Ben Jonson - The Case is Altered Act 4. Scene 1 lyrics

Enter Maximilian with soldiers, Chamont, Camillo, Ferneze, Pacue. Max. Lord Chamont, and your va- liant friend there, I cannot say, welcome to Milan; your thoughts and that word are not musical; but I can say, you are come to Milan. Pac. Mort dieu. Cha. Garçon! Max. Gentlemen (I would call an em- peror so) you are now my prisoners; I am sorry, marry this, spit in the face of your fortunes, for your usage shall be honour- able. Cam. We know it, signior Maximilian; The fame of all your actions sounds nought else But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks. Max. It shall do so still, I a**ure you, and I will give you reason: there is in this last action (you know) a noble gentleman of our party, and a right valiant, semblably pri- soner to your general, as your honour'd selves to me, for whose safety this tongue has given warrant to his honourable father, the count Ferneze. You conceive me. Cam. I, signior. Max. Well, then I must tell you your ransoms be to redeem him. What think you? your answer. Cam. Marry, with my lord's leave, here I say, signior, This free and ample offer you have made Agrees well with your honour, but not ours; For I think not but Chamont is as well born As is Ferneze; then, if I mistake not, He scorns to have his worth so underprised, That it should need an adjunct in exchange Of any equal fortune. Noble signior, I am a soldier, and I love Chamont; Ere I would bruise his estimation With the least ruin of mine own respect In this vile kind, these legs should rot with irons, This body pine in prison, till the flesh Drop from my bones in flakes, like wither'd leaves, In heart of autumn, from a stubborn oak. Max. Monsieur Gasper, (I take it so is your name) misprise me not; I will trample on the heart, on the soul of him that shall say I will wrong you: what I purpose you cannot now know, but you shall know, and doubt not to your contentment. Lord Chamont, I will leave you, whilst I go in and present myself to the honourable count; till my regression, so please you, your noble feet may measure this private, pleasant, and most princely walk. Soldiers, regard them and respect them. Pac. O ver bon! excellenta gull, he tak'a my lord Chamont for monsieur Gas- pra, and monsieur Gaspra for my lord Cha- mont. O dis be brave for make a me laugh'e, ha, ha, ha; O my heart tickla. Cam. I, but your lordship knows not what hard fate Might have pursu'd us, therefore howsoe'er The changing of our names was necessary, And we must now be careful to maintain This error strongly, which our own device Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits; For should we (on the taste of this good fortune) Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in them A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert Those honourable courses they intend. Cha. True, my dear Gasper; but this hang-by here Will (at one time or other) on my soul, Discover us. A secret in his mouth Is like a wild bird put into a cage, Whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out. But, sirrah, if I may but know Thou utter'st it. Pac. Utteria vat, monsieur? Cha. That he is Jasper, and I true Cha- mont. Pac. O pardonne moy, fore my tongue shall put out de secreta, Shall breed de cankra in my mouth. Cam. Speak not so loud, Pacue. Pac. Foe, you shall hear fool, for all your long ear, reguard monsieur: you be de Chamont, Chamont be Gaspra. Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Finio. Cha. Peace, here comes Maximilian. Cam. O belike that's the count Ferneze, that old man. Cha. Are those his daughters, trow? Cam. I sure, I think they are. Cha. Fore god, the taller is a gallant lady. Com. So are they both, believe me. Max. True, my honourable lord, that Chamont was the father of this man. Count. O that may be, for when I lost my son, This was but young, it seems. Fran. Faith, had Camillo liv'd, He had been much about his years, my lord. Count. He had indeed. Well, speak no more of him. Max. Signior, perceive you the error? 'twas no good office in us to stretch the re- membrance of so dear a loss. Count Fer- neze, let summer sit in your eye; look chearfully, sweet count; will you do me the honour to confine this noble spirit within the circle of your arms? Count. Honour'd Chamont, reach me your valiant hand; I could have wish'd some happier accident Had made the way unto this mutual know- ledge Which either of us now must take of other; But sure it is the pleasure of our fates, That we should thus be rack'd on fortune's wheel. Let us prepare with steeled patience To tread on torment, and with minds con- firm'd, Welcome the worst of envy. Max. Noble lord, 'tis thus. I have here (in mine honour) set this gentleman free, without ransom; he is now himself, his va- lour hath deserved it, in the eye of my judg- ment. Monsieur Gasper, you are dear to me: fortuna non mutat genus. But to the main, if it may square with your lordship's liking, his love, I could desire that he were now instantly employed to your noble ge- neral in the exchange of Ferneze for your- self, it is the business that requires the tender hand of a friend. Count. I, and it would be with more speed effected, if he would undertake it. Max. True, my lord. Monsieur Gasper, how stand you affected to this motion? Cha. My duty must attend his lordship's will. Max. What says the lord Chamont? Cam. My will doth then approve what these have urg'd. Max. Why there is good harmony, good musick in this. Monsieur Gasper, you shall protract no time, only I will give you a bowl of rich wine to the health of your general, another to the success of your journey, and a third to the love of my sword. Pa**. [ Exeunt all but Aurelia and Phœnixella. Aur. Why how now, sister, in a motly muse? Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see. Faith, this brown study suits not with your black; Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours. Phœ. Good faith, methinks that this young lord Chamont Favours my mother, sister, does he not? Aur. A motherly conceit; O blind ex- cuse, Blinder than love himself. Well, sister, well; Cupid has ta'en his stand in both your eyes, The case is alter'd. Phœ. And what of that? Aur. Nay, nothing but a saint. Another Bridget, one that for a face Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth swim The very sweetest cream of modesty. You to turn tippet! fie, fie; will you give A packing penny to virginity. I thought you'd dwell so long in Cyprus isle, You'd worship madam Venus at the length: But come, the strongest fall, and why not you? Nay, do not frown. [ Exit. Phœ. Go, go, you fool. Aur. Well, I may jest, or so; but Cupid knows My taking is as bad, or worse than hers. O, monsieur Gasper, if thou be'st a man, Be not afraid to court me; do but speak, Challenge thy right, and wear it; for I swear, Till thou arriv'dst, ne'er came affection [ Exit. Enter Pacue, Finio. Fin. Come on, my sweet finical Pacue, the very prime Of pages, here's an excellent place for us to practise in; Nobody sees us here; come, let's to it. Enter Onion. Pac. Contenta; reguarde vou le premier. Oni. Sirrah, Finio. Pac. Mort dieu le pesant. Oni. Didst thou see Valentine? Fin. Valentine! no, Oni. No! Fin. No. Sirrah, Onion, whither goest? Oni. O I am vext; he that would trust any of those lying travellers. Fin. I prithee stay, good Onion. Pac. Monsieur Onion, vene ca, come hi- dera, je vou pre. By gar, me ha see two, tree, four hundra tousand of your cousan hang. Lend me your hand, shall pray for know you bettra. Oni. I thank you, good signior Parla vou. O that I were in another world, in the Ingies, or somewhere, that I might have room to laugh. Pac. A we fort boon; stand, you be deere now, me come, Under the arm. Bon jour, monsieur. Fin. Good morrow, good signior. Pac. By gar, be mush glad for see you. Fin. I return you most kind thanks, sir. Oni. How, how! 