, and worm, and ant, and spider, and 
 toad, and viper, there should never, never any beam flow 
 out upon me ; that that God, who looked upon me, when 
 I was nothing, and called me when I was not, as though 
 I had been, out of the womb and depth of darkness, will 
 not look upon me now, when, though a miserable, and a 
 banished, and a damned creature, yet I am His creature 
 still, and contribute something to His glory, even in my 
 damnation ; that that God, who hath often looked upon 
 me in my fouUest uncleanness, and when I had shut out 
 the eye of the day, the sun, and the eye of the night, the 
 
 1 Some verses, signed "Jo. Mar.," prefixed to Donne's Poems, 1633, 
 have been ascribed to Marston ; but, as the heading of the verses is 
 " Hexasticon Bibliopolce," and as the publisher or bibliopola was 
 Jo[hn] Mar[riott], Marston's claim can hardly be sustained.
 
 Ix Introdiution. 
 
 taper, and the eyes of all the world, with curtains and 
 windows and doors, did yet see me, and see me in mercy, 
 by making me see that He saw me, and sometimes brought 
 me to a present remorse and (for that time) to a forbearing 
 of that sin, should so turn Hiiii-clf hum me to His glorious 
 Saints and Angels, as that no S ii:,i nor Angel nor Christ 
 Jesus Himself should ever pray Him to look towards me, 
 never remember Him that such a soul there is ; that that 
 God, — who hath so often said to my soul Quare morieris ? 
 Why wilt thou die ? and so often sworn to my soul Vivit 
 Dominus, As the Lord liveth I would not have thee die 
 but live, — will neither let me die nor let me live, but die 
 an everlasting life and live an everlasting death ; that that 
 God, who when He could not get into me by standing and 
 knocking, by His ordinary means of entering, by His word. 
 His mercies, hath applied His judgments and hath shaked 
 the house, this body, with agues and palsies, and\let this 
 house on firelwith fevers and calentures, and frighted the 
 master of the house, my soul, with horrors and heavy 
 apprehensions, and so made an entrance into me ; that 
 that God should frustrate all His own purposes and practises 
 upon me, and leave me and cast me away, as though I had 
 cost Him nothing ; that this God at l ast shou ld let this soul 
 go away, as a smoke, as a vapour, as a bubble, and that 
 then this soul cannot be a smoke, a vapour, nor a bubble, 
 but must lie in darkness, as long as the Lord of light is 
 light itself, and never spark of that light reach to my soul : 
 what Tophet is not Paradise, what brimstone is not amber, 
 what gnashing is not "a comfort, what gnawing of the worm 
 is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage-bed to this 
 damnation , to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally 
 from the sight of God ! "
 
 ADDENDA. 
 
 Vol. i. page 1 3. " Blind Gew." — I have come upon a 
 mention of this actor in the fifth satire of Edward 
 Guilpin's Skialethcia, 1598 : — 
 
 " But who's in yonder coach? my lord and fool, 
 One that for ape-tricks can put Gue to school." 
 
 Guilpin's eleventh epigram is addressed " To 
 Gue " :— 
 
 " Gue, hang thyself for woe, since gentlemen 
 Are now grown cunning in thy apishness," &c. 
 
 Page 15, line 17. ^' Heavy dryness." — Iwaswrongin 
 accepting the reading of ed. 1633 in preference 
 to the '■'•heathy dryness" of ed. 1602. Heathy 
 is a Marstonian word ; and we find it in act iv. 
 of yack Drum^s Entertainment :^ 
 
 " Good faith, troth is they are all apes and gulls, 
 Vile imitating spirits, dry heathy turfs." 
 
 Page 60, line 256. Dr. Nicholson proposes "Her 
 own heels, God knows, are not half so light " 
 — a good emendation. 
 
 Page 239, line 21. "Distilled oxpith," &c. — We 
 have a similar list of provocatives in John Mason's 
 Tnrk, first published in 1610, but written some 
 years previously : —
 
 Ixii Addenda. 
 
 " Here is a compound of Cantharides, diositerion, 
 marrow of an ox, hairs of a lion, stones of a goat, 
 cock-sparrows' draitis, and such like." {Sig. F. 3, 
 verso. ) 
 
 Page 311, lines 88, 89. " Life is a frost . . . vanity." 
 — I have discovered that these lines are from an 
 epigram in Thomas Bastard's Chrestoleros, 1598, 
 sig. H, I quote the epigram in full, as it is of 
 striking solemnity: — 
 
 " When I behold with deep astonishment 
 To famous Westminster how there resort, 
 Living in brass or stony monument, 
 The princes and the worthies of all sort. 
 Do not I see reform' d nobility 
 Without contempt or pride or ostentation ? 
 And look upon offenceless majesty 
 Naked of pomp or earthly domination ? 
 And how a play-game of a painted stone 
 Contents the quiet now and silent sprites 
 Whom all the world, which late they stood upon, 
 Could not content nor squench [^sic] their appetites ? 
 Life is a frost of cold felicity 
 And death the thaw of all our vanity," 
 
 Vol. ii. page 355, line 274. Mr. P. A. Daniel suggests 
 that for "others' fate" we should read "adverse 
 fate." 
 
 Vol. iii. page 51, lines 41-2. ^^ But a little higher, but a 
 little higher," &c. — These lines are from a song of 
 Campion, beginning — 
 
 " Mistress, since you so much desire 
 To know the place of Cupid's fire," &c. 
 
 No. xvi. in Campion and Rosseter's Book of Airs, 
 1 60 1. They occur again in Campion's Fourth 
 Book of Airs, No. xxii.
 
 Addenda. Ixiii 
 
 Page 243, line 247. " Like Mycerinus," &c. — I notice 
 that a similar emendation is made, in a seven- 
 teenth century hand, in the margin of one of 
 Dycc's copies at South Kensington. My emen- 
 dation was printed before I discovered that it 
 had been anticipated.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Page 64, line 48, for Tyrrian read Tyrian. 
 
 Page 120, note 2, for Grumean read Grurriean. 
 
 Page 159, note l, for "The star-led wisards hasten" read "The 
 star-led wisards haste." 
 
 Page 191, after " Antonii Vindictce" the word "Finis" should 
 be added {i.e., " End of Antonio's Revenge"). 
 
 VOL. n. 
 
 Page 125, note 2, after " The Famous History of Fryer" add 
 "Bacon." 
 
 Page 322, line 15, for " Sir Signior " read " Sir, Signior" (comma 
 after "Sir"). 
 
 Page 363, for "Still went on went I " read " Still on went I " (an 
 annoying blunder). 
 
 Page 394, lines 158-9, in "delicious, sweet" the comma should 
 be struck out, as " sweet " is doubtless to be taken as a 
 substantive. 
 
 VOL. in. 
 
 Page 3, five lines from the bottom, read " insists on starting." 
 
 Page 342, note 2, in " Hue usque ^Xylinum" del. "of."
 
 FIRST PART 
 
 ANTONIO AND MELLIDA. 
 
 n'OL. I.
 
 The History of Anlonio and Mellida. The first part. As it hath 
 beene sundry times acted, by the children of Paules. Written by 
 I. M. London Printed for Mathewe Loivnes, and Thomas 
 Fisher, and are to be soiilde in Saint Dunstans Church-yarde. 
 1602, 4to. 
 
 STORY OF THE PLAY. 
 
 Andrugio, Duke of Genoa, being utterly defeated in a sea-fight by 
 Piero Sforza, Duke of Venice, and banished by the Genoways, conceals 
 himself, with Lucio (an old courtier) and a page, among the marshes 
 round Venice. Piero proclaims throughout Italy that whoever brings 
 the head of Andrugio or of Andrugio's son, Antonio (who is in love 
 with Piero's daughter, Mellida), shall receive a reward of twenty 
 thousand pistolcts. Antonio disguises himself as an Amazon, and, 
 obtaining an interview with Mellida, announces that her lover ha.s been 
 drowned at sea. The pretended Amazon is received as a guest in 
 Piero's palace, and there quickly discovers himself to Mellida. Arrange- 
 ments are made by the lovers to escape to England ; but Piero gaining 
 intelligence (through a letter that Mellida has dropped) of the intended 
 flight, the plot is frustrated and Mellida escapes to the marshes in the 
 disguise of a page. While Piero is giving orders for Antonio's arrest, 
 a sailor rushes forward, pretending to be in hot pursuit of Antonio 
 towards the marshes. The pursuer is Antonio himself, who had 
 assumed the disguise of a sailor at the instance of Feliche, a high- 
 minded gentleman of the Venetian court. Piero gives the pretended 
 sailor his signet-ring that he may pass the watch and not be hindered in 
 the pursuit. Arrived at the marshes, Antonio, distracted with grief for 
 the fall of his father and for the loss of Mellida, flings himself prostrate 
 on the ground. Presently Andrugio approaches with Lucio and the 
 page, and a joyful meeting ensues between father and son. Andrugio 
 and Lucio retire to a cave which they had fitted up as a dwelling, and 
 Antonio, promising to quickly rejoin them, stays to hear a song from 
 Andrugio's page. Meanwhile Mellida, disguised as a page, approaches
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 unobserved, and hearing her name passionately pronounced, recognises 
 the sailor as Antonio. She discovers herself to her lover, and after a 
 brief colloquy despatches him across the marsh to observe whether any 
 pursuers are in sight. Hardly has Antonio departed when Piero and 
 his followers come up, and Mellida is drawn from a thicket where she 
 had concealed herself. Piero hastens back to the court with his 
 daughter, whom he resolves to marry out of hand to Galeatzo, son of 
 the Duke of Florence. Antonio, returning in company with Andrugio 
 and Lucio to the spot where he had left Mellida, learns from Andrugio's 
 page that she has been carried away. Andrugio now separates himself 
 from Antonio and Lucio ; proceeds, clad in a complete suit of armour, 
 to the court of Piero, and announces that he has come to claim the 
 reward offered for Andrugio's head. Piero declares his willingness to 
 pay the reward ; and then Andrugio, raising his beaver, discovers him- 
 self to Piero and the assembled courtiers. Piero affects to be struck 
 with admiration for his adversary's magnanimity, and professes friendship 
 for the future. A funeral procession now enters, followed by Lucio, 
 who announces that he has brought the body of Antonio. Andrugio 
 mourns for the death of his son and Piero affects to share his grief, 
 protesting that he would give his own life or his daughter's hand to 
 purchase breath for the dead man. Thereupon Antonio, who had 
 died only in conceit, rises from the bier and claims the hand of Mellida. 
 Piero assents, and the First Part of Antonio and Mellida closes joy- 
 fully.
 
 To the only rewardcr and 7nost just poiser of virtuous merits, the most 
 honourably fenoivned NohOUY,i l/ounteous A/cceznas of poetry and 
 Lord Protector of oppressed iniiocence, do dedicoque. 
 
 Since it hath flowed with the current of my humorous blood to affect (a 
 httle too much) to be seriously fantastical, here take (most respected 
 Patron) the worthless present of my slighter idleness. If you vouchsafe 
 not his protection, then, O thou sweetest perfection (Female Beauty), 
 shield me from the stopping of vinegar bottles. Which most wished 
 favour if it fail me, then Si nequeo Jlecterc superos, Achcronta movel'o. 
 But yet, honour's redeemer, virtue's advancer, religion's shelter, and 
 piety's fosterer, yet, yet, I faint not in despair of thy gracious affection 
 and protection ; to which I only shall ever rest most servingman-like, 
 obsequiously making legs and standing (after our free-born English 
 garb) bareheaded. Thy only affied slave and admirer, 
 
 J. M. 
 
 ^ So Day dedicates his Humour out of Breath to " Signior Nobody."
 
 DRAMATIS PERSOK^E} 
 
 PlERO Sforza, Duke of Venice. 
 
 Andrugio, Duke of Genoa. 
 
 Antonio, son to Andrugio, in love with Mellida. 
 
 Feliche, a hi^k-minded courtier. 
 
 Alberto, a Venetian gentleman^ in love with Rossaline. 
 
 Balurdo, a rich gull. 
 
 Matzagente, a vio.iern braggadoch, son to the Duke of Milan. 
 
 Oaleatzo, son to the Duke oj Florence, a suitor to Mellida. 
 
 FOROBOSCO, a Parasite. 
 
 Castilio Balthazar, a spruce courtier. 
 
 LUCIO,'^ an old nobleman, friend to ANDRUGIO. 
 
 Catzo, page to Castilio. 
 
 DiLDO, /of^ to Balurdo. 
 
 Painter, Andrugio's/(7^<--, 5fc. 
 
 Mellida, daughter to Piero, in love with Antonio. 
 Rossaline, niece to Piero. 
 Flavia, a waiting-woman. 
 
 Scene — Venice and the Neighbourhood. 
 
 1 There is no list of characters in old eds. 
 
 2 "DlWe (Old English Plays, 1814, vol. ii.) wrongly describes Lucio 
 as Andrugio's page.
 
 INDUCTION.^ 
 
 Enter Galeatzo, Piero, Alberto, Antonio, Foro- 
 Bosco, Balurdo, Matzagente, ajid Feliche, with 
 parts in their hands ; having cloaks cast over their 
 apparel. 
 
 Gal. Come, sirs, come ! the music will sound straight 
 for entrance. Are ye ready, are ye perfect? 
 
 Fier. Faith ! we can say our parts ; but we are ignorant 
 in what mould we must cast our actors. 
 
 Alb. Whom do you personate ? 
 
 Pier. Piero, Duke of Venice. 
 
 Alb. O ! ho ! then thus frame your exterior shape 
 To haughty form of elate majesty, 
 As if you held the palsy-shaking head 
 Of reeling chance under your fortune's belt lo 
 
 In strictest vassalage : grow big in thought, 
 As swoln with glory of successful arms. 
 
 1 We have an Induction before What you Will and The Malcontent. 
 Ben Jonson was particularly fond of introducing preliminary dialogues, 
 which are usually so tedious that we are fain to exclaim with Cordatus 
 (in the Induction to Every Man out of his Humour), " I would they 
 would begin once ; this protraction is able to sour the best settled 
 patience in the theatre."
 
 8 The First Part of [induction. 
 
 Pier. If that be all, fear not ; I'll suit it right. 
 Who cannot be proud, stroke up the hair, and strut? 
 
 Alb. Truth ; such rank custom is grown popular ; 
 And now the vulgar fashion strides as wide, 
 And stalks as proud upon the weakest stilts 
 Of the slight'st fortunes, as if Hercules 
 Or burly Atlas shoulderd up their state. 
 
 Pier. Good : but whom act you ? 20 
 
 Alb. The necessity ^ of the play forceth me to act two 
 parts : Andrugio, the distressed Duke of Genoa, and 
 Alberto, a Venetian gentleman, enamoured on the Lady 
 Rossaline ; whose fortunes being too weak to sustain 
 the port of her, he proved always disastrous in love ; his 
 worth being much underpoised by the uneven scale, that 
 currents all things by the outward stamp of opinion. 
 
 Gal. Well, and what dost thou play ? 
 
 Bal. The part of all the world. 
 
 Alb. The part of all the world ? What's that ? 30 
 
 Bal. The fool. Ay, in good deed law now, I play 
 Balurdo, a wealthy mountbanking burgomasco's heir of 
 Venice. 
 
 Alb. Ha ! ha ! one whose foppish nature might seem 
 great, only for wise men's recreation ; and, like a juice- 
 less bark, to preserve the sap of more strenuous spirits. 
 A servile hound, that loves the scent of forerunning 
 
 ^ I.e., the poverty of the theatrical company. It was common for an 
 actor to represent two characters ^or more) in the same play. For 
 example, William Shurlock personated Maharbal and Prusiasin Nabbes' 
 Hannibal andScipio, 1635 ; and in the same play, Hugh Gierke, besides 
 taking the part of Syphax, personated the Nuntius.
 
 INDUCTION.] Antonio and Mellida. 9 
 
 fashion, like an empty hollow vault, still giving an echo 
 to wit : greedily champing what any other well valued 
 judgment had beforehand chew'd.^ 40 
 
 Foro. Ha ! ha ! ha ! tolerably good, good faith, sweet 
 wag. 
 
 Alb. Umph ; why tolerably good, good faith, sweet 
 wag ? Go, go ; you flatter me. 
 
 Foro. Right; I but dispose my speech to the habit 
 of my part. 
 
 Alb. Why, what plays he ? [7(? Feliche. 
 
 Fell. The wolf that eats into the breasts of princes ; 
 that breeds the lethargy and falling sickness in honour; 
 makes justice look asquint ; and blinds ^ the eye of 
 merited reward from viewing desertful virtue. 51 
 
 Alb. What's all this periphrasis, ha? 
 
 Fell. The substance of a supple-chapt flatterer. 
 
 Alb. ! doth he play Forobosco the Parasite ? Good, 
 i'faith. Sirrah, you must seem now as glib and straight 
 in outward semblance as a lady's busk,^ though inwardly 
 as cross as a pair of tailors' legs ; having a tongue as 
 nimble as his needle, with servile patches of glaver- 
 ing flattery to stitch up the bracks ^ of unworthily 
 honour'd — 60 
 
 Foro. I warrant you, I warrant you, you shall see me 
 prove the very periwig to cover the bald pate of brain- 
 
 1 Old eds. "shew'd." 
 
 2 So ed. 1633. — The 4to gives "blinks." 
 
 3 A piece of whalebone, steel, or wood worn down the front of v^t 
 stays to keep them straight. 
 
 * Rents, cracks.
 
 lo The First Part of [induction. 
 
 less gentility. IIo ! I will so tickle the sense of bella 
 gratiosa madonna with the titillation of hyperbolical praise, 
 that I'll strike it in the nick, in the very nick, chuck. 
 
 Fell. Thou promisest more than I hope any spectator 
 gives faith of performance j but why look you so dusky, 
 ha? \To Antonio. 
 
 Ant. I was never worse fitted since the nativity of my 
 actorship ; I shall be hiss'd at, on my life now. 70 
 
 Fdi. Why, what must you play ? 
 
 Ant. Faith, I know not what ; an hermaphrodite, two 
 parts in one ; my true person being Antonio, son to the 
 Duke of Genoa ; though for the love of Mellida, Piero's 
 daughter, I take this feigned presence of an Amazon, 
 calling myself Florizell, and I know not what. I a voice 
 to play a lady ! I shall ne'er do it 
 
 Alb. O ! an Amazon should have such a voice, 
 virago-like. Not play two parts in one? away, away, 
 'tis common fashion. Nay, if you cannot bear two 
 subtle fronts under one hood, idiot, go by, go by, off 
 this world's stage ! O time's impurity ! 82 
 
 Ant. Ay, but when use hath taught me action 
 To hit the right point of a lady's part, 
 I shall grow ignorant, when I must turn 
 Young prince again, how but to truss ^ my iiose. 
 
 Fell. Tush, never put them off; for women wear the 
 breeches still. 
 
 Mat. By the bright honour of a Milanoise, 
 And the resplendent fulgor of this steel, 90 
 
 1 "Truss my hose "=tie the tagged laces of my breeches.
 
 INDUCTION.] Antojito and Mcllida. ii 
 
 I will defend the feminine to death, 
 And ding ^ his spirit to the verge of hell, 
 That dares divulge a lady's prejudice! 
 
 \Exeimt Matzagente, Forobosco, and Balurdo.^ 
 
 Fell. Rampum scrampum, mount tufty Tamburlaine ! 
 What rattling thunderclap breaks from his lips ? 
 
 Alb. O ! 'tis native to his part. For acting a modern ^ 
 braggadoch under the person of Matzagente, the Duke 
 of Milan's son, it may seem to suit with good fashion 
 of coherence. 99 
 
 Pier. But methinks he speaks with a spruce Attic 
 accent of adulterate Spanish. 
 
 Alb. So 'tis resolv'd. For Milan being half Spanish, 
 half high Dutch, and half Italians, the blood of chiefest 
 houses is corrupt and mongrel'd ; so that you shall see 
 a fellow vain-glorious for a Spaniard, gluttonous for a 
 Dutchman, proud for an Italian, and a fantastic idiot 
 for all. Such a one conceit this Matzagente. 
 
 Fell. But I have a part allotted me, which I have 
 neither able apprehension to conceit, nor what I conceit 
 gracious ability to utter. no 
 
 Gal. Whoop, in the old cut ! * (xood, show us a 
 draught of thy spirit. 
 
 1 Hurl violently. 
 
 2 Old eds. " Exeunt AiiT. and Alb." 
 
 ' Common, worthless. — The use of "modem" in this sense is fre- 
 quently found, and was sanctioned by Shakespeare ; but it did not 
 escape Ben Jonson's censure in T/te Poetaster, v. i. : — 
 "Alas ! that were no tnodern consequence 
 To have cothurnal buskins frightened hence." 
 * "■ The old cut "=the old fashion. So Nashe in the epistle dedica-
 
 1 2 The First Part of [induction. 
 
 Fell. 'Tis steady and must seem so impregnably for- 
 tressed with his own content that no envious thought 
 could ever invade his spirit ; never surveying any man 
 so unmeasuredly happy, whom I thought not justly 
 hateful for some true impoverishment ; never beholding 
 any favour of Madam Felicity gracing another, which 
 his well-bounded content persuaded not to hang in 
 the front of his own fortune ; and therefore as far 
 from envying any man, as he valued all men infinitely 
 distant from accomplished beatitude. These native 
 adjuncts appropriate to me the name of Feliche. But 
 last, good, thy humour. 124 
 
 [^aY//;// PiERO, Alberto, ^-w^ Galeatzo.^ 
 
 Ant. 'Tis to be described by signs and tokens. For 
 unless I were possessed with a legion of spirits, 'tis 
 impossible to be made perspicuous by any utterance : 
 for sometimes he must take austere state, as for the 
 person of Galeatzo, the son of the Duke of Florence, 
 and possess his exterior presence with a formal majesty : 
 keep popularity in distance, and on the sudden fling 
 his honour so prodigally into a common arm, that he 
 may seem to give up his indiscretion to the mercy of 
 vulgar censure. Now as solemn as a traveller,^ and as 
 
 tory prefixed to Strange News of the Intercepting Certain Letters, 1593 : 
 — "You are amongst grave Doctors and men of judgment in both 
 laws every day. I pray ask tliem the question in my absence whether 
 such a man as I have described this epistler to be . . . that hath made 
 many proper rhymes of the old cut in his days," &c. 
 
 1 Oldeds. ••£xitAL.B." 
 
 2 "Jaques in As You Like It, describing his own melancholy, says 
 it is e.xtracted from many objects, and that the contemplation of his
 
 INDUCTION.] Antonio and Mellida. 13 
 
 grave as a Puritan's ruff;^ with the same breath as 
 slight and scattered in his fashion as a — a — anything ; 
 now as sweet and neat as a barber's casting-bottle ; ^ 
 straight as slovenly as the yeasty breast of an ale- 
 knight : now lamenting, then chafing, straight laugh- 
 ing, then . 140 
 
 Fell. What then ? 
 
 Ant. Faith, I know not what ; 't had been a right 
 part for Proteus or Gew. Ho ! blind Gew ^ would ha' 
 done 't rarely, rarely. 
 
 Fell. I fear it is not possible to limn so many per- 
 sons in so small a tablet as the compass of our plays 
 afford. 
 
 Ant. Right ! therefore I have heard that those per- 
 sons, as he and you, Feliche, that are but slightly drawn 
 in this comedy, should receive more exact accomplish- 
 ment in a second part ; which, if this obtain gracious 
 acceptance, means to try his fortune. 151 
 
 Fell. Peace, here comes the Prologue : clear the stage. 
 
 \_Exetint. 
 
 travels often wraps him in a most humorous sadness : on which Rosa- 
 hnd observes — ' A traveller ! by my faith you have great reason to be 
 sad ! ' "—Dilke. 
 
 1 The Puritans' short starched ruffs were constantly ridiculed. See 
 Middleton's Works, viii. 69. 
 
 2 A bottle for sprinkling perfumes. 
 
 ' Probably an actor who had gone blind ; but I can find no informa- 
 tion about him.
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 The wreath of pleasure and delicious sweets, 
 
 Begirt the gentle front of this fair troop 1 
 
 Select and most respected auditors, 
 
 For wit's sake do not dream of miracles. 
 
 Alas! we shall but falter, if you lay 
 
 The least sad weight of an unused hope 
 
 Upon our weakness ; only we give up 
 
 The worthless present of slight idleness 
 
 To your authentic censure. O ! that our Muse 
 
 Had those abstruse and sinewy faculties, lo 
 
 That, with a strain of fresh invention, 
 
 She might press out the rarity of Art ; 
 
 The pur'st elix^d juice of rich conceit 
 
 In your attentive ears ; that with the lip 
 
 Of gracious elocution we might drink 
 
 A sound carouse into your health of wit. 
 
 But O ! the^heavy ^ dryness of her brain. 
 
 Foil to your fertile spirits, is asham'd 
 
 To breathe her blushing numbers to such ears. 
 
 Yet (most ingenious) deign to veil our wants ; 20 
 
 With sleek acceptance polish these rude scenes ; 
 
 And if our slightness your large hope beguiles, 
 
 Check not with bended brow, but dimpled smiles. 
 
 [Exil Prologue, 
 
 1 t^o ed. 1633. — Ed. 1602 " heaihy.'
 
 THE FIRST PART 
 
 OF 
 
 ANTONIO AND MELLIDA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Neighbourhood of Venice. 
 
 The cornets sound a battle within. 
 
 Enter Antonio, disguised like an Amazon. 
 
 Ant. Heart, wilt not break ? and thou abhorred life, 
 Wilt thou still breathe in my enraged blood ? 
 Veins, sinews, arteries, why crack ye not. 
 Burst and divulst with anguish of my grief? 
 Can man by no means creep out of himself, 
 And leave the slough of viperous grief behind ? 
 Antonio, hast thou seen a fight at sea, 
 As horrid as the hideous day of doom, 
 Betwixt thy father, Duke of Genoa, 
 And proud Piero, the Venetian Prince : j, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 1 8 The First Part of [act i. 
 
 In which the sea hath swoln with Genoa's blood, 
 
 And made spring-tides with the warm reeking gore, 
 
 That gush'd from out our galleys' scupper-holes ? 
 
 In which thy father, poor Andrugio, 
 
 Lies sunk, or leap'd into the arms of chance, 
 
 Choked with the labouring ocean's brackish foam ; 
 
 Who, even despite Piero's canker'd hate, 
 
 Would with an armbd hand have seized thy love, 
 
 And link'd thee to the beauteous Mellida. 
 
 Have I outlived the death of all these hopes? 20 
 
 Have I felt anguish pour'd into my heart, 
 
 Burning like balsamum in tender wounds ! 
 
 And yet dost live ! Could not the fretting sea 
 
 Have roU'd me up in wrinkles of his brow ? 
 
 Is death grown coy, or grim confusion nice. 
 
 That it will not accompany a wretch, 
 
 But I must needs be cast on Venice' shore. 
 
 And try new fortunes with this strange disguise 
 
 To purchase my adored Mellida? 
 
 S^The cornets sound a flourish ; ceasf. 
 Hark how Piero's triumphs beat the air ! 30 
 
 O, rugged mischief, how thou grat'st my heart ! — 
 Take spirit, blood ; disguise, be confident ; 
 Make a firm stand ; here rests the hope of all : 
 Lower than hell, there is no depth to fall. 
 
 The cornets sound a senet. Enter Feliche and Al- 
 berto, Castilio and Forobosco, a Page carrying 
 a shield ; Piero in armour ; Catzo and Dildo and 
 Balurdo. All these {savifig Piero) armed with
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 19 
 
 petronehy Being entered^ they make a stand in 
 divided files. 
 
 Pier. Victorious Fortune, with triumphant hand, 
 Hurleth my glory 'bout this ball of earth. 
 Whilst the Venetian Duke is heaved up 
 On wings of fair success, to overlook 
 The low-cast ruins of his enemies, 
 
 To see myself adored and Genoa quake ; 40 
 
 My fate is firmer than mischance can shake. 
 
 Feli. Stand; the ground trembleth. 
 
 Pier. Ha ! an earthquake ? 
 
 Bal. O ! I smell a sound. 
 
 Feli. Piero, stay, for I descry a fume 
 Creeping from out the bosom of the deep, 
 The breath of darkness, fatal when 'tis wist 
 In greatness' stomach. This same smoke, call'd pride, 
 Take heed : she'll lift thee to improvidence. 
 And break thy neck from steep security ; 50 
 
 She'll make thee grudge to let Jehovah share 
 In thy successful battles. O ! she's ominous ; 
 Enticeth princes to devour heaven, 
 Swallow omnipotence, out-stare dread fate. 
 Subdue eternity in giant thought \ 
 Heaves ^ up their heart ^ with swelling, puffd conceit, 
 Till their souls burst with venom'd arrogance. 
 Beware, Piero ; Rome itself hath tried, 
 Confusion's train blows up this Babel pride. 
 
 1 Carbines. ' Ed. 1633 " Heavens." ^ Old eds. "hurt."
 
 20 The First Part of [act i. 
 
 Pier. Pish! Ditnitto superos^sufnmavotorum attigi} 60 
 Alberto, hast thou yielded up our fix'd decree 
 Unto the Genoan ambassador ? 
 Are they content, if that their Duke return, 
 To send his and his son Antonio's head, 
 As pledges steep'd in blood, to gain their peace ? 
 
 Alb. With most obsequious sleek-brow'd entertain, 
 They all embrace it as most gracious. 
 
 Pier. Are proclamations sent through Italy, 
 That whosoever brings Andrugio's head, 
 Or young Antonio's, shall be guerdonM 70 
 
 With twenty thousand double pistolets, 
 And be endeared to Piero's love ? 
 
 Foro. They are sent every way : sound policy, 
 Sweet lord. 
 
 Feli. [Aside.] Confusion to these limber sycophants ! 
 No sooner mischiefs born in regency, 
 But flattery christens it with policy. 2 
 
 Pier. Why, then, — O me ccelitujn excelsissimum ! 
 The intestine malice and inveterate hate 
 I always bore to that Andrugio, 80 
 
 Glories in triumph o'er his misery ; 
 Nor shall that carpet-boy ^ Antonio 
 Match with my daughter, sweet-cheek'd Mellida. 
 No ; the public power makes my faction strong. 
 
 Feli. Ill, when public power strength'neth private wrong. 
 
 1 Senec. Thyestes, 888. 
 
 - "Christens it with policy"' = dignifies it with the title of policy. 
 3 A term of contempt, like " carpet-knight," for an effemiDate gallant 
 " who never charged beyond a mistress' hps."
 
 SCENE I. Antonio and Mellida. 21 
 
 Pier. 'Tis horse-like not for man to know liis force. 
 
 Fell. 'Tis god-like for a man to feel remorse.^ 
 
 Pier. Pish ! I prosecute my family's revenge, 
 Which I'll pursue with such a burning chase, 
 Till I have dried up all Andrugio's blood ; 90 
 
 Weak rage, that with slight pity is withstood. — 
 
 [77/<f cornets soufid a flourish. 
 What means that fresh triumphal flourish sound ? 
 
 Alb. The prince of Milan, and young Florence' heir, 
 Approach to gratulate your victory. 
 
 Pier. We'll girt them with an ample waste of love. 
 Conduct them to our presence royally ; 
 Let vollies of the great artillery 
 From off our galleys' banks - play prodigal. 
 And sound loud welcome from their bellowing mouths. 
 
 \Exeu7it all but Piero. 
 
 The cornets sound a senet. Enter above, Mellida, 
 RosSALiNE, and Flavia. Efiter below, Galeatzo 
 with AtteJidants ; Piero meeteth him, e7nbraceth ; 
 at which the cortiets sound a flourish ; Piero and 
 Galeatzo exeunt ; the rest stand still. 
 
 Mel. What prince was that passed through my father's 
 guard ? ICX3 
 
 Fla. 'Twas Galeatzo, the young Florentine. 
 
 Ros. Troth, one that will besiege thy maidenhead ; 
 Enter the walls, i'faith (sweet Mellida), 
 If that thy flankers be not cannon-proof. 
 
 Pity. " The rowers' benches.
 
 22 The First Pari of [act t. 
 
 Mel. O, Mary Ambree,^ good, thy judgment, wench? 
 Thy bright election's clear : - what will he prove ? 
 
 Ros. Hath a short finger and a naked chin, 
 A skipping eye ; dare lay my judgment (faith) 
 His love is glibbery;^ there's no hold on't, wench. 
 Give me a husband whose aspect is firm ; no 
 
 A fuU-cheek'd gallant with a bouncing thigh : 
 O, he is the Paradizo dell madonne contento. 
 
 Mel. Even such a one was my Antonio. 
 
 [ The cornets sound a scnet. 
 
 Ros. By my nine and thirtieth servant, sweet, 
 Thou art in love ; but stand on tiptoe,* fair ; 
 Here comes Saint Tristram Tirlery Whiffe, i'faith. 
 
 Enter Matzagente ; Piero meets him, embraceth ; at 
 7vhich the cornets sound a flourish : they two stand, 
 using seeming compliments, whilst the scene passeth 
 above. 
 
 Mel. St. Mark, St. Mark ! what kind of thing 
 appears ? 
 
 J The famous Amazon, whose " valorous acts performed at Gaunt " 
 (Ghent), circ. 1584, are celebrated in a fine old ballad. The name 
 was commonly applied to any woman of spirit. 
 
 * "Thy bright election's clear" = you are a woman of keen per- 
 ception. 
 
 * A favourite word with Marston. It is ridiculed by Ben Jonson in 
 The Poetaster, v. 1 : — 
 
 " What, shall thy lubrical ^nd glittery muse 
 Live, as she were defunct, like punk in stews ? " 
 
 * Old eds. "tiptoed."
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and I\Iellida. 23 
 
 Ros. For fancy's passion, spit upon him ! Fie, 
 His face is varnish'd. In the name of love, 
 What country bred that creature ? 
 
 Mel. What is he, Flavia ? 120 
 
 Fla. The heir of Milan, Signior Matzagente. 
 
 Ros. Matzagente ! now, by my pleasure's hope, ♦ 
 He is made like a tilting-staff ; and looks 
 Yqx all the world like an o'er-roasted pig : 
 A great tobacco-taker too, that's flat ; 
 For his eyes look as if they had been hung 
 In the smoke of his nose. 
 
 Mel. What husband will he prove, sweet Rossaline ? 
 
 Ros. Avoid him ; for he hath a dwindled leg, 
 A low forehead, and a thin coal-black beard ; 130 
 
 And will be jealous too, believe it, sweet; 
 For his chin sweats, and hath a gander neck^ 
 A thin lip, and a little monkish eye. 
 'Precious ! what a slender waist he hath ! 
 He looks like a may-pole,^ or a notched stick ; 
 He'll snap in two at every little strain, 
 (iive me a husband that will fill mine arms. 
 Of steady judgment, quick and nimble sense; 
 Fools relish not a lady's excellence. 
 
 \Exeufit all on the lower stage ; at which the cornets 
 soufid a flourish, and a peal of shot is given. 
 
 Mel. The triumph's ended ; but look, Rossaline ! 140 
 
 1 It was a common form of abuse to compare a person to a may- 
 pole. Hermia, railing at Helena, addresses her as " thou painted may- 
 pole" (Midsummer N/^/ifs Dream, iii. 2).
 
 24 TJic First Part of [act i. 
 
 \\'hat gloomy soul in strange accustrements ^ 
 Walks on the pavement ? 
 
 Ros. Good sweet, let's to her ; prithee, Mellida. 
 
 Mel. How covetous thou art of novelties ! 
 
 Ros. Pish ! 'tis our nature to desire things 
 That are thought strangers to the common cut 
 
 Mel. I am exceeding willing, but 
 
 Ros. But what ? prithee, go down ; let's see her face : 
 God send that neither wit nor beauty wants. 
 Those tempting sweets, affection's adamants. \^Exeunt. 150 
 
 Ant. Come down : she comes like — O, no simile 
 Is precious, choice, or elegant enough 
 To illustrate her descent ! Leap heart, she comes ! 
 She comes ! smile heaven, and softest southern wind 
 Kiss her cheek gently with perfumed breath. 
 She comes ! creation's purity, admir'd, 
 Ador'd amazing rarity, she comes ! 
 O, now, Antonio, press thy spirit forth 
 In following passion, knit thy senses close, 
 Heap up thy powers, double all thy man. 160 
 
 Efiter Mellida, Rossaline, and Flavia. 
 
 She comes ! 
 
 O, how her eyes dart wonder on my heart ! 
 Mount blood ! soul to my lips ! taste Hebe's cup : 
 Stand firm on deck, when beauty's close fight's ^ up. 
 
 1 Accoutrements. — Elsewhere Marston has the original French form 
 "accoustrements," which is also found in Spenser. 
 
 * "■ Close fight is an old sea-term. 'A ship's close fights are small 
 ledges of wood laid cross one another, like the grates of iron in a prison
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mclli da. 25 
 
 Mel. Lady, your strange habit doth beget 
 Our pregnant thoughts, even great of much desire. 
 To be acquaint with your condition. 
 
 Ros. Good, sweet lady, without more ceremonies, 
 What country claims your birth ? and, sweet, your name ? 
 
 Ant. In hope your bounty will extend itself 170 
 
 In self-same nature of fair courtesy, 
 I'll shun all niceness ; my name's Florizell, 
 My country Scythia ; I am Amazon, 
 Cast on this shore by fury of the sea. 
 
 Ros. Nay, faith, sweet creature, we'll not veil our 
 names. 
 It pleas'd the font to dip me Rossaline ; 
 That lady bears the name of Mellida, 
 The Duke of Venice' daughter. 
 
 Ant. Madam, I am oblig'd to kiss your hand. 
 By imposition of a now dead man. iSo 
 
 [7<7 Mellida, kissing her hand. 
 
 Ros. Now, by my troth, I long, beyond all thought, 
 To know the man ; sweet beauty, deign his name. 
 
 Ant. Lady, the circumstance is tedious. 
 
 Ros. Troth, not a whit; good fair, let's have it all; 
 I love not, I, to have a jot left out, 
 If the tale come from a loved orator. 
 
 Ant Vouchsafe me, then, your hush'd observances. — 
 Vehement in pursuit of strange novelties, 
 After long travel through the Asian main, 
 
 window, betwixt the main-mast and fore-mast, and are called gratings 
 or nettings.' Smith's Sea Grammar, 1627." — Halliwell.
 
 26 The First Part of [act i. 
 
 I shipp'd my hopeful thoughts for Brittany ; ^ 190 
 
 Longing to view great Nature's miracle, 
 
 The glory of our sex, whose fame doth strike 
 
 Remotest ears with adoration. 
 
 Sailing some two months with inconstant winds, 
 
 We view'd the glistering Venetian forts, 
 
 To which we made : when lo ! some three leagues off. 
 
 We might descry a horrid spectacle ; 
 
 The issue of black fury strew'd the sea 
 
 With tatter'd carcasses of splitted ships, 
 
 Half sinking, burning, floating topsy-turvy. 200 
 
 Not far from these sad ruins of fell rage, 
 
 We might behold a creature press the waves ; 
 
 Senseless he sprawl'd, all notch'd with gaping wounds. 
 
 'Jo him we made, and (short) we took him up ; 
 
 The first thing he spake was, — MeUida ! 
 
 And then he swooned. - 
 
 Mel. Ay me ! 
 
 Ant. Why sigh you, fair ? 
 
 Mel.^ Nothing but little humours ; good sweet, on. 
 
 Ant. His wounds being dress'd, and life recovered, 
 We 'gan discourse ; when lo ! the sea grew mad, 
 His bowels rumbling with wind-passion ; 210 
 
 Straight swarthy darkness popp'd out Phoebus' eye, 
 And blurr'd the jocund face of bright-cheek'd day; 
 Whilst crudled ^ fogs masked even darkness' brow : 
 
 1 The form " Brittany," for " Britain," is not uncommon. Marlowe 
 uses it in Edward II., ii. 2. 1. 42 ; and I have restored it, meiri causa, 
 in the prologue to the Jew of Malta, 1. 29. 
 
 ' Ed. 1633 "swounded." ^ Old eds. " Ros." * Thick, curdled.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and ]\ I clli da. 27 
 
 Heaven bad 's good night, and the rocks groan'd 
 
 At the intestine uproar of the main. 
 
 Now gusty flaws strook up the very heels 
 
 Of our mainmast, whilst the keen lightning shot 
 
 Through the black bowels of the quaking air ; 
 
 Straight chops a wave, and in his sliftred ^ paunch 
 
 Down falls our ship, and there he breaks his neck ; 220 
 
 Which in an instant up was belkt again. 
 
 When thus this martyr'd soul began to sigh : 
 
 " Give me your hand (quoth he) : now do you grasp 
 
 Th' unequall'd ^ mirror of ragg'd misery : 
 
 Is't not a horrid storm? O, well-shaped sweet. 
 
 Could your quick eye strike through these gashed wounds, 
 
 You should behold a heart, a heart, fair creature, 
 
 Raging more wild than is this frantic sea. 
 
 Wolt 2 do me a favour ? if thou chance survive, 
 
 But visit Venice, kiss the precious white 230 
 
 Of my most, — nay, all epithets are base 
 
 To attribute to gracious Mellida : 
 
 Tell her the spirit of Antonio 
 
 Wisheth his last gasp breath'd upon her breast." 
 
 Ros. Why weeps soft-hearted Florizell ? 
 
 Ant. Alas, the flinty rocks groan'd at his plaints. 
 '* Tell her, (quoth he) that her obdurate sire 
 Hath crack'd his bosom ; " therewithal he wept, 
 
 1 Cleft, rifted. 
 
 * Old eds. "unequal," which Dilke explains to mean "the partial 
 and unjust representative" — an explanation which I wholly fail to 
 understand. Later in the present play (p. 42, 1. 309) we have " im- 
 maUh'd mirrors of calamity." * Wilt.
 
 28 Antonio and Mellida. [act i. 
 
 And thus sigh'd on : " The sea is merciful ; 
 
 Look how it gapes to bury all my grief ! 240 
 
 Well, thou shalt have it, thou shalt be his tomb : 
 
 My faith in my love live ; in thee, die woe ; 
 
 Die, unmatch'd anguish, die, Antonio ! " 
 
 With that he totter'd from the reeling deck. 
 
 And down he sunk. 
 
 Ros. Pleasure's body ! what makes my Lady weep ? 
 
 Mel. Nothing, sweet Rossaline, but the air's sharp ^ — 
 My father's palace. Madam, will be proud 
 To entertain your presence, if you'll deign 
 To make repose within. Ay me ! 25c 
 
 Ant. Lady, our fashion is not curious. ^ 
 
 Ros. 'Faith, all the nobler, 'tis more generous. 
 
 Mel. Shall I then know how fortune fell at last. 
 What succour came, or what strange fate ensued ? 
 
 Ant. Most willingly : but this same court is vast. 
 And public to the staring multitude. 
 
 Ros. Sweet Lady, nay good sweet, now by my troth 
 We'll be bedfellows : dirt on compliment froth ! " 
 
 \Exeu7it ; Rossaline giving Antonio the way. 
 
 1 Dilke quotes appositely from Richard II. : — 
 
 " Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed? 
 
 Aum. 'Faith none by me : except the north-east wind. 
 Which then blew bitterly against our faces, 
 Awaked the sleepy rheum ; and so, by chance, 
 Did grace our hollow parting with a tear." 
 
 ^ "Our fashion is not curious," i.e., Amazons do not stand on 
 ceremony. 
 
 3 Rossaline, seeing Antonio make way for her to pass, insists on giving 
 him precedence. " No empty compliments! take the lead."
 
 ( 29 ) 
 
 ACT II. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Palace of the Duke of Venice. 
 
 Enter Catzo, with a capon eating ; DiiAiO following 
 him. 
 
 Dil. Hah, Catzo, your master wants a clean trencher : 
 do you hear ? 
 Balurdo calls for your diminutive attendance. 
 
 Cat. The belly hath no ears,^ Dildo. 
 
 Dil. Good pug,^ give me some capon. 
 
 Cat. No capon, no not a bit, ye smooth bully ;- 
 capon's no meat for Dildo : milk, milk, ye glibbery urchin, 
 is food for infants. 
 
 Dil. Upon mine honour. 
 
 Cat. Your honour with a paugh ! 'slid, now every jack- 
 anapes loads his back with the golden coat of honour ; 
 every ass puts on the lion's skin and roars his honour. 
 Upon your honour ? By my lady's pantable,^ I fear I shall 
 live to hear a vintner's boy cry, " 'Tis rich neat canary." 
 Upon my honour ! 14 
 
 1 A proverbial expression : yaarrip wrds ovk ^x^'- 
 * A familiar form of address. 
 ^ Slipper.
 
 30 The First Part of [act n. 
 
 Dil. My stomach's up. 
 
 Cat. I think thou art hungry. 
 
 Dil. The match of fury is lighted, fastened to the 
 linstock^ of rage, and will presently set fire to the touch- 
 hole of intemperance, discharging the double culverin of 
 my incensement in the face of thy opprobrious speech. 
 
 Cat. I'll stop the barrel thus : good Dildo, set not fire 
 to the touch-hole. 22 
 
 Dil. My rage is stopp'd, and I will eat to the health 
 of the fool, thy master Castillo. 
 
 Cat. And I will suck the juice of the capon, to the 
 health of the idiot, thy master Balurdo. 
 
 Dil. Faith, our masters are like a case ^ of rapiers 
 sheathed in one scabbard of folly. 
 
 Cat. Right Dutch blades. But was't not rare sport at 
 the sea-battle, whilst rounce robble hobble roared from 
 the ship-sides, to view our masters pluck their plumes 
 and drop their feathers, for fear of being men of mark. 32 
 
 Dil. 'Slud (cried Signior Balurdo), O for Don 
 Rosicleer's^ armour, in the Mirror of Knighthood / what 
 coil's here? O for an armour, cannon-proof! O, more 
 cable, more featherbeds !* more featherbeds, more cable! 
 
 1 The stick which held the gunner's match. 
 
 2 " Case of rapiers " — pair of rapiers. 
 
 ' All the editions give " Bessicler's ; " but this is evidently a misprint. 
 Rosicleer was the brother of the Knight of the Sun, and he figures pro- 
 minently in the group of romances published under the Mirror of 
 Knight/wod (7 pis., 1583-1601). He had an excellent suit of armour, 
 which proved very serviceable in his combats with giants. 
 
 * Dilke, in 1814, says that featherbeds were still used to protect the 
 men from the fire of the enemy. As to the use of cables I refer the 
 reader to Sir William Monson's Naval Tracts (Collection of Voyages
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida, 3 r 
 
 till he had as much as my cable-hatband ^ to fence 
 him. 
 
 Enter Flavia in haste, jvith a rebaio."^ 
 
 Cat. Buxom Flavia, can you sing? song, song ! 
 
 Fla. My sweet Dildo, I am not for you at this time : 
 Madam Rossaline stays for a fresh ruff to appear in the 
 presence : sweet, away. 41 
 
 Dil. 'Twill not be so put off, delicate, delicious, spark- 
 eyed, sleek-skinn'd, slender-waisted, clean-legg'd, rarely- 
 shaped — 
 
 Fia. Who ? ril be at all your service another season : 
 my faith, there's reason in all things. 
 
 JJil. Would I were reason then, that I might be in all 
 things. 
 
 Cat. The breve and the semiquaver is, we must have 
 the descant you made upon our names, ere you depart. 
 
 F/a. Faith, the song will seem to come off hardly. 51 
 
 Cat. Troth not a wit, if you seem to come off quickly. 
 
 Fla. Pert Catzo, knock ^ it lustily then. \_A so?ig. 
 
 and Travels, 1704, iii. 358), where in the directions " How to preserve 
 the men in fighting "it is stated : — " I prefer the coihng of cables on the 
 deck, and keeping part of the men within tliem . . . ; for the soldiers 
 are in and out speedily upon all sudden occasions to succour any part of 
 the ship, or to enter an enemy, without trouble to the sailors in handling 
 their sails or to the gunners in playing their ordnance." 
 
 1 A twisted band worn round the hat. In Every Man out of his 
 Humour (1599), the " cable-hatband" is mentioned as a novelty of the 
 latest fashion : — " I had on a gold cable hat-band then new come up." 
 
 ^ Ruff, falling-band. 
 
 •• " So in King Henry VHI. : — 
 
 ' Let the music knock it.' " — Dilke.
 
 32 The First Part of Tact n. 
 
 Enter Forobosco, with two torches : Castilio singing 
 fantastically ; Rossaline running a corafito ^ pace, 
 and Balurdo ; Feliche following, wondering at 
 them all. 
 
 Foro. Make place, gentlemen ; pages, hold torches ; 
 the prince approacheth the presence. 
 
 Dil. What squeaking cart-wheel have we here ? ha ! 
 " Make place, gentlemen ; pages, hold torches ; the prince 
 approacheth the presence." 
 
 I^os. Faugh, what a strong scent's here ! somebody 
 useth to wear socks. 60 
 
 Bal. By this fair candle light, 'tis not my feet ; I never 
 wore socks since I sucked pap. 
 
 Jios. Savourly put off. 
 
 Cast. Hah, her wit stings, blisters, galls off the skin 
 with the tart acrimony of her sharp quickness : by sweet- 
 ness, she is the very Pallas that flew out of Jupiter's 
 brainpan. Delicious creature, vouchsafe me your service : 
 by the purity of bounty, I shall be proud of such bondage. 
 
 Hos. I vouchsafe it ; be my slave. — Signior Balurdo, 
 wilt thou be my servant, too ? 70 
 
 Bal. O God,^ forsooth in very good earnest, law, you 
 would make me as a man should say, as a man should 
 say — 
 
 1 A quick lively dance. 
 
 ' " The exclamation was too fashionable in the time of Marston for 
 those who had nothing else to say ; and is ridiculed by Ben Jonson in 
 the character of Orange in Every Man out of his Humour, as ' O Lord, 
 sir,' is by Shakespeare in All's Well that Ends Well. Orange is thus 
 described : — ' 'Tis as dry an Orange as ever grew : nothing but saluta- 
 tion ; and, O God, sir ; and, it please you to say so, sir.'" — Dilke.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. '^'^ 
 
 Fell. 'Slud, sweet beauty, will you deign him your 
 service? 
 
 Ros. O, your fool is your only servant. But, good 
 Feliche, why art thou so sad? a penny for thy thought, 
 man. 
 
 Feli. I sell not my thought so cheap : I value my 
 meditation at a higher rate. So 
 
 Bal. In good sober sadness, sweet mistress, you should 
 have had my thought for a penny : by this crimson satin 
 that cost eleven shillings, thirteen pence, three pence 
 halfpenny a yard, that you should, law ! 
 
 Ros. What was thy thought, good servant ? 
 
 Bal. Marry forsooth, how many strike of pease would 
 feed a hog fat against Christtide. 
 
 Ros. Paugh ! \she spits'\ servant,^ rub out my rheum, it 
 soils the presence. 
 
 Cast. By my wealthiest thought, you grace my shoe 
 with an unmeasured honour : I will preserve the sole of 
 it, as a most sacred relic for this service. 92 
 
 Ros. I'll spit in thy mouth, and thou wilt, to grace thee. 
 
 Feli. \^Aside.'\ O that the stomach of this queasy age 
 Digests, or brooks such raw unseasoned gobs, 
 And vomits not them forth ! O ! slavish sots ! 
 Servant, quoth you ? faugh ! if a dog should crave 
 And beg her service, he should have it straight : 
 She'd give him favours too, to lick her feet, 
 Or fetch her fan, or some such drudgery : 100 
 
 A good dog's office, which these amorists 
 
 1 Lover, suitor, 
 VOL. I. C 
 
 h
 
 34 The First Part of [act h. 
 
 Triumph of: 'tis rare, well give her more ass, 
 
 More sot, as long as dropping of her nose 
 
 Is sworn rich pearl by such low slaves as those. 
 
 Ros. Flavia, attend me to attire me. 
 
 \Exeunt Rossaline and Flavia. 
 
 Bal. In sad good earnest, sir, you have touched the 
 very bare of naked truth ; my silk stocking hath a good 
 gloss, and I thank my planets, my leg is not altogether 
 unpropitiously shaped. There's a word : unpropiiiously ? 
 I think I shall speak unpropitiously as well as any cour- 
 tier in Italy. in 
 
 Foro. So help me your sweet bounty, you have the 
 most graceful presence, applausive elecuty, amazing volu- 
 bility, polish'd adornation, delicious affability. 
 
 Fell. Whoop : fut, how he tickles yon trout under the 
 gills ! you shall see him take him by and by with groping 
 flattery. 
 
 Foro. That ever ravish'd the ear of wonder. By your 
 sweet self, than whom I know not a more exquisite, illus- 
 trate, accomplished, pure, respected, adored, observed, 
 precious, real,^ magnanimous, bounteous — if you have 
 an idle rich cast jerkin, or so, it shall not be cast away, 
 if — ha ! here's a forehead, an eye, a head, a hair, that 
 would make a — : or if you have any spare pair of silver 
 spurs, I'll do you as much right in all kind offices — 
 
 J Regal, noble. — In the address "To those that seem judicial 
 observers " prefixed to the Scourge of Villainy, Marston ridicules Ben 
 Jonson (under the name of Torquatus) for introducing "new-minted 
 epithets, as real, intrinsecate, Delphic." ,
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mcllida. 35 
 
 Fdi. [^siWe.] Of a kind parasite. 
 
 Ju?ro. As any of my mean fortunes shall be able to. 
 
 Ba/. As I am true Christian now, thou hast won the 
 spurs. 
 
 jFeli. \_Aside.^ For flattery. 130 
 
 O how I hate tliat same Egyptian louse, 
 A rotten maggot, that lives by stinking filth 
 Of tainted spirits ! vengeance to such dogs, 
 That sprout by gnawing senseless carrion ! 
 
 Enter Alberto. 
 
 Alb. Gallants, saw you my mistress, the lady Rossaline? 
 
 Foro. My mistress, the lady Rossaline, left the pre- 
 sence even now. 
 
 Cast. My mistress, the lady Rossaline, withdrew her 
 gracious aspect even now. 
 
 Bal. My mistress, the lady Rossaline, withdrew her 
 gracious aspect even now. 141 
 
 Fell. [Aside.] Well said, echo. 
 
 A/b. My mistress, and his mistress, and your mistress, 
 and the dog's mistress. Precious dear heaven, that 
 Alberto lives to have such rivals ! — 
 'Slid, I have been searching every private room, 
 Corner, and secret angle of the court : 
 And yet, and yet, and yet she lives conceal'd. 
 Good sweet Feliche, tell me how to find 
 My bright-faced mistress out. 150 
 
 Fe/i. Why man, cry out for lanthorn and candle-light : ^ 
 
 ^ " Lanthorn and candle-light " — the bellman's cry.
 
 o 
 
 6 The First Part of [act n. 
 
 for 'tis your only way, to find your bright-flaming wench 
 with your light-burning torch : for most commonly, these 
 light creatures live in darkness. 
 
 Alb. Away, you heretic, you'll be burnt for 
 
 Feli. Go, you amorous hound, follow the scent of your 
 mistress' shoe ; away ! 
 
 Foro. Make a fair presence ; boys, advance your lights ; 
 the princess makes approach. 
 
 Bal. And please the gods, now in very good deed, 
 law, you shall see me tickle the measures for the heavens. 
 Do my hangers ^ show ? 162 
 
 EnferTiEKO, Antonio, Mellida, Rossaline, Galeatzo, 
 Matzagente, Alberto, and Flavia. As they enter, 
 Feliche and Castilio make a rank for the Duke to 
 pass through. Forobosco ushers the Duke to his 
 state. -^ then, whilst Piero speaketh his first speech, 
 Mellida is taken by Galeatzo and Matzagente 
 to dance, they supporiifig her: Rossaline, in like 
 ?nanner, by Alberto atid Balurdo : Flavia, by 
 Feliche afid Castilio. 
 
 Pier. Beauteous Amazon, sit and seat your thoughts 
 In the reposure of most soft content. 
 Sound music there ! Nay, daughter, clear your eyes. 
 From these dull fogs of misty discontent : 
 Look sprightly, girl. What ? though Antonio's drown'd, — 
 
 ' Loops or straps (fastened to the girdle) in which the rapier was sus- 
 pended. 
 2 Throne, chair of dignity.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 37 
 
 That peevish dotard on thy excellence, 
 
 That hated issue of Andrugio, — 
 
 Yet may'st thou triumpli in my victories ; 170 
 
 Since, lo, the high-born bloods of Italy 
 
 Sue for thy seat of love. — Let ^ music sound ! 
 
 Beauty and youth run descant on love's ground. - 
 
 Mat. Lady, erect your gracious symmetry, 
 Shine in the sphere of sweet affection : 
 Your eye['s] as heavy, as the heart of night. 
 
 Mel. My thoughts are as black as your beard ; my 
 fortunes as ill-proportioned as your legs ; and all the 
 powers of my mind as leaden as your wit, and as dusty 
 as your face is swarthy. 180 
 
 Gal. Faith, sweet, I'll lay thee on the lips for that jest. 
 
 Mel. I prithee intrude not on a dead man's right. 
 
 Gal. No, but the living's just possession : 
 Thy lips and love are mine. 
 
 Mel. You ne'er took seizin on them yet : forbear. 
 There's not a vacant corner of my heart, 
 But all is fill'd with dead Antonio's loss. 
 Then urge no more ; O leave to love at all ; 
 'Tis less disgraceful not to mount than fall. 
 
