 | Al Fooles |  |
ACTVS III.
SCENA I.
Enter Fortunio, Bellanora, Gratiana, Gostanzo following closely.Fort.
How happy am I, that by this sweet meanes
I gayne accesle to your most loued sight,
And there withall to vtter my full loue,
Which but for vent would burne my entrayles vp!
Gost.
Byth masse they talke too softly.
Bell.
Little thinks
The austere mind my thrifty father beares,
That I am vowd to you, and so am bound
From him: who for more riches he would force
On my dishking fancy.
Fort.
Tis no fault,
With iust deeds to defraud an iniury.
Gost.
My daughter is perswading him to yeeld
In dutifull submission to his father.
Enter Valerio.
Val.
Do I not dreame? do I behold this sight
With waking eyes? or from the Iuory gate
Hath Morpheus sent a vision to delude me?
Ist possible that I a mortall man,
Should shrine within mine armes so bright a Goddesse,
The fayre Gratiana, beautyes little world!
Gost.
What haue we heere?
Val.
My dearest Myne of Gold,
All this that thy white armes enfold,
Account it as thine owne free-hold.
Gost.
Gods my deare soule, what suddē change is here!
I smell how this geare will fall out yfayth.
Val.
Fortunio, sister; come, let's to the garden.
Exeunt.
Gost.
Sits the wind there yfayth? see what example
Will worke vpon the dullest appetite.
My sonne last day so bashfull, that he durst not
Looke on a wench, now courts her; and byrlady,
Of the right moderne fashion. What Rinaldo.
Enter Rin.
Rin.
I feare I interrupt your priuacy.
Gost.
Welcome, Rinaldo, would 'thad bin your hap
To come a little sonner, that you might
Haue seene a handsome sight: but let that passe,
The short is, that your sister Gratiana
Shall stay no longer here.
Rin.
No longer, sir?
Repent you then so soone your fauour to her,
And to my brother?
Gost.
Not so, good Rinaldo;
But to preuent a mischiefe that I see
Hangs ouer your abused brothers head.
In briefe, my sonne has learn'd but too much courtship.
It was my chaunce euen now to cast mine eye
Into a place whereto your sister entred:
My metamorphosde sonne: I must conceale
What I saw there: but to be playne, I saw
More then I would see: I had thought to make
My house a kind receypt for your kind brother;
But ide be loth his wife should find more kindnesse,
Then she had cause to like of.
Rin.
What's the matter?
Perhaps a little complement or so.
Gost.
Wel, sir, such complement perhaps may cost
Marryed Fortunio the setting on:
Nor can I keepe my knowledge; He that lately
Before my face I could not get to looke
Vpon your sister; by this light, now kist her,
Embrac't and courted with as good a grace,
As any Courtyer could: and I can tell you
(Not to disgrace her) I perceyu'd the Dame
Was as far forward as himselfe, byth masse.
Rin.
You should haue schoold him for't.
Gost.
No, Ile not see't:
That my opinion of him is the same
That it was euer; it will be a meane,
To bridle this fresh humour bred in him.
Rin.
Let me then schoole him; foot, ile rattle him vp.
Gost.
No, no, Rinaldo, th'onely remedy,
Is to remoue the cause; carry the obiect
From his late tempted eyes.
Rin.
Alas, sir, whither?
You know, my father is incenst so much,
Heele not receyue her.
Gost.
Place her with some friend
But for a time, till I reclayme your father:
Meane time your brother shall remaine with me.
To himselfe. Rin.
The care's the lesse then, he has still his longing,
To be with this Gulls daughter.
Gost.
What resolue you?
I am resolu'd she lodges here no more:
My friends sonne shall not be abusde by mine.
Rin.
Troth, sir, ile tell you what a sudden toy
comes in my head; what think you if I brought her home
to my fathers house?
Gost.
I mary, sir;
Would he receyue her?
Rin.
Nay, you heare not all:
I meane, with vse of some deuice or other.
Gost.
As how, Rinaldo?
Rin.
Mary sir, to say,
She is your sonnes wife, maryed past your knowledge.
Gost.
I doubt, last day he saw her, and will know her
to be Fortunioes wife.
Rin.
Nay, as for that
I wil pretend she was euen then your sonnes wife,
But faynde by me to be Fortunioes,
Onely to try how he would take the matter.
Gost.
'Fore heauen 'twere pretty.
Would it not doe well?