'sblood this is rare. Pac. Nay, shall make you say rare, by and by; reguard Monsienr The shoulder. Fin. Signior Pacue. Pac. Dieu vou gard, monsieur. Fin. God save you, sweet signior. Pac. Monsieur Onion, is not fort boon. Oni. Beane, quoth he! would I were in debt of a pottle of beans, I could do as much. Fin. Welcome, signior; what's next? Pack. O here; voy de grand admiration, as should meet perchance monsieur Finno. Fin. Monsieur Pacue. Pac. Jesu! by ga, who think we shall meete here? Fin. By this hand, I am not a little proud of it, sir. Oni. This trick is only for the chamber, it cannot be cleverly done abroad. Pac. Well, what say you for dis den, monsieur? Fin. Nay, pray, sir. Pac. Par may foy vou bein encounters. Fin. What do you mean, sir? let your glove alone. Pac. Comen se porte la sante? Fin. Faith, exceeding well, sir. Pac. Trot, be mush joy for hear heire. Fin. And how is it with you, sweet sig- nior Pacue? Pac. Fat comme vou voyez. Oni. Young gentlemen, spirits of blood, if ever you'll taste of a sweet piece of mut- ton, do Onion a good turn now. Pac. Que que, parla monsieur, what ist? Oni. Faith, teach me one of these tricks. Pac. O me shall do presently; stand you deere, you signior deer, myself is here; so, fort bein: now I parle to monsieur Onion, Onion pratla to you, you speaka to me, so, and as you parle, change the bonet. Mon- sieur Onion. Oni. Monsieur Pacue. Pac. Pray be covera. Oni. Nay, I beseech you, sir. Fin. What do you mean? Pac. Pardon moy, shall be so. Oni. O god, sir. Fin. Not I, in good faith, sir. Pac. By gar, you must. Oni. It shall be yours. Fin. Nay, then you wrong me. Oni. Well, and ever I come to be great — Pac. You be big enough for de Onion already. Oni. I mean a great man. Fin. Then thou'dst be a monster. Oni. Well, god knows not what fortune may do, command me, use me from the soul to the crown, and the crown to the soul; meaning not only from the crown of the head, and the sole of the foot, but also the foot of the mind and the crowns of the purse. I cannot stay now, young gentle- men, but —— time was, time is, and time shall be. [ Exeunt. Enter Chamont, Camillo. Cha. Sweet Gasper, I am sorry we must part; But strong necessity enforces it. Let not the time seem long unto my friend, Till my return; for by our love I swear (The sacred sphere wherein our souls are knit) I will endeavour to effect this business With all industrious care and happy speed. Cam. My lord, these circumstances would come well To one less capable of your desert Than I, in whom your merit is confirm'd With such authentical and grounded proofs. Cha. Well, I will use no more. Gasper, adieu. Cam. Farewell, my honour'd lord. Cha. Commend me to the lady, my good Gasper. Cam. I had remember'd that, had not you urg'd it. Cha. Once more adieu, sweet Gasper. [ Exit Camillo. Cam. My good lord. Cha. Thy virtues are more precious than thy name; Kind gentleman, I would not sell thy love For all the earthly objects that mine eyes Have ever tasted. Sure thou art nobly born, However fortune hath obscur'd thy birth; For native honour sparkles in thine eyes. How may I bless the time wherein Cha- mont, My honour'd father, did surprize Vicenza, Where this my friend (known by no name) was found, Being then a child, and scarce of power to speak, To whom my father gave this name of Gasper, And as his own respected him to d**h; Since when we two have shar'd our mutual fortunes With equal spirits, and but d**h's rude hand, No violence shall dissolve the sacred band. [ Exit. Enter Juniper in his shop, singing. To him Onion. Oni. Fellow, Juniper, no more of thy songs and sonnets; sweet Juniper, no more of thy hymns and madrigals; thou sing'st, but I sigh. Junip. What's the matter, Peter, ha? what in an academy still! still in sable and black costly array, ha? Oni. Prithee rise, mount, mount, sweet Juniper; for I go down the wind, and yet I puff, for I am vext. Junip. Ha, bully! vext! what, intoxi- cate! is thy brain in a quintessence, an idea, a metamorphosis, an apology, ha, rogue? Come, this love feeds upon thee, I see by thy cheeks, and drinks healths of vermilion tears, I see by thine eyes. Oni. I confess Cupid's carouse, he plays super negulum with my liquor of life. Junip. Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupid's gull; go to; no more of this contempla- tions and calculations; mourn not, for Ra- chel's thine own. Oni. For that let the higher powers work; but sweet Juniper, I am not sad for her, and yet for her in a second person, or if not, yet so in a third. Junip. How! second person! away, away. In the crotchets already! longitude and latitude! what second? what person? ha? Oni. Juniper, I'll bewray myself before thee, for thy company is sweet unto me; but I must intreat thy helping hand in the case. Junip. Tut, no more of this surquedry; I am thine own ad unguem, upsie freeze 1; pell mell, come, what case? what case? Oni. For the case, it may be any man's case, as well as mine. Rachel I mean; but I'll meddle with her anon; in the mean time, Valentine is the man has wronged me. Junip. How! my Ingle wrong thee! is't possible! Oni. Your Ingle! hang him, infidel. Well, and if I be not revenged on him, let Peter Onion (by the infernal gods) be turned to a leek, or a scalion. I spake to him for a ditty for this handkerchief. Junip. Why, has he not done it? Oni. Done it! not a verse, by this hand. Junip. O in diebus illis! O preposterous! well, come, be blith; the best inditer of them all is sometimes dull. Fellow Onion, pardon mine Ingle; he is a man has imper- fections and declinations, as other men have; his muse sometimes cannot curvet, nor prognosticate and come off, as it should; no matter, I'll hammer out a paraphrase for thee myself. Oni. No, sweet Juniper, no; danger doth breed delay; love makes me choleric, I can bear no longer. Junip. Not bear what? my mad meridian slave. Not bear what? Oni. Cupid's burden, 'tis too heavy, too tolerable; and as for the handkerchief and the posie, I will not trouble thee; but if thou wilt go with me into her father's back- side, old Jaques' back-side, and speak for me to Rachel, I will not be ingratitude; the old man is abroad and all. Junip. Art thou sure on't? Oni. As sure an obligation. Junip. Let's away then; come, we spend time in a vain circumference; trade, I casheer thee till to-morrow: fellow Onion, for thy sake I finish this workiday. Oni. God a mercy, and for thy sake I'll at any time make a holiday. [ Exeunt. Enter Angelo, Rachel. Ang. Nay, I prithee, Rachel, I come to comfort thee, Be not so sad. Rach. O signior Angelo, No comfort but his presence can remove This sadness from my heart. Ang. Nay, then you're fond, And what that strength of judgment and election That should be attendant on your years and form. Will you, because your lord is taken prisoner, Blubber and weep, and keep a peevish stir, As though you would turn turtle with the news? Come, come, be wise. 