Act 1 — ACT I.

SCENE I.

Venice.—Room in Isabella’s house.

Isabella, Countess of Suevia, discovered sitting at a table covered with black, on which stands two black tapers lighted, she in mourning.

Enter Roberto Count of Cyprus, Guido Count of Arsena, and Signior Mizaldus.

Miz. What should we do in this countess’s dark hole? She’s sullenly retirèd as the turtle. Every day has been A black day with her since her husband died; And what should we unruly members make[127] here?

Gui. As melancholy night masks up heaven’s face, So doth the evening star present herself Unto the careful shepherd’s gladsome eyes, By which unto the fold he leads his flock. 9

Miz. Zounds! what a sheepish beginning is here? ’Tis said true love is simple; and it may well hold; and thou art a simple lover.

Rob. See how yond star, like beauty in a cloud, Illumines darkness, and beguiles the moon Of all her glory in the firmament!

Miz. Well said, man i’ the moon. Was ever such astronomers? Marry, I fear none of these will fall into the right ditch.

Rob. Madam.

Isa. Ha, Anna! what, are my doors unbarr’d? 20

Miz. I’ll assure you the way into your ladyship is open.

Rob. And God defend that any profane hand Should offer sacrilege to such a saint! Lovely Isabella, by this duteous kiss, That draws part of my soul along with it, Had I but thought my rude intrusion Had waked the dove-like spleen harbour’d within you, Life and my first-born should not satisfy Such a transgression, worthy of a check; 30 But that immortals wink at my offence, Makes me presume more boldly. I am come To raise you from this so infernal sadness.

Isa. My lord of Cyprus, do not mock my grief. Tears are as due a[128] tribute to the dead, As fear to God, and duty unto kings, Love to the just, or hate unto the wicked.

Rob. Surcease; Believe it is a wrong unto the gods.[129] They sail against the wind that wail the dead: 40 And since his heart hath wrestled with death’s pangs, From whose stern cave none tracts a backward path,[130] Leave to lament this necessary change, And thank the gods, for they can give us good.

Isa. I wail his loss! Sink him ten cubits deeper, I may not fear his resurrection. I will be sworn upon the Holy Writ I mourn thus fervent ’cause he died no sooner: He buried me alive, And mewed me up like Cretan Dædalus, 50 And with wall-ey’d[131] jealousy kept me from hope Of any waxen wings to fly to pleasure; But now his soul her Argus’ eyes hath closed, And I am free as air. You of my sex, In the first flow of youth, use you the sweets Due to your proper beauties, ere the ebb And long wane of unwelcome change shall come. Fair women, play; she’s chaste whom none will have. Here is a man of a most mild aspect, Temperate, effeminate, and worthy love; 60 One that with burning ardor hath pursued me. A donative he hath of every god: Apollo gave him locks; Jove his high front;[132] The god of eloquence his flowing speech; The feminine deities strew’d all their bounties And beauty on his face; that eye was Juno’s; Those lips were hers[133] that won the golden ball; That virgin-blush, Diana’s. Here they meet, As in a sacred synod. My lords, I must intreat A while your wish’d forbearance.

Gui.[134] and Miz. We obey you, lady. 70

[Exeunt Guido and Mizaldus.

Isa. My lord, with you I have some conference. I pray, my lord, do you woo every lady In this phrase you do me?

Rob. Fairest, till now Love was an infant in my oratory.

Isa. And kiss thus too?

[Kisses him.

Rob. I never[135] was so kiss’d; leave thus to please; Flames into flames, seas thou pour’st into seas!

Isa. Pray frown, my lord: let me see how many wives You’ll have.[136] Heigh ho! you’ll bury me, I see——

Rob. In the swan’s down, and tomb thee in mine arms! 80

Isa. Then folks shall pray in vain to send me rest. Away, you’re such another meddling lord!

Rob. By heaven! my love’s as chaste as thou art fair, And both exceed comparison. By this kiss, That crowns me monarch of another world Superior to the first, fair, thou shalt see As unto heaven my love, so unto thee!

