Act 5 — ACT V.
Reading edition
SCENE I.
The cornets sound for the Act.
The dumb show.
Enter at one door Castilio and Forobosco, with halberts; four Pages with torches; Lucio, bare; Piero, Maria, and Alberto, talking; Alberto draws out his dagger, Maria her knife, aiming to menace the Duke. Then Galeatzo, betwixt two Senators, reading a paper to them, at which they all make semblance of loathing Piero, and knit their fists at him; two Ladies and Nutriche. All these go softly over the stage, whilst at the other door enters the ghost of Andrugio, who passeth by them, tossing his torch about his head in triumph. All forsake the stage, saving Andrugio, who, speaking, begins the Act.
Ghost of And. Venit dies, tempusque, quo reddat suis Animam squalentem sceleribus. The[314] fist of strenuous vengeance is clutch’d, And stern Vindicta tow’reth up aloft, That she may fall with a more weighty paise, And crush life’s sap from out Piero’s veins. Now ’gins the leprous cores of ulcered sins Wheel to a head; now is his fate grown mellow, Instant to fall into the rotten jaws Of chap-fall’n death. Now down looks Providence, 10 T’attend the last act of my son’s revenge. Be gracious, observation, to our scene, For now the plot unites his scatter’d limbs Close in contracted bands. The Florence Prince (Drawn by firm notice of the Duke’s black deeds) Is made a partner in conspiracy. The states of Venice are so swoll’n in hate Against the Duke for his accursèd deeds (Of which they are confirm’d by some odd letters Found in dead Strotzo’s study, which had past 20 Betwixt Piero and the murd’ring slave) That they can scarce retain from bursting forth In plain revolt. O, now triumphs my ghost, Exclaiming, Heaven’s just, for I shall see The scourge of murder and impiety!
[Exit.
SCENE I.
Balurdo from under the Stage.
Bal. Ho, who’s above there, ho? A murrain on all proverbs. They say hunger breaks through stone walls; but I am as gaunt as lean-ribb’d famine, yet I can burst through no stone walls. O now, Sir Jeffrey, show thy valour, break prison and be hang’d. Nor shall the darkest nook of hell contain the discontented Sir Balurdo’s ghost. Well, I am out well; I have put off the prison to put on the rope. O poor shotten herring, what a pickle art thou in! O hunger, how thou domineer’st in my guts! O for a fat leg of ewe mutton in stewed broth, or drunken song to feed on! I could belch rarely, for I am all wind. O cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! O poor knight! O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing like an unicorn before thou dost dip thy horn in the water of death. O cold, O sing, O cold, O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing, sing! 16
[A song.
Enter Antonio and Alberto at several doors, their rapiers drawn, in their masking attire.
Ant. Vindicta!
Alb. Mellida!
Ant. Alberto!
Alb. Antonio!
Ant. Hath the Duke supp’d?
Alb. Yes, and triumphant revels mount aloft. The Duke drinks deep to overflow his grief; The court is rack’d to pleasure; each man strains To feign a jocund eye. The Florentine——
Ant. Young Galeatzo!
Alb. Even he is mighty on our part. The states of Venice,—
Enter Pandulpho, running, in masking attire.
Pan. Like high-swoll’n floods drive down the muddy dams Of pent allegiance. O, my lusty bloods, Heaven sits clapping of our enterprise. 30 I have been labouring general favour firm, And I do find the citizens grown sick With swallowing the bloody crudities Of black Piero’s acts; they fain would cast And vomit him from off their government. Now is the plot of mischief ript wide ope; Letters are found ’twixt Strotzo and the Duke, So clear apparent, yet more firmly strong By suiting circumstance, that, as I walk’d, Muffled, to eavesdrop speech, I might observe 40 The graver statesmen whispering fearfully. Here one gives nods and hums what he would speak; The rumour’s got ’mong troop of citizens, Making loud murmur, with confusèd din; One shakes his head and sighs, “O ill-used power!” Another frets, and sets his grinding teeth, Foaming with rage, and swears this must not be; Here one complots, and on a sudden starts, And cries, O monstrous, O deep villainy! All knit their nerves, and from beneath swoll’n brows 50 Appears a gloating eye of much mislike; Whilst swart Piero’s lips reak steam of wine, Swallows lust-thoughts, devours all pleasing hopes, With strong imagination of—what not? O now Vindicta! that’s the word we have, A royal vengeance, or a royal grave!