Gost.
Exceeding well in sadnesse.
Rin.
Nay, good sir,
Tell me vnfaynedly, do ye lik't indeed.
Gost.
The best that ere I heard.
Rin.
And do you thinke
Heele swallow downe the Gudgion?
Gost.
A my life
It were a grosse gob would not downe with him,
An honest knight, but simple, not acquainted
With the fine slights and policies of the world,
As I my selfe am.
Rin.
Ile go fetch her strait:
And this iest thriue, 'twill make vs princely sports
But you must keepe our counsell, second all,
Which to make likely, you must needs sometimes
Giue your sonne leaue (as if you knew it not)
To steale and see her at my fathers house.
Gost.
I, but see you then that you keepe good gard
Ouer his forward new begun affections:
For by the Lord, heele teach your brother else,
To sing the Cuckooes note: spirit will breake out,
Though neuer so supprest and pinioned.
Rin.
Especially your sonnes: what would he be,
If you should not restrayne him by good counsell?
Gost.
Ile haue an eye on him, I warrant thee.
Ile in and warne the Gentlewoman to make ready.
Rin.
Wel, sir, & ile not be long after you.
Exit Gost.
Heauen, heauen, I see these Politicians
(Out of blind Fortunes hands) arc our most fooles.
Tis she that giues the lustre to their wits,
Still plodding at traditionall deuices:
But take vm out of them to present actions,
A man may grope and tickle vm like a Trowt,
And take vm from their close deere holes, as fat
As a Phisician; and as giddy-headed,
Euen that which commonly belongs to fooles.
Well, now let's note what black ball of debate,
Valerioes wit hath cast betwixt Cornelio,
And the inamoured Courtyer; I beleeue
His wife and he will part: his ielousy
Hath euer watcht occasion of diuorce,
And now Valerioes villany will present it,
See, here comes the twyn-Courtier his companiō.
Enter Claud.
Clau.
Rinaldo, well encountred.
Rin.
Why? what newes?
Clau.
Most sudden and infortunate, Rinaldo:
Cornelio is incenst so 'gainst his wife,
That no man can procure her quiet with him.
I haue assayd him, and made Marc Antonio,
With all his gentle Rethorike second me,
Yet all I feare me will be cast away.
See, see, they come: ioyne thy wit, good Rinaldo,
And helpe to pacify his yellow fury.
Rin.
With all my heart, I consecrate my wit
To the wisht comfort of distressed Ladies.
Enter Cornelio, Marc Ant. Valerio, Page.
Cor.
Will any man assure me of her good behauiour?
Val.
Who can assure a ielous spirit? you may be afrayd
of the shaddow of your eares, & imagine thē to be hornes:
if you will assure your selfe, appoynt keepers to watch her.
Cor.
And who shall watch the keepers?
Mar.
To be sure of that, be you her keeper.
Val.
Well sayd, and share the hornes your selfe:
For that's the keepers see.
Cor.
But say I am gone out of town, & must trust others;
how shall I know if those I trust be trusty to me?
Rin.
Mary, sir, by a singular instinct, giuen naturally to
all you maryed men, that if your wiues play legerdeheele,
though you bee a hundred miles off, yet you shall be sure
instantly to find it in your forheads.
Sound doctrine I warrant you: I am resolu'd ifaith.
Pag.
Then giue me leaue to speak, sir, that hath all this
while bene silent: I haue heard you with extreme patience,
now therefore pricke vp your eares, and vouchsafe
me audience.
Clau.
Good boy, a mine honour.
Cor.
Pray what are you, sir?
Pag.
I am here, for default of better, of counsel with the
fayre Gazetta, and though her selfe had bene best able to
defend her selfe, if she had bin here, and would haue pleasd
to put forth the Buckler, which Nature hath giuen all women,
I meane her tongue.
Val.
Excellent good boy.
Pag.
Yet since the either vouchsafes it not, or thinks her
innocence a sufficient shield against your ielous accusations,
I will presume to vndertake the defence of that absent
& honorable Lady, whose sworne Knight I am; and in her
of all that name (for Lady is growne a common name to
their whole sex) which sex I haue euer loued frō my youth,
and shall neuer cease to loue, till I want wit to admire.
Mar.
An excellent spoken boy.
Val.
Giue eare, Cornelio, heere is a yong Mercurio sent to perswade thee.
Cor.
Well, sir, let him say on.
