 | The Ladies Priviledge |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Chrisea, and Corimba.Chri.
Came none yet from the Generall?
Cor.
No insooth Madam; I protest your sister
If she continue in these suddaine fits,
Will so undoe her face, that all my art
Can never rectifi't; shee weepes, as if
She might as easily be supply'd with eyes
As with new dressings, ile be sworne, I tooke
As hearty paines to cut a handsome heart;
And though I say't it was a pretty one
As e're was made of Taffaty, to grace her Cheek,
And never trust me if I lye to you,
Her teares has wash'd her heart away.
Chr.
Th'art still
My sister is so prodigall of her griefe,
To let thee see her vent it?
Cor.
Why Madam, I have seene a Lady weepe,
Besides your sister, and have wept my selfe too,
I never shall forget the time; I could
Een cry agen to thinke on't; twas at the death
Of your fine little Iewell: never Lady
Nurst such a dainty puppy, but hee's gone,
And farewell he; I will not give a rush
For any woman cannot use her eyes
With as much liberty as her tongue, these fooles,
These loving Ideots men for three forc'd drops
Will mollifie like wax, and be made apt
For any impression.
Enter Vitelli.
Chr.
Vitelli you are wellcome, I suppose
Your businesse has been urgent, we expected
Your presence sooner, howsoever now
Tis grateful hither.
Cor.
My young Lady shall
Have notice of's arrivall, perhaps his sight
Will cheere her drooping spirits.
Ex.
Vit.
Madam, my friend
The Generall, does by me tender his best
and truest service to you, he has sent me
Prompt, to fulfill the nicest poynt of duty
Your pleasure casts upon me.
Chri.
Sir, the Generall is so just in his proceeding, I must ever
Esteeme him truely Noble, though I should
Banish him my affection.
Vit.
I could wish
The sweetnesse of your vertue would vouchsafe
To lay a reclamation of your love:
Had you but seene with what ambitious haste,
With what extreame perswasions he endeavour'd
Fancy a change from one so worthy.
Chri.
No? not to enjoy your selfe?
Vit.
Me Madam;
No equall eye can parallell my poore
Regardlesse merit, with the glorious worth
Which does as farre transcend mine in desert,
As't does in eminence of fortune.
Chri.
Sir your modesty
Extenuates your owne worthinesse, to bestow
A large addition on your friends, my judgement
Has ballanc'd both, and has concluded which
Ought to be held most noble, I doe honour
True constancy in men, pray tell me sir,
For it concernes me neerely, did you ever
Fervently love my sister?
Vit.
To include,
(All strength of humane zeale) as Doria does adore
Your excellent beauty, with a heat
Holy as soules in deepest fancy
Their sainted fellowes.
Chri.
And can you extinguish
So great a flame so easily, can entreates,
So soone subdue your temper? if your truth
Be of this wavering quality, how shall I
Receive assurance of it?
Vit.
The vow
I made, my friend secures it, thinke not Madam
That both my parents with perswasive prayers,
Could have enforc'd me violate my faith
To faire Eurione, but when my friend,
My honor'd friend to whom I owe my life,
As tenant to his, bounty did in teares,
A souldiers teares whose every drop prevailes
More then a captive princesse, plead the losse
Of his owne life, my gratitude did vanquish
Passion, and forc'd me tear even from my soule
Euriones affection.
You are just
In your determination.
Enter Eurione.
Vit.
Blesse me friendship,
And with thy white wings overshade my heart,
Or here descends a Saint will dispossesse thee
Of the accustom'd shrine, a barke enclos'd,
Twixt two encountring tides is not more tost
Then I twixt striving passions, while a friend,
I cannot be a lover.
Eur.
Uitelli am I in your opinion lost? my sister
Relates so sad a wonder, that if truth,
I am undone for ever.
Vit.
Harke she speakes too,
A tempting language; such was our first mothers voyce,
While she was innocent, deeere Ladies would
I could divide my selfe, for being one,
I cannot on the Theater of my minde,
Act both a friend and lover, that two names
Of so intire affinity should occasion
So manifest a dissension, in a soule
That would be true, yet is inforc'd, though loath,
To forfeit one, or to be false to both.
Chri.
My expectation did not
Sage this softnesse in you, I had thought
You had come furnish'd with a full resolve
To act your friends request.
Vit.
