Act II, Scene I
A room in an Inn.
Enter ALVAREZ, CARLO, and ANTONIO, disguised as gipsies.
ALV. Come, my brave boys! the tailor’s shears has cut us into shapes fitting our trades. CAR. A trade free as a mason’s. ANT. A trade brave as a courtier’s; for some of them do but shark, and so do we. ALV. Gipsies, but no tanned ones; no red-ochre rascals umbered with soot and bacon as the English gipsies are, that sally out upon pullen,[191] lie in ambuscado for a rope of onions, as if they were Welsh freebooters; no, our stile has higher steps to climb over, Spanish gipsies, noble gipsies. CAR. I never knew nobility in baseness. ALV. Baseness? the arts of Cocoquismo and Germania,[192] used by our Spanish pickaroes[193]—I mean filching, foisting,[194] nimming, jilting—we defy;[195] none in our college shall study ’em; such graduates we degrade. ANT. I am glad Spain has an honest company. ALV. We’ll entertain no mountebanking stroll, No piper, fiddler, tumbler through small hoops, No ape-carrier, baboon-bearer; We must have nothing stale, trivial, or base: Am I your major-domo, your teniente,[196] Your captain, your commander? ANT. Who but you? ALV. So then: now being entered Madrill,[197] the enchanted circle of Spain, have a care to your new lessons. CAR. } We listen. ANT. } ALV. Plough deep furrows, to catch deep root in th' opinion of the best, grandees,[198] dukes, marquesses, condes, and other titulados; shew your sports to none but them: what can you do with three or four fools in a dish, and a blockhead cut into sippets? ANT. Scurvy meat! ALV. The Lacedemonians threw their beards over their shoulders, to observe what men did behind them as well as before; you must do['t]. CAR. We shall never do’t. ANT. Our muzzles are too short.[199] ALV. Be not English gipsies, in whose company a man’s not sure of the ears of his head, they so pilfer! no such angling; what you pull to land catch fair: there is no iron so foul but may be gilded; and our gipsy profession, how base soever in show, may acquire commendations. CAR. Gipsies, and yet pick no pockets? ALV. Infamous and roguy! so handle your webs, that they never come to be woven in the loom of justice: take any thing that’s given you, purses, knives, handkerchers, rosaries, tweezes,[200] any toy, any money; refuse not a marvedi,[201] a blank:[202] feather by feather birds build nests, grain pecked up after grain makes pullen[203] fat. ANT. The best is, we Spaniards are no great feeders. ALV. If one city cannot maintain us, away to another! our horses must have wings. Does Madrill yield no money? Seville shall; is Seville close-fisted? Valladolid is open; so Cordova,[204] so Toledo. Do not our Spanish wines please us? Italian can then, French can. Preferment’s bow is hard to draw, set all your strengths to it; what you get, keep; all the world is a second Rochelle;[205] make all sure, for you must not look to have your dinner served in with trumpets. CAR. No, no, sack-buts[206] shall serve us. ALV. When you have money, hide it; sell all our horses but one. ANT. Why one? ALV. ’Tis enough to carry our apparel and trinkets, and the less our ambler eats, our cheer is the better. None be sluttish, none thievish, none lazy; all bees, no drones, and our hives shall yield us honey.
Enter GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, disguised as gipsies, and CARDOCHIA.
CONST. See, father, how I'm fitted: how do you like This our new stock of clothes? ALV. My sweet girl, excellent.— See their old robes be safe. CARD. That, sir, I'll look to; Whilst in my house you lie, what thief soever Lays hands upon your goods, call but to me, I'll make the[207] satisfaction. ALV. Thanks, good hostess! CARD. People already throng into the inn, And call for you into their private rooms. ALV. No chamber-comedies: hostess, ply you your tide; flow let ’em to a full sea, but we’ll shew no pastime till after dinner, and that in a full ring of good people, the best, the noblest; no closet-sweetmeats, pray tell ’em so. CARD. I shall. [Exit. ALV. How old is Pretiosa? GUI. Twelve and upwards. CONST. I am in my teens, assure you, mother; as little as I am, I have been taken for an elephant; castles and lordships offered to be set upon me, if I would bear ’em: why, your smallest clocks are the prettiest things to carry about gentlemen. GUI. Nay, child, thou wilt be tempted. CONST. Tempted? though I am no mark in respect of a huge butt, yet I can tell you great bubbers[208] have shot at me, and shot golden arrows, but I myself gave aim,[209] thus,—wide, four bows; short, three and a half: they that crack me shall find me as hard as a nut of Galicia; a parrot I am, but my teeth too tender to crack a wanton’s almond.[210] ALV. Thou art, my noble girl! a many dons Will not believe but that thou art a boy In woman’s[211] clothes; and to try that conclusion,[212] To see if thou be’st alcumy[213] or no, They’ll throw down gold in musses;[214] but, Pretiosa, Let these proud sakers[215] and gerfalcons fly, Do not thou move a wing; be to thyself Thyself,[216] and not a changeling. CONST. How? not a changeling? Yes, father, I will play the changeling; I'll change myself into a thousand shapes, To court our brave spectators; I'll change my postures Into a thousand different variations, To draw even ladies' eyes to follow mine; I'll change my voice into a thousand tones, To chain attention: not a changeling, father? None but myself[217] shall play the changeling. ALV. Do what thou wilt, Pretiosa. [A knocking within. What noise is this?
Re-enter CARDOCHIA.
CARD. Here’s gentlemen swear all the oaths in Spain they have seen you, must see you, and will see you. ALV. To drown this noise let ’em enter. [Exit CARDOCHIA.
Enter SANCHO and SOTO.
SAN. Is your playhouse an inn, a gentleman cannot see you without crumpling his taffeta cloak? SOTO. Nay, more than a gentleman, his man being a diminutive don too. SAN. Is this the little ape does the fine tricks? CONST. Come aloft,[218] Jack little ape! SAN. Would my jack might come aloft! please you to set the watermill with the ivory cogs[219] in’t a-grinding my handful of purging comfits. [Offers comfits. SOTO. My master desires to have you loose from your company. CONST. Am I a pigeon, think you, to be caught with cummin-seeds?[220] a fly to glue my wings to sweetmeats, and so be ta’en? SAN. When do your gambols begin? ALV. Not till we ha' dined. SAN. ’Foot, then your bellies will be so full, you’ll be able to do nothing.—Soto, prithee, set a good face on’t, for I cannot, and give the little monkey that letter. SOTO. Walk off and hum to yourself. [SANCHO retires.]— I dedicate, sweet Destiny, into whose hand every Spaniard desires to put a distaff, these lines of love. [Offering a paper to CONSTANZA. GUI. What love? what’s the matter? SOTO. Grave mother Bumby,[221] the mark’s out a' your mouth. ALV. What’s the paper? from whom comes it? SOTO. The commodity wrapped up in the paper are verses; the warming-pan that puts heat into 'em, yon[222] fire-brained bastard of Helicon. SAN. Hum, hum.[223] ALV. What’s your master’s name? SOTO. His name is Don Tomazo Portacareco, nuncle[224] to young Don Hortado de Mendonza, cousin-german to the Conde de Tindilla, and natural brother to Francisco de Bavadilla, one of the commendadors of Alcantara, a gentleman of long standing. ALV. And of as long a style.[225] CONST. Verses? I love good ones; let me see ’em. [Taking paper. SAN. [advancing] Good ones? if they were not good ones, they should not come from me; at the name of verses I can stand on no ground. CONST. Here’s gold too! whose is this? SAN. Whose but yours? If there be[226] any fault in the verses, I can mend it extempore; for a stitch in a man’s stocking not taken up in time, ravels out all the rest. SOTO. Botcherly poetry, botcherly! [Aside. CONST. Verses and gold! these then are golden verses. SAN. Had every verse a pearl in the eye, it should be thine. CONST. A pearl in mine eye! I thank you for that; do you wish me blind?[227] SAN. Ay, by this light do I, that you may look upon nobody’s rhymes[228] but mine. CONST. I should be blind indeed then.[229] ALV. Pray, sir, read your verses. SAN. Shall I sing ’em or say ’em? ALV. Which you can best. SOTO. Both scurvily. [Aside. SAN. I'll set out a throat then. SOTO. Do, master, and I'll run division behind your back.[230] SAN. [sings] O that I were a bee, to sing Hum, buz, buz, hum! I first would bring Home honey to your hive, and there leave my sting. SOTO. [sings] He maunders.[231] SAN. [sings] O that I were a goose, to feed At your barn-door! such corn I need, Nor would I bite, but goslings breed. SOTO. [sings] And ganders. SAN. [sings] O that I were your needle’s eye! How through your linen would I fly, And never leave one stitch awry! SOTO. [sings] He’ll touse ye. SAN. [sings] O would I were one of your hairs, That you might comb out all my cares, And kill the nits of my despairs! SOTO. [sings] O lousy! SAN. How? lousy? can rhymes be lousy? CONST. } CAR., &c.[232] } No, no, they’re excellent. ALV. But are these all your own? SAN. Mine own? would I might never see ink drop out of the nose of any goose-quill more, if velvet cloaks have not clapped me for ’em! Do you like ’em? CONST. Past all compare; They shall be writ out: when you’ve as good or better, For these and those, pray, book me down your debtor: Your paper is long-liv’d, having two souls, Verses and gold. SAN. Would both those were in thy[233] pretty little body, sweet gipsy! CONST. A pistolet[234] and this paper? ’twould choke me. SOTO. No more than a bribe does a constable: the verses will easily into your head, then buy what you like with the gold, and put it into your belly. I hope I ha' chawed a good reason for you. SAN. Will you chaw my jennet ready, sir? SOTO. And eat him down, if you say the word. [Exit. SAN. Now the coxcomb my man is gone, because you’re but a country company of strolls, I think your stock is threadbare; here mend it with this cloak. [Giving his cloak. ALV. What do you mean, sir? SAN. This scarf, this feather, and this hat. [Giving his scarf, &c. ALV. } Dear signor!—— CAR., &c.[235] } SAN. If they be never so dear:—pox o' this hot ruff! little gipsy, wear thou that. [Giving his ruff. ALV. Your meaning, sir? SAN. My meaning is, not to be an ass, to carry a burden when I need not. If you shew your gambols forty leagues hence, I'll gallop to ’em.—Farewell, old greybeard;— adieu, mother mumble-crust;—morrow, my little wart of beauty. [Exit.
Another MS. addition.]
Enter behind JOHN, muffled.
ALV. So, harvest will come in; such sunshine days Will bring in golden sheaves, our markets raise: Away to your task.
[Exeunt. ALVAREZ, CHRISTIANA, CARLO, and ANTONIO; and as GUIAMARA and CONSTANZA are going out, JOHN pulls the latter back.
CONST. Mother! grandmother! JOHN. Two rows of kindred in one mouth? GUI. Be not uncivil, sir; thus have you used her thrice. JOHN. Thrice? three thousand more: may I not use mine own? CONST. Your own! by what tenure? JOHN. Cupid entails this land upon me; I have wooed thee, thou art coy: by this air, I am a bull of Tarifa, wild, mad for thee! you told[236] I was some copper coin; I am a knight of Spain; Don Francisco de Carcomo my father, I Don John his son; this paper tells you more. [Gives paper.]—Grumble not, old granam; here’s gold [gives money]; for I must, by this white hand, marry this cherry-lipped, sweet-mouthed villain. CONST. There’s a thing called quando. JOHN. Instantly. GUI. Art thou so willing? JOHN. Peace, threescore and five! CONST. Marry me? eat a chicken ere it be out o' th' shell? I'll wear no shackles; liberty is sweet; that I have, that I'll hold. Marry me? can gold and lead mix together? a diamond and a button of crystal fit one ring? You are too high for me, I am too low; you too great, I too little. GUI. I pray, leave her, sir, and take your gold again. CONST. Or if you doat, as you say, let me try you do this. JOHN. Any thing; kill the great Turk, pluck out the Mogul’s eye-teeth; in earnest, Pretiosa, any thing! CONST. Your task[237] is soon set down; turn gipsy[238] for two years, be one of us; if in that time you mislike not me nor I you, here’s my hand: farewell. [Exit.
GUI. There’s enough for your gold.—Witty child! [Aside, and exit. JOHN. Turn gipsy for two years? a capering trade; And I in th' end may keep a dancing-school, Having serv’d for it; gipsy I must turn. O beauty, the sun’s fires cannot so burn! [Exit.
Act II, Scene II
A room in the house of PEDRO.
Enter CLARA.
CLA. I have offended; yet, O heaven, thou know’st How much I have abhorr’d, even from my birth, A thought that tended to immodest folly! Yet I have fallen; thoughts with disgraces strive, And thus I live, and thus I die alive.
Enter PEDRO and MARIA.
PED. Fie, Clara, thou dost court calamity too much. MAR. Yes, girl, thou dost. PED. Why should we fret our eyes out with our tears, Weary [heaven with[239]] complaints? ’tis fruitless, childish Impatience; for when mischief hath wound up The full weight of the ravisher’s foul life To an equal height of ripe iniquity, The poise will, by degrees, sink down his soul To a much lower, much more lasting ruin Than our joint wrongs can challenge. MAR.[240] Darkness itself Will change night’s sable brow into a sunbeam For a discovery; and be [thou] sure, Whenever we can learn what monster ’twas Hath robb’d thee of the jewel held so precious, Our vengeance shall be noble. PED. Royal, any thing: Till then let’s live securely; to proclaim Our sadness were mere vanity. CLA. ’A needs not; I'll study to be merry. PED. We are punish’d, Maria, justly; covetousness to match Our daughter to that matchless piece of ignorance, Our foolish ward, hath drawn this curse upon us. MAR. I fear it has. PED. Off with this face of grief: Here comes[241] Don Louis.
Enter LOUIS and DIEGO.
Noble sir. LOUIS. My lord, I trust I have you[r] and your lady’s leave T' exchange a word with your fair daughter. PED. Leave And welcome.—Hark, Maria.—Your ear too. DIEGO. Mine, my lord? LOUIS. Dear Clara, I have often sued for love, And now desire you would at last be pleas’d To style me yours. CLA. Mine eyes ne’er saw that gentleman Whom I more nobly in my heart respected Than I have you; yet you must, sir, excuse me, If I resolve to use awhile that freedom My younger days allow. LOUIS. But shall I hope? CLA. You will do injury to better fortunes, To your own merit, greatness, and advancement, Which I beseech you not to slack. LOUIS. Then hear me; If ever I embrace another choice, Until I know you elsewhere match’d, may all The chief of my desires find scorn and ruin! CLA. O me! LOUIS. Why sigh you, lady? CLA. ’Deed, my lord, I am not well. LOUIS. Then all discourse is tedious; I'll choose some fitter time; till when,[242] fair Clara—— CLA. You shall not be unwelcome hither, sir; That’s all that I dare promise. LOUIS. Diego. DIEGO. My lord? LOUIS. What says Don Pedro? DIEGO. He’ll go with you. Louis. Leave us.— [Exit DIEGO. Shall I, my lord, entreat your privacy? PED. Withdraw, Maria; we’ll follow presently. [Exeunt. MARIA and CLARA. LOUIS. The great corregidor, whose politic stream Of popularity glides on the shore Of every vulgar praise, hath often urg’d me To be a suitor to his Catholic Majesty For a repeal from banishment for him Who slew my father; compliments in vows And strange well-studied promises of friendship; But what is new to me, still as he courts Assistance for Alvarez, my grand enemy, Still he protests how ignorant he is Whether Alvarez be alive or dead. To-morrow is the day we have appointed For meeting, at the lord Francisco’s house, The earl of Carcomo: now, my good lord, The sum of my request is, you will please To lend your presence there, and witness wherein Our joint accord consists. PED. You shall command it. LOUIS. But first, as you are noble, I beseech you Help me with your advice what you conceive Of great Fernando’s importunity, Or whether you imagine that Alvarez Survive or not? PED. It is a question, sir, Beyond my resolution: I remember The difference betwixt your noble father And Conde de Alvarez; how it sprung From a mere trifle first, a cast[243] of hawks, Whose made the swifter flight, whose could mount highest, Lie longest on the wing: from change of words Their controversy grew to blows, from blows To parties, thence to faction; and, in short, I well remember how our streets were frighted With brawls, whose end was blood; till, when no friends Could mediate their discords, by the king A reconciliation was enforc’d, Death threaten’d [to] the first occasioner Of breach, besides the confiscation Of lands and honours: yet at last they met Again; again they drew to sides, renew’d Their ancient quarrel; in which dismal uproar Your father hand to hand fell by Alvarez: Alvarez fled; and after him the doom Of exile was se[n]t out: he, as report Was bold to voice, retir’d himself to Rhodes; His lands and honours by the king bestow’d On you, but then an infant. LOUIS. Ha, an infant? PED. His wife, the sister to the corregidor, With a young daughter and some few that follow’d her, By stealth were shipp’d for Rhodes, and by a storm Shipwreck’d at sea: but for the banish’d Conde, ’Twas never yet known what became of him: Here’s all I can inform you. LOUIS. A repeal? Yes, I will sue for’t, beg for’t, buy it, any thing That may by possibility of friends Or money, I'll attempt. PED. ’Tis a brave charity. LOUIS. Alas, poor lady, I could mourn for her! Her loss was usury more than I covet; But for the man, I'd sell my patrimony For his repeal, and run about the world To find him out; there is no peace can dwell About my father’s tomb, till I have sacrific’d Some portion of revenge to his wrong’d ashes. You will along with me? PED. You need not question it. LOUIS. I have strange thoughts about me: two such furies Revel amidst my joys as well may move Distraction in a saint, vengeance and love. I'll follow, sir. PED. Pray, lead the way, you know it.— [Exit LOUIS.
