Part 14

_Fus._ Hold up your hands, gentlemen, here’s one, two, three [_Giving money_]--nay, I warrant they are sound pistoles, and without flaws; I had them of my sister and I know she uses to put up nothing that’s cracked--four, five, six, seven, eight and nine; by this hand bring me but a piece of his blood, and you shall have nine more. I’ll lurk in a tavern not far off, and provide supper to close up the end of the tragedy: the linen-draper’s, remember. Stand to’t, I beseech you, and play your parts perfectly.

_Cram._ Look you, signor, ’tis not your gold that we weigh--

_Fus._ Nay, nay, weigh it and spare not; if it lack one grain of corn, I’ll give you a bushel of wheat to make it up.

_Cram._ But by your favour, signor, which of the servants is it? because we’ll punish justly.

_Fus._ Marry ’tis the head man; you shall taste him by his tongue; a pretty, tall, prating fellow, with a Tuscalonian beard.

_Poh._ Tuscalonian? very good.

_Fus._ God’s life, I was ne’er so thrummed since I was a gentleman: my coxcomb was dry beaten, as if my hair had been hemp.

_Cram._ We’ll dry-beat some of them.

_Fus._ Nay, it grew so high, that my sister cried out murder, very manfully: I have her consent, in a manner, to have him peppered: else I’ll not do’t, to win more than ten cheaters do at a rifling: break but his pate, or so, only his mazer,[200] because I’ll have his head in a cloth as well as mine; he’s a linen-draper, and may take enough. I could enter mine action of battery against him, but we may’haps be both dead and rotten before the lawyers would end it.

[200] A corruption of “mazzard,” the head.

_Cram._ No more to do, but ensconce yourself i’th’ tavern; provide no great cheer, a couple of capons, some pheasants, plovers, an orangeado-pie, or so: but how bloody howsoe’er the day be, sally you not forth.

_Fus._ No, no; nay if I stir, some body shall stink: I’ll not budge: I’ll lie like a dog in a manger.

_Cram._ Well, well, to the tavern, let not our supper be raw, for you shall have blood enough, your bellyful.

_Fus._ That’s all, so God sa’ me, I thirst after; blood for blood, bump for bump, nose for nose, head for head, plaster for plaster; and so farewell. What shall I call your names? because I’ll leave word, if any such come to the bar.

_Cram._ My name is Corporal Crambo.

_Poh._ And mine, Lieutenant Poh.

_Cram._ Poh is as tall a man as ever opened oyster: I would not be the devil to meet Poh: farewell.

_Fus._ Nor I, by this light, if Poh be such a Poh. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

## SCENE III. CANDIDO’S _Shop_.

_Enter_ VIOLA _and the two ~Prentices~_.

_Vio._ What’s a’clock now?

_2nd Pren._ ’Tis almost twelve.

_Vio._ That’s well, The Senate will leave wording presently: But is George ready?

_2nd Pren._ Yes, forsooth, he’s furbished.

_Vio._ Now, as you ever hope to win my favour, Throw both your duties and respects on him, With the like awe as if he were your master, Let not your looks betray it with a smile, Or jeering glance to any customer; Keep a true settled countenance, and beware You laugh not, whatsoe’er you hear or see.

_2nd Pren._ I warrant you, mistress, let us alone for keeping our countenance: for, if I list, there’s ne’er a fool in all Milan shall make me laugh, let him play the fool never so like an ass, whether it be the fat court-fool, or the lean city-fool.

_Vio._ Enough then, call down George.

_2nd Pren._ I hear him coming.

_Vio._ Be ready with your legs[201] then, let me see How courtesy would become him.--

[201] _i.e._ In bowing.

_Enter_ GEORGE _in_ CANDIDO’S _apparel_.

Beshrew my blood, a proper seemly man. Gallantly! Of a choice carriage, walks with a good port!

_Geo._ I thank you, mistress, my back’s broad enough, now my master’s gown’s on.

_Vio._ Sure, I should think it were the least of sin, To mistake the master, and to let him in.

_Geo._ ’Twere a good Comedy of Errors[202] that, i’faith.

[202] An allusion, no doubt, to Shakespeare’s comedy.

_2nd Pren._ Whist, whist! my master.

_Vio._ You all know your tasks.

_Enter_ CANDIDO,[203] _dressed as before in the carpet: he stares at_ GEORGE, _and exit_.

[203] Dyce points out the inconsistency, that Candido has just returned from the Senate House, although it appears from the intermediate Scenes that since he left home a night has elapsed.

God’s my life, what’s that he has got upon’s back? who can tell?