Isa. Alas! Poor creatures, when we are once o’ the falling hand, A man may easily come over us. 90 It is as hard for us to hide our love As to shut sin from the Creator’s eyes. I’faith, my lord, I had a month’s mind[137] unto you, As tedious as a full-riped[138] maiden-head; And, Count of Cyprus, think my love as pure As the first opening of the blooms in May: (You’re virtuous, man;[139] nay, let me not blush to say so:) And see for your sake thus I leave to sorrow. Begin this subtile conjuration with me, And as this taper, due unto the dead, 100 I here extinguish, so my late-dead lord I put out ever from my memory, That his remembrance may not wrong our love,

[Puts out the taper.

As bold-faced women, when they wed another, Banquet their husbands with their dead loves’ heads.

Rob. And as I sacrifice this to his ghost, With this expire all corrupt thoughts of youth, That fame-insatiate devil jealousy, And all the sparks that may bring unto flame, Hate betwixt man and wife, or breed defame. 110

[Puts out the other taper.

Re-enter[140] Mizaldus and Guido.

Miz.[141] Marry, amen. I say; madam, are you that were in for all day, now come to be in for all night? How now, Count Arsena?

Gui.[142] Faith, signior, not unlike the condemn’d malefactor, That hears his judgment openly pronounced; But I ascribe to fate. Joy swell your love; Cypress and willow grace my drooping crest.

Rob. We do intend our hymeneal rites With the next rising sun. Count Arsena,[143] Next to our bride, the welcom’st to our feast. 120

[Exeunt Isabella and Roberto.

Gui. Sancta Maria! what think’st thou of this change? A player’s passion I’ll believe hereafter, And in a tragic scene weep for old Priam,[144] When fell-revenging Pyrrhus with supposed And artificial wounds mangles his breast, And think it a more worthy act to me, Than trust a female mourning o’er her love. Naught that is done of woman shall me please, Nature’s step-children, rather her disease.[145]

Miz. Learn of a well-composèd epigram 130 A woman’s love, and thus ’twas sung unto us;

The[146] tapers that stood on her husband’s hearse, Isabel advances to a second bed: Is it not wondrous strange for to rehearse She should so soon forget her husband, dead One hour? for if the husband’s life once fade, Both love and husband in one grave are laid.

But we forget ourselves: I am for the marriage Of Signior Claridiana and the fine Mistress Abigail. 139

Gui. I for his arch-foe’s wedding, Signior Rogero, and the spruce Mistress Thais: but see, the solemn rites are ended, and from their several temples they are come.

Miz. A quarrel, on my life!

Enter at one door Signior Claridiana, Abigail his wife, and the Lady Lentulus, with rosemary,[147] as from church; at the other door Signior Rogero, Thais his wife, and Mendoza Foscari, nephew to the Duke, from the bridal; they see one another, and draw; Guido and others step between them.

Clar. Good, my lord, detain me not; I will tilt at him.

Miz.[148] Remember, sir, this is your wedding-day, And that triumph belongs only to your wife.

Rog. If you be noble, let me cut off his head.

Gui.[149] Remember, o’ the other side, you have a maiden-head of your own to cut off. 150

Rog. I’ll make my marriage-day like to the bloody bridal Alcides by the fiery Centaurs had!

Tha. Husband, dear husband!

Rog. Away with these catterwallers! Come on, sir.

Clar. Thou son of a Jew!

Gui. Alas, poor wench, thy husband’s circumcised!

Clar. Begot when thy father’s face was toward th’ east, To show that thou would’st prove a caterpiller. His Messias shall not save thee from me; 160 I’ll send thee to him in collops!

Gui. O fry not in choler so, sir!

Rog. Mountebank, with thy pedantical action— Rimatrix, Bugloss,[150] Rhinoceros!

Men. Gentlemen, I conjure you By the virtues of men!

Rog. Shall any broken quacksalver’s bastard oppose him to me in my nuptials? No; but I’ll show him better metal than e’er the gallemawfrey[151] his father used. Thou scum of his melting-pots, that wert christen’d in a crusoile[152] with Mercury’s water to[153] show thou wouldest prove a stinging aspis! for all thou spitt’st is aqua fortis, and thy breath is a compound of poison’s stillatory: if I get within thee, hadst thou the scaly hide of a crocodile, as thou art partly of his nature, I would leave thee as bare as an anatomy[154] at the second viewing. 176

Clar. Thou Jew of the tribe of Gad that, I were[155] sure, were there none here but thou and I, wouldst teach me the art of breathing; thou wouldst run like a dromedary!

