some venture for it, that I might be turn'd loose, to try my
fortune amongst the whole frie in a Colledge, or an Inn of
Court; or scramble with the prisoners in the dungeon; nay
were it set down in the [owter] court,
And all the Guard about it in a ring,
With their knives drawn, which were a dismall sight,
And after twenty leisurely were told,
I to be let loose only in my shirt,
To trie the valour, how much of the spoyl,
I would recover from the enemies mouths:
[I would accept the challenge.
_Count._ Let it go: hast not thou beene held
To have some wit in the Court, and to make fine jests]
Upon country people in progress time, and
Wilt thou lose this opinion, for the cold head of a Fish?
I say, let it goe: I'll help thee to as good a dish of meat.
_Laz._ God let me not live, if I doe not wonder,
Men should talk so profanely:
But it is not in the power of loose words,
Of any vain or misbeleeving man,
To make me dare to wrong thy purity.
Shew me but any Lady in the Court,
That hath so full an eye, so sweet a breath,
So soft and white a flesh: this doth not lie
In almond gloves, nor ever hath bin washt
In artificiall baths: no traveller
That hath brought doctor home with him, hath dar'd
With all his waters, powders, Fucusses,
To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.
_Count._ I have it, 'tis now infus'd, be comforted.
_Laz._ Can there be that little hope yet left in nature? shall I
once more erect up Trophies? Shall I enjoy the sight of my dear
Saint, and bless my pallate with the best of creatures, ah good my
Lord, by whom I breathe again, shall I receive this Being?
_Count._ Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled
revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord _Gondarino_
to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis.
_Laz._ O 'tis far above the good of women, the _Pathick_ cannot
yield more pleasing titilation.
_Count._ But how to compass it, search, cast about, and bang your
brai[n]s, _Lazarello_, thou art too dull and heavy to deserve a
blessing.
_Laz._ My Lord, I will not be idle; now _Lazarello_, think, think,
think.
_Count._ Yonder's my informer
And his fellow with table books, they nod at me
Upon my life, they have poor _Lazarello_, that beats
His brains about no such waighty matter, in for
Treason before this--
_Laz._ My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self,
Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher,
And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child?
_Count._ Good, very good.
_Laz._ Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion.
_1 Inte._ There's another point in's plot, [corrupt] with money; to
betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have a care.
_Laz._ And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would in
some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the dish it
self, though I cut out my means through sword[s] and fire, through
poison, through any thing that may make good my hopes.
_2 Int._ Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the plots
discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace, kill the Duke
and poison his privie Councell.
_Count._ To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we can attain
the means, to make up our acquaintance, the fish be eaten?
_Laz._ If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected,
most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this Province
yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye bravely, and like
a Roman; and after death, amidst the Elizian shades, I'll meet my
love again.
_1 In._ I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark that,
when he hath done all, he will kill himself.
_Count._ Will nothing ease your appetite but this?
_Laz._ No could the Sea throw up his vastness,
And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as
a bare temptation to me.
_Count._ If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison,
or Fowl, 'twould be far the better.
_Laza._ I doe beseech your Lordships patience,
I doe confess that in this heat of blood,
I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats,
But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef,
I doe reverence a loyn of Veal,
But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this:
But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of
taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all
humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if
Fortune stand propitious.
_Count._ Sir you shall work me as you please.
_Laza._ Let it be suddenly, I doe beseech your Lordship, 'tis now
upon the point of dinner time.
_Count._ I am all yours. [_Exeunt Lazarello and Count._
_1 In._ Come let us confer, Imprimis he saith, like a blasphemous
villain, he's greater than the Duke, this peppers him, and there
were nothing else.
_2 In._ Then he was naming plots; did you not hear?
_1 In._ Yes but he fell from that unto discovery, to corrupt by
money, and so attain.
