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With us, in being suitors to the duke
For his return to court,

Fior. To court! indeed,

You have some cause to speak; he undertook,
Most champion-like, to win the prize at tilt,
In honour of your picture;-marry did he.
There's not a groom o' th' querry could have
match'd

The jolly riding man; pray get him back;

I do not need his service, madam, I.

Bian. Not need it, sister? why, I hope you think

'Tis no necessity in me to move it, More than respect of honour.

Fior. Honour? puh!

Honour is talk'd of more than known by some.
Bian. Sister, these words I understand not.
Fern. (aside.) Swell not, unruly thoughts!—
Madam, the motion you propose, proceeds
From the true touch of goodness; 'tis a plea
Wherein my tongue and knee shall jointly strive
To beg his highness for Roseilli's cause.

Your judgment rightly speaks him; there is not,
In any court of Christendom, a man
For quality or trust more absolute.

Fior. How! is't even so?

Pet. I shall for ever bless

[Aside.

Your highness, for your gracious kind esteem
Of my dishearten'd kinsman; and to add
Encouragement to what you undertake,
I dare affirm, 'tis no important fault
Hath caus'd the duke's distaste.

Bian. I hope so too.

D'Av. Let your highness, and you all, my lords, take advice how you motion his excellency on Roseilli's behalf; there is more danger in that man than is fit to be publicly reported. I could wish things were otherwise for his own sake; but I'll assure you, you will exceedingly alter his excellency's disposition he now is in, if you but mention the name of Roseilli to his ear; I am so much acquainted in the process of his actions.

Bian. If it be so, I am the sorrier, sir. I am loth to move my lord unto offence; Yet I'll adventure chiding.

Fern. Oh, had I India's gold, I'd give it all T'exchange one private word, one minute's breath, With this heart-wounding beauty!

[Aside.

Enter the DUKE, FERENTES, and NIBRASSA.

Duke. Prithee, no more, Ferentes; by the faith I owe to honour, thou hast made me laugh Beside my spleen. Fernando, hadst thou heard The pleasant humour of Mauruccio's dotage Discours'd, how, in the winter of his age, He is become a lover, thou would'st swear A morris-dance were but a tragedy

thou hast made me laugh

Beside my spleen.] i. e. "beyond my usual custom of laughter." The spleen seems to have been considered as the source of any sudden and violent ebullition, whether of mirth or anger.

Compared to that: well, we will see the youth.— What Council hold you now, sirs?

Bian. We, my lord,*

Were talking of the horsemanship in France Which, as your friend reports, he thinks exceeds All other nations.

Duke. How! why, have not we

As gallant riders here?

Fern. None that I know.

Duke. Pish, your affection leads you; I dare

wage

A thousand ducats, not a man in France

Outrides Roseilli.

Fior. I shall quit this wrong.
Bian. I said as much, my lord.
Fern. I have not seen

His practice since my coming back.

Duke. Where is he?

How is't we see him not?

Pet. What's this? what's this?

[Aside.

Fern. I hear he was commanded from the court. D'Av. Oh, confusion on this villainous occasion! [Aside. Duke. True; but we meant a day or two at most,

4 We, my lord,

Were talking of the horsemanship in France, &c.] See p. 379. This topic is skilfully introduced by the duchess, as it leads directly to the mention of Roseilli's excellence in the art. It does not appear how the duke reckoned time, but he evidently supposes some days to have passed since the opening of the play, though we are but in the second scene, and, as appears from Petruccio's speech in the next page, not yet arrived at the close of the first day!

Should be his farthest term. Not yet return'd?

Where's D'Avolos?

D'Av. My lord.

Duke. You know our mind,

How comes it thus to pass we miss Roseilli?

D'Av. My lord, in a sudden discontent I hear he departed towards Benevento, determining, as I am given to understand, to pass to Seville, minding to visit his cousin, Don Pedro de Toledo, in the Spanish court.

Duke. The Spanish court! now, by the blessed bones

Of good St. Francis, let there posts be sent
To call him back, or I will post thy head

Beneath my foot: ha, you! you know my mind 1;
Look that you get him back: the Spanish court!
And without our commission!-

Pet. Here's fine juggling!

Bian. Good sir, be not so moved.

Duke. Fie, fie, Bianca,

'Tis such a gross indignity; I'd rather

Have lost seven years' revenue:-the Spanish

court!

How now, what ails our sister?

Fior. On the sudden

I fall a bleeding; 'tis an ominous sign,

Pray heaven, it turn to good!-your highness'

leave.

[Exit.

Duke. Look to her. Come, Fernando, come,

Bianca,

Let's strive to overpass this choleric heat:

Ꭰ Ꭰ

Sirrah, see that you trifle not. [To D'Av.] How

we,

Who sway the manage of authority,

May be abused by smooth officious agents!—
But look well to our sister.

Pet. Nephew, please you

[Exeunt all but PET. and FERN.

[Exit PET.

To see your friend to-night?
Fern. Yes, uncle, yes.-

Thus bodies walk unsoul'd! mine eyes but follow
My heart entomb'd in yonder goodly shrine;
Life without her is but death's subtle snares,
And I am but a coffin to my cares.

[Exit.

ACT II. SCENE I.

A Room in MAURUCCIO's House.

MAURUCCIO, looking in a glass, trimming his beard; GIACOPO brushing him.

Maur. Beard, be confined to neatness, that no

hair

May stovers up to prick my mistress' lip,

More rude than bristles of a porcupine.-
Giacopo!

Gia. My lord.

Maur. Am I all sweet behind?

5 May stover up.] i. e. bristle up, stiffen, &c.; in which sense the word is still familiarly used in the western counties.

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