THE
VVONDER
OF
A
Kingdome
.
Actus
primus
.
Scaena
prima
.
Enter
Duke
of
Florence
,
Prince
of
Pisae
,
Nicoletto
Vanni
,
Trebatio
his
sonne
,
Mutio
,
Philippo
,
Tornelli
,
Gallants
,
Tibaeldo
Neri
,
Alphonsina
his
sister
,
Daeriene
Old
Vannies
wife
,
Cargo
a
serving-man
.
WEe
surfit
heere
on
Pleasures
:
Seas
nor
Land
Cannot
invite
us
to
a
Feast
more
glorious
,
Then
this
day
we
have
sat
at
:
my
Lord
Vanni
,
You
have
an
excellent
seate
heere
;
Tis
a
building
May
entertaine
a
Caesar
:
but
you
and
I
Should
rather
talke
of
Tombs
,
then
Pallaces
,
Let's
leave
all
to
our
heires
,
for
we
are
old
.
Nico.
Old
!
hem
?
all
heart
of
brasse
,
sound
as
a
bell
,
Old
?
why
,
Ile
tell
your
Graces
;
I
have
gone
But
halfe
the
bridge
ore
yet
;
there
lies
before
me
As
much
as
I
have
pass'd
,
and
I'le
goe
it
all
.
Flo.
Mad
Vanni
still
.
Nic.
Old
Oakes
doe
not
easily
fall
:
Decembers
cold
hand
combes
my
head
and
beard
,
But
May
swimmes
in
my
blood
;
and
he
that
walkes
Without
his
wooden
third
legge
,
is
never
old
.
Pisa
.
What
is
your
age
my
Lord
?
Nic.
Age
,
what
call
you
age
?
I
have
liv'd
some
halfe
a
day
,
some
halfe
an
houre
.
Flo.
A
tree
of
threescore-yeares
growth
;
nothing
.
Tib.
A
meere
slip
,
you
have
kept
good
diet
my
lord
.
Nic.
Let
whores
kepe
diet
,
Tibaldo
ner'e
;
never
did
Rivers
runn
In
wilder
,
madder
streames
,
then
I
have
done
,
I'le
drinke
as
hard
yet
as
an
Englishman
,
Flo.
And
they
are
now
best
Drinkers
.
Pisa
.
They
put
downe
the
Dutch-men
cleane
,
Nic.
Ile
yet
upon
a
wager
hit
any
fencers
button
,
Car,
Some
of
'em
ha'
no
buttons
to
their
doublets
.
Nic.
Then
knave
Ile
hit
his
flesh
,
and
hit
your
cocks
-
If
you
crosse
mine
once
more
.
(
combe
Flo.
Nay
be
not
angry
.
Nic.
I
have
my
Passees
:
and
my
Passadoes
,
My
Longes
,
my
Stockadoes
,
Imbrocadoes
,
And
all
my
Pimtoes
,
and
Pimtillioes
Here
at
my
fingers
ends
.
Flo.
By
my
faith
'tis
well
.
Nic.
Old
why
;
I
ne're
tooke
Phisicke
,
nor
ever
will
,
I'le
trust
none
that
has
Art
and
leave
to
kill
:
Now
for
that
chopping
herbe
of
hell
Tobacco
;
The
idle-mans-Devill
,
and
the
Drunkards-whore
,
I
never
medled
with
her
,
my
smoake
goes
,
Out
at
my
kitchin
chimney
,
not
my
nose
.
Flo.
And
some
Lords
have
no
chimnies
but
their
noses
.
Nic.
Tobacco-shopps
shew
like
prisons
in
hell
;
Hote
,
smoaky
,
stinking
,
and
I
hate
the
smell
.
Pis.
Who'd
thinke
that
in
a
coale
of
Ashy
white
,
Such
fire
were
glowing
?
Flo.
May
not
a
snuffe
give
light
?
Tib.
You
see
it
doe's
in
him
.
Alph.
A
withered-tree
,
doth
oft
beare
branches
.
Nic.
What
thinke
you
then
of
me
sweete
Lady
.
Alph.
Troth
my
Lord
as
of
a
horse
,
vilely
,
if
he
can
Neither
wihi
,
nor
wagg's-Taile
.
Flo.
The
Lady
Alphonsina
Neri
,
has
given
it
you
my
Lord
.
Nic.
The
time
may
come
I
may
give
it
her
too
.
Flo,
I
doubt
Lord
Vanni
she
will
cracke
no
Nutts
,
With
such
a
tough
shell
,
as
is
yours
and
mine
,
But
leaving
this
,
lets
see
you
pray
,
at
Court
,
Nico.
I
thanke
your
grace
.
Flo.
Your
wife
,
and
your
faire
daughter
,
One
of
the
stars
of
Florence
with
your
sonne
Heire
to
your
worth
and
Honours
,
Trebatio
Vanni
.
Treb.
I
shall
attend
your
grace
.
Flo.
The
holy
knot
,
Hymen
shall
shortly
tie
,
and
in
faire
bands
,
Vnite
Florence
and
Pisa
by
the
hands
,
Or
Fyametta
and
this
Pisa
Duke
(
Our
Noble
son
in
law
)
and
at
this
daie
,
Pray
be
not
absent
.
Nic.
We
shall
your
will
obey
,
Flo.
We
heare
there
is
a
gallant
that
out-vies
Vs
,
and
our
court
for
brauery
,
and
expence
,
For
royall
feasts
,
triumphs
and
revellings
.
Nic.
He's
my
neere
kinsman
,
mine
owne
brothers
son
,
Who
desperately
a
prodigall
race
doth
ronne
,
And
for
this
riotous
humour
,
he
has
the
by-name
,
Signior
Torrenti
,
a
swift
Head-long
streame
.
Flo.
But
ther's
another
layes
on
more
then
he
.
Nic.
Old
Iacomo
?
open
handed
charitie
,
Sit's
ever
at
his
gates
to
welcome
guests
,
He
makes
no
bone-fires
,
as
my
riotous
kinsman
,
And
yet
his
chimneis
cast
out
braver
smoake
,
The
Bellows
which
he
blowes
with
are
good
deeds
,
The
rich
he
smiles
upon
,
the
poore
he
feeds
.
Flo.
These
gallants
we'le
be
feasted
by
,
and
Feast
Fames
praises
of
'em
,
shall
make
us
their
guest
,
Meane
time
we'le
hence
Exit
.
Florence
,
Pisa
,
&c.
Enter
Cargo
.
Car.
I
have
News
to
tell
your
Lordship
,
Signior
Angelo
(
of
the
Locti
Famely
is
banished
.
Dari.
How
banish't
?
alas
poore
Angelo
Lotti
.
Treb.
Why
must
he
goe
from
Florence
?
Cargo
.
Because
he
can
stay
there
no
longer
.
Nic.
To
what
end
is
he
driven
from
the
Citie
?
Cargo
.
To
the
end
he
should
goe
into
some
other
my
Lord
.
Nic.
Hoida
.
Car.
I
hope
this
is
newes
Sir
.
Nic.
What
speake
the
people
of
him
?
Car.
As
bells
ring
;
some
out
,
some
in
,
all
jangle
,
they
say
he
Has
dealt
with
the
Genoway
against
the
state
:
but
whether
with
the
men
,
or
the
women
;
tis
to
be
stood
upon
.
Nic.
Away
Sir
knave
and
foole
.
Car.
Sir
knave
,
a
new
word
:
fooles
,
and
knaves
Sir
?
Exit
.
Nic.
This
muttering
long
agoe
flew
to
mine
eare
,
The
Genoway
is
but
a
line
throwne
out
,
But
Fiametta's
love
,
the
net
that
choakes
him
.
Tre.
He's
worthy
of
her
equall
,
Nic.
Peace
foolish
boy
,
At
these
state
bone-fires
(
whose
flames
reach
so
high
)
To
stand
aloose
,
is
safer
then
too
nigh
.
Exit
Enter
Tibaldo
Neri
,
and
Alphonsina
.
Alp.
Why
brother
,
what's
the
matter
?
Tib.
I'me
ill
,
exceeding
ill
.
Alp.
That's
not
well
.
Tib.
Sure
I
did
surfet
at
Lord
Vannies
.
Alp.
Surfet
?
you
eate
some
Meate
against
your
stomack
.
Tib.
No
,
but
I
had
a
stomack
to
one
dish
,
and
the
not
tasting
it
,
makes
me
sick
at
heart
.
Alp.
Was
it
fish
or
flesh
?
Tib.
Flesh
sure
,
if
I
hit
the
marke
right
.
Alp.
I'st
not
the
missing
of
a
marke
(
which
you
long
to
hit
)
Makes
you
draw
sighes
in
stead
of
arrowes
?
Tib.
Would
I
had
beene
a
thousand
leagues
from
thence
,
When
I
sat
downe
at's
table
or
bin
partner
With
Angelo
Lotti
in
his
banishment
;
Oh!
sister
Alphonsina
,
there
I
dranke
My
bane
the
strongest
poison
that
e're
man
Drew
from
a
Ladies
eye
,
now
swelling
in
me
.
Alp.
By
casting
of
thy
water
thy
,
I
guesse
thou
would'st
Have
a
medcine
for
the
greene
sicknes
.
Tib.
'Tis
a
greene
wound
indeed
.
Alp.
Tent
it
,
tent
it
,
and
keepe
it
from
ranckling
,
you
are
Over
head
and
eares
in
love
.
Tib.
I
am
and
with
such
mortall
Arrowes
pierc't
I
shall
fall
downe
—
Alp.
There's
no
hurt
in
that
.
Tib.
And
dye
unlesse
he
her
pitty
Send
me
a
quicke
and
sweete
recovery
.
Alp.
And
faith
what
doctresse
is
she
must
call
you
patient
?
Tib.
Faire
Dariene
,
the
Lord
Vannies
wife
—
Alp.
How
!
Dariene
?
can
no
feather
fit
you
but
the
broach
in
an
Old
mans
hatt
?
were
there
so
many
dainty
dishes
To
fill
your
belly
,
and
must
you
needs
long
for
that
dish
The
master
of
the
house
setts
up
for
his
owne
tooth
.
Tib.
Could
love
be
like
a
subject
,
tied
to
lawes
,
Then
might
you
speake
this
language
.
Alp.
Love
?
a
disease
as
common
with
young-gallants
as
Swaggering
and
drinking
Tobacco
,
there's
not
one
Of
'um
all
but
will
to day
ly
drawing
on
for
a
Woman
,
as
if
they
were
puffing
and
blowing
at
a
streight
boot
,
And
to morrow
be
ready
to
knock
at
deathes
doore
,
But
I
wo'd
faine
see
one
of
you
enter
and
set
in
His
staffe
.
Tib.
You
shall
see
me
then
do
so
.
Alp.
I
shall
looke
so
old
first
,
I
shall
be
taken
for
thy
grandame
;
come
,
come
'tis
but
a
worme
betweene
the
skinne
And
the
flesh
,
and
to
be
taken
out
with
the
point
of
a
Waiting-womans
needle
,
as
well
as
a
great
Countesses
.
Tib.
If
this
be
all
the
comfort
you
will
lend
me
,
Would
you
might
leave
me
—
Alp.
Leave
thee
in
sicknes
?
I
had
more
need
give
thee
a
Caudle
;
and
thrust
thy
adle-head
into
a
night-Capp
,
for
looke
you
brother
—
Tib.
Even
what
you
will
must
out
Alp.
If
what
you
will
might
so
too
,
then
would
you
be
in
Tune
:
I
warrant
,
if
the
sucket
stood
here
before
Thee
,
thy
stomach
would
goe
against
it
.
Tib.
Yes
sure
my
stomack
would
goe
against
it
:
'Tis
onely
that
which
breeds
in
me
despaire
.
Alp.
Despaire
for
a
woman
?
they
hang
about
mens
Neckes
in
some
places
thicker
then
hope
upon
poles
.
Tib.
Her
walls
of
chastitie
cannot
be
beaten
downe
.
Alp.
Walls
of
chastitie
?
walls
of
wafer-cakes
,
I
have
Knowne
a
woman
carry
a
fether-bed
,
and
a
man
in't
In
her
minde
,
when
in
the
streete
she
cast
up
the
white
of
Her
eye
like
a
Puritane
.
Tib.
Sister
you
do
but
stretch
me
on
the
racke
And
with
a
laughing
cheeke
increase
my
paine
,
Be
rather
pitifull
and
ease
my
torments
By
teaching
me
how
in
this
dreadfull
storme
,
I
may
escape
ship-wrack
and
attaine
that
shore
Where
I
may
live
,
heere
else
I'me
sure
to
die
.
Alp.
Well
brother
,
since
you
will
needs
saile
by
such
a
Starre
as
I
shall
point
out
,
looke
you
heere
it
is
;
if
she
were
Your
Fether-makers
,
Taylors
or
Barbers
wife
,
Baite
a
hooke
with
gold
,
and
with
it
—
Tib.
I
doe
conjure
you
by
that
noble
blood
Which
makes
me
call
you
sister
,
cease
to
powre
Poison
into
a
wound
,
so
neere
my
heart
,
And
if
to
cure
Loves-paines
there
be
an
Art
.
Woman
me thinkes
should
know
it
cause
she
breeds
it
,
Alp.
That
cunning
woman
you
take
me
to
be
,
and
because
I
see
you
dissemble
not
,
heer's
my
medcine
.
Tib.
I
shall
for
ever
thanke
you
.
Alp.
First
send
for
your
Barber
.
Tib.
For
heavens
sake
.
Alp.
Your
barber
shall
not
come
to
rob
you
of
your
beard
,
I'le
deale
in
no
concealements
—
Tib.
Oh!
fie
,
fie
,
fie
—
Alp.
But
let
him
by
rubbing
of
you
quicken
Your
spirits
.
Tib.
So
so
.
Alp.
Then
whistle
your
gold-finches
(
your
gallants
)
to
your
fist
.
Tib.
Y'ar
mad
,
y'ar
mad
.
Alp.
Into
a
Tanerne
,
Drinke
stiffe
,
sweare
stiffe
;
have
your
musicke
,
and
your
brace
,
dance
,
and
whiffe
Tobacco
,
Till
all
smoake
Agen
,
and
split
Sir
.
Tib.
You
split
my
very
heart
in
pieces
.
Alp.
And
doe
thus
,
but
till
the
Moore
cutts
off
her
hornes
;
Laugh
in
the
day
,
and
sleepe
in
the
night
:
and
this
wenching
fier
will
be
burnt
out
of
you
.
Tib.
Away
,
away
,
cruell
you
are
to
kill
,
When
to
give
life
,
you
have
both
power
and
skill
.