Enter SANCHO without his cloak, &c.,[244] and SOTO.
How[245] now? from whence come you, sir? SAN. From flaying myself, sir. SOTO. From playing with fencers, sir; and they have beat him out of his clothes, sir. PED. Cloak, band, rapier, all lost at dice? SAN. Nor cards neither. SOTO. This was one of my master’s dog-days, and he would not sweat too much. SAN. It was mine own goose, and I laid the giblets upon another coxcomb’s trencher: you are my guardian, best beg me for a fool[246] now. SOTO. He that begs one begs t’other. [Aside. PED. Does any gentleman give away his things thus? SAN. Yes, and gentlewomen give away their things too. SOTO. To gulls sometimes, and are cony-catched[247] for their labour. PED. Wilt thou ever play the coxcomb? SAN. If no other parts be given me, what would you have me do? PED. Thy father was as brave a Spaniard As ever spake the haut[248] Castilian tongue. SAN. Put me in clothes, I'll be as brave[249] as he. PED. This is the ninth time thou hast play’d the ass, Flinging away thy trappings and thy cloth[250] To cover others, and go nak’d thyself. SAN. I'll make ’em up ten, because I'll be even with you. PED. Once more your broken walls shall have new hangings. SOTO. To be well hung is all our desire. PED. And what course take you next? SAN. What course? why, my man Soto and I will go make some maps. PED. What maps? SOTO. Not such maps[251] as you wash houses with, but maps of countries. SAN. I have an uncle in Seville, I'll go see him; an aunt in Siena in Italy, I['ll] go see her. SOTO. A cousin of mine in Rome, I['ll] go to him with a mortar.[252] SAN. There’s a courtesan in Venice, I'll go tickle her. SOTO. Another in England, I'll go tackle her. PED. So, so! and where’s the money to do all this? SAN. If my woods,[253] being cut down, cannot fill this pocket, cut ’em into trapsticks. SOTO. And if his acres, being sold for a marvedi[254] a turf, for larks[255] in cages, cannot fill this pocket, give ’em to gold-finders. PED. You’ll gallop both to the gallows; so fare you well. [Exit. SAN. And be hanged you! new clothes, you’d best. SOTO. Four cloaks, that you may give away three, and keep one. SAN. We’ll live as merrily as beggars; let’s both turn gipsies. SOTO. By any means; if they cog,[256] we’ll lie, if they toss, we’ll tumble. SAN. Both in a belly, rather than fail. SOTO. Come then, we’ll be gipsified. SAN. And tipsified too. SOTO. And we will shew such tricks and such rare gambols, As shall put down the elephant and camels.[257] [Exeunt.
Act III, Scene I
A street.
Enter RODERIGO disguised as an Italian.
ROD. A thousand stings are in me: O, what vild[258] prisons Make we our bodies to our immortal souls! Brave tenants to bad houses; ’tis a dear rent They pay for naughty lodging: the soul, the mistress; The body, the caroch that carries her; Sins the swift wheels that hurry her away; Our will, the coachman rashly driving on, Till coach and carriage both are quite o’erthrown. My body yet ’scapes bruises; that known thief Is not yet call’d to th' bar: there’s no true sense Of pain but what the law of conscience Condemns us to; I feel that. Who would lose A kingdom for a cottage? an estate Of perpetuity for a man’s life For annuity of that life, pleasure? a spark To those celestial fires that burn about[259] us; A painted star to that bright firmament Of constellations which each night are set Lighting our way; yet thither how few get! How many thousand in Madrill[260] drink off The cup of lust, and laughing, in one month, Not whining as I do! Should this sad lady Now meet me, do I know her? should this temple, By me profan’d, lie in the ruins here, The pieces would scarce shew her me: would they did! She’s mistress to Don Louis; by his steps, And this disguise, I'll find her. To Salamanca Thy father thinks thou’rt gone; no, close here stay; Where’er thou travell’st, scorpions stop thy way. Who are[261] these?
Enter SANCHO and SOTO disguised as gipsies.
SAN. Soto, how do I shew? SOTO. Like a rusty armour new scoured; but, master, how shew I? SAN. Like an ass with a new piebald saddle on his back. SOTO. If the devil were a tailor, he would scarce know us in these gaberdines.[262] SAN. If a tailor were the devil, I'd not give a louse for him, if he should bring up this fashion amongst gentlemen, and make it common. ROD. The freshness of the morning be upon you both! SAN. The saltness of the evening be upon you single! ROD. Be not displeas’d, that I abruptly thus Break in upon your favours; your strange habits Invite me with desire to understand Both what you are and whence, because no country— And I have measur’d some—shew[s] me your like. SOTO. Our like? no, we should be sorry we or our clothes should be like fish, new, stale, and stinking in three days. SAN. If you ask whence we are, we are Egyptian Spaniards; if what we are, ut, re, mi, fa, sol, jugglers, tumblers, any thing, any where, every where. ROD. A good fate hither leads me by the hand.— [Aside. Your quality I love; the scenical school Has been my tutor long in Italy, For that’s my country; there have I put on Sometimes the shape of a comedian, And now and then some other. SAN. A player! a brother of the tiring-house![263] SOTO. A bird of the same feather! SAN. Welcome! wu’t turn gipsy? ROD. I can nor dance nor sing; but if my pen From my invention can strike music-tunes, My head and brains are yours. SOTO. A calf’s head and brains were better for my stomach. SAN. A rib of poetry! SOTO. A modicum of the Muses! a horse-shoe of Helicon! SAN. A magpie of Parnassus! welcome again! I am a firebrand of Phœbus myself; we’ll invoke together, so you will not steal my plot. ROD. ’Tis not my fashion. SAN. But now-a-days ’tis all the fashion. SOTO. What was the last thing you writ? a comedy? ROD. No; ’twas a sad, too sad a tragedy. Under these eaves I'll shelter me. SAN. See, here comes our company; do our tops[264] spin as you would have ’em? SOTO. If not, whip us round.
Enter ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, CARLO, ANTONIO, _and others, disguised as before_.
SAN. I sent you a letter to tell you we were upon a march.
ALV. And you are welcome.—Yet these fools will trouble us! [Aside. GUI. Rich fools shall buy our trouble. SAN. Hang lands! it’s nothing but trees, stones, and dirt. Old father, I have gold to keep up our stock. Precious Pretiosa, for whose sake I have thus transformed myself out of a gentleman into a gipsy, thou shalt not want sweet rhymes, my little musk-cat; for besides myself, here’s an Italian poet, on whom I pray throw your welcomes. ALV. } He’s welcome! GUI., &c.[265] } CONST. Sir, you’re most welcome; I love a poet, So he writes chastely; if your pen can sell me Any smooth quaint romances, which I may sing, You shall have bays and silver. ROD. Pretty heart, no selling; What comes from me is free. SAN. And me too. ALV. We shall be glad to use you, sir: our sports Must be an orchard, bearing several trees, And fruits of several taste; one pleasure dulls. A time may come when we, besides these pastimes, May from the grandees[266] and the dons of Spain Have leave to try our skill even on the stage, And then your wits may help us. SAN. And mine too. ROD. They are your servants. CONST. Trip softly through the streets till we arrive, You know at whose house, father. SAN. [sings[267]]
_Trip it, gipsies, trip it fine, Shew tricks and lofty capers; At threading-needles[268] we repine, And leaping over rapiers: Pindy pandy rascal toys! We scorn cutting purses; Though we live by making noise, For cheating none can curse us._
_Over high ways, over low, And over stones and gravel, Though we trip it on the toe, And thus for silver travel; Though our dances waste our backs, At night fat capons mend them, Eggs well brew’d in butter’d sack Our wenches say befriend them._
_O that all the world were mad! Then should we have fine dancing; Hobby-horses would be had, And brave girls keep a-prancing; Beggars would on cock-horse ride, And boobies fall a-roaring, And cuckolds, though no horns be spied, Be one another goring._
_Welcome, poet, to our ging![269] Make rhymes, we’ll give thee reason, Canary bees thy brains shall sting, Mull-sack[270] did ne’er speak treason; Peter-see-me[271] shall wash thy noul,[272] And malaga glasses fox[273] thee; If, poet, thou toss not bowl for bowl, Thou shalt not kiss a doxy._ [Exeunt.
Act III, Scene II
A garden[274] belonging to FRANCISCO’S house.
Enter FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, JOHN, PEDRO, MARIA, LOUIS and DIEGO.
FER. Louis de Castro, since you circled are In such a golden ring of worthy friends, Pray, let me question you about that business You and I last conferr’d on. LOUIS. My lord, I wish it. FER. Then, gentlemen, though you all know this man, Yet now look on him well, and you shall find Such mines of Spanish honour in his bosom As but in few are treasur’d. LOUIS. O, my good lord—— FER. He’s son to that De Castro o’er whose tomb Fame stands writing a book, which will take up The age of time to fill it with the stories Of his great acts, and that his honour’d father Fell in the quarrel of those families, His own and Don Alvarez de Castilla['s]. FRAN. The volume of those quarrels[275] is too large And too wide printed in our memory. LOUIS. Would it had ne’er come forth! FRAN. } So wish we all. PED., &c. } FER. But here’s a son as matchless as the father, For his[276] mind’s bravery; he lets blood his spleen, Tears out the leaf in which the picture stands Of slain De Castro, casts a hill of sand On all revenge, and stifles it. FRAN. } ’Tis done nobly! PED., &c. } FER. For I by him am courted to solicit The king for the repeal of poor Alvarez, Who lives a banish’d man, some say, in Naples. PED. Some say in Arragon. LOUIS. No matter where; That paper folds in it my hand and heart, Petitioning the royalty of Spain To free the good old man, and call him home: But what hope hath your lordship that these beams Of grace shall shine upon me? FER. The word royal. FRAN. } And that’s enough. PED., &c. } LOUIS. Then since this sluice is drawn up to increase The stream, with pardon of these honour’d friends Let me set ope another, and that’s this; That you, my lord don Pedro, and this lady Your noble wife, would in this fair assembly, If still you hold me tenant to your favour, Repeat the promise you so oft have made me, Touching the beauteous Clara for my wife. PED. What I possess in her, before these lords I freely once more give you. MAR.[277] And what’s mine, To you, as right heir to it, I resign. FER. } What would you more? FRAN., &c. } LOUIS. What would I more? the tree bows down his head Gently to have me touch it, but when I offer To pluck the fruit, the top branch grows so high, To mock my reaching hand, up it does fly; I have the mother’s smile, the daughter’s frown. FRAN. } O, you must woo hard! PED., &c. } FER. Woo her well, she’s thine own. JOHN. That law holds not ’mongst gipsies; I shoot hard, And am wide off from the mark. [Aside. [Flourish within. FER. Is this, my lord, your music? FRAN. None of mine.
Enter SOTO disguised as before, with a cornet in his hand.
SOTO. A crew of gipsies with desire To shew their sports are at your gates a-fire. FRAN. How, how, my gates a-fire, knave? JOHN. Art panting? I am a-fire I'm sure! [Aside. FER. What are the things they do? SOTO. They frisk, they caper, dance and sing, Tell fortunes too, which is a very fine thing; They tumble—how? not up and down, As tumblers do, but from town to town: Antics they have and gipsy-masquing, And toys which you may have for asking: They come to devour nor wine nor good cheer, But to earn money, if any be here; But being ask’d, as I suppose, Your answer will be, in your t’other hose;[278] For there’s not a gipsy amongst ’em that begs, But gets his living by his tongue and legs. If therefore you please, dons, they shall come in: Now I have ended, let them begin. FER. } Ay, ay, by any means. PED. &c. } FRAN. But, fellow, bring you music along with you too? SOTO. Yes, my lord, both loud music and still music; the loud is that which you have heard, and the still is that which no man can hear. [Exit. FER. A fine knave! FRAN. There’s report[279] of a fair gipsy, A pretty little toy, whom all our gallants In Madrill[280] flock to look on: this she, trow;[281] JOHN. Yes, sure[282] ’tis she—I should be sorry else. [Aside.
Enter ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, CARLO, ANTONIO, RODERIGO, SANCHO, SOTO, _and others, disguised as before, with the following_
Song.
_Come, follow your leader, follow, Our convoy be Mars and Apollo! The van comes brave up here; As hotly[283] comes the rear:_
Chorus.
_Our knackers are the fifes and drums, Sa, sa, the gipsies' army comes!_
_Horsemen we need not fear, There’s none but footmen here; The horse sure charge without; Or if they wheel about,_
Chorus.
_Our knackers are the shot that fly, Pit-a-pat rattling in the sky._
_If once the great ordnance play, That’s laughing, yet run not away, But stand the push of pike, Scorn can but basely strike;_
Chorus.
_Then let our armies join and sing, And pit-a-pat make our knackers ring._
_Arm, arm! what bands are those? They cannot be sure our foes; We’ll not draw up our force, Nor muster any horse;_
Chorus.
_For since they pleas’d to view our sight, Let’s this way, this way give delight._
_A council of war let’s call, Look either to stand or fall; If our weak army stands, Thank all these noble hands;_
Chorus.
_Whose gates of love being open thrown, We enter, and then the town’s our own._
FER. A very dainty thing! FRAN. A handsome creature! PED.[284] Look what a pretty pit there’s in her chin! JOHN. Pit? ’tis a grave to bury lovers in. ROD. My father?[285] disguise guard me! [Aside. SAN. Soto, there’s De Cortes my guardian, but he smells not us. SOTO. Peace, brother gipsy.—Would any one here know his fortune? FER. } Good fortunes all of us! FRAN., &c. } PED. ’Tis I, sir, need[286] a good one: come, sir, what’s mine? MAR. Mine and my husband’s fortunes keep together; Who is’t tells mine? SAN. I, I; hold up, madam; fear not your pocket, for I ha' but two hands. [Examining her hands. You are sad, or mad, or glad, For a couple of cocks that cannot be had; Yet when abroad they have pick’d store of grain, Doodle-doo they will cry on your dunghills again. MAR. Indeed I miss an idle gentleman, And a thing of his a fool, but neither sad Nor mad for them: would that were all the lead Lying at my heart! PED. [while SOTO examines his hand] What look’st thou on so long? SOTO. So long! do you think good fortunes are fresh herrings, to come in shoals? bad fortunes are like mackerel at midsummer: you have had a sore loss of late. PED. I have indeed; what is’t? SOTO. I wonder it makes you not mad, for— Through a gap in your ground thence late have[287] been stole A very fine ass and a very fine foal: Take heed, for I speak not by habs and by nabs, Ere long you’ll be horribly troubled with scabs. PED. I am now so; go, silly fool. SOTO. I ha' gi’n't him. [Aside. SAN. O Soto, that ass and foal fattens me! FER. The mother of the gipsies, what can she do? I'll have a bout with her. JOHN. I with the gipsy daughter. FRAN. To her, boy! GUI. [examining FERNANDO’S hand] From you went a dove away, Which ere this had been more white Than the silver robe of day; Her eyes, the moon has none so bright. Sate she now upon your hand, Not the crown of Spain could buy it; But ’tis flown to such a land, Never more shall you come nigh it: Ha! yes, if palmistry tell true, This dove again may fly to you.
