 | The Broken Heart |  |
Sæna prima.
Enter Bassanes and Phulas.Bass.
I'le haue that window next the street dam'd vp;
It giues too full a prospect to temptation,
And courts a Gazers glances: there's a lust
Committed by the eye, that sweats, and trauels,
Plots, wakes, contriues, till the deformed bear-whelpe
Adultery be lick'd into the act,
The very act; that light shall be dam'd vp;
D'ee heare sir?
Phul.
I doe heare my Lord; a Mason
Shall be prouided suddenly.
Bass.
Some Rogue,
Some Rogue of your confederacy, (factor
For slaues and strumpets) to conuey close packets
From this spruce springall, and the tother youngster;
That gawdy Eare-wrig, or my Lord, your Patron,
Whose pensioner you are.—I'le teare thy throat out
Thy vlterous maw, if I but scent a paper,
A scroll, but halfe as big as what can couer
A wart vpon thy nose, a spot, a pimple,
Directed to my Lady: it may proue
A mysticall preparatiue to lewdnesse.
Phul.
Care shall be had.—I will turne euery thread
About me to an eye.—here's a sweet life.
Bass.
The City houswiues, cunning in the traffique
Of Chamber-merchandise, set all at price
By whole-sale, yet they wipe their mouthes, and simper,
Cull, kisse, and cry Sweet-hart, and stroake the head
Which they haue branch'd, and all is well againe:
Dull clods of dirt, who dare not feele the rubs
Stucke on the fore-heads?
Phul.
'Tis a villanous world,
One cannot hold his owne in't.
Bass.
Dames at Court
Who flaunt in riots, runne another by as:
Their pleasure heaues the patient Asse that suffers
Vp on the stilts of Office, titles, Incomes;
Promotion iustifies the shame, and sues for't:
Poore Honour! thou art stab'd, and bleed'st to death
By such vnlawfull hire. The Country mistresse
Is yet more wary, and in blushes hides
What euer trespasse drawes her troth to guilt;
But all are false. On this truth I am bold,
No woman but can fall, and doth, or would—
Now for the newest newes about the Citie;
What blab the voyces sirrhe?
Phul.
O my Lord,
The rarest, quaintest, strangest, tickling newes
That euer—
Bass.
Hey da, vp and ride me Rascall,
What is't?
Phul.
Forsooth (they say) the King has mew'd
All his gray beard, in stead of which is budded
Another of a pure Carnation colour,
Speckled with Greene and Russet.
Bass.
Ignorant blocke.
Phul.
Yes truly, and 'tis talkt about the streets,
That since Lord Ithocles came home, the Lyons
Neuer left roaring, at which noyse the Beares
Bass.
Dance out thine too.
Phul.
Besides, Lord Orgilus is fled to Athens
Vpon a fiery Dragon, and 'tis thought
A' neuer can returne.
Bass.
Grant it Apollo.
Phul.
Moreouer, please your Lordship, 'tis reported
For certaine, that who euer is found iealous
Without apparant proofe that's wife is wanton,
Shall be diuorc'd: but this is but she-newes,
I had it from a midwife. I haue more yet.
Bass.
Anticke, no more; Ideots and stupid fooles
Grate my calamities. Why to be faire
Should yeeld presumption of a faulty soule?
Looke to the doores.
Phul.
The horne of plenty crost him.
Exit Phul.
Bass.
Swormes of confusion huddle in my thoughts
In rare distemper. Beauty? ô it is
An vnmatcht blessing, or a horrid curse.
Enter Penthea, and Gransis an old Lady.
Shee comes, she comes, so shoots the morning forth,
Spangled with pearles of transparent dew;
The way to pouerty is to be rich;
As I in her am wealthy, but for her
In all contents a Bankrupt.—Lou'd Penthea,
How fares my hearts best ioy?
Gran.
In sooth not well,
She is so ouer-sad.
Bass.
Leaue chattering Mag-pye.—
Thy brother is return'd (sweet) safe, and honour'd
With a Triumphant victory: thou shalt visit him:
We will to Court, where, if it be thy pleasure,
Thou shalt appeare in such a rauishing lustre
Of Iewels aboue value, that the Dames
Who braue it there, in rage to be out-shin'd,
Shall hide them in their Closets, and unseene
Fret in their teares; whiles euery wondring eye
Shall craue none other brightnesse but thy presence.