Yet I must needs
Speake in a cause so moving; Madam thinke
How much more noble tis in you to save,
Then to destroy; behold three bleeding hearts
Imploring pitty from you, mine, your sisters,
And your adorer Dorias, which one word
Of yours would ransome from approaching death,
Oh be not sparing of that breath, 'twill sound
In the just eares of heaven more sweet then prayers
Offerd by Cloyster'd virgins, of resume
Your native charity, and fulfill my suite,
And in requitall of that sacred grant.
And your whole life be one continued youth.
Such were the springs in Paradise, and when
You passe to be a sharer in heavens blisse,
Virgins and innocent lovers spotlesse teares,
Hardned to pearle by the stronge heate of sighes,
Shall be your monument.
Chr.
This whole discourse
Should you inlarge it to a volumne, cannot
Alter my meanest thought, I only wish you
As you are noble to respect your honour;
That's all my answer.
Exit.
Eur.
But doe you meane
Uitelli, to performe what Doria has enjoyn'd you.
Uit.
I shall melt
Into a willing pitty, if the flame
Of friendship did not with its effectuall heat,
Dry up love, moysture: deere Madam he
That has commanded me this deathfull taske,
Claimes such a lawfull Interest in my life,
That spight of my affection, I must yield
To his resistlesse will: yet I will love you
So far as honour gives me warrant, and
Wish you the best of women, the best joyes
Happinesse can impart to you, farewell,
'Tis a befitting gratitude to give
That life a being; by whose guift I live.
Exit.
Eur.
sorrowes flow high; griefe unto griefe succeed,
Wounds are more dangerous which doe inward bleed.
Exit.
Enter Adorni, and Frangipan.
Ador.
Come let not this dishearten you, your French
Is a thing easily gotten, and when you have it,
As hard to shake it off, runnes in your blood,
As 'twere your mother language, but there is
An observation farre more necessary
T'improve your judgement, still let your discourse
To applaud out-landish fashions, and take off from
What is native, as if you shall heare
Any commend the Genoa garbe, or state
Answer in France, in Naples, or in Spaine,
No Matter where, so it be farre enough.
From hence, they are more politicke, more witty;
Every way more deserving, this will speake
Infinitely judicious, when to praise
Our owne domesticke manners, is as if
A man should praise himselfe, and be accounted
A selfe conceited gul for't.
Fran.
Very good, this is a rule Ile put in practice I,
Thanks to my inclination can speake ill
Of my owne father signior.
Ador.
Signoir; still, you betray your igorance, why signior,
Mounsiuer has a farre more airy and harmonious sound,
There's musicke in the letters, still polish your phrase
With particles of language, which till I've taught you
Perfectly answer with a shrug or nod,
Or any forraigne gesture, such a silence
Will be esteem'd for gravity, and become you better
Then volubility of speech does some
Whose tongues are gentlemen ushers to their wits,
Still going before it, and when you doe speake,
Let it not be, as now you doe of newes
Abroach ten daies before, and quite drunke of;
But what affaires are acted then in France,
What in the English Court; and still remember
T'extoll 'hem infinitely, and if any answer
Comparatively with our owne a serious laughter,
Will not become you ill, to shew how much
You slight their error.
Fran.
Better still, I like this slighting humour infinitely, but how
If they should talke of our Italian dames,
I'me bound to be their Champion, for I've heard
Strangers report, and I hold their opinion,
Our Curtezans excell all other Nations.
That shew'd those strangers judgements, and confirm'd
What I would have you understand in England,
Where publicke houses are prohibited:
There are the bravest Lasses, here some Donsella
That was the last night yours, shall for two Ducats
To morrow be a Saylers: when there
Your Citizens wives, girles fresh as ayre, and wholsome
As pretious Candy wives will meet their Gamsters,
At a convenient Taverne, rob their husbands
Without a scruple, and supply their friends,
While the good innocent Cuckolds pay a price
For their owne horning.
Fran.
Excellent, excellent
Genoa, I doe defie thy costive girles,
Ile henceforth love these English sparkes of gold:
Would I were there: it should goe hard but I
Would graft on their Aldermens Coxecombs.
Ador.
Th'are grafted fast already sir, besides
They ne're get Children, but their Hench boyes on
Their Sergeants wives, after some City feast,
When the provoking spirit of White broath, and
Custard enflames their blood: what Genoa Burgesse
Dares be so boldly courag'd: Ile tell you,
And marke how base and sordid it appeares
To have our Cellers stuff'd with Corsike Wines:
Yet for this foolish sinne cald Temperance,
Tantalize, and nere taste it, while your Dutch,
Your noble-spirited German will carrouse
A score of Goblets to provoke this stomacke
To's bread and Butter; doe nothing but by discreete
Counsell of drinke, not match his daughter to
A man he sees not drunke first, scarce say's prayers
Till he be full of liquor, which enflames
The minde to generous actions.
