Soph. So will he ne'er the wench, I hope.
Tra. I wish it.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the same.

Enter Row LAND and LIVIA.

Rowl. Now, Livia, if you'll go away to-night, If your affections be not made of words

Livia. I love you, and you know how dearly, Rowland:

(Is there none near us?) My affections ever Have been your servants; with what superstition I have ever sainted you

Rowl. Why, then take this way.

21

Livia. Twill be a childish, and a less prosper

ous course

Than his that knows not care; why should we do
Our honest and our hearty love such wrong,
To over-run our fortunes?

Rowl. Then you flatter!

Livia. Alas! you know I cannot.

Rowl. What hope's left else

But flying, to enjoy ye?

Rowl. Why, then take this way.

Livia. "Twill be a childish.] Mr Monk Mason, whose editorial qualifications have been set in their true light by Mr Gifford, proposes to point the first, and amend the second line, as in the text. Had he looked into either of the folios, he would have found both his conjectures confirmed, as well as in Seward's, and in every edition but Colman's. The last corruption occurs again in the last edition on the next page but one.

Livia. None, so far.

For let it be admitted, we have time,
And all things now in other expectation,
My father's bent against us; what but ruin,
Can such a bye-way bring us? If your fears
Would let you look with my eyes, I would shew

you,

And certain, how our staying here would win `us
A course, though somewhat longer, yet far surer.
Rowl. And then Moroso has ye.
Livia. No such matter:

- For hold this certain; begging, stealing, whoring, Selling (which is a sin unpardonable)

Of counterfeit cods, 3 or musty English crocus, Switches, or stones for th' tooth-ach, sooner finds

me,

Than that drawn fox Moroso.

Rowl. But his money; If wealth may win you

Livia. If a hog may be

High-priest among the Jews! His money, Rowland?

Oh, Love forgive me! What faith hast thou!
Why, can his money kiss me

Rowl. Yes.

Livia. Behind,

Laced out upon a petticoat. Or grasp me, While I cry, oh, good thank you! (O' my troth, Thou makest me merry with thy fear!) or lie with

me

3 Counterfeit cods.] In some manuscript notes, which have been procured for the present editor, generally of very little value, a cod is explained, according to the meaning in which the word is used by Chaucer, and still in Scotland, a pillow, a belly. I am afraid the allusion is not so delicate.

4 Lasd.] First folio; laid, second. The text is from the former, the spelling having been rectified by Sympson.

As you may do? Alas, what fools you men are!
His mouldy money? Half a dozen riders, s
That cannot sit, but stampt fast to their saddles?
No, Rowland, no man shall make use of me;"
My beauty was born free, and free I'll give it
To him that loves, not buys me. You yet doubt
me?

Rowl. I cannot say I doubt

Livia. Go thy ways;

you.

Thou art the prettiest puling piece of passion-
I' faith, I will not fail thee.

Rowl. I had rather

Livia. Pr'ythee, believe me! If I do not carry it,

For both our goods

Rowl. But

Livia. What but?

Rowl. I would tell you.

Livia. I know all you can tell me : All's but this You would have me, and lie with me: is't not so? Rowl. Yes.

Livia. Why, you shall; will that content you? Go.

Rowl. I am very loth to go.

Enter BIANCA and MARIA conversing in the background.

Livia. Now, o' my conscience,

Thou art an honest fellow! Here's my sister!
Go, pr'ythee go! this kiss, and credit me,

5 Half a dozen riders.] A rider is a Dutch coin impressed with the figure of a man on horseback, and worth about twenty-seven English shillings.-Mason.

6 No, Rowland, no man shall make use of me.] That is, make money by me, marry me for that purpose.-Mason.

Use, in old writings, stands continually, for usury,

Ere I am three nights older, I am for thee:
You shall hear what I do. Farewell!

- Rowl. Farewell!

Livia. Alas, poor fool, how it looks!

[Exit.

It would even hang itself, should I but cross it. For pure love to the matter, I must hatch it.

Bianca. Nay, never look for merry hour, Maria,
If now you make it not: Let not your blushes,
Your modesty, and tenderness of spirit,
-Make you continual anvil to his anger!
Believe me, since his first wife set him going,
Nothing can bind his rage: Take your own coun-
cil;

You shall not say that I persuaded you.
But if you suffer him-

Maria. Stay! shall I do it?

Bianca. Have you a stomach to't?

Maria. I never shew'd it.

Bianca. Twill shew the rarer and the stronger in you.

But do not say I urged you.

Maria. I am perfect.

Like Curtius, to redeem my country, have I leap'd
Into this gulph of marriage; and I'll do it.
Farewell, all poorer thoughts, but spite and anger,
Till I have wrought a miracle !-Now, cousin,
I am no more the gentle, tame Maria:
Mistake me not; I have a new soul in me,
Made of a north-wind, nothing but tempest;
And, like a tempest, shall it make all ruins,
Till I have run my will out!

If

Bianca. This is brave now,

you continue it: But, your own will lead you! Maria. Adieu, all tenderness! I dare continue. Maids that are made of fears, and modest blushes, View me, and love example!

Bianca, Here's your sister.

Maria. Here's the brave old man's love-
Bianca. That loves the young man.

Maria. Ay, and hold thee there, wench! What a grief of heart is't,

When Paphos revels should up-rouse old Night,
To sweat against a cork,' to lie and tell
The clock o' th' lungs, to rise sport-starved!
Livia. Dear sister,

Where have you been, you talk thus?

Maria. Why, at church, wench;

Where I am tied to talk thus: I'm a wife now.

Livia. It seems so, and a modest!
Maria. You're an ass!

When thou art married once, thy modesty

Will never buy thee pins.

Livia. 'Bless me!

Maria. From what?

Bianca. From such a tame fool as our cousin Livia!

Livia. You are not mad?

Maria. Yes, wench, and so must you be, Or none of our acquaintance, (mark me, Livia,) Or indeed fit for our sex. 'Tis bed-time: Pardon me, yellow Hymen, that I mean Thine offerings to protract, or to keep fasting My valiant bridegroom!

Livia. Whither will this woman?

Bianca. You may perceive her end.
Livia. Or rather fear it.

Maria. Dare you be partner in't?
Livia. Leave it, Maria!

7-Against a cork.] So in King Lear, Cornwall orders his servants to bind fast the corky, i. e. withered, arms of Glocester. And in a passage quoted by Dr Percy from Bishop Harsnet's Decla ration of Popish Impostures, Martha Bressier, who pretended to be possessed, is spoken of as 66 an old corkie woman.' This will explain the allusion in the text.