Duke. You, sir, look on that woman: are you pleased, If we remit your body from the gaol,

To take her for your wife?

Mau. On that condition, prince, with all my heart.
Mor. Yes, I warrant your grace he is content.

Duke. Why, foolish man, hast thou so soon forgot
The public shame of her abused womb,
Her being mother to a bastard's birth?

Or canst thou but imagine she will be
True to thy bed who to herself was false?

Gia. [To MAURUCCIO] Phew, sir, do not stand upon that; that's a matter of nothing, you know.

Mau. Nay, an't shall please your good grace, an it come to that, I care not; as good men as I have lain in foul sheets, I am sure; the linen has not been much the worse for the wearing a little: I will have her with all my heart.

Duke. And shalt.-Fernando, thou shalt have the

grace

To join their hands; put 'em together, friend.

Bian. Yes, do, my lord; bring you the bridegroom hither ;

I'll give the bride myself.

D'Av. [Aside] Here's argument to jealousy as good as drink to the dropsy; she will share any disgrace with him I could not wish it better.

Duke. Even so: well, do it.

Fern.

Long live a happy couple!

Duke.

Here, Mauruccio;

[FERNANDO and BIANCA join their hands. 'Tis enough;

Now know our pleasure henceforth. 'Tis our will,

If ever thou, Mauruccio, or thy wife,

Be seen within a dozen miles o' the court,

We will recall our mercy; no entreat
Shall warrant thee a minute of thy life:
We'll have no servile slavery of lust

Shall breathe near us;
Bianca, come with me.

dispatch, and get ye hence.— -[Aside.] O, my cleft soul !

[Exeunt Duke and BIANCA.

Mau. How's that? must I come no more near the

court?

Your only

Gia. O, pitiful! not near the court, sir! D'Av. Not by a dozen miles, indeed, sir. course, I can advise you, is to pass to Naples, and set up a house of carnality: there are very fair and frequent suburbs, and you need not fear the contagion of any pestilent disease, for the worst is very proper to the place. Fern. 'Tis a strange sentence. Fior.

And not without some mystery.

D'Av.

Mau. Not near the court !

'Tis, and sudden too,

Will you go, sir?

Mor. What matter is it, sweetheart ? fear nothing, love; you shall have new change of apparel, good diet, wholesome attendance;--and we will live like pigeons, my lord.

Mau. Wilt thou forsake me, Giacopo?

Gia. I forsake ye! no, not as long as I have a whole ear on my head, come what will come.

Fior. Mauruccio, you did once proffer true love
To me, but since you are more thriftier sped,
For old affection's sake here take this gold;
Spend it for my sake.

Mau. Yes, I will go ;-and I humbly thank your lordship and ladyship.-Pavy, sweet Pavy, farewell!—

Come, wife, come, Giacopo:

Now is the time that we away must lag,

And march in pomp with baggage and with bag.
O poor Mauruccio! what hast thou misdone,
To end thy life when life was new begun ?

Adieu to all; for lords and ladies see

My woeful plight and squires of low degree !
D'Av. Away, away, sirs!

[Exeunt all but FIORMONDA and FERNANDO.

Fior. My Lord Fernando,-

Fern.

Fior.

Madam?

Do you note

My brother's odd distractions? You were wont
To bosom in his counsels: I am sure

You know the ground of it.

Fern.

Not I, in troth.

Fior. Is't possible? What would you say, my lord If he, out of some melancholy spleen,

Edged-on by some thank-picking parasite,

Should now prove jealous? I mistrust it shrewdly.
Fern. What, madam ! jealous?

Yes; for but observe,

Fior.
A prince whose eye is chooser to his heart
Is seldom steady in the lists of love,
Unless the party he affects do match
His rank in equal portion or in friends :

I never yet, out of report, or else

By warranted description, have observed
The nature of fantastic jealousy,

If not in him; yet, on my conscience now,
He has no cause.

Fern.

Cause, madam! by this light,

I'll pledge my soul against a useless rush.

Fior. I never thought her less; yet, trust me, sir,
No merit can be greater than your praise:
Whereat I strangely wonder, how a man
Vowed, as you told me, to a single life,

Should so much deify the saints from whom
You have disclaimed devotion.

Fern.

Madam, 'tis true;

From them I have, but from their virtues never.

Fior. You are too wise, Fernando. To be plain,

You are in love; nay, shrink not, man, you are;
Bianca is your aim: why do you blush?

Thou runn'st to thy confusion, if in time
Thou dost not wisely shun that Circe's charm.
Unkindest man! I have too long concealed
My hidden flames, when still in silent signs
I courted thee for love, without respect

To youth or state; and yet thou art unkind.
Fernando, leave that sorceress, if not

For love of me, for pity of thyself.

Fern. [Walks aside]. Injurious woman, I defy thy lust. 'Tis not your subtle sifting that shall creep

Into the secrets of a heart unsoiled.

You are my prince's sister, else your malice
Had railed itself to death: but as for me,
Be record all my fate, I do detest
Your fury or affection :-judge the rest.

[Exit.

Fior. What, gone! well, go thy ways: I see the more

I humble my firm love, the more he shuns

Both it and me. So plain! then 'tis too late

To hope; change, peevish passion, to contempt!
Whatever
rages in my blood I feel,
Fool, he shall know I was not born to kneel.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Another Room in the Palace.

Enter D'AVOLOS and JULIA.

D'Av. Julia, mine own, speak softly. What, hast thou learned out any thing of this pale widgeon? speak soft; what does she say?

Jul. Foh, more than all; there's not an hour shall pass

Ford.

A A

Whole nights--you know my mind; I hope you'll give
The gown you promised me.

D'Av. Honest Julia, peace; thou'rt a woman worth a
kingdom. Let me never be believed now but I think it
will be my destiny to be thy husband at last: what though
thou have a child,—or perhaps two?

Jul. Never but one, I swear.

D'Av. Well, one; is that such a matter? I like thee
the better for't! it shows thou hast a good tenantable and
fertile womb, worth twenty of your barren, dry, bloodless
devourers of youth.-But come, I will talk with thee
more privately; the duke has a journey in hand, and will
not be long absent: see, he has come already—let's pass
away easily.
[Exeunt.

Enter Duke and BIANCA.

Duke. Troubled? yes, I have cause.—O, Bianca !
Here was my fate engraven in thy brow,

This smooth, fair, polished table; in thy cheeks
Nature summed up thy dower: 'twas not wealth,
The miser's god, or royalty of blood,

Advanced thee to my bed; but love, and hope
Of virtue that might equal those sweet looks:
If, then, thou shouldst betray my trust, thy faith,
To the pollution of a base desire,

Thou wert a wretched woman.

Bian.

Or fear, my lord?

Duke.

Speaks your love

Both, both. Bianca, know,

The nightly languish of my dull unrest

Hath stamped a strong opinion; for, methought,-
Mark what I say,- -as I in glorious pomp

Was sitting on my throne, whiles I had hemmed
My best-beloved Bianca in mine arms,

She reached my cap of state, and cast it down
Beneath her foot, and spurned it in the dust;