 | The Perjur'd Husband : or, The Adventures of Venice |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Chamber in Signior Pizalta's House.Enter Lady Pizalta, Lucy.
Lady Piz.
Did you deliver my Letter to Ludovico, Lucy?
Lucy.
Madam, I did; I found him in his study reading
the Lover's Watch, which he swears does not at all agree with
his Constitution. He hates injunctions of Love, like those of Pennance:
For the one, says he, is no more pleasurable to the Body,
than the other beneficial to the Soul.
L. Piz.
What a fine Gallant I'm like to have with these Principles!
Well,—what did he say to a Summons from a Woman of my Quality?
Did it not make him wish the Time of Assignation were sooner
than the appointment in the Letter?
Lucy.
He first hum'd over your Billet; and pausing a while, he desir'd
me to stay for an Answer in a next Room; Then coming to me,
he ask'd me what Countrywoman you were? For, said he, if she
should prove an old Acquaintance, I would use her damnably—But
when I had assur'd him you never saw the outside of these Walls, he
began to have that desire which all men have to a new Face.
L. Piz.
Very well; and what then?
Luc.
He strait enquir'd whether you were black, brown, fair, old,
young, maid, wife or widow? I told him you was a wretched Wife
to an old, impotent, rich, covetous, noble Venetian; beautiful, young,
generous, and of a fair Complexion. He hugg'd me at these words,
seem'd transported with the News, and swore that in intrigues a Wife
was most suitable to his Temper; for, said he, there's neither Children
to Father, nor Honour to repair: and where his Pocket and
Liberty are safe, he is contented to venture his Body and Soul.
L. Piz.
Excellent Maxims.
Lucy.
In short, Madam, he says he has had several Bills of this Nature
drawn upon him of late, and how much his stock may be exhausted
he knows not; but however he'll meet you, and if he cannot answer
your Expectation, he'll give you earnest.
L. Piz.
You talk merrily, Girl, I hope you did not tell my name.
I should be loath to trust a man of his Character with my Reputation
at first dash.
No, Madam, I only told your Quality.
L. Piz.
That's well: Oh! Reputation, what several sorts of Slavery
do we undergo to preserve Thee! For to be thought Virtuous, we
are forced to be constantly railing against Vice, tho our Tongues and
Maxims seldom agree.
Lucy.
Alas! Madam, that Pretence is grown too common: for the
Men now take it for granted, that a Lady is very near surrendring,
when once she holds out that Flag of Defiance.
L. Piz.
Well—Men use us very barbarously: They will neither
suffer us to be honest, nor allow us to be thought so—Here
take this Key, and secure every thing that concerns my Reputation:
and if my Husband wakes e're I come back, you may easily find some
excuse to prevent his Enquiries; for the Carnival allows us more Liberty,
than at other times we dare pretend to—I know thy honesty,
and will rely upon't.
Luc.
Yes, indeed, Madam; I am honest at the bottom.
L. Piz.
Well, I'll be gone: 'tis about the hour.
Ex. La. Piz.
Enter Pizalto.
Lucy.
Good luck attend you, Madam—Oh! Heavens! here's
my Lord—Madam, Madam, Madam—Oh! Lord, what shall
I say now she's gone?
Piz.
Hist, hist, Lucy: Don't, don't, don't call your Lady, for I
have a word or two to say to Thee in private, and have waited for
this lucky opportunity a great while—
Lucy.
aside.
Now Venus be prais'd, I hope he has found some Business
of his own that may give my Lady an opportunity to mind hers.
Piz.
Well, Lucy, well,—canst thou guess my Business now?
Lucy.
No, indeed, Sir—But I'm certain, and old Man's Business
can't be great.
Aside.
Piz.
(Gives her a Looking-glass.)
Here, Child, this will tell Thee—
Look in't, look in't, I say—Ah! ah! Thou hast a pretty pouting
Lip, a delicate roguish Eye; such an Ogle, such a Cast—Ah!
Rogue—Faith, Thou'rt very pretty: and in short, if any one
rival thy Lady, it will be Thee, Lucy—Egad, I have fire in me yet.
