Bian. Perhaps your teeth have bled: wipe't with my handkercher give me, I'll do't myself. [Aside to FER NANDO] Speak, shall I steal a kiss? believe me, my lord, I long. Fern. Not for the world. Fior. [Aside] Apparent impudence! D'Av. Beshrew my heart, but that's not so good. Duke. Ha, what's that thou mislikest, D'Avolos? D'Av. Nothing, my lord ;-but I was hammering a conceit of my own, which cannot, I find, in so short a time thrive as a day's practice. Fior. [Aside] Well put off, secretary. Duke. We are too sad; methinks the life of mirth Should still be fed where we are: where's Mauruccio? Feren. An't please your highness, he's of late grown. so affectionately inward with my lady marquess's fool, that I presume he is confident there are few wise men worthy of his society, who are not as innocently harmless as that creature. It is almost impossible to separate them, and 'tis a question which of the two is the wiser man. Duke. 'Would he were here! I have a kind of dul ness Hangs on me since my hunting, that I feel As 'twere a disposition to be sick; My head is ever aching. D'Av. A shrewd ominous token; I like not that neither. Duke. Again! what is't you like not? D'Av. I beseech your highness excuse me; I am so busy with this frivolous project, and can bring it to no shape, that it almost confounds my capacity. Bian. My lord, you were best to try a set at maw.1 I and your friend, to pass away the time, Will undertake your highness and your sister. 1 A game which bore apparently some resemblance to "reversi," a burlesque of whist. 'Tis a peevish play; Duke. The game's too tedious. Fior. Your knave will heave the queen out or your king; Enter MAURUCCIO with ROSEILLI disguised as before, and Mau. Bless thee, most excellent duke! I here present thee as worthy and learned a gentleman as ever I—and yet I have lived threescore years—conversed with. Take it from me, I have tried him, and he is worthy to be privycounsellor to the greatest Turk in Christendom; of a most apparent and deep understanding, slow of speech, but speaks to the purpose.-Come forward, sir, and appear before his highness in your own proper elements. Ros. Will-tye—to da new toate sure la now. Gia. A very senseless gentleman, and, please your highness, one that has a great deal of little wit, as they say. Mau. O, sir, had you heard him, as I did, deliver whole histories in the Tangay tongue, you would swear there were not such a linguist breathed again; and did I but perfectly understand his language, I would be confident in less than two hours to distinguish the meaning of bird, beast, or fish naturally as I myself speak Italian, my lord. Well, he has rare qualities! Duke. Now, prithee, question him, Mauruccio. Mau. I will, my lord. Tell me, rare scholar, which, in thy opinion, Doth cause the strongest breath, garlic or onion. Gia. Answer him, brother-fool; do, do; speak thy mind, chuck, do. Ros. Have bid seen all da fine knack, and de, e, naghtye tat-tle of da kna-ve, dad la have so. Duke. We understand him not. Mau. Admirable, I protest duke; mark, O, duke, mark-What did I ask him, Giacopo? Gia. What caused the strongest breath, garlic or onions, I take it, sir.. Mau. Right, right, by Helicon! and his answer is, that a knave has a stronger breath than any of 'em : wisdom-or I am an ass—in the highest; a direct figure; put it down, Giacopo. Duke. How happy is that idiot whose ambition Is but to eat and sleep, and shun the rod ! Men that have more of wit, and use it ill, Are fools in proof. Bian. True, my lord, there's many Who think themselves most wise that are most fools. Duke. But what? speak out; plague on your muttering, grumbling! I hear you, sir; what is't? D'Av. Nothing, I protest, to your highness pertinent to any moment. Duke. Well, sir, remember.-Friend, you promised study.― I am not well in temper.-Come, Bianca.- Attend our friend, Ferentes. [Exeunt all but FERNANDO, ROseilli, FerentES and MAURUCCIO. Fern. Ferentes, take Mauruccio in with you ; He must be one in action. Are we safe? Fern. How thrive your hopes now, cousin? Ros. Then let me cast myself beneath thy foot, True, virtuous lord. Know, then, sir, her proud heart f Is only fixed on you, in such extremes Or she'll enjoy you, or she'll ruin you. Fern. Me, coz? by all the joys I wish to taste, She is as far beneath my thought as I In soul above her malice. Ros. To do Fern. you mischief! Pish should he or hell Affront me in the passage of my fate, I'd crush them into atomies. meantime, my lord, Ros. I do admit you could [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Another Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE and D'AVOLOS. Duke, Thou art a traitor: do not think the gloss Of smooth evasion, by your cunning jests And coinage of your politician's brain, Shall jig me off; I'll know't, I vow I will. Did not I note your dark abrupted ends Of words half-spoke? your "wells, if all were known"? 1 Design. 2 Fools'-caps. Yes, sir, I did; such broken language argues D'Av. What would you know, my lord? I confess I owe my life and service to you, as to my prince; the one you have, the other you may take from me at your pleasure. Should I devise matter to feed your distrust, or suggest likelihoods without appearance? what would you have me say? I know nothing. Duke. Thou liest, dissembler! on thy brow I read Distracted horrors figured in thy looks. On thy allegiance, D'Avolos, as e'er Thou hop'st to live in grace with us, unfold. Shall be our special thanks and love untermed: 1 D'Av. O, my disaster! my lord, I am so charmed by those powerful repetitions of love and duty, that I cannot conceal what I know of your dishonour. Duke. Dishonour! then my soul is cleft with fear; I half presage my misery: say on, Speak it at once, for I am great with grief. D'Av. I trust your highness will pardon me; yet I will not deliver a syllable which shall be less innocent than truth itself. Duke. By all our wish of joys, we pardon thee. D'Av. Get from me, cowardly servility! my service is noble, and my loyalty an armour of brass: in short, my lord, and plain discovery, you are a cuckold. Duke. Keep in the word,-a "cuckold!" D'Av. Fernando is your rival, has stolen your duchess' heart, murdered friendship, horns your head, and laughs at your horns. 1 Interminable. |