_Geo._ [_Aside._] That can I, but I will not.

_Vio._ Girt about him like a madman! what has he lost his cloak too? This is the maddest fashion that e’er I saw. What said he, George, when he passed by thee?

_Geo._ Troth, mistress, nothing: not so much as a bee, he did not hum: not so much as a bawd, he did not hem: not so much as a cuckold, he did not ha: neither hum, hem, nor ha; only stared me in the face, passed along, and made haste in, as if my looks had worked with him, to give him a stool.

_Vio._ Sure he’s vexed now, this trick has moved his spleen, He’s angered now, because he uttered nothing: And wordless wrath breaks out more violent, May be he’ll strive for place, when he comes down, But if thou lov’st me, George, afford him none.

_Geo._ Nay, let me alone to play my master’s prize,[204] as long as my mistress warrants me: I’m sure I have his best clothes on, and I scorn to give place to any that is inferior in apparel to me, that’s an axiom, a principle, and is observed as much as the fashion; let that persuade you then, that I’ll shoulder with him for the upper hand in the shop, as long as this chain will maintain it.

[204] A quibble. A master’s was one of the three degrees in fencing, for each of which a “prize” was publicly played.

_Vio._ Spoke with the spirit of a master, though with the tongue of a prentice.

_Re-enter_ CANDIDO _dressed as a ~Prentice~_.

Why how now, madman? what in your tricksi-coats?

_Cand._ O peace, good mistress.

_Enter_ CRAMBO _and_ POH.

See, what you lack? what is’t you buy? pure calicoes, fine Hollands, choice cambrics, neat lawns: see what you buy? pray come near, my master will use you well, he can afford you a penny-worth.

_Vio._ Ay, that he can, out of a whole piece of lawn i’faith.

_Cand._ Pray see your choice here, gentlemen.

_Vio._ O fine fool! what, a madman! a patient madman! who ever heard of the like? Well, sir, I’ll fit you and your humour presently: what, cross-points? I’ll untie ’em all in a trice: I’ll vex you i’faith: boy, take your cloak, quick, come. [_Exit with ~1st Prentice~._

_Cand._ Be covered, George, this chain and welted gown Bare to this coat? then the world’s upside down.

_Geo._ Umh, umh, hum.

_Cram._ That’s the shop, and there’s the fellow.

_Poh._ Ay, but the master is walking in there.

_Cram._ No matter, we’ll in.

_Poh._ ’Sblood, dost long to lie in limbo?

_Cram._ An limbo be in hell, I care not.

_Cand._ Look you, gentlemen, your choice: cambrics?

_Cram._ No, sir, some shirting.

_Cand._ You shall.

_Cram._ Have you none of this striped canvas for doublets?

_Cand._ None striped, sir, but plain.

_2nd Pren._ I think there be one piece striped within.

_Geo._ Step, sirrah, and fetch it, hum, hum, hum. [_Exit ~2nd Pren.~, and returns with the piece._

_Cand._ Look you, gentleman, I’ll make but one spreading, here’s a piece of cloth, fine, yet shall wear like iron, ’tis without fault; take this upon my word, ’tis without fault.

_Cram._ Then ’tis better than you, sirrah.

_Cand._ Ay, and a number more: Oh, that each soul Were but as spotless as this innocent white, And had as few breaks in it!

_Cram._ ’Twould have some then: There was a fray here last day in this shop.

_Cand._ There was, indeed, a little flea-biting.

_Poh._ A gentleman had his pate broke; call you that but a flea-biting?

_Cand._ He had so.

_Cram._ Zounds, do you stand to it? [_Strikes_ CANDIDO.

_Geo._ ’Sfoot, clubs, clubs! prentices, down with ’em!

_Enter several ~Prentices~ with clubs, who disarm_ CRAMBO _and_ POH.

Ah, you rogues, strike a citizen in’s shop?

_Cand._ None of you stir, I pray; forbear, good George.

_Cram._ I beseech you, sir, we mistook our marks; deliver us our weapons.

_Geo._ Your head bleeds, sir; cry clubs!

_Cand._ I say you shall not; pray be patient, Give them their weapons: sirs, you’d best be gone, I tell you here are boys more tough than bears: Hence, lest more fists do walk about your ears.

_Cram._, _Poh._ We thank you, sir. [_Exeunt._

_Cand._ You shall not follow them; Let them alone, pray; this did me no harm; Troth, I was cold, and the blow made me warm, I thank ’em for’t: besides, I had decreed To have a vein pricked, I did mean to bleed: So that there’s money saved: they’re honest men, Pray use ’em well, when they appear again.