Rog. Thou that art the tall’st man of Christendom when thou art alone; if thou dost maintain this to my face, I’ll make thee skip like an ounce.[156]

Men. Nay, good sir, be you still.

Rog. Let the quacksalver’s son be still: His father was still, and still, and still again! 185

Clar. By the Almighty, I’ll study negromancy but I’ll be reveng’d!

Gui. Gentlemen, leave these dissensions; Signior Rogero, you are a man of worth.

Clar. True, all the city points at him for a knave. 190

Gui. You are of like reputation, Signior Claridiana. The hatred ’twixt your grandsires first began; Impute it to the folly of that age: These your dissensions may erect a faction Like to the Capulets and the Montagues.[157]

Men. Put it to equal arbitration, choose your friends; The senators will think ’em happy in ’t.

Rog.[158] I’ll ne’er embrace the smoke of a furnace, the quintessence of mineral or simples, or, as I may say more learnedly, nor the spirit of quicksilver. 200

Clar. Nor I, such a Centaur,—half a man, half an ass, and all a Jew!

Gui. Nay, then, we will be constables, and force a quiet. Gentlemen, keep ’em asunder, and help to persuade ’em.

[Exeunt[159] at one door Mizaldus and Claridiana; at another Guido and Rogero.

Men. Well, ladies, your husbands behave ’em as lustily on their wedding-days as e’er I heard any. Nay, lady-widow, you and I must have a falling; you’re of Signior Mizaldus’ faction, and I am your vowed enemy, from the bodkin to the pincase. Hark in your ear. 210

Abi. Well, Thais. O you’re a cunning carver;[160] we two, that any time these fourteen years have called sisters, brought and bred up together, that have told one another all our wanton dreams, talk’d all night long of young men, and spent many an idle hour; fasted upon the stones on St. Agnes’[161] night together, practised all the petulant amorousness that delights young maids, yet have you conceal’d not only the marriage, but the man: and well you might deceive me, for I’ll be sworn you never dream’d of him, and it stands against all reason you should enjoy him you never dream’d of. 221

Tha. Is not all this the same in you? Did you ever manifest your sweetheart’s nose, that I might nose him by’t? commended his calf or his nether lip? apparent signs that you were not in love, or wisely covered it. Have you ever said, such a man goes upright, or has a better gait than any of the rest, as indeed, since he is proved a magnifico, I thought thou would’st have put it into my hands whate’er ’t had been. 229

Abi. Well, wench, we have cross fates; our husbands such inveterate foes, and we such entire friends; but the best is we are neighbours, and our back arbors may afford visitation freely. Prithee, let us maintain our familiarity still, whatsoever thy husband do unto thee, as I am afraid he will cross it i’ the nick.

Tha. Faith, you little one, if I please him in one thing, he shall please me in all, that’s certain. Who shall I have to keep my counsel if I miss thee? who shall teach me to use the bridle when the reins are in mine own hand? what to long for? when to take physic? where to be melancholy? Why, we two are one another’s grounds,[162] without which would be no music. 242

Abi. Well said, wench; and the prick-song we use shall be our husbands.

Tha. I will long for swine’s-flesh o’ the first child.

Abi. Wilt ’ou, little Jew? And I to kiss thy husband upon the least belly-ache. This will mad ’em.

Tha. I kiss thee, wench, for that, and with it confirm our friendship.

Men. By these sweet lips, widow! 250

Lady Lent. Good my lord, learn to swear by rote; Your birth and fortune makes my brain suppose That, like a man heated with wines and lust, She that is next your object is your mate, Till the foul water have quench’d out the fire. You, the duke’s kinsman, tell me I am young, Fair, rich, and virtuous. I myself will flatter Myself, till you are gone that are more fair, More rich, more virtuous, and more debonair: All which are ladders to an higher reach. 260 Who drinks a puddle that may taste a spring? Who kiss a subject that may hug a king?

Men. Yes, the camel always drinks in puddle-water; And as for huggings, read antiquities. Faith, madam, I’ll board thee one of these days.

Lady Lent. Ay, but ne’er bed me, my lord. My vow is firm, Since God hath called me to this noble state, Much to my grief, of virtuous widow-hood, No man shall ever come within my gates.

