The Case is Altered Act 4. Scene 1

Enter Maximilian with soldiers, Chamont,
Camillo, Ferneze, Pacue.

Max.
Lord Chamont, and your va-
liant friend there, I cannot
say, welcome to Milan; your thoughts and
that word are not musical; but I can say,
you are come to Milan.

Pac.
Mort dieu.

Cha.
Garçon!

Max.
Gentlemen (I would call an em-
peror so) you are now my prisoners; I am
sorry, marry this, spit in the face of your
fortunes, for your usage shall be honour-
able.

Cam.
We know it, signior Maximilian;
The fame of all your actions sounds nought
else
But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks.

Max.
It shall do so still, I assure you, and
I will give you reason: there is in this last
action (you know) a noble gentleman of our
party, and a right valiant, semblably pri-
soner to your general, as your honour'd
selves to me, for whose safety this tongue
has given warrant to his honourable father,
the count Ferneze. You conceive me.

Cam.
I, signior.

Max.
Well, then I must tell you your
ransoms be to redeem him. What think
you? your answer.

Cam.
Marry, with my lord's leave, here I
say, signior,
This free and ample offer you have made
Agrees well with your honour, but not ours;
For I think not but Chamont is as well born
As is Ferneze; then, if I mistake not,
He scorns to have his worth so underprised,
That it should need an adjunct in exchange
Of any equal fortune. Noble signior,
I am a soldier, and I love Chamont;
Ere I would bruise his estimation
With the least ruin of mine own respect
In this vile kind, these legs should rot with
irons,
This body pine in prison, till the flesh
Drop from my bones in flakes, like wither'd
leaves,
In heart of autumn, from a stubborn oak.

Max.
Monsieur Gasper, (I take it so is
your name) misprise me not; I will trample
on the heart, on the soul of him that shall
say I will wrong you: what I purpose you
cannot now know, but you shall know, and
doubt not to your contentment. Lord
Chamont, I will leave you, whilst I go in
and present myself to the honourable count;
till my regression, so please you, your noble
feet may measure this private, pleasant, and
most princely walk. Soldiers, regard them
and respect them.

Pac.
O ver bon! excellenta gull, he
tak'a my lord Chamont for monsieur Gas-
pra, and monsieur Gaspra for my lord Cha-
mont. O dis be brave for make a me
laugh'e, ha, ha, ha; O my heart tickla.

Cam.
I, but your lordship knows not what
hard fate
Might have pursu'd us, therefore howsoe'er
The changing of our names was necessary,
And we must now be careful to maintain
This error strongly, which our own device
Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits;
For should we (on the taste of this good
fortune)
Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in
them
A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert
Those honourable courses they intend.

Cha.
True, my dear Gasper; but this
hang-by here
Will (at one time or other) on my soul,
Discover us. A secret in his mouth
Is like a wild bird put into a cage,
Whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.
But, sirrah, if I may but know
Thou utter'st it.

Pac.
Utteria vat, monsieur?

Cha.
That he is Jasper, and I true Cha-
mont.
Pac.
O pardonne moy, fore my tongue
shall put out de secreta,
Shall breed de cankra in my mouth.

Cam.
Speak not so loud, Pacue.

Pac.
Foe, you shall hear fool, for all your
long ear, reguard monsieur: you be de
Chamont, Chamont be Gaspra.

Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco,
Aurelia, Phœnixella, Finio.

Cha.
Peace, here comes Maximilian.

Cam.
O belike that's the count Ferneze,
that old man.

Cha.
Are those his daughters, trow?

Cam.
I sure, I think they are.

Cha.
Fore god, the taller is a gallant lady.

Com.
So are they both, believe me.

Max.
True, my honourable lord, that
Chamont was the father of this man.

Count.
O that may be, for when I lost
my son,
This was but young, it seems.

Fran.
Faith, had Camillo liv'd,
He had been much about his years, my
lord.

Count.
He had indeed. Well, speak no
more of him.

Max.
Signior, perceive you the error?
'twas no good office in us to stretch the re-
membrance of so dear a loss. Count Fer-
neze, let summer sit in your eye; look
chearfully, sweet count; will you do me
the honour to confine this noble spirit within
the circle of your arms?

Count.
Honour'd Chamont, reach me
your valiant hand;
I could have wish'd some happier accident
Had made the way unto this mutual know-
ledge
Which either of us now must take of other;
But sure it is the pleasure of our fates,
That we should thus be rack'd on fortune's
wheel.
Let us prepare with steeled patience
To tread on torment, and with minds con-
firm'd,
Welcome the worst of envy.

Max.
Noble lord, 'tis thus. I have here
(in mine honour) set this gentleman free,
without ransom; he is now himself, his va-
lour hath deserved it, in the eye of my judg-
ment. Monsieur Gasper, you are dear to
me: fortuna non mutat genus. But to the
main, if it may square with your lordship's
liking, his love, I could desire that he were
now instantly employed to your noble ge-
neral in the exchange of Ferneze for your-
self, it is the business that requires the tender
hand of a friend.

Count.
I, and it would be with more
speed effected, if he would undertake it.

Max.
True, my lord. Monsieur Gasper,
how stand you affected to this motion?

Cha.
My duty must attend his lordship's
will.

Max.
What says the lord Chamont?

Cam.
My will doth then approve what
these have urg'd.

Max.
Why there is good harmony, good
musick in this. Monsieur Gasper, you shall
protract no time, only I will give you a bowl
of rich wine to the health of your general,
another to the success of your journey, and
a third to the love of my sword. Pass.

[ Exeunt all but Aurelia and Phœnixella.

Aur.
Why how now, sister, in a motly
muse?
Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see.
Faith, this brown study suits not with your
black;
Your habit and your thoughts are of two
colours.

Phœ.
Good faith, methinks that this young
lord Chamont
Favours my mother, sister, does he not?

Aur.
A motherly conceit; O blind ex-
cuse,
Blinder than love himself. Well, sister, well;
Cupid has ta'en his stand in both your eyes,
The case is alter'd.

Phœ.
And what of that?

Aur.
Nay, nothing but a saint.
Another Bridget, one that for a face
Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth
swim

The very sweetest cream of modesty.
You to turn tippet! fie, fie; will you give
A packing penny to virginity.
I thought you'd dwell so long in Cyprus
isle,
You'd worship madam Venus at the length:
But come, the strongest fall, and why not
you?
Nay, do not frown.

[ Exit.

Phœ.
Go, go, you fool.

Aur.
Well, I may jest, or so; but Cupid
knows
My taking is as bad, or worse than hers.
O, monsieur Gasper, if thou be'st a man,
Be not afraid to court me; do but speak,
Challenge thy right, and wear it; for I swear,
Till thou arriv'dst, ne'er came affection

[ Exit.

Enter Pacue, Finio.

Fin.
Come on, my sweet finical Pacue,
the very prime
Of pages, here's an excellent place for us to
practise in;
Nobody sees us here; come, let's to it.

Enter Onion.

Pac.
Contenta; reguarde vou le premier.

Oni.
Sirrah, Finio.

Pac.
Mort dieu le pesant.

Oni.
Didst thou see Valentine?

Fin.
Valentine! no,

Oni.
No!

Fin.
No. Sirrah, Onion, whither goest?

Oni.
O I am vext; he that would trust
any of those lying travellers.

Fin.
I prithee stay, good Onion.

Pac.
Monsieur Onion, vene ca, come hi-
dera, je vou pre. By gar, me ha see two,
tree, four hundra tousand of your cousan
hang. Lend me your hand, shall pray for
know you bettra.

Oni.
I thank you, good signior Parla
vou. O that I were in another world, in the
Ingies, or somewhere, that I might have
room to laugh.