Ant. Vindicta!
Bal. [From beneath the stage.] I am acold.
Pan. Who’s there? Sir Jeffrey?
Bal. A poor knight, god wot: the nose of thy knighthood is bitten off with cold. O poor Sir Jeffrey, cold, cold! 62
Pan. What chance of fortune hath tripp’d up his heels, And laid him in the kennel, ha?
Alb. I will discourse it all. Poor honest soul, Hadst thou a beaver to clasp up thy face, Thou should’st associate us in masquery, And see revenge.
Bal. Nay, and you talk of revenge, my stomach’s up, for I am most tyrannically hungry. A beaver! I have a headpiece, a skull, a brain of proof, I warrant ye. 71
Alb. Slink to my chamber then, and tire thee.
Bal. Is there a fire?
Alb. Yes.
Bal. Is there a fat leg of ewe mutton?
Alb. Yes.
Bal. And a clean shirt?
Alb. Yes.
Bal. Then am I for you, most pathetically, and unvulgarly, law! 80
[Exit.
Ant. Resolved hearts, time curtails night, opportunity shakes us his foretop. Steel your thoughts, sharp your resolve, embolden your spirit, grasp your swords; alarum mischief, and with an undaunted brow, out scout the grim opposition of most menacing peril. Hark! here proud pomp shoots mounting triumph up, Borne in loud accents to the front of Jove.
Pan. O now, he that wants soul to kill a slave, Let him die slave, and rot in peasant’s grave.
Ant. Give me thy hand, and thine, most noble heart; Thus will we live, and, but thus, never part. 91
[Exeunt, twined together.
Cornets sound a senet.
SCENE II.
A Banqueting-hall.
Enter Castilio and Forobosco; two Pages, with torches; Lucio, bare; Piero and Maria, Galeatzo, two Senators, and Nutriche.
Pier. Sit close unto my breast, heart of my love; Advance thy drooping eyes, thy son is drown’d. Rich happiness that such a son is drown’d! Thy husband’s dead: life of my joys most bless’d, In that the sapless log, that press’d thy bed With an unpleasing weight, being lifted hence, Even I, Piero, live to warm his place. I tell you, lady, had you view’d us both With an unpartial eye, when first we wooed Your maiden beauties, I had borne the prize. 10 ’Tis firm I had; for, fair, I ha’ done that——
Mar. [Aside.] Murder.
Pier. Which he would quake to have adventurèd; Thou know’st I have——
Mar. [Aside.] Murder’d my husband.
Pier. Borne out the shock of war, and done—what not, That valour durst? Dost love me, fairest? Say.
Mar. As I do hate my son, I love thy soul.
Pier. Why, then, Io[315] to Hymen, mount a lofty note! Fill[316] red-cheek’d Bacchus, let Lyæus float 20 In burnish’d goblets! Force the plump-lipp’d god. Skip light lavoltas[317] in your full-sapp’d veins! ’Tis well, brim full. Even I have glut of blood: Let quaff carouse. I drink this Burdeaux wine Unto the health of dead Andrugio, Feliche, Strotzo, and Antonio’s ghosts. [Aside.] Would I had some poison to infuse it with; That having done this honour to the dead, I might send one to give them notice on’t: I would endear my favour to the full.— 30 Boy, sing aloud; make heaven’s vault to ring With thy breath’s strength. I drink. Now loudly sing.