Exit
.
Alp.
Alas
,
poore
brother
now
I
pitty
thee
and
wo'd
doe
Any
thing
to
helpe
thee
to
thy
longing
,
but
that
a
Gap
must
be
broken
,
in
another
mans
hedge
to
rob
His
orchard
,
within
there
Luca
Angelo
,
give
him
Musick
:
Musicke
has
helpt
some
mad-men
,
let
it
then
Charme
him
,
Love
makes
fooles
of
the
wisest
men
.
Exit
.
Enter
at
one
doore
,
Angelo
Lotti
,
and
Baptista
,
at
the
other
,
Piero
,
and
Iaspero
.
Pier.
Yonders
that
villaine
,
keepe
off
Iaspero
:
This
prey
I'le
cease
.
All
draw
.
Iasp.
Be
more
advised
Sir
.
Bap.
At
whose
life
shoote
you
?
Pier.
At
that
slaves
there
.
Ang.
Slave
?
I
know
you
for
the
Dukes
sonne
,
but
I
know
no
cause
of
quarrell
,
or
this
base
reproach
.
Pier.
Thou
art
a
villaine
.
Ang.
Wherein
?
Pier.
And
by
witch-craft
,
Had
stole
my
sister
Fiamettas
heart
,
Forceing
her
leave
a
Prince
his
bed
for
thine
.
Ang.
If
for
her
love
you
come
to
kill
me
;
heere
I'le
point
you
to
a
doore
where
you
may
enter
and
fetch
out
a
loath'd
life
.
Pier.
Iaspero
.
Iasp.
Oh
my
Lord
.
Ang.
Let
him
come
,
I
ow
her
all
;
And
that
debt
will
I
pay
her
gladly
.
Iasp.
Deare
Sir
heare
him
—
Ang.
But
if
on
any
other
fier
of
rage
;
You
thirst
to
drinke
my
blood
,
heere
I
defie
You
,
and
your
malice
;
and
returne
the
villaine
Into
your
throate
.
Pier.
So
brave
sir
.
Change
a
thrust
or
two
.
Enter
Nicolletto
,
and
Cargo
.
Nico.
I
charge
you
in
the
Dukes
name
,
keepe
the
peace
;
Beate
downe
their
weapons
,
knock
em
downe
Cargo
.
Car.
I
have
a
Iustices
warrant
to
apprehend
your
weapons
,
Therefore
I
charge
you
deliver
.
Nico.
Oh
my
Lord
:
make
a
fray
in
an
open
streete
?
'tis
to
Make
a
bon-fire
to
draw
children
and
fooles
Together
;
Signior
Angelo
,
pray
be
wise
,
and
begon
.
Ang.
I
doe
but
guard
my
life
(
my
Lord
)
from
danger
.
Bapt.
Sir
,
you
doe
exercise
your
violence
;
Vpon
a
man
,
stab'd
to
the
heart
with
wounds
;
You
see
him
sinking
,
and
you
set
your
foote
Vpon
his
head
,
to
kill
him
with
two
deathes
;
Trample
not
thus
on
a
poore
banish'd
man
.
Nico.
If
hee
be
banish'd
,
why
dwells
hee
ith'
house
,
whose
Tiles
are
pull'd
downe
over
his
head
?
You
must
hunt
No
more
in
this
Parke
of
Florence
;
why
then
Doe
you
lie
sneaking
heere
,
to
steale
venison
?
Ang.
My
Lords
,
I
take
my
last
leave
of
you
all
;
Of
love
,
and
fortunes
—
Bapt.
Lower
thou
canst
not
fall
.
Exit
.
Iasp.
Trust
mee
,
my
Lord
,
This
Lotti
is
a
man
,
(
Setting
aside
his
rivall-ship
in
love
,
For
which
you
hate
him
)
so
abundant
rich
In
all
the
Vertues
of
a
Gentle-man
,
That
had
you
read
their
file
,
as
I
haue
done
,
You
would
not
onely
fall
in
love
with
him
,
And
hold
him
worthy
of
a
Princesse
bed
,
But
grieve
,
that
for
a
woman
,
such
a
man
Should
so
much
suffer
;
in
being
so
put
downe
,
Never
to
rise
againe
.
Nicol.
A
terrible
case
,
i'de
not
be
in't
for
all
Florence
.
Pie.
Troth
deare
friend
,
The
praises
which
have
crown'd
him
with
thy
Iudgement
,
Make
mee
to
cast
on
him
an
open
eye
,
Which
was
before
shut
,
and
I
pittie
him
.
I
Never
heard
'mongst
all
your
Romane
spirits
.
Iasp.
That
any
held
so
bravely
up
his
head
,
In
such
a
sea
of
troubles
(
that
come
rowling
One
on
anothers
necke
)
as
Lotti
doth
,
Hee
puts
the
spite
of
Fortune
to
disgrace
,
And
makes
her
,
when
shee
frownes
worst
,
turne
her
face
.
Pier.
No
more
:
I
love
him
;
and
for
all
the
Dukedome
,
Would
not
have
cut
so
Noble
a
spreading
Vine
,
To
draw
from
it
one
drop
of
blood
;
Lord
Vanni
,
I
thanke
you
that
you
cur'd
our
wounded
peace
,
So
fare
you
well
.
Exit
.
Nico.
A
good
health
to
you
both
.
Iasp.
You
play
the
Constable
wisely
.
Carg.
And
I
his
Beadle
,
I
hope
as
wisely
.
Nico.
The
Constable
wisely
;
Cargo
he
calls
me
foole
by
craft
,
But
let
'em
passe
.
Carg.
As
Gentle-men
doe
by
Creditors
(
muffled
)
Nico.
I
haue
another
case
to
handle
:
thou
know'st
the
Donna
Alphonsina
,
of
the
Neri
Familie
.
Carg.
The
little
Paraquinto
that
was
heere
when
the
Duke
Was
feasted
,
shee
had
quick-silver
in
her
mouth
,
for
Her
tongue
,
like
a
Bride
the
first
night
,
never
lay
still
.
Nico.
The
same
Aspen-leafe
,
the
same
;
is't
not
a
Galley
for
The
Great
Turke
to
be
row'd
in
?
Carg.
I
thinke
my
Lord
,
in
calme
weather
,
shee
may
set
upon
A
Gally-ass
bigge
as
your
Lordship
.
Nico.
Commend
me
to
this
Angelica
.
Carg.
Angelica-water
is
good
for
a
cold
stomach
.
Nico.
I
am
all
fire
.
Carg.
Shee's
a
cooler
.
Nico.
Would
'twere
come
to
that
.
Carg.
A
small
thing
does
it
my
Lord
;
in
the
time
a
Flemming
drinkes
a
Flap-dragon
.
Nico.
Give
her
this
paper
,
and
this
;
in
the
one
she
may
know
my
minde
,
in
the
other
,
feele
me
:
this
a
Letter
,
this
a
Iewell
:
Tell
her
,
I
kisse
the
little
white
naile
of
her
little
white
Finger
,
of
her
more
little
white
hand
,
of
her
most
Little
white
bodie
.
Carg.
Her
tell-tale
,
for
all
this
will
I
bee
.
Nico.
Thou
hast
beene
my
weavers
shuttle
to
runne
betwixt
me
and
my
stuffes
of
Procreandi
causa
.
Carg.
A
suite
of
Stand-farther-off
,
had
bin
better
sometimes
.
Nico.
No
Cargo
,
I
have
still
the
Lapis
mirabilis
;
be
thou
close
—
Carg.
As
my
Ladies
Chamber-maide
.
Nico.
Away
then
,
nay
quicke
knave
,
thou
rack'st
mee
.
Exit
.
Carg.
I
goe
to
stretch
you
to
your
full
length
.
Exit
.
Enter
Iocomo
Gentili
,
in
a
suite
of
gray
,
Velvet-gowne
,
Cap
,
Chaine
,
Steward
,
and
Serving-men
,
Mutio
,
Philippo
,
Tornelli
Montinello
.
Gent.
Happy
be
your
arivall
,
Noble
friends
;
You
are
the
first
,
that
like
to
Doves
repaire
To
my
new
building
;
you
are
my
first-borne
guests
,
My
eldest
sonnes
of
hospitalitie
;
Here's
to
my
hearty
wellcomes
.
Mutio.
Worthy
Lord
,
In
one
word
,
and
the
word
of
one
,
for
all
,
Our
thankes
are
as
your
welcomes
,
Infinite
.
Phil.
Rome
in
her
Auncient
pride
,
never
rais'd
up
A
worke
of
greater
wonder
,
then
this
building
.
Gent.
Tis
finish'd
,
and
the
cost
stands
on
no
score
,
None
can
for
want
of
payment
,
at
my
doore
,
Curse
my
foundation
,
praying
the
roofe
may
fall
On
the
proud
builders
head
,
seeing
the
smoake
goe
Out
of
those
Chimneys
,
for
whose
bricks
I
owe
.
Tor.
To
erect
a
frame
so
glorious
,
large
,
and
hie
,
Would
draw
a
very
sea
of
silver
drie
.
Mont.
My
Lord
Iocomo
Gentili
,
pray
tell
us
,
How
much
money
have
you
buried
under
this
kingly
building
?
Gent.
Pray
call
it
not
so
:
The
humble
shrub
,
no
Cedar
heere
shall
grow
;
You
see
Three
hundred
Dorick
pillars
stand
About
one
square
,
Three
hundred
Noble
friends
Lay'd
(
in
their
loves
)
at
raising
of
those
Columnes
,
A
piece
of
gold
under
each
Pedestall
,
With
his
name
grav'd
upon
the
bottome
stone
,
Except
that
cost
,
all
other
was
mine
owne
;
See
heere
,
each
dayes
expences
are
so
great
,
They
make
a
volume
,
for
in
this
appeares
,
It
was
no
taske
of
weekes
,
or
moneths
,
but
yeares
:
I
trust
my
steward
onely
with
the
key
,
Which
keepes
that
secret
;
heere's
Arithmetick
For
churles
to
cast
up
,
there's
nhe
roote
of
all
;
If
you
have
skill
in
numbers
,
number
that
.
Mont.
Good
Mr.
Steward
read
it
.
Stew.
All
the
charge
In
the
grosse
summe
,
amounteth
to
—
Gent.
To
what
?
Thou
vaine
vaine-glorious
foole
,
goe
burne
that
Booke
,
No
Herald
needs
to
blazon
Charities
Armes
;
Goe
burne
it
presently
.
Stew.
Burne
it
?
Exit
.
Gent.
Away
,
I
lanch
not
forth
a
ship
,
with
drums
and
gunnes
,
And
Trumpets
,
to
proclaime
my
gallantry
;
He
that
will
reade
the
wasting
of
my
gold
,
Shall
find
it
writ
in
ashes
,
which
the
winde
Will
scatter
ere
he
spends
it
;
Another
day
,
The
wheele
may
turne
,
and
I
that
built
thus
high
,
May
by
the
stormes
of
want
,
be
driven
to
dwell
In
a
thatch't
Cottage
;
Rancor
shall
not
then
Spit
poyson
at
me
,
pinning
on
my
backe
This
card
;
Hee
that
spent
thus
much
,
now
does
lack
.
Mont.
Why
to
your
house
adde
you
so
many
gates
?
Gent.
My
gates
fill
up
the
number
of
seuen
dayes
,
At
which
,
of
guests
,
seven
severall
sorts
Ile
welcome
:
On
Munday
,
Knights
whose
fortunes
are
sunke
low
;
On
Tuesday
,
those
that
all
their
life-long
read
The
huge
voluminous
wonders
of
the
deepe
,
Sea-men
(
I
meane
)
and
so
on
other
dayes
,
Others
shall
take
their
turnes
.
Phi.
Why
have
you
then
built
twelue
such
vaste
roomes
.
Gent.
For
the
yeares
twelve
moones
;
In
each
of
which
,
twelue
Tables
shall
be
spread
;
At
them
,
such
whom
the
world
scornes
,
shall
be
fed
,
The
windowes
of
my
building
,
which
each
morne
,
Are
Porters
,
to
let
in
mans
comfort
(
light
)
Are
numbred
just
three
hundred
sixtie
five
,
And
in
so
many
daies
the
sunne
does
drive
His
chariot
stuck
with
beames
of
Burnish't
gold
,
My
Almes
shall
such
diurnall
progresse
make
As
doe's
the
sunne
in
his
bright-Zodiack
.
Tor.
You
differ
from
the
guise
of
other
lands
,
Where
Lords
lay
all
their
livings
on
the
racke
,
Not
spending
it
in
bread
,
but
on
the
backe
.
Gent.
Such
Lords
eate
men
,
but
men
shall
eate
up
me
,
My
uncle
the
Lord
Abbot
had
a
soule
Subtile
and
quick
,
and
searching
as
the
fier
,
By
Magicke-stayers
he
went
as
deepe
as
hell
,
And
if
in
devills
possession
gold
be
kept
,
He
brought
some
sure
from
thence
,
'tis
hid
in
caves
Knowne
(
save
to
me
)
to
none
,
and
like
a
spring
The
more
'tis
drawne
,
the
more
it
still
doth
rise
,
The
more
my
heape
wastes
,
more
it
multiplies
.
Now
whither
(
as
most
rich-men
doe
)
he
pawn'd
His
soule
for
that
deare
purchase
none
can
tell
,
But
by
his
bed-side
when
he
saw
death
stand
Fetching
a
deepe
groane
,
me
he
catch't-by'th
hand
Cal'd
me
his
heire
,
and
charg'd
me
well
to
spend
What
he
had
got
ill
,
deale
(
quoth
he
)
a
doale
which
round
(
with
good
mens
prayers
)
may
guard
my
soule
Now
at
her
setting
forth
:
let
none
feele
want
That
knock
but
at
thy
gates
:
do
wrong
to
none
,
And
what
request
to
thee
so
ear
is
made
,
If
honest
,
see
it
never
be
denay'd
.
Mont.
And
yow'le
performe
all
this
?
Gent.
Faire
&
upright
,
As
are
the
strict
vowes
of
an
Anchorite
:
A
benefit
given
by
a
Niggards
hand
Is
stale
and
gravily
bread
,
the
hunger-sterv'd
Takes
it
,
but
cannot
eate
it
;
Ile
give
none
such
.
Who
with
free
heart
shakes
out
but
crums
,
gives
much
.
Mont.
In
such
a
ship
of
worldly
cares
my
Lord
As
you
must
saile
now
in
,
yow'le
need
more
Pilots
Then
your
owne selfe
to
sit
and
steare
the
Helme
.
You
might
doe
therefore
well
to
take
a
wife
;
Gent.
