University of Virginia Library

SCENA I.

Bosola, Castruchio, an Old Lady, Antonio, Delio, Duchesse, Rodorico, Grisolan.
Bos.
You say you would faine be taken, for an eminent Courtier?

Cast.
'Tis the very maine of my ambition.

Bos.
Let me see, you haue a reasonable good face for't already,
And your night-cap expresses your eares sufficient largely,
I would haue you learne to twirle the strings of your band with a
Good grace; and in a set speech, (at th'end of euery sentence,)
To hum, three, or foure times, or blow your nose (till it smart againe,)
To recouer your memory, when you come to be a president in
Criminall causes, if you smile vpon a prisoner, hang him, but if
You frowne vpon him, and threaten him, let him be sure to scape
The Gallowes.

Cast.
I would be a very merrie president,

Bos.
Do not sup a nights, 'twill beget you an admirable wit.

Cast.
Rather it would make me haue a good stomake to quarrel,
For they say, your roaring-boyes eate meate seldome,
And that makes them so valiant:
But how shall I know whether the people take me
For an eminent fellow.

Bos.
I will teach a tricke to know it,
Giue out you lie a dying, and if you
Heare the common people curse you,
Be sure you are taken for one of the prime night-caps,
You come from painting now?

Old Lady.
From what?

Bos.
Why, from your scuruy face-physicke,
To behold thee not painted enclines somewhat neere
A miracle: These in thy face here, were deepe rutts,
And foule sloughes the last progresse:
There was a Lady in France, that hauing had the small pockes,
Flead the skinne off her face, to make it more leuell;
And whereas before she look'd like a Nutmeg-grater,
After she resembled an abortiue hedge-hog.

Old Lady.
Doe you call this painting?

Bos.
No, no, but you call carreening of an old
Morphew'd Lady, to make her disembogue againe,
There's rough-cast phrase to your plastique.

Old Lady.
It seemes you are well acquainted with my closset?

Bos.
One would suspect it for a shop of witch-craft,
To finde in it the fat of Serpents; spawne of Snakes, Iewes spittle,
And their yong children ordures, and all these for the face:
I would sooner eate a dead pidgeon, taken from the soles of the feete
Of one sicke of the plague, then kisse one of you fasting:
Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth, is the very
Patrimony of the Physition, makes him renew his
Foote-cloth with the Spring, and change his
High-priz'd curtezan with the fall of the leafe:
I do wonder you doe not loath your selues,
Obserue my meditation now:
What thing is in this outward forme of man
To be belou'd? we account it ominous,
If Nature doe produce a Colt, or Lambe,
A Fawne, or Goate, in any limbe resembling
A Man; and flye from't as a prodegy.
Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity,
In any other Creature but himselfe.
But in our owne flesh, though we beare diseases
Which haue their true names, onely tane from beasts,
As the most vlcerous Woolfe, and swinish Meazeall;
Though we are eaten vp of lice, and wormes,
And though continually we beare about vs
A rotten and dead body, we delight
To hide it in rich tissew all our feare,
(Nay all our terrour) is, least our Phisition
Should put vs in the ground, to be made sweete.
Your wife's gone to Rome: you two cople, and get you
To the wels at Leuca, to recouer your aches.
I haue other worke on foote: I obserue our Duchesse
Is sicke a dayes, she puykes, her stomacke seethes,
The fins of her eie-lids, looke most teeming blew,
She waines i'th'cheeke, and waxes fat i'th'flanke;
And (contrary to our Italian fashion,)
Weares a loose-bodied Gowne, there's somewhat in't,
I haue a tricke, may chance discouer it
(A pretty one) I haue bought some Apricocks,
The first our Spring yeelds.

Del.
And so long since married?
You amaze me.

Ant.
Let me seale your lipps for euer,
For did I thinke, that any thing but th'ayre,
Could carry these words from you, I should wish
You had no breath at all: Now Sir, in your contemplation?
You are studdying to become a great wise fellow?

Bos.
Oh Sir, the opinion of wisedome, is a foule tettor,
That runs all ouer a mans body: if simplicity
Direct vs to haue no euill, it directs vs to a happy
Being: For the subtlest folly proceedes from the
Subtlest wisedome: Let me be simply honest.

Ant.
I do vnderstand your in-side.

Bos.
Do you so?

Ant.
Because you would not seeme to appeare to th'world
Puff'd vp with your preferment: You continue
This out off shashion mellancholly, leaue it, leaue it.