Pac.
A we fort boon; stand, you be
deere now, me come, Under the arm.
Bon jour, monsieur.

Fin.
Good morrow, good signior.

Pac.
By gar, be mush glad for see you.

Fin.
I return you most kind thanks, sir.

Oni.
How, how! 'sblood this is rare.

Pac.
Nay, shall make you say rare, by
and by; reguard Monsienr The shoulder.

Fin.
Signior Pacue.

Pac.
Dieu vou gard, monsieur.

Fin.
God save you, sweet signior.

Pac.
Monsieur Onion, is not fort boon.

Oni.
Beane, quoth he! would I were in
debt of a pottle of beans, I could do as
much.

Fin.
Welcome, signior; what's next?

Pack.
O here; voy de grand admiration,
as should meet perchance monsieur Finno.

Fin.
Monsieur Pacue.

Pac.
Jesu! by ga, who think we shall
meete here?

Fin.
By this hand, I am not a little proud
of it, sir.

Oni.
This trick is only for the chamber,
it cannot be cleverly done abroad.

Pac.
Well, what say you for dis den,
monsieur?

Fin.
Nay, pray, sir.

Pac.
Par may foy vou bein encounters.

Fin.
What do you mean, sir? let your
glove alone.

Pac.
Comen se porte la sante?

Fin.
Faith, exceeding well, sir.

Pac.
Trot, be mush joy for hear heire.

Fin.
And how is it with you, sweet sig-
nior Pacue?

Pac.
Fat comme vou voyez.

Oni.
Young gentlemen, spirits of blood,
if ever you'll taste of a sweet piece of mut-
ton, do Onion a good turn now.

Pac.
Que que, parla monsieur, what ist?

Oni.
Faith, teach me one of these tricks.

Pac.
O me shall do presently; stand you
deere, you signior deer, myself is here; so,
fort bein: now I parle to monsieur Onion,
Onion pratla to you, you speaka to me, so,
and as you parle, change the bonet. Mon-
sieur Onion.

Oni.
Monsieur Pacue.

Pac.
Pray be covera.

Oni.
Nay, I beseech you, sir.

Fin.
What do you mean?

Pac.
Pardon moy, shall be so.

Oni.
O god, sir.

Fin.
Not I, in good faith, sir.

Pac.
By gar, you must.

Oni.
It shall be yours.

Fin.
Nay, then you wrong me.

Oni.
Well, and ever I come to be great —

Pac.
You be big enough for de Onion
already.

Oni.
I mean a great man.

Fin.
Then thou'dst be a monster.

Oni.
Well, god knows not what fortune
may do, command me, use me from the
soul to the crown, and the crown to the
soul; meaning not only from the crown of
the head, and the sole of the foot, but also
the foot of the mind and the crowns of the
purse. I cannot stay now, young gentle-
men, but —— time was, time is, and time
shall be.

[ Exeunt.

Enter Chamont, Camillo.

Cha.
Sweet Gasper, I am sorry we must
part;
But strong necessity enforces it.
Let not the time seem long unto my friend,
Till my return; for by our love I swear
(The sacred sphere wherein our souls are
knit)
I will endeavour to effect this business
With all industrious care and happy speed.

Cam.
My lord, these circumstances would
come well
To one less capable of your desert
Than I, in whom your merit is confirm'd
With such authentical and grounded proofs.

Cha.
Well, I will use no more. Gasper,
adieu.

Cam.
Farewell, my honour'd lord.

Cha.
Commend me to the lady, my
good Gasper.

Cam.
I had remember'd that, had not
you urg'd it.

Cha.
Once more adieu, sweet Gasper.

[ Exit Camillo.

Cam.
My good lord.

Cha.
Thy virtues are more precious than
thy name;
Kind gentleman, I would not sell thy love
For all the earthly objects that mine eyes
Have ever tasted. Sure thou art nobly
born,
However fortune hath obscur'd thy birth;
For native honour sparkles in thine eyes.
How may I bless the time wherein Cha-
mont,
My honour'd father, did surprize Vicenza,
Where this my friend (known by no name)
was found,
Being then a child, and scarce of power to
speak,
To whom my father gave this name of Gasper,
And as his own respected him to death;
Since when we two have shar'd our mutual
fortunes
With equal spirits, and but death's rude hand,
No violence shall dissolve the sacred band.

[ Exit.

Enter Juniper in his shop, singing. To him
Onion.

Oni.
Fellow, Juniper, no more of thy
songs and sonnets; sweet Juniper, no more
of thy hymns and madrigals; thou sing'st,
but I sigh.

Junip.
What's the matter, Peter, ha?
what in an academy still! still in sable and
black costly array, ha?

Oni.
Prithee rise, mount, mount, sweet
Juniper; for I go down the wind, and yet I
puff, for I am vext.

Junip.
Ha, bully! vext! what, intoxi-
cate! is thy brain in a quintessence, an
idea, a metamorphosis, an apology, ha,
rogue? Come, this love feeds upon thee, I
see by thy cheeks, and drinks healths of
vermilion tears, I see by thine eyes.

Oni.
I confess Cupid's carouse, he plays
super negulum with my liquor of life.

Junip.
Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupid's
gull; go to; no more of this contempla-
tions and calculations; mourn not, for Ra-
chel's thine own.

Oni.
For that let the higher powers work;
but sweet Juniper, I am not sad for her, and
yet for her in a second person, or if not, yet
so in a third.

Junip.
How! second person! away,
away. In the crotchets already! longitude
and latitude! what second? what person?
ha?

Oni.
Juniper, I'll bewray myself before
thee, for thy company is sweet unto me;
but I must intreat thy helping hand in the
case.

Junip.
Tut, no more of this surquedry;
I am thine own ad unguem, upsie freeze 1;
pell mell, come, what case? what case?

Oni.
For the case, it may be any man's
case, as well as mine. Rachel I mean;
but I'll meddle with her anon; in the mean
time, Valentine is the man has wronged
me.
Junip.
How! my Ingle wrong thee! is't
possible!

Oni.
Your Ingle! hang him, infidel.
Well, and if I be not revenged on him, let
Peter Onion (by the infernal gods) be turned
to a leek, or a scalion. I spake to him for a
ditty for this handkerchief.

Junip.
Why, has he not done it?

Oni.
Done it! not a verse, by this hand.

Junip.
O in diebus illis! O preposterous!
well, come, be blith; the best inditer of
them all is sometimes dull. Fellow Onion,
pardon mine Ingle; he is a man has imper-
fections and declinations, as other men
have; his muse sometimes cannot curvet,
nor prognosticate and come off, as it should;
no matter, I'll hammer out a paraphrase for
thee myself.

Oni.
No, sweet Juniper, no; danger doth
breed delay; love makes me choleric, I
can bear no longer.

Junip.
Not bear what? my mad meridian
slave. Not bear what?

Oni.
Cupid's burden, 'tis too heavy, too
tolerable; and as for the handkerchief and
the posie, I will not trouble thee; but if
thou wilt go with me into her father's back-
side, old Jaques' back-side, and speak for me
to Rachel, I will not be ingratitude; the old
man is abroad and all.

Junip.
Art thou sure on't?

Oni.
As sure an obligation.

Junip.
Let's away then; come, we spend
time in a vain circumference; trade, I
casheer thee till to-morrow: fellow Onion,
for thy sake I finish this workiday.

Oni.
God a mercy, and for thy sake I'll
at any time make a holiday.

[ Exeunt.

Enter Angelo, Rachel.

Ang.
Nay, I prithee, Rachel, I come to
comfort thee,
Be not so sad.