_Geo._ Yes, sir, we’ll use ’em like honest men.

_Cand._ Ay, well said, George, like honest men, though they be arrant knaves, for that’s the phrase of the city; help to lay up these wares.

_Re-enter_ VIOLA _and ~1st Prentice~ with ~Officers~_.

_Vio._ Yonder he stands.

_1st Off._ What in a prentice-coat?

_Vio._ Ay, ay; mad, mad; pray take heed.

_Cand._ How now! what news with them? What make they with my wife? Officers, is she attached?--Look to your wares.

_Vio._ He talks to himself: oh, he’s much gone indeed.

_1st Off._ Pray, pluck up a good heart, be not so fearful: Sirs, hark, we’ll gather to him by degrees.

_Vio._ Ay, ay, by degrees I pray: Oh me! What makes he with the lawn in his hand? He’ll tear all the ware in my shop.

_1st Off._ Fear not, we’ll catch him on a sudden.

_Vio._ Oh! you had need do so; pray take heed of your warrant.

_1st Off._ I warrant, mistress. Now, Signor Candido.

_Cand._ Now, sir, what news with you, sir?

_Vio._ What news with you? he says: oh, he’s far gone!

_1st Off._ I pray, fear nothing; let’s alone with him, Signor, you look not like yourself, methinks,-- Steal you a’ t’other side; you’re changed, you’re altered.

_Cand._ Changed, sir, why true, sir. Is change strange? ’Tis not The fashion unless it alter! monarchs turn To beggars, beggars creep into the nests Of princes, masters serve their prentices, Ladies their serving-men, men turn to women.

_1st Off._ And women turn to men.

_Cand._ Ay, and women turn to men, you say true: ha, ha, a mad world, a mad world. [_~Officers~ seize_ CANDIDO.

_1st Off._ Have we caught you, sir?

_Cand._ Caught me? well, well, you have caught me.

_Vio._ He laughs in your faces.

_Geo._ A rescue, prentices! my master’s catchpolled.

_1st Off._ I charge you, keep the peace, or have your legs Gartered with irons! we have from the duke A warrant strong enough for what we do.

_Cand._ I pray, rest quiet, I desire no rescue.

_Vio._ La, he desires no rescue, ’las poor heart, He talks against himself.

_Cand._ Well, what’s the matter?

_1st Off._ Look to that arm, [_~Officers~ bind_ CANDIDO. Pray, make sure work, double the cord.

_Cand._ Why, why?

_Vio._ Look how his head goes, should he get but loose, Oh ’twere as much as all our lives were worth!

_1st Off._ Fear not, we’ll make all sure for our own safety.

_Cand._ Are you at leisure now? well, what’s the matter? Why do I enter into bonds thus, ha?

_1st Off._ Because you’re mad, put fear upon your wife.

_Vio._ Oh ay, I went in danger of my life every minute.

_Cand._ What, am I mad, say you, and I not know it?

_1st Off._ That proves you mad, because you know it not.

_Vio._ Pray talk to him as little as you can, You see he’s too far spent.

_Cand._ Bound, with strong cord! A sister’s thread, i’faith, had been enough, To lead me anywhere.--Wife, do you long? You are mad too, or else you do me wrong.

_Geo._ But are you mad indeed, master?

_Cand._ My wife says so, And what she says, George, is all truth, you know.-- And whither now, to Bethlem Monastery? Ha! whither?

_1st Off._ Faith, e’en to the madmen’s pound.

_Cand._ A’ God’s name! still I feel my patience sound. [_Exeunt ~Officers~ with_ CANDIDO.

_Geo._ Come, we’ll see whither he goes; if the master be mad, we are his servants, and must follow his steps; we’ll be mad-caps too. Farewell, mistress, you shall have us all in Bedlam. [_Exeunt_ GEORGE _and ~Prentices~_.

_Vio._ I think I ha’ fitted you now, you and your clothes, If this move not his patience, nothing can; I’ll swear then I’ve a saint, and not a man. [_Exit._

## SCENE IV.--_Grounds near the_ DUKE’S _Palace_.

_Enter_ DUKE, Doctor BENEDICT, FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

_Duke._ Give us a little leave.

[_Exeunt_ FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, _and_ PIORATTO.

Doctor, your news.

_Doct._ I sent for him my lord, at last he came, And did receive all speech that went from me, As gilded pills made to prolong his health. My credit with him wrought it; for some men Swallow even empty hooks, like fools that fear No drowning where ’tis deepest, ’cause ’tis clear: In th’end we sat and eat: a health I drank To Infelice’s sweet departed soul. This train I knew would take.