'Sblood say your lord should die, And you go mar your face as you begin, What would you do, trow? who would care for you? But this it is, when nature will bestow Her gifts on such as know not how to use them; You shall have some, that had they but once quarter Of your fair beauty, they would make it shew A little otherwise than you do this, Or they would see the painter twice an hour; And I commend them I, that can use art With such judicial practice. Rach. You talk idly; If this be your best comfort, keep it still, My senses cannot feed on such sour cates. Ang. And why, sweet heart? Rach. Nay, leave, good signior. Ang. Come, I have sweeter viands yet in store. Enter Onion and Juniper. Junip. In any case, mistress Rachel. Ang. Rachel! Rach. God's pity, signior Angelo, I hear my father; away for God's sake. Ang. 'Sblood, I am bewitch'd, I think; this is twice now I have been served thus. [ Exit. Rach. Pray God he meet him not. [ Exit Rachel. Oni. O brave! she's yonder: O ter- rible! she's gone. Junip. Yea, so nimble in your dilemmas, and your hyperboles! Hay my love! O my love at the first sight, by the ma**! Oni. O how she scudded! O sweet scud, how she tripped! O delicate trip and go! Junip. Come, thou art enamoured with the influence of her profundity; but, sirrah, hark a little. Oni. O rare! what? what? pa**ing, i'faith! what is't? what is't? Junip. What wilt thou say now, if Rachel stand now, and play hity-tity through the key-hole, to behold the equipage of thy person? Oni. O sweet equipage! try, good Ju- niper, tickle her, talk, talk; O rare! Junip. Mistress Rachel, (watch then if her father come;) Rachel! Madona! Rachel! No. Oni. Say I am here; Onion, or Peter, or so. Junip. No, I'll knock; we'll not stand upon horizons and tricks, but fall roundly to the matter. Oni. Well said, sweet Juniper. Hori- zons! hang 'em, knock, knock. Rach. Who's there! father? Junip. Father! no; and yet a father, if you'll please to be a mother. Oni. Well said, Juniper; to her again; a smack or two more of the mother. Junip. Do you hear, sweet soul, sweet radamant, sweet mathavel? one word, Mel- pomene, are you at leisure? Rach. At leisure! what to do? Junip. To do what! to do nothing, but to be liable to the extasy of true love's exi- gent, or so; you smell my meaning. Oni. Smell! filthy, fellow Juniper, filthy. Smell! O most odious! Junip. How filthy? Oni. Filthy by this finger. Smell! smell a rat, smell a pudding. Away, these tricks are for trulls; a plain wench loves plain dealing; I'll upon her myself, smell to march-pain wench. Junip. With all my heart; I'll be legiti- mate and silent as an apple-squire; I'll see nothing, and say nothing. Oni. Sweet heart! sweet heart! Junip. And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha. Jaques within. What Rachel! my girl, what Rachel! Oni. God's lid. Jaq. Within What Rachel! Rach. Within Here I am. Oni. What rakehel calls Rachel? O treason to my love! Junip. It's her father, on my life! how shall we intrench and edify ourselves from him? Oni. O coney-catching Cupid! Enter Jaques. Jaq. How is my back-side? where? what come they for? [ Onion gets up into a tree. What are they? Rachel! thieves! thieves! Stay, villain, slave. Rachel, untie my dog. Nay, thief, thou canst not 'scape. Junip. I pray you, sir. Oni. Ah pitiful Onion! that thou hadst a rope. Jaq. Why Rachel! when I say, let loose my dog, Garlick, my mastiff, let him loose, I say. Junip. For god's sake hear me speak, keep up your cur. Oni. I fear not Garlick, he'll not bite Onion his kinsman; pray God he come out, and then they'll not smell me. Jaq. Well then deliver; come, deliver, slave. Junip. What should I deliver? Jaq. O thou wouldst have me tell thee, wouldst thou? Shew me thy hands, what hast thou in thy hands? Junip. Here be my hands. Jaq. Stay, are thy fingers-ends begrim'd with dirt? no, thou hast wip'd them. Junip. Wip'd them! Jaq. I, thou villain; thou art a subtil knave. Put off thy shoes; come, I will see them;2 give me a knife here, Rachel, I'll rip the soles. Oni. No matter, he's a cobler, he can mend them. Junip. What, are you mad? are you de- testable? would you make an anatomy of me? think you I am not true orthography? Jaq. Orthography, anatomy! Junip. For God's sake be not so invio- lable, I am no ambuscado; what predica- ment call you this? why do you intimate so much? Jaq. I can feel nothing. Oni. By'r lady, but Onion feels something. Jaq. Soft, sir, you are not yet gone; shake your legs, come, and your arms, be brief: stay, let me see these drums, these kilderkins, these bombard slops, what is it charms 'em so. Junip. Nothing but hair. Jaq. That's true, I had almost forgot this rug, this hedgehog's nest, this hay-mow, this bear's-skin, this heath, this furze-bush. Junip. O let me go, you tear my hair, you revolve my brains and understanding. Jaq. Heart, thou art somewhat eas'd; half of my fear Hath ta'en his leave of me, the other half Still keeps possession in despight of hope, Until these amorous eyes court my fair gold. Dear, I come to thee; friend, why art not not gone? Avoid, my soul's vexation; Satan, hence; Why do'st thou stare on me? why do'st thou stay! Why por'st thou on the ground with thie- vish eyes? What seest thou there, thou cur? what gap'st thou at? Hence from my house. Rachel, send Gar- lick forth. Junip. I am gone, sir, I am gone; for god's sake stay. [ Exit Juniper. Junip. Pack; and thank God thou 'scap'st so well away. Oni. If I escape this tree, destinies I defy you. Jaq. I cannot see, by any characters Writ on this earth, that any felon foot Hath ta'en acquaintance with this hallow'd ground. None sees me; knees, do homage to your lord. 'Tis safe, 'tis safe; it lies and sleeps so soundly, 'Twould do one good to look on't. If this bliss Be given to any man that hath much gold, Justly to say 'tis safe, I say 'tis safe. O what a heavenly round these two words dance Within me and without me; first I think 'em, And then I speak 'em; then I watch their sound, And drink it greedily with both mine eyes: Then think, then speak, then drink their sound again, And racket round about this body's court, These two sweet words, 'tis safe. Stay, I will feed My other senses. O how sweet it smells! Oni. I mar'l he smells not Onion, being so near it. Jaq. Down to thy grave again, thou beauteous ghost, Angels, men say, are spirits; spirits be Invisible; bright angels, are you so? Be you invisible to every eye, Save only these: sleep, I'll not break your rest, Though you break mine. Dear saints, adieu, adieu, My feet part from you, but my soul dwells with you. [ Exit. Oni. Is he gone? O fortune my friend, and not fortune my foe, I come down to embrace thee, and kiss thy great toe. Enter Juniper. Junip. Fellow Onion! Peter! Oni. Fellow