VOLTERRE

R Emember where you are, What in the name of fury hath made you And enemy to that sex, upon what Lady False beyond Cressida, didst thou lose thy patience? Find it again for shame, thou Wertenberg not born A woman hater. How hadst thou been Alive, but for thy mother? We may As well condemn our father's, and declaim against them for our begetting, come Orseollo, Desist to be a Satire, I hope you wood not The Duchess should hear this; collect your self You are ith presence, put on a smooth face And speak Court language, let me counsel you To softness; what a Courtier and so rugged? Princes they say have many cares, and 'tis not less then treason, in a woman's court To be so violent against e'm, these Hangings may eveldrop us. At what? How is this? They would not juggled you me thinks. In a missed, is he not? here's but we three, The Duchess is a strange woman. Nay let's would No more ̄ inve ̄ ctives Signiour Orseollo Traduce not all for some, it must be granted. Pleasant What? Prithee enrich our knowledge, why? He's mad, What a wild passion Like a torrent, bears him Against the women, it's well your hate Points at the ge ̄ nerall, one woman's anger Would check your forward—else Contarini. Why Signiour, are you so transported You have not power enough to seem calm, What dost at Court? Not early. So, so, he would but trouble us. I fear so. I shall endeavour new merits. My very good Lord. Who, I my Lord? I need a Comment to your words. I want a soul (signiour) if she ever Honoured me with any phrase; but what is Usual in her Compliment tother Lords. He has discovered somewhat that concerns My joy. Nature needs no excuse why a Duchess should affect a travailed Lord; You are great too, within our memory. These were her words. hum!— Your pleasure signiour! Hah signiour? they concern not me, I am Forgotten by my stars, I, Volterre Is lost to all Eyesight, but his own. Since I have traveled, brought from France, the nice Amorous cringe, that so inchants Ladies: 'Tis fit I use it often, the tongue is Powerful too, and I enrich in languages, It shall be known— To bring Revel in the Court, that's the way, I have my self and able chine, and I Can frisk Like a Goat: which females call A lucky symptom—Signiour Contarini, Oh for a sighed of Jupiters wardrobe That I might immetate the shape, in which He courted Diana! I my Lord that's my name, I'll go write It down, least this business make me forget it. Signiour de Pazzi Comesta. Io soi ill uvestra servadore. Women are taken with the presence of A man, the garb, and ornaments of state Endear him to their senses, I would feign Appear in glorious habit can you dance? 'Tis the best fooling, and the safest for The body, your French glide away Like Rivers, Without a noise, and turning with Meanders, Out move you, your lofty tricks, are tude, And do to much examine. Ride the Cannon, and you would No care to preserve your bonds, but I forget, Adtos signiour, I must attend the Duchess. Pardonate Signior mio. I'll show your highness the real cause, why He hates all women; he was ever bred In the camp, where there are no females, but Sutlers wives: fit drudges, to make fierce Ith' devils kitchen, whose very looks Disparage the complexion of all their sex; He never conversed with and Italian Bona Koba, a plump Lady, that fills Her grown, or with a French Bruvette, A Spanish Muser umbrada, or a Germane Yefrow, the Dutch. — I still desire to be enabled for Your graces service. We only want your highness presence there, And the sport begins. My Lord, the French conceive things with justice Ime but and isorit du moude, and as The Spaniard says, Alteram, estrabajo Deal hombre, but Ive observed her grace names Contarini often, looks on you with A smooth brow. She gave the game high applause, and begged two Of my Cormorants: I must invent new Sports to delight her fancy. Laura, the Duchess great favourite Giotto, is eminent in Court too. If these afford me such respect Ive cause To think my stars faithful? Madam I would Kiss your left hand— How bright Laura. Signior Giotto. Pray clear this mystery. I me all wonder and amazement Signiour, Pray give your meaning more perspicuous Utterance. Howes this? Why, dost keep thy head bore in reverence To me? Madam, shall I entreat?— Your duty— I hear you— Laura, faith be public ̄ ! Giotto, why Dost thou conceal the means to make thee Happy?