Rach.
O signior Angelo,
No comfort but his presence
can remove
This sadness from my heart.

Ang.
Nay, then you're fond,
And what that strength of judgment and
election
That should be attendant on your years and
form.
Will you, because your lord is taken prisoner,
Blubber and weep, and keep a peevish stir,
As though you would turn turtle with the
news?
Come, come, be wise. 'Sblood say your
lord should die,
And you go mar your face as you begin,
What would you do, trow? who would
care for you?
But this it is, when nature will bestow
Her gifts on such as know not how to use
them;
You shall have some, that had they but once
quarter
Of your fair beauty, they would make it
shew
A little otherwise than you do this,
Or they would see the painter twice an
hour;
And I commend them I, that can use art
With such judicial practice.

Rach.
You talk idly;
If this be your best comfort, keep it still,
My senses cannot feed on such sour cates.

Ang.
And why, sweet heart?

Rach.
Nay, leave, good signior.

Ang.
Come, I have sweeter viands yet
in store.

Enter Onion and Juniper.

Junip.
In any case, mistress Rachel.

Ang.
Rachel!

Rach.
God's pity, signior Angelo, I hear
my father; away for God's sake.

Ang.
'Sblood, I am bewitch'd, I think;
this is twice now I have been served thus.

[ Exit.

Rach.
Pray God he meet him not.

[ Exit Rachel.

Oni.
O brave! she's yonder: O ter-
rible! she's gone.

Junip.
Yea, so nimble in your dilemmas,
and your hyperboles!
Hay my love! O my love at the first sight,
by the mass!

Oni.
O how she scudded! O sweet scud,
how she tripped! O delicate trip and go!

Junip.
Come, thou art enamoured with
the influence of her profundity; but, sirrah,
hark a little.

Oni.
O rare! what? what? passing,
i'faith! what is't? what is't?

Junip.
What wilt thou say now, if Rachel
stand now, and play hity-tity through the
key-hole, to behold the equipage of thy
person?

Oni.
O sweet equipage! try, good Ju-
niper, tickle her, talk, talk; O rare!

Junip.
Mistress Rachel, (watch then if her
father come;)
Rachel! Madona! Rachel! No.

Oni.
Say I am here; Onion, or Peter, or
so.

Junip.
No, I'll knock; we'll not stand
upon horizons and tricks, but fall roundly to
the matter.

Oni.
Well said, sweet Juniper. Hori-
zons! hang 'em, knock, knock.

Rach.
Who's there! father?

Junip.
Father! no; and yet a father, if
you'll please to be a mother.

Oni.
Well said, Juniper; to her again; a
smack or two more of the mother.

Junip.
Do you hear, sweet soul, sweet
radamant, sweet mathavel? one word, Mel-
pomene, are you at leisure?

Rach.
At leisure! what to do?

Junip.
To do what! to do nothing, but
to be liable to the extasy of true love's exi-
gent, or so; you smell my meaning.

Oni.
Smell! filthy, fellow Juniper, filthy.
Smell! O most odious!

Junip.
How filthy?

Oni.
Filthy by this finger. Smell! smell
a rat, smell a pudding. Away, these tricks
are for trulls; a plain wench loves plain
dealing; I'll upon her myself, smell to
march-pain wench.

Junip.
With all my heart; I'll be legiti-
mate and silent as an apple-squire; I'll see
nothing, and say nothing.

Oni.
Sweet heart! sweet heart!

Junip.
And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha.

Jaques within.
What Rachel! my girl,
what Rachel!

Oni.
God's lid.

Jaq. Within
What Rachel!

Rach. Within
Here I am.

Oni.
What rakehel calls Rachel? O
treason to my love!

Junip.
It's her father, on my life! how
shall we intrench and edify ourselves from
him?

Oni.
O coney-catching Cupid!

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
How is my back-side? where? what
come they for?

[ Onion gets up into a tree.

What are they? Rachel! thieves! thieves!
Stay, villain, slave. Rachel, untie my dog.
Nay, thief, thou canst not 'scape.

Junip.
I pray you, sir.

Oni.
Ah pitiful Onion! that thou hadst a
rope.

Jaq.
Why Rachel! when I say, let loose
my dog,
Garlick, my mastiff, let him loose, I say.

Junip.
For god's sake hear me speak,
keep up your cur.

Oni.
I fear not Garlick, he'll not bite
Onion his kinsman; pray God he come out,
and then they'll not smell me.

Jaq.
Well then deliver; come, deliver,
slave.

Junip.
What should I deliver?

Jaq.
O thou wouldst have me tell thee,
wouldst thou? Shew me thy hands, what
hast thou in thy hands?

Junip.
Here be my hands.

Jaq.
Stay, are thy fingers-ends begrim'd
with dirt? no, thou hast wip'd them.

Junip.
Wip'd them!
Jaq. I, thou villain; thou art a subtil
knave. Put off thy shoes; come, I will see
them;2 give me a knife here, Rachel, I'll
rip the soles.

Oni.
No matter, he's a cobler, he can
mend them.

Junip.
What, are you mad? are you de-
testable? would you make an anatomy of
me? think you I am not true orthography?

Jaq.
Orthography, anatomy!

Junip.
For God's sake be not so invio-
lable, I am no ambuscado; what predica-
ment call you this? why do you intimate so
much?

Jaq.
I can feel nothing.

Oni.
By'r lady, but Onion feels something.

Jaq.
Soft, sir, you are not yet gone;
shake your legs, come, and your arms, be
brief: stay, let me see these drums, these
kilderkins, these bombard slops, what is it
charms 'em so.

Junip.
Nothing but hair.

Jaq.
That's true, I had almost forgot this
rug, this hedgehog's nest, this hay-mow,
this bear's-skin, this heath, this furze-bush.

Junip.
O let me go, you tear my hair,
you revolve my brains and understanding.

Jaq.
Heart, thou art somewhat eas'd;
half of my fear
Hath ta'en his leave of me, the other half
Still keeps possession in despight of hope,
Until these amorous eyes court my fair
gold.
Dear, I come to thee; friend, why art not
not gone?
Avoid, my soul's vexation; Satan, hence;
Why do'st thou stare on me? why do'st
thou stay!

Why por'st thou on the ground with thie-
vish eyes?
What seest thou there, thou cur? what
gap'st thou at?
Hence from my house. Rachel, send Gar-
lick forth.

Junip.
I am gone, sir, I am gone; for
god's sake stay.

[ Exit Juniper.

Junip.
Pack; and thank God thou 'scap'st
so well away.

Oni.
If I escape this tree, destinies I defy
you.

Jaq.
I cannot see, by any characters
Writ on this earth, that any felon foot
Hath ta'en acquaintance with this hallow'd
ground.
None sees me; knees, do homage to your
lord.
'Tis safe, 'tis safe; it lies and sleeps so
soundly,
'Twould do one good to look on't. If
this bliss
Be given to any man that hath much gold,
Justly to say 'tis safe, I say 'tis safe.
O what a heavenly round these two words
dance
Within me and without me; first I think 'em,
And then I speak 'em; then I watch their
sound,
And drink it greedily with both mine eyes:
Then think, then speak, then drink their
sound again,
And racket round about this body's court,
These two sweet words, 'tis safe. Stay, I
will feed
My other senses. O how sweet it smells!

Oni.
I mar'l he smells not Onion, being
so near it.

Jaq.
Down to thy grave again, thou
beauteous ghost,
Angels, men say, are spirits; spirits be
Invisible; bright angels, are you so?
Be you invisible to every eye,
Save only these: sleep, I'll not break your
rest,
Though you break mine. Dear saints,
adieu, adieu,
My feet part from you, but my soul dwells
with you.

