Shakespeare ("Antony and Cleopatra," act ii. sc. 7), speaks of "plumpy Bacchus with _pink eyne;_" and Lodge, in "The Wounds of Civil War," has _pinky neyne_, [vii. 167.] In both these instances drinking is supposed to have occasioned the redness. ACT V., SCENE 1. _Enter_ BELLAFRONT. BEL. Titles and state, d'ye call it? O content! Thou art both beauty, means, and all in marriage. Joy dwells not in the princes' palaces: They that envy 'em do not know their cares. Were I the queen of gold, it could not buy An hour's ease for my oppressed heart. O, were this wedlock knot to tie again, Not all the state and glory it contains, Join'd with my father's fury, should enforce My rash consent! but, Scudmore, thou shalt see This false heart (in my death) most true to thee. [_Shows a knife hanging by her side._ My lord, my father, all the company, Did note my sudden sadness now at supper; Yet came I out, and put on feigned mirth, And mean to sit out this night's revels, too, To avoid all suspect may grow in 'em, Lest my behaviour should my intent reveal: Our griefs, like love, we hardly can conceal[60]. Yon come my sisters. Are the masquers ready? _Enter_ LUCIDA, _with her willow garland on, and_ KATHERINE. LUC. They are gone to dress themselves. Master Nevill's come. I would I had not vow'd to live a maid! I am a little taken with that gentleman, And yet if marriage be so full of ill, Let me be married to my garland still. KATH. In troth, thy state is happier much than ours. Were never two like us unfortunate! LUC. Thy case indeed I needs must pity much, Because I think thy virtue slandered; But for my lady sister, if she reap Sad discontent, 'tis none's but her own fault: I knew the passages 'twixt her and Scudmore. BEL. Sister, I wonder you will name a man, I think not on: he was no match for me. Why d'ye blame me, that should rather blame Your wandering eye, to love a man lov'd me? LUC. Well, 'tis too late now to expostulate. But, my poor little Kate, where is thy man? KATH. Lost, lost, in troth: to-morrow I shall hear, I make account, he's gone some five-years' voyage, Till this disgrace of ours be overblown; And for my Captain Pouts, by this time he Is ten mile on the river toward Gravesend. _Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with_ SERVANTS, _with torches and cudgels_. SIR J. WOR. Stand you two there. Sirrah, go you with me. Why, how now, girls! here still? what, and your ladyship? Away! away, I say: go take your places. Some torches for my lady! You sirrah, [_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE. Is my Lady Ninny awake yet?[61] SER. Yes, sir, she is awake, but she is scant sober: the first thing she called for was her aqua-vitæ bottle. SIR J. WOR. Who is with her?