University of Virginia Library

Scæna tertia.

Enter Chaves, Roderiguez, Gaspar, with a Torch.
Cha.
Is't possible he should be gone so soon
To bed? 'Tis yet scarce ten a clock.

Rod.
O Gaspar!
Lend me thy Torch; by heav'ns me thinks 'twere easie
To set the House on fire, and burn the villain
In her embraces.

Gas.
So youl'd burn her too!

Cha.
Faith! not much matter, since I left her, all
My Ice is turn'd to Marble, could I not
Borrow yon star for one halfe houre, and cast it
Like to a ball of wild-fire through you hole,
To make the chamber hotter? Were't not pretty
If from the top of yonder Pyramid
I could embrace the Moon, and pull her from
Her watry sphears, so sindge their plumes? Say friend,
May I not doe it?

Rod.
What strange temper's this?
His mind runs on the Moon, What? Lunatick?

Cha.
Look where the death-full Owle flies: Heark, her wings
Flask in the aire, t'invite the Dawes that nest
In yon tall steeple to deride me: is there
No heat in nature left? Am I converted
So soon to water? Yet my eyes are dry,
They cannot weep a flood, sufficient
For a new generall Deluge: Look! I quake
Like to a frosty Polander, when wrapt
In Iron sheets, he layes him down a man,
O're night in th'Field, and in the morning rises
A Cake of Ice, or Snow-ball. Is't not cold?
My limbs do play on th'Organs.

Gas.
'Tis your fancy:
You're passionatly mad.

Cha.
I do not vvalk yet—
Bare, vvith a long Horn arm'd, nor kisse the dust
With naked feet; but I vvill learn, these garments
Are very ponderous: vvhen I've rent them off,
I shall begin to be a Bedlam.

Rod.
Gaspar,
Prithee perswade him.

Gas.
Sir, you do conceit
Because your project mist to night, your love
Is lost for ever; do not so, to morrow
We'l have a night as opportune as this,
To kill her husband.

Cha.
Yes, if he vvould die,
When vve do vvish him dead, or could our eyes
Kill him, and never look upon him; so
I doe believe he might be slain, but else—

Gas.
Heare me a little, if I do not show
A vvay to kill him.—

Cha.
That's an easie thing:
Levell a Canon at him, blow him up
With Gunpowder.

Gas.
But heare me, Sir, to morrow
You and your friend, vvith others I'll procure,
In strange disguises shall present your selves
There in a Masque; I'll tell you are my friends,
And in the Dance one of the men I'll hire
Shall kill him; you shall not be touch't in this.
How like you't, Sir, is't not a good conceit?

Cha.
Good, very good, could my deeds but effect
What you have spoken—but I fear he has
Some charms about him, steele nor poyson will
Enter his body: so 'ts impossible;
That what you here advise can e're be done.

Gas.
Yes! fear not, Sir, I'll visit you to morrow.

Cha.
Do, and forget not what you promise now.

Rod.
His care and vigilance is far beyond
Our thoughts.

Cha.
Then let him glut himself to night.

Gas.
It surely, Sir, shall be his last good night:
Men may shun publick, but not privat spight:

Exeunt.