 Mat. Bright and refulgent lady, deign your ear : 190 
 You see this blade, — had it a courtly lip, 
 It would divulge my valour, plead my love, 
 Justle that skipping feeble amorist 
 Out of your love's seat ; I am Matzagent. 
 
 1 " Let music sound ! " is printed as a stage-direction in the old copies. 
 
 2 Musical term for an air on which variations or divisions were to be 
 made.
 
 J 
 
 8 The First Part of [act h. 
 
 Gal. Hark thee ; I pray thee, taint not thy sweet ear 
 With that sot's gabble ; by thy beauteous cheek, 
 He is the flagging'st buhush that e'er droop'd 
 With each sHght mist of rain. But with pleased eye 
 Smile on my courtship. 
 
 Mel. What said you, sir ? alas my thought was fix'd 200 
 Upon another object. Good, forbear: 
 I shall but weep. Ay me, what boots a tear ! 
 Come, come, let's dance. O music, thou distill'st 
 More sweetness in us than this jarring world : 
 Both time and measure from thy strains do breathe, 
 Whilst from the channel of this dirt doth flow 
 Nothing but timeless grief, unmeasured woe. 
 
 Ant. O how impatience cramps my cracked veins 
 And cruddles thick my blood, with boihng rage ! 
 
 eyes, why leap you not like thunderbolts, 210 
 Or cannon bullets in my rival's face ! 
 
 Ohivie infeliche viiscro, o lanienievol fato I 
 
 Alb. What means the lady fall upon the ground ? 
 
 Ros. Belike the falling sickness. 
 
 Ant. I cannot brook this sight, my thoughts grow 
 wild : 
 Here lies a wretch, on whom heaven never smiled. 
 
 Ros. What, servant, ne'er a word, and I here man ? 
 
 1 would shoot some speech forth, to strike the time 
 With pleasing touch of amorous compliment. 
 
 Say, sweet, what keeps thy mind, wliat thiiik'st 
 thou on ? 220 
 
 Alb. Nothing. 
 Ros. What's that nothing?
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 39 
 
 Alb. A woman's constancy. 
 
 Kos. Good, why, would'st thou have us sluts, and never 
 shift 
 The vesture of our thoughts ? Away for shame. 
 
 Alb. O no, th'art too constant to afflict my heart, 
 Too too firm fixed in unmoved scorn. 
 
 Ros. Pish, pish ; I fixed in unmoved scorn ! 
 Why, I'll love thee to-night. 
 
 Alb. But whom to-morrow ? 
 
 Ros. Faith, as the toy puts me in the head. 
 
 Bal. And pleased the marble heavens, now would I 
 might be the toy, to put you in the head, kindly to con- 
 ceit my- — my — my — pray you, give in an epithet for love. 
 
 Fell. Roaring, roaring. 232 
 
 Bal.^ O love, thou hast murder'd me, made me a 
 shadow, and you hear not Balurdo, but Balurdo's ghost. 
 
 Ros. Can a ghost speak ? 
 
 Bal. Scurvily, as I do. 
 
 Ros. And walk ? 
 
 Bal. After their fashion. 
 
 Ros. And eat apples? 
 
 Bal. In a sort, in their garb. 240 
 
 Fell. Prithee, Flavia, be my mistress. 
 
 Fla. Your reason, good Feliche ? 
 
 Fell. Faith, I have nineteen mistresses already, and I 
 not much disdain that thou should'st make up the full 
 score. 
 
 1 The words "O love . . . Balurdo's ghost" are given to Feliche in 
 old eds.
 
 40 TJie First Part of [act n. 
 
 Fla. O, I hear you make commonplaces of your mis- 
 tresses to perform the office of memory by. Pray you, in 
 ancient times were not those satin hose ? In good faith, 
 now they are new dyed, pink'd, and scoured, they show 
 as well as if they were new. What, mute, Balurdo ? 250 
 
 Fell. Ay, in faith, and 'twere not for printing, and 
 painting, my breech and your face would be out of 
 reparation.^ 
 
 Bal. Ay, in ^ faith, and 'twere not for printing, and 
 painting,^ my breech and your face would be out of re- 
 paration. 
 
 Fell. Good again. Echo. 
 
 Fla. Thou art, by nature, too foul to be affected. 
 
 Fell. And thou, by art, too fair to be beloved. 
 
 1 There is the same joke in the Merry Jests of George Peele, 1627 : — 
 " George used often to an ordinary in this town, where a kinswoman of 
 the good wife's in the house held a great pride and vain opinion of her 
 own mother-wit ; for her tongue was a jack continually w^agging . . . 
 Now this titmouse, what she scanted by nature, she doth replenish by art, 
 as her boxes of red and white daily can testify. But to come to George, 
 who arrived at the ordinary among other gallants, throws his cloak upon 
 the table, salutes the gentlemen, and presently calls for a cup of canary. 
 George had a pair of hose on, that for some offence durst not to be seen 
 in that hue they were first dyed in, but from his first colour being a youth- 
 ful green, his long age turned him into a mournful black, and for his 
 antiquity was in print. Which this busybody perceiving, thought now 
 to give it him to the quick ; and drawing near Master Peele, looking 
 upon his breeches, ' By my troth, sir,' quoth she, 'these are exceedingly 
 well printed.' At which word, George, being a little moved in his mind 
 that his old hose were called in question, answered, 'And by my faith, 
 mistress,' quoth George, 'your face is most damnably ill painted.' 
 'How mean you, sir?' quoth [she. 'Marry thus, mistress,' quoth 
 George, ' that if it were not for printing and painting, my arse and 
 your face would grow out of reparations.' " 
 
 - Old eds. "an." 3 Ed. 1602, "pointing."
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio a7td Mellzda. 41 
 
 By wit's life, most spark spirits, but hard chance. 
 
 La ty dine. 261 
 
 Pier. Gallants, the night grows old ; and downy sleep 
 Courts us to entertain his company : 
 Our tirJid limbs, bruis'd in the morning fight, 
 Entreat soft rest, and gentle hush'd repose. 
 Fill out Greek wines ; prepare fresh cressit-light : ^ 
 We'll have a banquet : Princes, then good-night. 
 
 \T]ie cornets souftd a senet, and the Duke goes out 
 in state. As they are going out, Antonio stays 
 Mellida : the rest exeunt. 
 
 Ant. What means these scatter'd looks ? why tremble 
 you? 
 Why quake your thoughts in your distracted eyes ? 
 Collect your spirits. Madam ; what do you see ? 270 
 
 Dost not behold a ghost? 
 Look, look where he stalks, wrapt up in clouds of 
 
 grief, 
 Darting his soul upon thy wond'ring eyes. 
 Look, he comes towards thee ; see, he stretcheth out 
 His wretched arms to gird thy loved waist, 
 With a most wish'd embrace : see'st him not yet ? 
 Nor yet? Ha, Mellida ; thou well may'st err : 
 For look, he walks not like Antonio : 
 Like that Antonio, that this morning shone 
 Li glistering habiliments of arms, 2S0 
 
 To seize his love, spite of her father's spite : 
 But like himself, wretched, and miserable, 
 
 1 See Dyce's Skakesp. Gloss., s. CRESSETS.
 
 42 The First Part of [act n. 
 
 Banish'd, forlorn, despairing, strook quite through, 
 With sinking grief, rolled up in sevenfold doubles 
 Of plagues [unjvanquishable : hark, he speaks to 
 thee. 
 
 Mel. Alas, I cannot hear, nor see him. 
 
 Ant. Why ? all this night about the room he stalk'd. 
 And groan'd, and howl'd, with raging passion, 
 To view his love (life-blood of all his hopes, 
 Crown of his fortune) clipp'd by strangers' arms. 250 
 Look but behind thee. 
 
 Mel. O Antonio ! 
 My lord, my love, my 
 
 Ant. Leave passion, sweet ; for time, place, air, and 
 earth, 
 Are all our foes : fear, and be jealous ; fair. 
 Let's fly. 
 
 Mel. Dear heart, ha, whither ? 
 
 Ant. O, 'tis no matter whither, but let's fly. 
 Ha ! now I think on't, I have ne'er a home. 
 No father, friend, or country to embrace 
 These wretched limbs : the world, the all that is, 300 
 Is all my foe : a prince not worth a doit : 
 Only my head is hoised to high rate. 
 Worth twenty thousand double pistolets. 
 To him that can but strike it from these shoulders. 
 But come, sweet creature, thou shalt be my home ; 
 My father, country, riches, and my friend. 
 My all, my soul ; and thou and I will live, — 
 Let's think like what — and you and I will live 
 Like unmatch'd mirrors of calamity.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Alellida, 43 
 
 The jealous ear of night eavedrops our talk. 310 
 
 Hold thee, there's a jewel ; and look thee, there's a note 
 That will direct thee when, where, how to fly. 
 Bid me adieu. 
 
 Mel. Farewell, bleak misery ! 
 
 Ant. Stay, sweet, let's kiss before you go ! 
 
 Mel. Farewell, dear soul ! 
 
 Ant. Farewell, my life, my heart ! 
 
 \^Exeunf.
 
 44 ) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The sea-shore. 
 
 Enter Andrugio in armour^ Lucio with a shepherd's 
 gown in his handy and a Page. 
 
 And. Is not yon gleam the shuddering morn that 
 flakes 
 With silver tincture the east verge of heaven ? 
 
 Lu. I think it is, so please your excellence. 
 
 And Away ! I have no excellence to please. 
 Prithee observe the custom of the world, 
 That only flatters greatness, states exalts. 
 And please my excellence ! O Lucio, 
 Thou hast been ever held respected dear, 
 Even precious to Andrugio's inmost love. 
 Good, flatter not Nay, if thou giv'st not faith lo 
 
 That I am wretched, O read that, read that. 
 
 PiERO Sforza to the Italian Yxxvictz, fortune. 
 
 Z/v. [reads] EXCELLENT, the Just oi'erthrow Andrugio 
 took in the Venetian gulf, hath so assured the Geno^vays
 
 scENF. I.] Antonio and Me llida. 45 
 
 of the \iii\ justice of his cause, and the haiefulness of his 
 person, that they have banish'd him a?id all his family : 
 and, for confirmation of their peace with us, have 
 vowed, that if he or his son can be attached, to send 
 us both their heads. We therefore, by force of our 
 united league, forbid you to harbour hitn, or his blood: 
 but if you apprehend his person, we entreat you to send 
 him, or his head, to us. For tve vow, by the honour 
 of our blood, to recompense any man that bringeth his 
 head, with ttvetity thousand double pistolets, a?id the 
 endearing of our choicest love. 
 
 From Venice : Piero Sforza. 24 
 
 And. My thoughts are fix'd in contemplation 
 Why this huge earth, this monstrous animal, 
 That eats her children, should not have eyes and ears. 
 Philosophy maintains that Nature's wise, 
 And forms no useless or unperfect thing. 
 Did Nature make the earth, or the earth Nature ? 30 
 For earthly dirt makes all things, makes the man, 
 Moulds me up honour ; and, like a cunning Dutchman, 
 Paints me a puppet even with seeming breath, 
 And gives a sot appearance of a soul. 
 Go to, go to ; thou liest. Philosophy. 
 Nature forms things unperfect, useless, vain. 
 Why made she not the earth with eyes and ears 
 That she might see desert, and hear men's plaints ? 
 That when a soul is splitted, sunk with grief, 
 He might fall thus, upon the breast of earth, ^lo 
 
 \^Ide throws himself on the ground.
 
 46 The First Part of [act m. 
 
 Exclaiming thus : O thou all-bearing earth, 
 
 Which men do gape for, till thou cramm"st their mouths, 
 
 And choicest their throats with dust; O chaune^ thy 
 
 breast. 
 And let me sink into thee ! Look who knocks ; 
 Andrugio calls. — But O, she's deaf and blind : 
 A wretch but lean relief on earth can find. 
 
 Lu. Sweet lord, abandon passion, and disarm. 
 Since by the fortune of the tumbling sea, 
 We are roU'd up upon the Venice marsh. 
 Let's clip all fortune, lest more low'ring fate — 50 
 
 And. More low'ring fate ! O Lucio, choke that breath. 
 Now I defy chance : Fortune's brow hath frown'd, 
 Even to the utmost wrinkle it can bend : 
 Her venom's spit. Alas, what country rests. 
 What son, what comfort that she can deprive ? 
 Triumphs not Venice in my overthrow ? 
 Gapes not my native country for my blood ? 
 Lies not my son tomb'd in the swelling main ? 
 And yet more low'ring fate ! There's nothing left 
 Unto Andrugio, but Andrugio : 60 
 
 And that nor mischief, force, distress, nor hell can take. 
 Fortune my fortunes, not my mind, shall shake. 
 
 Lu. Spoke 2 like yourself; but give me leave, my 
 Lord, 
 To wish your safety. If you are but seen, ■ 
 
 1 Open (Gr. ;^a(i'w, xa.wQ>). Cotgrave gives: — " To chawne, — se 
 fendre, gercer, crevasser, crever, sejarcer." 
 » Old eds. "Speake" (and "Speak"). 
 
 I
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 47 
 
 Your arms display you ; therefore put them off, 
 And take . 
 
 And. Would'st thou have me go unarm'd among my 
 foes? 
 Being besieg'd by passion, ent'ring hsts, 
 To combat with despair and mighty grief; 
 My soul beleaguer'd with the crushing strength 70 
 
 Of sharp impatience ? ha, Lucio, go unarm'd ? 
 Come soul, resume the valour of thy birth ; 
 Myself, myself will dare all opposites : ^ 
 I'll muster forces, an unvanquish'd power : 
 Cornets of horse shall press th' ungrateful earth ; 
 This hollow wombed mass shall inly groan, 
 And murmur to sustain the weight of arms : 
 Ghastly amazement, with upstarted hair, 
 Shall hurry on before, and usher us, 
 Whilst trumpets clamour with a sound of death. 80 
 
 Lu. Peace, good my Lord, your speech is all too 
 light. 
 Alas, survey your fortunes, look what's left 
 Of all your forces, and your utmost hopes : 
 A weak old man, a page, and your poor self. 
 
 And. Andrugio lives, and a fair cause of arms, — 
 Why that's an army all invincible ! 
 He who hath that, hath a battalion royal, 
 Armour of proof, huge troops of barbed steeds, 
 Main squares of pikes, millions of harquebush. 
 
 ' The king enacts more wonders than a man. 
 Daring an opposite to every danger.' Richard HI.'' — Dilke.
 
 4S The First Part of [\ct nr. 
 
 O, a fair cause stands firm, and will abide ; 90 
 
 Legions of angels fight upon her side.^ 
 
 Lu. Then, noble spirit, slide, in strange disguise, 
 Unto some gracious Prince, and sojourn there, 
 Till time and fortune give revenge firm means. 
 
 And. No, I'll not trust the honour of a man. 
 Gold is grown great, and makes perfidiousness 
 A common waiter in most princes' courts : 
 He's in the check-roll ;" I'll not trust my blood; 
 I know none breathing but will cog a die^ 
 For twenty thousand double pistolets. 100 
 
 How goes the time ? 
 
 Lu. I saw no sun to-day.* 
 
 And. No sun will shine, where poor Andrugio 
 breathes. 
 My soul grows heavy : boy, let's have a song : 
 We'll sing yet, faith, even in ^ despite of fate. \^A song. 
 
 And. 'Tis a good boy, and by my troth, well sung. 
 O, and thou felt'st my grief, I warrant thee. 
 Thou would'st have strook division ^ to the height, 
 And made the life of music breathe : hold, boy ; why so. 
 
 1 Cf. Richard III. (v. 3) :— 
 
 " God and good angels fight on Richmond's side." 
 
 * Old eds. " Chekle-roule." 
 ' " Cog a die"=load a die. 
 
 * Dilke compares Richard III. (v. 3) : — 
 
 ' ' Who saw the sun to-day ? 
 
 Rat. Not I, my lord. 
 
 Rich. Then he disdains to shine." 
 
 * Omitted in ed. i. 6 Variations in music.
 
 SCENIC II.] Antonio and Mellida. 49 
 
 For God's sake call me not Andrugio, 
 
 That I may soon forget what I have been. no 
 
 For heaven's name, name not Antonio, 
 
 'i'hat I may not remember he was mine. 
 
 Well, ere yon sun set, I'll show myself myself, 
 
 Worthy my blood. I was a Duke ; that's all. 
 
 No^ matter whither, but from whence we fall.- \Exciint. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Palace of the Duke of Venice. 
 
 Enter Feliche walkings unbraced. 
 
 Fdl. Castillo, Alberto, Balurdo ! none up? 
 Forobosco ! Flattery, nor thou up yet ? 
 Then there's no courtier stirring : that's firm truth ? 
 I cannot sleep : Feliche seldom rests 
 In these court lodgings. I have walk'd all night. 
 To see if the nocturnal court delights 
 Could force me envy their felicity : 
 
 1 The sentiment is from Seneca's Thyestes, 1. 925 : — 
 
 " iVIagis uude cadas 
 Quam quo refert." 
 
 2 "The situation of Andrugio and Lucio resembles that of Lear and 
 Kent, in that King's distresses. Andrugio, like Lear, manifests a kind 
 of royal impatience, a turbulent greatness, an affected resignation. 
 The enemies which he enters lists to combat, ' Despair, and mighty 
 Grief, and sharp Impatience ; ' and the Forces (' Cornets of Horse," &c.) 
 which he brings to vanquish them, are in the boldest style of allegory. 
 They are such a 'race of mourners ' as ' the infection of sorrows loud ' in 
 the intellect might beget on ' some pregnant cloud' in the imagination." 
 — Charles Lamb. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 The First Part of [act m. 
 
 And by plain troth, I will confess plain troth, 
 
 I envy nothing but the travense ^ light. 
 
 O, had it eyes, and ears, and tongues, it might lo 
 
 See sport, hear speech of most strange surquedries.- 
 
 O, if that candle-light were made a poet, 
 
 He would prove a rare firking satirist, 
 
 And draw the core forth of imposthum'd sin. 
 
 Well, I thank heaven yet, that my content 
 
 Can envy nothing, but poor candle-light. 
 
 As for the other glistering copper spangs. 
 
 That glisten in the tire of the court. 
 
 Praise God, I either hate, or pity them. 
 
 Well, here I'll sleep till that the scene of up 20 
 
 Is pass'd at court. O calm hush'd rich Content, 
 
 Is there a being blessedness without thee? 
 
 How soft thou down'st the couch where thou dost rest, 
 
 Nectar to life, thou sweet Ambrosian feast ! 
 
 Enter Castilio and his Page Catzo : Castilio with a 
 casting-bottle ^ of sweet water in his hand, sprinkling 
 himself. 
 
 Cast. Am not I a most sweet youth now ? 
 
 Cat. Yes, when your throat's perfum'd ; your very 
 words 
 Do smell of ambergris. O stay, sir, stay ; 
 Sprinkle some sweet water to your shoe's heels, 
 That your mistress may swear you have a sweet foot. 
 
 1 So the old eds., but I suspect that the true reading is "traverse 
 light," i.e., light cast slant-wise.. 
 ' Wanton excesses. ' See note 2, p. 13.
 
 scENK II.] Antonio and Mellida. 5 1 
 
 Cast. Good, very good, very passing ^ passing good. 30 
 
 Feli. Fut, what treble minikin ^ squeaks there, ha ? 
 "good, very good, very very good ! " 
 
 Cast. I will warble to the delicious conclave of my 
 mistress' ear : and strike her thoughts with the pleasing 
 touch of my voice. [// song. 
 
 Cast. Feliche, health, fortune, mirth, and wine. 
 
 Feli. To thee, my love divine. 
 
 Cast. I drink to thee, sweeting. 
 
 Feli. \_Aside.'\ Plague on thee for an ass ! 
 
 Cast. Now thou hast seen the court, by the perfection 
 of it, dost not envy it ? 41 
 
 Feli. I wonder it doth not envy me. Why, man, 
 I have been borne upon the spirit's wings, 
 The soul's swift Pegasus, the fantasy : 
 And from the height of contemplation. 
 Have view'd the feeble joints men totter on. 
 I envy none ; but hate, or pity all. 
 For when I view, with an intentive thought, 
 That creature fair but proud ; him rich, but sot ; 
 Th' other witty, but unmeasured arrogant ; 50 
 
 Him great, yet boundless in ambition ; 
 Him high-born, but of base life ; t'other fear'd, 
 Yet feared fears, and fears most to be loved ; ^ 
 Him wise, but made a fool for public use ; 
 The other learned, but self-opinionate : 
 
 ^ "Passing passing good." — So ed. 1602. — Ed. 1633, "passing 
 good." 
 * Fiddle-string.— Here applied to Castilio's squeaky voice. 
 ' Old eds. " most loved."
 
 52 The First Part of [act m. 
 
 When I discourse all these, and see myself 
 
 Nor fair, nor rich, nor witty, great, nor fear'd, 
 
 Yet amply suited with all full content. 
 
 Lord, how I clap my hands, and smooth my brow. 
 
 Rubbing my quiet bosom, tossing up 60 
 
 A grateful spirit to Omnipotence ! 
 
 Cast. Hah, hah ! but if thou knew'st my happiness. 
 Thou would'st even grate away thy soul to dust, 
 In envy of my sweet beatitude. 
 I cannot sleep for kisses ; I cannot rest 
 For ladies' letters, that importune me 
 With such unused vehemence of love, 
 Straight to solicit them, that . 
 
 Fell. Confusion seize me, but I think thou liest. 
 Why should I not be sought to then as well ? 70 
 
 Fut, methinks I am as like a man. 
 Troth, I have a good head of hair, a cheek 
 Not as yet wan'd, a leg, 'faith, in the full. 
 I ha' not a red beard, take not tobacco much : 
 And 'slid, for other parts of manliness — 
 
 Cast. Pew waw, you ne'er accourted ^ them in pomp, 
 Put your good parts in presence graciously. 
 Ha, and you had, why, they would ha' come off. 
 Sprung to your arms, and sued, and prayed, and vowed, 
 And opened all their sweetness to your love. So 
 
 Feli. There are a number of such things as thou - 
 
 ^ So ed. i6g2. — Ed. 1633 "courted." — Dilke gives " accosted " ; but 
 Spenser has the word accourt in Book II. of the Faerie Queene. 
 2 Old eds. "then."
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Meliida. 53 
 
 Have often urged me to such loose belief; 
 
 JJut, 'slid, you all do lie, you all do lie. 
 
 I have put on good clothes, and smugg'd my face, 
 
 Strook a fair wench with a smart, speaking eye ; 
 
 Courted in all sorts, blunt and passionate ; 
 
 Had opportunity, put them to the ah ! 
 
 And, by this light, I find them wondrous chaste. 
 
 Impregnable ; perchance a kiss, or so : 
 
 But for the rest, O most inexorable ! 90 
 
 Cast. Nay then, i'faith, prithee look here. 
 
 \Sho2vs him the siipcrscriptiofi of a seeming letter. 
 
 Fd. To her most esteemed^ loved, and getierous servafit, 
 Sig. Castillo Balthazar. 
 Prithee from whom comes this ? faith, I must see. 
 
 From her that is devoted to thee, in most private sweets 
 rf love, Ros saline. 
 
 Nay, God's my comfort, I must see the rest ; 
 I must, sans ceremony; faith, I must. 
 
 [Feliche takes away the letter by force. 
 
 Cast. O, you spoil my ruff, unset my hair ; good, 
 away ! 100 
 
 Fcli. Item, for strait canvass, thirteen pence halfpenny ; 
 item, for an ell and a half of taffeta to cover your old 
 canvass doichlet, fourteen shillings and threepe?ice. — 'Slight, 
 this is a tailor's bill. 
 
 Cast. In sooth, it is the outside of her letter, on 
 which I took the copy of a tailor's bill. 
 
 Dil. But 'tis not cross'd, I am sure of that. Lord have 
 mercy on him, his credit hath given up the last gasp.
 
 54 '^f^c First Part of [act m. 
 
 Faith, I'll leave him ; for he looks as melancholy as a 
 wench the first night she \Exit. no 
 
 Fdi. Honest musk-cod, 'twill not be so stitched to- 
 gether; take \)iidX'[strikitig hi7n\ and that, and belie no 
 lady's love : swear no more by Jesu, this madam, that 
 lady ; hence, go, forswear the presence, travel three years 
 to bury this bastinado : avoid, puff-paste, avoid ! 
 
 Cast. And tell not my lady-mother. Well, as I am a 
 true gentleman, if she had not willed me on her blessing 
 not to spoil my face, if I could not find in my heart to 
 fight, would I might ne'er eat a potato-pie more. [Exit. 
 
 Ejiter Balurdo, backward ; Y)\\.Y)0 following him with a 
 looking-glass in one hand., and a candle in the other 
 hand : 'F'La.vix following him backward, with a look- 
 ing-glass in one hand, and a candle in the other ; 
 RossALiiiE following her ; Balurdo a7id Rossaline 
 stand setting of faces : and so the Scene begins. 
 
 Fell. More fool, more rare fools ! O, for time and 
 place, long enough, and large enough, to act these fools ! 
 Here might be made a rare scene of folly, if the plat ^ 
 could bear it. 123 
 
 Bal. By the sugar-candy sky, hold up the glass higher, 
 that I may see to swear in fashion. 0, one loof- 
 more would ha' made them shine ; God's neaks,^ they 
 
 1 Plot of the play. 
 
 2 There is no meaning in the word " loof : " perhaps we should read 
 " one touch more." Balurdo seems to be beautifying some part of his 
 person ; but his movements are not quite clear. 
 
 3 " God's neaks" — a meaningless oath constantly used by Marston.
 
 scKNE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 55 
 
 would have shone like my mistress' brow. Even so the 
 Duke frowns, for all this curson'd ^ world : O, that 
 gern ^ kills, it kills. By my golden — what's the richest 
 thing about me? 130 
 
 Dil Your teeth. 
 
 Bal. By my golden teeth, hold up, that I may put in : 
 hold up, I say, that I may see to put on my gloves. 
 
 Dil. O, delicious, sweet-cheek'd master, if you dis- 
 charge but one glance from the level of that set face, O, 
 you will strike a wench ; you'll make any wench love 
 you. 
 
 Bal. By Jesu, I think I am as elegant a courtier as 
 . How likest thou my suit ? 
 
 Cat. All, beyond all, no peregal : ^ you are wondered 
 at — [Aside.] for an ass. 141 
 
 jBal. Well, Dildo, no Christen creature shall know 
 hereafter, what I will do for thee heretofore. 
 
 J?os. Here wants a little white, Flavia. 
 
 Dil. Ay, but, master, you have one little fault ; you 
 sleep open-mouth'd. 
 
 Bal. Pew, thou jest'st. In good sadness, I'll have a 
 looking-glass nail'd to the testern of the bed, that I may 
 see when I sleep whether 'tis so or not ; take heed you 
 lie not : go to, take heed you lie not. 150 
 
 J^la. By my troth, you look as like the princess, now — 
 
 Ay — but her lip is — lip is — a little redder, a very 
 
 little redder. 
 
 1 A corruption of christened, 
 
 2 Snarl, grin. — The word is still used in the north country. 
 » Equal.
 
 56 The First Part of [act m. 
 
 Ros}^ But by the help of art or nature, ere I change my 
 periwig, mine shall be as red. 
 
 Flap- O ay, that face, that eye, that smile, that writhing 
 of your body, that wanton dandling of your fan, becomes 
 prethely, so sweethly, 'tis even the goodest lady that 
 
 breathes, the most amiable . Faith, the fringe of your 
 
 satin petticoat is ript. Good faith, madam, they say you 
 
 are the most bounteous lady to your women that ever 
 
 O most delicious beauty ! Good madam, let me kith it. 
 
 Feli. Rare sport, rare sport ! A female fool, and a 
 female flatterer. 164 
 
 Ros. Body o' me, the Duke ! away ^ the glass ! 
 
 Enter PiERO. 
 
 Pier. Take up your paper, Rossaline. 
 
 Ros. Not mine, my Lord. 
 
 Pier. Not yours, my Lady ? I'll see what 'tis. 
 
 Bal. And how does my sweet mistress? O Lady 
 dear, even as 'tis an old say, "'tis an old horse can neither 
 w'ighy,* nor wag his tail : " even so do I hold my set face 
 still : even so, 'tis a bad courtier that can neither dis- 
 course, nor blow his nose. 173 
 
 1 The words " But by the help ... as red," are given to Flavia in 
 the old eds. 
 
 * Ed. 1633 gives this speech to Balurdo. 
 ' I.e., put the glass out of sight. 
 
 * N'eigh.— Cf. Fletcher's Women Pleased, iv. i: — 
 
 " This beast of Babylon I will never back again ; 
 His pace is sure prophane, and his lewd wi-hies 
 Ihe Songs of Hymyn and Gymyn in the wilderness." 
 So Ben Jonson in Every Man out of his Humour, ii. i : — "So the 
 legerity for that, and the whig-hie and the daggers in the nose."
 
 SCENE ii.i Antonio and Mellida. 57 
 
 Pier. — \reads^ Meet me at Abraha7n's, the Jew's ^ where 
 I bought 7)iy Amazon's disgiiise. A ship lies in the port, 
 ready bound for England; make haste, come private. 
 
 Antonio. 
 
 Enter Castilio and FoROBOSCO. 
 
 Forobosco, Alberto, Feliche, Castilio, Balurdo! run, keep 
 the palace, post to the ports, go to my daughter's chamber ! 
 whither now ? scud to the Jew's ! stay, run to the gates, 
 stop the gundolets,^ let none pass the marsh ! do all at 
 once ! Antonio ! his head, his head ! Keep you the 
 court, the rest stand still, or run, or go, or shout, or search, 
 or scud, or call, or hang, or do-do-do su-su-su something ! 
 I know not who-who-who what I do-do-do, nor who-who- 
 who, where I am. 185 
 
 O trista traditrice, rea rihalda fortuna, 
 Negando mi vinddta mi causa /era morte. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Feliche. 
 Feli. Ha ha ha ! I could break my spleen at his 
 impatience. 
 
 Ejiter Antonio a7id Mellida. 
 
 Ant. Alma et graziosa fortuna siate favorevole, 
 Et fortiinati siano voti del\la\ mia dolce Mellida, Mellida. 
 
 Mel. Alas, Antonio, I have lost thy note ! 
 A number mount my stairs ; Fll straight return. [Exit. 
 
 Feli. Antonio, 194 
 
 Be not affright, sweet Prince ; appease thy fear, 
 
 ^ "Gundolet'" — old form of gondola.
 
 58 The First Part of [act m. 
 
 Buckle thy spirits up, put all thy wits 
 In wimble ^ action, or thou art surprised. 
 
 Ant. I care not. 
 
 Fell. Art mad, or desperate ? or 
 
 Ant. Both, both, all, all : I prithee let me lie ; 200 
 Spite of you all, I can, and I will die. 
 
 Fell. You are distraught ; O, this is madness' breath ! 
 
 Ant. Each man take[s] hence life, but no man death : 
 He's a good fellow, and keeps open house : 
 A thousand thousand ways lead to his gate, 
 To his wide-mouthbd porch, when niggard life 
 Hath 2 but one little, little wicket through. 
 We wring ourselves into this wretched world, 
 To pule, and weep, exclaim, to curse and rail. 
 To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the eartli, 210 
 
 As I do now. Antonio, curse thy birth. 
 And die ! 
 
 Fell. Nay, heaven's my comfort, now you are perverse : 
 You know I always loved you ; prithee live. 
 Wilt thou strike dead thy friends, draw mourning tears ? 
 
 Ant. Alas, Feliche, I ha' ne'er a friend ; 
 No country, father, brother, kinsman left 
 To weep my fate or sigh my funeral : 
 I roll but up and down, and fill a seat 
 In the dark cave of dusky misery. 220 
 
 Fell. 'Fore heaven, the Duke comes ! hold you, take 
 my key, 
 
 1 Nimble. — The word is used by Spenser. 
 
 2 Should we not rather read " Hath but one little wicket thorough 
 which "?
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 59 
 
 Slink to my chamber ; look you, that is it : 
 There shall you find a suit I wore at sea ; 
 Take it, and slip away. Nay, 'precious ! 
 If you'll be peevish, by this light, I'll swear 
 Thou rail'dst upon thy love before thou diedst, 
 And call'd her strumpet. 
 
 Ant. She'll not credit thee. 
 
 Fell. Tut, that's all one : I will defame thy love, 
 And make thy dead trunk held in vile regard. 
 
 Atit. Wilt needs have it so ? why then, Antonio, 230 
 Vive esperatiza in dispetto delfqto. \Exit. 
 
 Etiter PiERO, Galeatzo, Matzagente, Forobosco, 
 Balurdo, and Castilio, with weapons. 
 
 Pier. O, my sweet princes, was't not bravely found ? 
 Even there I found the note, even there it lay : 
 I kiss the place for joy, that there it lay. 
 This way he went, here let us make a stand : 
 I'll keep this gate myself O gallant youth ! 
 I'll drink carouse unto your country's health 
 Even in Antonio's skull. 
 
 Bal. Lord bless us, his breath is more fearful than a 
 sergeant's voice when he cries, I arrest. 240 
 
 Enter Antonio, disguised as a sailor. 
 
 Ant. Stop Antonio ! keep, keep Antonio ! 
 
 Fier. Where, where, man, where ? 
 
 Ant. Here, here : let me pursue him down the marsh ! 
 
 Fier. Hold, there's my signet, take a gundelet :
 
 6o The First Part of [act hi. 
 
 Bring me his head, his head, and, by mine honour, 
 I'll make thee the wealthiest mariner that breathes. 
 
 Ant. I'll sweat my blood out till I have him safe. 
 
 Pier. Spoke ^ heartily, i'faith, good mariner. 
 O, we will mount in triumph ; soon at night, 
 I'll set his head up. Let's think where. 250 
 
 Bal. Upon his shoulders, that's the fittest place for it. 
 If it be not as fit as if it were made for them, say, — 
 Balurdo, thou art a sot, an ass. 
 
 E?iter Mellida in Page's attire, dancing. 
 
 Pier. Sprightly, i'faith. In troth he's somewhat like 
 My daughter Mellida : but, alas ! poor soul, 
 Her honour's - heels, God knows, are[n't] half so light. 
 
 Mel. \^Aside.'\ Escaped I am, spite of my father's spite. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Pier. Ho, this will warm my bosom ere I sleep. 
 
 Enter Flavia running. 
 Fla. O my Lord, your daughter 
 
 Pier. Ay, ay, my daughter's safe enough, I warrant 
 thee. — 260 
 
 This vengeance on the boy will lengthen out 
 My days unmeasuredly. 
 It shall be chronicled in time to come, 
 Piero Sforza slew Andrugio's son. 
 
 Fla. Ay, but, my Lord, your daughter 
 
 Pier. Ay, ay, my good wench, she is safe enough. 
 
 Fla. O, then, my Lord, you know she's run away. 
 
 1 Old eds. "Speake." ' Ed. i. "honour."
 
 SCENE I.] Afitonio and Mellida. 6i 
 
 Pier. Run away, away ! how run away ? 
 
 Fla. She's vanish'd in an instant, none knows whither. 
 
 Pier. Pursue, pursue, fly, run, post, scud away ! 270 
 
 Feli. \Singsi\ " And was not good king Salojnon,'^ &c. 
 
 Pie): Fly, call, run, row, ride, cry, shout, hurry, haste ! 
 Haste, hurry, shout, cry, ride, row, run, call, fly. 
 Backward and forward, every way about ! 
 
 Mal\e\detta fortuna che^ dura sorte ! 
 Che faro, che dirb, pur fugir tanto mat ! 
 
 Cast. 'Twas you that struck me even now : was it not ? 
 
 Feli. It was I that struck you even now. 
 
 Cast. You bastinadoed me, I take it. 
 
 Feli. I bastinadoed you, and you took it. 280 
 
 Cast. 'Faith, sir, I have the richest tobacco in the court 
 for you ; I would be glad to make you satisfaction, if I 
 have wronged you. I would not the sun should set upon 
 your anger ; give me your hand. 
 
 Feli. Content, faith ; so thou'lt breed no more such 
 lies. 
 I hate not man, but man's lewd qualities. \E,xeunt. 
 
 1 Old eds. "f/y condura sorta."
 
 ( 62 ) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Sea-shore near Venice. 
 Enter Antonio, in his sea-gown running. 
 
 Ant. Stop, stop Antonio, stay Antonio ! 
 Vain breath, vain breath, Antonio's lost ; 
 He cannot find himself, not seize himself. 
 Alas, this that you see is not Antonio ; 
 His spirit hovers in Piero's court, 
 Hurling about his agile faculties, 
 To apprehend the sight of ISIellida : 
 But poor, poor soul, wanting apt instruments 
 To speak or see, stands dumb and blind, sad spirit, 
 RoU'd up in gloomy clouds as black as air lo 
 
 Through which the rusty coach of Night is drawn. 
 'Tis so ; I'll give you instance that 'tis so. 
 Conceit you me : as having clasp'd a rose ^ 
 
 ' A correspondent of Notes and Queries (ist ser. , vol. ix. p. 513) 
 points out that Erasmus has the same simile : — " Anima quae modera- 
 tur utrumque corpus animantis improprie dicitur anima cum revera 
 sint animse reliquiae, non aliter quam odor rosarum manet in manu 
 etiam rosa sublata." — Colloq., Leyden ed., i. 694.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mcllida. 63 
 
 Within my palm, the rose being ta'en away, 
 
 My hand retains a little breath of sweet : 
 
 So may man's trunk, his spirit slipp'd away, 
 
 Hold ^ still a faint perfume of his sweet guest. 
 
 'Tis so ; for when discursive powers fly out, 
 
 And roam in progress through the bounds of heaven, 
 
 The soul itself gallops along with them, 20 
 
 As chieftain of this winged troop of thought, 
 
 Whilst the dull lodge of spirit standeth waste, 
 
 Until the soul return from . What was't I said ? 
 
 O, this is naught but speckling melancholy. 
 
 I have been — 
 
 That Morpheus' tender skinp " — Cousin german 
 
 Bear with me, good — 
 
 Mellida : clod upon clod thus fall. 
 
 Hell is beneath, yet heaven is over all. 
 
 \Falls on the ground. 
 
 Enter ^ Andrugio, Lucio, and Vdigt. 
 
 And. Come, Lucio, let's go eat : what hast thou 
 got ? 30 
 
 Roots, roots ? alas, they are seeded, new cut up. 
 O, thou hast wronged Nature, Lucio : 
 But boots not much ; thou but pursu'st the world, 
 That cuts off virtue, 'fore it comes to growth, 
 
 ^ Old ed. " Holds." 
 
 ' These ravings are unintelligible. 
 
 ' The stage-direction in the old eds. is "Enter Andrvgio, Lucio, 
 Cole, and Norwood." I suppose that Cole and Norwood are the 
 names of the actors who personated Andrugio and Lucio.
 
 64 The First Part of [act iv. 
 
 Lest it should seed, and so o'errun her son, 
 
 Dull purblind error. — Give me water, boy. 
 
 There is no poison in't, I hope ; they say 
 
 That lu[r]ks in massy plate : and yet the earth 
 
 Is so infected with a general plague, 
 
 That he's most wise, that thinks there's no man fool ; 40 
 
 Right prudent, that esteems no creature just; 
 
 Great policy the least things to mistrust. 
 
 Give me assay ^ . How we mock greatness now ! 
 
 Lti. A strong conceit is rich, so most men deem ; 
 If not to be, 'tis comfort yet to seem. 
 
 And. Why man, I never was a prince till now. 
 'Tis not the bared pate, the bended knees, 
 Gilt tipstaves, Tyrrian purple, chairs of state, 
 Troops of pied butterflies that flutter still 
 In greatness' summer, that confirm a prince : 50 
 
 'Tis not the unsavoury breath of multitudes. 
 Shouting and clapping, with confusM din, 
 That makes a prince. No, Lucio, he's a king, 
 A true right king, that dares do aught save wrong ; 
 Fears nothing mortal but to be unjust ; 
 Who is not blown up with the flattering puffs 
 Of spongy sycophants ; who stands unmov'd. 
 Despite the justling of opinion ; 
 Who can enjoy himself, maugre the throng 
 That strive to press his quiet out of him ; 60 
 
 Who sits upon Jove's footstool, as I do, 
 
 1 " Give me assay " = taste it before I drink. 'Y\\e. assayer in courts 
 and baronial halls was the officer who tasted the dishes before tiie 
 banquet in order to make sure that no poison was concealed. ^
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Me llida. 65 
 
 Adoring, not affecting, majesty ; 
 
 Whose brow is wreathed with the silver crown 
 
 Of clear content : this, Lucio, is a king, 
 
 And of this empire every man's possest 
 
 That's worth his soul. 
 
 Lti. My Lord, the Genoways had wont to say — 
 And. Name not the Genoways : that very word 
 
 Unkings me quite, makes me vile passion's slave. 
 
 O, you that slide ^ upon the glibbery ice 70 
 
 Of vulgar favour, view Andrugio. 
 
 Was never prince with more applause confirra'd, 
 
 With louder shouts of triumph launched out 
 
 Into the surgy main of government ; 
 
 Was never prince with more despite cast out, 
 
 Left shipwrack'd, banish'd, on more guiltless ground. 
 
 O rotten props of the crazed multitude, 
 
 How you still double, falter under the lightest chance 
 
 That strains your veins ! Alas, one battle lost. 
 
 Your whorish love, your drunken healths, your houts - 
 and shouts. So 
 
 Your smooth God save's, and all your devils lost ^ 
 
 1 Old eds. "made open the glibbery ice," which modern editors 
 absurdly retain. The word "glibbery" has been already noticed 
 (note 3, p. 22). 
 
 2 Cf. Julius Cczsar, i. 2 (text of First Folio) : — "And then he offered 
 it the third time ; hee put it the third time by, and still as hee refus'd it 
 the rabblement howted and clapp'd their chopt hands." In that passage 
 the first three folios give howted and the fourth /touted ; but modern 
 editors reject the word and read either hooted or shouted. The present 
 passage of Marston affords strong warrant for restoring the reading of 
 the folios. Hout is clearly an onomatopoeic word, like hoit : — He sings 
 and hoits and revels among his drunken companions," (Knight of the 
 Burning Pestle). ^ Old eds. "last" (and so modern editors). 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 The First Part of [act iv. 
 
 That tempts our quiet to your hell of throngs ! 
 Spit on me, Lucio, for I am turned slave : 
 Observe how passion domineers o'er me. 
 
 Lu. No wonder, noble Lord, having lost a son, 
 A country, crown, and . 
 
 And. Ay, Lucio, having lost a son, a son, 
 A country, house, crown, son. O lares, mi'seri^ tares / 
 Which shall I first deplore ? My son, my son. 
 My dear sweet boy, my dear Antonio ! 90 
 
 Ant Antonio? 
 
 And. Ay, echo, ay ; I mean Antonio. 
 
 Anf. Antonio, who means Antonio? 
 
 And. Where art ? what art ? know'st thou Antonio ? 
 
 Ant Yes. 
 
 And. Lives he ? 
 
 Ant No. 
 
 And. Where lies he dead ? 
 
 Ant Here. 
 
 A fid. Where ? 
 
 Ant Here.- 
 
 And. Art thou Antonio? 
 
 Ant I think I am. 
 
 And. Dost thou but think? What, dost not know 
 thyself? 
 
 Ant He is a fool that thinks he knows himself. 
 
 And. Upon thy faith to heaven, give thy name. 100 
 
 Ant I were not worthy of Andrugio's blood, 
 If I denied my name's Antonio. 
 
 ^ Old eds. " misereri." 
 
 * Antonio is concealed behind a bush.
 
 scKNK I.] Antonio and Mellida. 67 
 
 And. I were not worthy to be call'd thy father, 
 If I denied my name Andrugio. 
 And dost thou hve? O, let me kiss thy cheek, 
 And dew thy brow with trickling drops of joy. 
 Now heaven's will be done : for I have lived 
 To see my joy, my son Antonio. 
 Give me thy hand ; now fortune do thy worst, 
 His blood, that lapp'd thy spirit in the womb, no 
 
 Thus (in his love) will make his arms thy tomb. 
 
 Ant. Bless not the body with your twining arms, 
 Which is accurs'd of heaven. O, what black sin 
 Hath been committed by our ancient house, 
 Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads, 
 That thus the world and fortune casts us out, 
 As loathed objects, ruin's branded slaves ! 
 
 And. Do not expostulate the heavens' will, 
 But, O, remember to forget thyself ; 
 Forget remembrance what thou once hast been. 120 
 
 Come, creep with me from out this open air : 
 Even trees have tongues, and will betray our life. 
 I am a-raising of our house, my boy, 
 Which fortune will not envy, 'tis so mean. 
 And like the world (all dirt) : there shalt thou rip 
 The inwards of thy fortunes in mine ears, 
 While I sit weeping, blind with passion's tears. 
 Then I'll begin, and we'll such order keep. 
 That one shall still tell griefs, the other weep. 
 
 [Exeunt Andrugio and Lucio, leaving Antonio 
 and the Page. 
 
 Ant. I'll follow you. Boy, prithee stay a Uttle. 130
 
 68 The First Pai'i of [act iv. 
 
 Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh 
 Wherein we lurk have not corrupted it. 
 
 Enter Mellida, standing out of sight, in her Page's 
 suit. 
 
 1 prithee sing, but, sirra, (mark you me) 
 
 Let each note breathe the heart of passion, 
 
 The sad extracture of extremest grief. 
 
 Make me a strain speak groaning like a bell 
 
 That tolls departing souls; 
 
 Breathe me a point that may enforce me weep, 
 
 To wring my hands, to break my cursed breast, 
 
 Rave, and exclaim, lie grovelling on the earth, 140 
 
 Straight start up frantic, crying, Mellida ! 
 
 Sing but, Antonio hath lost Mellida, 
 
 And thou shalt see me (like a man possess'd) 
 
 Howl out such passion, that even this brinish marsh 
 
 Will squeeze out tears from out his spongy cheeks : 
 
 The rocks even groan, and prithee, prithee sing. 
 
 Or I shall ne'er ha' done when I am in ; 
 'Tis harder for me end, than to begin. 
 
 \^The Boy runs a note, Antonio breaks it. 
 For look thee, boy, my grief that hath no end, 149 
 
 I may begin to plain, but prithee, sing. \^A song. 
 
 Mel. Heaven keep you, sir ! 
 
 Ant. Heaven keep you from me, sir ! 
 
 Mel. I must be acquainted with you, sir. 
 
 Afit. Wherefore? Art thou infected with misery, 
 Sear'd with the anguish of calamity ?
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 69 
 
 Art thou true sorrow, hearty grief? canst weep ? 
 I am not for thee if thou canst not rave, 
 
 [Antonio /fl-Z/i on the ground. 
 Fall flat on the ground, and thus exclaim on heaven : 
 O trifling nature, why inspired'st thou breath ? 
 
 Mel. Stay, sir, I think you nambd Mellida. 
 
 Ant. Know'st thou Mellida? 160 
 
 Mel. Yes. 
 
 Ant. Hast thou seen Mellida? 
 
 Mel. Yes. 
 
 Ant. Then hast thou seen the glory of her sex, 
 The music of Nature, the unequall'd lustre 
 Of unmatch'd excellence, the united svveet 
 Of heaven's graces, the most adorbd beauty, 
 That ever strook amazement in the world ! 
 
 Mel. You seem to love her. 
 
 Ant. With my very soul. 
 
 Mel. She'll not requite it : all her love is fix'd 170 
 
 Upon a gallant, one^ Antonio, 
 The Duke of Genoa's son. I was her page. 
 And often as I waited, she would sigh, 
 O, dear Antonio ! and to strengthen thought, 
 Would cUp my neck, and kiss, and kiss me thus. 
 Therefore leave loving her : fa, faith methinks 
 Her beauty is not half so ravishing 
 As you discourse of; she hath a freckled face, 
 A low forehead, and a lumpish eye. 179 
 
 Ant. O heaven, that I should hear such blasphemy ! 
 
 ^ So ed. 1633.— Ed. 1602 "on,"
 
 yo The First Pai't of [act iv. 
 
 Boy, rogue, thou liest ! and 
 
 Spavento del inio cor dolce Mellida, 
 
 Di grave tnorie ristoro vera, dolce Mellida, 
 
 Celeste salvatrice, sovrana Mellida 
 
 Del mio sperar ; trofeo vero Mellida, 
 
 Mel. Dileita e soave anivia mia Antonio, 
 Godevole bellezza cortese Antonio. 
 Signior mio e virginal amore belP Antonio, 
 Gusto delli miei sensi, car' Antonio. 
 
 Ant. O svanisce^ il cor in nn soave lacio. 190 
 
 Mel. Muoiono - i sensi nel desiato desio : 
 
 Ant. Nel cielo pub esser beltd, piil chiara ? 
 
 Mel. Nel tnojido piib ^ esscr belta piii chiara ? 
 
 Ant. Dam77ii nti bacio da quella bocca beata, 
 Lasciami^ coglier Vaura odorata 
 Che ha ^ sua seggia in quelle dolci labhra. 
 
 Mel. Danuni per impero del tuo gradit' amore 
 Che bea 7ne cofi sempiterno honore. 
 Cost, cosl mi cofwerrd morir. 
 
 Good sweet, scout o'er the marsh, for my heart 
 trembles 200 
 
 At every little breath that strikes ray ear. 
 When thou returnest, then I will discourse 
 How I deceiv'd the court ; then thou shalt tell 
 How thou escaped'st the watch : we'll point our speech 
 
 1 Old eds. "suamisce." — Dilke reads " smartsce." 
 ' Old eds. " A'furono.'" 
 » Old eds. "^ot." 
 
 * So Dilke. Old eds. " Bassiammi." 
 
 * Old eds. " Che in sua neggia in quello," &c.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Alellida. 71 
 
 With amorous kissing ^ commas, and even suck 
 The liquid breath from out each other's lips. 
 
 Ant. Dull clod, no man but such sweet favour clips. 
 I go, and yet my panting blood persuades me stay. 
 Turn coward in her sight ? away, away ! \Exit. 209 
 
 \_Page?^ I think confusion of Babel is fall'n upon those 
 lovers, that they change their language ; but I fear me, 
 my master having but feigned the person of a woman, 
 hath got their unfeigned imperfection, and is grown 
 double tongued : as for Mellida, she were no woman, if 
 she could not yield strange language. But howsoever, 
 if I should sit in judgment, 'tis an error easier to be 
 pardoned by the auditors, than excused by the authors ; 
 and yet some private respect may rebate the edge of 
 the keener censure. 
 
 Enter Piero, Castilio, Matzagente, Forobosco, 
 Feliche, Galeatzo, at one door ; Balurdo, and 
 his Page, at another door. 
 
 Pier. This way she took : search, my sweet gentlemen. 
 How now, Balurdo, canst thou meet with anybody ? 221 
 
 Bal. As I am true gentleman, I made my horse sweat, 
 that he hath ne'er a dry thread on him : and I can meet 
 with no living creature, but men and beasts. In good 
 sadness,^ I would have sworn I had seen Mellida even 
 now ; for I saw a thing stir under a hedge, and I peep'd, 
 and I spied a thing, and I peer'd, and I tweer'd ^ under- 
 
 1 Old eds. repeat the word " kissing." 
 
 * " In good sadness " = seriously. 
 
 •* " Tweer" (or " twire ") = peep, pry.
 
 72 The First Part of [act iv. 
 
 neath : and truly a right wise man might have been de- 
 ceived, for it was . 
 
 Pier. What, in the name of heaven ? 230 
 
 Bal. A dun cow. 
 
 Feli. Sh'ad ne'er a kettle ^ on her head ? 
 
 Fier. Boy, did'st thou see a young lady pass this 
 
 way 
 
 Gal. Why speak you not? 
 
 Bal. God's neaks, proud elf, give the Duke reverence ! 
 
 Stand bare with a . 
 
 Whogh 1 heavens bless me ! Mellida, Mellida ! 
 
 Pier. Where man, where ? 
 
 Bal. Turned man, turned man ; women wear the 
 breeches. 
 Lo, here ! 240 
 
 Pier. Light and unduteous ! kneel not, peevish elf; 
 Speak not, entreat not, shame unto my house, 
 Curse to my honour. Where's Antonio ? 
 Thou traitress to my hate, what, is he shipp'd 
 For England now ? well, whimpering harlot, hence ! 
 
 Mel Good father ! 
 
 Pier. Good me no goods. Seest thou that sprightly 
 youth ? 
 Ere thou canst term to-morrow morning old, 
 Thou shalt call him thy husband, lord, and love. 
 
 1 "The 'Dun Cow ' is, we all know, intimately connected with the 
 celebrated Guy, Earl of Warwick, and I believe his 'kettle' is one of 
 the pretended relics still shown there. From the text I conjecture that 
 the dun cow with the ketde on her head was in the time of Marston a 
 well-known sign." — Dilke.
 
 scENK I.] Antonio a7id Mellida. 73 
 
 Mel. Ay me ! 250 
 
 Pier. Blirt on your " ay me's ! " guard her safely hence. 
 Drag her away, I'll be your guard to-night. 
 Young prince, mount up your spirits and prepare 
 To solemnise your nuptial's eve with pomp. 
 
 Gal. The time is scant : now nimble wits appear : 
 Phoebus begins to ^ gleam, the welkin's clear. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Balurdo and Ms Page. 
 
 Bal. Now nimble wits appear ! I'll myself appear, 
 Balurdo's self, that in quick wit doth surpass, 
 Will show the substance of a complete . 
 
 £>il. Ass, ass. 
 
 Bal. I'll mount my courser, and most gallantly 
 prick . 260 
 
 Dil. Gallantly prick is too long, and stands hardly in 
 the verse, sir. 
 
 Bal. I'll speak pure rhyme, and will so bravely prank 
 it, that I'll toss love like a — prank, prank it ! — a rhyme 
 for prank it ? 
 
 nil. Blanket. 
 
 Bal. That I'll toss love, like a dog in a blanket. Hah 
 hah, indeed, law. I think, hah hah ; I think, hah hah, 
 I think I shall tickle the Muses. And I strike it not 
 dead, say, Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. 270 
 
 Dil. Balurdo, thou art an arrant sot. 
 
 Enter Andrugio and Antonio wreathed together^ Lucio. 
 And. Now, come, united force of chap-fall'n death ; 
 
 1 Omitted in ed. 1602.
 
 74 The First Part of [act iv. 
 
 Come, power of fretting anguish, leave distress. 
 O, thus enfolded, we have breasts of proof 
 'Gainst all the venom'd stings of misery. 
 
 Ant. Father, now I have an antidote 
 'Gainst all the poison that the world can breathe : 
 My Mellida, my Mellida doth bless 
 This bleak waste with her presence. — How now, boy, 
 Why dost thou weep ? alas ! where's Mellida ? 280 
 
 Fage^ Ay me, my Lord. 
 
 A7it.'^ A sudden horror doth invade my blood ; 
 My sinews tremble, and my panting heart 
 Scuds round about my bosom, to go out, 
 Dreading the assailant, horrid passion. 
 O, be no tyrant, kill me with one blow; 
 Speak quickly, briefly, boy. 
 
 Page. Her father found, and seized her ; she is 
 gone. 
 
 And. Son, heat thy blood, be not froze up with 
 grief 
 Courage, sweet boy, sink not beneath the weight 290 
 Of crushing mischief. O where's thy dauntless heart, 
 Thy father's spirit ! I renounce thy blood. 
 If thou forsake thy valour. 
 
 Lu. See how his grief speaks in his slow-paced steps. 
 Alas! 
 
 'Tis more than he can utter, let him go : 
 Dumb solitary path best suiteth woe. \Exit Antonio. 
 
 And. Give me my arms, my armour, Lucio. 
 
 1 Old eds. " Ant." 2 Old eds. ''And."
 
 SCENE 1.] Antonio ajid Me llida. 75 
 
 Lu. Dear lord, what means this rage? when lacking 
 use ^ 
 Scarce safe's your life, will you in armour rise ? 300 
 
 And. Fortune fears valour, presseth cowardice. 
 
 Lu. Then valour gets applause, when it hath place. 
 And means to blaze it. 
 
 And. Nunquam potest non esse. 
 
 Lu. Patience, my lord, may bring your ills some end. 
 
 And. What patience, friend, can ruin'd hopes attend ? 
 Come, let me die like old Andrugio, 
 Worthy my birth. O, blood-true-honour'd graves 
 Are far more blessed than base life of slaves. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ^ It is hard for Andrugio to escape detection even when he is 
 unarmed ; but if he puts on his armour he will be at once recognised. 
 Cf. p. 46 : — 
 
 " If you are but seen, 
 Your arms display you ; therefore put them off."
 
 ( /6 ) 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Palace of the Duke of Venice. 
 
 Enter Balurdo, a Painter with two pictures, and Dildo. 
 
 Bal. And are you a painter? sir, can you draw, can 
 you draw ? 
 
 Fa. Yes, sir. 
 
 Bal. Indeed, law ! now so can my father's forehorse. 
 And are these the workmanship of your hands ? 
 
 Fa. I did limn them. 
 
 Bal. Limn them ? a good word, limn them : whose 
 picture is this? Anno Domini, 1599. Believe me, 
 master Anno Domini was of a good settled age when 
 you limn'd him : 1599 years old ! Let's see the other. 
 y£taiis sucR 24. Byrlady, he is somewhat younger. 
 Belike master ^tatis sua; was Anno Domi?ii's son. 12 
 
 Fa. Is not your master a 
 
 Dil. He hath a little proclivity to him. 
 