[A song. The song ended the cornets sound a senet.
Enter Antonio, Pandulpho, and Alberto, in maskery; Balurdo, and a Torchbearer.
Pier. Call Julio hither. Where’s the little soul? I saw him not to-day. Here’s sport alone For him, i’faith; for babes and fools, I know, Relish not substance, but applaud the show.
Gal. (To the conspirators as they stand in rank for the measure.[318]) All blessèd fortune crown your brave attempt.
[To Antonio.
I have a troop to second your attempt.
[To Pandulpho.
The Venice states join hearts unto your hands.
[To Alberto.
Pier. By the delights in contemplation 40 Of coming joys, ’tis magnificent. You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp. Sound still, loud music! O, your breath gives grace To curious feet, that in proud measure pace.
Ant. [Aside to Maria.] Mother, is Julio’s body——
Mar. [Aside to Antonio.] Speak not, doubt not; all is above all hope.
Ant. [Aside.] Then will I dance and whirl about the air: Methinks I am all soul, all heart, all spirit. Now murder shall receive his ample merit.
The measure.
While the measure is dancing, Andrugio’s ghost is placed betwixt the music-houses.[319]
Pier. Bring hither suckets, candied delicates. 50 We’ll taste some sweetmeats, gallants, ere we sleep.
Ant.—We’ll cook your sweetmeats, gallants, with tart sour sauce.
Ghost of And. Here will I sit, spectator of revenge, And glad my ghost in anguish of my foe.
[The maskers whisper with Piero.
Pier. Marry and shall; i’faith I were too rude, If I gainsaid so civil fashion.— The maskers pray you to forbear the room Till they have banqueted. Let it be so: No man presume to visit them, on death.
[The maskers whisper again.
Only my self? O, why, with all my heart; 60
[Exeunt all but Piero and the maskers.
I’ll fill your consort. Here Piero sits; Come on, unmask, let’s fall to.
[The conspirators bind Piero, pluck out his tongue, and triumph over him.
Ant. Murder and torture! no prayers, no entreats!
Pan. We’ll spoil your oratory. Out with his tongue.
Ant. I have ’t, Pandulpho; the veins panting bleed, Trickling fresh gore about my fist. Bind fast—so, so!
Ghost of And. Bless’d be thy hand! I taste the joys of heaven, Viewing my son triumph in his black blood.
Bal. Down to the dungeon with him! I’ll dungeon with him! I’ll fool you; Sir Jeffrey will be Sir Jeffrey; I’ll tickle you. 71
Ant. Behold, black dog!
Pan. Grinn’st thou, thou snurling[320] cur?
Alb. Eat thy black liver.
Ant. To thine anguish see A fool triumphant in thy misery. Vex him, Balurdo.
Pan. He weeps; now do I glorify my hands; I had no vengeance, if I had no tears.
Ant. Fall to, good Duke. O these are worthless cates, You have no stomach to them; look, look here: Here lies a dish to feast thy father’s gorge. 80
[Uncovering the dish that contains Lucio’s limbs.
Here’s flesh and blood, which I am sure thou lov’st.
[Piero seems to condole his son.
Pan. Was he thy flesh, thy son, thy dearest son?
Ant. So was Andrugio, my dearest father.
Pan. So was Feliche, my dearest son.
Enter Maria.
Mar. So was Andrugio my dearest husband.
Ant. My father found no pity in thy blood.
Pan. Remorse was banish’d, when thou slew’st my son.
Mar. When thou empoisoned’st my loving lord, Exiled was piety.
Ant. Now therefore pity, piety, remorse, 90 Be aliens to our thoughts; grim fire-ey’d rage Possess us wholly.
Pan. Thy son? true; and which is my most joy, I hope no bastard, but thy very blood, Thy true-begotten, most legitimate And lovèd issue—there’s the comfort on’t.
Ant. Scum of the mud of hell!
