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blood, to recompense any man that bringeth his head with twenty thousand double pistolets, and the endearing to our choicest love. From Venice: PIERO SFORZA.

And. My thoughts are fix'd in contemplation Why this huge earth, this monstrous animal, That eats her children, should not have eyes and ears.

Philosophy maintains that Nature's wise,
And forms no useless or unperfect thing.

Did Nature make the earth, or the earth Nature?
For earthly dirt makes all things, makes the man,
Moulds me up honour; and like a cunning

Paints me a puppet even with seeming breath,
And gives a sot appearance of a soul:
Go to, go to; thou liest, Philosophy.
Nature forms things unperfect, useless, vain.
Why made she not the earth with eyes and ears?
That she might see desert, and hear men's

That when a soul is splitted, sunk with grief,
He might fall thus, upon the breast of earth;
And in her ear halloo his misery:

Exclaiming thus, O thou all-bearing earth, Which men do gape for, till thou cram'st their mouths,

And chok'st their throats with dust: oh chaune1 thy breast,

And let me sink into thee. Look who knocks; Andrugio calls. But oh, she's deaf and blind. A wretch but lean relief on earth can find.

Lu. Sweet lord, abandon passion, and disarm. Since by the fortune of the tumbling sea, We are roll'd up upon the Venice marsh, Let's clip all fortune, lest more low'ring fateAnd. More low'ring fate? O Lucio, choke that breath.

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Even to the utmost wrinkle it can bend:
Her venom's spit. Alas, what country rests,3
What son, what comfort that she can deprive?
Triumphs not Venice in my overthrow?
Gapes not my native country for my blood?
Lies not my son tomb'd in the swelling main?
And yet more low'ring fate? There's nothing

Unto Andrugio, but Andrugio:

And that nor mischief, force, distress, nor hell can take,

Fortune my fortunes, not my mind shall shake. Lu. Speak like yourself; but give me leave, my lord,

To wish your safety. If you are but seen, Your arms display you; therefore put them off, And take

And. Would'st thou have me go unarm'd among my foes?

Being besieg'd by passion, ent'ring lists,
To combat with despair and mighty grief:
My soul beleaguer'd with the crushing strength
Of sharp impatience? Ha, Lucio, go unarm'd?
Come, soul, resume the valour of thy birth;
Myself, myself, will dare all opposites:
I'll muster forces, an unvanquish'd power:
Cornets of horse shall press th' ungrateful earth;
This hollow wombed mass shall inly groan,
And murmur to sustain the weight of arms:
Ghastly amazement, with upstarted hair,
Shall hurry on before, and usher us,
Whilst trumpets clamour, with a sound of death.

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Lu. Peace, good my lord, your speech is all too light.

Alas, survey your fortunes, look what's left
Of all your forces, and your utmost hopes?
A weak old man, a page, and your poor self.
And. Andrugio lives, and a fair cause of


Why, that's an army all invincible!

He who hath that, hath a battalion Royal, armour of proof, huge troops of barbed steeds,

Main squares of pikes, millions of harguebush.' Oh, a fair cause stands firm, and will abide. Legions of angels fight upon her side.

Lu. Then, noble spirit, slide, in strange disguise,

Unto some gracious prince, and sojourn there, Till time and fortune give revenge firm means.

And. No, I'll not trust the honour of a man, Gold is grown great, and makes perfidiousness A common water in most princes' courts: He's in the chekle-roll: 2 I'll not trust my blood; I know none breathing, but will cog a die3 For twenty thousand double pistolets. How goes the time?

Lu. I saw no sun to-day.

And. No sun will shine where poor Andrugio breathes:

My soul grows heavy: boy, let's have a song: We'll sing yet, faith, even despite of fate.

[They sing. 'Tis a good boy, and by my troth, well sung. Oh, an thou felt'st my grief, I warrant thee, Thou would'st have struck division to the height,

And made the life of music breathe: hold, boy; why so?

For God's sake call me not Andrugio,
That I may soon forget what I have been.
For Heaven's name, name not Antonio,
That I may not remember he was mine.
Well, ere yon sun set, I'll show myself myself,
Worthy my blood. I was a duke; that's all.
No matter whither, but from whence we fall.