 Fa. Proclivity, good youth ? I thank you for your 
 courtly proclivity. 
 
 Bal. Approach, good sir. I did send for you to draw 
 me a device, an Imprezza, by Synecdoche a Mott. By
 
 scKNK I.] Antonio and Mellida. ^7 
 
 Phoebus' crimson taffeta mantle, I think I speak as 
 melodiously, — look you, sir, how think you on't? I 
 would have you paint me, for my device, a good fat leg 
 of ewe mutton, swimming in stewed broth of plums 
 (boy, keel ^ your mouth, it runs over) and the word ^ shall 
 be. Hold my dish, whilst I spill my pottage. Sure, in my 
 conscience, 'twould be the most sweet device, now, 25 
 
 Fa. 'Twould scent of kitchen-stuff too much. 
 
 Bal. God's neaks, now I remember me, I ha' the 
 rarest device in my head that ever breathed. Can you 
 paint me a driveling reeling song, and let the word be, 
 Uh, 30 
 
 Fa. A belch ? 
 
 Bal. O, no no : Uh, paint me Uh, or nothing. 
 
 Fa. It cannot be done, sir, but by a seeming kind of 
 drunkenness, 
 
 Fal. No ? well, let me have a good massy ring, with 
 your own posy graven in it, that must sing a small treble, 
 word for word, thus : 
 
 And if you wiW^ my true lover be, 
 Come follow me to the green wood. 
 
 Fa. O Lord, sir, I cannot make a picture sing. 40 
 Bal. Why ? 'slid, I have seen painted things sing as 
 sweet ; 
 But I have't will tickle it for a conceit, i'faith. 
 
 1 Cool. — To keel the pot\\a.s to stir the contents gently in order to 
 keep them from boiling over. 
 
 * Motto. 5 So ed. 1602. — Ed, 1633 " thou wilt,"
 
 78 The First Pai't of act 
 
 Enter Feliche a7id Alberto. 
 
 Alb. O dear Feliche, give me thy device. 
 How shall I purchase love of Rossaline ? 
 
 Fell. 'Swill, flatter her soundly. 
 
 Alb. Her love is such, I cannot flatter her : 
 But with my utmost vehemence of speech, 
 I have ador'd her beauties. 
 
 Fell. Hast writ good moving unaffected rhymes to 
 her? 
 
 Alb. O, yes, Feliche, but she scorns my writ. 50 
 
 Feli. Hast thou presented her with sumptuous 
 gifts ? 
 
 Alb. Alas, my fortunes are too weak to off"er 
 them. 
 
 Feli. O, then I have it, I'll tell thee what to do. 
 
 Alb. What, good Feliche ? 
 
 Feli. Go and hang thyself; I say, go hang thyself, 
 If that thou canst not give, go hang thyself: 
 I'll rhyme thee dead, or verse thee to the rope. 
 How think'st thou of a poet that sung thus ? 
 Munera sola pacant, sola addunt inuncra formam : 
 Munere solliciies Fallada, Cypris erit. 60 
 
 Munera, iminera I 
 
 Alb. I'll go and breathe my woes unto the rocks, 
 And spend my grief upon the deafest seas. 
 I'll weep my passion to the senseless trees, 
 And load most solitary air with plaints. 
 For woods, trees, sea, or rocky Apennine, 
 Is not so ruthless as my Rossaline.
 
 SCENE I.] Afitonio and Mellida. 79 
 
 Farewell, dear friend, expect no more of me : 
 Here ends my part in this love's comedy. 69 
 
 \Exeunt Alberto and Painter. 
 
 Fcli. Now, master Balurdo, whither are you going, ha ? 
 
 Bal. Signior Feliche, how do you, faith ? and by my 
 troth, how do you ? 
 
 Fell. Whither art thou going, bully ? ^ 
 
 Bal. And as heaven help me, how do you ? 
 How, do you, i'faith, hee? 
 
 Fell. Whither art going, man ? 
 
 Bal. O God, to the court ; I'll be willing to give you 
 grace and good countenance, if I may but see you in the 
 presence. 
 
 Fcli. O, to court ? farewell. 80 
 
 BaL If you see one in a yellow taffeta doublet, cut 
 upon carnation velure,^ a green hat, a blue pair of 
 velvet hose, a gilt rapier, and an orange-tawny pair of 
 worsted silk stockings, that's I, that's I. 
 
 Fell. Very good : farewell. 
 
 Bal. Ho, you shall know me as easily ; I ha' bought 
 me a new green feather with a red sprig \ you shall see 
 my wrought ^ shirt hang out at my breeches ; you shall 
 know me. 89 
 
 1 A familiar form of address. 
 
 2 A sort of velvet. 
 
 2 In Every Man out of his Humour, iv. 4, after Fastidious Brisk has 
 been describing the damage done to his finery in a duel, Carlo observes — 
 "I wonder he speaks not of his wrought shirt.'''' Gifford remarks — 
 "The linen, both of men and women, was either so worked as to 
 resemble the finest lace, or was ornamented by the needle with represen- 
 tations of fruiti, flowers, passages of history, &c. "
 
 8o TJie Fh'st Part of [act v. 
 
 Fell. Very good, very good, farewell. 
 
 Bal. Marry, in the mask 'twill be somewhat hard. 
 But if you hear anybody speak so wittily, that he makes 
 all the room laugh ; that's I, that's I. Farewell, good 
 Signior. 
 
 Enter Forobosco, Castilio, a Boy carrying a gilt harp ; 
 PiERO, Mellida, in night apparel ; Rossaline, 
 Flavia, two Pages. 
 Pier. Advance the music's prize ; now, cap'ring wits. 
 Rise to your highest mount ; let choice delight 
 Garland the brow of this triumphant night. 
 'Sfoot, 'a sits like Lucifer himself. 
 
 Ros. Good sweet Duke, 
 First let their voices strain for music's prize.' 
 Give me the golden harp : loo 
 
 Faith, with your favour, I'll be umperess. 
 
 Pier. Sweet niece, content : boys, clear your voice and 
 sing. 
 
 First 2 Boy sings. 
 
 Ros. By this gold, I had rather have a servant with a 
 short nose, and a thin hair, than have such a high- 
 stretch'd minikin ^ voice. 
 
 Pier. Fair niece, your reason ? 
 
 Ros. By the sweet of love, I should fear extremely 
 that he were an eunuch. 
 
 Cast. Spark spirit, how like you his voice ? 
 
 1 Ed. 1602 "price." 
 
 s This play was acted by the Paul's Children, whose voices were care- 
 fully trained : hence the frequent introduction of songs. 
 3 See note 2, p. 51.
 
 SCENE I.] Anto7iio and Mcllida. 8r 
 
 Kos. Spark spirit, how like you his voice ! no 
 
 So help me, youth, thy voice squeaks like a dry cork- 
 shoe : ^ come, come ; let's hear the next. 
 
 Second Boy sings. 
 
 Pier. Trust me, a strong mean. Well sung, my boy. 
 
 Enter Balurdo. 
 
 Bill. Hold, hold, hold: are yc blind? could ye not 
 see my voice coming for the harp ? And I knock not 
 division - on the head, take hence the harp, make me 
 a slip,^ and let me go but for ninepence. Sir Mark, 
 strike up for master Balurdo. 
 
 Third Boy sings. 
 Judgment, gentlemen, judgment ! Was't not above line ? 
 I appeal to your mouths that heard my song. 120 
 
 Do ^ me right, and dub me knight, Balurdo. 
 
 1 "Their corki'd shoes to bear them high." — Stephen Gosson's 
 Pleasant Quips, Sfc. 
 
 2 See note 6, p. 48. ^ " Slip" — counterfeit coin. 
 
 4 "Do me right and dub me knight." — Part of an old catch. So 
 Silence in 2 Henry IV., v. 3 : — 
 
 " Do me right 
 And dub me knight, 
 Sam in go." 
 Again in Nashe's Summer s Last Will and Testament : — 
 " All, Monsieur Mingo for quaffing did surpass. 
 
 In cup, in can, or glass. 
 Bac. Ho, well shot a toucher, a toucher. 
 For quaffitig Toy doth pass 
 In cup, in can, or glass. 
 All. God Bacchus, do him right, 
 And dub him knight," 
 VOL. I. F
 
 $2 TJie First Part of [act v. 
 
 Ros. Kneel down, and I'll dub thee knight of the 
 golden harp. 
 
 Bal. Indeed, law, do, and I'll make you lady of the 
 silver fiddlestick. 
 
 Ros. Come, kneel, kneel. 
 
 Enter a Page to Balurdo. 
 
 Bal. ISIy troth, I thank you, it hath never a whistle 
 in't. 
 
 Ros. Nay, good sweet coz, raise up your drooping 
 eyes ; and I were at the point of To have and to hold 
 from this day forward, I would be asham'd to look thus 
 lumpish. What, my pretty coz, 'tis but the loss of an 
 odd maidenhead. 133 
 
 Shall's dance? thou art so sad, hark in thine ^ car : 
 I was about to say, but I'll forbear. 
 
 Bal. I come, I come ; more than most honeysuckle 
 sweet ladies, pine not for my presence, I'll return in 
 pomp. Well spoke. Sir Jeffrey Balurdo. As I am a 
 true knight, I feel honourable eloquence begin to grope 
 me already. \Exit. 140 
 
 Pier. Faith, mad niece, I wonder when thou wilt 
 marry ? 
 
 Ros. Faith, kind uncle, when men abandon jealousy, 
 forsake taking of tobacco, and cease to wear their beards 
 so rudely long. O, to have a husband with a mouth 
 continually smoking, with a bush of furze on the ridge 
 
 1 Old eds. "mine."
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 8 
 
 a 
 
 of his chin, ready still to flop into his foaming chaps ; 
 ah, 'tis more than most intolerable. 
 
 Pier. Nay faith, sweet niece, I was mighty strong in 
 thought we should have shut up night with an old 
 comedy : the Prince of Florence ^ shall have Mellida, 
 and thou should'st have . 152 
 
 Ros. Nobody, good sweet uncle. I tell you, sir, I 
 have thirty-nine servants, and my monkey that makes 
 the fortieth. Now I love all of them lightly for some- 
 thing, but affect none of them seriously for anything. 
 One's a passionate fool, and he flatters me above belief; 
 the second's a testy ape, and he rails at me beyond 
 reason ; the third's as grave as some censor, and he 
 strokes up his mustachios three times, and makes six 
 plots of set faces, before he speaks one wise word ; the 
 fourth's as dry as the bur of an hartichoke ; the fifth 
 paints, and hath always a good colour for what he 
 speaks ; the sixth . 164 
 
 Pier. Stay, stay, sweet niece, what makes you thus 
 suspect your gallants' worth ? 
 
 Ros. O, when I see one wear a periwig, I dread his 
 hair ; another wallow in a great slop,^ I mistrust the pro- 
 portion of his thigh ; and wears a ruffled boot,^ I fear the 
 fashion of his leg. Thus, something in each thing, one 
 
 1 Old eds. " Millane ; " but Galeatzo, son of the Duke of Florence, 
 was the suitor whom Piero had chosen. Cf. p. 91 : — 
 
 " Young Florence prince, to you my lips must be, 
 For a remittance of your interest." 
 
 ' Wide loose breeches. 
 
 ' •' Ruffled boot." — See notes on Middleton, i. 26, viii. 70.
 
 84 TJic First Part of [act v. 
 
 trick in everything makes me mistrust imperfection in all 
 parts; and there's the full point of my addiction. 172 
 
 The cornets sound a scfiet. Enter Galeatzo, Matza- 
 GENTE, and Balurdo /'« maskery. 
 
 Pier. The room's too scant : boys, stand in there, 
 close, 
 
 Mel. \To Galeatzo.] In faith, fair sir, I am too sad 
 to dance. 
 
 Pier. How's that, how's that ? too sad ? By heaven, 
 dance, 
 And grace him too, or go to' , I say no more. 
 
 Mel. A burning glass, the word ^ splendenie Phoebol 
 It is too curious, I conceit it not. 
 
 Gal. Faith, I'll tell thee. I'll no longer burn, 
 Than you will shine and smile upon my love. 180 
 
 For look ye, fairest, by your pure sweets, 
 I do not dote upon your excellence ; 
 And faith, unless you shed your brightest beams 
 Of sunny favour and acceptive grace 
 Upon my tender love, I do not burn : 
 Marry, but shine, and I'll reflect your beams 
 With fervent ardour. Faith ! I would be loath to flatter 
 thee, fair soul, because I love, not dote, court like thy 
 husband, which thy father swears to-morrow morn I 
 must be. This is all ; and now from henceforth, trust 
 me, Mellida, I'll not speak one wise word to thee more. 
 
 i Motto.
 
 SCENE I] Antonio and Mellida. 85 
 
 Mel. I trust ye. 192 
 
 Gal. By my troth, I'll speak pure fool ^ to thee 
 now. 
 
 Mel. You will speak the liker yourself. 
 
 Gal. Good faith, I'll accept of the coxcomb, so you 
 will not refuse the bable.^ 
 
 Mel. Nay, good sweet, keep them both ; I am ena- 
 moured of neither. 
 
 Gal. Go to, I must take you down for this. Lend 
 me your ear. 200 
 
 Ros. A glow-worm ? the word, — Splendescit tantum 
 tenebris. 
 
 Mat. O, lady, the glow-worm figurates my valour, 
 which shineth brightest in most dark, dismal, and horrid 
 achievements. 
 
 Ros. Or rather, your glow-worm represents your wit, 
 which only seems to have fire in it, though indeed 'tis 
 but an ignis fatuus, and shines only in the dark dead 
 night of fools' admiration. 
 
 Mat. Lady, my wit hath spurs, if it were dispos'd to 
 ride you. 211 
 
 Ros. Faith, sir, your wit's spurs have but walking 
 rowels ; dull, blunt, they will not draw blood : the 
 gentlemen-ushers may admit them the presence, for any 
 wrong they can do to ladies. 
 
 1 " ' Speak pure fool.' — This is idiomatic, and is in sense equivalent 
 to, 'I will speak like a pure fool.' Thus in Othello, act ii., 'Drunk? 
 and speak parrot?' — that is, talk foolishly or idly like a parrot." — 
 Halliwell. 
 
 2 Old form of "bauble."
 
 86 The First Part of [act v. 
 
 Bal. Truly, I have strained a note above ela ^ for a 
 device : look you, 'tis a fair-ruled singing book ; the 
 word, Perfect, if it were prick' d. 
 
 Fla. Though you are mask'd, I can guess who you 
 are by your wit. You are not the exquisite Balurdo, 
 the most rarely-shaped Balurdo. 221 
 
 Bal Who, I ? No, I am not Sir Jeffrey Balurdo. I 
 am not as well known by my wit as an alehouse by a 
 red lattice.- I am not worthy to love and be beloved 
 of Flavia. 
 
 Fla. I will not scorn to favour such good parts 
 As are applauded in your rarest self. 227 
 
 Bal. Truly, you speak wisely, and like a jantlewoman 
 of fourteen years of age. You know the stone called 
 lapis ; the nearer it comes to the fire, the hotter it is : 
 and the bird, which the geometricians call avis, the 
 farther it is from the earth, the nearer it is to the 
 heaven ; and love, the nigher it is to the flame, the 
 more remote (there's a word, remote ! ) the more remote 
 it is from the frost. Your wit is quick \ a little thing 
 pleaseth a young lady, and a small favour contenteth 
 an old courtier ; and so, sweet mistress, I truss my 
 codpiece point 238 
 
 Enter Feliche. 
 
 Pier. What might import this flourish ? Bring us word. 
 
 1 The highest note in the scale. — Cf. Nashe's Chrisfs Tears over 
 Jerusalem ( Works, ed. Grosart, v. i88) :— " No, no, either you must 
 strain your wits an ela above theirs," &c. The form of expression is 
 not uncommon. 
 
 ' A red lattice was the distinguishing mark of a tavern.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. Zy 
 
 Fell. Stand away : here's such a company of flyboats,'- 
 hulling 2 about this gallcasse ^ of greatness, that there's 
 no boarding him. 
 Do you hear, yon thing call'd duke ? 
 
 Fier. How now, blunt Feliche ; what's the news ? 
 
 Fell. Yonder's a knight, hath brought Andrugio's 
 head. 
 And craves admittance to your chair of state. 
 
 Cornets sound a senet. Enter Andrugio in armour. 
 
 Pier. Conduct him with attendance sumptuous ; 
 Sound all the pleasing instruments of joy ; 
 Make triumph stand on tiptoe whilst we meet : 
 O sight most gracious, O revenge most sweet ! 250 
 
 A7id. We vow, by the Jionour of our birth, to recompense 
 any man that bt'itigeth Andrugio's head, with ttventy thou- 
 sand double pistolets, ajid the endearing to our choicest 
 love. 
 
 Pier. We still with most unmoved resolve* confirm 
 Our large munificence, and here breathe 
 A sad and solemn protestation : 
 When I recall this vow, O, let our house 
 Be even commanded, stain'd, and trampled on. 
 As worthless rubbish of nobility. 260 
 
 And. Then here [raising his beaver], Piero, is Andrugio's 
 head, 
 
 1 " Flyboat" (Span, filibote) — a fast-sailing vessel. 
 ^ "To float, to swim, as borne along or driven by wind or water." — 
 Dyce's Shakcsp. Glossary. 
 * A large galley. * Old eds. " resolv'd."
 
 S8 The First Part of [act v. 
 
 Royally casqued in a helm of steel : 
 
 Give me thy love, and take it. My dauntless soul 
 
 Hath that unbounded vigour in his spirits 
 
 That it can bear more rank indignity, 
 
 With less impatience than thy canker'd hate 
 
 Can sting and venom his untainted worth 
 
 With the most vip'rous sound of malice. Strike ! 
 
 O, let no glimpse of honour light thy thoughts ; 
 
 If there be any heat of royal breath 270 
 
 Creeping in thy veins, O stifle it ; 
 
 Be still thyself, bloody and treacherous. 
 
 Fame not thy house with an admired act 
 
 Of princely pity. Piero, I am come 
 
 To soil thy house with an eternal blot 
 
 Of savage cruelty ; strike, or bid me strike. 
 
 I pray my death ; that thy ne'er-dying shame 
 
 Might live immortal to posterity. 
 
 Come, be a princely hangman, stop my breath. 
 
 dread thou shame, no more than I dread death. 280 
 Pier. We are amazed, our royal spirit's numb'd 
 
 In stiff astonish'd wonder at thy prowess. 
 Most mighty, valiant, and high-tow'ring heart. 
 We blush, and turn our hate upon ourselves, 
 For hating such an unpeer'd excellence. 
 
 1 joy my state : him whom I loath'd before, 
 That now I honour, love, nay more, adore. 
 
 [ The still flutes soutid a mournful senet. Enter a 
 funeral procession, followed by Lucio. 
 But stay ; what tragic spectacle appears ! 
 Whose body bear you in that mournful hearse ?
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 89 
 
 Lu. The breathless trunk of young Antonio. 290 
 
 Mel. Antonio ! ay me ! my lord, my love ! my . 
 
 And. Sweet precious issue of most honour'd blood, 
 Rich hope, ripe virtue, O untimely loss ! 
 Come hither, friend : prithee, do not weep. 
 Why, I am glad he's dead \ he shall not see 
 His father's vanquish'd by his enemy, 
 Even in princely honour. Nay, prithee, speak ! 
 How died the wretched boy ? 
 
 Lie. My lord ! 
 
 Afid. I hope he died yet like my son, i'faith. 300 
 
 Lu. Alas, my lord ! 
 
 And. He died unforced, I trust, and valiantly ? 
 
 Lu. Poor gentleman, being 
 
 And. Did his hand shake, or his eye look dull, 
 His thoughts reel fearful when he struck the stroke ? 
 And if they did, I'll rend them out the hearse. 
 Rip up, his cerecloth, mangle his bleak face. 
 That when he comes to heaven, the powers divine, 
 Shall ne'er take notice that he was my son : 
 I'll quite disclaim his birth. Nay, prithee, speak ! 310 
 And 'twere not hooped with steel, my breast would 
 break. 
 
 Mel. O that my spirit in a sigh could mount 
 Into the sphere where thy sweet soul doth rest ! 
 
 Pier. O that my tears, bedewing thy wan cheek. 
 Could make new spirit sprout in thy cold blood ! 
 
 Bal. Verily, he looks as pitifully as a poor John ; ^ 
 
 1 " Poor John" = inferior dried hake. (Ed. 1633 "as Poor John.")
 
 go The First Part of [act v. 
 
 as I am true knight, I could weep like a ston'J 
 horse. 
 
 And. Villain, 'tis thou hast murdered my son ! 
 Thy unrelenting spirit, thou black dog, 320 
 
 That took'st no passion ^ of his fatal love, 
 Hath forced him give his life untimely end. 
 
 Pier. O ! that my life, her love, my dearest blood, 
 Would but redeem one minute of his breath ! 
 
 Ant. \rismg?\ I seize that breath. Stand not amazed, 
 great states ; 
 I rise from death that never lived till now. 
 PierOj keep thy vow, and I enjoy 
 More unexpressed height of happiness 
 Than power of thought can reach ; if not, lo, here 
 There stands my tomb, and here a pleasing stage. '330 
 Most-wish'd spectators of my tragedy, 
 To this end have I feign'd, that her fair eye. 
 For whom I lived, might bless me ere I die. 
 
 Mel. Can breath depaint ^ my unconceiv^d thoughts ? 
 Can words describe my infinite delight 
 Of seeing thee, my lord Antonio ? 
 O no ; conceit, breath, passion, words, be dumb. 
 Whilst I instill the dew of my sweet bliss. 
 In the soft pressure of a melting kiss ! 
 Sic^ sic jiivat ire sub umbras. 340 
 
 Pier. Fair son (now I'll be proud to call thee son), 
 Enjoy me thus : my very breast is thine ; 
 Possess me freely, I am wholly thine. 
 
 1 Sorrow, pity. * Depict.
 
 scENKi.] Antonio and Mellida. 91 
 
 Ant. Dear father 
 
 And. Sweet son, sweet son, I can speak no more : 
 My joy's passion flows above the shore, 
 And chokes the current of my speech. 
 
 Fier. Young Florence prince, to you my lips must 
 beg 
 For a remittance of your interest. 
 
 Gal, In your fair daughter ? with all my thought. 350 
 So help me faith, the nak'd truth I'll unfold ; 
 He that was never ^ hot will soon be cold. 
 
 Ficr. No man else makes claim unto her ? 
 
 Mat. The valiant speak truth in brief : no — 
 
 Bal. Truly, for Sir Jeffrey Balurdo, he disclaims to 
 have had anything in her. 
 
 Fier. Then here I give her to Antonio. 
 Royal, valiant, most respected prince, 
 Let's clip our hands, I'll thus observe my vow : 
 I promised twenty thousand double pistolets, 360 
 
 With the endearing to my dearest love, 
 To him that brought thy head ; thine be the gold, 
 To solemnise our houses' unity ; 
 My love be thine, the all I have, be thine. 
 Fill us fresh wine, the form we'll take by this ; 
 We'll drink a health, while they two sip a kiss.- 
 Now there remains no discord that can sound 
 Harsh accents to the ear of our accord : 
 So please you,^ niece, to match. 369 
 
 1 Old eds. " nere." 
 
 * "Sip a kiss " — a translation of the Latin expression " oscula libare. 
 
 * Old eds. "your."
 
 92 A7itonio and Mellida. [act v. 
 
 Ros. Troth, uncle, when my sweet-faced coz hath told 
 me how she likes the thing called wedlock, may be I'll 
 take a survey of the checkroll of my servants ; and he 
 that hath the best parts of — I'll prick him down for my 
 husband. 
 
 Bal. For passion of love now, remember me to my 
 mistress, lady Rossaline, when she is pricking down the 
 good parts of her servants. As I am true knight, I grow 
 stiff; I shall carry it. 
 
 Fier. I will. 
 Sound Lydian wires, once make a pleasing note 380 
 
 On nectar streams of your sweet airs to float 
 
 Ant. Here ends the comic crosses of true love ; 
 O ! may the passage most successful prove !
 
 EPILOGUS. 
 
 And. Gentlemen, though I remain an armed Epilogue,^ 
 I stand not as a peremptory challenger of desert, either 
 for him that composed the Comedy, or for us that acted 
 it ; but a most submissive suppliant for both. What 
 imperfection you have seen in us, leave with us, and 
 we'll amend it ; what hath pleased you, take with you, 
 and cherish it. You shall not be more ready to embrace 
 anything commendable, than we will endeavour to amend 
 all things reprovable. What we are, is by your favour. 
 What we shall be, rests all in your applausive encourage- 
 ments, [^Exeunt. 
 
 1 It was probably in derision of Marston's "armed Epilogue" that 
 Ben Jonson heralded The Poetaster with an armed Prologue, In 
 Troilus and Cressida we have an armed Prologue : — 
 
 "And hither am I come, 
 A Prologue armed — but not in confidence 
 Of author's pen."
 
 ANTONIO'S REVENGE. 
 
 THE SECOND PART OF THE HISTORY OF 
 ANTONIO AND MELLIDA.
 
 Antonios Reuenge. The second part. As it hath beene sundry times 
 acted, by the children of Paitles. Written by I. M. London 
 Printed for Thomas Fisher, and are to be soulde in Saint Dunstans 
 Church-yarde. 1602. 410. ■ 
 
 STORY OF THE PLAY. 
 
 Piero had been a suitor for the hand of Maria, daughter of the Dukft 
 of Ferrara, but his addresses had been rejected and Maria had married 
 Andrugio, the offspring of the union being Antonio. When Piero, 
 dissembling his hatred, affects to be reconciled to Andrugio, Lucio 
 is despatched to bring Maria to the Venetian Court. Piero, at a 
 banquet given on the eve of his daughter's marriage with Antonio, 
 instils in Andrugio's cup a poison which has no immediate effect 
 but works fatally after a few hours. With the help of a base creature, 
 Strotzo, he proceeds in the night to murder Antonio's friend, Feliche, 
 whose body is carried by Strotzo to Mellida's chamber. At sun- 
 rise Maria and Lucio arrive at Venice. Antonio, whose sleep has 
 been troubled by hideous dreams, is abroad early, and is met by 
 his mother as he paces disquietly in front of Mellida's chamber. 
 Presently the window-curtain is drawn aside and there is exposed the 
 body of Feliche, stabbed thick with wounds. While Antonio is dis- 
 tractedly calling upon Mellida to rise, Piero advances and proclaims 
 himself the author of Feliche's death, protesting that he had found his 
 daughter in the embraces of the murdered man. The scene of con- 
 fusion is heightened by the entrance of Strotzo, who announces that 
 Andrugio has died from excess of joy at his sudden change of fortunes. 
 Mellida is put in close confinement, and a day is appointed for her 
 trial. Strotzo is instructed by Piero to come forward at the trial 
 and accuse Antonio of having instigated the murders of Andrugio 
 and Feliche. But before the trial Andrugio's ghost appears to Anton:o, 
 discloses Piero's villainy, and bids Antonio take vengeance on the 
 murderer. Antonio stabs Piero's young son Juiio at Andrugio's 
 
 VOL. \. G
 
 ( 98 ) 
 
 slirine ; he then disguises himself as Maria's fool and watches his 
 opportunity for further vengeance. The trial of Mellida is held : 
 Strotzo enters the court with a cord round his neck, declaring that he 
 liad been suborned by Antonio to commit the crimes ; and officers are 
 despatched to arrest Antonio, who in his fool's habit is watching the 
 proceedings. It had been part of the plot that Strotzo, after making 
 his confession, should break into passionate outbursts of sorrow and 
 implore Piero to rid him of a dishonourable hfe ; whereupon Piero was 
 to spring forward, grasp the cord round Strotzo's neck as with intent 
 to strangle him, then suddenly to relax his hold, moved by Strotzo's 
 penitent conduct. Strotzo goes through his part of the performance ; 
 but Piero, grasping one end of the cord while Castillo (a courtier) 
 grasps the other, is careful not to loose his hold before the victim 
 is strangled. Presently word is brought that Antonio in a fit of 
 distraction has flung himself from a high tower into the sea. At this 
 news Mellida falls into a deep swoon and is conveyed to her chamber, 
 whither Antonio after a short delay contrives to follow her, but arrives 
 only in time to see her expire. Piero, notwithstanding his daughter's 
 untoward death, determines that his marriage with Maria (who affects 
 to acquiesce in the arrangement) shall take place without delay. A 
 scheme of vengeance is contrived between Antonio, Pandulfo (Feliche's 
 father) and Alberto (Feliche's friend). The conspirators attire tlientselves 
 as maskers and appear at a banquet given by Piero on the eve of his 
 marriage. On the appearance of the maskers Piero enquires for his son, 
 Julio, and sends an attendant to fetch him to see the dances. After 
 dancing a measure the maskers request Piero to have the hall cleared 
 while they sit unmasked at the banquet. Thereupon the guests and 
 retainers withdraw, but Piero at the maskers' request remains. He takes 
 a seat at the banquet ; the conspirators, unmasking themselves, spring 
 forward and bind him with cords to the chair ; insult over him, cut out 
 his tongue, produce in a dish the limbs of his murdered son, and finally 
 hack him to death with their swords. The tyrant's death is welcomed 
 with universal joy. The conspirators are hailed as saviours of their 
 country, and are offered high offices of state ; but prefer to spend the 
 rest of their lives in the seclusion of a religious house.
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 The rawish dank of clumsy ^ winter ramps 
 
 The fluent summer's vein ; and drizzling sleet 
 
 Chilleth the wan bleak cheek of the numb'd earth, 
 
 Whilst snarling gusts nibble the juiceless leaves 
 
 From the nak'd shudd'ring branch; and pills- the skin 
 
 From off the soft and delicate aspects. 
 
 O now, methinks, a sullen tragic scene 
 
 Would suit the time with pleasing congruence. 
 
 May we be happy in our weak devoir, • 
 
 And all part pleasbd in most wish'd content ! lo 
 
 But sweat of Hercules can ne'er beget 
 
 So blest an issue. Tiierefore, we proclaim. 
 
 If any spirit breathes within this round, 
 
 Uncapable of weighty passion, 
 
 (As from his birth being hugged in the arms. 
 
 And nuzzled 'twixt the breasts of happiness) 
 
 Who winks, and shuts his apprehension up 
 
 From common sense of what men were and are, 
 
 Who would not know what men must be — let such 
 
 Hurry amain from our black-visaged shows : 20 
 
 1 Marston's use of the words clumsy and ramp is ridiculed in The 
 Poetaster (v. i). 
 
 2 Feels.
 
 ( lOO ) 
 
 We shall affright their eyes. But if a breast 
 Nail'd to the earth with grief; if any heart 
 Pierc'd through with anguish pant within this ring ; 
 If there be any blood whose heat is choked 
 And stifled with true sense of misery ; 
 If ought of these strains fill this consort up — 
 Th' arrive most welcome. O that our power 
 Could lackey or keep wing with our desires, 
 That with unused paize ^ of style and sense, 
 We might weigh massy in judicious scale. 30 
 
 Yet here's the prop that doth support our hopes : 
 When our scenes falter, or invention halts. 
 Your favour will give crutches to our faults.- [Exi'i. 
 
 1 An old form of poise. 
 
 2 " This prologue, for its passionate earnestness, and for the tragic note 
 of preparation which it sounds, might have preceded one of those tales 
 of Thebes, or Pelops' line, which Milton has so highly commended, 
 as free from the common errors in his days, 'of intermixing comic stuff 
 with tragic sadness and gravity, brought in without discretion corruptly 
 to gfratify the people." It is as solemn a preparative as the ' warning voice 
 which he who saw th" Apocalypse heard cry.' " — Charges Lamb.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON^.^ 
 
 PiERO SfORZA, Dtike of Venice. 
 
 Antonio, son to the murdered Andrugio, affianced to Mei.Lida. 
 
 Pandulfo, father to the murdered Feliche. 
 
 Alberto, a Venetian gentleman, 
 
 Balurdo, a rich gull. 
 
 Matzagente, a modem braggadoch. 
 
 Galeatzo, son to the Duke of Milan. 
 
 FoROBOSCO, a Parasite. 
 
 Castilio Balthazar, a spruce courtier. 
 
 LuciO, an old nobleman, attendant to MariA. 
 
 Strotzo, a creature of PiERO. 
 
 Julio, son to Pi erg. 
 
 Maria, Andrugio's widow, mother to Antonio. 
 Mellida, daughter to Piero, affianced to Antonio. 
 NUTRICHE, attendant to Maria. 
 Two Senators, Herald, Waiting-tuomen, Page, b'c. 
 
 Ghost (?/ Andrugio, Ghost of Yki^iche. 
 
 The Scene — Venice. 
 
 ' There is no list of characters in the old eds.
 
 ANTONIO'S REVENGE. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A corridor in the palace of Vi'ero. 
 
 Enter Piero, unbraced, his arms hare, smeared in blood, 
 a poniard in one hand bloody, and a torch in the other ; 
 ^TKOizo follow ifig him with a cord. 
 
 Pier. Ho, Gasper Strotzo, bind Feliche's trunk 
 Unto the panting side of Mellida ! \_Exit Strotzo. 
 
 'Tis yet dead night, yet all the earth is clutch'd ^ 
 In the dull leaden hand of snoring sleep ; 
 No breath disturbs the quiet of the air, 
 No spirit moves upon the breast of earth, 
 Save howling dogs, night-crows, and screeching owls, 
 Save meagre ghosts, Pie^, and black thoughts. 
 One, two ! \_Clock strikes. 
 
 1 Old eds. "cloucht," which we might regard as a misprint for 
 "coucht" if Marston had not shown an excessive fondness (ridiculed 
 in The Poetaster) for the word "clutch."
 
 I04 Tlic Second Part of [act i. 
 
 Lord, in two hours what a topless mount lo 
 
 Of unpeer'd mischief have these hands cast up ! 
 
 Re-enter Strotzo. 
 
 I can scarce coop triumphing vengeance up 
 From bursting forth in braggart passion. 
 
 Sir. My lord, 'tis firmly said that 
 
 Pier. Andrugio sleeps in peace : this brain hath 
 choked 
 The organ of his breast. Feliche hangs 
 But as a bait upon the line of death, 
 To tice on mischief. I am great in blood, 
 Unequall'd in revenge. You horrid scouts 
 That sentinel swart night, give loud applause 20 
 
 From your large palms. First, know, my heart was rais'd 
 Unto Andrugio's life upon this ground — 
 
 Str. Duke, 'tis reported 
 
 Pier. We both were rivals in our may of blood, 
 Unto Maria, fair Ferrara/s heir. 
 He won the lady, to my honour's death, 
 And from her sweets cropp'd this Antonio ; 
 For which I burnt in inward swelt'ring hate, 
 And fester'd rankling malice in my breast, 
 Till I might belk revenge upon his eyes : 30 
 
 And now (O blessbd now !) 'tis done. Hell, night. 
 Give loud applause to my hypocrisy. 
 When his bright valour even dazzled sense. 
 In offring his own head, public reproach 
 Had blurr'd my name. Speak, Strotzo, had it not ? 
 If then I had
 
 SCENE 1.] Antonio and Mcllida. 105 
 
 Sir. It had, so please 
 
 Pier. What had, so ])lease ? Unseasoned sycophant, 
 Piero Sforza is no numbed lord. 
 
 Senseless of all true touch ;i stroke not the head 40 
 
 Of infant speech, till it be fully born ; 
 do to ! 
 
 Str. How now ! Fut, I'll not smother your speech. 
 
 Pier. Nay, right thine eyes : 'twas but a little spleen, — 
 (Huge plunge ! ^ 
 
 Sin's grown a slave, and must observe slight evils ; 
 Huge villains are enforced to claw^ all devils.) — 
 Pish, sweet, thy thoughts, and give me . 
 
 Str. Stroke not the head of infant speech ! go to ! 
 
 Pier. Nay, calm this storm. I ever held thy breast 
 More secret, and more firm in league of blood, 50 
 
 Than to be struck in heat with each slight puff. 
 Give me thy ears; huge infamy [had] press['d] down 
 My honour, if even then, when his fresh act 
 Of prowess bloom'd out full, 
 I had ta'en vengeance on his hated head . 
 
 Str. Why it had . 
 
 Pier. Could I avoid to give a seeming grant 
 Unto fruition of Antonio's love ? 
 
 Str. No. 
 
 1 Feeling, perception. — See Dyce's Shakesp. Glossary. 
 
 2 Plunge often has the meaning of — difficulty, embarrassment. I 
 suppose it has that meaning here. Piero is annoyed at having to speak 
 fair words to so paltry a rascal as Strotzo. 
 
 s Stroke gently, flatter.— A common name for a flatterer was claw- 
 back. — " Flatant. — Flattering, fawning, colloguing with, clawing, 
 smoothing, stroaking." — Cott'rave.
 
 io6 The Seco7id Part of [act i. 
 
 Pier. And didst thou ever see a Judas kiss 60 
 
 With a more covert touch of fleering hate ? 
 
 Sir. No. 
 
 Pier. And having cHpt them with pretence of love, 
 Haye I not crush'd them with a cruel wring ? 
 
 Str. Yes. 
 
 Pier. Say, faith, didst thou e'er hear, or read, or see 
 Such happy vengeance, unsuspected death? 
 That I should drop strong poison in the bowl, 
 Which I myself caroused unto his health 
 And future fortune of our unity ! 70 
 
 That it should work even in the hush ^ of night. 
 And strangle him on sudden, that fair show 
 Of death, for the excessive joy of his fate. 
 Might choke the murder ! Ha, Strotzo, is't not rare? 
 Nay, but weigh it. Then Feliche stabb'd 
 (Whose sinking thought ^ frighted my conscious heart). 
 And laid by Mellida, to stop the match. 
 And hale on mischief. This all in one night ! 
 Is't to be equall'd, think'st thou ? O, I could eat 
 Thy fumbling throat, for thy lagg'd censure. Fut, 80 
 Is't not rare ? 
 
 Str. Yes. 
 
 Pier. No ? yes ? nothing but no and yes^ dull lump ? 
 Canst thou not honey me with fluent speech, 
 And even adore my topless villainy ? 
 
 1 Oldeds. "husht." 
 
 * "Sinking thought" is a curious expression. It means, I suppose 
 — deep discernment, penetrative shrewdness. Piero dreaded that his 
 villainies would be detected by Feliche.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and ]\Iellida. 107 
 
 Will I not blast my own blood for revenge, 
 
 Must not thou straight be perjur'd for revenge, 
 
 And yet no creature dream 'tis my revenge ? 
 
 Will I not turn a glorious bridal morn 
 
 Unto a Stygian night ? Yet naught but no and yes ! 90 
 
 Str. I would have told you, if the incubus^ 
 That rides your bosom would have patience, 
 It is rejiorted that in private state 
 Maria, Genoa's duchess, makes to court. 
 Longing to see him, whom she ne'er shall see. 
 Her lord Andrugio. Belike she hath receiv'd 
 The news of reconciliation. 
 A 2 reconciliation with death ! 
 Poor lady ! shall but find poor comfort in't. 
 
 Pier. O, let me swoon for joy. By heaven, I think 100 
 I ha' said my prayers, within this month at least; 
 I am so boundless happy. Doth she come? 
 By this warm reeking gore, I'll marry her. 
 I>ook I not now like an inamorate?^ 
 Poison the father, butcher the son, and marry the 
 
 mother, ha ! 
 Strotzo, to bed : snort in securest sleep \ 
 For see, the dapple grey coursers of the morn 
 Beat up the light with their bright silver hooves, 
 And chase it through the sky. — To bed, to bed ! 
 This morn my vengeance shall be amply fed. \_Exeuni.i\o 
 
 1 Marston's use of this word is ridiculed in The Poetaster (v. i). 
 5 Old eds. " Reconciliation with a death?" Metre and sense show 
 that the article "a" has been misplaced by the printer. 
 ' So old eds.
 
 io8 The Second Part of [act i. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Precincts of the palace <y Piero. 
 
 Enter Lucio, Maria, and Nutriche. 
 
 Mar. Stay, gentle Lucio, and vouchsafe thy hand. 
 
 Lu. O, Madam . 
 
 Mar. Nay, prithee give me leave to say, vouchsafe : 
 Submiss entreats beseem my humble fate. 
 Here let us sit. O Lucio, fortune's gilt 
 Is rubb'd quite off from my slight tin-foil'd state. 
 And poor Maria must appear ungraced 
 Of the bright fulgor of gloss'd majesty. 
 
 Lu. Cheer up your spirits, Madam ; fairer chance, 
 Than that which courts your presence instantly, lo 
 
 Can not be formed by the quick mould of thought. 
 
 Mar. Art thou assured the dukes are reconciled? 
 Shall my womb's honour wed fair Mellida ? 
 Will heaven at length grant harbour to my head ? 
 Shall I once more clip my Andrugio, 
 And wreath my arms about Antonio's neck ? 
 Or is glib rumour grown a parasite, 
 Holding a false glass to my sorrow's eyes. 
 Making the wrinkled front of grief seem fair. 
 Though 'tis much rivell'd^ with abortive care? 20 
 
 Lu. Most virtuous princess, banish straggling fear. 
 Keep league with comfort. For these eyes beheld 
 
 i Wrinkled.
 
 SCENE ir.] Antonio and Mellida. 109 
 
 Tlie dukes united ; yon faint glimmering light 
 Ne'er peepbd through the crannies of the east, 
 Since I beheld them drink a sound carouse, 
 In sparkling Bacchus, unto each other's health ; 
 Your son assur'd ^ to beauteous Mellida, 
 And all clouds clear'd of threat'ning discontent. 
 
 Mar, What age is morning of? 
 
 Lu. I think 'bout five. 
 
 Mar. Nutriche, Nutriche ! 30 
 
 Nut. Beshrow your fingers ! marry, you have disturb'd 
 the pleasure of the finest dream. O God I I was even 
 coming to it, law. O Jesu ! 'twas coming of the sweetest. 
 I'll tell you now, methought I was married, and me- 
 thought I spent (O Lord, why did you wake me ?), and 
 methought I spent three spur-royals ^ on the fiddlers for 
 striking up a fresh hornpipe. Saint Ursula ! I was even 
 going to bed, and you, methought, my husband, was 
 even putting out the tapers, when you — Lord I shall never 
 have such a dream come upon me, as long as . 40 
 
 Mar. Peace, idle creature, peace ! — When will the 
 court rise ? 
 
 Lu. Madam, 'twere best you took some lodging up, 
 And lay in private till the soil of grief 
 Were clear'd your cheek, and new burnish'd lustre 
 Clothed your presence, 'fore you saw the dukes. 
 And enter'd 'mong the proud Venetian states. ^ 
 
 Mar. No, Lucio, my dear lord is wise, and knows 
 
 1 Affianced. 
 
 * Spur-royal was a gold coin worth fifteen shillings. 
 
 * Nobles.
 
 I lo The Sec Olid Part of [act i. 
 
 That tinsel glitter, or rich purfled ^ robes, 
 Curl'd hairs, hung full of sparkling carcanets, 
 Are not the true adornments of a wife. 50 
 
 So long as wives are faithful, modest, chaste, 
 Wise lords affect them. Virtue doth not waste 
 With each slight flame of crackling vanity. 
 A modest eye forceth affection. 
 Whilst outward gayness' light looks but entice : 
 Fairer than nature's fair is foulest vice. 
 She that loves art to get her cheek more lovers, 
 Much outward gauds, slight inward grace discovers. 
 I care not to seem fair but to my lord : 
 Those that strive most to please most strangers' sight, 
 Folly may judge most fair, wisdom most light. 61 
 
 \_Music sounds a short strain. 
 But hark, soft music gently moves the air ! 
 I think the bridegroom'"s up. Lucio, stand close. 
 O now, Maria, challenge grief to stay 
 Thy joy's encounter. Look, Lucio, 'tis clear day. 
 
 \They retire to the back of the stage. 
 
 Enter Antonio, Galeatzo, Matzagente, Balurdo, 
 Pandulpho, Feliche, Alberto, Forobosco, Cas- 
 TiLio, and a Page. 
 
 Ant. Darkness is fled : look, infant morn hath drawn 
 Bright silver curtains 'bout the couch of night; 
 
 1 Embroidered {Fr. pourfiler).
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 1 1 1 
 
 And now Aurora's horse trots azure rings/ 
 
 Breathing fair light about the firmament. — 
 
 Stand, what's that? 70 
 
 Mat. And if a hornJid devil should burst forth, 
 I would pass on him with a mortal stock. 2 
 
 Alb. Oh, a horned devil would prove ominous 
 Unto a bridegroom's eyes. 
 
 Mat. A horned devil ? Good : ha, ha, ha ! — very 
 good ! 
 
 Alb. Good tann'd prince, laugh not. By the joys of 
 love. 
 When thou dost girn,^ thy rusty face doth look 
 Like the head of a roasted rabbit : fie upon't ! 
 
 Bal. By my troth, methinks his nose is just colour de 
 roy.* 
 
 Mat. I tell thee, fool, my nose will abide no jest. 80 
 
 Bal. No, in truth, I do not jest; I speak truth. Truth 
 is the touchstone of all things; and, if your nose will not 
 abide the truth, your nose^will not abide the touch ; and, 
 if your nose will not abide the touch, your nose is a 
 copper nose, and must be nail'd up for a slip.^ 
 
 Mat. I scorn to retort the obtuse jest of a fool. 
 
 [Balurdo dratvs out his writing tables, a?id writes. 
 
 1 To make a horse tread the ring was an equestrian feat. The ring 
 was the circular piece of ground on which the horse displayed his agility. 
 See note on Middleton, vol. i. p. 190. 
 
 2 Stockado, stoccata, — a thrust in fencing. 
 
 3 Grin or snarl. 
 
 < ' ' Coitleur de Roy was in the old time Purple ; but now is the bright 
 Tawnie which wee also tearme Coulour de Roy." — Cotgrave. 
 * A counterfeit coin.
 
 1 1 2 The Second Paj'i of [act i. 
 
 £dl. Retort and obtuse, good words, very good words. 
 
 Gal. Young prince, look sprightly ; fie, a bridegroom 
 sad ! 
 
 Bal. In truth, if he were retort and obtuse, no question 
 he would be merry ; but, and please my genius, I will be 
 most retort and obtuse ere night. I'll tell you what I'll 
 bear soon at night in my shield, for my device. 9a 
 
 Gal. What, good Balurdo? 
 
 Bal. O, do me right : — Sir Jeflfrey Balurdo ; sir, sir, 
 as long as ye live, sir. 
 
 Gal. What, good Sir Jeffrey Balurdo ? 
 
 Bal. Marry forsooth, I'll carry for my device my grand- 
 father's great stone horse, flinging up his head, and 
 jerking out his left leg : the word, " Wighy Purt." As I 
 am a true knight, will't not be most retort and obtuse, 
 ha ? 101 
 
 Ant. Blow hence these sapless jests. I tell you, 
 bloods, 
 My spirit's heavy, and the juice of life 
 Creeps slowly through my stiffen'd arteries. 
 Last sleep, my sense was steep'd in horrid dreams : 
 Three parts of night were swallow'd in the gulf 
 Of ravenous time, when to my slumb'ring powers, 
 Two meagre ghosts made apparition. 
 The one's breast seem'd fresh paunch'd with bleeding 
 
 wounds, 
 Whose bubbling gore sprang in [my] frighted eyes ; 1 10 
 The other ghost assum'd my father's shape : 
 Both cried, " Revenge ! " At which my trembling 
 joints.
 
 SCENE II.] Ajitonio and Mcllida. 1 1 3 
 
 Ic^d quite over with a frozed cold sweat,^ 
 
 Leap'd forth the sheets. Three ''■ times I g[r]asp'd at 
 
 shades, 
 And thrice, deluded by erroneous sense, 
 I forc'd my thoughts make stand ; when lo, I oped ^ 
 A large bay window, th[o]rough which the night 
 Struck terror to my soul. The verge of heaven 
 Was ring'd with flames, and all the upper vault 
 Thick-lac'd with flakes of fire; in midst whereof 120 
 
 A blazing comet shot his threat'ning train 
 Just on my face. Viewing these prodigies, 
 I bow'd my naked knee and pierc'd the star 
 With an outfacing eye, pronouncing thus : 
 Deus imperat astris. At which, my nose straight 
 
 bled; 
 Then doubled I my word, so slunk to bed. 126 
 
 Bal. Verily, Sir Jeffrey had a monstrous strange dream 
 the last night. For methought I dreamt I was asleep, 
 and methought the ground yawn'd and belkt up the 
 abhominable ghost of a misshapen simile, with two ugly 
 pages ; the one called master, even as going before ; ami 
 the other mounser,'* even so following after; whilst 
 
 1 A reminiscence of Virgil : — 
 
 " Turn gelidus toto manabat corpore sudor : 
 Corripio e stratis corpus." — Ain. iii. 174-5. 
 - Again we are reminded of Virgil : — 
 
 "Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum, 
 Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago." — ^n. vi, 699-700. 
 3 For "I oped" old eds. give "top't." 
 
 * Old form of " monsieur." — Balurdo is talking arrant nonsense. 
 VOL. I. H
 
 1 1 4 The Second Part of [act i. 
 
 Signior Simile stalk'd most prodigiously in the midst. 
 At which I bewray'd ^ the Tearfulness of my nature, and 
 being ready to forsake the fortress of my wit, start up, 
 called for a clean shirt, ate a mess of broth, and with 
 that I awaked. 
 
 A7it. I prithee, peace. I tell you, gentlemen, 
 The frightful shades of night yet shake my brain : 
 My jellied - blood's not thaw'd : the sulphur damps, 140 
 That flew ^ in winged lightning 'bout my couch, 
 Yet stick within my sense, my soul is great 
 In expectation of dire prodigies. 
 
 Pan. Tut, my young prince, let not thy fortunes see 
 Their lord a coward. He that's nobly born 
 Abhors to fear : base fear's the brand of slaves. 
 He that observes, pursues, slinks back for fright, 
 Was never cast in mould of noble sprite. 
 
 Gal. Tush, there's a sun will straight exhale these 
 damps 
 Of chilling fear. Come, shall's salute the bride ? 150 
 
 Ant. Castillo, I prithee mix thy breath with his : 
 Sing one of Signior Renaldo's airs, 
 To rouse the slumb'ring bride from gluttoning 
 In surfeit of superfluous sleep. Good signior, sing. 
 
 [/4 Song. 
 What means this silence and unmoved calm ? 
 
 1 The dramatists are fond ofpunning on the words, (i) bewray (betray), 
 2) beray (befoul). Cf. Middleton, i. 82, &c. 
 
 • Old eds. " gellied," which I take to be jellied — not gelid. In the 
 first edition of Shelley's Cenci (iv. 3) we have : — "The gellyed blood 
 runs freely through my veins : " later editions Kud Jellied. 
 
 » Old eds. "flow."
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 1 1 5 
 
 Boy, wind thy cornet : force the leaden gates 
 
 Of lazy sleep fly open with thy breath. 
 
 My Mellida not up ? not stirring yet ? umh ! 
 
 Mar. That voice should be my son's, Antonio's. 
 Antonio ! 160 
 
 Ant. Here : who calls ? here stands Antonio. 
 
 Mar. Sweet son ! 
 
 Ant. Dear mother ! 
 
 Mar. Fair honour of a chaste and loyal bed. 
 Thy father's beauty, thy sad mother's love, 
 Were I as powerful as the voice of fate. 
 Felicity complete should sweet thy state ; 
 But all the blessings that a poor banish'd wretch 
 Can pour upon thy head, take, gentle son : 
 Live, gracious youth, to close thy mother's eyes, 170 
 
 Loved of thy parents, till their latest hour. 
 How cheers my lord, thy father ? O sweet boy, 
 Part of him thus I clip, my dear, dear joy. 
 
 \Embraces Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Madam, last night I kissed his princely hand. 
 And took a treasured blessing from his lips. 
 O mother, you arrive in jubilee. 
 And firm atonement of all boist'rous rage ; 
 Pleasure, united love, protested faith, 
 Guard my loved father, as sworn pensioners : 
 The dukes are leagued in firmest bond of love, jgo 
 
 And you arrive even in the solsticy 
 And highest point of sunshine happiness. 
 
 \One winds a cornet within. 
 Hark, madam, how yon cornet jerketh up
 
 1 1 6 The Seco7id Part of [act i. 
 
 His strain'd shrill accents in the capering air, 
 As proud to summon up my bright-cheek'd love 1- 
 Now, mother, ope wide expectation ; 
 Let loose your amplest sense, to entertain 
 Th' impression of an object of such worth 
 That life's too poor to 
 
 Gal. Nay, leave hyperboles. 
 
 Ant. I tell thee, prince, that presence straight appears 
 Of which thou canst not form hyperboles ; 191 
 
 The trophy of triumphing excellence, 
 The heart of beauty, Mellida appears. 
 See, look, the curtain stirs ; shine nature's pride. 
 Love's vital spirit, dear Antonio's bride. 
 
 \The curtain^ s drawn, and the body ^Feliche, stabb'd 
 thick with ivoioids, appears hutig up. 
 What villain bloods the window of my love ? 
 What slave hath hung yon gory ensign up 
 In flat defiance of humanity ? 
 Awake, thou fair unspotted purity ! 
 Death's at thy window, awake, bright Mellida ! 200 
 
 Antonio calls ! 
 
 Enter Piero, unbraced, with Forobosco. 
 
 Pier. Who gives these ill-befitting attributes 
 Of chaste, unspotted, bright, to Mellida? 
 He lies as loud as thunder : she's unchaste, 
 Tainted, impure, black as the soul of helL 
 
 [Antonio draws his rapier, offers to run at Piero, but 
 Maria holds his arm and stays ///>//.
 
 scENK H.] Antonio and Mellida, 1 1 7 
 
 Ant. Dog ! I will make thee eat thy vomit up, 
 Which thou hast belkt 'gainst taintless Mellida. 
 
 Pier?^ Ram't quickly down, that it may not rise up 
 To imbraid ^ my thoughts. Behold my stomach ; 
 Strike me quite through with the relentless edge 210 
 Of raging fury. Boy, I'll kill thy love. 
 Pandulf Feliche, I have stabb'd thy son : 
 Look, yet his lifeblood reeks upon this steel. 
 Albert, yon hangs thy friend. Have none of you 
 Courage of vengeance ? Forget I am your duke ; 
 Think Mellida is not Piero's blood ; 
 Imagine on slight ground I'll blast his honour; 
 Suppose I saw not that incestuous slave, 
 Clipping the strumpet with luxurious twines ! ^ 
 O, numb my sense of anguish, cast my life 220 
 
 In a dead sleep, whilst law cuts off yon maim,* 
 Yon putrid ulcer of my royal blood ! 
 
 For. Keep league with reason, gracious sovereign. 
 
 Pier. There glow no sparks of reason in the world ; 
 All are raked up in ashy beastliness. 
 The bulk of man's as dark as Erebus, 
 No branch of reason's light hangs in his trunk : 
 There lives no reason to keep league withal. 
 I ha' no reason to be reasonable. 
 
 Her wedding eve, link'd to the noble blood 230 
 
 Of my most firmly-reconcilM friend. 
 And found even cling'd in sensuality ! 
 
 1 Not marked in ed. 1602. * Reproach, upbraid. 
 
 3 " Luxurious twines " — lustful embraces. * Old eds. "maine."
 
 1 1 8 The Second Part of [act i. 
 
 O heaven ! O heaven ! Were she as near my heart 
 As is my liver, I would rend her off. 
 
 Enter Strotzo. 
 
 Sir. Whither, O whither shall I hurl vast grief ! 
 
 Fier. Here, into my breast : 'tis a place built wide 
 By fate, to give receipt to boundless woes. 
 
 Sir. O no ; here throb those hearts, which I must cleave 
 With my keen-piercing news. Andrugio's dead. 
 
 Pier. Dead ! 240 
 
 Mar. O me, most miserable ! 
 
 Pier. Dead ! alas, how dead? \Gives seeming passion. 
 [Aside.] Fut, weep, act, feign — Dead ! alas, how dead ? 
 
 Str. The vast delights of his large sudden joys 
 Open'd his powers so wide, that 's native heat 
 So prodigally flow'd t' exterior parts, 
 That th'inner citadel was left unmann'd, 
 And so surpris'd on sudden by cold death. 
 
 Afar. O fatal, disastrous, cursbd, dismal ! 
 Choke breath and life 1 I breathe, I live too long. 250 
 Andrugio, my lord, I come, I come ! [Swoons. 
 
 Pier. Be cheerful, princess ; help, Castilio, 
 The lady's swouned ; ^ help to bear her in : 
 Slow comfort to huge cares is swiftest sin. 
 
 Bal. Courage, courage, sweet lady, 'tis Sir Jeffrey 
 Balurdo bids you courage. Truly I am as nimble as an 
 elephant about a lady. 
 
 [Exeunt Piero, Castilio, Forobosco and 
 Balurdo, bearing out Maria. 
 
 1 So ed. 1602. — Ed. 1633, " swounded."
 
 SCENE 11.] Antonio and Mellida. 119 
 
 Pan. Dead ! 
 
 Ant Dead ! 
 
 Alb. Dead ! 260 
 
 Ant. Why, now the womb of mischief is deliver'd, 
 Of the prodigious issue of the night. 
 