[ Exit.

Oni.
Is he gone? O fortune my friend,
and not fortune my foe,
I come down to embrace thee, and kiss thy
great toe.

Enter Juniper.

Junip.
Fellow Onion! Peter!

Oni.
Fellow Juniper.

Junip.
What's the old panurgo gone, de-
parted cosmografied, ha?

Oni.
O, I; and hark, sirrah. Shall I tell
him? no.

Junip.
Nay, be brief, and declare; stand
not upon conundrums now: thou knowest
what contagious speeches I have suffered for
thy sake, and he should come again and in-
vent me here.

Oni.
He says true, it was for my sake, I
will tell him. Sirrah, Juniper! and yet I
will not.

Junip.
What sayest thou, sweet Onion?

Oni.
And thou hadst smelt the scent of
me when I was in the tree, thou wouldst not
have said so: but, sirrah, the case is altered
with me, my heart has given love a box of
the ear, made him kick up his heels, i'faith.

Junip.
Sayest thou me so, mad Greek!
how haps it? how chances it?

Oni.
I cannot hold it, Juniper; have an
eye, look, have an eye to the door; the old
proverb's true, I see, Gold is but muck.
Nay, godso, Juniper, to the door; an
eye to the main chance; here, you slave,
have an eye.

Junip.
O inexorable! O infallible! O in-
tricate, divine, and superficial fortune!

Oni.
Nay, it will be sufficient anon;
here, look here!

Junip.
O insolent good luck! how didst
thou produce the intelligence of the gold
minerals?

Oni.
I'll tell thee that anon; here, make
shift, convey, cram. I'll teach you how
you shall call for Garlick again, i'faith.

Junip.
'Sblood what shall we do with all
this? we shall never bring it to a consump-
tion.

Oni.
Consumption! why we'll be most
sumptuously attired, man.

Junip.
By this gold, I will have three or
four most stigmatical suits presently.

Oni.
I'll go in my foot-cloth, I'll turn
gentleman.

Junip.
So will I.

Oni.
But what badge shall we give, what
cullisen?3Junip.
As for that, let's use the infidelity
and commiseration of some harrot of arms,
he shall give us a gudgeon.

Oni.
A gudgeon! a scutcheon thou
wouldst say, man.

Junip.
A scutcheon, or a gudgeon, all is
one.

Oni.
Well, our arms be good enough,
let's look to our legs.

Junip.
Content, we'll be jogging.

Oni.
Rachel, we retire; Garlick, Godb'ye.

Junip.
Farewell, sweet Jaques.

Oni.
Farewell, sweet Rachel; sweet dog,
adieu.

[ Exeunt.

Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia,
Phœnixella, Pacue.

Max.
Nay, but sweet count.

Count.
Away, I'll hear no more;
Never was man so palpably abus'd,
My son so basely marted, and myself
Am made the subject of your mirth and
scorn.

Max.
Count Ferneze, you tread too hard
upon my patience,
Do not persist, I advise your lordship.

Count.
I will persist, and unto thee I
speak;
Thou, Maximilian, thou hast injur'd me.

Max.
Before the Lord: —

Aur.
Sweet signior.

Phœ.
O my father.

Max.
Lady, let your father thank your
beauty.

Pac.
By gar, me shall be hang for tella
dis same,
Me tella mademoiselle, she tell her fadera.

Count.
The true Chamont set free, and
one left here
Of no descent, clad barely, in his name.
Sirrah, boy, come hither, and be sure you
speak the simple truth.

Pac.
O pardone moy, monsieur.

Count.
Come, leave you pardons, and
directly say,
What villain is the same that hath usurpt
The honour'd name and person of Chamont.

Pac.
O monsieur, no point villain, brave
chevalier, Monsieur Gasper.

Count.
Monsieur Gasper!
On what occasion did they change their
names?
What was their policy or their pretext?

Pac.
Me canno tell, par ma foy, mon-
sieur.

Max.
My honourable lord.

Count.
Tut, tut, be silent.

Max.
Silent, count Ferneze! I tell thee,
if Amurath, the great Turk, were here, I
would speak, and he should hear me.

Count.
So will not I.

Max.
By my father's hand, but thou
shalt, count. I say, till this instant I was
never touch'd in my reputation. Hear me,
you shall know that you have wrong'd me,
and I will make you acknowledge it; if I
cannot, my sword shall.

Count.
By heaven I will not, I will stop
mine ears,
My senses lothe the savour of thy breath;
'Tis poison to me; I say, I will not hear.
What shall I know? 'tis you have injur'd
me.
What will you make? make me acknowledge it.
Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd coun-
terfeit.

Enter serving-man with Camillo.
I'll make him to your face approve your
wrongs.
Come on, false substance, shadow to Cha-
mont,4
Had you none else to work upon but me?
Was I your fittest project? well, confess

What you intended by this secret plot,
And by whose policy it was contriv'd.
Speak truth, and be intreated courteously;
But double with me, and resolve to prove
The extremest rigour that I can inflict.

Cam.
My honour'd lord, hear me with
patience,
Nor hope of favour, nor the fear of torment,
Shall sway my tongue from uttering of
truth.

Count.
'Tis well, proceed then.

Cam.
The morn before this battle did
begin,
Wherein my lord Chamont and I were ta'en,
We vow'd one mutual fortune, good or bad,
That day should be embraced of us both;
And urging that might worse succeed our
vow,
We there concluded to exchange our names.

Count.
Then Maximilian took you for
Chamont.

Cam.
True, noble lord.

Count.
'Tis false, ignoble wretch,
'Twas but a complot to betray my son.

Max.
Count, thou lyest in thy bosom,
count.

Count.
Lye!

Cam.
Nay, I beseech you, honour'd gen-
tlemen,
Let not the untimely ruin of your love
Follow these slight occurrents; be assur'd
Chamont's return will heal these wounds
again,
And break the points of your too piercing
thoughts.

Count.
Return! I, when? when will Cha-
mont return?
He'll come to fetch you, will he? I, 'tis
like.
You'd have me think so, that's your policy.
No, no, young gallant, your device is stale;
You cannot feed me with so vain a hope.

Cam.
My lord, I feed you not with a vain
hope,
I know assuredly he will return,
And bring your noble son along with him.

Max.
I, I dare pawn my soul he will re-
turn.

Count.
O impudent derision! open scorn!
Intolerable wrong! is't not enough
That you have play'd upon me all this while,
But still to mock me, still to jest at me?
Fellows, away with him; thou ill-bred slave,
That sett'st no difference 'twixt a noble
spirit
And thy own slavish humour; do not think
But I'll take worthy vengeance on thee,
wretch.

Cam.
Alas, these threats are idle, like the
wind,
And breed no terror in the guiltless mind.

Count.
Nay thou shalt want no torture, so
resolve;
Bring him away.

Cam.
Welcome the worst, I suffer for a
friend,
Your tortures will, my love shall never, end.

[ Exeunt.

Manent Maximilian, Aurelia, Phœnixella,
Pacue.

Phœn.
Alas! poor gentleman, my father's
rage
Is too extreme, too stern and violent.
O that I knew with all my strongest powers
How to remove it from thy patient breast!
But that I cannot, yet my willing heart
Shall minister, in spight of tyranny,
To thy misfortune; something there is in
him
That doth enforce the strange affection
With more than common rapture in my
breast:
For being but Jasper, he is still as dear
To me, as when he did Chamont appear.

[ Exit Phœnixella.

Aur.
But in good sadness, signior, do you
think
Chamont will e'er return?

Max.
Do I see your face, lady?