A
wife
?
when
I
shall
have
one
hand
in
heaven
,
To
write
my
happinesse
in
leaves
of
starres
;
A
wife
wo'd
plucke
me
by
the
other
downe
:
This
Barke
hath
thus
long
sail'd
about
the
world
,
My
soule
the
Pilot
,
and
yet
never
listen'd
To
such
a
Mare-maids
song
:
a
wife
,
oh
fetters
,
To
mans
blest
liberty
!
All
this
world's
a
prison
,
Heaven
the
high
wall
about
it
,
sin
the
jalour
,
But
the
iron-shackles
waying
downe
our
heeles
,
Are
onely
women
,
those
light
Angells
turne
us
,
To
fleshly
devills
,
I
that
Sex
admire
,
But
never
will
sit
neere
their
wanton
fier
.
Mut.
Who
then
shall
reape
the
golden
corne
you
sowe
?
Phi.
'Tis
halfe
a
curse
to
them
,
that
build
,
and
spare
,
and
hoard
up
wealth
,
yet
cannot
name
an
heire
.
Gent.
My
heires
shall
be
poore
children
fed
on
almes
,
Souldiers
that
want
limbes
,
schollers
poore
and
scorn'd
.
And
these
will
be
a
sure
inheritance
;
Not
to
decay
:
Mannors
and
Townes
will
fall
,
Lord-ships
and
Parkes
,
Pastures
and
woods
be
sold
;
But
this
Land
still
continues
to
the
Lord
:
No
subtile
trickes
of
law
,
can
me
beguile
of
this
.
But
of
the
beggers-dishe
,
I
shall
drinke
healthes
To
last
for
ever
;
whil'st
I
live
,
my
roofe
Shall
cover
naked
wretches
;
when
I
die
,
'Tis
dedicated
to
St.
Charitie
.
Mut.
The
Duke
inform'd
,
what
trees
of
goodnesse
grow
,
Here
of
your
planting
,
in
true
loue
to
your
virtues
;
Sent
us
to
give
you
thankes
,
for
crowning
Florence
,
With
fame
of
such
a
subject
,
and
entreats
you
(
Vntill
he
come
himselfe
)
to
accept
this
token
,
Of
his
faire
wishes
towards
you
.
Gent.
Pray
returne
my
duty
to
the
Duke
,
tell
him
I
value
his
love
beyond
all
jewells
in
the
world
.
Phi.
H'as
vow'd
ere
long
to
be
your
visitant
.
Gent.
He
shall
be
welcome
when
he
comes
,
that's
all
;
Not
to
a
Pallace
,
but
my
hospitall
.
Omnes
.
Wee'le
leave
your
Lordship
.
Gent.
My
best
thoughts
goe
with
you
:
My
Steward
?
Enter
Steward
,
and
a
foolish
Gentle-man
.
Stew.
Heere
my
Lord
.
Gent.
Is
the
Booke
fired
?
Stew.
As
you
commanded
Sir
,
I
saw
it
burn'd
.
Gent.
Keep
safe
that
Iewell
,
and
leave
me
;
letters
!
from
whome
?
Buz.
Signior
Ieronimo
Guydanes
.
Gent.
Oh
sir
,
I
know
the
businesse
:
yes
,
yes
,
'tis
the
same
;
Cuidanes
lives
amongst
my
bosome
friends
:
He
writes
to
have
me
entertaine
you
sir
.
Buz.
That's
the
bough
,
my
bolt
flies
at
,
my
Lord
.
Gent.
What
Qualities
are
you
furnish't
with
?
Buz.
My
Education
has
bin
like
a
Gentle-man
.
Gent.
Have
you
any
skill
in
song
,
or
Instrument
?
Buz.
As
a
Gentleman
shoo'd
have
,
I
know
all
,
but
play
on
none
:
I
am
no
Barber
.
Gent.
Barber
!
no
sir
,
I
thinke
it
;
Are
you
a
Linguist
?
Buz.
As
a
Gentleman
ought
to
be
,
one
tongue
serues
one
head
;
I
am
no
Pedler
,
to
travell
Countries
.
Gent.
What
skill
ha'you
in
horseman-ship
?
Buz.
As
other
Gentlemen
have
,
I
ha'
rid
some
beasts
in
my
Time
.
Gent.
Can
you
write
and
reade
then
?
Buz.
As
most
of
your
Gentle-men
doe
,
my
band
has
bin
Taken
with
my
marke
at
it
.
Gent.
I
see
you
are
a
dealer
,
give
me
thy
hand
,
Ile
entertaine
thee
howsoeuer
,
because
in
thee
I
keepe
halfe
a
score
Gentlemen
;
thy
name
.
Buz
A
sinius
Buzardo
—
—
Gent.
I
entertaine
thee
,
good
Buzardo
.
Buz.
Thankes
sir
.
Gent.
This
fellow's
a
starke
foole
,
or
too
wise
,
The
triall
will
be
with
what
wing
he
flies
.
Exit
.
Actus
secundus
.
Scaena
prima
.
Enter
Tibaldo
sicke
in
his
chaire
,
Alphonsina
,
Mutio
,
Philippo
,
Tornelli
,
Montivello
.
Mut.
IN
Lawes
of
courtesie
,
wee
are
bound
sweete
Lady
,
(
Being
thus
nigh
)
to
see
you
and
your
brother
,
Our
noble
friend
,
tho'
the
Duke
had
not
sent
.
Alp.
Thankes
worthy
sir
.
Phil.
Signior
Tibaldo
hath
desire
to
sleepe
.
Tor.
Then
leave
him
,
Companie
offends
the
sicke
.
Alp.
Our
humblest
dutie
to
my
Lord
the
Duke
;
If
in
my
Brothers
name
,
and
mine
,
you
tender
For
this
his
noble
love
,
wee
both
shall
rest
Highly
indebted
to
you
all
.
Mut.
Sweete
Madam
,
You
shall
command
our
lives
to
worke
your
good
.
Alp.
Signior
,
your
love
.
Omnes
.
All
at
your
service
Madam
.
Mut.
A
quick
,
and
good
health
to
your
noble
Brother
.
Alp.
And
all
faire
fortunes
doubled
on
your selfe
.
Exit
.
So
:
me-thinkes
a
Lady
had
more
need
have
a
new
paire
of
lips
,
then
a
new
paire
of
gloves
,
for
tho'
they
were
both
of
one
skinne
,
yet
one
would
weare
out
sooner
then
the
other
;
I
thinke
these
Courtiers
have
al
offices
in
the
Spicerie
,
And
taking
my
lips
for
sweet-meates
,
are
as
sawcie
with
'em
,
as
if
they
were
Fees
;
I
wonder
Tibaldo
thou
can'st
fit
still
,
and
not
come
in
for
a
share
;
If
old
Vanni's
wife
had
beene
heere
,
all
the
parts
about
you
had
mov'd
.
Tib.
Thou
think'st
I
lie
in
,
heere's
such
a
gossiping
,
as
if
'twere
a
Child-bed
Chamber
.
Alp.
So
'tis
,
for
Ile
sweare
,
all
this
stirre
is
about
having
a
woman
brought
to
bed
;
marry
I
doubt
it
must
be
a
mans
lying
in
.
Tib.
I
would
thy
tongue
were
a
man
then
,
to
lie
.
Alp.
I
had
rather
it
were
a
woman
,
to
tell
trueth
.
Tib.
Good
sister
Alphonsina
,
you
still
play
The
bad
Phisicion
,
I
am
all
on
fire
,
And
you
to
quench
mee
,
powre
on
scoopes
of
oyle
;
I
feele
ten
thousand
plummets
at
my
heart
,
Yet
you
cry
,
Lay
on
more
and
are
more
cruell
Then
all
my
tortures
.
Alp.
Sadnesse
,
I
pittie
thee
,
And
will
to
doe
thee
service
,
venture
life
,
Mine
honour
being
kept
spotlesse
.
Tib.
Gentle
sister
,
The
easiest
thing
ith'
world
to
begge
,
I
crave
,
And
the
poorest
Almes
to
give
.
Alp.
But
aske
and
have
.
Tib.
A
friendly
counsell
,
loe
that's
all
.
Alp.
'Tis
yours
.
Be
rul'd
by
me
then
;
in
an
ashie
sheete
,
Cover
these
glowing
embers
of
defire
.
Tib.
Embers
?
I
wo'd
you
telt
em
,
'tis
a fire
—
Alp.
Come
,
and
set
hand
to
paper
,
Ile
indite
.
Tib.
And
shee'le
condemne
me
;
no
,
I
will
not
write
.
Alp.
Then
prethee
take
this
Phisick
;
be
not
the
sea
,
to
drinke
strange
Rivers
up
,
yet
still
be
drie
;
Be
like
a
noble
streame
,
covet
to
runne
betwixt
faire
bankes
,
which
thou
may'st
call
thine
owne
,
and
let
those
bankes
be
some
faire
Ladies
armes
,
fit
for
thy
youth
,
and
birth
.
Tib.
Against
your
charmes
,
Witch
,
thus
I
stop
mine
eares
.
Alp.
Ile
hollow
them
:
this
Deere
runnes
in
my
Lords
Parke
,
And
if
you
steale
it
,
looke
to
have
Blood-hounds
scent
you
.
Tib.
Are
you
mad
?
Alp.
Yes
,
you
shall
finde
venison-sawce
deerer
then
other
flesh
.
Tib.
No
,
no
,
none
else
must
,
none
shall
,
none
can
,
My
hunger
feede
but
this
;
downe
will
I
dive
,
And
fetch
this
Pearle
,
or
nere
come
up
alive
—
Alp.
Are
all
my
warme
cawdles
come
to
this
?
now
I
see
th'art
too
farre
gone
,
this
Lady
hath
overspent
thee
therefore
settle
thine
estate
,
plucke
up
a
good
heart
,
and
Ile
pen
thy
will
.
Tib.
Oh
fie
,
fie
.
Alp.
Bequeath
thy
kisses
to
some
Taylor
,
that
hunts
out
weddings
every
sunday
;
Item
,
Thy
sighes
to
a
noyse
of
fidlers
ill
paid
,
thy
palenesse
to
a
Fencer
fighting
at
sharpe
,
thy
want
of
stomack
to
one
of
the
Dukes
guard
.
Tib.
I
begge
it
at
thy
hands
,
that
being
a
woman
,
thou'It
make
a
wonder
.
Enter
Cargo
.
Alp.
What's
that
?
Tib.
Hold
thy
tongue
.
Alp.
It's
an
Instrument
ever
plaid
on
,
cause
well
strung
,
Who's
that
come
into
the
Chamber
there
?
Oh
,
Mr.
Cargo
.
Carg.
My
Lord
hath
sent
you
a
Iewell
,
lock't
up
in
this
paper
,
and
the
moisture
of
a
goose
quill
,
that's
to
say
,
words
in
that
—
Alp.
Oh
sir
,
I
thanke
your
Lord
,
and
this
your
paines
;
have
him
into
the
Buttery
—
let
me
see
,
Lady
,
that
I
love
you
,
I
dare
sweare
like
a
Lord
(
I
shall
have
oathes
enough
then
)
I
send
you
all
that
is
mine
,
in
hope
all
shall
bee
mine
that
is
yours
,
for
it
stands
to
reason
,
that
mine
being
yours
,
yours
should
bee
mine
,
and
yours
being
mine
,
mine
should
be
yours
.
Love
me
,
or
I
die
,
If
I
die
,
you
kill
me
,
If
you
kill
me
,
I
will
say
nothing
,
but
take
the
blow
patiently
.
I
hold
my
life
this
Lord
has
bin
bastinado'd
,
out
upon
him
rammish
foxe
,
he
stinks
hither
;
Prethee
good
Brother
reade
.
Tib.
I
will
.
Reades
.
Alp.
Is't
Gander
moneth
with
him
?
How
the
devill
is
my
maydenhead
blasted
?
that
among
such
shoales
of
Gallants
,
that
swim
up
and
downe
the
Court
,
no
fish
bites
at
the
baite
of
my
poore
beautie
,
but
this
tough
Cods-head
?
Tib.
Oh
sister
,
peace
for
heavens
sake
;
heere
lies
health
Even
in
this
bitter
pill
(
for
me
)
so
you
Would
play
but
my
Phisician
,
and
say
,
take
it
;
You
are
offered
heere
,
to
soiourne
at
his
house
:
Companion
with
his
Lady
.
Alp.
Sr
,
I
have
you
.
And
I
goeing
vpon
so
weightie
a
businesse
,
as
getting
of
children
,
you
would
ha'
me
pin
you
to
my
sleeve
.
Tib.
Most
true
.
Alp.
You
care
not
so
I
turne
whore
to
pleasure
you
.
Tib.
Oh
Sister
,
your
high
worth
is
knowne
full
well
Gainst
base
assault
,
a
Fort
Impregnable
;
And
therefore
,
as
you
love
my
life
,
ith'
sprindge
,
Catch
this
old
Wood-cocke
.
Alp.
In
the
flame
I'le
sindge
My
wings
,
unlesse
I
put
the
candle
out
,
That
you
i'th'
darke
may
bring
your
hopes
about
.
You
have
wonne
me
.
Tib.
You
revive
me
.
Alp.
Have
a
care
you
cast
not
your selfe
downe
too
soone
now
.
Tib.
I
warrant
you
.
Alp.
As
for
my
old
Huck-sters
artillery
,
I
have
walls
of
Chastity
strong
enough
shoote
he
never
so
hard
,
to
keepe
him
From
making
any
breach
.
Tib.
'Twill
be
a
noble-battaile
on
each
side
;
Yet
now
my
spirits
are
rouzed
,
a
stratageme
Lies
hatching
heere
,
pray
helpe
me
noble
sister
,
to
give
it
forme
and
life
.
Alp.
My
best
.
Tib.
What
thinke
you
?
(
The
marke
of
man
not
yet
set
in
my
face
)
If
as
your
sister
,
or
your
kins-woman
,
I
goe
in
womans
habit
,
for
thereby
,
Speech
,
free
accesse
,
faire
opportunity
;
Are
had
without
suspition
.
Alp.
Mine
be
your
will
;
Oh
me
!
what
paines
we
take
to
bring
forth
ill
!
Such
a
disguise
is
safe
too
,
since
you
never
but
once
Were
seene
there
.
Tib.
My
wise
sister
ever
.
(
Enter
Cargo
)
Alp.
Send
in
the
fellow
there
that
brought
the
letter
;
Why
how
now
?
doe
his
leggs
faile
him
already
?
A
staffe
for
his
declining
age
.
Carg.
