Act 1 — ACT I.
Reading edition
SCENE I.
Palace of the Duke of Genoa.
The vilest out-of-tune music being heard, enter Bilioso and Prepasso.
Bil. Why, how now! are ye mad, or drunk, or both, or what?
Pre. Are ye building Babylon there?
Bil. Here’s a noise in court! you think you are in a tavern, do you not?
Pre. You think you are in a brothel-house, do you not?—This room is ill-scented.
Enter One with a perfume.
So, perfume, perfume; some upon me, I pray thee.— The duke is upon instant entrance: so, make place there!
Enter Pietro, Ferrardo, Equato; Celso and Guerrino before.
Pietro. Where breathes that music? 10
Bil. The discord rather than the music is heard from the malcontent Malevole’s chamber.
Fer. [calling] Malevole!
Mal. [above, out of his chamber] Yaugh, god-a-man, what dost thou there? Duke’s Ganymede, Juno’s jealous of thy long stockings: shadow of a woman, what wouldst, weasel? thou lamb o’court, what dost thou bleat for? ah, you smooth-chinned catamite!
Pietro. Come down, thou rugged[350] cur, and snarl here; I give thy dogged sullenness free liberty: trot about and bespurtle whom thou pleasest. 21
Mal. I’ll come among you, you goatish-blooded toderers,[351] as gum into taffata, to fret, to fret: I’ll fall like a sponge into water, to suck up, to suck up. [Howls again.[352]] I’ll go to church,[353] and come to you.
[Exit above.
Pietro. This Malevole is one of the most prodigious affections that ever conversed with nature: a man, or rather a monster, more discontent than Lucifer when he was thrust out of the presence. His appetite is unsatiable [354] his speech is halter-worthy at all hours. I like him, faith: he gives good intelligence to my spirit, makes me understand those weaknesses which others’ flattery palliates.—Hark! they sing. [A song.] See, he comes. Now shall you hear the extremity of a malcontent: he is as free as air; he blows over every man. 42
Enter Malevole below.
And, sir, whence come you now?
Mal. From the public place of much dissimulation, the church.[355]
Pietro. What didst there?
Mal. Talk with a usurer; take up at interest.
Pietro. I wonder what religion thou art of?[356]
Mal. Of a soldier’s religion.
Pietro. And what dost thou[357] think makes most infidels now? 51
Mal. Sects, sects. I have seen seeming piety change [358] petticoat.
Pietro. O, a religious policy.
Mal. But, damnation on a politic religion! I am weary: would I were one of the duke’s hounds now![359]
Pietro. But what’s the common news abroad, Malevole? thou doggest rumour still. 59
Mal. Common news! why, common words are, God save ye, Fare ye well; common actions, flattery and cozenage; common things, women and cuckolds.—And how does my little Ferrard? Ah, ye lecherous animal!—my little ferret, he goes sucking up and down the palace into every hen’s nest, like a weasel:—and to what dost thou addict thy time to now more than to those antique painted drabs that are still effected of young courtiers,—flattery, pride, and venery?
Fer. I study languages. Who dost think to be the best linguist of our age? 70
Mal. Phew! the devil: let him possess thee; he’ll teach thee to speak all languages most readily and strangely;[360] and great reason, marry, he’s travelled greatly i’ the world, and is everywhere.
Fer. Save i’ the court.
Mal. Ay, save i’ the court.—[To Bilioso.] And how does my old muckhill, overspread with fresh snow? thou [361]
Bil. Out, you improvident rascal! 80
Mal. Do, kick, thou hugely-horned old duke’s ox, good Master Make-pleas.
Pietro. How dost thou live nowadays, Malevole?
Mal. Why, like the knight Sir Patrick Penlohans,[362] with killing o’ spiders for my lady’s monkey.[363]
Pietro. How dost spend the night? I hear thou never sleepest.
Mal. O, no; but dream the most fantastical! O heaven! O fubbery, fubbery!