Juniper. Junip. What's the old panurgo gone, de- parted cosmografied, ha? Oni. O, I; and hark, sirrah. Shall I tell him? no. Junip. Nay, be brief, and declare; stand not upon conundrums now: thou knowest what contagious speeches I have suffered for thy sake, and he should come again and in- vent me here. Oni. He says true, it was for my sake, I will tell him. Sirrah, Juniper! and yet I will not. Junip. What sayest thou, sweet Onion? Oni. And thou hadst smelt the scent of me when I was in the tree, thou wouldst not have said so: but, sirrah, the case is altered with me, my heart has given love a box of the ear, made him kick up his heels, i'faith. Junip. Sayest thou me so, mad Greek! how haps it? how chances it? Oni. I cannot hold it, Juniper; have an eye, look, have an eye to the door; the old proverb's true, I see, Gold is but muck. Nay, godso, Juniper, to the door; an eye to the main chance; here, you slave, have an eye. Junip. O inexorable! O infallible! O in- tricate, divine, and superficial fortune! Oni. Nay, it will be sufficient anon; here, look here! Junip. O insolent good luck! how didst thou produce the intelligence of the gold minerals? Oni. I'll tell thee that anon; here, make shift, convey, cram. I'll teach you how you shall call for Garlick again, i'faith. Junip. 'Sblood what shall we do with all this? we shall never bring it to a consump- tion. Oni. Consumption! why we'll be most sumptuously attired, man. Junip. By this gold, I will have three or four most stigmatical suits presently. Oni. I'll go in my foot-cloth, I'll turn gentleman. Junip. So will I. Oni. But what badge shall we give, what cullisen?3Junip. As for that, let's use the infidelity and commiseration of some harrot of arms, he shall give us a gudgeon. Oni. A gudgeon! a scutcheon thou wouldst say, man. Junip. A scutcheon, or a gudgeon, all is one. Oni. Well, our arms be good enough, let's look to our legs. Junip. Content, we'll be jogging. Oni. Rachel, we retire; Garlick, Godb'ye. Junip. Farewell, sweet Jaques. Oni. Farewell, sweet Rachel; sweet dog, adieu. [ Exeunt. Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pacue. Max. Nay, but sweet count. Count. Away, I'll hear no more; Never was man so palpably abus'd, My son so basely marted, and myself Am made the subject of your mirth and scorn. Max. Count Ferneze, you tread too hard upon my patience, Do not persist, I advise your lordship. Count. I will persist, and unto thee I speak; Thou, Maximilian, thou hast injur'd me. Max. Before the Lord: — Aur. Sweet signior. Phœ. O my father. Max. Lady, let your father thank your beauty. Pac. By gar, me shall be hang for tella dis same, Me tella mademoiselle, she tell her fadera. Count. The true Chamont set free, and one left here Of no descent, clad barely, in his name. Sirrah, boy, come hither, and be sure you speak the simple truth. Pac. O pardone moy, monsieur. Count. Come, leave you pardons, and directly say, What villain is the same that hath usurpt The honour'd name and person of Chamont. Pac. O monsieur, no point villain, brave chevalier, Monsieur Gasper. Count. Monsieur Gasper! On what occasion did they change their names? What was their policy or their pretext? Pac. Me canno tell, par ma foy, mon- sieur. Max. My honourable lord. Count. Tut, tut, be silent. Max. Silent, count Ferneze! I tell thee, if Amurath, the great Turk, were here, I would speak, and he should hear me. Count. So will not I. Max. By my father's hand, but thou shalt, count. I say, till this instant I was never touch'd in my reputation. Hear me, you shall know that you have wrong'd me, and I will make you acknowledge it; if I cannot, my sword shall. Count. By heaven I will not, I will stop mine ears, My senses lothe the savour of thy breath; 'Tis poison to me; I say, I will not hear. What shall I know? 'tis you have injur'd me. What will you make? make me acknowledge it. Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd coun- terfeit. Enter serving-man with Camillo. I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs. Come on, false substance, shadow to Cha- mont,4 Had you none else to work upon but me? Was I your fittest project? well, confess What you intended by this secret plot, And by whose policy it was contriv'd. Speak truth, and be intreated courteously; But double with me, and resolve to prove The extremest rigour that I can inflict. Cam. My honour'd lord, hear me with patience, Nor hope of favour, nor the fear of torment, Shall sway my tongue from uttering of truth. Count. 'Tis well, proceed then. Cam. The morn before this battle did begin, Wherein my lord Chamont and I were ta'en, We vow'd one mutual fortune, good or bad, That day should be embraced of us both; And urging that might worse succeed our vow, We there concluded to exchange our names. Count. Then Maximilian took you for Chamont. Cam. True, noble lord. Count. 'Tis false, ignoble wretch, 'Twas but a complot to betray my son. Max. Count, thou lyest in thy bosom, count. Count. Lye! Cam. Nay, I beseech you, honour'd gen- tlemen, Let not the untimely ruin of your love Follow these slight occurrents; be a**ur'd Chamont's return will heal these wounds again, And break the points of your too piercing thoughts. Count. Return! I, when? when will Cha- mont return? He'll come to fetch you, will he? I, 'tis like. You'd have me think so, that's your policy. No, no, young gallant, your device is stale; You cannot feed me with so vain a hope. Cam. My lord, I feed you not with a vain hope, I know a**uredly he will return, And bring your noble son along with him. Max. I, I dare pawn my soul he will re- turn. Count. O impudent derision! open scorn! Intolerable wrong! is't not enough That you have play'd upon me all this while, But still to mock me, still to jest at me? Fellows, away with him; thou ill-bred slave, That sett'st no difference 'twixt a noble spirit And thy own slavish humour; do not think But I'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch. Cam. Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind, And breed no terror in the guiltless mind. Count. Nay thou shalt want no torture, so resolve; Bring him away. Cam. Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend, Your tortures will, my love shall never, end. [ Exeunt. Manent Maximilian, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pacue. Phœn. Alas! poor gentleman, my father's rage Is too extreme, too stern and violent. O that I knew with all my strongest powers How to remove it from thy patient breast! But that I cannot, yet my willing heart Shall minister, in spight of tyranny, To thy misfortune; something there is in him That doth enforce the strange affection With more than common rapture in my breast: For being but Jasper, he is still as dear To me, as when he did Chamont appear. [ Exit Phœnixella. Aur. But in good sadness, signior, do you think Chamont will e'er return? Max. Do I see your face, lady? Aur. I, sure, if love has not blinded you. Max. That is a question; but I will as- sure you no: I can see, and yet love is in mine eye. Well, the count your father simply hath dishonour'd me, and this steel shall engrave it on his burgonet. Aur. Nay, sweet signior. Max. Lady, I do prefer my reputation to my life; But you shall rule me. Come, let's march. [ Exit Maximilian. Aur. I'll follow, signior. O sweet queen of love! Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou fair fortune, Who (more to honour my affections) Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamont! Let both your flames now burn in one bright sphere, And give true light to my aspiring hopes: Hasten Chamont's return, let him affect me, Though father, friends, and all the world reject me. [ Exit. Enter Angelo, Christophero. Ang. Sigh for a woman! would I fold mine arms, Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake, Pine and look pale, make love walks in the night, To steal cold comfort from a day-star's eyes. Kit, thou'rt a fool; wilt thou be wise; then, lad, Renounce this boy-god's nice idolatry, Stand not on compliment, and wooing tricks; Thou lov'st old Jaques's daughter, dost thou? Chr. Love her! Ang. Come, come, I know't; be rul'd, and she's thine own. Thou'lt say, her father Jaques, the old beggar, Hath pawn'd his word to thee, that none but thou Shalt be his son-in-law. Chr. He has. Ang. He has! Wilt thou believe him, and be made a cook, To wait on such an antique weather-co*k; While he is more inconstant than the sea, His thoughts, Camelion-like, change every minute. No, Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away, Wed her, and bed her, and when that is done, Then say to Jaques, shall I be your son? But come, to our device; where is this gold? Chr. Here, signior Angelo. Ang. Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden drops; Let these bald French crowns be uncover'd, In open sight to do obeysance To Jaques' staring eyes when he sets forth; The needy beggar will be glad of gold. So now keep them aloof, and as he treads This gilded path, stretch out his ambling hopes With scattering more and more, and as thou goest, Cry Jaques, Jaques. Chr. Tush, let me alone. Ang. But first, I'll play the ghost, I'll call him out; Kit, keep aloof. Chr. But, signior Angelo, Where will yourself and Rachel stay for me, After the jest is ended? Ang. Ma**, that's true, At the old priory behind St. Foy's. Chr. Agreed, no better place: I'll meet you there. Ang. Now to this geer, — Jaques! Jaques! what Jaques! Jaq. within. Who calls? who's there? Ang. Jaques! Jaq. within. Who calls? Ang. Steward, he comes, he comes, Jaques. Enter Jaques. Jaq. What voice is this? No body here? was I not call'd? I was; And one cry'd Jaques with a hollow voice. I was deceiv'd; no, I was not deceiv'd. See, see, it wasan angel call'd me forth. Gold, gold, man-making gold! another star! Drop they from heav'n? no, no, my house, I hope, Is haunted with a fairy. My dear Lar, My houshold god, my fairy, on my knees. [ Exit Christophero. Chr. Jaques! Jaq. My Lar doth call me; O sweet voice, Musical as the spheres! see, see, more gold! Chr. within. Jaques! Enter Rachel. Jaq. What Rachel, Rachel, lock my door, look to my house. Chr. within. Jaques! Jaq. Shut fast my door; A golden crown, Jaques shall be a king. [ Exit. Ang. To a fool's paradise that path will bring Thee and thy houshold Lar. Rach. What means my father? I wonder what strange humour —— Ang. Come, sweet soul, Leave wondering, start not, 'twas I laid this plot, To get your father forth. Rach. O Angelo! Ang. O me no O's, but hear; my lord, your love, Paulo Ferneze, is return'd from war, Lingers at Pont Valerio, and from thence, By post, at midnight last, I was conjur'd To man you thither. Stand not on replies, A horse is saddled for you, will you go? And I am for you, if you will stay, why so. Rach. O Angelo, each minute is a day Till my Ferneze come; come, we'll away, sir. Ang. Sweet soul, I guess thy meaning by thy looks; At Pont Valerio thou thy love shalt see, But not Ferneze. Steward, fare you well; You wait for Rachel too, when can you tell? [ Exeunt. Enter Jaques. Jaq. O in what golden circle have I danc'd! Milan, these od'rous and enflower'd fields Are none of thine; no, here's Elizium; Here blessed ghosts do walk; this is the court And glorious palace, where the god of gold Shines like the sun of sparkling majesty. O my fair-feather'd, my red-breasted birds, Come flie with me, I'll bring you to a choir, Whose concert being sweeten'd with your sound, The musick will be fuller, and each hour The ears shall banquet with your harmony. O! O! O! Enter Christophero. Chr. At the old priory behind St. Foy's, That was the place of our appointment, sure; I hope he will not make me lose my gold, And mock me too: perhaps they are within; I'll knock. Jaq. O god, the case is alter'd! Chr. Rachel! Angelo! signior Angelo! Jaq. Angels! I, where? mine angels! where's my gold? Why Rachel! O thou thievish Canibal! Thou eat'st my flesh in stealing of my gold. Chr. What gold? Jaq. What gold? Rachel! call help, come forth! I'll rip thine entrails, but I'll have my gold. Rachel! why com'st thou not? I am un- done. Ah me, she speaks not! thou has slain my child. [ Exit. Christ. What is the man possest, trow! this is strange! Rachel, I see, is gone with Angelo. Well, I will once again into the priory, And see if I can meet them. [ Exit Christophero. Enter Jaques. Jaq. 'Tis too true, Th'ast made away my child, thou hast my gold: O what hiena call'd me out of doors? The thief is gone, my gold's gone, Rachel's gone, All's gone! save I that spend my cries in vain; But I'll hence too, and die, or end this pain. [ Exit. Enter Juniper, Onion, Finio, Valentine. Junip. 'Swounds, let me go; hey catso, catch him alive; I call, I call, boy; I come, I come, sweet heart. Oni. Page, hold my rapier, while I hold my friend here. Val. O here's a sweet metamorphosis, a couple of buzzards turn'd to a pair of pea- co*ks. Junip. Signior Onion, lend me thy boy to unhang my rapier. Oni. Signior Juniper, for once or so; but truth is, you must inveigle, as I have done, my lord's page here, a poor follower of mine. Junip. Hey ho! your page then cannot be superintendant upon me; he shall not be addicted, he shall not be incident, he shall not be incident, he shall not be incident, shall he? [ He foynes. Fin. O sweet signior Juniper! Junip. 'Sblood stand away, princo*ks, do not aggravate my joy. Val. Nay, good master Onion. Oni. Nay, and he have the heart to draw my blood, let him come. Junip. I'll slice you, Onion; I'll slice you. Oni. I'll cleave you, Juniper. Val. Why hold, hold, ho! what do you mean? Junip. Let him come, Ingle; stand by, boy, his alabaster blade cannot fear me. Fin. Why hear you, sweet signior, let not there be any contention between my master and you about me; if you want a page, sir, I can help you to a proper stripling. Junip. Canst thou? what parentage, what ancestry, what genealogy is he? Fin. A French boy, sir. Junip. Has he his French linguist? has he? Fin. I, sir. Junip. Then transport him; here's a cru-sado for thee. Oni. You will not imbezzle my servant with your benevolence, will you? hold, boy, there's a portmanteau for thee. Fin. Lord, sir! Oni. Do, take it, boy; it's three pounds ten shillings, a portmanteau. [ Exit Finio. Fin. I thank your lordship. Junip. Sirrah Ningle, thou art a traveller, and I honour thee. I prithee discourse, che- rish thy muse, discourse. Val. Of what, sir? Junip. Of what thou wilt; 'sblood, hang sorrow. Oni. Prithee, Valentine, a**oile me one thing. Val. 