FER. Thou art a lying witch; I'll hear no more. SAN. If you be so hot, sir, we can cool you with a song. SOTO. And when that song’s done, we’ll heat you again with a dance. LOUIS. Stay, dear sir; send for Clara, let her know Her fortune. MAR. ’Tis too well known. LOUIS. ’Twill make her Merry to be in this brave company. PED. Good Diego, fetch her. [Exit DIEGO. FRAN. What’s that old man? has he cunning too? GUI. } More than all we! CAR., &c.[288] } LOUIS. Has he? I'll try his spectacles. FER. Ha! Roderigo there? the scholar That went to Salamanca, takes he degrees I' th' school of gipsies? let the fish alone, Give him line: this is the dove,—the dove?—the raven That beldam mock’d me with. [Aside. LOUIS. [while ALVAREZ examines his hand] What worms pick you out there now? ALV. This: When this line the other crosses, Art tells me ’tis a book of losses:— Bend your hand thus:—O, here I find You have lost a ship in a great wind. LOUIS. Lying rogue, I ne’er had any. ALV. Hark, as I gather, That great ship was De Castro call’d, your father. LOUIS. And I must hew that rock that split him. ALV. Nay, and[289] you threaten—— [Retires. FRAN. And what’s, Don John, thy fortune? Thou’rt long fumbling at it. JOHN. She tells me tales of the moon, sir. CONSTI. And now ’tis come to the sun, sir. [To FRAN.] Your son would ride, the youth would run, The youth would sail, the youth would fly; He’s tying a knot will ne’er be done, He shoots, and yet has ne’er an eye: You have two, ’twere good you lent him one, And a heart too, for he has none. FRAN. Hoyday! lend one of mine eyes? SAN. They give us nothing; we’d[290] best put on a bold face and ask it. [Sings.
_Now that from the hive You gather’d have the honey, Our bees but poorly thrive Unless the banks be sunny; Then let your sun and moon, Your gold and silver shine, My thanks shall humming fly to you,_ Chorus. And mine, and mine, and mine. [FRAN., FER., &c. give money. ALV. [sings.]
_See, see, your[291] gipsy-toys, You mad girls, you merry boys, A boon voyage we have made, Loud peals must then be had; If I a gipsy be, A crack-rope I'm for thee: O, here’s a golden ring! Such clappers please a king,_ Chorus. Such clappers please a king.
ALV. [sings.]
_You pleas’d may pass away; Then let your bell-ropes stay; Now chime, ’tis holyday,_ Chorus. Now chime, ’tis holyday. CONST. No more of this, pray, father; fall to your dancing. [CONST., CAR., &c. dance. LOUIS. Clara will come too late now. FER. ’Tis great pity, Besides your songs, dances, and other pastimes, You do not, as our Spanish actors do, Make trial of a stage. ALV. We are, sir, about it; So please your high authority to sign us Some warrant to confirm us. FER. My hand shall do’t, And bring the best in Spain to see your sports. ALV. Which to set off, this gentleman, a scholar—— ROD. Pox on you! [Aside. ALV. Will write for us. FER. A Spaniard, sir? ROD. No, my lord, an Italian. FER. Denies His country too? my son sings gipsy-ballads! [Aside. Keep as you are, we’ll see your poet’s vein, And your’s for playing: time is not ill spent That’s thus laid out in harmless merriment. [Exeunt. ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, CARLO, ANTONIO, RODERIGO, SANCHO, SOTO, and others, dancing. PED. My lord of Carcomo, for this entertainment You shall command our loves. FRAN. You’re nobly welcome. PED. The evening grows upon us: lords, to all A happy time of day. FER. The like to you, Don Pedro. LOUIS. To my heart’s sole lady Pray let my service humbly be remember’d; We only miss’d her presence. MAR. I shall truly Report your worthy love. [Exeunt. PEDRO and MARIA. FER. You shall no further; Indeed, my lords, you shall not. FRAN. With your favour, We will attend you home.
Re-enter DIEGO.
DIEGO. Where’s Don Pedro?—O sir! LOUIS. Why, what’s the matter? DIEGO. The lady Clara, Passing near to my lord corregidor’s house, Met with a strange mischance. FER. How? what mischance? DIEGO. The jester that so late arriv’d at court, And there was welcome for his country’s sake, By importunity of some friends, it seems, Had borrow’d from the gentleman of your horse The backing of your mettled Barbary; On which being mounted, whilst a number gaz’d To hear what jests he could perform on horseback, The headstrong beast, unus’d to such a rider, Bears the press of people [on] before him; With which throng the lady Clara meeting, Fainted, and there fell down, not bruis’d, I hope, But frighted and entranc’d. LOUIS. Ill-destin’d mischief! FER. Where have you left her? DIEGO. At your house, my lord; A servant coming forth, and knowing who The lady was, convey’d her to a chamber; A surgeon, too, is sent for. FER. Had she been my daughter, My care could not be greater than it shall be For her recure. LOUIS. But if she miscarry, I am the most unhappy man that lives. [Exit. FER. Diego, [straightway[292]] coast about the fields, And overtake Don Pedro and his wife; They newly parted from us. DIEGO. I'll run speedily. [Exit. FER. A strange mischance: but what I have, my lord Francisco, this day noted, I may tell you; An accident of merriment and wonder. FRAN. Indeed, my lord! FER. I have not thoughts enough About me to imagine what th' event Can come to; ’tis indeed about my son; Hereafter you may counsel me. FRAN. Most gladly.—
Re-enter LOUIS.
How fares the lady? LOUIS. Callèd back to life, But full of sadness. FER. Talks she nothing? LOUIS. Nothing; For when the women that attend on her Demanded how she did, she turn’d about, And answer’d with a sigh: when I came near, And by the love I bore her begg’d a word Of hope to comfort me in her well-doing, Before she would reply, from her fair eyes She greets me with a bracelet of her tears, Then wish’d me not to doubt; she was too well; Entreats that she may sleep without disturbance Or company until her father came: And thus I left her. FRAN. Sir,[293] she’s past the worst. Young maids are oft so troubled. FER. Here come they You talk of.—
Re-enter PEDRO and MARIA.
Sir, your daughter, for your comfort, Is now upon amendment. MAR. O, my lord, You speak an angel’s voice! FER. Pray, in and visit her; I'll follow instantly. [Exeunt. PEDRO and MARIA.]— You shall not part[294] Without a cup of wine, my lord. FRAN. ’Tis now Too troublesome a time.—Which way take you, Don Louis? LOUIS. No matter which; for till I hear My Clara be recover’d, I am nothing.— My lord corregidor, I am your servant For this free entertainment. FER. You have conquer’d me In noble courtesy. LOUIS. O, that no art But love itself can cure a love-sick heart! [Exeunt.
Act III, Scene III
A room in FERNANDO’S house.
CLARA discovered seated in a chair, PEDRO and MARIA standing by.
MAR. Clara, hope of mine age! PED. Soul of my comfort! Kill us not both at once: why dost thou speed Thine eye in such a progress ’bout these walls? CLA. Yon large window Yields some fair prospect; good my lord, look out And tell me what you see there. PED. Easy suit: Clara, it overviews a spacious garden, Amidst which stands an alablaster[295] fountain, A goodly one. CLA. Indeed, my lord! MAR. Thy griefs grow wild,[296] And will mislead thy judgment through thy weakness, If thou obey thy weakness. CLA. Who owns these glorious buildings? PED. Don Fernando De Azevida,[297] the corregidor Of Madrill,[298] a true noble gentleman. CLA. May I not see him? MAR. See him, Clara? why? CLA. A truly noble gentleman, you said, sir? PED. I did: lo, here he comes in person.—
Enter FERNANDO.
We are, My lord, your servants. FER. Good, no compliment.— Young lady, there attends below a surgeon Of worthy fame and practice; is’t your pleasure To be his patient? CLA. With your favour, sir, May I impart some few but needful words Of secrecy to you, to you yourself, None but yourself? FER. You may. PED. Must I not hear ’em? MAR. Nor I? CLA. O yes.—Pray, sit, my lord. FER. Say on. CLA. You have been married? FER. To a wife, young lady,[299] Who, whiles the heavens did lend her me, was fruitful In all those virtues which style[300] woman good. CLA. And you had children by her? FER. Had, ’tis true; Now have but one, a son, and he yet lives; The daughter, as if in her birth the mother Had perfected the errand she was sent for Into the world, from that hour took her life In which the other that gave it her lost hers; Yet shortly she unhappily, but fatally, Perish’d at sea. CLA. Sad story! FER. Roderigo, My son—— CLA. How is he call’d, sir? FER. Roderigo: He lives at Salamanca; and I fear That neither time, persuasions, nor his fortunes, Can draw him thence. CLA. My lord, d’ye know this crucifix?[301]
[Shewing the crucifix. FER. You drive me to amazement! ’twas my son’s, A legacy bequeath’d him from his mother Upon her deathbed, dear to him as life; On earth there cannot be another treasure He values at like rate as he does this. CLA. O, then I am a cast-away! MAR. How’s that? PED. Alas, she will grow frantic! CLA. In my bosom, Next to my heart, my lord, I have laid up, In bloody characters, a tale of horror. Pray, read the paper; and if there you find [Giving a paper. Ought that concerns a maid undone and miserable, Made so by one[302] of yours, call back the piety Of nature to the goodness of a judge, An upright judge, not of a partial father; For do not wonder that I live to suffer Such a full weight of wrongs, but wonder rather That I have liv’d to speak them: thou, great man, Yet read, read on, and as thou read’st consider What I have suffer’d, what thou ought’st to do,[303] Thine own name, fatherhood, and my dishonour: Be just as heaven and fate are, that by miracle Have in my weakness wrought a strange discovery: Truth copied from my heart is texted there: Let now my shame be throughly understood; Sins are heard farthest when they cry in blood. FER. True, true, they do not cry but holla here; This is the trumpet of a soul drown’d deep In the unfathom’d seas of matchless sorrows. I must lock fast the door. [Exit. MAR. I have no words To call for vengeance. PED. I am lost in marvel.
Re-enter FERNANDO.
FER. Sir,[304] pray sit as you sat before. White paper, This should be innocence; these letters gules[305] Should be the honest oracles of revenge: What’s beauty but a perfect white and red? Both here well mix’d limn truth so beautiful, That to distrust it, as I am a father, Speaks me as foul as rape hath spoken my son; ’Tis true. CLA. ’Tis true. FER. Then mark me how I kneel Before the high tribunal of your injuries. [Kneels. Thou too, too-much-wrong’d maid, scorn not my tears, For these are tears of rage, not tears of love,— Thou father of this too, too-much-wrong’d maid,— Thou mother of her counsels and her cares, I do not plead for pity to a villain; O, let him die as he hath liv’d, dishonourably, Basely and cursedly! I plead for pity To my till now untainted blood and honour: Teach me how I may now be just and cruel, For henceforth I am childless. CLA. Pray, sir, rise; You wrong your place and age. FER. [rising] Point me my grave In some obscure by-path, where never memory Nor mention of my name may be found out. CLA. My lord, I can weep with you, nay, weep for ye, As you for me; your passions are instructions, And prompt my faltering tongue to beg at least A noble satisfaction, though not revenge. FER. Speak that again. CLA. Can you procure no balm To heal a wounded name? FER. O, thou’rt as fair In mercy as in beauty! wilt thou live, And I'll be thy physician? CLA. I'll be yours. FER. Don Pedro, we’ll to counsel; This[306] daughter shall be ours.—Sleep, sleep, young angel, My care shall wake about thee. CLA. Heaven is gracious, And I am eas’d! FER. We will be yet more private; Night[307] curtains o’er the world; soft dreams rest with thee! The best revenge is to reform our crimes, Then time crowns sorrows, sorrows sweeten times. [Exeunt all except CLARA, on whom the scene shuts.
Act IV, Scene I
A court before an inn.
ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, SANCHO, SOTO, ANTONIO, CARLO, RODERIGO, _and others discovered, disguised as before. A shout within. Enter_ JOHN. ALV. } Welcome, welcome, welcome! GUI., &c.[308] } SOTO. More sacks to the mill. SAN. More thieves to the sacks. ALV. Peace! CONSTI. I give you now my welcome without noise. JOHN. ’Tis music to me. [Offering to kiss CONST. ALV. } O Sir! GUI., &c. } SAN. You must not be in your mutton[309] before we are out of our veal. SOTO. Stay for vinegar to your oysters; no opening till then. GUI. No kissing till you’re sworn. JOHN. Swear me then quickly, I have brought gold for my admission. ALV. What you bring leave, and what you leave count lost. SAN. I brought all my teeth, two are struck out; them I count lost, so must you. SOTO. I brought all my wits; half I count lost, so must you. JOHN. To be as you are, I lose father, friends, Birth, fortunes, all the world: what will you do With the beast I rode on hither?
SAN. A beast? is’t a mule? send him to Muly Crag a whee[310] in Barbary. SOTO. Is’t an ass? give it to a lawyer, for in Spain they ride upon none else. JOHN. Kill him by any means, lest, being pursu’d, The beast betray me. SOTO. He’s a beast betrays any man. SAN. Except a bailiff to be pumped. JOHN. Pray, bury the carcass and the furniture. SAN. Do, do; bury the ass’s household stuff, and in his skin sew any man that’s mad for a woman. ALV. Do so then, bury it: now to your oath. GUI. All things are ready. ALV. [sings[311]]
_Thy best[312] hand lay on this turf of grass, There thy heart lies, vow not to pass From us two years for sun nor snow, For hill nor dale, howe’er winds blow; Vow the hard earth to be thy bed, With her green cushions under thy head; Flower-banks or moss to be thy board, Water thy wine_—— SAN. [sings] And drink like a lord. Chorus. _Kings can have but coronations; We are as proud of gipsy-fashions: Dance, sing, and in a well-mix’d border Close this new brother of our order._ ALV. [sings] _What we get with us come share, You to get must vow to care; Nor strike gipsy, nor stand by When strangers strike, but fight or die; Our gipsy-wenches are not common, You must not kiss a fellow’s leman;[313] Nor to your own, for one you must, In songs send errands of base lust._ Chorus. _Dance, sing, and in a well-mix’d border Close this new brother of our order._ JOHN. [sings] _On this turf of grass I vow Your laws to keep, your laws allow._ ALL. A gipsy! a gipsy! a gipsy! GUI. [sings] _Now choose what maid has yet no mate, She’s yours._ JOHN. [sings] Here then fix I my fate. [Takes CONSTANZA by the hand, and offers to kiss her. SAN. Again fall to before you ha' washed? SOTO. Your nose in the manger before the oats are measured, jade so hungry? ALV. [sings] _Set foot to foot; those garlands hold; Now mark[314]_ [well] _what more is told. By cross arms, the lover’s sign, Vow, as these flowers themselves entwine, Of April’s wealth building a throne Round, so your love to one or none; By those touches of your feet, You must each night embracing meet, Chaste, howe’er disjoin’d by day; You the sun with her must play, She to you the marigold, To none but you her leaves unfold; Wake she or sleep, your eyes so charm, Want, woe, nor weather do her harm._ CAR.[315] [sings] _This is your market now of kisses, Buy and sell free each other blisses._ JOHN. Most willingly. Chorus. _Holydays, high days, gipsy fairs, When kisses are fairings, and hearts meet in pairs._ ALV. All ceremonies end here: welcome, brother gipsy! SAN. And the better to instruct thee, mark what a brave life ’tis all the year long. [Sings. _Brave don, cast your eyes On our gipsy fashions: In our antic hey-de-guize[316] We go beyond all nations; Plump Dutch At us grutch, So do English, so do French, He that lopes[317] On the ropes, Shew me such another wench._[318] _We no camels have to shew, Nor elephant with growt_[319] _head; We can dance, he cannot go, Because the beast is corn-fed;_[320] _No blind bears Shedding tears, For a collier’s whipping; Apes nor dogs, Quick as frogs, Over cudgels skipping,_
Jack[s]-in-boxes,[321] _nor decoys, Puppets, nor such poor things, Nor are we those roaring boys That cozen fools with gilt rings;_[322] _For an ocean, Not[323] such a motion As the city Nineveh;[324] Dancing, singing, And fine ringing, You these sports shall hear and see._
Come now, what shall his name be? CONSTI. His name shall now be Andrew.—Friend Andrew, mark me: Two years I am to try you; prove fine gold, The uncrack’d diamond of my faith shall hold. JOHN. My vows are rocks of adamant. CONSTI. Two years you are to try me: black[325] when I turn May I meet youth and want, old age and scorn! JOHN. Kings' diadems shall not buy thee. CAR.[326] Do you think You can endure the life, and love it? JOHN. As usurers doat upon their treasure. SOTO. But when your face shall be tann’d Like a sailor’s worky-day hand—— SAN. When your feet shall be gall’d, And your noddle be mall’d[327]—— SOTO. When the woods you must forage, And not meet with poor pease-porridge—— SAN. Be all to-be-dabbled,[328] yet lie in no sheet—— SOTO. With winter’s frost, hail, snow, and sleet; What life will you say it is then? JOHN. As now, the sweetest. DIEGO. [within] Away! away! the corregidor has sent for you. SAN. [sings] _Hence merrily fine to get money! Dry are the fields, the banks are sunny, Silver is sweeter far than honey; Fly like swallows, We for our conies must get mallows; Who loves not his dill,[329] let him die at the gallows. Hence, bonny girls, foot it trimly, Smug up your beetle-brows, none look grimly; To shew a pretty foot, O ’tis seemly!_ [Exeunt all except SOTO: as he is going out,
Enter CARDOCHIA, who stays him.
