1

Fern.

Or any thing that I could challenge mine,
Were but of value to express how much

I serve in love the sister of my prince!

Would that,

Fior. 'Tis for your prince's sake, then, not for mine?

Fern. For you in him, and much for him in you.

I must acknowledge, madam, I observe

In your affects1 a thing to me most strange,
Which makes me so much honour you the more.

Fior. Pray, tell it.

Fern. Gladly, lady:

I see how opposite to youth and custom
You set before you, in the tablature
Of your remembrance, the becoming griefs
Of a most loyal lady for the loss

Of so renowned a prince as was your lord.

Fior. Now, good my lord, no more of him.
Fern.

I know it is a needless task in me

To set him forth in his deservèd praise;
You better can record it; for you find
How much more he exceeded other men
In most heroic virtues of account,

So much more was your loss in losing him.
Of him! his praise should be a field too large,
Too spacious, for so mean an orator

As I to range in.

Fior.

Sir, enough: 'tis true

Of him!

He well deserved your labour. On his deathbed

This ring he gave me, bade me never part

With this but to the man I loved as dearly

As I loved him: yet since you know which way
To blaze his worth so rightly, in return

To your deserts wear this for him and me.

1 Affections.

[Offers him the ring.

Fern. O, then, far be it my unhallowed hand With any rude intrusion should annul

A testament enacted by the dead!

Fior. Why, man, that testament is disannulled. And cancelled quite by us that live. Look here, My blood is not yet freezed; for better instance, Be judge yourself; experience is no danger— Cold are my sighs; but, feel, my lips are warm.

Fern. What means the virtuous marquess?
Fior.

[Kisses him.

To new-kiss

The oath to thee, which whiles he lived was his :
Hast thou yet power to love?

Fern.

Fior.

To love!

To meet

Sweetness of language in discourse as sweet?

Fern. Madam, 'twere dulness past the ignorance

Of common blockheads not to understand
Whereto this favour tends; and 'tis a fortune
So much above my fate, that I could wish
No greater happiness on earth: but know
Long since I vowed to live a single life.
Fior. What was't you said?
Fern.

I said I made a vow--

Enter BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, COLONA, and D'AVOLOS. [Aside] Blessèd deliverance !

Fior. [Aside.] Prevented? mischief on this interrup tion!

Bian. My Lord Fernando, you encounter fitly I have a suit t'ye.

Fern.

'Tis my duty, madam,

To be commanded.

Bian.

Since my lord the duke

Is now disposed to mirth, the time serves well
For mediation, that he would be pleased
To take the Lord Roseilli to his grace.
He is a noble gentleman; I dare
Engage my credit, loyal to the state;-
And, sister, one that ever strove, methought,
By special service and obsequious care,
To win respect from you: it were a part
Of gracious favour, if you pleased to join
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' the querry could have matched 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.

Honour! puh!

Fior.
Honour is talked 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. [Aside.] How! is't even so ?
Pet.

I shall for ever bless

Your highness for your gracious kind esteem

Of

my
disheartened kinsman; and to add
Encouragement to what you undertake,

I dare affirm 'tis no important fault
Hath caused the duke's distaste.

I hope so too.

Bian. 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 or his own sake; but I'll assure ye, 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'm loth to move my lord unto offence; Yet I'll adventure chiding.

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

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
Discoursed, how in the winter of his age
He is become a lover, thou wouldst swear

A morris-dance were but a tragedy

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.

1 i.e. Beyond my nature, the spleen being regarded as the sourec of any sudden and violent ebullition.

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. [Aside.] I shall quit this wrong.
Bian. I said as much, my lord.

Fern. I hear he was commanded from the court. D'Av. [Aside.] O, confusion on this villainous occasion !

Duke. True; but we meant a day or two at most

Should be his furthest term.

Where's D'Avolos?

Not yet returned?

D'Av. [Advancing.] 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 blessèd bones
Of good Saint 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;
Look that you get him back: the Spanish court!
And without our commission !-

Pet. [Aside.]

Here's fine juggling!

Bian. Good sir, be not so moved.
Duke.

'Tis such a gross indignity; I'd rather

Fie, fie, Bianca,