Enter FELICE walking, unbraced.
Feli. Castilio? Alberto? Balurdo? none up?
Forobosco? Flattery, nor thou up yet:
Then there's no courtier stirring: that's firm

I cannot sleep: Felice seldom rests

In these court lodgings. I have walked all night,
To see if the nocturnal court delights
Could force me envy their felicity:
And by plain troth-I will confess plain troth-
I envy nothing, but the traverse light.
Oh, had it eyes, and ears, and tongues, it might
See sport, hear speech of most strange surquedries.
Oh, if that candle-light were made a poet,
He would prove a rare firking' satirist,
And draw the core forth of impostum'd sin.
Well, I thank Heaven yet, that my content
Can envy nothing but poor candle-light.

1 harguebush-harquebusses.

2 chekle-roll-i.e. chequer-roll or check-roll, a list of household servants.

3 cog a die-To cog is to lie or cheat; to cog the dice is to load or tamper with them in some way.

4 division seems to have been the technical term for the pauses or parts of a musical composition.-STEVENS. 5 traverse light-i.e. the lamp giving light to the different passages.-DILKE.

surquedries-presumptions, from the old Fr., in which cuider means to think, presume.

7 firking. Firk is used in so many senses it is difficult to fix the meaning; generally it is applied to any sudden motion, here it may mean searching, keen.

As for the other glistering copper spangs,
That glisten in the tire of the court,
Praise God, I either hate or pity them.
Well, here I'll sleep till that the scene of up2
Is past at court. O calm hushed rich content,
Is there a being blessedness without thee?
How soft thou down'st the coach where thou
dost rest,-

Nectar to life, thou sweet Ambrosian feast!
Enter CASTILIO and his Page; CASTILIO with a
casting-bottle of sweet water in his hand,
sprinkling himself.

Cast. Am not I a most sweet youth now?
Cat. Yes, when your throat's perfum'd; your
very words

Do smell of ambergris. Oh stay, sir, stay;
Sprinkle some sweet water to your shoes' heels,
That your mistress may swear you have a sweet

Cast. Good, very good, very passing passing good.

Feli. Fut, what treble minikin' squeaks there? ha? good, very good, very very good.

Cast. I will warble to the delicious concave of

Mistress' ear: and strike her thoughts with
The pleasing touch of my voice.


Cast. Felice, health, fortune, mirth, and wine.
Feli. To thee my love divine.
Cast. I drink to thee, sweeting.
Feli. Plague on thee for an ass!

Cast. Now thou hast seen the court; by the perfection of it, dost not envy it?

Feli. I wonder it doth not envy me.

Why, man, I have been borne upon the spirit's wings,

The soul's swift Pegasus, the fantasy:
And from the height of contemplation

Have view'd the feeble joints men totter on.
I envy none, but hate or pity all.

For when I view, with an intentive thought,
That creature fair, but proud: him rich, but


Th'other witty, but unmeasured arrogant: Him great, yet boundless in ambition:


Him high-born, but of base life: t'other feard; Yet feared fears, and fears most, to be most loved:

Him wise, but made a fool for public use:
Th'other learned, but self-opinionate:
When I discourse all these, and see myself
Nor fair, nor rich, nor witty, great, nor fear'd,
Yet amply suited with all full content,

Lord, how I clap my hands, and smooth my brow,

Rubbing my quiet bosom, tossing up

A grateful spirit to Omnipotence!

Cast. Ha, ha; but if thou knew'st my happi

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To your arms: and sued, and pray'd, and vow'd; And opened all their sweetness to your love.

Feli. There are a number of such things, as then

Have often urg'd me to such loose belief:
But 'slid, you all do lie, you all do lie.

I have put on good clothes, and smug'd my face,
Struck a fair wench with a smart speaking eye;
Courted in all sorts, blunt, and passionate;
Had opportunity put them to the ab!
And, by this light, I find them wondrous chaste,
Impregnable; perchance a kiss, or so:

But for the rest, O most inexorable!

Cast. Nay then, i'faith, pr'ythee look here. [Shows him the superscription of a seeming letter.

Fel. To her most esteemed, lov'd, and generous servant, Sig. Castilio Balthazar. Prvthee from whom comes this? faith. I must sea

From her that is devoted to thee, in most pricate sweets of love,-Rossaline.

Nay, God's my comfort, I must see the rest;
I must, sans ceremony: faith, I must.

[FELICE takes away the letter by force. Cast. Oh, you spoil my ruff, unset my hair; good, away.

