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 marriage.1
There's not a page, a groom, nay, not a citizen
That shall be cast away upon ye, Kala;
I'll keep thee in my service all thy lifetime,
Without hope of a husband or a suitor.

Kal. I have not verily deserved this cruelty.
Tha. Parthenophil shall know, if he respect

My birth, the danger of a fond2 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 in 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.

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.

1 66 Carriage" in the old eds.

2 Foolish.

Mel. [Within] O!

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-wronged father! let me view his face. [Draws the arras:1 MELEANDER discovered in a chair, sleeping.

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

Cleo. Peace, fool!

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

Mel. Cleophila !

Cleo. Sir, I am here; how d'ye, sir?

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

Mel. The raven croaked, and

owls

hollow shrieks of

The girl

Sung dirges at her funeral; I laughed
The whiles, for 'twas no boot to weep.
Was fresh and full of youth: but, O, the cunning
Of tyrants, that look big! their very frowns
Doom poor souls guilty ere their cause be heard.-
Good, what art thou ?-and thou?

1 Arras was used precisely as a curtain: it hung (on tenters or lines) from the rafters, or from some temporary stay, and was opened, held up, or drawn aside, as occasion required.-Gifford.

Mel. I know ye 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 mixed 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 ye heartily, sir: I feel a horrible puking myself.

Mel. Am I stark mad?

Trol. [Aside] No, no, you are but a little staring; there's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied yet; crotcheted, conumdrumed, or so. 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 grieved to think of love;

That must concern me least.

Mel. Sirrah, be wise! be wise!

Trol. Who, I? I will be monstrous and wise immediately.

Enter AMETHUS, MENAPHON, PARTHENOPHIL, and

RHETIAS.

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. Amet. My Lord Meleander, Menaphon, your kinsman,

[Exit.

Newly returned from travel, comes to tender
His duty t'ye ;-to you his love, fair mistress.
Men. I would I could as easily remove
Sadness from your remembrance, sir, as study
To do you faithful service.-My dear cousin,
All best of comforts bless your sweet obedience !
Cleo. One chief of 'em, my worthy cousin, lives
In you and your well-doing.

Rhe. [Aside] How he eyes the company! sure my passion will betray my weakness.-O my master, my noble master, do not forget me; I am still the humblest and the most faithful in heart of those that serve you.

Mel. Ha, ha, ha!

Rhe. [Aside] There's wormwood in that laughter; 'tis the usher to a violent extremity.

Mel. I am a weak old man. All these are come

To jeer my ripe calamities.

Men.

Good uncle!

Mel. But I'll outstare ye all: fools, desperate fools! You're cheated, grossly cheated; range, range on, And roll about the world to gather moss, The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes, Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud roofs Shall with their pinnacles even reach the stars. Ye work and work like moles, blind in the paths That are bored through the crannies of the earth, To charge your hungry souls with such full surfeits As being gorged once, make ye lean with plenty ; And when ye've skimmed the vomit of your riots, Ye're fat in no felicity but folly:

Then your last sleeps seize on ye; then the troops
Of worms crawl round and feast; good cheer, rich fare,
Dainty, delicious!—Here's Cleophila ;

All the poor stock of my remaining thrift:

You, you, the prince's cousin, how d'ye like her?
Amethus, how d'ye like her?

Amet.

Are just and honourable.

Men.

My intents

Sir, believe him.

Mel. Take her. We two must part; go to him do.

Par. This sight is full of horror.

Rhe.

In this distraction.

There is sense yet

Mel. In this jewel I have given away

All what I can call mine. When I am dead,
Save charge; let me buried in a nook:

No guns, no pompous whining; these are fooleries.
If, whiles we live, we stalk about the streets
Jostled by carmen, footposts, and fine apes
In silken coats, unminded and scarce thought on
It is not comely to be haled to the earth,
Like high-fed jades upon a tilting-day,
In antic trappings. Scorn to useless tears!
Eroclea was not coffined so; she perished,

And no eye dropped save mine—and I am childish:
I talk like one that dotes: laugh at me, Rhetias,

Or rail at me. They will not give me meat,

They've starved me; but I'll henceforth be mine own

cook.

Good morrow! 'tis too early for my cares

To revel; I will break my heart a little,
And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry,

[Exit.

Rhe. I'll follow him.-My Lord Amethus, use your time respectively few words to purpose soonest prevail : study no long orations; be plain and short.-I'll follow him. [Exit. Amet. Cleophila, although these blacker clouds