Choose thine owne recreations, be a Queene
Of what delights thou fanciest best, what company,
What place, what times, doe any thing, doe all things
From the pure firmament of thy faire lookes.
Gran.
Now 'tis well said my Lord, what Lady? laugh,
Be merry, time is precious.
Bass.
Furies whip thee.
Pen.
Alas my Lord, this language to your Hand-maid
Sounds as would musicke to the deafe: I need
No braueries nor cost of Art, to draw
The whitenesse of my name into offence;
Let such (if any such there are) who couet
A curiosity of admiration,
By laying out their plenty to full view,
Appeare in gawdy out-sides; my attires
Shall suit the inward fashion of my minde;
From which, if your opinion nobly plac'd,
Change not the Liuory your words bestow,
My Fortunes with my hopes are at the highest.
Bass.
This house me thinkes stands somewhat too much inward;
It is too melancholy, wee'll remoue
Nearer the Court; or what thinks my Penthea
Of the delightfull Island we command?
Rule me as thou canst wish.
Pen.
I am no Mistresse;
Whither you please, I must attend; all wayes
Are alike pleasant to me.
Gran.
Island? prison:
A prison is as gaysome: wee'll no Islands:
Marry out vpon 'em, whom shall we see there?
Sea-guls, and Porpiseis, and water-rats,
And Crabs, and Mewes, and Dogfish? goodly geere
For a young Ladies dealing, or an old ones.
On no termes Islands, I'le be stew'd first.
Bass.
Gransis,
You are a Iugling Bawd.—This sadnesse (sweetest)
Becomes not youthfull blood,—(I'le haue you pounded)
For my sake put on a more chearefull mirth,
Thou't marre thy cheekes, and make me old in griefes.
—(Damnable Bitch-foxe.)
Gran.
I am thicke of hearing
Still when the wind blowes Southerly. What thinke 'co,
If your fresh Lady breed young bones (my Lord?)
Wood not a chopping boy d'ee good at heart?
Or chop thee into collops.
Gran.
Pray speake louder,
Sure, sure, the wind blowes South still.
Pen.
Thou prat'st madly.
Bass.
'Tis very hot; I swear extreamely.—Now.
Enter Phulas.
Phul.
A heard of Lords, Sir.
Bass.
Ha?
Phul.
A flock of Ladies.
Bass.
Where?
Phul.
Shoalds of horses.
Bass.
Peasant, how?
Phul.
Caroches
In drifts—th'one enter, th'other stand without, sir.
And now I vanish.
Exit Phulus.
Enter Prophilus, Hemophil, Groneas, Christalla and Philena.
Proph.
Noble Bassanes.
Bass.
Most welcome Prophilus, Ladies, Gentlemen,
To all, my heart is open, you all honour me.
(A tympany swers in my head a ready)
Honour me bountifully.—(How they flutter,
Wagtailes and Iayes together?)
Proph.
From your brother,
By virtue of your loue to him, I require
Your instant presence fairest.
Pen.
He is well Sir.
Proph.
The gods preserue him eues: yet (deare beauty)
I finde some alteration in him lately,
Since his returne to Sparta. My good Lord,
I pray vse no delay.
Bass.
We had not needed
An inuitation, if his sisters health
Had not fallen into question.—Hast Panthea,
Slacke not a minute: lead the way good Prophilus,
I'le follow step by step.
Proph.
Your arme faire Madam.
Exeunt omnes sed Bass. & Gran.
Bass.
One word with your old Bawdship: th'hadst bin better
Raild at the sinnes thou worshipst, then haue thwarted
My will. I'le vse thee cursedly.
Gran.
You dote,
You are beside your selfe. A Politician
In iealousie? No, y'are too grosse, too vulgar.
Pish, teach not me my trade, I know my cue:
My crossing you, sinks me into her trust,
By which I shall know all: my trade's a sure one.
Bass.
Forgiue me, Gransis, twas consideration
Gran.
Feare not,
I am no new-come-too't.
Bass.
Thy life's vpon it,
And so is mine. My Agonies are infinite.
Exeunt omnes:
| The Broken Heart | |