Feli. Item, for strait canvas, thirteen pence halfpenny. Item, for an ell and a half of taffeta to cover your old canvas doublet, fourteen shillings and threepence. S'light, this is a tailor's bill.

Cast. In sooth, it is the outside of her letter, on which I took the copy of a tailor's bill.

Dil. But 'tis not crossed, I am sure of that. Lord have mercy on him, his credit hath given up the last gasp. Faith, I'll leave him; for he looks as melancholy as a wench the first night [Frit.


Feli. Honest musk-cod,3 'twill not be so stitched together. Take that, and that, and belie no lady's love. Swear no more by Jesu, this madam, that lady. Hence, go, forswear the presence, travel three years to bury this bastinado: avoid, puffpaste, avoid.

Cast. And tell not my lady mother. Well, as I am a true gentleman, if she had not willed me on her blessing not to spoil my face, if I could not find in my heart to fight, would I might ne'er eat a potato pie more.

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[Enter BALURDO, backward; DILDO following him with a looking-glass in one hand, and a candle in the other hand. FLAVIA following him backward, with a looking glass in hand, and a candle in the other; RosSALINE following her. BALURDO and ROSSALINK stand setting of faces: and so the scene begins. Feli. More fool, more rare fools! Oh for time and place, long enough, and large enough, to act these fools! Here might be made a rare scene of folly, if the plat could bear it.

Bal. By the sugar-candy sky, hold up the glass higher, that I may see to swear in fashion

1 accorted-courted, or, perhaps, should be accosted

2 smug'd-made smug or trim.

3 musk-cod-a cod or bag for holding musk. 4 plat-plot, plan (?).

Oh, one loof more would ha' made them shine; they would have shone like my mistress' brow. Even so the duke frowns for all this cursond 2 world: oh, that gerne 3 kills, it kills. By my golden-what's the richest thing about me? Dil. Your teeth.

Bal. By my golden teeth, hold up; that I may put in: hold up, I say, that I may see to put on my gloves.

Dil. Oh, delicious, sweet - cheek'd master, if you discharge but one glance from the level of that set face, oh, you will strike a wench; you'll make any wench love you.

Bal. By Jesu, I think I am as elegant a courtier, as- How lik'st thou my suit? Cat. All, beyond all, no peregal: wondered at for an ass.

you are

Bal. Well, Dildo, no Christian creature shall know hereafter, what I will do for thee heretofore.

Ros. Here wants a little white, Flavia.

Dil. Aye, but master, you have one little fault; you sleep open-mouth'd.

Bal. Pewe, thou jestest. In good sadness," I'll have a looking-glass nail'd to the teste of the bed, that I may see when I sleep, whether 'tis so, or not. Take heed you lie not: go to, take heed you lie not.

Fla. By my troth, you look as like the princess

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Pie. Not yours, my lady? I'll see what 'tis. Bal. And how does my sweet mistress? Oh lady dear, even as 'tis an old say, 'Tis an old horse can neither wighy, nor wag his tail: even so do I hold my set face still: even so, 'tis a bad courtier that can neither discourse nor blow his nose.

Pie. [Reads] Meet me at Abraham's, the Jew's, where I bought my Amazon's disguise. A ship lies in the port, ready bound for England. Make haste, come private. ANTONIO.

Enter CASTILIO, FOROBOSCO. Forobosco, Alberto, Felice, Castilio, Balurdo? run, keep the palace, post to the ports, go to my daughter's chamber: whither now? scud to the Jew's, stay, run to the gates, stop the gundolets, let none pass the marsh, do all at once. Antonio? his head, his head. Keep you the court, the rest stand still, or run, or go, or shout, or search, or scud, or call, or hang, or do do do, su-su-su

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something: I know not who who who, what I do do do, nor who who who, where I am.

O trista traditriche, rea, ribalda fortuna, Negando mi vindetta mi causa fera morte. Feli. Ha ha ha! I could break my spleen at his impatience.

Ant. Alma et gratiosa fortuna siate favorevole, Et fortunati siano vuoti del mia dulce Mellida, Mellida.

Mel. Alas, Antonio, I have lost thy note!
A number mount my stairs; I'll straight return.
Fel. Antonio,

Be not affright, sweet prince; appease thy fear,
Buckle thy spirits up, put all thy wits
In wimble action, or thou art surpris'd.
Ant. I care not.


