University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter HILLARIO and CORISCA.
HILLARIO.
So, you like my speech?

CORISCA.
If you give it good action, i' th' delivery.

HILLARIO.
If! oh, how I pity you!
Why, I've play'd the fool before now.

CORISCA.
There I do agree with you.

HILLARIO.
Well, if I put not our mistress, the Lady Sophia,
Out of her dumps with laughter, I look not
For preferment.

CORISCA.
Do, and thou shalt be the best of Hillarios;
For she hath drank too oft the bitter cup,
A pleasant one must now restore her;
But think you she'll endure a jest about his death,
Since for his absence only she so grieves?

HILLARIO.
Um! that is a question which a widow
Only can resolve, and therefore worth the trying.
There be, who in their husband's sickness, have wept
Their pottle of tears a-day; but being assur'd
At midnight he was dead, i'th' morning
Dry'd up their handkerchiefs, and thought no more on't.

CORISCA.
Tush, she is none of that race: if her sorrow
Be not true, woman ne'er wept in earnest.
She has made herself a prisoner to her chamber,
Dark as a dungeon, in which no beam
Of comfort enters.

HILLARIO.
And yet there may be mischief done
In a dark bed-chamber; nay, I've heard
As much.

CORISCA.
Pooh! she admits no visits;
This hour she takes the air, with fondest hope
To receive assurance from some that may pass by
Of the success and safety of her Lord.
Now if your device will take—

HILLARIO.
Ne'er fear it:
I am provided cap-a-pee, having
I' th' summer-house my properties ready;
A courier's habit, and his sounding horn,
Found 'mongst our useless armoury.

(Sophia speaks within.)
Bring my veil there.

CORISCA.
Be gone, I hear her coming.

HILLARIO.
I vanish: but if I don't appear,
And what's more, appear perfect, hoot at me.
[Exit Hillario.

Enter SOPHIA.
SOPHIA.
I was flatter'd once I was a star, but now
Like a prodigious meteor I appear,
Hung in the air between my hopes and fears,
And ev'ry hour
That yields a waning light to dying comfort,
I do expect my fall, and certain ruin.
In wretched things, more wretched is delay.
Dreams and fantastic visions walk their round
About my widow'd bed, and ev'ry slumber's
Broke with loud alarms: Can these be then
But sad presages, girl?

CORISCA.
You make 'em so,
And antedate a loss shall ne'er befal you;
Such pure affection, such mutual love,
A house without contention; in two bodies
One will and soul, like to the rod of concord
Kissing each other, cannot be short liv'd.

SOPHIA.
O, Corisca!
Too well I know thy reasons like thy wishes,
Are built upon a weak foundation,
To raise me comfort: since my Eugenius
Embark'd himself upon a sea of danger
In his dear care of me, I've naught but sorrow known;
'Tis strange, methinks, no tidings yet have reach'd us!

CORISCA.
Ill news, Madam,
Is swallow-wing'd, while good but creeps on crutches.

[A horn sounds.
SOPHIA.
Ah! what's that?

CORISCA.
This should be a courier from the camp,
As I take it.

[Sounds again.
SOPHIA.
It maketh this way still, and nearer yet!
The messenger appears, and in strange armour,
Heav'n, if it be thy will!

Enter HILLARIO disguised.
HILLARIO.
'Tis no boot to strive.
My horse being tir'd, I'll walk me on foot;
And that the castle, which is very near
To give me entertainment, may soon hear me,
I will another lusty blast! then drawing nigh,
Ask for the Lady who's 'yclep'd Sophia.

CORISCA.
He names you, Madam!

HILLARIO.
for to her I do convey,
Thus clad in arms, news of a gallant soul,
By name Eugenius.

SOPHIA.
From my Lord? 'tis I,
I am that brave Eugenius's wife;
So may Mars favour you in all your battles,
As you with speed unload me of the burden
I labour under, till I am confirm'd,
Both where, and how you left him:
Have you no letters from him?

HILLARIO.
No; all mere word of mouth:
I' the camp we use no pens, but write with swords;
Know he's in health, and what's more, full of glory:
And now, I will proclaim his matchless deeds;
But tremble not while I relate the wonder,
Tho' I declare it in a voice of thunder!

SOPHIA.
This is some counterfeit braggard.

CORISCA.
Nay, hear him, Madam!

HILLARIO.
The rear march'd first, which follow'd by the van,
And winged with the swift battalia,
No man durst stay to shift his shirt,
Or disencumber it of its hopeful stock;
Yet e'er the armies join'd, that pickled elf,
Thy dainty duckling, bold Eugenius,
Advanc'd with gallant stride, like Hercules!
A hundred thousand Turks (it is no vaunt)
Assail'd him with their bashaws of nine tails;
But how did he receive e'm? With his keen lance
He did so cut and carbonade 'em, that
One half fled;—but t' other wanting legs
And arms, could neither fight, nor follow!

SOPHIA.
This is ridiculous.

HILLARIO.
I must take breath,
Then, like a nightingale, I'll sing his death.

CORISCA.
His death?

HILLARIO.
On my troth I'm out, my wit forsakes me.

(Aside)
CORISCA.
Recover, dunderhead!

(Aside)
HILLARIO.
How he escap'd I should have sung, not died,
For tho' a knight, when I said so, I fibb'd:
Weary he was, and scarce could stand an end,
When looking round for some courageous knight
To rescue him, as one perplex'd in woe,
He call'd to me—help, help, Hillario!

CORISCA.
He has spoil'd all!

(Aside)
SOPHIA.
Are you the man of arms? Then I'll make bold
To take off your martial beaver; you had fool's hair
Enough without it—slave, how dar'st thou make
Thy sport of what concerns me more than life,
In such an antic fashion? Am I grown.
Contemptible to those I feed?—You, Corisca,
Had a hand in't too, as it appears.

CORISCA.
We did it only for your mirth, Madam.

HILLARIO.
For myself, I hope
I have spoke like a good soldier at least.

SOPHIA.
Hence, buffoon!
I never but with reverence name my Lord,
And shall I hear him by thy tongue profan'd?
But since you are
Transform'd, and turn'd knight-errant, take your course,
And wander where you please; for here I vow,
By my Lord's life, an oath I will not break,
Till his return, or certainty of his safety,
My doors are shut against thee.
[Exit Sophia.

CORISCA.
You have made
A fine piece of work on't! how do you like your reward?
You had a foolish itch to be an actor,
And may now stroll about where you please.

HILLARIO.
Will you buy my share o'th' profit, Corisca?

CORISCA.
No, I fear I have already
Too much of mine own—
And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave,
I leave you to your new fortune.
[Exit Corisca.

HILLARIO.
Have I cudgell'd
My poor brain for this rare invention,
To be thus rewarded?—I could turn
Tragedian, and roar amain, but that I fear
'Twould get me too large a stomach, having
No meat to satisfy her cravings—Ah, poor me!
I cannot beg in armour, that would dishonour
More than myself; and steal I dare not!—
My end must be to stand in a corn field,
And fright away the crows for bread and cheese,
Or find some hollow tree in the highway,
And there sell switches till my Lord's return!
[Exit Hillario.