Palace of the Duke of Venice.
Enter Feliche walking, unbraced.
Feli. Castilio, Alberto, Balurdo! none up?
Forobosco! Flattery, nor thou up yet?
Then there’s no courtier stirring: that’s firm truth?
I cannot sleep: Feliche seldom rests
In these court lodgings. I have walk’d all night,
To see if the nocturnal court delights
Could force me envy their felicity:
And by plain troth, I will confess plain troth,
I envy nothing but the travense[112] light.
O, had it eyes, and ears, and tongues, it might 10
See sport, hear speech of most strange surquedries.[113]
O, if that candle-light were made a poet,
He would prove a rare firking satirist,
And draw the core forth of imposthum’d sin.
Well, I thank heaven yet, that my content
Can envy nothing, but poor candle-light.
As for the other glistering copper spangs,
That glisten in the tire of the court,
Praise God, I either hate, or pity them.
Well, here I’ll sleep till that the scene of up 20
Is pass’d at court. O calm hush’d rich Content,
Is there a being blessedness without thee?
How soft thou down’st the couch where thou dost rest,
Nectar to life, thou sweet Ambrosian feast!
Enter Castilio and his Page Catzo: Castilio with a casting-bottle[114] of sweet water in his hand, sprinkling himself.
Cast. Am not I a most sweet youth now?
Cat. Yes, when your throat’s perfum’d; your very words
Do smell of ambergris. O stay, sir, stay;
Sprinkle some sweet water to your shoe’s heels,
That your mistress may swear you have a sweet foot.
30 Cast. Good, very good, very passing[115] passing good.
Feli. Fut, what treble minikin[116] squeaks there, ha? “good, very good, very very good!”
Cast. I will warble to the delicious conclave of my mistress’ ear: and strike her thoughts with the pleasing touch of my voice.