CARD. Do you hear, you gipsy? gipsy! SOTO. Me? CARD. There’s a young gipsy newly entertain’d; Sweet gipsy, call him back for one two words, And here’s a jewel for thee. SOTO. I'll send him. CARD. What’s his name? SOTO. Andrew. [Exit. CARD. A very handsome fellow; I ha' seen courtiers Jet[330] up and down in their full bravery,[331] Yet here’s a gipsy worth a drove of ’em.
Re-enter JOHN.
JOHN. With me, sweetheart? CARD. Your name is Andrew? JOHN. Yes. CARD. You can tell fortunes, Andrew? JOHN. I could once, But now I ha' lost that knowledge; I'm in haste, And cannot stay to tell you yours. CARD. I cannot tell yours then; And ’cause you’re in haste, I'm quick; I am a maid—— JOHN. So, so, a maid quick? CARD. Juanna Cardochia, That’s mine own name; I am my mother’s heir Here to this house, and two more. JOHN. I buy no lands. CARD. They shall be given you, with some plate and money, And free possession during life of me, So the match like[332] you; for so well I love you, That I, in pity of this trade of gipsying, Being base, idle, and slavish, offer you A state to settle you, my youth and beauty, Desir’d by some brave Spaniards, so I may call you My husband: shall I, Andrew? JOHN. ’Las, pretty soul, Better stars guide you! may that hand of Cupid Ache, ever shot this arrow at your heart! Sticks there one such indeed? CARD. I would there did not, Since you’ll not pluck it out. JOHN. Good sweet, I cannot; For marriage, ’tis a law amongst us gipsies We match in our own tribes; for me to wear you, I should but wear you out. CARD. I do not care; Wear what you can out, all my life, my wealth, Ruin me, so you lend me but your love, A little of your love! JOHN. Would I could give it, For you are worth a world of better men, For your free noble mind! all my best wishes Stay with you; I must hence. CARD. Wear for my sake This jewel. JOHN. I'll not rob you, I'll take nothing. CARD. Wear it about your neck but one poor moon; If in that time your eye be as ’tis now, Send my jewel home again, and I protest I'll never more think on you; deny not this, Put it about your neck. JOHN. Well then,’tis done. [Putting on jewel. CARD. And vow to keep it there. JOHN. By all the goodness I wish attend your fortunes, I do vow it! [Exit. CARD. Scorn’d! thou hast temper’d poison to kill me Thyself shall drink; since I cannot enjoy thee, My revenge shall.
Enter DIEGO.
DIEGO. Where are the gipsies? CARD. Gone. Diego, do you love me? DIEGO. Love thee, Juanna? Is my life mine? it is but mine so long As it shall do thee service. CARD. There’s a young[333] gipsy newly entertain’d. DIEGO. A handsome rascal; what of him? CARD. That slave in obscene language courted me, Drew reals[334] out, and would have bought my body, Diego, from thee. DIEGO. Is he so itchy? I'll cure him. CARD. Thou shalt not touch the villain, I'll spin his fate; Woman strikes sure, fall the blow ne’er so late. DIEGO. Strike on, since[335] thou wilt be a striker.[336] [Exeunt.
Act IV, Scene II
A room in FERNANDO’S house.
Enter FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, PEDRO, and LOUIS.
FER. See, Don Louis; an arm,[337] The strongest arm in Spain, to the full length Is stretch’d to pluck old count Alvarez home From his sad banishment. LOUIS. With longing eyes, My lord, I expect the man: your lordship’s pardon, Some business calls me from you. FER. Prithee, Don Louis, Unless th' occasion be too violent, Stay and be merry with us; all the gipsies Will be here presently. LOUIS. I'll attend your lordship Before their sports be done. FER. Be your own carver. [Exit LOUIS. [To FRAN.] Not yet shake off these fetters? I see a son Is heavy when a father carries him On his old heart. FRAN. Could I set up my rest That he were lost, or taken prisoner, I could hold truce with sorrow; but to have him Vanish I know not how, gone none knows whither, ’Tis that mads me. PED. You said he sent a letter. FRAN. A letter? a mere riddle; he’s gone to see[k] His fortune in the wars; what wars have we? Suppose we had, goes any man to th' field Naked, unfurnish’d both [of] arms and money? FER. Come, come, he’s gone a-wenching; we in our youth Ran the self-same bias.
Enter DIEGO.
DIEGO. The gipsies, my lord, are come. FER. Are they? let them enter. [Exit DIEGO. My lord De Cortes, send for your wife and daughter; Good company is good physic: take the pains To seat yourselves in my great chamber. See, They[338] are here.— [Exeunt. FRANCISCO and PEDRO.
Enter ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, JOHN, RODERIGO, ANTONIO, CARLO, SANCHO, and SOTO, disguised as before.
What’s your number? SAN. The figure of nine casts us all up, my lord. FER. Nine? let me see—you are ten, sure. SOTO. That’s our poet, he stands for a cipher. FER. Ciphers make numbers:—what plays have you? ALV. Five or six, my lord. FER. It’s well so many already. SOTO. We are promised a very merry tragedy, if all hit right, of Cobby Nobby. FER. So, so; a merry tragedy! there is a way Which the Italians and the Frenchmen use, That is, on a word given, or some slight plot, The actors will extempore fashion out Scenes neat and witty. ALV. We can do that, my lord; Please you bestow the subject. FER. Can you?—Come hither, You master poet: to save you a labour, Look you, against your coming I projected This comic passage [producing a paper]; your drama, that’s the scene—— ROD. Ay, ay, my lord. FER. I lay in our own country, Spain. ROD. ’Tis best so. FER. Here’s a brave part for this old gipsy; look you, The father: read the plot; this young she-gipsy, This lady: now the son, play him yourself. ROD. My lord, I am no player. FER. Pray, at this time, The plot being full, to please my noble friends, Because your brains must into theirs put language, Act thou the son’s part; I'll reward your pains. ROD. Protest, my lord—— FER. Nay, nay, shake off protesting; When I was young, sir, I have play’d myself. SAN. Yourself, my lord? you were but a poor company then. FER. Yes, full enough, honest fellow.—Will you do it? ROD. I'll venture. FER. I thank you: let this father be a don Of a brave spirit.—Old gipsy, observe me—— ALV. Yes, my lord. FER. Play him up high; not like a pantaloon,[339] But hotly, nobly, checking this his son, Whom make a very rake-hell, a debosh’d fellow.— This point, I think, will shew well. ROD. This of the picture? It will indeed, my lord. SAN. My lord, what part play I? FER. What parts dost use to play? SAN. If your lordship has ever a coxcomb, I think I could fit you. FER. I thank your coxcombship. SOTO. Put a coxcomb upon a lord! FER. There are parts to serve you all; go, go, make ready, And call for what you want. [Exit. ALV. Give me the plot; our wits are put to trial. What’s the son’s name? Lorenzo: that’s your part, [To RODERIGO. Look only you to that; these I'll dispose: Old Don Avero, mine; Hialdo, Lollio, Two servants,—you for them. [To SANCHO and SOTO. SAN. One of the foolish knaves give me; I'll be Hialdo. SOTO. And I, Lollio. SAN. Is there a banquet in the play? we may call for what we will. ROD. Yes, here is a banquet. SAN. I'll go, then, and bespeak an ocean of sweet-meats, marmalade, and custards. ALV. Make haste to know what you must do. SAN. Do? call for enough; and when my belly is full, fill my pockets. SOTO. To a banquet there must be wine; fortune’s a scurvy whore, if she makes not my head sound like a rattle, and my heels dance the canaries.[340] ALV. So, so; despatch, whilst we employ our brains To set things off to th' life. ROD. I'll be straight with you.— [Exeunt all except RODERIGO. Why does my father put this trick on me? Spies he me through my vizard? if he does, He’s not the king of Spain, and ’tis no treason; If his invention jet[341] upon a stage, Why should not I use action? A debosh’d fellow! A very rake-hell! this reflects on me, And I'll retort it: grown a poet, father? No matter in what strain your play must run, But I shall fit you for a roaring son. [Exit.
Act IV, Scene III
A large apartment in FERNANDO’S house.
Enter FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, PEDRO, DIEGO, MARIA, CLARA, and Servants.
FER. Come, ladies, take your places. [_Flourish within._] This their music? ’Tis very handsome: O, I wish this room Were freighted but with [pleasures[342]], noble friends, As are to you my welcomes!—Begin there, masters. SAN. [within] Presently, my lord; we want but a cold capon for a property.[343] FER. Call, call for one.
Enter SANCHO as Prologue.
Now they begin. SAN. _Both short and sweet some say is best; We will not only be sweet, but short: Take you pepper in the nose,[344] you mar our sport._ FER. By no means pepper. SAN. _Of your love measure us forth but one span; We do, though not the best, the best we can._ [Exit. FER. A good honest gipsy!
Enter ALVAREZ (as AVERO), and SOTO (as LOLLIO).
ALV. Slave, where’s my son Lorenzo? SOTO. I have sought him, my lord, in all four elements: in earth, my shoes are full of gravel; in water, I drop at nose with sweating; in air, wheresoever I heard noise of fiddlers, or the wide mouths of gallon-pots roaring; and in fire, what chimney soever I saw smoking with good cheer, for my master’s dinner, as I was in hope. ALV. Not yet come home? before on this old tree Shall grow a branch so blasted, I'll hew it off, And bury it at my foot! Didst thou inquire At my brother’s? SOTO. At your sister’s. ALV. At my wife’s father’s? SOTO. At your uncle’s mother’s: no such sheep has broke through their hedge; no such calf as your son sucks or bleats in their ground.
ALV. _I am unbless’d to have but one son only, One staff to bear my age up, one taper left To light me to my grave, and that burns dimly; That leaves me darkling hid in clouds of woe: He that should prop me is mine overthrow._ FER. Well done, old fellow! is’t not? FRAN. } Yes, yes, my lord. PED., &c. } SOTO. Here comes his man Hialdo.
Enter SANCHO (as HIALDO).
ALV. Where’s the prodigal your master, sirrah? SAN. Eating acorns amongst swine, draff amongst hogs, and gnawing bones amongst dogs; has lost all his money at dice, his wits with his money, and his honesty with both; for he bum-fiddles me, makes the drawers curvet, pitches the plate over the bar, scores up the vintner’s name in the Ram-head, flirts his wife under the nose, and bids you with a pox send him more money. ALV. Art thou one of his curs to bite me too? To nail thee to the earth were to do justice. SAN. Here comes Bucephalus my prancing master; nail me now who dares.
Enter RODERIGO (as LORENZO).
ROD. I sit like an owl[345] in the ivy-bush of a tavern; Hialdo, I have drawn red wine from the vintner’s own hogshead. SAN. Here’s two more, pierce them too. ROD. Old don, whom I call father, am I thy son? if I be, flesh me with gold, fat me with silver; had I Spain in this hand, and Portugal in this, puff it should fly: where’s the money I sent for?—I'll tickle you for a rake-hell! [Aside. SAN. Not a marvedi.[346] ALV. Thou shalt have none of me. SOTO. Hold his nose[347] to the grin’stone, my lord. ROD. I shall have none? ALV. Charge me a case[348] of pistols; What I have built I'll ruin: shall I suffer A slave to set his foot upon my heart? A son? a barbarous villain! or if heaven save thee Now from my justice, yet my curse pursues thee. ROD. Hialdo, carbonado thou the old rogue my father. SAN. Whilst you slice into collops the rusty gammon his man there. ROD. No money? Can taverns stand without anon, anon?[349] fiddlers live without scraping? taffeta girls look plump without pampering? If you will not lard me with money, give me a ship, furnish me to sea. ALV. To have thee hanged for piracy? SAN. Trim, tram, hang master, hang man! ROD. Then send me to the West Indies, buy me some office there. ALV. To have thy throat cut for thy quarrelling? ROD. Else send me and my ningle[350] Hialdo to the wars. SAN. A match; we’ll fight dog, fight bear.
Enter ANTONIO (as HERNANDO).
ALV.[351] _O dear Hernando, welcome!—Clap wings to your heels,_ [To SOTO. _And pray my worthy friends bestow upon me Their present visitation._[352]— [Exit SOTO. _Lorenzo, see the anger of a father; Although it be as loud and quick as thunder, Yet ’tis done instantly; cast off thy wildness, Be mine, be mine, for I to call thee home Have, with my honour’d friend here Don Hernando, Provided thee a wife._ ROD. _A wife! is she handsome? is she rich? is she fair? is she witty? is she honest? hang honesty! has she a sweet face, cherry-cheek, strawberry-lip, white skin, dainty eye, pretty foot, delicate legs, as there’s a girl now?_ ANT. _It is a creature both for birth and fortunes, And for most excellent graces of the mind, Few like her are in Spain._ ROD. _When shall I see her?— Now, father, pray take your curse off._ ALV. _I do: the lady Lives from Madrill[353] very near fourteen leagues, But thou shalt see her picture._ ROD. _That! that! most ladies in these days are but very fine pictures._
Enter CARLO, JOHN, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, and CHRISTIANA (as friends of AVERO).
ALV. _Ladies, to you first welcome; my lords, Alonzo, And you worthy marquis, thanks for these honours.— Away you!_ [Exit SANCHO.[354] _To th' cause now of this meeting. My son Lorenzo, Whose wildness you all know, comes now to th' lure, Sits gently; has call’d home his wandering thoughts, And now will marry._ CONSTI. A good wife fate send him! GUI. One staid may settle him. ROD. _Fly to the mark, sir; shew me the wench, or her face, or any thing I may know ’tis a woman fit for me._ ALV. She is not here herself, but here’s her picture. [Shews a picture. FER. My lord De Carcomo, pray, observe this. FRAN. I do, attentively.—Don Pedro, mark it.
Re-enter SOTO.
