I will have a baby o'clouts made for it, like A great girl! Nay, if you will needs be starch ing Of ruffs, and sowing of black-work, I will So galls my thigh, I would it were burnt!This cloak will ne'er keep on; these boots too hide-bound, Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen, [parents! Bob. In foolio, had you not? Thou mock to Heav'n, and Nature, and thy Thou tender leg of lamb! Oh, how he walks As if he had bepiss'd himself, and fleers! Is this a gait for the young cavalier, Don Lucio, son and heir to Alvarez? Has it a corn? or does it walk on conscience, It treads so gingerly? Come on your ways! Suppose me now your father's foe, Vitelli, And spying you i'th' street, thus Í advance: I twist my beard, and then I draw my sword. Lucio. Alas! Bob. And thus accost thee: Traiterous brat, How durst thou thus confront me? impious twig Of that old stock, dew'd with my kinsman's gore, Draw! for I'll quarter thee in pieces four. Lucio. Nay, prithee Bobadilla, leaving thy fooling, Put up thy sword. I will not meddle with you. Ay, justle me, I care not, I'll not draw; Pray be a quiet man. Bob. D'ye hear? answer me, As you would do don Vitelli, or I'll be Lucio. Why then, [Vitelli, I'll have the kennel: what a coil you keep? That may become a gentleman. However, Would not this quiet him, were he tenVitellis? Bob. Oh, craven-chicken of a cock o' th' game! Well, what remedy? Did thy father see this, O' my conscience, he would cut off thy masculine Gender, crop thine ears, beat out thine eyes, And set thee in one of the pear-trees for a scare-crow! As I am Vitelli, I am satisfied; But as I am Bobadilla Spindola Zancho, Thou shalt ev'n wait upon me. Enter Clara. Clara. Where art thou, brother Lucio?- Ran tan ran tan tan ta, ta ran tan tan tan! Why are women's haunches only limited, con- Clara. Bobadilla, rogue, ten ducats, I hit the prepuce of thy cod-piece! If you love my life, sister! I am not Clara. Brother? and wherefore thus? Bob. Well! I do no more [away tho'! Than I have authority for.-'Would I were For she's as much too manish, as he Too womanish: I dare not meddle with her; Clara. Signor Spindle! Will you hear me? Bob. He that shall come to Bestride your virginity, had better be Spanish lady pace so? Clara. Hold these a little! Lucio. I'll not touch 'em, I. [your pate, Lucio. Sister! Bob. Madam! [talk'd to, ha? Kick him, I say, or I will cut thy head off! Clara. Now, thou lean, dried, and ominous- Thou false and peremptory steward, pray! [one, [Exit. Old Alvarez has led up men so close, A horse-troop thro' and thro', like swift de and this, well mounted, scour'd A horse-troop through and through.-] The old folio reads scurr'd, which I take to be only a false spelling of a better word, viz. skirr'd: thus Shakespear in Macbeth, act v. scene 3. Send out more horses; skir the country round. To skir is velitari, to fight as the light-horse do, from whence the substantive skirmish. In Henry V. Shakespear uses the word for flying swiftly, tho' from an enemy. The king says of the French horse, act iv. scene 13. He'll make 'em skir away, as swift as stones No reader of taste wou'd bear the change of the word skir, which is perfectly poetical, as the sound is an echo to the sense, for scour; and Fletcher has not suffered much less by the change. Seward. 16 That lay here lieger.] So, in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier, 4to. 1592. “In"deed, I have been lieger in my time in London, and have play'd many madde pranckes, "for which cause you may apparently see I am made a curtall; for the pillory (in the sight "of a great many good and sufficient witnesses) hath eaten off booth my eares, and now, "sir, this rope-maker hunteth me heere with his halters."