_2 In._ I, I, he meant some Fort, or Cyttadell the Duke hath, his
very face betraid his meaning, O he is [a] very subtile and a
dangerous knave, but if he deal a Gods name, we shall worm him.
_1 In._ But now comes the Stroak, the fatall blow, Fire, Sword and
Poyson, O Canibal, thou bloody Canibal.
_2 In._ What had become of this poor state, had [not we] been?
_1 In._ Faith it had lyen buried in his own ashes; had not a
greater hand been in't.
_2 In._ But note the rascalls resolution, after th'acts done,
because he wo'd avoid all fear of torture, and cousen the Law, he
wo'd kill himself; was there ever the like danger brought to light
in this age? sure we shall merit much, we shall be able to keep
two men a peece, and a two handsword between us, we will live in
favour of the State, betray our ten or twelve treasons a week, and
the people shall fear us: come, to the Lord _Lucio_, the Sun shall
not goe down till he be hang'd. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Tertius. Scæna Quarta._
_Enter Mercer._
_Mer._ Look to my shop, and if there come ever a Scholar in black,
let him speak with me; we that are shopkeepers in good trade, are
so pester'd, that we can scarce pick out an hour for our mornings
meditation: and howsoever we are all accounted dull, and common
jesting stocks for your gallants; There are some of us doe not
deserve it: for, for my own part, I doe begin to be given to my
book, I love a scholar with my heart, for questionless there are
merveilous things to be done by Art: why Sir, some of them will
tell you what is become of horses, and silver spoons, and will make
wenches dance naked to their beds: I am yet unmarried, and because
some of our neighbours are said to be Cuckolds, I will never
[marrie] without the consent of some of these scholars, that know
what will come of it.
_Enter Pander._
_Pan._ Are you busie Sir?
_Mer._ Never to you Sir, nor to any of your coat. Sir is there any
thing to be done by Art, concerning the great heir we talk'd on?
_Pan._ Will she, nill she: she shall come running into my house at
the farther corner, in Sa. Marks street, betwixt three and four.
_Mer._ Betwixt three and four? she's brave in cloaths, is she not?
_Pan._ O rich! rich! where should I get cloaths to dress her in?
Help me invention: Sir, that her running through the street may
be less noted, my Art more shown, and your fear to speak with her
less, she shall come in a white wastcoat, And--
_Mer._ What shall she?
_Pan._ And perhaps torn stockings, she hath left her old wont else.
_Enter Prentice._
_Pren._ Sir my Lord _Gond._ hath sent you a rare fish head.
_Mer._ It comes right, all things sute right with me since I began
to love scholars, you shall have it home with you against she come:
carrie it to this Gentleman's house.
_Pan._ The fair white house at the farther corner at S. Marks
street, make haste, I must leave you too Sir, I have two hours to
study; buy a new Accedence, and ply your book, and you shall want
nothing that all the scholars in the Town can doe for you. [_Exit
Pander._
_Mer._ Heaven prosper both our studies, what a dull slave was I
before I fell in love with this learning! not worthy to tread upon
the earth, & what fresh hopes it hath put in to me! I doe hope
within this twelve-month to be able by Art to serve the Court with
silks, and not undoe my self; to trust Knights, and yet get in my
money again; to keep my wife brave, and yet she keep no body else
so.
_Enter Count, and Lazarello._
Your Lordship is most honourably welcome in regard of your
Nobility; but most especialy in regard of your scholarship: did
your Lordship come openly?
_Count._ Sir this cloak keeps me private, besides no man will
suspect me to be in the company of this Gentleman, with whom, I
will desire you to be acquainted, he may prove a good customer to
you.
_Laza._ For plain silks and velvets.
_Mer._ Are you scholasticall?
_Laza._ Something addicted to the Muses.
_Count._ I hope they will not dispute.
_Mer._ You have no skill in the black Art.
_Enter a Prentice._
_Pren._ Sir yonder's a Gentleman enquires hastily for Count
_Valore_.
_Count._ For me? what is he?
