(Unworthy far to seek her, in the wet!);

And what becomes of her? where wander'd she,
With two showers raining on her, from her eyes
Continually, abundantly, from which

There's neither tree nor house to shelter her ?--
Will you go with me to travel ?

Val. Whither?

Ric. Over all the world.

Val. No, by my faith; I'll make a shorter journey
When I do travel.

Ric. But there is no hope

To gain my end in any shorter way.

Val. Why, what's your end?

Ric. It is to search the earth,

Till we have found two in the shapes of men,
As wicked as ourselves.

Val. "Twere not so hard

To find out those.

Ric. Why, if we find them out,

It were the better; for what brave villainy
Might we four do !-We would not keep together;
For every one has treachery enough

For twenty countries. One should trouble Asia;
Another should sow strife in Africa;

But you should play the knave at home in Europe;
And for America, let me alone.

Val. Sir, I am honester

Than you know how to be, and can no more
Be wrong'd, but I shall find myself a right.

Ric. If you had any spark of honesty,

You would not think that honester than I
Were a praise high enough to serve your turn :
If men were commonly so bad as I,

Thieves would be put in calendars for saints,
And bones of murderers would work miracles.
I am a kind of knave; of knave so much
There is betwixt me and the vilest else;1

But the next place of all to mine is yours.

The vilest else.] That is, a knave to the amount of what lies between me and the vilest.

Enter VIOLA, NAN, and MADGE. (VIOLA had been sheltered in a farm-house and had joined in its services.)

Val. That last is she; 'tis she!

Ric. Let us away;

We shall infect her! let her have the wind

And we will kneel down here

Viola. Wenches, away,

For here are men.

Val. Fair maid, I pray you stay.

Viola. Alas! again?

Ric. Why do you lay hold on her?

I pray heartily, let her go..

[Takes hold of VIOLA.

Val. With all my heart; I do not mean to hurt her.
Ric. But stand away then! for the purest bodies
Will sooner take infection; stand away!

But for infecting her myself, by Heaven,

I would come there, and beat thee further off. Viola. I know that voice and face.

Val. You are finely mad!

God b' w' ye, sir! Now you are here together, I'll leave you so. God send you good luck, both! When you are soberer, you'll give me thanks. [Exit. Madge. Wilt thou go milk? come.

Nan. Why dost not come ?

Madge. She nods, she's asleep.

Nan. What, wert up so early?

[RICARDO kneels.

Nay, come, come away.

Madge. I think yon man's mad to kneel there.

'Uds body, Nan, help! she looks black i' th' face;

She's in a swound.

Nan. An' you be a man, come hither,

And help a woman!

Ric. Come thither? You are a fool.

[VIOLA faints.

Nan. And you a knave and a beast, that you are.
Ric. Come hither? 'twas my being now so near

That made her swoon; and you are wicked people,
Or you would do so too: my venom eyes
Strike innocency dead at such a distance;
Here I will kneel, for this is out of distance.

Nan. Thou art a prating ass! there's no goodness in thee,

I warrant.-How dost thou ?

Viola. Why, well.

Madge. Art thou able to go?

[VIOLA recovers.

Viola. No; pray go you and milk. If I be able
To come, I'll follow you; if not, I'll sit here

Till you come back.

Nan. I am loth to leave thee here with yon wild fool.
Viola. I know him well; I warrant thee he will not hurt me.
Madge. Come then, Nan.
[Exeunt Maids.
Ric. How do you? Be not fearful, for I hold

My hands before my mouth, and speak, and so
My breath can never blast you.

Viola. 'Twas enough

To use me ill, though you had never sought me
To mock me too. Why kneel you so far off?
Were not that gesture better used in prayer?
Had I dealt so with you, I should not sleep,
Till God and you had both forgiven me.

Ric. I do not mock; nor lives there such a villain
That can do anything contemptible

To you: but I do kneel, because it is
An action very fit and reverent,
In presence of so pure a creature;
And so far off, as fearful to offend

One too much wrong'd already.

Viola. You confess you did the fault, yet scorn to come So far as hither, to ask pardon for't;

Which I could willingly afford to come

To you to grant. May the next maid you try
Love you no worse, nor be no worse than I!

Ric. Do not leave me yet, for all

my fault!

Search out the next things to impossible,

And put me on them; when they are effected,
I may with better modesty receive
Forgiveness from you.

Viola. I will set no penance,

And all his secrets, at the first acquaintance;
Never so crafty to be eaten i' th' shell,

But is out-stripp'd of all he has at first,

To gain the great forgiveness you desire,
But to come hither, and take me and it;
Or else, I'll come and beg, so you will grant
That you will be content to be forgiven!

Ric. (rises.) Nay, I will come, since you will have it so,
And, since you please to pardon me, I hope
Free from infection. Here I am by you,
A careless man, a breaker of my faith,
A loathsome drunkard; and in that wild fury,
A hunter after -! I do beseech you
To pardon all these faults, and take me up
An honest, sober, and a faithful man!

Viola. For God's sake urge your faults no more, but mend! All the forgiveness I can make you, is,

To love you; which I will do, and desire

Nothing but love again; which if I have not,
Yet I will love
you still.

Ric. Oh, women! that some one of you will take
An everlasting pen into your hands,

And grave in paper (which the writ shall make
More lasting than the marble monuments)
Your matchless virtues to posterities;
Which the defective race of envious man
Strives to conceal!

WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.

A "POACHED SCHOLAR."

Witty. I tell you, cousin,

You cannot be too cautelous, nice, or dainty,
In your society here, especially

When you come raw from the university,
Before the world has harden'd you a little;

For as a butter'd loaf is a scholar's breakfast there,
So a poach'd scholar is a cheater's dinner here:
I ha' known seven of 'em supp'd up at a meal.

Credulous. Why a poach'd scholar?
Witty. 'Cause he pours himself forth,

And goes down glib; he's swallow'd with sharp wit,
Stead of wine vinegar.

Cred. I shall think, cousin,

O' your poach'd scholar, while I live.

THE KNIGHT OF THE BURNING PESTLE.

LONDONERS AND THEIR FAVOURITE PLAYS AND LEGENDS

BANTERED.

Enter Speaker of the Prologue. The Citizen, his Wife, and RALPH, sitting below the stage among the spectators. Several Gentlemen sit

ting upon the Stage.1

Prologue. From all that's near the court, from all that's Within the compass of the city-walls,

We now have brought our scene2

Citizen leaps upon the Stage.

Cit. Hold your peace, goodman boy!

Prol. What do you mean, sir?

[great

Cit. That you have no good meaning. This seven years there hath been plays in this house, I have observed it, you have still girds at citizens; and now you call your play, 113 "The London Merchant.' Down with your title, boy; down with your title!

Prol. Are you a member of the noble city?

Cit. I am.

Prol. And a freeman ?

Cit. Yea, and a grocer.

Prol. So, grocer; then, by your sweet favour, we intend no abuse to the city.

Cit. No, sir? yes, sir. If you were not resolved to play the Jacks, what need you study for new subjects, purposely to abuse your betters? Why could not you be con

1 Sitting upon the stage.] A custom in those days.

We now have brought our scene.] A commencement common with old plays.

3 The London Merchant.] A play by Ford, not extant. 4 Jacks.] An old word for blackguards.