Bos.
Giue me leaue to be honest in any phrase, in any
Complement whatsoeuer, shall I confesse my selfe to you?
I looke no higher then I can reach:
They are the gods, that must ride on winged horses,
A Lawyers mule of a slow pace, will both suit
My disposition, and businesse: For (marke me)
When a mans mind rides faster then his horse can gallop,
They quickly both tyre.

Ant.
You would looke vp to Heauen, but I thinke
The Diuell, that rules i'th'aire, stands in your light.

Bos.
Oh (Sir) you are Lord of the ascendant,
Chiefe man with the Duchesse, a Duke was your
Cosen German, remou'd: Say you were lineally
Descended from King Pippin, or he himselfe,
What of this? search the heads of the greatest riuers in
The World, you shall finde them but bubles of water:
Some would thinke the soules of Princes were brought
Forth by some more weighty cause, then those of meaner persons,
They are deceiu'd, there's the same hand to them:
The like passions sway them, the same reason, that makes
A Vicar goe to Law for a tithe-pig,
And vndoe his neighbours, makes them spoile
A whole Prouince, and batter downe goodly
Cities, with the Cannon.

Duch.
Your arme Antonio, do I not grow fat?
I am exceeding short-winded: Bosola,
I would haue you (Sir) prouide for me a Littor,
Such a one, as the Duchesse of Florence roade in.

Bos.
The Duchesse vs'd one, when she was great with childe.

Duch.
I thinke she did: come hether, mend my ruffe,
Here, when? thou art such a tedious Lady; and
Thy breath smells of Lymmon pils, would thou hadst done,
Shall I sound vnder thy fingers? I am
So troubled with the mother.

Bos.
I feare to much.

Duch.
I haue heard you say, that the French Courties
Weare their hats on fore the King.

Ant.
I haue seene it.

Duch.
In the Presence?

Ant.
Yes:
Why should not we bring vp that fashion?
'Tis ceremony more then duty, that consists
In the remoouing of a peece of felt:
Be you the example to the rest o'th' Court,
Put on your hat first.

Ant.
You must pardon me:
I haue seene, in colder countries, then in France,
Nobles stand bare to th'Prince; and the distinction
My thought show'd reuerently.

Bos.
I haue a present for your Grace.

Duch.
For me sir?

Bos.
Apricocks (Madam.)

Duch.
O sir, where are they?
I haue heard of none to yeare.

Bos.
Good, her colour rises.

Duch.
Indeed I thanke you: they are wondrous faire ones:
What an vnskilfull fellow is our Gardiner?
We shall haue none this moneth.

Bos.
Will not your Grace pare them?

Duch.
No, they tast of muske (me thinkes) indeed they doe:

Bos.
I know not: yet I wish your Grace had parde'em:

Duch.
Why?

Bos.
I forget to tell you the knaue Gardner,
(Onely to raise his profit by them the sooner)
Did ripen them in horse-doung.

Duch,
O you iest:
You shall iudge: pray tast one.

Ant.
Indeed Madam,
I doe not loue the fruit.

Duch.
Sir, you are loath
To rob vs of our dainties: 'tis a delicate fruit,
They say they are restoratiue?

Bos.
'Tis a pretty
Art: this grafting.

Duch.
'Tis so: a bettring of nature.

Bos.
To make a pippin grow vpon a crab,
A dampson on a black thorne: how greedily she eats them?
A whirlewinde strike off these bawd-farthingalls,
For, but for that, and the loose-bodied gowne,
I should haue discouer'd apparently
The young spring-hall cutting a caper in her belly.

Duch.
I thanke you (Bosola:) they were right good ones,
If they doe not make me sicke.

Ant.
How now Madame?

Duch.
This greene fruit: and my stomake are not friends
How they swell me?

Bos.
Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

Duch.
Oh, I am in an extreame cold sweat.

Bos.
I am very sorry:

Duch.
Lights to my chamber: O, good Antonio,
I feare I am vndone.
Exit Duchesse.

Del.
Lights there, lights.

Ant.
O my most trusty Delio, we are lost:
I feare she's falne in labour: and ther's left
No time for her remoue.

Del.
Haue you prepar'd
Those Ladies to attend her? and procur'd
That politique safe conueyance for the Mid-wife
Your Dutchesse plotted.

Ant.
I haue:

Del.
Make vse then of this forc'd occasion:
Giue out that Bosola hath poyson'd her,
With these Apricocks: that will giue some colour
For her keeping close.

Ant.
Fye, fie, the Physitians
Will then flocke to her.

Del.
For that you may pretend
She'll vse some prepar'd Antidote of her owne,
Least the Physitians should re poyson her.

Ant.
I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on't.

Ex.