Be won to prove a second wife, on whom He may beget a son, how, in a moment, Will all those glorious expectations, which Render you reverenced and remarkable, Be in a moment blasted, howe'er you are His much-beloved sister's son?

Giov. I must bear it

With patience, and in me it is a duty
That I was born with; and 'twere much unfit
For the receiver of a benefit

To offer, for his own ends, to prescribe
Laws to the giver's pleasure.

San. Sweetly answered,

And like your noble self. This your rare temper
So wins upon me, that I would not live
(If that by honest arts I can prevent it)
To see your hopes made frustrate. And but think
How you shall be transformed from what you

are,

Should this (as Heaven avert it) ever happen;
It must disturb your peace. For whereas now,
Being, as you are, received for the heir apparent,
You are no sooner seen, but wondered at;
The signiors making it a business to
Enquire how you have slept; and as you walk
The streets of Florence, the glad multitude,
In throngs, press but to see you, and with joy
The father, pointing with his finger, tells
His son, this is the prince, the hopeful prince,
That must hereafter rule, and you obey him.
Great ladies beg your picture, and make love
To that, despairing to enjoy the substance;
And, but the last night, when 'twas only ru-
moured

That you were come to court (as if you had
By sea past hither from another world)
What general shouts and acclamations followed!
The bells rang loud, the bonfires blazed, and such
As loved not wine, carousing to your health,
Were drunk, and blushed not at it: And is this
A happiness to part with?

Giov. I allow these

As flourishes of fortune, with which princes
Are often soothed, but never yet esteemed them
For real blessings.

San. Yet all these were paid

To what you may be, not to what you are; For if the great duke but shew to his servants A son of his own, you shall, like one obscure, Pass unregarded.

Giov. I confess, command

Is not to be contemned; and if my fate
Appoint me to it, as I may, I'll bear it

With willing shoulders. But, my lord, as yet,

You've told me of a danger coming towards me, But have not named it.

San. That is soon delivered.

Great Cozimo, your uncle, as I more
Than guess (for 'tis no frivolous circumstance
That does persuade my judgment to believe it)
Purposes to be married.

Giov. Married, sir !

With whom, and on what terms? pray you, in

struct me.

San. With the fair Lydia.
Giov. Lydia!

San. The daughter
Of signior Charomonte,
Giov. Pardon me,

Though I appear incredulous; for, on
My knowledge, he ne'er saw her.
San. That is granted:

But Contarino hath so sung her praises,
And given her out for such a master-piece,
That he's transported with it, sir. And love
Steals sometimes through the ear, into the heart,
As well as by the eye. The duke no sooner
Heard her described, but I was sent in post
To see her, and return my judgment of her.
Giov. And what's your censure?
San. 'Tis a pretty creature.
Giov. She's very fair.

San. Yes, yes, I have seen worse faces.
Giov. Her limbs are neatly formed.
San. She hath a waist
Indeed, sized to love's wish,

Giov. A delicate hand, too.
San. Then for a leg and foot-
Giov. And there I leave you,
For I presumed no farther.

San. As she is, sir,

I know she wants no gracious part that may
Allure the duke; and if he only see her,
She is his own. He will not be denied,
And then you're lost. Yet, if you'll second me,
(As you have reason, for it most concerns you)
I can prevent all yet.

Gioa. I would you could,

A noble way.

San. I will cry down her beauties,
Especially the beauties of her mind,
As much as Contarino hath advanced them;
And this, I hope, will breed forgetfulness,
And kill affection in him. But you must
Join with me in my report, if you be questioned.

Giov. I never told a lie yet, and I hold it
In some degree blasphemous, to dispraise
What's worthy admiration. Yet, for once,
I will dispraise a little, and not vary
From your relation.

Sun. Be constant in it.

Enter ALPHONSO.

Alph. My lord, the duke hath seen your man and wonders

Enter CozIMO, CONTARINO, and attendants. You come not to him. See, if his desire To have conference with you, hath not brought Him hither in his own person.

Coz. They are comely coursers, And promise swiftness.

Con. They are, of my knowledge, Of the best race in Naples.

Giov. I will use

My best endeavour, sir.

Enter GIOVANNI, HIPPOLITO, and LODOVICO,

Determine rashly of it. How do you like
My nephew's horsemanship?
Hip. In my judgment, sir,

This phoenix of our age?

San. I have seen a maid, sir;

But, if that I have judgment, no such wonder

As she was delivered to you.

Coz. This is strange !

Alph. And, to my fancy.

He did present great Alexander, mounted On his Bucephalus.

Coz. You are right courtiers, And know it is your duty to cry up All actions of a prince.

San. Do not betray

Yourself; you're safe; I've done my part.

Giov. I thank you;

Nor will I fail.

[Aside to GIOVANNI,

Coz. What's your opinion, nephew,

Of the horses?

Giov. Two of them are, in my judgment,

And the brown bay; but for the chesnut co

loured,

Though he be full of metal, hot, and fiery,
He treads weak in his pasterns.

Coz. So, come nearer;

This exercise hath put you into a sweat ;

Take this, and dry it: and now I command you To tell me truly, what's your censure of Charomonte's daughter, Lydia?

Giov. I am, sir,

A novice in my judgment of a lady;

But, such as it is, your grace shall have it freely.
I would not speak ill of her, and am sorry,
If I keep myself a friend to truth, I cannot
Report her as I would, so much I owe
Her reverend father: but I'll give you, sir,
As near as I can, her character in little.
She's of a goodly stature, and her limbs
Not disproportioned. For her face, it is
Far from deformity; yet they flatter her
That style it excellent. Her manners are
Simple and innocent; but her discourse
And wit deserve my pity, more than praise.
At the best, my lord, she is a handsome pic-

Coz. Pray you, make choice of The richest of our furniture for these horses; [To SANAZARRO. And take my nephew with you; we, in this, Will follow his directions.