 Pan. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Ant. My father dead : my love attaint of lust, — 
 That's a large lie, as vast as spacious hell ! 
 Poor guiltless lady ! O, accursed lie ! 
 What, whom, whither, which shall I first lament ? 
 A^ dead father, a dishonour'd wife ? Stand. 
 Methinks I feel the frame of nature shake. 
 Cracks not the joints of earth to bear my woes ? 270 
 
 Alb. Sweet prince, be patient. 
 
 Ant. 'Slid, sir, I will not in despite of thee. 
 Patience is slave to fools : a chain that's fixt 
 Only to posts, and senseless log-like dolts. 
 
 Alb. 'Tis reason's glory to command affects.^ 
 
 Ant. Lies thy cold father dead, his glossed eyes 
 New closed up by thy sad mother's hands ? 
 Hast thou a love, as spotless as the brow 
 Of clearest heaven, blurr'd with false defames ? 
 ( Are thy moist entrails crumpled up with grief 380 
 
 Of parching mischiefs? Tell me, does thy heart 
 With punching anguish spur thy galled ribs ? 
 , Then come, let's sit ^ and weep and wreathe our arms : 
 ^ I'll hear thy counsel. 
 
 1 The metrical harshness might be removed by reading " A father 
 dead, a wife dishonour'd," 
 
 2 Affections, feelings. ^ Old eds. "and let's sit."
 
 I 20 The Second Pari of [act i. 
 
 Alb. Take comfort. 
 
 Ant. Confusion to all comfort ! I defy it. 
 Comfort's a parasite, a flattering jack,^ 
 And melts resolv'd despair. O boundless woe, 
 If there be any black yet unknown grief, 
 If there be any horror yet unfelt, 290 
 
 Unthought of mischief in thy fiend-like power, 
 Dash it upon my miserable head ; 
 Make me more wretch, more cursed if thou canst ! 
 O, now my fate is more than I could fear : 
 My woes more weighty than my soul can bear. \^Exit. 
 
 Pan. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Alb. Why laugh you, uncle ? That's my coz, your son. 
 Whose breast hangs casbd in his cluttered ^ gore. 
 
 Pan. True, man, true : why, wherefore should I weep ? 
 Come, sit, kind nephew : come on ; thou and I 300 
 
 Will talk as chorus to this tragedy. 
 Entreat the music strain their instruments 
 With a slight touch, whilst we — Say on, fair coz. 
 
 Alb. He was the very hope of Italy, 
 
 \AIusic sounds softly. 
 The blooming honour of your drooping age. 
 
 Pan. True, coz, true. They say that men of hope are 
 crush'd ; 
 Good are supprest by base desertless clods. 
 That stifle gasping virtue. Look, sweet youth, 
 How provident our quick Venetians are, 
 
 1 Saucy fellow. 
 
 * " ' Grumean de sang, a clot or clutter of congealed blood,' Cotgrave. 
 Cluttered h\oodi,' Holinshed, Hist. Engl. p. 74."' — Halliwell.
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 121 
 
 Lest hooves of jades should trample on my boy : 310 
 Look how they lift him up to eminence, 
 Heave him 'bove reach of flesh. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Alb. Uncle, this laughter ill becomes your grief. 
 
 Pan. Would'st have me cry, run raving up and down, 
 For my son's loss? Would'st have me turn rank mad, 
 Or wring my face with mimic action ; 
 Stamp, curse, weep, rage, and then my bosom strike ? 
 Away, 'tis aspish action, player-like.^ 
 If he is guiltless, why should tears be spent ? 
 Thrice blessed soul that dieth innocent. 320 
 
 If he is leper'd with so foul a guilt. 
 Why should a sigh be lent, a tear be spilt ? 
 The gripe of chance is weak to wring a tear 
 From him that knows what fortitude should bear. 
 Listen, young blood. 'Tis not true valour's pride 
 To swagger, quarrel, swear, stamp, rave, and chide, 
 To stab in fume of blood, to keep loud coil[s] 
 To bandy factions in domestic broils. 
 To dare the act of sins, whose filth excels 
 The blackest customs of blind infidels. 330 
 
 No, my lov'd youth : he may of valour vaunt 
 Whom fortune's loudest thunder cannot daunt ; 
 Whom fretful gales of chance, stern fortune's siege. 
 Makes not his reason slink, the soul's fair liege ; 
 Whose well-pais'd ^ action ever rests upon 
 Not giddy humours but discretion. 
 
 1 There seems to be an allusion to old Hieronymo's frantic behaviour 
 in The Spanish Tragedy. 
 '^ Well-balanced.
 
 122 Antonio and Mellida. \kcx\. 
 
 This heart in valour even Jove out-goes : 
 
 Jove is without, but this 'bove sense of woes : ^ 
 
 And such a one, eternity. Behold — 
 
 Good morrow, son ; thou bid'st a fig for cold. 340 
 
 Sound louder music : let my breath exact \Lotid music. 
 
 You strike sad tones unto this dismal act. \Exeunt. 
 
 1 A Stoic sentiment. Seneca writes: — "Est aliquid quo sapiens 
 antecedat deum : ille beneficio naturae non timet, suo sapiens." ^Ep. 
 Alor., Lib. \i. Ep. i.) But see particularly the quotation from Seneca 
 on p. 133.
 
 ( 123 ) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A dumb show. 
 
 The cornets sotmd a senet. 
 
 JZnter two mourners with torches, two with streamers ; 
 Castilio and Forobosco, with torches ; a Herald 
 bearing Andrugio's helm and sword ; the coffin ; 
 Maria supported by Lucio ^;/^ Alberto / Antonio, 
 by himself ; V1Y.K0 a?id 'Sivlotzo, talking ; Galeatzo 
 afid Matzagente, BALURDOrt';/^PANDULFO : the coffin 
 set down ; helm, sword, a?id streamers hung up, placed 
 by the Herald, whilst Antonio and Maria wet their 
 handkerchers with their tears, kiss them, and lay them 
 on the hea7'se, kneeling : all go out but Piero. Cornets 
 cease, and he speaks. 
 
 Pier. Rot there, thou cerecloth that enfolds the flesh 
 Of my loath'd foe ; moulder to crumbling dust ; 
 Oblivion choke the passage of thy fame ! 
 Trophies of honour'd birth drop quickly down : 
 Let nought of him, but what was vicious, live. 
 Though thou art dead, think not my hate is dead :
 
 124 The Second Part oj [acth. 
 
 I have but newly twone my arm in the curl'd locks 
 
 Of snaky vengeance. Pale, beetle-brow'd hate 
 
 l>ut newly bustles up. Sweet wrong, I clap thy thoughts ! 
 
 O let me hug thy ^ bosom, rub thy^ breast, lo 
 
 In hope of what may hap. Andrugio rots, 
 
 Antonio lives : umh : how long? ha, ha ! how long? 
 
 Antonio pack'd hence, I'll his mother wed, 
 
 Then clear my daughter of supposed lust. 
 
 Wed her to Florence heir. O excellent ! 
 
 Venice, Genoa, Florence at my beck. 
 
 At Piero's nod. — Balurdo, O ho I^ — 
 
 'twill be rare, all unsuspected done. 
 
 1 have been nursed in blood, and still have suck'd 
 The steam of reeking gore. — Balurdo, ho ! 20 
 
 Enter Balurdo with a beard, half off, half on. 
 
 Bal. When my beard is on, most noble prince, when 
 my beard is on. 
 
 Pier. Why, what dost thou with a beard ? 
 
 Bal. In truth, one told me that my wit was bald, and 
 that a: mermaid was half fish and half fish \_sic\ ; and there- 
 fore to speak wisely, like one of your counsel, as indeed 
 it hath pleased you to make me, not only being a fool of 
 your counsel, but also to make me of your counsel being 
 a fool : if my wit be bald, and a mermaid be half fish and 
 half congrer, then I must be forced to conclude — The 
 
 1 So ed. 1633. — Ed. 1602 "my." 
 
 * We are to suppose that Piero has left the church and is in the court- 
 yard of the palace.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 125 
 
 tiring man hath not glued on my beard half fast enough. 
 God's bores, it will not stick to fall off. 32 
 
 Pier. Dost thou know what thou hast spoken all this 
 while ? 
 
 Bal. O lord, duke, I would be sorry of that. Many 
 men can utter that which no man but themselves can 
 conceive : but I thank a good wit, I have the gift to speak 
 that which neither any man else nor myself understands. 
 
 Pier. Thou art wise. He that speaks he knows not 
 what, shall never sin against his own conscience : go to, 
 thou art wise. 40 
 
 Bal. Wise ? O no, I have a little natural discretion, 
 or so ; but for wise, I am somewhat prudent ; but for 
 wise, O lord ! 
 
 Pier. Hold, take those keys, open the castle vault, 
 And put in Mellida. 
 
 Bal. And put in Mellida? Well, let me alone. 
 
 Pier. Bid Forobosco and Castilio guard ; 
 Endear thyself Piero's intimate. 
 
 Bal. Endear, and intimate ; good, I assure you. 1 
 will endear and intimate Mellida into the dungeon 
 presently. 51 
 
 Pier. Will ^ Pandulfo Feliche wait on me. 
 
 Bal. I will make him come, most retort and obtuse, 
 to you presently. I think Sir Jeffrey talks like a coun- 
 sellor. Go to, god's neaks, I think I tickle it. 
 
 Pier. I'll seem to wind yon fool with kindest arm. 
 He that's ambitious-minded, and but man, 
 
 1 i.e., desire, order.
 
 126 The Seco7id Part of [act n. 
 
 Must have his followers beasts, damn'd ^ slavish sots, 
 
 Whose service is obedience, and whose wit 
 
 Reacheth no further than to admire their lord, 60 
 
 And stare in adoration of his worth. 
 
 I loathe a slave, raked out of common mud, 
 
 Should seem to sit in counsel with my heart. 
 
 High-honour'd blood's too squeamish to assent 
 
 And lend a hand to an ignoble act : 
 
 Poison from roses who could e'er abstract ? — 
 
 Enter Pandulfo. 
 
 How now, Pandulfo ? weeping for thy son ? 
 
 Pan. No, no, Piero, weeping for my sins : 
 Had I been a good father, he had been 
 A gracious son. 
 
 Pier. Pollution must be purged. 70 
 
 Pan. Why taint'st thou then the air with stench of 
 flesh, 
 And human putrefaction's noisome scent? 
 I pray his body. Who less boon can crave 
 Than to bestow upon the dead his grave ? 
 
 Pier. Grave ! Why, think'st thou he deserves a grave, 
 That hath defil'd the temple of 
 
 Pan. Peace, peace ! 
 Methinks I hear a humming murmur creep 
 From out his jellied ^ wounds. Look on those lips, 
 Those now lawn pillows, on whose tender softness 
 
 1 Old edF. "dub'd." * See note 2, p. 114. 
 
 I
 
 SCENE I.] Ajitonio and Mellida. 127 
 
 Chaste modest speech, stealing from out his breast, 80 
 Had wont to rest itself, as loath to post 
 From out so fair an inn ! look, look, they seem to stir 
 And breathe defiance to black obloquy ! 
 
 Pier. Think'st thou thy son could suffer wrongfully ? 
 
 Pan. A wise man wrongfully, but never wrong 
 Can take;^ his breast's of such well-tempered proof 
 It may be razed, not pierced by savage tooth 
 Of foaming malice : showers of darts may dark 
 Heaven's ample brow, but not strike out a spark, 
 Much less pierce the sun's cheek. Such songs as these 
 I often dittied till my boy did sleep ; 91 
 
 But now I turn plain fool, alas, I weep. 
 
 Pier. \^Aside.\ 'Fore heaven he makes me shrug; 
 would 'a were dead. 
 He is a virtuous man : what has our court to do 
 With virtue, in the devil's name ! — Pandulpho, hark : 
 My lustful daughter dies ; start not, she dies. 
 I pursue justice ; I love sanctity, 
 And an undefiled temple of pure thoughts. 
 Shall I speak freely ? Good Andrugio's dead : 
 And I do fear a fetch ; 2 but (umh) would I durst speak — 
 I do mistrust but (umh) — [Aside.] Death is he all, all man, 
 Hath he no part of mother in him, ha ? 102 
 
 No licorish womanish inquisitiveness? 
 
 1 Pandulpho is again ready with his Stoic maxims. Seneca wrote 
 a dissertation to show " Nee injuriam nee contumeliam accipere 
 sapientem." 
 
 2 " 1 do fear 2l fetch," i.e., I suspect that Andrugio has perished by 
 treachery. Fetch — y^XoK, device.
 
 128 The Second Part of [Acr n. 
 
 Pan. Andrugio's dead ! 
 
 Fier. Ay ; and I fear his own unnatural blood, 
 To whom he gave life, hath given death for life. 
 [Aside.] How could he come on ? I see false suspect 
 Is viced ; wrung hardly in a virtuous heart. — 
 Well, I could give you reason for my doubts : 
 You are of honour'd birth, my very friend : no 
 
 You know how god-like 'tis to root out sin. 
 Antonio is a villain : will you join 
 In oath with me against the traitor's life, 
 And swear you knew he sought his father's death ? 
 I loved him well, yet I love justice more : 
 Our friends we should affect, justice adore. 
 
 jPan. My lord, the clapper of my mouth's not glibb'd 
 With court-oil, 'twill not strike on both sides yet. 
 
 Ft'er. 'Tis^ just that subjects act commands of kings. 
 
 Pan. Command then just and honourable things. 120 
 
 Pier. Even so, myself then will traduce his guilt. 
 
 Pan. Beware, take heed, lest guiltless blood be spilt. 
 
 Pier. Where only honest deeds to kings are free, 
 It is no empire, but a beggary. 
 
 Pan. Where more than noble deeds to kings are free. 
 It is no empire, but a tyranny. 
 
 Pier. Tush, juiceless graybeard, 'tis immunity, 
 
 ' There is an Attic flavour in this passage of stichomythia. For 
 a passing moment one is reminded of Creon's altercation with his 
 son (in the AnH^one) : — 
 
 Kp. cD irayKaKKTTe, Sia SiKrjs iuiv warpl. 
 
 At, ov yap olKaid ff^ i^afiapTavovd' bpCi. 
 
 Kp. d/xopTdi'w yap rds ip-ds apxas ai^tjiv ; 
 
 At. ov yap a^jitis, ripAs ye rds dfQv irarivv.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and AFcllida. 129 
 
 Proper to princes, that our state exacts ; 
 
 Our subjects not alone to bear, but praise our acts. 129 
 
 Pan. O, but that prince, that worthful praise aspires, 
 From hearts, and not from lips, applause desires. 
 
 Pier. Pish! 
 True praise the brow of common men doth ring. 
 False only girts the temple of a king. 
 He that hath strength and 's ignorant of power, 
 He was not made to rule, but to be rul'd. 
 
 Pan. 'Tis praise to do, not what we can, but 
 should. 
 
 Pier. Hence, doting stoic ! by my hope of bliss, 
 ril make thee wretched. 
 
 Pan. Defiance to thy power, thou rifted jawn ! ^ 140 
 Now, by the lovbd heaven, sooner thou shalt 
 Rinse thy foul ribs from the black filth of sin 
 That soots thy heart than make me wretched. Pish ! 
 Thou canst not coop me up. Hadst thou a jail 
 With treble walls, like antique Babylon, 
 ]'andulpho can get out. I tell thee, duke, 
 I have old Fortunatus' wishing-cap. 
 And can be where I list even in a trice. 
 I'll skip from earth into the arms of heaven : 
 And from triumphal arch of blessedness, 150 
 
 Spit on thy frothy breast. Thou canst not slave 
 Or banish me ; I will be free at home, 
 Maugre the beard of greatness. The port-holes 
 
 1 Marston uses indifferently the forms ckawn and jawn for a rift or 
 chasm. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 The Second Part of [acth. 
 
 Of sheathed spirit are ne'er corb^d ^ up, 
 
 But still stand open ready to discharge 
 
 Their precious shot into the shrouds of heaven. 
 
 Pier. O torture ! slave, I banish thee the to\\'Ti, 
 Thy native seat of birth. 
 
 Pan. How proud thou speak'st ! I tell thee, duke, 
 the blasts 159 
 
 Of the swoU'n-cheek'd winds, nor all the breath of kings 
 Can puff me out my native seat of birth. 
 The earth 's ray body's, and the heaven 's my soul's 
 Most native place of birth, which they will keep 
 Despite the menace of mortality. 
 Why, duke. 
 
 That's not my native place,- where I was rock'd. 
 A wise man's home is wheresoe'er he is wise ; 
 Now that, from man, not from the place, doth rise. 
 
 Pier. Would I were deaf ! O plague ! Hence, dotard 
 wretch ! 
 Tread not in court : all that thou hast, I seize. 170 
 
 [Aside.] His quiet's firmer than I can disease. 
 
 Pa/i. Go, boast unto thy flatt'ring sycophants 
 Pandulpho's slave Piero hath o'erthrown : 
 
 1 *' Corbed " (old eds. " corb'd ") is " good," as Polonius would say ; 
 but I have no suspicion as to its meaning. It would be a pity to 
 suggest an emendation. 
 
 ' Seneca is fond of harping on this theme. " In ultimas expellaris 
 terras licebit," he writes in one of his epistles, "in quolibet barbariae 
 angulo colloceris, hospitalis tibi ilia qualiscumque sedes erit ; magis 
 quia veneris quam quo, interest, et ideo nuUi loco addicere debemus 
 arbitrium. Cum hac persuasione vivendum est : ' Non sum uni angulo 
 natus, patria mea totus hie mundus est.' "
 
 sciiNE 11.] Antonio and Mcllida. 1 3 1 
 
 Loose fortune's rags are lost, my own's my own. 
 
 [PiERO going out, looks back. 
 'Tis true, Piero, thy vex'd heart shall see, 
 Thou hast but tripp'd my slave, not conquered me. 
 
 \Exeunt at several doors. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Before the palace ^ Piero. 
 
 Enter Antonio, in black, rvith a book; Lucio and 
 Alberto. 
 
 Alb. Nay, sweet, be comforted, take counsel and . 
 
 A}it. Alberto, peace : that grief is wanton-sick. 
 Whose stomach can digest and brook the diet 
 Of stale ill-relish'd counsel. Pigmy cares 
 Can shelter under patience' shield ; but giant griefs 
 Will burst all covert. 
 
 Lu. My lord, 'tis supper time. 
 
 Ant. Drink deep, Alberto; eat, good Lucio; 
 But my pined heart shall eat on nought but woe. 
 
 Alb. My lord, we dare not leave you thus alone : 
 
 Ant. You cannot leave Antonio alone. 10 
 
 The chamber of my breast is even throng'd 
 With firm attendance that forswears to flinch. 
 I have a thing sits here ; it is not grief, 
 'Tis not despair, nor the- [utjmost plague 
 That the most wretched are infected with ; 
 But the most griefful,^ [most] despairing, wTetched, 
 
 1 Old eds. "greefuL"
 
 132 The Second Part of [act n. 
 
 Accursed, miserable — O, for heaven's sake 
 Forsake me now ; you see how light I am, 
 And yet you force me to defame my patience. 
 
 Lu. Fair gentle prince . 20 
 
 Ant. Away, thy voice is hateful : thou dost buzz, 
 And beat my ears with intimations 
 That Mellida, that Mellida is light, 
 And stained with adulterous luxury ! 
 I cannot brook't. I tell thee, Lucio, 
 Sooner will I give faith that Virtue's cant ^ 
 In princes' courts will be adorn'd with wreath 
 Of choice respect, and endear'd intimate ] 
 Sooner will I believe that friendship's rein 
 Will curb ambition from utility, 30 
 
 Than Mellida is light. Alas, poor soul. 
 Didst e'er see her? — good heart! — hast heard her 
 
 speak? 
 Kind, kind soul ! Incredulity itself 
 Would not be so brass-hearted, as suspect 
 So modest cheeks. 
 
 Lu. My lord . 
 
 Ant. Away ! 
 A self-sown - guilt doth only hatch distrust ; 
 But a chaste thought's as far from doubt as lust. 
 I entreat you, leave me. 
 
 Alb. Will you endeavour to forget your grief? 
 
 ^ Old eds. " scant." — Cant = the comer or niche in which the statue 
 of Virtue was placed. Cf. Middleton, vii. 222 : — "Directly under her, 
 in a cant by herself, was Arete (Virtue) enthroned. " 
 
 * Old eds. "self-one."
 
 scKNE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 
 
 00 
 
 Ant. I'faith I will, good friend, i'faith I will. 40 
 
 I'll come and cat with you. Alberto, see, 
 I am taking physic, here's philosophy. 
 Good honest, leave me, I'll drink wine anon. 
 
 AIL Since you enforce us, fair prince, we are gone. 
 \_Exeunt Alberto afid Lucio. 
 
 Antonio reads. 
 
 A. Ferte^ fortiter : hoc est quo deiim aniecedatis. J He 
 enim ext?-a patieniiam fnaloru?n, vos supra. Contevmitc 
 dolorem : aut solveiur, aut solvet. Contemnite fortwiam : 
 nulluvi ielum, quo feriret aniiiuan hahct.'^ 
 
 Pish, thy mother was not lately widowed, 
 
 Thy dear afified love lately def:im'd 50 
 
 With blemish of foul lust, when thou wrotest thus ; 
 
 Thou wrapt in furs, beaking ^ thy limbs 'fore fires ; 
 
 Forbid'st the frozen zone to shudder. Ha, ha ! 'tis nought 
 
 15ut foamy bubbling of a fleamy ^ brain, 
 
 Nought else but smoke. O what dank marish spirit, 
 
 But would be fired with impatience 
 
 At my 
 
 No more, no more \ he that was never blest 
 
 With height of birth, fair expectation 
 
 Of mounted fortunes, knows not what it is 60 
 
 * The quotation is from Seneca's De Providentia, cap. vi. 
 ' The true reading is dedi. 
 
 * " ' Beak' — bask in the heat. North." — Halliwell. 
 
 * Fleam = phlegm.
 
 1 34 The Second Part of [act n. 
 
 To be the pitied object of the world. 
 O, poor Antonio, thou may'st sigh ! 
 
 Mel. \_from befieaih.'\ Ay me ! 
 
 Ant. And curse. 
 
 Fan. \from within^ Black powers ! 
 
 Ant. And cry. 
 
 Mar. \^frofn ■wiihin.'\ O Heaven ! 
 
 Ant. And close laments with . 
 
 Mel.^ \_from be?t£ath.'] O me, most miserable ! 
 
 Pan. Woe for my dear, dear son ! 70 
 
 Mar. Woe for my dear, dear husband ! 
 
 Mel. Woe for my dear, dear love ! 
 
 Ant. Woe for me all, close all your woes in me ! 
 In me, Antonio ! — ha ! where live these sounds ? 
 I can see nothing ; grief's invisible, 
 And lurks in secret angles of the heart. 
 Come, sigh again, Antonio bears his part. 
 
 Mel. O here, here is a vent to pass my sighs. 
 I have surcharged the dungeon with my plaints. 
 Prison and heart will burst, if void of vent. 80 
 
 Ay, that is Phoebe, empress of the night. 
 That 'gins to mount ; O chastest deity. 
 If I be false to my Antonio, 
 If the least soil of lust smears my pure love. 
 Make me more wretched, make me more accurs'd 
 Than infamy, torture, death, hell, and heaven, 
 Can bound with amplest power of thought : if not, 
 Purge my poor heart from - defamation's blot. 
 
 1 Oldeds. "Alb." - Ed. 1602 "with."
 
 \ 
 
 SCENE n.] Antonio and IMellida. 
 
 OD 
 
 A7it. Purge my poor heart from defamation's blot ! 
 Poor heart, how like her virtuous self she speaks. — qo 
 Mellida, dear Mellida ! it is Antonio : 
 Slink not away, 'tis thy Antonio. 
 
 Mel. How found you out, my lord ? Alas ! I know 
 'Tis easy in this age to find out woe. 
 I have a suit to you. 
 
 Ant. What is't, dear soul ? 
 
 Mel. Kill me ; i'faith I'll wink, not stir a jot. 
 For God sake kill me ; in sooth, loved youth, 
 I am much injur'd ; look, see how I creep. 
 I cannot wreak my wrong, but sigh and weep. 
 
 Ant. May I be cursed, but I credit thee. loo 
 
 Mel. To-morrow I must die. 
 
 Ant. Alas, for what ? 
 
 Mel. For loving thee. 'Tis true, my sweetest 
 breast, 
 I must die falsely : so must thou, dear heart. 
 Nets are a-knitting to entrap thy life. 
 Thy father's death must make a paradise 
 To my (I shame to call him) father. Tell me, sweet, 
 Shall I die thine ? dost love me still, and still ? 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 
 Mel. Then welcome heaven's will. 
 
 A7it. Madam, I will not swell, like a tragedian, 
 In forced passion of affected strains. no 
 
 If I had present power of ought but pitying you, 
 1 would be as ready to redress your wrongs 
 As to pursue your love. Throngs of thoughts 
 Crowd for their passage ; somewhat I will do.
 
 136 The Second Part of [act u. 
 
 Reach me thy hand ; think this is honour's bent, 
 To live unslav^d, to die innocent. 
 
 yJA7. Let me entreat a favour, gracious love. 
 Be patient, see me die ; good, do not weep : 
 Go sup, sweet chuck, drink, and securely sleep. 
 
 A7it. I'faith I cannot ; but I'll force my face 120 
 
 To palliate my sickness. 
 
 Mel. Give me thy hand. Peace on thy bosom dwell : 
 That's all my woe can breathe. Kiss : thus, farewell. 
 Ant. Farewell : my heart is great of thoughts ; stay, 
 dove : 
 And therefore I must speak : but what ? O love ! 
 By this white hand : no more : read in these tears. 
 What crushing anguish thy Antonio bears. 
 
 [Antonio kisseth Mellida's hand : then Mellida 
 goes from the grate. 
 Mel. Good night, good heart. 
 
 Ant. Thus heat from blood, thus souls from bodies 
 part. 129 
 
 Enter Piero and Strotzo. 
 
 Fie. He grieves ; laugh, Strotzo, laugh. He weeps. 
 Hath he tears ? O pleasure ! hath he tears ? 
 Now do I scourge Andrugio with steel whips 
 Of knotty vengeance. Strotzo, cause me straight 
 Some plaining ditty to augment despair. 
 
 [ZTjc/V Strotzo. 
 Triumph, Piero : hark, he groans. O rare ! 
 
 Ant. Behold a prostrate wretch laid on his tomb.
 
 scr.NEii.] Antonio and Mellida. 137 
 
 His epitaph, thus : Ne plus ultra. Ho ! 
 
 Let none out-woe me : mine's Herculean woe. 
 
 [/4 song within. — Exit Piero at the end of the song. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Ant. May I be more cursed than Heaven can make 
 me, if 
 I'm not more wretched than man can conceive me. 140 
 Sore forlorn orphant, what omnipotence 
 Can make thee happy? 
 
 Afar. How now, sweet son ? Good youth. 
 What dost thou ? 
 
 A7it. Weep, weep. 
 
 Mar. Dost nought but weep, weep ? 
 
 Ant. Yes, mother, I do sigh, and wring my hands, 
 Beat my poor breast, and wreathe my tender arms. 
 Hark ye ; I'll tell you wondrous strange, strange 
 news. 
 
 Mar. What, my good boy, stark mad ? 
 
 Ant. I am not. 
 
 Mar. Alas ! 
 Is that strange news ? 150 
 
 Ant. Strange news? why, mother, is't not wondrous 
 strange 
 I am not mad — I run not frantic, ha? 
 Knowing, my father's trunk scarce cold, your love 
 Is sought by him that doth pursue my life ! 
 Seeing the beauty of creation, 
 Antonio's bride, pure heart, defamed, and stowed
 
 J 
 
 8 The Second Part of [act n. 
 
 Under the hatches of obscuring earth ! 
 Heu, quo labor, quo vota adder unt mea ! 
 
 Enter Piero. 
 
 Pier. Good evening to the fair Antonio ; 
 Most happy fortune, sweet succeeding time, i6o 
 
 Rich hope : think not thy fate a bankrout, ^ though 
 
 A7it. \Aside^ Umh ! the devil in his good time and 
 
 tide forsake thee. 
 Pier. How now ? hark ye, prince. 
 Ant. God be with you. 
 
 Pier. Nay, noble blood, I hope ye not suspect 
 
 Ant. Suspect ! I scorn't. Here's cap and leg, good 
 night. 
 \Aside?^ Thou that wants power, with dissemblance 
 fight. \Exit Antonio. 
 
 Pier. Madam, O that you could remember to forget 
 
 Mar. 1 had a husband and a happy son. 
 
 Pier. Most powerful beauty, that enchantinggrace 
 
 Mar. Talk not of beauty, nor enchanting grace, — 170 
 My husband's dead, my son's distraught, accurs'd ! 
 Come, I must vent my griefs, or heart will burst. 
 
 \Exit Maria. 
 Pier. She's gone, and yet she's here : she hath left a 
 print 
 Of her sweet graces fix'd within my heart, 
 As fresh as is her face. I'll marry her. 
 
 1 Old form of " hanknipt."
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 139 
 
 She's most fair, — true; most chaste, — false j^ because 
 Most fair, 'tis firm I'll marry her. 
 
 Enter Strotzo. 
 
 Str. My lord. 
 
 Pier. Ha, Strotzo, my other soul, my life ! 
 Dear, hast thou steel'd the point of thy resolve ? 
 Will't not turn edge in execution ? 
 
 Str. No. 1 80 
 
 Pier. Do it with rare passion, and present thy guilt 
 As if 'twere wrung out with thy conscience' gripe. 
 Swear that my daughter's innocent of lust, 
 And that Antonio bribed thee to defame 
 Her maiden honour, on inveterate hate 
 Unto my blood ; and that thy hand was feed 
 By his large bounty for his father's death. 
 Swear plainly that thou choked'st Andrugio, 
 By his son's only egging. Rush me in 
 Whilst Mellida prepares herself to die, 190 
 
 Halter about thy neck, and with such sighs. 
 Laments, and applications lifen it, 
 As if impulsive power of remorse 
 
 Str. I'll weep. 
 
 Pier. Ay, ay, fall on thy face and cry " why suffer you 
 So lewd a slave as Strotzo is to breathe ? " 
 
 Str. I'll beg a strangling, grow importunate 
 
 Pier. As if thy life were loathsome to thee : then I 
 Catch straight the cord's end ; and, as much incens'd 
 
 1 Ed. 1602 " most false."
 
 140 The Second Pai't of [act n. 
 
 With thy damn'd mischiefs, offer a rude hand 200 
 
 As ready to gird in thy pipe of breath ; 
 
 But on the sudden straight I'll stand amaz'd, 
 
 And fall in exclamations of thy virtues. 
 
 Sir. Applaud my agonies and penitence. 
 
 Pier. Thy honest stomach, that could not disgest ^ 
 The crudities of murder, but surcharged, 
 Vomited'st them up in Christian piety. 
 
 Sir. Then clip me in your arms. 
 
 Pier. And call thee brother, mount thee straight to 
 state, 
 Make thee of council : tut, tut, what not? what not? 210 
 Think on't, be confident, pursue the plot. 
 
 Str. Look, here's a trope : a true rogue's lips are mute, 
 I do not use to speak, but execute. 
 
 \^He lays finger o?i his month, and draws 
 his dagger. — Exit. 
 
 Pier. So, so; run headlong to confusion : 
 Thou slight-brain'd mischief, thou art made as dirt. 
 To plaster up the bracks - of my defects. 
 I'll wring what may be squeezed from out his use, 
 And good night, Strotzo. Swell plump, bold heart ; 
 For now thy tide of vengeance rolleth in : 
 O now Tragxdia Cothurnata ^ mounts, 220 
 
 Piero's thoughts are fix'd on dire exploits. 
 
 * Old form of digest. 
 
 2 Flaws, cracks. 
 
 ' Cf. Spanish Tragedy, v. i : — 
 
 " Give me a stately-written tragedy, 
 Tragaedia Cothumaia, fitting kings."
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 141 
 
 Pell mell — confusion and black murder guides 
 
 The organs of my spirit : shrink not, heart ! 
 
 Capienda ^ rebus in malts prceceps via est. \Exit. 
 
 ' " Rapienda rebus," &c., is the true reading. The quotation is from 
 Seneca's Agamemnon, 1. 154.
 
 ( 142 ) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A duffib show. The conuts sou?idifig for the Act. 
 
 Enter CxsTiu.0 and Yorobosco, Alberto <?/?</ Balurdo, 
 with pohaxes ; Piero, talking with Strotzo, seerneth 
 to send him out : exit Strotzo. Re-enter Strotzo 
 with Maria, Nutriche, and Lucio. Yi^^o passeth 
 through his guard, and talks with Maria with 
 seeming amorousness ; she secmcth to reject his suit, 
 flies to the tomb, kneels, and kisseth it. Piero bribes 
 Nutriche and Lucio ; they go to her, seemitig to 
 solicit his suit. She riseth, offers to go out ; Piero 
 stayeth her, tears open his breast, embraceth and 
 kisseth her ; and so they go all out in state. 
 
 \After the dumb sho7u enter two Pages, the one with tapers, 
 the other holding a chafing-dish with a perfutne in 
 it; Antonio, /// his ?iight-gown and a night-cap, un- 
 braced, following after. 
 
 Ant. The black jades of swart night trot foggy rings ^ 
 'Bout heaven's brow : [clock strikes twelve'^ 'tis now stark 
 
 dead night. 
 Is this Saint Mark's Church ? 
 
 1 See note i, p. m.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio a7id Alellicia. 143 
 
 \st Pa. It is, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Where stands my father's hearse ? 
 
 2d Pa. Those streamers bear his arms. Ay, that 
 is it. 
 
 Ant. Set tapers to the tomb, and lamp the church : 
 Give me the fire. — Now depart and sleep. 
 
 [^Exeunt Pages. 
 I purify the air with odorous fume. 
 Graves, vaults, and tombs, groan not to bear my 
 
 weight ; 
 Cold flesh, bleak trunks, wrapt in your half-rot shrouds, 
 I press you softly with a tender foot. n 
 
 Most honour'd sepulchre, vouchsafe a wretch 
 Leave to weep o'er thee. Tomb, I'll not be long 
 Ere I creep in thee, and with bloodless lips 
 Kiss my cold father's cheek. I prithee, grave. 
 Provide soft mold to wrap my carcass in. 
 Thou royal spirit of Andrugio, 
 Where'er thou hover'st, airy intellect, 
 I heave up tapers to thee (view thy son) 
 In celebration of due obsequies ; 20 
 
 Once every night I'll dew thy funeral hearse 
 With my religious tears. 
 O, blessed father of a cursed son. 
 Thou died'st most happy, since thou lived'st not 
 To see thy son most wretched, and thy wife 
 Pursued by him that seeks my guiltless blood ! 
 O, in what orb thy mighty spirit soars. 
 Stoop and beat down this rising fog of shame. 
 That strives to blur thy blood, and girt defame
 
 144 The Second Part of [act m. 
 
 About my innocent and spotless brows. 30 
 
 Non est mori miserum, sed misere inori. 
 
 \Ghost of K^ii-RVQXO rises. 
 Ghost of And. Thy pangs of anguish rip my cerecloth 
 up, 
 And, lo, the ghost of old Andrugio 
 Forsakes his coffin. Antonio, revenge ! 
 I was empoison'd by Piero's hand. 
 Revenge my blood ! take spirit, gentle boy ; 
 Revenge my blood ! Thy Mellida is chaste : 
 Only to frustrate thy pursuit in love, 
 Is blazed unchaste. Thy mother yields consent 
 To be his wife, and give his blood a son, 40 
 
 That made her husbandless, and doth complot 
 To make her sonless ; but before I touch 
 The banks of rest, my ghost shall visit her. 
 Thou vigour of my youth, juice of my love. 
 Seize on revenge, grasp the stern-bended front 
 Of frowning vengeance with unpaiz'd ^ clutch.- 
 Alarum Nemesis, rouse up thy blood ! 
 Invent some stratagem of vengeance. 
 Which, but to think on, may like lightning glide 
 With horror through thy breast ! Remember this : 50 
 Scelera ^ 710 n ulcisceris, nisi vincis. 
 
 [Exit Andrugio's ghost. 
 
 ^ We should have expected "paizfed," i.e., steady, unfaltering. 
 (The reader will note that Marston constantly uses " vengeance " as 
 a trisyllable.) 
 
 2 Cf. p. 178. " The fist of strenuous vengeance is clutch'd" — a line 
 which Ben Jonson ridicules in The Poetaster (v. i.) 
 
 3 A quotation from Seneca's Thycstes, 194-5. 
 
 J
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 145 
 
 Enter Maria, her hair about her cars ; Nutriche ami 
 Lucio, with Pages, a?id torches. 
 
 Mar. Where left you him ? show me, good boys, away ! 
 
 Nut. God's me, your hair ! 
 
 Mar. Nurse, 'tis not yet proud day : 
 The neat gay mists of the light's not up. 
 Her cheek's not yet slur'd over with the paint 
 Of borrow'd crimson ; the unprank^d world 
 Wears yet the night-clothes. Let flare my loosbd hair ! 
 I scorn the presence of the night. — 
 Where's my boy ? — Run : I'll range about the church, 
 Like frantic Bacchanal or Jason's wife, 60 
 
 Invoking all the spirits of the graves 
 To tell me where. — Ha ? O my poor wretched blood ! 
 What dost thou up at midnight, my kind boy ? 
 Dear soul, to bed ! O thou hast struck a fright 
 Unto thy mother's panting 
 
 Ant.'^ O qidsquis nova 
 Supplicia fiwctis dirus umhrarum arbiter 
 Disponts, quisquis exeso jaces 
 Pavidus sub antro^ quisquis venturi times 
 Montis ruitiafn, quisquis avidorum feros ^ 
 Rictus leonum, et dira furiaruni agmina 70 
 
 ImpUcitus horres, Anto?iii vocem excipe 
 Properantis advos — Ulciscar ! 
 
 Mar. Alas ! my son's distraught. Sweet boy, appease 
 
 1 Not marked in old eds. — The Latin lines are from Seneca's Thyestes. 
 11. 13-14, 75-80. 
 
 * Ed. 1602 "antri." ^ Old eds. "feres." 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 146 The Second Fart of [act m. 
 
 Thy mutining affections. 
 
 Ant. By the astonning terror of swart night, 
 Ey the infectious damps of clammy graves, 
 And ^ by the mould that presseth down 
 My dead father's skull, I'll be revenged ! 
 
 Mar. Wherefore ? on whom ? for what ? Go, go to bed, 
 Good, duteous son. Ho, but thy idle 80 
 
 Afit. So I may sleep tomb'd in an honour'd hearse, 
 So may my bones rest in that sepulchre, 
 
 Mar. Forget not duty, son : to bed, to bed. 
 
 Afit. May I be cursed by my father's ghost. 
 And blasted with incensed breath of Heaven, 
 If my heart beat - on ought but vengeance ! 
 May I be numb'd with horror, and my veins 
 Pucker with singeing torture, if my brain 
 Disgest^ a thought but of dire vengeance ; 
 May I be fetter'd slave to coward Chance, 90 
 
 If blood, heart, brain, plot ought save vengeance. 
 
 Mar. Wilt thou to bed ? I \vonder when thou sleep'st ! 
 rfaith thou look'st sunk-ey'd ; go couch thy head : 
 Now, faith, 'tis idle : sweet, sweet son, to bed. 
 
 Ant. I have a prayer or two to offer up 
 For the good, good prince, my most dear, dear lord, 
 
 1 The metre might be restored by reading — 
 
 "And by the mould that presseth down the skull 
 Of my dead father, I will be revenged." 
 
 2 Is busy with. — So in The Tempest : — 
 
 " Do not infest your mind with beating on 
 The strangeness of this business." 
 
 3 Old form of digest.
 
 SCENE I.] Anto7iio and Mellida. 147 
 
 The duke Piero, and your virtuous self; 
 
 And then, when those prayers have obtain'd success, 
 
 In sooth I'll come (believe it now) and couch 
 
 My head in downy mould. But first I'll see 100 
 
 You safely laid : I'll bring ye all to bed. 
 
 Piero, Maria, Strotzo, Lucio, 
 
 I'll see you all laid : I'll bring you all to bed, 
 
 And then, i'faith, I'll come and couch my head, 
 
 And sleep in peace. 
 
 Mar. Look then, we go before. 
 
 \Exeunt all but Antonio. 
 
 Ant Ay, so you must, before we touch the shore 
 Of wish'd revenge. O, you departed souls, 
 That lodge in coffin'd trunks, which my feet press, 
 (If Pythagorean Axioms be true, 
 
 Of spirits' transmigration) fleet no more '^'\^ no 
 
 To human bodies, rather live in swine, 
 Inhabit wolves' flesh, scorpions, dogs, and toads, 1 
 Rather than man. The curse of Heaven rains 
 In plagues unlimited through all his days : 
 His mature age grows only mature vice, 
 And ripens only to corrupt and rot 
 The budding hopes of infant modesty. 
 Still striving to be more than man, he proves 
 More than a devil. Devilish suspect, 
 Devilish cruelty, 
 
 All hell-strai[n']d juice is poured to his veins. 
 Making him drunk with fuming surquedries ; ^ 
 
 1 Wanton excesses.
 
 148 The Second Part of [act hl 
 
 Contempt of Heaven, untam'd arrogance, 
 Lust, state, pride, murder. 
 
 Ghost of And. Murder! ^ 
 
 Ghost of Fel. Murder ! \ From above and beneath. 
 
 Pan?^ Murder ! J 
 
 Ant. Ay, I will murder : graves and ghosts 
 Fright me no more, I'll suck red vengeance 
 Out of Piero's wounds, Piero's wounds ! 
 
 \Retires to the back of the stage. 
 
 Enter two boys, with Piero in his night-gown and 
 night-cap. 
 Pier. Maria, love, Maria ! she took this aisle. 
 Left you her here ? On, lights, away ! 
 I think we shall not warm our beds to-day. 130 
 
 Enter Julio, Forobosco, and Castilio. 
 Jul. Ho, father ! father ! 
 Pier. How now, Julio, my little pretty son? 
 Why suffer you the child to walk so late? 
 
 For. He will not sleep, but calls to follow you, 
 Crying that bug-bears and spirits haunted him. 
 
 [Antonio offers to come near and stab ; Piero 
 presently withdraivs. 
 Ant. [Aside.] No, not so. 
 This shall be sought for ; I'll force him feed on life 
 Till he shall loath it. This shall be the close 
 Of vengeance' strain. 
 
 Pier. Away there, pages, lead on fast with light ; 140 
 
 1 It is hard to see why Pandulfo should be shouting with the ghosts.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 149 
 
 The church is full of damps ; 'tis yet dead night. 
 
 \Exeunt all, saving Julio and Antonio. 
 
 Jul. Brother Antonio, are you here, i'faith ? 
 AVhy do you frown ? Indeed my sister said 
 That I should call you brother, tliat she did, 
 When you were married to her. Buss me : good truth, 
 I love you better than my father, 'deed. 
 
 Ant. Thy father ? Gracious, O bounteous Heaven ! 
 I do adore thy justice : vcnit iti nostras mantis 
 Tandejn vifidicta, vcnit et tola quidem.^ 
 
 Jul. Truth, since my mother died, I loved you best. 15° 
 Something hath anger'd you ; pray you, look merrily. 
 
 Ajit. I will laugh, and dimple my thin cheek 
 With cap'ring joy; chuck, my heart doth leap 
 To grasp thy bosom. — [Aside.] Time, place, and blood. 
 How fit you close together ! Heaven's tones 
 Strike not such music to immortal souls^_ ' 
 AS'your accordance sweets my breast withal. 
 Methinks I pace upon the front of Jove, 
 And kick corruption with a scornful heel ! 
 Griping this flesh, disdain mortality ! 160 
 
 O that I knew which joint, which side, which limb. 
 Were father all, and had no mother in't. 
 That I might rip it vein by vein, and carve revenge 
 In bleeding races ! but since 'tis mix'd together, 
 Have at adventure, pell mell, no reverse. — 
 Come hither, boy. This is Andrugio's hearse. 
 
 1 Senec, Thyestes, 494-5 : — 
 
 ' ' Venit in nostras manus 
 Tandem Thyestes; venit et totus quidem.'
 
 1 50 The Second Pa7-t of [act m- 
 
 Jul. O God, you'll hurt me. For my sister's sake, 
 Pray you do not hurt me. And you kill me, 'deed, 
 I'll tell my father. 
 
 Ant. O, for thy sister's sake, I flag revenge. 170 
 
 Ghost of And. Revenge ! 
 
 Ant. Stay, stay, dear father, fright mine eyes no more. 
 Revenge as swift as lightning bursteth forth, 
 And cleaves ^ his heart. — Come, pretty tender child. 
 It is not thee I hate, not thee I kill. 
 Thy father's blood that flows within thy veins. 
 Is it I loathe ; is that revenge must suck. 
 I love thy soul : and were thy heart lapp'd up 
 In any flesh but in Piero's blood, 
 
 I would thus kiss it ; but being his, thus, thus, iSo 
 
 And thus I'll punch it. Abandon fears : 
 Whilst thy wounds bleed, my brows shall gush out tears. 
 
 Jul. So you will love me, do even what you will. 
 
 Ant. Now barks the wolf against^the fuU-cheek'd moon ; 
 Now lions half-clam'd - entrails roar for food ; 
 Now croaks the toad, and night-crows screech aloud. 
 Fluttering 'bout casements of departed souls ; 
 Now gapes the graves, and through their yawns let loose 
 Imprison'd spirits to revisit earth ; 
 
 And now, swart night, to swell thy hour out, 190 
 
 Behold I spurt warm blood in thy black eyes. 
 
 \He stabs Julio. — From under the stage a groan. 
 Howl not, thou putry ^ mould ; groan not, ye graves ; 
 Be dumb, all breath. Here stands Andrugio's son, 
 
 1 Old eds. "cleares." * Half-starved. 
 
 ' So ed. 1633. — Ed. 1602 "pury."
 
 I 
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 151 
 
 Worthy his father. So : I feel no breath. 
 
 His jaws are faH'n, his dislodg'd soul is fled : 
 
 And now there's nothing but Piero left: 
 
 He is all Piero, father all. This blood, 
 
 This breast, this heart, Piero all : 
 
 Whom thus I mangle. Sprite of Julio, 
 
 Forget this was thy trunk. I live thy friend : 200 
 
 May'st thou be twined with the soft'st embrace 
 
 Of clear eternity : but thy father's blood 
 
 I thus make incense of to vengeance. 
 
 Ghost of my poison'd sire, suck this fume : 
 
 To sweet revenge perfume thy circling air -^-^ 
 
 With smoke of blotsA'- T's'prinkle round his gore, ! 
 
 And dew thy hearse with these fresh-reeking drops. 
 
 Lo thus I heave my blood-dyed hands to heaven, ( 
 
 Even like insatiate hell still crying. More ! 
 
 My heart hath thirsting dropsies after gore. 210 
 
 Sound peace and rest to church, night-ghosts, and 
 
 graves : \ 
 
 Blood cries for blood, and murder murder craves. y 
 
 [Exif. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Cha7}iher of Maria. 
 
 Enter two Pages wih torches ; Maria, her hair loose, 
 and NuTRicHE. 
 
 Nut. Fie, fie ; to-morrow your wedding day, and 
 weep ! God's my comfort ! Andrugio could do well : 
 Piero may do better. I have had four husbands myself.
 
 152 The Second Part of [act m. 
 
 The first I called, sweet duclc ; the second, dear heart ; 
 the third, pretty pug ; ^ but the fourth, most sweet, dear, 
 pretty, all in all ; he was the very cockall of a husband. 
 What, lady? your skin is smooth, your blood warm, 
 your cheek fresh, your eye quick : change of pasture 
 makes fat calves ; choice of linen clean bodies, and (no 
 question) variety of husbands perfect wives. I would 
 you should know it : as few teeth as I have in my head, 
 I have read AristotUs Problems^- which saith that woman 
 receiveth perfection by the man. What then be the 
 men ? Go to, to bed, lie on your back, dream not on 
 Piero ; I say no more. To-morrow is your wedding : 
 go,2 dream not of Piero. 16 
 
 Enter Balurdo with a base viol. 
 
 Mar. What an idle prate thou keep'st, good nurse ; 
 go sleep. 
 I have a mighty task of tears to weep. 
 
 Bal. Lady, with a most retort and obtuse leg, 
 I kiss the curled locks of your loose hair. 20 
 
 The Duke hath sent you the most musical Sir Jeffrey, 
 with his not base, but most ennobled viol, to rock your 
 baby thoughts in the cradle of sleep. 
 
 Mar. I give the noble Duke respective * thanks. 
 
 1 A common term for endearment. 
 
 ' The Problemes of Aristotle, with other Philosophers and Phisitions, 
 wherein are contayned diuers questions, with their answers, touching 
 the estate of man s bodie, 1595, 1597, &c. — an old chap-book. 
 
 3 Oldeds. "do." 
 
 * Respectful.
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 153 
 
 Bal. Respective ; truly a very pretty word. Indeed, 
 madam, I have the most respective fiddle ; did you ever 
 smell a more sweet sound ? My ditty must go thus ; 
 very witty, I assure you : I myself in an humorous 
 passion made it, to the tune of my mistress Nutriche's 
 beauty. Indeed, very pretty, very retort, and obtuse, 
 I'll assure you ; 'tis thus : — 31 
 
 My mistress' eye doth oil my joints, 
 
 And makes my fingers nimble : 
 O love, come on, untruss your points, 
 
 My fiddlestick wants rozen. 
 My lady's duggs are all so smooth, 
 
 That no flesh must them handle : 
 Her eyes do shine, for to say sooth, 
 
 Like a new-snuffed candle. 
 
 Mar. Truly, very pathetical and unvulgar. 40 
 
 Bal. Pathetical and unvulgar ; words of worth, ex- 
 cellent words. In sooth, madam, I have taken a murr,^ 
 which makes my nose run most pathetically, and un- 
 vulgarly. Have you any tobacco ? 
 
 Mar. Good Signior, your song. 
 
 Bal. Instantly, most unvulgarly, at your service. 
 Truly, here's the most pathetical rozen. Umh. 
 
 [^ Song. 
 
 Mar. In sooth, most knightly sung, and like Sir Jef- 
 frey. 
 
 ^ Violent cold.
 
 154 The Second Part of [act m. 
 
 Bal. Why, look you, lady, I was made a knight 
 only for my voice ; and a councillor only for my wit. 51 
 
 Mar. I believe it. Good night, gentle sir, good 
 night. 
 
 Bal. You will give me leave to take my leave of my 
 mistress, and I will do it most famously in rhyme. 
 
 Farewell, adieu ! saith thy love true. 
 
 As to part loath. 
 Time bids us part, mine own sweet heart, 
 
 God bless us both. \Exit Balurdo. 
 
 Mar. Good night, Nutriche. Pages, leave the room. 
 The life of night grows short, 'tis almost dead. 60 
 
 \Exeu7it Pages and Nutriche. 
 O thou cold widow-bed, sometime thrice blest 
 By the warm pressure of my sleeping lord. 
 Open thy leaves, and whilst on thee I tread, 
 Groan out, — Alas, my dear Andrugio's dead ! 
 
 [Maria drazveth the curtain : and the ghost of 
 Andrugio is displayed, sitting on the bed. 
 Amazing terror, what portent is this ! 
 
 Ghost of And. Disloyal to our hymeneal^ rites. 
 What raging heat reigns in thy strumpet blood ? 
 Hast thou so soon forgot Andrugio ? 
 Are our love-bands so quickly cancelled ? 
 Where lives thy plighted faith unto this breast ? 70 
 
 weak Maria I Go to, calm thy fears. 
 
 1 pardon thee, poor soul ! O shed no tears ; 
 
 * Ed. 1602 "HymnialL"
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida, 155 
 
 Thy sex is weak. That black incarnate fiend 
 
 May trip thy faith that hath o'erthrown my life : 
 
 I was impoison'd by Piero's hand. 
 
 Join with my son to bend up strain'd revenge, 
 
 Maintain a seeming favour to his suit, 
 
 Till time may form our vengeance absolute. 
 
 Enter Antonio, his arms bloody, bearing a torch 
 and a poniard. 
 
 Ant. See, unamazed I will behold thy face ; 
 Outstare the terror of thy grim aspect, 80 
 
 Daring the horrid'st object of the night. ' \ 
 
 Look how I smoke in blood, reeking the steam 
 Of foaming vengeance. O my soul's enthroned 
 In the triumphant chariot of revenge ! 
 Methinks I am all air, and feel no weight 
 Of human dirt clog. This is Julio's blood ! 
 Richmusic, father : this is Julio's blood ! 
 Why lives that mother ? 
 
 Ghost of And. Pardon ignorance. 
 Fly, dear Antonio : 
 
 Once more assume disguise, and dog the court 90 
 
 In feigned habit, till Piero's blood 
 May even o'erflow the brim of full revenge. 
 Peace and all blessed fortunes to you both ! 
 Fly thou from court, be peerless in revenge : 
 
 \Exit Antonio. 
 Sleep thou in rest, lo, here I close thy couch. 
 
 \Exit Maria to her bed, Andrugio drawing 
 the curtains.
 
 1 56 Anto7iio and Mellida. [act m. 
 
 And now ye sooty coursers of the night, 
 Hurry your chariot into hell's black womb. 
 Darkness, make flight ; graves, eat your dead again : 
 Let's repossess our shrouds. Why lags delay? 
 Mount sparkling brightness, give the world his day ! 100 
 
 \Exit Andrugio.
 
 ( 157 ) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 ILnter Antonio in a fooVs habit, with a little toy of a 
 walnut shell, and soap to make bubbles : Maria and 
 Alberto. 
 
 Mar. Away with this disguise in any hand ! 
 
 A/b. Fie, 'tis unsuiting to your elate spirit : 
 Rather put on some transhaped cavaher, 
 Some habit of a spitting critic, whose mouth 
 Voids nothing but gentile and unvulgar 
 Rheum of censure : rather assume 
 
 Ant. Why, then should I put on the very flesh 
 Of solid folly. No, this cock's comb is a crown 
 Which I affect even with unbounded zeal. 
 
 Alb. 'Twill thwart your plot, disgrace your high 
 resolve. lo 
 
 Ant. By wisdom's heart, there is no essence mortal 
 That I can envy, but a plump-cheek'd fool : 
 O, he hath a patent of immunities 
 Confirm'd by custom, seal'd by policy, 
 As large as spacious thought. 
 
 Alb. You cannot press among the courtiers, 
 And have access to
 
 158 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 Ant. What ? not a fool ? Why, friend, a golden ass, 
 A babied ^ fool, are sole canonical, 
 Whilst pale-cheek'd wisdom, and lean-ribbbd art 20 
 
 Are kept in distance at the halbert's point ; 
 All held Apocrypha, not worth survey. 
 Why, by the genius of that Florentine, 
 Deep, deep observing, sound-brain'd Machiavel, 
 He is not wise that strives not to seem fool. 
 When will the Duke hold fee'd intelligence. 
 Keep wary observation in large pay, 
 To dog a fool's act ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, but feigning known disgraceth much. 
 
 Ant. Pish ! Most things that morally adhere to 
 souls, 30 
 
 Wholly exist in drunk opinion : 
 Whose reeling censure, if I value not. 
 It values nought. 
 
 Mar. You are transported with too slight a thought, 
 If you but meditate of what is past. 
 And what you plot to pass. 
 
 Ant. Even in that note a fool's beatitude : 
 He is not capable of passion ; 
 Wanting the power of distinction, 
 
 He bears an unturned sail with every wind : 40 
 
 Blow east, blow west, he stirs his course alike. 
 I never saw a fool lean : the chub-faced fop 
 Shines sleek with full-cramm'd fat of happiness. 
 Whilst studious contemplation sucks the juice 
 
 1 " Bable " was the old form of " bauble."
 
 SCENE I.] Antoitio and Mellida. 1 59 
 
 From wisards'^ cheeks : who making curious search 
 
 For nature's secrets, tlie first innating cause 
 
 Laughs them to scorn, as man doth busy apes 
 
 When they will zany men. Had Heaven been kind, 
 
 Creating me an honest senseless dolt, 
 
 A good poor fool, I should want sense to feel 50 
 
 The stings of anguish shoot through every vein ; 
 
 I should not know what 'twere to lose a father ; 
 
 I should be dead of sense to view defame 
 
 Blur my bright love ; I could not thus run mad, 
 
 As one confounded in a maze of mischief, 
 
 Stagger'd, stark, fell'd with bruising stroke of chance ; 
 
 I should not shoot mine eyes into the earth. 
 
 Poring for mischief that might counterpoise 
 
 Mischief, murder and 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 How now, Lucio ? 
 Lji. My lord, the Duke, with the Venetian states," 60 
 Approach the great hall to judge Mellida. 
 Ant, Ask'd he for Julio yet ? 
 
 Lu. No motion ^ of him : dare you trust this habit ? 
 Ant. Alberto, see you straight rumour me dead. 
 Leave me, good mother ; leave me, Lucio 5 
 Forsake me, all. \Exeunt omnes, saving Antonio. 
 
 1 " Wisards"=wise men. In the Ode on the Nativity Milton styles 
 the wise men from the East wisards : — 
 
 " The star-led wisards hasten with odours sweet." 
 a Nobles. 
 s I.e., there has been no question asked about him.
 