Men. Wilt thou ram up thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceive 270 You’re ignorant of the lover’s legerdemain! There is a fellow that by magic will assist To murder princes invisible; I can command his spirit. Or what say you to a fine scaling-ladder of ropes? I can tell you I am a mad wag-halter; But by the virtue I see seated in you, And by the worthy fame is blazon’d of you; By little Cupid, that is mighty nam’d, And can command my looser follies down, I love, and must enjoy, yet with such limits 280 As one that knows enforcèd marriage To be the Furies’ sister. Think of me.

Abig. and Tha. Ha, ha, ha!

Men. How now, lady? does the toy take you, as they say?

Abi. No, my lord; nor do we take your toy, as they say. This is a child’s birth that must not be delivered before a man, Though your lordship might be a midwife for your chin.

Men. Some bawdy riddle, is ’t not? You long till ’t be night. 290

Tha. No, my lord, women’s longing comes after their marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now.

Abi. Why, dost think I’ll make my husband a cuckold? O here they come!

Enter at several doors Mizaldus[163] with Claridiana; Guido, with Rogero, at another door; Mendoza meets them.

Men. Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified?

Rog. Yes; does any man think I’ll go like a sheep to the slaughter? Hands off, my lord; your lordship may chance come under my hands. If you do, I shall show myself a citizen, and revenge basely. 299

Clar. I think, if I were receiving the Holy Sacrament, His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly. But there’s the beauty without parallel,[164] In whom the Graces and the Virtues meet! In her aspect mild Honour sits and smiles; And who looks there, were it the savage bear But would derive new nature from her eyes? But to be reconciled simply for him, Were mankind to be lost again, I’d let it, And a new heap of stones should stock the world. In heaven and earth this power beauty hath— 310 It inflames temperance and temp’rates wrath. Whate’er thou art, mine art thou, wise or chaste; I shall set hard upon thy marriage-vow, And write revenge high in thy husband’s brow In a strange character.—You may begin, sir.

Men. Signior Claridiana, I hope Signior Rogero thus employed me about a good office: ’twere worthy Cicero’s tongue, a famous oration now; but friendship, that is mutually embraced of the gods, And is Jove’s usher to each sacred synod, 320 Without the which he could not reign in heaven,— That over-goes my admiration, shall not Under-go my censure! These hot flames of rage, that else will be As fire midst your nuptial jollity, Burning the edge off from[165] the present joy, And keep you wake to terror.

Clar. I have not yet swallowed the rhimatrix nor the onocentaur—the rhinoceros[166] was monstrous!

Gui. Sir, be you of the more flexible nature, and confess an error. 331

Clar. I must; the gods of love command, And that bright star her eye, that guides my fate.— Signior Rogero, joy, then, Signior Rogero!

Rog. Signior, sir? O devil!

Tha. Good husband, show yourself a temperate man! Your mother was a woman, I dare swear— No tiger got you, nor no bear was rival In your conception—you seem like the issue The painters limn leaping from Envy’s mouth, 340 That devours all he meets.

Rog. Had the last, or the least syllable Of this more than immortal eloquence Commenced to me when rage had been so high Within my blood that it o’er-topt my soul, Like to the lion when he hears the sound Of Dian’s bowstring in some shady wood, I should have couch’d my lowly limb on earth And held my silence a proud sacrifice.

Clar. Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds; 350 Or name an instrument fit for destruction, That e’er[167] was made to make away a man, I’ll meet thee on the ridges of the Alps,[168] Or some inhospitable wilderness, Stark-naked, at push of pike, or keen curtle-axe, At Turkish sickle, Babylonian saw, The ancient hooks of great Cadwallader, Or any other heathen invention!

Tha. O God bless the man!

Lady Len. Counsel him, good my lord! 360

Men. Our tongues are weary, and he desperate. He does refuse to hear. What shall we do?

Clar. I am not mad—I can hear, I can see, I can feel! But a wise rage in man, wrong’d[169] past compare, Should be well nourish’d, as his virtues are. I’d have it known unto each valiant sprite,[170] He wrongs no man that to himself does right. Catzo,[171] I ha’ done; Signior Rogero, I ha’ done!

Gui. By heaven! This voluntary reconciliation, made 370 Freely and of itself, argues unfeign’d And virtuous knot of love. So, sirs, embrace!

