Your goodness aims, I know, at her preferment; Therefore, I may be bold to make confession

Of truth: if ever I desire to thrive

In woman's favour, Kala is the first
Whom my ambition shall bend to.
Tha. Indeed!

But say, a nobler love should interpose.

Par. Where real worth and constancy first settle A hearty truth, there greatness cannot shake it; Nor shall it mine: yet I am but an infant

In that construction, which must give clear light To Kala's merit; riper hours hereafter

Must learn me how to grow rich in deserts.

Madam, my duty waits on you.

Tha. Come hither!

"If ever henceforth I desire to thrive

In woman's favour, Kala is the first

[Exit.

Whom my ambition shall bend to."-"Twas so! Kal. These very words he spake.

Tha. These very words

Curse thee, unfaithful creature, to thy grave.

Thou woo'd'st him for thyself?

Kal. You said I should.

Tha. My name was never mention'd?

Kal. Madam, no:

We were not come to that.

Tha. Not come to that!

Art thou a rival fit to cross my fate?

Now poverty and a dishonest fame,

The waiting-woman's wages, be thy payment,

False, faithless, wanton beast! I'll spoil your carriage ;+

There's not a page, a groom, nay, not a citizen
That shall be cast [away] upon thee, Kala;
I'll keep thee in my service all thy lifetime,
Without hope of a husband or a suitor.

Kal. I have not verily deserv'd this cruelty. Tha. Parthenophill shall know, if he respect My birth, the danger of a fond' neglect.

[Exit. Kal. Are you so quick? Well, I may chance

to cross

Your peevishness. Now, though I never meant The young man for myself, yet, if he love me, I'll have him, or I'll run away with him;

And let her do her worst then! What! we're all But flesh and blood; the same thing that will do My lady good, will please her woman too." [Exit.

SCENE II.

An Apartment at the Castle.

Enter CLEOPHILA and TROLLIO.

Cleo. Tread softly, Trollio, my father sleeps still. Trol. Ay, forsooth; but he sleeps like a hare, with his eyes open, and that's no good sign.

+ I'll spoil your carriage!] So the 4to. reads. From the sequel of the speech it appears not improbable that the poet's word was marriage.

Of a fond neglect.] i. e. the danger of slighting the love of a lady of my rank.

Kala bears some resemblance to Valeria, in Shirley's Tragedy of The Cardinal.

Cleo. Sure thou art weary of this sullen living; But I am not; for I take more content

In my obedience here, than all delights
The time presents elsewhere.

Mel. Oh!

Cleo. Dost hear that groan?

Trol. Hear it? I shudder; it was a strong blast, young mistress, able to root up heart, liver, lungs, and all.

Cleo. My much-wrong'd father! let me view his face.

[Draws the Arras, MELEANDER discovered in a chair, sleeping.

Trol. Lady mistress, shall I fetch a barber to steal away his rough beard whilst he sleeps? In his naps he never looks in a glass-and 'tis high time, o' my conscience, for him to be trimmed; he has not been under the shaver's hand almost these four years.

Cleo. Peace, fool!

Trol. I could clip the old ruffian; there's hair enough to stuff all the great cod-pieces in Switzerland. He begins to stir; he stirs. Bless us, how his eyes roll! A good year keep your lordship in your right wits, I beseech ye!

[Aside.

Mel. Cleophila !

Cleo. Sir, I am here; how do

you,

sir?

7 ————while he sleeps? In his naps, &c.] The 4to. reads, "While he sleeps in his naps ?"--which is not easily understood: unless by naps the facetious Trollio means in his rough state. I believe, however, that the error lies in the pointing.

Trol. Sir, is your stomach up yet? get some warm porridge in your belly; 'tis a very good settle-brain.

Mel. The raven croak'd, and hollow shrieks of owls

Sung dirges at her funeral; I laugh'd

The while, for 'twas no boot to weep. The girl Was fresh and full of youth; but, oh! the cun

ning

Of tyrants, that look big! their very frowns Doom poor souls guilty ere their cause be heard.Good! what art thou? and thou?

Cleo. I am Cleophila,

Your woeful daughter.

Trol. I am Trollio,

Your honest implement.

Mel. I know you both. 'Las, why d'ye use me thus?

Thy sister, my Eroclea, was so gentle,
That turtles in their down, do feed more gall,
Than her spleen mix'd with:-yet, when winds
and storm

Drive dirt and dust on banks of spotless snow,
The purest whiteness is no such defence
Against the sullying foulness of that fury.
So raved Agenor, that great man, mischief
Against the girl-'twas a politic trick!
We were too old in honour.-I am lean,
And fall'n away extremely; most assuredly
I have not dined these three days.

Cleo. Will you now, sir?

Trol. I beseech you heartily, sir: I feel a horrible puking myself.

Mel. Am I stark mad?

Trol. No, no, you are but a little staringthere's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied yet; crotcheted, conundrumed, or so.

[Aside. Mel. Here's all my care; and I do often sigh For thee, Cleophila; we are secluded From all good people. But take heed; Amethus Was son to Doryla, Agenor's sister;

There's some ill blood about him, if the surgeon Have not been very skilful to let all out.

Cleo. I am, alas! too griev'd to think of love; That must concern me least.

Mel. Sirrah, be wise! be wise!

Enter AMETHUS, MENAPHON, PARTHENOPHILL, and RHETIAS.

Trol. Who, I? I will be monstrous and wise immediately.-Welcome, gentlemen; the more the merrier. I'll lay the cloth, and set the stools in a readiness, for I see here is some hope of dinner now.

[Exit. Amet. My lord Meleander, Menaphon, your

kinsman,

Newly return'd from travel, comes to tender
His duty to you; to you his love, fair mistress.
Men. I would I could as easily remove,

Sadness from your remembrance, sir, as study

E