Pris. And I mine, to discern a spigot from a faucet. Sper. And I mine, to judge the difference between a black bowl and a silver goblet. Stel. And mine shall learn the odds between a stand and a hogshead; yet I cannot choose but laugh to see how my wag answered me when I strook him for drinking sack. Pris. Why, what said he? Stel. Master, it is the sovereignest drink in the world, and the safest for all times and weathers if it thunder, though all the ale and beer in the town turn, it will be constant; if it lighten, and that any fire come to it, it is the aptest wine to burn, and the most wholesomest when it is burnt; so much for summer. If it freeze, why it is so hot in operation that no ice can congeal it; if it rain, why then he that cannot abide the heat of it, may put in water; so much for winter: and so ran his way; but I'll overtake him. Sper. Who would think that my hop-o'-mythumb, Halfpenny, scarce so high as a pint pot, would reason the matter; but he learned his leer* of my son, his young master, whom I have brought up at Oxford, and I think must learn here, in Kent, of Ashford. Mem. Why, what said he? Sper. He boldly rapt it out, sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus, without wine and sugar his veins would wax cold. Mem. They were all in a pleasant vein; but I ́ must begone, and take account of my boy's busi * "Leer," doctrine, information. ness. (Aside). Farewell, neighbours, God knows when we shall meet again. Yet I have discovered nothing, my wine hath been my wit's friend; I long to hear what Dromio hath done. (Aside.) [Exit. Stel. I cannot stay; but this good fellowship shall cost me the setting on at our next meeting. I am glad I blabbed nothing of the marriage, now I hope to compass it. I know my boy hath been bungling about it*. (Aside.) [Exit. Pris. Let us all go; for I must to my clothes that hang on the tenters; my boy shall hang with them, if he answer me not his day's work, (aside.) [Exit. Sper. If all be gone, I'll not stay. Halfpenny I am sure hath done me a pennyworth of good, else I'll spend his body in buying a rod. [Exit. * 66 Bungling about it," means making some sort of attempt to accomplish it." In the second Scene of the third Act of the "Merry Wives of Windsor," Shallow says, "We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my cousin Slender." I think lingering here and bungling in the text, have precisely the same meaning. ACT III. SCENE I. MÆSTIUS and SERENA. Mast. Sweet sister, I know not how it cometh to pass, but I find in myself passions more than brotherly. Ser. And I, dear brother, find my thoughts entangled with affections beyond nature; which so flame in my distempered head, that I can neither without danger smother the fire, nor with modesty disclose my fury. Mast. Our parents are poor, our love unnatural, what then can happen to make us happy? Ser. Only to be content with our fathers' mean estate, to combat against our own intemperate desires, and yield to the success of fortune; who, though she hath framed us miserable, cannot make us monstrous. Mæst. It is good counsel, fair sister, if the necessity of love could be relieved by counsel. Ser. Yet, this is our comfort, that these unnatural heats have stretched themselves no further than thoughts; unhappy me, that they should stretch so*. Mæst. So it is, Serena, the nearer we are in blood, the further we must be from love; and the greater the kindred is, the less the kindness * There is some error here in the edition of 1598, which is faithfully copied into Mr. Blount's; this speech is there made a continuation of Mæstius'. must be; so that between brothers and sisters, superstition hath made affection cold; between strangers, custom hath bred love exquisite. Ser. They say there is hard by an old cunning woman, who can tell fortunes, expound dreams, tell of things that be lost, and divine of accidents to come; she is called the good woman, who yet never did hurt. Mæst. Nor any good, I think, Serena; yet, to satisfy thy mind, we will see what she can say. Ser. Good brother, let us. Mæst. Who is within? Enter MOTHER BOMBIE. Bom. The dame of the house. Mæst. She might have said the beldam, for her face and years and attire. Ser. Good mother, tell us, if by your cunning you can, what shall become of my brother and me? Bom. Let me see you hands, and look on me stedfastly with your eyes. You shall be married to-morrow, hand in hand, And both together must relieve a fool; Mast. This is my sister, marry we cannot; our parents are poor, and have no lands to give us; each of us is a fool to come for counsel to such an old fool. Ser. These doggrel rhymes and obscure words, coming out of the mouth of such a weather-beaten witch, are thought divinations of some holy spirit, being but dreams of decayed brains; for mine own part, I would thou mightest sit on that stool till he and I marry by law. Bom. I say Mother Bombie never speaks but once, and yet never spake untruth once. Ser. Come, brother, let us to our poor home; this is our comfort, to bewray our passions, since we cannot enjoy them. Mæst. Content, sweet sister, and learn of me hereafter, that these old saws of such old hags, are but false fires to lead one out of a plain path into a deep pit. [Exeunt. SCENE II. DROMIO and RISIO. Drom. Ingenium quondam fuerat pretiosus auro, the time was wherein wit would work like wax, and crock up gold like honey. Ris. At nunc barbaria est grandis habere nihil, but now wit and honesty buy nothing in the market. Drom. What, Risio, how sped'st thou after thy potting? Ris. Nay, my master rung all in the tavern, and thrust all out in the house. But how sped'st thou ? Drom. I? It were a day's work to discourse it; he spake nothing but sentences, but they were vengible long ones; for when one word was out, he made pause of a quarter long till he spake another. Ris. Why, what did he in all that time? |