Into a hammer I'll convert my sword.
Though Venus Vulcan horn, I'll wive: our hall'
Increased by us may grow a capital.

I am for Vulcan now, for Mars no more;
If my wife scold, my bout-hammer* shall roar.
Snip. Turn garment, tailor, too, and be not
barr'd:

I'll marry and betake me to my yard,

And if my trade then prove not worth a dodkin,
Curse, curse o' women, both my yard and bodkin!
Calve. Then, shoemaker, the last of all the rout,
Of tailor, Pergamus, or fair Blacksnout:
By Mercury I swear it is my draught
To take a wife and use the gentle craft.

SONG by BELLArio.

Then farewell the drum, pike, gun, and the fife!
If a man loves jarring and plenty of strife,
To try his valour let him take a wife,

And to our old trades again.

Chorus. And to our old trades again.

Come, Pergamus, tailor, and Blacksnout too,
The shoemaker will teach your wives all what to

do,

For if you tread awry they'll underlay you :
Then to our old trades again!
Chorus. Then to our old trades again!

So, furious Mars, we bid thee adieu,

We care not for killing, it's a life for a Jew:
So let us be jogging with our jovial crew,

▪ Our hall.] Alluding, I suppose, to the hall of trade.

Bout-hammer.] Probably a technical term for a blacksmith's hammer. Bout, besides its present signification, signified formerly a blow.

And to our old trades again!

Chorus. And to our old trades again!

Thunder.

Bell. Oh, the gods are angry! Let's begone.
All. Oh, oh, oh!

[Exeunt running.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Before the Palace.

Enter LEARCHUS and LEONTIUS meeting, muffled up in Cloaks.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha !

Leon. Why dost thou laugh, Learchus ?

Lear. To see us two walk thus like Saturnists Muffled up in a condensed cloud.

Why art thou sad, Leontius?

Leon. Troth, I know not.

Why art thou melancholy?

Lear. Hang me if I can tell. Oh, now I re

member:

The king is discontented, and we courtiers
Are like the Macedonian humourists,

'Cause Philip had a wry neck they wore theirs so, And said 'twas all the fashion: yet, methinks,

"Tis something more than strange To see this sudden alteration;

Last night he was unbounded and profuse
In mirth and jovialty, but looks this morn
As if he had drunk Lethe.

Enter RUFINUS.

Ruf. Plotting still?

You think to outdo me now in some rare springe To catch this green-head general; but

not,

you shall

Nay, you cannot: know, brave spirits, 'tis done;
Our stratagem has taken rare effect,
The peace is made, the articles confirmed,
The execution past, and Tullius sunk
Lower than policy can ever search,

Or plumb the unfathomed bottom.

What means this silence? Do not your glad hearts leap

Into your bosom to hear this brave revenge? Have you thus far mingled your bloods with mine, And waded hand in hand through death and hell, And do you now repent?

Lear. Leon. Repent!

Ruf. What then portends this sadness?
Lear. Understand it:

Saw

you the king to-day?

Ruf. No. What succeeds your question?
Lear. He is wondrous discontented.

Ruf. What of that?

Leon. Think you he has not caught intelligence Of Tullius' murder, or this feigned truce? Ruf. Why, say he have, do you shrink or shudder at it?

3 Joueltie.] So the MS.

We have ventured too far in to retire now:
But I'll take off that doubt, 'tis no such thing,
Neither does grief or anger make him show
A wrinkled front or a dejected look;

'Tis rather too much joy, surfeit of pleasure,
And those sweet delights with which he has been
sated

This last night [in] the arms of Philadelpha;
Tullius' fair hoard was made his cradle
In which the devil and lust sate rocking him.
Lear. Is't possible? is Tullius' mounted higher?
Ruf. Yes, on the horn of greatness.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha!

Ruf. And being fixed, perchance,
In meditation of these sugared sins,

He did not greatly mind ye; there's his sadness:
But when we come in presence you shall see
Another change of countenance, for I am
The served-up instrument whose tearing brain
Gives motion to his actions.-

Enter Messenger.

Sent to me?

Mess. And all your honours.

The senate sits this morning instantly,

The king in person too, but for what cause

None but himself yet knows.

Ruf. 'Tis a short summons: well, we shall at

tend him.

[Exit Messenger.

Lear. What thinks Rufinus now?

Ruf. By Jove, I am puzzled; yet, now
To forge or study for replies would show
A shallow brain. Let not our timorous guilt
Betray ourselves; and scorn the worst event;
If we must down let us like cedars fall,

And make an earthquake tumbling, that our fame

May live to after-ages, and our acts
By all rare politicians be eternized:
'Tis nobler far than live in such a state
Where worth hath no reward, merit no grace.
Can virtue spring where true regard is wanting?
It is impossible: Thus join we then,

And let our fates be like the elements,

So linked and chained that none can break the

twine

But they that twisted it. This knot, methinks, Resembles just the trinal sisterhood

That spun our thread of life: make much on't then.

Before the destinies do wind it up

They shall have many turnings. But when you see There is no remedy, let one stroke divide us. Lear. Leon. 'Tis resolved.

[Cornets play a Lesson.

Ruf. The senate s coming, fall into the train.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

The Capitol.

Enter MARCELLANUS, Old TULLIUS, and two other Senators; then TITUS MARTIUS, RUFINUS, LEARCHUS, LEONTIUS, and other Attendants; MARCUS TULLIUS in Disguise, among other Petitioners.

M. Tull. I hope this habit's undiscoverable,

[Aside.