I
have
a
pike-staffe
of
mine
owne
already
,
but
I
could
not
Keep
our
your
scurvy
desperate
hoggs-head
from
coming
In
upon
me
,
I'me
cut
i'th'
cockscombe
.
Alb.
Nothing
I
see
is
so
like
an
old-man
,
as
a
youngman
drunke
.
Carg.
Or
when
he
comes
from
a
wench
.
Alp.
Before
he
beare
your
answer
let
him
sleep
.
Tib.
Whil'st
you
laugh
at
what
I
could
almost
weepe
.
Exit
.
Enter
Angelo
,
like
a
Doctor
,
Baptista
,
his
man
.
Ang.
Deare
friend
,
I
should
both
wrong
my
faith
&
fortunes
,
To
make'em
thus
dance
Antickes
;
I
shall
never
play
the
dissembler
.
Bapt.
Then
never
play
the
Lover
;
Death
!
for
a
woman
,
I'de
be
fleade
alive
,
Could
I
but
finde
one
constant
:
i'st
such
a
matter
For
you
then
to
put
on
a
Doctours-gowne
,
And
his
flat
velvet-Cap
,
and
speake
the
gibbering
Of
an
Apothecary
.
Ang.
If
thus
disguis'd
I'me
taken
all
the
phisicke
in
the
world
Cannot
prolong
my
life
.
Bapt.
And
dying
for
her
,
You
venture
bravely
,
all
women
o're
you
grave
will
pray
that
they
so
kinde
a
man
may
have
,
As
to
die
for'em
;
say
your
banishment
Had
borne
you
hence
,
what
hells
of
discontent
,
Had
rack'd
your
soule
for
her
as
hers
for
you
?
Should
you
but
faint
,
well
might
you
seeme
untrue
,
Where
this
attempt
your
loyalty
shall
approve
,
Who
ventures
farthest
winns
a
Ladies-love
.
Ang.
How
are
my
beard
and
haire
?
Bapt.
Friend
I
protest
,
So
rarely
counterfeit
,
as
if
a
painter
Should
draw
a
Doctour
:
were
I
sicke
my selfe
,
And
met
you
with
an
urinall
in
my
hand
,
I'de
cast
it
at
your
head
,
unlesse
you
cast
The
water
for
me
,
come
,
all's
passing
well
;
Love
which
makes
pale
the
cheeks
,
gives
you
complexion
,
Fit
for
a
sallow
French-man
.
Ang.
I
will
on
then
,
In
France
I
long
haue
liv'd
,
And
know
the
Garbe
Of
the
French-Mounte-bankes
,
whose
apish
gesture
,
Although
in
them
I
hold
ridiculous
,
My selfe
shall
practise
.
Bapt.
For
a
Doctours-man
,
You
see
I'me
fitted
,
foote
by
foote
I'le
walke
,
and
meete
all
dangers
sent
against
your
breast
.
Ang.
I
thanke
thee
noble
friend
;
let's
then
to
court
.
The
pangs
a
lover
suffers
are
but
short
.
Exit
.
Enter
Florence
,
Pisa
,
Nicolletto
,
Philippo
,
Tonell
,
Piero
,
met
by
an
old
Nurse
.
Flo.
How
now
Nurse
,
how
does
my
Fiametta
?
Nurs.
Oh
my
sweete
Lord
,
shees
at
it
agen
,
at
it
agen
!
Flo.
Who
are
with
her
?
call
for
more
helpe
.
Nurs.
More
helpe
!
alas
there's
my
Lady
Vanni
with
her
,
and
Ladies
upon
Ladies
,
and
Doctours
upon
Doctours
,
but
all
cannot
doe
.
Pisa
.
How
does
it
take
her
Nurse
?
Nurs.
Oh
sweete
Princesse
,
it
takes
her
all
over
with
a
pricking
;
first
about
her
stomack
,
and
then
she
heaves
and
heaves
,
that
no
one
man
with
all
his
weight
,
can
keepe
her
downe
.
Pier.
At
this
I
wonder
,
that
her
sicknesse
makes
her
Doctours
fooles
.
Nic.
He
that
she
findes
most
ease
in
,
is
Dr.
Iordan
.
Flo.
I
will
give
halfe
my
Duke-dome
for
her
health
.
Nic.
Well
,
well
,
If
death
do
take
her
,
he
shall
have
the
sweetest
bed-fellow
that
ever
lay
by
leane
mans-side
.
Flo.
I
entreate
thee
Nurse
be
tender
over
her
.
Nurs.
Tender
quoth
a
?
I'me
sure
my
heeles
are
growne
as
hard
as
hoofes
,
with
trotting
for
her
,
I'le
put
you
in
one
comfort
.
Flo.
What's
that
Nurse
?
Nurs.
In
her
greatest
conflict
sh'as
had
a
worthy
feeling
of
her selfe
.
Exit
Flo.
So
,
so
,
I'me
glad
of
it
my
Lord
of
Pisa
.
Vnder
this
common
blow
,
which
might
have
strooke
the
strongest
heart
,
here
pray
doe
not
you
shrinke
.
Pisa
.
Sicknes
is
lifes
retainer
,
Sir
,
and
I
(
What
is
not
to
be
shun'd
)
beare
patiently
;
But
had
she
health
as
sound
as
hath
the
spring
,
She
wo'd
to
me
prove
sickly
Autumne
still
.
Flo.
Oh
say
not
so
,
Pis.
I
finde
it
,
for
being
loyall
,
As
the
touch-needle
to
one
starre
still
turning
,
I
loose
that
starre
,
my
faith
is
paid
with
scorning
.
Who
then
with
eagles
wings
of
faith
and
truth
,
W'ud
in
her
sun-beames
plaie
away
his
youth
,
And
kisse
those
flames
,
which
burne
but
out
mine
eyes
,
With
scalding
rivers
of
her
cruelties
?
Flo.
'Tis
but
her
way-ward
sicknes
casts
this
eye
of
slightnes
on
you
.
Pis.
'Tis
my
Lord
her
hate
;
For
when
death
sits
even
almost
on
her
browes
,
She
spreads
her
armes
abroad
,
to
welcome
him
,
When
in
my
bridall-bed
I
finde
a
grave
.
Flo.
Now
Mutio
?
Enter
Mutio.
Mut.
There's
a
French-man
come
to
court
,
A
profest
Doctour
,
that
has
seen
the
Princesse
,
And
will
on
her
recovery
pawne
his
life
.
Flor.
Comfort
from
heaven
,
I
hope
,
let's
see
this
Doctour
.
Enter
Angelo
like
a
Doctour
,
Baptista
his
man
.
Flo.
Welcome
good
Doctour
:
have
you
seen
my
daughter
?
Restore
her
health
,
and
nothing
in
my
Duke-dome
,
Shall
be
too
deare
for
thee
,
how
doe
you
Iudge
her
?
Ang.
Be
me
trat
me
Lord
,
I
finde
her
a
very
bad
lady
,
&
no
well
.
Flo.
Piero
take
the
Duke
of
Pisa
pray
and
be
your
sisters
visi
.
Piero
.
Sir
we
shall
,
if
the
Duke
please
—
(
tants
.
Pisa
.
The
poysoned
may
drinke
gall
.
Exit
.
Flo.
Attend
the
Duke
.
Enter
Cargo
,
with
a
letter
.
Caego.
The
party
Sir
.
Nico.
Thou
shalt
have
Caesars
pay
—
my
Coach
,
Car.
Old
Ianuary
goes
to
lie
with
May
.
Exit
.
Flo.
Doctor
I
thus
have
singled
you
,
to
sound
The
depth
of
my
girles
sicknes
,
that
if
no
skill
Of
man
can
save
her
,
I
against
heavens
will
,
May
arme
my
breast
with
patience
,
therefore
be
free
.
Ang.
By
my
tra'
and
fa'my
Lor
'
,
me
no
point
can
play
The
hound
,
and
fawne
upon
de
most
puissant
Roy
in
de
world
;
A
French-man
beare
the
brave
minde
for
dat
.
Flo.
So
,
so
,
I
like
him
better
.
Ang.
Me
gra
tanke
you
,
now
for
de
maladie
of
de
Princesse
,
Me
one
two
,
tre
time
,
feele
her
pulse
,
and
ron
up
and
downe
all
De
oder
parts
of
her
body
,
and
finde
noting
but
dat
She
be
trobla
with
le
gran
desire
of
de
man
.
Flo.
A
great
desire
of
a
man
?
Ang.
A
my
trat
'tis
verament
,
she
longa
to
do
some
ting
in
Love
uponle
gentle
home
.
Flo.
Doctor
thou
hit'st
her
heart
,
'tis
there
shee's
wounded
,
By
a
poyson'd
Arrow
,
shot
from
a
villaines
hand
;
One
Angelo
of
the
Lotti
Familie
,
And
till
that
head
be
pluckt
out
,
shee
will
pine
,
Vnlesse
controul'd
by
some
deepe
Art
of
thine
.
Ang.
All
tings
possibela
me
fall
undergoe
,
mee
ha
read
Gallen
,
Hipocratus
,
Avicen
,
but
no
point
can
peeke
out
le
remedie
for
de
Madam
in
de
bryars
of
love
.
Flo.
No
medicine
you
say
in
any
of
them
for
Love
.
Ang.
Ayme
,
trat
not
worth
a
lowse
,
onely
in
my
perigrination
about
le
grand
gloabe
of
de
world
,
me
find
out
a
fine
trick
for
make
a
de
man
,
and
Voman
doe
,
dat
is
tickla
in
love
.
Flo.
The
man
and
the
woman
doe
?
how
doe
,
how
doe
?
Ang.
To
be
cura
,
and
all
whole
,
Admirable
vell
.
Flo.
As
how
pray
?
Ang.
Me
have
had
under
my
fingera
,
many
brave
vench
,
and
most
Noble
gentle
Dames
,
dat
have
bee
much
troubla
,
upon
de
wilde
vorme
in
de
taile
for
de
man
.
Flo.
Very
good
.
Ang.
And
bee
my
tra
my
Lord
,
by
experement
me
finde
dat
de
heart
of
de
man
;
you
understanda
me
.
Flo.
Yes
,
yes
,
the
heart
of
the
man
.
Ang.
Wee
wee
,
de
heart
of
de
man
being
all
dry
as
peppera
.
Flo.
So
so
.
Ang.
And
rub
upon
de
ting
(
vat
you
call
it
)
fall
make
it
moulder
all
to
crumble
and
dust
.
Flo.
Oh
,
oh
,
a
Grater
.
Ang.
Ee
by
my
tra
you
say
vell
,
rub
a
de
mans
dry
Art
upon
de
Grater
,
and
drinke
de
powder
in
de
pot
le
Vine
,
by
de
Gentle-voman
,
and
by
gars-blor
,
she
presentamently
kick
up
de
heele
at
de
man
she
lova
.
Flo.
Excellent
.
Ang.
No
point
more
remembra
,
but
cry
out
le
French
poo
upon
le
varlet
.
Flo.
So
shee
will
hate
her
lover
.
Ang.
Be-gar
,
as
my selfe
hate
le
puz-cat
,
cry
mew
at
my
shin
;
and
vill
have
de
rombling
a
de
gut
,
for
de
other
gentle
home
.
Flo.
Thou
com'st
up
close
to
me
now
,
my
brave
Doctor
.
Ang.
Be-gar
me
hope
so
,
and
derfore
my
Lord
apply
le
desperate
Medicine
,
to
le
perilous
maladie
,
and
have
dis
Angelo
be
cut
in
de
troate
,
and
be
man-slaughtered
.
Flo.
You
then
advise
me
to
have
Angelo
slaine
.
Ang,
Wee
.
Flo.
And
then
to
have
my
daughter
drincke
his
heart
.
Ang.
Wee
,
wee
.
Flo.
Grated
and
dried
,
and
so
—
Ang.
Wee
,
wee
,
wee
.
Flo.
I
wo'd
I
grip'd
it
fast
now
in
this
hand
,
And
eat
it
panting
hot
,
to
teach
a
peasant
To
climbe
above
his
being
,
Doctor
,
hee
dies
.
Ang.
Knocka
de
pate
downe
be-gar
.
Flo.
But
stay
,
stay
,
hee's
fled
Florence
;
It
will
bee
A
worke
to
find
him
first
out
,
and
being
found
,
A
taske
to
kill
him
;
for
our
Gallants
speake
Much
of
his
worth
;
The
varlet
is
valiant
.
Ang.
No
matera
for
dat
;
for-two
tree
foure
crowne
,
dar
be
Rascalls
fall
run
him
in
on
de
backe-shide
.
Flor.
He
shall
be
sought
for
,
and
being
found
,
he
dies
.
Ang.
Pray
my
lor'
suffera
le
Princesse
and
me
for
be
in
private
,
Le
Doctor
uses
for
toucha
doe
Ooman
—
Flo.
Doe
,
so
,
whil'st
I
for
Angeloes
death
use
speede
,
For
till
I
have
his
heart
,
mine
owne
must
bleede
.
Exit
.
Enter
Baptista
.
Ang.
Oh
my
Baptista
.
Bapt.
I
have
heard
the
thunder
aym'd
at
your
life
.
Ang.
And
it
will
strike
me
dead
,
With
a
most
soddaine
and
Invisible
blowe
.
Bapt.
Now
that
you
see
his
vengeance
apt
to
fall
,
Flie
from
it
.
Ang.
How
?
Bapt.
By
fayre
,
and
free
accesse
,
Open
your
dangers
to
your
Mistris
eyes
,
Where
shee
starke
mad
,
so
she
be
mad
for
love
,
You'le
bring
her
to
her
witts
,
if
wisely
now
You
put
her
into
th'
way
;
Gold
bar'd
with
locks
,
Is
best
being
stolne
;
steale
her
then
.
Ang.
'Tis
but
a
wracke
at
most
,
Oh
on
what
boisterous
Seas
is
True
love
tost
!
Exeunt
.
Actus
Tertius
.
Scaena
prima
.
Trumpets
sounding
.
Enter
an
Vsher
bare
,
perfuming
a
roome
,
Signinior
Torrenti
gorgeously
attyred
,
a
company
of
Gallants
.
Tor.
THis
Roome
smells
.
1.
Gal.
It
has
bin
new
perfum'd
.
Tor.
Then
'tis
your
breeches
;
stand
off
—
and
shines
there
(
say
you
)
a
Sun
in
our
horizon
full
as
glorious
,
as
we
our selfe
?
2.
Gal.
So
cry
the
common
people
.
Tor.