_Duke._ ’Twas excellent.

_Doct._ He fell with such devotion on his knees, To pledge the fame--

_Duke._ Fond, superstitious fool!

_Doct._ That had he been inflamed with zeal of prayer, He could not pour’t out with more reverence: About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek, Kissed it, and swore he would adore my lips, Because they brought forth Infelice’s name.

_Duke._ Ha, ha! alack, alack.

_Doct._ The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said; Here noble maid!--drinks, and was poisonèd.

_Duke._ And died?

_Doct._ And died, my lord.

_Duke._ Thou in that word Hast pieced mine aged hours out with more years, Than thou hast taken from Hippolito. A noble youth he was, but lesser branches Hindering the greater’s growth, must be lopt off, And feed the fire. Doctor, we’re now all thine, And use us so: be bold.

_Doct._ Thanks, gracious lord-- My honoured lord:--

_Duke._ Hum.

_Doct._ I do beseech your grace to bury deep, This bloody act of mine.

_Duke._ Nay, nay, for that, Doctor, look you to it, me it shall not move; They’re cursed that ill do, not that ill do love.

_Doct._ You throw an angry forehead on my face: But be you pleased backward thus far to look, That for your good, this evil I undertook--

_Duke._ Ay, ay, we conster[205] so.

[205] Construe.

_Doct._ And only for your love.

_Duke._ Confessed: ’tis true.

_Doct._ Nor let it stand against me as a bar, To thrust me from your presence; nor believe As princes have quick thoughts, that now my finger Being dipt in blood, I will not spare the hand, But that for gold,--as what can gold not do?-- I may be hired to work the like on you.

_Duke._ Which to prevent--

_Doct._ ’Tis from my heart as far.

_Duke._ No matter, doctor; ’cause I’ll fearless sleep, And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion, I banish thee for ever from my court. This principle is old, but true as fate, Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate. [_Exit._

_Doct._ Is’t so? nay then, duke, your stale principle, With one as stale, the doctor thus shall quit-- He falls himself that digs another’s pit.

_Enter the ~Doctor’s Servant~._

How now! where is he? will he meet me?

_Ser._ Meet you, sir? he might have met with three fencers in this time, and have received less hurt than by meeting one doctor of physic: Why, sir, he has walked under the old abbey-wall yonder this hour, till he’s more cold than a citizen’s country house in Janivery. You may smell him behind, sir: la, you, yonder he comes.

_Doct._ Leave me.

_Ser._ I’th’ lurch, if you will. [_Exit._

_Enter_ HIPPOLITO.

_Doct._ O my most noble friend!

_Hip._ Few but yourself, Could have enticed me thus, to trust the air With my close sighs. You sent for me; what news?

_Doct._ Come, you must doff this black, dye that pale cheek Into his own colour, go, attire yourself Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride. The duke has done much treason to thy love; ’Tis now revealed, ’tis now to be revenged: Be merry, honoured friend, thy lady lives.

_Hip._ What lady?

_Doct._ Infelice, she’s revived; Revived? Alack! death never had the heart, To take breath from her.

_Hip._ Umh: I thank you, sir, Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save; This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave, You do some wrong to mock me.

_Doct._ By that love Which I have ever borne you, what I speak Is truth: the maiden lives; that funeral, Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit; A sleepy draught cozened the world and you: I was his minister, and then chambered up, To stop discovery.

_Hip._ O treacherous duke!

_Doct._ He cannot hope so certainly for bliss, As he believes that I have poisoned you: He wooed me to’t; I yielded, and confirmed him In his most bloody thoughts.

_Hip._ A very devil!

_Doct._ Her did he closely coach to Bergamo, And thither--

_Hip._ Will I ride: stood Bergamo In the low countries of black hell, I’ll to her.

_Doct._ You shall to her, but not to Bergamo: How passion makes you fly beyond yourself. Much of that weary journey I ha’ cut off; For she by letters hath intelligence Of your supposed death, her own interment, And all those plots, which that false duke, her father, Has wrought against you; and she’ll meet you--

_Hip._ Oh, when?

_Doct._ Nay, see; how covetous are your desires! Early to-morrow morn.

_Hip._ Oh where, good father?

_Doct._ At Bethlem Monastery: are you pleased now?

_Hip._ At Bethlem Monastery! the place well fits, It is the school where those that lose their wits, Practise again to get them: I am sick Of that disease; all love is lunatic.

