_A street._
_Enter_ LOUIS.
LOUIS. That if [I], only I should be the man
Made accessary and a party both
To mine own torment, at a time so near
The birth of all those comforts I have travail’d with
So many, many hours of hopes and fears;
Now at the instant—
_Enter_ RODERIGO.
Ha! stand! thy name,
Truly and speedily.
ROD. Don Louis?
LOUIS. The same;
But who art thou? speak!
ROD. Roderigo.
LOUIS. Tell me,
As you’re a noble gentleman, as ever
You hope to be enroll’d amongst the virtuous,
As you love goodness, as you wish t' inherit
The blessedness and fellowship of angels,
As you’re my friend, as you are Roderigo,
As you are any thing that would deserve
A worthy name, where have you been to-night?
O, how have you dispos’d of that fair creature
Whom you led captive from me? speak, O speak!
Where, how, when, in what usage have you left her?
Truth, I require all truth.
ROD. Though I might question
The strangeness of your importunity,
Yet, ’cause I note distraction in the height
Of curiosity, I will be plain
And brief.
LOUIS. I thank you, sir.
ROD. Instead of feeding
Too wantonly upon so rich a banquet,
I found, even in that beauty that invited me,
Such a commanding majesty of chaste
And humbly glorious virtue, that it did not
More check my rash attempt than draw to ebb
The float[183] of those desires, which in an instant
Were cool’d in their own streams of shame and folly.
LOUIS. Now all increase of honours
Fall in full showers on thee, Roderigo,
The best man living!
ROD. You are much transported
With this discourse, methinks.
LOUIS. Yes, I am.
She told ye her name too?
ROD. I could not urge it
By any importunity.
LOUIS. Better still!
Where did you leave her?
ROD. Where I found her; farther
She would by no means grant me to wait on her:
O Louis, I am lost!
LOUIS. This self-same lady
Was she to whom I have been long a suiter,
And shortly hope to marry.
ROD. She your mistress, then? Louis, since friendship
And noble honesty conjure[184] our loves
To a continu’d league, here I unclasp
The secrets of my heart. O, I have had
A glimpse of such a creature, that deserves
A temple! if thou lov’st her—and I blame thee not,
For who can look on her, and not give up
His life unto her service?—if thou lov’st her,
For pity’s sake conceal her; let me not
As much as know her name, there’s a temption[185] in’t;
Let me not know her dwelling, birth, or quality,
Or any thing that she calls hers, but thee;
In thee, my friend, I'll see her: and t' avoid
The surfeits and[186] those rarities that tempt me,
So much I prize the happiness of friendship,
That I will leave the city——
LOUIS. Leave it?
ROD. Speed me
For Salamanca; court my studies now
For physic ’gainst infection of the mind.
LOUIS. You do amaze me.
ROD. Here to live, and live
Without her, is impossible and wretched.
For heaven’s sake, never tell her what I was,
Or that you know me! and when I find that absence
Hath lost her to my memory, I'll dare
To see ye again. Meantime, the cause that draws me
From hence shall be to all the world untold;
No friend but thou alone, for whose sake only
I undertake this voluntary exile,
Shall be partaker of my griefs: thy hand,
Farewell; and all the pleasures, joys, contents,
That bless a constant lover, henceforth crown thee
A happy bridegroom!
LOUIS. You have conquer’d friendship
Beyond example.
_Enter_ DIEGO.
DIEGO. Ha, ha, ha! some one
That hath slept well to-night, should ’a but see me
Thus merry by myself, might justly think
I were not well in my wits.
LOUIS. Diego?
DIEGO. Yes,
’Tis I, and I have had a fine fegary,[187]
The rarest wild-goose chase!
LOUIS. ’Thad made thee melancholy.
DIEGO. Don Roderigo here? ’tis well you met him;
For though I miss’d him, yet I met an accident
Has almost made me burst with laughter.
LOUIS. How so?
DIEGO. I'll tell you: as we parted, I perceiv’d
A walking thing before me, strangely tickled
With rare conceited raptures; him I dogg’d,
Supposing ’t had been Roderigo landed
From his new pinnace, deep in contemplation
Of the sweet voyage[188] he stole to-night.
ROD. You’re pleasant.
LOUIS. Prithee, who was’t?
ROD. Not I.
DIEGO. You’re i' the right, not you indeed;
For ’twas that noble gentleman Don John,
Son to the count Francisco de Carcomo.
LOUIS. In love, it seems?
DIEGO. Yes, pepper’d, on my life;
Much good may’t do him; I'd not be so lin’d[189]
For my cap full of double pistolets.
LOUIS. What should his mistress be?
DIEGO. That’s yet a riddle
Beyond my resolution; but of late
I have[190] observ’d him oft to frequent the sports
The gipsies newly come to th' city present.
LOUIS. It is said there is a creature with ’em,
Though young of years, yet of such absolute beauty,
Dexterity of wit, and general qualities,
That Spain reports her not without admiration.
DIEGO. Have you seen her?
LOUIS. Never.
DIEGO. Nor you, my lord?
ROD. I not remember.
DIEGO. Why, then, you never saw the prettiest toy
That ever sung or danc’d.
LOUIS. Is she a gipsy?
DIEGO. In her condition, not in her complexion:
I tell you once more, ’tis a spark of beauty
Able to set a world at gaze; the sweetest,
The wittiest rogue! shall’s see ’em? they’ve fine
gambols,
Are mightily frequented; court and city
Flock to ’em, but the country does ’em worship:
This little ape gets money by the sack-full,
It trolls upon her.
LOUIS. Will ye with us, friend?
ROD. You know my other projects; sights to me
Are but vexations.
LOUIS. O, you must be merry!—
Diego, we’ll to th' gipsies.
DIEGO. Best take heed
You be not snapp’d.
LOUIS. How' snapp’d?
DIEGO. By that little fairy;
'T has a shrewd tempting face and a notable tongue.
LOUIS. I fear not either.
DIEGO. Go, then.
LOUIS. Will you with us?
ROD. I'll come after.—
[_Exeunt._ LOUIS _and_ DIEGO.
Pleasure and youth like smiling evils woo us
To taste new follies; tasted, they undo us. [_Exit._
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._
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._
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._
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._
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._
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._
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._
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._
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.