Aur.
I, sure, if love has not blinded you.

Max.
That is a question; but I will as-
sure you no: I can see, and yet love is in
mine eye. Well, the count your father
simply hath dishonour'd me, and this steel
shall engrave it on his burgonet.

Aur.
Nay, sweet signior.

Max.
Lady, I do prefer my reputation to
my life;
But you shall rule me. Come, let's march.

[ Exit Maximilian.

Aur.
I'll follow, signior. O sweet queen
of love!
Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou fair
fortune,
Who (more to honour my affections)
Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamont!
Let both your flames now burn in one
bright sphere,
And give true light to my aspiring hopes:
Hasten Chamont's return, let him affect me,
Though father, friends, and all the world
reject me.

[ Exit.

Enter Angelo, Christophero.

Ang.
Sigh for a woman! would I fold
mine arms,
Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake,

Pine and look pale, make love walks in the
night,
To steal cold comfort from a day-star's eyes.
Kit, thou'rt a fool; wilt thou be wise; then,
lad,
Renounce this boy-god's nice idolatry,
Stand not on compliment, and wooing
tricks;
Thou lov'st old Jaques's daughter, dost thou?

Chr.
Love her!

Ang.
Come, come, I know't; be rul'd,
and she's thine own.
Thou'lt say, her father Jaques, the old
beggar,
Hath pawn'd his word to thee, that none
but thou
Shalt be his son-in-law.

Chr.
He has.

Ang.
He has!
Wilt thou believe him, and be made a cook,
To wait on such an antique weather-cock;
While he is more inconstant than the sea,
His thoughts, Camelion-like, change every
minute.
No, Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away,
Wed her, and bed her, and when that is
done,
Then say to Jaques, shall I be your son?
But come, to our device; where is this
gold?

Chr.
Here, signior Angelo.

Ang.
Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden
drops;
Let these bald French crowns be uncover'd,
In open sight to do obeysance
To Jaques' staring eyes when he sets forth;
The needy beggar will be glad of gold.
So now keep them aloof, and as he treads
This gilded path, stretch out his ambling
hopes
With scattering more and more, and as thou
goest,
Cry Jaques, Jaques.

Chr.
Tush, let me alone.

Ang.
But first, I'll play the ghost, I'll call
him out;
Kit, keep aloof.

Chr.
But, signior Angelo,
Where will yourself and Rachel stay for me,
After the jest is ended?

Ang.
Mass, that's true,
At the old priory behind St. Foy's.

Chr.
Agreed, no better place: I'll meet
you there.

Ang.
Now to this geer, — Jaques! Jaques!
what Jaques!

Jaq. within.
Who calls? who's there?

Ang.
Jaques!

Jaq. within.
Who calls?

Ang.
Steward, he comes, he comes,
Jaques.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
What voice is this?
No body here? was I not call'd? I was;
And one cry'd Jaques with a hollow voice.

I was deceiv'd; no, I was not deceiv'd.
See, see, it wasan angel call'd me forth.
Gold, gold, man-making gold! another star!
Drop they from heav'n? no, no, my house,
I hope,
Is haunted with a fairy. My dear Lar,
My houshold god, my fairy, on my knees.

[ Exit Christophero.

Chr. Jaques!

Jaq.
My Lar doth call me; O sweet
voice,
Musical as the spheres! see, see, more gold!

Chr. within.
Jaques!

Enter Rachel.

Jaq.
What Rachel, Rachel, lock my door,
look to my house.

Chr. within.
Jaques!

Jaq.
Shut fast my door;
A golden crown, Jaques shall be a king.

[ Exit.

Ang.
To a fool's paradise that path will
bring
Thee and thy houshold Lar.

Rach.
What means my father?
I wonder what strange humour ——

Ang.
Come, sweet soul,
Leave wondering, start not, 'twas I laid this
plot,
To get your father forth.

Rach.
O Angelo!

Ang.
O me no O's, but hear; my lord,
your love,
Paulo Ferneze, is return'd from war,
Lingers at Pont Valerio, and from thence,
By post, at midnight last, I was conjur'd
To man you thither. Stand not on replies,
A horse is saddled for you, will you go?
And I am for you, if you will stay, why so.

Rach.
O Angelo, each minute is a day
Till my Ferneze come; come, we'll away,
sir.

Ang.
Sweet soul, I guess thy meaning by
thy looks;
At Pont Valerio thou thy love shalt see,
But not Ferneze. Steward, fare you well;
You wait for Rachel too, when can you tell?

[ Exeunt.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
O in what golden circle have I
danc'd!
Milan, these od'rous and enflower'd fields
Are none of thine; no, here's Elizium;
Here blessed ghosts do walk; this is the
court
And glorious palace, where the god of gold
Shines like the sun of sparkling majesty.
O my fair-feather'd, my red-breasted birds,
Come flie with me, I'll bring you to a choir,
Whose concert being sweeten'd with your
sound,
The musick will be fuller, and each hour
The ears shall banquet with your harmony.
O! O! O!

Enter Christophero.

Chr.
At the old priory behind St. Foy's,
That was the place of our appointment, sure;
I hope he will not make me lose my gold,
And mock me too: perhaps they are within;
I'll knock.

Jaq.
O god, the case is alter'd!

Chr.
Rachel! Angelo! signior Angelo!

Jaq.
Angels! I, where? mine angels!
where's my gold?
Why Rachel! O thou thievish Canibal!
Thou eat'st my flesh in stealing of my gold.

Chr.
What gold?

Jaq.
What gold? Rachel! call help,
come forth!
I'll rip thine entrails, but I'll have my gold.
Rachel! why com'st thou not? I am un-
done.
Ah me, she speaks not! thou has slain my
child.

[ Exit.

Christ.
What is the man possest, trow!
this is strange!
Rachel, I see, is gone with Angelo.
Well, I will once again into the priory,
And see if I can meet them.

[ Exit Christophero.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
'Tis too true,
Th'ast made away my child, thou hast my gold:
O what hiena call'd me out of doors?
The thief is gone, my gold's gone, Rachel's
gone,
All's gone! save I that spend my cries in vain;
But I'll hence too, and die, or end this pain.

[ Exit.

Enter Juniper, Onion, Finio, Valentine.

Junip.
'Swounds, let me go; hey catso,
catch him alive; I call, I call, boy; I come,
I come, sweet heart.

Oni.
Page, hold my rapier, while I hold
my friend here.

Val.
O here's a sweet metamorphosis, a
couple of buzzards turn'd to a pair of pea-
cocks.

Junip.
Signior Onion, lend me thy boy to
unhang my rapier.

Oni.
Signior Juniper, for once or so; but
truth is, you must inveigle, as I have done,
my lord's page here, a poor follower of
mine.

Junip.
Hey ho! your page then cannot
be superintendant upon me; he shall not be
addicted, he shall not be incident, he shall
not be incident, he shall not be incident,
shall he? [ He foynes.

Fin.
O sweet signior Juniper!

Junip.
'Sblood stand away, princocks, do
not aggravate my joy.

Val.
Nay, good master Onion.

Oni.
Nay, and he have the heart to draw
my blood, let him come.

Junip.
I'll slice you, Onion; I'll slice
you.

Oni.
I'll cleave you, Juniper.

Val.
Why hold, hold, ho! what do you
mean?

Junip.
Let him come, Ingle; stand by,
boy, his alabaster blade cannot fear me.

Fin.
Why hear you, sweet signior, let not
there be any contention between my master
and you about me; if you want a page, sir,
I can help you to a proper stripling.

Junip.
Canst thou? what parentage,
what ancestry, what genealogy is he?

Fin.
A French boy, sir.

