Where thou maist sell your holy portion
(Which charitable Providence ordained,
In sacred bountie, for a blessed use),
Alien the gleabe, intaile it to thy loines,
Intombe it in thy grave,

Past resurrection to his native use !

Now, if there be a hell, and such swine sav'd,
Heaven take all that's all my hopes have crav'd.

¶ Enter PIPPO.

Pip. My Simplicias maister.
Lam. Your maister Simplicius.
Pip. Has come to you to sent.

Lam. Has sent to me to come.

Pip. Ha! ha! has bought me a fine dagger, and a hatte and a feather! I can say, As in presenti, now !

Company of Boyes within.

Quadratus, Quadratus, away! away!

Lam. We come, sweet gallants; and grumbling hate lye stil,

And turne phantastique. He that climbes a hill

Must wheele about; the ladder to account

Is slie dissemblance: he that meanes to mount

Must lye all levell in the prospective

Of eager-sighted greatnesse; thou wouldst thrive.

The Venice State is young, loose, and unknit,

Can rellish naught but lushious vanities.

Goe, fit his tooth. O glavering flatterie !

How potent art thou! Front looke briske and sleeke,
That such base durt as you should dare to reeke
In princes nostrils! Well, my sceane is long.

All within. Quadratus!

Qua. I come, hotte blouds. Those that their state would swell,

Must beare a counter-face. The divill and hell
Confound them all! That's all my prayers exact:
So ends our chat ;-sound musick for the act.

ACTUS TERTIUS.

Fra

SCENA PRIMA.

Enter FRANCISCO, halfe drest, in his black doublet and round cap, the rest riche; IACOMO bearing his hatte and feather; ADREAN his doublet and band; RANDOLFO his cloake and staffe. They cloath FRANCISCO whilst BYDETT creepes in and observes them. of this done whilst the Acte is playing.

Much

OR God sake, remember to take speciall markes of me, or you will nere be able to know me.

Adr. Why, man?

Fra. Why, good faith, I scarce know my selfe: already me thinks I should remember to forget my selfe; now I am so shining brave. Indeed Francisco was alwayes a sweete youth, for I am a perfumer, but thus brave. I am an alien to it. Would you make mee like the drownd Albano? Must I bear 't mainly up? Must I bee hee? Ran. What els, man? O, what else?

Iaco. I warrant you, give him but faire riche cloathes, Hee can bee tane, reputed any thing.

Apparail's growne a god, and goes more neate;
Makes men of ragges, which straight he beares aloft,
Like patcht-up scar-crowes to affright the rout
Of the idolatrous vulgar, that worship images,

Stand aw'd and bare-skalp't at the glosse of silkes,
Which, like the glorious Ajax of Lincolnes-Inne
(Survai'd with wonder by me when I lay
Factor in London), lappes up naught but filth
And excrements, that beare the shape of men,
Whose in-side every day would peck and teare,
But that vaine skar-crow cloathes intreates forbeare.
Fra. You would have me take upon me, Albano,
A valiant gallant Venetian burgomasco.

Well my beard, my feather, short sword, and my oth,
Shall doo 't, feare not. What I know a number,
By the sole warrant of a lapy-beard,

A raine beate plume, and a good chop-filling oth,

With an odde French shrugge, and by the Lord, or so,
Ha leapt into sweete captaine with such ease

As you would feart not.

How sits my hat?

Ha!

Ile gage my heart Пle do 't.
Jack, doth my feather wagge?

Iaco. Me thinkes now, in the common sence of fashion, Thou shouldst grow proud, and like a fore-horse view, None but before-hand gallants; as for sides,

And those that ranke in equall file with thee,
Studdy a faint salute, give a strange eye;

But as to those in rere-ward, O be blind!
The world wants eyes-it cannot see behind.

[French?

Fra. Where is the strumpet? Where's the hot-vain'd Lives not Albano? Hath Celia so forgot Albano's love, that she must forth-with wed A runne-about, a skipping French-man ?

Iaco. Now you must grow in heate and stut.

Fra. An odde phantasma―a beggar-a Sir-a who, who, who-What You Will-a straggling go go go gunds -f, f, f, f, fut ·

Adr. Passing like him-passing like him. O'twill strike all dead!

Pan. I am ravished! "Twill be peerles exquisite ! Let him go out instantly!

Iaco. O, not till twy-light; meane time Пle prop up The tottering rumor of Albanos skape,

And safe arrivall; it begins to spread.

If this plot live, Frenchman, thy hopes are dead. [Exeunt. Byd. And if it live, strike of this little head.

¶ Enter ALBANO, with SIIP, his page.

[Exit.

Alb. Can it be? Ist possible? Ist within the bounds of faith? O vilany!

Slip. The clapper of rumor strikes on both sides, ringing out, the French knight is in firme possession of my misteris, your wife.

Alb. Ist possible I should be dead so soone

In her affectes? How long ist since our shipprack?

Slip. Faith, I have little arithmatique in me, yet I remember the storme made mee cast up perfectly the whole sum of all I had receiv'd; three dates before I was liquord soundly; my guts were rinc'd for the heavens. I looke as pale ever since, as if I had tane the diet this spring.

Alb. But how long ist since our ship-wrack?

Slip. Mary, since wee were hung by the heeles on the batch of Cycily, to make a jayle delivery of the sea in our mawes, tis just three monthes. Shall I speake like a poet?-thrice hath the horned mone

Alb. Talke not of hornes. O, Celia! How oft, When thou hast lay'd thy cheeke

uppon my breast,

And with lacivious petulancy sew'd

For hymeneall dalliance, marriage rightes ;