When to his best part he writ this.

Mary. For your sake;

Not that I any way shall like his scribbling-
Alice. A shrewd dissembling quean!

Dor. I thank you, dear friend.

I know she loves him.

Alice. Yes, and will not lose him,

Unless he leap into the moon, believe that,

And then she'll scramble too. Young wenches' loves

Are like the course of quartans; they may shift,
And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see
The least distemper pulls 'em back again,
And seats 'em in their old course: Fear her not,
Unless he be a devil.

Mary. Now Heaven bless me !

Dor. What has he writ?

Mary. Out, out upon him!

Dor. Ha! what has the madman done?
Mary. Worse, worse, and worse still!

Alice. Some Northern toy, a little broad.3
Mary. Still fouler!

Hey, hey, boys! Goodness keep me! Oh!
Dor. What ail you?

Mary, Here, take your spell again; it burns my fingers.

Was ever lover writ so sweet a letter,
So elegant a style? Pray look upon't;
The rarest inventory of rank oaths
That ever cut-purse cast.

3 Some Northern toy, a little broad.] Frequent and not very flattering allusions to the North of England occur in the old poets. So in Love's Labour's Lost, Costard, the clown, says," I will not fight with a pole like a Northern man." And, in the Sun's Darling, quoted above, Winter says to the rebellious clowns,

"What sullen murmurings does your gall bring forth?
Will you prove't true no good comes from the North?"

Alice. What a mad boy is this!
Mary. Only i' th' bottom

A little julep gently sprinkled over

To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters; "Indeed la, yours for ever."

Dor. I am sorry.

Mary. You shall be welcome to me, come when you please,

And ever may command me virtuously;
But for your brother, you must pardon me:
Till I am of his nature, no access, friend,
No word of visitation, as you love me.
And so for now. I'll leave you.

Alice. What a letter

[Exit.

Has this thing written! how it roars like thunder! With what a state he enters into style!

"Dear mistress!"

Dor. Out upon him, bedlam!

Alice. Well, there be ways to reach her yet: Such likeness

As you two carry, methinks

Dor. I am mad too,

And yet can apprehend you.

Fare you well!

The fool.shall now fish for himself.

Alice. Be sure then

His tewgh be tith and strong; and next, no

swearing;

He'll catch no fish else. Farewell, Doll!

Dor. Farewell, Alice!

Be sure then

[Exeunt.

His tewgh be tith and strong.] Skinner explaine tew materials for any thing, and derives it from the Dutch towe, a hempen ropë. In the text, tewgh seems to be used for the fishing line, more consonantly to this etymology. Tith means tight, strong. The allusion in the two next hemistichs is still proverbial.

ACT II. SCENE I.

An Apartment in Valentine's House.

Enter VALENTINE, ALICE, and CELLIDE.

Cel. Indeed he is much changed, extremely alter'd,

His colour faded strangely too.

Val. The air,

The sharp and nipping air of our new climate,
I hope, is all, which will as well restore

To health again the affected body by it,

And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous. How does my sweet? Our blessed hour comes on

now

Apace, my Cellidè, (it knocks at door)

In which our loves and long desires, like rivers
Rising asunder far, shall fall together..
Within these two days, dear-

Cel. When Heaven and you, sir,

Still think it fit; for by your wills I am govern'd. Alice. "Twere good some preparation

Enter FRANCISCO.

Val. All that may be;

It shall be no blind wedding: And all the joy
Of all our friends, I hope. He looks worse hourly:
How does my friend? myself? He sweats too,
coldly;

His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spout,

Scarce gives his function. How is't, man? Alas,

sir,

You look extreme ill: Is it any old grief,
The weight of which————

Fran. None, gentle sir, that I feel;

Your love is too, too tender. Nay, believe, sirCel. You cannot be the master of your health: Either some fever lies in wait to catch you, Whose harbingers already in your

face

We see preparing, or some discontent,
Which, if it lie in this house-I dare say,
Both for this noble gentleman, and all
That live within it-shall as readily

Be purged away, and with as much care soften'd,
And where the cause is-

Fran. 'Tis a joy to be ill,

Where such a virtuous fair physician

Is ready to relieve: Your noble cares
I must, and ever shall, be thankful for ;

And would my service-(I dare not look upon her)

But be not fearful; I feel nothing dangerous; A grudging, caused by the alteration

Of air, may hang upon me: My heart's whole.

I would it were!

Val. I knew the cause to be so.

Fran. No, you shall never know it.

Alice. Some warm broths,

[4side.

[Aside.

To purge the blood, and keep your bed a day, sir,

And sweat it out.

Cel. I have such cordials,

That, if you will but promise me to take 'em,
Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly.
I'll be your doctor; you shall see how finely
I'll fetch you up again.

Val. He sweats extremely;

Hot, very hot: His pulse beats like a drum now, Feel, sister, feel! feel, sweet!

Fran. How that touch stung me!

Val. My gown there!

Cel. And those juleps in the window!
Alice. Some see his bed made.

Val. This is most unhappy!

[Aside.

Take courage, man; 'tis nothing but an ague.

Cel. And this shall be the last fit.

Fran. Not by thousands!

Now what 'tis to be truly miserable,

I feel at full experience.

Alice. He grows fainter.

[Aside.

Val. Come, lead him in; he shall to bed. A vo

mit;

I'll have a vomit for him.

Alice. A purge first;
And if he breathed a vein-
Val. No, no, no bleeding;

A clyster will cool all.

Cel. Be of good chear, sir!

Alice. He's loth to speak.

Cel. How hard he holds my hand, aunt!

Alice. I do not like that sign.

Val. Away to his chamber,

Softly; he's full of pain; be diligent,

With all the care ye have. 'Would I had 'scused

him!

[Exeunt.