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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 95

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"The bird of Jove, _stoop'd_ from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove."

[321] _i.e._, Two footmen in _garded_ or _laced_ liveries. So in "The Merchant of Venice," act ii. sc. 2--

"Give him a livery More _garded_ than his fellows."

--_Steevens._

[322] _i.e._, Embraced me.



[323] [Old copy, _and_.]

[324] The two stanzas decrease and then increase, after the manner of wings. See the Greek poet Simmias Rhodius.--_Pegge._

[325] [Old copy, _his_.]

[326] Hitherto the reading has been--

"'Twas a hard pa.s.sage; but not so dangerous As was this vessel."

The true word and the measure have been restored from the old copy.--_Collier._

ACT IV., SCENE I.

[ANTONIO _solus_.]

ANT. Thus, by great favour of propitious stars, From fearful storms, shipwreck and raging billows, [And] merciless jaws of death, am I return'd To th' safe and quiet bosom of my country And wish'd embracements of my friends and kindred.

The memory of these misfortunes pa.s.s'd Seasons the welcome, and augments the pleasure I shall receive of my son Lelio And daughter Flavia. So doth alloy Make gold, that else were useless, serviceable; So the rugg'd forehead of a threat'ning mountain Heightens[327] the smoothness of a smiling valley.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ CRICCA.

CRI. What do I see? Is not this Trincalo, Transform'd t' Antonio? 'tis: and so perfectly That, did the right Antonio now confront him, I'd swear they both were true, or both were false.

ANT. This man admires the unexpectedness Of my return.

CRI. O wondrous power of stars, And skill of art t' apply't! You that are married May justly fear, lest this astrologer Clothe your wives' servants in your shape, and use you As Jupiter did Amphitryo. You, that are rich, In your own form may lose your gold.

ANT. 'Tis Cricca.

CRI. He seems so just the man he represents, That I dare hardly use him as I purpos'd.

ANT. Cricca, well-met; how fares my friend Pandolfo?

CRI. Your friend Pandolfo! how are your means improv'd, To style familiarly your master friend?

ANT. What say'st thou?

CRI. That I rejoice your worship's safe return

From your late drowning. Th' Exchange hath giv'n you lost, And all your friends worn mourning three months past.

ANT. The danger of the shipwreck I escap'd So desperate was, that I may truly say I am new-born, not sav'd.

CRI. Ha, ha, ha! through what a grace And goodly countenance the rascal speaks!

What a grave portance! could Antonio Himself outdo him? O you notorious villain!

Who would have thought thou couldst have thus dissembled?

ANT. How now! a servant thus familiar? Sirrah, Use your companions so: more reverence Becomes you better.

CRI. As though I understood not The end of all this plot and goodly business.

Come, I know all. See! this untill'd clod of earth Conceits his mind transform'd as well as body.

He wrings and bites his lips for fear of laughing.

Ha, ha, ha!

ANT. Why laugh you, sirrah?

CRI. Sirrah, to see thee chang'd So strangely, that I cannot spy an inch Of thy old clownish carcase: ha, ha!

ANT. Laughter proceeds From absurd actions that are harmless.

CRI. Ha, ha, ha!

Sententious blockhead!

ANT. And y' are ill-advis'd To jest instead of pity. Alas! my miseries, Dangers of death, slav'ry of cruel Moors And tedious journeys, might have easily alter'd A stronger body, much more this decay'd vessel, Out-worn with age, and broken by misfortunes.

CRI. Leave your set speeches. Go to Antonio's house, Effect your business; for, upon my credit, Th' art so well-turn'd, they dare not but accept thee.

ANT. Where should I hope for welcome, if not there-- From my own house, children, and family?

CRI. Is't possible this c.o.xcomb should conceive His mind transform'd? How gravely he continues The countenance he began! ha, ha! Why, blockhead, Think'st to deceive me too? Why, Trincalo!

ANT. I understand you not. Hands off.

CRI. Art not thou Trincalo, Pandolfo's man?

ANT. I not so much as know him.

CRI. Dar'st thou deny't to me?

ANT. I dare, and must To all the world, long as Antonio lives.

CRI. You arrant a.s.s! have I not known thee serve My master in his farm this thirteen years?

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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 95 summary

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