The
common
people
are
Rascalls
,
lying
devills
,
Dung-hills
,
whose
savor
poisons
brave
mens
fames
,
That
Ape
of
greatnesse
(
imitating
mee
)
I
meane
that
slavish
Lord
Iacomo
Shall
die
a
beggar
,
If
at
the
yeares
end
,
His
totall
of
expence
dares
equall
mine
;
How
is
his
house
built
?
1.
Gal.
Admirable
faire
.
Tor.
Faire
?
Ile
guild
mine
(
like
Pompey's
Theater
)
All
ore
to
out-shine
his
;
the
richest
hangings
Persian
,
or
Turke
,
or
Indian
slaves
can
weave
,
Shall
from
my
purse
be
bought
at
any
rates
;
Ile
pave
my
great
hall
with
a
floare
of
Clowdes
,
Wherein
shall
move
an
artificiall
Sunne
,
Reflecting
round
about
me
,
golden
beames
,
Whose
flames
shall
make
the
roome
seeme
all
on
fire
,
And
when
'tis
night
,
just
as
that
Sun
goes
downe
,
A
silver
Moone
shall
rise
,
drawne
up
by
starres
,
And
as
that
moves
,
I
standing
in
her
Orbe
,
Will
move
with
her
,
and
be
that
man
ith'
moone
,
So
mock't
in
old
wives
tales
;
then
over
head
,
A
roofe
of
Woods
,
and
Forests
full
of
Deere
,
Trees
growing
downwards
,
full
of
singing
quiers
.
And
this
i'le
doe
that
men
with
prayse
,
may
crowne
My
fame
,
for
turning
the
world
upside
downe
:
And
what
brave
gallants
are
Gentilies
guestes
?
1.
Gal.
The
Lord
Iacomo
Gentili
feeds
All
Beggars
at
his
Table
.
Torr.
Hang
Iacome
,
My
boarde
shalbe
no
manger
for
poore
jades
To
lick
up
provinder
in
.
2.
Gal.
He
welcomes
souldiers
.
Tor.
Let
souldiors
beg
and
starue
,
or
steale
and
hange
.
Wo'd
I
had
heere
ten-thousand
Souldiors
heads
,
Their
sculs
set
all
in
silver
,
to
drinck
healthes
To
his
confusion
,
first
invented
warre
,
And
the
health
drunck
to
drowne
the
bowles
i'th
Sea
,
That
very
name
of
Souldior
,
makes
me
shrugg
,
And
thinck
I
crawle
with
vermin
;
give
me
Lutes
,
Mischiefe
on
drumms
,
for
souldiors
;
fetch
me
whores
,
These
are
mens
blisse
;
those
every
Kingdomes
soares
,
Wee
gave
in
charge
to
search
through
all
the
world
For
the
best
Cookes
,
rarest
musitians
,
And
fairest
girles
,
that
will
sell
sinne
for
gold
.
1.
Gal.
Some
of
all
sorts
you
have
Tor.
Let
me
have
more
Then
the
grand
Signior
,
And
my
change
as
rare
,
Tall
,
low
,
and
middle
size
,
the
browne
,
and
faire
;
Ide
give
a
Princes
ransome
now
to
kisse
Blacke
Cleopatra's
cheeke
;
Onely
to
drinke
A
richer
perle
,
then
that
of
Anthonyes
,
That
Fame
(
where
his
name
stands
)
might
put
downe
mine
.
Oh
that
my
Mother
had
bin
Paris
Whore
,
And
I
had
liv'd
to
see
a
Troy
on
fire
,
So
that
by
that
brave
light
,
I
might
have
danc'd
But
one
Lavalto
with
my
Curtezan
.
Enter
fourth
Gallant
.
4.
Gal.
Patterne
of
all
perfection
breath'd
in
man
,
There's
one
without
,
before
your
Excellence
Desires
accesse
.
Tor.
What
creature
?
4.
Gal.
Your
owne
brother
,
At
least
hee
termes
himselfe
so
.
Tor.
Is
he
brave
?
4.
Gal.
Hee's
new
come
from
Sea
.
Tor.
'Tis
true
,
that
Iason
Rig'd
out
a
Fleete
to
fetch
the
Golden-Fleece
;
'Tis
a
brave
boy
,
all
Elementall
fire
,
His
shipps
are
great
with
Child
of
Turkish
Treasure
,
And
heere
shall
be
delivered
;
marshall
him
in
Like
the
seas
proud
commander
give
our
charge
—
Omnes
.
Sound
drums
,
and
trumpets
,
for
my
Lord
away
.
Vsher
him
in
Pare
and
ragged
.
At
which
Torrenti
starts
,
his
hat
falls
off
,
Offer
it
him
.
Torr.
Thou
whorson
pesant
,
know
me
,
burne
that
wind-fall
,
It
comes
not
to
my
head
that
drops
so
low
,
—
Another
1.
Gall.
Hatts
for
my
Lord
,
—
Hatt's
brought
in
3.
or
4.
Torr.
It
smells
of
earth
,
stood
it
againe
so
high
,
My
head
would
on
a
dung-hill
seeme
to
lie
.
How
now
?
what
scar-crow's
this
?
Broth.
Scar-crow
?
thy
brother
,
His
bloud
cleare
as
thine
owne
,
but
that
it
smoakes
not
,
With
perfum'd
fiers
as
thine
doth
.
Torr.
Has
the
poore
snake
,
a
sting
;
can
he
hisse
?
What
beggs
the
rogue
for
?
Broth.
Vengeance
From
the
just
thunderer
to
throw
Lucifer
downe
;
How
high
so ever
thou
rearest
thy
Babell-browes
,
To
thy
confusion
I
this
language
speake
:
I
am
thy
fathers
sonne
.
Torr.
Ha
,
ha
,
the
Skipper
raves
.
Broth.
The
aw'd
Venetian
on
St.
Markes
proud-day
,
Never
went
forth
to
marry
the
rich-sea
,
With
casting
in
her
lapp
a
ring
of
gold
;
In
greater
bravery
then
my selfe
did
freight
,
A
fleete
of
gallant
youthfull
Florentines
,
All
vow'd
to
rescew
Rhodes
,
from
Turkish-slavery
:
We
went
and
waded
up
in
our
owne
bloods
,
Till
most
of
us
were
drown'd
.
Torr.
Faire
riddance
on
you
.
Broth.
Where
such
a
Peacock
durst
not
spread
his
plumes
;
We
fought
and
those
that
fell
left
Monuments
Of
unmatch't
valour
to
the
whole
race
of
man
,
They
that
were
ta'ne
,
(
mongst
whom
my selfe
was
chiefe
)
Were
three
yeeres
chain'd
up
to
the
tugging
o're
,
See
here
the
relicts
of
that
misery
,
Chaines
,
If
thou
wu'd'st
know
more
,
reade
it
on
my
backe
,
Printed
with
the
Bulls-peezele
.
Torr.
Hang
the
dogge
.
What
tellest
thou
me
of
Peezeles
?
Broth.
'Tis
thy
brother
tells
thee
so
,
note
me
.
Torr.
I
know
thee
not
;
Set
mastives
on
him
,
worry
him
from
my
gates
.
Broth.
The
first
unhappy
breath
I
drew
,
mov'd
heere
,
And
here
I'le
spend
my
last
,
e're
brav'd
from
hence
,
Heere
I'le
have
meate
and
cloaths
.
Torr.
Kick
the
curre
out
.
Bro.
Who
dares
?
Take
from
that
sumpter-horses
backe
of
thine
,
Some
of
those
gaudie
trappings
to
cloathe
mine
,
And
keepe
it
from
the
keene
aire
,
fetch
me
food
,
You
fawning
spaniells
1.
Gall.
Some
spirit
of
the
buttery
.
2.
Gall.
It
should
be
by
his
hunger
.
Broth.
I
am
starv'd
,
Thirsty
,
and
pinde
to
th'bare
bones
,
heere
;
I'le
eate
at
thine
Owne
scorneful
board
,
on
thine
owne
meate
,
or
teare
it
from
Thy
throate
as
'tis
chewing
downe
.
Torr.
I'le
try
that
;
if
my
dinner
be
prepared
,
Serue
me
in
my
great
state
along'st
this
way
,
And
as
you
passe
two
there
with
pistolls
stand
.
To
kill
that
ravenous
Vulture
;
if
he
dare
thrust
his
tallents
Forth
to
make
one
dish
his
prey
.
(
Exeunt
all
.
Broth.
Now
view
my
face
,
and
tho
perhaps
you
shamd
To
owne
so
poore
a
brother
,
let
not
my
heart-strings
,
In
sunder
cracke
,
if
we
now
being
lone
,
You
still
disdaine
me
.
Torr.
Wretch
I
know
thee
not
,
And
loath
thy
sight
.
Broth.
Slave
,
thou
shalt
know
me
then
;
I'le
beate
thy
braines
out
with
my
Gally-chaine
.
Torr.
Wilt
murther
thine
owne
brother
?
Broth.
Pride
doth
it selfe
confound
,
What
with
both
hands
the
Devill
strove
to
have
bound
,
Heaven
with
one
little
finger
hath
untyed
,
This
proves
that
thou
maiest
fall
,
because
one
blast
Shakes
thee
already
,
feare
not
,
I'le
not
take
The
whip
out
of
your
hand
and
tho'
thou
break'st
Lawes
of
humanitie
,
and
brother-hood
;
I'le
not
doe
soe
,
but
as
a
begger
should
(
Not
as
a
brother
)
knock
I
at
the
gate
Of
thy
hard
heart
for
pitty
to
come
forth
,
And
looke
upon
my
wretchednes
,
A
shot
Kneeles
.
Toore
to
the
keele
that
gally
where
I
row'd
;
Sunke
her
,
the
men
slaine
,
I
by
dyving
scaped
,
And
sat
three
leagues
upon
a
broken-mast
,
Wash't
with
the
salt
teares
of
the
Sea
,
which
wept
,
In
pitty
,
to
behold
my
misery
.
Torr.
Pox
on
your
,
tarry
misery
.
Broth.
And
when
heavens
blest-hand
hal'de
me
to
a shoore
To
dry
my
wet-limbes
,
was
I
forc'd
to
fire
,
A
dead-mans
straw-bed
throwne
into
the
streete
.
Torr.
Foh
,
th'art
infectious
.
Broth.
Oh
remember
this
!
He
that
does
good
deeds
,
here
waits
at
a
Table
,
Where
Angells
are
his
fellow
servitours
.
Torr.
I
am
no
Robbin-red-breast
to
bring
strawes
To
cover
such
a
coarse
.
Broth.
Thou
art
turn'd
devill
,
Kizes
.
Trumpets
sound
.
Enter
an
arm'd
sewer
,
after
him
a
company
with
covered
dishes
:
Coronets
on
their
heads
.
Two
With
pistolls
to
guard
it
.
Torr.
Where's
thy
great
stomack
,
eat
,
stand
,
let
him
choose
What
dish
he
likes
.
—
snatches
a
pistoll
:
ill
flye
off
.
Broth.
This
then
which
I'le
carve
up
On
thy
base
bosome
,
see
thou
Tryviall
foole
,
Thou
art
a
Tyrant
(
o're
me
)
of
short
reigne
,
This
cock
out
crow's
thee
,
and
thy
petty
kings
,
Th'art
a
proud-bird
,
but
fliest
with
rotten
wings
;
To
shew
how
little
for
thy
scorne
I
care
,
See
my
revenge
turn's
all
to
idle-aire
,
Shootes
up
.
It
upward
flies
and
will
from
thence
I
feare
Shoote
darts
of
lightning
to
confound
thee
heere
.
Farewell
thou
huge
Leviathan
,
when
th'ast
drunk
dry
,
That
Sea
thou
rowl'st
in
,
on
some
base
shore
dye
.
Enter
Gallants
all
drawne
.
Omnes
.
Where
is
the
Traitor
?
Tor.
Now
the
house
is
fiered
,
Torr.
You
come
to
cast
on
waters
;
barre
up
my
doores
,
But
one
such
tattered
ensigne
here
being
spread
,
Drawes
numbers
hither
,
here
must
no
rogues
be
fed
;
Command
my
carpenters
invent
od
engines
.
To
manacle
base
beggers
,
hands
and
feete
,
And
by
my
name
call'em
my
whipping
posts
;
If
you
spye
any
man
that
has
a
looke
,
Stigmatically
drawne
,
like
to
a
furies
,
(
Able
to
fright
)
to
such
I'le
give
large
pay
,
To
watch
and
ward
for
poore
snakes
night
and
day
,
And
whip'em
soundly
if
they
approch
my
gates
;
The
poore
are
but
the
earths-dung
fit
to
lie
Cover'd
on
much-heapes
not
to
offend
the
eye
.
Enter
1.
Gall
.
1.
Gall.
Two
Gentlemen
sent
from
the
Florence
Duke
,
Require
speech
with
your
Lord-ship
—
Torr.
Give'm
entrance
Enter
Mutio
,
Philippe
,
What
re
you
?
and
whence
come
you
?
Mut.
From
the
Duke
.
Tor.
Your
businesse
?
Mut.
This
,
fame
sounding
forth
your
worth
For
hospitable
princely
house-keeping
;
Our
Duke
drawne
by
the
wonder
of
report
,
Invites
himselfe
(
by
us
)
to
be
your
guest
.
Tor.
The
honour
of
Embassadors
be
yours
;
Say
to
the
Duke
that
Caesar
never
came
;
More
welcome
to
the
Capitoll
of
Rome
,
Then
he
to
us
—
healthes
to
him
—
fill
rich
wines
.
Mut.
You
have
this
wonder
wrought
,
now
rare
to
men
;
By
you
they
have
found
the
golden
age
agen
.
Tor.
Which
I'le
uphold
,
so
long
as
there's
a
sunne
,
To
play
the
Alchymist
.
Phil.
This
proud
fellow
talkes
As
if
he
grasped
the
Indies
in
each
hand
.
Torr.
Health
to
your
Duke
.
Amb.
We
pledge
it
on
our
knees
.
Tor.
I'le
stand
to
what
I
do
,
but
kneele
to
none
.
Musicke
,
drinck
,
breake
the
glasse
,
they
pledge
it
in
plate
,
Which
offering
,
both
servitours
refuse
to
take
.
Tor.
Breake
not
our
custome
(
pray
ye
)
with
one
beame
;
The
god
of
mettailes
makes
both
gold
and
wine
To
Imitate
whose
greatnesse
;
If
on
you
I
can
bestow
Wine
,
I
can
give
gold
too
,
Take
them
as
free
as
Bacohus
spends
his
blood
;
And
in
them
drinke
our
health
.
Mut.
Your
bounty
farre
Exceeds
that
of
our
Caesars
.
Tor.
