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As tho' you cut a lady's corn; 'tis
scurvy: Polyd. Me to do it? Do me it as thou dost thy prayers, seriously. Mem. Only reserv'd, and dedicated. Sur. I'll do it in a dump, Sir.
Polyd. For shame, brother! Mem. In a dog, Sir!
Know what you are; a man. I'll have no dumps, nor dumplins. Fetch your Mem. None of your Athens, And then I'll tell you more. [tools, Good sweet Sir, no philosophy! Thou feelst Sur. If I return
The honourable end, fool.
(not To hear more, I'll be hang’d for't.
Polyd. I'm sure I feel Mem. Quick, quick!
The shame and scorn that follow. Have you Dem. Yes, Sir
serv'd thus long, With all the heels we havé.
The glory of your country in your conquests, (Exeunt Sur. and Dem. The envy of your neighbours in your virtues, Eum. Yet stand.
Rul'd armies of your own, giv'n laws to naPolyd. He'll do it.
tions, Eum. Ile cannot, and we here.
Belov'd and fear'd as far as Fame has travellid, Mem. Why when, ye rascals, [syringe, Call’d the most fortunate and happy Memnon, Ye dull slaves? Will you come, Sir? Surgeon, To lose all here at home, poorly to lose it? Dog-leach, +3 shall I come and fetch you? Poorly, and pettishly, ridiculously, [wisdom? Polyd. Now I'll to him.
To fling away your fortune? Where's your God save you, honour'd brother!
Where's that you governd others by, discreMem. My dear Polydor,
(brother! Welcome from travel, welcome! And how do Does your rule lastly hold upon yourself? Fy, you?
How are you fall'nGet up into your honour, Polyd. Well, Sir; 'would you were so. The top-branch of your bravery, and, from Mem. I am, I thank
thence, You are a better'd man much; Į the same still, Look and lament how little Memmon seems An old rude soldier, Sir. Polyd. Pray be plain, brother,
Mem. Hum! 'Tis well spoken; but dost And tell me but the meaning of this vision, thou think, young scholar, 44 For to me it appears no more; so far
The tongues of angels
from my happiness I'rom common course and reason.
Could turn the end I aim at. No, they cannot. Mem. Thank thee, Fortune,
This is no book-case, brother. Will you do it? At length I've found the man, the man must Use no more art; I am resolv’d. The man in honour bound!
Polyd. You may, Sir, Polyd. To do what? [circumstance Command me to do any thing that's honest,
Mem. Hark, for I will bless you with the And for your noble end: But this, it carriesOf that weak shadow that appear’d.
Mem. You shall not be so honour'd; live Polyd. Speak on, Sir.
an ass still, Mem. It is no story for all ears.
And learn to spell for profit: Go, go study! (Walks with him.
£um. You must not hold him Polyd. The princess?
(turneps,45 Mem. Peace, and hear all. [Whispers. Mem. Get thee to school again, and talk of Polyd. How?
And find the natural cause out why a dog Eum. Sure 'tis dangerous,
Turns thrice about ere he lies down: There's He starts so at it.
(I find it, Polyd. Your heart? Do you know, Sir Polyd. Come; I will do it now: 'Tis brave; Mem. Yes; pray thce be softer.
And now allow the reason. 43 Dog-leach.] Leach is the old word signifying a physician: It is frequently used in that sense in Spenser, and other ancient writers. °R.
-dost thou think, young scholar, The tongues of angels from my happiness
Could turn the end I aim at?) Mr. Sympson thinks this an indissoluble difficulty. I think the meaning intended is easy to be seen, and by a small transposition (which does indeed a little roughen the metre) it will be quite clear. Scward. Mr. Seward's reading is,
Th' end I aim at, could turn me. The old reading conveys the same sense, and is not more difficult of construction than many other passages in these plays. Mr. Seward's is very harsh.
--and talk of turneps.] Why turneps should be a subject for scholars to talk of, more than any one thing in the world beside, I can't see. I believe it a corruption, but cannot easily guess what could have been the original. The only conjecture I have is turnspits, which is as low a subject of mechanism, as the reason of a dog's turning round thrice is in ano: ther part of natural philosophy. Seward.
up so; he is
Mem. Oh, do you so, Sir?
Chi, Prithee, pardon me! Do you find it current?
Priest. And, in my conscience, if I had Polyd. Yes, yes; excellent, Mem. I told you.
Chi. No more; I would ha' come; I must. Polyd. I was foolish : I have here too
Priest. I find you; The rarest way to find the truth out. Hark God-a-mercy Want! You never care for me, You shall be rul'd by me.
But when your slops are empty. Mem. I will be: But
Chi. Ne'er fear that, wench; Polyd. I reach it;
'Shall find good current coin still. Is this the If the worst fall, have at the worst; we'll old house? But two days, and 'tis thus. Ha? [both go.