Fel. Art mad, or desperate? or

Ant, Both, both, all, all: I pr'ythee let me lie; Spite of you all, I can, and I will die. [Here apparently PIERO, FOROBOSCO, CASTILIO, and others rush out.

Fel. You are distraught; Oh, this is madness' breath!

Ant. Each man take hence life, but no man death:

He's a good fellow, and keeps open house :
A thousand thousand ways lead to his gate,
To his wide-mouth'd porch: when niggard life
Hath but one little, little wicket through.
We wring ourselves into this wretched world,
To pule, and weep, exclaim, to curse and rail,
To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the earth,
As I do now. Antonio, curse thy birth,

And die!

Feli. Nay, Heaven's my comfort, now you are perverse;

You know I always lov'd you; pr'ythee live. Wilt thou strike dead thy friends, draw mourning tears?

Ant. Alas, Felice, I ha' ne'er a friend;
No country, father, brother, kinsman left
To weep my fate, or sigh my funeral:
I roll but up and down, and fill a seat
In the dark cave of dusky misery.

Feli. 'Fore Heaven, the duke comes: hold you, take my key,

Slink to my chamber, look you; that is it:
There shall you find a suit I wore at sea;
Take it, and slip away. Nay, precious,
If you'll be peevish, by this light, I'll swear,
Thou rail'dst upon thy love before thou diedst,
And call'd her strumpet.

Ant. She'll not credit thee.

Fel. Tut, that's all one: I'll defame thy love; And make thy dead trunk held in vile regard. Ant. Wilt needs have it so? Why, then, Antonio,

Vive esperanza, in despetto dell fato.



Pie. Oh, my sweet princes, was't not bravely found?

Even there I found the note, even there it lay.
I kiss the place for joy, that there it lay.
This way he went, here let us make a stand:
I'll keep this gate myself. O gallant youth!
I'll drink carouse unto your country's health,

Even in Antonio's skull.

Bal. Lord bless us: his breath is more fearful than a sergeant's voice, when he cries, 'I arrest.'

1 wimble-nimble.

Ant. Stop Antonio, keep, keep Antonio.
Pie. Where, where man, where?

Ant. Here, here: let me pursue him down the marsh.

Pie. Hold, there's my signet, take a gundolet: Bring me his head, his head, and, by mine honour,

I'll make thee the wealthiest mariner that breathes.
Ant. I'll sweat my blood out till I have him safe.
Pie. Speak heartily i'faith, good mariner.
Oh, we will mount in triumph: soon at night
I'll set his head up. Let's think where.

Bal. Upon his shoulders, that's the fittest place for it. If it be not as fit as if it were made for them, say, Balurdo, thou art a sot, an ass.

Enter MELLIDA in Page's attire, dancing.
Pie. Sprightly, i'faith. In troth he's somewhat

My daughter Mellida: but alas, poor soul,
Her honour's heels, God knows, are half so light.

[et] Mel. Escap'd I am, spite of my father's spite.

Pie. Ho, this will warm my bosom ere I sleep.

Enter FLAVIA, running.

Fla. O my lord, your daughter.

Pie. Ay, ay, my daughter's safe enough, I
warrant thee.

This vengeance on the boy will lengthen out
My days unmeasuredly.

It shall be chronicled, time to come,

Piero Sforza slew Andrugio's son.

Fla. Ay, but my lord, your daughter.

Pie. Ay, ay, my good wench, she is safe enough.

Fla. Oh, then, my lord, you know she's run


Pie. Run away, away, how run away?
Fla. She's vanish'd in an instant, none knows


Pie. Pursue, pursue, fly, run, post, scud away! [FELICE sings, And was not good king Salomon. Fly, call, run, row, ride, cry, shout, hurry, haste: Haste, hurry, shout, cry, ride, row, run, call, fly Backward and forward, every way about.

Maldetta fortuna chy condura sorta Che faro, che diro, pur fugir tanto mal! [Exeunt all but CASTILIO and FELICE. Cast. 'Twas you that struck me even now: was it not?

Feli. It was I that struck you even now. Cast. You bastinadoed me, I take it. Feli. I bastinadoed you, and you took it. Cast. Faith, sir, I have the richest tobacco in the court for you; I would be glad to make you satisfaction, if I have wronged you. I would not the sun should set upon your anger; give

me your hand.

