Volume 93 / Act 1 — Scene from Act I.— Romeo's Garden in Kent. Romeo, Bernardo.

Ber. News, news, my Romeo! The world's upso down. Duke Piccoviccius hath broke the law, Is under guard, and will be banished. Rom. Banished? Great Heaven! Ber. Banished, certainly As eggs dissemble not their property. Rom. But why, how, when and where? What did the Duke? Ber. Thou knowest the scheme he long had pondered on, To go among his people, like themselves, As went through Bagdad's streets the Caliph wise. Rom. Yea, I remember; and the hour arrived, When, having delegated his main pow'rs To Jingulus, and the Exchequer's charge To careful Dodson and to subtle Fogg, He, with no rites of State observ'd, set forth With Tupman, Snodgrass, Winkle, in his train; Tupman, who to experience in love Still superadds the ardour of the boy; Snodgrass, the poet-treasurer of thought, And singer of an unexpressive song, And Winkle, Nimrod's peer. These four set forth, Due to return the seventh day from hence; But I that selfsame hour came hitherward, And since have heard no news of Court at all. Ber. Thus then I briefly tell thee what hath pass'd. There came last week with 'plaining to the Court A comely widow, who made oath that one Who sojourned as a lodger in her house Had promised marriage, but had gone away; Left her, and left his promise unfulfill'd. Guided by her, the officers had gone To seize the culprit, and had found 'twas none But Piccoviccius, whom she claim'd with tears. So he and those three lords were strait convey'd Unto the Court, and put to interrogatories, When this preliminary was advanced:— The Duke had lodging in Bardella's house— So is the widow named; and on a day Came these lords, usher'd by Bardella's son, Unto his chamber, but on the threshold stay'd Still as Lot's wife, in mere astonishment. For there their staid and reverend leader stood, Silent as they, supporting in his arms The buxom widow, in a swoon of bliss. Thus had they stood, confounded and amazed, Till life returning gave Bardella speech, But that the urchin, in a filial frenzy, Butting like petulant kid, assailed the Duke, And with the puissance of his puny arms Avenged imagined injury. Then they, Roused by the pious howlings of the boy And agonised appeals of whom he smote, Bore off the pigmy valour, and the mother, Reviving, led away. The Duke averr'd That, breaking to her of his new-found wish To take into his service one Wellerius, A shrewd and faithful henchman, she at once Through rapid stages of affection ran, And threw herself, in fine, upon his neck, And thus was found, he speechless with surprise, They, after, silent, striving to believe. Rom. It is a tale incredible and bald. Ber. Why so thought many; but this Jingulus Is all compassion for the widow's case. Dodson and Fogg, his seconds in the realm, Albeit unuséd to the melting mood, Do keep turned on, sans intermission, Salt pity's main. The people whisper change, And what they whisper they are fain to make. The nobles huddle in uncertainty, Like sheep that meet a cart, the dog behind. On the Rialto, ere I left this morning, The hoarse-voiced makers of the books, whose leaves Are I. O. U.'s to ruin, vainly laid Long odds upon the widow. Rom.'Tis not death? Ber. Nay, only banishment. Whoever breaks A promise made to wed, to exile goes. Rom. Will not the widow take a forfeiture? Ber. It cannot be. There is no power in Brentford Can alter a decree established. Besides, the very object of the law Is to prevent the payment of a price For feelings wounded. The stern punishment Makes flighty wooers careful, and restrains The plots of scheming spinsters, who derive No personal advantage from their suit. Rom. Then am I shent!