Lucy.
aside.
O' my Conscience, and little too, I believe: Yet I wish
he has enough to serve my Ends, I'll make my Fortune—Lord
Sir, what do you mean? I rival my Lady! Heaven forbid, I would
not injure so good a Woman for the world—
Piz.
Pshaw, pshaw—Where's the injury done to her, Child?
Adod, I'll give thee a hundred Crowns.
Luc.
No injury, say you, my Lord? Why, I wonder you should be
so jealous of my Lady, and preach such religious Maxims to her, when
your own Principles are quite opposite.
Look ye, Child, a Man may do that, which would look abominable
in a Wife—A Woman's Reputation is a nice
thing—
Lucy.
'Tis so—And therefore 'tis but reason I should take care of
mine.
Piz.
Prithee, no more of that: thy reputation shall be safe; I'll marry
thee to my Gentleman.
Lucy.
Gentleman—Valet! Faugh—And what good will a hundred
Crowns do me, when my Virginity is gone! indeed, if you lov'd me
as much as you say, and would make my fortune, (for I should love
extreamly to be a Lady) I cannot tell how far you might perswade
me—I know my Reputation would be safe in your hands.
Piz.
Make thy fortune! Why, I've known some of our Nobles marry
a Wife with less than a hundred Crowns—But, adod, thou'rt a charming
Girl, and therefore I'll make it a hundred Pistoles—What sayst
thou now.
Lucy.
Ah! adod, I must buss thee;
[kisses her]
ah, Rogue, methinks I'm
a young, lusty, vigorous Fellow again—Thou shall find I am, Girl.
Lucy
aside.
I believe I shall fail you, old Gentleman: Well, my Lord,
make it up a thousand Pistoles, and I am yours, else I'll dye a Maid I'm
resolv'd.
Piz.
A thousand Pistoles! Why, thou'rt the most unconscionable
Wench in Italy: Why 'tis a Price for a Dutchess in some Countries:
Come, come, prithee, be reasonable Lucy.
Lucy.
Reasonable! Why you don't ask a reasonable thing—Look
you, you know my mind, I'll not bate a Penny—I'll warrant my
Lady will give me two hundred at least for my discovery.
going
Piz.
aside.
Udslife! she won't tell my Wife sure, I'm ruin'd if she
does, I'd rather give her two thousand—Hold, hold, Lucy: sweet
Lucy, prithee, come back—Faith, thou'rt so charming, I can deny
thee nothing—Come, it shall be what thou wilt—Come now
Rogue, let's retire to thy Chamber—
Lucy.
Nay, nay, no entring the Premisses, till you have paid the Purchase.—
Piz.
Adod, Thou'rt a Wag—Come in then, and I'll discharge
the Debt: Thou art a cunning Gipsy.
Exit Pizal.
Lucy.
You shall have reason to say so e're I have done with you, old
Gentleman—For I am resolv'd to show you a Trick, and preserve
my Vertue.
For did base Men within my Power fall,
T' avenge my injur'd Sex, I'd jilt 'em all.
And would but Women follow my advice,
They should be glad at last to pay our Price.
Exit Lucy.
SCENE II.
The Piazza d' Espagna in Venice.Enter Lady Pizalta sola.
L. Piz.
Not come yet! Ungrateful Man! must a
Woman of my Quality wait?
How have we lost our Pow'r since the Creation?
When the whole World had but one single Lord,
Whom every Creature readily obey'd?
Yet he, that mighty he, caught with a smile,
Flew to th' embraces of the tempting Fair.
But now each puny Sinner dares to cross
A Woman's inclinations—
Enter Ludovico:
Oh! are you come, Signior? I suppose you have
Some other Assignation, that made you miss
My hour—Pursue it pray—I'll not interrupt you—Your
Servant—
Going.
I hope he'll not take me at my word.
Aside.
Lud.
Nay, nay, Signiora, Why this Passion?
Stops her.
You sent me a Challenge, and I like a man of Courage, am come to
answer it—Pray don't let a quarter of an hour break squares—
I own 'twas a Fault to make a Lady wait; but Friends, Madam, Friends,
and good Wine are the Devil—Come, I'll make you amends.
