Another rascall like Albano; say And rumor him return'd, without all deceit ; Qua. Meletza, bella, belletza! Madonna, bella, bella, genteletza! pree-thee kisse this initiated gallant. Mel. How would it please you, I should respect yee. Lam. As any thing, What You Will as nothing. Mel. As nothing! How will you valew my love? Lam. Why, just as you respect me-as nothing; for out of nothing, nothing is bred: so nothing shall not beget any-thing, any-thing bring nothing, nothing bring anything, any-thing and nothing shall be What You Will; my speach mounting to the valieu of my selfe, which is Mel. What, sweete Lam. Your nothing, light as your selfe, scencelesse as your sex, and just as you would ha me-nothing. Mel. Your wit skips a morisco; but, by the brightest spangle of my tier, I vouchsafe you intire unaffected favor, weare this gentle spirit, be not proud. Beleeve it, youth, slow speech swift love doth often shrowd. Lam. My soul's intranc'd; your favor doth transport My scence past scence, by your adored graces, I doat, am rapt! Mel. Nay, if you fall to passion and past scence, My breasts no harbor for your love. Go, packe! Hence! Qua. Uds fut! thou gull! thou inkie scholler! Ha, thou whoreson fop! Wilt not thou clappe into our fashion'd gallantry? My soul's intraunc'd. Fut! couldst not clip and kisse? My soul's intraunc'd! ten thousand crownes at least Fran. Uds f, f, f, fut! let Albano enter. Cel. Sweete breast, you ha playd the wag, yfaith! Qua. Beleeve it, sweete, not I. Mel. Come, you have attired some fiddler like Albano, to fright the perfumer; ther's the jest. Ran. Good fortunes to our sister. Mel. And a speedy marriage. Adr. Then we must wish her no good fortunes. Iaco. For shame! for shame! Straight cleere your house; sweepe out this dust; fling out this trash; returne to modesty. Your husband! I say, your husband Albano, that was supposd drownd, is return'd,—I, and at the dore! Cel. Ha, ha! My husband! Ha, ha! Adr. Laugh you? Shameles! Laugh you? Cel. Come, come, your plots discoverd. Good faith, kinsmen, I am no skold. To shape a perfumer like my husband! O sweete jest! Iaco. Last hopes all knowne. Cel. For pennance of your fault, will you maintaine a jest now? My love hath tired some fiddler like Albano, like the Perfumer. Lav. Not I: by blessednesse, not I. Mel. Come, tis true. Do but support the jest, and you shall surfet with laughter. Iaco. Faith, we condiscend; twill not be crosd, I see. Marriage and hanging go by destiny. Alb. B, b, b, bar out Albano! O adulterous, impudent! Fran. B, b, b, bar out Albano! O thou matchlesse g, g, g, gigglet! ¶ Enter ALBANO and FRANCISCO. Qua. Let them in! Let them in! Now, now, now! Observe, observe! Look, look, look! : Iaco. That sames a fiddler, shapt like thee. Feare naught; bee confident: thou shalt know the jest heereafter be confident; feare naught; blush not; stand firme. Alb. Now, brothers; now, gallants; now, sisters; now call a perfumer a gutter-maister. Bar mee my house; beate mee,—baffle mee,-skoffe mee,—deride me! Ha, that I were a young man againe! By the mas, I would ha you all by the eares, by the mas law. I am Francisco Soranza! am I not, gigglet, strumpet, cutters, swaggerers, brothell haunters? I am Francisco! O God! O slaves! O dogges, dogges, curres! Iaco. No, sir; pray you, pardon us; we confesse you are not Francisco, nor a perfumer, but even Alb. But even Albano. Iaco. But even a fiddler,―a miniken tickler,-a pum, pum! Fran. A scraper, scraper! Art not asham'd, before Albanos face, To clip his spouze? O shamlesse, impudent! Iaco. Well said, perfumer. Alb. A fiddler,—a scraper,—a miniken tickler,—a pum, a pum,—even now a perfumer,-now a fiddler,-I will be even What You Will. Do, do, do, k, k, k, kisse my wife be, be, be, be, fore Qua. Why, would'st have him kisse her behind? Alb. Before my owne f, f, f, face! Iaco. Well done, fiddler! Alb. Ile f, f, fiddle yee! Fran. Dost f, f, floute mee? Alb. Dost m, m, m, mock me? Fran. Ile to the duke. Ile p, p, p, paste up infamies on every post. Iaco. Twas rarely, rarely, done. Away, away! [Exit Francisco. Alb. Ile f, f, follow, though I st, st, st, stut; Ile stumble to the duke: in p, p, plaine language, I pray you use my wife well. Good faith, shee was a kinde soule, and an honest woman once: I was her husband, and was call'd Albano, before I was drown'd; but now, after my resurrection, I am I know not what; indeede, brothers, and indeede, sisters, and in deed, wife, I am What You Will. Do'st thou laugh? dost thou ge, ge, ge, gerne? A p, p, p, perfumer, a fiddler,-a Diabalo, matre de Dios,-Ile f, f, f, tirk you, by the Lord, now, now I will! [Exit Albano. Qua. Ha, ha! tis a good roague, a good roague! Lav. A good roague! Ha! I know him not. Cel. No, good sweete love. Come, come, dissemble not. Lav. Nay, if you dread nothing, happy be my lot. Come, via sest; come, faire cheekes; come, lets dance: The sweetes of love is amorous dalliance. Cel. All friends, all happy friends, my vaines are light. Lyz. Thy praires are now, God send it quickly night! Mel. And then come morning. Lyz. I, thats the hopefull day. Mel. I, there thou hitst it. Qua. Pray God he hit it. Lav. Play. THE DAUNCE. Iaco. They say ther's revells and a play at court. Qua. I, tis this gallants wit. Iaco. Ist good? Ist good? Lam. I feare twill hardly hit. Qua. I like thy feare; wel, twil have better chance; Ther's naught more hatefull then ranck ignorance. Cel. Come, gallants, the table spread; will you to dinner? Qua. Yes; first a maine at dice, and then weele eate. Sim. Truely the best wittes have the bad'st fortune at dice still. Qua. Whole play? whole play? Sim. Not I; in truth I have still exceeding bad fortune at dice. Cel. Come, shall we in? Infayth thou art suddaine sad. Dost feare the shaddow of my long-dead lord? Lav. Shaddow! Ha! I cannot tel. Time tryeth all things: well, well, well! Qua. Would I were Time, then. I thought twas for some thing that the old fornicator was bald behinde. Go; passe on, passe on. [Exeunt. |