SOTO. [to John] If you ha' done your part, yonder’s a wench would ha' a bout with you. [Exit. JOHN. Me? Exit. DIEGO. A wench! [Exit. ALV. Why stand you staring at it? how do you like her? ROD. Are you in earnest? ALV. Yes, sir, in earnest. ROD. I am not so hungry after flesh to make the devil a cuckold. ANT. Look not upon the face, but on the goodness That dwells within her. ROD. Set fire on the tenement! ALV. She’s rich; nobly descended. ROD. Did ever nobility look so scurvily? ALV. I'm sunk in fortunes, she may raise us both. ROD. Sink let her to her granam! marry a witch? have you fetched a wife for me out of Lapland? an old midwife in a velvet hat were a goddess to this: that a red lip? CONSTI. There’s a red nose. ROD. That a yellow hair? GUI. Why, her teeth may be yellow. ROD. Where’s the full eye? CHRIS. She has full blabber-cheeks. ALV. Set up thy rest, her marriest thou or none. ROD. None then: were all the water in the world one sea, all kingdoms one mountain, I would climb on all four up to the top of that hill, and headlong hurl myself into that abyss of waves, ere I would touch the skin of such rough haberdine,[355] for the breath of her picture stinks hither.
A noise within. Re-enter, in a hurry, JOHN, DIEGO, SANCHO, and SOTO, with CARDOCHIA.
FER. What tumult’s this? SAN. Murder, murder, murder! SOTO. One of our gipsies is in danger of hanging, hanging! PED. Who is hurt? DIEGO. ’Tis I, my lord, stabbed by this gipsy. JOHN. He struck me first, and I'll not take a blow From any Spaniard breathing. PED. Are you so brave? FER. Break up your play; lock all the doors. DIEGO. I faint, my lord. FRAN. Have him to a surgeon.— [Servants remove DIEGO. How fell they out? CARD. O, my good lord, these gipsies, when they lodg’d At my house, I had a jewel from my pocket Stolen by this villain. JOHN. ’Tis most false, my lords; Her own hands gave it me. CONSTI. She that calls him villain, Or says he stole—— FER. Hoyday! we hear your scolding. CARD. And the hurt gentleman finding it in his bosom, For that he stabb’d him. FER. Hence with all the gipsies! PED. Ruffians and thieves; to prison with ’em all! ALV. My lord, we’ll leave engagements in plate and money For all our safe forthcomings; punish not all For one’s offence; we’ll prove ourselves no thieves. SAN. O Soto, I make buttons![356] SOTO. Would I could make some, and leave this trade! FER. Iron him then, let the rest go free; but stir not One foot out of Madrill.[357] Bring you in your witness. [Exeunt. JOHN in custody of servants, ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, ANTONIO, CARLO, and CARDOCHIA. SOTO. Prick him with a pin, or pinch him by the elbow; any thing. SAN. My lord Don Pedro, I am your ward; we have spent a little money to get a horrible deal of wit, and now I am weary of it. PED. My runaways turn’d jugglers, fortune-tellers? SOTO. No great fortunes. FER. To prison with ’em both: a gentleman play the ass! SAN. If all gentlemen that play the ass should to prison, you must widen your jails.—Come, Soto, I scorn to beg, set thy foot to mine, and kick at shackles. FER. So, so; away with ’em! SOTO. Send all our company after, and we’ll play there, and be as merry as you here. [Exeunt. SANCHO and SOTO with Servants. FER. Our comedy turn’d tragical! Please you, lords, walk: This actor here and I must change a word, And I come to you. FRAN. } Well, my lord, your pleasure. PED., &c. } [Exeunt all except FERNANDO and RODERIGO. FER. Why, couldst thou think in any base disguise To blind my sight? fathers have eagles' eyes. But pray, sir, why was this done? why, when I thought you Fast lock’d in Salamanca at your study, Leap’d you into a gipsy? ROD. Sir, with your pardon, I shall at fit time to you shew cause for all. FER. Meantime, sir, you have got a trade to live by: Best to turn player; an excellent ruffian, ha! But know, sir, when I had found you out, I gave you This project of set purpose; ’tis all myself; What the old gipsy spake must be my language; Nothing are left me but my offices And thin-fac’d honours; and this very creature, By you so scorn’d, must raise me by your marrying her. ROD. You would not build your glory on my ruins? FER. The rascal has belied the lady, She is not half so bad; all’s one, she’s rich. ROD. O, will you sell[358] the joys of my full youth To dunghill muck? seek out some wretch’s daughter, Whose soul is lost for gold then: you’re more noble Than t' have your son, the top-branch of your house, Grow in a heap of rubbish: I must marry a thing I shall be asham’d to own, asham’d to bring her Before a sunbeam. FER. I cannot help it, sir; Resolve upon’t, and do’t. ROD. And do’t and die! Is there no face in Spain for you to pick out But one to fright me? when you sat the play here, There was a beauty, to be lord of which I would against an army throw defiance. FER. She? alas! ROD. How? she![359] at every hair of hers There hangs a very angel; this! I'm ready To drop down looking at it: sir, I beseech you Bury me in this earth [kneels], on which I'm humbled To beg your blessing on me, for a gipsy, Rather than—O, I know not what to term it! Pray, what is that young pensive piece of beauty? Your voice for her; I ey’d her all the scene. FER. I saw you did. ROD. Methought ’twas a sweet creature. FER. Well, though my present state stands now on ice, I'll let it crack and fall rather than bar thee Of thy content; this lady shall go by then. ROD. Hang let her there, or any where! FER. That young lannard,[360] Whom you have such a mind to, if you can whistle her To come to fist, make trial; play the young falconer; I will nor mar your marriage nor yet make; Beauty, no wealth,—wealth, ugliness,—which you will, take. ROD. I thank you, sir. [Exit FERNANDO.]—Put on your mask, good madam, [To the picture. The sun will spoil your face else. [Exit.
Act V, Scene I
A room in FERNANDO’S house.
FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, PEDRO, RODERIGO, CLARA, and MARIA, pass over the stage from church: as the others exeunt, FERNANDO stays RODERIGO.
FER. Thou hast now the wife of thy desires. ROD. Sir, I have, And in her every blessing that makes life Loath to be parted with. FER. Noble she is, And fair; has to enrich her blood and beauty, Plenty of wit, discourse, behaviour, carriage. ROD. I owe you duty for a double birth, Being in this happiness begot again, Without which I had been a man of wretchedness. FER. Then henceforth, boy, learn to obey thy fate; ’Tis fallen upon thee; know it, and embrace it; Thy wife’s a wanton. ROD. A wanton? FER. Examine through the progress of thy youth What capital sin,[361] what great one ’tis, for ’tis A great one, thou’st committed. ROD. I a great one? FER. Else heaven is not so wrathful to pour on thee A misery so full of bitterness: I am thy father; think on’t, and be just; Come, do not dally. ROD. Pray, my lord—— FER. Fool, ’twere Impossible that justice should rain down In such a frightful horror without cause. Sir, I will know it; rather blush thou didst An act thou dar’st not name, than that it has A name to be known by. ROD. Turn from me then, And as my guilt sighs out this monster,—rape, O, do not lend an ear! FER. Rape? fearful! ROD. Hence, Hence springs my due reward. FER. Thou’rt none of mine, Or if thou be’st, thou dost belie the stamp[362] Of thy nativity. ROD. Forgive me! FER. Had she, Poor wrongèd soul, whoe’er she was, no friend, Nor father, to revenge? had she no tongue To roar her injuries? ROD. Alas, I know her not! FER. Peace! thou wilt blaze a sin beyond all precedent: Young man, thou shouldst have married her; the devil Of lust that riots in thy eye should there Have let fall[363] love and pity, not on this stranger Whom thou hast doted on. ROD. O, had I married her, I had been then the happiest man alive!
Re-enter CLARA, MARIA, and PEDRO, from behind the arras.
CLA. As I the happiest woman, being married: Look on me, sir. PED. You shall not find a change So full of fears as your most noble father, In his wise trial, urg’d. MAR. Indeed you shall not, The forfeit of her shame shall be her pawn. ROD. Why, pray, d’ye mock my sorrows? now, O, now, My horrors flow[364] about me! FER. No, thy comforts, Thy blessings, Roderigo. CLA. By this crucifix [Shewing crucifix. You may remember me. ROD. Ha! art thou That lady wrongèd? CLA. I was, but now am Righted in noble satisfaction. ROD. How can I turn mine eyes, and not behold On every side my shame! FER. No more: hereafter We shall have time to talk at large of all: Love her that’s now thine own; do, Roderigo; She’s far from what I character’d. CLA. My care Shall live about me to deserve your love. ROD. Excellent Clara!—Fathers both, and mother, I will redeem my fault. FER. } PED. } Our blessings dwell on ye! MAR. }
Re-enter FRANCISCO with LOUIS.
LOUIS. Married to Roderigo? FRAN. Judge yourself; See where they are. [Exit. LOUIS. Is this your husband, lady? CLA. He is, sir: heaven’s great hand, that on record Fore-points the equal union of all hearts, Long since decreed what this day hath been perfected. LOUIS. ’Tis well then; I am free, it seems. CLA. Make smooth, My lord, those clouds, which on your brow deliver Emblems of storm;[365] I will, as far as honour May privilege, deserve a noble friendship, As you from me deserve a worthy memory. LOUIS. Your husband has prov’d himself a friend [to me], Trusty and tried; he’s welcome, I may say, From the university. ROD. To a new school Of happy knowledge, Louis. LOUIS. Sir, I am[366] Not so poor to put this injury up; The best blood flows within you is the price. ROD. Louis, for this time calm your anger; and if I do not give you noble satisfaction, Call me to what account you please. LOUIS. So, so.—I come for justice t’ye, And you shall grant it. FER. Shall and will. LOUIS. With speed too; My poor friend bleeds the whiles. FER. You shall yourself, Before we part, receive the satisfaction You come for.—Who attends? SERVANT [within]. My lord? FER. The prisoner! SERVANT [within]. He attends your lordship’s pleasure.
Enter CONSTANZA, GUIAMARA, and ALVAREZ.
LOUIS. What would this girl? Foh, no tricks; get you to your cabin, huswife; We have no ear for ballads. FER. Take her away. CLA. A wondrous lovely[367] creature! CONST. Noble gentlemen, If a poor maid’s, a gipsy-virgin’s tears May soften the hard edge of angry justice, Then grant me gracious hearing; as you’re merciful, I beg my husband’s life! FER. Thy husband’s, little one? CONST. Gentle sir, our plighted troths are chronicled In that white book above which notes the secrets Of every thought and heart; he is my husband, I am his wife. LOUIS. Rather his whore. CONST. Now, trust me, You’re no good man to say so; I am honest, 'Deed, la, I am; a poor soul, that deserves not Such a bad word: were you a better man Than you are, you do me wrong. LOUIS. The toy grows angry! CLA. And it becomes her sweetly; troth, my lord, I pity her. ROD. I thank you, sweet.[368] LOUIS. Your husband, You’ll say, is no thief. CONST. Upon my conscience, He is not. LOUIS. Dares not strike a man. CONST. Unworthily He dares not; but if trod upon, a worm Will turn again. LOUIS. That turning turns your worm Off from the ladder, minion. CONST. Sir, I hope You’re not his judge; you are too young, too choleric, Too passionate; the price of life or death Requires a much more grave consideration Than your years warrant: here sit they,[369] like gods, Upon whose head[s] the reverend badge of time Hath seal’d the proof of wisdom; to these oracles Of riper judgment, lower in my heart [Kneels. Than on my knees, I offer up my suit, My lawful suit, which begs they would be gentle To their own fames, their own immortal stories. O, do not think, my lords, compassion thrown On a base low estate, on humble people, Less meritorious than if you had favour’d The faults of great men! and indeed great men Have oftentimes great faults: he whom I plead for Is free; the soul of innocence itself Is not more white:[370] will you pity him? I see it[371] in your eyes, ’tis a sweet sunbeam, Let it shine out; and to adorn your praise, The prayers of the poor shall crown your days, And theirs are sometimes heard.[372] FER. Beshrew the girl, She has almost melted me to tears! LOUIS. Hence, trifler!—Call in my friends![373]—
Enter JOHN, DIEGO, CARDOCHIA, and Servants.
What hope of ease? DIEGO. Good hope, but still I smart; The worst is in my pain. LOUIS. The price is high Shall buy thy vengeance: to receive a wound By a base villain’s hand, it mad[den]s me. JOHN. Men subject to th' extremity of law Should carry peace about ’em to their graves; Else, were you nobler than the blood you boast of Could any way, my lord, derive you, know I would return sharp answer to your slanders; But it suffices, I am none of ought Your rage misterms me. LOUIS. None of ’em? no rascal? JOHN. No rascal. LOUIS. Nor no thief? JOHN. Ask her that’s my accuser: could your eyes Pierce through the secrets of her foul desires, You might without a partial judgment look into A woman’s lust and malice. CARD. My good lords, What I have articled against this fellow, I justify for truth. JOHN. On then, no more: This being true she says, I have deserv’d To die. FER. We sit not here to bandy words, But minister [the] law, and that condemns thee For theft unto the gallows. CONST. O my misery! Are you all marble-breasted? are your bosoms Hoop’d round with steel? to cast away a man, More worthy life and honours than a thousand Of such as only pray unto the shadow Of abus’d greatness! JOHN. ’Tis in vain to storm; My fate is here determinèd. CONST. Lost creature, Art thou grown dull too? is my love so cheap That thou court’st thy destruction ’cause I love thee?— My lords, my lords!—Speak, Andrew, prithee, now, Be not so cruel to thyself and me; One word of thine will do’t. FER. Away with him! To-morrow is his day of execution. JOHN. Even when you will. CONST. Stay, man; thou shalt not go, Here are more women yet.—Sweet madam, speak! You, lady, you methinks should have some feeling Of tenderness; you may be touch’d as I am: Troth, were’t your cause, I'd weep with you, and join In earnest suit for one you held so dear. CLA. My lord, pray speak in his behalf. ROD. I would, But dare not; ’tis a fault so clear and manifest. LOUIS. Back with him to his dungeon! JOHN. Heaven can tell I sorrow not to die, but to leave her Who whiles I live is my life’s comforter. [Exit with Servants. CARD. Now shall I be reveng’d! [Aside, and exit with DIEGO. CONST. O me unhappy! [Swoons. FER. See, the girl falls! Some one look to her. CLA. ’Las, poor maid! GUI. Pretiosa! She does recover: mine honourable lord—— FER. In vain; what is’t? GUI. Be pleas’d to give me private audience; I will discover something shall advantage The noblest of this land. FER. Well, I will hear thee; Bring in the girl. [Exeunt. FERNANDO, MARIA, PEDRO, CLARA, RODERIGO, GUIAMARA, and CONSTANZA: ALVAREZ stays LOUIS. LOUIS. Ought with me? what is’t? I care not for thy company, old ruffian; Rascal, art impudent? ALV. To beg your service. LOUIS. Hang yourself! ALV. By your father’s soul, sir, hear me! LOUIS. Despatch! ALV. First promise[374] me you’ll get reprieve For the condemnèd man, and by my art I'll make you master of what your heart on earth Can wish for or desire. LOUIS. Thou liest; thou canst not! ALV. Try me. LOUIS. Do that, and then, as I am noble, I will not only give thy friend his life, But royally reward thee, love thee ever. ALV. I take your word; what would you? LOUIS. If thou mock’st me, 'Twere better thou wert damn’d! ALV. Sir, I am resolute. LOUIS. Resolve me, then, whether the count Alvarez, Who slew my father, be alive or dead? ALV. Is this the mighty matter? the count lives. LOUIS. How? ALV. The count lives. LOUIS. O fate! Now tell me where, And be my better genius. ALV. I can do’t: In Spain ’a lives; more, not far from Madrill,[375] But in disguise, much alter’d. LOUIS. Wonderful scholar! Miracle of artists! Alvarez living? And near Madrill too? now, for heaven’s sake, where? That’s all, and I am thine. ALV. Walk off, my lord, To the next field, you shall know all. LOUIS. Apace, then! I listen to thee with a greedy ear: The miserable and the fortunate Are alike in this, they cannot change their fate. [Exeunt.
Act V, Scene II
A field.[376]
Enter ALVAREZ and LOUIS.