Alb. Slime of all filth!
Mar. Thou most detested toad!
Bal. Thou most retort and obtuse rascal!
Ant. Thus charge we death at thee; remember hell, And let the howling murmurs of black spirits, 101 The horrid torments of the damnèd ghosts, Affright thy soul as it descendeth down Into the entrails of the ugly deep.
Pan. Sa, sa; no, let him die, and die, and still be dying.
[They offer to run all at Piero, and on a sudden stop.
And yet not die till he hath died and died Ten thousand deaths in agony of heart.
Ant. Now pellmell: thus the hand of Heaven chokes The throat of murder. This for my father’s blood!
[He stabs Piero.
Pan. This for my son! 110
Alb. This for them all! And this, and this, sink to the heart of hell!
[They run all at Piero with their rapiers.
Pan. Murder for murder, blood for blood, doth yell!
And. ’Tis done, and now my soul shall sleep in rest: Sons that revenge their father’s blood are blest.
[The curtains being drawn, exit Andrugio.
Enter Galeatzo, two Senators, Lucio, Forobosco, Castilio, and Ladies.
1st Sen. Whose hand presents this gory spectacle?
Ant. Mine.
Pan. No, mine.
Alb. No, mine.
Ant. I will not lose the glory of the deed, 120 Were all the tortures of the deepest hell Fix’d to my limbs. I pierced the monster’s heart With an undaunted hand.
Pan. By yon bright-spangled front of heaven ’twas I! ’Twas I sluiced[321] out his life-blood.
Alb. Tush, to say truth, ’twas all.
2d Sen. Blest be you all, and may your honours live Religiously held sacred, even for ever and ever.
Gal. (to Antonio). Thou art another Hercules to us, In ridding huge pollution from our state. 130
1st Sen. Antonio, belief is fortified With most invincible approvements[322] of much wrong By this Piero to thee. We have found Beadrolls of mischief, plots of villainy, Laid ’twixt the Duke and Strotzo, which we found Too firmly acted.
2d Sen. Alas, poor orphant!
Ant. Poor! Standing triumphant over Belzebub! Having large interest for blood, and yet deem’d poor?
1st Sen. What satisfaction outward pomp can yield, Or chiefest fortunes of the Venice state, 140 Claim freely. You are well-season’d props, And will not warp, or lean to either part; Calamity gives a man a steady heart.
Ant. We are amaz’d at your benignity; But other vows constrain another course.
Pan. We know the world, and did we know no more, We would not live to know; but since constraint Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge Of dirt’s corruption, till dread power calls Our soul’s appearance, we will live enclosed 150 In holy verge of some religious order, Most constant votaries.
[The curtains are drawn, Piero departeth.
Ant. First let’s cleanse our hands, Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love, Over whose hearse I’ll weep away my brain In true affection’s tears. For her sake here I vow a virgin bed: She lives in me, with her my love is dead.
2d Sen. We will attend her mournful exequies; Conduct you to your calm sequestered life, And then—— 160
Mar. Leave us to meditate on misery, To sad our thought with contemplation Of past calamities. If any ask Where lives the widow of the poison’d lord? Where lies the orphant of a murder’d father? Where lies the father of a butcher’d son? Where lives all woe?—conduct him to us three, The down-cast ruins of calamity.
Ant.[323] Sound doleful tunes, a solemn hymn advance, To close the last act of my vengeance; 170 And when the subject of your passion’s spent, Sing Mellida is dead; all hearts will relent, In sad condolement at that heavy sound. Never more woe in lesser plot was found! And, O, if ever time create a muse, That to th’ immortal fame of virgin faith Dares once engage his pen to write her death, Presenting it in some black tragedy, May it prove gracious; may his style be deck’d With freshest blooms of purest elegance; May it have gentle presence, and the scenes suck’d up By calm attention of choice audience; 181 And when the closing Epilogue appears, Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears.