_Pren._ One of your followers my Lord I think.
_Count._ Let him come in.
_Mer._ Shall I talk with you in private Sir?
_Enter a Messenger with a Letter to the Count, he reads._
_Count._ Count, _come to the Court your business calls you
thither_, I will goe, farewell Sir, I will see your silks some
other time: Farewell _Lazarillo_.
_Mer._ Will not your Lordship take a piece of Beef with me?
_Count._ Sir I have greater business than eating; I will leave this
Gentleman with you. [_Exeunt Count. & Mes._
_Laza._ No, no, no, no: now doe I feel that strain'd strugling
within me, that I think I could prophesie.
_Mer._ The Gentleman is meditating.
_Laza._ Hunger, valour, love, ambition are alike pleasing, and let
our Philosophers say what they will, are one kind of heat, only
hunger is the safest: ambition is apt to fall; love and valour are
not free from dangers; only hunger, begotten of some old limber
Courtier, in pan'de hose, and nurs'd by an Attourneys wife; now so
thriven, that he need not fear to be of the great Turks guard: is
so free from all quarrels and dangers, so full of hopes, joyes, and
ticklings, that my life is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.
_Enter Lazarello's boy._
_Boy._ Sir the Fish head is gone.
_Laza._ Then be thou henceforth dumb, with thy ill-boding voice.
Farewell _Millain_, farewell Noble Duke,
Farewell my fellow Courtiers all, with whom,
I have of yore made many a scrambling meal
In corners, behind Arasses, on stairs;
And in the action oftentimes have spoil'd,
Our Doublets and our Hose with liquid stuff:
Farewell you lusty Archers of the Guard,
To whom I now doe give the bucklers up,
And never more with any of your coat
Will eat for wagers, now you happy be,
When this shall light upon you, think on me:
You sewers, carvers, ushers of the court
Sirnamed gentle for your fair demean,
Here I doe take of you my last farewell,
May you stand stifly in your proper places, and execute your offices
aright.
Farewell you Maidens, with your mother eke,
Farewell you courtly Chaplains that be there
All good attend you, may you never more
Marry your Patrons Ladys wayting-woman,
But may you raised be by this my fall
May _Lazarillo_ suffer for you all.
_Merc._ Sir I was hearkning to you.
_Laz._ I will hear nothing, I will break my knife, the Ensign of
my former happy state, knock out my teeth, have them hung at a
Barbers, and enter into Religion.
_Boy._ Why Sir, I think I know whither it is gone.
_Laza._ See the rashness of man in his nature, whither? I do unsay
all that I have said, go on, go on: Boy, I humble my self and
follow thee; Farewell Sir.
_Mer._ Not so Sir, you shall take a piece of Beef with me.
_Laz._ I cannot stay.
_Mer._ By my fay but you shall Sir, in regard of your love to
learning, and your [s]kill in the black Art.
_Laz._ I do hate learning, and I have no skill in [the] black Art,
I would I had.
_Mer._ Why your desire is sufficient to me, you shall stay.
_Laz._ The most horrible and detested curses that can be imagined,
light upon all the professors of that Art; may they be drunk, and
when they goe to conjure, and reel in the Circle, may the spirits
by them rais'd, tear 'em in pieces, and hang their quarters on old
broken walls and Steeple tops.
_Mer._ This speech of yours, shews you to have some skill in the
Science, wherefore in civilitie, I may not suffer you to depart
empty.
_Laz._ My stomach is up, I cannot endure it, I will fight in this
quarrell as soon as for my Prince.
_Draws his Rapier._ [_Exeunt Omnes._
Room, make way:
Hunger commands, my valour must obey.
_Actus_ [iiii]. _Scæna Prima._
_Enter Count and Arrigo._
_Count._ Is the Duke private?
_Arr._ He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.
[_Exit Count._
_Enter Gondarino._
_Gond._ Who's with the Duke?
