[121] There is no meaning in the word "loof:" perhaps we should read "one _touch_ more." Balurdo seems to be beautifying some part of his person; but his movements are not quite clear. [122] "God's neaks"--a meaningless oath constantly used by Marston. [123] A corruption of _christened_. [124] Snarl, grin.--The word is still used in the north country. [125] Equal. [126] The words "But by the help ... as red," are given to Flavia in the old eds. [127] Ed. 1633 gives this speech to Balurdo. [128] _I.e._, put the glass out of sight. [129] Neigh.--Cf. Fletcher's _Women Pleased_, iv. 1:-- "This beast of Babylon I will never back again; His pace is sure prophane, and his lewd _wi-hies_ The Songs of Hymyn and Gymyn in the wilderness." So Ben Jonson in _Every Man out of his Humour_, ii. 1:--"So the legerity for that, and the _whig-hie_ and the daggers in the nose." [130] "Gundolet"--old form of gondola. [131] Nimble.--The word is used by Spenser. [132] Should we not rather read "Hath but one little wicket _thorough which_"? [133] Old eds. "Speake." [134] Ed. 1. "honour." [135] Old eds. "_chy condura sorta_." ACT IV. SCENE I. _Sea-shore near Venice._ _Enter_ ANTONIO, _in his sea-gown running_. _Ant._ Stop, stop Antonio, stay Antonio! Vain breath, vain breath, Antonio's lost; He cannot find himself, not seize himself. Alas, this that you see is not Antonio; His spirit hovers in Piero's court, Hurling about his agile faculties, To apprehend the sight of Mellida: But poor, poor soul, wanting apt instruments To speak or see, stands dumb and blind, sad spirit, Roll'd up in gloomy clouds as black as air 10 Through which the rusty coach of Night is drawn. 'Tis so; I'll give you instance that 'tis so. Conceit you me: as having clasp'd a rose[136] Within my palm, the rose being ta'en away, My hand retains a little breath of sweet: So may man's trunk, his spirit slipp'd away, Hold[137] still a faint perfume of his sweet guest. 'Tis so; for when discursive powers fly out, And roam in progress through the bounds of heaven, The soul itself gallops along with them, 20 As chieftain of this wingèd troop of thought, Whilst the dull lodge of spirit standeth waste, Until the soul return from----. What was't I said? O, this is naught but speckling melancholy. I have been-- That Morpheus' tender skinp[138]--Cousin german Bear with me, good-- Mellida: clod upon clod thus fall. Hell is beneath, yet heaven is over all. [_Falls on the ground._ _Enter_[139] ANDRUGIO, LUCIO, _and_ Page.