'Tis pity to soil you, sir, your new apparel. Oni. Ma** thou say'st true, apparel makes a man Forget himself. Junip. Begin, find your tongue, Ningle. Val. Now will I gull these ganders rarely: Gentlemen, having in my peregrination through Mesopotamia. ——— Junip. Speak legibly, this game's gone, without the great mercy of God. Here's a fine tragedy indeed. There's a Keisar royal. By god'slid, nor king, nor Keisar shall. Enter Finio, Pacue, Balthasar, Martino. Balt. Where, where, Finio, where be they? Junip. Go to, I'll be with you anon. Oni. O here's the page, signior Juniper. Junip. What says monsieur Onion, boy? Fin. What say you, sir? Junip. Tread out, boy. Fin. Take up, you mean, sir. Junip. Tread out, I say; so, I thank you, is this the boy? Pac. Aue, monsieur. Junip. Who gave you that name? Pac. Give me de name, vat name? Oni. He thought your name had been We. Young gentleman, you must do more than his legs can do for him, bear with him, sir. Junip. Sirrah, give me instance of your carriage; you'll serve my turn, will you? Pac. Vat, turn upon the toe? Fin. O signior, no. Junip. Page, will you follow me? I'll give you good exhibition. Pac. By gar, shall not alone follow you, but shall lead you too. Oni. Plaguy boy, he sooths his humour; these French villains ha' pocky wits. Junip. Here, disarm me, take my semi- tary. Val. O rare! this would be a rare man, and he had a little travel. Balthasar, Mar- tino, put off your shoes, and bid him cobble them. Junip. Friends, friends, but pardon me for fellows, no more in occupation, no more in corporation; 'tis so, pardon me; the case is alter'd; this is law, but I'll stand to nothing. Pac. Dat so me tink. Junip. Well, then God save the duke's majesty; is this any harm now? speak, is this any harm now? Oni. No, nor good neither, 'sblood. Junip. Do you laugh at me? do you laugh at me? do you laugh at me? Val. I, sir, we do. Junip. You do indeed? Val. I, indeed, sir. Junip. 'Tis sufficient; page carry my purse; dog me. [ Exit. Oni. Gentlemen, leave him not; you see in what case he is; he is not in adversity, his purse is full of money; leave him not. [ Exeunt. Enter Angelo, with Rachel. Ang. Nay, gentle Rachel. Rach. Away, forbear, ungentle Angelo, Touch not my body with those impious hands, That, like hot irons, sear my trembling heart, And make it hiss at your disloyalty. Enter Chamont, Paulo Ferneze. Was this your drift, to use Ferneze's name? Was he your fittest stale? O wild dishonour! Paul. Stay, noble sir. Ang. 'Sblood, how like a puppet do you talk now! Dishonour! what dishonour! come, come, fool; Nay, then I see y'are peevish. S'heart, dis- honour! To have you to a priest, and marry you, And put you in an honourable state. Rach. To marry me! O heaven! can it be? That men should live with such unfeeling souls, Without or touch or conscience of religion? Or that their warping appetites should spoil Those honour'd forms, that the true scale of friendship Had set upon their faces? Ang. Do you hear? What needs all this? say, will you have me, or no? Rach. I'll have you gone, and leave me, if you would. Ang. Leave you! I was accurst to bring you hither, And make so fair an offer to a fool. A pox upon you, why should you be coy, What good thing have you in you to be proud of? Are ye any other than a beggar's daughter? Because you have beauty. O god's light! a blast! Pau. I, Angelo. Ang. You scornful baggage, I lov'd thee not so much, but now I hate thee. Rach. Upon my knees, you heavenly powers, I thank you, That thus have tam'd his wild affections. Ang. This will not do, I must to her again. Rachel, O that thou sawest my heart, or didst behold The place from whence that scalding sigh evented! Rachel, by Jesu, I love thee as my soul, Rachel, sweet Rachel. Rach. What again return'd Unto this violent pa**ion! Ang. Do but hear me; By heaven I love you, Rachel. Rach. Pray forbear. O that my lord Ferneze were but here! Ang. 'Sblood an' he were, what would he do! Pau. This would he do, base villain. Rach. My dear lord. Paul. Thou monster! even the soul of treachery! O what dishonour'd title of reproach May my tongue spit in thy deserved face! Methinks my very presence should invert The steeled organs of those traiterous eyes, To take into thy heart, and pierce it through. Turn'st thou them on the ground! wretch, dig a grave With their sharp points, to hide thy abhorred head. Sweet love, thy wrongs have been too vio- lent Since my departure from thee, I perceive; But now true comfort shall again appear, And, like an armed angel, guard thee safe From all th' a**aults of cover'd villainy. Come, monsieur, let us go, and leave this wretch To his despair. Ang. My noble Ferneze. Pau. What canst thou speak to me, and not thy tongue, Forc'd with the torment of thy guilty soul, Break that infected circle of thy mouth, Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell? I, that in thy bosom lodg'd my soul, With all her train of secrets, thinking them To be as safe and richly entertain'd As in a prince's court, or tower of strength, And thou to prove a traitor to my trust, And basely to expose it; O this world! Ang. My honourable lord. Pau. The very owl, whom other birds do stare And wonder at, shall hoot at thee; and snakes, In every bush, shall deaf thine ears with their — Cha. Nay, good my lord, give end unto your pa**ions. Ang. You shall see I will redeem your lost opinion. Rach. My lord, believe him. Cha. Come, be satisfy'd; Sweet lord, you know our haste; let us to horse, The time for my engag'd return is past. Be friends again, take him along with you. Pau. Come, signior Angelo, hereafter prove more true. [ Exeunt. Enter count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco. Count. Tut, Maximilian, for your ho- nour'd self, I am persuaded; but no words shall turn The edge of purpos'd vengeance on that wretch. Come, bring him forth to execution. Enter Camillo bound, with servants. I'll hang him for my son, he shall not 'scape, Had he a hundred lives. Tell me, vile slave, Think'st thou I love my son? is he my flesh? Is he my blood, my life? and shall all these Be tortur'd for thy sake, and not reveng'd? Truss up the villain. Max. My lord, there is no law to confirm this action. 'Tis dishonourable. Count. Dishonourable, Maximilian! It is dishonourable in Chamont, The day of his prefixt return is past, And he shall pay for't. Cam. My lord, my lord, Use your extremest vengeance; I'll be glad To suffer ten times more for such a friend. Count. O resolute and peremptory wretch! Franc. My honour'd lord, let us intreat a word. Count. I'll hear no more; I say, he shall not live; Myself will do it. Stay, what form is this Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand? What miracle is this? 