Pietro. Dream! what dreamest? 90
Mal. Why, methinks I see that signior pawn his footcloth,[364] that metreza[365] her plate: this madam takes physic, that t’other monsieur may minister to her: here is a pander jewelled; there is[366] a fellow in shift of satin this day, that could not shift a shirt t’other night: here a Paris supports that Helen; there’s a Lady Guinever bears up that Sir Lancelot: dreams, dreams, visions, fantasies, chimeras, imaginations, tricks, conceits!—[To Prepasso.] [367] Jack-an-apes, with a whim-wham: here’s a knight of the land of Catito shall play at trap with any page in Europe; do the sword-dance with any morris-dancer in Christendom; ride at the ring[368] till the fin[369] of his eyes look as blue as the welkin; and run the wildgoose-chase even with Pompey the Huge.[370] 105
Pietro. You run!
Mal. To the devil.—Now, signior Guerrino, that thou from a most pitied prisoner shouldst grow a most loathed flatterer!—Alas, poor Celso, thy star’s oppressed: thou art an honest lord: ’tis pity. 110
Equato. Is’t pity?
Mal. Ay, marry is’t, philosophical Equato; and ’tis pity that thou, being so excellent a scholar by art, should be so ridiculous a fool by nature.—I have a thing to tell you, duke: bid ’em avaunt, bid ’em avaunt.
Pietro. Leave us, leave us.
[Exeunt all except Pietro and Malevole.
Now, sir, what is’t?
Mal. Duke, thou art a becco,[371] a cornuto.
Pietro. How!
Mal. Thou art a cuckold. 120
Pietro. Speak, unshale[372] him quick.
Mal. With most tumbler-like nimbleness.
Pietro. Who? by whom? I burst with desire.
Mal. Mendoza is the man makes thee a horned beast; duke, ’tis Mendoza cornutes thee.
Pietro. What conformance? relate; short, short.
Mal. As a lawyer’s beard. There is an old crone in the court, her name is Maquerelle, She is my mistress, sooth to say, and she doth ever tell me. Blirt o’ rhyme, blirt o’ rhyme! Maquerelle is a cunning bawd; I am an honest villain; thy wife is a close drab; and thou art a notorious cuckold. Farewell, duke. 132
Pietro. Stay, stay.
Mal. Dull, dull duke, can lazy patience make lame revenge? O God, for a woman to make a man that which God never created, never made!
Pietro. What did God never make?
Mal. A cuckold: to be made a thing that’s hoodwinked with kindness, whilst every rascal fillips his brows; to have a coxcomb with egregious horns pinned to a lord’s back, every page sporting himself with delightful laughter, whilst he must be the last must know it: pistols and poniards! pistols and poniards! 143
Pietro. Death and damnation!
Mal. Lightning and thunder!
Pietro. Vengeance and torture!
Mal. Catso![373]
Pietro. O, revenge!
Mal.[374] Nay, to select among ten thousand fairs A lady far inferior to the most, In fair proportion both of limb and soul; To take her from austerer check of parents, To make her his by most devoutful rites, 150 Make her commandress of a better essence Than is the gorgeous world, even of a man; To hug her with as rais’d an appetite As usurers do their delv’d-up treasury (Thinking none tells it but his private self); To meet her spirit in a nimble kiss, Distilling panting ardour to her heart; True to her sheets, nay, diets strong his blood, To give her height of hymeneal sweets,——
Pietro. O God! 160
Mal. Whilst she lisps, and gives him some court-quelquechose,[375] Made only to provoke, not satiate: And yet even then the thaw of her delight Flows from lewd heat of apprehension, Only from strange imagination’s rankness, That forms the adulterer’s presence in her soul, And makes her think she clips the foul knave’s loins. Pietro. Affliction to my blood’s root!
Mal. Nay, think, but think what may proceed of this; Adultery is often the mother of incest. 170
Pietro. Incest!