— Phse questo mionto, what would you say, There me interpret the inorticulate Voices of birds, and beasts, that skill deserved A fame. Ta Dam rum, ta Dam rum, to re re, ra Dam rum. It is my vulgar exercise ta Dam rum, ta Dam rum. Giotto, now I am fit for a raze, Never tired. It has been thought by some (skilled In the ability of my person) that Ime mortal. Dost i'faith Laura — I took partly of my breeding ith' French Court And there I learned to be familiar With my Nobles. Giotto, dost concern you to hinder This her kindness? speak deer Lady. Hah, forward deer Laura. The soi mug juoderose. Signiour my affairs hither require haste, The Duchess (on some sudden cause) hath sent for me. You come lately from her, and I would know, How you approve her present looks. 'Tis the Art Of foreign Courtiers to visit Princes, In lucky minutes; when their gesture shows Em pleasant. How looks her grace to day: Is, She not physical, but high and jocund? Slight; why this to me; how comes he to know That I am he, her highness aims at? True The man is known: nor is his worth concealed. Your Lordship does him too much right, 'tis certain, He has been told that I am he. Nay good signiour, comely; but not glorious. This is a pretty kind of flattery, He will not suffer me to abuse my self. I'll admit he charms the Ladies? or so— The man has travailed too. The Spaniards (signiour) reserves all passion, To express his feeling in accurences Of state ̄ , when in discourse; his Toothpick still Is his parinthasis: which he does manage Subtly thus— Par less santos sennor — Lo conosco portierto—porque es Trabaso (conlicenzia diuvestra alteza) Hablas Much palabeas — No puedo en veridad — This elevation oth' shoulders is a Politic gesture, declares a meaning hid; Which you may find out if you can: and is Often used in trivial circumstances. I question this your Man—— Is Done Diego within? Why not he of Valder, or any other Diego? Then I'll prefer (sir) the French to your Dislike or praise: whom though a surly Done, Calls and impertinent people; giddy Trifles? yet in my esteem they merit Highly. They are active even in discourse Let us begin cheerly, No matter On what slight or trivial subject; Be it On that single melancholy hair upon Your chin. Rise and fallen by my example. Mounsier, sil adirent que eat cheveil la sera brusle; que farions nous Avec vostre menton: poucce que le Roy. Oh vy da', J slay bien que la volente, doit esere est eme pour facit: mais quond J vous donneray and cheque naude prenez lamanie, que celus, que tomb Gaigneray un pass; pour reum, que ce veleve — J ne le croy pass, cesee un chanson dumonde. Est in possibile? Ill in a aucun chosen ci dificile, mais j le prenderay tant tose. How do you Like it Signiour? I know your mind; but my body is now prepared For a high visit. My joints moves by screws, Ime so starched together; a dance would Loosen me, and make me fallen in rumples. Your man is well built for such a motion, Mark 'tis only thus—and thus— Good, very good, signiour Depazzi you owe Heaven much thanks, for lending you this servant; I would not seen a Gentleman in all France Move with so much regard, and vigour. M'affaires call me to Court, serviteur tres humble. Signiour Giotto. This is the night Signiour, t'inclines a pace. Do I remain unshaken in her opinion Have I any square still. Dear Signiour. Shalt be my fellow Caesar in the Empire. Is not this Depazzies Barber? And thats the reason Justice is blind. His fingers speak his profession Diable prend e'te Droll la! parles doucement. Abien, ce'te unchose'ci dificile. Iene scay que fair. Ma foy loblie! mais nous le voyerous tontastine grandement esbahy. 'Tis only a French heat, an't Like your excellence. Your excellence does me too much right. Your highness will hold me in excuse. Thou wilt never marry. Pity thou shouldst Marry, to get a son that should be ̄ Like thee; Take heed least women for this bitterness Make thee not first and Eunuch, but we would lost Our first discourse, thy passion Like a storm Hath quite transported us, from the Duke Foscari, That hath now left us, let's A cold suit with the Duchess. He deserved, I know not what to think out, 'tis the third Prince, that our duties have commended, In hope to be made happy with her issue: Nay, nay, have truce a little with thy spleen, And lets talk wisely, we shall be observed; I wonder.