 1 60 The Second Part of [ac 
 
 Now patience hoop my sides ~\ 
 
 With steeled ribs, lest I do burst my breast 
 With struggling passions. Now disguise, stand bold : 
 Poor scorned habits oft choice souls enfold. 
 
 [ The cor7iets sound a scnet. 
 
 Enter Castilio, Forobosco, Balurdo, and Alberto, 
 with pole-axes, Lucio bare ; followed by Piero a?id 
 Maria talking together ; two Senators, Galeatzo, 
 Matzagente, and Nutriche. 
 
 Fier. Entreat me not : there's not a beauty hves 70 
 Hath that imperial predominance 
 O'er my affects ^ as your enchanting graces : 
 Yet give me leave to be myself — 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] A villain, 
 
 Fier. Just — 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] Most just. 
 
 Fier. Most just and upright in our judgment seat. 
 Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish 
 Of most loath'd looseness, I would scratch it out. 
 Produce the strumpet in her bridal robes. 
 That she may blush t'appear so white in show, 80 
 
 And black in inward substance. Bring her in. 
 
 [Exeunt Forobosco and Castilio. 
 I hold Antonio, for his father's sake, 
 So very dearly, so entirely choice, 
 That knew I but a thought of prejudice 
 
 * Affections.
 
 sr tNE I.] Antonio and Mellida, i6i 
 
 7 nagined 'gainst his high ennobled blood, 
 
 would maintain a mortal feud, undying hate, 
 Gainst the conceiver's life. And shall justice sleep 
 -In fleshly lethargy, for mine own blood's favour. 
 When the sweet prince hath so apparent scorn 
 By my — I will not call her daughter ? Go, 90 
 
 Conduct in the loved youth Antonio : 
 
 \_Exit Alberto to fetch Antonio. 
 He shall behold me spurn my private good ; 
 Piero loves his honour more than 's blood. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] The devil he does more than both. 
 
 £al. Stand back there, fool ; I do hate a fool most, 
 most pathetically. O, these that have no sap of retort 
 and obtuse wit in them : faugh ! 
 
 Ant. Puff, hold, world ; puff, hold, bubble ; pufif, hold, 
 world ; puff, break not behind ; puff, thou art full of 
 wind; puff,; keep up thy ^ wind; puff, 'tis broke! and 
 now I laugh like a good fool at the breath of mine own 
 lips, he, he, he, he, he I 102 
 
 £a/. You fool ! 
 
 Ant. You fool, pufif ! 
 
 Bal. I cannot disgest ^ thee, the unvulgar fool. Go, 
 fool. 
 
 I^ier. Forbear, Balurdo ; let the fool alone. 
 Come hither.3 Is he your fool ? 
 
 1 Old eds. "by." 
 
 - Old form of digest. 
 
 3 Old eds. "Come hither [ficto]." The bracketed word is, I suppose, 
 a direction to the actor ; Piero is to talk in an affected voice to Antonio, 
 — treat him as a simpleton. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 1 62 The Second Pa7't of [act iv. 
 
 Mar. Yes, my loved lord. 
 
 Pier. \Aside^ Would all the states * in Venice were 
 like thee ! 
 O then I were secur'd. no 
 
 He that's a villain, or but meanly soul'd, 
 Must still converse and cling to routs of fools, 
 That can not search the leaks of his defects. 
 O, your unsalted fresh fool is your only man : 
 These vinegar tart spirits are too piercing, 
 Too searching in the unglued joints of shaken wits. 
 Find they a chink, they'll wriggle in and in. 
 And eat like salt sea in his siddow^ ribs. 
 Till they have opened all his rotten parts 
 Unto the vaunting surge of base contempt, 120 
 
 And sunk the tossed galleasse ^ in depth 
 Of whirlpool scorn. Give me an honest fop. — 
 Dud a dud a ! Why lo, sir, this takes he 
 As grateful now as a monopoly. 
 
 [ The still flutes sound softly. 
 
 Enter FoROBOSCO aftd Castilio : Mellida supported by 
 two 7ciaiting-woJiien. 
 
 Mel. All honour to this royal confluence. 
 
 Pier. Forbear, impure, to blot bright honour's name 
 With thy defiled lips. The flux of sin 
 
 1 Nobles. 
 
 2 " The word siddow is of very unusual occurrence in early English, 
 but it is preserved in the provincial dialect of the Wtst of England. In 
 Gloucestershire peas which become pulpy soft by boiling are then said 
 to be siddorjj." — Halliwell. 
 
 ' Large galleon.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Me Hid a. i6 
 
 J 
 
 Flows from thy tainted body : tliou so foul, 
 
 So all dishonour'd, canst no honour give, 
 
 No wish of good, that can have good effect 130 
 
 To this grave senate, and illustrate bloods. 
 
 Why stays the doom of death ? 
 
 \st. Sen. Who riseth up to manifest her guilt ? 
 
 2d Sen. You must produce apparent proof, my lord. 
 
 Pier. Why, where is Strotzo ? — he tliat swore he saw 
 The very act, and vow'd that Feliche fled 
 Upon his sight : on which I brake the breast 
 Of the adulterous lecher with five stabs. 
 Go, fetch in Strotzo. Now, thou impudent. 
 If thou hast any drop of modest blood 140 
 
 Shrouded within thy cheeks, blush, blush for shame. 
 That rumour yet may say thou felt'st defame. 
 
 Mel. Produce the devil ; let your Strotzo come : 
 I can defeat his strongest argument, 
 With 
 
 Pier. With what ? 
 
 Mel. With tears, with blushes, sighs, and claspM 
 hands ; 
 With innocent upreared arms to Heaven; 
 With my unnookt ^ simplicity. These, these 
 Must, will, can only quit my heart of guilt : 150 
 
 Heaven permits not taintless blood be spilt. 
 If no remorse live in your savage breast 
 
 Pier. Then thou must die. 
 
 1 " Unnookt simplicity" (if the reading is right) must mean " sira. 
 plicity in which no guile is hidden."
 
 1 64 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 Md. Yet dying, I'll be blest. 
 
 Pier. Accurst by me. 
 
 Mel. Yet blest, in that I strove 
 
 To live, and die 
 
 Pier. My hate. 
 
 Mel. Antonio's love. 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] Antonio's love ! 
 
 E7itcr Strotzo, with a cord about his neck. 
 
 Str. O what vast ocean of repentant tears 
 Can cleanse my breast from the polluting filth 
 Of ulcerous sin ! Supreme Efficient, 
 Why cleavest thou not my breast with thunderbolts 160 
 Of wing'd revenge ? 
 
 Pier. What means this passion ? 
 
 Ant. \Aside.\ What villainy are they decocting now? 
 Umh ! 
 
 Str. Iti'^ me convertite ferrjitn^ O proceres. 
 Nihil iste, nee ista. 
 
 Pier. Lay hold on him ! What strange portent is 
 this ? 
 
 Str. I will not flinch. Death, hell more grimly stare 
 Within my heart than in your threatening brows. 
 Record, thou threefold guard of dreadest power,^ 
 What I here speak is forced from my lips 
 
 1 A mangled quotation from j^n. ix. 427-8. 
 
 - The " threefold guard of dreadest power" is, I suppose, " terge- 
 niina Hecate." Cf. p. 176 " By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate."
 
 SCENE I. ] A ntoji 10 and Mellida. 165 
 
 By the [imjpulsive strain of conscience. 170 
 
 I have a mount of mischief clogs my soul, 
 
 As weighty as the high-noU'cP Apennine, 
 
 Which I must straight disgorge, or breast will burst. 
 
 I have defam'd this lady wrongfully, 
 
 By instigation of Antonio, 
 
 Whose reeling love, tost on each fancy's surge, 
 
 Began to loath before it fully joyed. 
 
 Pier. Go, seize Antonio ! guard him strongly in ! 
 
 \_Exit FoROBOSCO. 
 
 Str. By his ambition being only bribed, 
 Fee'd by his impious hand, I poisoned 180 
 
 His aged father, that his thirsty hope[s] 
 Might quench their dropsy of aspiring drought 
 With full unbounded quaff. 
 
 Pier. Seize me, Antonio ! 
 
 Str. O, why permit you now such scum of filth 
 As Strotzo is to live and taint the air 
 With his infectious breath ! 
 
 Pier. Myself will be thy strangler, unmatched slave. 
 
 PiERO comes from his chair, snatcheih the cord's end, and 
 Castilio aidetJi him : both strangle Strotzo. 
 
 Str. Now change your 
 
 Pier. I — pluck Castilio ! — I change my humour : 
 pluck Castilio ! 
 Die, with thy death's entreats even in thy jaws. — 190 
 
 1 High-peaked. — Nol—\x<iZ.&, top.
 
 1 66 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 \Aside?^ Now, now, now, now, now, my plot begins to 
 
 work ! 
 Why, thus should statesmen do, 
 That cleave through knots of craggy policies, 
 Use men like wedges, one strike out another, 
 Till by degrees the tough and knurly ^ trunk 
 Be riv'd in sunder. — Where's Antonio? 
 
 Enter Alberto, running. 
 
 Alb. O, black accursed fate ! Antonio's drown'd. 
 
 Pier. Speak, on thy faith, on thy allegiance, speak. 
 
 Alb. As I do love Piero, he is drown'd. 
 
 Ant. [Asii/e.] In an inundation of amazement. 200 
 
 A/el. Ay, is this the close of all my strains in love ? 
 O me most wretched maid ! 
 
 Pier. Antonio drown'd ! how.? how? Antonio drown'd ! 
 
 Alb. Distraught and raving, from a turret's top 
 He threw his body in the swollen sea, 
 And as he headlong topsy turvy ding'd^ down, 
 He still cried " Mellida ! " 
 
 Ant. [Aside.] My love's bright crown ! 
 
 Mel. He still cried " Mellida " ! 
 
 * Full o{ knurs, i.e. knotted, gnarled. 
 
 ' Dashed violently. — We have had the word before (p. 11) used 
 transitively ; but it is also used intransitively, as in Drayton's Ballad 0/ 
 Agincourl : — 
 
 " This while our noble king, 
 His broadsword brandishing, 
 Down the French host did ding 
 
 As to o'erwhelm it." (Text of ed. 1619. )
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 167 
 
 Pier. Daughter, methinks your eyes should sparkle 
 
 Your bosom rise on tiptoe at this news. 210 
 
 Mel Ay me ! 
 
 Pier. How now? Ay, me! why, art not great of 
 thanks 
 To gracious Heaven for the just revenge 
 Upon the author of thy obloquies ! 
 
 Mar. Sweet beauty, I could sigh as fast as you, 
 But that I know that, which I weep to know. 
 [Ast'de.] His ^ fortunes should be such he dare not show 
 His open presence ! 
 
 Me/. I know he lov'd me dearly, dearly, ay : 
 And since I cannot live with him, I die. [Swoons. 220 
 
 Pier. 'Fore Heaven, her speech falters ; look, she 
 swouns. 
 Convey her up into her private bed. 
 
 [Maria, Nutriche, and the Ladies bear out 
 Mellida, as being swooned. 
 I hope she'll live. If not 
 
 Ant. Antonio's dead ! the fool will follow too. 
 He, he, he ! 
 
 [Aside.] Now works the scene ; quick observation, scud 
 To cote 2 the plot, or else the path is lost : 
 My very self am gone, my way is fled : 
 Ay, all is lost, if Mellida is dead. [Exit Antonio. 
 
 Pier. Alberto, I am kind ; Alberto, kind. 230 
 
 ' /.e. alas, that his fortunes should be, &c. 
 2 Cote (another form oi ^uoh') = mark, note.
 
 1 68 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 I am sorry for thy coz, i'faith I am. 
 
 Go, take him down, and bear him to his father. 
 
 Let him be buried ; look ye, I'll pay the priest. 
 
 Alb. Please you to admit his father to the court ? 
 
 Pier. No. 
 
 Alb. Please you to restore his lands and goods 
 again ? 
 
 Pier. No. 
 
 Alb. Please you vouchsafe him lodging in the city ? 
 
 Pier. God's fut, no, thou odd uncivil fellow ! 
 I think you do forget, sir, where you are. 240 
 
 Alb. I know you do forget, sir, where you must be. 
 
 Fo7-o. You are too malapert, i'faith you are. 
 Your honour might do well to 
 
 Alb. Peace, parasite ; thou bur, that only sticks 
 Unto the nap of greatness. 
 
 Pier. Away with that same yelping cur — away ! 
 
 Alb. I — I am gone ; but mark, Piero, this. 
 There is a thing call'd scourging Nejnesis?- 
 
 \Exit Alberto. 
 
 Bal. God's neaks, he has wrong, that he has : and 
 s'fut, and I were as he, I would bear no coals. ^ Law, I, 
 I begin to swell — puff. 251 
 
 Pier. How now, fool, fop, fool ! 
 
 ^ So Hieronymo in The Spanish Tragedy : — 
 
 " Well heaven is heaven still ! 
 And there is Nemesis and furies, 
 And things call'd whips." 
 
 2 " Bear coals " = put up with injuries.
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida. 169 
 
 Bal} Fool, fop, fool ! Marry muffe ! ^ I pray you, 
 how many fools have you seen go in a suit of satin ? I 
 hope, yet, I do not look a fool i' faith ! a fool ! God's 
 bores, I scorn't with my heel. 'S neaks, and I were 
 worth but three hundred pound a year more, I could 
 swear richly ; nay, but as poor as I am, I will swear 
 the fellow hath wrong. 
 
 Pier. Young Galeatzo ! Ay, a proper man ; 260 
 
 Florence, a goodly city : it shall be so, 
 I'll marry her to him instantly. 
 Then Genoa mine, by my Maria's match, 
 Which ril solemnise ere next setting sun : 
 Thus Venice, Florence, Genoa, strongly leagued. 
 Excellent, excellent ! I'll conquer Rome, 
 Pop out the light of bright religion ; 
 And then, helter skelter, all cock-sure. 
 
 Bal. Go to, 'tis just, the man hath wrong : go to. 
 
 Pier. Go to, thou shall have right. Go to, Castillo, 
 Clap him into the palace dungeon; 271 
 
 Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime 
 That smears the dungeon' cheek. Away with him. 
 
 Bal. In very good truth, now, I'll ne'er do so more ; 
 this one time and 
 
 Pier. Away with him — observe it strictly — go ! 
 
 Bal. Why then, O wight ! 
 Alas, poor knight ! 
 O, welladay, 
 
 ^ Not marked in ed. 1602. 
 
 2 "Marry muffe" — a common expression of contempt. — Middleton, 
 i. 42, 71, &c.
 
 1 70 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 Sir Jefferay ! 280 
 
 Let poets roar, 
 
 And all deplore ; 
 
 For now I bid you good-night. 
 
 \Exit Balurdo with Castilio. 
 
 Re-enter Maria. 
 
 Mar. O piteous end of love ! O too,'too rude hand 
 Of unrespective death ! Alas, sweet maid ! 
 
 Pie. Forbear me, Heaven. What intend these 
 plaints? 
 
 Mar. The beauty of admired creation, 
 The life of modest unmix'd purity. 
 Our sex's glory, Mellida is 
 
 Pier. What, O Heaven, what ! 
 
 Mar. Dead ! 290 
 
 Pier. May it not sad your thoughts, how ? 
 
 Mar. Being laid upon her bed, she grasp'd my hand. 
 And kissing it, spake thus : " Thou very poor, 
 Why dost not weep? The jewel of thy brow. 
 The rich adornment that enchased thy breast, 
 Is lost : thy son, my love, is lost, is dead. 
 And do I live to say Antonio's dead ? 
 And have I lived to see his virtues blurr'd 
 With guiltless blots? O world, thou art too subtle 
 For honest natures to converse withal, 300 
 
 Therefore I'll leave thee ; farewell, mart of woe, 
 I fly to clip my love, Antonio ! " 
 With that her head sunk down upon her breast ;
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mcllida. 1 7 1 
 
 Her cheek changed earth, her senses slept in rest, 
 
 Until my fool, that press'd unto the bed, 
 
 Screech'd out so loud that he brouglit back her soul, 
 
 Call'd her again, that her bright eyes gan ope, 
 
 And stared upon him. He, audacious fool. 
 
 Dared kiss her hand, wish'd her " soft rest, loved bride ; " 
 
 She fumbled out, " thanks, good ; " and so she died. 310 
 
 Pier. And so she died ! I do not use to weep ; 
 But by thy love (out of whose fertile sweet 
 I hope for as fair fruit) I am deep sad. — 
 I will not stay my marriage for all this. — 
 Castilio, Forobosco, all, 
 Strain all your wits, wind up invention 
 Unto his highest bent, to sweet this night ; 
 Make us drink Lethe by your quaint conceits, 
 That for two days oblivion smother grief. 
 But when my daughter's exequies approach, 320 
 
 Let's all turn sighers. Come, despite of fate, 
 Sound loudest music, let's pace out in state ! 
 
 \_The cornets sound. — Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n. 
 
 Enter Antonio solus., infooVs habit . 
 
 Afit. Ay, heaven, thou may'st, thou may'st, omni- 
 potence. 
 What vermin bred of putrefacted slime 
 Shall dare to expostulate wiih thy decrees !
 
 1/2 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 heaven, thou may'st indeed : she was all thine, 
 All heavenly : I did but humbly beg 
 
 To borrow her of thee a little time. 
 
 Thou gavest her me, as some weak-breasted dame 
 
 Giveth her infant, puts it out to nurse ; 
 
 And when it once goes high-lone,^ takes it back. 
 
 She was my vital blood, and yet, and yet, lo 
 
 I'll not blaspheme. Look here ! behold ! 
 
 [Antonio/?//^ off his cap and lidh just upon his back. 
 
 1 turn my prostrate breast upon thy face. 
 And vent a heaving sigh. O hear but this ! 
 
 I am a poor, poor orphant — a weak, weak child, — 
 
 The wrack of splitted fortune, the very ooze, 
 
 The quicksand that devours all misery. 
 
 Behold the valiant'st creature that doth breathe ! 
 
 For all this I dare live, and I will live. 
 
 Only to numb some other's cursed blood 
 
 With the dead palsy of like misery. 20 
 
 Then, death, like to a stifling incubus, ^ 
 
 Lie on my bosom. Lo, see,^ I am sped. 
 
 My breast is Golgotha, grave for the dead. 
 
 Enter Pandulpho, Alberto, and a Page, carrying 
 Feliche's trutik ifi a winding sheet, and lay it 
 thwart Antonio's breast. 
 
 Fan. Antonio, kiss my foot : I honour thee, 
 In laying thwart my blood upon thy breast 
 
 1 Quite alone. — See note on Middleton, i. 46. 
 ' See note i, p. 107. " Old eds. "sir."
 
 SCENE II.] Anto7tio and Mellida. 173 
 
 I tell thee, boy, he was Panclulpho's son ; 
 
 And I do grace thee with supporting him. 
 
 Young man. 
 
 He ^ who hath nauglit that fortune's gripe can seize, 
 
 The domineering monarch of the earth ; 30 
 
 He who is all impregnably his own, 
 
 He whose great heart heaven cannot force with force, 
 
 Vouchsafes his love. Non servio Deo, sed assentio. 
 
 Afit. I ha' lost a good wife. 
 
 Fan. Didst find her good, or didst thou make her 
 good ? 
 If found, thou may'st refind, because thou hadst her ; 
 If made, the work is lost, but thou that madest her 
 Livest yet as cunning. Hast lost a good wife ? 
 Thrice-blessbd man that lost her whilst she was good, 
 Fair, young, unblemish'd, constant, loving, chaste. 40 
 I tell thee, youth, age knows, young loves seem graced. 
 Which with gray cares, rude jars, are oft defaced. 
 
 Ant. But she was full of hope. 
 
 Pan. May be, may be ; but that which may be stood, 
 Stands now without all may. She di^d good. 
 And dost thou grieve? 
 
 Alb. I ha' lost a true friend. 
 
 Fan. I live encompass'd with two blessbd souls. 
 Thou lost a good wife, thou lost a true friend, ha ! 
 Two of the rarest lendings of the heavens, — 
 But lendings which, at the fix'd day of pay 50 
 
 1 In old eds. 11. 29-30 are transposed, and the passajje is rendered 
 unintelligible. " The domineering monarch " is of course fortune.
 
 1 74 The Second Part of [act iv. 
 
 Set down by fate, thou must restore again.i 
 
 what unconscionable souls are here ! 
 
 Are you all like the spoke-shaves of the cliurch ? 
 
 Have you no maw to restitution ? 
 
 Hast lost a true friend, coz ? then thou hadst one. 
 
 1 tell thee, youth, 'tis all as difficult 
 To find true friend in this apostate age 
 (That balks all right affiance 'twixt two hearts) 
 As 'tis to find a fixbd modest heart 
 
 Under a painted breast. Lost a true friend ! 60 
 
 O happy soul that lost him whilst he was true ! 
 Believe it, coz, I to my tears have found, 
 Oft dirt's respect makes firmer friends unsound. 
 
 Alb. You have lost a good son. 
 
 Pan. Why, there's the comfort on"t, that he was good. 
 Alas, poor innocent ! 
 
 Alb. Why weeps mine uncle ? 
 
 Pan. Ha, dost ask me why ? ha, ha ! 
 Good coz, look here ! \Iie shows him his son's breast. 
 Man will break out, despite philosophy. 
 Why, all this while I ha' but played a part, 70 
 
 Like to some boy that acts a tragedy, 
 Speaks burly words, and raves out passion ; 
 But, when he thinks upon his infant weakness, 
 He droops his eye. I spake more than a god, 
 
 1 Seneca moralises in the same strain :— " Rerum natura ilium tibi 
 non mancipio dedit sed commodavit : cum visum est deinde, repetiit 
 nee tuam in eo satietatem secuta est, sed suam legem. Si quis pecuniam 
 creditam solvisse se moleste ferat, earn praesertim cujus usum gratuitum 
 acceperit, nonne injustus vir habeatur ? " {Ad Polybium de Consolatione. )
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio a7id Mcllida. 175 
 
 Yet am less than a man. 
 
 I am the miserablest soul that breathes. 
 
 [Antonio starts up. 
 Ant. 'Slid, sir, ye lie ! by the heart of grief, tliou 
 liest ! 
 I scorn'd that any wretched should survive, 
 Outmounting me in that superlative, 
 Most miserable, most unmatch'd in woe. 80 
 
 Who dare assume that but Antonio ? 
 
 Pan. Wilt still be so, and shall yon blood-hound 
 
 live ? 
 Ant. Have I an arm, a heart, a sword, a soul ? 
 
 Alb. Were you but private unto what we know 
 
 Pan. I'll know it all ; first let's inter the dead. 
 Let's dig his grave with that shall dig the heart, 
 Liver, and entrails of the murderer. 
 
 [ 2'hey strike the stage with their daggers, and 
 the grave opcneth. 
 Ant. Wilt sing a dirge, boy ? 
 Pan. No, no song ; 'twill be vile out of tune. 
 Alb. Indeed, he's hoarse ; the poor boy's voice is 
 crack'd. 90 
 
 Pan. Why, coz ! why should it not be hoarse and 
 crack'd. 
 
 When all the strings of nature's symphony , ^ 
 
 Are crack'd and jar? Why should his voice keep tune, / ) | I 3' 
 When there's no music in the breast of man ? ^ 
 
 I'll say an honest antic rhyme I have : 
 Help me, good sorrow-mates, to give him grave. 
 
 \_They all help to carry Feliche to his grave.
 
 176 Antonio and Me llida. [activ. 
 
 Death, exile, plaints, and woe. 
 Are but man's lackeys, not his foe. 
 
 [No mortal 'scapes from fortune's war 
 Without a wound, at least a scar. 100 
 
 Many have led thee ^ to the grave ; 
 But all shall follow, none shall save. 
 Blood of my youth, rot and consume ; 
 Virtue in dirt doth life assume. 
 With this old saw close up this dust : — 
 Thrice blessed man that dieth just. 
 
 Ant. The gloomy wing of night begins to stretch 
 His lazy pinion o'er the air. 
 We must be stiff and steady in resolve ; 
 Let's thus our hands, our hearts, our arms involve. 1 10 
 
 [ They wreath their arms. 
 Pan. Now swear we by this Gordian knot of love, 
 By the fresh-turned up mould that wraps my son, 
 By the d[r]ead brow of triple Hecate, 
 Ere night shall close the lids of yon bright stars, 
 We'll sit as heavy on Piero's heart, 
 As .^tna doth on groaning Pelorus. 
 
 Ant. Thanks, good old man ; we'll cast at royal 
 chance. 
 Let's think a plot — then pell-mell, vengeance ! 
 
 [Exeunt, their arms wreathed. 
 
 1 Olded. "these."
 
 ( ^11 ) 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The cornets sound for the Act. 
 
 The dumb show. 
 
 Enter at one door Castilio and Forobosco, with hal- 
 berts ; four Pages with torches; Lucio, bare ; Piero, 
 Maria, and Alberto, talking ; Alberto draws out 
 his dagger, Maria her knife, aiming to menace the 
 Duke. Then Galeatzo, betiaixt two Senators, 
 reading a paper to them, at which they ail make 
 semblance of loathing Piero, and knit their fists at 
 him; two Ladies and Nutriche. All these go 
 softly over the stage, whilst at the other door entejs 
 the ghost <p/" Andrugio, 7vho passeth by them, tossing 
 his torch about his head in t7-iumph. All fojsake the 
 stage, saving Andrugio, who, speaking, begins the 
 Act. 
 
 Ghost of And. Venit dies, tempusque, quo redd at suis 
 Animafn squalentem sceleribus, 
 
 vol. I. M
 
 178 The Second Part of [act v. 
 
 The ^ fist of strenuous vengeance is clutch'd, 
 
 And stern Vindicta tow'reth up aloft, 
 
 That she may fall with a more weighty paise, 
 
 And crush life's sap from out Piero's veins. 
 
 Now 'gins the leprous cores of ulcered sins 
 
 Wheel to a head ; now is his fate grown mellow, 
 
 Instant to fall into the rotten jaws 
 
 Of chap-fall'n death. Now down looks Providence, 10 
 
 T'attend the last act of my son's revenge. 
 
 Be gracious, observation, to our scene, 
 
 For now the plot unites his scaiter'd limbs 
 
 Close in contracted bands. The Florence Prince 
 
 (Drawn by firm notice of the Duke's black deeds) 
 
 Is made a partner in conspiracy. 
 
 The states of Venice are so swoU'n in hate 
 
 Against the Duke for his accursbd deeds 
 
 (Of which they are confirm'd by some odd letters 
 
 Found in dead Strotzo's study, which had past 20 
 
 Betwixt Piero and the murd'ring slave) 
 
 That they can scarce retain from bursting forth 
 
 In plain revolt. O, now triumphs my ghost. 
 
 Exclaiming, Heaven's just, for I shall see 
 
 The scourge of murder and impiety ! \^Exit. 
 
 J This line is ridiculed in The Poetaster, v. i : — 
 
 " Break his back, 
 O poets all and some ! for now we list 
 Of strenuous vengeance to clutch Jhejist.'''
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Mellida, 179 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Balurdo/ww under the Slage. 
 
 Bal. Ho, who's above there, ho ? A murrain on all 
 proverbs. They say hunger breaks through stone walls; 
 but I am as gaunt as lean-ribb'd famine, yet I can burst 
 through no stone walls. O now, Sir Jeffrey, show thy 
 valour, break prison and be hang'd. Nor shall the 
 darkest nook of hell contain the discontented Sir 
 Balurdo's ghost. Well, I am out well ; I have put 
 off the prison to put on the rope. O poor shotten 
 herring, what a pickle art thou in ! O hunger, how thou 
 domineer'st in my guts ! O for a fat leg of ewe mutton 
 in stewed broth, or drunken song to feed on ! I could 
 belch rarely, for I am all wind. O cold, cold, cold, 
 cold, cold ! O poor knight ! O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing 
 like an unicorn before thou dost dip thy horn in the 
 water of death. O cold, O sing, O cold, O poor 
 Sir Jeffrey, sing, sing ! \A song. 16 
 
 Enter Antonio and Alberto at several doors, their 
 rapiers draivn, in their masking attire. 
 
 Ant. Vin dicta ! 
 Alb. Melhda! 
 Ant. Alberto ! 
 Alb. Antonio !
 
 1 80 The Secofid Pari of [act t. 
 
 Ant Hath the Duke supp'd ? 
 
 Alb. Yes, and triumphant revels mount aloft. 
 The Duke drinks deep to overflow his grief; 
 The court is rack'd to pleasure ; each man strains 
 To feign a jocund eye. The Florentine 
 
 Ant. Young Galeatzo 1 
 
 Alb. Even he is mighty on our part. The states of 
 Venice 
 
 Enter Pandulpho, running, in masking attire. 
 
 Pan. Like high-swoU'n floods drive down the muddy 
 dams 
 Of pent allegiance. O, my lusty bloods, 
 Heaven sits clapping of our enterprise. 30 
 
 I have been labouring general favour firm, 
 And I do find the citizens grown sick 
 With swallowing the bloody crudities 
 Of black Piero's acts ; they fain would cast 
 And vomit him from off their government. 
 Now is the plot of mischief ript wide ope ; 
 Letters are found 'twixt Strolzo and the Duke, 
 So clear apparent, yet more firmly strong 
 By suiting circumstance, that, as I walk'd, 
 Mufiled, to eavesdrop speech, I might observe 40 
 
 The graver statesmen whispering fearfully. 
 Here one gives nods and hums what he would speak ; 
 The rumour's got 'mong troop of citizens, 
 Making loud murmur, with confused din ; 
 One shakes his head and sighs, " O ill-used power ! "
 
 SCENE I.] Antonio and Alellida. i8i 
 
 Another frets, and sets his grinding teeth, 
 
 P'oaming with rage, and swears this must not be ; 
 
 Here one complots, and on a sudden starts, 
 
 And cries, O monstrous, O deep villainy ! 
 
 All knit their nerves, and from';beneath svvoU'n brows 50 
 
 Appears a gloating eye of much mislike; 
 
 Whilst swart Piero's lips reak steam of wine. 
 
 Swallows lust-thoughts, devours all pleasing hopes, 
 
 With strong imagination of — what not ? 
 
 O now Vindicta ! that's the word we have, 
 
 A royal vengeance, or a royal grave ! 
 
 Ant. Vindicta ! 
 
 Bal. \jFrom beneath the stage7\ I am acold. 
 
 Pan. Who's there? Sir Jeffrey? 
 
 Bal. A poor knight, god wot : the nose of thy knight- 
 hood is bitten off with cold. O poor Sir Jeffrey, cold, 
 cold ! 62 
 
 Pan. What chance of fortune hath tripp'd up his heels. 
 And laid him in the kennel, ha? 
 
 Alb. I will discourse it all. Poor honest soul, 
 Hadst thou a beaver to clasp up thy face. 
 Thou should'st associate us in masquery. 
 And see revenge. 
 
 Bal. Nay, and you talk of revenge, my stomach's up, 
 for I am most tyrannically hungry. A beaver ! I have 
 a headpiece, a skull, a brain of proof, I warrant ye. 71 
 
 Alb. Slink to my chamber then, and tire thee. 
 
 Bal. Is there a fire ? 
 
 Alb. Yes. 
 
 Bal. Is there a fat leg of ewe mutton ?
 
 1 82 The Secoitd Part of [act t. 
 
 Alb. Yes. 
 
 Bal. And a clean shirt ? 
 
 Alb. Yes. 
 
 Bal. Then am I for you, most pathetically, and un- 
 vulgarly, law ! \Exit. 80 
 
 Ant. Resolved hearts, time curtails night, opportunity 
 shakes us his foretop. Steel your thoughts, sharp your 
 resolve, embolden your spirit, grasp your swords ; alarum 
 mischief, and with an undaunted brow, out scout the 
 grim opposition of most menacing peril. 
 Hark ! here proud pomp shoots mounting triumph up, 
 Borne in loud accents to the front of Jove. 
 
 Pan. O now, he that wants soul to kill a slave, 
 Let him die slave, and rot in peasant's grave. 
 
 Ant. Give me thy hand, and thine, most noble heart ; 
 Thus will we live, and, but thus, never part. 91 
 
 \Exeunt, twined together. 
 
 Cornets sound a senet. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A Banqueting-hall. 
 
 Enter Castilio df«</FoROBOSCO; two Pages, with torches ; 
 Lucio, bare; PiERO and Maria, Galeatzo, tzvo 
 Setiators, arid Nutriche. 
 
 Pier. Sit close unto my breast, heart of my love ; 
 Advance thy drooping eyes, thy son is drown'd. 
 Rich happiness that such a son is drown'd !
 
 SCENE 11.] Anto7iio and Mellida. 183 
 
 Thy husband's dead : life of my joys most bless'd, 
 
 In that the sapless log, that press'd thy bed 
 
 With an unpleasing weight, being lifted hence, 
 
 Even I, Piero, live to warm his place. 
 
 I tell you, lady, had you view'd us both 
 
 With an unpartial eye, when first we wooed 
 
 Your maiden beauties, I had borne the prize. 10 
 
 'Tis firm I had ; for, fair, I ha' done that 
 
 Mar. [Aside.] Murder. 
 
 Pier. Which he would quake to have adventured; 
 Thou know'st I have 
 
 Mar. \_Aside.] Murder'd my husband. 
 
 Fier. Borne out the shock of war, and done — what not, 
 That valour durst ? Dost love me, fairest ? Say. 
 
 Mar. As I do hate my son, I love thy soul. 
 
 Fier. Why, then, lo^ to Hymen, mount a lofty note ! 
 Fill 2 red-cheek'd Bacchus, let Lyseus float 20 
 
 In burnish'd goblets ! Force the plump-lipp'd god. 
 Skip light lavoltas ^ in your fuU-sapp'd veins ! 
 'Tis well, brim full. Even I have glut of blood : 
 Let quaff carouse. I drink this Burdeaux wine 
 
 1 " lo" — the joyful cry with which Hymen was invoked by the ancients, 
 Cf. Catullus : — 
 
 " Ite, concinite in modum : 
 lo Hymen Hymenase io, 
 lo Hymen Hymenase ! " 
 
 2 Oldeds. "Ful." 
 
 '^ A sort of waltz, described in Sir John Davies' Orchestra, St. 70. — 
 Cf. Chapman's May Day (1611), iv. i :— 
 
 " Fill red-cheek'd Bacchus, let the Burdeux grap)e 
 Skip like [sic] lavoltas in their swelling veins " 
 — lines made up from the present passage.
 
 1 84 The Second Part of [act v. 
 
 Unto the health of dead Andrugio, 
 Feliche, Strotzo, and Antonio's ghosts. 
 [Aside.] Would I had some poison to infuse it with ; 
 That having done this honour to the dead, 
 I might send one to give them notice on't : 
 I would endear my favour to the full. — 30 
 
 Boy, sing aloud ; make heaven's vault to ring 
 With thy breath's strength. I drink. Now loudly 
 sing. 
 [A song. Tlu song ended the cornets sound a senet. 
 
 Enter Antonio, Pandulpho, and Alberto, in maskery ; 
 Balurdo, and a Torchbearer. 
 
 Pier. Call Julio hither. Where's the little soul? 
 I saw him not to-day. Here's sport alone 
 For him, i'faith ; for babes and fools, I know, 
 Relish not substance, but applaud the show. 
 
 Gal. {To the conspirators as they stand ifi rank for the 
 measure}) All blessed fortune crown your brave 
 attempt. [Ti? Antonio. 
 
 I have a troop to second your attempt. 
 
 \To Pandulpho. 
 The Venice states join hearts unto your hands. 
 
 \To Alberto. 
 Pier. By the delights in contemplation 40 
 
 Of coming joys, 'tis magnificent. 
 
 1 " Measure " — a grave solemn dance.
 
 SCENE II.] Aiitonio aiid Mellida. 185 
 
 You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp. 
 Sound still, loud music! O, your breath gives grace 
 To curious feet, that in proud measure pace. 
 
 A7it. [Aside to Maria.] Mother, is Julio's body- 
 
 Mar. \_Aside to Antonio.] Speak not, doubt not ; all 
 
 is above all hope. 
 Ant. [Aside.] Then will I dance and whirl about the 
 air : 
 Methinks I am all soul, all heart, all spirit. 
 Now murder shall receive his ample merit. 
 
 T/ie measure. 
 
 While the measure is dancing, Andrugio's ghost is placed 
 betwixt the ?nusic-houses.^ 
 
 Pier. Bring hither suckets, candied delicates. 50 
 
 We'll taste some sweetmeats, gallants, ere we sleep. 
 Ant. — We'll cook your sweetmeats, gallants, with tart 
 
 sour sauce. 
 Ghost of And. Here will I sit, spectator of revenge, 
 And glad my ghost in anguish of my foe. 
 
 The maskers whisper with Piero. 
 Pier. Marry and shall ; i'faith I were too rude, 
 If I gainsaid so civil fashion. — 
 The maskers pray you to forbear the room 
 Till they have banqueted. Let it be so : 
 No man presume to visit them, on death. 
 
 [ The maskers whisper again. 
 
 ^ See Collier's Hist, of Engl. Dram. Poetry, iii. 251-2 (ed. 2).
 
 1 86 The Second Part of [act v. 
 
 Only my self? O, why, with all my heart ; 60 
 
 S^Exeunt all but Piero and the maskers. 
 I'll fill your consort. Here Piero sits ; 
 Come on, unmask, let's fall to. 
 
 \The conspirators bifid Piero, pluck out his tongue, 
 and triumph over him. 
 
 Ant. Murder and torture ! no prayers, no entreats 1 
 
 Pan. We'll spoil your oratory. Out with his tongue. 
 
 Afit. I have 't, Pandulpho ; the veins panting bleed. 
 Trickling fresh gore about my fist. Bind fast — so, so ! 
 
 Ghost of A?id. Bless'd be thy hand ! I taste the joys of 
 heaven, 
 Viewing my son triumph in his black blood. 
 
 Bal. Down to the dungeon with him ! I'll dungeon 
 with him ! I'll fool you ; Sir Jeffrey will be Sir Jeffrey ; 
 I'll tickle you. 71 
 
 Ant. Behold, black dog ! 
 
 Fan. Grinn'st thou, thou snurling ^ cur ? 
 
 Alb. Eat thy black liver. 
 
 Ant. To thine anguish see 
 A fool triumphant in thy misery. 
 Vex him, Balurdo. 
 
 Fan. He weeps ; now do I glorify my hands ; 
 I had no vengeance, if I had no tears. 
 
 Ant. Fall to, good Duke. O these are worthless cates, 
 You have no stomach to them ; look, look here : 
 Here lies a dish to feast thy father's gorge. 80 
 
 [ Uncovering the dish that contains Lucio's limbs. 
 
 1 So Marston uses " kn«rl'd ' (p. 166) for " gnaxW ." 
 
 sy 
 
 ^>\^ 

 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 187 
 
 Here's flesh and blood, which I am sure thou lov'st. 
 
 [PiERO seems to condole his son. 
 Fan. Was he thy flesh, thy son, thy dearest son ? 
 Ant. So was Andrugio, my dearest father. 
 Pan. So was Feliche, my dearest son. 
 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 Afar. So was Andrugio my dearest husband. 
 
 Ant. My father found no pity in thy blood. 
 
 Fan. Remorse was banish'd, when thou slew'st my 
 son. 
 
 Afar. When thou empoisoned'st my loving lord, 
 Exiled was piety. 
 
 Ant. Now therefore pity, piety, remorse, 90 
 
 Be aliens to our thoughts ; grim fire-ey'd rage 
 Possess us wholly. 
 
 Fan. Thy son ? true ; and which is my most joy, 
 I hope no bastard, but thy very blood, 
 Thy true-begotten, most legitimate 
 And loved issue — there's the comfort on't. 
 
 A fit. Scum of the mud of hell ! 
 
 Alb. Slime of all filth ! 
 
 Afar. Thou most detested toad ! 
 
 Bal. Thou most retort and obtuse rascal ! 
 
 Ant. Thus charge we death at thee \ remember hell, 
 And let the howling murmurs of black spirits, loi 
 
 The horrid torments of the damned ghosts, 
 Affright thy soul as it descendeth down 
 Into the entrails of the ugly deep.
 
 i88 The Second Paj't of [act v. 
 
 Pan. Sa, sa; no, let him die, and die, and still be 
 dying, 
 \They offer to run ail at Piero. afid on a sudden stop. 
 ( And yet not die till he hath died and died 
 \^ Ten thousand deaths in agony of heart. 
 
 Ant. Now pellmell : thus the hand of Heaven chokes 
 The throat of murder. This for my father's blood ! 
 
 [Zf<? stabs Piero. 
 Pan. This for my son ! i lo 
 
 Alb. This for them all ! 
 And this, and this, sink to the heart of hell ! 
 
 \^They run all at Piero with their rapiers. 
 Pan. Murder for murder, blood for blood, doth 
 
 yell! 
 And. 'Tis done, and now my soul shall sleep in 
 rest : 
 Sons that revenge their father's blood are blest. 
 
 \The curtains being drawn, exit Andrugio. 
 
 Enter Galeatzo, two Senators, Lucio, FoROBOSCO, 
 Castilio, and Ladies. 
 
 \st Sen. Whose hand presents this gory spectacle? 
 
 Ant Mine. 
 
 Pan. No, mine. 
 
 Alb. No, mine. 
 
 Ant. I will not lose the glory of the deed, 120 
 
 Were all the tortures of the deepest hell 
 Fix'd to my limbs. I pierced the monster's heart 
 With an undaunted hund.
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 189 
 
 Pan. By yon bright-spangled front of heaven 'twas I ! 
 'Twas I shiiced ^ out his hfe-blood. 
 
 Alb. Tush, to say truth, 'twas all. 
 
 2d Sen. Blest be you all, and may your honours 
 live 
 Religiously held sacred, even for ever and ever. 
 
 Gal. {to Antonio). Thou art another Hercules 
 to us, 
 In ridding huge pollution from our state. 130 
 
 \st Sen. Antonio, belief is fortified 
 With most invincible approvements ^ of much wrong 
 By this Piero to thee. We have found 
 Beadrolls of mischief, plots of villainy. 
 Laid 'twixt the Duke and Strotzo, which we found 
 Too firmly acted. 
 
 2d Sen. Alas, poor orphant ! 
 
 Ant. Poor ! 
 Standing triumphant over Belzebub ! 
 Having large interest for blood, and yet deem'd poor? 
 
 \st Sen. What satisfaction outward pomp can yield, 
 Or chiefest fortunes of the Venice state, 140 
 
 Claim freely. You are well-season'd props, 
 And will not warp, or lean to either part ; 
 Calamity gives a man a steady heart. 
 
 Ant. We are amaz"d at your benignity; 
 But other vows constrain another course. 
 
 Fan. We know the world, and did we know no more, 
 
 ^ Cf. Richard 11., i. i : — " Sluiced out his innocent soul through 
 streams of bluod." - Proofs,
 
 1 90 The Second Part of [act v. 
 
 We would not live to know ; but since constraint 
 
 Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge 
 
 Of dirt's corruption, till dread power calls 
 
 Our soul's appearance, we will live enclosed 150 
 
 In holy verge of some religious order. 
 
 Most constant votaries. 
 
 \The curtains are drawn, Piero departeth. 
 
 Ant. First let's cleanse our hands, 
 Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love, 
 Over whose hearse I'll weep away my brain 
 In true affection's tears. 
 For her sake here I vow a virgin bed : 
 She lives in me, with her my love is dead. 
 
 2d Sen. We will attend her mournful exequies ; 
 Conduct you to your ca'm sequestered life, 
 And then 160 
 
 Mar. Leave us to meditate on misery. 
 To sad our thought with contemplation 
 Of past calamities. If any ask 
 Where lives the widow of the poison'd lord? 
 Where lies the orphant of a murder'd father? 
 Where lies the father of a butcher'd son? 
 Where lives all woe? — conduct him to us three, 
 The down-cast ruins of calamity. 
 
 Ant.'^ Sound doleful tunes, a solemn hymn advance. 
 To close the last act of my vengeance ; 170 
 
 And when the subject of your passion's spent, 
 Sing Mellida is dead ; all hearts will relent, 
 
 J Oldeds. "■And."
 
 SCENE II.] Antonio and Mellida. 191 
 
 In sad condolement at that heavy sound. 
 
 Never more woe in lesser plot was found ! 
 
 And, O, if ever time create a muse, 
 
 That to th' immortal fame of virgin faith 
 
 Dares once engage his pen to write her death, 
 
 Presenting it in some black tragedy, 
 
 May it prove gracious ; may his style be deck'd 
 
 With freshest blooms of purest elegance ; 
 
 May it have gentle presence, and the scenes suck'd up 
 
 By calm attention of choice audience ; 181 
 
 And when the closing Epilogue appears. 
 
 Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears. 
 
 \A song. — Exeiint omncs. 
 
 Antonii vindictcs \sic\.
 
 THE MALCONTENT. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 The Malcontent. By lokn Marston. 1604. At London printed hy 
 V. S. for William Aspley, and are to be solde at his shop in Panics 
 Church-yard. 4to. 
 
 The Malcontent. Augmented by Marston. With the Additions 
 played by the Kings Maiesties servants. Written by Ihon Webster. 
 1604. At London Printed by V. S. for William Aspley, and are to be 
 sold at his shop in Paules Church-yard. 410. 
 
 STORY OF THE PLAY. 
 
 Giovanni Altofronto, Duke of Genoa, driven from power by the plots 
 of Pietro Jacomo, disguises himself and lives under the name of Male- 
 vole at the usurper's court, assuming the character of a malcontent. 
 His identity is known only to his faithful friend Celso. A crafty courtier, 
 Mendoza, who had assisted in dethroning Altofronto, has adulterous 
 intercourse with Pietro's wife, Aurelia. Malevole exposes the intrigue 
 to Pietro ; but meanwhile Aurelia, induced by an old procuress, Maquer- 
 elle, to believe that her lover is faithless, discards Mendoza and engages 
 in an intrigue with another courtier, Ferneze. Pietro, sword in hand, 
 seeks Mendoza, who makes passionate protestations of his own innocence, 
 and declares that the guilty person is Ferneze. On that very night 
 Ferneze has an appointment with the Duchess ; and it is agreed that 
 Pietro with some of the guard shall break into the Duchess' chamber, 
 while Mendoza waits with his drawn sword at the door. Ferneze is to 
 be allowed to escape from the chamber, only to be received on the sword 
 of Mendoza, who is then to stand over the body and pretend that he is 
 guarding it from assault. Thus Mendoza will not only serve Pietro, 
 but by his seeming generosity towards Ferneze will earn the gratitude of 
 Aurelia, who, should she attempt to take vengeance on her husband, 
 will not fail to make Mendoza acquainted with her plots, which he will in- 
 continently reveal to Pietro. At the hour appointed, Pietro and the guard 
 invade the Duchess' chamber ; the flying gallant is stabbed by Mendoza 
 and left for dead (though he afterwards recovers from the wound) ; Aurelia 
 receives Mendoza again into favour, and practises with him to murder
 
 ( 196 ) 
 
 Pietro. Mendoza, selecting a time when Pietro had gone a-hunting, bribes 
 Malevole to commit the murder. Malevole undertakes to kill Pietro by 
 stealth in the forest, fling his bodyintothe sea, and then return to announce 
 that Pietro, distracted by grief at the dishonour brought on him by his wife, 
 has made away with himself by leaping into the sea from a high rock. To 
 the forest goes Malevole, finds Pietro, and exposes to him the plot ; pre- 
 sently Celso appears bringing a hermit's weeds, into which Pietro shifts. 
 They return to the court, and the pretended hermit describes with much 
 detail how he saw Pietro perish, tlie narrative beingsubstantiated by Male- 
 vole. Mendoza is proclaimed Duke, and his first act is to pronounce a sen- 
 tence of perpetual banishment on Aurelia. He then commissions Malevole 
 to bring from the citadel (where she is confined) the wife of the banished 
 Altofronto, the virtuous Maria, whom he intends to make his Duchess, 
 His brain is now exercised to procure the destruction of the supposed 
 murderers. Malevole is instructed to poison the hermit at a supper 
 given in the citadel, and the hermit on the same occasion is to poison 
 Malevole ; thus two awkward agents will be removed, and the suspicion 
 will fall on Maria, whose fears will drive her to submit to Mendoza. 
 Pietro informs Malevole of the instructions he had received, and learns 
 that similar instructions have been gis'en to Malevole. Weighed down 
 with sorrow at his own dishonour, and disgusted with Mendoza's villainy, 
 Pietro declares his determination to dedicate his life to religious solitude, 
 and make it his one care that the banished Altofronto shall be restored 
 to the dukedom. Thereupon Malevole puts off his disguise, and Pietro 
 beholds the banished Duke. Ferneze now approaches with Celso, and 
 receives pardon from Pietro, who had supposed him to be dead. The 
 four then take counsel how they shall depose Mendoza, Malevole goes 
 to the usurper and announces that he has poisoned the hermit ; he then 
 produces a box of poison, which, he declares, will cause instant death 
 on being opened and held to the nostrils. Mendoza opens the box and 
 tries its effects on Malevole, who feigns to fall dead. A masque is 
 ordered by Mendoza to be given in honour of Maria, who shows herself 
 indifferent both to the tyrant's flatteries and threats. At the entertain- 
 ment Malevole, Pietro, and Ferneze appear masked ; Malevole chooses 
 Maria as his partner in the dance, and Pietro is matched with Aurelia, 
 who has deeply repented of her misconduct. At the close of the dance, 
 during which Malevole and Pietro have discovered themselves to their 
 partners, the maskers environ Mendoza, level their pistols at his head, 
 and unmask. Altofronto is received with joyful acclamations by the 
 assembled company, and Mendoza — whose life the restored Duke disdains 
 to take — is banished with shameful ignominy.
 
 BENIAMINQi JONSONIO. 
 
 POET^ 
 
 ELEGANTISSIMO, 
 
 GRAVISSIMO. 
 
 AMICO 
 
 SVO, CANDIDO ET CORDATO, 
 
 lOHANNES MARSTON, 
 
 MVSARVM ALVMNVS, 
 
 ASPERAM HANC SVAM THALIAM 
 
 D, D. 
 
 1 Ed. 2. " Beniamini."
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 I AM an ill orator ; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than elo- 
 quently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak. 
 
 In plainness, therefore, understand, that in some things I have 
 willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names 
 different from that city's families : for which some may wittily accuse me ; 
 but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have been 
 most malicious. Since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write so far 
 from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my 
 scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. 
 Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been most 
 unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety as 
 deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing from 
 themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire 
 to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth to himself 
 no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always 
 simple : to such I protest that, with my free understanding, I have not 
 glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet studies labour 
 innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely superiority, and 
 established unity : for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not but 
 unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest as 
 may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I would fain leave the 
 paper ; only one thing afflicts me, to think that scenes, invented merely 
 to be spoken, should be enforcively published to be read, and that the 
 least hurt I can receive is to do myself the wrong. But, since others 
 otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. 
 I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy ; but so, that my enforced 
 absence must much rely upon the printer's discretion : but I shall entreat 
 slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over-passed, and that 
 the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be 
 pardoned for the pleasure it once afforded you when it was presented 
 with the soul of lively action. 
 
 Sine aliqua dementia nullus PhtrbttsA 
 ^ For this motto ed. i. gives " Me mea sequentur fata."
 
 THE INDUCTION^ 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS ACTED BY 
 THE KING'S MAJESTY'S SERVANTS. 
 
 WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER. 
 
 Enter W. Sly,^ a Tix^-vc^ds^ following him with a stool. 
 
 Tire-man. Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit 
 here. 
 
 Sly. Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private 
 house.^ Thou dost not take me for a country gentle- 
 man, dost? dost think I fear hissing?'* I'll hold my 
 life thou tookest me for one of the players. 
 
 Tire-man. No, sir. 
 
 1 The Induction was added in ed. 2. 
 
 * For an account of William Sly and the other actors introduced in 
 the Induction, see Collier's Memoirs of the Principal Actors in tlie Plays 
 of Shakespeare. 
 
 2 The Malcontent had been acted at the Blackfriars Theatre, a 
 private theatre. It was afterwards acted at the Globe, a public theatre. 
 
 ^ It was a common practice for gallants to sit on the stage ; but when 
 a coxcomb obstructed the view by planting himself in a prominent 
 position, the audience naturally took offence. Dekker, in the chapter
 
 200 TJic Induction to [induction. 
 
 Sly. By God's slid, if you had, I would have given you 
 but sixpence ^ for your stool. Let them that have stale 
 suits sit in the galleries. Hiss at me ! He that will be 
 laughed out of a tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed 
 well, or be drunk in good company. — Where's Harry 
 Condeli, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly ? Let me 
 speak with some of them. 14 
 
 Tire-man. An't please you to go in, sir, you may. 
 
 Sly. I tell you, no : I am one that hath seen this play 
 often, and can give them intelligence for their action : I 
 have most of the jests here in my table-book. 
 
 Enter SlNKLO.- 
 
 Sinklo. Save you, coz ! 
 
 Sly. O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs 
 here. 21 
 
 Sinklo. No, indeed, cousin : the audience then will 
 take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play 
 upon me. 
 
 of the Gull's Horn-Book, describing "how a gallant should behave him- 
 self at a play-house," writes: — "But on the very rushes where the 
 comedy is to dance, yea, and under the state of Cambyses himself, must 
 our feathered estridge, like a piece of ordnance, be planted valiantly 
 (because impudently), beating down the mews and hisses of the opposed 
 rascality." 
 
 1 Sixpence, as we learn from the Gulls Horn-Book, Induction to 
 Cynthia's Revels, &c., was the usual charge for the loan of a stool. 
 Francis Lenton in his Young Gallant's Whirligig tells us of an 
 " expensive fool " who was ready to " pay an angel for a paltry stool." 
 It was not uncommon to pay a shilling for the convenience. 
 
 * Dr. Karl Elze in his Notes on the Elizabethan Dramatists (2nd. ser. , 
 pp. 160-4) indulges in some speculations about this actor.
 
 INDUCTION.] TJie Malcontent. 201 
 
 Sly. Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz. 
 
 Sitiklo. We stayed for you at supper last night at my 
 cousin Honeymoon's, the woollen-draper. After supper 
 we drew cuts for a score of apricocks, the longest cut 
 still to draw an apricock : by this light, 'twas Mistress 
 Frank Honeymoon's fortune still to have the longest 
 cut : I did measure for the women. — What be these, 
 coz ? 32 
 
 Enter D. Burbadge,^ H. Condell, and]. Lowin. 
 
 Sly. The players. — God save you ! 
 
 Burhadge. You are very welcome. 
 
 Sly. I pray you, know this gentleman, my cousin ; 
 'tis Master Doomsday's son, the usurer. 
 
 Condell. I beseech you, sir, be covered. 
 
 Sly. No,2 in good faith, for mine ease : look you, my 
 hat's the handle to this fan : God's so, what a beast 
 was I, I did not leave my feather at home ! Well, 
 but I'll take an order with you. 41 
 
 \_riits his feather in his pocket. 
 
 Burbadge. Why do you conceal your feather, sir ? 
 
 Sly. Why, do you think I'll have jests broken upon 
 me in the play, to be laughed at ? this play hath beaten 
 
 1 From A Funeral Elegy on Burbadge, first printed by Collier, we 
 learn that the great actor took the part of Malevole in Tlie Malcontent : — 
 " Vindex is gone, and what a loss was he I 
 Frankford, Brachiano, and Malevole." 
 The elegy is in the main unquestionably genuine. 
 
 3 " A quotation from the part of Osrick in Hamlet. Sly might have 
 been the original performer of that character." — Steevens.
 
 202 The Induction to [induction. 
 
 all your gallants out of the feathers : Blackfriars hath 
 almost spoiled Blackfriars for feathers.^ 
 
 Sinklo. God's so, I thought 'twas for somewhat our 
 gentlewomen at home counselled me to wear my feather 
 to the play : yet I am loth to spoil it. 
 
 Sly. Why, coz.? 50 
 
 Sinklo. Because I got it in the tilt-yard \ there was a 
 herald broke my pate for taking it up : but I have worn 
 it up and down the Strand, and met him forty times 
 since, and yet he dares not challenge it. 
 
 Sly. Do you hear, sir ? this play is a bitter play. 
 
 Condell. Why, sir, 'tis neither satire nor moral, but the 
 mean passage of a history : yet there are a sort of dis- 
 contented creatures that bear a stingless envy to great 
 ones, and these will wrest the doings of any man to their 
 base, malicious appliment ; but should their interpreta- 
 tion come to the test, like your marmoset, they presently 
 turn their teeth to their tail and eat it. 62 
 
 Sly. I will not go so far with you ; but I say, any 
 man that hath wit may censure,^ if he sit in the twelve- 
 penny room ; ^ and I say again, the play is bitter. 
 
 ^ The meaning is that in The Malcontent, which had been originally 
 acted at Blackfriars Theatre, the practice of wearing feathers had been 
 so ridiculed that the feather-makers of Blackfriars had suffered injury in 
 their business. In v. 4 occurs the passage in which the use of feathers is 
 ridiculed: — "For as now-a-days no courtier but has his mistress, no 
 captain but has his cockatrice, no cuckold but has his horns, and no fool 
 but has his feather," &c. Blackfriars was noted as being the residence 
 of Puritans, many of whom followed the trade of feather-makers. 
 There is some amusing ridicule of the Puritan feather-makers in Ben 
 Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, Randolph's Muses' iMoking-Glass, Sec. 
 
