Duke. 'Tis most likely, She has heard of this good fortune, and determines To wash her sorrows off. Peter. 'Tis so; that house, sir, Petr. They are merry, indeed. Hark; I hear music too. Duke. Excellent music. [Music within. John. 'Would I were even among 'em, and alone now! A pallet for the purpose in a corner, And good rich wine within me; what gay sport Could I make in an hour now! Fred. Hark; a voice too! Let's not stir yet by any means. SONG. Welcome, sweet Liberty, and Care farewell: I am mine own! She is twice damn'd that lives in Hell, Budding beauty, blooming years, Were made for pleasure. Farewell fears; John. Was this her own voice? Duke. Yes, sure. Fred. 'Tis a rare one. Hark, a voice too! Let's not stir, &c.] Till this edition, the song was inserted before this speech.Ed. 1778. The song is not in the first follo. Bawd appears at the window. Duke. The song confirms her here too; for, if ye mark it, It spake of liberty, and free enjoying Peter. Look you there, sir: Do you know that head? Fred. 'Tis my good landlady. I find fear has done all this. John. She, I swear; And now do I know, by the hanging of her hood, She is parcel drunk. Shall we go in? Duke. Not yet, sir. Petr. No; let 'em take their pleasure. [Music. We'll step in, and amaze 'em. Peace; more music. John. This music murders me: What blood have I now ! Enter FRANCISCO. Fred. I should know that face. John. By this light, 'tis he, Frederic, That bred our first suspicions; the same fellow. Fred. He that we overtook, and overheard too, Discoursing of Constantia. John. Still the same. Now he slips in. [Exit FRANCISCO into the house. Duke. What's that? Fred. She must be here, sir: 3 She is parcel drunk.] That is, half-drunk; a common mode of speech in those times. This is the very fellow, I told your grace FRANCISCO appears at the window. Petr. Why, sure I know this fellow: Yes, 'tis he; Francisco, Antonio's boy, a rare musician; He taught my sister on the lute, and is ever (She loves his voice so well) about her. Certain, Without all doubt, she is here: It must be so. John. Here? that's no question: What should our hen o' th' game else Do here without her? If she be not here John. Why, there's the hood again now; The card that guides us; I know the fabric of it, And know the old tree of that saddle yet; 'twas made of A hunting-hood; observe it. The guard that guides us.] In either sense of the word guard, as a watch or sentinel, or as a fringe, or hem of a garment, the word is intelligible in this place; but sure it is not a very natural expression, and I have therefore ventured to discard it, to make room for what I think a very happy conjecture of Mr Sympson's, card, i. e. the chart or mariner's compass.-Seward. Sympson's conjecture is so ingenious, that there is every reason for retaining it. Mason says that his explanations are both wrong, for that card neither means a chart, nor the mariner's compass, but the " paper on the compass on which the points of it are described." But old writers used the word in a very vague manner. In the concluding speech of the first act, (p. 35.) it is indisputably used for the magnet; and we can easily prove that it sometimes meant a sea-chart. In 1589, as Mr Malone informs us, was published, "A briefe Discourse of Mappes and Cards, and their Uses." And in The Commonwealth and Government of Venice, 4to. 1599, "Sebastian Munster in his carde of Venice." Duke. Who shall enter? Petr. I'll make one, John. I another. Duke. But so carry it, That all her joys flow not together. Your grace would none of her? Duke. By no means, signor; 'Twould turn her wild, stark frantic. John. Or assured her Duke, Nothing of that stern nature. This ye may, sir, That the conditions of our fear yet stand On nice and dangerous knittings; or that a little I seem to doubt the child. John. 'Would I could draw her To hate your grace with these things! Petr. Come, let's enter. [Aside. And now he sees me not, I'll search her soundly. Duke. Now luck of all sides! [Exeunt PETRUCCIO and JOHN into the house. Fred. Doubt it not.-More music? [Music. Sure she has heard some comfort. Duke. Yes, stand still, sir." [A Song. Fred. This is the maddest song! Duke. Applied for certain To some strange melancholy she is loaden with. [Clapping of a door, Fred. Now all the sport begins. Hark! The fears now, and the shakings! [Trampling above. 5 Nothing of that? starve nature?] Corrected in the second folio. This is one of the instances which strongly support the idea, that the editors of 1679 had good authority for their variations. 6 Yes, stand still, sir.] There should be another song here, which we suppose is now lost.-Ed. 1778. Fred. Our old lady (Hark how they run) is even now at this instant Petr. [Within.] Bring 'em down; And you, sir, follow me. Duke. He's angry with 'em. I must not suffer this. John. [Within.] Bowl down the bawd there; Old Erra-mater. You, lady Lechery, For the good will I bear to th' Shall be led out, and lash'd. game, most tenderly Enter PETRUCCIO, JOHN, Second CONSTANTIA, drunk, and Bawd, with FRANCISCO, who retires to the back of the Stage. Duke. Is this Constantia ? Why, gentlemen, what do you mean? Is this she? 2 Const. I am Constantia, sir. Duke. A whore you are, sir! 2 Const. 'Tis very true; I am a whore indeed, sir. Petr. She will not lie yet, though she steal. 2 Con. A plain whore, If you please to employ me. Duke. And an impudent! 2 Const. Plain-dealing now is impudence. Duke. Is she not drunk too? 2 Const. A little gilded o'er,' sir. "A little gilded o'er.] The phrase of being gilded is frequently used to signify being drunk. In the Tempest, Alonzo says, "And Trinculo is reeling ripe; where should they Reed. |