-And in the Roaring Girle, or Moll Cutpurse, by Middleton and Dekkar, "What durst move you, sir, "To think me whoorish? a name which I'de teare out "From the hye Germaine's throat, if it lay ledger there! R. Dr. Johnson says, leger is derived from the Dutch legger; and significs, "Any thing that "lies in a place; as, a leger ambassador, a resident; a leger-book, a book that lies in the "compting-house." Enter Vitelli and Bobadilla. Bob. With Lucio, say you? There he's for Vit. And there's for thee. [you. Bob. I thank you. You have now bought A little advice of me: if you chance To have conference with that lady there, Be very civil, or look to your head! She has ten nails, and you have but two eyes: If any foolish hot motions should chance To rise in the horizon, under your equinoctial there, Qualify it as well as you can, for I fear [Exit. Vit. Are you the Lucio, sir, that sav'd Vitelli? Lucio. Not I, indeed, sir; I did never brabble; There walks that Lucio metamorphosed. Vit. D' you mock me? Clara. No, he does not: I am that Supposed Lucio that was, but Clara That is, and daughter unto Alvarez. [Exit. Clara. You're treacherous, And come to do me mischief. Vit. Speak on still; Your words are falser, fair, than my intents, And each sweet accent far more treach'rous; for Tho' you speak ill of me, you speak so well I do desire to hear you. Clara. Pray be gone; Or, kill me if you please. Vit. Oh, neither can I : For, to be gone were to destroy my life; Why, I'll give you good counsel. You have bestow'd; a ribbon, or a glove- Vit. Your feather Clara. Fy! The wenches give them to the serving-men. Vit. That little ring Clara. 'Twill hold you but by th' finger; And I would have you faster. Vit. Any thing I never heard a man speak till this hour: 17 Thus gratifies the daughter.] This gratifies seems to come in oddly; for what gratification does Vitelli make Clara here? He gives her good words, 'tis true, and sets off the service she had done him at her first appearance on the stage; but this ought rather to be called a panegyrick, than a gratification, and who knows but the authors might have given it Sympson. thus glorifies the daughter. Vit. Vit. 'Would that were possible; but, alas, Yet this assure yourself, most-honour'd Clara, My vow hath offer'd t' you; nor from this Whilst it hath edge, or point, or I a heart. Is crept into my breast, that blancheth clean My former nature? I begin to find Malr. SCENE I. Enter Malroda and Alguazier. HE ACT III. E must not? nor he shall not? wit, Any's accesses that I will allow? not so; I am ten offices to thee: ay, thy house, Go to! I know you; and I have contriv'd Has he not well provided for the bairn? Malr. Thou'rt a right rascal in all men's Yet now, my pair of twins, of fool and knave, Look, we are friends; there's gold for thee: admit Whom I will have, and keep it from my dou, And I will make thee richer than thou'rt wise: Thou shalt be my bawd, and my officer; And thy old wife sell andirons to the court, Nay, keep my garden-house; I'll call her Alg. And I will be thy devil, thou my Malr. Fill some tobacco, And bring it in. If Piorato come Before my don, admit him; if my don Before my love, conduct him, my dear devil! [Exit. Alg. I will, my dear flesh.-First come, first serv'd: well said!— Oh, equal Heav'n, how wisely thou disposest For the subordinate knave to work upon; 18 I like his feather well.] Amended in 1750. [tise Never succeeds20, and seldom meets success: SCENE II. Enter Piorato and Bobadilla. Pio. To say, sir, I will wait upon your You will do any thing but wait upon him, Pio. I'll meet him [to render Bob. Women do you mean, 6ir? [spark Seven days in a dark room by candle-light, Pio. And to purge phlegmatick humour, In all that time he drank me aqua-fortis, And nothing else but Bob. Aqua-vita, signor; I say again: What's one man's poison, signor, Bob. Your patience, sir! [stomach. sweats In the Artillery-Yard, three drilling days; Pio. Most easily. Bob. How? Pio. To make you drunk, sir, [twice, With small beer once a day, and beat you 'Till you be bruis'd all over; if that help not, Knock out your brains. Bob. This is strong physick, signor, Pio. As I am a gentleman. [his word. To offer to a mistress lodg'd here by. Bob. Fair, and comely? Pio. Oh, sir, the paragon, the nonpareil Of Sevil, the most wealthy mine of Spain, For beauty and perfection. Bob. Say you so? Might not a man entreat a courtesy, To walk along with you, signor, to peruse stranger; Tho' I'm a steward, I am flesh and blood, Pio. Sir, blow your nose! I dare not, for the world: no; she is kept Bob. How! Pio. 'Tis true. [Vitelli Bob. See, things will veer about! This don Pio. Happy discovery! My fruit begins to ripen.-Hark you, sir! But home, and ope this to madonna Clara, 20 Never succeeds.] .. Never follows by succession. Bol . |