Mal. Yes, incest: mark:—Mendoza of his wife begets perchance a daughter: Mendoza dies; his son marries this daughter: say you? nay, ’tis frequent, not only probable, but no question often acted, whilst ignorance, fearless ignorance, clasps his own seed.
Pietro. Hideous imagination!
Mal. Adultery? why, next to the sin of simony, ’tis the most horrid transgression under the cope of salvation. 180
Pietro. Next to simony!
Mal. Ay, next to simony, in which our men in next age shall not sin.
Pietro. Not sin! why?
Mal. Because (thanks to some churchmen) our age will leave them nothing to sin with. But adultery, O dulness! should show[376] exemplary punishment, that intemperate bloods may freeze but to think it. I would damn him and all his generation: my own hands should do it; ha, I would not trust heaven with my vengeance:—anything. 191
Pietro. Anything, anything, Malevole: thou shalt see instantly what temper my spirit holds. Farewell; remember I forget thee not; farewell.
[Exit Pietro.
Mal.[377] Farewell. Lean thoughtfulness, a sallow meditation, Suck thy veins dry, distemperance rob thy sleep! The heart’s disquiet is revenge most deep: He that gets blood, the life of flesh but spills, But he that breaks heart’s peace, the dear soul kills. 200 Well, this disguise doth yet afford me that Which kings do seldom hear, or great men use,— Free speech: and though my state’s usurp’d, Yet this affected strain gives me a tongue As fetterless as in an emperor’s. I may speak foolishly, ay, knavishly, Always carelessly, yet no one thinks it fashion To poise my breath; for he that laughs and strikes Is lightly felt, or seldom struck again. Duke, I’ll torment thee now; my just revenge 210 From thee than crown a richer gem shall part: Beneath God, naught’s so dear as a calm heart.
Re-enter Celso.
Celso. My honour’d lord,—
Mal. Peace, speak low, peace! O Celso, constant lord, (Thou to whose faith I only rest discover’d, Thou, one of full ten millions of men, That lovest virtue only for itself; Thou in whose hands old Ops may put her soul) Behold forever-banish’d Altofront, This Genoa’s last year’s duke. O truly noble! 220 I wanted those old instruments of state, Dissemblance and suspect: I could not time it, Celso; My throne stood like a point midst[378] of a circle, To all of equal nearness; bore with none; Rein’d all alike; so slept in fearless virtue, Suspectless, too suspectless; till the crowd, (Still lickorous of untried novelties) Impatient with severer government Made strong with Florence, banish’d Altofront.
Celso. Strong with Florence! ay, thence your mischief rose; 230 For when the daughter of the Florentine Was match’d once with this Pietro, now duke, No stratagem of state untried was left, Till you of all——
Mal. Of all was quite bereft: Alas, Maria too close prisonèd, My true-faith’d duchess, i’ the citadel!
Celso. I’ll still adhere: let’s mutiny and die.
Mal. O, no,[379] climb not a falling tower, Celso; ’Tis well held desperation, no zeal, Hopeless to strive with fate: peace; temporise. 240 Hope, hope, that ne’er forsak’st the wretched’st man, Yet bidd’st me live, and lurk in this disguise! What, play I well the free-breath’d discontent? Why, man, we are all philosophical monarchs Or natural fools. Celso, the court’s a-fire; The duchess’ sheets will smoke for’t ere’t be long: Impure Mendoza, that sharp-nos’d lord, that made The cursèd match link’d Genoa with Florence, Now broad-horns the duke, which he now knows. Discord to malcontents is very manna: 250 When the ranks are burst, then scuffle, Altofront.
Celso. Ay, but durst——
Mal. ’Tis gone; ’tis swallow’d like a mineral: Some way ’twill work; pheut, I’ll not shrink: He’s resolute who can no lower sink.
Bilioso re-entering, Malevole shifteth his speech.
O[380] the father of May-poles! did you never see a fellow whose strength consisted in his breath, respect in his office, religion in[381] his lord, and love in himself? why, then, behold.