 ■ Judge. 3 Box.
 
 INDUCTION.] The Malcontent. 203 
 
 Burbad^e. Sir, you are like a patron that, presenting 
 a poor scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail 
 against anything that stands within compass of his 
 patron's folly. Why should not we enjoy the ancient 
 freedom of poesy? Shall we protest to the ladies that 
 their painting makes them angels ? or to my young 
 gallant that his expenses in the brothel shall gain him 
 reputation ? No, sir, such vices as stand not accountable 
 to law should be cured as men heal tetters, by casting 
 ink upon them. Would you be satisfied in anything 
 else, sir ? 76 
 
 Sly. Ay, marry, would I : I would know how you 
 came by this play ? 
 
 Condell. Faith, sir, the book was lost; and because 
 'twas pity so good a play should be lost, we found it, 
 and play it. 81 
 
 Sly. I wonder you would play it, another company 
 having interest in it, 
 
 Co7idell. Why not Malevole in folio with us, as Jero- 
 nimo in decimo-sexto ^ with them? They taught us a 
 name for our play ; we call it One for another. 
 
 Sly. What are your additions ? 
 
 •^ The expression "in decimo sexto" is used in reference to the com- 
 pany of the Cliildren of tlie Chapel, acting- at Blackfriars. Cf. Middleton's 
 Father Hubburd's Talcs ( Works, ed. Bullen, viii. 64): — ■" But for fear I 
 interrupt this small actor in less than decimo sexto," &c. The Children's 
 Company at the Blackfriars seems to have appropriated Jeronimo, i.e.. 
 The Spanish Tragedy, in which the King's Company at the Globe had 
 an interest ; whereupon the King's Company retaliated by acting Male- 
 vole, i.e. The Malcontent. The expression "Malevole in folio" means 
 " The Malcontent acted by men-actors." — Dyce did not understand the 
 passage.
 
 204 "^^^(^ Indiution to [induction. 
 
 Burbadge. Sooth, not greatly needful ; only as your 
 salad to your great feast, to entertain a little more time, 
 and to abridge the not-received custom of music in our 
 theatre. I must leave you, sir. ^ \Exit. 
 
 SinJdo. Doth he play the Malcontent. 92 
 
 Condell. Yes, sir. 
 
 Sinklo. I durst lay four of mine ears the play is not so 
 well acted as it hath been. 
 
 Condell. O, no, sir, nothing ad Parmenonis suem}- 
 
 Lowin. Have you lost your ears, sir, that you are so 
 prodigal of laying them ? 
 
 Sinklo. Why did you ask that, friend ? 
 
 Lounn. Marry, sir, because I have heard of a fellow 
 would offer to lay a hundred-pound wager that was not 
 worth five baubees : ^ and in this kind you might venture 
 four of your elbows ; yet God defend ^ your coat should 
 have so many ! 104 
 
 Sinklo. Nay, truly, I am no great censurer ; and yet I 
 might have been one of the college of critics once. My 
 cousin here hath an excellent memorv indeed, sir. 
 
 1 A proverbial saying. " L. S." in the Shakespeare Society's Papers, 
 ii. 85 (1847), quotes from Plutarch's Symposium, v. i : — " For upon 
 what other account should men be moved to admire Parmends sow so 
 much as to pass it into a proverb ? Yet 'tis reported that Parmeno, 
 being very famous for imitating the granting of a pig, some endeavoured 
 to rival and outdo him. And when the hearers, being prejudiced, cried 
 out, 'Very well, indeed, but nothing comparable to Parmeno's sow,' 
 one took a pig under his arm and came upon the stage ; and when, 
 tho' they heard the very pig, they still continued, ' This is nothing com- 
 parable to Parmeno's sow,' he threw his pig amongst them to show 
 that they judged according to opinion and not truth" (Creech's transla- 
 tion). Phasdrus has a fable on the subject. 
 
 ' Halfpennies. ' Forbid.
 
 INDUCTION.] The Malcontent. 205 
 
 Sly. Who, I? I'll tell you a strange thing of myself; 
 and I can tell you, for one that never studied the art of 
 memory, 'tis very strange too. no 
 
 Condell. What's that, sir? 
 
 Sly. Why, I'll lay a hundred pound, I'll walk but once 
 down by the Goldsmiths' Row in Cheap, take notice of 
 the signs, and tell you them with a breath instantly. 
 
 Lowin. 'Tis very strange. 
 
 Sly. They begin as the world did, with Adam and 
 Eve. There's in all just five and fifty.i I do use to 
 meditate much when I come to plays too. What do 
 you think might come into a man's head now, seeing all 
 this company ? 120 
 
 Condell. I know not, sir. 
 
 Sly. I have an excellent thought. If some fifty of the 
 Grecians that were crammed in the horse'-belly had 
 eaten garlic, do you not think the Trojans might have 
 smelt out their knavery ? 
 
 Condell. Very likely. 
 
 Sly. By God, I would they - had, for I love Hector 
 horribly. 
 
 Sinklo. O, but, coz, coz ! 
 "Great^ Alexander, when he came to the tomb of Achilles, 
 
 1 "This is a pleasant exaggeration on the part of Sly. There were 
 in all, as Stow tells, ' len fair dwelling-houses and fourteen shops.' See 
 ' Goldsmiths' Row ' in Handbook of London, ed. 1850. — P. Cunningliam 
 (Notes and Queries, 2d ser. vol. i. 71). 
 
 2 The old ed. " he." 
 
 3 These lines are a translation by Gabriel Harvey's younger brother 
 John, of some lines of Petrarch, Son. cliii. They are quoted with two 
 other ' ' lusty hexameters "in a letter of Gabriel Harvey to Spenser. See 
 Grosart's edition of Gabriel Harvey, i. 89-90.
 
 2o6 The Malco7ttent. [induction. 
 
 Spake with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessed and 
 happy!" 131 
 
 Sly. Alexander was an ass to speak so well of a filthy 
 cullion.^ 
 
 Loiuin. Good sir, will you leave the stage ? I'll help 
 you to a private room.^ 
 
 Sly. Come, coz, let's take some tobacco.^ — Have you 
 never a prologue ? 
 
 Lowin. Not any, sir. 
 
 Sly. Let me see, I will make one extempore. 
 
 \Come * to them, and fencing of a congey with arms 
 and legs, be round with them. 
 
 Gentlemen,^ I could wish for the women's sakes you 
 had all soft cushions \ and, gentlewomen, I could wish 
 that for the men's sakes you had all more easy standings. 
 
 What would they wish more but the play now? and 
 that they shall have instantly. \Exeunt. 144 
 
 ^ Rogue. ^ Box. 
 
 3 It was the practice for gallants to smoke in the theatre. " Fie, this 
 stinking tobacco kills me ! " says the citizen's wife, in The Knight of the 
 Burning Pestle, to the gallants smoking on the stage : " Would there 
 were none in England ! Now, I pray, gentlemen, what good does this 
 stinking tobacco do you ? nothing, I warrant you : make chimnies o' 
 your faces ! " 
 
 •» This stage direction is printed as part of the text in old ed. 
 
 8 " This seems intended as a burlesque [?] on the epilogue to As You 
 Like It."— Reed.
 
 DRAMA TIS persona:. 
 
 Giovanni h.WO^'ROlilO, disg-uised asMKL¥.VO\.^, sometime Duke 
 
 of Genoa. 
 PlETRO Jacomo, Duke of Genoa. 
 
 Mendoza, a minion to ike Duchess of PlETRO JaCOMO. 
 Celso, afrimd to Altofronto. 
 BiLlOSO, an old choleric marshal. 
 Prepasso, a gentleman-usher. 
 
 Ferneze, a yoiitig courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess. 
 Ferrardo, a million /^ Duke Pietro Jacomo. 
 Kquato, 
 
 ^ r two courtiers. 
 
 Guerrino, \ 
 
 PASSAKELhOy/ool to BiLIOSO. 
 
 AuREi.iA, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo. 
 Maria, Duchess to Duke Altofronto. 
 
 Emilia, ) ladies attending on AURELIA. 
 Bianca, \ "^ 
 
 Maquerelle, an old panderess. 
 
 The Scene— Genoa.
 
 THE MALCONTENT/ 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Palace of the Duke of Genoa. 
 
 The vilest out-ofiune nmsic beifig heard, enter BiLioso 
 and Prepasso. 
 
 Bil. Why, how now ! are ye mad, or drunk, or both, 
 or what ? 
 
 Pre. Are ye building Babylon there ? 
 
 Bil. Here's a noise in court ! you think you are in a 
 tavern, do you not? 
 
 Pre. You think you are in a brothel-house, do you 
 not ? — This room is ill-scented. 
 
 Enter One with a perfume. 
 
 So, perfume, perfume ; some upon me, I pray thee. — 
 The duke is upon instant entrance : so, make place there ! 
 
 1 In the margin of old eds. , opposite the title, is printed " Vexat 
 cemura columbas." (Juvenal, Sat. ii. 63.) 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 2 I o The ]\Ialcontcnt. [act i. 
 
 Enter Pietro, Ferrardo, Equato; Celso atid 
 GuERRixo before. 
 
 Pietro. Where breathes that music ? lo 
 
 Bil. The discord rat'ner than the music is heard from 
 the malcontent Malevole's chamber. 
 
 Fer. \calling\ Malevole ! 
 
 Mai. [above, out of his chaniber\ Yaugh, god-a-man, 
 what dost thou there? Duke's Ganymede, Juno's jealous 
 of thy long stockings : shadow of a woman, what wouldst, 
 weasel ? thou lamb o'court, what dost thou bleat for ? ah, 
 you smootli-chinned catamite ! ^- -. 
 
 Pietro. Come down, thou rugged ^ cur, and snarl here ; 
 I give thy dogged sullenness free liberty : trot about and 
 bespurtle whom thou pleasest. 21 
 
 Mai. I'll come among you, you goatish-blooded 
 toderers,^ as gum into taffata, to fret, to fret : I'll fall like 
 a sponge into water, to suck up, to suck up. [Howls 
 again.^'\ I'll go to church,* and come to you. 
 
 [Exit aboi'e. 
 
 Pietro. This Malevole is one of the most prodigious 
 affections that ever conversed with nature : a man, or 
 rather a monster ; more discontent than Lucifer when he 
 was thrust out of the presence. His appetite is unsatiable 
 
 1 So ed. I.— Ed. 2. "ragged." 
 
 2 " I suppose this is a word coined from tod, a certain weight of sheep's 
 wool. He seems willing to intimate that the duke, &c., are mutton- 
 mongers. The meaning of liiced mutton is well known." — Steevens. — 
 Not at all satisfactory. 
 
 s Old eds. " Howie againe" — printed as part of the te.xt. 
 * So ed. 2. — EJ. I. "pray."
 
 SCENE I.J The I\ I a Iconic lit. 2 1 1 
 
 as the grave ; as far from any content as from heaven : 
 his highest dcHght is to procure others vexation, and 
 therein he tliinks he truly serves heaven ; for 'tis his 
 position, whosoever in this earth can be contented is a 
 slave and damned ; therefore does he afflict all in that 
 to which they are most affected. The elements struggle 
 within him ; his own soul is at variance within herself;^ 
 his speech is halter-worthy at all hours. I like him, 
 faith : he gives good intelligence to my spirit, makes me 
 understand those weaknesses which others' flattery 
 palliates. — Hark! they sing. \_A song.'\ See, he comes. 
 Now shall you hear the extremity of a malcontent : he is 
 as free as air ; he blows over every man. 42 
 
 Enter Malevole below. 
 
 And, sir, whence come you now ? 
 
 Aial. From the public place of much dissimulation, 
 the church. 2 
 
 Pietro. What didst there ? 
 
 Mai. Talk with a usurer ; take up at interest, 
 
 Pielro. I wonder what religion thou art of?^ 
 
 Mai. Of a soldier's religion. 
 
 Pietro. And what dost thou * think makes most infidels 
 now? 51 
 
 Mai. Sects, sects. I have seen seeming piety change 
 
 "Within herself" — added in ed. 2. 
 
 " The church " — added in ed. 2. 
 
 " Of" — added in ed. 2. * Omitted in ed. 2.
 
 2 1 2 The Alalcontefit. [act i. 
 
 her robe so oft, that sure none but some arch-devil can 
 shape her a new ^ petticoat. 
 
 Fietro. O, a reUgious policy. 
 
 Mai. But, damnation on a politic religion ! I am 
 weary : would I were one of the duke's hounds now ! - 
 
 Pietro. But what's the common news abroad, Male- 
 vole? thou doggest rumour still. 59 
 
 Mai. Common news ! why, common words are, God 
 save ye, Fare ye well; common actions, flattery and 
 cozenage; common things, women and cuckolds. — And 
 how does my little Ferrard ? Ah, ye lecherous animal ! — 
 my little ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace 
 into every hen's nest, like a weasel : — and to what dost 
 thou addict thy time to now more than to those antique 
 painted drabs that are still effected of young courtiers, — 
 flattery, pride, and venery ? 
 
 Fer. I study languages. Who dost think to be the 
 best linguist of our age ? 70 
 
 Mai. Phew ! the devil : let him possess thee ; he'il 
 teach thee to speak all languages most readily and 
 strangely ; ^ and great reason, marry, he's travelled greatly 
 i' the world, and is everywhere. 
 
 Fer. Save i' the court 
 
 Mai. Ay, save i' the court. — \To Bilioso.] And how 
 does my old muckhill, overspread with fresh snow ? thou 
 
 1 Omitted in ed. 2. 
 
 - " I am weary . . . now " — added in ed. 2. 
 
 * There is an allusion to the old superstition (which Ben Jonson has 
 amusingly illustrated in The Devil is an Ass, v. 5), that a person pos- 
 sessed by the devil was able to converse in various tongues.
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 213 
 
 half a man, half a goat, all a beast ! how does thy young 
 wife, old huddle ? ^ 
 
 Bil. Out, you improvident rascal ! 80 
 
 Mai. Do, kick, thou hugely-horned old duke's ox, 
 good Master Make-pleas. 
 
 Fietro. How dost thou live nowadays, Malevole ? 
 
 Mai. Why, like the knight Sir Patrick Penlohans,'-^ 
 with killing o' spiders for my lady's monkey.^ 
 
 Pietro. How dost spend the night ? I hear thou never 
 sleepest. 
 
 Mai. O, no ; but dream the most fantastical ! O heaven ! 
 O fubbery, fubbery ! 
 
 Piciro. Dream ! what dreamest ? 90 
 
 Mai. Why, methinks I see that signior pawn his foot- 
 cloth,* that metreza^ her plate : this madam takes physic, 
 that t'other monsieur may minister to her : here is a 
 pander jewelled; there is^ a fellow in shift of satin this 
 day, that could not shift a shirt t'other night : here a Paris 
 supports that Helen ; there's a Lady Guinever bears up 
 that Sir Lancelot : dreams, dreams, visions, fantasies, 
 chimeras, imaginations, tricks, conceits! — \To Prepasso.] 
 
 1 A term of contempt for a sordid old man. — Cf. The Widow, ii. 2 : 
 — "Hear you me that, old huddle" (Middleton, v. 165). 
 
 "^ Ed. 2. " Penlolians." 
 
 3 "Monkeys, apes, stellions, lizards, wasps, ichneumons, swallows, 
 sparrows, muskins, hedge-sparrows /etrr/ on spiders," says Dr. Muffet in 
 one of his delightful chapters on spiders in The Theater 0/ Insects (Topsel's 
 Nat. Hist., ed. 1658, p. 1073). 
 
 * The housings of a hor^e. 
 5 Mistress (Ital.). 
 
 * Added in ed. 2.
 
 214 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 Sir Tristram Trimtram, come aloft, ^ Jack-an-apes, with a 
 whim-wham : here's a knight of the land of Caiito shall 
 play at trap with any page in Europe \ do the sword- 
 dance with any morris-dancer in Christendom ; ride at 
 the ring- till the fin ^ of his eyes look as blue as the 
 welkin ; and run the wildgoose-chase even with Pompey 
 the Huge.* 105 
 
 Fietro. You run ! 
 
 Mai. To the devil. — Now, signior Guerrino, that thou 
 from a most pitied prisoner shouldst grow a most loathed 
 flatterer ! — Alas, poor Celso, thy star's oppressed : thou 
 art an honest lord : 'tis pity. no 
 
 Equato. Is't pity ? 
 
 Mai. Ay, marry is't, philosophical Equato ; and 'tis 
 pity that thou, being so excellent a scholar by art, should 
 be so ridiculous a fool by nature. — I have a thing to tell 
 you, duke : bid 'em avaunt, bid 'em avaunt. 
 
 Piciro. Leave us, leave us. 
 
 \Exeu7it all except Pietro and Malevole. 
 Now, sir, what is't ? 
 
 MaL Duke, thou art a becco,^ a cornuto. 
 
 Pietro. How ! 
 
 1 The cry of the ape-ward when the ape was to climb the pole and 
 display his feats of agility. 
 
 2 The sport of Running at the Ring, in which the tilter tried to drive 
 the point of his spear through a suspended ring. 
 
 3 This word is used in the Duchess 0/ Alalfi, ii. i : — " The fins of her 
 eyelids look most teeming blue ! " 
 
 ■• " Greater than Great, great, great, great Pompey ! Pompey the 
 Huge!" — Loz-e's Labour Lost, v. 2. 
 * Cuckold (//<7/.).
 
 SCENE I.] The JMalcontent. 215 
 
 Mai. Thou art a cuckold. 120 
 
 Pietro. Speak, unshale^ him quick. 
 
 Mai. With most tumbler-hke nimbleness. 
 
 Pietro. Who ? by whom ? I burst with desire. 
 
 Mai. Mendoza is the man makes thee a horned beast ; 
 duke, 'tis Mendoza cornutes thee. 
 
 Pietro. What conformance ? relate ; short, short. 
 
 Mai. As a lawyer's beard. 
 There is an old crone in the court, her name is Maque- 
 
 relle, 
 She is my mistress, sooth to say, and she doth ever tell 
 
 me. 
 Blirt o' rhyme, blirt o' rhyme ! Maquerelle is a cunning 
 bawd ; I am an honest villain ; thy wife is a close drab ; 
 and thou art a notorious cuckold. Farewell, duke. 132 
 
 Pidro. Stay, stay. 
 
 Mai. Dull, dull duke, can lazy patience make lame 
 revenge? O God, for a woman to make a man that 
 which God never created, never made ! 
 
 Pietro. What did God never make ? 
 
 Mai. A cuckold : to be made a thing that's hood- 
 winked with kindness, whilst every rascal fillips his 
 brows \ to have a coxcomb with egregious horns pinned 
 to a lord's back, every page sporting himself with delight- 
 ful laughter, whilst he must be the last must know it : 
 pistols and poniards ! pistols and poniards ! 143 
 
 Pietro. Death and damnation ! 
 
 Mai. Lightning and thunder ! 
 
 i Unshell.
 
 2 1 6 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 Pietro. Vengeance and torture ! 
 
 MaL Catsoli 
 
 Pietro. O, revenge ! 
 
 Mai." Nay, to select among ten thousand fairs 
 A lady far inferior to the most, 
 In fair proportion both of limb and soul ; 
 To take her from austerer check of parents. 
 To make her his by most devoutful rites, 150 
 
 Make her commandress of a better essence 
 Than is the gorgeous world, even of a man ; 
 To hug her with as rais'd an appetite 
 As usurers do their delv'd-up treasury 
 (Thinking none tells it but his private self) ; 
 To meet her spirit in a nimble kiss, 
 Distilling panting ardour to her heart ; 
 True to her sheets, nay, diets strong his blood, 
 To give her height of hymeneal sweets, 
 
 Pietro. O God ! 160 
 
 Mai. Whilst she lisps, and gives him some court- 
 quelqtiechose^ 
 Made only to provoke, not satiate : 
 And yet even then the thaw of her delight 
 Flows from lewd heat of apprehension, 
 Only from strange imagination's rankness. 
 That forms the adulterer's presence in her soul. 
 And makes her think she clips the foul knave's loins. 
 
 ^ Obscene exclamation (from the Italian). 
 
 - "Nay, to select . . . freeze but to think it" (11. 146-188).— This 
 passage was added in ed. 2. 
 
 s See Skeat's Etym. Diet. s. KICKSHAWS.
 
 SCENE I.] TJie ]\Ialconte7it. 2 1 7 
 
 Pietro. AfTliction to my blood's root ! 
 
 Mai. Nay, think, but think what may proceed of this ; 
 Adultery is often the mother of incest. 170 
 
 Pietro. Incest ! 
 
 Mai. Yes, incest : mark : — Mendoza of his wife begets 
 perchance a daughter : Mendoza dies ; his son marries 
 this daughter : say you ? nay, 'tis frequent, not only 
 probable, but no question often acted, whilst ignorance, 
 fearless ignorance, clasps his own seed. 
 
 Pietro. Hideous imagination ! 
 
 Mai. Adultery? why, next to the sin of simony, 'tis 
 the most horrid transgression under the cope of salva- 
 tion. 180 
 
 Pietro. Next to simony ! 
 
 Mai. Ay, next to simony, in which our men in next 
 age shall not sin. 
 
 Pietro. Not sin ! why ? 
 
 Mai. Because {thanks to some churchmen) our age 
 will leave them nothing to sin with. But adultery, O 
 dulness ! should show ^ exemplary punishment, that in- 
 temperate bloods may freeze but to think it. I would 
 damn him and all his generation : my own hands should 
 do it ; ha, I would not trust heaven with my vengeance : 
 — anything. 191 
 
 Pietro. Anything, anything, Malevole : thou shalt see 
 instantly what temper my spirit holds. Farewell ; re- 
 member I forget thee not ; farewell. \Exit Pietro. 
 
 Malr Farewell. 
 
 ^ For "should show " old ed. gives " shue should." 
 ' This speech was added in ed. 2.
 
 2i8 The Malcontent. [acti. 
 
 Lean thoughtfulness, a sallow meditation, 
 
 Suck thy veins dry, distemperance rob thy sleep ! 
 
 The heart's disquiet is revenge most deep : 
 
 He that gets blood, the life of flesh but spills, 
 
 But he that breaks heart's peace, the dear soul kills. 200 
 
 Well, this disguise doih yet afford me that 
 
 Which kings do seldom hear, or great men use, — 
 
 Free speech : and though my state's usurp'd. 
 
 Yet this affected strain gives me a tongue 
 
 As fetterless as in an emperor's. 
 
 I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly, 
 
 Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion 
 
 To poise my breath ; for he that laughs and strikes 
 
 Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again. 
 
 Duke, I'll torment thee now j my just revenge 210 
 
 From thee than crown a richer gem shall part : 
 
 Beneath God, naught's so dear as a calm heart. 
 
 Re-enter Celso. 
 
 Celso. My honour'd lord, — 
 
 Mai. Peace, speak low, peace ! O Celso, constant 
 lord, 
 (Thou to whose faith I only rest discover'd, 
 Thou, one of full ten millions of men. 
 That lovest virtue only for itself; 
 Thou in whose hands old Ops may put her soul) 
 Behold forever-banish'd Altofront, 
 
 This Genoa's last year's duke. O truly noble ! 220 
 
 I wanted those old instruments of state,
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 219 
 
 Dissemblance and suspect: I could not time it, Celso ; 
 
 My throne stood like a point midst ^ of a circle, 
 
 To all of equal nearness ; bore with none ; 
 
 Rein'd all alike ; so slept in fearless virtue, 
 
 Suspectless, too suspectless ; till the crowd, 
 
 (Still lickorous of untried novelties) 
 
 Impatient with severer government 
 
 Made strong with Florence, banish'd Altofront. 
 
 Celso. Strong with Florence ! ay, thence your mischief 
 rose ; 230 
 
 For when the daughter of the Florentine 
 Was match'd once with this Pietro, now duke, 
 No stratagem of state untried was left, 
 Till you of all 
 
 Mai. Of all was quite bereft : 
 Alas, Maria too close prisoned, 
 My true-faith'd duchess, i' the citadel ! 
 
 Celso. I'll still adhere : let's mutiny and die. 
 
 Mai. O, no,- climb not a falling tower, Celso ; 
 'Tis well held desperation, no zeal, 
 Hopeless to strive with fate : peace ; temporise. 240 
 
 Hope, hope, that ne'er forsak'st the wretched'st man, 
 Yet bidd'st me live, and lurk in this disguise ! 
 What, play I well the free-breath'd discontent ? 
 Why, man, we are all philosophical monarchs 
 Or natural fools. Celso, the court's a-fire ; 
 The duchess' sheets will smoke for't ere't be long : 
 
 ^ Ed. 2. "in middest. 
 2 Added in ed. 2.
 
 2 20 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 Impure Mendoza, that sharp-nos'd lord, that made 
 The cursbd match Hnk'd Genoa with Florence, 
 Now broad-horns the duke, which he now knows. 
 Discord to malcontents is very manna : 250 
 
 When the ranks are burst, then scuffle, Altofront. 
 
 Celso. Ay, but durst 
 
 Mai. 'Tis gone ; 'tis swallow'd like a mineral : 
 Some way 'twill work ; pheut, I'll not shrink : 
 He's resolute who can no lower sink. 
 
 BiLioso re-entering, Malevole shifteth his speech. 
 
 O ^ the father of May-poles I did you never see a 
 fellow whose strength consisted in his breath, respect 
 in his office, religion in- his lord, and love in himself? 
 why, then, behold. 
 
 Bil. Signior, — 260 
 
 Mai. My right worshipful lord, your court night-cap 
 makes you have a passing high forehead. 
 
 Bil. I can tell you strange news, but I am sure you 
 know them already : the duke speaks much good of you. 
 
 Mai. Go to, then : and shall you and I now enter 
 into a strict friendship ? 
 
 Bil. Second one another? 
 
 Mai Yes. 
 
 Bil. Do one another good offices? 
 
 Mai. Just: what though I called thee old ox, egregious 
 
 1 "O the father. . . my dear Castillo" (II. 256-303). — This passage 
 was added in ed. 2. * Old ed. " on."
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 221 
 
 wittol, broken-bellied coward, rotten mummy ? yet, since 
 I am in favour 272 
 
 Bil. Words of course, terms of disport. His grace 
 presents you by me a chain, as his grateful remembrance 
 for — I am ignorant for what ; marry, ye may impart : yet 
 howsoever — come — dear friend ; dost know my son ? 
 
 Mai. Your son ! 
 
 Bil. He shall eat wood-cocks, dance jigs, make 
 possets, and play at shuttle-cock with any young lord 
 about the court : he has as sweet a lady too ; dost know 
 her little bitch ? 281 
 
 Alal. 'Tis a dog, man. 
 
 Bil. Believe me, a she-bitch : O, 'tis a good creature ! 
 thou shalt be her servant. I'll make thee acquainted with 
 my young wife too : what ! I keep her not at court for 
 nothing. 'Tis grown to supper-time ; come to my table : 
 that, anything I have, stands open to thee. 
 
 Mai. [aside to Celso] How smooth to him that is in 
 state of grace. 
 How servile is the rugged'st courtier's face ! 
 What profit, nay, what nature would keep down, 290 
 Are heav'd to them are minions to a crown. 
 Envious ambition never sates his thirst, 
 Till sucking all, he swells and swells, and burst.^ 
 
 BiL I shall now leave you with my always-best wishes; 
 only let's hold betwixt us a firm correspondence, a mutual 
 friendly-reciprocal kind of steady- unanimous-heartily- 
 leagued 
 
 * Old ed. " bursles."
 
 2 2 2 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 Afal. Did your signiorship ne'er see a pigeon-house 
 that was smooth, round, and white without, and full of 
 holes and stink within? ha' ye not, old courtier? 300 
 
 Bit. O, yes, 'tis the form, the fashion of them all. 
 
 Mai. Adieu, my true court-friend ; farewell, my dear 
 Castilio.^ \^Exit BiLioso. 
 
 Celso. Yonder's Mendoza. 
 
 Mai. True, the privy-key. \Desc)ies Mendoza. 
 
 Celso. I take my leave, sweet lord. 
 
 Mai. 'Tis fit ; away ! {Exit Celso. 
 
 Enter Mendoza with three or four Suitors. 
 
 Men. Leave your suits with me ; I can and will : 
 attend my secretary ; leave me. {Exeujit Suitors. 
 
 Mai. Mendoza, hark ye, hark ye. You are a 
 treacherous villain : God b' wi' ye ! 
 
 Men. Out, you base-born rascal ! 310 
 
 Mai. We are all the sons of heaven, though a tripe- 
 wife were our mother: ah, you whoreson, hot-reined he- 
 marmoset ! ^gisthus ! didst ever hear of one ^gisthus ? 
 
 Men. Gisthus? 
 
 Mai. Ay, -^gisthus : he was a filthy incontinent flesh- 
 monger, such a one as thou art. 
 
 Men. Out, grumbling rogue ! 
 
 Mai. Orestes, beware Orestes ! 
 
 Men. Out, beggar! 
 
 1 An allusion to Baldessar Castiglione, author of the famous book of 
 manners, // Cortese, which was translated into English (in 1561) by Sir 
 Thomas Hoby.
 
 SCENE I.] TJic ]\lalconte7ii. 223 
 
 ^[aL I once shall rise. 320 
 
 Afeti. Thou rise ! 
 
 Mai. Ay, at the resurrection. 
 No vulgar seed but once may rise and shall ; 
 No king so huge but 'fore he die may fall. \_Exit. 
 
 Men. Now, good Elysium ! what a delicious heaven 
 is it for a man to be in a prince's favour ! O sweet 
 God ! O pleasure ! O fortune ! O all thou best of 
 life ! what should I think, what say, what do to be a 
 favourite, a minion? to have a general timorous respect 
 observe a man, a stateful silence in his presence, solitari- 
 ness in his absence, a confused hum and busy murmur 
 of obsequious suitors training him ; the cloth held up, 
 and way proclaimed before him ; petitionary vassals 
 licking the pavement with their slavish knees, whilst 
 some odd palace-lampreels that engender with snakes, 
 and are full of eyes on both sides, with a kind of in- 
 sinuated^ humbleness, fix all their delights- upon his 
 brow. O blessed state! what a ravishing prospect 
 doth the Olympus of favour yield ! Death, I cornute 
 the duke I Sweet women ! most sweet ladies ! nay, 
 angels ! by heaven, he is more accursed than a devil 
 that hates you, or is hated by you ; and happier than a 
 god that loves you, or is beloved by you : you preservers 
 of mankind, life-blood of society, who would live, nay, 
 who can live without you? O paradise ! how majestical 
 is your austerer presence ! how imperiously chaste is 
 your more modest face ! but, O, how full of ravishing 
 
 ' Ed. I. "insinuating." 2 Ed, i_ "lights."
 
 2 24 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 attraction is your pretty, petulant, languishing, lasciviously- 
 composed countenance ! these amorous smiles, those 
 soul-warming sparkling glances, ardent as those flames 
 that singed the world by heedless Phaeton ! in body 
 howdelicate.Mn soul howwitty, in discourse howpregnant, 
 in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how 
 
 sociable, and in night how O pleasure unutterable ! 
 
 indeed, it is most certain, one man cannot deserve only 
 to enjoy a beauteous woman : but a duchess ! in, despite 
 of Phoebus, I'll write a sonnet instantly in praise of 
 her. \Exit. 357 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Falace of the Duke of Genoa. 
 
 Enter Ferneze ushering Aurelia, Emilia and Maquer- 
 ELLE bearing up her train, Bianca attending: then 
 exeunt Emilia and Bianca. 
 
 Aurel. And is't possible? Mendoza slight me! 
 possible? 
 
 Fer. Possible ! 
 What can be strange in him that's drunk with favour,^ 
 Grows insolent with grace ? — Speak, Maquerelle, speak. 
 
 Maq. To speak feelingly, more, more richly in solid 
 sense than worthless words, give me those jewels of your 
 
 1 "What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how 
 infinite in faculties ! in form, and moving, how express and admirable ! 
 in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a god ! the 
 beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals ! " — Hamlet, act ii. sc. 2. 
 
 s " With favour " — omitted in some copies of ed. 2.
 
 SCENIC II.] The Malcontent. 225 
 
 ears to receive my enforced duty. As for my part, 'tis 
 well known I can put up ^ anything \^y.vj^y.z^ privately 
 feeds Maquerelle's hands with je^vels during this speech^, 
 can bear patiently with any man : but when I heard he 
 wronged your precious sweetness, I was enforced to take 
 deep offence. 'Tis most certain he loves Emilia with high 
 appetite : and, as she told me (as you know we women 
 impart our secrets one to another), when she repulsed his 
 suit, in that he was possessed with your endeared grace, 
 Mendoza most ingratefully renounced all faith to you. 16 
 
 Fer. Nay, called you — Speak, Maqucrelle, speak. 
 
 Maq. By heaven, witch, dried biscuit; and contested 
 blushlessly he loved you but for a spurt or so. 
 
 Fer. For maintenance. 
 
 Maq. Advancement and regard. 
 
 Aurel. O villain ! O impudent Mendoza ! 
 
 Maq. Nay, he is the rustiest-jawed,- the foulest- 
 mouthed knave in railing against our sex: he will rail 
 against^ women — 
 
 Aurel. How ? how ? 
 
 Maq. I am ashamed to speak't, I. 
 
 Aurel. I love to hate him : speak. 
 
 Alaq. Why, when Emilia scorned his base unsteadiness, 
 the black-throated rascal scolded, and said — 30 
 
 Aurel. What? 
 
 Maq. Troth, 'tis too shameless. 
 
 AureL What said he ? 
 
 ' Omitted in ed. 2, * Ed_ 2. "rustiest jade." 
 
 ^ Ed. I. "agen." 
 VOL. I. P
 
 2 26 The Malcontent. [acti. 
 
 Maq. Why, that, at four, women were fools ; at four- 
 teen, drabs ; at forty, bawds ; at fourscore, witches ; and 
 [at] a hundred, cats. 
 
 Aurel. O unlimitable impudency ! 
 
 Fer. But as for poor Ferneze's fixbd heart, 
 Was never shadeless meadow drier parch'd 
 Under the scorching heat of heaven's dog, 40 
 
 Than is my heart with your enforcing eyes. 
 
 Maq. A hot simile. 
 
 Fer. Your smiles have been my heaven, your frowns 
 my hell : 
 O, pity, then ! grace should with beauty dwell. 
 
 Maq. Reasonable perfect, by'r lady. 
 
 Aurel. I will love thee, be it but in despite 
 Of that Mendoza : — witch ! — Ferneze, — witch ! — 
 Ferneze, thou art the duchess' favourite : 
 Be faithful, private : but 'tis dangerous. 
 
 Fer. His love is lifeless that for love fears breath : 50 
 The worst that's due to sin, O, would 'twere death ! 
 
 Aurel. Enjoy my favour. I will be sick instantly and 
 take physic : therefore in depth of night visit — 
 
 Maq. Visit her chamber, but conditionally you shall 
 not offend her bed : by this diamond ! 
 
 Fer. By this diamond. \_GiTvig diamond to '^l\q. 
 
 Maq. Nor tarry longer than you please : by this ruby ! 
 
 Fer. By this ruby. [Giving ruby to Maq. 
 
 Maq. And that the door shall not creak. 60 
 
 Fer. And that the door shall not creak. 
 
 Maq. Nay, but swear. 
 
 Fer. By this purse. [^Giving purse to Maq.
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontent. 227 
 
 Maq. Go to, I'll keep your oaths for you : remember, 
 visit. 
 
 Aurel. Dried biscuit ! — Look where the base wretch 
 conies. 
 
 Eftter Mendoza, reading a sonnet. 
 
 Jlfen. " Beauty s life, heavefi's t/iodel, love's qtccen^' — 
 
 Maq. That's his Emilia, 
 
 Men. *' Nature's triumph, best on ^ earth',' — 70 
 
 Maq. Meaning Emilia. 
 
 Me7i. " Thou only wonder that the world hath seen," — 
 
 Maq. That's Emilia. 
 
 Aurel. Must I, then, hear her praised? — Mendoza ! 
 
 Men. Madam, your excellency is graciously en- 
 countered : I have been writing passionate flashes in 
 honour of — \_Exit Ferneze. 
 
 Aurel. Out, villain, villain ! 
 O judgment, where have been my eyes ? what 
 Bewitclvd election made me dote on thee ? go 
 
 What sorcery made me love thee ? But, be gone ; 
 Bury thy head. O, that I could do more 
 Than loath thee ! hence, worst of ill ! 
 No reason ask, our reason is our will.^ 
 
 \_Exit with Maquerelle. 
 
 Me?i. Women ! nay. Furies ; nay, worse ; for they 
 torment only the bad, but women good and bad. 
 Damnation of mankind ! Breath, hast thou praised 
 
 1 Ed. I. "of." 
 ' Ed, I. gives : — 
 
 " No reason else, my reason is my will."
 
 2 28 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 them for this? and is't you, Ferneze, are wriggled into 
 smock-grace ? sit sure. O, that I could rail against 
 these monsters in nature, models of hell, curse of the 
 earth, women ! that dare attempt anything, and what 
 they attempt they care not how they accomplish ; with- 
 out all premeditation or prevention ; rash in asking, 
 desperate in working, impatient in suffering, extreme in 
 desiring, slaves unto appetite, mistresses in dissembling, 
 only constant in unconstancy, only perfect in counter- 
 feiting : their words are feigned, their eyes forged, their 
 sighs ^ dissembled, their looks counterfeit, their hair 
 false, their given hopes deceitful, their very breath 
 artificial : their blood is their only god ; bad clothes, 
 and old age, are only the devils they tremble at. That 
 I could rail now ! 102 
 
 Enter Pietro, his sword drawn. 
 
 Pietro. A mischief fill thy throat, thou foul-jaw'd slave ! 
 Say thy prayers. 
 
 Men. I ha' forgot 'em. 
 
 Fietro. Thou shalt die. 
 
 Men. So shalt thou. I am heart-mad. 
 
 Pietro. 1 am horn-mad. 
 
 Men. Extreme mad. 
 
 Pietro. Monstrously mad. 
 
 Men. Why? ,,, 
 
 Pietro. Why ! thou, thou hast dishonoured my bed. 
 
 1 Old eds. "sights" (and, as Dyce remarks, so the word was some- 
 times written).
 
 scKNK II.] The Malcontent. 229 
 
 Men. I ! Come, come, sit ; here's my bare heart to 
 thee, 
 As steady as is the centre to this ^ glorious world : 
 And yet, hark, thou art a cornuto, — but by me ? 
 
 Fietro. Yes, slave, by thee. 
 
 Men. Do not, do not with tart and spleenful breath 
 Lose him can lose thee. I offend my duke ! 
 Bear record, O ye dumb and raw-air'd nights, 
 How vigilant my sleepless eyes have been 120 
 
 To watch the traitor ! record, thou spirit of truth. 
 With what debasement I ha' thrown myself 
 To under ofifices, only to learn 
 The truth, the party, time, the means, the place, 
 By whom, and when, and where thou wert disgrac'd ! 
 And am I paid with slave ? hath my intrusion 
 To places private and prohibited. 
 Only to observe the closer passages. 
 Heaven knows with vows of revelation, 
 Made me suspected, made me deem'd a villain ? 130 
 
 What rogue hath wrong'd us ? 
 
 Fietro. Mendoza, I may err. 
 
 Men. Err ! 'tis too mild a name : but err and err, 
 Run giddy with suspect, 'fore through me thou know 
 That which most creatures, save thyself, do know : 
 Nay, since my service hath so loath'd reject, 
 'Fore I'll reveal, shalt find them dipt together. 
 
 Fietro. Mendoza, thou knowest I am a most plain- 
 breasted man. 
 
 1 Ed. I. " this center to this." — Ed. 2. " this centre to the."
 
 230 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 Men. The fitter to make a cornuto : ^ would your 
 brows were most plain too ! 140 
 
 Fietro. Tell me : indeed, I heard thee rail — 
 
 Men. At women, true : why, what cold fleam - could 
 choose, 
 Knowing a lord so honest, virtuous, 
 So boundless loving, bounteous, fair-shap'd, sweet, 
 To be contemn'd, abus'd, defam'd, made cuckold? 
 Heart 1 I hate all women for't : sweet sheets, wax lights, 
 antic bedposts, cambric smocks, villainous curtains, arras 
 pictures, oiled hinges, and all the ^ tongue-tied lascivious 
 witnesses of great creatures' wantonness, — what salvation 
 can you expect? 150 
 
 Pieiro. Wilt thou tell me ? 
 
 Men. Why, you may find it yourself; observe, 
 observe. 
 
 Fietro. I ha' not the patience : wilt thou deserve me, 
 tell, give it. 
 
 Afen. Take't : why, Ferneze is the man, Ferneze : Til 
 prove't ; this night you shall take him in your sheets : 
 will't serve? 
 
 lictro. It will; my bosom's in some peace: till 
 night — 
 
 Meti. What? 
 
 Fietro. Farewell. 
 
 Me7i. God ! how weak a lord are you ! 160 
 
 Why, do you think there is no more but so ? 
 
 Fietro. Why ! 
 
 1 Ed. 2. "cuckolde." ^ Phlegm. ^ Ed. i. "ye."
 
 scENK II.] The Malcontent. 231 
 
 Men. Nay, then, will I presume to counsel you : 
 It should be thus. You with some guard upon the 
 
 sudden 
 Break into the princess' chamber : I stay behind, 
 Without the door, through which he needs must pass : 
 Ferneze flies ; let him : to me he comes ; he's kiU'd 
 By me, observe, by me : you follow : I rail. 
 And seem to save the body. Duchess comes. 
 On whom (respecting her advanced birth, 170 
 
 And your fair nature), I know, nay, I do know. 
 No violence must be us'd ; she comes : I storm, 
 I praise, excuse Ferneze, and still maintain 
 The duchess' honour : she for this loves me. 
 I honour you ; shall know her soul, you mine : 
 Then naught shall she contrive in vengeance 
 (As women are most thoughtful in revenge) 
 Of her Ferneze, but you shall sooner know't 
 Than she can think't. Thus shall his death come 
 
 sure, 
 Your duchess brain-caught : so your life secure. 180 
 
 Pietro. It is too well : my bosom and my heart 
 When nothing helps, cut off the rotten part. {Exit. 
 
 Men. Who cannot feign friendship can ne'er produce 
 the effects of hatred. Honest fool duke ! subtle lascivious 
 duchess ! silly novice Ferneze ! I do laugh at ye. My 
 brain is in labour till it produce mischief, and I feel 
 sudden throes, proofs sensible, the issue is at hand. 
 As bears shape young, so I'll form my device. 
 Which grown proves horrid : vengeance makes men 
 
 wise. {Exit.
 
 2-12 The Malcontent. [act i. 
 
 SCENE III.i 
 
 Thi palace of the Duke of Genoa, 
 Enter Malevole and Passarello. 
 
 MaL Fool, most happily encountered : canst sing, 
 fool? 
 
 Pass. Yes, I can sing, fool, if you'll bear the burden ; 
 and I can play upon instruments, scurvily, as gentlemen 
 do, O, that I had been gelded ! I should then have 
 been a fat fool for a chamber, a squeaking fool for a 
 tavern, and a private fool for all the ladies. 
 
 Alal. You are in good case since you came to court, 
 fool: what, guarded, guarded 1^ 9 
 
 Pass. Yes, faith, even as footmen and bawds wear 
 velvet, not for an ornament of honour, but for a badge 
 of drudgery; for, now the duke is discontented, I am 
 fain to fool him asleep every night. 
 
 Mai. What are his griefs ? 
 
 Pass. He hath sore eyes. 
 
 Mai. I never observed so much. 
 
 Pass. Horrible sore eyes ; and so hath every cuckold, 
 for the roots of the horns spring in the eyeballs, and 
 that's the reason the horn of a cuckold is as tender as 
 his eye, or as that growing in the woman's forehead twelve 
 
 ^ This scene was added in ed. 2. 
 
 - Ornamented with guards or facings. — The coats of fools were 
 commonly guarded.
 
 SCENE III.] The Malcontent. 233 
 
 years since,^ that could not endure to be touched. 'I'he 
 duke hangs down his head like a columbine. 22 
 
 ATal. Passarello, why do great men beg fools P'^ 
 
 Pass. As the Welshman stole rushes when there was 
 nothing else to filch ; only to keep begging in fashion. 
 
 Mai. Pooh, thou givest no good reason ; thou speakest 
 like a fool. 
 
 Pass. Faith, I utter small fragments, as your knight 
 courts your city widow with jingling ^ of his gilt spurs, 
 advancing his bush-coloured beard,^ and taking tobacco : 
 this is all the mirror of their knightly complements.^ Nay, 
 
 1 "The woinnn witli the liorn in her forehead was probably Margaret 
 Griffith, wife of David Owen, of Llan Gaduain, in Montgomery. A 
 portrait of her is in existence, prefixed to a scarce pamphlet, entitled, 
 ' A miraculous and monstrous, but yet most fi-ue and certayne Discourse 
 of a Woman, now to be seen in London, of the age of threescore yeares or 
 thereabouts, in the midst of whose forehead there groweth out a crooked 
 Home of four ynches long. Imprinted at London, by Thomas Orwin, 
 and are to be sold by Edward White, divelling at the little north dore of 
 Paules Church, at the signe of the Gun, 1588.' " — Gilchrist. 
 
 2 To beg a person for a fool was to apply to be made guardian of a 
 person who had been legally proved to be an idiot. It was in the king's 
 power to grant the custody of an idiot's person and the profits of his 
 estate to any subject. 
 
 ^ Gallants prided themselves on wearing spurs that jingled. Middleton , 
 after elaborately describing a young prodigal's aUire, adds : — " Lastly, 
 he walked the chamber with such a pestilent jingle that his spurs over- 
 squeaked the lawyer " ( Works, viii. 71). So Chapman in Monsieur 
 D'Olive: — "You may hear them (the gallants) half a mile ere they 
 come at you — six or seven make a perfect morice-dance ; they need no 
 bells, their spurs serve their turn." 
 
 ■* This is the reading of Dyce's copy of ed. 2. Other copies read : — 
 " Faith, I utter small fragments as your knight courtes your Citty widow 
 with something of his guilt : some aduancing his high-colored beard," 
 &c. 
 
 * Accomplishments.
 
 234 The Malcontent. [acti. 
 
 I shall talk when my tongue is a-going once ; 'tis like a 
 citizen on horseback, evermore in a false gallop. 33 
 
 Mai. And how doth Maquerelle fare nowadays? 
 
 Pass. Faith, I was wont to salute her as our English 
 women are at their first landing in Flushing;^ I would 
 call her whore : but now that antiquity leaves her as an 
 old piece of plastic ^ to work by, I only ask her how her 
 rotten teeth fare every morning, and so leave her. She 
 was the first that ever invented perfumed smocks for the 
 gentlewomen, and woollen shoes, for fear of creaking 
 for the visitant. She were an excellent lady, but that 
 her face peeleth like Muscovy glass. ^ 43 
 
 Mai. And how doth thy old lord, that hath wit enough 
 to be a flatterer, and conscience enough to be a knave? 
 
 Pass. O, excellent : he keeps beside me fifteen jesters, 
 to instruct him in the art of fooling, and utters their jests 
 in private to the duke and duchess : he'll lie like to 
 your Switzer or lawyer ; he'll be of any side for most 
 money. 50 
 
 Mai. I am in haste, be brief. 
 
 1 " At this time Flushing was in the hands of the English as part of 
 the security for money advanced by Queen Elizabeth to the Dutch. The 
 governor and garrison were all Englishmen." — Reed, 
 
 ' Model in wax or clay. 
 
 ^ Talc. — Reed quotes from Giles Fletcher's Russe Commonwealth, 
 1591, p. 10: — " In the province of Corelia, and about the river Duyna 
 towards the North-sea, there groweth a soft rock which they call Slude. 
 This they cut into pieces, and so tear it into thin_/fa>ifj, which naturally 
 it is apt for, and so use it for glasse lanlhorns and such like. It giveth 
 both inwards and outwards a clearer light then glasse, and for this respect 
 is better than either glasse or home ; for that it neither breaketh like 
 glasse, nor yet will burne like the lanthorne."
 
 SCENE III.] TJic I\TalcoiLtent. 235 
 
 Pass. As your fiddler when he is paid. — He'll thrive, 
 I warrant you, while your young courtier stands like 
 Good-Friday in Lent ; men long to see it, because more 
 fatting days come after it ; else he's the leanest and piti- 
 fullest actor in the whole pageant. Adieu, Malevole. 
 
 Mai. \^Aside^ O world most vile, when thy loose 
 vanities, 
 Taught by this fool, do make the fool seem wise ! 
 
 Pass. You'll know me again, Malevole. 
 
 Mai. O, ay, by that velvet. 60 
 
 Pass. Ay, as a pettifogger by his buckram bag. I 
 am as common in the court as an hostess's lips in the 
 country ; knights, and clowns, and knaves, and all share 
 me: the court cannot possibly be without me. Adieu, 
 Malevole. \Exeunt.
 
 { 236 ) 
 
 ACT II. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Chamber in the Duke's Pa/ace. 
 
 Enter Mendoza with a sconce} to observe Fernezk's 
 entrance^ who, whilst the act is playing, enters 
 unbraced, two Pages before him with lights ; is met 
 by Maquerelle and conveyed in ; the Pages ^ are 
 sent away. 
 
 Men. He's caught, the woodcock's head is i' the 
 noose. 
 Now treads Ferneze in dangerous path of lust, 
 Swearing his sense is merely ^ deified : 
 The fool grasps clouds, and shall beget Centaurs : 
 And now, in strength of panting faint delight, 
 The goat bids heaven envy him. Good goose, 
 I can afford thee nothing 
 But the poor comfort of calamity, pity. 
 Lust's like the plummets hanging on clock-lines, 
 Will ne'er ha' done till all is quite undone ; lo 
 
 * Lantern. 
 ' Some copies of ed. i. " the Dutches pages." ' Wholly.
 
 scENKi.] The Malcontent. 237 
 
 Such is the course salt sallow lust doth run ; 
 
 Which thou shalt try. I'll be reveng'd. Duke, thy 
 
 suspect ; 
 Duchess, thy disgrace ; Ferncze, thy rivalship; 
 Shall have swift vengeance. Nothing so holy, 
 No band of nature so strong, 
 No law of friendship so sacred. 
 But I'll profane, burst, violate, 'fore I'll 
 Endure disgrace, contempt, and poverty. 
 Shall I, whose very hum struck all heads bare. 
 Whose face made silence, creaking of whose shoe 20 
 Forc'd the most private passages fly ope. 
 Scrape like a servile dog at some latch'd door? 
 Learn how to make a leg, and cry " Beseech ye, 
 Pray ye, is such a lord within?" be aw'd 
 At some odd usher's scofif'd formality ? 
 First sear my brains ! Uiide cadis, non quo, refert ;^ 
 My heart cries, " Perish all ! " How ! how ! what fate 
 Can once avoid revenge, that's desperate ? 
 I'll to the duke : if all should ope— if ! tush. 
 Fortune still dotes on those who cannot blush. \Exit. 30 
 
 ^ See note i, p. 49.
 
 238 The Malcontent. [act 11. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Chamber in the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Malevole at one door ; Bianca, Emilia, and 
 Maquerelle at the other door. 
 
 Mai. Bless ye, cast o' ladies ! ^ — Ha, dipsas ! ^ how 
 dost thou, old coal? 
 
 Afaq. Old coal ! 
 
 Mai. Ay, old coal : methinks thou liest like a brand 
 under these ^ billets of green wood. He that will inflame 
 a young wench's heart, let him lay close to her an old 
 coal that hath first been fired, a panderess, my half-burnt 
 lint, who though thou canst not flame thyself, yet art 
 able to set a thousand virgin's tapers afire. — And how 
 does * Janivere thy husband, my little periwinkle ? is he 
 troubled with the cough o' the lungs still ? does he hawk 
 o' nights still? he will not bite. 12 
 
 Bian. No, by my troth, I took him with his mouth 
 empty of old teeth. 
 
 1 "Cast o' ladies " — couple of ladies. 
 
 2 A very venomous little serpent. "A man or beast wounded with 
 this serpent," s.iys Topsel in his Hist, of Serpents (ed. 1658, p. 699), "is 
 afflicted with intolerable thirst, insomuch as it is easier for him to break 
 his belly than to quench his thirst with drinking ; always gaping like a 
 bull, ciisteth himself down into the water and maketh no spare of the 
 cold liquor, hut continually sucketh it in till either the belly break or 
 the poison drive out the life by overcoming the vital spirits.' 
 
 3 Omitted in ed. 2. — "A maquerela, in plain English a bawd," says 
 Overbury in his Characters, " is an old charcoal that hath been burnt 
 herself, and therefore is able to kindle a whole green coppice." 
 
 * Ed. 2. " dooth."
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontent. 239 
 
 Alal. And he took thee with thy belly full of young 
 bones : marry, he took his maim by the stroke of his 
 enemy. 
 
 Bian. And I mine by the stroke of my friend. 
 
 Mai. The close stock ! ^ O mortal wench ! Lady, 
 ha' ye now no restoratives for your decayed Jasons?^ 
 look ye, crab's guts baked, ^ distilled ox-pitli,* the pul- 
 verised hairs of a lion's upper-lip, jelly of cock-sparrows, 
 he-monkey's marrow, or powder of fox-stones? — And 
 whither are alP you ambling now? 24 
 
 Bian. Why,^ to bed, to bed. 
 
 Mai. Do your husbands lie with ye ? 
 
 Bian. That were country fashion, i'faith. 
 
 Mai. Ha' ye no foregoers about you ? come, whither 
 in good deed, la, now? 
 
 Maq? In good indeed, la, now, to eat the most 
 
 1 Siockado— a thrust in fencing. 
 
 2 Ed. I. "Jason." 
 
 ' So in the Scourge of Villainy : 
 
 " A crab's baked guts and lobster's butter'd thigh, 
 I hear them swear is blood for venery." 
 
 * Ox-pith is mentioned among other provocatives in John Taylor's 
 TAe Sculler, ep. 32 : — 
 
 " Look how yon lecher's legs are worn away, 
 With haunting of the whore-house every day ! 
 He knows more greasy panders, bawds and drabs, 
 And eats more lobsters, artichokes and crabs, 
 Blue roasted eggs, potatoes, muscadine, 
 Oysters, and pith that grows i the ox's chine. 
 With many drugs, compounds, and simples store, 
 Wliich makes him have a stomach to a whore." 
 
 5 Omitted in ed. 2. 
 
 6 Omitted in ed. 2. 
 
 7 This speech is given to Bianca in ed. 2.
 
 240 The Malcontent. [act h. 
 
 miraculously, admirably, astonishable composed posset 
 
 with three curds, without any drink. Will ye help me 
 
 with a he-fox? — Here's the duke. 33 
 
 Mai} Fried frogs are very good, and French-like, too. 
 
 \Excunt Ladies. 
 
 Enter Pietro, Celso, Equato, Bilioso, Ferrardo, and 
 Mendoza. 
 
 Pietro. The night grows deep and foul : what hour 
 is't? 
 
 Celso. Upon the stroke of twelve. 
 
 Mai. Save ye, duke ! 
 
 Pietro. From thee : begone, I do not love thee ; let 
 me see thee no more ; we are displeased. 
 
 Mai. Why, God b'wi' thee!^ Heaven hear my 
 curse, — may thy wife and thee live long together! 41 
 
 Pietro. Begone, sirrah ! 
 
 Mai. When Arthur first in court began^ — Agamemnon 
 — Menelaus — was ever any duke a comuto? 
 
 Pietro. Begone, hence ! 
 
 Mai. What religion wiit thou be of next ? 
 
 Men. Out with him ! 
 
 Mai. With most servile patience. — Time will come 
 When wonder of thy error will strike dumb 
 Thy bezzled * sense. — 50 
 
 1 This speech was added in ed. 2. 
 
 2 Ed. 2. "be with ihte." 
 
 =* The first line of an old ballad (printed in Percy's Reliques). Falstaff 
 is introduced humming a snatch of it in 2 henry ly., ii. 4. 
 « Drunken.
 
 scKNE II.] 71ic Malcoiitcnt. 241 
 
 Slaves ! ay, favour : ay, marry, shall he rise : ^ 
 Good God ! how subtle hell doth flatter vice ! 
 Mounts 2 him aloft, and makes him seem to fly, 
 7 As fowl the tortoise mock'd, who to the sky 
 ' The ambitious shell-fish rais'd I the end of all 
 Is only, that from height he might dead fall. 
 
 Bil? Why, when P** out, ye rogue ! begone, ye rascal ! 
 
 Mai. I shall now leave ye with all my best wishes. 
 
 Bil. Out, ye cur ! 
 
 Mai. Only let's hold together a firm correspondence, 
 
 Bil. Out! 61 
 
 Mai. A mutual-friendly-reciprocal-perpetual kind of 
 sleady-unanimous-heartily-leagued — 
 
 Bil. Hence, ye gross-jawed, peasantly — out, go ! 
 
 ATal. Adieu, pigeon-house ; thou burr, that only 
 stickest to nappy fortunes. The serpigo, the strangury",^ 
 an eternal uneffectual priapism seize thee ! 
 
 Bil. Out, rogue ! 
 
 Mai. May'st thou be a notorious wittolly pander to 
 thine own wife, and yet get no office, but live to be 
 the utmost misery of mankind, a beggarly cuckold ! 71 
 
 {^Exit. 
 
 Pietro. It shall be so. 
 
