But most erroneously), venture your souls? It is a hard task, thro' a sea of blood To sail, and land at Heaven. Vit. I hope not, If justice be my pilot. But, my lord, I dare protest, your breath cools not a vein Alv. Vitelli, thou say'st bravely, and say'st Vit. Ha, ha! Old man, upon thy death I'll A story with this arm, for thy old wife And lives, and wears it yet. Come, Lamoral, Lam. Lucio, Genevora Shall on this sword receive thy bleeding heart, Lucio. Thou talk'st well, Lamoral; but 'tis That I will carry to her to thy hat. Alv. Oh, boy! thy father's true son! Beat drums! And so, good-morrow to your lordship! They dart their emulous eyes, as if each scorn'd To be behind the other in a look! [sister Mother, death needs no sword here! Oh, my (Fate fain would have it so), persuade, entreat! A lady's tears are silent orators 35, Or should be so at least, to move beyond You could not understand, only have heard. 35 A lady's tears are silent orators.] So Crashaw, Again, in Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond: Ah, beauty, syren, fair enchanting good! Dumb eloquence, whose power doth move the blood, Vide Steevens's Notes on Shakespeare, vol. vii. p. 335. 36 The honest-tongu'd rhetorician.] Seward proposes substituting loudest for honest. The correction is from Sympson's conjecture, who says, 'Our poets, who were admirers of the classics, might possibly have had Nestor in their eye, who is thus described by Homer: Experienc'd Nestor, in persuasion skill'a, Words sweet as honey, from his lips distill'd.' Mr. Pope's Translation. These eyes begot it, this tongue bred it up, This breast would lodge it: do not use my gifts To mine own ruin! I have made thee rich; Be not so thankless, to undo me for't! Lucio. Mistress, you know I do not wear a vein I would not rip for you, to do you service: Go, get you home, and provide dinner for Wanting but ceremony), that I pray Gen. I likewise pray, Vitelli, Lucio's sword (Who equally's my husband as thou hers) May find thy false heart, that durst 'gage thy And durst not keep it! [faith, Assist. Are you men, or stone? Alv. Men, and we'll prove it with our swords. [have done! Eug. Your hearing for six words, and we Zancho, come forth!-We'll fight our chalNow speak your resolutions. [lenge too; Enter Bobadilla, with two Swords and a Pistol. The first blow giv'n betwixt you, sheaths these In one another's bosoms. Eug. And, rogue, look You at that instant do discharge that pistol Into my breast: if you start back, or quake, I'll stick you like a pig. Alv. Hold! you are mad. [of bliss, Gen. This we have said; and, by our hope This we will do! Speak your intents. Clara. Gen. Strike! Eug. Shoot! [friends! Alv. Vit. Lucio. Lam. Hold! hold! all Alv. These dev'lish women [they list! Enter Clara, Genevora, Eugenia, and Bobadilla. Clara. Father, your blessing! Alv. Take her: if ye bring not [worlds, Betwixt you boys that will find out new And win 'em too, I'm a false prophet. Vit. Brother, There is a sister. Long-divided streams Bob. I'm not regarded! I was the careful steward that provided men. And, for mine own part, I could have dis- It has two ramming bullets; but, thought I, died too, Bravely, i'faith, like a Roman steward; hung Myself in mine own chain, and there, had been A story of Bobadilla Spindola Zancho, more To make us friends. Well, I will forswear Assist. Nay, you shall dine with me; Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, Lazarillo, Piorato, Malroda, and Guard. You, Alguazier, the ring-leader of these Poor fellows, are degraded from your office; You must restore all stol'n goods you receiv'd, And watch a twelvemonth without any pay: I do dislike. Learn, all ye officers, ners new, Are doom'd to th' cloisters of the Mendicants, 37 Behold the power of love, to Nature lost, With this your brother botcher, there for nothing To cobble, and heel-hose for the poor friars; "Till they allow your penance for sufficient, And your amendment; then you shall be And may set up again. [freed, Pach. Mendoza, come: Our souls have trod awry in all men's sight; We'll under-lay 'em, till they go upright. [Exeunt Pach. and Mend. Assist. Smith, in those shackles you, for your hard heart, Must lie by th' heels