Act 1 — SCENE III.

Street before the house of Leantio’s Mother.

Enter Leantio.

Lean. Methinks I'm even as dull now at departure,

As men observe great gallants the next day

After a revel;^[1020] you shall see ’em look

533Much of my fashion, if you mark ’em well.

’Tis even a second hell to part from pleasure

When man has got a smack on’t: as many holydays

Coming together make^[1021] your poor heads idle

A great while after, and are said to stick

Fast in their fingers' ends,—even so does game

In a new-married couple; for the time

It spoils all thrift, and indeed lies a-bed

T' invent all the new ways for great expenses.

[Bianca and Mother appear above.

See, and^[1022] she be not got on purpose now

Into the window to look after me!

I've no power to go now, and^[1022] I should be hang’d;

Farewell all business; I desire no more

Than I see yonder: let the goods at key

Look to themselves; why should I toil my youth out?

It is but begging two or three year sooner,

And stay with her continually: is’t a match?

O, fie, what a religion have I leap’d into!

Get out again, for shame! the man loves best

When his care’s most, that shews his zeal to love:

Fondness is but the idiot to^[1023] affection,

That plays at hot-cockles with rich merchants' wives,

Good to make sport withal when the chest’s full,

And the long warehouse cracks. ’Tis time of day

For us to be more wise; ’tis early with us;

And if they lose the morning of their affairs,

They commonly lose the best part of the day:

Those that are wealthy, and have got enough,

’Tis after sunset with ’em; they may rest,

534Grow fat with ease, banquet, and toy, and play,

When such as I enter the heat o' the day,

And I'll do’t cheerfully.

Bian. I perceive, sir,

You’re not gone yet; I've good hope you’ll stay now.

Lean. Farewell; I must not.

Bian. Come, come, pray return;

To-morrow, adding but a little care more,

Will despatch all as well, believe me ’twill, sir.

Lean. I could well wish myself where you would have me;

But love that’s wanton must be rul’d awhile

By that that’s careful, or all goes to ruin:

As fitting is a government in love

As in a kingdom; where ’tis all mere lust,

’Tis like an insurrection in the people,

That, rais’d in self-will, wars against all reason;

But love that is respective for increase

Is like a good king, that keeps all in peace.

Once more, farewell.

Bian. But this one night, I prithee!

Lean. Alas, I'm in for twenty, if I stay,

And then for forty more! I've such luck to flesh,

I never bought a horse but he bore double.

If I stay any longer, I shall turn

An everlasting spendthrift: as you love

To be maintain’d well, do not call me again,

For then I shall not care which end goes forward.

Again, farewell to thee.

Bian. Since it must, farewell too. [Exit Leantio.

Moth. Faith, daughter, you’re to blame; you take the course

To make him an ill husband, troth you do;

And that disease is catching, I can tell you,

535Ay, and soon taken by a young man’s blood,

And that with little urging. Nay, fie, see now,

What cause have you to weep? would I had no more,

That have liv’d threescore years! there were a cause,

And^[1024] ’twere well thought on. Trust me, you’re to blame;

His absence cannot last five days at utmost:

Why should those tears be fetch’d forth? cannot love

Be even as well express’d in a good look,

But it must see her face still in a fountain?

It shews like a country maid dressing her head

By a dish of water: come, ’tis an old custom

To weep for love.

Enter several Boys, several Citizens, and an Apprentice.

First Boy. Now they come, now they come!

Sec. Boy. The duke!

Third Boy. The state[s]!

First Cit. How near, boy?

First Boy. I' the next street, sir, hard at hand.

First Cit. You, sirrah, get a standing for your mistress,

The best in all the city.

Appren. I have’t for her, sir;

’Twas a thing I provided for her over-night,

’Tis ready at her pleasure.

First Cit. Fetch her to’t then:

Away, sir! [Exeunt Boys, Citizens, and Apprentice.

Bian. What’s the meaning of this hurry?

Can you tell, mother?

536Moth. What a memory

Have I! I see by that years come upon me:

Why, ’tis a yearly custom and solemnity,

Religiously observ’d by the Duke and state[s],

To St. Mark’s temple, the fifteenth of April;

See, if my dull brains had not quite forgot it!

’Twas happily question’d of thee; I had gone down else,

Sat like a drone below, and never thought on’t.

I would not, to be ten years younger again,

That you had lost the sight: now you shall see

Our Duke, a goodly gentleman of his years.

Bian. Is he old, then?

Moth. About some fifty-five.

Bian. That’s no great age in man; he’s then at best

For wisdom and for judgment.

Moth. The lord Cardinal,

His noble brother—there’s a comely gentleman,

And greater in devotion than in blood.

Bian. He’s worthy to be mark’d.

Moth. You shall behold

All our chief states of Florence: you came fortunately

Against this solemn day.

Bian. I hope so always. [Music within.

Moth. I hear ’em near us now: do you stand easily?

Bian. Exceeding well, good mother.

Moth. Take this stool.

Bian. I need it not, I thank you.

Moth. Use your will then.

Enter six knights bare-headed, then two cardinals, then the lord Cardinal, then the Duke; after him the states of Florence by two and two, with variety 537of music and song. They pass over the stage in great pomp, and exeunt.

Moth. How like you, daughter?

Bian. ’Tis a noble state;

Methinks my soul could dwell upon the reverence

Of such a solemn and most worthy custom.

Did not the Duke look up? methought he saw us.

Moth. That’s every one’s conceit that sees a duke;

If he look stedfastly, he looks straight at them,

When he, perhaps, good, careful gentleman,

Never minds any, but the look he casts

Is at his own intentions, and his object

Only the public good.

Bian. Most likely so.

Moth. Come, come, we’ll end this argument below.

[Exeunt above.