My queen! and nothing for it but a pawn?
Why then the game's lost too: but play.
Fern. What, madam?

423

[FERNANDO often looks about. Bian. You must needs play well, you are so studious.

Fie upon't! you study past patience :-
What do you dream on? here's demurring
Would weary out a statue!-Good now, play.
Fern. Forgive me; let my knees for ever stick

[Kneels. Nail'd to the ground, as earthy as my fears, Ere I arise, to part away so curst

In

my unbounded anguish, as the rage
Of flames, beyond all utterance of words,
Devour me, lighten'd by your sacred eyes.
Bian. What means the man?

Fern. To lay before your feet

In lowest vassalage, the bleeding heart
That sighs the tender of a suit disdain'd.
Great lady, pity me, my youth, my wounds;
And do not think that I have cull'd this time
From motion's swiftest measure, to unclasp
The book of lust: If purity of love

Have residence in virtue's breast," lo here,
Bent lower in my heart than on my knee,
I beg compassion to a love, as chaste

As softness of desire can intimate.

6 In virtue's breast.] which I can make nothing.

The 4to reads in virtue's quest :

of

Re-enter D'AVOLOS behind.

D'Av. At it already! admirable haste.
Bian. Am I again betray'd? bad man.-
Fern. Keep in,

Bright angel, that severer breath, to cool
That heat of cruelty, which sways the temple
Of your too stony breast: you cannot urge
One reason to rebuke my trembling plea,
Which I have not, with many nights' expense,
Examined; but, oh, madam, still I find
No physic strong to cure a tortured mind,
But freedom from the torture it sustains.

D'Av. Not kissing yet? still on your knees? O for a plump bed and clean sheets, to comfort the aching of his shins! we shall have them clip anon, and lisp kisses; here's ceremony, with a vengeance! Bian. Rise up, we charge you, rise: [he rises]

look on our face.

What see you there that may persuade a hope
Of lawless love? Know, most unworthy man,
So much we hate the baseness of thy lust,
As, were none living of thy sex but thee,
We had much rather prostitute our blood
To some envenom'd serpent, than admit
Thy bestial dalliance. Couldst thou dare to speak
Again, when we forbade? no, wretched thing,
Take this for answer: if thou henceforth ope
Thy leprous mouth to tempt our ear again,
We shall not only certify our lord

Of thy disease in friendship, but revenge

Thy boldness with the forfeit of thy life.
Think on't.

D'Av. Now, now, now the game's a-foot! your gray jennet with the white face is curried, forsooth;-please your lordship leap up into the saddle, forsooth?-Poor duke, how must thy head

ach now!

Fern. Stay, go not hence in choler, blessed woman!

You have school'd me; lend me hearing: though the float

Of infinite desires swell to a tide

Too high so soon to ebb, yet by this hand,

[Kisses her hand.

This glorious, gracious hand of your's

D'Av. Aye, marry, the match is made; clap

hands and to't, ho!

Fern. I swear,

Henceforth I never will as much in word,

In letter, or in syllable, presume

To make a repetition of my griefs.

Good night t'ye! if, when I am dead, you rip
This coffin of my heart, there shall you read
With constant eyes, what now my tongue defines,
Bianca's name carv'd out in bloody lines.

For ever, lady, now good night!

Bian. Good night!

Rest in your goodness; lights there.

[Enter Attendants with lights.]

Sir, good night.

[Exeunt sundry ways.

D'Av. So, via!--To be cuckol'd (mercy and

providence) is as natural to a married man as to eat, sleep, or wear a nightcap. Friends!-I will rather trust mine arm in the throat of a lion, my purse with a courtezan, my neck with the chance on a dye, or my religion in a synagogue of Jews, than my wife with a friend. Wherein do princes exceed the poorest peasant that ever was yoked to a sixpenny strumpet, but that the horns of the one are mounted some two inches higher by a choppine' than the other? Oh Acteon! the goodliest headed beast of the forest amongst wild cattle is a stag; and the goodliest beast amongst tame fools in a corporation is a cuckold.

Re-enter FIORMONDA.

Fior. Speak, D'Avolos, how thrives intelligence? D'Av. Above the prevention of fate, madam. I saw him kneel, make pitiful faces, kiss hands and forefingers, rise, and by this time he is up, up, madam. Doubtless the youth aims to be duke, for he is gotten into the duke's seat an hour ago.

7 By a choppine, &c.] i. e. clogs or pattens of cork, or light frame work, covered with leather, and worn under the shoe. The practice never prevailed in this country, but seems to have been fashionable at Venice, and places where walking was not required, for which choppines were totally unfit, as no woman could drag them after her; at least, if we may trust Lessels, who says that he has often seen them of a full half yard high." Ford's choppines, however, are of a very moderate description, and do not reach the altitude of the high-heeled shoes which were fashionable in this country about half a century ago. They derive their origin, as well as their name, from Spain, the region of cork; but our poets generally draw their examples from Italy. See Jonson v. ii. p. 258.

Fior. Is't true?

D'Av. Oracle, oracle! siege was laid, parley admitted, composition offered, and the fort entered; there's no interruption. The duke will be at home to-morrow, gentle animal !-what do you resolve?

Fior. To stir up tragedies as black as brave, And send the letcher panting to his grave.[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Bed-chamber in the same.

Enter BIANCA, her hair loose, in her night-mantle. She draws a curtain, FERNANDO is discovered in bed, sleeping. She sets down the candle, and goes to the bed-side.

Bian. Resolve, and do; 'tis done.-What! are
those eyes,

Which lately were so overdrown'd in tears,
So easy to take rest? Oh happy man!

How sweetly sleep hath seal'd up sorrows here!
But I will call him.-What, my lord, my lord,
My lord Fernando!

Fern. Who calls me?

Bian. My lord,

Sleeping or waking?

Fern. Ha! who is't?

Bian. "Tis I:

Have you forgot my voice? or is your ear

But useful to your eye?