FLORENCE

Mad Vanni still. A tree of threescore-years growth; nothing. And they are now best Drinkers. Nay be not angry. By my faith it's well. And some Lords have no chimneys but their noses. May not a snuff give light? The Lady Alphonsina Neri, has given it you my Lord. Your wife, and your fair daughter, One of the stars of Florence with your son Heir to your worth and Honours, Trebatio Vanni. The holy knot, Hymea shall shortly tie, and in fair bans, Unite Florence and Pisa by the hands, Or Fyametta and this Pisa Duke (Our Noble-son in law) and at this day, Pray be not absent. We hear there is a gallant that outvies Us, and our court for bravery, and expense, For royal feasts, trium hs and revellings. But ther's another lays on more then he. These gallants we'll be feasted by, and Feast Fame's praises of they, shall make us their guest, Mean time we'll hence How now Nurse, how does my Fiametta? Who are with her? call for more help. I will give half my Dukedom for her health. I entreat thee Nurse be tender over her. What's that Nurse? So, so, I'm glad of it my Lord of Pisa. Under this common blow, which might have struck the strongest heart, here pray do not you shrink. O say not so, It's but her wayward sickness casts this eye of slightnes on you. Now Mutio? Welcome good Doctor: have you seen my daughter? Restore her health, and nothing in my Dukedom, Shall be too deer for thee, how do you Judge her? Piero take the Duke of Pisa pray and be your sisters visi. Attend the Duke. Doctor I thus have singled you, to found The depth of my girls sickness, that if no skill Of man can save her, I against heavens will, May arm my breast with patience, therefore be free. So, so, I Like him better. A great desire of a man? Doctor thou hittest her heart, it's there she's wounded, By a poisoned Arrow, shot from a villains hand; One Angelo of the Lotti Family, And till that head be plucked out, she will pine, Unless controlled by some deep Art of thine. No medicine you say in any of them for Love. The man and the woman do? how do, how do? As how pray? Very good. Yes, yes, the heart of the man. So so. O, o, a Grater. Excellent. So she will hate her lover. Thou comest up close to me now, my brave Doctor. You then advice me to have Angelo slain. And then to have my daughter drink his heart. Grated and dried, and so— I wo'd I griped it fast now in this hand, And eat it panting hight, to teach a peasant To climb above his being, Doctor, he die. But stay, stay, he's fled Florence; It will be A work to find him first out, and being found, A task to kill him; for our Gallants speak Much of his worth; The varlet is valiant. Do, so, whilst I for Angeloes death use speed, For till I have his heart, mine own must bleed. What, Noble Doctor, is the name of it? Call for the Music. All, all partly softly; peace Nurse, let her sleep. I told you that I herd—her tongue— With all my heart. Stark mad. Sweet girl, with gentle hands sir, take her hence. What strange new fury now possesses her? I do believe you both, but honest Doctor, Strain all thy Art, and so thou leave her well, I care not if you call up fiend from hell. Still your opinion holds to kill that villain, And give her his heart dried. This gold take for thy pains to make her sound, There needs a desperate cure to a desperate wound. And will he come? By my life he shall; when will he come? Philippo Mutio, go and persuade our daughter To walk, and take the air. Attend the Duke of Pisa; prithee Piero Discover where this Angelo lay lurking. Way for my daughter; look you, there's Angelo. Art thou mad? He says no. He'll prove a lusty Larrence; This is the star you sail by though. T'hast lent unto mine age a score of years, More then ere nature promised, by thy loving This Noble Prince; th'art his then? I, I, so, so; If it die, it shall be buried. Fyametta, Make choice thy self of thine own wedding day. No more of compliment, my Lord Gentili; Such noble welcomes have we had this day, We must take blushing leaves, cause we can pay Nothing but thanks. It's nobly spoke Get 2. at night for't. What is the bride yet dressed? It's well, music? from whence? What chambers that? Inquire. If she be ready, Mutio, say her bridegroom Attends on her below. Come, come loiterer; Should would been? Take thou that praise and to this Prince be true, Come down and marry him. That villain has bewitched her. That slave, the banished runagate. I'll hang thee traitor. Our pardon, whosoever takes and kill him. As a traitors. Very good. Then you have married her? Why didst thou make to him thy promise then? Parrot, Parrot, I'll stop your prating, break into her chamber, And lay the villain bleeding at her feet. Enter and kill him. You see there is no remedy. Will you come down pray? Yet more a do. By my Hope's I swear. See, see, more shoals of friends, most beauteous Ladies, Fair welcomes to you all. We herd the happy news, and therefore sent, To marry joys with joys, yours, with our own, Yours (I see) prosper, ours are overthrown. Your own eyes shall be witness how: nay, nay, pray rise, I know your heart is up, though your knees down. What beg you of this Prince? She has good skill; At table will we hear a full discourse Of all these changes, and these Marriages, Both how they shuffled, cut, and dealt about, What cards are best, after the trumps were out, Who played false play, who true, who sought to save And Ace ith'bottome, and turned up a knave; For Love is but a Card-play, and all's lost, Unless you clog, he that pack's best, wins must, I doubt Lord Vanni she will crack no Nuts, With such a tough shell, as is yours and mine, But leaving this, lets see you pray, at Court, Comfort from heaven, I hope, let's see this Doctor. He shall be sought for, and being found, he die.