Pag.
It is a heauy case, to see how this light sex is tūbled
and tost from post to piller, vnder the vnsauory breath of
euery humourous Peasant: Gazetta, you sayd, is vnchaste,
disloyall, and I wot not what; Alas, is it her fault? is shee
not a woman? did she not suck it (as others of her sex doe)
from her mothers brest? and will you condemne that, as
her fault, which is her Nature? Alas, sir, you must consider,
a woman is an vnfinisht Creature, deliuered hastyly
to the world, before Nature had set to that Scale
which should haue made them perfect. Faultes they
haue (no doubt) but are wee free? Turne your eye into
your selfe (good Signeur Cornelio) and weygh your owne
imperfections with hers: If shee be wanton abroad, are
ielous? If she be high set, are not you taken downe? If
she be a Courtizan, are not you a Cuckold?
Cor.
Out you rogue.
Rin.
On with thy speech boy.
Marc.
You doe not well, Cornelio, to discourage the
bashfull youth.
Clau.
Forth, boy, I warrant thee.
Pag.
But if our owne imperfections will not teach vs to
beare with theirs; yet let their vertues perswade vs: let vs
indure their bad qualities for their good; allow the prickle
for the Rose; the bracke for the Veluet; the paring for the
cheese, and so forth: if you say they range abroad, consider
it is nothing but to auoyd idlenesse at home: their nature
is still to be doing: keepe vm a doing at home; let them
practise one good quality or other, either sowing, singing,
playing, chiding, dauncing or so, & these will put such idle
toyes out of their heads into yours: but if you cannot find
them variety of businesse within dores, yet at least imitate
the ancient wise Citizens of this City, who vsed carefully
to prouide their wiues gardens neere the towne, to plant,
to graft in, as occasion serued, onely to keepe vm from idlenesse.
Val.
Euerlasting good boy.
Cor.
I perceyue your knauery, sir, and will yet haue patience.
Rin.
Forth, my braue Curio.
Pag.
As to her vnquietnesse (which some haue rudely
tearm'd shrewishnesse) though the fault be in her, yet the
cause is in you. What so calme as the sea of it own nature?
Arte was neuer able to equall it: your dycing tables, nor
your bowling alleys are not comparable to it; yet if a blast
of wind do but crosse it, not so turbulent & violent an element
in the world: So (nature in lieu of womens scarcity
of wit, hauing indued them with a large portion of will) if
they may (without impeach) inioy their willes, no quieter
creatures vnder heauen: but if the breath of their husbāds
Why thē, sir, should you husbands crosse your wiues wils
thus, considering the law allowes thē no wils at all at their
deaths, because it intended they should haue their willes
while they liued?
Val.
Answere him but that, Cornelio.
Cor.
All shall not serue her turne, I am thinking of other
matters.
Mar.
Thou hast halfe wonne him, Wag; ply him yet a
little further.
Pag.
Now (sit) for these Cuckooish songs of yours, of
Cuckolds, hornes, grafting, and such like; what are they,
but meere imaginary toyes, bred out of your owne heads,
as your owne, and so by tradition deliuered from man to
man, like Scar-crowes, to terrify fooles from this earthly
paradice of wedlock, coyn'd at first by some spent Poets,
superannated Bachelers, or some that were scarce men of
their hands; who, like the Foxe, hauing lost his taile, would
perswade others to lose theirs for company? Agayne, for
your Cuckold, what is it but a meere fiction? shew me any
such creature in nature; if there be, I could neuer see it,
neyther could I euer find any sensible difference betwixt
a Cuckold and a Christen creature. To conclude, let Poets
coyne, or fooles credit what they list; for mine owne
part, I am cleere of this opinion, that your Cuckold
is a meere Chymæra, and that there are no Cuckoldes in
the world, but those that haue wiues: and so I will leaue
them.
Cor.
Tis excellent good, sir; I do take you, sir, d'ye see?
to be, as it were bastard to the sawcy Courtier, that would
haue me father more of your fraternity, d'ye see? & so are
instructed (as we heare) to second that villayne with your
toung, which he has acted with his Tenure piece, d'ye see?
Pag.
No such matter, a my credin, sir.
Cor.
Wel, sir, be as be may, I scorn to set my head against
yours, d'ye see? when in the meane time I will fircke your
Exit drawing his rapier.
Rin.
Gods my life, Cornelio.
Exit.
Val.