[A song.—Exeunt omnes.
Antonii vindictæ [sic].
THE MALCONTENT.
The Malcontent. By Iohn Marston. 1604. At London printed by V. S. for William Aspley, and are to be solde at his shop in Paules Church-yard. 4to.
The Malcontent. Augmented by Marston. With the Additions played by the Kings Maiesties servants. Written by Ihon Webster. 1604. At London Printed by V. S. for William Aspley, and are to be sold at his shop in Paules Church-yard. 4to.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
Giovanni Altofronto, Duke of Genoa, driven from power by the plots of Pietro Jacomo, disguises himself and lives under the name of Malevole at the usurper’s court, assuming the character of a malcontent. His identity is known only to his faithful friend Celso. A crafty courtier, Mendoza, who had assisted in dethroning Altofronto, has adulterous intercourse with Pietro’s wife, Aurelia. Malevole exposes the intrigue to Pietro; but meanwhile Aurelia, induced by an old procuress, Maquerelle, to believe that her lover is faithless, discards Mendoza and engages in an intrigue with another courtier, Ferneze. Pietro, sword in hand, seeks Mendoza, who makes passionate protestations of his own innocence, and declares that the guilty person is Ferneze. On that very night Ferneze has an appointment with the Duchess; and it is agreed that Pietro with some of the guard shall break into the Duchess’ chamber, while Mendoza waits with his drawn sword at the door. Ferneze is to be allowed to escape from the chamber, only to be received on the sword of Mendoza, who is then to stand over the body and pretend that he is guarding it from assault. Thus Mendoza will not only serve Pietro, but by his seeming generosity towards Ferneze will earn the gratitude of Aurelia, who, should she attempt to take vengeance on her husband, will not fail to make Mendoza acquainted with her plots, which he will incontinently reveal to Pietro. At the hour appointed, Pietro and the guard invade the Duchess’ chamber; the flying gallant is stabbed by Mendoza and left for dead (though he afterwards recovers from the wound); Aurelia receives Mendoza again into favour, and practises with him to murder
BENIAMINO[324] JONSONIO,
POETÆ
ELEGANTISSIMO,
GRAVISSIMO,
AMICO
SVO, CANDIDO ET CORDATO,
IOHANNES MARSTON,
MVSARVM ALVMNVS,
ASPERAM HANC SVAM THALIAM
D. D.
TO THE READER.
I am an ill orator; and, in truth, use to indite more honestly than eloquently, for it is my custom to speak as I think, and write as I speak.
In plainness, therefore, understand, that in some things I have willingly erred, as in supposing a Duke of Genoa, and in taking names different from that city’s families: for which some may wittily accuse me; but my defence shall be as honest as many reproofs unto me have been most malicious. Since, I heartily protest, it was my care to write so far from reasonable offence, that even strangers, in whose state I laid my scene, should not from thence draw any disgrace to any, dead or living. Yet, in despite of my endeavours, I understand some have been most unadvisedly over-cunning in misinterpreting me, and with subtlety as deep as hell have maliciously spread ill rumours, which, springing from themselves, might to themselves have heavily returned. Surely I desire to satisfy every firm spirit, who, in all his actions, proposeth to himself no more ends than God and virtue do, whose intentions are always simple: to such I protest that, with my free understanding, I have not glanced at disgrace of any, but of those whose unquiet studies labour innovation, contempt of holy policy, reverend, comely superiority, and established unity: for the rest of my supposed tartness, I fear not but unto every worthy mind it will be approved so general and honest as may modestly pass with the freedom of a satire. I would fain leave the paper; only one thing afflicts me, to think that scenes, invented merely to be spoken, should be enforcively published to be read, and that the least hurt I can receive is to do myself the wrong. But, since others otherwise would do me more, the least inconvenience is to be accepted. I have myself, therefore, set forth this comedy; but so, that my enforced absence must much rely upon the printer’s discretion: but I shall entreat slight errors in orthography may be as slightly over-passed, and that the unhandsome shape which this trifle in reading presents, may be pardoned for the pleasure it once afforded you when it was presented with the soul of lively action.
