University of Virginia Library

Scæn 2.

A Banquet prepared: Enter Guardiano and Ward.
Guard.
Take you especial note of such a Gentlewoman,
She's here on purpose, I have invited her,
Her Father, and her Uncle, to this Banquet;
Mark her behavior well, it does concern you;
And what her good parts are, as far as time
And place can modestly require a knowledge of,
Shall be laid open to your understanding.
You know I'm both your Guardian, and your Uncle,
My care of you is double, Ward and Nephew,
And I'll express it here.

Ward.
Faith, I should know her
Now by her mark among a thousand women:
A lettle pretty deft and tidy thing you say.

Guard.
Right.

Ward.
With a lusty sprouting sprig in her hair.

Guard:
Thou goest the right way still; take one mark more,
Thou shalt nev'r finde her hand out of her Uncles,
Or else his out of hers, if she be near him:
The love of kinred, never yet stuck closer
Then their's to one another; he that weds her,
Marries her Uncles heart too.

Cornets.
Ward.
Say you so Sir,
Then I'll be ask'd i'th' Church to both of them.

Guard.
Fall back, here comes the Duke.

Ward.
He brings a Gentlewoman,
I should fall forward rather.

Enter Duke, Brancha, Fabritio, Hippolito, Livia, Mother, Isabella, and Attendants.
Duke.
Come Brancha,
Of purpose sent into the world to shew
Perfection once in woman; I'll believe
Hence forward they have ev'ry one a Soul too
'Gainst all the uncurteous opinions
That mans uncivil rudeness ever held of 'em:
Glory of Florence light into mine arms!

Enter Leantio.
Bran.
Yon comes a grudging man will chide you Sir;
The storm is now in's heart, and would get nearer,
And fall here if it durst, it powres down yonder.

Duke.
If that be he, the weather shall soon clear.
List, and I'll tell thee how.

Lean.
A kissing too?
I see 'tis plain Lust now; Adultery boldned;
What will it prove anon, when 'tis stufft full
Of Wine and Sweet-meats, being so impudent Fasting?

Duke.
We have heard of your good parts Sir, which we honor
With our embrace and love; is not the Captainship
Of Rouans Cittadel, since the late deceas'd,
Suppli' by any yet?

Gentlem.
By none my Lord.

Duke.
Take it, the place is yours then, and as faithfulness
And desert grows, our favour shall grow with't:
Rise now the Captain of our Fort at Rouans.

Lean.
The service of whole life give your Grace thanks.

Duke.
Come sit Brancha.

Lean.
This is some good yet,
And more then ev'r I look'd for, a fine bit
To stay a Cuckolds stomach: All preferment
That springs from sin and lust, it shoots up quickly,
As Gardiners crops do in the rotten'st grounds;
So is all means rais'd from base prostitution,
Ev'n like a Sallet growing upon a dunghil:
I'm like a thing that never was yet heard of,
Half merry, and half mad, much like a fellow
That eats his meat with a good appetite,
And wears a plague-sore that would fright a Country;
Or rather like the barren hardned Ass,
That feeds on Thistles till he bleeds again;
And such is the condition of my misery.

Liv.
Is that your Son widow?

Moth.
Yes, did your Ladiship never know that till now?

Liv.
No trust me did I,
Nor ever truly felt the power of love,
And pitty to a man, till now I knew him;
I have enough to buy me my desires,
And yet to spare; that's one good comfort. Hark you?
Pray let me speak with you Sir, before you go.

Lean.
With me Lady? you shall, I am at your service:
What will she say now trow, more goodness yet?

Ward.
I see her now I'm sure; the Ape's so little,
I shall scarce feel her; I have seen almost
As tall as she, sold in the Fair for ten pence.
See how she simpers it, as if Marmalad
Would not melt in her mouth; she might have the kindness y'faith
To send me a guilded Bull from her own Trencher,
A Ram, a Goat, or somewhat to be nibling
These women when they come to sweet things once,
They forget all their friends, they grow so greedy;
Nay, oftentimes their husbands

Duke.
Here's a health now Gallants,
To the best beauty at this day in Florence.

Bran.
Who ere she be, she shall not go unpledg'd Sir.

Duke.
Nay, your excus'd for this.

Bran.
Who I my Lord?

Duke.
Yes by the Law of Bacchus; plead your benefit,
You are not bound to pledge your own health Lady.

Bran.
That's a good way my Lord to keep me dry.

Duke.
Nay, then I will not offend Venus so much,
Let Bacchus seek his mends in another Court,
Here's to thy self Brancha.

Bran.
Nothing comes
More welcome to that name then your Grace.

