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. 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 occa sion! [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 Beneath my foot: ha, you! you know my mind; 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: D D Sirrah, see that you trifle not. [To D'Av.] How we, Who sway the manage of authority, May be abused by smooth officious agents!- Pet. Nephew, please you [Exeunt all but PET. and FERN. [Exit PET. To see your friend to-night? Thus bodies walk unsoul'd! mine eyes but follow [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, 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. Gia. I have no poulterer's nose; but your apparel sits about you most debonairly. Maur. But, Giacopo, with what grace do my words proceed out of my mouth? Have I a moving countenance? is there harmony in my voice? canst thou perceive, as it were, a handsomeness of shape in my very breath, as it is formed into syllables, Giacopo? 6 Enter above, DUKE, BIANCA, FIORMONDA, FERNANDO, Courtiers, and Attendants. Gia. Yes, indeed, sir, I do feel a savour as pleasant as―a glister-pipe,--calamus, or civet. Duke. Observe him, and be silent. Maur. Hold thou the glass, Giacopo, and mark me with what exceeding comeliness I could court the lady marquesse, if it come to the push. Duke. Sister, you are his aim. Fior. A subject fit To be the stale of laughter! Bian. That's your music." Maur. Thus I reverse my pace, and thus stalkingly in courtly gait, I advance, one, two, and three.-Good! I kiss my hand, make my congee, settle my countenance, and thus begin.-Hold up the glass higher, Giacopo! 6 Enter above, &c.] i. e. as has been already observed, on the raised platform of the old stage, which served as a gallery to a room, or a balcony to a street. That's your music.] This appears to be an incidental observation on the perpetual tone of wrangling sustained by this captious, jealous, malevolent woman, who turns everything to poison. Gia. Thus high, sir? Maur. 'Tis well; now mark me. Most excellent Marquèsse, most fair la-dy, I am than other green youth nimblè-er: 8 Oh, Giacopo! Petrarch was a dunce, Dante a jigmaker, Sanazzar a goose, and Ariosto a puck-fist, to me. I tell thee, Giacopo, I am rapt with fury; and have been for these six nights together drunk with the pure liquor of Helicon. Gia. I think no less, sir; for you look as wild, and talk as idly, as if you had not slept these nine years. Duke. What think you of this language, sister? Fior. Sir, I think, in prince's courts, no age nor greatness But must admit the fool; in me 'twere folly, To scorn what greater states than I have been. Bian. O, but you are too general Fior. A fool! I thank your highness; many a woman's wit, Have thought themselves much better, was much worse. 8 driosto a puck-fist.] i. e. an empty boaster. The word is common, in our old writers, for any thing vile or worthless. The fungus, so called, is better known to our villagers by the name of puff-ball. |