a year. Met. I've shod your horse, my lord. [Exit. Assist. Away! For you, my hungry, whiteloaf'd face, [sure You must to th' gallies, where you shall be To have no inore bits than you shall have blows. [have rows. Laz. Well; tho' I herrings want, I shall Assist. Signor, you have prevented us, and punish'd Yourself severelier than we would have done: You have married a whore; may she prove honest! Pio. It is better, my lord, than to marry An honest woman, that may prove a whore. Vit. It is a handsome wench, an thou canst keep her tame. I'll send you what I promis'd. [foes Pio. Joy to your lordships! Alv. Here may all ladies learn, to make of The perfect'st friends; and not the perfect'st foes Of dearest friends, as some do now-a-days! Vit. Behold the pow'r of love37! Nature, tho' lost By custom irrecoverably, past the hope Love hath here retriev'd.] Here is another difficult passage, at least to me, Behold the power of love, which (love) hath here to lost Nature retrieved to her own habit. This the reader may make sense of if he can, while I endeavour to set the place right thus; Behold the power of love, Nature tho' lost, Love hath retriev'd To her own habit, &c. Here we have a glimmering of sense and reason, and the poets are clear'd from a blunder they could hardly be guilty of, Sympson. EPILOGUE. Our author fears there are some rebel hearts, Such will be apt to say there wanted wit, 38 Lik'd.] i. c. Pleased. With spirit and life; such odd things as these He cares not for, nor ever means to please; For if yourselves, a mistress, or love's friends, Are lik'd38 with this smooth play, he hath his ends. Sympson. WOMEN WOMEN PLEAS'D. A TRAGI-COMEDY. The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner and Hills ascribe this Play (which was first printed in the folio of 1647) to Fletcher alone. Part of it is founded on Boccace's Decameron, on which Chaucer has built a Tale, which Dryden has modernized: there has been no representation of it at either Theatre for many years, nor do we know of any alteration of it. 32 Like one, that owes a duteous service to her, Sometimes, so please you Bart. Gentle cousin, pardon me! you, I must not, nor you must not dare to offer: Sil. To your keeping only? none else to None but Bartello worthy her attendance? Art thou lock'd from me now? from all my Art thou snatch'd violently?? Thou hear'st me not; Nor canst thou see, fair soul, thy servant's mournings; Yet let thy gentle heart feel what is absence3, The great divorce of minds so truly loving, So long, and nurs'd in one affection, Ev'n from our infant eyes suck'd in, and nourish'd[constant, Oh! let it feel but that, and there stand And I am blest. My dear aunt Rodope, That is her governess, did love me dearly; There's one hope yet to see her: When he's absent, [closely. It may be ventur'd, and she may work it 1 Clau. One most glad to see you, sir. Sil. My dearest Claudio? What makes you thus private, And with a preparation of this nature? Soto. We've leave to play, and are going to climb birds' nests. [you from me? Sil. Prithee what is it, friend? Why start Is old mistress grown so coy and cruel, your She must be scal'd? It seems you're loath to tell me. [ship Since twenty years' continuance ofour friendMay not be worth the weight of such a secret, "Twill be but rude to ask again. Save you! Clau. Nay, stay, dear Silvio! if you love me, take it; For, 'till you know it, never woman labour'd As I do now. Sil. I'll do my best to ease it. Clau. You've heard, the lady Belvidere- [fears, Clau. Heard, to the citadel, upon some My cousin Rodope, your wife, &c.] We have a mighty jumble through the play, of cousin and aunt, as the reader will easily perceive. 2 From all my comforts Sympson. Art thou snatch'd violently?] Silvio is not lamenting the lady's condition, but his own, and therefore I should think it would be better to read, From me all my comforts Are they snatch'd violently. Sympson. The text is much best; and though loosely expressed, means to represent Silvio lamenting his own condition. 3 Yet let thy gentle heart feel what his absence.] A letter too much in his, makes strange stuff in this passage: our authors possibly wrote, feel what is absence. Sympson. |