_Arr._ The Count is new gone in; but the Duke will come forth,
before you can be weary of waiting.
_Gond._ I will attend him here.
_Arr._ I must wait without the door. [_Exit_ Arrigo.
_Gond._ Doth he hope to clear his Sister? she will come no more to
my house, to laugh at me: I have sent her to a habitation, where
when she shall be seen, it will set a gloss upon her name; yet upon
my soul I have bestow'd her amongst the purest hearted creatures of
her sex, and the freest from dissimulation; for their deeds are all
alike, only they dare speak, what the rest think: the women of this
age, if there be any degrees of comparison amongst their sex, are
worse than those of former times; for I have read of women, of that
truth, spirit, and constancy, that were they now living, I should
endure to see them: but I fear the writers of the time belied them,
for how familiar a thing is it with the Poets of our age, to extoll
their whores, which they call Mistresses, with heavenly praises!
but I thank their furies, and their craz'd brains, beyond belief:
nay, how many that would fain seem serious, have dedicated grave
Works to Ladies, toothless, hollow-ey'd, their hair shedding,
purple fac'd, their nails apparently coming off; and the bridges
of their noses broken down, and have call'd them the choice handy
works of nature, the patterns of perfection, and the wonderment of
Women. Our Women begin to swarm like Bees [in] Summer: as I came
hither, there was no pair of stairs, no entry, no lobby, but was
pestred with them: methinks there might be some course taken to
destroy them.
_Enter_ Arrigo, _and an old deaf countrey Gentlewoman
suitor to the Duke_.
_Arri._ I do accept your money, walk here, and when the Duke comes
out, you shall have fit opportunity to deliver your petition to him.
_Gentlew._ I thank you heartily, I pray you who's he that walks
there?
_Ar._ A Lord, and a Soldier, one in good favour with the Duke; if
you could get him to deliver your Petition--
_Gentlew._ What do you say, Sir?
_Ar._ If you could get him to deliver your petition for you, or to
second you, 'twere sure.
_Gentlew._ I hope I shall live to requite your kindness.
_Ar._ You have already. [_Exit_ Arri.
_Gentlew._ May it please your Lordship--
_Gond._ No, no.
_Gentlew._ To consider the estate--
_Gond._ No.
_Gentlew._ Of a poor oppressed countrey Gentlewoman.
_Gond._ No, it doth not please my Lordship.
_Gentlew._ First and formost, I have had great injury, then I have
been brought up to the Town three times.
_Gond._ A pox on him, that brought thee to the Town.
_Gentlew._ I thank your good Lordship heartily; though I cannot
hear well, I know it grieves you; and here we have been delaid, and
sent down again, and fetch'd up again, and sent down again, to my
great charge: and now at last they have fetch'd me up, and five of
my daughters--
_Gond._ Enough to damn five worlds.
_Gentlew._ Handsome young women, though I say it, they are all
without, if it please your Lordship I'll call them in.
_Gond._ Five Women! how many of my sences should I have left me
then? call in five Devils first.
_No, I will rather walk with thee alone,_
_And hear thy tedious tale of injury,_
_And give thee answers; whisper in thine ear,_
_And make thee understand through thy French hood:_
_And all this with tame patience._
_Gentlew._ I see your Lordship does believe, that they are without,
and I perceive you are much mov'd at our injury: here's a paper
will tell you more.
_Gond._ Away.
_Gentlew._ It may be you had rather hear me tell it _viva voce_,
as they say.
_Gond._ Oh no, no, no, no, I have heard it before.
_Gentlew._ Then you have heard of enough injury, for a poor
Gentlewoman to receive.
_Gond._ Never, never, but that it troubles my conscience, to wish
any good to these women; I could afford them to be valiant, and
able, that it might be no disgrace for a Soldier to beat them.
_Gentlew._ I hope your Lordship will deliver my petition to his
grace, and you may tell him withal--
_Gond._ What? I will deliver any thing against my self, to be rid
on thee.