 Men. It must be so, for where great states revenge, 
 
 ' The line is corrupt. Old eds. " slaues I faiiour, I marry shall he 
 rise."— Dyce reads " The slave's in favour ; ay, marry, shall he rise." 
 
 2 Ed. I. " mount." 
 
 3 "Why, when? . , . cuckold " (11. 57-71). — This passage was added 
 in ed. 2. 
 
 ■» A common exclamation of impatience. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 The Alalcontcnt. [act n. 
 
 'Tis requisite the parts be closely dogg'd,^ 
 
 (Which piety and soft respect forbears). 
 
 Lay one into his breast shall sleep with him, .^ |i(*y«-v^vL' 
 
 Feed in the same dish, run in self-faction, 
 
 Who may discover 2 any shape of danger ; 
 
 For once dlsgrac'd, displayed ^ in offence, 
 
 It makes man blushless, and man is (all confess) 80 
 
 More prone to vengeance than to gratefulness. 
 
 Favours are writ in dust ; but stripes we feel 
 
 Depraved nature stamps in lasting steel. 
 
 Pietro. You shall be leagu'd with the duchess. 
 
 Equato. The plot is very good. 
 
 Pietro.^ You shall both kill, and seem the corse to 
 save. 
 
 Fer. A most fine brain-trick. 
 
 Celso. \aside\ Of a most cunning knave. 
 
 Pietro. My lords, the heavy action we intend 
 Is death and shame, two of the ugliest shapes 
 
 1 The passage is very corrupt. Old eds. read : — 
 
 " 'Tis requisite, the parts [ed. 2. partes\ with piety, 
 And soft [ed. 2. and some copies of ed. i. lofi\ respect forbeares, 
 be closely dogg'd," &c. 
 
 Dyce's emendation is : — 
 
 " 'Tis requisite the parties with piety 
 And soft respect ever be closely dogg'd." 
 
 W. N. Lettsom proposed : — 
 
 " It must be so, for where 
 Great states revenge, 'tis requisite the parties 
 With spy of close respect be closely dogg'd." 
 
 2 Ed. I. " disseuer." 
 
 ' Ed. I. " discouered. " 
 * Old eds. "Mend."
 
 SCENE II.] The MaUontent. 243 
 
 That can confound a soul ; think, think of it : 90 
 
 I strike, but yet, like him that 'gainst stone walls 
 
 Directs, his shafts rebound in his own face ; 
 
 My lady's shame is mine, O God, 'tis mine ! 
 
 Therefore I do conjure all secrecy : 
 
 Let it be as very little as may be, 
 
 Pray ye, as may be. 
 
 Make frightless entrance, salute her with soft eyes, 
 
 Stain naught with blood ; only Ferneze dies, 
 
 But not before her brows. O gentlemen, 
 
 God knows I love her ! Nothing else, but this : — 100 
 
 I am not well : if grief, that sucks veins dry, 
 
 Rivels ^ the skin, casts ashes in men's faces, 
 
 Be-dulls the eye, unstrengthens all the blood, 
 
 Chance to remove me to another world, 
 
 As sure I once must die, let him succeed : 
 
 I have no child ; all that my youth begot 
 
 Hath been your loves, which shall inherit me : 
 
 Which as it ever shall, I do conjure it, 
 
 Mendoza may succeed : he's nobly ^ born ; 
 
 With me of much desert. 
 
 Celso. \aside\ Much ! ^ no 
 
 Pietro. Your silence answers, " Ay : " 
 I thank you. Come on now. O, that I might die 
 Before her shame's display'd ! would I were forc'd 
 To burn my father's tomb, unheal ^ his bones. 
 
 1 Wrinkles. 2 Ed. 2. "noble." 3 Ironical exclamation. 
 
 ■• Uncover. — " Descouvrir. To discover, uncover, unhill, denude, 
 tc." — Cot^rave.
 
 244 The Malcontent. [act n. 
 
 And dash them in the dirt, rather than this ! 
 
 This both the living and the dead offends : 
 
 Sharp surgery where naught but death amends. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A chamber in the Duke's Palace. 
 
 Enter Maquerelle, Emilia, and Bianxa, with a posset. 
 
 Mag. Even here it is, three curds in three regions 
 individually distinct, most methodically ' according to 
 art compos'd, without any drink. 
 
 Bian. Without any drink ! 
 
 Maq. Upon my honour. Will ye sit and eat ? 
 
 Eniil. Good, the composure : the receipt, how is't ? 
 
 Maq. 'Tis a pretty pearl ; by this pearl (how does't 
 with me?) thus it is. Seven and thirty yolks of Bar- 
 bary hens' eggs ; eighteen spoonfuls and a half of the 
 juice of cock-sparrow bones ; one ounce, three drams, 
 four scruples, and one quarter of the syrup of Ethiopian 
 dates ; sweetened with three quarters of a pound of pure 
 candied Indian eringoes; strewed over with the powder 
 of pearl of America, amber of Cataia, and lamb-stones 
 of Muscovia. 15 
 
 Bian. Trust me, the ingredients are very cordial, and, 
 no question, good, and most powerful in restauration.^ 
 
 ^ Ed. 2. " methodicall." 2 Some copies of ed. 1. "operation."
 
 scENKiii.] The Malcontent. 245 
 
 Maq. I know not what you mean by restauration ; 
 but this it doth, — it purifieth the blood, smootheth the 
 skin, enliveneth the eye, strengtheneth the veins, mun- 
 difieth the teeth, comforteth the stomach, fortifieth the 
 back, and quickeneth the wit ; that's all. 22 
 
 Emil. By my troth, I have eaten but two spoonfuls, 
 and methinks I could discourse most swiftly and wittily 
 already. 
 
 Maq. Have you the art to seem honest ? 
 
 Bian. Ay, thank advice and practice. 27 
 
 Maq. Why, then, eat me o' this posset, quicken your 
 blood, and preserve your beauty. Do you know Doctor 
 Plaster-face ? by this curd, he is the most exquisite in 
 forging of veins, sprightening of eyes, dying of hair, 
 sleeking of skins, blushing of cheeks, surphling ^ of 
 breasts, blanching and bleaching of teeth, that ever made 
 an old lady gracious by torchlight ; by this curd, la. 
 
 Bia7i. Well,- we are resolved, what God has given us 
 we'll cherish. 36 
 
 Maq. Cherish anything saving your husband ; keep 
 him not too high, lest he leap the pale : but, for your 
 beauty, let it be your saint ; bequeath two hours to it 
 every morning in your closet. I ha' been young, and 
 yet, in my conscience, I am not above five-and-twenty : 
 but, believe me, preserve and use your beauty ; for youth 
 and beauty once gone, we are like bee-hives without 
 honey, out-o'-fashion apparel that no man will wear : 
 therefore use me your beauty. 45 
 
 1 Washinsr with cosmetics. 2 Ed. 2. " We."
 
 246 The Malcontent. [\ct n. 
 
 Emil. Ay, but men say — 
 
 Maq. Men say ! let men say what they will : life o' 
 woman ! they are ignorant of our ^ wants. The more in 
 years, the more in perfection they grow ; if they lose 
 youth and beauty, they gain wisdom and discretion : but 
 when our beauty fades, good-night with us. There can- 
 not be an uglier thing than to see an old woman : from 
 which, O pruning, pinching, and painting, deliver all 
 sweet beauties ! \^Music within. 54 
 
 Bia?t. Hark ! music ! 
 
 Mag. Peace, 'tis i' the duchess' bed-chamber. 
 Good rest, most prosperously-graced ladies. 
 
 Emil. Good night, sentinel. 
 
 Bian. Night, dear Maquerelle. 
 
 Maq. May my posset's operation send you my wit 
 
 and honesty; and me, your youth and beauty: the 
 
 pleasingest rest ! 62 
 
 \^Exeunt, at one door, Bianca and Emilia ; 
 
 at another Maquerelle. 
 
 A Song within. 
 
 Whilst the song is singing, enter Mendoza with his sword 
 drawn, standing ready to murder Ferneze as he flies 
 from tlie duchess' chamber. — Tumult within. 
 
 [Within.'] Strike, strike! 
 
 \Aur. within.] Save my Ferneze ! O, save my 
 Ferneze ! 
 
 1 Ed. 2. " vour. "
 
 scKNKiii.] The Malcontent. 247 
 
 [ Within^ Follow, pursue ! 
 \Aur. within.^ O, save Femeze ! 
 
 Enter Ferneze in his shirt, and is received upon 
 Mendoza's sword. 
 
 Men. Pierce, pierce ! — Thou shallow fool, drop there ! 
 \Thriists his rapier in Ferneze. 
 He that attempts a princess' lawless love 
 Must have broad hands, close heart, with Argus' eyes, 
 And back of Hercules, or else he dies. 70 
 
 Enter Aurelia, Pietro, Ferrardo, Bilioso, Celso, 
 and Equato. 
 
 All. Follow, follow ! 
 
 Men. Stand off, forbear, ye most uncivil lords ! 
 
 Pietro. Strike ! 
 
 Alen. Do not ; tempt not a man resolv'd : 
 
 [Mendoza bestrides the wounded body of Yy.'s.^y.z^, 
 and seems to save him. 
 Would you, inhuman murderers, more than death ? 
 
 Aur. O poor Ferneze ! 
 
 Men. Alas, now all defence too late ! 
 
 Aur. He's dead. 
 
 Pietro. I am sorry for our shame. — Go to your bed : 
 Weep not too much, but leave some tears to shed 
 When I am dead. Si 
 
 Aur. What, weep for thee ! my soul no tears shall 
 find. 
 
 Pietro. Alas, alas, that women's souls are blind !
 
 248 The Malcontent. [act n. 
 
 Men. Betray such beauty ! 
 Murder such youth ! contemn civiUty ! 
 He loves him not that rails not at him. 
 
 Pietro. Thou canst not move us : we have blood 
 enough. — 
 And please you, lady, we have quite forgot 
 All your defects : if not, why, then — 
 
 Aur. Not. 
 
 Pietro. Not : the best of rest : good-night. 90 
 
 \Exeuiit Pietro, Ferrardo, Bilioso, 
 Celso, and Equato. 
 
 Aur. Despite go with thee ! 
 
 Men. Madam, you ha' done me foul disgrace ; you 
 have wronged him much loves you too much : go to, 
 your soul knows you have. 
 
 Aur. I think I have. 
 
 Men. Do you but think so ? 
 
 Aur. Nay, sure, I have : my eyes have witnessed thy 
 love : thou hast stood too firm for me. 
 
 Men. Why, tell me, fair-cheeked lady, who even in 
 tears art powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion 
 struck ye into such a violent heat against me ? Speak, 
 what mischief wronged us? what devil injured us? 
 speak. 103 
 
 Aur. The thing ne'er worthy of the name of man, 
 Ferneze ; 
 Ferneze swore thou lov'[d]st Emilia ; 
 Which to advance, with most reproachful breath 
 Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love. 
 
 Men. Isrnoble villain ! did I for this bestride
 
 scKNK. in.] The AlalcoJLient. 249 
 
 Thy wounded limbs ? for ' this, rank opposite 
 
 Even to my sovereign? for this, O God, for this, no 
 
 Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life ? 
 
 Ripp'd bare my throat unto the hangman's axe ? — 
 
 Thou most dishonour'd trunk! — Emilia ! 
 
 By life, I know her not — Emilia ! — 
 
 Did you believe him ? 
 
 Aur. Pardon me, I dicL 
 
 Men. Did you ? and thereupon you graced him ? 
 
 Aur. I did. 
 
 Me7i. Took him to favour, nay, even clasp'd with him ? 
 
 Aur. Alas, I did ! 
 
 Men. This night? 120 
 
 Aur. This night. 
 
 Meri. And in your lustful twines the duke took you ? 
 
 Aur. A most sad truth. 
 
 Men. O God, O God ! how we dull honest souls, 
 Heavy-brain'd men, are swallow'd in the bogs 
 Of a deceitful ground ! whilst nimble bloods, 
 Light-jointed spirits speed ;^ cut good men's throats, 
 And 'scape. Alas, I am too honest for this age. 
 Too full of fleam and heavy steadiness ; 
 Stood ^till whilst this slave cast a noose about me ; 130 
 Nay, then to stand in honour of him and her, 
 Who had even slic'd my heart ! 
 
 Aur. Come, I did err, 
 And am most sorrv I did err. 
 
 1 " For this . . . sovereign." — These words are omitted in ed. 2. 
 
 2 Dodsley's correction. — Ed. i. "pent;" ed. 2. "speat."
 
 250 The Malcontent. [acth. 
 
 Mejt. Why, we are both but dead : the duke hates us ; 
 And those whom prmces do once groundly hate, 
 Let them provide to die, as sure as fate. 
 Prevention is the heart of policy. 
 
 Aur. Shall we murder him ? 
 
 Men. Instantly? 
 
 Aur. Instantly ; before he casts a plot, 140 
 
 Or further blaze my honour's much-known blot. 
 Let's murder him. 
 
 Meji. I would do much for you : will ye many me ? 
 
 Aur. I'll make thee duke. We are of Medicis ; 
 Florence our friend ; in court my faction 
 Not meanly strengthful ; the duke then dead ; 
 We well prepar'd for change ; the multitude 
 Irresolutely reeling; we in force; 
 Our party seconded ; the kingdom maz'd ; 
 No doubt of swift success all shall be grac'd. 150 
 
 Men. You do confirm me ; we are resolute : 
 To-morrow look for change; rest confident. 
 'Tis now about the immodest waist of night : 
 The mother of moist dew with pallid light 
 Spreads gloomy shades about the numbed earth. 
 Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief's birth. 
 This man I'll get inhum'd. Farewell : to bed ; 
 Ay, kiss thy ^ pillow, dream the duke is dead. 
 So, so, good night. \^Exii Aurelia. 
 
 How fortune dotes on impudence ! 
 I am in private the adopted son 160 
 
 J Ed. 2. " the."
 
 SCENE III.] The Malcontent. 251 
 
 or yon good prince : 
 
 I must be duke ; why, if I must, I must. 
 
 Most silly lord, name me 1 O heaven ! I see 
 
 God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves. 
 
 The duchess is wholly mine too; must kill her husband 
 
 To quit her shame ; much ! ^ then marry her : ay. 
 
 O, I grow proud in prosperous treachery ! 
 
 As wrestlers clip, so I'll embrace you all, 
 
 Not to support, but to procure your fall. 
 
 Enter Malevole. 
 
 Mai. God arrest thee ! 170 
 
 Men. At whose suit ? 
 
 Mai. At the devil's. Ah, you treacherous, damnable 
 monster, how dost ? how dost, thou treacherous rogue ? 
 Ah, ye rascal ! I am banished the court, sirrah. 
 
 Men. Prithee, let's be acquainted ; I do love thee, 
 faith. 
 
 Mai. At your service, by the Lord, la : shall's go to 
 supper? Let's be once drunk together, and so unite a 
 most virtuously-strengthened friendship : shall's. Hugue- 
 not? shall's? 180 
 
 Men. Wilt fall upon my chamber to-morrow morn ? 
 
 Mai. As a raven to a dunghill. They say there's one 
 dead here ] pricked for the pride of the flesh. 
 
 Me7i. Ferneze : there he is ; prithee, bury him. 
 
 1 Ironical exclamation.
 
 252 The Malcontent. [act n. 
 
 Mai. O, most willingly : I mean to turn pure Rochelle ' 
 churchman, I. 
 
 Alen. Thou churchman ! why, why ? 
 
 Mai. Because I'll live lazily, rail upon authority, deny 
 kings' supremacy in things indifferent, and be a pope in 
 mine own parish. 190 
 
 Men. Wherefore dost thou think churches were made ? 
 
 Mai. To scour plough-shares : I ha' - seen oxen plough 
 up altars ; et nunc seges ubi Sionfuit? 
 
 Meti. Strange ! 
 
 Mai. Nay, monstrous ! I ha' seen a sumptuous steeple 
 turned to a stinking privy; more beastly, the sacredest 
 place made a dogs' kennel ; nay, most inhuman, the 
 stoned coffins of long-dead Christians burst up, and made 
 hogs' troughs : hie finis Priami.^ Shall I-ha' some sack 
 and cheese at thy chamber? Good night, good mis- 
 chievous incarnate devil; good night, Mendoza; ah, ye 
 inhuman villain, good night ! night, fub. 202 
 
 Men. Good night : to-morrow morn ? 
 
 Mai. Ay, I will come, friendly damnation, I will come. 
 \^Exil Mendoza.] I do descry cross-points ; honesty and 
 courtship straddle as far asunder as a true Frenchman's 
 legs. 
 
 Fer. O! 
 
 Mai. Proclamations ! more proclamations 1 
 
 Fer. O ! a surgeon ! 210 
 
 1 At this time Rochelle was an asylum for persecuted Protestants. 
 
 * Ed. 2. " have." 
 
 ^ "Jam seges est ubi Troja fuit." — Ovid, Her. Epist. i. 53. 
 
 ♦ " Htec finis Priami fatorum." — Virgil, .-£«. ii. 554.
 
 SCENE III.] The Malcontent. 253 
 
 Mai. Hark ! lust cries for a surgeon. What news from 
 Limbo? how does^ the grand cuckold, Lucifer? 
 
 Fer. O, help, help ! conceal and save me. 
 
 [Fernezi<: stirs, ajtd Malevole /lelps him tip. 
 
 Mai. Thy shame more than thy wounds do grieve me 
 far: 
 Thy wounds but leave upon thy flesh some scar ; 
 But fiime ne'er heals, still rankles worse and worse ; 
 Such is of uncontroUtjd lust the curse. 
 Think what it is in lawless sheets to lie ; 
 But, O Ferneze, what in lust to die ! 
 Then thou that shame respect'st, O, fly converse 220 
 
 With women's eyes and lisping wantonness ! 
 Stick candles 'gainst a virgin wall's white back, 
 If they not burn, yet at the least they'll black. 
 Come, ni convey thee to a private port. 
 Where thou shalt live (O happy man !) from court. 
 The beauty of the day begins to rise, 
 From whose bright form night's heavy shadow flies. 
 Now 'gin close plots to work ; the scene grows full. 
 And craves his eyes who hath a solid skull. 
 
 [^Exil, conveying Ferneze away. 
 
 1 Ed. 2. "dooth."
 
 ( 254 ) 
 
 ACT III. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A room in the Duke's Palace. 
 Enter Pietro, Mendoza, Equato, and BiLioso. 
 
 Fietro. 'Tis grown to youth of day : how shall we 
 waste this light ? 
 My heart's more heavy than a tyrant's crown. 
 Shall we go hunt? Prepare for field. \Exit Equato. 
 
 Men. Would ye could be merry ! 
 
 Pietro. Would God I could ! Mendoza, bid 'em haste. 
 
 Exit Mendoza. 
 I would fain shift place ; O vain relief! 
 Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief: 
 As deer, being struck, fly thorough many soils,^ 
 Yet still the shaft slicks fast, so 
 
 Bil. A good old simile, my honest lord. lo 
 
 Pietro. I am not much unlike to some sick man 
 That long desired hurtful drink ; at last 
 Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once 
 
 • Streams. — A deer was said to take soil when it took to the water to 
 escape the hunters.
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 255 
 
 IJoth life and thirst. O, would I ne'er had known ■ 
 My own dishonour ! Good God, that men should desire 
 To search out that, which, being found, kills all 
 Their joy of life I to taste the tree of knowledge, 
 And then be driven from out paradise ! — 
 Canst give me some comfort ? 19 
 
 Bil. My lord, I have some books which have been 
 dedicated to my honour, and I ne'er read 'em, and yet 
 they had very fine names, Physic for Fortu7ie} Lozenges 
 of sanctified sincerity ;'^ very pretty works of curates, 
 scriveners, and schoolmasters. Marry, I remember one 
 Seneca, Lucius Anna^us Seneca 
 
 Pietro. Out upon him ! he writ of temperance and 
 fortitude, yet lived like a voluptuous epicure, and died 
 like an effeminate coward. — Haste thee to Florence : 
 Here, take our letters ; see 'em seal'd : away ! 
 Report in private to the honour'd duke 30 
 
 His daughter's forc'd disgrace ; tell him at length 
 We know too much : due compliments ^ advance : 
 There's naught that's safe and sweet but ignorance.^ 
 
 \Exit. 
 
 \ "In 1579 was published a book, entitled Physic against Fortune, 
 as well prosperous as adverse, contai?ied in two Books. Written in Latin 
 by Francis Petrarch, a most famous poet and oratour, and now first 
 Englished by Thotnas Twyne. 4to. B. L." — Reed. 
 
 2 This seems to be a fictitious book, but some of the old divines chose 
 titles quite as quaint. One of Thomas Becon's works is entitled The 
 Pomander of Prayer. 
 
 ^ Ed. I. "complaints." 
 
 * What follows, down to the entrance of Malevole (1. 156), was addt-d 
 in ed. 2.
 
 256 The Malcontent. [act m. 
 
 Enter Bianca, 
 
 Bil. Madam, I am going ambassador for Florence ; 
 'twill be great charges to me. 
 
 Bian. No matter, my lord, you have the lease of two 
 manors come out next Christmas ; you may lay your 
 tenants on the greater rack for it : and when you come 
 home again, I'll teach you how you shall get two hundred 
 pounds a-year by your teeth. 40 
 
 Bil. How, madam? 
 
 Bian. Cut off so much from house-keeping : that 
 which is saved by the teeth, you know, is got by the 
 teeth. 
 
 Bil. 'Fore God, and so I may ; I am in wondrous 
 credit, \z.<\y. 
 
 Bian. See the use of flattery : I did ever counsel you 
 to flatter greatness, and you have profited well : any 
 man that will do so shall be sure to be like your Scotch 
 barnacle,^ now a block, instantly a worm, and presently a 
 great goose : this it is to rot and putrefy in the bosom of 
 greatness. 52 
 
 Bil. Thou art ever my politician. O, how happy is 
 that old lord that hath a politician to his young lady ! 
 I'll have fifty gentlemen shall attend upon me : marr}', 
 the most of them shall be farmers' sons, because they 
 shall bear their own charges ; and they shall go apparelled 
 thus, — in sea-water-green suits, ash-colour cloaks, watchet 
 
 1 It was a common superstition that this shell-fish turned itself into a 
 solan-goose. See Naves' Glossary.
 
 scKNE I.] The Malcontent. 257 
 
 stockings, and popinjay-green feathers : will not the 
 colours do excellent? 60 
 
 Bia7i. Out upon't ! they'll look like citizens riding to 
 their friends at Whitsuntide; their apparel just so many 
 several parishes. 
 
 Bil. I'll have it so ; and Passarello, my fool, shall go 
 along with me ; marry, he shall be in velvet. 
 
 Bia7i. A fool in velvet ! 
 
 Bil. Ay, 'tis common for your fool to wear satin ; I'll 
 have mine in velvet. 
 
 Bian. What will you wear, then, my lord ? 69 
 
 Bil. Velvet too ; marry, it shall be embroidered, 
 because I'll differ from the fool somewhat. I am horribly 
 troubled with the gout : nothing grieves me, but that 
 my doctor hath forbidden me wine, and you know your 
 ambassador must drink. Didst thou ask thy doctor what 
 was good for the gout ? 
 
 Bian. Yes ; he said, ease, wine, and women, were good 
 for it. 
 
 Bil. Nay, thou hast such a wit ! What was good to 
 cure it, said he ? 79 
 
 Bian. Why, the rack. All your empirics could never 
 do the like cure upon the gout the rack did in England, 
 or your Scotch boot.^ The French harlequin - will in- 
 struct you. 
 
 1 A horrid instrument of torture by which the legs were crushed. In 
 Milloeus' Praxis Criminis PerseqiieJidi, Paris, 1541, fol., there is a blood- 
 curdling representation of a victim undergoing tliis torture. The instru- 
 ment was never used in England ; but was :requently applied in France 
 and Scotland to extort confession from ciiminals. 
 
 2 Old ed. " herlakeene." 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 The Malco7itc)if. [act m. 
 
 Bil. Surely, I do wonder how thou, having for the 
 most part of thy lifetime been a country body, shouldst 
 have so good a wit. 
 
 Bian. Who, I ? why, I have been a courtier thrice two 
 months. 88 
 
 Bil. So have I this twenty year, and yet there was a 
 gentleman-usher called me coxcomb t'other day, and to 
 my face too : was't not a backbiting rascal ? I would I 
 were better travelled, that I might have been better 
 acquainted with the fashions of several countrymen : but 
 my secretary, I think, he hath sufficiently instructed me. 
 
 Bian. How, my lord ? 
 
 Bil. " Marry, my good lord," quoth he, "your lordship 
 shall ever find amongst a hundred Frenchmen forty 
 hot-shots ; amongst a hundred Spaniards, three-score 
 braggarts ; amongst a hundred Dutchmen, four-score 
 drunkards ; amongst an hundred Englishmen, four-score 
 and ten madmen ; and amongst an hundred Welsh- 
 men " 102 
 
 Bian. What, my lord ? 
 
 Bil. ''Four-score and nineteen gentlemen."^ 
 
 Bian. But since you go about a sad embassy, I would 
 have you go in black, my lord, 
 
 Bil. Why, dost think I cannot mourn, unless I wear 
 my hat in cipres,^ like an alderman's heir? that's vile, 
 very old, in faith. 
 
 Bian. I'll learn of you shortly : O, we should have a 
 
 1 Concerning Welshmen's pride in their gentility, see Middleton, iii. 23 
 {note). * Fine crape.
 
 sc K N I, I . ] 7 lie Malcotiient. 259 
 
 fine gallant of you, should not I instruct you ! How will 
 you bear yourself when you come into the Duke of 
 Florence' court ? 113 
 
 Bil. Proud enough, and 'twill do well enough : as I 
 walk up and down the chamber, I'll spit frowns about 
 me, have a strong perfume in my jerkin, let my beard 
 grow to make me look terrible, salute no man beneath 
 the fourth button ; and 'twill do excellent. 
 
 Bian. But there is a very beautiful lady there ; how 
 will you entertain her ? 120 
 
 Bil. I'll tell you that, when the lady hath entertained 
 me : but to satisfy thee, here comes the fool. 
 
 Enter Passarello. 
 Fool, thou shalt stand for the fair lady. 
 
 Pass. Your fool will stand, for your lady most willingly 
 and most uprightly. 
 
 Bil. I'll salute her in Latin. 
 
 Pass. O, your fool can unde rstand no Latin. 
 
 Bil. Ay, but your lady can. 
 
 Pass. Why, then, if your lady take down your fool, your 
 fool will stand no longer for your lady. 130 
 
 Bil. A pestilent fool ! 'fore God, I think the world 
 be turned upside down too. 
 
 Pass. O, no, sir ; for then your lady and all the ladies 
 in the palace should go with their heels upward, and that 
 were a strange sight, you know. 
 
 Bil. There be many will repine at my preferment. 
 
 Pass. O, ay, like the envy of an elder sister, that hath 
 her younger made a lady before her.
 
 26o Tlie malcontent. [acthl 
 
 Bil. The duke is wondrous discontented. 
 
 Pass. Ay, and more melancholic tlian a usurer having 
 all his money out at the death of a prince. 141 
 
 Bil. Didst thou see Madam Floria to-day ? 
 
 Pass. Yes, I found her repairing her face to-day ; the 
 red upon the white showed as if her cheeks should have 
 been served in for two dishes of barberries in stewed 
 broth, and the flesh to them a woodcock. 
 
 Bil. A bitter fool!^ — Come, madam, this night thou 
 shall enjoy me freely, and to-morrow for Florence. 148 
 
 Pass. What a natural fool is he that would be a pair 
 of boddice to a woman's petticoat, to be trussed and 
 pointed to them ! Well, I'll dog my.lord ; and the word 
 is proper : for when I fawn upon him, he feeds me ; when 
 I snap him by the fingers, he spits in my mouth. If a 
 dog's death were not strangling, I had rather be one 
 than a serving-man ; for the corruption of coin is either 
 the generation of a usurer or a lousy beggar. 
 
 \Exeunt Bianca and Passarello. 
 
 Enter Malevole in somefrize gown, whilst Bilioso 
 reads his patent. 
 
 Mai. I cannot sleep; my eyes' ill-neighbouring lids 
 Will hold no fellowship. O thou pale sober night, 
 Thou that in sluggish fumes all sense dost steep ; 
 Thou that giv'st all the world full leave to play, i6o 
 
 1 Old ed. "fowl." — The word fowl seems to have been pronounced 
 /w/(Middleton, vi. 249). Perhaps the reading "fowl" (after the men- 
 tion of "woodcock") should be retained, as some sort of joke may have 
 been intended.
 
 SCENE I. ] TJie Malcontent. 261 
 
 Unbend'st the feebled veins of sweaty labour! 
 
 The galley-slave, that all the toilsome day 
 
 Tugs at his oar against the stubborn wave, 
 
 Straining his rugged veins, snores fast ; 
 
 The stooping scythe-man, that doth barb the field, 
 
 Thou mak'st wink sure : in night all creatures sleep ; 
 
 Only the malcontent, that 'gainst his fate — , 
 
 Repines and quarrels, — alas, he's goodman tell-clock ! 1 
 
 His sallow jaw-bones sink with wasting moan ; '~' 
 
 Whilst others' beds are down, his pillow's stone. 170 
 
 Bil. Malevole ! 
 
 Mai. Elder of Israel, thou honest defect of wicked 
 nature and obstinate ignorance, when did thy wife let j 
 thee lie with her ? 
 
 Bil. I am going ambassador to Florence. 
 
 Mai. Ambassador ! Now, for thy country's honour, 
 prithee, do not put up mutton and porridge i' thy cloak- 
 bag. Thy young lady wife goes to Florence with thee 
 too, does she not ? 
 
 Bil. No, I leave her at the palace. 180 
 
 Mai. At the palace ! Now, discretion shield, man ; 
 for God's love, let's ha' no more cuckolds ! Hymen 
 begins to put off his saffron ^ robe : keep thy wife i' the 
 state of grace. Heart o' truth, I would sooner leave my 
 lady singled in a bordello than in the Genoa palace : 
 Sin there appearing in her sluttish shape, 
 Would soon grow loathsome, even to blushes' sense ; 
 Surfeit would choke - intemperate appetite, 
 
 1 Hymen was usually represented in masques with a saffron robtJT''^ 
 ^ Old eds. "cloake" and "cloke."
 
 ^ 
 
 262 The Malcontent. [act m. 
 
 Make the soul scent the rotten breath of lust. 
 
 When in an Italian lascivious palace, 190 
 
 A lady guardianless, 
 
 Left to the push of all allurement, 
 
 The strongest incitements to immodesty. 
 
 To have her bound, incens'd with wanton sweets, 
 
 Her veins fiU'd high with heating delicates. 
 
 Soft rest, sweet music, amorous masquerers, 
 
 Lascivious banquets, sin itself gik o'er, 
 
 Strong fantasy tricking up strange delights, 
 
 Presenting it dress'd pleasingly to sense, 
 
 Sense leading it unto the soul, confirm'd 200 
 
 With potent examples^impudent custom, 
 
 Entic'd by that great bawd, opportunity ; ^ 
 
 Thus being prepar'd, clap to her easy ear 
 
 Youth in good clothes, well-shap'd, rich, 
 
 Fair-spoken, promising, noble, ardent, blood-full. 
 
 Witty, flattering, — Ulysses absent, 
 
 O Ithaca,^ can chastest Penelope hold out? 
 
 Bil. Mass, I'll think on't. Farewell. 
 
 Alal. Farewell. Take thy wife with thee. Farewell. 
 
 \Exit BiLioso. 
 
 ' " So in Shakespeare's Lucrece : 
 
 ' O Opportunity, thy guilt is great ! 
 
 Thou foul abettor ! thou notorious bawd /' " — Dyee. 
 
 So Heywood : — 
 
 " Win Opportunity, 
 She's the best bawd." — Fair Maid of the West, i. i. 
 
 ' Ed. 2. "O Ithacan."
 
 SCENE I.] TJie Malcontent, 263 
 
 To Florence; um ! it may prove good, it may ; 210 
 
 And we may once unmask our brows. 
 
 Enter Celso. 
 
 Celso. My honour'd lord, — 
 
 Mai. Celso, peace ! how is't ? speak low : pale fears 
 Suspect that hedges, walls, and trees, have ears : 
 Speak, how runs all? 
 
 Celso. I'faith, my lord, that beast with many heads, 
 The staggering multitude, recoils apace : 
 Though thorough great men's envy, most men's malice, 
 Their much-intemperate heat hath banish'd you, 
 Yet now they find ^ envy and malice ne'er 220 
 
 Produce faint reformation. 
 The duke, the too soft duke, lies as a block. 
 For which two tugging factions seem to saw ; 
 But still the iron through the ribs they draw. 
 
 Mai. I tell thee, Celso, I have ever found 
 Thy breast most far from shifting cowardice 
 And fearful baseness : therefore I'll tell thee, Celso, 
 I find the wind begins to come about ; 
 I'll shift my suit of fortune. 
 
 I know the Florentine, whose only force, 230 
 
 By marrying his proud daughter to this prince, 
 Both banish'd me, and made this weak lord duke, 
 Will now forsake them all ; be sure he will: 
 ril lie in ambush for conveniency, 
 Upon their severance to confirm myself. 
 
 1 Some copies of ed. i. "faind."
 
 264 TJie IlfalcoJiteitt. [act m. 
 
 Celso. Is Ferneze interr'd ? 
 
 Mai. Of that at leisure : he lives. 
 
 Celso. But how stands Mendoza? how is't with him? 
 
 MaL Faith, like a pair of snuffers, snibs ^ filth in other 
 men, and retains it in himself.^ 240 
 
 Celso. He does fly from public notice, methinks, as a 
 hare does from hounds ; the feet whereon he flies betray 
 him. 
 
 Mai. I can track him, Celso. 
 O, my disguise fools him most powerfully ! 
 For that I seem a desperate malcontent, 
 He fain would clasp with me : he's the true slave 
 That will put on the most affected grace 
 For some vile second cause. 
 
 Celso. He's here. 
 
 Mai. Give place. [^Exil Celso. 
 
 Enter Mendoza. 
 
 lllo, ho, ho, ho ! art there, old truepenny ?' Where hast 
 
 thou spent thyself this morning ? I see flattery in thine 
 
 eyes, and damnation in thy soul. Ha, ye * huge rascal ! 
 
 Men. Thou art very merry. 253 
 
 1 Snubs, rebukes. Cf. Middleton's Five Gallants, ii. 3:— "Push ! 
 i'faith, sir, you're to blame ; you have snibbed the poor fellow too much." 
 
 2 Ed. 2. "itself." 
 
 3 " Bor. [within'] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord ! 
 
 Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come. 
 
 . art thou tlierc, truepenny f" — Hamlet, 
 « Ed. 2. " thou."
 
 scKNE I.] The Malconte7it. 265 
 
 Mai. As a scholar futuens gratis. Mow docs ^ the 
 devil go with thee now ? 
 
 Men. Malevole, thou art an arrant knave. 
 
 Mai. Who, I ? I have been a sergeant, man. 
 
 Men. Thou art very poor. 
 
 Alal. As Job, an alchymist, or a poet. 
 
 Men. The duke hates thee. 260 
 
 Mai. As Irishmen- do bum-cracks. 
 
 Men. Thou hast lost his amity. 
 
 Mai. As pleasing as maids lose their virginity. 
 
 Men. Would thou wert of a lusty spirit ! would thou 
 wert noble ! 265 
 
 Alal. Why, sure my blood gives me I am noble, sure 
 I am of noble kind ; for I find myself possessed with all 
 their qualities ; — love dogs, dice, and drabs, scorn wit in 
 stuff-clothes ; have beat my shoemaker, knocked my 
 semstress, cuckold my pothecary, and undone my tailor. 
 Noble ! why not ? since the stoic said, Neiniiiem servum 
 non ex regibus, ne7?ii7iejn regent non ex servis esse oriicndum ;'^ 
 only busy Fortune touses, and the provident Chances 
 blend them together. I'll give you a simile : did you e'er 
 
 1 Ed. 2. " dooth." 
 
 2 "This fantastical cohibition against the freedom of Nature in this 
 part, makes me reflect upon as inconvenient a restraint (deserving but 
 a collateral insertion) imposed upon the reverse of this and the benefit 
 v^e receive from the egestions of Port Esquiline. For the Guineans are 
 very careful [tie parda7it\, and wondered much at the Netherlanders' 
 rusticity and impudence. . . , The Irish are muck of the same opinion 
 in this point of unnatural restraint, whereas the Romans, by an edict 
 of Claudius the Emperor, most consonant to the law of Nature, at all 
 times and in all places, upon a just necessity, freely challenged the bene- 
 fit of Nature." — Bulwer's Artificial Changeling, ed. 1650, p. 220. 
 
 3 Seneca, Epist. .xliv.
 
 266 The Malcontent. [act m. 
 
 see a well with two buckets, whilst one comes up full 
 to be emptied, another goes down empty to be filled ? 
 such is the state of all humanity. Why, look you, I 
 may be the son of some duke ; for, believe me, intempe- 
 rate lascivious bastardy makes nobility doubtful : I have 
 a lusty daring heart, Mendoza. 280 
 
 Alen. Let's grasp ; I do like thee infinitely : wilt enact 
 one thing for me ? 
 
 Mai. Shall I get by it? [Men. ^/V'^j /«';;/ his purse ^ 
 Command me ; I am thy slave, beyond deatli and hell. 
 
 Men. Murder the duke. 
 
 Mai. My heart's wish, my soul's desire, my fantasy's 
 dream, my blood's longing, the only height of my hopes ! 
 How, O God, how ! O, how my united spirits throng 
 together, to ^ strengthen my resolve ! 
 
 Men. The duke is now a-hunting. 290 
 
 Mai. Excellent, admirable, as the devil would have it ! 
 Lend me, lend me, rapier, pistol, cross-bow: so, so, I'll 
 do it. 
 
 Men. Tlien we agree. 
 
 Alal. As Lent and fishmongers. Come, a-cap-a-pe, 
 how? inform. 
 
 Men. Know that this weak-brain'd duke, who only 
 stands 
 On Florence' stilts, hath out of witless zeal 
 Made me his heir, and secretly confirm d 
 The wreath to nie after his life's full point 300 
 
 Mai. Upon what merit ? 
 
 > Old eds. "so."
 
 SCENE I.] The Malconte7it. 267 
 
 Men. Merit ! by heaven, I horn him : 
 Only Ferneze's death gave me state's life. 
 Tut, we are politic, he must not live now. 
 
 Mai. No reason, marry : but how must he die now ? 
 
 Men. My utmost project is to murder the duke, that 
 I might have his state, because he makes me his heir ; 
 to banish the duchess, that I might be rid of a cunning 
 Lacedaemonian, because I know Florence will forsake 
 her; and then to marry Maria, the banished Duke 
 Altofront's wife, that her friends might strengthen me 
 and my faction : that is all, la. 311 
 
 Mai. Do you love Maria? 
 
 Men. Failh, no great affection, but as wise men do 
 love great women, to ennoble their blood and augment 
 their revenue. To accomplish this now, thus now. The 
 duke is in the forest next the sea : single him, kill him, 
 hurl him i' the main, and proclaim thou sawest wolves 
 eat him. 
 
 Mai. Um ! not so good. Methinks when he is slain, 
 To get some hypocrite, some dangerous wretch 320 
 
 That's muffled o['e]r with feigned holiness. 
 To swear he heard the duke on some steep cliff 
 Lament his wife's dishonour, and, in an agony 
 Of his heart's torture, hurl'd his groaning sides 
 Into the swollen sea, — this circumstance 
 Well made sounds probable : and hereupon 
 The duchess 
 
 Men. May well be banish'd : 
 O unpeerable invention ! rare ! 
 Thou god of policy ! it honeys me. 330
 
 268 The Malcontent. [act m. 
 
 Afal. Then fear not for the wife of Altofront ; 
 I'll close to her. 
 
 Men. Thou shalt, thou shalt. Our excellency is 
 pleas'd : 
 Why wert not thou an emperor ? when we 
 Are duke, I'll make thee some great man, sure. 
 
 Mai. Nay, 
 Make me some rich knave, and I'll make myself 
 Some great man. 
 
 Men. In thee be all my spirit : 
 Retain ten souls, unite thy virtual powers : 
 Resolve ; ha, remember greatness ! heart, farewell : 340 
 The fate of all my hopes in thee doth dwell. \_Exit. 
 
 Jve-enter Celso. 
 Mai. Celso, didst hear? — O heaven, didst hear 
 Such devilish mischief? suffer'st thou the world 
 Carouse damnation even with greedy swallow, 
 And still dost wink, still does thy vengeance slumber? 
 If now thy brows arc clear, when will they thunder? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A forest near the sea. 
 
 Enter Pietro, Ferrardo, Prepasso, and Three 
 Pages. 
 
 Fer. The dogs are at a fault. 
 
 [Cornets like horns within. 
 Pietro. Would God nothing but the dogs were at it !
 
 scEVE II.] The Malconloit. 269 
 
 Let the deer pursue safety/ the dogs follow the game, 
 and do you follow the dogs : as for me, 'lis unfit one 
 beast should hunt another; I ha' one chaseth nie : an't^ 
 please you, I would be rid of ye a little. 
 
 Fer. Would your grief would, as^ soon as we, leave 
 you to quietness ! 
 
 Pietro. I thank you. 
 
 \Exeicnt Ferrardo arid Prepasso. 
 Boy, what dost thou dream of now? jo 
 
 First Page. Of a dry summer, my lord ; for here's a 
 hot world towards : but, my lord, I had a strange dream 
 last night. 
 
 Pidro. What strange dream ? 
 
 First Page. Why, methought I pleased you with 
 singing, and then I dreamt that you gave me that short 
 sword. 
 
 Pietro. Prettily begged : hold thee, I'll prove thy 
 dream true; take't. [Giving s-word. 
 
 First Page. ]\Iy duty : but still I dreamt on, my lord ; 
 and methought, an't- shall please your excellency, you 
 would needs out of your royal bounty give me that jewel 
 in your hat. 23 
 
 Pietro. O, thou didst but dream, boy ; do not believe 
 it: dreams prove not always true; they may hold in a 
 short sword, but not in a jewel. But now, sir, you 
 dreamt you had pleased me with singing ; make that 
 true, as I ha' made the other. 
 
 ^ Old eds. "safely." 
 
 - Ed. I. " and please you." 
 
 2 Ed. 2.3" as soone ieaue you as we to quietnesse."
 
 2/0 The Malcontent. [act m. 
 
 First Page. Faith, my lord, I did but dream, and 
 dreams, you say, prove not always true ; they may hold 
 in a good sword, but not in a good song : the truth is, I 
 ha' lost my voice. 32 
 
 Pietro. Lost thy voice ! how ? 
 
 First Page. With dreaming, faith : but here's a couple 
 of sirenical rascals shall enchant ye : what shall they 
 sing, my good lord ? 
 
 Pietro. Sing of the nature of women ; and then the 
 song shall be surely full of variety, old crotchets, and 
 most sweet closes : it shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, 
 amorous, melancholy, sprightly, one in all, and all in 
 one. 41 
 
 First Page. All in one ! 
 
 Pietro. By'r lady, too many. Sing : my speech grows 
 culpable of unthrifty idleness : sing. Ah, so, so, sing. 
 
 Song by Second and Third Pages. 
 
 I am heavy: walk off; I shall talk in my sleep : walk 
 off. \Exeunt Pages. 
 
 Enter Malevole, with cross-bow and pistol. 
 
 Mai. Brief, brief: who? the duke ! good heaven, that 
 fools 
 Should stumble upon greatness ! — Do not sleep, duke ; 
 Give ye good-morrow : I ^ must be brief, duke ; 
 I am fee'd to murder thee : start not : Mendoza, 50 
 
 1 For "I must" ed. i. reads "must ;" ed. 2. "you must"
 
 scKNT. II.] T lie Malcontent. 271 
 
 Mendoza hir'd me ; here's his gold, his pistol, 
 Cross-bow, and ^ sword : 'tis all as firm as earth. 
 O fool, fool, choked with the common maze 
 Of easy idiots, credulity ! 
 Make him thine heir ! what, thy sworn murderer ! 
 
 Pieiro. O, can it be ? 
 
 Mai. Can 1 
 
 Pietro. Discover'd he not Ferneze? 
 
 Mai. Yes, but why? but why? for love to thee? 
 Much, much ! - to be reveng'd upon his rival, 
 Who had thrust his jaws awry ; 
 
 Who being slain, suppos'd by thine own hands, 60 
 
 Defended by his sword, made thee most loathsome, 
 Him most gracious with thy loose princess : 
 Thou, closely yielding egress and regress to her, 
 Madest him heir; whose hot unquiet lust 
 Straight tous'd thy sheets, and now would seize thy state. 
 Politician ! wise man ! death ! to be 
 Led to the stake like a bull by the horns ; 
 To make even kindness cut a gentle throat ! 
 Life, why art thou numb'd ? thou foggy dulness, speak : 
 Lives not more faith in a home-thrusting tongue 70 
 
 Than in these fencing tip-tap courtiers? 
 
 Enter Celso, with a hermit's gown and beard. 
 
 Pietro? Lord Malevole, if this be true 
 
 Mai. If! come, shade thee with this disguise. If! 
 
 1 Omitted in ed. i, * Ironical exclamation. 
 
 - Old eds. " Cel."
 
 -/-' 
 
 The Malcontent. [act ui. 
 
 thou shalt handle it ; he shall thank thee for killing thy- 
 self. Come, follow my directions, and thou shalt see 
 strange sleights. 
 
 Pietro. World, whither wilt thou ? 
 
 Mai. Why, to the devil. Come, the morn grows late: 
 A steady quickness is the soul of state. \^Exeuni.
 
 ( 273 ) 
 
 ACT JV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Palace of the Duke. 
 
 Enter Maquerelle. 
 
 Maq. \Knocking at the ladies^ door.'\ Medam, medam, 
 are you stirring, medam ? if you be stirring, medam, — ii' 
 I thought I should disturb ye — 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Eage. My lady is up, forsooth. 
 
 Mag. A pretty boy, faith : how old art thou ? 
 
 Page. I think fourteen. 
 
 Maq. Nay, an ye be in the teens — are ye a gentleman 
 born? do you know me? my name is Medam Maquerelle: 
 I lie in the old Cun"^y-court. 
 
 [-Pa^^.] See, here the ladies. lo 
 
 Enter Bianca and Emilia. 
 
 Bian. A fair day to ye, Maquerelle. 
 Emit. Is the duchess up yet, sentinel ? 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 2/4 TJic Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 Maq. O ladies, the most abominable mischance ! O 
 dear ladies, the most piteous disaster ! Ferneze was 
 taken last night in the duchess' chamber : alas, the duke 
 catched him and killed him ! 
 
 Biaii. Was he found in bed ? 17 
 
 Maq. O, no ; but the villainous certainty is, the door 
 was not bolted, the tongue-tied hatch held his peace : so 
 the naked troth is, he was found in his shirt, whilst I, 
 like an arrant beast, lay in the outward chamber, heard 
 nothing ; and yet they came by me in the dark, and yet 
 I felt them not, like a senseless creature as I was. O 
 beauties, look to your busk-points ;^ if not chastely, yet 
 charily : be sure the door be bolted. — Is your lord gone 
 to Florence? 
 
 Bian. Yes, Maquerelle. 27 
 
 Maq. I hope you'il find the discretion to purchase a 
 fresh gown 'fore his return. — Now, by my troth, beauties, 
 I would ha' ye once wise : he loves ye ; pish ! he is witty; 
 bubble ! fair-proportioned ; mew ! nobly-born ; wind ! 
 Let this be still your fixed position ; esteem me every 
 man according to his good gifts, and so ye shall ever re- 
 main most worthy to be, most dear ladies. 
 
 Emit. Is the duke returned from hunting yet ? 
 Maq. They say not yet. 
 
 Bia7i. 'Tis now in midst of day. 37 
 
 Emit. How bears the duchess with this blemish now } 
 
 Maq. Faith, boldly ; strongly defies defame, as one 
 
 that has a duke to her father. And there's a note to 
 
 ^ The tagged laces by which the busk (the upright piece of whalebone 
 in the front of the stays) was fastened.
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 275 
 
 you : be sure of a stout friend in a corner, that may 
 always awe your husband. Mark the bcliaviour of the 
 duchess now : she dares defame ; cries, " Duke, do what 
 thou canst, I'll quit mine honour : " nay, as one confirmed 
 in her own virtue against ten thousand mouths that 
 mutter her disgrace, she's presently for dances. 
 
 Bian. For dances ! 
 
 Maq. Most true. 
 
 Etnil. Most strange. 
 
 Enter Ferrardo. 
 
 See, here's my servant, young Ferrardo : how many ser- 
 vants thinkest thou I have, Maquerelle ? 51 
 
 Maq. The more, the merrier : 'twas well said, use 
 your servants as you do your smocks ; have many, use 
 one, and change often ; for that's most sweet and court- 
 like. 
 
 Fer. Save ye, fair ladies ! Is the duke return'd? 
 
 Bian. Sweet sir, no voice of him as yet in court. 
 
 Fer. 'Tis very strange. 
 
 Bian. And how like you my servant, Maquerelle ? 59 
 
 Maq. I think he could hardly draw Ulysses' bow ; but, 
 by my fidelity, were his nose narrower, his eyes broader, 
 his hands thinner, his lips thicker, his legs bigger, his 
 feet lesser, his hair blacker, and his teeth whiter, he were 
 a tolerable sweet youth, i'faith. And he will come to my 
 chamber, I will read him the fortune of his beard. 
 
 [ Cornets sound within. 
 
 Fer. Not yet returned ! I fear — but the duchess 
 approacheth.
 
 2/6 The Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 Enter Mendoza supporting Aurelia and Guerrino : 
 the ladies that are on the stage rise: Ferrardo 
 ushers in Aurelia, and then takes a lady to tread a 
 measure} 
 
 Aur. We will dance : — music ! — we will dance. 
 
 Guer. Les quanto"^ l^-dy, Fetisez bien, Passa regis, or 
 Biancd's brawl? 70 
 
 Aur. We have forgot the brawl. 
 
 Fer. So soon ? 'tis wonder. 
 
 Guer. Why, 'tis but two singles on the left, two on 
 the right, three doubles ^ forward, a traverse of six round : 
 do this twice, three singles side, galliard trick-of-twenty,* 
 coranto-pace ; a figure of eight, three singles broken 
 down, come up, meet, two doubles, fall back, and then 
 honour. 
 
 Aur. O Daedalus, thy maze ! I have quite forgot it. 
 
 ^ A slow solemn dance. 
 
 2 " Qy. ' Los guantes f Mr. CoXWer (Shakespeare Soc. Papers, i. 28), 
 quotes from Rawlinson's MS. No. 108, Bodl. Lib., a list of dances, 
 among which is 'Quarto dispayne ; ' while Mr. Halliwell (Diet, of Arch, 
 and Prov. Words) gives from the same MS., '^a<7«to-dispaine.' — In 
 Munday's Banquet of Daintie Conceits, 1588, is : — 
 
 " ' A Dyttie expressing a familiar controversie between Wit and Will : 
 wherein Wit mildlie rebuketh the follies of Will, and slieweth him (as 
 in a glasse) the fall of wilfull heads. 
 
 " ' This Dittie may be sung after the note of a courtlie dauncc, called 
 Les Guanto.' "—Dyce. 
 
 2 Ed. I. "double." 
 
 * We have the expression " trick-of-twenty " again in the Dutch 
 Courtesan. What the particular figure was I am unable to say. (Some- 
 times "trick-of-twenty" is used in the sense of "excellent device." 
 Cf. Brome's City Wit, iv. 2: — "Well, 'twas mine error, not malice; 
 but as for the procurer of it, if I pay not him in his own coin, Mr. 
 F'ootwell ! I'll show you a trick of twenty.")
 
 scENK I.] TJie ]\Talcontent. 277 
 
 Maq. Trust me, so have I, savint^ the falHng-back, and 
 then honour. 81 
 
 Aur. Music, music ! 
 
 Enter Prepasso. 
 
 Prep. Who saw the duke ? the duke ? 
 Aitr. Music ! 
 
 Enter Equato. 
 
 Equato. The duke? is the duke returned? 
 Aur. Music ! 
 
 Enter Celso. 
 
 Celso. The duke is either quite invisible, or else is not. 
 
 Aur. We are not pleased with your intrusion upon 
 our private retirement ; we are not pleased : you have 
 forgot yourselves, 90 
 
 Enter a Page. 
 
 Celso. Boy, thy master? where's the duke? 
 
 Page. Alas, I left him burying the earth with his spread 
 joyless limbs : he told me he was heavy, would sleep ; 
 bade ^ me walk oft", for that the strength of fantasy oft 
 made him talk ^ in his dreams. I straight obeyed, nor 
 ever' saw him since : but wheresoe'er he is, he's sad. 
 
 Aur. Music, sound high, as is our heart ! sound high ! 
 
 Enter Malevole, and Pietro disguised like a?i 
 hermit. 
 
 Mai. The duke, — peace ! — the duke is dead. 
 
 1 Ed. 2. "bid." 2 Ed. i. "talking." 
 
 ' Some copies of ed. i. "neuer."
 
 278 The ]\Ialcontent. [act iv. 
 
 Aur. Music ! 
 
 Alal. Is't music ? 100 
 
 Men. Give proof. 
 
 Fer. How? 
 
 Celso. Where ? 
 
 Prep. When? 
 
 Mai. Rest in peace, as the duke does ; quietly sit : for 
 my own part, I beheld him but dead ; that's all : marry, 
 here's one can give you a more particular account of him. 
 
 Alen. Speak, holy father, nor let any brow 
 Within this presence fright thee from the truth : 
 Speak confidently and freely. 
 
 Aur. We attend. no 
 
 Pietro. Now had the mounting sun's all-ripening wings 
 Swept the cold sweat of night from earth's dank breast, 
 When I, whom men call Hermit of the Rock, 
 Forsook my cell, and clambered up a cliff, 
 Against whose base the heady Neptune dash'd 
 His high-curi'd brows ; there 'twas I eas'd my limbs : 
 When, lo ! my entrails melted with the moan 
 Some one, who far 'bove me was climb'd, did make — 
 I shall offend. 
 
 Alen. Not. 120 
 
 Aur. On. 
 
 Pietro. INIethinks I hear him yet : — " O female faith ! 
 Go sow the ingrateful sand, and love a woman : 
 And do I live to be the scoff of men ? 
 To be the ^ wittol-cuckold, even to hug 
 
 1 Ed. I. "their."
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 279 
 
 My poison ? Thou knowest, O truth ! 
 
 Sooner hard steel will melt with southern wind, 
 
 A seaman's whistle calm the ocean, 
 
 A town on fire be extinct with tears, 
 
 Than women, vow'd to blushless impudence, 130 
 
 With sweet behaviour and soft minioning ^ 
 
 Will turn from that where appetite is fix'd. 
 
 powerful blood ! how thou dost slave their soul ! 
 
 1 wash'd an Ethiop, who, for recompense, 
 Sullied my name : and must I, then, be forc'd 
 To walk, to live thus black ? must ! must ! fie ! 
 He that can bear with must, he cannot die." 
 With that, he sigh'd so - passionately deep, 
 That the dull air even groan'd : at last he cries, 
 
 "Sink shame in seas, sink deep enough !" so dies ; 140 
 For then I viewed his body fall, and souse ^ 
 Into the foamy main. O, then I saw. 
 That which methinks I see, it was the duke ; 
 Whom straight the nicer-stomach'd sea belch'd up : 
 But then 
 
 Alal. Then came I in ; but, 'las, all was too late ! 
 For even straight he sunk. 
 
 Pietro. Such was the duke's sad fate. 
 
 Celso. A better fortune to our Duke Mendoza ! 
 
 Omnes. Mendoza ! \Cornets flourish. 150 
 
 Men. A guard, a guard ! 
 
 1 " i.e., being treated as a minion or darling." — Sieevens. 
 3 Ed. 2. "too." 
 
 * Fall with violence. — The word is used of a hawk swooping down on 
 its prey.
 
 2 So The Malconte7if. [act iv. 
 
 Enter a Guard. 
 
 We, full of hearty tears, 
 For our good father's loss, 
 (For so we well may call him 
 Who did beseech your loves for our succession), 
 Cannot so lightly over-jump his death 
 As leave his woes revengeless. — Woman of shame, 
 
 \To AURELIA. 
 
 We banish thee for ever to the place 
 
 From whence this good man comes ; nor permit, 
 
 On death, unto thy ^ body any ornament ; 
 
 But, base as was thy life, depart away. i6o 
 
 Aur. Ungrateful ! 
 
 Men. Away ! 
 
 Aur. Villain, hear me ! 
 
 Men. Begone ! 
 
 [Prepasso and Guerrino lead away Aurelia 
 guarded. 
 
 My lords, 
 Address to public council ; 'tis most fit : 
 The train of fortune is borne up by wit. 
 Away ! our presence shall be sudden \ haste. 
 
 \All depart, except Mendoza, Malevole, and Pietro. 
 
 Mai. Now, you egregious devil ! ha, ye murdering 
 politician ! how dost, duke ? how dost look now ? brave 
 duke, i'faith. 170 
 
 Alen. How did you kill him ? 
 
 1 Old eds. " the."
 
 scENF. i.i 1 lie Malcontent. 281 
 
 Mai. Slatted ^ his brains out, then soused him in the 
 briny sea. 
 
