Friar. Have done, unhappy youth! for thou art lost.

Gio. Shall, then, for that I am her brother born,
My joys be ever banished from her bed?
No, father; in your eyes I see the change
Of pity and compassion; from your age,
As from a sacred oracle, distils

The life of counsel: tell me, holy man,
What cure shall give me ease in these extremes?
Friar. Repentance, son, and sorrow for this sin:
For thou hast mov'd a Majesty above,
With thy unranged (almost) blasphemy.

Gio. O do not speak of that, dear confessor.
Friar. Art thou, my son, that miracle of wit,
Who once, within these three months, wert esteem'd
A wonder of thine age, throughout Bononia?
How did the University applaud

Thy government, behaviour, learning, speech,
Sweetness, and all that could make up a man!
I was proud of my tutelage, and chose
Rather to leave my books, than part with thee;
I did so :-but the fruits of all my hopes
Are lost in thee, as thou art in thyself.
O Giovanni! hast thou left the schools
Of knowledge, to converse with lust and death?
For death waits on thy lust. Look through the
And thou shalt see a thousand faces shine [world,
More glorious than this idol thou ador'st:

Leave her, and take thy choice, 'tis much less sin;
Though in such games as those, they lose that win.
Gio. It were more ease to stop the ocean
From floats and ebbs, than to dissuade my vows.
Friar. Then I have done, and in thy wilful
Already see thy ruin; Heaven is just.
Yet hear my counsel.

Gio. As a voice of life.

[flames

Friar. Hie to thy father's house, there lock thee fast

Alone within thy chamber; then fall down
On both thy knees, and grovei on the ground;
Cry to thy heart; wash every word thou utter'st
In tears (and if't be possible) of blood:
Beg Heaven to cleanse the leprosy of lust
That rots thy soul; acknowledge what thou art,
A wretch, a worm, a nothing; weep, sigh, pray
Three times a-day, and three times every night:
For seven days space do this; then, if thou find'st
No change in thy desires, return to me;
I'll think on remedy. Pray for thyself
At home, whilst I pray for thee here.-Away!
My blessing with thee! we have need to pray.
Gio. All this I'll do, to free me from the rod
vengeance; else I'll swear my fate's my god.
[Exeunt.

Of

SCENE II.-The Street, before FLORIO'S House.

Enter GRIMALDI and VASQUES, with their Swords drawn. Vas. Come, sir, stand to your tackling; if you prove craven, I'll make you run quickly.

Grim. Thou art no equal match for me.

Vas. Indeed I never went to the wars to bring home news; nor I cannot play the mountebank for a meal's meat, and swear I got my wounds in the field. See you these grey hairs? they'll not flinch for a bloody nose. Wilt thou to this gear?

Grim. Why, slave, think'st thou I'll balance

my reputation with a cast-suit? Call thy master, he shall know that I dare

Vas. Scold like a cot-quean:-that's your profession. Thou poor shadow of a soldier, I will make thee know my master keeps servants, thy betters in quality and performance. Com'st thou to fight or prate?

Grim. Neither, with thee. I am a Roman and a gentleman; one that have got mine honour with expense of blood.

Vas. You are a lying coward, and a fool. Fight, or by these hilts I'll kill thee :-brave my lord! You'll fight?

Grim. Provoke me not, for if thou dost-
Vas. Have at you.

[They fight, GRIMALDI is worsted.

Enter FLORIO, DONADO, and SORANZO, from opposite Sides.

Flo. What mean these sudden broils so near my doors?

Have you not other places, but my house,
To vent the spleen of your disorder'd bloods?
Must I be haunted still with such unrest,
As not to eat, or sleep in peace at home?
Is this your love, Grimaldi? Fie! 'tis naught.
Don. And, Vasques, I may tell thee, 'tis not
well

To broach these quarrels; you are ever forward
In seconding contentions.

Enter above ANNABELLA and PUTANA.
Flo. What's the ground?

Sor. That, with your patience, signiors, I'll

resolve:

This gentleman, whom fame reports a soldier,
(For else I know not) rivals me in love
To Signior Florio's daughter; to whose ears
He still prefers his suit, to my disgrace;
Thinking the way to recommend himself,
Is to disparage me in his report.—
But know, Grimaldi, though, may be, thou art
My equal in thy blood, yet this bewrays

A lowness in thy mind; which, wert thou noble,
Thou would'st as much disdain, as I do thee
For this unworthiness; and on this ground
I will'd my servant to correct his tongue,
Holding a man so base no match for me.