_Gentlew._ That yesterday about three a clock in the after noon, I
met my adversary.
_Gond._ Give me thy paper, he can abide no long tales.
_Gentlew._ 'Tis very short my Lord, and I demanding of him--
_Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn.
_Gentlew._ How?
_Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn, begone: man never
doth remember how great his offences are, till he do meet with one
of you, that plagues him for them: why should Women [only] above
all other creatures that were created for the benefit of man, have
the use of speech? or why should any deed of theirs, done by their
fleshly appetites, be disgraceful to their owners? nay, why should
not an act done by any beast I keep, against my consent, disparage
me as much as that of theirs?
_Gentlew._ Here's some few Angels for your Lordship.
_Gond._ Again? yet more torments?
_Gentlew._ Indeed you shall have them.
_Gond._ Keep off.
_Gentlew._ A small gratuity for your kindness.
_Gond._ Hold away.
_Gentlew._ Why then I thank your Lordship, I'll gather them up
again, and I'll be sworn, it is the first money that was refus'd
since I came to the Court.
_Gond._ What can she devise to say more?
_Gentlew._ Truly I would have willingly parted with them to your
Lordship.
_Gond._ I believe it, I believe it.
_Gentlew._ But since it is thus--
_Gond._ More yet.
_Gentlew._ I will attend without, and expect an answer.
_Gond._ Do, begone, and thou shalt expect, and have any thing, thou
shalt have thy answer from him; and he were best to give thee a
good one at first, for thy deaf importunity, will conquer him too,
in the end.
_Gentlew._ God bless your Lordship, and all tha[t] favour a poor
distressed countrey Gentlewoman. [_Exit Gentlew._
_Gond._ All the diseases of man light upon them that doe, and upon
me when I do. A week of such days, would either make me stark mad
or tame me: yonder other woman that I have sure enough, shall
answer for thy sins: dare they incense me still, I will make them
fear as much to be ignorant of me and my moods, as men are to be
ignorant of the law they live under. Who's there? My bloud grew
cold, I began to fear my Suiters return; 'tis the Duke.
_Enter the Duke and the Count._
_Count._ I know her chaste, though she be young and free,
And is not of that forc'd behaviour
That many others are, and that this Lord,
Out of the boundless malice to the sex,
Hath thrown this scandal on her.
_Gond._ Fortune befriended me against my Will, with this good old
countrey gentlewoman; I beseech your grace, to view favourably the
petition of a wronged Gentlewoman.
_Duke._ What _Gondarino_, are you become a petitioner for your
enemies?
_Gond._ My Lord, they are no enemies of mine, I confess, the better
to [cover] my deeds, which sometimes were loose enough, I pretended
it, as it is wisdom, to keep close our incontinence, but since you
have discover'd me, I will no more put on that vizard, but will as
freely open all my thoughts to you, as to my Confessor.
_Duke._ What say you to this?
_Count._ He that confesses he did once dissemble,
I'll never trust his words: can you imagine
A Maid, whose beauty could not suffer her
To live thus long untempted, by the noblest,
Richest, and cunningst Masters in that Art
And yet hath ever held a fair repute;
Could in one morning, and by him be brought,
To forget all her virtue, and turn whore?
_Gond._ I would I had some other talk in hand,
Than to accuse a Sister to her Brother:
Nor do I mean it for a publick scandal,
Unless by urging me you make it so.
_Duke._ I will read this at better leisure: [_Gondarino_, where is
the Lady?]
_Count._ At his house.
_Gond._ No, she is departed thence.
_Count._ Whither?
_Gond._ Urge it not thus, or let me be excus'd,
If what I speak betray her chastity,
And both increase my sorrow, and your own?
_Count._ Fear me not so, if she deserve the fame
Which she hath gotten, I would have it publisht,
Brand her my self, and whip her through the City:
I wish those of my bloud that doe offend,
Should be more strictly punish[t], than my foes.