ALV. Good, good: you would fain kill him, and revenge Your father’s death? LOUIS. I would. ALV. Bravely, or scurvily?[377] LOUIS. Not basely, for the world! ALV. We are secure. [Produces two swords. Young Louis, two more trusty blades than these Spain has not in her arm[or]y: with this Alvarez slew thy father; and this other Was that the king of France wore when great Charles In a set battle took him prisoner; Both I resign to thee. LOUIS. This is a new mystery. ALV. Now see this naked bosom; turn the points Of either on this bulwark, if thou covet’st, Out of a sprightly youth and manly thirst Of vengeance, blood; if blood be thy ambition, Then call to mind the fatal blow that struck De Castro, thy brave father, to his grave; Remember who it was that gave that blow, His enemy Alvarez: hear, and be sudden, Behold Alvarez! LOUIS. Death, I am deluded! ALV. Thou art incredulous; as fate is certain, I am the man. LOUIS. Thou that butcher? ALV. Tremble not, young man; trust me, I have wept Religiously to wash off from my conscience The stain of my offence: twelve years and more, Like to a restless pilgrim I have run From foreign lands to lands to find out death. I'm weary of my life; give me a sword: That thou mayst know with what a perfect zeal I honour old De Castro’s memory, I'll fight with thee; I would not have thy hand Dipp’d in a wilful murder; I could wish For one hour’s space I could pluck back from time But thirty of my years, that in my fall Thou might’st deserve report: now if thou conquer’st, Thou canst not triumph, I'm half dead already, Yet I'll not start a foot. LOUIS. Breathes there a spirit In such a heap of age?[378] ALV. O, that I had A son of equal growth with thee, to tug For reputation! by thy father’s ashes, I would not kill thee for another Spain, Yet now I'll do my best. Thou art amaz’d; Come on. LOUIS. Twelve tedious winters' banishment? ’Twas a long time. ALV. Could they redeem thy father, Would every age had been twelve ages, Louis, And I for penance every age a-dying! But ’tis too late to wish. LOUIS. I am o’ercome; Your nobleness hath conquer’d me: here ends All strife between our families, and henceforth Acknowledge me for yours. ALV. O, thou reviv’st Fresh horrors to my fact! for in thy gentleness I see my sin anew. LOUIS. Our peace is made; Your life shall be my care: ’twill be glad news To all our noble friends. ALV. Since heaven will have it so, I thank thee, glorious majesty! My son, For I will call thee [so], ere the next morrow Salute the world, thou shalt know stranger mysteries. LOUIS. I have enough to feed on: sir, I'll follow ye. Exeunt.
Act V, Scene III
A room in FERNANDO’S house.
Enter FERNANDO, GUIAMARA, and CONSTANZA.
FER. Don John, son to the count of Carcomo? Woman, take heed thou trifle not. GUI. Is this, My lord, so strange? FER. Beauty in youth, and wit To set it forth, I see, transform[379] the best Into what shape love fancies. CONST. Will you yet Give me my husband’s life? FER. Why, little one, He is not married to thee. CONST. In his faith He is; and faith and troth I hope bind faster Than any other ceremonies can; Do they not, pray, my lord? FER. Yes, where the parties Pledg’d are not too unequal in degree, As he and thou art. CONST. This is new divinity. GUI. My lord, behold this child well: in her face You may observe, by curious insight, something More than belongs to every common birth. FER. True, ’tis a pretty child. GUI. The glass of misery Is, after many a change of desperate fortune, At length run out: you had a daughter call’d Constanza? FER. Ha! GUI. A sister, Guiamara, Wife to the count Alvarez? FER. Peace, O, peace! GUI. And to that sister’s charge you did commit Your infant daughter, in whose birth your wife, Her mother, died? FER. Woman, thou art too cruel! CONST. What d’ye mean, granam? ’las, the nobleman Grows angry! FER. Not I, indeed I do not:— But why d’ye use me thus? GUI. Your child and sister, As you suppos’d, were drown’d? FER. Drown’d? talking creature! Suppos’d? GUI. They live; Fernando, from my hand, Thy sister’s hand, receive thine own Constanza, The sweetest, best child living. CONST. Do you mock me? FER. Torment me on; yet more, more yet, and spare not, My heart is now a-breaking; now! GUI. O brother! Am I so far remov’d off from your memory, As that you will not know me? I expected Another welcome home: look on this casket, [Shewing casket. The legacy your lady left her daughter, When to her son she gave her crucifix. FER. Right, right; I know ye now. GUI. In all my sorrows, My comfort has been here, she should be [yours], Be yours [at last].—Constanza, kneel, sweet child, To thy old father. CONST. How? my father? [Kneels. FER. Let not Extremity of joys ravish life from me Too soon, heaven, I beseech thee! Thou art my sister, My sister Guiamara! How have mine eyes Been darken’d all this while! ’tis she! GUI. ’Tis, brother; And this Constanza, now no more a stranger, No Pretiosa henceforth. FER. My soul’s treasure, Live to an age of goodness; and so thrive In all thy ways, that thou mayst die to live! CONST. But must I call you father? FER. Thou wilt rob me else Of that felicity, for whose sake only I am ambitious of being young again: Rise, rise, mine own Constanza! CONST. [rising] ’Tis a new name, But ’tis a pretty one; I may be bold To make a suit t’ye? FER. Any thing. CONST. O father, And if you be my father, think upon Don John my husband! without him, alas, I can be nothing! FER. As I without thee; Let me alone, Constanza.—Tell me, tell me, Lives yet Alvarez? GUI. In your house. FER. Enough: Cloy me not; let me by degrees disgest[380] My joys.—Within, my lords Francisco, Pedro! Come all at once! I have a world within me; I am not mortal sure, I am not mortal:
Enter FRANCISCO, PEDRO, MARIA, RODERIGO, and CLARA.
My honourable lord[s], partake my blessings; [The] count Alvarez lives here in my house; Your son, my lord Francisco, Don John, is The condemn’d man falsely accus’d of theft; This, my lord Pedro, is my sister Guiamara; Madam, this [is] Constanza, mine own child, And I am a wondrous merry man.—Without! The prisoner!
Enter ALVAREZ, LOUIS, JOHN, DIEGO, SANCHO, SOTO, and CARDOCHIA.
LOUIS. Here, free and acquitted, By her whose folly drew her to this error; And she for satisfaction is assur’d[381] To my wrong’d friend. CARD. I crave your pardons; He whose I am speaks for me. DIEGO. We both beg it! FER. Excellent! admirable! my dear brother! ALV. Never a happy man till now; young Louis And I are reconcil’d. LOUIS. For ever, faithfully, Religiously. FRAN. } My noble lord, most welcome! PED., &c.[382] } ALV. To all my heart pays what it owes, due thanks; Most, most, brave youth, to thee! JOHN. I all this while Stand but a looker-on; and though my father May justly tax the violence of my passions, Yet if this lady, lady of my life, Must be denied, let me be as I was, And die betimes. CONST. You promis’d me—— FER. I did.— My lord of Carcomo, you see their hearts Are join’d already, so let our consents To this wish’d marriage. FRAN. I forgive thine errors; Give me thy hand. FER. Me thine.[383]—But wilt thou love My daughter, my Constanza? JOHN. As my bliss. CONST. I thee as life, youth, beauty, any thing That makes life comfortable. FER. Live together One, ever one! FRAN. } And heaven crown your happiness! ROD., &c.[384] } PED. Now, sir, how like you a prison? SAN. As gallants do a tavern, being stopped for a reckoning, scurvily. SOTO. Though you caged us up never so close, we sung like cuckoos. FER. Well, well, you be[385] yourself now. SAN. Myself?—am I out of my wits, Soto? FER. Here now are none but honourable friends: Will you, to give a farewell to the life You ha' led as gipsies, these being now found none, But noble in their births, alter’d in fortunes, Give it a merry shaking by the hand, And cry adieu to folly? SAN. We’ll shake our hands, and our heels, if you’ll give us leave. [A dance. FER. On, brides and bridegrooms! to your Spanish feasts Invite with bent knees[386] all these noble guests. [Exeunt omnes.
THE CHANGELING.
The Changeling: As it was Acted (with great Applause) at the Privat house in Drury-Lane, and Salisbury Court.
{ Thomas Midleton } Written by { and } Gent. { William Rowley }
Never Printed before. London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Princes-Arms in St Pauls Church-yard, 1653. 4to. The edition just described was put forth with a new title-page in 1668,—The Changeling: As it was Acted (with great Applause) by the Servants of His Royal Highness the Duke of York, at the Theatre in Lincolns-Inn Fields, &c.
The Changeling has been reprinted in the 4th vol. of A Continuation of Dodsley’s Old Plays, 1816.
“The foundation of the Play,” says Langbaine, “may be found in Reynold[s]’s Gods Revenge against Murther. See the Story of Alsemero and Beatrice Joanna, Book I. Hist. 4.” Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets, p. 371. To the story in Reynolds’s work the following Argument is prefixed: “Beatrice-Joana, to marry Alsemero, causeth De Flores to murther Alfonso Piracquo, who was a Suiter to her. Alsemero marries her,f and finding De Flores and her in adultery, kills them both. Thomaso Piracquo challengeth Alsemero for his Brothers death. Alsemero kills him treacherously in the field, and is beheaded for the same, and his body thrown into the Sea. At his Execution he confesseth that his Wife and De Flores murthered Alfonso Piracquo: their bodies are taken up out of their graves, then burnt, and their Ashes thrown into the Air.” The authors of The Changeling, as the reader will perceive, have deviated in some important points from the prose narrative of Reynolds; nor are they indebted to that source for the characters of Jasperino, Alibius, Lollio, Pedro, Antonio, Franciscus, and Isabella.
An edition (I believe, the earliest) of the First Book of The Triumphs of Gods Revenge against Murther, was printed in 1621: see Cat. Bibl. Bodlei.
A “Note of such playes as were acted at court in 1623 and 1624,” in Sir Henry Herbert’s Office-book, records: “Upon the Sonday after, beinge the 4 of January 1623, by the Queene of Bohemias company, The Changelinge, the prince only being there. Att Whitehall.” Malone’s Shakespeare (by Boswell), vol. iii. p. 227.
The part of Antonio, from which this once-popular drama has its name (Changeling—i. e. idiot, fool), appears to have been much relished by the audience: the last comic performer before the Civil Wars who obtained reputation in it was Robins: see Collier’s Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poetry, vol. ii. p. 107. Downes mentions that Betterton, when about twenty-two years of age, was highly applauded in the character of De Flores, and that Sheppy gave great satisfaction in that of Antonio: see Roscius Anglicanus, p. 26, ed. Waldron. Pepys has noted, under date of 23d Feb. 1660-1, “To the Playhouse, and there saw The Changeling, the first time it hath been acted these twenty years, and it takes exceedingly.” Diary, vol. i. p. 179, ed. 8vo.
Dramatis Personæ
VERMANDERO, governor of the castle of Alicant. ALONZO DE PIRACQUO, } TOMASO DE PIRACQUO, } brothers. ALSEMERO. JASPERINO, his friend. ALIBIUS, _a doctor, who undertakes the cure of fools and madmen_. LOLLIO, his man. ANTONIO, a pretended changeling. PEDRO, his friend. FRANCISCUS, a counterfeit madman. DE FLORES, an attendant on Vermandero. Madmen. Servants.
BEATRICE-JOANNA, daughter to Vermandero. DIAPHANTA, her waiting-woman. ISABELLA, wife to Alibius.
Scene, ALICANT.
THE CHANGELING.
Act I, Scene I
A street.
Enter ALSEMERO.
ALS. ’Twas in the temple where I first beheld her, And now again the same: what omen yet Follows of that? none but imaginary; Why should my hopes or fate be timorous? The place is holy, so is my intent: I love her beauties to the holy purpose; And that, methinks, admits comparison With man’s first creation, the place blessed, And is his right home back, if he achieve it. The church hath first begun our interview, And that’s the place must join us into one; So there’s beginning and perfection too.
Enter JASPERINO.
JAS. O sir, are you here? come, the wind’s fair with you; You’re like to have a swift and pleasant passage. ALS. Sure, you’re deceiv’d, friend; it is contrary, In my best judgment. JAS. What, for Malta?[387] If you could buy a gale[388] amongst the witches, They could not serve you such a lucky pennyworth As comes a' God’s name. ALS. Even now I observ’d The temple’s vane to turn full in my face; I know it is against me. JAS. Against you? Then you know not where you are. ALS. Not well, indeed. JAS. Are you not well, sir? ALS. Yes, Jasperino, Unless there be some hidden malady Within me, that I understand not. JAS. And that I begin to doubt, sir: I never knew Your inclination to travel[389] at a pause, With any cause to hinder it, till now. Ashore you were wont to call your servants up, And help to trap your horses for the speed; At sea I've seen you weigh the anchor with ’em, Hoist sails for fear to lose the foremost breath, Be in continual prayers for fair winds; And have you chang’d your orisons? ALS. No, friend; I keep the same church, same devotion. JAS. Lover I'm sure you’re none; the stoic was Found in you long ago; your mother nor Best friends, who have set snares of beauty, ay, And choice ones too, could never trap you that way: What might be the cause? ALS. Lord, how violent Thou art! I was but meditating of Somewhat I heard within the temple. JAS. Is this Violence? ’tis but idleness compar’d With your haste yesterday. ALS. I'm all this while A-going, man. JAS. Backwards, I think, sir. Look, your servants.
Enter Servants.
FIRST SER. The seamen call; shall we board your trunks? ALS. No, not to-day. JAS. ’Tis the critical day, it seems, and the sign in Aquarius. SEC. SER. We must not to sea to-day; this smoke will bring forth fire. ALS. Keep all on shore; I do not know the end, Which needs I must do, of an affair in hand Ere I can go to sea. FIRST SER. Well, your pleasure. SEC. SER. Let him e’en take his leisure too; we are safer on land. [Exeunt Servants.
Enter BEATRICE, DIAPHANTA, and Servants: ALSEMERO accosts BEATRICE and then kisses her.
JAS. How now? the laws of the Medes are changed sure; salute a woman! he kisses too; wonderful! where learnt he this? and does it perfectly too; in my conscience, he ne’er rehearsed it before. Nay, go on; this will be stranger and better news at Valencia than if he had ransomed half Greece from the Turk. [Aside. BEAT. You are a scholar, sir? ALS. A weak one, lady. BEAT. Which of the sciences is this love you speak of? ALS. From your tongue I take it to be music. BEAT. You’re skilful in it, can sing at first sight. ALS. And I have shew’d you all my skill at once; I want more words to express me further, And must be forc’d to repetition; I love you dearly. BEAT. Be better advis’d, sir: Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgments, And should give certain judgment what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgments find, They can then check the eyes, and call them blind. ALS. But I am further, lady; yesterday Was mine eyes' employment, and hither now They brought my judgment, where are both agreed: Both houses then consenting, ’tis agreed; Only there wants the confirmation By the hand royal, that is your part, lady. BEAT. There’s one[390] above me, sir.—O, for five days past To be recall’d! sure mine eyes were mistaken; This was the man was meant me: that he should come So near his time, and miss it! [Aside. JAS. We might have come by the carriers from Valencia, I see, and saved all our sea-provision; we are at farthest sure: methinks I should do something too; I meant to be a venturer in this voyage: Yonder’s another vessel, I'll board her; If she be lawful prize, down goes her topsail. [Accosts DIAPHANTA.
Enter DE FLORES.
