Sir P. Now, by my spurs, the symbol of my

knighthood,

Per. Lord, how his brain is humbled for an

oath!*

Sir P. I reach you not.

Lady P. Right, sir, your policy

[Aside.

May bear it through thus.-Sir, a word with you.

I would be loth to contest publicly
With any gentlewoman, or to seem
Froward, or violent, as the courtier says;
It comes too near rusticity in a lady,

[To Per.

Which I would shun by all means: and however
I may deserve from master Would-be, yet
T'have one fair gentlewoman thus be made
The unkind instrument to wrong another,
And one she knows not, ay, and to perséver;
In my poor judgment, is not warranted
From being a solecism in our sex,
If not in manners.

Per. How is this!

Sir P. Sweet madam,

Come nearer to your aim.

Lady P. Marry, and will, sir.

Since you provoke me with your impudence,
And laughter of your light land-syren here,
Your Sporus, your hermaphrodite-

Per. What's here?

Poetic fury, and historic storms!

Sir P. The gentleman, believe it, is of worth, And of our nation.

Lady P. Ay, your White-friars nation.'

1

• Lord, how his brain is humbled for an oath!] How so? Surely Peregrine forgets that the spurs are the most honourable part of a knight's dress.

2

Ay, your White-friars nation.] White-friars was at this

Come, I blush for you, master Would-be, I; And am asham'd you should have no more forehead,

Than thus to be the patron, or St. George,

To a lewd harlot, a base fricatrice,

A female devil, in a male out-side.

Sir P. Nay,

An you be such a one, I must bid adieu.

To your delights. The case appears too liquid.

[Exit. Lady P. Ay, you may carry't clear, with your state-face

But for your carnival concupiscence,
Who here is fled for liberty of conscience,
From furious persecution of the marshal,
Her will I dis'ple.3

Per. This is fine, i'faith!

And do you use this often? Is this part
Of your wit's exercise, 'gainst you have occasion?
Madam-

Lady P. Go to, sir.

Per. Do you hear me, lady?

Why, if your knight have set you to beg shirts, Or to invite me home, you might have done it A nearer way, by far.

time, a privileged spot, in which fraudulent debtors, gamblers, prostitutes, and other outcasts of society usually resided. They formed a community, adopted the cant language of pick-pockets, and openly resisted the execution of every legal process upon any of their members. To the disgrace of the civil power, this atrocious combination was not broken up till the commencement of the last century.

Her will I dis'ple.] i. e. teach by the whip: disciple, or discipline. The word is thus used by Spenser, and others of our old writers:

"And bitter pennance with an iron whip
"Was wont him once to disple every day."
F. Q. B. I. c. x. S. 27.

Lady P. This cannot work you Out of my snare.

Per. Why, am I in it, then?

Indeed your husband told me you were fair,
And so you are; only your nose inclines,*
That side that's next the sun, to the queen-apple.
Lady P. This cannot be endured, by any pa-
tience.

Enter MOSCA.

Mos. What is the matter, madam?
Lady P. If the senate

Right not my quest in this, I will protest them
To all the world, no aristocracy.

Mos. What is the injury, lady?

Lady P. Why, the callet'

You told me of, here I have ta'en disguised. Mos. Who? this! what means your ladyship? the creature

I mention'd to you is apprehended now,
Before the senate; you shall see her-
Lady P. Where?

Mos. I'll bring you to her. This young gen-
tleman,

I saw him land this morning at the port.

-Only your nose inclines,

That side that's next the sun, to the queen-apple.] This burlesque similitude seems to have furnished sir John Suckling with a very pretty allusion, in his description of the rural bride: "For streaks of red were mingled there, "Such as are on a catharin-pear,

"The side that's next the sun."

WHAL.

5 Why, the callet, &c.] Callet, callat, or calot, is used by all our old writers for a strumpet of the basest kind. It is derived, as Urry observes, from calote, Fr. a sort of cap once worn by country-girls; and, like a hundred other terms of this nature, from designating poverty or meanness, finally came, by no unnatural progress, to denote depravity and vice.

Lady P. Is't possible! how has my judgment wander'd?

Sir, I must, blushing, say to you, I have err'd; And plead your pardon.

Per. What, more changes yet!

Lady P. I hope you have not the malice to remember

A gentlewoman's passion. If you stay
In Venice here, please you to use me, sir-
Mos. Will you go, madam?

Lady P. 'Pray you, sir, use me; in faith,
The more you see me, the more I shall conceive
You have forgot our quarrel.

[Exeunt Lady Would-be, Mosca, Nano, and Waiting-women.

Per. This is rare!

Sir Politick Would-be? no; sir Politick Bawd, To bring me thus acquainted with his wife! Well, wise sir Pol, since you have practised thus Upon my freshman-ship, I'll try your salt-head, What proof it is against a counter-plot.

SCENE II.

The Scrutineo, or Senate House.

[Exit.

Enter VOLTORE, CORBACCIO, CORVINO, and MOSCA.

Volt. Well, now you know the carriage of the business,

Your constancy is all that is required

Unto the safety of it.

Mos. Is the lie

Safely convey'd amongst us? is that sure?
Knows every man his burden?

Corv. Yes.

Mos. Then shrink not.

Corv. But knows the advocate the truth?
Mos. O, sir,

By no means; I devised a formal tale,

That salv'd your reputation. But be valiant, sir. Corv. I fear no one but him, that this his pleading

Should make him stand for a co heir——

Mos. Co halter!

Hang him; we will but use his tongue, his noise, As we do croaker's here."

Coro. Ay, what shall he do?

Mos. When we have done, you mean?
Coro. Yes.

Mos Why, we'll think :

Sell him for mummia; he's half dust already.
Do you not smile, [to Voltore ] to see this buffalo,
How he doth sport it with his head?—I should,
If all were well and past. [Aside.]-Sir, [to Cor-
baccio. only you

Are he that shall enjoy the crop of all,
And these not know for whom they toil.
Corb. Ay, peace.

Mos. [turning to Corvino.] But you shall eat it. Much! [Aside.]-Worshipful sir, [to Voltore. Mercury sit upon your thundering tongue,

-We will but use his tongue,

As we do croaker's, here.] i. e. the old raven's, Corbaccio's: this word would not have required a note, had not its meaning been overlooked by Upton, who wishes to read "crackers, that is squibs"!

7 But you shall eat it. Much!] Upton and Whalley constantly mistake the sense of this interjection; they will have it to be elliptical, for "Much good may it do you! u!" whereas it is merely ironical, as I have already observed, and means, Not at all.