e to see them all in the Red-Sea first! But oh, this
Jezabel of mine! I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her an
ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not to church for
confession; and, for never going, she shall be condemned for a
heretic. She shall have stripes by Troy weight, and sustenance by
drachms and scruples: Nay, I'll have a fasting almanack, printed on
purpose for her use, in which
No Carnival nor Christmas shall appear,
But lents and ember-weeks shall fill the year. [_Exit._

ACT II.

SCENE I.--_The Queen's Antechamber._

_Enter_ ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO.

_Alph._ When saw you my Lorenzo?

_Ped._ I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me,
Like a young hound upon a burning scent;
He's gone a harlot-hunting.

_Alph._ His foreign breeding might have taught him better.

_Ped._ 'Tis that has taught him this.
What learn our youth abroad, but to refine
The homely vices of their native land?
Give me an honest home-spun country clown
Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain,
But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools,
But come back fops.

_Alph._ You know what reasons urged me;
But now, I have accomplished my designs,
I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots
Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close,
Did not the threatened downfal of our house,
In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills.

_Enter_ BERTRAN, _attended, and whispering with a Courtier, aside._

_Bert._ I would not have her think, he dared to love her;
If he presume to own it, she's so proud,
He tempts his certain ruin.

_Alph._ [_To_ PED.]
Mark how disdainfully he throws his eyes on us.
Our old imprisoned king wore no such looks.

_Ped._ O! would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,
And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho,
I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his trumpets,
And Torrismond but whistle through his fingers,
He draws his army off.

_Alph._ I told him so;
But had an answer louder than a storm.

_Ped._ Now, plague and pox on his smock-loyalty!
I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted,
Made sour and senseless, turned to whey by love;
A drivelling hero, fit for a romance.--
O, here he comes! what will their greetings be?

_Enter_ TORRISMOND, _attended;_ BERTRAN _and he meet and jostle._

_Bert._ Make way, my lords, and let the pageant pass.

_Tor._ I make my way, where'er I see my foe;
B