Alb. Good, good, good! Go to my brother Adrian: Tell him Ile lurck; stay, tell him Ile lurck: stayNow is Albanos marriage-bed new hung With fresh rich curtaines! Now are my valence Imbost with orient pearle, my gransires gift! Now are the lawne sheetes fum'd with vyolets, To fresh the pawld lascivious appetite ! up, Now worke the cookes, the pastry sweates with slaves; The taylors, starchers, semsters, butchers, pulterors, mercers,—all, all, all,—now, now, now,-none thinke a mee,the f f f French is te ƒfƒ fine man, de ppp pock man, de Slip. Peace, peace! stand conceald. Yonder, by all discriptions, is he would be husband of my mistresse ;your wife! hah, meate, hah! Alb. Uds! so, so, so! soule, thats my velvet cloake! Slip. O peace! observe him: ha! Enter LAVERDURE and BIDETT, talking; QUADRATUS, Bid. 'Tis most true, sir. I heard all; I saw all; I tell all, and I hope you beleeve all. The sweete Francisco Soranza, the perfumer, is by your rivall Iacomo, and your two brothers that must be, when you have married your wife that shall be. Ped. With the grace of Heaven. Bid. Disguis'd so like the drownd Albano, to crosse your sute, that by my little honesty 'twas great consolation to mee to observe them. Passion of joy, of hope! O excellent! cri'd Andrea. Passingly! cri'd Randolfo. Unparraleld, lispes Iacomo. Good, good, good, sayes Andrea. Now, stut, sayes Iacomo. Now stut, sayes Randolfo; whilst the ravisht perfumer had like to have waterd the seames of his breeches for extreame pride of their applause. Lav. Sest, Ile to Celia, and, mauger the nose of her friends, wedde her; bedde her; my first sonne shall bee a captaine, and his name shall bee what it please his godfathers; the second, if hee have a face bad inough, a lawyer; the third, a marchant; and the fourth, if he bee maimd, dull-braind, or hard-shapt, a scholler, for thats your fashion. Qua. Get them; get them, man, first. Now, by the wantonnesse of the night, and I were a wench, I would not ha thee, wert thou an heire, nay (which is more) a foole. Lav. Why, I can rise high: a straight legge, a plumpe thigh, a full vaine, a round cheeke; and, when it pleaseth the firtility of my chinne to be delivered of a beard, 'twill not wrong my kissing, for my lippes are rebels, and stand out. Qua. Ho! but ther's an old fustie proverbe, these great talkers are never good dooers. Lam. Why, what a babell arrogance is this? Men will put by the very stock of fate; Theyle thwart the destiny of marriage, Strive to disturbe the sway of Providence : Qua. Come, youle be snarling now. Lam. As if we had free-will in supernaturall Effects, and that our love or hate Depended not on causes bove the reach Of humaine stature. Qua. I thinke I shall not lend you forty shillings now. Ile stand as confident as Hercules, Lam. Open a bounteous eare, for Пle be free: To strike his head off with the keener edge Of my sharpe spirit. Lav. Roome and good licence: come on! when, when? Lam. Now is my fury mounted. Intend your sences; bend your Fix your eyes; listning up; For Ile make greatnesse quake; Ile tawe the hide Of thick-skind Hugenes. Lav. Tis most gratious; weele observe thee calmely. none. This is the straine that chokes the theaters; Forsooth to raile; this brings your eares to bed; WAR OF thebine. This admiration and applause persues, Who cannot raile, my humors chang'd, 'tis cleare : Bid. Maister, maister, I ha discri'd the Perfumer in Albanos disguise. Looke you! looke you! Rare sport! rare sport! Alb. I can containe my impatience no longer. You, Mounsieur Cavelere, Saint Dennis, you, caprichious sir, Sinio Caranto French braule,—you, that must marry Celia Galanto,-is Albano drown'd now? Goe wander, avant knight-errant, Celia shall bee no cuck-queane, my heire no begger, my plate no pawne,-my land no morgage, my wealth no food for thy luxuries, my house no harbour for thy comrades,-my bedde no bootye for thy lustes! My any thing shall bee thy nothing. Goe hence! packe, packe! avant! caper, caper! aloun, aloun! passe by, passe by! cloake your nose! away! vanish! wander! depart! slink by! away! Lav. Harke you, Perfumer. Tell Iacomo, Randulfo, and Adrean, 'twill not doe;-looke you, say no more, but -'twill not doe. Alb. What Perfumer? what Iacomo? Qua. Nay, assure thee, honest Perfumer, good Francisco, wee know all, man. Goe home to thy civitt boxe; looke to the profit, commodity, or emolument of thy mus-cats taile : : goe, clap on your round cap-my what do you lack, sir, for yfaith, good rogue, alls discri'd! Alb. What Perfumer? what mus-cat? what Francisco? What do you lack? Ist not inough that you kissd my wife? Lav. Inough. Alb. I, inough! and may be, I feare me too much; but you must floute me,—deride me,-scoffe me,-keepe out, -touch not my porche ;-as for my wife! Lav. Stirre to the dore: dare to disturbe the match, And by the Alb. My sword! menace Albano fore his owne dores! Lav. No, not Albano, but Francisco: thus, Perfumer, Ile make you stinke if you stirre a For the rest : well, via, via. [Exeunt Cest. remanet Albano, Slip, Simp. and Holif. Alb. Jesu, Jesu! what intends this? ha! Sim. O God, sir! you lye as open to my understanding as a curtizan. I know you as well Alb. Some body knowes me yet: praise Heaven, somebody knowes me yet! Sim. Why, looke you, sir: I ha paide for my knowing of men and women too, in my dayes: I know you are Francisco Soranza, the perfumer; I, maugre Sinior Satten, I– Alb. Do not tempt my patience. Go to; doe not Sim. I know you dwell in Saint Markes Lane, at the signe of the Mus-cat, as well Alb. Foole, or madd, or drunke, no more! Sim. I know where you were drest, where you were [He bastinadoes Simplicius. Sim. And I tell not my father; if I make you not loose your office of gutter-maister-ship; and you bee skavenger next yeare, well. Come, Holifernes; come, good Holifernes; come, servant. [Exit Sim. Holife. ¶ Enter IACOMO. Alb. Francisco Soranza, and perfumer, and mus-cat, and gutter-maister, hay, hay, hay!-go, go, go!-f, f, f, fut! -Пle to the Duke; and Ile so ti, ti, ti, ticle them! |