Bil. Signior,— 260
Mal. My right worshipful lord, your court night-cap makes you have a passing high forehead.
Bil. I can tell you strange news, but I am sure you know them already: the duke speaks much good of you.
Mal. Go to, then: and shall you and I now enter into a strict friendship?
Bil. Second one another?
Mal. Yes.
Bil. Do one another good offices?
Mal. Just: what though I called thee old ox, egregious —— 272
Bil. Words of course, terms of disport. His grace presents you by me a chain, as his grateful remembrance for—I am ignorant for what; marry, ye may impart: yet howsoever—come—dear friend; dost know my son?
Mal. Your son!
Bil. He shall eat wood-cocks, dance jigs, make possets, and play at shuttle-cock with any young lord about the court: he has as sweet a lady too; dost know her little bitch? 281
Mal. ’Tis a dog, man.
Bil. Believe me, a she-bitch: O, ’tis a good creature! thou shalt be her servant. I’ll make thee acquainted with my young wife too: what! I keep her not at court for nothing. ’Tis grown to supper-time; come to my table: that, anything I have, stands open to thee.
Mal. [aside to Celso] How smooth to him that is in state of grace, How servile is the rugged’st courtier’s face! What profit, nay, what nature would keep down, 290 Are heav’d to them are minions to a crown. Envious ambition never sates his thirst, Till sucking all, he swells and swells, and burst.[382]
Bil. I shall now leave you with my always-best wishes; only let’s hold betwixt us a firm correspondence, a mutual friendly-reciprocal kind of steady-unanimous-heartily-leagued——
Mal. Did your signiorship ne’er see a pigeon-house that was smooth, round, and white without, and full of holes and stink within? ha’ ye not, old courtier? 300
Bil. O, yes, ’tis the form, the fashion of them all.
Mal. Adieu, my true court-friend; farewell, my dear Castilio.[383]
[Exit Bilioso.
Celso. Yonder’s Mendoza.
Mal. True, the privy-key.
[Descries Mendoza.
Celso. I take my leave, sweet lord.
Mal. ’Tis fit; away!
[Exit Celso.
Enter Mendoza with three or four Suitors.
Men. Leave your suits with me; I can and will: attend my secretary; leave me.
[Exeunt Suitors.
Mal. Mendoza, hark ye, hark ye. You are a treacherous villain: God b’ wi’ ye!
Men. Out, you base-born rascal! 310
Mal. We are all the sons of heaven, though a tripe-wife were our mother: ah, you whoreson, hot-reined he-marmoset! Ægisthus! didst ever hear of one Ægisthus?
Men. Gisthus?
Mal. Ay, Ægisthus: he was a filthy incontinent fleshmonger, such a one as thou art.
Men. Out, grumbling rogue!
Mal. Orestes, beware Orestes!
Men. Out, beggar!
Mal. I once shall rise. 320
Men. Thou rise!
Mal. Ay, at the resurrection. No vulgar seed but once may rise and shall; No king so huge but ’fore he die may fall.
[Exit.
Men. Now, good Elysium! what a delicious heaven is it for a man to be in a prince’s favour! O sweet God! O pleasure! O fortune! O all thou best of life! what should I think, what say, what do to be a favourite, a minion? to have a general timorous respect observe a man, a stateful silence in his presence, solitariness in his absence, a confused hum and busy murmur of obsequious suitors training him; the cloth held up, and way proclaimed before him; petitionary vassals licking the pavement with their slavish knees, whilst some odd palace-lampreels that engender with snakes, and are full of eyes on both sides, with a kind of insinuated[384] humbleness, fix all their delights[385] upon his brow. O blessed state! what a ravishing prospect doth the Olympus of favour yield! Death, I cornute the duke! Sweet women! most sweet ladies! nay, angels! by heaven, he is more accursed than a devil that hates you, or is hated by you; and happier than a god that loves you, or is beloved by you: you preservers of mankind, life-blood of society, who would live, nay, who can live without you? O paradise! how majestical is your austerer presence! how imperiously chaste is your more modest face! but, O, how full of ravishing [386] in soul how witty, in discourse how pregnant, in life how wary, in favours how judicious, in day how sociable, and in night how—— O pleasure unutterable! indeed, it is most certain, one man cannot deserve only to enjoy a beauteous woman: but a duchess! in despite of Phœbus, I’ll write a sonnet instantly in praise of her. 357
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Palace of the Duke of Genoa.