Let it be prov'd.
_Duke. Gondarino_, thou shalt prove it, or suffer worse than
she should do.
_Gond._ Then pardon me, if I betray the faults
Of one, I love more dearly than my self,
Since opening hers, I shall betray mine own:
But I will bring you where she now intends
Not to be virtuous: pride and wantonness,
That are true friends indeed, though not in shew,
Have entr'd on her heart, there she doth bathe,
And sleek her hair, and practise cunning looks
To entertain me with; and hath her thoughts
As full of lust, as ever you did think
Them full of modesty.
_Duke. Gondarino_, lead on, we'll follow thee. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Quartus. Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Pandar.
_Pan._ Here hope I to meet my Citizen, and [here] hopes he to meet
his [Scholar]; I am sure I am grave enough, to his eyes, and knave
enough to deceive him: I am believ'd to conjure, raise storms, and
devils, by whose power I can do wonders; let him believe so still,
belief hurts no man; I have an honest black cloak, for my knavery,
and a general pardon for his foolery, from this present day, till
the day of his breaking. Is't not a misery, and the greatest of our
age, to see a handsome, young, fair enough, and well mounted wench,
humble her self, in an old stammel petticoat, standing possest of
no more fringe, than the street can allow her: her upper parts so
poor and wanting, that ye may see her bones through her bodies:
shooes she would have, if [her] Captain were come over, and is
content the while to devote her self to antient slippers. These
premisses well considered, Gentlemen, will move, they make me melt
I promise ye, they stirr me much: and wer't not for my smooth,
soft, silken Citizen, I would quit this transitory Trade, get me
an everlasting Robe, sear up my conscience, and turn Serjeant.
But here he comes, is mine as good as prize: Sir _Pandarus_ be my
speed, ye are most fitly met Sir.
_Enter Mercer._
_Mer._ And you as well encount'red, what of this heir? hath your
Books been propitious?
_Pan._ Sir, 'tis done, she's come, she's in my house, make your
self apt for Courtship, stroke up your stockings, loose not an inch
of your legs goodness; I am sure ye wear socks.
_Mer._ There your Books fail ye Sir, in truth I wear no socks.
_Pand._ I would you had, Sir, it were the sweeter grace for your
legs; get on your Gloves, are they perfum'd?
_Mer._ A pretty wash I'll assure you.
_Pand._ 'Twill serve: your offers must be full of bounty, Velvets
to furnish a Gown, Silks for Peticoats and Foreparts, Shag for
lining; forget not some pretty Jewel to fasten, after some little
compliment: if she deny this courtesie, double your bounties, be
not wanting in abundance, fulness of gifts, link'd with a pleasing
tongue, will win an Anchorite. Sir, ye are my friend, and friend to
all that professes good Letters; I must not use this office else,
it fits not for a Scholar, and a Gentleman: those stockin[g]s are
of _Naples_, they are silk?
_Mer._ Ye are again beside your Text, Sir, they're of the best of
Wooll, and [they cleeped] Jersey.
_Pan._ Sure they are very dear.
_Mer._ Nine shillings, by my love to learning.
_Pan._ Pardon my judgement, we Scholars use no other objects, but
our Books.
_Mer._ There is one thing entomb'd in that grave breast, that makes
me equally admire it with your Scholarship.
_Pand._ Sir; but that in modesty I am bound not to affect mine own
commendation, I would enquire it of you.
_Merc._ Sure you are very honest; and yet ye have a kind of modest
fear to shew it: do not deny it, that face of yours is a worthy,
learned modest face.
_Pand._ Sir, I can blush.
_Mer._ Virtue and grace are always pair'd together: but I will
leave to stirr your bloud Sir, and now to our business.
_Pand._ Forget not my instructions.
_Mer._ I apprehend ye Sir, I will gather my self together with my
best phrases, and so I shall discourse in some sort takingly.