 Men. Brained him, and drowned him too? 
 
 Mai. O 'twas best, sure work ; for he that strilces a 
 great man, let him strike home, or else 'ware, he'll prove 
 no man : shoulder not a huge fellow, unless you may be 
 sure to lay him in the kennel. 
 
 Men. A most sound brain-pan ! I'll make you both 
 emperors. iSo 
 
 JMal. Make us .Christians, make us Christians. 
 
 Alen. I'll hoist ye, ye shall mount. 
 
 Mai. To the gallows, say ye ? come : ^ prccmiuvi in- 
 certum petit cerium scelus.'^ How stands the progress ? 
 
 Men. Here, take my ring unto the citadel ; 
 
 [Giving ring. 
 Have entrance to Maria, the grave duchess 
 Of banish'd Altofront. Tell her we love her ; 
 Omit no circumstance to grace our person : do't. 
 
 Mai. I'll * make an excellent pander : duke, farewell ; 
 'dieu, adieu, duke. 190 
 
 Me7i. Take Maquerelle with thee ; for 'tis found 
 None cuts a diamond but a diamond. \Exit Malevole. 
 
 Hermit, 
 Thou art a man for me, my confessor : 
 
 1 " i.e., dashed. It is a North-country word. See Ray's Collection of 
 English Words, p. 54, ed. 1768." — Reed. 
 
 2 Some copies of ed. i. " O 6 me." 
 2 " prsemium incertum petis, 
 
 Certum scelus." — Seneca, P/iccn. 632. 
 
 * Ed. I. " Iste,"
 
 2S2 The Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 O thou selected spirit, born for my good ! 
 Sure thou wouldst make 
 An excellent elder in a deform'd church. 
 Come, we must be inward,^ thou and I all one. 
 
 Fietro. I am glad I was ordained for ye. 
 
 Men. Go to, then ; thou must know that Malevole is a 
 strange villain ; dangerous, very dangerous : you see how 
 broad 'a speaks ; a gross-jawed rogue : I would have thee 
 poison him : he's like a corn upon my great toe, I cannot go 
 for him ; he must be cored out, he must. Wilt do't, ha ? 
 
 Pietro. Anything, anything. 204 
 
 Men. Heart of my life ! thus, then. To the citadel : 
 Thou shalt consort with this Malevole ; 
 There being at supper, poison him : it shall be laid 
 Upon Maria, who yields love or dies : 
 Scud quick.- 
 
 Fietro. Like lightning : good deeds crawl, but mischief 
 flies. \^Exit. 210 
 
 Re-enter Malevole. 
 
 Mai. Your devilship's ring has no virtue : the buff- 
 captain, the sallow Westphalian gammon-faced zaza cries, 
 ''Stand out;" must have a stiffer warrant, or no pass 
 into the castle of comfort. 
 
 Men. Command our sudden letter. — Not enter ! sha't : 
 what place is there in Genoa but thou shalt ? into my 
 
 ^ Intimate. 
 
 * Ed. 2. " Skud quicke like lightning. 
 
 Fie. Good deedes crawl, but mischiefe flies."
 
 SCENE I.] The Malcontent. 283 
 
 heart, into my very heart : come, lei's love ; we must love, 
 we two, soul and body. 
 
 Mai. How didst like the hermit? a strange hermit, 
 sirrah. 220 
 
 Alen. A dangerous fellow, very perilous : 
 He must die. 
 
 Mai. Ay, he must die. 
 
 Men. Thou'st^ kill him. 
 We are wise ; we must be wise. 
 
 Mai. And provident. 
 
 Men. Yea, provident : beware an hypocrite ; 
 A churchman once corrupted, O, avoid ! 
 A fellow that makes religion his stalking-horse,- 
 He breeds a plague : thou shalt poison him. 
 
 Mai. O, 'tis wondrous necessary: how? 
 
 Men. You both go jointly to the citadel ; 
 There sup, there poison him : and Maria, 230 
 
 Because she is our opposite, shall bear 
 The sad suspect ; on which she dies or loves us. 
 
 Mai. I run. \^Exit. 
 
 Men. We that are great, our sole self-good still moves 
 us. 
 They shall die both, for their deserts crave more 
 Than we can recompense : their presence still 
 Imbraids ^ our fortunes with beholdingness, 
 
 1 A contraction of " Thou must." 
 
 2 " In the margin at this place, the words 'shoots under his belly'' 
 are inserted ; which is merely an explanation of the manner in which 
 a corrupted churchman malces religion his stalking-horse, viz. by shoot- 
 ing at his object under its belly." — Collier. 
 
 * Upbraids.
 
 284 The Ula/contejit. [act iv. 
 
 Which we abhor ; like deed, not doer : then conclude, 
 They live not to cry out "Ingratitude !" 
 One stick burns t'other, steel cuts steel alone : 240 
 
 'Tis good trust few ; but, O, 'tis best trust none ! \^Exii. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Court of the Palace. 
 
 Enter Malevole and Pietro, still disguised, at 
 several doors. 
 
 Mai. How do you? how dost, duke? 
 
 Pietro. O, let 
 The last day fall ! drop, drop on ^ our curs'd heads ! 
 Let heaven unclasp itself, vomit forth flames : 
 
 Mai. O, do not rave," do not turn player; there's 
 more of them than can well live one by another already. 
 What, art an infidel still ? 
 
 Pietro. I am amazed ; ^ struck in a swown with wonder : 
 I am commanded to poison thee — 
 
 Mai. I am commanded to poison thee at supper — 
 
 Pietro. At supper — 
 
 Mai. In the citadel — 
 
 Pietro. In the citadel. 10 
 
 Mai. Cross capers ! tricks ! truth o' heaven ! he ^ 
 would discharge us as boys do eldern guns, one pellet to 
 strike out another. Of what faith art now ? 
 
 1 Ed. I. "in." 2 Ed. 2. "rand." 
 
 ^ Some copies of ed. i. " mazde." * Added in ed. 2,
 
 SCENE II.] The ]\Ialconte7it. 285 
 
 Pietro. All is damnation ; wickedness extreme : 
 There is no faith in man. 
 
 Mai. In none but usurers and brokers ; they deceive 
 no man : men take 'em for blood-suckers, and so they 
 are. Now, God deliver me from my friends ! 
 
 Pietro. Thy friends ! 19 
 
 Mai. Yes, from my friends ; for from mine enemies 
 I'll deliver myself. O, cut-throat friendship is the rankest 
 villainy! Mark this Mendoza; mark him for a villain : 
 but heaven will send a plague upon him for a rogue. 
 
 Pietro. O world ! 
 
 Afal. World ! 'tis the only region of death, the greatest 
 shop of the devil ; the crudest prison of men, out of 
 the which none pass without paying their dearest breath 
 for a fee ; there's nothing perfect in it but extreme, ex- 
 treme calamity, such as comes yonder. 
 
 Enter Aurelia, tivo halberts before and tzvo after, sup- 
 ported by Celso and Ferrardo ; Aurelia in base 
 mourning attire. 
 
 Aur. To banishment ! lead^ on to banishment ! 30 
 Pietro. Lady, the blessedness of repentance to you ! 
 Aur. Why, why, I can desire nothing but death, 
 Nor deserve anything but hell. 
 If heaven should give sufificiency of grace 
 To clear my soul, it would make heaven graceless : 
 My sins would make the stock of mercy poor; 
 
 1 Ed. I. "led." — Ed. 2. "ledde." 
 
 U]
 
 2 86 TJie Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 O, they would tire ^ heaven's goodness to reclaim them ! 
 
 Judgment is just yet ^ from that vast villain ; 
 
 But, sure, he shall not miss sad punishment 
 
 'Fore he shall rule. — On to my cell of shame ! 40 
 
 Fietro. My cell 'tis, lady ; where, instead of masks, 
 Music, tilts, tourneys, and such court-like shows, 
 The hollow murmur of the checkless winds 
 Shall groan again ; whilst the unquiet sea 
 Shakes the whole rock with foarny battery. 
 There usherless ^ the air comes in and out : 
 The rheumy vault will force your eyes to weep. 
 Whilst you behold true desolation : 
 A rocky barrenness shall pain * your eyes, 
 Where all at once one reaches where he stands, 50 
 
 With brows the roof, both walls with both his hands. 
 
 Aur. It is too good. — Bless'd spirit of my lord, 
 O, in what orb soe'er thy soul is thron'd. 
 Behold me worthily most miserable ! • 
 O, let the anguish of my contrite spirit 
 Entreat some reconciliation ! 
 If not, O, joy, triumph in my just grief! 
 Death is the end of woes and tears' relief 
 
 Fietro. Belike your lord not lov'd you, was unkind. 
 
 Aur. O heaven ! 60 
 
 1 Some copies of ed. i. " try." 
 
 ' The text is not satisfactory, though the meaning is perfectly plain. — 
 Quy. "Judgment is just,jM, ien from," &c. 
 
 ' ' ' i.e. without the ceremony of an usher to give notice of its approach, 
 as is usual in courts. As fine as Shakespeare : ' the bleak air thy 
 boisterous chamberlain." " — Charles Lamb. 
 
 * Ed. 2. "pierce."
 
 SCENE II.] The Male onte7it. 287 
 
 As the soul loves ^ the body, so lov'd he : 
 
 'Twas death to him to part my presence, heaven 
 
 To see me pleas'd. 
 
 Yet I, like to a wretch given o'er to hell. 
 
 Brake all the sacred rites of marriage, 
 
 To clip a base ungentle faithless villain ; 
 
 O God ! a very pagan reprobate — 
 
 What should I say ? ungrateful, throws me out. 
 
 For whom I lost soul, body, fame, and honour. 
 
 But 'tis most fit : why should a belter fate ^ 70 
 
 Attend on any who forsake chaste sheets ; 
 
 Fly the embrace of a devoted heart, /^ 
 
 Join'd by a solemn vow 'fore God and man,' 
 
 To taste the brackish flood ^ of beastly lust 
 
 In an adulterous touch ? O ravenous immodesty ! 
 
 Insatiate impudence of appetite ! 
 
 Look, here's your end ; for mark, what sap in dust, 
 
 What good in sin,^ even so much love in lust. 
 
 Joy to thy ghost, sweet lord ! pardon to me ! 
 
 Celso. 'Tis the duke's pleasure this night you rest in 
 court. So 
 
 Atir. Soul, lurk in shades ; run, shame, from bright- 
 some skies : 
 In night the blind man misseth not his eyes. 
 
 \^Exit with Celso, Ferrardo, and halberts. 
 
 Mai. Do not weep, kind cuckold : take comfort, 
 man ; thy betters have been beccos : ^ Agamemnon, 
 
 1 Oldeds. "lou'd." 2 Old eds. "bloud." 
 
 'Old eds. "What sinne in good," &c. * Cuckolds,
 
 2 88 The Malco7itent. [act iv. 
 
 emperor of all the merry Greeks, that tickled all the 
 true Trojans, was a cornuto ; Prince Arthur, that cut 
 off twelve kings' beards, was a cornuto ; Hercules, 
 whose back bore up heaven, and got forty wenches with 
 child in one night, — 
 
 Fietro. Nay, 'twas fifty. 90 
 
 Mai. Faith, forty's enow, o' conscience, — yet was a 
 cornuto. Patience ; mischief grows proud : be wise. 
 
 Fietro. Thou pinchest too deep; art too keen upon 
 me. 
 
 Mai. Tut, a pitiful surgeon makes a dangerous sore : 
 I'll tent thee to the ground. Thinkest I'll sustain myself 
 by flattering thee, because thou art a prince ? I had 
 rather follow a drunkard, and live by licking up his vomit, 
 than by servile flattery. 
 
 Fietro. Yet great men ha' done 't. 100 
 
 Mai. Great slaves fear better than love, born naturally 
 for a coal-basket ; ^ though the common usher of princes' 
 presence, Fortune, ha''^ blindly given them better place. 
 I am vowed to be thy afihction. 
 
 Fietro. Prithee, be ; 
 I love much misery, and be thou son to me. 
 
 Alal. Because you are an usurping duke. 
 
 Enter BiLioso. 
 
 Your lordship's well returned from Florence. 
 JBil. Well returned, I praise my horse. 
 
 1 To carry coals was esteemed the vilest employment to which a man 
 could be put. 
 
 2 Ed. 2. "hath."
 
 SCENE n.] The Malcontejit. 289 
 
 Mai. What news from the Florentines? 
 
 Bil. I will conceal the great duke's pleasure ; only 
 this was his charge : his pleasure is, that his daughter 
 die ; Duke Pietro be banished for banishing his blood's 
 dishonour; and that Duke Altofront be re-accepted. 
 This is all : but I hear Duke Pietro is dead. 114 
 
 Mai. A}', and Mendoza is duke : what. will you do? 
 
 Bil. Is Mendoza strongest ? 
 
 Mai. Yet he is. 
 
 Bil. Then yet I'll hold with him. 
 
 Mai. But if that Altofront should turn straight again ? 
 
 Bil. Why, then, I would turn straight again. 120 
 
 'Tis good run still with him that has most might : 
 I had rather stand with wrong, than fall with right. 
 
 Maiy What religion will you be of now? 
 
 Bil. Of the duke's religion,- when I know what it is. 
 
 Mai. O Hercules ! 
 
 Bil. Hercules! Hercules was the son of Jupiter and 
 Alcmena. 
 
 Mai. Your lordship is a very wit-all. 
 
 Bil Wittal! 
 
 Aial. Ay, all-wit. ♦ 130 
 
 1 " What[ed. i. (9/"w//(7/] religion . . . cuckold "(11. 123-137). — This 
 passage is not found in some copies of ed. i. 
 
 2 Cf. Day's Isle of Gulls, iii. i :— 
 
 '''■ Lys. Thou speak'st like a Christian : pretheewhat religion art of? 
 
 Man. How many soever I make use of, I'll answer with Piavano 
 Orlotto the Italian, I profess the Duke's only. 
 
 Demef. What's his reason for that ? 
 
 Man. A very sound reason : for, says he, I came raw into the world 
 and I would not willingly go roasted out." 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 The Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 Bit. Amphitryo was a cuckold. 
 
 Mai. Your lordship sweats ; your young lady will get 
 you a cloth for your old worship's brows. \^Exit BiLioso.] 
 Here's a fellow to be damned : this is his inviolable 
 maxim, — flatter the greatest and oppress the least : a 
 whoreson flesh-fly, that still gnaws upon the lean galled 
 backs. 
 
 Pietro. Why dost, then, salute him? 138 
 
 Afal. Faith, ^ as bawds go to church, for fashion' sake. 
 Come, be not confounded ; thou'rt but in danger to lose 
 a dukedom. Think this : — this earth is the only grave 
 and Golgotha wherein all things that live must rot ; 'tis 
 but the draught wherein the heavenly bodies discharge 
 their corruption ; the very muck-hill on which the 
 sublunary orbs cast their excrements : man is the slime_ 
 of this dung-pit, and princes are the governors of these 
 men ; for, for our souls, they are as free as emperors, 
 all of one piece ; there ^ goes but a pair of shears _ 
 betwixt an emperor and the son of a bagpiper ; only 
 the dying, dressing, pressing, glossing, makes the dif- 
 ference. Now, what art thou like to lose ? 151 
 A gaoler's office to keep men in bonds, 
 Whilst toil and treason all life's good confounds. 
 
 Pietro. I here renounce for ever regency : 
 I O Altofront, I wrong thee to supplant thy right, 
 To trip thy heels up with a devilish sleight ! 
 
 1 Ed. 2. ■■Yfaith." 
 
 3 " There goes but a pair of shears betwixt" — i.e., they are cut out 
 of the same piece. An old proverbial expression.
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontent. 29 1 
 
 For which I now from throne am thrown : world-tricks 
 
 abjure ; 
 For vengeance though't ^ comes slow, yet it comes 
 
 sure. 
 O, I am chang'd ! for here, 'fore the dread power, 
 In true contrition, I do dedicate 160 
 
 My breath to solitary holiness, 
 My lips to prayer, and my breast's care shall be, 
 Restoring Altofront to regency. 
 
 Mai. Thy vows are heard, and we accept thy faith. 
 
 \Undisguiseth himself. 
 
 Re-enter Ferneze and Celso. 
 
 Banish amazement : come, we four must stand 
 Full shock of fortune : be not so wonder-stricken. 
 Pieiro. Doth Ferneze live ? 
 Fer. For your pardon. 
 
 Pietro. Pardon and love. Give leave to recollect 
 My thoughts dispers'd in wild astonishment. 
 • My vows stand fix'd in heaven, and from hence 170 
 
 I crave all love and pardon. 
 
 Mai. Who doubts of providence, 
 \ That sees this change ? a hearty faith to all ! ov 
 
 I \He needs must rise who " can no lower fall : 
 I \For still impetuous vicissitude 
 Touseth ^ the world ; then let no maze intrude 
 
 1 Ed. I. " that" ^ Omitted in ed. 2. 
 
 3 Ed. I. " Looseth."
 
 292 The Malcontent. [act iv. 
 
 Upon your spirits : wonder not I rise ; 
 ^"^ For who can sink that close can temporise ? 
 
 The time grows ripe for action : I'll detect 
 My privat'st plot, lest ignorance fear suspect. 
 Let's close to counsel, leave the rest to fate : 180 
 
 Mature discretion is the life of state. \Exeunt.
 
 ( 293 ) 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.i 
 
 A room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Bilioso and Passarello. 
 
 Bit. Fool, how dost thou like my calf in a long 
 stocking ? 
 
 Pas. An excellent calf, my lord. 
 
 Bil. This calf hath been a reveller this twenty year. 
 When Monsieur Gundi lay here ambassador, I could 
 have carried a lady up and down at arm's end in a 
 platter ; and I can tell you, there were those at that time 
 who, to try the strength of a man's back and his arm, 
 would be coistered.2 I have measured calves with most 
 of the palace, and they come nothing near me ; besides, 
 I think there be not many armours in the arsenal will 
 fit me, especially for the headpiece. I'll tell thee — 12 
 
 Pass. What, my lord ? 
 
 1 This scene was added in ed. 2. 
 
 2 Reed suggests that this word may be derived from old Fr. coisser 
 ( = incommoder) or colter ( = presser, exciter). Nares explains 
 coistered to mean " coiled up into a small compass."
 
 294 The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 Bil. I can eat stewed broth as it comes seething off 
 the fire ; or a custard as it comes reeking out of the 
 oven ; and I think there are not many lords can do it. 
 A good pomander,^ a little decayed in the scent ; but 
 six grains of musk, ground with rose-water, and tem- 
 pered with a little civet, shall fetch her again presently. 
 
 Pass. O, ay, as a bawd with aqua-vitae. 20 
 
 Bil. And, what, dost thou rail upon the ladies as thou 
 wert wont ? 
 
 Pass. I were better roast a live cat, and might do it 
 ■with more safety. I am as secret to [the] thieves as 
 their painting. There's Maquerelle, oldest bawd and a 
 perpetual beggar — did you never hear of her trick to 
 be known in the city ? 
 
 Bil. Never. 
 
 Pass. Why, she gets all the picture-makers to draw 
 her picture ; when they have done, she most courtly 
 finds fault with them one after another, and never 
 fetcheth them : they, in revenge of this, execute her in 
 pictures as they do in Germany, and hang her in their 
 shops : by this means is she better known to the stinkards 
 than if she had been five times carted. 35 
 
 Bil. 'Fore God, an excellent policy. 
 
 Pass. Are there any revels to-night, my lord ? 
 
 Bil. Yes. 
 
 Pass. Good my lord, give me leave to break a fellow's 
 pate that hath abused me. 40 
 
 ' A ball of perfumed paste, worn round the neck or at the girdle.
 
 SCENE 11.] The Malcontent. 295 
 
 Bil. Whose pate ? 
 
 Pass. Young Ferrardo, my lord. 
 
 Bil. Take heed, he's very valiant; I have known liini 
 fight eight quarrels in five days, believe it. 
 
 Pass. O, is he so great a quarreller ? why, then, he's an 
 arrant coward. 
 
 Bil. How prove you that? 
 
 Pass. Why, thus. He that quarrels seeks to fight; 
 and he that seeks to fight seeks to die ; and he that seeks 
 to die seeks never to fight more ; and he that will quarrel, 
 and seeks means never to answer a man more, I think 
 he's a coward. 52 
 
 Bil. Thou canst prove anything. 
 
 Pass. Anything but a rich knave ; for I can flatter no 
 man. 
 
 Bil. Well, be not drunk, good fool : I shall see you 
 anon in the presence. {^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Before the Citadel. 
 
 Enter, from opposite sides, Malevole and Maquerei.le, 
 singing. 
 
 Mai. The Dutchman for a drunkard, — 
 Maq. TheDane for golden locks, — 
 Mai. The Irishman for usquebaugh, — 
 Maq. The Frenchman for the (cock^). 
 Mai. O, thou art a blessed creature ! had I a modest 
 woman to conceal, I would put her to thy custody ; for
 
 296 TJie Malcojitent. [act v. 
 
 no reasonable creature would ever suspect her to be m 
 thy company : ah, thou art a melodious Maquerelle, — 
 thou picture of a woman, and substance of a beast ! 
 
 Enter Passarello with wine. 
 
 Maq. O fool,^ will ye be ready anon to go with me to 
 the revels ? the hall will be so pestered anon. 1 1 
 
 Pass. Ay, as the country is with attorneys. 
 
 MaL What hast thou there, fool ? 
 
 Pass. Wine ; I have learned to drink since I went with 
 my lord ambassador : I'll drink to the health of Madam 
 Maquerelle. 
 
 Alal. Why, thou wast wont to rail upon her. 
 
 Pass. Ay ; but since I borrowed money of her, I'll 
 drink to her health now ; as gentlemen visit brokers, or 
 as knights send venison to the city, either to take up 
 more money, or to procure longer forbearance. 21 
 
 Mai. Give me the bowl. I drink a health to Altofront, 
 our deposed duke. [Drinks. 
 
 Pas. I'll take it [Z)rin/cs] : — so. Now I'll begin a 
 health to Madam Maquerelle. [Drinks. 
 
 Mai. Pooh ! I will not pledge her. 
 
 Pass. Why, I pledged your lord. 
 
 Mai. I care not. 
 
 Pass. Not pledge Madam Maquerelle ! why, then, 
 will I spew up your lord again with this fool's finger. 30 
 
 1 "Ofool. . . . Adieu, Madam Maquerelle" (II. 10-39). — This pas- 
 sage was added in ed. 2.
 
 SCENE 11.] The Malcontent. 297 
 
 Mai. Hold ; I'll take it. [Drinks. 
 
 Maq. Now thou hast drunk ray health, fool, I am 
 friends with thee. 
 
 Pass. Art? art? 
 
 When Griffon ^ saw the reconciled quean 
 
 Offering about his neck her arms to cast, 
 He threw off sword and heart's malignant spleen, 
 And lovely her below the loins embrac'd. — 
 Adieu, Madam Maquerelle. \Exit. 
 
 Mai. And how dost thou think o' this transformation 
 of state now? 41 
 
 Maq. Verily, very well ; for we women always note, ' / (, 
 the falling of the one is the rising of the other ; some must 
 be fat, some must be lean ; some must be fools, and some 
 must be lords ; some must be knaves, and some must be 
 officers ; some must be beggars, some must be knights ; 
 some must be cuckolds, and some must be citizens. As 
 for example, I have two court-dogs, the most fawning 
 curs, the one called Watch, the other Catch : now I, like 
 Lady Fortune, sometimes love this dog, sometimes raise 
 that dog, sometimes favour Watch, most commonly fancy 
 Catch. Now, that dog which I favour I feed ; and he's 
 so ravenous, that what I give he never chaws it, gulps it 
 down whole, without any relish of what he has, but with 
 a greedy expectation of what he shall have. The other 
 dog now 56 
 
 1 " Griffon is one of the heroes of Orlando Furioso, from whence one 
 might suspect these lines to be taken. I do not, however, find them 
 there." — Reed. For "spleen " in 1. 37 all the editions give "stream."
 
 298 The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 Alal. No more dog, sweet Maquerelle, no more dog. 
 And what hope hast thou of the Duchess Maria ? will 
 she stoop to the duke's lure ? will she come,^ thinkest ? 
 
 Maq. Let me see, where's the sign now ? ha' ye e'er a 
 calendar ? where's th.e sign, trow you ? 
 
 Mai. Sign ! why, is there any moment in that ? 
 
 Maq. O, believe me, a most secret power : look ye, a 
 Chaldean or an Assyrian, I am sure 'twas a most sweet 
 Jew, told me, court any woman in the right sign, you 
 shall not miss. But you must take her in the right vein 
 then ; as, when the sign is in Pisces, a fishmonger's 
 wife is very sociable ; in Cancer, a precisian's wife is very 
 flexible ; in Capricorn, a merchant's wife hardly holds 
 out ; in Libra, a lawyer's wife is very tractable, especially 
 if her husband be at the term ; only in Scorpio 'tis very 
 dangerous meddling. Has the duke sent any jewel, any 
 rich stones ? -ji 
 
 Mai. Ay, I think those are the best signs to take a 
 lady in. 
 
 Enter Captain. 
 
 By your favour, signior, I must discourse with the Lady 
 Maria, Altofront's duchess ; I must enter for the duke. 
 
 Capt. She here shall give you interview : I received 
 the guardship of this citadel from the good Altofront, 
 and for his use I'll keep't, till I am of no use. 80 
 
 Mai. Wilt thou? O heavens, that a Christian should 
 
 ^ i.e., yield. — Ed. 2. "cowe."
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontent. 299 
 
 be found in a buff-jerkin ! Captain Conscience, I love 
 thee, captain. We attend. \^Exit Captain. 
 
 And what hope hast thou of this duchess' easiness? 
 
 Alaq. 'Twill go hard, she was a cold creature ever ; 
 she hated monkeys, fools, jesters, and gentlemen-ushers 
 extremely ; she had the vile trick on't, not only to be 
 truly modestly honourable in her own conscience, but 
 she would avoid the least wanton carriage that might 
 incur suspect ; as, God bless me, she had almost brought 
 bed-pressing out of fashion ; I could scarce get a fine for 
 the lease of a lady's favour once in a fortnight. 92 
 
 Mai. Now, in the name of immodesty, how many 
 maidenheads has thou brought to the block? 
 
 Maq. Let me see : heaven forgive us our misdeeds ! 
 — Here's the duchess. 
 
 Enter Maria wilh Captain. 
 
 Mai. God bless thee, lady ! 
 
 Maria. Out of thy company ! 
 
 Mai. We have brought thee tender of a husband. 
 
 Maria. I hope I have one already. 100 
 
 Maq. Nay, by mine honour, madam, as good ha' ne'er 
 a husband as a banished husband ; he's in another world 
 now. I'll tell ye, lady, I have heard of a sect that main- 
 tained, when the husband was asleep the wife might 
 lawfully entertain another man, for then her husband 
 was as dead ; much more when he is banished. 
 
 Maria. Unhonest creature ! 
 
 Maq. Pish, honesty is but an art to seem so :
 
 300 The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 Pray ye, what's honesty, what's constancy, 
 
 But fables feign'd, odd old fools' chat, devis'd no 
 
 By jealous fools to wrong our liberty ? 
 
 Mai. Molly, he that loves thee is a duke, Mendoza ; 
 he will maintain thee royally, love thee ardently, defend 
 thee powerfully, marry thee sumptuously, and keep thee, 
 in despite of Rosicleer or Donzel del Phebo.^ There's 
 jewels : if thou wilt, so ; if not, so. 
 
 Maria. Captain, for God's love,- save poor wretched- 
 ness 
 From tyranny of lustful insolence ! 
 Enforce me in the deepest dungeon dwell, 
 Rather than here; here round about is hell. — 120 
 
 O my dear'st Altofront ! where'er thou breathe, 
 Let my soul sink into the shades beneath, 
 Before I stain thine honour ! 'tis ^ thou has't, 
 And long as I can die, I will live chaste. 
 
 Mai. 'Gainst him that can enforce how vain is 
 strife ! 
 
 Maria. She that can be enforc'd has ne'er a knife : 
 She that through force her limbs with lust enrolls, 
 Wants Cleopatra's asps and Portia's coals. 
 God amend you ! [^.«// w/'M Captain. 129 
 
 Mai. Now, the fear of the devil for ever go with thee ! 
 — Maquerelle, I tell thee, I have found an honest 
 woman : faith, I perceive, when all is done, there is of 
 
 1 Rosicleer and Donzel del Phebo were heroes in the romance of 
 V- \ I ,^The Mirrour of Knighthood. Sec note 3, p. 30. 
 
 v««w,T,o.>tJ V^ ^ 2 j,^ 2. "sake." * Ed. 2. " this." 
 
 
 "Hrxt CA«>v.-A.*,,
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontent, 301 
 
 women, as of all other things, some good, most bad ; 
 some saints, some sinners : for as nowadays no courtier 
 but has his mistress, no captain but has liis cockatrice,^ 
 no cuckold but has his horns, and no fool but has his 
 feather; even so, no woman but has her weakness and 
 feather too, no sex but has his — I can hunt the letter no 
 farther. — \Aside\ O God, how loathsome this toying is 
 to me ! that a duke should be forced to fool it ! well, 
 stultofii7n plena sunt omnia : ^ better play the fool lord 
 than be the fool lord. — Now, where's your sleights, 
 Madam Maquerelle ? '43 
 
 Maq. Why, are ye ignorant that 'tis said a squeamish 
 affected niceness is natural to women, and that the 
 excuse of their yielding is only, forsooth, the difficult 
 obtaining ? You must put her to't : women are flax, and 
 will fire in a moment. 
 
 Mai. Why, was the flax put into thy mouth, and yet 
 thou — Thou set fire, thou inflame her ! 150 
 
 Maq. Marry, but I'll tell ye now, you were too hot. 
 
 Mai. The fitter to have inflamed the flax, woman. 
 
 Maq. You were too boisterous, spleeny, for, in- 
 deed 
 
 Mai. Go, go, thou art a weak pandress : now I see, 
 
 Sooner earth's fire heaven itself shall waste. 
 
 Than all with heat can melt a mind that's chaste. 
 Go : thou the duke's lime-twig ! I'll make the duke turn 
 
 1 The term cockatrice seems to have been specially applied to a cap- 
 tain's mistress, though it is also found as a general name for a courtesan. 
 - Cicero, Epist. ad Fam. i.x. 22.
 
 302 The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 thee out of thine office : what, not get one touch of hope, 
 and had her at such advantage ! 160 
 
 Maq. Now, o' my conscience, now I think in my dis- 
 cretion, we did not take her in the right sign; the blood 
 was not in the true vein, sure. \^Exit. 
 
 Enter BiLioso. 
 
 Bit. Make way ^ there ! the duke returns from the 
 enthronement. — Malevole, — 
 
 Afal. Out, rogue ! 
 
 Bil. Malevole, — 
 
 Mai. Hence, ye gross-jawed, peasantly — out, go ! ^ ,5g 
 
 Bil. Nay, sweet Malevole, since my return I hear you 
 are become the thing I always prophesied would be, — 
 an advanced virtue, a worthily-employed faithfulness, a 
 man o' grace, dear friend. Come ; what ! Si quoties 
 peccant homines ^ — if as often as courtiers play the knaves, 
 honest men should be angry — wh)', look ye, we must 
 collogue* sometimes, forswear sometimes. 
 
 Mai. Be damned sometimes. 
 
 Bil. Right : nettio omnibus horis sapit ; no man can be 
 honest at all hours : necessity often depraves virtue. 
 
 Mai. I will commend thee to the duke. 
 
 Bil. Do : let us be friends, man. 180 
 
 1 "Make way there. . . . Peace! comets!" (11. 164-194). — This 
 passage was added in ed. 2. 
 
 * 1 hese are the words that Bilioso had used to Malevole, ii. 2. 1. 64. 
 
 * Ovid's Tristia, ii. 33. 
 
 * Cog, wheedle. — " Sadayer. To handle gently or stroke softly ; 
 also to flatter, smooth, cog, or collogue with." — Cotgrave. The word 
 also means — confer for an unlawful purpose.
 
 SCENE II.] The Malcontaii. 303 
 
 Mai. And knaves, man, 
 
 Bil. Right : let us prosper and purchase : ^ our lord- 
 ships shall live, and our knavery be forgotten. 
 
 Mai. He that by any ways gets riches, his means never 
 shames him. 
 
 Bil. True. 
 
 Mai, For impudency and faithlessness are the main 
 stays to greatness. 
 
 Bil. By the Lord, thou art a profound lad. 
 
 Mai. By the Lord, thou art a perfect knave : out, ye 
 ancient damnation ! 191 
 
 Bil. Peace, peace ! and thou wilt not be a friend to 
 me as I am a knave, be not a knave to me as I am thy 
 friend, and disclose me. Peace ! cornets ! 
 
 Enter Prepasso and Ferrardo, huo Pages with lights, 
 Celso and Equato, Mendoza in duke's robes, 
 and GuERRiNO. 
 
 Men. On, on ; leave us, leave us. 
 
 \_Exeunt all except Malevole and Mendoza. 
 Stay, where is the hermit? 
 
 Mai. With Duke Pietro, with Duke Pietro. 
 
 Men. Is he dead ? is he poisoned ? 
 
 Mai. Dead, as the duke is. 
 
 Men. Good, excellent : he will not blab ; secureness 
 lives in secrecy. Come hither, come hither. 201 
 
 1 Acquire wealth. — Purchase was a cant term for stolen goods, but it 
 was also used in the general sense of riches.
 
 304 The Malconteiit. [act v. 
 
 Mai. Thou hast a certain strong villainous scent about 
 thee my nature cannot endure. 
 
 Men. Scent, man ! What returns Maria, what answer 
 to our suit? 
 
 Mai. Cold, frosty ; she is obstinate. 
 
 MeJi. Then she's but dead ; 'tis resolute, she dies: 
 Black deed only through black deed ^ safely flies. 
 
 Mai. Pooh ! per scelera semper sceleribus tutum est iter.^ 
 
 Meji. What, art a scholar ? art a politician ? sure, thou 
 art an arrant knave. 211 
 
 Mai. Who, I ? I ha' been twice an under-sheriff, 
 man.3 Well, I will go rail upon some great man, that I 
 may purchase the bastinado, or else go marry some rich 
 Genoan lady, and instantly go travel. 
 
 Men. Travel, when thou art married ? 
 
 Mai. Ay, 'tis your young lord's fashion to do so, 
 though he was so lazy, being a bachelor, that he would 
 never travel so far as the university : yet when he 
 married her, tales off, and, Catso,* for England ! 220 
 
 Men. And why for England ? 
 
 ^ Ed. I. "deedes." ' Seneca, Agam. 115. 
 
 ' Ed. 2. continues thus : — 
 
 " Enter Malevole and Mendoza. 
 
 Mend. Hast bin with Maria ? 
 
 Mai. As your scriuener to your vsurer I haue delt about taking of this 
 commoditie, but she's could-frosty. Well, I will go raile, &c." Perhaps 
 the scene was intended to begin here and the preceding speeches were 
 not properly cancelled. — Ed. i. omits a few speeches and proceeds as 
 in L 226 : — 
 
 " Men. Canst thou empoison ? " &c. 
 
 * An obscene expression {Ital. )
 
 SCENE II.] The Malco7itc)it. 305 
 
 Mai. Because there is no brothel-houses tliere. 
 Me?i. Nor courtezans ? 
 
 Mai. Neither; your whore went down with the stews, 
 and your punk came up with your puritan. 
 
 Men. Canst thou empoison ? canst thou empoison ? 
 
 Mai. Excellently ; no Jew, pothecary, or politician 
 
 better. Look ye, here's a box : whom wouldst thou 
 
 empoison ? here's a box [Giving //], which, opened and 
 
 the fume ta'en ^ up in conduits ^ thorough which the 
 
 brain purges itself, doth instantly for twelve hours' space 
 
 bind up all show of life in a deep senseless sleep : here's 
 
 another [Giving it], which, being opened under the 
 
 sleeper's nose, chokes all the pores ' of life, kills him 
 
 suddenly. 235 
 
 Men. I'll try experiments ; 'lis good not to be deceived. 
 
 — So, so; catso ! [Seems to poiso7i Malevole, who falls. 
 
 Who would fear that may destroy ? 
 
 Death hath no teeth nor* tongue ; 
 And he that's great, to him are slaves, 240 
 
 Shame; murder, fame, and wrong. — 
 Celso ! 
 
 Enter Celso. 
 
 Celso. My honour'd lord ? 
 
 Men. The good Malevole, that plain-tongu'd man, 
 Alas, is dead on sudden, wondrous strangely ! 
 
 1 Ed. 2. "taken up." 
 
 ^ Some copies of ed. 2. comodites. " — The compositor was thinkin^ 
 of the common expression take up commodities. 
 
 ^ Ed. 2. "power." * Ed. 2. "or." 
 
 VOL. L U
 
 3o6 The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 He held in our esteem good place. Celso, 
 See him buried, see him buried. 
 
 Celso. I shall observe ye. 
 
 Men. And, Celso, prithee, let it be thy care to-night 
 To have some pretty show, to solemnise 
 Our high instalment ; some music, maskery. 250 
 
 We'll give fair entertain unto Maria, 
 The duchess to the banish'd Altofront : 
 Thou shalt conduct her from the citadel 
 Unto the palace. Think on some maskery. 
 
 Celso. Of what shape, sweet lord ? 
 
 Men. What ^ shape ! why, any quick-done fiction ; 
 As some brave spirits of the Genoan dukes, 
 To come out of Elysium, forsooth, 
 Led in by Mercury, to gratulate 
 
 Our happy fortune ; some such anything, 260 
 
 Some far-fet^ trick good for ladies, some stale toy 
 Or other, no matter, so't be of our devising. 
 Do thou prepare't ; 'tis but for fashion ^ sake ; 
 Fear not, it shall be grac'd, man, it shall take. 
 
 Celso. All service. 
 
 Men. All thanks ; our hand shall not be close to thee : 
 farewell. 
 \Aside^ Now is my treachery secure, nor can we fall : 
 Mischief that prospers, men do virtue call. 
 I'll trust no man : he that by tricks gets wreaths 
 
 1 Oldeds. "Why." 
 
 - An allusion to the proverb Far fet and dear bought is good for 
 ladies. 
 3 Ed. 2. and some copies of ed. 1. " a fashion."
 
 SCENE in.] The Malconte7it. 307 
 
 Keeps them with steel ; no man securely breathes 270 
 
 Out of deserved ^ ranks ; the crowd will mutter, " fool : '' 
 
 Who cannot bear with spite, he cannot rule. 
 
 The chiefest secret for a man of state 
 
 Is, to live senseless of a strengthless hate. \^Exit. 
 
 ATal. [starring up] Death of the damned thief! I'll 
 make one i' the mask ; thou shalt ha' some brave spirits 
 of the antique dukes. 
 
 Cel. My lord, what strange delusion ? 
 
 Mai. Most happy, dear Celso, poisoned with an empty 
 box : I'll give thee all, anon : my lady comes to court ; 
 there is a whirl of fate comes tumbling on ; the castle's 
 captain stands for me, the people pray for me, and the 
 great leader of the just stands for me: then courage, 
 Celso ; 284 
 
 For no disastrous chance can ever move him 
 That leaveth nothing but a God above him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 The Presence- Chamber. 
 
 Enter BiLioso and Prepasso, two Pages before them ; 
 Maquerelle, Bianca, and Emilia. 
 
 Bit. Make room there, room for the ladies ! whv, 
 gentlemen, will not ye suffer the ladies to be entered in 
 the great chamber? why, gallants ! and you, sir, to drop 
 your torch where the beauties must sit too ! 
 
 ^ Some copies of ed. i. "distuned."
 
 o 
 
 08 T/ie Malco7ite7it. [act v. 
 
 Pre. And there's a great fellow plays the knave ; why 
 dost not strike him ? 
 
 Bil. Let him play the knave, o' God's name ; thinkest 
 thou I have no more wit than to strike a great fellow? — 
 The music ! more lights ! reveliing-scafTolds ! do you 
 hear? Let there be oaths enow ready at the door, 
 swear out the devil himself. Let's leave the ladies, and 
 go see if the lords be ready for them. 12 
 
 \Exeunt BiLioso, Prepasso, and Pages. 
 
 Maq. And, by my troth, beauties, why do you not put 
 you into the fashion ? this is a stale cut ; you must come 
 in fashion : look ye, you must be all felt, felt and feather, 
 a felt upon your bare hair : ^ look ye, these tiring things 
 are justly out of request now : and, do ye hear? you 
 must wear falling-bands, you must come into the falling 
 fashion : there is such a deal o' pinning these ruffs, when 
 the fine clean fall is worth all : and again, if ye should 
 chance to take a nap in the afternoon, your falling-band 
 requires no poting-stick ^ to recover his form : believe 
 me, no fashion to the falling,^ I say. 23 
 
 Bian. And is not Signior St. Andrew* a gallant fellow 
 now. 
 
 Maq. By my maidenhead, la, honour and he agree as 
 well together as a satin suit and woollen stockings. 
 
 1 Some copies of ed. i. "head." 
 
 2 Sticks for setting the plaits of ruffs. They were first made of wood 
 or bone, but afterwards of steel. 
 
 ' Some copies of ed. i. "falling-band." 
 
 « Some copies of ed. i. "St. Andrew jaques. '
 
 SCENE 111.] TJie Malcontcjit. 309 
 
 Emilia. But is not Marshal Make-room, my servant 
 in reversion, a proper gentleman ? 29 
 
 Maq. Yes, in reversion, as he had his office ; as, in 
 truth, he hath all things in reversion : he has his mistress 
 in reversion, his clothes in reversion, his wit in rever- 
 sion ; and, indeed, is a suitor to me for my dog in 
 reversion : but, in good verity, la, he is as proper a 
 gentleman in reversion as — and, indeed, as fine a man 
 as may be, having a red beard and a pair of warpt^ legs. 
 
 Biati. But, i'faith, I am most monstrously in love with 
 Count Quidlibet-in-quodlibet : is he not a pretty, dapper, 
 unidle - gallant ? 39 
 
 Alaq. He is even one of the most busy-fingered lords ; 
 lie will put the beauties to the squeak most hideously. 
 
 Re-ciiter BiLioso. 
 
 Bil. Room ! make a lane there ! the duke is entering : 
 stand handsomely for beauty's sake, take up the ladies 
 there ! So, cornets, cornets ! 
 
 Re-enier Prepasso, joins to Biliosoj the7i enter two 
 Pages with lights, Ferrardo, Mendoza; at the 
 other door, two Pages with lights, and the Captain 
 leading in ]\Iaria ; Mendoza meets Maria and 
 closet h with her ; the rest fall back. 
 
 Men. Madam, with gentle ear receive my suit ; 
 
 J Ed. 2. "wrapt." 
 
 2 This is the reading of ed. 2. — Some copies of ed. i. give " windle." 
 P • aps the true reading is " wimble" {= nimble), a word which Marston 
 uses in The First Fart of Antonio and Mellida (see p. 58).
 
 3 1 o The Malco7itent. [act v. 
 
 A kingdom's safety should o'er-peise ^ slight rites ; 
 
 Marriage is merely nature's policy : 
 
 Then, since unless our royal beds be join'd, 
 
 Danger and civil tumults fright the slate, 
 
 Be wise as you are fair, give way to fate. 50 
 
 Maria. What wouldst thou, thou affliction to our 
 house ? 
 Thou ever-devil, 'twas thou that banished'st 
 My truly noble lord ! 
 
 Men. I ! 
 
 Maria. Ay, by thy plots, by thy black stratagems : 
 Twelve moons have suffer'd change since I beheld 
 The lovbd presence of my dearest lord, 
 
 thou far worse than death ! he parts but soul 
 From a weak body ; but thou soul from soul 
 Dissever'st, that which God's own hand did knit ; 60 
 Thou scant of honour, full of devilish wit ! 
 
 Men. We'll check your too-intemperate lavishness : 
 
 1 can, and will, 
 Maria. What canst ? 
 
 Men. Go to ; in banishment thy husband dies. 
 
 Maria. He ever is at home that's ever wise. 
 
 Men. You'st - ne'er meet more : reason should love 
 
 control. 
 Maria. Not meet ! 
 She that dear loves, her love's still in her soul. 
 
 Men. You are but a woman, lady, you must yield. 70 
 
 1 Outweigh. - Contraction of "you must."
 
 SCENE III.] The Malcontent. 311 
 
 Maria. O, save me, thou innatcd bash fulness, 
 Thou only ornament of woman's modesty ! 
 
 Men. Modesty ! death, I'll torment thee. 
 
 Maria. Do, urge all torments, all afflictions try ; 
 I'll die my lord's as long as I can die. 
 
 Men. Thou obstinate, thou shalt die. — Captain, that 
 lady's life 
 Is forfeited to justice : we have examin'd her, 
 And we do find she hath empoisoned 
 The reverend hermit ; therefore we command 
 Severest custody. — Nay, if you'll do's no good, So 
 
 You'st do's no harm : a tyrant's peace is blood. 
 
 Maria. O, thou art merciful j O gracious devil. 
 Rather by much let me condemned be 
 For seeming murder than be damn'd for thee ! 
 I'll mourn no more ; come, girt my brows with 
 
 flowers : 
 Revel and dance, soul, now thy wish thou hast; 
 Uie like a bride, poor heart, thou shalt die chaste. 
 
 Enter Aurelia in nmir?iing habit. 
 
 Life ^ id^^ajjrost of cold felicity, — 
 
 Aur. And death the thaw of all our vanity : ; 
 
 Was't not an honest priest that wrote so ? go 
 
 Men. Who let her in ? 
 
 ^ Given io Aurelia (perhaps rightly) in ed. 2. and some copies of ed. i.
 
 3 1 2 TJie Malco7itcnt. [aci v. 
 
 Bil. Forbear ! 
 
 Pre. Forbear ! 
 
 Aur. Alas, calamity is everywhere : 
 Sad misery, despite your double doors, 
 Will enter even in court, 
 
 Bil. Peace! 
 
 Aur. I ha' done.^ 
 
 Bil. One word, — take heed ! 
 
 Aur. I ha' done. 
 
 Enter Mercury with loud music. 
 
 Mer. Cyllenian Mercury, the god of ghosts. 
 From gloomy shades that spread the lower coasts,^ 
 Calls four high-fambd Genoan^ dukes to come, loo 
 
 And make this presence their Elysium, 
 To pass away this high triumphal night 
 With song and dances, court's more soft delight. 
 
 Aur. Are you god of ghosts? I have a suit pending 
 in hell betwixt me and my conscience ; I would fain have 
 thee help me to an advocate. 
 
 Bil. Mercury shall be your lawyer, lady. 
 
 Aur. Nay, faith, Mercury has too good a face to be a 
 right lawyer. 
 
 Pre. Peace, forbear ! Mercury presents the mask, no 
 
 1 " I ha' done," &c. — Old eds. : — 
 
 "Aur. I ha done ; one word, take heede, I ha done." 
 
 2 Regions. — " Marche. A region, coast, or quarter. "— Co/f raw. 
 s Some copies of ed. i. "Genoa."
 
 SCENE III.] The Malconte?it. 3 1 3 
 
 Cornets : the song to the cornets, which playing, the mask 
 enters ; Malevolk, Pietro, Ferneze, aw^Celso, in 
 white robes, with dukes' crowfis upon laurel-wreaths, 
 pistoleis and short sivords under their robes. 
 
 Men, Celso, Celso, court ^ Maria for our love. — 
 Lady, be gracious, yet grace. 
 
 Afaria. Witli me, sir? 
 
 [Malevole takes Maria to dance. 
 
 Mai. Yes, more loved than my breath ; 
 With you I'll dance. 
 
 Afaria. Why, then, you dance with death. 
 But, come, sir, I was ne'er more apt for^ mirth. 
 Death gives eternity a glorious breath : 
 O, to die honour'd, who would fear to die? 
 
 jMal They die in fear who live in villainy. 
 
 Men. Yes, believe him, lady, and be rul'd by him. 
 
 Pietro. Madam, with me. 
 
 [Pietro takes Aurelia to dance. 
 
 Aur. Wouldst, then, be miserable? 120 
 
 Pietro. I need not wish. 
 
 Aur. O, yet forbear my hand ! away ! fly ! fly ! 
 O, seek not her that only seeks to die ! 
 
 Pietro. Poor lov^d soul ! 
 
 Aur. What, wouldst court misery ? 
 
 Pietro. Yes. 
 
 Aur. She'll come too soon : — O my grieved heart ! 
 
 1 Ed. 2. "count." 2 £(]_ 2. "to."
 
 3 1 4 The Malcontcjit. [act v, 
 
 Pietro. Lady, ha' done, ha' done : 
 Come,^ let us dance ; be once from sorrow free. 
 
 Aur. Art a sad man ? 
 
 Pietro. Yes, sweet. 
 
 Aur. Then we'll agree. 128 
 
 [Ferneze takes Maquerelle and Celso Bianca : 
 tlieti the cornets sound the fneasure, one change, 
 and rest. 
 
 Fer. [to Bianca.] Believe it, lady; shall I swear? let 
 me enjoy you in private, and V\\ marry you, by my soul. 
 
 Bian. I had rather you would swear by your body : 
 I think that would prove the more regarded oath with 
 you. 
 
 Fer. I'll swear by them both, to please you. 
 
 Bian. O, damn them not both to please me, for God's 
 sake ! 136 
 
 Fer. Faith, sweet creature, let me enjoy you to-night, 
 and I'll marry you to-morrow fortnight, by my troth, la. 
 
 Maq. On his troth, la ! believe him not ; that kind of 
 cony-catching is as stale as Sir Oliver Anchovy's per- 
 fumed * jerkin : promise of matrimony by a young gallant, 
 to bring a virgin lady into a fool's paradise ; make her a 
 
 1 Some copies of ed. i. "come downe." 
 
 2 A /ro//frf jerkin— a jerkin in which sweet oil had been rubbed. Cf. 
 Cynthia's Revels, v. 2 : — 
 
 " Anw. Is the perfume rich in this jerkin ? 
 
 Per. Taste, smell ; I assure you, sir, pure benjamin, the only spirited 
 scent that ever awaked a Neapolitan nostril .... I frotted a jerkin for 
 a new-revenued gentleman yielded me three score crowns but this 
 morning, and the same titillation."
 
 scENK III.] The MalcoiUent. 
 
 3'o 
 
 great woman, and then cast her off; — 'tis as common 
 and^ natural to a courtier, as jealousy to a citizen, 
 gluttony to a puritan, wisdom to an alderman, pride to 
 a tailor, or an empty hand-basket''^ to one of these six- 
 penny damnations : of his troth, la ! believe him not ; 
 traps to catch pole-cats. 
 
 Alal. \io Maria]. Keep your face constant, let no 
 sudden passion 
 Speak in your eyes. 
 
 Maria. O my Altofront ! 150 
 
 Pieiro. \to Aurelia.] A tyrant's jealousies 
 Are very nimble : you receive it all ? 
 
 Aur. My heart, though not my knees, doth humbly 
 fall 
 Low as the earth, to thee. 
 
 Mai? Peace ! next change ; no words. 
 
 Maria. Speech to such, ay, O, what will affords ! 
 
 \Cornets soimd the 7)ieasure over again ; ivhich 
 danced, they unmask. 
 Men. Malevole ! 
 
 \They environ Mendoza, bending their pistols on him. 
 Mai. No. 
 
 Men. Altofront ! Duke Pietro ! * Ferneze ! ha ! 
 All. Duke Altofront ! Duke Altofront ! 
 
 \^Cornets, a flourish. — They seize upon Mendoza. 
 Men. Are we surpris'd ? what strange delusions 
 mock 160 
 
 1 Old eds. "as.'" ^ Omitted in some copies of ed. i. 
 
 ' Old eds. "Pietro." * Some copies of ed. i. "Lorenzo.
 
 o 
 
 1 6 The Malcontejtt. [act v. 
 
 Our senses ? do I dream ? or have I dreamt 
 This two days' space ? where am I ? 
 
 Mai. Where an arch-villain is. 
 
 Men. O, lend me breath till ^ I am fit to die ! 
 For peace with heaven, for your own souls' sake, 
 Vouchsafe me life ! 
 
 Pidro. Ignoble villain ! whom neither heaven nor 
 hell, 
 Goodness of God or man, could once make good ! 
 
 Mai. Base, treacherous wretch ! what grace canst thou 
 expect, 
 That hast grown impudent in gracelessness ? 170 
 
 Me7i. O, life ! 
 
 Alal. Slave, take thy life. 
 Wert thou defenced, th[o]rough blood and wounds. 
 The sternest horror of a civil fight, 
 Would I achieve thee ; but prostrate at my feet, 
 I scorn to hurt thee : 'tis the heart of slaves 
 That deigns to triumph over peasants' graves ; 
 For such thou art, since birth doth ne'er enroll 
 A man 'mong monarchs, but a glorious soul. 
 O,- I have seen strange accidents of state ! 180 
 
 The flatterer, like the ivy, clip the oak. 
 And waste it to the heart ; lust so confirm'd. 
 That the black act of sin itself not shanvd 
 To be term'd courtship. 
 
 1 Some copies of ed. i. "to Hue till." 
 
 - " O, 1 have seen ... so patiently" (11. 180-202). — This passage 
 vas added in cd. 2.
 
 SCENE III.] The Malcontent. 317 
 
 O, they that are as great as be their sins, 
 
 Let them remember that tli' inconstant people 
 
 LQiejTTan^^j2r m c e s_^_m e r e ly_f or^ 
 
 And-Qutward^shows ; and they do covet more 
 
 To have a sight of these than of their virtues. 
 
 Yet thus much let the great ones still conceive,^ igo 
 
 When they observe not heaven's impos'd conditions, 1 i\re«»-<=.ov^oo9 
 
 They are no kings, 3 but forfeit their commissions. 1 i4c<^^ Wo\ \t4 
 
 Alaq. O good my lord, I have lived in the court this \ o C V\<».v\e$'c 
 twenty year: they that have been old courtiers, and ''^ -"^"*^'*' ^'^ \f>^'^ 
 come to live in the city, they are spited at, and thrust 
 to the walls like apricocks, good my lord. 
 
 Bil. My lord, I did know your lordship in this dis- 
 guise ; you heard me ever say, if Altofront did return, I 
 would stand for him : besides, 'twas your lordship's 
 pleasure to call me wittol and cuckold : you must not 
 think, but that I knew you, I would have put it up so 
 patiently. 202 
 
 Mai. You o'er-joy'd spirits, wipe your long-wet eyes. 
 
 \2'0 PlETRO afld AURELIA. 
 
 Hence with this man \Kicks out Mendoza] : an eagle 
 
 takes not flies. 
 You to your vows \To Pietro and Aurelia] : and thou 
 
 into the suburbs.'^ \To Maquerelle. 
 
 You to my worst friend I would hardly give ; 
 
 1 Some copies read " men." 
 
 ^ Old ed. " conceale." 
 
 ' Some copies read " men." 
 
 * Where the bawdy-houses were located.
 
 ^iS The Malcontent. [act v. 
 
 a 
 
 Thou art a perfect old knave [71? BiLioso] : all-pleas'd 
 
 live 
 You two unto my breast \To Celso and the Captain]: 
 
 thou to my heart, \To Maria. 
 
 The rest of idle actors idly part : 
 
 And as for me, I here assume my right, 210 
 
 To which I hope all's pleas'd : to all, good-night. 
 
 \Corneis, a flourish. Exeunt.
 
 ( 319 ) 
 
 AN 1 IMPERFECT ODE, BEING BUT ONE 
 STAFF, 
 
 SPOKEN BY THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 To wrest each hurtless thought to private sense 
 Is the foul use of ill-bred impudence : 
 
 Immodest censure now grows wild, 
 
 All over-running. 
 Let innocence be ne'er so chaste. 
 Yet at the last 
 She is defil'd 
 With too nice-brainbd cunning. 
 O you of fairer soul, 
 
 Control 10 
 
 With an Herculean arm 
 This harm ; 
 And once teach all old freedom of a pen, 
 Which still must write of fools, whiles't writes of men ! 
 
 1 The "imperfect ode" and the epilogue are not found in some 
 copies of ed. i.
 
 { 320 ) 
 
 EPILOGUS. 
 
 Your modest silence, full of heedy stillness, 
 
 Makes me thus speak : a voluntary illness 
 
 Is merely ^ senseless ; but unwilling error, 
 
 Such as proceeds from too rash youthful fervour, 
 
 May well be call'd a fault, but not a sin : 
 
 Rivers take names from founts where they begin. 
 
 Then let not too severe an eye peruse 
 
 The slighter brakes ^ of our reformed Muse, 
 
 Who could herself herself of faults detect, 
 
 But that she knows 'tis easy to correct, lo 
 
 Though some men's labour: troth, to err is fit. 
 
 As long as wisdom's not profess'd, but wit. 
 
 Then till another's happier Muse appears,^ 
 
 Till his Thalia feast your learned ears, 
 
 To whose desertful lamps pleased Fates impart 
 
 Art above nature, judgment above art, 
 
 Receive this piece, which hope nor fear yet daunteth : 
 
 He that knows most knows most how much he wanteth. 
 
 1 Wholly. 
 
 2 Clearly another form of bracks, i.e, cracks, flaws. 
 * A fine compliment to Ben Jonson. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTHD UV BALLANTYNE, HANSON ANLl CO. 
 EDINBURGH ANU LONDON.

 
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