Enter Ferneze ushering Aurelia, Emilia and Maquerelle bearing up her train, Bianca attending: then exeunt Emilia and Bianca.
Aurel. And is’t possible? Mendoza slight me! possible?
Fer. Possible! What can be strange in him that’s drank with favour,[387] Grows insolent with grace?—Speak, Maquerelle, speak.
Maq. To speak feelingly, more, more richly in solid sense than worthless words, give me those jewels of your [388] anything [Ferneze privately feeds Maquerelle’s hands with jewels during this speech]; can bear patiently with any man: but when I heard he wronged your precious sweetness, I was enforced to take deep offence. ’Tis most certain he loves Emilia with high appetite: and, as she told me (as you know we women impart our secrets one to another), when she repulsed his suit, in that he was possessed with your endeared grace, Mendoza most ingratefully renounced all faith to you. 16
Fer. Nay, called you—Speak, Maquerelle, speak.
Maq. By heaven, witch, dried biscuit; and contested blushlessly he loved you but for a spurt or so.
Fer. For maintenance.
Maq. Advancement and regard.
Aurel. O villain! O impudent Mendoza!
Maq. Nay, he is the rustiest-jawed,[389] the foulest-mouthed knave in railing against our sex: he will rail against[390] women—
Aurel. How? how?
Maq. I am ashamed to speak’t, I.
Aurel. I love to hate him: speak.
Maq. Why, when Emilia scorned his base unsteadiness, the black-throated rascal scolded, and said— 30
Aurel. What?
Maq. Troth, ’tis too shameless.
Aurel. What said he?
Maq. Why, that, at four, women were fools; at fourteen, drabs; at forty, bawds; at fourscore, witches; and [at] a hundred, cats.
Aurel. O unlimitable impudency!
Fer. But as for poor Ferneze’s fixèd heart, Was never shadeless meadow drier parch’d Under the scorching heat of heaven’s dog, 40 Than is my heart with your enforcing eyes.
Maq. A hot simile.
Fer. Your smiles have been my heaven, your frowns my hell: O, pity, then! grace should with beauty dwell.
Maq. Reasonable perfect, by’r lady.
Aurel. I will love thee, be it but in despite Of that Mendoza:—witch!—Ferneze,—witch!— Ferneze, thou art the duchess’ favourite: Be faithful, private: but ’tis dangerous.
Fer. His love is lifeless that for love fears breath: 50 The worst that’s due to sin, O, would ’twere death!
Aurel. Enjoy my favour. I will be sick instantly and take physic: therefore in depth of night visit—
Maq. Visit her chamber, but conditionally you shall not offend her bed: by this diamond!
Fer. By this diamond.
[Giving diamond to Maq.
Maq. Nor tarry longer than you please: by this ruby!
Fer. By this ruby.
[Giving ruby to Maq.
Maq. And that the door shall not creak. 60
Fer. And that the door shall not creak.
Maq. Nay, but swear.
Fer. By this purse.
[Giving purse to Maq.
Maq. Go to, I’ll keep your oaths for you: remember, visit.
Aurel. Dried biscuit!—Look where the base wretch comes.
Enter Mendoza, reading a sonnet.
Men. “Beauty’s life, heaven’s model, love’s queen,”—
Maq. That’s his Emilia.
Men. “Natures triumph, best on[391] earth,”— 70
Maq. Meaning Emilia.
Men. “Thou only wonder that the world hath seen,”—
Maq. That’s Emilia.
