ACT II

SCENE 1
[St. Mark's Place; a retired corner before Corvino's house.]

[Enter SIR POLITICK WOULD-BE and PEREGRINE.]

SIR P: Sir, to a wise man, all the world's his soil:
     It is not Italy, nor France, nor Europe,
     That must bound me, if my fates call me forth.
     Yet, I protest, it is no salt desire
     Of seeing countries, shifting a religion,
     Nor any disaffection to the state
     Where I was bred, and unto which I owe
     My dearest plots, hath brought me out; much less,
     That idle, antique, stale, gray-headed project
     Of knowing men's minds, and manners, with Ulysses!
     But a peculiar humour of my wife's
     Laid for this height of Venice, to observe,
     To quote, to learn the language, and so forth—
     I hope you travel, sir, with license?

PER: Yes.

SIR P: I dare the safelier converse—How long, sir,
     Since you left England?

PER: Seven weeks.

SIR P: So lately!
     You have not been with my lord ambassador?

PER: Not yet, sir.

SIR P: Pray you, what news, sir, vents our climate?
     I heard last night a most strange thing reported
     By some of my lord's followers, and I long
     To hear how 'twill be seconded.

PER: What was't, sir?

SIR P: Marry, sir, of a raven that should build
     In a ship royal of the king's.

PER: [Aside.] This fellow,
     Does he gull me, trow? or is gull'd?
     —Your name, sir?

SIR P: My name is Politick Would-be.

PER: [Aside.] O, that speaks him.
     —A knight, sir?

SIR P: A poor knight, sir.

PER: Your lady
     Lies here in Venice, for intelligence
     Of tires, and fashions, and behaviour,
     Among the courtezans? the fine Lady Would-be?

SIR P: Yes, sir; the spider and the bee, ofttimes,
     Suck from one flower.

PER: Good Sir Politick,
     I cry you mercy; I have heard much of you:
     'Tis true, sir, of your raven.

SIR P: On your knowledge?

PER: Yes, and your lion's whelping, in the Tower.

SIR P: Another whelp!

PER: Another, sir.

SIR P: Now heaven!
     What prodigies be these? The fires at Berwick!
     And the new star! these things concurring, strange,
     And full of omen! Saw you those meteors?

PER: I did, sir.

SIR P: Fearful! Pray you, sir, confirm me,
     Were there three porpoises seen above the bridge,
     As they give out?

PER: Six, and a sturgeon, sir.

SIR P: I am astonish'd.

PER: Nay, sir, be not so;
     I'll tell you a greater prodigy than these.

SIR P: What should these things portend?

PER: The very day
     (Let me be sure) that I put forth from London,
     There was a whale discover'd in the river,
     As high as Woolwich, that had waited there,
     Few know how many months, for the subversion
     Of the Stode fleet.

SIR P: Is't possible? Believe it,
     'Twas either sent from Spain, or the archdukes:
     Spinola's whale, upon my life, my credit!
     Will they not leave these projects? Worthy sir,
     Some other news.

PER: Faith, Stone the fool is dead;
     And they do lack a tavern fool extremely.

SIR P: Is Mass Stone dead?

PER: He's dead sir; why, I hope
     You thought him not immortal?
     [Aside.]
     —O, this knight,
     Were he well known, would be a precious thing
     To fit our English stage: he that should write
     But such a fellow, should be thought to feign
     Extremely, if not maliciously.

SIR P: Stone dead!

PER: Dead.—Lord! how deeply sir, you apprehend it?
     He was no kinsman to you?

SIR P: That I know of.
     Well! that same fellow was an unknown fool.

PER: And yet you knew him, it seems?

SIR P: I did so. Sir,
     I knew him one of the most dangerous heads
     Living within the state, and so I held him.

PER: Indeed, sir?

SIR P: While he lived, in action.
     He has received weekly intelligence,
     Upon my knowledge, out of the Low Countries,
     For all parts of the world, in cabbages;
     And those dispensed again to ambassadors,
     In oranges, musk-melons, apricots,
     Lemons, pome-citrons, and such-like: sometimes
     In Colchester oysters, and your Selsey cockles.

PER: You make me wonder.

SIR P: Sir, upon my knowledge.
     Nay, I've observed him, at your public ordinary,
     Take his advertisement from a traveller
     A conceal'd statesman, in a trencher of meat;
     And instantly, before the meal was done,
     Convey an answer in a tooth-pick.

PER: Strange!
     How could this be, sir?

SIR P: Why, the meat was cut
     So like his character, and so laid, as he
     Must easily read the cipher.

PER: I have heard,
     He could not read, sir.

SIR P: So 'twas given out,
     In policy, by those that did employ him:
     But he could read, and had your languages,
     And to 't, as sound a noddle—

PER: I have heard, sir,
     That your baboons were spies, and that they were
     A kind of subtle nation near to China:

SIR P: Ay, ay, your Mamuluchi. Faith, they had
     Their hand in a French plot or two; but they
     Were so extremely given to women, as
     They made discovery of all: yet I
     Had my advices here, on Wednesday last.
     From one of their own coat, they were return'd,
     Made their relations, as the fashion is,
     And now stand fair for fresh employment.

PER: 'Heart!
     [Aside.]
     This sir Pol will be ignorant of nothing. —
     It seems, sir, you know all?

SIR P: Not all sir, but
     I have some general notions. I do love
     To note and to observe: though I live out,
     Free from the active torrent, yet I'd mark
     The currents and the passages of things,
     For mine own private use; and know the ebbs,
     And flows of state.

PER: Believe it, sir, I hold
     Myself in no small tie unto my fortunes,
     For casting me thus luckily upon you,
     Whose knowledge, if your bounty equal it,
     May do me great assistance, in instruction
     For my behaviour, and my bearing, which
     Is yet so rude and raw.

SIR P: Why, came you forth
     Empty of rules, for travel?

PER: Faith, I had
     Some common ones, from out that vulgar grammar,
     Which he that cried Italian to me, taught me.

SIR P: Why this it is, that spoils all our brave bloods,
     Trusting our hopeful gentry unto pedants,
     Fellows of outside, and mere bark. You seem
     To be a gentleman, of ingenuous race:—
     I not profess it, but my fate hath been
     To be, where I have been consulted with,
     In this high kind, touching some great men's sons,
     Persons of blood, and honour.—

PER: Who be these, sir?