Priest. Have you forgot it?
Chi. And the door still standing
Chi. The robes too,
That I was wont to shift in here? Mom. I like it;
Pricst. Are here still. But let me not be fool'd again.
Chi. Oh, you touglı rogue, what troubles Polyd. Doubt nothing;
have I trotted thro'?
[monster You do me wrong then. Get you in there What fears and frights? Every poor mouse a As I have taught you.
Basta! 46 [private, That I heard stir, and every stick I trod on Mem. Work.
A sharp sting to my conscience. Polyd. I will do.
Priest. 'Las, poor conscience! Eum. Have you found the cause?
Chi. And all to liquor thy old boots, wench. Polyd. Yes, and the strangest, gentlemen, Priest. Quț, beast! That e'er I heard of; anon I'll tell you. Chi. To new-carine thy carcase ;48 that's Stremon,
the truth on't.
(tether Be you still near him to affect his fancy, [Boy How does thy keel? does it need nailing? a And keep his thoughts off: Let the Foot and When all thy linen's up, and a more yare? Stay him, they may do some pleasure too. Priest. Fy, fy, Sir! Eumenes,
[brought, Chi. Ne'er stemm'd the straights? What if he had a wench, a handsome whore Priest. How
talk? Rarely dress'd up, and taught to state it47 Chi. I am old, wench, Eum Well, Sir,
And talking to an old man is like a stomacher; Polyd. His cause is merely heat-And made It keeps his blood warm, It were the princess mad for him? [believe Priest. But, pray
tell me Eum. I think
Chi. Any thing 'Twere not amiss.
Priest. Where did the boy meet with you? 1 Capt. And let him kiss her?
At a wench sure? Polyd. What else?
At one end of a wench, a cup of wine, sure? 2 Capt. I'll be his bawd, an't please you.
Chi. Thou know'st I am too honest, young and wholesome,
Priest. That's your fault; I can assure you, he shall have.
And that the surgeon knows. Eum. Faith, let him.
Chi. Then, farewell! Polyd. He shall; I hope 'twill help him. I will not fail you soon. Walk a little;
[ject, Priest. You shall stay supper; I'll tell you how his case stands, and
my pro I have sworn you shall; by this you shall!
Chi. No, by this kiss; that ended,
I will return, and all night in thine arms, Priest. Oh, you're a precious man! two wenchdays in town,
Priest. No more; I take your meaning. And never see your old friend.
Come, tis supper time. [Exeunt. 46 As I have taught ye. Basta,
Mem. Work.] Basta, in Italian, or Spanish, sufficit, or it's enough, from whence our sailors term, avast. But I have given the word to Memnon, and not to Polydor, it being plainly his answer. Seward.
Why take lasta from Polydor? It destroys Memnon's speech, which is more humourous, consisting of the single monosyllable work.
+7 To state it.] i.e. to take state upon her.
48 Chi. To new-carine, &c.] This and the four following lines appear in no edition but the first.
Virtue and blooming honour bleed to death Enter Calis, Cleanthe, and Lucippe,
here: Calis. Thou art not well.
Take it; the legacy of love bequeath'd you, Cle. Your grace sees more a great deal
Of cruel love, a cruel legacy. Than I feel.--Yet I lie. Oh, brother!
What was the will that wrought it then? Can Calis. Mark her;
you weep? Is not the quickness of her eye consum'd,
Embalm it in your truest tears (if women The lively red and white?
[wench? Can weep a truth, or ever sorrow sunk yet Lucip. Nay, she is much alter'd,
Into the soul of your sex); for 'tis a jewel That on my understanding; all her sleeps,
The world's worth cannot weigh down: Tako Which were as sound and sweet [ladj,
it, lady; Cle. Pray, do not force me,
And with it all (I dare not curse) my sorrows, Good madam, where I am not, to be ill.
And may they turn to serpents ! Conceit's a double sickness; on my faith, your
Eum. Hlow she looks
upon him! See, now a tear steals froin Is mere mistaken in me.
2 Capt. But still she keeps her eye firm. [A dead march within, of drum and Polyd. Next, read this. sackbuts.
But, since I see your spirit somewhat troubled, Calis. I am glad on't.
I'll do it for you. Yet this I've ever noted, when thou wast thus,
2 Capt. Süll she eyes him mainly. It still fore-run some strange event: My sister Died when thou wast thus last!-Hark, hark, Polyd. Go, happy heart! for thou shalt lie ho!
Intomb'd in her for whom I die, What mournful noise is this comes creeping
Example of her cruelty. Still it grows nearer, nearer; do ye
Tell her, if she chance to chide
Me for slowness, in her pride, Enter Polydor, Eumenes, and Captains,
That it was for her I died. mourning.
