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And best of men; so excellent a man
As lives without comparison; his love
To me was matchless.
Mal. Yet put case, sweet cousin,
That I could name a creature, whose affection
Follow'd your Auria in the height; affection
To you, even to Spinella, true and settled
As ever Auria's was, can, is, or will be ;
You may not chide the story.
Spin. Fortune's minions
Are flatter'd, not the miserable.
To a strange tale, which thus the author sigh'd.
A kinsman of Spinella (so it runs),
Her father's sister's son, some time before
Auria, the fortunate, possess'd her beauties,
Became enamour'd of such rare perfections
As she was stored with ; fed his idle hopes
With possibilities of lawful conquest ;
Proposed each difficulty in pursuit
Of whạt his vain supposal styled his own;
Found in the argument one only flaw
Of conscience, by the nearness of their bloods-
Unhappy scruple, easily dispens'd with,
Had any friend's advice resolv'd the doubt.
Still on he loved, and loved, and wish'd, and wish'd;
Eftsoon began to speak, yet soon broke off,
And still the fondling durst not,-'cause he durst not.
Spin. ’T was wonderful.
Mal. Exceeding wonderful.
Beyond all wonder; yet ’t is known for truth,
After her marriage, when remain'd not aught
Of expectation to such fruitless dotage,
His reason then,-now,—then-could not reduce
The violence of passion, though he vow'd
Ne'er to unlock that secret, scarce to her
Herself, Spinella; and withal resolvid
Not to come near her presence, but to avo: ?
All opportunities, however proffer'd.
Spin. An understanding dull’d by the infelicity
Of constant sorrow, is not apprehensive
In pregnant novelty; my ears receive
The words you utter, cousin, but my thoughts
Are fastend on another subject.
Mal. Can you
Embrace, so like a darling, your own woes,
And play the tyrant with a partner in them?
Then I am thankful for th' advantage; urg'd
By fatal and enjoin'd necessity,
To stand up in defence of injur'd virtue;
Will, against any, I except no quality,
Maintain all supposition misapplied,
Unhonest, false, and villanous.
Spin. Dear cousin,
As you're a gentleman
Mal. I'll bless that hand,
Whose honourable pity seals the passport
For my incessant turmoils to their rest.
If I prevail, (which Heaven forbid !) these ages
Which shall inherit ours, may tell posterity
Spinella had Malfato for a kinsman,
By noble love made jealous of her fame. «
Spin. No more; I dare not hear it.
Mal. All is said:
Henceforth shall never syllable proceed
From my unpleasant voice of amorous folly.
Cast. Your summons warn’d me hither; I am
Sister! my sister, 't was an unkind part,
Not to take me along wi' you.
Mal. Chide her for it;
Castanna, this house is as freely yours
As ever was your father's.
Cast. We conceive so,
Though your late strangeness hath bred marvel
But wherefore, sister, keeps your silence distance ?
Am I not welcome to you?
Spin. Lives Auria safe?
Oh, prithee do not hear me call him husband,
Before thou canst resolve what kind of wife
His fury terms the runaway; speak quickly,
Yet do not-stay, Castanna,-I am lost !
His friend hath set before him a bad woman,
And he, good man, believes it.
Cast. Now in truth-
Spin. Hold ! my heart trembles-I perceive thy
Is great with ills, and hastes to be deliver'd;
I should not use Castanna só.
First tell me,
Shortly and truly tell me, how he does.
Cast. In perfect health.
Spin. For that, my thanks to Heaven.
Mal. The world hath not another wife like
Cousin, you will not hear your sister speak,
So much your passion rules.
Spin. Even what she pleases:
Go on, Castanna.
Cast. Your most noble husband
Is deaf to all reports, and only grieves
At his soul's love, Spinella’s, causeless absence.
Mal. Why look ye, cousin, now!
Cast. Will value
No counsel, takes po pleasure in his greatness,
Neither admits of likelihood at all
That you are living: if you were, he's certain
It were impossible you could conceal
Your welcomes to him, being all one with him;
But as for jealousy of your dishonour,
He both laughs at and scorns it.
Spin. Does he !
He shows himself desertful of his happiness.
Cast. Methinks the news should cause some mo
tion, sisterYou are not well.
Mal. Not well!
Spin. I am unworthy-
Mal. Of whom? what? why?
Spin. Go, cousin;-come, Castanna. [Exeunt.
An Apartment in the House of TRELCATIO.
Enter TRELCATIO, PIERO, and FUTELLI. Trel. The state in council is already set, My coming will be late; now, therefore, gentlemen, This house is free ; as your intents are sober, Your pains shall be accepted.
Fut. Mirth sometimes Falls into earnest, signor.
Piero. We, for our parts, Aim at the best.
Trel. You wrong yourselves and me else: Good success to you!
[Exit. Piero, Futelli, 't is our wisest course to follow Our pastime with discretion, by which means We may ingratiate, as our business hits, Our undertakings to great Auria's favour.
Fut. I grow quite weary of this lazy custom, Attending on the fruitless hopes of service, For meat and rags : a wit ? a shrewd preferment! Study some scurril jests, grow old, and beg! No, let them be admired that love foul linen; I'll run a new course.
Piero. Get the coin we spend,
And knock them o'er the pate whojeer our earnings.
Fut. Hush, man; one suitor comes.
Piero. The t' other follows.
Fut. Be not so loud-
Here comes Madonna Sweet-lips;
Mithtreth, in thooth, forthooth, will lithp it to uth.
Enter AMORETTA. Amor. Dentlemen, then ye! Ith thith muthick yourth, or can ye tell what great manth's fidleth make it? tith vedee pretty noyth, but who thould thend it?
Piero. Does not yourself know, lady?
Amor. I do not uthe
To thpend lip-labour upon quethtionths,
That I mythelf can anthwer.
What, hó! we come to be merry,
Open the doors, a jovial crew,
Lusty boys and free, and very,
Tery, very lusty boys are we;
We can drink till all look blue,
Dance, sing, and roar,
Never give o'er,
As long as we have e'er an eye to see. Piero. What call ye this, a song ? Amor. Yeth, a delithious thing, and wondrouth
prety. Fut. A very country-catch !-- Aside.]-Doubtless,
some prince Belike hath sent it to congratulate Your night's repose.
Amor. Think ye tho, thignor?
Fut. This gentleman approaching comes in time
T' inform ye.
Amor. Think ye tho?
I'm thure you know him.
1 Dentlemen, then ye !] i. e. den ye! good even! The reader would scarcely thank me for putting the rest of the pretty lispings of this afflected fair one into articulate language.-GIFFORD.