Giov. Could I find now

The princess Fiorinda, and persuade her
To be silent in the suit that I moved to her,
All were secure.

San. In that, my lord, I'll aid you. Coz. We will be private; leave us. All my studies [Exeunt all but COZIMO. And serious meditations aim no farther Than this young man's good. He was my sister's son,

And she was such a sister, when she lived,
I could not prize too much; nor can I better
Make known how dear I hold her memory,
Than in my cherishing the only issue
Which she hath left behind her. Who's that?
Enter FIORINDA.

Fio. Sir.

Coz. My fair charge, you are welcome to us. Fio. I have found it, sir.

Coz. All things go well in Urbin?

Fio. Your gracious care to me, an orphan, frees me

From all suspicion that my jealous fears
Can drive into my fancy.

Coz. The next summer

In our own person, we will bring you thither,
And seat you in your own.

Fio. When you think fit, sir.

But, in the mean time, with your highness' pardon,

I am a suitor to you.

Coz. Name it, madam,

With confidence to obtain it.

Fio. That you would please

To lay a strict command on Charomonte,
To bring his daughter Lydia to the court:

And, pray you, think, sir, that 'tis not my pur

pose

To employ her as a servant, but to use her
As a most wished companion.

Coz. Ha! your reason?

Fio. The hopeful prince, your nephew, sir, hath given her

To me for such an abstract of perfection
In all that can be wished for in a virgin,
As beauty, music, ravishing discourse,

Quickness of apprehension, with choice man

With zeal and vehemence; and even when,
With his best words, he strived to set her forth,
Though the rare subject made him eloquent,
He would complain, all he could say came short
Of her deservings.

Cox. Pray you, have patience.

This was strangely carried.-Ha! are we trifled with?

Dare they do this? Is Cozimo's fury, that
Of late was terrible, grown contemptible?
Well; we will clear our brows, and undermine
Their secret works, though they have digged like
moles,

And crush them with the tempest of my wrath
When I appear most calm; he is unfit

To command others, that knows not to use it, And with all rigour. Yet my stern looks shall

not

He does appear, but much transformed from

what

He was when he came hither.

Cal. I confess

I am not very wise; and yet I find

A fool, so he be parcel knave, in court May flourish and grow rich,

Giov. Calandrino!

Cal. Peace!

I'm in contemplation.

Giov. Don't you know me?

Cal. I tell thee, no; on forfeit of my place, I must not know myself, much less my father, But by petition: that petition lined, too,

With golden birds, that sing to the tune of profit,
Or I am deaf.

Giov. But you've your sense of feeling.
[Offering to kick him.
San. Nay, pray you, forbear.
Cal. I have all that's requisite

To the making up of a signior. My spruce ruff,
My hooded cloak, long stocking, and paned hose,
My case of tooth-picks, and my silver fork,
To convey an olive neatly to my mouth;
And, what is all in all, my pockets ring
A golden peal. O, that the peasants in the
country,

My quondam fellows, but saw me as I am!
How they would admire and worship me!
Giov. As they shall;

For instantly you must thither,

Cal. My grand signior,

Vouchsafe a bezolus manus, and a cringe
Of the last edition.

Giov. You must ride post with letters
This night to Lydia.

Cal. An' it please your grace,

Shall I use my coach, or foot-cloth mule?
San. You widgeon,

You are to make all speed; think not of

pomp.

Giov. Follow for your instructions, sirrah! Cal. I have one suit to you,

My good lord.

Sun, What is it?

Cal. That you would give me

A subtle court-charm, to defend me from
The infectious air of the country.

Giov. What's the reasou?

Cal. Why, as this court-air taught me knavisk wit,

By which I am grown rich; if that again Should turn me fool and honest-vain hopes, farewell,

For I must die a beggar.

San. Go to, sirrah!

You'll be whipped for this.

Giov. Leave fooling, and attend us. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Enter CAROLO CHAROMONTE, and LYDIA. Car. DAUGHTER, I have observed, since the

prince left us,

Whose absence I mourn with you, and the visit
Count Sannazarro gave us, you have nourished
Sad and retired thoughts, and parted with
That freedom and alacrity of spirit,
With which you used to cheer me.

Lyd. For the count, sir,

All thought of him does with his person die;
But, I confess ingenuously, I cannot
So soon forget the choice and chaste delights
The courteous conversation of the prince
(And without stain, I hope) afforded me,
When he made this house a court.

To convey a kiss from my lips to the cover of Your foot, dear signior.

Car. Fie, you stoop too low, sir.

Cal. The hem of your vestment, lady. Your glove is for princes;

Nay, I have conned
my distances.
Lyd. 'Tis most courtly.
Caup. Fellow Calandrino!
Cal. Signior de Cauponi,
Grand botelier of the mansion!
Bern. How is it, man?

[Claps him on the shoulder.
Cal. Be not so rustic in your salutations.
Signior Bernardo, master of the accounts!
Signior Petruchio! May you long continue
Your function in the chamber.

Caup. When shall we learn such gambols in our villa?

Lyd. Sure, he's mad.

And then I'm for you.

Caup. We will want no wine.

[Exeunt.

Lyd. [Alone.] That this comes only from the best of princes,

With a kind of adoration does command me
To entertain it, and the sweet contents,

[Kissing the letter.
That are inscribed here by his hand, must be
Much more than musical to me. All the service
Of my life at no part can deserve this favour.
O what a virgin longing I find on me
To unrip the seal, and read it! Yet, to break
What he hath fastened, rashly, may appear