Fran.
Commend 'hem, and will be glad to imitate.
Ador.
Your English
Deserves as large applause, who to say truth,
Out-drinks the Dutch, as is the common proverb,
Doublet and all away, then marke their carraige:
If two fall out and strike, and be by company
Parted; though one weares in his face the badge
Of his dishonour, which excites him to
As brave revenge, not daunts him: for he'll straight
Call out his enemy to a single Duell,
Scorning his life; concerning the Lands lawes,
Which doe forbid those combats, and ne're part
Till one be slaine, and the survivour sure
As death to hang for't.
Fran.
Excellent, I love a man that cares not for hanging.
Ador.
Then to their further glory, which takes off
All the disgrace of halter, they are sure
Ere they be scarce cold, to be Chronicled
In excellent new Ballads, which being sung
Ith' streets 'mong boyes and girles, Colliers, and Carmen,
Are bought as great memorialls of their fames,
Which to perpetuate, they are commonly stuck up
With as great triumph in the tipling houses,
As they were scutchions.
Fran.
Better: yet I'de give
A hundred Ducats to be chronicled
In such a historicall Canto: who composes them?
Ador.
They have their speciall Poets for that purpos
Such as still drinke small Beere, and so are apt
To spit out lamentable stuffe: then for their cloathes
They hate a cut domesticke, but imitate
The French precisely gallants, weare their long
Parisian Breeches, with five poynts at knees,
Whose tagges concurring with their harmonious spurres
Afford rare musicke; then have they Doublets
So short ith' waste, they seeme as 'twere begot
Vpon their Doublets by their Cloakes, which to save stuffe
Are but a yeares growth longer than their skirts;
And all this magazine of device is furnish'd
By your French Tayler: what Country man is yours?
Fran.
A Genoese.
Fie, change him Monsieur,
You have heard a Spanish Count's
Lately arriv'd, without any advice, hou'd you salute him?
Fran.
Thus sir, after our Italian fashion.
Ador.
That's too vulgar;
You must accost him thus with a state face,
As if your beard had beene turn'd up that morning
By advice of all the Barbers in the City,
As you had drest you in a Looking-glasse,
Proper to none but the Dukes privy Counsellors:
Pronounce your Besolos manas with a grace,
As if you were the sonne and heire, apparant
To th'Adelantado of Castile.
Enter Lactantio.
Lact.
Adorni, this is no time for mirth,
Your noble General has slain Lord Bonivet,
And for the act is a prisoner.
Ador.
Dares the state bereave him of his liberty,
Without whose most unwearied valour,
It had beene betray'd to slavery?
Lac.
You know Lord Bonivets alliance to the Duke.
Ador.
Allyance, death a thousand Bonivets,
And Dukes and States, weigh not
A scruple poys'd with his full worth.
Lac.
He's to be tryed ith' morning without noyse,
For feare of mutiny, and tis suppos'd
That if some virgin Lady doe not claime
Her priviledge, and begge his life, he'll suffer.
Fran.
If the maid that begges must be above fifteene,
Tis shrewdly doubted where she'll be found.
Ador.
All our virgins ought, if they have vertue, to contend
For such a glory; but if all be squeamish,
May all the daughters of our best Burgers runne
Away with souldiers, and become Sutlers wives.
Fran.
Or else when they have a masculine itch upon 'hem,
And would taste man, may they be wed to Eunuchs.
else be forc'd to keepe their maiden-heads
Till they be musty and not marchantable
To younger brothers with additions of wealthy portions.
Fran.
May they when they would strive to mend their faces
to allure a suitor, want paint and blacke-patches to stoppe the
Crannies of their Cheekes; may their Pomatum bee mixt with
Hogs-grease, that they may be abominable even in the nose of
Iewes: may the green-sicknesse raigne in their bloods, and may
they be debar'd of oate meale, and clay-wall, and fall to Rats-bauc.
Ador.
May their parents turne most precise precisians,
And forbid em the sight of playes, or they may never
Dance unlesse be to a bag-pipe or a Crowd.
Fran.