Junip.
Has he his French linguist? has
he?

Fin.
I, sir.

Junip.
Then transport him; here's a cru-sado for thee.

Oni.
You will not imbezzle my servant
with your benevolence, will you? hold, boy,
there's a portmanteau for thee.

Fin.
Lord, sir!

Oni.
Do, take it, boy; it's three pounds
ten shillings, a portmanteau.

[ Exit Finio.

Fin.
I thank your lordship.

Junip.
Sirrah Ningle, thou art a traveller,
and I honour thee. I prithee discourse, che-
rish thy muse, discourse.

Val.
Of what, sir?

Junip.
Of what thou wilt; 'sblood, hang
sorrow.

Oni.
Prithee, Valentine, assoile me one
thing.

Val.
'Tis pity to soil you, sir, your new
apparel.

Oni.
Mass thou say'st true, apparel makes a man
Forget himself.

Junip.
Begin, find your tongue, Ningle.

Val.
Now will I gull these ganders rarely:
Gentlemen, having in my peregrination
through Mesopotamia. ———

Junip.
Speak legibly, this game's gone,
without the great mercy of God.
Here's a fine tragedy indeed. There's a
Keisar royal.
By god'slid, nor king, nor Keisar shall.

Enter Finio, Pacue, Balthasar, Martino.

Balt.
Where, where, Finio, where be
they?

Junip.
Go to, I'll be with you anon.

Oni.
O here's the page, signior Juniper.

Junip.
What says monsieur Onion, boy?

Fin.
What say you, sir?

Junip.
Tread out, boy.

Fin.
Take up, you mean, sir.

Junip.
Tread out, I say; so, I thank you,
is this the boy?

Pac.
Aue, monsieur.

Junip.
Who gave you that name?

Pac.
Give me de name, vat name?
Oni. He thought your name had been
We. Young gentleman, you must do more
than his legs can do for him, bear with him,
sir.
Junip. Sirrah, give me instance of your
carriage; you'll serve my turn, will you?

Pac.
Vat, turn upon the toe?

Fin.
O signior, no.

Junip.
Page, will you follow me? I'll give
you good exhibition.

Pac.
By gar, shall not alone follow you,
but shall lead you too.

Oni.
Plaguy boy, he sooths his humour;
these French villains ha' pocky wits.

Junip.
Here, disarm me, take my semi-
tary.

Val.
O rare! this would be a rare man,
and he had a little travel. Balthasar, Mar-
tino, put off your shoes, and bid him cobble
them.

Junip.
Friends, friends, but pardon me
for fellows, no more in occupation, no more
in corporation; 'tis so, pardon me; the
case is alter'd; this is law, but I'll stand to
nothing.

Pac.
Dat so me tink.

Junip.
Well, then God save the duke's
majesty; is this any harm now? speak, is
this any harm now?

Oni.
No, nor good neither, 'sblood.

Junip.
Do you laugh at me? do you
laugh at me? do you laugh at me?

Val.
I, sir, we do.

Junip.
You do indeed?

Val.
I, indeed, sir.

Junip.
'Tis sufficient; page carry my
purse; dog me.

[ Exit.

Oni.
Gentlemen, leave him not; you see
in what case he is; he is not in adversity,
his purse is full of money; leave him not.

[ Exeunt.

Enter Angelo, with Rachel.

Ang.
Nay, gentle Rachel.

Rach.
Away, forbear, ungentle Angelo,
Touch not my body with those impious
hands,
That, like hot irons, sear my trembling heart,
And make it hiss at your disloyalty.

Enter Chamont, Paulo Ferneze.

Was this your drift, to use Ferneze's name?
Was he your fittest stale? O wild dishonour!

Paul.
Stay, noble sir.

Ang.
'Sblood, how like a puppet do you
talk now!
Dishonour! what dishonour! come, come, fool;
Nay, then I see y'are peevish. S'heart, dis-
honour!
To have you to a priest, and marry you,
And put you in an honourable state.

Rach.
To marry me! O heaven! can it
be?
That men should live with such unfeeling souls,
Without or touch or conscience of religion?
Or that their warping appetites should spoil
Those honour'd forms, that the true scale of
friendship
Had set upon their faces?

Ang.
Do you hear?
What needs all this? say, will you have me,
or no?

Rach.
I'll have you gone, and leave me,
if you would.

Ang.
Leave you! I was accurst to bring
you hither,
And make so fair an offer to a fool.
A pox upon you, why should you be coy,
What good thing have you in you to be
proud of?

Are ye any other than a beggar's daughter?
Because you have beauty. O god's light!
a blast!

Pau.
I, Angelo.

Ang.
You scornful baggage,
I lov'd thee not so much, but now I hate thee.

Rach.
Upon my knees, you heavenly
powers, I thank you,
That thus have tam'd his wild affections.

Ang.
This will not do, I must to her
again.
Rachel, O that thou sawest my heart, or
didst behold
The place from whence that scalding sigh evented!
Rachel, by Jesu, I love thee as my soul,
Rachel, sweet Rachel.

Rach.
What again return'd
Unto this violent passion!

Ang.
Do but hear me;
By heaven I love you, Rachel.

Rach.
Pray forbear.
O that my lord Ferneze were but here!

Ang.
'Sblood an' he were, what would he do!

Pau.
This would he do, base villain.

Rach.
My dear lord.

Paul.
Thou monster! even the soul of
treachery!
O what dishonour'd title of reproach
May my tongue spit in thy deserved face!
Methinks my very presence should invert
The steeled organs of those traiterous eyes,
To take into thy heart, and pierce it through.
Turn'st thou them on the ground! wretch,
dig a grave
With their sharp points, to hide thy abhorred head.
Sweet love, thy wrongs have been too vio-
lent
Since my departure from thee, I perceive;
But now true comfort shall again appear,
And, like an armed angel, guard thee safe
From all th' assaults of cover'd villainy.
Come, monsieur, let us go, and leave this
wretch
To his despair.

Ang.
My noble Ferneze.

Pau.
What canst thou speak to me, and
not thy tongue,
Forc'd with the torment of thy guilty soul,
Break that infected circle of thy mouth,
Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell?
I, that in thy bosom lodg'd my soul,
With all her train of secrets, thinking them
To be as safe and richly entertain'd
As in a prince's court, or tower of strength,
And thou to prove a traitor to my trust,
And basely to expose it; O this world!

Ang.
My honourable lord.

Pau.
The very owl, whom other birds do
stare
And wonder at, shall hoot at thee; and
snakes,
In every bush, shall deaf thine ears with their —

Cha.
Nay, good my lord, give end unto
your passions.

Ang.
You shall see I will redeem your lost opinion.

Rach.
My lord, believe him.

Cha.
Come, be satisfy'd;
Sweet lord, you know our haste; let us to
horse,
The time for my engag'd return is past.
Be friends again, take him along with you.

Pau.
Come, signior Angelo, hereafter
prove more true.

[ Exeunt.

Enter count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco.

Count.
Tut, Maximilian, for your ho-
nour'd self,
I am persuaded; but no words shall turn
The edge of purpos'd vengeance on that
wretch.
Come, bring him forth to execution.

Enter Camillo bound, with servants.

I'll hang him for my son, he shall not 'scape,
Had he a hundred lives. Tell me, vile slave,
Think'st thou I love my son? is he my flesh?
Is he my blood, my life? and shall all these
Be tortur'd for thy sake, and not reveng'd?
Truss up the villain.

Max.
My lord, there is no law to confirm
this action.
'Tis dishonourable.

Count.
Dishonourable, Maximilian!
It is dishonourable in Chamont,
The day of his prefixt return is past,
And he shall pay for't.