'tis my own fancy Carves this impression in me; my foft nature That ever hath retain'd such foolish pity Of the most abject creature's misery, That it abhors it. What a child am I To have a child? ah me! my son, my son! Enter Christophero. Chr. O my dear love, what is become of thee? What unjust absence layest thou on my breast, Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back, That run me thorough with thy unkind flight, My gentle disposition waxeth wild; I shall run frantick: O my love, my love! Enter Jaques. Jaq. My gold, my gold, my life, my soul, my heaven! What is become of thee? see, I'll impart My miserable loss to my good lord. Let me have search, my lord, my gold is gone. Count. My son, Christophero, think'st thou it possible I ever shall behold his face again? Chr. O father, where's my love? were you so careless To let an unthrift steal away your child? Jaq. I know your lordship may find out my gold. For god's sake pity me; justice, sweet lord. Count. Now they have young Chamont, Christophero, Surely they never will restore my son. Chr. Who would have thought you could have been so careless To lose your only daughter? Jaq. Who would think That looking to my gold with such hare's eyes, That ever open, I, even when I sleep, I thus should lose my gold, my noble lord, What says your lordship? Count. O my son, my son! Chr. My dearest Rachel! Jaq. My most honey gold! Count. Hear me, Christophero. Chr. Nay, hear me, Jaques. Jaq. Hear me, most honour'd lord. Max. What rule is here? Count. O god, that we should let Cha- mont escape. Enter Aurelia, Phœnixella. < Chr. I, and that Rachel, such a virtuous maid, Should be thus stolen away. Jaq. And that my gold, Being so hid in earth, should be found out. Max. O confusion of languages, and yet no tower of Babel! Fran. Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit To make a jangling consort; will you laugh To see three constant pa**ions. Max. Stand by, I will urge them; sweet count, will you be comforted? Count. It cannot be But he is handled the most cruelly That ever any noble prisoner was. Max. Steward, go chear my lord. Chr. Well, if Rachel took her flight wil- lingly. Max. Sirrah, speak you touching your daughter's flight? Jaq. O that I could so soon forget to know The thief again that had my gold, my gold. Max. Is not this pure? Count. O thou base wretch, I'll drag thee through the streets; Enter Balthasar, and whispers with him. And as a monster make thee wonder'd at. How now? Phœn. Sweet gentleman, how too unwor- thily Art thou thus tortur'd! brave Maximilian, Pity the poor youth, and appease my father. Count. How! my son return'd? O Maxi- milian, Francisco, daughters! bid him enter here. Enter Chamont, Ferneze, Rachel, Angelo. Dost thou not mock me? O my dear Paulo, welcome. Max. My lord Chamont! Cha. My Gasper! Chr. Rachel. Jaq. My gold, Rachel, my gold. Count. Somebody bid the beggar cease his noise. Chr. O signior Angelo, would you de- ceive Your honest friend, that simply trusted you? Well, Rachel, I am glad thou art here again. Ang. I'faith she is not for you, steward. Jaq. I beseech you, madam, urge your father. Phœn. I will anon; good Jaques, be con- tent. Aur. Now god-a-mercy fortune, and sweet Venus. Let Cupid do his part, and all is well. Phœn. Methinks, my heart's in heaven with this comfort. Chamont. Is this the true Italian courtesy? Ferneze, were you tortur'd thus in France? By my soul's safety ————. Count. My most noble lord, I do beseech your lordship. Cha. Honour'd count, Wrong not your age with flexure of a knee, I do impute it to those cares and griefs That did torment you in your absent son. Count. O worthy gentlemen, I am asham'd That my extreme affection to my son Should give my honour so uncur'd a maim; But my first son being in Vicenza lost. Cha. How! in Vicenza! lost you a son there? About what time, my lord? Count. O the same night Wherein your noble father took the town. Cha. How long's that since, my lord? can you remember? Count. 'Tis now well nigh upon the twen- tieth year. Cha. And how old was he then? Cha. I cannot tell; Between the years of three and four, I take it. Cha. Had he no special note in his at- tire, Or otherwise, that you can call to mind? Count. I cannot well remember his attire; But I have often heard his mother say, He had about his neck a tablet, Given to him by the emperor Sigismund, His godfather, with this inscription, Under the figure of a silver globe, In minimo mundus. Cha. How did you call your son, my lord? Count. Camillo, lord Chamont. Cha. Then no more my Gasper, but Ca- millo, Take notice of your father. Gentlemen, Stand not amaz'd; here is a tablet, With that inscription, found about his neck, That night, and in Vicenza, by my father, (Who being ignorant what name he had Christen'd him Gasper;) nor did I reveal This secret, till this hour, to any man. Count. O happy revelation! O blest hour! O my Camillo! Phœn. O strange! my brother! Fran. Maximilian, Behold how the abundance of his joy Drowns him in tears of gladness. Count. O my boy, Forgive thy father's late austerity. Max. My lord, I delivered as much be- fore, but your honour would not be per- suaded; I will hereafter give more obser- vance to my visions; I dreamt of this. Jaq. I can be still no longer, my good lord; Do a poor man some grace amongst all your joys. Count. Why what's the matter, Jaques? Jaq. I am robb'd; I am undone, my lord; robb'd and undone. A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns Stolen from me in one minute, and I fear By her confederacy that calls me father; But she is none of mine, therefore, sweet lord, Let her be tortur'd to confess the truth. Max. More wonders yet. Count. How, Jaques! is not Rachel then thy daughter? Jaq. No, I disclaim in her; I spit at her: She is a harlot, and her customers, Your son, this gallant, and your steward here, Have all been partners with her in my spoil; No less than thirty thousand. Count. Jaques, Jaques, This is impossible; how shouldst thou come To the possession of so huge a heap, Being always a known beggar? Jaq. Out, alas! I have betray'd myself with my own tongue; The case is alter'd. Count. Some one stay him here. Max. What means he to depart? count Ferneze, upon my soul this beggar, this beggar is a counterfeit. Urge him: didst thou lose gold? Jaq. O no, I lost no gold. Max. Said I not true? Count. How! didst thou first lose thirty thousand crowns, And no no gold? was Rachel first thy child, And is she now no daughter? sirrah, Jaques, You know how far our Milan laws extend For punishing of lyars. Jaq. I, my lord. What shall I do? I have no starting-holes. Monsieur Chamont, stand you, my honour'd lord. Cha. For what, old man? Jaq. Ill-gotten goods ne'er thrive; I play'd the thief, and now am robb'd my- self. I am not what I seem, Jaques de Prie, Nor was I born a beggar as I am, But some time steward to your noble father. Cha. What, Melun, that robb'd my father's treasure, Stole my sister? Jaq. I, I; that treasure's lost, but Isabel, Your beauteous sister, here survives in Rachel; And therefore on my knees ——— Max. Stay, Jaques, stay; The case still alters. Count. Fair Rachel, sister to the lord Chamont! Ang. Steward, your cake is dow, as well as mine. Pau. I see that honour's flames cannot be hid, No more than lightning in the blackest cloud. Max. Then, sirrah, 'tis true, you have lost this gold. Jaq. I, worthy signior, thirty thousand crowns. Count. Ma**, who was it told me, that a couple of my men were become gallants of late? Fran. Marry, 'twas I, my lord; my man told me. Enter Onion and Juniper. Max. How now! what pageant is this? Junip. Come, signior Onion, let's not be asham'd to appear; Keep state, look not ambiguous now. Oni. Not I, while I am in this suit. Junip. Lordlings, equivalence to you all. Oni. We thought good to be so good as see you, gentlemen. Max. What, monsieur Onion! Oni. How dost thou, good captain? Count. What, are my hinds turn'd gentle- men? Oni. Hinds, sir! 