Aurel. Must I, then, hear her praised?—Mendoza!
Men. Madam, your excellency is graciously encountered: I have been writing passionate flashes in honour of—
[Exit Ferneze.
Aurel. Out, villain, villain! O judgment, where have been my eyes? what Bewitch’d election made me dote on thee? 80 What sorcery made me love thee? But, be gone; Bury thy head. O, that I could do more Than loath thee! hence, worst of ill! No reason ask, our reason is our will.[392]
[Exit with Maquerelle.
Men. Women! nay, Furies; nay, worse; for they torment only the bad, but women good and bad. Damnation of mankind! Breath, hast thou praised [393] dissembled, their looks counterfeit, their hair false, their given hopes deceitful, their very breath artificial: their blood is their only god; bad clothes, and old age, are only the devils they tremble at. That I could rail now! 102
Enter Pietro, his sword drawn.
Pietro. A mischief fill thy throat, thou foul-jaw’d slave! Say thy prayers.
Men. I ha’ forgot ’em.
Pietro. Thou shalt die.
Men. So shalt thou. I am heart-mad.
Pietro. I am horn-mad.
Men. Extreme mad.
Pietro. Monstrously mad.
Men. Why? 111
Pietro. Why! thou, thou hast dishonoured my bed.
Men. I! Come, come, sit; here’s my bare heart to thee, As steady as is the centre to this[394] glorious world: And yet, hark, thou art a cornuto,—but by me?
Pietro. Yes, slave, by thee.
Men. Do not, do not with tart and spleenful breath Lose him can lose thee. I offend my duke! Bear record, O ye dumb and raw-air’d nights, How vigilant my sleepless eyes have been 120 To watch the traitor! record, thou spirit of truth, With what debasement I ha’ thrown myself To under offices, only to learn The truth, the party, time, the means, the place, By whom, and when, and where thou wert disgrac’d! And am I paid with slave? hath my intrusion To places private and prohibited, Only to observe the closer passages, Heaven knows with vows of revelation, Made me suspected, made me deem’d a villain? 130 What rogue hath wrong’d us?
Pietro. Mendoza, I may err.
Men. Err! ’tis too mild a name: but err and err, Run giddy with suspect, ’fore through me thou know That which most creatures, save thyself, do know: Nay, since my service hath so loath’d reject, ’Fore I’ll reveal, shalt find them clipt together.
Pietro. Mendoza, thou knowest I am a most plain-breasted man.
Men. The fitter to make a cornuto:[395] would your brows were most plain too! 140
Pietro. Tell me: indeed, I heard thee rail—
Men. At women, true: why, what cold fleam[396] could choose, Knowing a lord so honest, virtuous, So boundless loving, bounteous, fair-shap’d, sweet, To be contemn’d, abus’d, defam’d, made cuckold? Heart! I hate all women for’t: sweet sheets, wax lights, antic bedposts, cambric smocks, villainous curtains, arras pictures, oiled hinges, and all the[397] tongue-tied lascivious witnesses of great creatures’ wantonness,—what salvation can you expect? 150
Pietro. Wilt thou tell me?
Men. Why, you may find it yourself; observe, observe.
Pietro. I ha’ not the patience: wilt thou deserve me, tell, give it.
Men. Take’t: why, Ferneze is the man, Ferneze: I’ll prove’t; this night you shall take him in your sheets: will’t serve?
Pietro. It will; my bosom’s in some peace: till night—
Men. What?
Pietro. Farewell.
Men. God! how weak a lord are you! 160 Why, do you think there is no more but so?
Pietro. Why!