Sine aliqua dementia nullus Phœbus.[325]
THE INDUCTION[326]
TO
THE MALCONTENT, AND THE ADDITIONS ACTED BY THE KING’S MAJESTY’S SERVANTS.
WRITTEN BY JOHN WEBSTER.
Enter W. Sly,[327] a Tire-man following him with a stool.
Tire-man. Sir, the gentlemen will be angry if you sit here.
Sly. Why, we may sit upon the stage at the private house.[328] Thou dost not take me for a country gentleman, dost? dost think I fear hissing?[329] I’ll hold my life thou tookest me for one of the players.
Tire-man. No, sir.
Sly. By God’s slid, if you had, I would have given you but sixpence[330] for your stool. Let them that have stale suits sit in the galleries. Hiss at me! He that will be laughed out of a tavern or an ordinary, shall seldom feed well, or be drunk in good company.—Where’s Harry Condell, Dick Burbadge, and William Sly? Let me speak with some of them. 14
Tire-man. An’t please you to go in, sir, you may.
Sly. I tell you, no: I am one that hath seen this play often, and can give them intelligence for their action: I have most of the jests here in my table-book.
Enter Sinklo.[331]
Sinklo. Save you, coz!
Sly. O, cousin, come, you shall sit between my legs here. 21
Sinklo. No, indeed, cousin: the audience then will take me for a viol-de-gambo, and think that you play upon me.
Sly. Nay, rather that I work upon you, coz.
Sinklo. We stayed for you at supper last night at my cousin Honeymoon’s, the woollen-draper. After supper we drew cuts for a score of apricocks, the longest cut still to draw an apricock: by this light, ’twas Mistress Frank Honeymoon’s fortune still to have the longest cut: I did measure for the women.—What be these, coz? 32
Enter D. Burbadge,[332] H. Condell, and J. Lowin.
Sly. The players.—God save you!
Burbadge. You are very welcome.
Sly. I pray you, know this gentleman, my cousin; ’tis Master Doomsday’s son, the usurer.
Condell. I beseech you, sir, be covered.
Sly. No,[333] in good faith, for mine ease: look you, my hat’s the handle to this fan: God’s so, what a beast was I, I did not leave my feather at home! Well, but I’ll take an order with you. 41
[Puts his feather in his pocket.
Burbadge. Why do you conceal your feather, sir?
Sly. Why, do you think I’ll have jests broken upon me in the play, to be laughed at? this play hath beaten [334]
Sinklo. God’s so, I thought ’twas for somewhat our gentlewomen at home counselled me to wear my feather to the play: yet I am loth to spoil it.
Sly. Why, coz? 50
Sinklo. Because I got it in the tilt-yard; there was a herald broke my pate for taking it up: but I have worn it up and down the Strand, and met him forty times since, and yet he dares not challenge it.
Sly. Do you hear, sir? this play is a bitter play.
Condell. Why, sir, ’tis neither satire nor moral, but the mean passage of a history: yet there are a sort of discontented creatures that bear a stingless envy to great ones, and these will wrest the doings of any man to their base, malicious appliment; but should their interpretation come to the test, like your marmoset, they presently turn their teeth to their tail and eat it. 62
Sly. I will not go so far with you; but I say, any man that hath wit may censure,[335] if he sit in the twelve-penny room;[336] and I say again, the play is bitter.
Burbadge. Sir, you are like a patron that, presenting a poor scholar to a benefice, enjoins him not to rail against anything that stands within compass of his patron’s folly. Why should not we enjoy the ancient freedom of poesy? Shall we protest to the ladies that their painting makes them angels? or to my young gallant that his expenses in the brothel shall gain him reputation? No, sir, such vices as stand not accountable to law should be cured as men heal tetters, by casting ink upon them. Would you be satisfied in anything else, sir? 76
Sly. Ay, marry, would I: I would know how you came by this play?