Cam.
My lord, my lord,
Use your extremest vengeance; I'll be glad
To suffer ten times more for such a friend.

Count.
O resolute and peremptory wretch!

Franc.
My honour'd lord, let us intreat a
word.

Count.
I'll hear no more; I say, he shall
not live;
Myself will do it. Stay, what form is this
Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my
hand?
What miracle is this? 'tis my own fancy
Carves this impression in me; my foft nature
That ever hath retain'd such foolish pity
Of the most abject creature's misery,
That it abhors it. What a child am I
To have a child? ah me! my son, my son!

Enter Christophero.

Chr.
O my dear love, what is become of
thee?
What unjust absence layest thou on my
breast,
Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back,
That run me thorough with thy unkind
flight,
My gentle disposition waxeth wild;
I shall run frantick: O my love, my love!

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
My gold, my gold, my life, my soul,
my heaven!
What is become of thee? see, I'll impart
My miserable loss to my good lord.
Let me have search, my lord, my gold is
gone.

Count.
My son, Christophero, think'st
thou it possible
I ever shall behold his face again?

Chr.
O father, where's my love? were
you so careless
To let an unthrift steal away your child?

Jaq.
I know your lordship may find out
my gold.
For god's sake pity me; justice, sweet lord.

Count.
Now they have young Chamont,
Christophero,
Surely they never will restore my son.

Chr.
Who would have thought you could
have been so careless
To lose your only daughter?

Jaq.
Who would think
That looking to my gold with such hare's
eyes,
That ever open, I, even when I sleep,
I thus should lose my gold, my noble lord,
What says your lordship?

Count.
O my son, my son!

Chr.
My dearest Rachel!

Jaq.
My most honey gold!

Count.
Hear me, Christophero.

Chr.
Nay, hear me, Jaques.

Jaq.
Hear me, most honour'd lord.

Max.
What rule is here?

Count.
O god, that we should let Cha-
mont escape.

Enter Aurelia, Phœnixella. <

Chr.
I, and that Rachel, such a virtuous
maid,
Should be thus stolen away.

Jaq.
And that my gold,
Being so hid in earth, should be found out.

Max.
O confusion of languages, and yet
no tower of Babel!

Fran.
Ladies, beshrew me, if you come
not fit
To make a jangling consort; will you laugh
To see three constant passions.

Max.
Stand by,
I will urge them; sweet count, will you be comforted?

Count.
It cannot be
But he is handled the most cruelly
That ever any noble prisoner was.

Max.
Steward, go chear my lord.

Chr.
Well, if Rachel took her flight wil-
lingly.

Max.
Sirrah, speak you touching your
daughter's flight?

Jaq.
O that I could so soon forget to
know
The thief again that had my gold, my gold.

Max.
Is not this pure?

Count.
O thou base wretch, I'll drag thee
through the streets;

Enter Balthasar, and whispers with him.

And as a monster make thee wonder'd at.
How now?

Phœn.
Sweet gentleman, how too unwor-
thily
Art thou thus tortur'd! brave Maximilian,
Pity the poor youth, and appease my father.

Count.
How! my son return'd? O Maxi-
milian,
Francisco, daughters! bid him enter here.

Enter Chamont, Ferneze, Rachel, Angelo.

Dost thou not mock me? O my dear Paulo,
welcome.

Max.
My lord Chamont!

Cha.
My Gasper!

Chr.
Rachel.

Jaq.
My gold, Rachel, my gold.

Count.
Somebody bid the beggar cease
his noise.

Chr.
O signior Angelo, would you de-
ceive
Your honest friend, that simply trusted you?
Well, Rachel, I am glad thou art here again.

Ang.
I'faith she is not for you, steward.

Jaq.
I beseech you, madam, urge your
father.

Phœn.
I will anon; good Jaques, be con-
tent.

Aur.
Now god-a-mercy fortune, and
sweet Venus.
Let Cupid do his part, and all is well.

Phœn.
Methinks, my heart's in heaven
with this comfort.

Chamont.
Is this the true Italian courtesy?
Ferneze, were you tortur'd thus in France?
By my soul's safety ————.

Count.
My most noble lord,
I do beseech your lordship.

Cha.
Honour'd count,
Wrong not your age with flexure of a knee,
I do impute it to those cares and griefs
That did torment you in your absent son.

Count.
O worthy gentlemen, I am asham'd
That my extreme affection to my son
Should give my honour so uncur'd a maim;
But my first son being in Vicenza lost.

Cha.
How! in Vicenza! lost you a son
there?
About what time, my lord?

Count.
O the same night
Wherein your noble father took the town.

Cha.
How long's that since, my lord?
can you remember?

Count.
'Tis now well nigh upon the twen-
tieth year.

Cha.
And how old was he then?

Cha.
I cannot tell;
Between the years of three and four, I take it.

Cha.
Had he no special note in his at-
tire,
Or otherwise, that you can call to mind?

Count.
I cannot well remember his attire;
But I have often heard his mother say,
He had about his neck a tablet,
Given to him by the emperor Sigismund,
His godfather, with this inscription,
Under the figure of a silver globe,

In minimo mundus.

Cha.
How did you call your son, my lord?

Count.
Camillo, lord Chamont.

Cha.
Then no more my Gasper, but Ca-
millo,
Take notice of your father. Gentlemen,
Stand not amaz'd; here is a tablet,
With that inscription, found about his neck,
That night, and in Vicenza, by my father,

(Who being ignorant what name he had
Christen'd him Gasper;) nor did I reveal
This secret, till this hour, to any man.

Count.
O happy revelation! O blest hour!
O my Camillo!

Phœn.
O strange! my brother!

Fran.
Maximilian,
Behold how the abundance of his joy
Drowns him in tears of gladness.

Count.
O my boy,
Forgive thy father's late austerity.

Max.
My lord, I delivered as much be-
fore, but your honour would not be per-
suaded; I will hereafter give more obser-
vance to my visions; I dreamt of this.

Jaq.
I can be still no longer, my good
lord;
Do a poor man some grace amongst all your joys.

Count.
Why what's the matter, Jaques?

Jaq.
I am robb'd;
I am undone, my lord; robb'd and undone.
A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns
Stolen from me in one minute, and I fear
By her confederacy that calls me father;
But she is none of mine, therefore, sweet lord,
Let her be tortur'd to confess the truth.

Max.
More wonders yet.

Count.
How, Jaques! is not Rachel then
thy daughter?

Jaq.
No, I disclaim in her; I spit at her:
She is a harlot, and her customers,
Your son, this gallant, and your steward
here,
Have all been partners with her in my spoil;
No less than thirty thousand.

Count.
Jaques, Jaques,
This is impossible; how shouldst thou come
To the possession of so huge a heap,
Being always a known beggar?

Jaq.
Out, alas!
I have betray'd myself with my own tongue;
The case is alter'd.

Count.
Some one stay him here.

Max.
What means he to depart? count
Ferneze, upon my soul this beggar, this
beggar is a counterfeit.
Urge him: didst thou lose gold?

Jaq.
O no, I lost no gold.

Max.
Said I not true?

Count.
How! didst thou first lose thirty
thousand crowns,
And no no gold? was Rachel first thy child,
And is she now no daughter? sirrah, Jaques,
You know how far our Milan laws extend
For punishing of lyars.

Jaq.
I, my lord.
What shall I do? I have no starting-holes.
Monsieur Chamont, stand you, my honour'd
lord.

Cha.
For what, old man?

Jaq.
Ill-gotten goods ne'er thrive;
I play'd the thief, and now am robb'd my-
self.
I am not what I seem, Jaques de Prie,
Nor was I born a beggar as I am,
But some time steward to your noble father.

