Act 4 — SCENE I.

Alsemero’s apartment in the castle.

Enter Beatrice.

Beat. This fellow has undone me endlessly;

Never was bride so fearfully distress’d:

The more I think upon th' ensuing night,

262And whom I am to cope with in embraces,

One who’s^[463] ennobled both in blood and mind,

So clear in understanding,—that’s my plague now,—

Before whose judgment will my fault appear

Like malefactors' crimes before tribunals;

There is no hiding on’t, the more I dive

Into my own distress: how a wise man

Stands for a great calamity! there’s no venturing

Into his bed, what course soe’er I light upon,

Without my shame, which may grow up to danger;

He cannot but in justice strangle me

As I lie by him, as a cheater use me;

’Tis a precious craft to play with a false die

Before a cunning gamester. Here’s his closet;

The key left in’t, and he abroad i' th' park?

Sure ’twas forgot; I'll be so bold as look in’t.

[Opens closet.

Bless me! a right physician’s closet ’tis,

Set round with vials; every one her mark too:

Sure he does practise physic for his own use,

Which may be safely call’d your great man’s wisdom.

What manuscript lies here?

[reads] The Book of Experiment, called Secrets in Nature:^[464]

So ’tis, ’tis so;

[reads] How to know whether a woman be with child or no:

I hope I am not yet; if he should try though!

Let me see, [reads] folio forty-five, here ’tis,

The leaf tuck’d down upon’t, the place suspicious:

[reads] If you would know whether a woman be with child or not, give her two spoonfuls of the white water in glass C—

263Where’s that glass C? O yonder, I see’t now—

[reads] and if she be with child, she sleeps full twelve hours after; if not, not:

None of that water comes into my belly;

I'll know you from a hundred; I could break you now,

Or turn you into milk, and so beguile

The master of the mystery; but I'll look to you.

Ha! that which is next is ten times worse:

[reads] How to know whether a woman be a maid or not:

If that should be applied, what would become of me?

Belike he has a strong faith of my purity,

That never yet made proof; but this he calls

[reads] A merry slight,^[465] but true experiment; the author Antonius Mizaldus. Give the party you suspect the quantity of a spoonful of the water in the glass M, which, upon her that is a maid, makes three several effects; twill make her incontinently^[466] gape, then fall into a sudden sneezing, last into a violent laughing; else, dull, heavy, and lumpish.

Where had I been?

I fear it, yet ’tis seven hours to bed-time.

Enter Diaphanta.

Dia. Cuds, madam, are you here?

Beat. Seeing that wench now,

A trick comes in my mind; ’tis a nice piece

Gold cannot purchase. [Aside.]—I come hither, wench,

To look my lord.

Dia. Would I had such a cause

To look him too! [Aside.]—Why, he’s i' th' park, madam.

Beat. There let him be.

264Dia. Ay, madam, let him compass

Whole parks and forests, as great rangers do,

At roosting-time a little lodge can hold ’em:

Earth-conquering Alexander, that thought the world

Too narrow for him, in th' end had but his pit-hole.

Beat. I fear thou art not modest, Diaphanta.

Dia. Your thoughts are so unwilling to be known, madam!

’Tis ever the bride’s fashion, towards bed-time,

To set light by her joys, as if she ow’d ’em not.^[467]

Beat. Her joys? her fears thou wouldst say.

Dia. Fear of what?

Beat. Art thou a maid, and talk’st so to a maid?

You leave a blushing business behind;

Beshrew your heart for’t!

Dia. Do you mean good sooth, madam?

Beat. Well, if I'd thought upon the fear at first,

Man should have been unknown.

Dia. Is’t possible?

Beat. I'd^[468] give a thousand ducats to that woman

Would try what my fear were, and tell me true

To-morrow, when she gets from’t; as she likes,

I might perhaps be drawn to’t.

Dia. Are you in earnest?

Beat. Do you get the woman, then challenge me,

And see if I'll fly from’t; but I must tell you

This by the way, she must be a true maid,

Else there’s no trial, my fears are not her’s else.

Dia. Nay, she that I would put into your hands, madam,

Shall be a maid.

Beat. You know I should be sham’d else,

Because she lies for me.

Dia. ’Tis a strange humour!

265But are you serious still? would you resign

Your first night’s pleasure, and give money too?

Beat. As willingly as live.—Alas, the gold

Is but a by-bet to wedge in the honour! [Aside.

Dia. I do not know how the world goes abroad

For faith or honesty; there’s both requir’d in this.

Madam, what say you to me, and stray no further;

I've a good mind, in troth, to earn your money.

Beat. You are too quick, I fear, to be a maid.

Dia. How? not a maid? nay, then you urge me, madam;

Your honourable self is not a truer,

With all your fears upon you——

Beat. Bad enough then. [Aside.

Dia. Than I with all my lightsome joys about me.

Beat. I'm glad to hear’t; then you dare put your honesty

Upon an easy trial.

Dia. Easy? any thing.

Beat. I'll come to you straight.

[Goes to the closet.

Dia. She will not search me, will she,

Like the forewoman of a female jury?

Beat. Glass M: ay, this is it. [Brings vial.]— Look, Diaphanta,

You take no worse than I do. [Drinks.

Dia. And in so doing,

I will not question what it is, but take it. [Drinks.

Beat. Now if th' experiment be true, ’twill praise itself,

And give me noble ease: begins already;

[Diaphanta gapes.

There’s the first symptom; and what haste it makes

To fall into the second, there by this time!

[Diaphanta sneezes.

266Most admirable secret! on the contrary,

It stirs not me a whit, which most concerns it.

[Aside.

Dia. Ha, ha, ha!

Beat. Just in all things, and in order

As if ’twere circumscrib’d; one accident

Gives way unto another. [Aside.

Dia. Ha, ha, ha!

Beat. How now, wench?

Dia. Ha, ha, ha! I'm so, so light

At heart—ha, ha, ha!—so pleasurable!

But one swig more, sweet madam.

Beat. Ay, to-morrow,

We shall have time to sit by’t.

Dia. Now I'm sad again.

Beat. It lays itself so gently too! [Aside.]—Come, wench,

Most honest Diaphanta I dare call thee now.

Dia. Pray, tell me, madam, what trick call you this?

Beat. I'll tell thee all hereafter; we must study

The carriage of this business.

Dia. I shall carry’t well,

Because I love the burthen.

Beat. About midnight

You must not fail to steal forth gently,

That I may use the place.

Dia. O, fear not, madam,

I shall be cool by that time: the bride’s place,

And with a thousand ducats! I'm for a justice now,

I bring a portion with me; I scorn small fools.

[Exeunt.

267