Lean.
So, so;
Here stands the poor theif now that stole the treasure,
And he's not thought on, ours is near kin now
To a twin-misery born into the world.
First the hard conscienc'd-worldling, he hoords wealth up,
Then comes the next, and he feasts all upon't;
One's damn'd for getting, th'other for spending on't.
Oh equal Justice, thou has't met my sin
With a full weight, I'm rightly now opprest,
All her friends heavy hearts lie in my Brest.

Duke.
Methinks there is no spirit amongst us Gallants,
But what divinely sparkles from the eyes
Of bright Brancha; we sat all in darkness,
But for that Splendor: Who was't told us lately
Of a match making right, a marriage tender?

Guard.
'Twas I my Lord.

Duke.
'Twas you indeed: Where is she?

Guard.
This is the Gentlewoman.

Fab:
My Lord, my Daughter.

Duke.
Why here's some stirring yet.

Fab.
She's a dear childe to me.

Duke.
That must needs be; you say she is your Daughter.

Fab.
Nay, my good Lord, dear to my purse I mean
Beside my person, I nev'r reckon'd that.
She has the full qualities of a Gentlewoman;
I have brought her up to Musick, Dancing, what not,
That may commend her Sex, and stir her husband?

Duke.
And which is he now?

Guard.
This yong Heir, my Lord.

Duke.
What is he brought up too?

Hip.
To Cat and Trap.

Guard.
My Lord, he's a great Ward, wealthy, but simple;
His parts consist in Acres.

Duke.
Oh Wise-acres.

Guard.
Y'have spoke him in a word Sir.

Bran.
'Lass poor Gentlewoman,
She's ill bestead, unless sh'as dealt the wiselier,
And laid in more provision for her youth.
Fools will not keep in Summer.

Lean.
No, nor such wives
From whores in winter.

Duke.
Yea, the voice too Sir!

Fab.
I, and a sweet Brest too my Lord, I hope,
Or I have cast away my money wisely;
She took her pricksong earlier, my Lord,
Then any of her kinred ever did:
A rare childe, though I say't, but I'ld not have
The Baggage hear so much, 'twould make her swell straight:
And Maids of all things must not be puft up.

Duke.
Let's turn us to a better Banquet then,
For Musick bids the soul of a man to a Feast,
And that's indeed, a noble entertainment,
Worthy Brancha's self; you shall perceive Beauty,
Our Florentine Damsels are not brought up idlely.

Bran.
They'are wiser of themselves, it seems my Lord,
And can take gifts, when goodness offers 'em.

Musick.
Lean.
True, and damnation has taught you that wisdom,
You can take gifts too. Oh that Musick mocks me!

Liv.
I am as dumb to any language now
But Loves, as one that never learn'd to speak:
I am not yet so old, but he may think of me;
My own fault, I have been idle a long time;
But I'll begin the week, and paint to morrow,
So follow my true labor day by day.
I never thriv'd so well, as when I us'd it.


SONG.
What harder chance can fall to woman,
Who was born to cleave to someman,
Then to bestow her time, youth, beauty,
Life's observance, honor, duty,
On a thing for no use good,
But to make Physick work, or blood force fresh
In an old Ladies cheek, she that would be
Mother of fools, let her compound with me.

Ward.

Here's a
tune indeed; Pish
I had rather hear
one Ballad sung
i'th' Nose now, of
the lamentable
drowning of fat
Sheep and Oxen,
then all these simpering
tunes plaid
upon Cats-guts,
and sung by little
Kitlings.

Fab.
How like you her Brest now my Lord?

Bran.
Her Brest?
He talks as if his daughter had given suck
Before she were married, as her betters have;
The next he praises sure, will be her Nipples.

Duke.
Methinks now, such a voice to such a husband,
Is like a Jewel of unvalued worth,
Hung at a Fools ear.

Fab.
May it please your Grace
To give her leave to shew another Quality.

Duke.
Marry as many good ones as you will Sir,
The more the better welcome.

Lean.
But the less
The better practis'd: That soul's black indeed
That cannot commend Vertue; but who keeps it!
The Extortioner will say to a sick begger,
Heaven comfort thee, though he give none himself:
This good is common.

Fab.
Will it please you now Sir,
To entreat your Ward to take her by the hand,
And lead her in a dance before the Duke?

Guard.
That will I Sir, 'tis needful; hark you Nephew.

Fab.
Nay, you shall see yong heir, what y'have for your money,
Without fraud or imposture.

Ward.
Dance with her!
Not I sweet Gardiner, do not urge my heart to't,
'Tis clean against my Blood; dance with a stranger!
Let who's will do't, I'll not begin first with her.

Hip.
No fear't not fool, sh'as took a better order.

Guard.
Why who shall take her then?

Ward.
Some other Gentleman;
Look, there's her Uncle, a fine timber'd Reveller,
Perhaps he knows the manner of her dancing too,
I'll have him do't before me, I have sworn Gardiner,
Then may I learn the better.

