Lor. Now, Signor Mocinigo, what haste requires your presence?

Moc. Marry, sir, this. You brought me once into a paradise of pleasure and expectation of much comfort; my request therefore is, that you would no longer defer what then you so liberally promised.

Lor. How do you mean?

Moc. Why, sir, in joining that beauteous lady, your daughter, and myself in the firm bonds of matrimony; for I am somewhat impatient of delay in this kind, and indeed the height of my blood requires it.

Luc. Are you so hot? I shall give you a card to cool you[358] presently. [Aside.

Lor. 'Tis an honest and a virtuous demand, and on all sides an action of great consequence; and, for my part, there's not a thing in the world I could wish sooner accomplished.

Moc. Thank you, sir.

Lor. There's another branch of policy, besides the coupling of you together, which springs from the fruitfulness of my brain, that I as much labour to bring to perfection as the other.

Moc. What's that, sir?

Lor. A device upon the same occasion, but with a different respect; 'tis to be imposed upon Petrucio. I hate to differ so much from the nature of an Italian, as not to be revengeful; and the occasion at this time was, he scorned the love of her, that you now so studiously affect; but I'll fit him in his kind.

Moc. Did he so? He deserves to have both his eyes struck as blind as Cupid's, his master, that should have taught him better manners. But how will you do it?

Lor. There's one Lionel, an ingenious witty gentleman.

Æmi. Ay, that he is, as ever breathed, husband, upon my knowledge.

Lor. Well, he is so, and we two have cast to requite it upon him. The plot, as he informs me, is already in agitation, and afterwards, sans delay, I'll bestow her upon you.

Luc. But you may be deceived. [Aside.

Moc. Still you engage me more and more your debtor.

Lor. If I can bring both these to success, as they are happily intended, I may sit down, and, with the poet, cry, Jamque opus exegi.

Moc. Would I could say so too; I wish as much, but 'tis you must confirm it, fair mistress: one bare word of your consent, and 'tis done. The sweetness of your looks encourage me, that you will join pity with your beauty; there shall be nothing wanting in me to demerit it; and then, I hope, although I am base,

Lor. How now, Signor! What, love and poetry, have they two found you out? Nay, then you must conquer. Consider this, daughter; show thy obedience to Phœbus and god Cupid: make an humble professor of thyself; 'twill be the more acceptable, and advance thy deserts.

Æmi. Do, chicken, speak the word, and make him happy in a minute.

Lor. Well said, wife; solicit in his behalf; 'tis well done; I am loth to importune her too much, for fear of a repulse.

Æmi. Marry, come up, sir; you are still usurping in my company. Is this according to the articles proposed between us, that I should bear rule and you obey with silence? I had thought to have endeavoured for persuasion, but because you exhort me to it, I'll desist from what I intended: I'll do nothing but of my own accord, I.

Lor. Mum! wife, I have done. This we, that are married, must be subject to.

Moc. You give an ill example, Mistress Æmilia; you give an ill example——

Æmi. What old fellow is this that talks so? Do you know him, daughter?

Moc. Have you so soon forgot me, lady?

Æmi. Where has he had his breeding, I wonder? He is the offspring of some peasant, sure! Can he show any pedigree?

Lor. Let her alone, there's no dealing with her. Come, daughter, let me hear your answer to this gentleman.

Luc. Truly, sir, I have endeavoured all means possible, and in a manner enforced myself to love him——

Lor. Well said, girl.

Luc. But could never effect it.

Lor. How!

Luc. I have examined whatever might commend a gentleman, both for his exterior and inward abilities; yet, amongst all that may speak him worthy, I could never discern one good part or quality to invite affection.

Lor. This is it I feared. Now should I break out into rage; but my wife and a foolish nature withhold my passion.

Moc. I am undone, unspirited, my hopes vain, and my labours nullities!

Lor. Where be your large vaunts now, Signor? What strange tricks and devices you had to win a woman!

Moc. Such assurance I conceived of myself; but when they affect wilful stubbornness, lock up their ears, and will hearken to no manner of persuasion, what shall a man do?

Lor. You hear what taxes are laid upon you, daughter: these are stains to your other virtues.

Luc. Pray, sir, hear my defence. What sympathy can there be between our two ages or agreement in our conditions? But you'll object, he has means. 'Tis confess'd; but what assurance has he to keep it? Will it continue longer than the law permits him possession, which will come like a torrent, and sweep away all? He has made a forfeiture of his whole estate.

Lor. What, are you become a statist's daughter[359] or a prophetess? Whence have you this intelligence?

Moc. I hope she will not betray me. [Aside.

Luc. If murder can exact it, 'tis absolutely lost.

Lor. How, murder!

Luc. Yes, he conspired the other day with a bravo, a cut-throat, to take away the life of a noble innocent gentleman, which is since discovered by miracle: the same that came with music to my window.

Moc. All's out; I'm ruined in her confession! That man that trusts woman with a privacy, and hopes for silence, he may as well expect it at the fall of a bridge![360] A secret with them is like a viper; 'twill make way, though it eat through the bowels of them. [Aside.

Lor. Take heed how you traduce a person of his rank and eminency: a scar in a mean man becomes a wound in a greater.

Luc. There he is, question him; and if he deny it, get him examined.

Lor. Why, signor, is this true?

Æmi. His silence betrays him: 'tis so.

Moc. 'Tis so, that all women thirst man's overthrow; that's a principle as demonstrative as truth: 'tis the only end they were made for; and when they have once insinuated themselves into our counsels, and gained the power of our life, the fire is more merciful; it burns within them till it get forth.

Lor. I commend her for the discovery: 'twas not fit her weak thoughts should be clogged with so foul a matter. It had been to her like forced meat to a surfeited stomach, that would have bred nothing but crudities in her conscience.