DE F. Lady, your father—— BEAT. Is in health, I hope. DE F. Your eye shall instantly instruct you, lady; He’s coming hitherward. BEAT. What needed then Your duteous preface? I had rather He had come unexpected; you must stale[391] A good presence with unnecessary blabbing; And how welcome for your part you are, I'm sure you know. DE F. Will’t never mend this scorn, One side nor other? must I be enjoin’d To follow still whilst she flies from me? well, Fates, do your worst, I'll please myself with sight Of her at all opportunities, If but to spite her anger: I know she had Rather see me dead than living; and yet She knows no cause for’t but a peevish will. [Aside. ALS. You seem’d displeasèd, lady, on the sudden. BEAT. Your pardon, sir, ’tis my infirmity; Nor can I other reason render you, Than his or hers, of[392] some particular thing They must abandon as a deadly poison, Which to a thousand other tastes were wholesome; Such to mine eyes is that same fellow there, The same that report speaks of the basilisk. ALS. This is a frequent frailty in our nature; There’s scarce a man amongst a thousand found But hath his imperfection: one distastes The scent of roses, which to infinites Most pleasing is and odoriferous; One oil, the enemy of poison; Another wine, the cheerer of the heart And lively refresher of the countenance: Indeed this fault, if so it be, is general; There’s scarce a thing but is both lov’d and loath’d: Myself, I must confess, have the same frailty. BEAT. And what may be your poison, sir? I'm bold with you. ALS. What[393] might be your desire, perhaps; a cherry. BEAT. I am no enemy to any creature My memory has, but yon gentleman. ALS. He does ill to tempt your sight, if he knew it. BEAT. He cannot be ignorant of that, sir, I have not spar’d to tell him so; and I want To help myself, since he’s a gentleman In good respect with my father, and follows him. ALS. He’s out of his place then now. [They talk apart. JAS. I am a mad wag, wench. DIA. So methinks; but, for your comfort, I can tell you, we have a doctor in the city that undertakes the cure of such. JAS. Tush, I know what physic is best for the state of mine own body. DIA. ’Tis scarce a well-governed state, I believe. JAS. I could shew thee such a thing with an ingredience[394] that we two would compound together, and if it did not tame the maddest blood i' th' town for two hours after, I'll ne’er profess physic again. DIA. A little poppy, sir, were good to cause you sleep. JAS. Poppy? I'll give thee a pop i' th' lips for that first, and begin there: poppy is one simple indeed, and cuckoo-what-you-call’t another: I'll discover no more now; another time I'll shew thee all. [Exit. BEAT. My father, sir.
Enter VERMANDERO and Servants.
VER. O Joanna, I came to meet thee; Your devotion’s ended? BEAT. For this time, sir.— I shall change my saint, I fear me; I find A giddy turning in me. [Aside.]—Sir, this while I am beholding[396] to this gentleman, who Left his own way to keep me company, And in discourse I find him much desirous To see your castle;[397] he hath deserv’d it, sir, If ye please to grant it. VER. With all my heart, sir: Yet there’s an article between, I must know Your country; we use not to give survey Of our chief strengths to strangers; our citadels Are plac’d conspicuous to outward view, On promonts'[398] tops, but within are secrets. ALS. A Valencian, sir. VER. A Valencian? That’s native, sir: of what name, I beseech you? ALS. Alsemero, sir. VER. Alsemero? not the son Of John de Alsemero? ALS. The same, sir. VER. My best love bids you welcome. BEAT. He was wont To call me so, and then he speaks a most Unfeignèd truth. VER. O sir, I knew your father; We two were in acquaintance long ago, Before our chins were worth iulan[399] down, And so continu’d till the stamp of time Had coin’d us into silver: well, he’s gone; A good soldier went with him. ALS. You went together in that, sir. VER. No, by Saint Jaques, I came behind him; Yet I've done somewhat too: an unhappy day Swallowed him at last at Gibraltar, In fight with those rebellious Hollanders; Was it not so? ALS. Whose death I had reveng’d,[400] Or follow’d him in fate, had not the late league Prevented me. VER. Ay, ay, ’twas time to breathe.— O, Joanna, I should ha' told thee news; I saw Piracquo lately. BEAT. That’s ill news. [Aside. VER. He’s hot preparing for this[401] day of triumph: Thou must be a bride within this sevennight. ALS. Ha! [Aside. BEAT. Nay, good sir, be not so violent; with speed I cannot render satisfaction Unto the dear companion of my soul, Virginity, whom I thus long have liv’d with, And part with it so rude and suddenly; Can such friends divide, never to meet again, Without a solemn farewell? VER. Tush, tush! there’s a toy.[402] ALS. I must now part, and never meet again With any joy on earth. [Aside.]—Sir, your pardon; My affairs call on me. VER. How, sir? by no means: Not chang’d so soon, I hope? you must see my castle, And her best entertainment, ere we part, I shall think myself unkindly usèd else. Come, come, let’s on; I had good hope your stay Had been a while with us in Aligant;[403] I might have bid you to my daughter’s wedding. ALS. He means to feast me, and poisons me beforehand.— [Aside. I should be dearly glad to be there, sir, Did my occasions suit as I could wish. BEAT. I shall be sorry if you be not there When it is done, sir; but not so suddenly. VER. I tell you, sir, the gentleman’s complete, A courtier and a gallant, enrich’d With many fair and noble ornaments; I would not change him for a son-in-law For any he in Spain, the proudest he, And we have great ones, that you know. ALS. He’s much Bound to you, sir. VER. He shall be bound to me As fast as this tie can hold him; I'll want My will else. BEAT. I shall want mine, if you do it. [Aside. VER. But come, by the way I'll tell you more of him. ALS. How shall I dare to venture in his castle, When he discharges murderers[404] at the gate? But I must on, for back I cannot go. [Aside. BEAT. Not this serpent gone yet?
[Aside. Drops a glove.
VER. Look, girl, thy glove’s fallen. Stay, stay; De Flores, help a little. [Exeunt. VERMANDERO, ALSEMERO, and Servants. DE F. Here, lady. [Offers her the glove. BEAT. Mischief on your officious forwardness! Who bade you stoop? they touch my hand no more: There! for the other’s sake I part with this; [Takes off and throws down the other glove. Take ’em, and draw thine own skin off with ’em! [Exit with DIAPHANTA and Servants. DE F. Here’s a favour come with a mischief now! I know She had rather wear my pelt[405] tann’d in a pair Of dancing pumps, than I should thrust my fingers Into her sockets here: I know she hates me, Yet cannot choose but love her: no matter: If but to vex her, I will haunt her still; Though I get nothing else, I'll have my will. [Exit.
Act I, Scene II
A room in the house of ALIBIUS.
Enter ALIBIUS and LOLLIO.
ALIB. Lollio, I must trust thee with a secret, But thou must keep it. LOL. I was ever close to a secret, sir. ALIB. The diligence that I have found in thee, The care and industry already past, Assure[406] me of thy good continuance. Lollio, I have a wife. LOL. Fie, sir, ’tis too late to keep her secret; she’s known to be married all the town and country over. ALIB. Thou goest too fast, my Lollio; that knowledge I allow no man can be barrèd it; But there is a knowledge which is nearer, Deeper, and sweeter, Lollio.
LOL. Well, sir, let us handle that between you and I. ALIB. ’Tis that I go about, man: Lollio, My wife is young. LOL. So much the worse to be kept secret, sir. ALIB. Why, now thou meet’st the substance of the point; I am old, Lollio. LOL. No, sir, ’tis I am old Lollio. ALIB. Yet why may not these[407] concord and sympathise? Old trees and young plants often grow together, Well enough agreeing. LOL. Ay, sir, but the old trees raise themselves higher and broader than the young plants. ALIB. Shrewd application![408] there’s the fear, man; I would wear my ring on my own finger; Whilst it is borrow’d, it is none of mine, But his that useth it. LOL. You must keep it on still then; if it but lie by, one or other will be thrusting into ’t. ALIB. Thou conceiv’st me, Lollio; here thy watchful eye Must have employment; I cannot always be At home. LOL. I dare swear you cannot. ALIB. I must look out. LOL. I know’t, you must look out, ’tis every man’s case. ALIB. Here, I do say, must thy employment be; To watch her treadings, and in my absence Supply my place.
LOL. I'll do my best, sir; yet surely I cannot see who you should have cause to be jealous of. ALIB. Thy reason for that, Lollio; it is A comfortable question. LOL. We have but two sorts of people in the house, and both under the whip, that’s fools and madmen; the one has not wit enough to be knaves, and the other not knavery enough to be fools. ALIB. Ay, those are all my patients, Lollio; I do profess the cure of either sort, My trade, my living ’tis, I thrive by it; But here’s the care that mixes with my thrift; The daily visitants, that come to see My brain-sick patients, I would not have To see my wife: gallants I do observe Of quick enticing eyes, rich in habits, Of stature and proportion very comely: Thee are most shrewd temptations, Lollio. LOL. They may be easily answered, sir; if they come to see the fools and madmen, you and I may serve the turn, and let my mistress alone, she’s of neither sort. ALIB. ’Tis a good ward;[409] indeed, come they to see Our madmen or our fools, let ’em see no more Than what they come for; by that consequent They must not see her, I'm sure she’s no fool. LOL. And I'm sure she’s no madman. ALIB. Hold that buckler fast; Lollio, my trust Is on thee, and I account it firm and strong. What hour is’t, Lollio? LOL. Towards belly-hour, sir. ALIB. Dinner-time? thou mean’st twelve a’clock? LOL. Yes, sir, for every part has his hour: we wake at six and look about us, that’s eye-hour; at seven we should pray, that’s knee-hour; at eight walk, that’s leg-hour; at nine gather flowers and pluck a rose,[410] that’s nose-hour; at ten we drink, that’s mouth-hour; at eleven lay about us for victuals, that’s hand-hour; at twelve go to dinner, that’s belly-hour. ALIB. Profoundly, Lollio! it will be long Ere all thy scholars learn this lesson, and I did look to have a new one enter’d;—stay, I think my expectation is come home.
Enter PEDRO, and ANTONIO disguised as an idiot.
PED. Save you, sir; my business speaks itself, This sight takes off the labour of my tongue. ALIB. Ay, ay, sir, it is plain enough, you mean Him for my patient. PED. And if your pains prove but commodious, to give but some little strength to the[411] sick and weak part of nature in him, these are [gives him money] but patterns to shew you of the whole pieces that will follow to you, beside the charge of diet, washing, and other necessaries, fully defrayed. ALIB. Believe it, sir, there shall no care be wanting. LOL. Sir, an officer in this place may deserve something, the trouble will pass through my hands. PED. ’Tis fit something should come to your hands then, sir. [Gives him money. LOL. Yes, sir, ’tis I must keep him sweet, and read to him: what is his name? PED. His name is Antonio; marry, we use but half to him, only Tony. LOL. Tony, Tony, ’tis enough, and a very good name for a fool.—What’s your name, Tony? ANT. He, he, he! well, I thank you, cousin; he, he, he! LOL. Good boy! hold up your head.—He can laugh; I perceive by that he is no beast. PED. Well, sir, If you can raise him but to any height, Any degree of wit, might he attain, As I might say, to creep but on all four Towards the chair of wit, or walk on crutches, 'Twould add an honour to your worthy pains, And a great family might pray for you, To which he should be heir, had he discretion To claim and guide his own: assure you, sir, He is a gentleman. LOL. Nay, there’s nobody doubted that; at first sight I knew him for a gentleman, he looks no other yet. PED. Let him have good attendance and sweet lodging. LOL. As good as my mistress lies in, sir; and as you allow us time and means, we can raise him to the higher degree of discretion. PED. Nay, there shall no cost want, sir. LOL. He will hardly be stretched up to the wit of a magnifico. PED. O no, that’s not to be expected; far shorter will be enough. LOL. I'll warrant you [I'll] make him fit to bear office in five weeks; I'll undertake to wind him up to the wit of constable. PED. If it be lower than that, it might serve turn. LOL. No, fie; to level him with a headborough, beadle, or watchman, were but little better than he is: constable I'll able[412] him; if he do come to be a justice afterwards, let him thank the keeper: or I'll go further with you; say I do bring him up to my own pitch, say I make him as wise as myself. PED. Why, there I would have it. LOL. Well, go to; either I'll be as arrant a fool as he, or he shall be as wise as I, and then I think 'twill serve his turn. PED. Nay, I do like thy wit passing well. LOL. Yes, you may; yet if I had not been a fool, I had had more wit than I have too: remember what state[413] you find me in. PED. I will, and so leave you: your best cares, I beseech you. ALIB. Take you none with you, leave ’em all with us. [Exit PEDRO. ANT. O, my cousin’s gone! cousin, cousin, O! LOL. Peace, peace, Tony; you must not cry, child, you must be whipped if you do; your cousin is here still; I am your cousin, Tony. ANT. He, he! then I'll not cry, if thou be’st my cousin; he, he, he! LOL. I were best try his wit a little, that I may know what form to place him in. ALIB. Ay, do, Lollio, do. LOL. I must ask him easy questions at first.—Tony, how many true[414] fingers has a tailor on his right hand? ANT. As many as on his left, cousin. LOL. Good: and how many on both? ANT. Two less than a deuce, cousin. LOL. Very well answered: I come to you again, cousin Tony; how many fools go[415] to a wise man? ANT. Forty in a day sometimes, cousin. LOL. Forty in a day? how prove you that? ANT. All that fall out amongst themselves, and go to a lawyer to be made friends. LOL. A parlous[416] fool! he must sit in the fourth form at least, I perceive that.—I come again, Tony; how many knaves make an honest man? ANT. I know not that, cousin. LOL. No, the question is too hard for you: I'll tell you, cousin; there’s three knaves may make an honest man, a sergeant, a jailor, and a beadle; the sergeant catches him, the jailor holds him, and the beadle lashes him; and if he be not honest then, the hangman must cure him. ANT. Ha, ha, ha! that’s fine sport, cousin. ALIB. This was too deep a question for the fool, Lollio. LOL. Yes, this might have served yourself, though I say’t.—Once more, and you shall go play, Tony. ANT. Ay, play at push-pin, cousin; ha, he! LOL. So thou shalt: say how many fools are here—— ANT. Two, cousin; thou and I. LOL. Nay, you’re too forward there, Tony: mark my question; how many fools and knaves are here? a fool before a knave, a fool behind a knave, between every two fools a knave; how many fools, how many knaves? ANT. I never learnt so far, cousin. ALIB. Thou puttest too hard questions to him, Lollio. LOL. I'll make him understand it easily.—Cousin, stand there. ANT. Ay, cousin. LOL. Master, stand you next the fool. ALIB. Well, Lollio. LOL. Here’s my place: mark now, Tony, there'[s] a fool before a knave. ANT. That’s I, cousin. LOL. Here’s a fool behind a knave, that’s I; and between us two fools there is a knave, that’s my master; ’tis but we three, that’s all. ANT. We three, we three,[417] cousin. FIRST MAD. [within] Put’s head i' th' pillory, the bread’s too little. SEC. MAD. [within] Fly, fly, and he catches the swallow. THIRD MAD. [within] Give her more onion, or the devil put the rope about her crag.[418] LOL. You may hear what time of day it is, the chimes of Bedlam go.[419] ALIB. Peace, peace, or the wire[420] comes! THIRD MAD. [within] Cat whore, cat whore! her parmasant, her parmasant![421] ALIB. Peace, I say!—Their hour’s come, they must be fed, Lollio. LOL. There’s no hope of recovery of that Welsh madman; was undone by a mouse that spoiled him a parmasant; lost his wits for’t. ALIB. Go to your charge, Lollio, I'll to mine. LOL. Go you to your madmen’s ward, let me alone with your fools. ALIB. And remember my last charge, Lollio. [Exit. LOL. Of which your patients do you think I am?—Come, Tony, you must amongst your schoolfellows now; there’s pretty scholars amongst ’em, I can tell you; there’s some of ’em at stultus, stulta, stultum. ANT. I would see the madmen, cousin, if they would not bite me. LOL. No, they shall not bite thee, Tony. ANT. They bite when they are at dinner, do they not, coz? LOL. They bite at dinner indeed, Tony. Well, I hope to get credit by thee; I like thee the best of all the scholars that ever I brought up, and thou shalt prove a wise man, or I'll prove a fool myself. [Exeunt.
Act II, Scene I
An apartment in the castle.
Enter BEATRICE and JASPERINO severally.
BEAT. O sir, I'm ready now for that fair service Which makes the name of friend sit glorious on you! Good angels and this conduct be your guide! [Giving a paper. Fitness of time and place is there set down, sir. JAS. The joy I shall return rewards my service. [Exit. BEAT. How wise is Alsemero in his friend! It is a sign he makes his choice with judgment; Then I appear in nothing more approv’d Than making choice of him; for ’tis a principle, He that can choose That bosom well who of his thoughts partakes, Proves most discreet in every choice he makes. Methinks I love now with the eyes of judgment, And see the way, to merit, clearly see it. A true deserter like a diamond sparkles; In darkness you may see him, that’s in absence, Which is the greatest darkness falls on love, Yet is he best discern’d then With intellectual eye-sight. What’s Piracquo, My father spends his breath for? and his blessing Is only mine as I regard his name, Else it goes from me, and turns head against me, Transform’d into a curse: some speedy way Must be remember’d; he’s so forward too, So urgent that way, scarce allows me breath To speak to my new comforts.