Caesar
ero
,
vel
nihil
ero
:
What
are
Gold
heapes
?
but
a
rich
dust
for
Kings
To
scatter
with
their
breath
,
as
chaffe
by
winde
?
Let
him
then
that
hath
gold
,
beare
a
Kings
minde
,
And
give
till
his
arme
akes
,
who
bravely
powres
But
into
a
wenches
lap
his
golden
showres
,
May
be
Ioves
equall
,
oh
but
hee
that
spends
A
world
of
wealth
,
makes
a
whole
world
his
debter
,
And
such
a
Noble
spender
is
Ioves
better
;
That
man
Ile
be
,
I'me
Alexanders
heire
To
one
part
of
his
minde
,
I
wish
there
were
Ten
Worlds
,
yet
not
to
conquer
,
but
to
sell
.
For
Alpine
hills
of
silver
,
And
that
I
.
Might
at
one
feast
,
spend
all
that
treasure
drie
;
Who
hoards
up
wealth
,
is
base
;
who
spends
it
,
brave
,
Earth
breeds
gold
,
so
I
tread
but
on
my
slave
;
Beare
backe
our
gratulations
to
your
Duke
.
Exit
.
Amb.
Wee
shall
great
sir
.
Mut.
Torrenti
call
you
him
;
'tis
a
prowd
rough
streame
.
Phil.
Hee's
of
the
Romane
Family
indeede
.
Mut.
Lord
Vanni
?
rather
my
Lord
Vanitie
.
Phil.
And
heapes
of
money
sure
have
strucke
him
mad
.
Mut.
Hee'le
soone
pick
up
his
witts
,
let
him
but
bleede
Thus
many
ownces
at
one
time
;
All
day
Could
I
drinke
these
deare
healthes
,
yet
nere
be
drunke
.
Phil.
And
carry
it
away
most
cleanely
.
Mut.
Not
a
pin
the
worse
;
What
might
his
father
leave
him
?
Phil.
A
great
estate
,
Of
some
300000
Crownes
a
yeare
.
Mut.
Strange
hee's
not
begg'd
,
for
fooles
are
now
growne
An
admirable
Cocks-combe
!
(
deare
;
Phi.
Let
wonder
passe
,
Hee's
both
a
brave-Lord
,
and
a
golden
Asse
.
Exit
.
A
Bed
discovered
,
Eyametta
upon
it
.
Enter
two
Dukes
,
Piero
,
Gallants
,
Nurse
,
Ladies
,
Angelo
,
Baptista
,
ut
antea
Fyametta
.
Ang.
I
pray
you
hush
all
,
a
little
hush
,
le
faire
Lady
by
hee
owne
vo
unter
disposition
,
has
take
a
ting
dat
is
of
such
a
grand
operation
,
it
shall
make
a
de
stone
for
slepe
.
Flo.
What
,
Noble
Doctor
,
is
the
name
of
it
?
Ang.
Tis
not
your
scurvie
English
Poppy
,
nor
Mandragon
,
nor
a
ting
so
danger
as
Oppium
,
but
tis
de
brave
ting
a
de
vorld
,
for
knock
a
de
braine
asleepe
.
Pisa
.
I
am
glad
shee
takes
this
rest
.
Ang.
Peace
,
be
gor
it
is
snore
and
snore
,
two
mile
long
;
now
if
your
grace
vill
please
for
procure
Musick
,
be
restore
as
brave
as
de
fish
.
Flo.
Call
for
the
Musicke
.
Ang.
Makea
no
noise
,
but
bring
in
de
Fidlers
,
and
play
sweet
—
Nico.
Oh
out
upon
this
Doctor
;
hang
him
,
does
he
thinke
to
cure
dejected
Ladies
with
Fidlers
—
Ang.
De
grand
French
poo
stopa
de
troate
,
pray
void
le
Shambera
.
Flo.
All
,
all
part
softly
;
peace
Nurse
,
let
her
sleepe
.
Nurs.
I
,
I
,
go
out
of
her
prospect
,
for
shee's
not
to
bee
cur'd
with
a
song
.
Exit
.
Ang.
Baptista
,
see
the
doore
fast
,
watch
that
narrowly
.
Bapt.
For
one
friend
to
keepe
doore
for
another
,
is
the
office
now
amongst
gallants
,
common
as
the
Law
;
Ile
bee
your
porter
Sir
.
Ang.
Shee
does
but
slumber
,
Fiametta
,
Love
.
Fia.
The
Pisan
Prince
comes
:
daggers
at
my
heart
.
Ang.
Looke
up
,
I
am
not
hee
,
but
Angelo
?
Fia.
Ha!
who
names
Angelo
?
Ang.
Angelo
himselfe
,
Who
with
one
soote
treads
on
the
throat
of
death
,
Whilst
t'other
stepps
to
embrace
thee
,
thus
ith'
shape
Of
a
French
Doctor
.
Fya.
Oh
my
life
,
my
soule
.
Ang.
Heare
me
.
Fya.
I
me
now
not
sicke
,
Ile
have
no
Phisicke
,
But
what
thy selfe
shall
give
mee
.
Ang.
Let
not
Ioy
confound
our
happinesse
,
I
am
but
dead
,
If
it
be
knowne
I
am
heere
.
Fya.
Thou
shalt
not
hence
.
Ang.
Be
wise
deare
heart
;
see
here
the
best
of
men
,
Faithfull
Baptista
—
—
—
Fya.
Oh
,
I
love
Baptista
,
Cause
he
loves
thee
;
But
my
Angelo
I
love
bove
kings
.
Bapt.
Madam
you'le
spoile
,
Vnlesse
you
joyne
with
us
in
the
safe
plot
Of
our
escape
.
Ang.
Sweete
Fyametta
heare
me
.
For
you
shall
hence
with
us
.
Fya.
Over
ten
worlds
,
But
Ile
not
hence
;
my
Angelo
shall
not
hence
,
True
love
,
like
gold
,
is
best
being
tried
in
fire
;
Ile
defie
Father
,
and
a
thousand
deaths
—
for
thee
—
—
Ang.
Vndone
,
vndone
.
Knock
within
.
Bapt.
At
the
Court
gate
,
I
see
a
Iebbit
already
,
to
hang's
both
;
Death
!
the
Duke
beates
at
the
doore
.
Fya.
He
shall
come
in
;
Enter
Omnes
.
One
frowne
at
thee
,
my
Tragedie
shall
begin
;
See
Father
—
Flo.
I
told
you
that
I
heard
—
her
tongue
—
Fya.
See
Father
.
Flo
What
sweete
girle
?
Fya.
That's
Angelo
,
and
you
shall
pardon
him
.
Flo.
With
all
my
heart
.
Fya.
Hee
sayes
hee
pardons
thee
with
all
his
heart
.
Ang.
Mee
Lor
,
be
all
mad
,
le
braine
crowe
,
and
run
whirabout
like
de
windmill
saile
,
pardon
a
moy
,
por
quoy
my
sweete
Madam
,
pardon
your
povera
Doctor
.
Fya.
Because
thou
art
my
banish't
Angelo
.
Flo.
Starke
mad
.
Pisa
.
This
her
recoverie
?
Fya.
Hee
is
no
Doctor
,
Nor
that
his
man
,
but
his
deare
friend
Baptista
;
Has
black't
this
beard
like
a
Comoedian
To
play
the
Mountibanke
;
avvay
,
Ile
marry
None
but
that
Doctor
,
and
leave
Angelo
.
Ang.
I
doe
pray
Artely
,
Madam
.
Fya.
Leave
off
thy
gibberishe
,
and
I
prethee
speake
Thy
Native
language
.
Ang.
Par-ma-soy
all
French
be-gor
shee
be
mad
as
the
moone
.
Flo.
Sweet
girle
,
with
gentle
hands
sir
,
take
her
hence
.
Fya.
Stand
from
mee
,
I
must
follow
Angelo
.
Pisa
.
Thine
eyes
drinke
sleepe
from
the
sweet
god
of
rest
.
Fya.
Oh
,
you
shoote
poyson'd
arrowes
thorow
my
breast
.
Manent
Florence
,
Angelo
,
Baptista
.
Flo.
What
strange
new
furie
now
possesseth
her
?
Ang.
Begar
her
imaginashon
be
out
a
de
vitts
,
and
so
dazell
de
two
nyes
,
and
come
downe
so
into
de
bellie
,
and
possibla
for
make
her
tinke
mee
or
you
to
be
le
shentle-man
shee
lovea
,
and
so
shee
takea
my
man
for
a
Iack-a-nape
,
mee
know
not
who
.
Bapt.
For
one
Baptista
.
Ang.
Povera
garshon
a
my
trat
.
Flo.
I
doe
beleeve
you
both
,
but
honest
Doctor
,
Straine
all
thy
Art
,
and
so
thou
leave
her
well
,
I
care
not
if
you
call
up
feinds
from
hell
.
Ang.
Dar
be
too
much
devill
in
de
body
all
ready
be
my
trat
my
Lor
,
mee
no
stay
heere
for
ten
hundred
hundred
Coronaes
,
she
cry
upon
mee
'tis
Master
Angelo
,
you
tink
so
not
one
and
two
time
,
but
a
tyrd
time
,
you
smell
a
me
out
;
And
so
cutta
my
troate
;
adue
my
Lor
.
Flo.
Still
your
opinion
holds
to
kill
that
villaine
,
And
give
her
his
heart
dried
.
Ang.
In
de
pot
a
vine
,
wee
,
very
fine
.
Flo.
This
gold
take
for
thy
paines
to
make
her
sownde
,
There
needs
a
desperate
cure
to
a
desperate
wounde
.
Exit
.
Ang.
How
blowes
it
now
?
Bapt.
Faire
,
with
a
prosperous
gale
.
Ang.
Poore
love
,
thou
still
art
strucke
with
thine
owne
fate
;
My
life
hangs
at
a
thred
,
friend
I
must
flie
.
Bapt.
How
,
to
be
safe
?
Ang.
I
will
take
sanctuary
,
I
know
a
reverend
Fryar
,
in
whose
cell
Ile
lurke
till
stormes
blow
ore
;
If
women
knew
What
men
feele
for
them
,
None
their
scornes
should
rue
.
Enter
Tibaldo
in
Womans
attire
,
Alphonsina
.
Alph.
Is't
come
to
this
,
have
the
walls
of
the
Castle
beene
besieged
thus
long
,
lien
open
for
a
breach
;
and
dare
you
not
Give
fier
to
once
piece
?
oh
y'ar
a
proper
soldyor
,
good
Sister
,
brother
follow
your
game
more
close
,
or
i'le
leave
you
.
Tib.
What
wu'd
you
have
me
doe
?
Alp.
Why
I
would
ha'you
(
tho'you
be
in
womans
apparrell
)
to
be
your selfe
a
man
,
and
do
what
you
come
for
.
Tib.
I
have
bin
giving
her
a
thousand
on
setts
,
And
still
a
blushing
cheeke
makes
me
retire
;
I
speake
not
three
words
,
but
my
tongue
is
ready
To
aske
forgivenes
of
her
.
Alp.
Must
thou
needs
at
thy
first
encounter
tell
her
thou
art
a
man
,
why
when
you
walke
together
,
cannot
you
begin
a
tale
to
her
,
with
once
upon
a
time
there
was
a
loving
couple
that
having
tyred
themselves
with
walking
,
sat
downe
upon
a
banck
,
and
kist
,
and
embraced
,
and
plaid
,
and
so
by
degrees
bring
the
tale
about
to
your
owne
purpose
.
Can
you
not
?
fie
,
you
are
the
worst
at
these
things
Sir
.
Tib.
I
am
sister
indeed
.
Alp.
And
the
more
foole
you
indeed
:
you
see
how
the
old
stinking
fox
her
husband
is
stil
rubbing
me
as
if
I
had
the
palsy
,
Ile
not
have
his
wither'd
hands
(
which
are
as
moist
as
the
side
of
stock-fish
)
lye
pidling
in
my
bosome
,
therefore
determine
some
thing
,
or
farewell
.
Tib.
I
have
deare
sister
,
if
you
will
but
heare
me
.
Alp.
Come
on
,
out
with't
then
.
Tib.
Give
you
the
old
man
promise
of
your
love
,
And
the
next
night
appoint
him
for
your
bed
;
Rap'd
with
joy
,
he'le
feigne
businesse
of
state
,
To
leave
his
lady
,
and
to
lie
alone
,
Alp.
Very
good
.
Tib.
Then
my
request
shall
be
,
that
for
that
night
She
would
accept
me
for
her
bed-fellow
,
And
there's
no
question
sister
of
the
grant
,
Which
being
Injoy'd
I
doubt
not
but
to
manage
And
carry
all
so
even
on
levill
ground
,
That
my
offence
shall
in
my
love
seeme
drownde
.
Alp.
The
clocke
for
your
businesse
thus
far
goes
true
,
but
now
for
me
,
what
shall
I
do
with
the
old
cock
in
my
Roost
?
Tib.
Sister
,
you
have
some
tricke
(
no
doubt
)
to
keepe
Him
within
compasse
.
Alp.
No
not
I
beleeve
me
,
I
know
not
what
to
doe
with
him
,
unlesse
I
should
give
him
a
little
Nux
vomica
,
to
make
him
sleep
away
the
night
,
but
brother
,
to
pleasure
you
,
Ile
venter
a
joynte
,
and
yet
it
troubles
me
too
,
that
I
should
prove
a
Traytor
to
my
sex
,
I
doe
betray
an
Innocent
Lady
,
to
what
ill
I
know
not
.
But
Love
the
author
of
it
wil
I
hope
Turne
it
quite
otherwise
,
and
perhaps
it
may
be
So
welcome
to
her
as
a
courtesie
.
Tib.
I
doubt
not
but
it
shall
.
Alp.
We
nothing
can
,
Vnlesse
man
woman
helpe
,
and
woman
man
.
Exeunt
.
Actus
quartus
.
Scaena
prima
.
Trumpets
sounding
.
Enter
Torrenti
very
brave
,
betweene
the
two
Dukes
,
attended
by
all
the
Courtiers
,
wondring
at
his
costly
habit
.
Enter
a
mask
,
woman
in
strang
habitts
,
Danee
.
Exit
.
He
gives
jewells
,
and
ropes
of
pearle
to
the
Duke
;
and
a
chaine
of
gold
to
every
Courtier
.
Exit
.
Nicholetto
and
he
stay
.
Tor.
THou
art
my
noble
kinsman
,
and
but
thy
mother
(
Vpon
my
soule
)
was
chast
I
should
beleeve
Some
Emperor
begot
thee
,
Tor.
Why
pray
Vncle
?
Nico.
