 | The Great Dvke of Florence |  |
Scæna secunda.
Bernardo. Caponi. Petruchio.Bernardo.
Is my Lord stirring?
Caponi.
No; He's fast.
Petruchio.
Let us take then
Our morning draught. Such as eate store of Beefe,
Mutton, and Capons, may preserve their healths
With that thin composition call'd small Beere,
As 'tis said they doe in England. But Italians
That think when they have sup'd upon an Olive,
A Root, or bunch of Raysins, 'tis a Feast,
Must kill those crudities, rising from cold hearbs,
With hot and lusty wines.
Caponi.
A happinesse
Those Tramontaines ne're casted.
Bernardo.
Have they not
Store of wine there?
Caponi.
Yes, and drink more in two houres
Then the Dutchmen, or the Dane in foure and twenty.
Petru.
But what is't? French trash, made of rotten grapes
A drench to kill a horse, but this pure Nectar
Being proper to our climate, is too fine
To brook the roughnesse of the Sea. The spirit
Of this begets in us quick apprehensions
And active executions, whereas their
Grosse feeding makes their understanding like it.
They can fight, and that's their all.
They drink.
Sanazarro.
Security
Enter Sanazarro. A servant.
Dwells about this house I think, the gate's wide open,
And not a servant stirring. See the horses
Set up, and cloath'd.
Servant.
I shall Sir.
Sanazarro.
I'll make bold
To presse a little further.
Bernardo.
Who is this,
Count Sanazarro?
Petruchio.
Yes, I know him. Quickly
Remove the Flaggon.
Sanazarro.
A good day to you friends.
Nay, doe not conceale your Physick, I approve it,
And if you please will be a Patient with you.
Petruchio.
My noble Lord.
Drinks.
Sanazarro.
A health to yours. Well done,
I see you love your selves. And I commend you
'Tis the best wisedome.
Petruchio.
May it please your Honour
To walk a turne in the Gallery, I'll acquaint
My Lord with your being here.
Exit Petruchio.
Sanazarro.
Tell him I come
For a Visit onely. 'Tis a hansome pile this.
Exit Sanazarro.
Caponi.
Why here is a brave fellow, and a right one,
Nor wealth, nor greatnesse makes him proud.
Bernar.
There are too few of them, for most of our new Courtiers
(Whose Fathers were familiar with the prices
Of oyle, and corne, with when and to where to vent 'em)
And left their heires rich from their knowledge that way)
Like gourds shot up in a night, disdains to speake
Ent. Car. Charom in a night-Gown, Petruchio following.
Carol.
Stand you prating, knaves,
When such a guest is under my roofe? See all
The roomes perfum'd. This is the man that carries
The sway, and swinge of the Court; and I had rather
Preserve him mine with honest offices, then.—
But I'll make no comparisons. Bid my daughter
Trim her selfe up to the height, I know this Courtier
Must have a smack at her, and perhaps by his place
Expects to wriggle further. If he does
I shall deceive his hopes, for I'll not taint
My Honour for the Dukedome. Which way went he?
Caponi.
To the round Gallerie.
Carolo.
I will entertaine him
As fits his worth, and quality, but no farther.
Exeunt:
| The Great Dvke of Florence | |