Vas. And had not your sudden coming prevented us, I had let my gentleman blood under the gills; I should have worm'd you, sir, for running mad.

Grim. I'll be reveng'd, Soranzo.

Vas. On a dish of warm broth to stay your stomach-do, honest innocence, do! spoon-meat is a wholesomer diet than a Spanish blade. Grim. Remember this!

Sor. I fear thee not, Grimaldi.

[Exit.

Flo. My lord Soranzo, this is strange to me; Why you should storm, having my word engaged: Owing her heart, what need you doubt her ear? Losers may talk, by law of any game.

Vas. Yet the villainy of words, Signior Florio, may be such, as would make any unspleened dove choleric. Blame not my lord in this.

Flo. Be you more silent;

I would not for my wealth, my daughter's love
Should cause the spilling of one drop of blood.
Vasques, put up : let's end this fray in wine.

[Exeunt. Put. How like you this, child? here's threat

ening, challenging, quarrelling, and fighting, on every side, and all is for your sake; you had need look to yourself, charge, you'll be stolen away sleeping else shortly.

Ann. But, tutoress, such a life gives no content To me, my thoughts are fix'd on other ends. Would you would leave me!

Put. Leave you! no marvel else; leave me no leaving, charge; this is love outright. Indeed, I blame you not; you have choice fit for the best lady in Italy.

Ann. Pray do not talk so much.

Put. Take the worst with the best, there's Grimaldi the soldier, a very well-timber'd fellow. They say he's a Roman, nephew to the Duke Montferrato; they say he did good service in the wars against the Milanese; but, 'faith, charge, I do not like him, an't be for nothing but for being a soldier not one amongst twenty of your skirmishing captains but have some privy maim or other, that mars their standing upright. I like him the worse, he crinkles so much in the hams: though he might serve if there were no more men, yet he's not the man I would choose.

Ann. Fie, how thou prat'st!

Put. As I am a very woman, I like Signior Soranzo well; he is wise, and what is more, rich; and what is more than that, kind; and what is more than all this, a nobleman: such a one, were I the fair Annabella myself, I would wish and pray for. Then he is bountiful; besides, he is handsome, and by my troth, I think, wholesome, and that's news in a gallant of three-and-twenty : liberal, that I know; loving, that you know; and a man sure, else he could never have purchased such a good name with Hippolita, the lusty widow, in her husband's lifetime. An 'twere but for that report, sweetheart, would he were thine! Commend a man for his qualities, but take a husband as he is a plain, sufficient, naked man; such a one is for your bed, and such a one is Signior Soranzo, my life for't.

Ann. Sure the draught too soon.

woman took her morning's

Enter BERGETTO and POGGIO.

Put. But look, sweetheart, look what thing comes now! Here's another of your ciphers to fill up the number: Oh, brave old ape in a silken coat! Observe.

Berg. Didst thou think, Poggio, that I would spoil my new clothes, and leave my dinner, to fight!

Pog. No, sir, I did not take you for so arrant a baby.

Berg. I am wiser than so: for I hope, Poggio, thou never heardst of an elder brother that was a coxcomb; didst, Poggio?

Pog. Never indeed, sir, as long as they had either land or money left them to inherit.

Berg. Is it possible, Poggio? Oh, monstrous! Why, I'll undertake, with a handful of silver, to buy a headful of wit at any time: but, sirrah, I have another purchase in hand; I shall have the wench, mine uncle says. I will but wash my face, and shift socks; and then have at her, i'faith.Mark my pace, Poggio! [Passes over the stage.

Pog. Sir, I have seen an ass and a mule trot the Spanish pavin with a better grace, I know not how often. [Aside, and following him.

Ann. This idiot haunts me too.

Put. Ay, ay, he needs no description. The rich magnifico that is below with your father, charge, Signior Donado, his uncle, for that he means to make this, his cousin, a golden calf, thinks that you will be a right Israelite, and fall down to him presently: but I hope I have tutored you better. They say a fool's bauble is a lady's play-fellow; yet you, having wealth enough, you need not cast upon the dearth of flesh, at any rate. Hang him, innocent!

GIOVANNI passes over the Stage.

Ann. But see, Putana, see! what blessed shape Of some celestial creature now appears!What man is he, that with such sad aspéct Walks careless of himself?

Put. Where?

Ann. Look below.

Put. Oh, 'tis your brother, sweet.
Ann. Ha!

Put. 'Tis your brother.