Haue at your father ifaith, boy, if he can find him.
Mar.
See, he comes here, he has mist him.
Enter Dariot.
Dar.
How now, my hearts, what, not a wench amongst you?
Tis a signe y'are not in the grace of wenches,
That they will let you be thus long alone.
Val.
Well, Dariotto, glory not too much,
That for thy briske attyre and lips perfumde,
Thou playest the Stallyon euer where thou com'st;
And like the husband of the flocke, runn'st through
The whole towne heard, and no mans bed secure:
No womans honour vnattempted by thee.
Thinke not to be thus fortunate for euer:
But in thy amorous conquests at the last
Some wound will slice your mazer: Mars himselfe
Fell into Vulcans snare, and so may you.
Dar.
Alas, alas, fayth I haue but the name:
I loue to court and wynne; and the consent,
Without the act obtayn'd, is all I seeke.
I loue the victory that drawes no bloud.
Clau.
O, tis a high desert in any man
To be a secret Lecher; I know some,
That (like thy selfe) are true in nothing else.
Mar.
And, me thinks, it is nothing, if not told;
At least the ioy is neuer full before.
Val.
Well, Dariotto, th'hadst as good confesse,
The Sunne shines broad vpon your practices.
Vulcan will wake and intercept you one day.
Dar.
Why, the more ielous knaue and coxcombe he.
VVhat, shall the shaking of his bed a little
Put him in motion? It becomes him not;
Let him be duld and stald, and then be quiet.
The way to draw my costome to his house,
Is to be mad and ielous; tis the sauce
That whets my appetite.
Or any mans:
Sine periculo friget lusus.
They that are ielous, vse it still of purpose
To draw you to their houses.
Dar.
I, by heauen,
I am of that opinion. Who would steale
Out of a common Orchard? Let me gayne
My loue with labour, and inioy't with feare,
Or I am gong.
Enter Rinaldo.
Rin.
What, Dariotto here?
Foot, dar'st thou come neere Cornelioes house?
Dar.
Why? is the Bull run mad? what ayles he, trow?
Rin.
I know not what he ayles; but I would wish you
To keepe out of the reach of his sharpe hornes:
For by this hand heele gore you.
Dar.
And why me,
More then thy selfe, or these two other whelps?
You all haue basted him as well as I,
I wonder what's the cause.
Rin.
Nay, that he knowes,
And sweares withall, that wheresoere he meets you,
Heele marke you for a marker of mens wiues.
Val.
Pray heauen he be not ielous by some tales
That haue bin told him lately: did you neuer
Attempt his wife? hath no Loues Harbenger,
No looks, no letters past twixt you and her?
Dar.
For looke I cannot answere; I bestow them
At large, and carelesly, much like the Sunne:
If any be so foolish to apply them
To any priuate fancy of their owne,
(As many doe) it's not my fault, thou knowest.
Val.
Well, Dariotto, this set face of thine
(If thou be guilty of offence to him)
Comes out of very want of wit and feeling
What danger haunts thee: for Cornelio
Is a tall man, I tell you; and 'twere best
His patience, or his pardon: for past doubt
Thou dyest if he but see thee.
Enter Cornelio.
Rin.
Foot, he comes.
Dar.
Is this the Cockatrice that kils with fight?
How doest thou boy? ha?
Cor.
Well.
Dar.
What, lingring still
About this paltry towne? hadst thou bin rulde
By my aduice, thou hadst by this time bene
A gallant Courtyer, and at least a Knight:
I would haue got thee dubd by this time certayne.
Cor.
And why then did you not your selfe that honour?
Dar.
Tush, tis more honour still to make a Knight,
Then tis to be a Knight: to make a Cuckold,
Then tis to be a Cuckold.
Cor.
Y'are a villayne.
Dar.
God shield man: villayne?
Cor.
I, ile proue thee one.
Dar.
What, wilt thou proue a villayne?
By this light thou deceyu'st me then.
Cor.
Well, sir, thus I proue it.
Drawes.
Omn.
Hold, hold, rayse the streets.
Clau.
Cornelio.
Rin.
Hold, Darioto, hold.
Val.
What, art thou hurt?
Dar.
A scratch, a scratch.
Val.
Goe sirra, fetch a Surgeon.
Cor.
Youle set a badge on the ielous fooles head, sir;
Now set a Coxcombe on your owne.
Val.
What's the cause of these warres, Darioto?
