 | The Maid of Honovr |  |
Scene. II.
Sylli, Adorni, Clarinda.Ador.
So melancholy say you?
Clar.
Never given
To such retirement.
Adorn.
Can you guesse the cause?
Clar.
If it hath not it's birth, and being from
The brave Bertoldo's absence, I confesse
It is pass'd my apprehension.
You are wide,
The whole field wide. I in my understanding
Pitty your ignorance: yet if you will
Sweare to conceale it, I will let you know
VVhere her shooe ringes her.
Clar.
I vow, Signior,
By my virginity.
Sylli.
A perillous oath
In a waiting woman of fifteene, and is indeed
A Kinde of nothing.
Adorn.
I'll take one of something
If you please to minister it.
Sylli.
Nay, you shall not sweare,
I had rather take your word, for should you vow:
Damne mee, I'll doe this, you are sure to breake.
Adorn.
I thanke you Signior, but resolve us.
Sylli.
Know then,
Here walkes the cause. She dares not looke upon me,
My beauties are so terrible, and inchaunting,
Shee cannot endure my sight.
Adorn.
There I believe you.
Sylli.
But the time will come, be comforted, when I will
Put off this vizor of unkindnesse to her,
And shew an amorous, and yeelding face:
And vntill then, though Hercules himselfe
Desire to see her, hee had better eate
His clubbe then passe her threshold, for I'll be
Her Cerberus to guard her.
Adorn.
A good dogge.
enter Page.
Clar.
VVorth twenty porters.
Page.
Keepe you open house here?
No groome to attend a Gentleman? O, I spie one.
Sylli.
Hee meanes not mee, I am sure.
Page.
You sirrha; Sheepes-head,
With a face cut on a cat-sticke, Doe you heare?
You yeoman phewterer, conduct mee to
Shall disemboge thy soule.
Syl.
O terrible!
Disemboge! I talke of Hercules, and here is one
Bound up in decimo sexto.
Pag.
Answer wretch.
Syl.
Pray you little gentleman, be not so furious,
The Lady keepes her chamber.
Pag.
And we present?
Sent in an Embassie to her? But here is
Her gentlewoman, Sirrah hold my cloake,
While I take a leape at her lips, do it and neatly;
Or having first tripp'd up thy heeles, I'll make
Thy backe my footstoole.
Page kisses Clar.
Syl.
Tamberlaine in little!
Am I turn'd Turke! what an office am I put to!
Cla.
My Lady, gentle youth is indispos'd.
Pag.
Though she were dead and buried, only tell her,
The great man in the Court, the brave Fulgentio
Descends to visit her, and it will raise her
Out of the grave for joy.
Enter Fulgen.
Syl.
Here comes another!
The divell I feare in his holi-day clothes.
Pag.
So soone,
My part is at an end then, cover my shoulders,
When I grow great, thou shalt serve me.
Fulgen.
Are you Sirrah
An implement of the house?
Syl.
Sure he will make
A joynes-stoole of me!
Fulgen.
Or if you belong
To the Lady of the place, command her hither.
Adorn.
I do not weare her livery, yet acknowledge
A duty to her. And as little bound
To serve your peremptorie will, as she is
To obey your summons. 'Twill become you Sir,
You may present your duty.
Fulgen.
Duty? Slave,
I'll teach you manners.
Ador.
I am past learning, make not
A tumult in the house.
Fulgen.
Shall I be brau'd thus?
Syl.
O I am dead! and now I sowne.
They draw. fals on his face.
Clarin.
Helpe, murther!
Pag.
Recover Sirrah, the Ladies here.
Enter Cam.
Syl.
Nay then
I am alive againe, and I'll be valiant.
Cam.
What insolence is this? Adorni, hold,
Hold I command you.
Fulgen.
Sawcy groome.
Cam.
Not so Sir,
However in his life, he had dependance
Vpon my Father, He is a gentleman
As well borne as your selfe. Put on your hat.
Fulgen.
In my presence, without leaue?
Syl.
He has mine Madam?
Cam.
And I must tell you Sir, and in plaine language,
How e'r your glittring out-side promise gentry,
The rudenesse of your carriage and behaviour
Speakes you a couser thing.
Syl.
She meanes a clowne Sr.
I am her interpreter for want of a better.
Cam.
I am a Queene in mine owne house, nor must you
Expect an Empire here.
Syl.
Sure I must love her
Before the day, the prettie Soule's so valiant.
Cami.
What are you? and what would you with me?
Fulgen.
Proud one,
When you know what I am, and what I came for,
And may on your submission proceed so,
You in your reason must repent the coursenesse
Of my entertainement.
Cami.
Why fine man? what are you?
Fulgen.
A kinsman of the Kings.
Cam.
I cry you mercy,
For his sake, not your owne. But grant you are so,
'Tis not impossible, but a king may have
A foole to his kinsman, no way meaning you Sir.
You have heard of Fulgen.
Cam.
Long since Sir,
A suit-broker in Court. He has the worst
Report among good men I ever heard of,
For briberie and extortion. In their prayers
Widdowes and Orphans curse him for a canker,
And caterpiller in the state. I hope Sir,
You are not the man, much lesse imploy'd by him
As a smocke-agent to me.
