Mess. Yes, he entreats her company at a banquet At Lady Livia's house. Lean. Troth, shall I tell you, sir, It is the most erroneous business That e'er your honest pains was abus'd with: I pray forgive me if I smile a little, I cannot choose i'faith, sir, at an error His So comical as this, (I mean no harm though); Mess. That I shall tell you straight too,-Biancha Capella. Lean. What if you inquir'd In the next street, sir? I saw gallants there In the new houses that are built of late; Ten to one, there you find her. Mess. Nay, no matter, I will return the mistake, and seek no farther. Lean. Use your own will and pleasure, sir, you're welcome. [Exit Messenger. What shall I think of first! Come forth, Biancha, Thou art betray'd, I fear me. Enter Biancha. Bian. Betray'd! how, sir? Lean. The duke knows thee. Bian. Knows me! how know you that, sir? Lean. Has got thy name. Bian. (aside.) Ay, and my good name too; That's worse o' th' twain. Lean. How comes this work about? Bian. How should the duke know me? can you guess, mother? Moth. Not I with all my wits; sure we kept house close. Lean. Kept close! not all the locks in Italy Can keep you women so; you have been gadding, And ventur'd out at twilight, to th' court green yonder, And met the gallant bowlers coming home; Without your masks too, both of you, I'll be hang'd else: Do Bian. I'll not seek the way, sir : you think you've married me to mew me up Not to be seen? what would you make of me? Bian. Why, so are some That are seen ev'ry day, else the devil take 'em. Lean. No more, then! I believe all virtuous in thee, To be seen somewhere, there lies all the mischief." Our last extract commenced with a beautiful eulogy upon marriage. Let us now hear what the more experienced husband has to say upon this fertile subject. "Lean. Oh, thou the ripe time of man's misery, wedlock, When all his thoughts, like over-laden trees, Crack with the fruits they bear, in cares, in jealousies! After 'tis knit to marriage: it begins, As soon as the sun shines upon the bride, The benefit he enjoy'd, or had the fortune To come and speak with me, he should know then The greatness of his treasure by my logs." The reader may now take an extract from a banquet scene, where Biancha glitters as the duke's mistress, and her husband, the melancholy Leantio, mourns over her defection. Duke. A kiss; (kisses her.) that wit deserves to be made much on: Come, our caroch. Guard. Stands ready for your grace. Duke. My thanks to all your loves. Come, fair Biancha, Your lodging near us now. Bian. Your love is great, my lord. Duke. Once more our thanks to all. Omnes. All bless'd honours guard you. [Exeunt all but Leantio and Livia. Cornets flourish. Lean. (without noticing Liv.) Hast thou left me then, Biancha, utterly? Oh, Biancha! now I miss thee; oh! return And save the faith of woman: I ne'er felt The loss of thee till now; 'tis an affliction Of greater weight than youth was made to bear; Were fall'n upon man here; so new it is To flesh and blood; so strange, so insupportable; A torment e'en mistook, as if a body Whose death were drowning, must needs therefore suffer it Liv. Sweet sir! Lean. (without noticing her.) As long as mine eye saw thee, I half enjoy'd thee. Liv. Sir! Lean. (without noticing her.) Canst thou forget They afterwards meet together at the lady's lodgings, when Leantio's anger overcomes his grief. The taunting which passes between them is very spirited. "Lean. You're richly plac'd. Bian. Methinks you're wond'rous brave, sir. Lean. A sumptuous lodging. Bian. You've an excellent suit there. Lean. A chair of velvet. Bian. Is your cloak lin❜d through, sir? Lean. You're very stately here. Bian. Faith, something proud, sir. Lean. Stay, stay, let's see your cloth of silver slippers. Bian. Who's your shoemaker? he's made you a new boot. We both thrive best asunder. Lean. You're a whore. Bian. Fear nothing, sir. Lean. An impudent, spiteful strumpet. Bian. Oh, sir, you give me thanks for your captainship; Lean. And, to spite thee as much, look there; there read, Vex, gnaw; thou shalt find there I am not love-starv'd. Than at one proud fool's door; and 'twere hard, i'faith, A cheerful, and a beauteous benefactor too, As e'er erected the good works of love. Bian. (aside.) Lady Livia! Is't possible? Her worship was my pandress; To play a hot religious bout with some of you, Bian. "Twas said last week there would be change of weather, Lean. Why here's sin made, and ne'er a conscience put to't; A monster with all forehead, and no eyes! Why do I talk to thee of sense or virtue, That art as dark as death? and as much madness To set light before thee, as to lead blind folks To see the monuments, which they may smell as soon As they behold; marry, ofttimes their heads, For want of light, may feel the hardness of 'em ; One more quotation, and we have done. It is where the Cardinal de Medici reproves his brother, the Duke of Florence, for his misdoings. The scene, though on the whole a little tedious, is impressive. We give a part of it only: "Enter Lord Cardinal attended. "Card. Set those lights down: Depart till you be called. [Exit Attendants. Duke. (Aside.) There's serious business Fixed in his look; nay, it inclines a little To the dark colour of a discontentment. Brother, what is't commands your eye so powerfully? Card. The thing I look on seems so; To my eyes lost for ever. Duke. You look on me. Card. What a grief 'tis to a religious feeling, Duke. How! Card. 'Tis no wonder, If your great sin can do't: dare you look up Than of a next embrace! nay, shall I show you What burnt the vallies first, came from the hill; But 'tis example proves the great man's bane. Duke. If you have done, I have; no more, sweet brother. |