May they want silkes for gownes, and if they seeke
Supply from Naples, let them insteed, be furnish'd
With their Disease; may Millaners breake and Feather-men,
May my Aunt dye suddenly, and bury with her
All her devises; may there be no Earth
Found to make looking-glasses, that they come to use of
Kitchen-wenches, dresse their heads by the reflexion of a
Paile of water, or in a pewter chamber vessell.
Ador.
Lactantio, let's go wayte the Generall
In prison, 'twould be base should we neglect him in
His extremity.
Exeunt.
Enter Doria, and Sabelli.
Dor.
Is it confirm'd hee's dead?
Sab.
The generall voyce
Divulges so ith' City; and the Duke
Has sent an order which commands you forth
I'th morning to your tryall: my deare Lord
I hope the service you have done the State
Abroad, will here at home secure your life
From the Lawes violent Rigour.
Dor.
Yes poore boy,
If thou mightst be thy masters judge Sabelli,
I am at the period of my fate, and would not
Have thee a sad spectator of my fall
At home, whom thou so oft hast waited on
Returne home to thy mother, and survive
To serve a happier master.
Sab.
My noble Lord
Have I so often followed you, when death
Attended on each step, when every hurt
That scar'd your noble body, I have wish'd
Imprinted on my flesh, and with my teares,
Even drown'd the purple deluge of your wounds,
That as my truth and loyalties reward,
I must be turn'd away unkindly, when
My last and justest service might declare
My zeale to you my master; Oh sir,
You more afflict my innocence with these words,
Then if sad truth had brought me the report
Of my owne mothers funerall, and should you
Enforce me leave you, the succeeding care,
And labour of my life should be consum'd
In a perpetuall weeping.
Dor.
Good Sabelli
Cease this afflicting language, lest I grow as
Childish as thy selfe, and burst into teares
To beare thee company.
Sab.
Besides my Lord,
When your blest soule does on immortall wings
Arrive at heaven who shall attend it there, the
Saints and Angels will esteeme themselves
Worthy to be your fellowes, while my poore
And humble Ghost would reckon it a blisse
To waite on you, as carefully as when
We liv'd on earth together, deere my Lord,
Let me dy with you, death and I have beene
Play-fellowes these many yeares, he'l only bring me
To rest as pleasing to my sence as sleepe
After a tedious watching.
Dor.
This kinde passion shakes my
Most masculine temper; heere Sabelli
Accept this Gold, these Iewells, as the last
If the law doe not passe upon my life,
Ile send for thee agen, I prethee leave me,
I would be private, and thy presence does
Disturbe my serious thoughts.
Sab.
Nay then tis time for
Me the wretched'st soule on earth to take
My lasting farewell of you; all the joyes
Of blest eternity in stead of my
Desertlesse service; waite upon your life;
You ne're shall view your boy agen, for sure if your
Light be extinguish'd, my weake flame
Cannot continue burning; give me licence
To kisse your honour'd hand, and to let fall
A parting drop or two: and now farewell
For ever noble Lord; that greefe appeares most true,
That's writ in blood as well as teares.
Exit.
Dor.
Poore boy; I have not yet deserv'd so ill
But my untimely fate excites some pitty.
Enter Adorni, Lactantio, and Frangipan.
Adorni thou art come to see the last
And greatest of thy Generalls actions,
Which like a cunning and well mannag'd scene,
not till the period will disclose the plot
Or my lifes Tragedy.
Ador.
Your life my Lord;
Death dare not venture to invade it, and
The state as soone will call the enemy
Into their City, as pretend the least
Danger to their supporting Columne, which
Should it but shake, it might dismantle their
Best Bulwarkes, burne their Navy, and surrender
Themselves to present slavery.
Lact.
The Duke,
Though he did hold his kinsman deere, will value
The publique good before his private ruine.
Fran.
Let the Duke doe his worst, and all the state
Stand on Pontilios, I can fetch a Lady
Of excellent quality shall beg your Lordship,
Ador.
Nay, should all fayle you sir,
Should the States angers, and the Dukes partiall sentence,
The peoples malice bandy to surprize
The treasure of your life; know you have friends
Would fixe the heads of halfe the Towne upon
Their Lances poynts, ere your least drop of blood
Should be diminished.
Dor.
Gentlemen, I thank you
All your loves; but know the shape of Death
Is not ougly to me, but if justice
Contract me to the monster, I shall court it
As 'twere some beauteous Bride; and think the Axe
That like the Priest, unites me to a Spouse
That will not play the woman and revolt.
Come Gentle-men let's in, brave soules doe hate,
To be dejected by the force of Fate.
Exeunt.
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