Guard.
Thou'lt be an ass still.

Ward.
I, all that Uncle, shall not fool me out.
Pish, I stick closer to my self then so.

Guard.
I must entreat you Sir, to take your Neece
And dance with her; my Ward's a little wilful,
He would have you shew him the way.

Hip.
Me Sir?
He shall command it at all hours, pray tell him so.

Guard.
I thank you for him, he has not wit himself Sir.

Hip.
Come my life's peace, I have a strange office on't here,
'Tis some mans luck to keep the joys he likes
Conceal'd for his own bosom; but my fortune
To set 'em out now, for anothers liking,
Like the mad misery of necessitous man,
That parts from his good horse with many praises,
And goes on foot himself; need must be obey'd
In ev'ry action, it mars man and maid.

Musick.
A dance, making Honors to the D. and cursie to themselves, both before and after.
Duke.
Signior Fabritio, y'are a happy Father,
Your cares and pains are fortunate you see,
Your cost bears noble fruits. Hippolito thanks.

Fab.
Here's some amends for all my charges yet.
She wins both prick and praise, where ere she comes.

Duke.
How lik'st Brancha?

Bran.
All things well, my Lord:
But this poor Gentlewomans fortune, that's the worst.

Duke.
There is no doubt Brancha, she'll finde leisure
To make that good enough; he's rich and simple.

Bran.
She has the better hope o'th' upper hand indeed,
Which women strive for most.

Guard.
Do't when I bid you Sir.

Ward.
I'll venture but a Horn-pipe with her Gardiner,
Or some such married mans dance.

Guard.
We'll venture something Sir.

Ward.
I have time for what I do.

Guard.
But little reason, I think.

Ward.
Plain men dance the Measures, the Sinquapace, the Gay:
Cuckolds dance the Horn-pipe; and Farmers dance the Hay:
Your Soldiers dance the Round, and Maidens that grow big:
You Drunkards, the Canaries; you Whore and Baud, the Jigg.
Here's your eight kinde of Dancers, he that findes the nineth, let him
Pay the Minstrels.

Duke.
Oh here he appears once in his own person;
I thought he would have married her by Attorney,
And lain with her so too.

Bran.
Nay, my kinde Lord,
There's very seldom any found so foolish
To give away his part there.

Lean.
Bitter scoff;
Yet I must do't; with what a cruel pride!
Musick.
The glory of her sin strikes by my afflictions.

Ward and Isabella dance, he ridiculously imitates Hippolito.
Duke.
This thing will make shift (Sirs) to make a husband,
For ought I see in him; how thinks't Brancha?

Bran.
'Faith an ill-favored shift my Lord, methinks;
If he would take some voyage when he's married,
Dangerous, or long enough, and scarce be seen
Once in nine year together, a wife then
Might make indifferent shift to be content with him.

Duke.
A kiss; that wit deserves to be made much on:
Come, our Caroch.

Guard.
Stands ready for your Grace.

Duke.
My thanks to all your loves: Come fair Brancha,
We have took special care of you, and provided
Your lodging near us now.

Bran.
Your love is great, my Lord.

Duke.
Once more our thanks to all.

Omnes.
All blest Honors guard you.

Exe. all but Leantio and Livia; Cornets flourish.
Lean.
Oh hast thou left me then Brancha, utterly!
Brancha! now I miss thee; Oh return!
And save the faith of woman; I nev'r felt
The loss of thee till now; 'tis an affliction
Of greater weight, then youth was made to bear;
As if a punishment of after-life
Were faln upon man here; so new it is
To flesh and blood, so strange, so insupportable
A torment, ev'n mistooke, as if a body
Whose death were drowning, must needs therefore suffer it in scalding oyl.

Liv.
Sweet Sir!

Lean.
As long as mine eye saw thee,
I half enjoy'd thee.

Liv.
Sir?

Lean.
Canst thou forget
The dear pains my love took, how it has watch't
Whole nights together, in all weathers for thee,
Yet stood in heart more merry then the tempests
That sung about mine ears, like dangerous flatterers
That can set all their mischeif to sweet tunes;
And then receiv'd thee from thy fathers window,
Into these arms at midnight, when we embrac'd
As if we had been Statues onely made for't,
To shew arts life, so silent were our comforts,
And kiss'd as if our lips had grown together!

Liv.
This makes me madder to enjoy him now.

Lean.
Canst thou forget all this? And better joys
That we met after this, which then new kisses
Took pride to praise.

Liv.
I shall grow madder yet, Sir:

Lean.
This cannot be but of some close Bauds working:
Cry mercy Lady. What would you say to me?
My sorrow makes me so unmannerly,
So comfort bless me, I had quite forgot you.

Liv.
Nothing but ev'n in pitty too, that passion
Would give your grief good counsel.

Lean.
Marry, and welcome Lady,
It never could come better.