If a tear escape her eye, Lucip. It seems some soldier's funeral: See,
'Tis not for my memory, it enters.
But thy rites of obsequy.
The altar was my loving breast, Calis. This man can speak, and well. He
My heart the sacrificed beast, stands and views us;
And I was myself the priest. 'Would I were ne'er worse look'd upon. How His eyes are cast now to the earth! Pray mark
Your body was the sacred shrine, him,
Your cruel mind the power divine, And mark how rarely he has rank'd his trou
Pleas'd with the hearts of men, not See, now he weeps; they all weep; a sweeter
kine, I never look'd upon, nor one that braver
Eum. Now it
down, Became his grief. Your will with us?
Polyd. I like it rarely.–Lady! Polyd. Great lady-- [Plucks out the cup). Eum. How greedily she swallows up his Excellent beauty!
2 Capt. Her eye inhabits on him.(language ! Calis. He speaks handsomely.
Polyd. Cruel lady,
(pow's What a rare rhetorician his grief plays ! Great as your beauty scornful! 49 had your That stop was admirable.
But equal poise on all hearts, all hearts pePolyd. See, see, thou princess,
[flames 100; Thou great cominander of all hearts-
But Cupid has more shafts than one, inore Calis. I have found it.
And now he must be open-ey'd, 'tis justice: Oh, how my soul shakes!
Live to enjoy your longing; live and laugh at Polyd. See, see the noble heart
The losses and the miseries we suffer; Of him that was the noblest! See, and glory Live to be spoken when your cruelty (Like the proud god himself) in what thou'st Has cut off all the virtue from this kingdom, purchas'd :
[you? Turn'd honour into earth, and faithful serBehold the heart of Memnon! Does it start vice
Culis. Good gods, what has his wilduess Calis. I swear his anger's excellent.
Polyd. Truth, and most tried love, You boldly said you durst. Look, wretchel Into disdain and downfall. woman!
Calis. Still more pleasing. (slaughters, Nay, fly not back, fair folly, tis too late now. Polyd. Live then, I say, famous for civil
49 Great as your beauty scornful.] This expression is obscure, but means, ' As remarkable for your scorn and cruelty, as for your beauty.' J. N.
Live and lay out your triumphs, gild your And here stand close till we perceive the workglories,
Eum. You have undone all. [ing. Live and be spoken, . This is she, this lady, Polyd. So I fear. • This goodly lady, yet inost-killing beauty, 2 Capt. She loves you. • This with the iwo-edg'd eyes, the heart for Eun. And then all hope's lost this way. hardness
stal; Polyd. Peace! She rises. Outdoing rocks; and coldness, rocks of cry Cle. Now for any purpose, Fortune! • This with the swelling soul, inore coy of Calis. Where's the gentleman? courtship
Lucip. Gone, madam. Than the proud sea is when the shores en Calis. Why gone? Live'till the mothers find you, read your story, Lucip. H'has dispatch'd his business. And sow their barren curses on your beauty; Culis. Ile came to speak with me. Sa "Till those that have enjoy'd their loves de Licip. He did. spise you,
[yout, so Calis. lle id pot. 'Till virgins pray against you, old age find For I had many questions. And, e'en as wasted cvals glow in their dying, Lucip. On iny faith, madam, So may the gods reward you
ashes! He talk'd a great while to you. But, you're the sister of my king; more pro
Calis. Thou conceiv'st not; phecies
He talked not as he should do. Oh, my heart! Else I should utter of you; true loves and loyal Away with that sad sight. Didst thou e'er Bless themselves ever from you! So I leave you.
love me? Culis. Prithee be angry still, young inan: Lucip. Why do you make that question? good fair Sir,
[pleas'd, Calis. If thou didst, Chide me again. What would this inan do Run, run, wench, run. Nay, see how thou That in his passion can bewitch souis? -Stay. Lucip. Whither?
(stirr’st! Eum. Upon my life she loves him.
Calis. If 'twere for any thing to please thyCalis. Pray stay
Thou wouldst run to th' devil: But I am Calis. I do command you.
Cle. Fy, lady!
[loves, Polyd. No, you cannoi, lady,
Calis. I ask none of your fortunes, nor your I have a spell against you, Faith and Reason. None of your bent desires I slack; ye are not You are too weak to reach me: I have a heart In love with all men, are ye? one, for shame, But not for hawk's meat, lady. [100, You'll leave your honour'd mistress. Why Calis. Even for charity, (me
do ye stare so? Leave me not thus afflicted: You can teach What is that you see about mc? Tell me.
Polyd. How can you preach that charity to Lord, what am I become? I am not wild That in your own soul are an atheist, [others sure; Believing neither pow'r nor fear? I trouble you. Heav'n keep that from me! Oh, Cleanthe, The gods be good unio you!