Cha.
What, Melun, that robb'd my father's
treasure,
Stole my sister?

Jaq.
I, I; that treasure's lost, but Isabel,
Your beauteous sister, here survives in Rachel;
And therefore on my knees ———

Max.
Stay, Jaques, stay;
The case still alters.

Count.
Fair Rachel, sister to the lord Chamont!

Ang.
Steward, your cake is dow, as well
as mine.

Pau.
I see that honour's flames cannot be
hid,
No more than lightning in the blackest cloud.

Max.
Then, sirrah, 'tis true, you have
lost this gold.

Jaq.
I, worthy signior, thirty thousand
crowns.

Count.
Mass, who was it told me, that a
couple of my men were become gallants of
late?

Fran.
Marry, 'twas I, my lord; my man
told me.

Enter Onion and Juniper.

Max.
How now! what pageant is this?

Junip.
Come, signior Onion, let's not be
asham'd to appear;
Keep state, look not ambiguous now.

Oni.
Not I, while I am in this suit.

Junip.
Lordlings, equivalence to you all.

Oni.
We thought good to be so good as
see you, gentlemen.

Max.
What, monsieur Onion!

Oni.
How dost thou, good captain?

Count.
What, are my hinds turn'd gentle-
men?

Oni.
Hinds, sir! 'sblood, and that word
will bear an action; it shall cost us a thou-
sand pound a piece, but we'll be reveng'd.

Junip.
Wilt thou sell thy lordship, count?

Count.
What, peasants purchase lordships?

Junip.
Is that any novels, sir?

Max.
O transmutation of elements! it is
certified you had pages.

Junip.
I, sir; but it is known they
proved ridiculous; they did pilfer, they did
purloin, they did procrastinate our purses;
for the which wasting of our stock, we have
put them to the stocks.

Count.
And thither shall you two pre-
sently.
These be the villains that stole Jaques' gold;
Away with them, and set them with their
men.

Max.
Onion, you will now be peel'd.

Fran.
The case is alter'd now.

Oni.
Good my lord, good my lord.

Junip.
Away, scoundrel; dost thou fear
a little elocution?
Shall we be be confiscate now? shall we
droop now?
Shall we be now in helogabolus?

Oni.
Peace, peace, leave thy gabling.

Count.
Away, away with them; what's
this they prate?

[Exeunt with Juniper and Onion.

Keep the knaves sure; strict inquisition
Shall presently be made for Jaques' gold,
To be dispos'd at pleasure of Chamont.

Cha.
She is your own, lord Paulo, if
your father
Give his consent.

Ang.
How now, Christophero! the case
is alter'd.

Cha.
With you as well as me; I am content, sir.

Count.
With all my heart; and in ex-
change of her,
(If with you fair acceptance it may stand)
I tender my Aurelia to your love.

Cha.
I take her from your lordship with
all thanks,
And bless the hour wherein I was made
prisoner,
For the fruition of this present fortune,
So full of happy and unlook'd-for joys.
Melun, I pardon thee; and for the treasure
Recover it, and hold it as thine own:
It is enough for me to see my sister
Live in the circle of Ferneze's arms,
My friend, the son of such a noble father;
And my unworthy self wrapt above all
By being the lord of so divine a dame.

Max.
Well, I will now swear the case is
altered. Lady, fare you well; I will sub-
due my affections. Madam, as for you,
you are a profest virgin, and I will be silent.
My honourable lord Ferneze, it shall be-
come you at this time not to be frugal, but
bounteous, and open-handed; your fortune
hath been so to you, lord Chamont.
You are now no stranger; you must be
welcome; you have a fair, amiable, and
splendid lady: but signior Paulo, signior
Camillo, I know you valiant, be loving.
Lady, I must be better known to you.
Signiors, for you, I pass you not, though
I let you pass; for in truth I pass not of you.
Lovers to your nuptials, lordlings to your
dances; march fair all, for a fair march is
worth a king's ransome.

[Exeunt.

1Ad unguem, upsie freeze.] This last phrase is of the same meaning with upsee Dutch, which occurs in the Alchemist, and is there explained.

2 Junip. Wip'd them!
Jaq. I, thou villain; thou art a subtil knave. Put off thy shoes; come, I will see them.] We said before, that Jonson, in the character of Jaques, hath copied the Euclio of Plautus; and this scene is an imitation of the Latin, where Strobilus is examined by the miser in the like manner. But the pleasantries of this scene are within the bounds of nature; and severer judgment instructed Jonson not to outrage his characters, as Plautus did before him. Jaques examines both the hands of Juniper, but he does not, like Euclio, bid him produce his third hand.
Euc. Ostende huc manus.
Strob. Hem tibi ostendi, eccas.
Euc. Video, age ostende etiam tertiam.
No degree of avarice could lead one to suppose, that a man has three hands.

3 Oni. I'll go in my foot-cloth; I'll turn gentleman.
Junip. So will I.
Oni. But what badge shall we give, what cullison?] I'll go in my foot-cloth — that is, I'll have my horse dress'd in his caparisons and housings, as gentlemen used to ride; and hence they were called foot-cloth nags. —— What badge shall we give,what cullison? So in Every Man out of his Humour, "I'll give coats, that's my humour: but I lack a cullisen." Act 1. scene 2. And I there observed, that no Dictionary will help us to the meaning of the word. It seems to be something relative to a coat of arms, or a crest to point out whose livery the servants wore; but if it ever was a term in heraldry, it is no longer in use, and now unknown to the heralds themselves. Indeed it sometimes happens, that a variation of NOTE: in the 1811 edition, the footnote reaches
the end of the page here, and is continued on the
next page--I'm finishing it here for convenience the spelling will direct us to the etymology and meaning of a word, which may be still retained in use, but with a little change and difference in the letters: but this supposition gives us no light here. However, I must take leave to quote one passage from our poet, where a departure from the usual way of writing and pronunciation, led me to suspect it might possibly be a corruption, which I have since found is not so. The passage I mean, is in his Elegy on the Lady Digby:
"Sleepy, or stupid Nature, could'st thou part
"With such a rarity, and not rouse art
"With all her aids, to save her from the seize
"Of vulture death, and those relentless clies?"
The last word appeared to me either an error, or the same with claws, only varied in the spelling for the sake of rhime; and such I have since found it to be. For what we usually call the claws, is wrote, in Minshew, the cleyes of a crab, scorpion, &c.

4Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit.
Enter serving-man with Camillo.
Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont.] The whole incident of Paulo Ferneze's being taken prisoner on the one side, and Chamont and Camillo on the other, with the exchanging their names, and Camillo's being left for Chamont, is taken from the Captivi of Plautus. The son of Hegio is taken prisoner; and with a view to ransom his son by the exchange, Hegio buys Philocrates and Tyndarus, two Elian captives. Tyndarus is slave to Philocrates, and is left under his master's name, while the true Philocrates is sent to Elis, under the name of Tyndarus, to effect the liberty of Philoptolemus the son of Hegio. The raud however is discovered to Hegio, before the return of Philocrates; and Tyndarus is put to the torture, and sent to the mines. At the return of Philoptolemus and Philocrates, with whom also there comes Stalagmus, a fugitive slave of Hegio, it is discovered that Tyndarus is the son of Hegio, who was carried away by Stalagmus at the age of four years, and sold by him to the father of Philocrates. The reader will perceive from this account, the exact similitude between the copy and the original; and I have been thus particular in pointing out the resemblance, for the assistance of those who may want the ability of comparing them together.

This Comedy was sundry times acted by the Children of the Black-Friars.

F I N I S.