Fulgen.
I reply not
As you deserve, being assur'd you know me,
Pretending ignorance of my person, onely
To give me a tast of your wit; 'Tis well and courtly,
I like a sharpe wit well.
Syl.
I cannot indure it,
Nor any of the Syllies.
Fulgen.
More I know too,
This harsh induction must serve as a foyle
To the well tun'd observance and respect,
You will hereafter pay me, being made
Familiar with my credit with the King,
And that, containe your joy, I daine to love you.
Cam.
Love me? I am not rap'd with't.
Ful.
Hear't againe.
I love you honestly, now you admire me.
Cam.
I doe indeed, it being a word so seldome
Heard from a courtiers mouth. But pray you deale plainly,
Since you finde me simple. what might be the motives
Inducing you to leave the freedome of
A batchelers life, on your soft necke to weare
The stubborne yoake of marriage? And of all
The beauties in Palermo, to choose me,
Poore me? that is the maine point you must treate of.
Ful.
Why I will tell you. Of a little thing
You are a prettle peate, indifferenly faire too;
And like a new-rigg'd shippe both tite, and y'are
Well truss'd to beare. Virgins of Gyant size
Are fluggards at the sport: but for my pleasure,
Give me a neat well timbred gamster like you,
Such neede no spurres, the quickenes of your eye
Assures an active spirit.
Cam.
You are pleasant Sir,
Vnmention'd yet, that tooke you more then all
Those parts you have remembred.
Fulgen.
What?
Cam.
My wealth Sir.
Fulgen.
You are i'the right, without that beautie is
A flower worne in the morning, at night trod on.
But beautie, youth, and fortune meeting in you,
I will vouchsafe to marrie you.
Cam.
You speake well,
And in returne excuse me Sir, if I
Deliver reasons why upon no tearmes
I'll marrie you, I fable not.
Syl.
I am glad
To heare this, I began to have an ague.
Fulgen.
Come, your wise reasons.
Cam.
Such as they are, pray you take them.
First I am doubtfull whether you are a man,
Since for your shape trimmd up in a Ladies dressing
You might passe for a woman: now I love
To deale on certainties. And for the fairenes
Of your complexion, which you thinke will take me,
The colour I must tell you in a man
Is weake and faint, and never will hold out
If put to labour, giue me the lovely browne.
A thicke curl'd hayre of the same dye; broad shoulders,
A brawnie arme full of veines, a legge without
An artificiall calfe, I suspect yours,
But let that passe.
Syl.
She meanes me all this while,
For I have every one of those good parts,
O Sylli, fortunate Sylli!
Cami.
You are mov'd Sir.
Fulgen.
Fie no, go on.
Cami.
Then as you are a courtier;
A grac'd one too, I feare you have beene too forward,
And so much for your person. Rich you are,
Divelish rich, as 'tis reported, and sure have
The aides of Satans little fiends to get it,
And what is got upon his backe, must be
Spent you know where, the proverb's sta'e, one word more
And I have done.
Fulgen.
I'll ease you of the trouble,
Cam.
Save me, or else he'll beat me.
Fulg.
No, your owne folly shall, and since you put mee
To my last charme, look upon this, and tremble.
Cam.
At the sight of a faire ring? the Kings, I take it.
I have seene him weare the like; if he hath sent it
Shewes the Kings ring.
as a favour to mee.
Fulg.
Yes, 'tis verie likely,
His dying mothers gift, priz'd at his crowne,
By this hee does command you to be mine,
By his gift you are so: you may yet redeme all.
Cam.
You are in a wrong account still. Though the King may
Dispose of my life and goods, my mind's mine owne,
And shall be never yours. The King (Heaven blesse him)
Is good and gracious, and being in himselfe
Abstemious from base and goatish loosenesse,
Will not compell against their wills, chaste Madiens,
To dance in his magnious circles. I believe
Forgetting it, when he washed his hands, you stole it
With an intent to awe me. But you are coozin'd.
I am still my selfe, and will be.
Fulg.
A proud haggard,
And not to be reclaim'd, which of your groomes,
Your coach-man, foole, or foot-man, ministers
Night phisicque to you?
Cam.
You are foule-mouth'd,
Fulg.
Much fairer
Then thy blacke soule, and so I will proclaime thee.
Cam.
Were I a man, thou durst not speake this.
Fulg.
Heav'n
So prosper mee, as I resolve to doe it
To all men, and in every place, scorch'd by
A tit of pen-pence?
Exit Fulgentio and his Page.
Sylli.
Now I begin to be valiant
Nay, I will draw my sword. O for a butcher!
Doe a friends part, pray you carry him the length of't.
I give him three yeeres, and a day to match my Toledo.
Adorn.
Pray have patience.
Cam.
I may live to have vengeance; My Bertoldo
Would not have heard this.
Adorn.
Madam.
Cam.
'Pray you spare
Your language; Pre'thee foole, and make me merry:
Sylli.
That is my Office ever.
Adorn.
I must doe,
Not talke, this glorious gallant shall heare from me.
Exeunt.
| The Maid of Honovr | |