Moc. O my cursed fate! shame and punishment attend me! they are the fruits of lust. Sir, all that I did was for her ease and liberty. [Aside.

Luc. Nay, sir, he was so impudent to be an accessory. Who knows but he might as privately have plotted to have sent me after him; for how should I have been secure of my life when he made no scruple to kill another upon so small an inducement?

Æmi. Thou sayest right, daughter; thou shalt utterly disclaim him. The cast of his eye shows he was ever a knave.

Moc. How the scabs descant upon me!

Lor. What was the motive to this foul attempt?

Luc. Why, sir, because he was an affectionate lover of mine, and for no other reason in the earth.

Æmi. O mandrake, was that all? He thought, belike, he should not have enough. Thou covetous engrosser of venery. Why, one wife is able to content two husbands.

Moc. Sir, I am at your mercy: bid them not insult upon me. I beseech you, let me go as I came.

Lor. Stay there; I know not how I shall be censured for your escape. I may be thought a party in the business.

Luc. Besides, I hear since that the mercenary varlet that did it, though he be otherwise most desperate and hardened in such exploits, yet out of the apprehension of so unjust an act, and moved in conscience for so foul a guilt, is grown distracted, raves out of measure, confesses the deed, accuses himself and the procurer, curses both, and will by no means be quieted.

Lor. Where is that fellow?

Luc. Sir, if you please to accompany me, I will bring you to him, where your own eye and ear shall witness the certainty; and then, I hope, you will repent that ever you sought to tie me to such a monster as this, who preferred the heat of his desires before all laws of nature or humanity.

Lor. Yes, that I will, and gratulate the subtlety of thy wit, and goodness of fate, that protected thee from him.

Æmi. Away with him, husband: and be sure to beg his lands betimes, before your court-vultures scent his carcase.

Lor. Well said, wife; I should never have thought on this now, and thou had'st not put me in mind of it: women, I see, have the only masculine policy, and are the best solicitors and politicians of a state. But I'll first go and see him my daughter tells me of, that, when I am truly informed of all, I may the better proceed in my accusation against them. Come along, sir.

Moc. Well, if you are so violent, I'm as resolute: 'tis but a hanging matter, and do your worst. [Exeunt.

Bravo. What news, boy?

Boy. Sir, Mistress Lucretia commends her to you, and desires, as ever her persuasions wrought upon you, or as you affect her good, and would add credit and belief to what she has reported, that you would now strain your utmost to the expression of what she and you consulted of.

Bravo. I apprehend her: where is she?

Boy. Hard by, sir: her father, and the old fornicator Mocinigo, and I think her mother, are all coming to be spectators of your strange behaviour. [Exit.

Bravo. Go, wait them in, let me alone to personate an ecstasy;[361] I am near mad already, and I do not fool myself quite into't, I care not. I'll withdraw, till they come. [Exit.

Lor. Is this the place?

Luc. Yes, sir. Where's your master, boy? how does he?

Boy. O sweet mistress, quite distempered; his brains turn round like the needle of a dial, six men's strength is not able to hold him; he was bound with I know not how many cords this morning, and broke them all. See, where he enters!

Lor. He begins to preach.

Æmi. Will he do us no mischief, think you?

Boy. O no, he's the best for that in his fits that e'er you knew: he hurts nobody.

Moc. But I am vilely afraid of him.

Boy. If you are a vile person, or have done any great wickedness, you were best look to yourself; for those he knows by instinct, and assaults them with as much violence as may be.

Moc. Then am I perished. Good sir, I had rather answer the law than be terrified with his looks.

Lor. Nay, you shall tarry, and take part with us, by your favour.

Æmi. How his eyes sparkle!

Bravo. You and I must walk together: come into the middle; yet further.

Aur. Where be these fellows here that murder men? Serjeants, apprehend them, and convey them straight before the duke.

Bravo. Who are you?

Aur. We are the duke's officers.

Bravo. The duke's officers must be obey'd, take heed of displeasing them: how majestically they look!

Lor. You see, wife, the charm of authority: and a man be ne'er so wild, it tames him presently.

Æmi. Ay, husband, I know what will tame a man besides authority.

Aur. Come, gentles, since you are all together, I must entreat your company along with us, to witness what you know in this behalf.

Lor. Sir, you have prevented us; for we intended to have brought him ourselves before his highness.

Aur. Then I hope your resolution will make it the easier to you. What, sir, will you go willingly?

Bravo. Without all contradiction; lead on. [Exeunt, flourish.

Lio. How now! what new-come pageant have we here?

Duke. This is the famous antiquary I told your grace of, a man worthy your grace; the Janus of our age, and treasurer of times passed: a man worthy your bounteous favour and kind notice; that will as soon forget himself in the remembrance of your highness, as any subject you have.

Lio. How comes he so accoutred?

Duke. No miracle at all, sir; for, as you have many fools in the habit of a wise man, so have you sometimes a wise man in the habit of a fool.

Ant. Sir, I have been so grossly abused, as no story, record, or chronicle can parallel the like, and I come here for redress: I hear your highness loves me, and indeed you are partly interested in the cause, for I, having took somewhat a large potion for your grace's health, fell asleep, when in the interim they apparelled me as you see, made a fool or an asinigo[365] of me; and for my boy here, they cogged him out of his proper shape into the habit of an Amazon, to wait upon me.

Lio. But who did this?

Ant. Nay, sir, that I cannot tell; but I desire it may be found out.

Duke. Well, signor, if you knew all, you have no cause to be angry.

Ant. How so?

Duke. Why, that same coat you wear did formerly belong unto Pantolabus the Roman jester, and buffoon to Augustus Cæsar.