Liv.
Then first Sir,
To make away all your good thoughts at once of her,
Know most assuredly, she is a strumpet.

Lean.
Ha: Most assuredly! Speak not a thing
So vilde so certainly, leave it more doubtful.

Liv.
Then I must leave all truth, and spare my knowledge,
A sin which I too lately found and wept for.

Lean.
Found you it?

Liv.
I with wet eyes.

Lean.
Oh perjurious friendship!

Liv.
You miss'd your fortunes when you met with her Sir.
Yong Gentlemen, that onely love for beauty,
They love not wisely; such a marriage rather
Proves the destruction of affection;
It brings on want, and want's the Key of whoredom.
I think y'had small means with her.

Lean.
Oh not any Lady.

Liv.
Alas poor Gentleman, what meant'st thou Sir,
Quite to undo thy self with thine own kinde heart?
Thou art too good and pitiful to woman:
Marry Sir, thank thy Stars for this blest fortune
That rids the Summer of thy youth so well
From many Beggers that had lain a sunning
In thy beams onely else, till thou hadst wasted
The whole days of thy life in heat and labor.
What would you say now to a Creature found
As pitiful to you, and as it were
Ev'n sent on purpose from the whole Sex general,
To requite all that kindness you have shewn to't?

Lean.
What's that Madam?

Liv.
Nay, a Gentlewoman, and one able
To reward good things, I, and bears a conscience to't;
Couldst thou love such a one, that (blow all fortunes)
Would never see thee want?
Nay more, maintain thee to thine enemies envy,
And shalt not spend a care for't, stir a thought,
Nor break a sleep, unless loves musick waked thee;
No storm of fortune should look upon me,
And know that woman;

Lean.
Oh my life's wealth Brancha!

Liv.
Still with her name? will nothing wear it out?
That deep sigh went but for a strumpet Sir.

Lean.
It can go for no other that loves me.

Liv.
He's vext in minde; I came too soon to him;
Where's my discretion now, my skill, my judgment?
I'm cunning in all arts but my own, love:
'Tis as unseasonable to tempt him now
So soon, as a widow to be courted
Following her husbands coarse, or to make bargain
By the grave side, and take a yong man there:
Her strange departure stands like a herse yet
Before his eyes; which time will take down shortly:

Exit.
Lean.
Is she my wife till death? yet no more mine;
That's a hard measure; then what's marriage good for?
Me thinks by right, I should not now be living,
And then 'twere all well: What a happiness
Had I been made of, had I never seen her;
For nothing makes mans loss grievous to him,
But knowledge of the worth of what he loses;
For what he never had, he never misses:
She's gone for ever; utterly there is
As much redemption of a soul from Hell,
As a fair womans body from his pallace.
Why should my love last longer then her truth?
What is there good in woman to be lov'd,
When onely that which makes her so, has left her?
I cannot love her now, but I must like
Her sin, and my own shame too, and be guilty
Of Laws breach with her, and mine own abusing;
All which were monstrous: Then my safest course
For health of minde and body, is to turn
My heart, and hate her, most extreamly hate her;
I have no other way: Those vertuous powers
Which were chaste witnesses of both our troths,
Can witness she breaks first, and I'm rewarded
With Captainship o'th' Fort; a place of credit
I must confess, but poor; my Factorship
Shall not exchange means with't: He that di'd last in't,
He was no drunkard, yet he di'd a begger
For all his thrift; besides the place not fits me;
It suits my resolution, not my breeding.

Enter Livia.
Liv.
I have tri'd all ways I can, and have not power
To keep from sight of him: How are you now Sir?

Lean.
I feel a better ease Madam.

Liv.
Thanks to blessedness.
You will do well I warrant you, fear it not Sir;
Joyn but your own good will to't; he's not wise
That loves his pain or sickness, or grows fond
Of a disease, whose property is to vex him,
And spightfully drink his blood up. Out upon't Sir,
Youth knows no greater loss; I pray let's walk Sir.
You never saw the beauty of my house yet,
Nor how abundantfy Fortune has blest me
In worldly treasure; trust me I have enough Sir
To make my friend a rich man in my life,
A great man at my death; your self will say so
If you want any thing, and spare to speak,
Troth I'll condemn you for a wilful man Sir.

Lean.
Why sure this can be but the flattery of some dream.

Liv.
Now by this kiss, my love, my soul and riches,
'Tis all true substance.
Come you shall see my wealth, take what you list,
The gallanter you go, the more you please me:
I will allow you too, your Page and Footman,
Your race horses, or any various pleasure
Exercis'd youth delights in; but to me
Onely Sir wear your heart of constant stuff:
Do but you love enough, I'll give enough.

Lean.
Troth then, I'll love enough, and take enough.

Liv.
Then we are both pleas'd enough.

Exeunt.