Or I am sunk to death!
[help me, Culis. Amen!
[She swoons. Cle. You have offended, Lucip. Lady!
And mightily; Love is incens'd against you, C'le Oh, royal madam! Gentlemen, for And therefore take my counsel: To the ten Heav'n sake! [They come back. ple,
[goddess Polyd. Give her fresh air: she comes For ihat's the speediest physic: before the again: away, Sirs,
Give your repentant prayers; ask her will, so Old age find ye.] He had a little before said, Live till the mothers find ye, i. e. know and are acquainted with your character. But here, old age find ye, if it be genuine, must signify,
May olul aye overtake you, and then may your ashes be kindled into unavailing flames of love. It is very unusual in one sentence to use the same expression in two such very different senses, alihough it will bear both. I think it therefore corrupt, and have ventured to change it for a word that adds, I think, much spirit and strength to the passage, and might therefore probably have been the true one. Seward.
Mr. Seward reads, Old age Fire you. We chose to follow the old books. Old age FIRE you, is a strange reading. Old age rather extinguishes fires than kindles them, and even here is exemplified by wasted coals and ashes.
si Cal. He came to speak with me. He did. Cle. He did not.
Cal. For I had many questions.] Mr. Sympson says, that the princess contradicts both herself as well as her maids so ridiculously, that she is grown childish of a sudden; but he happened not to observe that this absurdiig is entirely owing to the mistakes of the press: Where the dialogue is very short, nothing is so common as to misplace the speakers: This is I believe the fifth time it has already happened in this play only, and which I hope I have restored. Seward.
And from the oracle attend your sentence:
Enter Priestess and Chilar.
Priest. Good sweet friend, be not long. Even as thou lov'st thyself—
Chi. Thou think'st each hour ten Cle. Now for my
'Till I be ferreting. Eveuni Calis and Women. Priest You know I love you. [robe Polyd. What shall I do?
Chi. I will not be above an hour: Let thy 2 Capt. Why inake yourself.
Be ready, and the door be kept. Polyd. I dare not;
[Cleanthe knocks within. No, gentlemen, 1 dare not be a villain,
Priest. Who knocks there?
Chi. A rank bawd by this hand too; Polyd. Farewell, and pray for all! What She grinds o'both sides : Hey, boys ! e'er I will ye,
Priest. How, your brother Siphax? Do it, and hope a fair end.
Loves he the princess? Eum. The gods speed ye ! [Ereunt.
He is a gentleman, descended nobly. Enter Stremon, Fool, Page, and Servants. Chi. But a rank knave as ever piss'd. Serv. He lies quiet.
[ Aside Stre. Let him lie; and, as I told ye,
Cle. Hold, mother;
Chi. Here's no villainy! 52 And shew the joys–Now I will be that Or I'm glad I came to th' kearing. pheus ;
Priest. Alas, daughter, And, as I play and sing, like beasts and trees What would
have me do? I'd have you shap'd and enter: Thou a dog, Chi. Hold off, you old whore ! Fool,
There's inore gold coming; all's mine, all. (I have sent about your suits) the Boy a bush, Cle. Do you shrink now? An ass you, you a lion.
you promise faithfully? and told me, Fool. I a dog?
Thro' any danger I'll fit you for a dog. Bow wow!
wade thro'. Stre. 'Tis excellent.
Cle. You shall and easily; the sin not seen Steal in and make no noise.
neither. Fool. Bow wow!
Here's for a better stole, 53 and a new vail, Stre. Away, rogue!
(E. cunt. mother: 52 Chi. Here's villainy!) The old folio reads, here's no villainy, but that is false in fact. My reading both compleats the sense and the antithesis to the foregoing sentence. Sympson
Mr. Sympson reads, Here's more 'villainy! but the old reading, we think, is right; the negative being used ironically. Upon this mode of speech, the reader will find a note in Wit without Money, p. 278 of this volume, upon the words,
You know not how to grnce yourself; in which sentence Mr. Seward discarded the negative. In the First Part of Henry IV.act v. scene iii. Falstaff
, seeing Sir Walter Blunt, exclaims, • here's no vanity!' upon which passage Bishop Warburton comments thus: 'In our Author's
time, the negative, in a common speech, was used to design ironically the excess of a thing. • Thus Ben Jonson, in Every Man in his Humour, says,
• here's no foppery!
Death, I can endure the stocks better;' * meaning, as the passage shews, that the foppery was excessive. And so in many other “plaees.'
Mr. Steevens has produced another instance of the same mode of expression from the Tale of a Tub, by the same Author :
• Here was no subtile device to get a wench.' R. 53 A better stole.) Stole, from the Latin stola, we think, means A ROBE; and so, at the day, • Groom of the stole,' an officer of the wardrole.