_Doct._ We’ll steal away this night in some disguise: Father Anselmo, a most reverend friar, Expects our coming; before whom we lay Reasons so strong, that he shall yield in bands Of holy wedlock to tie both your hands.

_Hip._ This is such happiness, That to believe it, ’tis impossible.

_Doct._ Let all your joys then die in misbelief; I will reveal no more.

_Hip._ O yes, good father, I am so well acquainted with despair, I know not how to hope: I believe all.

_Doct._ We’ll hence this night, much must be done, much said: But if the doctor fail not in his charms, Your lady shall ere morning fill these arms.

_Hip._ Heavenly physician! for thy fame shall spread, That mak’st two lovers speak when they be dead. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

ACT THE FIFTH.

## SCENE I.--_A Hall in the_ DUKE’S _Palace_.

_Enter_ VIOLA, _with a petition and_ GEORGE.

VIO. Oh watch, good George, watch which way the duke comes.

_Geo._ Here comes one of the butterflies; ask him.

_Enter_ PIORATTO.

_Vio._ Pray, sir, comes the duke this way?

_Pio._ He’s upon coming, mistress.

_Vio._ I thank you, sir. [_Exit_ PIORATTO.] George, are there many mad folks where thy master lies?

_Geo._ Oh yes, of all countries some; but especially mad Greeks, they swarm. Troth mistress, the world is altered with you; you had not wont to stand thus with a paper humbly complaining: but you’re well enough served: provender pricked you, as it does many of our city wives besides.

_Vio._ Dost think, George, we shall get him forth?

_Geo._ Truly, mistress, I cannot tell; I think you’ll hardly get him forth. Why, ’tis strange! ’Sfoot, I have known many women that have had mad rascals to their husbands, whom they would belabour by all means possible to keep ’em in their right wits, but of a woman to long to turn a tame man into a madman, why the devil himself was never used so by his dam.

_Vio._ How does he talk, George! ha! good George, tell me.

_Geo._ Why you’re best go see.

_Vio._ Alas, I am afraid!

_Geo._ Afraid! you had more need be ashamed, he may rather be afraid of you.

_Vio._ But, George, he’s not stark mad, is he? he does not rave, he is not horn-mad, George, is he?

_Geo._ Nay I know not that, but he talks like a justice of peace, of a thousand matters, and to no purpose.

_Vio._ I’ll to the monastery: I shall be mad till I enjoy him, I shall be sick until I see him; yet when I do see him, I shall weep out mine eyes.

_Geo._ I’d fain see a woman weep out her eyes, that’s as true as to say, a man’s cloak burns, when it hangs in the water: I know you’ll weep, mistress, but what says the painted cloth?[206]

[206] A cheap substitute for tapestry and very frequently having verses inscribed on it as in the present instance.

Trust not a woman when she cries, For she’ll pump water from her eyes With a wet finger,[207] and in faster showers, Than April when he rains down flowers.

[207] Readily. Possibly the above use of the term points to its derivation.

_Vio._ Ay, but George, that painted cloth is worthy to be hanged up for lying; all women have not tears at will, unless they have good cause.

_Geo._ Ay, but mistress, how easily will they find a cause, and as one of our cheese-trenchers[208] says very learnedly,

[208] Cheese-trenchers used to be inscribed with proverbial phrases.

As out of wormwood bees suck honey, As from poor clients lawyers firk money, As parsley from a roasted cony: So, though the day be ne’er so funny, If wives will have it rain, down then it drives, The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives--

_Vio._ --Tame, George. But I ha’ done storming now.

_Geo._ Why that’s well done: good mistress, throw aside this fashion of your humour, be not so fantastical in wearing it: storm no more, long no more. This longing has made you come short of many a good thing that you might have had from my master: Here comes the duke.

_Enter_ DUKE, FLUELLO, PIORATTO, _and_ SINEZI.

_Vio._ O, I beseech you, pardon my offence, In that I durst abuse your grace’s warrant; Deliver forth my husband, good my lord.

_Duke._ Who is her husband?

_Flu._ Candido, my lord.

_Duke._ Where is he?

_Vio._ He’s among the lunatics; He was a man made up without a gall; Nothing could move him, nothing could convert His meek blood into fury; yet like a monster, I often beat at the most constant rock Of his unshaken patience, and did long To vex him.

_Duke._ Did you so?

_Vio._ And for that purpose, Had warrant from your grace, to carry him To Bethlem Monastery, whence they will not free him, Without your grace’s hand that sent him in.

_Duke._ You have longed fair; ’tis you are mad, I fear; It’s fit to fetch him thence, and keep you there: If he be mad, why would you have him forth?