Those are true tears, Camilla, which are stol'n.
But what said you was his name, Camilla?
Camilla. Antonio de Mendoza.

Porcia. Oh heavens, Antonio de Mendoza !
Enter DON HENRIQUE.

Don Henrique. I'm pleas'd to find you speaking of your husband.

Camilla. What's that I hear? her husband!

[Aside.

Don Henrique. Have you the letter ready, I desir'd

you

To write to him? I'll send a servant with it,
To meet him on the way; 'twill shew respect.
Porcia. You know my obedience, brother.
Don Henrique. 'Tis well, sister.

Enter SILVIO.

Silvio. Sir, here's a servant of Don Antonio
Newly alighted at the gate: he's come

Post from his master, charg'd with letters for you.
Don Henrique. I could not have receiv'd more wel-

come news.

Go, bring him in.

Sister, you may withdraw.

[Exeunt Porcia and Camilla.

Enter ERNESTO and SILVIO.

Ernesto. Sir, Don Antonio kisses your hands, And sends me to present this letter to you.

[He gives a letter to Don Henrique.

[Don Henrique opens it, and, having read it to himself, says:

Don Henrique. I'm glad to find by 's letter he's in

health;

Yet methinks, friend, he writes but doubtfully

Of's being here this night, as I expected.

Ernesto. His letter, I suppose, sir, speaks his purpose. Don Henrique. I'll answer't, and dispatch you pre

sently:

In the mean while, go make him welcome, Silvio.

[Exeunt Silvio and Ernesto.

I would to Heaven he were arriv'd; I grow
Each minute more impatient: as bodies

Near the centre move with more violence,

So when we approach the ends of our designs,
Our expectations are the more intense,

And our fears greater of all cross events.

[Exit Don Henrique. Enter SILVIO, ERNESTO, GERALDO, PEDRO, BERNARDINO, JAGO, with some cups of chocolate. Silvio. Methinks, camerade, a soup of chocolate Is not amiss after a tedious journey

Your master's health, sir.

Ernesto. I'll do you reason,

sir 2.

[He drinks.

Silvio. Pray how long is't, brother, since you left

Spain?

Ernesto. 'Tis now five years, and upwards, since I

went

From Seville, with my master, into Flanders,

The king's fencing-school; where all his subjects
Given to fighting, are taught the use of arms,
And notably kept in breath.

Silvio. Your master, I am sure, has got the fame To be a per❜lous man in that rough trade.

Ernesto. He's a brave soldier, envy must confess it. Pedro. It seems so, faith, since merely by the force Of his great reputation, he can take

Our bright young mistress in without a siege.

Ernesto. If I mistake not, she will be reveng'd On him ere long, and take him too, by th' force Of her rare wit and beauty.

Pedro. Sh'as a fair

Portion, sir, of both, I dare assure you.

Silvio. But pr'ythee, brother, instruct us a little; Tell us, what kind of country is this Holland, That's so much talk'd of, and so much fought for? Ernesto. Why, friend, 'tis a huge ship at anchor, fraught

With a sort of creatures made up

And butter.

of turf

2 I'll do you reason.] See note 23 to The Widow's Tears, Vol. VI. and Note 54 to Summer's Last Will and Testament, Vol. VIII.

Pedro. Pray, sir, what do they drink in that country? 'Tis said, there's neither fountains there

Nor vines.

Ernesto. This is the butler, sure, by his apt question.

[Aside.

Friend, they drink there a certain muddy liquor,
Made of that grain with which you feed your mules.
Pedro. What, barley? can that juice quench their
thirst?

Ernesto. You'd scarce believe it could, did you but see How oft they drink.

Pedro. But methinks that should make them drunk, camerade

Ernesto. Indeed most strangers are of that opinion; But they themselves believe it not, because They are so often.

Geraldo. A nation, sure, of walking tuns! the world Has not the like.

Ernesto. Pardon me, friend; there is but a great ditch Betwixt them and such another nation;

If these good fellows would but join, and drink
That dry, i'faith they might shake hands.

