University of Virginia Library

SCENE. 13.

Lelio. Sulpitia.
Le.
The hopefull issue of thy counsell, Cricca,
Brightens this ev'ning, and makes it more excell
The cleerest day, then a gray morning doth
The blindest midnight, raising my amorous thoughts
To such a pitch of joy, that riches, honour,
And other pleasures, to Sulpitia's love,
Appeare like Mole-hils to the Moon.

Sul.
Lelio?

Le.
O there's the voice that in one note contains
All cords of Musick: how gladly shee'l imbrace
The newes I give her, and the messenger.

Sul.
Soft, Soft y'are much mistaken; for in earnest,
I am angry Lelio; and with you.

Le.
Sweetest, those flames
Rise from the fire of love, and soon will quench
I'th'welcome news I bring you.

Sul.
Stand still I charge you
By th'vertue of my lips; speak not a sillable
As you expect a kisse should close my choler.
For I must chide you

Le.
O my Sulpitia,
Were euery speech a pistoll chargd with death,
I'de stand them all in hope of that condition.

Sul.
First, sir, I heare, you teach Eugenio
Too graue a warinesse in your sisters loue,
And kill his honest forwardnesse of affection
With your far-fet respects, suspitious, feares:
You haue your may-bee's; this is dangerous:
That course were better: for if so, and yet
Who knowes? the event is doubtfull; be advis'd,
Tis a yong rashnesse: your father is your father:
Take leisure to consider. Thus y'have considered
Poore Flavia almost to her grave. Fye Lelio,
Had this my smalnesse undertooke the businesse,
And done no more in foure short winters daies
Than you in foure months; I'de have vowed my maiden-head
To the living Tombe of a sad Nunnery:
Which for your sake I loath.

Lel.
Sweet by your favour.

Sul.
Peace, peace: now y'are so wise, as if ye had eaten
Nothing but braines and marrow of Machiavell:
You tip your speeches with Italian Motti,
Spanish Refranes, and English Quoth Hee's. Beleeve me,
There is not a Proverbe salts your tongue, but plants
Whole colonies of white haires. O what a businesse
These hands must have when you have married me?
To picke out sentences that over-yeare you.

Lel.
Give me but leave.

Sul.
Have I a lip? and you
Made Sonets on't? tis your fault, for otherwise
Your sister and Eugenio had beene sure
Long time ere this.

Lel.
But—

Sul.
Stay, your Qu's not come yet.
I hate as perfectly this gray-greene of yours,
As old Antonio's green-gray. Fy! Wise lovers,
Are most absurd. Were I not full resolved,
I should begin to coole mine owne affection.
For shame consider well your sisters temper.
Her melancholy may much hurt her. Respect her,
Or spight of mine owne love, Ile make you stay
Sixe months before you marry me.

Lelio whispers.
Sul.
This your so happy newes? return'd, and safe?
Antonio yet alive?

Lelio whispers.
Sul.
And what then?

Lelio whispers.
Sul.
Well; all your businesse must be compassed
With winding plots, and cunning stratagems.
Looke too't: For if we be not married ere next morning,
By the great love that is hid in this small compasse,
Flavia and my selfe will steale you both away
To your eternall shame and soule discredit.

Le.
How prettily this lovely littlenesse,
In her own breath pleads her own cause, and my sisters;
Chides me, and loves. This is that pleasing temper
I more admire, then a continued sweetnesse
That over-satisfies: 'Tis salt I love, not sugar.