L. Piz.
Friends and good Wine! I suppose those Friends were female
ones—
Lud.
No, faith: You shall judge of that—But suppose they were—
Why should you be angry that I did not fly with the desir'd haste, as
long as I am come time enough to give you satisfaction—Besides, I
han't seen your face yet, and for ought I know, it mayn't reward my
Compliment in coming now—Prithee, Child, unmask, and then I'll
tell thee more of my mind.
L. Pizal.
The Devil take this fellow—and yet methinks I love him
for his indifferency—
aside]
You talk as if you were unskill'd in the
Art of Love: Don't you know that Expectation feeds more than twenty
tasted Pleasures?
Lud.
Hum—some sort of Fops it may: But I'm none of those—I
never give my opinion of a Dish till I've tasted Neither do I care to dine
often on one sort of Meat without changing the Sauce—But when
that Cloud's withdrawn, how long I shall keep my Resolution I know
not.
L. Piz.
Say you so! Why then the only way to preserve your Appetite
is to feed you slenderly: or only let you see the food, but not to taste.
Lud.
Faith, Madam, I'm no Cameleon, but Flesh and Blood—
Charming Face of yours, would be more obliging to your humble Servant.
L. Piz.
unmasks.
Well, Sir, what think you? is there any thing in
this Face worth your regard?
Lud.
Ah! By Heaven, an Angel—Oh! Madam, now blame
your self for my neglect, for had you sent the Picture of her, in whom
all those Beauties center, I had in this place waited the coming of my
Goddess, or rather flown on the Wings of eager Love, to meet my fair,
tho in the Arms of ten thousand Dangers—Say, my Charming Angel,
do you forgive me? But why do I ask? your Eyes assure me you do; at
least I'll force a pardon from these dear, soft, ruby lips.
[Kisses her in extasy.
L. Piz.
Hold, hold! Been't so lavish—a sparing Gamester is the
likeliest to keep in stock—whilst a profuse hand at one cast throws all
he has away.
Lud.
To fear, that were to doubt your Charms, in which a Lover is
sure to find constant supplies—But we lose time—Let's retire to my
Lodgings, where I'll give thee the best proofs of my Love I can.
L. Piz.
aside.
Well! He's a charming Fellow—Oh! how happy are
VVives in France and England, where such as he swarm!
Lud.
Come, Madam, come—VVhy what do you
mean by this delay? Consider I'm a man, a mortal, wishing, amorous
man—
L. Piz.
And consider I'm a Woman—
Lud.
aside.
Ay, ay: That I know: At least I hope to find you such—
or I would not be in such haste—
Aside.
L. Piz.
And have a Reputation to preserve.
Lud.
Oh! Lord, what a damn'd Turn's here? Reputation, say you?
Egad, I find all Women make pretence to that mysterious Word
What! Are not you married, Madam?
L. Piz.
Yes, what then?
Lud.
Why then you have a Reputation to preserve—that's all.
L. Piz.
All, Sir, Yes, and all in all to me—Do you consider what
Country you're in, Sir?
Lud.
Yes, Faith, Madam: and what constitution I am of too. I
know Murder is as venial a Sin here, as Adultery is in some Countries;
And I am too apprehensive of my mortal Part not to avoid Danger—
Therefore, Madam, You have an infallible security—if I should betray
You, I bring my self into jeopardy, and of all Pleasures Self-Preservation
is the dearest,
L. Piz.
A very open Speaker, I vow.
Lud.
Ay, Madam, that's best—Hang your creeping, cringing,
whining, sighing, dying, lying Lovers—Pough! Their Flames are not
more durable than mine, tho they make more noise in the blaze.
Hang the whining way of wooing.
Loving was design'd a sport.
Lady Piz.
aside.
The Duce take me if this fellow has not charm'd
me strangely—Well, the Carnival is almost over, and then must I be
shut up like a Nun again—Hey! Hoa! This time will be so short—
Lud.