Geraldo. Pr'ythee, friend, can these Dutch Borrachios fight?

Ernesto. They can do even as well, for they can pay Those that can fight.

Silvio. But where, I pray, sir, do they get their money?

Ernesto. Ŏh, sir, they have a thriving mystery; They cheat their neighbouring princes of their trade, And then they buy their subjects for their soldiers. Silvio. Methinks our armies should beat these butter boxes

Out of the world.

Ernesto. Trust me, brother, they'll sooner beat our armies

Out of their country: why, ready money, friend,
Will do much more in camps, as well as courts,
Than a ready wit, I dare assure you.

Geraldo. Methinks, camerade, our king should have more money,

Then these Dutch swabbers; he's master o' th' Indies, Where money grows.

Ernesto. But they have herrings, which, I assure you, Are worth our master's mines.

Geraldo. Herrings! why, what a devil do they grow In their country?

Ernesto. No, faith, they fish 'em on the English coast, And fetch their salt from France; then they pickle 'em, And sell 'em all o'er the world,

Geraldo. 'Slife, these rascals live by cookery.

Ernesto. This is the coddled cook, I've found him out.

[Aside.

Bernardino. What kind of beds, sir, have they i' that

country?

Ernesto. This, I dare swear's the groom o' th' cham-
ber.
[Aside.

Sir, they have certain niches in their walls,

Where they climb up o' nights, and there they stew
In their own grease till morning.

Jago. Pray, sir, give me leave to ask you one question;

What manner of women have they in that country?
Ernesto. The gentleman-usher, upon my life. [Aside.
Pray excuse me, sir: we gentlemen soldiers
Value ourselves upon our civility

To that soft sex; and in good faith they are
The softest of that sex, I ever met with.

Jago. Does any of our Spaniards ever marry

With 'em?

Ernesto. Yes, some lean families that have a mind To lard their progeny.

Silvio. What, a god's name, could come into the heads Of this people to make them rebel?

Ernesto. Why, religion; that came into their heads

A god's name.

Geraldo. But what a devil made the noblemen Rebel, they never mind religion?

Ernesto. Why, that which made the devil himself rebel, Ambition.

Silvio. This is a pleasant fellow.

I find you gentlemen-soldiers want no wit.

[Aside.

Ernesto. When we're well paid, sir, but that's so

seldom ;

I find that gentleman wants wit that is

A soldier-Your company's very good,

But I have business which requires dispatch.

Pedro. Will you not mend your draught before you go?
Ernesto. I thank you, sir, I have done very well.
All. Your servant, your servant, &c.
[Exeunt.

Enter CAMILLA, PORCIA, FLORA.

Porcia. Was e'er disaster like to mine, Camilla? Camilla. Was e'er misfortune, Porcia, like to mine? Porcia. That I must never see Octavio more? Camilla. That I again must Don Antonio see,

Yet never see him mine?

Porcia. I, to be married to the man I hate.

Camilla. And I to have the man I love torn from me. Porcia. I am, by robbing of my friend, undone. Camilla. I, for not hind'ring of the theft am lost. Porcia. Ye powers, who these entangled fortunes give, Instruct us how to die and how to live. [She weeps.

Camilla. Cousin, when we should act, then to complain

Is childishly to beat the air in vain.

These descants on our griefs only perplex;
Let's seek the remedy: you know, our sex
This honour bears from men in exigents

Of love, never to want expedients.

Porcia. You have awaken'd me, give me your veil : [Porcia takes off Camilla's veil and puts it on herself. Quickly, dear cousin, quickly; and you, Flora,

Run presently, and see whether my brother

Be settled to dispatch Antonio's man.
Camilla. What mean you Porcia ?

[Exit Flora.

Porcia. If once my brother be set down to write,

I may securely reckon one hour mine;

For he is so extravagantly jealous,

That he distrusts the sense of his own words,
And will weigh a subscription to a scruple,
Lest he should wrong his family by his style:
Therefore, I'll serve myself on this occasion