Suppose
all
kingdomes
on
the
earth
were
balls
,
And
that
thou
held'st
a
racket
in
thy
hand
,
To
tosse
'em
as
thou
wu'd'st
,
how
wo'dst
thou
play
?
Tor.
Why
?
as
with
balls
,
bandy
'em
quite
away
.
Nico.
A
tennes-court
of
kings
could
do
no
more
;
But
faith
what
doest
thou
thinke
,
that
I
now
think
,
Of
thy
this
days
expence
?
Torr.
That
it
was
brave
.
Nico.
I
thinke
thee
a
proud
vaine-glorious
bragging
knaue
,
That
golden
wombe
thy
father
left
so
full
,
thou
Vulture-like
eat'st
thorough
:
oh
heeres
trimstuffe
;
A
good-mans
state
,
in
Gartyres
,
strings
and
ruffe
;
Hast
not
a
saffron
shirt
on
too
?
I
feare
th'art
Troubled
with
the
greene-sicknes
,
thou
look'st
wan
.
Tor.
With
anger
at
thy
snarling
must
my
hoase
Match
your
old
greasy
cod-piece
?
Nico.
No
,
but
I'de
have
thee
live
in
compasse
.
Tor.
Foole
,
I'le
be
As
the
sun
in
the
Zodiack
;
I
am
he
That
wood
take
Phaetons
fall
,
tho'
I
set
fire
On
the
whole
world
to
be
heavens
charioteire
,
(
As
he
was
)
but
one
day
.
Nico.
Vaine
riotous
cockscombe
,
Tha'st
fier'd
to
much
already
,
Parkes
,
Forrests
,
chases
,
Have
no
part
left
of
them
,
but
names
and
places
;
'Tis
voic'd
abroad
thy
lands
are
all
at
pawne
.
Tor.
They
are
,
what
then
?
Nico.
And
that
the
mony
went
to
Entertaine
the
Popes
great
Nuntio
,
On
whom
you
spent
the
ransome
of
a
king
.
Tor.
You
lye
.
Nico.
I
thanke
you
Sr
,
Tor.
Say
all
this
true
That
I
spent
millions
,
what's
that
to
you
.
Were
there
for
every
day
i'th'
yeare
a
Pope
,
For
every
houre
i'th'
yeare
a
Cardinall
;
I'd
melt
both
Indies
,
but
I'de
feast'em
all
.
Nico.
And
leave
your
Curtezans
bare
,
that
leaving
bare
,
Will
one
day
leave
thee
naked
,
one
nights
waking
,
With
a
fresh-whore
,
cost
thee
4000.
duckets
,
Else
the
bawd
lies
.
Tor.
Wert
thou
not
mine
uncle
I'de
send
thee
with
thy
frozen-beard
where
furies
Should
sindge
it
off
with
fire-brands
,
touching
Wenching
,
that
art
thy selfe
an
old
rotten
whore-master
.
Nico.
I
a
whore-master
?
To
shew
how
much
I
hate
it
,
harke
,
when
next
thy
tomblers
Come
to
dance
upon
the
ropes
,
Play
this
jigg
to
'em
.
Tor.
Goe
,
goe
,
idle
droane
,
Thou
enviest
bees
with
stings
,
because
thine
is
gone
,
Plate
,
jewells
,
revenues
all
shall
flie
.
Nico.
They
shall
.
Tor.
And
then
Sir
I'le
turne
pickled
theefe
,
a
Pirate
,
For
as
I
to
feed
Rayot
,
a
world
did
crave
,
So
nothing
but
the
sea
shall
be
my
grave
,
Meane
time
that
circle
few
began
l've
runne
,
tho'
the
Devill
stand
i'th'
Center
.
Nico.
What's
that
circle
?
Torr.
The
vanitie
of
all
man-kinde
be
mine
,
In
me
all
prodigalls
loosenes
fresh
shall
flowe
,
Wine
,
harlots
,
surfetts
,
rich
embroidered
cloaths
,
Fashions
,
all
sensuall
sins
,
all
new
coin'd
oathes
,
Shall
feed
me
,
fill
me
;
Ile
feast
every
sence
,
Nought
shall
become
me
ill
,
but
innocence
.
Exit
.
Nico.
I
hope
a
wallet
hanging
at
thy
backe
,
Who
spends
all
young
,
ere
age
comes
,
all
will
lacke
.
Exit
.
Enter
an
Apothecary
give
a
serving-man
gold
,
Iacomo
,
Servants
in
blew-coats
:
Stew.
Broker
,
Goldsmith
,
Torrenti's
Brother
,
a
Trumpet
.
Gent.
What
sounds
this
trumpet
for
?
Omnes
.
Dinner
my
Lord
,
Gent.
To
feast
whome
this
day
are
my
tables
spread
?
St.
For
sea-men
,
wrack't
,
aged
,
or
sicke
,
or
lame
,
And
the
late
ransom'd
captives
from
the
Turke
.
Gent.
Cheere
them
with
harty
welcomes
in
my
name
,
Attend
them
as
great
Lords
,
let
no
man
dare
,
To
send'em
sad
hence
,
bounty
shall
be
plac'd
At
the
boards
upper
end
;
For
Marriners
Are
clocks
of
danger
that
do
ne're
stand
still
,
Their
dialls-hand
ere
points
to'th
stroke
of
death
,
And
(
albeit
seldome
windlesse
)
loose
their
breath
;
I
love'em
,
for
they
eat
the
dearest
bread
,
That
life
can
buy
,
when
the
elements
make
warrs
;
Water
and
aire
,
they
are
sayd
by
their
good
starrs
.
And
for
the
gally-slaves
,
make
much
of
those
,
love
that
man
Who
suffers
onely
for
being
christian
;
What
suiters
waite
?
St.
Come
neere
,
one
at
once
,
keep
back
pray
.
Bro.
A
sorry
man
,
a
very
sorry
man
.
Gen.
What
makes
thee
sorry
?
Brok.
All
I
had
is
burnt
,
and
that
which
touches
me
to
the
quick
,
a
boxe
of
my
sweete
evidence
my
Lord
.
Gent.
Show
me
some
proofe
of
this
.
Brok.
Alas
too
good
proofe
,
all
burnt
,
nor
stick
,
nor
stone
,
left
.
Gent.
What
wodst
have
me
doe
?
Brok.
Bestow
but
a
bare
100.
l.
on
me
,
to
set
me
up
.
Gent.
Steward
deliver
him
a
100.
l.
Brok.
Now
all
the
—
Gent.
Nay
kneele
not
Sir
,
but
heare
me
.
Brok.
Oh
my
hony
Lord
!
Gent.
Faces
are
speaking
pictures
,
thine's
a
booke
,
Which
if
the
leafe
be
truly
printed
shews
A
page
of
close
dissembling
.
Brok.
Oh
my
Lord
!
Gent.
But
say
thou
art
such
,
yet
the
monie's
thine
,
Which
I
to
Charitie
give
,
not
to
her
shrine
;
If
thou
cheat'st
me
,
thou
art
cheated
?
how
?
th'hast
got
(
Being
licorish
)
rats-bane
from
a
gally-pot
,
Taking
it
for
sugar
;
thou
art
now
my
debtor
,
I
am
not
hurt
,
nor
thou
I
feare
,
much
better
;
farewell
.
Enter
lame
legg'd
Souldier
.
Soul.
Cannons
defend
me
,
Gun-powder
of
hell
,
Whom
doest
thou
blow
up
heere
?
Break.
Some
honest
scullar
,
row
this
lame
dog
to
hanging
.
Gent.
What
noise
is
that
?
Stew.
My
Lord
calls
to
you
.
Soul.
Was
there
ever
call'd
A
devill
by
name
from
hell
?
then
this
is
one
.
Gent.
My
friend
,
what
is
hee
?
Soul.
A
Citie
pestilence
,
A
moath
that
eates
up
gownes
,
doublets
and
hose
,
One
that
with
Bills
,
leades
smocks
and
shirts
together
To
linnen
close
adultery
,
and
upon
them
Strowes
lavender
,
so
strongly
,
that
the
owners
Dare
never
smell
them
after
;
hee's
a
broaker
.
Gent.
Suppose
all
this
,
what
hurt
hath
hee
done
thee
?
Soul.
More
then
my
limbs
losse
;
in
one
weeke
he
eate
My
wife
up
,
and
three
children
,
this
christian
Iew
did
;
Ha's
a
long
lane
of
hellish
Tenements
,
Built
all
with
pawnes
.
Gen.
All
that
he
had
is
burnt
.
Soul.
He
keepes
a
whore
indeede
,
this
is
the
Raven
,
Cryed
knocke
before
you
call
,
he
may
be
fir'd
,
His
lowsie
wardropes
are
not
;
to
this
hell-hound
I
pawn'd
my
weapons
to
buy
browne
bread
To
seede
my
brats
and
me
;
(
they
forfited
)
Twice
so
much
as
his
money
him
I
gave
,
To
have
my
Armes
redeem'd
,
the
griping
slave
Swore
(
not
to
save
my
soule
)
vnlesse
that
I
Laid
downe
my
stumpe
heere
,
for
the
Interest
,
And
so
hop
home
.
Gent.
Vnheard
of
villain
!
Broker
,
is
this
true
?
Brok.
'Twere
sinne
my
Lord
,
to
lie
.
Gent.
Souldier
,
what
is't
thou
now
crau'st
at
my
hands
?
Soul.
This
my
Pitition
was
,
which
now
I
teare
,
My
suite
here
was
,
When
the
next
place
did
fall
,
To
be
a
Beades-man
in
your
Hospitall
:
But
now
I
come
most
pitiously
complaining
Against
this
three-pile
rascall
,
widowes
decayer
,
The
Orphans
beggerer
,
and
the
poores
betrayer
;
Give
him
the
Russian
law
for
all
these
sinnes
.
Gent.
How
?
Soul.
But
one
hundred
blowes
on
his
bare
shins
Br.
Come
home
and
take
thine
Arms
.
So.
Ile
have
those
leggs
Gent.
Broaker
,
my
soule
foresaw
goods
thus
ill
got
,
Would
as
ill
thrive
,
you
ask'd
a
hundred
pound
,
'Tis
yours
;
but
crafty
Broaker
,
you
plaid
the
knave
To
begg
,
not
needing
.
This
man
now
must
have
His
request
too
,
'tis
honest
,
faire
,
and
just
,
Take
hence
that
varlet
therefore
,
and
on
his
shinnes
,
In
ready
payment
,
give
him
an
hundred
blowes
.
Rroak.
My
Lord
,
my
pitifull
Lord
.
Soul.
I
must
bestirre
my
stumps
too
.
Iustice
;
my
Lord
.
Gent.
I
will
not
ravill
out
time
;
Broaker
,
I
offer
you
A
hundred
for
a
hundred
.
Soul.
That's
his
owne
usury
.
Gent.
A
hundred
pound
,
or
else
a
hundred
blowes
,
Give
him
that
money
,
he
shall
release
you
those
.
Brok.
Take
it
,
and
may'st
thou
rot
with't
.
Exit
.
Soul.
Follow
thee
thy
curse
,
Wo'd
blowes
might
make
all
Broakers
still
disburse
.
Gent.
What
next
?
Serv.
The
Party
sir
:
Gent.
What
party
sir
?
If
honest
,
speake
,
I
love
no
whisperer
.
Serv.
This
Gentleman
is
a
great
shuter
.
Gent.
In
a
Long-bow
?
how
farre
shootes
hee
?
Serv.
To
your
Lordship
,
to
be
your
Apothecary
.
Gent.
Vmph
;
what
spie
you
in
my
face
,
that
I
sho'd
buy
Your
druggs
and
drenches
?
beares
not
my
cheeke
a
colour
As
fresh
as
any
old
mans
?
doe
my
bones
Ake
with
youth's
ryotts
?
or
my
blood
boile
hot
With
feavers
?
or
is't
num'd
with
dropsies
,
cold
Coughes
,
Rhumes
,
Catarrhes
,
Gowts
,
Apoplexie
fits
?
The
common
soares
of
age
,
on
me
never
ran
,
Nor
Galenist
,
nor
Paracelsian
,
Shall
ere
reade
Phisicall
Lecture
upon
me
.
Apot.
Two
excellent
fellowes
my
Lord
.
Gent.
I
honour
their
profession
,
What
the
Creator
does
,
they
in
part
doe
,
For
a
Phisician's
a
man-maker
too
,
—
but
honest
friend
,
My
kitchin
is
my
Doctor
,
and
my
Garden
,
Trustie
Apothecarie
;
when
they
give
me
pills
,
So
gently
worke
they
,
I'me
not
choak'd
with
bills
,
Which
Are
a
stronger
purge
then
the
disease
.
Apo.
Alas
my
Lord
,
and
'twere
not
for
bills
,
our
shops
wo'd
Gent.
Sir
,
I
beleeve
you
,
bills
nor
pills
Ile
take
;
(
downe
.
I
stand
on
sicknes
shoare
,
and
see
men
tost
From
one
disease
to
another
,
at
last
lost
;
But
to
such
seas
of
surfetts
,
where
they're
drown'd
,
I
never
ventering
,
am
ever
sound
.
Apo.
Ever
sound
my
Lord
?
if
all
our
gallants
sho'd
bee
so
,
Doctors
,
Pothecaries
,
and
Barber-surgeons
,
might
feed
upon
Onyons
and
Butter-milke
;
ever
sound
!
a
brave
world
then
.
Gent.
'Tis
their
owne
fault
,
if
they
feare
springs
or
falls
,
Wine-glasses
fill'd
too
fast
,
make
urynalls
;
Man
was
at
first
borne
sound
,
and
hee
growes
ill
Seldome
by
course
of
nature
,
but
by
will
—
Distempers
are
not
ours
,
there
should
be
then
(
Were
wee
our selues
)
no
Phisicke
,
men
to
men
Are
both
diseases
cause
,
and
the
disease
,
I'me
free
from
(
thankes
good
fate
)
either
of
these
.
Apo.
My
50.
Crownes
.
Ser.
Not
I
.
Apo.
No
,
must
I
give
you
a
Glister
?
Ser.
Hist
,
hist
.
Apo.
If
your
Lordship
will
not
allow
me
minister
to
your selfe
,
pray
let
me
give
your
man
a
purgation
.
Ser.
Me
a
Purgation
?
my
Lord
,
I'me
passing
well
.
Gent.
Him
a
Purge
,
why
?
Apo.
Or
rather
a
vomit
,
that
hee
may
cast
up
50
Crownes
—
Which
he
swallowed
as
a
Bribe
to
preferre
me
.
Gent.