Feli. Content faith, so thou'lt breed no more such lies.

I hate not man, but man's lewd qualities.


Enter ANTONIO, in his sea-gown, running.
Ant. Stop, stop Antonio, stay, Antonio.
Vain breath, vain breath, Autonio's lost;
He cannot find himself, not seize himself.
Alas, this that you see is not Antonio,
His spirit hovers in Piero's court,
Hurling about his agile faculties,
To apprehend the sight of Mellida:

But poor, poor soul, wanting apt instruments

To speak or see, stands dumb and blind, sad spirit,

Roll'd up in gloomy clouds as black as air, Through which the rusty coach of Night is drawn.

'Tis so, I'll give you instance that 'tis so.
Conceit you me, as having clasp'd a rose
Within my palm, the rose being ta'en away,
My hand retains a little breath of sweet:
So may man's trunk; his spirit slipt away,
Holds still a faint perfume of his sweet ghost.
'Tis so; for when discursive powers fly out,
And roam in progress through the bounds of

The soul itself gallops along with them,
As chieftain of this winged troop of thought,
Whilst the dull lodge of spirit standeth waste,
Until the soul return from What was't I said?
Oh, this is naught, but speckling melancholy.
I have been-

That Morpheus tender-skinn'd-Cousin-german
Bear with me good-

Mellida: clod upon clod thus fall.2
Hell is beneath; yet heaven is over all.


And. Come, Lucio, let's go eat: what hast thou got?

Roots, roots? alas, they are seeded, new cut up.
Oh, thou hast wrong'd Nature, Lucio:
But boots not much; thou but pursu'st the world,
That cuts off virtue 'fore it comes to growth,
Lest it should seed, and so o'errun her son,
Dull purblind error. Give me water, boy.
There is no poison in't, I hope, they say
That lurks in massy plate: and yet the earth
Is so infected with a general plague,
That he's most wise, that thinks there's no man

Right prudent, that esteems no creature just:
Great policy the least things to mistrust.
Give me assay-3 How we mock greatness


If not to be, 'tis comfort yet to seem.
La. A strong conceit is rich, so most men deer.

And. Why, man, I never was a prince till now. "Tis not the bared pate, the bended knees, Gilt tipstaves, Tyrian purple, chairs of state, Troops of pied butterflies, that flutter still In greatness' summer, that confirm a prince: 'Tis not the unsavoury breath of multitudes, Shouting and clapping, with confused din, That makes a prince. No, Lucio, he's a king, A true right king, that dares do aught save wrong,

Fears nothing mortal but to be unjust,
Who is not blown up with the flattering puff
Despite the jostling of opinion:
Of spongy sycophants: who stands unmov

Who can enjoy himself, maugre the throng
That strive to press his quiet out of him:
Who sits upon Jove's footstool, as I do,
Adoring, not affecting majesty:

Whose brow is wreathed with the silver crowa
Of clear content: this, Lucio, is a king.
And of this empire, every man's possest,
That's worth his soul.,

Lu. My lord, the Genoese had wont to say— And. Name not the Genoese: that yo Unkings me quite, makes me vile passion's slava.

1 discursive powers-powers of discourse or thought 2 Either there is something wanting in these verses, or the author wishes to represent Antonio as utterly bewildered.

3 Give me assay-to give the say or assay at court was for the royal taster to declare the goodness of the win or dishes.-NARES.

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Oh, you that made open the glibbery 1ice
Of vulgar favour, view Andrugio.

Was never prince with more applause confirm'd,
With louder shouts of triumph launched out
Into the surgy main of government:

Was never prince with more despite cast out, Left shipwreck'd, banish'd on more guiltless ground.

O rotten props of the craz'd multitude,

How you still double, falter, under the lightest chance

That strains your veins. Alas, one battle lost, Your whorish love, your drunken healths, your hoots and shouts,

Your smooth God save's, and all your devil's last,

That tempts our quiet, to your hell of throngs. Spit on me, Lucio, for I am turned slave: Observe how passion domineers o'er me.

La. No wonder, noble lord, having lost a son, A country, crown, and

And. Ay, Lucio, having lost a son, a son, A country, house, crown, son. O lares, misereri lares.2

Which shall I first deplore? My son, my son, My dear sweet boy, my dear Antonio.

Ant. Antonio.

And. Ay, echo, ay; I mean Antonio.

Ant. Antonio, who means Antonio?