Rog. Sir, by the conscience of a Catholic man, And by our mother Church, that binds And doth atone in amity with God The souls of men, that they with men be one, I tread into the centre all the thoughts Of ill in me toward you, and memory Of what from you might aught disparage me; Wishing unfeignedly it may sink low, 380 And, as untimely births, want power to grow.

Men. Christianly said! Signior, what would you have more?

Clar. And so I swear. You’re honest, onocentaur!

Gui. Nay, see now! Fie upon your turbulent spirit! Did he doo ’t in this form?

Clar. If you think not this sufficient, you shall command me to be reconciled in another form—as a rhimatrix or a rhinoceros.[172]

Men. ’Sblood! what will you do? 389

Clar. Well, give me your hands first: I am friends with you, i’faith. Thereupon I embrace you, kiss your wife, and God give us joy!

[To Thais.

Tha. You mean me and my husband?

Clar. You take the meaning better than the speech, lady.

Rog. The like wish I, but ne’er can be the like, And therefore wish I thee.

Clar. By this bright light, that is deriv’d from thee——

Tha. So, sir, you make me a very light creature!

Clar. But that thou art a blessèd angel, sent Down from the gods t’ atone mortal men, 400 I would have thought deeds beyond all men’s thoughts, And executed more upon his corps. O let him thank the beauty of this eye, And not his resolute swords or destiny.

Gui. What say’st thou, Mizaldus? Come, applaud this jubilee, A day these hundred years before not truly known To these divided factions.

Clar. No, nor this day had it been falsely born, But that I mean to sound it with his horn. 409

Miz. I liked the former jar better. Then they show’d like men and soldiers, now like cowards and lechers.

Gui. Well said, Mizaldus; thou art like the bass viol in a consort,—let the other instruments[173] wish and delight in your highest sense, thou art still grumbling.

Clar. Nay, sweet, receive it [gives a letter to Thais[174]], and in it my heart: And when thou read’st a moving syllable, Think that my soul was secretary to ’t. It is your love, and not the odious wish Of my revenge in styling him a cuckold, Makes me presume thus far. Then read it, fair, 420 My passion’s ample, as your[175] beauties are.

Tha.[176] Well, sir, we will not stick with you.

Gui. And, gentlemen, since it hath hapt so fortunately, I do entreat we may all meet to-morrow In some heroic masque, to grace the nuptials Of the most noble Count of Cyprus.[177]

Men. Who does the young count marry?

Gui. O, sir, Who but the very heir of all her sex, That bears the palm of beauty from ’em all? Others, compared to her, show like faint stars 430 To the full moon of wonder in her face:— The Lady Isabella, the late widow To the deceased and noble Viscount Hermus.

Men. Law you there, widow, there’s one of the last edition, Whose husband yet retains in his cold trunk Some little airing of his noble guest;[178] Yet she a fresh bride as the month of May.

Lady Len. Well, my lord, I am none of these That have my second husband bespoke; My door shall be a testimony of it; 440 And but these noble marriages incite me, My much abstracted presence should have show’d it. If you come to me, hark in your ear, my lord, Look your ladder of ropes be strong, For I shall tie you to your tackling.

Gui. Gentlemen, your answer to the masque.

Omnes. Your honour leads: we’ll follow.

Rog. Signior Claridiana.

Clar. I attend you, sir.

Tha.[179] You’ll be constant? 450

[Exeunt all but Claridiana.

Clar. Above the adamant; the goat’s blood[180] shall not break me. Yet shallow fools and plainer moral men, That understand not what they undertake, Fall in their own snares or come short of vengeance. No; let the sun view with an open face, And afterward shrink in his blushing cheeks, Ashamed and cursing of the fix’d decree, That makes his light bawd to the crimes of men. When I have ended what I now devise, Apollo’s oracle shall swear me wise. 460 Strumpet his wife! branch my false-seeming friend! And make him foster what my hate begot, A bastard, that, when age and sickness seize him, Shall be a corsive[181] to his griping heart. I’ll write to her; for what her modesty Will not permit, nor my adulterate forcing, That blushless herald shall not fear to tell. Rogero shall know yet that his foe’s a man, And, what is more, a true Italian!

[Exit.