Let's make the better use on't then, my Dear. We will consider
when we have nothing else to do, but at present there's a matter of
the greatest moment which I must impart to you—Therefore, come
dear Rogue, come—
L. Piz.
(Looking on her Watch.)
Hold—I have out-staid my time,
and must return home instantly to prevent discoveries.
Lud.
Faith, Madam, this is not fair—To raise a man's Expectation,
and then disappoint him! VVould you be serv'd so your self now?
L. Piz.
I'll endeavour to disingage self from my jealous Husband,
and contrive another meeting.
Lud.
But will you be sure to meet me again?
L. Piz.
I give you may Hand as a Pledge—
Lud.
kisses her.
And I this kiss in return—Adieu, my Charmer.
L. Piz.
Signior, Farewel.
Exeunt severally.
Enter Bassino, Alonzo.
Bass.
Well, Sir, Your Business—
Alon.
It is to tell you—
You are a Villain—
Bass.
Ha—
Alon.
And that as such
I ought to have treated you before the Face
Of false Aurelia—But I scorn to follow
The barbarous custom of my Native Country.
I seek with Honour to revenge my wrongs;
Therefore, Sir, draw—
Bass.
This Action speaks you Noble—be likewise Just,
And let me know the cause that moves your Anger.
By Heaven I'd rather call you still my Friend,
Than be your Enemy—Yet, if I wrong'd you,
I'll give you satisfaction—
Alon.
Trifler away—Too well Thou knowst the cause;
And now wouldst sooth my wrongs with Flattery.
But my Resolve is fixt as Heaven's Decrees:
And one of us must fall—Let the Surviver
Dispose of that base, false, perjur'd Aurelia,
As both his Love and Honour shall direct.
If my propitious Stars defend my Life,
You shall not die alone—Th' adulterous Fair
Shall bear you company—Now, Draw.
Oh! hold.
One moment hold I must unfold this Riddle:
Adulterous Fair, say you?
Alon.
Yes: She's my Wife.
Bass.
Ha—your Wife!
Sure there's a curse intail'd upon that name.
Aside.
What! Your real Wife?
Alon.
If the Command of an expiring Father
And her own Vows can make her mine, she's so:
Indeed the Marriage Rites are yet to come,
Which slily she delay'd these two Months past,
On slight Pretence of finishing the time
Of Mourning for her Father—But 'tis plain.
I was a Property to your base Love:
And only design'd to fill up your Place,
When surfeited you should return to Turin.
Hell—Furies! Draw, or in my just Revenge,
I'll pin you to the Earth—
Bass.
Oh! Woman! Woman!
Aside.
Yes, I will draw—But e're the fatal stroke
Is past recal, I swear Aurelia's Virtue,
Is clear and spotless like Diana's self:
Nor was I prompted on this early visit,
But with design to take my last Farewel:
Having last night received my Prince's Orders
To haste to Turin—Therefore if I fall,
I hope she'll meet with Mercy—Now come on.
Alon.
Hold, hold, My Lord; Oh! could I credit this,
I would ask Pardon, and entreat your Friendship.
Bass.
'Tis true, upon my Honour—
But if you doubt my words, I'm ready—
Tho' I have reason to decline this Combate,
At least at present—Oh! Placentia!
Aside.
Oh! my Placentia! why should I abuse Thee?
Alon.
My Lord you seem disturb'd—
Bass.
Oh! Alonzo! Alonzo!
Should I acquaint you with my wretched Fate,
You'd find that life it self is grown a Burden,
I cannot bear, since I can ne're be happy.
But 'tis a Story that must nere be told,
Let it suffice to settle your repose,
That Turin holds the cause of my misfortunes.
Alon.
Then I am happy:
Aside.
My Lord, I wish 'twere in my Power to serve you,
I'd do it as a Friend—
Generous Sir, I thank you;
As far as I am capable, I am Alonzo's.
Exit Alonzo.
Oh! Force of treacherous Love! to gain my end,
I wrong a Wife, a Mistress, and a Friend.
Exit Bassino.
| The Perjur'd Husband : or, The Adventures of Venice | |