Then I'll begin, and we'll such order keep, That one shall still tell griefs, the other weep. [Exit ANDRUGIO, leaving ANTONIO and his Page.

Ant. I'll follow you. Boy, pr'ythee stay a little. Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh, Wherein we lurk, have not corrupted it.

Enter MELLIDA, standing out of sight, in her
Page's suit.

I pr'ythee sing; but, sirrah (mark you me),
Let each note breathe the heart of passion,
The sad extracture of extremest grief.
Make me a strain; speak, groaning like a bell,
That tolls departing souls.

Breathe me a point that may enforce me weep,
To wring my hands, to break my cursed breast,
Rave, and exclaim, lie grovelling on the earth,
Straight start up frantic, crying, Mellida!
Sing but, Antonio hath lost Mellida,

And thou shalt see me (like a man possess'd)
Howl out such passion, that even this brinish


Will squeeze out tears from out his spongy cheeks:

The rocks even groan, and-
Pr'ythee, pr'ythee sing,

Or I shall ne'er ha' done when I am in,

And. Where art? what art? know'st thou 'Tis harder for me end, than to begin.


Ant. Yes.

And. Lives he?

Ant. No.

And. Where lies he dead?

Ant. Here.

And. Where?

Ant. Here.

And. Art thou Antonio?

Ant. I think I am.

And. Dost thou but think? What, dost not know thyself?

[Ant. He is a fool that thinks he knows himself. And. Upon thy faith to heaven, give thy


Ant. I were not worthy of Andrugio's blood, If I denied my name's Antonio.

And. I were not worthy to be call'd thy father, If I denied my name Andrugio.

And dost thou live? Oh, let me kiss thy cheek,
And dew thy brow with trickling drops of joy.
Now Heaven's will be done: for I have lived
To see my joy, my son Antonio.

Give me thy hand; now Fortune do thy worst,
His blood, that lapp'd thy spirit in the womb,
Thus (in his love) will make his arms thy tomb.
Ant. Bless not the body with your twining


Which is accurs'd of Heaven. Oh, what black sin Hath been committed by our ancient house, Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads, That thus the world, and Fortune casts us out, As loathed objects, ruin's branded slaves?

And. Do not expostulate the heavens' will: But, oh, remember to forget thyself: Forget remembrance what thou once hast been. Come, creep with me from out this open air. Even trees have tongues, and will betray our life. I am a raising of our house, my boy: Which Fortune will not envy, 'tis so mean, And like the world (all dirt) there shalt thou rip The inwards of thy fortunes in mine ears, Whilst I sit weeping, blind with passion's tears:

1 glibbery-slippery.

20 household gods, pity me, household gods.'

[The boy runs a note, ANTONIO breaks it.1 For look thee, boy, my grief that hath no end, I may begin to plain, but-pr'ythee sing.

Mel. Heaven keep you, sir!

[Boy sings.

Ant. Heaven keep you from me, sir!
Mel. I must be acquainted with you, sir.
Ant. Wherefore? Art thou infected with

Sear'd with the anguish of calamity?

Art thou true sorrow, hearty grief? canst weep? I am not for thee if thou canst not rave,

[ANTONIO falls on the ground. Fall flat on the ground, and thus exclaim on Heaven;

O trifling Nature, why inspiredst thou breath? Mel. Stay, sir, I think you named Mellida. Ant. Know'st thou Mellida ?

Mel. Yes.

Ant. Hast thou seen Mellida?
Mel. Yes.

Ant. Then hast thou seen the glory of her sex,
The music of nature, the unequall'd lustre
Of unmatched excellence, the united sweet
Of heaven's graces, the most adored beaut
That ever struck amazement in the world!
Mel. You seem to love her.
Ant. With my very soul.

Mel. She'll not requite it: all her love is fix'd Upon a gallant, on Antonio,

The Duke of Genoa's son. I was her page:
And often as I waited, she would sigh;

Oh, dear Antonio! and to strengthen thought,
Would clip my neck, and kiss, and kiss me


Therefore leave loving her: faugh, faith, methinks

Her beauty is not half so ravishing

As you discourse of; she hath a freckled face, A low forehead, and a lumpish eye.

Ant. O heaven, that I should hear such blasphemy!

1i.e. the boy begins to sing, and Antonio interrupts him.-DILKE.

2 clip-clasp.

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