[119] The plot of this play is taken partly from "Philomela, the Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale," by Robert Greene, 1592, 4º, which resembles the novel of the "Curious Impertinent" in "Don Quixote," and partly from Boccaccio's "Decameron," Gior. 7, Novella 7.--_Reed._ [120] This play, in the old copy, is divided into acts, but not into scenes. It was therefore useless to mark "Scene I." at the beginning of each act, as Mr Reed allowed it to stand, without the noting of any of the other scenes.--_Collier._ [121] Of course all that Lorenzo says in this scene in the presence of Abstemia is aside, and while he stands unseen by her.--_Collier._ [122] [Old copy, _alarm_.] [123] The 4º reads-- "Whose wife _seems_ honest, and no hypocrite." Mr Reed altered it as it stands in the text, and although he was probably right, the change ought to have been noticed. _Collier._ [124] [Allayed, diluted. Mr Collier altered the word to _allayed_.] [125] [In allusion to the proverb, "After kissing comes greater kindness."] [126] [Old copy, _them_]. ACT II. _A bed thrust out. +Lodvico+ sleeping in his clothes; +Dorothea+ in bed. Enter +Clown+ leading in +Francisco+._ +Fran.+ Softly, sweet Pambo: are we in the chamber yet? +Clown.+ Within a yard of my lady, and ye can be quiet. +Fran.+ Art sure my lord's asleep? +Clown.+ I know not; I'll go and ask him. +Fran.+ No, no, no, do not wake him; we are undone then, man. +Clown.+ Ha, ha, ha! now do I see cuckold-making is as ticklish a profession as coneycatching. My lord was so paid with healths at Court, he's fast enough. +Fran.+ But still I pursue wonder why my lady should prescribe this strange, nay wondrous desperate, way to her desires. +Clown.+ Is that a question to ask now? would you would grope out the bed; for I sleep in my talk, I am sure of that. [_+Lodvico+ coughs._ +Fran.+ We are lost for ever! did he not cough? +Clown.+ 'Tis nothing but the last cup comes up in stewed broth. If ever you make true whore-master, I'll be bound to resign my place up to my lord's page; sea-sick, before you come to th' salt water! let me go in your stead. +Fran.+ No, I'll venture, stood a gulf between, Belching up a tempest. O valiant lust! How resolute thou go'st to acts unjust! Pambo, good night. Desire drowns fear in presuppos'd delight. +Clown.+ Turn of your left hand, 'twill lead you to the devil--to my lady, I should say, presently. [_Exit._