'sblood, and that word will bear an action; it shall cost us a thou- sand pound a piece, but we'll be reveng'd. Junip. Wilt thou sell thy lordship, count? Count. What, peasants purchase lordships? Junip. Is that any novels, sir? Max. O transmutation of elements! it is certified you had pages. Junip. I, sir; but it is known they proved ridiculous; they did pilfer, they did purloin, they did procrastinate our purses; for the which wasting of our stock, we have put them to the stocks. Count. And thither shall you two pre- sently. These be the villains that stole Jaques' gold; Away with them, and set them with their men. Max. Onion, you will now be peel'd. Fran. The case is alter'd now. Oni. Good my lord, good my lord. Junip. Away, scoundrel; dost thou fear a little elocution? Shall we be be confiscate now? shall we droop now? Shall we be now in helogabolus? Oni. Peace, peace, leave thy gabling. Count. Away, away with them; what's this they prate? [Exeunt with Juniper and Onion. Keep the knaves sure; strict inquisition Shall presently be made for Jaques' gold, To be dispos'd at pleasure of Chamont. Cha. She is your own, lord Paulo, if your father Give his consent. Ang. How now, Christophero! the case is alter'd. Cha. With you as well as me; I am content, sir. Count. With all my heart; and in ex- change of her, (If with you fair acceptance it may stand) I tender my Aurelia to your love. Cha. I take her from your lordship with all thanks, And bless the hour wherein I was made prisoner, For the fruition of this present fortune, So full of happy and unlook'd-for joys. Melun, I pardon thee; and for the treasure Recover it, and hold it as thine own: It is enough for me to see my sister Live in the circle of Ferneze's arms, My friend, the son of such a noble father; And my unworthy self wrapt above all By being the lord of so divine a dame. Max. Well, I will now swear the case is altered. Lady, fare you well; I will sub- due my affections. Madam, as for you, you are a profest virgin, and I will be silent. My honourable lord Ferneze, it shall be- come you at this time not to be frugal, but bounteous, and open-handed; your fortune hath been so to you, lord Chamont. You are now no stranger; you must be welcome; you have a fair, amiable, and splendid lady: but signior Paulo, signior Camillo, I know you valiant, be loving. Lady, I must be better known to you. Signiors, for you, I pa** you not, though I let you pa**; for in truth I pa** not of you. Lovers to your nuptials, lordlings to your dances; march fair all, for a fair march is worth a king's ransome. [Exeunt. 1Ad unguem, upsie freeze.] This last phrase is of the same meaning with upsee Dutch, which occurs in the Alchemist, and is there explained. 2 Junip. Wip'd them! Jaq. I, thou villain; thou art a subtil knave. Put off thy shoes; come, I will see them.] We said before, that Jonson, in the character of Jaques, hath copied the Euclio of Plautus; and this scene is an imitation of the Latin, where Strobilus is examined by the miser in the like manner. But the pleasantries of this scene are within the bounds of nature; and severer judgment instructed Jonson not to outrage his characters, as Plautus did before him. Jaques examines both the hands of Juniper, but he does not, like Euclio, bid him produce his third hand. Euc. Ostende huc man*s. Strob. Hem tibi ostendi, eccas. Euc. Video, age ostende etiam tertiam. No degree of avarice could lead one to suppose, that a man has three hands. 3 Oni. I'll go in my foot-cloth; I'll turn gentleman. Junip. So will I. Oni. But what badge shall we give, what cullison?] I'll go in my foot-cloth — that is, I'll have my horse dress'd in his caparisons and housings, as gentlemen used to ride; and hence they were called foot-cloth nags. —— What badge shall we give,what cullison? So in Every Man out of his Humour, "I'll give coats, that's my humour: but I lack a cullisen." Act 1. scene 2. And I there observed, that no Dictionary will help us to the meaning of the word. It seems to be something relative to a coat of arms, or a crest to point out whose livery the servants wore; but if it ever was a term in heraldry, it is no longer in use, and now unknown to the heralds themselves. Indeed it sometimes happens, that a variation of NOTE: in the 1811 edition, the footnote reaches the end of the page here, and is continued on the next page--I'm finishing it here for convenience the spelling will direct us to the etymology and meaning of a word, which may be still retained in use, but with a little change and difference in the letters: but this supposition gives us no light here. However, I must take leave to quote one pa**age from our poet, where a departure from the usual way of writing and pronunciation, led me to suspect it might possibly be a corruption, which I have since found is not so. The pa**age I mean, is in his Elegy on the Lady Digby: "Sleepy, or stupid Nature, could'st thou part "With such a rarity, and not rouse art "With all her aids, to save her from the seize "Of vulture d**h, and those relentless clies?" The last word appeared to me either an error, or the same with claws, only varied in the spelling for the sake of rhime; and such I have since found it to be. For what we usually call the claws, is wrote, in Minshew, the cleyes of a crab, scorpion, &c. 4Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit. Enter serving-man with Camillo. Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont.] The whole incident of Paulo Ferneze's being taken prisoner on the one side, and Chamont and Camillo on the other, with the exchanging their names, and Camillo's being left for Chamont, is taken from the Captivi of Plautus. The son of Hegio is taken prisoner; and with a view to ransom his son by the exchange, Hegio buys Philocrates and Tyndarus, two Elian captives. Tyndarus is slave to Philocrates, and is left under his master's name, while the true Philocrates is sent to Elis, under the name of Tyndarus, to effect the liberty of Philoptolemus the son of Hegio. The raud however is discovered to Hegio, before the return of Philocrates; and Tyndarus is put to the torture, and sent to the mines. At the return of Philoptolemus and Philocrates, with whom also there comes Stalagmus, a fugitive slave of Hegio, it is discovered that Tyndarus is the son of Hegio, who was carried away by Stalagmus at the age of four years, and sold by him to the father of Philocrates. The reader will perceive from this account, the exact similitude between the copy and the original; and I have been thus particular in pointing out the resemblance, for the a**istance of those who may want the ability of comparing them together. This Comedy was sundry times acted by the Children of the Black-Friars. F I N I S.