Puslapio vaizdai

To chide him from our eaves, for he persists,
As if his life lay on't.

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Hel. Why then, to-night

Let us affay our plot; which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed;
And lawful meaning in a lawful act,

Where both not fin, and yet a finful fact.
But let's about it.-

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SCENE, part of the French Camp in Florence.

Enter one of the French Lords, with five or fix Soldiers in




E can come no other way but by this hedge-corner; when you fally upon him, fpeak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not feem to understand him, unless fome one amongst us, whom we muft produce for an interpreter.

Sol. Good Captain, let me be th' interpreter.

Lord. Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

Sol. No, Sir, I warrant you.

Lord. But what linfy-woolfy haft thou to speak to us again?

Sol. Ev'n fuch as you speak to me.

Lord. He must think us fome band of ftrangers i'th' adverfaries entertainment. Now he hath a fmack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy; not to know what we fpeak one to another, fo we feem to know, is to know fraight our purpose: chough's language, gabble


enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must feem very politick. But couch, hoa! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a fleep, and then to return and fwear the lies he forges.

Enter Parolles.

Par Ten a clock; within thefe three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What fhall I fay, I have done? it must be a very plaufible invention that carries it. They begin to fmoak me, and difgraces have of late knock'd too often at my door; I find, my tongue is too fool-hardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue.

Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of.

[Afide. Par. What the devil fhould move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impoffibility, and knowing I had no fuch purpofe? I muft give myself fome hurts, and fay, I got them in exploit; yet flight ones will not carry it. They will fay, came you off with fo little? and great ones I dare not give; wherefore what's the inftance? (31) Tongue,

(31) Tongue, I must put you into a butter woman's mouth, and buy myflf another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into thefe perils.] Why of Bajazet's mule, any more than any other mule? Is there any par ticular conceit, any fory on record, by which that Emperor's mule is fignal z'd? If there be, I freely own my ignorance. Tho' I have not alter'd the text, Mr. Warburton concurr'd with me in thinking that the Poet probably wrote;

-and buy myfelf another of Bajazet's mute,

ie, of a Turkish mute. So in Henry V.

Either our hiftory fhall with full mouth
Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave,

Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, &c. Befides, as my friend obferved to me, the antithefis between a butterwoman and a mute is tolerably well. If there be any difficulty remains, it is to know, why the Poet has chofen to fay Bajazet's mute. To this it may be answered, that Bajazet the Great, (who was at last overthrown by Tamerlane ;) by his prodigious exploits becoming very famous, for a long time after, amongst us Europeans, his fucceffors were called by his name, when they were spoke of.

I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy myfelf another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

Lord. Is it poffible, he fhould know what he is, and be that he is? [Afide. Par. I would, the cutting of my garments would ferve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish fword. Lord. We cannot afford you fo.

[Afide. Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to fay, it was

in ftratagem.
Lord. 'Twould not do.


Par. Or to drown my cloaths, and fay, I was ftript. Lord. Hardly serve.


Par. Though I fwöre, I leap'd from the window of

the citadel

Lord. How deep?

Par. Thirty fathom.


Lord. Three great oaths would fcarce make that be believed.


Par. I would I had any drum of the enemies; I

would fwear, I recover'd it.

Lord. You fhall hear one anon.

Par. A drum now of the enemies!


[Alarm within.

Lord. Throco movoufus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

All. Cargo, cargo, wallienda par corbo, cargo. Par. O ranfom, ranfom :-do not hide mine eyes. [They feize him and blindfold bin

Inter. Bofkos thromuldo bofkos.

Par. I know, you are the Muskos regiment, And I fhall lofe my life for want of language. If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him fpeak to me,

I'll discover that which fhall undo the Florentine.

Inter. Bofkos vouvado; I understand thee, and can fpeak thy tongue; Kerelybonto,Sir, betake thee to thy faith, for feventeen poniards are at thy bofom. Par. Oh!

Int. Oh, pray, pray, pray, Mancha ravancha dulche.


Lord. Ofceoribi dulchos volivorco.

Int. The General is content to spare thee yet, And, hood-winkt as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee.

Haply, thou may'st inform

Something to fave thy life."

Par. Oh let me live,

And all the fecrets of our camp I'll fhew;

Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that

Which you will wonder at.

Int. But wilt thou faithfully?

Par. If I do not, damn me.
Int. Acordo linta.

Come on, thou art granted space.


[A fbort alarm within. Lord. Go, tell the Count Roufillon and my brother, We've caught the woodcock, and will keep him muñed 'Till we do hear from them.

Sol. Captain, I will.

Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves,

Inform 'em that.

Sol. So I will, Sir.

Lord. 'Till then I'll keep him dark and fafely lockt.


SCENE changes to the Widow's House.



Enter Bertram, and Diana.

HEY told me, that your name was Fontibell.
Dia. No, my good Lord, Diana.

Ber. Titled Goddefs,

And worth it with addition! but, fair foul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality?
If the quick fire of youth light not your mind,
You are no maiden, but a monument:

When you are dead, you should be fuch a one
As you are now, for you are cold and stern ;
And now you should be as your mother was,
When your sweet felf was got.

Dia. She then was honeft.


Ber. So fhould you be.

Dia. No.

My mother did but duty; fuch, my Lord,
As you owe to your wife.

Ber. No more o' that!

I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows:
I was compell'd to her, but I love thee
By love's own fweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.

Dia. Ay, fo you serve us,

'Till we ferve you: but when you have our roles, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness,

Ber. How have I fworn!

Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth;
But the plain fingle vow, that is vow'd true;
What is not holy, that we fwear not by,
But take the High'ft to witnefs: then, pray tell me,
If I should fwear by Jove's great attributes

I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths,
When I did love you ili? this has no holding,
To fwear by him whom I proteft to love,

That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths
Are words, and poor conditions but unfeal'd;
At least, in my opinion.

Ber. Change it, change it:

Be not fo holy-cruel. Love is holy,

And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts,

That you do charge men with: ftand no more off,

But give thyself unto my fick defires,

Which then recover. Say, thou art mine; and ever My love, as it begins, fhall fo persevere.

Dia. I fee, that men make hope in such affairs That we'll forfake ourselves. Give me that ring. Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me.

Dia. Will you not, my Lord?

Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i'th' world

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