Dar.
Foot, I know not.
Cor.
Well, sir, know and spare not; I will presently bee
diuorst, and then take her amongst ye.
Rin.
Diuorst, nay good Cornelio.
Cor.
By this sword I will, the world shall not disswade
me.
Exit.
Why this has bin your fault now Darioto,
You youths haue fashions when you haue obtei'nd:
A Ladies fauour, straight your hat must weare it,
Like a Iacke-daw that when he lights vpon
A dainty morsell kaas and makes his brags,
And then some kite doth scoope it from him straight,
Where if he fed without his dawish noise,
He might fare better, and haue lesse disturbance:
Forbeare it in this case: and when you proue,
Victorious ouer faire Gazettas Forte,
Doe not for pittie sound your trumpe for ioy,
But keepe your valour close, and ti's your honour.
Enter Page and Pock.
Poc.
God saue you Signior Darioto,
Dar.
I know you not Sir, your name I pray?
Poc.
My name is Pock Sir; a practitioner in Surgery,
Dar.
Pock the Surgeon, y'are welcome Sir, I know a
Doctor of your name maister Pocke.
Poc.
My name has made many Doctors Sir.
Rinal.
Indeede tis a worshipfull name.
Val.
Mary is it, and of an auncient discent.
Poc.
Faith Sir I could fetch my pedigree far, if I were so dispos'd.
Rin.
Out of France at least.
Poc.
And if I stood on my armes as others doe,
Dar.
No doe not Pock, let other stand a their armes, and
thou a thy legs as long as thou canst.
Poc.
Though I liue by my bare practise, yet I could shew
good cardes for my Gentilitie.
Val.
Tush thou canst not shake off thy gentry Pock, tis bred
i'th bone; but to the maine Pock, what thinkest thou of this
gentlemans wound, Pock canst thou cure it Pock.
Poc.
The incision is not deepe, nor the Orifice exorbitant,
the Pericranion is not dislocated, I warrant his life for forty
crownes, without perishing of any ioyne.
Dar.
Faith Pock, tis a ioynt I would be loath to loose, for
the best ioyne of Mutton in Italy.
Rin.
Would such a scratch as this hazards a mans head?
Foc.
I Byr-lady Sir, I haue knowen some haue lost there
keepe good dyet: if you please to come home to my house
till you be perfectly cur'd, I shall haue the more care on you.
Val.
Thats your onely course to haue it well quickly.
Poc.
By what time would he haue it well sir.
Dari.
A very necessary question, canst thou limit the time.
Pock.
O sir, cures are like causes in law, which may be lengthned
or shortned at the discretion of the Lawyer, he can either
keepe it greene with replications or reioinders, or sometimes
skinne it faire a'th outside for fashion sake, but so he may be
sure 'twill breake out againe by a writt of error, and then has
he his suite new to begin, but I will couenant with you, that
by such a time Ile make your head as sound as a Bell, I will
bring it to suppuration and after I will make it coagulate and
growe to a perfect Cycatrice, and all within these ten dayes,
so you keepe a good dyet.
Dar.
Well come Pock, weele talke farther on't within, it
drawes neere dinner time; what's a clock boye?
Page.
By your clock sir it should be almost one, for your
head rung noone some halfe houre agoe.
Dar.
Ist true sir?
Val.
Away let him alone, though he came in at the window
he sets the gates of your honor open I can tell you.
Dar.
Come in Pock, come, apply; and for this deede
Ile giue the Knaue a wound shall neuer bleed:
So sir I thinke this knock rings lowd acquittance,
For my ridiculouse.
Exeunt all but Rinal. & Valer.
Ryn.
Well sir to turne our heads to salue your licence,
Since you haue vsd the matter so vnwisely,
That now your father has discern'd your humor,
In your too carelesse vsage in his house,
Your wife must come from his house to Antonios,
And he, to entertaine her must be tould
She is not wife to his sonne, but to you:
Which newes will make his simple wit triumphe
Ouer your father; and your father thinking
He still is guld, will still account him simple:
Come sir, prepare your villanous witt to faine
And we shall see what harty policie,
He will discouer, in his fained Anger,
To blinde Antonios eyes, and make him thinke,
He thinkes her hartely to be your wife.
Val.
O I will gull him rarely with my wench,
Lowe kneeling at my heeles before his furie,
And iniury shalbe salu'd with iniurie.
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