My
health
is
bought
and
sold
sir
then
by
you
,
A
Doctor
baits
you
next
,
whose
mesh
of
potions
Striking
me
full
of
vlcers
,
a
gibberish
Surgion
,
For
50.
Crownes
more
,
comes
to
drawe
my
will
,
For
mony
,
slaves
their
Soveraignes
thus
kill
;
Nay
,
nay
,
so
got
,
so
keepe
it
;
for
his
Fifty
,
Give
him
a
100.
Crownes
,
because
his
will
Aym'd
at
my
health
I
know
,
and
not
at
ill
:
Fare
you
well
sir
.
Apo.
Who
payes
mee
sir
?
Ser.
Follow
me
,
I
sir
.
Exit
Sar.
&
Apothe.
Enter
Gold-smith
.
Gold.
The
fellow
,
my
Lord
,
is
fast
.
Gent.
What
fellow
sir
?
Gold.
The
thiefe
that
stole
this
Iewell
from
your
honour
,
Hee
came
unto
my
stall
my
Lord
.
Gent.
So
.
Gold.
And
ask'd
mee
Not
the
fourth
part
in
money
it
was
worth
,
And
so
smelling
him
out
.
Gent.
You
did
.
Golds.
I
did
sir
,
Smell
him
out
presently
,
and
under
hand
Sent
for
a
Constable
,
examined
him
,
And
finding
that
he
is
your
Stewards
man
,
Committed
him
toth'
Iale
.
Gent.
What
money
had
hee
upon
this
Iewell
of
you
?
Golds.
None
my
good
Lord
,
after
I
heard
it
yours
.
Gent.
Else
you
had
bought
it
,
And
beene
the
thiefes
receiver
,
y'ar
a
varlet
,
Go
to
,
a
sawcie
knave
;
if
I
want
money
;
And
send
my
servants
servant
(
cause
the
world
Shall
not
take
notice
of
it
)
to
pawne
,
or
sell
Iewells
,
or
Plate
,
tho'
I
loose
halfe
in
halfe
,
Must
you
sir
,
play
the
Marshall
,
and
commit
him
,
As
if
he
were
a
rogue
;
goe
and
release
him
,
Send
him
home
presently
,
and
pay
his
fees
,
doe
you
see
sir
.
Gold.
My
Lord
,
I
do
see
.
Gent.
Least
by
the
Innocent
fellow
,
I
lay
you
fast
byth'
heeles
,
doe
this
y'are
best
;
You
may
be
gone
.
Gold.
Heere's
a
most
excellent
jeast
.
Exit
.
Enter
Steward
.
Gent.
Harke
you
,
the
Duke
of
Florence
sent
me
once
A
Iewell
,
have
ye'it
?
For
you
laid
it
up
.
Ste.
My
Lord
,
I
have
it
.
Gent.
Are
you
sure
you
have
it
?
Why
change
you
colour
?
Know
you
this
?
doe
you
know
Your
man
,
you
sent
to
sell
it
?
You
belike
Thought
in
my
memory
it
had
beene
dead
,
And
so
your
honesty
too
came
buried
,
'Tis
well
,
out
of
mine
eye
;
what
wo'd
you
with
mee
?
Enter
Brother
,
to
Torrenti
.
Broth.
Your
pitty
on
a
wretch
late
wrackt
at
sea
,
Beaten
a shore
by
penury
,
3
.
yeares
a
Turkish
Gally-slave
.
Gent.
Your
birth
?
Broth.
Such
Sir
,
As
I
dare
write
my selfe
a
gentlema
,
In
Florence
stood
my
cradle
,
my
house
great
,
In
mony
,
not
in
mercy
;
I
am
poore
,
And
dare
not
with
the
begger
passe
their
doore
.
Gent.
Name
them
,
they
shalbe
forc't
to
thy
reliefe
.
To
steale
compassion
from
them
like
a
thiefe
,
Good
my
Lord
pardon
me
,
under
your
noble
wing
,
I
had
rather
sit
,
then
on
the
highest
tree
sing
,
That
shadowes
their
gay
buildings
.
Gent.
Young
man
I
doe
commend
thee
,
where's
my
steward
?
Give
me
thy
hand
,
I
entertaine
thee
mine
,
Make
perfect
your
accounts
,
and
see
the
books
deliver'd
To
this
Gentleman
.
St.
This
poore
rogue
Sir
?
Gent.
Thou
art
a
villaine
,
so
to
tearme
the
man
,
Whom
I
to
liking
take
;
Sir
I
discharge
you
;
I
regard
no
mans
out-side
,
'tis
the
lineings
Which
I
take
care
for
,
St.
Not
if
you
knew
how
louzie
they
were
.
Gent.
Cast
not
thy
scorne
upon
him
,
prove
thou
but
just
,
Ile
raise
the
Cedars
spring
out
first
from
dust
.
Exit
.
Enter
Nicolletto
,
Dariene
,
Alphons
,
Alisandra
,
Tibaldo
,
Cargo
.
Nie.
Madam
this
night
I
have
received
from
court
,
A
booke
of
deepe
import
,
which
I
must
reade
,
And
for
that
purpose
will
I
he
alone
.
Dar.
Be
Mr.
of
your
owne
content
my
Lord
.
Ile
change
you
for
some
femall
bed-fellow
.
Nic.
With
all
my
heart
.
Tib.
Pray
madam
then
take
me
.
Nic.
Doe
prethee
wife
.
Dar.
And
Sr.
she
is
most
welcome
.
Nic.
Wo'ld
I
were
at
it
,
for
it
is
a
booke
,
My
fingers
itch
till
I
be
turning
o're
;
Good
rest
faire
Alphonsina
you'le
not
faile
.
Alp.
No
,
feare
me
not
.
Nic.
All
all
to
bed
,
to
bed
.
Alp.
Mine
eyes
are
full
of
sleepe
;
Ile
follow
you
.
Exit
.
Dar.
I
to
my
closet
,
and
then
bed-fellow
Expect
your
company
Tibal.
I
will
be
for
your
Lady
.
Aless.
Madam
so
please
you
forfeit
to
my
mother
,
And
let
your selfe
and
I
be
bed-fellowes
.
Tib.
Deare
heart
I
humbly
thanke
you
,
but
I
must
not
.
Aless.
Lady
I
rather
wish
your
company
,
Because
I
know
one
maiden
best
conceales
,
What's
bosom'd
in
another
:
but
Ile
waite
With
patience
a
time
fitting
.
Tib.
Worthy
Lady
,
This
time
is
yours
and
mine
.
Aless.
Thus
I
begin
then
,
And
if
I
cannot
woe
reliefe
from
you
,
Let
me
at
least
win
pitty
,
I
have
fixt
Mine
eye
upon
your
brother
;
whom
I
never
But
once
beheld
here
in
this
house
yet
wish
That
he
beheld
me
now
and
heard
me
;
You
are
so
like
your
brother
,
that
me thinkes
I
speake
to
him
,
And
that
provokes
a
blush
to
assaile
my
cheeke
;
He
smiles
like
you
,
his
eyes
like
you
;
pray
Lady
Where
is
the
gentleman
?
'twas
for
his
sake
I
would
have
lien
with
you
,
wo'd
it
were
as
lawfull
to
fellow
nights
with
him
.
Tib.
Troth
I
do
wish
it
.
Aless.
And
if
in
this
you
inrich
me
with
your
counsell
,
Ile
Be
a
gratefull
taker
.
Tib.
Sure
my
brother
Is
blest
in
your
affection
,
and
shall
have
Good
time
to
understand
so
.
Dar.
Alesandra
within
.
Aless.
Madam
.
Dar.
A
word
,
come
quickly
.
Exit
.
Tib.
O
ye
heavens
!
how
strangely
one
houre
works
upon
an other
.
It
was
but
now
heart-sick
,
and
long'd
for
meat
,
Which
being
set
before
me
I
abhorre
.
Alp.
Brother
.
Enter
Alphonsina
.
Tib.
What
frights
you
thus
from
your
chamber
?
Alp.
Such
a
fury
as
thou
.
Tib.
How
now
?
hast
lost
thy
witts
?
Alp.
Ile
sweare
thou
hast
,
for
thou
hast
candled
Thy
sweete
but
poysonous
language
to
dishonour
Me
thy
most
wretched
sister
,
who
no
better
then
a
vile
Instrument
to
thy
desires
,
deserves
to
be
stil'd
,
Baud
,
worse
then
the
bauds
.
Who
every
day
i'th'
weeke
shake
hands
with
hell
.
Tib.
Ha'
patience
dearest
sister
;
I
protest
,
By
all
the
graces
that
become
a
man
,
I
have
not
wrong'd
Dariene
nor
her
Lord
.
Alp.
Thou
shalt
not
then
by
heaven
.
Tib.
By
all
goodnes
,
not
With
a
well
blush
discourse
faire
Alissandra
Supposing
me
your
sister
hath
discover'd
The
true
pangs
of
her
fancy
towards
Tibaldo
,
And
in
it
crav'd
my
aide
,
which
heard
,
Even
then
,
My
Brutish
purpose
broke
its
neck
,
and
I
Will
proue
the
daughters
husband
,
that
came
hither
,
A
traytour
to
the
Mother
.
Alp.
My
noble
brother
,
Our
doings
are
alike
,
for
by
Trebatio
(
Whome
I
with
honour
name
)
his
fathers
foulenes
shall
be
Cut
off
and
crost
.
Tib.
Get
to
your
chamber
;
No
longer
will
I
play
the
womans
part
,
This
night
shall
change
my
habit
with
my
heart
.
Exit
.
Enter
Nicoletti
with
a
light
.
Nichol.
In
this
chamber
she
lies
,
and
that's
her
window
wo'd
I
were
in
:
the
aire
bites
,
but
the
bit
that
I
shall
bite
anon
sharpens
.
my
stomack
,
the
watch-word
is
a
cornet
,
(
Cornet
within
)
it
speakes
,
she
bids
me
come
without
a
light
,
and
reason
sheds
light
enough
herselfe
;
wincke
thou
one-eyed
baud
,
be
thou
an
embleme
of
thy
Mr.
and
burne
in
secret
.
Enter
Alphonsina
,
above
.
Alp.
My
Lord
.
Nic.
What
sayes
my
most
moist-handed
sweete
Lady
.
Alp.
Who
is
there
with
you
?
Nico.
No
christian
creature
,
I
enter
solus
.
Alp.
I
feare
I
must
entreate
you
to
stay
a
little
.
Nic.
As
long
as
thou
desir'st
,
but-wilt
come
downe
?
Alp.
I
would
be
loth
to
loose
all
upon
rest
,
Nic.
Shall
I
mount
then
?
Alp.
For
mine
honour
being
once
crack't
.
Nic.
Crack
a
pudding
:
Ile
not
meddle
with
thine
honour
.
Alp.
Say
you
should
get
me
with
childe
.
Nic.
I
hope
I
am
not
the
first
Lord
has
got
a
lady
with
childe
.
Alp.
Is
the
night
hush't
?
Nic.
Ther's
nothing
stirring
,
the
very
mice
are
a sleepe
,
as
I
am
noble
,
Ile
deale
with
thee
like
a
gentleman
.
Alp.
Ile
doe
that
then
,
which
some
Citizens
will
not
doe
,
to
some
Lord
.
Nico.
What's
that
?
Alp.
Take
your
word
,
I
come
.
Nico.
Vd's
my
life
!
Alp.
What's
the
matter
sir
?
Musicke
within
.
Nico.
I
heare
a
lute
,
and
sure
it
comes
this
way
.
Alp.
My
most
lov'd
Lord
,
step
you
aside
,
I
would
not
have
you
seene
for
the
saving
of
my
right
hand
,
preserve
mine
honour
,
as
I
preserve
your
love
.
Enter
Trebatio
with
Musicke
.
Nico.
Pox
on
your
Catts
guts
.
Alp.
To
an
unworthy
window
,
who
is
thus
kind
?
Treb.
Looke
out
of
it
,
and
'tis
the-richest
casement
That
ever
let
in
Ayre
.
Alp.
Trebatio
.
Treb.
I
,
my
most
faire
Mistris
.
Alp.
Neither
of
both
good
sir
;
Pray
play
upon
some
other
,
you
abuse
mee
,
And
that
which
seemes
worse
,
in
your
fathers
house
.
Nico.
Brave
girle
.
Alp.
But
you
are
young
enough
to
be
forgiven
,
If
you
will
mend
hereafter
,
the
night
has
in
it
Vnwholsome
foggs
,
and
blasts
;
to
bed
my
Lord
,
Least
they
attach
your
beautie
:
nothing
more
,
Ile
pay
you
for
your
song
.
Exit
.
Treb.
Are
you
gone
so
?
Well
,
you
hard-hearted
one
,
you
shall
not
ever
Be
Lady
of
your selfe
—
away
.
Exit
.
Enter
Cargo
running
.
Car.
Oh
my
Lord
,
I
have
stood
Centinell
as
you
bad
me
,
but
I
am
frighted
.
Nico.
With
what
?
Carg.
The
Night-mare
rides
you
,
my
Lady
is
conjured
up
.
Nic.
Now
the
devill
lay
her
down
,
prevented
in
the
very
Act
.
Carg.
She
workes
by
magick
,
and
knowes
all
.
Enter
Dariene
.
Dari.
Doe
you
shrinke
backe
my
Lord
?
you
may
with
shame
;
Have
I
tane
you
napping
my
Lord
?
Nico.
But
not
with
the
manner
my
Lady
.
Dar.
Have
you
no
bird
to
flie
at
,
but
what
sits
on
your
owne
sonnes
fiste
?
Nicho.
How
!
my
sonnes
fiste
?
(
Harlot
Darie.
Yes
,
the
Lady
whom
you
wrought
to
have
bin
your
Your
sonne
has
long
since
wonne
to
be
his
bride
,
Both
they
and
I
have
this
night
exercis'd
Our
witts
to
mocke
your
dotage
.
Nico.
Am
I
then
gull'd
?
Dare.
Yes
my
Lord
,
and
bull'd
too
,
yonders
Tibaldo
Neri
come
this
morning
.
Dare.
So
early
,
Is
his
sister
with
him
?
Car.
Not
that
I
saw
,
but
I
saw
him
kisse
my
yong
Mistris
,
three
or
foure
times
,
I
thinke
'twere
good
to
aske
the
banes
of
Matrimony
.
Nico.
Wo't
twere
no
worse
,
let's
in
,
and
give
'em
the
mornings
Salutation
.
Dare.
Ile
tell
him
all
.
Nicho.
Sweete
Lady
,
seal
my
pardon
with
a
kisse
,
He
ne're
was
borne
,
that
never
did
amisse
.
Exeunt
.