Men. Nay, then, will I presume to counsel you: It should be thus. You with some guard upon the sudden Break into the princess’ chamber: I stay behind, Without the door, through which he needs must pass: Ferneze flies; let him: to me he comes; he’s kill’d By me, observe, by me: you follow: I rail, And seem to save the body. Duchess comes, On whom (respecting her advancèd birth, 170 And your fair nature), I know, nay, I do know, No violence must be us’d; she comes: I storm, I praise, excuse Ferneze, and still maintain The duchess’ honour: she for this loves me. I honour you; shall know her soul, you mine: Then naught shall she contrive in vengeance (As women are most thoughtful in revenge) Of her Ferneze, but you shall sooner know’t Than she can think’t. Thus shall his death come sure, Your duchess brain-caught: so your life secure. 180
Pietro. It is too well: my bosom and my heart When nothing helps, cut off the rotten part.
[Exit.
Men. Who cannot feign friendship can ne’er produce the effects of hatred. Honest fool duke! subtle lascivious duchess! silly novice Ferneze! I do laugh at ye. My brain is in labour till it produce mischief, and I feel sudden throes, proofs sensible, the issue is at hand. As bears shape young, so I’ll form my device, Which grown proves horrid: vengeance makes men wise.
[Exit.
SCENE III.[398]
The palace of the Duke of Genoa.
Enter Malevole and Passarello.
Mal. Fool, most happily encountered: canst sing, fool?
Pass. Yes, I can sing, fool, if you’ll bear the burden; and I can play upon instruments, scurvily, as gentlemen do. O, that I had been gelded! I should then have been a fat fool for a chamber, a squeaking fool for a tavern, and a private fool for all the ladies.
Mal. You are in good case since you came to court, fool: what, guarded, guarded![399] 9
Pass. Yes, faith, even as footmen and bawds wear velvet, not for an ornament of honour, but for a badge of drudgery; for, now the duke is discontented, I am fain to fool him asleep every night.
Mal. What are his griefs?
Pass. He hath sore eyes.
Mal. I never observed so much.
Pass. Horrible sore eyes; and so hath every cuckold, for the roots of the horns spring in the eyeballs, and that’s the reason the horn of a cuckold is as tender as his eye, or as that growing in the woman’s forehead twelve [400] that could not endure to be touched. The duke hangs down his head like a columbine. 22
Mal. Passarello, why do great men beg fools?[401]
Pass. As the Welshman stole rushes when there was nothing else to filch; only to keep begging in fashion.
Mal. Pooh, thou givest no good reason; thou speakest like a fool.
Pass. Faith, I utter small fragments, as your knight courts your city widow with jingling[402] of his gilt spurs, advancing his bush-coloured beard,[403] and taking tobacco: this is all the mirror of their knightly complements.[404] Nay, 33
Mal. And how doth Maquerelle fare nowadays?
Pass. Faith, I was wont to salute her as our English women are at their first landing in Flushing;[405] I would call her whore: but now that antiquity leaves her as an old piece of plastic[406] to work by, I only ask her how her rotten teeth fare every morning, and so leave her. She was the first that ever invented perfumed smocks for the gentlewomen, and woollen shoes, for fear of creaking for the visitant. She were an excellent lady, but that her face peeleth like Muscovy glass.[407] 43
Mal. And how doth thy old lord, that hath wit enough to be a flatterer, and conscience enough to be a knave?
Pass. O, excellent: he keeps beside me fifteen jesters, to instruct him in the art of fooling, and utters their jests in private to the duke and duchess: he’ll lie like to your Switzer or lawyer; he’ll be of any side for most money. 50
Mal. I am in haste, be brief.
Pass. As your fiddler when he is paid.—He’ll thrive, I warrant you, while your young courtier stands like Good-Friday in Lent; men long to see it, because more fatting days come after it; else he’s the leanest and pitifullest actor in the whole pageant. Adieu, Malevole.
Mal. [Aside.] O world most vile, when thy loose vanities, Taught by this fool, do make the fool seem wise!
Pass. You’ll know me again, Malevole.
Mal. O, ay, by that velvet. 60
Pass. Ay, as a pettifogger by his buckram bag. I am as common in the court as an hostess’s lips in the country; knights, and clowns, and knaves, and all share me: the court cannot possibly be without me. Adieu, Malevole.
[Exeunt.