SCENE II.

The Street, before FLORIO's House.

Enter GRIMALDI and VASQUES, with their Swords drawn.

Vas. Come, sir, stand to your tackling; if you prove craven, I'll make you run quickly.

Grim. Thou art no equal match for me.

Vas. Indeed I never went to the wars to bring home news; nor I cannot play the mountebank for a meal's meat, and swear I got my wounds in the field. See you these grey hairs? they'll not flinch for a bloody nose. Wilt thou to this gear?

Grim. Why, slave, think'st thou I'll balance my reputation with a cast-suit? Call thy master, he shall know that I dare

Vas. Scold like a cot-quean;-that's your profession. Thou poor shadow of a soldier, I will make thee know my master keeps servants, thy betters in quality and performance. Com'st thou

to fight or prate?

Grim. Neither, with thee. I am a Roman and

has just past, it is replete with excellence as a composition; it may be doubted, however, whether it does not let us somewhat too abruptly into the plot, which, from its revolting nature, should have been more gradually opened. The character of the Friar is artfully drawn; pious, but gentle, irresolute, and, to speak tenderly, strangely indulgent; and thus we are prepared for his subsequent conduct, which involves the fate of his young charge.

"Scold like a cot-quean.] A contemptuous term for one who concerns himself with female affairs; an effeminate meddler.

a gentleman; one that have got mine honour with expense of blood.

Vas. You are a lying coward, and a fool. Fight, or by these hilts I'll kill thee:-brave my lord! You'll fight?

Grim. Provoke me not, for if thou dost―

Vas. Have at you.

[They fight, GRIMALDI is worsted.

Enter FLORIO, DONADO, and SORANZO, from opposite Sides.

Flo. What mean these sudden broils so near my doors?

Have you not other places, but my house,
To vent the spleen of your disorder'd bloods?
Must I be haunted still with such unrest,
As not to eat, or sleep in peace at home?
Is this your love, Grimaldi? Fie! 'tis naught.
Don. And, Vasques, I may tell thee, 'tis not well
To broach these quarrels; you are ever forward
In seconding contentions.

Enter above ANNABELLA and PUTANA.

Flo. What's the ground?

Sor. That, with your patience, signiors, I'll

resolve:

This gentleman, whom fame reports a soldier, (For else I know not) rivals me in love

7 Enter above,] i. e. on the raised platform which stood on the old stage, and which served for a balcony to the street, and a gallery to the rooms within doors.

To Signior Florio's daughter; to whose ears
He still prefers his suit, to my disgrace;
Thinking the way to recommend himself,
Is to disparage me in his report.

But know, Grimaldi, though, may be, thou art
My equal in thy blood, yet this bewrays

A lowness in thy mind; which, wert thou noble,
Thou would'st as much disdain, as I do thee
For this unworthiness; and on this ground
I will'd my servant to correct his tongue,
Holding a man so base no match for me.

Vas. And had not your sudden coming prevented us, I had let my gentleman blood under the gills; I should have worm'd you, sir, for running mad.

8

Grim. I'll be reveng'd, Soranzo.

Vas. On a dish of warm broth to stay your stomach-do, honest innocence, do! spoon-meat is a wholesomer diet than a Spanish blade.

Grim. Remember this!

Sor. I fear thee not, Grimaldi.

[Exit.

Flo. My lord Soranzo, this is strange to me; Why you should storm, having my word engag'd: Owing her heart,' what need you doubt her ear? Losers may talk, by law of any game.

8 I should have worm'd you, sir, for running mad.] i. e. to prevent you from running mad.—Jonson, vol. iv. p. 181. The allusion is, to the practice of cutting what is called the worm from under a dog's tongue, as a preventive of madness.

9 Owing her heart,] i. e. possessing, owning: in this sense the word is used by all our old dramatists. Florio's reasoning, however, is far from correct. It does not follow that, because Soranzo had his word, he owed his daughter's heart: in short, Annabella seems to have thought nothing of him.

Vas. Yet the villainy of words, Signior Florio, may be such, as would make any unspleened dove choleric. Blame not my lord in this.

Flo. Be you more silent;

I would not for my wealth, my daughter's love Should cause the spilling of one drop of blood. Vasques, put up: let's end this fray in wine.

[Exeunt.

Put. How like you this, child? here's threatening, challenging, quarrelling, and fighting on every side, and all is for your sake; you had need look to yourself, charge, you'll be stolen away sleeping else shortly.

Ann. But, tutoress, such a life gives no content To me, my thoughts are fix'd on other ends. Would you would leave me!

Put. Leave you! no marvel else; leave me no leaving, charge; this is love outright. Indeed, I blame you not; you have choice fit for the best lady in Italy.

Ann. Pray do not talk so much.

Put. Take the worst with the best, there's Grimaldi the soldier, a very well timber'd fellow. They say he's a Roman, nephew to the Duke Montferrato; they say he did good service in the wars against the Milanese; but, 'faith, charge, I do not like him, an't be for nothing but for being a soldier: not one amongst twenty of your skirmishing captains but have some privy maim or other, that mars their standing upright. I like him the worse, he crinkles so much in the hams:

though he might serve if there were no more men, yet he's not the man I would choose.

Ann. Fie, how thou prat'st!

Put. As I am a very woman, I like Signior Soranzo well; he is wise, and what is more, rich; and what is more than that, kind; and what is more than all this, a nobleman: such a one, were I the fair Annabella myself, I would wish and pray for. Then he is bountiful; besides, he is handsome, and by my troth, I think, wholesome; and that's news in a gallant of three-and-twenty: liberal, that I know; loving, that you know; and a man sure, else he could never have purchased such a good name with Hippolita, the lusty widow, in her husband's lifetime. An 'twere but for that report, sweetheart, would he were thine! Commend a man for his qualities, but take a husband as he is a plain, sufficient, naked man; such a one is for your bed, and such a one is Signior Soranzo, my life for't.

Ann. Sure the woman took her morning's draught too soon.

Enter BERGETTO and POGGIO.

Put. But look, sweetheart, look what thing comes now! Here's another of your ciphers to fill up the number: Oh, brave old ape in a silken coat! Observe.

Berg. Didst thou think, Poggio, that I would spoil my new clothes, and leave my dinner, to fight!