Bal. In good sober sadnesse, sweet mistris, you should have had my thought for a penny: by this crimson satten that cost eleven shillings, thirteene pence, three pence halfepennie a yard, that you should, law!

Ros. What was thy thought, good servant?

Bal. Marrie forsooth, how many strike of pease would feed a hog fat against Christide.

Ros. Paugh! servant, rub out my rheum, it soiles the presence.

Cast. By my wealthiest thought, you grace my shoo with an unmeasured honour: I will preserve the soale of it, as a most sacred relique for this service.

Ros. Ile spit in thy mouth, and thou wilt, to grace thee.
Feli. O that the stomack of this queasie age

Digestes, or brookes such raw unseasoned gobs,
And vomits not them forth. O! slavish sots.
Servant, quoth you? faugh! if a dogge should crave
And beg her service, he should have it straight:
Shee'd give him favours too; to licke her feete,
Or fetch her fanne, or some such drudgery:
A good dogs office, which these amorists
Tryumph of: tis rare, well give her more asse,
More sot, as long as dropping of her nose
Is sworne rich pearle by such low slaves as those.
Ros. Flavia, attend me to attire me.

[Exeunt Rossaline and Flavia. Bal. In sad good earnest, sir, you have toucht the very bare of naked truth; my silk stocking hath a good glosse, and I thanke my planets, my legge is not altogether unpropitiously shap't. There's a word: unpropitiously? I thinke I shall speake unpropitiously as well as any courtier in Italy.

Foro. So helpe me your sweete bounty, you have the most gracefull presence, applausive elecuty, amazing volubility, polisht adornation, delicious affabilitie.

Feli. Whop: fut, how he tickles yon trout under the gilles! you shall see him take him by and by, with groping flattery.

Foro. That ever ravisht the eare of wonder. By your sweete selfe, then whome I knowe not a more exquisite, illustrate, accomplished, pure, respected, ador'd, observed, pretious, reall, magnanimous, bountious: if you have an idle rich cast jerkin, or so, it shall not be cast away, if; hah? heres a foreheade, an eye, a heade, a haire, that would make a or if you have any spare paire of silver spurs, ile doe you as much right in all kinde offices.

Feli. Of a kinde parasite.

Foro. As any of my meane fortunes shall be able to. Bal. As I am a true Christian now, thou hast wonne

the spurres.

Feli. For flattery.

O how I hate that same Egyptian louse;
A rotten maggot, that lives by stinking filth
Of tainted spirits: vengeance to such dogs,
That sprout by gnawing senselesse carion.

Enter ALBERTO.

Alb. Gallants, saw you my mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline? Foro. My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, left the pre

sence even now.

Cast. My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, withdrewe her gratious aspect even now.

Bal. My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, withdrewe her gratious aspect even now.

Feli. Well said, eccho.

Alb. My mistresse, and his mistresse, and your mistresse, and the dogs mistresse: pretious dear heaven, that Alberto lives to have such rivals.

Slid, I have bin searching every private rome,
Corner, and secret angle of the court:
And yet, and yet, and yet she lives conceal'd.
Good sweete Feliche, tell me how to finde
My bright fac't mistresse out.

Feli. Why man, cry out for lanthorne and candle-light. For tis your onely way, to find your bright flaming wench with your light burning torch: for most commonly, these light creatures live in darknesse.

Alb. Away you heretike, youle be burnt for

Feli. Goe, you amorous hound, follow the sent of your mistresse shooe; away.

Foro. Make a faire presence, boyes, advance your lightes: The princesse makes approach.

Bal. And please the gods, now in very good deede, law, you shal see me tickle the measures for the heavens. Doe my hangers showe?

¶ Enter PIERO, ANTONIO, MELLIDA, ROSSALINE, Ga

LEATZO, MATZAGENTE, ALBERTO, and FLAVIA. As they enter, FELICHE and CASTILIO make a ranke for the DUKE to pass through. FOROBOSCO ushers the DUKE to his state: then whilst PIERO speaketh his first speech, MELLIDA is taken by GALEATZO and MATZAGENTE, to daunce; they supporting her: RosSALINE, in like manner, by ALBERTO and BALURDO: FLAVIA, by FELICHE and CASTILIO.

Pie. Beautious Amazon, sit and seat your thoughts

In the reposure of most soft content.

Sound musick there. Nay, daughter, cleare your eyes, From these dull fogs of mistie discontent :

Look sprightly, girl. What? though Antonio's droun'd, That peevish dotard on thy excellence,

That hated issue of Andrugio:

Yet maist thou tryumph in my victories;

Since, loe, the high borne bloodes of Italy

Sue for thy seate of love.

[Let musique sound.

Beautie and youth run descant on loves ground.

Mat. Ladie, erect your gratious simmetry:

Shine in the spheare of sweete affection :
Your eye as heavie, as the heart of night.

Mel. My thoughts are as black as your bearde; my fortunes as ill proportioned as your legs; and all the powers of my minde as leaden as your wit, and as dustie as your face is swarthy.

Gal. Faith, sweet, ile lay thee on the lips for that jest. Mel. I pree thee intrude not on a dead mans right. Gal. No, but the livings just possession.

Thy lips, and love, are mine.

Mel. You nere tooke seizin on them yet: forbeare: There's not a vacant corner of my heart,

But all is fild with deade Antonios losse.

Then urge no more; O leave to love at all;

Tis lesse disgracefull, not to mount, then fall.

Mat. Bright and refulgent ladie, daine your eare:

You see this blade,—had it a courtly lip,

It would divulge my valour, plead my love,
Justle that skipping feeble amorist

Out of your loves seat; I am Matzagent.

Gal. Harke thee, I pray thee taint not thy sweete eare

With that sots gabble; by thy beautious cheeke,
He is the flagging'st bulrush that ere droopt
With each slight mist of raine. But with pleas'd eye
Smile on my courtshippe.

Mel. What said you, sir? alas my thought was fixt
Upon another object. Good, forbeare:

I shall but weepe. Aye me, what bootes a teare!
Come, come, lets daunce. O musicke, thou distill'st
More sweetnesse in us then this jarring world :
Both time and measure from thy straines doe breath,
Whilst from the channell of this durt doth flowe
Nothing but timelesse griefe, unmeasured woe.

Ant. O how impatience cramps my cracked veins,
And cruddles thicke my blood, with boiling rage!
O eyes, why leape you not like thunderbolts,
Or canon bullets in my rivals face;

Oy me infeliche misero, o lamentevol fato?

Alb. What meanes the lady fal upon the ground? Ros. Belike the falling sicknesse. [wilde: Ant. I cannot brooke this sight, my thoughts grow Here lies a wretch, on whome heaven never smilde.

Ros. What, servant, nere a word, and I here man? I would shoot some speach forth, to strike the time With pleasing touch of amorous complement.

Say sweete, what keepes thy minde, what think'st thou on? Alb. Nothing.

Ros. Whats that nothing?

Alb. A womans constancie.

Ros. Good, why, would'st thou have us sluts, and never shift the vestur of our thoughts? Away for shame. Alb. O no, thart too constant to afflict my heart, Too too firme fixed in unmooved scorne.