 | The Pilgrim |  |
Scæna Prima.
Enter Alphonso, Curio, Seberto.Curio.
Signor Alphonso, ye are too rugged to her,
Believe too full of harshnesse.
Al.
Yes, it seemes so.
Seb.
A father of so sweet a child, so happy,
(Fy Sir) so excellent in all endowments,
In blessednesse of beauty, such a mirror.
Alp.
She is a foole, away.
Seb.
Can ye be angry?
Can any wind blow rough, upon a blossom
So faire, and tender? Can a Fathers nature,
A noble Fathers too?
Al.
All this is but prating:
Let her be rul'd; let her observe my humor,
With my eyes let her see; with my eares listen;
I am her Father: I begot her, bred her,
And I will make her.
Cur.
No doubt ye may compell her,
But what a misceivous, unhappy fortune
May wayt upon this wil of yours, as commonly
Such forcings ever end in hates, and ruines.
Al.
Is't not a man I wish her to? a strong man?
What can she have? what could she have? a Gentleman?
A yong man? and an able-man? a rich man?
A handsome man? a valiant man? do you marke me?
None of your peeced-companions, your pin'd-Gallants,
That flie to fitters, with every flaw of weather:
None of your impt bravados: what can she ask more?
Is not a mettal'd-man fit for a woman?
A strong chindman? i'le not be foold, nor flurted.
Seb.
I grant ye Rodorgio is all these
And a brave Gentleman: must it therefore follow
Upon necessity she must doate upon him?
Will ye allow no liberty in choosing?
Cur.
Alas she is tender yet.
Al.
Enough enough, enough Sir:
She is malliable; shee'l endure the hammer,
And why not that strong workeman that strikes deepest?
Let me know that? she is fifteen, with the vantage,
And if she be not ready now for mannage—
Seb.
You know he is a banish'd man: an out-Law;
And how he lives: his nature rough, and bloody
By customary rapines: now, her sweet humor
That is as easy as a calme, and peacefull,
All her affections, like the dewes on Roses,
Faire as the flowers themselves: as sweet, and gentle:
How would you have these meet?
Al.
A bed, a bed sir:
Let her be the fairest Rose, and the sweetest,
Yet I know this faire rose must have her prickles:
I grant ye Rodorigo is an out-Law,
An easie composition cals him in again,
He is a valiant man, and he is a rich man,
And loves the foole: a little rough by custome:
Shee'l like him ten times better. Shee'l do at upon him,
If ere they come to grapling, run mad for him;
But there is an other in the wind, some castrell
That hovers over her, and dares her dayly,
Some flickring slave.
Cur.
I dare not think so poorely.
Al.
Something there is, and must be: but I shall sente it
And hunt it narrowly.
Seb.
I never saw her yet
Make offer at the least glance of affection,
But still so modest, wise.
Al.
They are wise to gull us,
There was a fellow, old Ferandos son,
I must confesse handsome, but my enemy,
And the whole family, I hate yong Pedro:
That fellow I have seen her gaze upon,
And turn, and gaze again, and make such offers
As if she would shoot her eyes like meteors at him:
But that cause stands removed.
Cur.
You need not doubt him,
For long since as 'twas thought on a griev'd conscience,
He left his father, and his friends: more pitty:
For truth reports he was a noble Gentleman.
Al.
Let him be what he wil: he was a begger,
And there i'le leave him.
Seb.
The more the Court must answer;
But certainly I think, though she might favour him,
And love his goodnesse, as he was an honest man:
She never with loose eyes stuck on his person.
Al.
She is so full of conscience too, and charity,
And outward holinesse, she will undoe me:
Relieves more beggers, then an hospitall;
En. Alinda, and Juletta.
And all poor rogues, that can but say their prayers,
And tune their pipes to Lamentations,
She thinks she is bound to dance to: good morrow to you,
And that's as ye deserve too: you know my mind,
And studdy to observe it: doe it cheerfully,
And readily, and home.
Alin.
I shall obey ye.
But noble sir.
Al.
Come, come, away with your flatteries,
And your fine phrases,
48
Pray ye be gentle to her:
Al.
I know 'em; and know your feates: if you will find me
Noble and loving, seek me in your duty,
You know I am too indulgent.
Seb.
Alas poor Lady.
Al.
To your devotions: I take no good thing from you
Come Gentlemen; leave pittying, and moaning of her,
And praysing of her vertues: and her whym-whams,
It makes her proud, and sturdy:
Seb., Cur.
Good houres wait on ye.
Exeunt
Alin.
I thank ye Gentlemen: I want such comforts:
I would thank you too father: but your cruelty
Hath almost made me senselesse of my duty,
Yet still I must know: would J had known nothing;
What Poor attend my charity to day, wench?
Jul.
Of all sorte, Madam; your open handed bounty
Makes 'em flock every houre: some worth your pitty,
But others that have made a trade of begging.
Alin.
Wench, if they ask it truly, I must give it:
It takes away the holy use of charity
To examine wants.
Jul.
I would you would be merry:
A cheerfull-giving hand, as I think, Madam,
Requires a heart as cheerfull.
Alin.
Alas Iuletta,
What is there to be merry at? what joy now,
Unlesse we foole our own afflictions,
And make them shew ridiculous?
Jul.
Sure Madam,
You could not seeme thus serious, if you were married,
Thus sad, and full of thoughts.
Alin.
Married? to whom, wench?
Thou thinkst if there be a yong handsome fellow
As those are plentifull, our cares are quenched then.
Iul.
Madam, I think a lusty handsome fellow
If he be kind, and loving, and a right one,
Is even as good a pill, to purge this melancholy,
As ever Galen gave, I am sure more naturall:
And merrier for the heart, then Wine and Saffron:
Madam, wantone youth is such a Cataplasme.
Alin.
Who has bin thy tutor wench?
Jul.
Even my own thoughts, Lady:
For though J be bard the liberty of talking,
Yet I can think unhappily, and as near the mark, Madam,
'Faith, marry, and be merry.
Alin.
Who wil have me?
Who wil be troubled with a tettish Girle?
It may be proud, and to that vice expencefull?
Who can assure himselfe, I shall live honest?
Jul.
Let every man take his fortune:
Alin.
And o' my conscience
If once I grow to breeding, a whole Kingdome
Wil not containe my stock.
Jul.
The more the merrier:
'Tis brave to be a mother of new Nations.
Alin.
Why, I should bury a hundred husbands.
Iul.
Tis no matter:
As long as ye leave sufficient men to stock ye.
Alm.
Is this thy mirth? are these the joyes of marriage?
Away light-headed foole; are these contentments?
If I could finde a man.
Jul.
You may a thousand.
Alin.
Meere men I know I may: and there a woman
Has liberty, (at least shee'l venture for it,)
To be a monster and become the time too;
But to enjoy a man, from whose example
(As from a compasse) we may steer our fortunes,
Our actions, and our age; and safe arive at
A memory that shall become our ashes,
Such things are few, and far to seek; to finde one
That can but rightly mannage the wild beast, woman,
And sweetly govern with her. But no more of this, wench,
Tis not for thy discourse: Lets in, and see
What poor afflicted wait our charity.
Exeunt.
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