Ann. Sure 'tis not he; this is some woeful thing

Wrapp'd up in grief, some shadow of a man.
Alas! he beats his breast, and wipes his eyes,
Drown'd all in tears: methinks I hear him sigh;
Let's down, Putana, and partake the cause.
I know my brother, in the love he bears me,
Will not deny me partage in his sadness:
My soul is full of heaviness and fear.

[Aside, and exit with PUT.

SCENE III.-A Hall in FLORIO'S House.

Gio. Lost! I am lost! my fates have doom'd my death:

The more I strive, I love; the more I love,
The less I hope I see my ruin certain.
What judgment or endeavours could apply
To my incurable and restless wounds,
I thoroughly have examined, but in vain.
O, that it were not in religion sin

To make our love a god, and worship it!

I have even wearied heaven with pray'rs, dried up
The spring of my continual tears, even starv'd
My veins with daily fasts: what wit or art
Could counsel, I have practised; but, alas!
I find all these but dreams, and old men's tales,
To fright unsteady youth; I am still the same :
Or I must speak, or burst. "Tis not, I know,
My lust, but 'tis my fate, that leads me on.
Keep fear and low faint-hearted shame with slaves!
I'll tell her that I love her, though my heart
Were rated at the price of that attempt.
Oh me! she comes.

Enter ANNABELLA and PUTANA.

Ann. Brother!
Giov. If such a thing

Giov. That's as it proves. The poets feign, I read,

That Juno for her forehead did exceed

All other goddesses; but I durst swear
Your forehead exceeds her's, as her's did theirs.
Ann. 'Troth, this is pretty!
Giov. Such a pair of stars

As are thine eyes, would, like Promethean fire,
If gently glanced, give life to senseless stones.
Ann. Fie upon you!

Giov. The lily and the rose, most sweetly strange,

Upon your dimple cheeks do strive for change: Such lips would tempt a saint: such hands as Would make an anchorite lascivious.

[those

Giov. Me. My tortured soul

Hath felt affliction in the heat of death.
O, Annabella, I am quite undone !

The love of thee, my sister, and the view
Of thy immortal beauty, have untuned
All harmony both of my rest and life.
Why do you not strike?

Ann. Forbid it, my just fears!
If this be true, 'twere fitter I were dead.

Giov. True! Annabella; 'tis no time to jest.
I have too long suppress'd my hidden flames,
That almost have consum'd me; I have spent
Many a silent night in sighs and groans;
Ran over all my thoughts, despised my fate,
Reason'd against the reasons of my love,
Done all that smooth-cheek'd virtue could advise,

But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny That you must either love, or I must die. Ann. Comes this in sadness from you? Giov. Let some mischief

Befall me soon, if I dissemble aught.

Ann. You are my brother Giovanni.
Giov. You

My sister Annabella; I know this.

And could afford you instance why to love

So much the more for this; to which intent
Wise nature first in your creation meant
To make you mine; else't had been sin and foul
To share one beauty to a double soul.
Nearness in birth and blood, doth but persuade
A nearer nearness in affection.

I have ask'd counsel of the holy church,
Who tells me I may love you; and, 'tis just,
That, since I may, I should; and will, yes will:
Must I now live, or die?

Ann. Live; thou hast won

The field, and never fought: what thou hast urged,
My captive heart had long ago resolv'd.

I blush to tell thee,-but I'll tell thee now-
For every sigh that thou hast spent for me,
I have sigh'd ten; for every tear, shed twenty:
And not so much for that I loved, as that

I durst not say I loved, nor scarcely think it.
Giov. Let not this music be a dream, ye gods,
For pity's sake, I beg you!

Ann. On my knees,

[She kneels. Brother, even by our mother's dust, I charge you, Do not betray me to your mirth or hate; Love me, or kill me, brother.

I would not change this minute for Elysium. What must we now do?

Ann. What you will.

Giov. Come then;

After so many tears as we have wept,

Let's learn to court in smiles, to kiss, and sleep.

SCENE IV.-A Street.

Enter FLORIO and DONADO.

[Exeunt.

Flor. Signior Donado, you have said enough, I understand you; but would have you know, I will not force my daughter 'gainst her will. You see I have but two, a son and her; And he is so devoted to his book, As I must tell you true, I doubt his health: Should he miscarry, all my hopes rely Upon my girl. As for worldly fortune, I am, I thank my stars, bless'd with enough. My care is, how to match her to her liking; I would not have her marry wealth, but love, And if she like your nephew, let him have her; Here's all that I can say.

Don. Sir, you say well,