Enter DE FLORES.
DE F. Yonder’s she; Whatever ails me, now a-late especially, I can as well be hang’d as refrain seeing her; Some twenty times a-day, nay, not so little, Do I force errands, frame ways and excuses, To come into her sight; and I've small reason for’t, And less encouragement, for she baits me still Every time worse than other; does profess herself The cruellest enemy to my face in town; At no hand can abide the sight of me, As if danger or ill luck hung in my looks. I must confess my face is bad enough, But I know far worse has better fortune, And not endur’d alone, but doted on; And yet such pick-hair’d faces, chins like witches', Here and there five hairs whispering in a corner, As if they grew in fear one of another, Wrinkles like troughs, where swine-deformity swills The tears of perjury, that lie there like wash Fallen from the slimy and dishonest eye; Yet such a one plucks[422] sweets without restraint, And has the grace of beauty to his sweet. Though my hard fate has thrust me out to servitude, I tumbled into th' world a gentleman. She turns her blessed eye upon me now, And I'll endure all storms before I part with’t. [Aside. BEAT. Again? This ominous ill-fac’d fellow more disturbs me Than all my other passions. [Aside. DE F. Now’t begins again; I'll stand this storm of hail, though the stones pelt me. [Aside. BEAT. Thy business? what’s thy business? DE F. Soft and fair! I cannot part so soon now. [Aside. BEAT. The villain’s fix’d.— [Aside. Thou standing toad-pool—— DE F. The shower falls amain now. [Aside. BEAT. Who sent thee? what’s thy errand? leave my sight! DE F. My lord, your father, charg’d me to deliver A message to you. BEAT. What, another since? Do’t, and be hang’d then; let me be rid of thee. DE F. True service merits mercy. BEAT. What’s thy message? DE F. Let beauty settle but in patience, You shall hear all. BEAT. A dallying, trifling torment! DE F. Signor Alonzo de Piracquo, lady, Sole brother to Tomaso de Piracquo—— BEAT. Slave, when wilt make an end? DE F. Too soon I shall. BEAT. What all this while of him? DE F. The said Alonzo, With the foresaid Tomaso—— BEAT. Yet again? DE F. Is new alighted. BEAT. Vengeance strike the news! Thou thing most loath’d, what cause was there in this To bring thee to my sight? DE F. My lord, your father, Charg’d me to seek you out. BEAT. Is there no other To send his errand by? DE F. It seems ’tis my luck To be i' th' way still. BEAT. Get thee from me! DE F. So: Why, am not I an ass to devise ways Thus to be rail’d at? I must see her still! I shall have a mad qualm within this hour again, I know’t; and, like a common Garden-bull,[423] I do but take breath to be lugg’d again. What this may bode I know not; I'll despair the less, Because there’s daily precedents of bad faces Belov’d beyond all reason; these foul chops May come into favour one day ’mongst their[424] fellows: Wrangling has prov’d the mistress of good pastime; As children cry themselves asleep, I ha' seen Women have chid themselves a-bed to men. [Aside, and exit. BEAT. I never see this fellow but I think Of some harm towards me, danger’s in my mind still; I scarce leave trembling of an hour after: The next good mood I find my father in, I'll get him quite discarded. O, I was Lost in this small disturbance, and forgot Affliction’s fiercer torrent that now comes To bear down all my comforts!
Enter VERMANDERO, ALONZO, and TOMASO.
VER. You’re both welcome, But an especial one belongs to you, sir, To whose most noble name our love presents Th' addition of a son, our son Alonzo. ALON. The treasury of honour cannot bring forth A title I should more rejoice in, sir. VER. You have improv’d it well.—Daughter, prepare; The day will steal upon thee suddenly. BEAT. Howe’er, I will be sure to keep the night, If it should come so near me. [Aside. [BEATRICE and VERMANDERO talk apart. TOM. Alonzo. ALON. Brother? TOM. In troth I see small welcome in her eye. ALON. Fie, you are too severe a censurer Of love in all points, there’s no bringing on you; If lovers should mark every thing a fault, Affection would be like an ill-set book, Whose faults might prove as big as half the volume. BEAT. That’s all I do intreat. VER. It is but reasonable; I'll see what my son says to’t.—Son Alonzo, Here is a motion made but to reprieve A maidenhead three days longer; the request Is not far out of reason, for indeed The former time is pinching. ALON. Though my joys Be set back so much time as I could wish They had been forward, yet since she desires it, The time is set as pleasing as before, I find no gladness wanting. VER. May I ever Meet it in that point still! you’re nobly welcome, sirs. [Exit with BEATRICE. TOM. So; did you mark the dulness of her parting now? ALON. What dulness? thou art so exceptious still! TOM. Why, let it go then; I am but a fool To mark your harms so heedfully. ALON. Where’s the oversight? TOM. Come, your faith’s cozen’d in her, strongly cozen’d: Unsettle your affection with all speed Wisdom can bring it to; your peace is ruin’d else. Think what a torment ’tis to marry one Whose heart is leap’d into another’s bosom: If ever pleasure she receive from thee, It comes not in thy name, or of thy gift; She lies but with another in thine arms, He the half-father unto all thy children In the conception, if he get ’em not, She helps[425] to get ’em for him; and how dangerous And shameful her restraint may go in time to, It is not to be thought on without sufferings. ALON. You speak as if she lov’d some other, then. TOM. Do you apprehend so slowly? ALON. Nay, and[426] that Be your fear only, I am safe enough: Preserve your friendship and your counsel, brother, For times of more distress; I should depart An enemy, a dangerous, deadly one, To any but thyself, that should but think She knew the meaning of inconstancy, Much less the use and practice: yet we’re friends; Pray, let no more be urg’d; I can endure Much, till I meet an injury to her, Then I am not myself. Farewell, sweet brother; How much we’re bound to heaven to depart lovingly! [Exit. TOM. Why, here is love’s tame madness; thus a man Quickly steals into his vexation. [Exit.
Act II, Scene II
Another apartment in the castle.
Enter DIAPHANTA and ALSEMERO.
DIA. The place is my charge; you have kept your hour, And the reward of a just meeting bless you! I hear my lady coming: complete gentleman, I dare not be too busy with my praises, They’re dangerous things to deal with. [Exit. ALS. This goes well; These women are the ladies' cabinets, Things of most precious trust are lock’d into ’em.
Enter BEATRICE.
BEAT. I have within mine eye all my desires: Requests that holy prayers ascend heaven for, And bring[427] ’em down to furnish our defects, Come not more sweet to our necessities Than thou unto my wishes. ALS. We’re so like In our expressions, lady, that unless I borrow The same words, I shall never find their equals. BEAT. How happy were this meeting, this embrace, If it were free from envy! this poor kiss, It has an enemy, a hateful one, That wishes poison to’t: how well were I now, If there were none such name known as Piracquo, Nor no such tie as the command of parents! I should be but too much bless’d. ALS. One good service Would strike off both your fears, and I'll go near’t too, Since you are so distress’d; remove the cause, The command ceases; so there’s two fears blown out With one and the same blast. BEAT. Pray, let me find you, sir: What might that service be, so strangely happy? ALS. The honourablest piece about man, valour: I'll send a challenge to Piracquo instantly. BEAT. How? call you that extinguishing of fear, When ’tis the only way to keep it flaming? Are not you ventur’d in the action, That’s all my joys and comforts? pray, no more, sir: Say you prevail’d, you’re danger’s and not mine then; The law would claim you from me, or obscurity Be made the grave to bury you alive. I'm glad these thoughts come forth; O, keep not one Of this condition,[428] sir! here was a course Found to bring sorrow on her way to death; The tears would ne’er ha' dried, till dust had chok’d ’em. Blood-guiltiness becomes a fouler visage;— And now I think on one; I was to blame, I ha' marr’d so good a market with my scorn; 'Thad been done questionless: the ugliest creature Creation fram’d for some use; yet to see I could not mark so much where it should be! [Aside. ALS. Lady—— BEAT. Why, men of art make much of poison, Keep one to expel another; where was my art? [Aside. ALS. Lady, you hear not me. BEAT. I do especially, sir; The present times are not so sure of our side As those hereafter may be; we must use ’em then As thrifty folks their wealth, sparingly now, Till the time opens. ALS. You teach wisdom, lady. BEAT. Within there! Diaphanta!
Re-enter DIAPHANTA.
DIA. Do you call, madam? BEAT. Perfect your service, and conduct this gentleman The private way you brought him. DIA. I shall, madam. ALS. My love’s as firm as love e’er built upon. [Exit with DIAPHANTA.
Enter DE FLORES.
DE F. I've watch’d this meeting, and do wonder much What shall become of t’other; I'm sure both Cannot be serv’d unless she transgress; haply Then I'll put in for one; for if a woman Fly from one point, from him she makes a husband, She spreads and mounts then like arithmetic; One, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, Proves in time sutler to an army royal. Now do I look to be most richly rail’d at, Yet I must see her. [Aside. BEAT. Why, put case I loath’d him As much as youth and beauty hates a sepulchre, Must I needs shew it? cannot I keep that secret, And serve my turn upon him? See, he’s here.— [Aside. De Flores. DE F. Ha, I shall run mad with joy! She call’d me fairly by my name De Flores, And neither rogue nor rascal. [Aside. BEAT. What ha' you done To your face a' late? you’ve met with some good physician; You’ve prun’d yourself,[429] methinks: you were not wont To look so amorously.[430] DE F. Not I;— ’Tis the same physnomy, to a hair and pimple, Which she call’d scurvy scarce an hour ago: How is this? [Aside. BEAT. Come hither; nearer, man. DE F. I'm up to the chin in heaven! [Aside. BEAT. Turn, let me see; Faugh, ’tis but the heat of the liver, I perceive’t; I thought it had been worse. DE F. Her fingers touch’d me! She smells all amber.[431] [Aside. BEAT. I'll make a water for you shall cleanse this Within a fortnight. DE F. With your own hands, lady? BEAT. Yes, mine own [hands],[432] sir; in a work of cure I'll trust no other. DE F. ’Tis half an act of pleasure To hear her talk thus to me. [Aside. BEAT. When we’re us’d To a hard face, it is not so unpleasing; It mends still in opinion, hourly mends; I see it by experience. DE F. I was bless’d To light upon this minute; I'll make use on’t. [Aside. BEAT. Hardness becomes the visage of a man well; It argues service, resolution, manhood, If cause were of employment. DE F. ’Twould be soon seen, If e’er your ladyship had cause to use it; I would but wish the honour of a service So happy as that mounts to. BEAT. We shall try you:[433] O my De Flores! DE F. How’s that? she calls me hers; Already, my De Flores! [Aside.]—You were about To sigh out somewhat, madam? BEAT. No, was I? I forgot,—O!— DE F. There ’tis again, the very fellow on’t. BEAT. You are too quick, sir. DE F. There’s no excuse[434] for’t now, I heard it twice, madam; That sigh would fain have utterance; take pity on’t, And lend it a free word; ’las, how it labours For liberty! I hear the murmur yet Beat at your bosom. BEAT. Would creation—— DE F. Ay, well said, that is it. BEAT. Had form’d me man! DE F. Nay, that’s not it. BEAT. O, ’tis the soul of freedom! I should not then be forc’d to marry one I hate beyond all depths; I should have power Then to oppose my loathings, nay, remove ’em For ever from my sight. DE F. O bless’d occasion! 9[Aside. Without change to your sex you have your wishes; Claim so much man in me. BEAT. In thee, De Flores? There is small cause for that. DE F. Put it not from me, It is a service that I kneel for to you. [Kneels. BEAT. You are too violent to mean faithfully: There’s horror in my service, blood, and danger; Can those be things to sue for? DE F. If you knew How sweet it were to me to be employ’d In any act of yours, you would say then I fail’d, and us’d not reverence enough When I receiv'[d] the charge on’t. BEAT. This is much, methinks; Belike his wants are greedy; and to such Gold tastes like angel’s food. [Aside.]—[De Flores,][435] rise. DE F. I'll have the work first. BEAT. Possible his need Is strong upon him. [Aside.]—There’s to encourage thee; [Gives money. As thou art forward, and thy service dangerous, Thy reward shall be precious. DE F. That I've thought on; I have assur’d myself of that beforehand, And know it will be precious; the thought ravishes! BEAT. Then take him to thy fury! DE F. I thirst for him. BEAT. Alonzo de Piracquo. DE F. [rising] His end’s upon him; He shall be seen no more. BEAT. How lovely now Dost thou appear to me! never was man Dearlier rewarded. DE F. I do think of that. BEAT. Be wondrous careful in the execution. DE F. Why, are not both our lives upon the cast? BEAT. Then I throw all my fears upon thy service. DE F. They ne’er shall rise to hurt you. BEAT. When the deed’s done, I'll furnish thee with all things for thy flight; Thou may’st live bravely in another country. DE F. Ay, ay; we’ll talk of that hereafter. BEAT. I shall rid myself Of two inveterate loathings at one time, Piracquo, and his dog-face. [Aside, and exit. DE F. O my blood! Methinks I feel her in mine arms already; Her wanton fingers combing out this beard, And, being pleasèd, praising this bad face. Hunger and pleasure, they’ll commend sometimes Slovenly dishes, and feed heartily on ’em, Nay, which is stranger, refuse daintier for ’em. Some women are odd feeders,—I'm too loud. Here comes the man goes supperless to bed, Yet shall not rise to-morrow to his dinner.
Enter ALONZO.
ALON. De Flores. DE F. My kind, honourable lord? ALON. I'm glad I ha' met with thee. DE F. Sir? ALON. Thou canst shew me The full strength of the castle? DE F. That I can, sir. ALON. I much desire it. DE F. And if the ways and straits Of some of the passages be not too tedious for you, I'll assure you, worth your time and sight, my lord. ALON. Pooh, that shall be no hindrance. DE F. I'm your servant then: ’Tis now near dinner-time; ’gainst your lordship’s rising I'll have the keys about me. ALON. Thanks, kind De Flores. DE F. He’s safely thrust upon me beyond hopes. [Aside. [Exeunt severally.
Act III, Scene I
A narrow passage in the castle.
Enter ALONZO and DE FLORES. (In the act-time[436] DE FLORES hides a naked rapier behind a door.
DE F. Yes, here are all the keys; I was afraid, my lord, I'd wanted for the postern, this is it: I've all, I've all, my lord: this for the sconce. ALON. ’Tis a most spacious and impregnable fort. DE F. You will tell me more, my lord: this descent Is somewhat narrow, we shall never pass Well with our weapons, they’ll but trouble us. ALON. Thou sayest true. DE F. Pray, let me help your lordship. ALON. ’Tis done: thanks, kind De Flores. DE F. Here are hooks, my lord, To hang such things on purpose. [Hanging up his own sword and that of ALONZO. ALON. Lead, I'll follow thee. [Exeunt.
Act III, Scene II
A vault.[437]
Enter ALONZO and DE FLORES.
DE F. All this is nothing; you shall see anon A place you little dream on. ALON. I am glad I have this leisure; all your master’s house Imagine I ha' taken a gondola. DE F. All but myself, sir,—which makes up my safety. [Aside. My lord, I'll place you at a casement here Will shew you the full strength of all the castle. Look, spend your eye a while upon that object. ALON. Here’s rich variety, De Flores. DE F. Yes, sir. ALON. Goodly munition. DE F. Ay, there’s ordnance, sir, No bastard metal, will ring you a peal like bells At great men’s funerals: keep your eye straight, my lord; Take special notice of that sconce before you, There you may dwell awhile. [Takes the rapier which he had hid behind the door. ALON. I am upon’t. DE F. And so am I. [Stabs him. ALON. De Flores! O De Flores! Whose malice hast thou put on? DE F. Do you question A work of secrecy? I must silence you. [Stabs him. ALON. O, O, O! DE F. I must silence you. [Stabs him. So, here’s an undertaking well accomplish’d: This vault serves to good use now: ha, what’s that Threw sparkles in my eye? O, ’tis a diamond He wears upon his finger; ’twas well found, This will approve[438] the work. What, so fast on? Not part in death? I'll take a speedy course then, Finger and all shall off. [Cuts off the finger.] So, now I'll clear The passages from all suspect or fear. [Exit with the body.