Naked without a skin this frosty weather,
D'ye observe my precious monkies?

ARI. 'Tis a great virtue to be patient.
MER. So, if I can increase the number of
My subjects I may have hope

To be a captain; this age is grown
Sinful, we can get no titles but what
We pay for. Soldiers were never happy
Since the siege of Troy. Good Agamemnon
I'll trail a pike under thy ghost, if it

Would walk and bear arms. The Court infects
The Camp, we must be gaudy now; triumph
In scarlet and high plumes. This hat looks like
An old morion 't has been my pillow 'bove
Eighteen years. Just off Methusalem's block-Ha!
Let me see-troth 'twould not much endanger
My thrift to change, only thou wouldst think't
Too great an honour-Ha! Go, go,
Triumph!

ARI. 'Slight! the Mogul's revenue is not able To maintain my cowardice.

MER. I'm known! a midwife's ruff is just like mine.

Lizaro, let me see your's: Hah! Ay, ay,

'Twill serve the turn, untie-If thou dost grin I'll cleave thee from the scalp unto the twist!

[Change ruffs. LIZ. Ariotto, I've often given you my

Advice, we must be valiant.

ARI. We must declare our anger, with pride and

courage.

Ancient, we intend to be valiant.

MER. How! Speak but that word again, and ye both hasten

To your graves. Let me but see ye so

Conspire against damnation as to
Be valiant. I'll not permit in both

Your hearts so much noble fire as shall
Encourage you to skirmish a field mouse.
Do, do! Be valiant, if you dare!

ARI. Sir, we scorn the humour, we

MER. The cannon catch me, if I not make ye Run away from a hare. Ye shall

Be proud to pawn your sisters

To feed my riot.

Enter PIRACCO.

PIR. Subject! I come to visit

My exchecquer.

[Feels in's pocket. LIZA. Sir! I grieve you must lose your industry; I pray peruse the other on my left thigh.

PIRA. How, caitiff? Dost thou so much neglect life

To walk without aurum potabile,*

Without tribute to appease my wrath.

LIZA. Sir, I know you can speak thunder; 'tis in Your power to kill me with your voice. But yet Take leisure to consider. I pray

Question Mervole, your colleague i' th' empire.

ARI. A man captain, if it be lawful to whisper, More barbarous than a Goth; the Vandals Were not so ravenous when they sacked Rome, As he in pillaging of us.

PIRA. Preserve our stations! lest when I grow Angry I hurt ye with my breath. Ancient, You are not temperate.

MER. How, captain?

PIRA. You insult upon my kindnesses, and 'tis Difficult to grant your pardon.

MER. By this fair light! If you

Incense me I shall trouble ye worse than

Your imposthume. Can you not gull the State

* Sce vol. i., p. 72.

Finely, muster up ammunition; Cassocks stuff'd with straw;

Number a hundred forty nine dead pays,
And thank Heaven for your arithmetic ?
Cannot you clothe your ragged infantry
With cabbage leaves? Devour the reckonings,
And grow fat i' th' ribs, but you must hinder
Poor Ancients from eating warm beef? Hence-
forth

Expect no contribution from these bores.

PIRA. S'death! Will you not permit me to enjoy one?

MER. I will have both.

PIRA. That's to be decided with our weapons!

[They draw. ARI. Pray, Lizaro, if they both die, our bonds. Are void, and we are free.

MER. D'ye curvet? Were there

A scrivener here I would be bold to make you
Entail my pension on the heirs of my
Body illegitimate, so leave ye

In bondage to posterity. Come, sir,

I shall anger your imposthume. Again!

ARI. Now I am victorious!

Lizaro, your champion's foiled.

[Piracco down.

MER. Captain, thou'st still been held a bold soldier,

I'll not insult o'er thy unkind destiny.

Live still! but, by my stars, you must either
Give me your sword or disclaim all interest

In these two; they are my subjects now.

PIRA. Yield up my sword, no! Take 'em, cherish

the babes!

Keep 'em warm; they are very chilly.

MER. Quick! Do me homage. Bow lower!
ARI. This is but humility.

LIZA. We are exceeding virtuous.

MER. Piracco, give me thy fist! We'll have a

truce.

PIRA. Pox upon you! y'ave still the better on't In these skirmishes.

MER. How now! No more a cripple, thou walkest as

Stiffly as a stock.

PIRA. Hah! I do not limp? By this light, thou hast launched *

My imposthume!

MER. Hey! I ne'er thought I had skill in surgery Till now; march on, quick! to my Colonel's Kitchen tent. I'll present thee as a miracle ! A little of the cook's balsamum

Will finish the cure. By this hand, he walks upright! Subjects both attend!

ARI. Every man gains by quarrelling, but we.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter FOSCARI, FLORELLO, COLONEL.

Fosc. We embrace the greatest soldier

The world contains. So far you have obliged
Our gratitude we fear we shall discredit
Nature; for man was ne'er predestinate
To so much power as can requite your
Noble charity.

COL. Ye shall find us always prompt to serve ye, And faithful, as becomes our births and calling. FLOR. I have chosen to perform this strange duty, when time

Makes me most useful. You are shortly to
Expect a battery.

Fosc. We are enabled to resist the storm.
Heaven hath provided us some friends amongst
Our greatest enemies. However we are
Begirt with intrenchments,

* Lanced.

We can receive from Florence safe intelligence, And speedy. The news of this your battery, Enforced with the Duke's stern rage, came to our Knowledge before your relation.

FLOR. Then spirits are your messengers ?
But I consume these hasty

Minutes is't your pleasure to direct me
To the chamber where I may finish

That employment which seduced me hither?
Fosc. Sir, I am proffering my attendance:
Colonel give the Perdue a fair reward for this
Great fortune, and conceal Florello's strange arrival.
COL. I go! we have now gage

To assure our safety.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter BERTOLINA, RANOLA, with FLORELLO'S picture.

RAN. Madam! shall I place it here?

BERT. Gently, Ranola! Had it sense it could Not more provoke my care; I fear I shall Commit idolatry. Hail, great soldier! Thou that art the pride of Italy, and so exact A wonder in this age; our chronicles Will fear to register thy deeds, lest they Endanger quite the readers' faith to all They write. Why art thou absent now? Thou art employed in achieving new wreaths Ere the old are withered. Such sacred garlands The Olympic wrestlers won.

Still he treads the path of honour

And loud glory. He never thinks on me!

I shall grow wild with grief.

Enter FOSCARI, FLORELLO.

Fosc. Sir! I will leave you to express your thoughts

Unto my daughter.

BERT. Secure us, Heaven!

[Exit Foscari.