Condell. Faith, sir, the book was lost; and because ’twas pity so good a play should be lost, we found it, and play it. 81
Sly. I wonder you would play it, another company having interest in it.
Condell. Why not Malevole in folio with us, as Jeronimo in decimo-sexto[337] with them? They taught us a name for our play; we call it One for another.
Sly. What are your additions?
Burbadge. Sooth, not greatly needful; only as your salad to your great feast, to entertain a little more time, and to abridge the not-received custom of music in our theatre. I must leave you, sir.
[Exit.
Sinklo. Doth he play the Malcontent. 92
Condell. Yes, sir.
Sinklo. I durst lay four of mine ears the play is not so well acted as it hath been.
Condell. O, no, sir, nothing ad Parmenonis suem.[338]
Lowin. Have you lost your ears, sir, that you are so prodigal of laying them?
Sinklo. Why did you ask that, friend?
Lowin. Marry, sir, because I have heard of a fellow would offer to lay a hundred-pound wager that was not worth five baubees:[339] and in this kind you might venture four of your elbows; yet God defend[340] your coat should have so many! 104
Sinklo. Nay, truly, I am no great censurer; and yet I might have been one of the college of critics once. My cousin here hath an excellent memory indeed, sir.
Sly. Who, I? I’ll tell you a strange thing of myself; and I can tell you, for one that never studied the art of memory, ’tis very strange too. 110
Condell. What’s that, sir?
Sly. Why, I’ll lay a hundred pound, I’ll walk but once down by the Goldsmiths’ Row in Cheap, take notice of the signs, and tell you them with a breath instantly.
Lowin. ’Tis very strange.
Sly. They begin as the world did, with Adam and Eve. There’s in all just five and fifty.[341] I do use to meditate much when I come to plays too. What do you think might come into a man’s head now, seeing all this company? 120
Condell. I know not, sir.
Sly. I have an excellent thought. If some fifty of the Grecians that were crammed in the horse’-belly had eaten garlic, do you not think the Trojans might have smelt out their knavery?
Condell. Very likely.
Sly. By God, I would they[342] had, for I love Hector horribly.
Sinklo. O, but, coz, coz! “Great[343] Alexander, when he came to the tomb of Achilles, Spake with a big loud voice, O thou thrice blessèd and happy!” 131
Sly. Alexander was an ass to speak so well of a filthy cullion.[344]
Lowin. Good sir, will you leave the stage? I’ll help you to a private room.[345]
Sly. Come, coz, let’s take some tobacco.[346] —Have you never a prologue?
Lowin. Not any, sir.
Sly. Let me see, I will make one extempore.
[Come[347] to them, and fencing of a congey with arms and legs, be round with them.
Gentlemen,[348] I could wish for the women’s sakes you had all soft cushions; and, gentlewomen, I could wish that for the men’s sakes you had all more easy standings.
What would they wish more but the play now? and that they shall have instantly. 144
[Exeunt.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Giovanni Altofronto, disguised as Malevole, sometime Duke of Genoa. Pietro Jacomo, Duke of Genoa. Mendoza, a minion to the Duchess of Pietro Jacomo. Celso, a friend to Altofronto. Bilioso, an old choleric marshal. Prepasso, a gentleman-usher. Ferneze, a young courtier, and enamoured on the Duchess. Ferrardo, a minion to Duke Pietro Jacomo.
Equato,
}
Guerrino,
} two courtiers.
Passarello, fool to Bilioso.
Aurelia, Duchess to Duke Pietro Jacomo. Maria, Duchess to Duke Altofronto.
Emilia,
}
Bianca,
} two ladies attending on Aurelia.
Maquerelle, an old panderess.
The Scene—Genoa.