 | The Fancies Chast and Noble |  |
Act. I.
Enter Troylo Savelli, and Livio.Troylo.
Doe, doe, be wilfull, desperate, 'tis manly,
Build on your reputation, such a Fortune
May furnish out your Tables, trim your liveries,
Enrich your heirs, with purchase of a Patrimony
Which shall hold out beyond the waste of riot,
Sticke Honours on your Heraldry, with titles
As swelling and as numerous, as may likely
Grow to a pretty volume, here's eternity,
All this can reputation, marry can it,
Indeed what not?
Livio.
Such language from a Gentleman
So noble in his quality as you are
Deserves in my weake Iudgement rather pittie
Then a contempt.
Troylo.
Could'st thou consider Livio
The fashion of the times, their study, practice,
Nay, their ambitions, thou would'st soone distinguish
Betwixt the abject lownesse of a poverty,
And the applauded triumph of abundance,
Shall you betray your guilt to common censure,
Waiving the private charge of your opinion
By rising up to greatnesse, or at least
To plenty which now buyes it.
Livio.
Troylo-Savelli,
Playes merrily on my wants,
Troy.
Troylo-Savelli.
Speakes to the friend he loves, to his owne Livio,
Looke prethee through the great Dukes Court in Florence,
Number his favorites, and then examine
By what steps some chiefe Officers in state
Have reach't the heigh they stand in.
Livio.
By their merrits.
Troylo.
Right, by their merrits, well he merited
Th'Intendments o're the Gallies at Ligorne,
Made grand collector of the customes there,
Who led the Prince unto his Wives chaste bed,
And stood himselfe by, in his night gowne, fearing
The iest might be discovered: waste not handsome?
The Lady knowes not yet on't.
Livio.
Most impossible.
Troy.
He merited well to weare a roabe of Chamlet,
Who train'd his Brothers daughter (scarce a girle)
Into the Armes of Mont-Angentorato,
Whiles the young Lord of Telamon her husband,
Was packetted to France, to study courtship,
Under forsooth a colour of employment,
Employment, yea of honour,
Liv.
Y'are well read
In misteries of state,
Troy.
Here in Sienna.
Bold Iulio de Varana Lord of Camerine.
Held it no blemish to his blood and greatnesse,
From a plaine Merchant with a thousand Ducats
To buy his wife, nay justifie the purchase,
From Rome, allowed and warranted: twas thought
By his Physitians, that she was a creature,
Agreed best with the cure of the disease,
His present new infirmity then labour'd in.
Yet these are things in prospect of the world,
Advanc'd imploi'd, and eminent.
Liv.
at best 'Tis but a goodly pandarisme.
Troy.
Shrewd businesse.
Thou child in thrift, thou foole of honesty,
I'st a disparagement for gentlemen,
For friends of lower ranck to doe the offices
Of necessary kindnesse without fee,
For one another, courtesies of course,
Mirthes of society, when petty mushroomes,
Transplanted from their dunghils spread on mountaines,
And passe for Cedars by their servile flatteries
On great mens vices?—Pander—th'art deceived,
The word includes preferment,—tis a title
Of dignity, I could adde somewhat more else,
Livio.
Adde any thing of reason.
Troylo.
Castamela.
Thy beautious sister like a precious Tissue,
Not shapt into a garment fit for wearing,
Wants the adornments of the Workemans cunning
To set the richnesse of the piece at view,
Though in her selfe all wonder. Come Ile tell thee,
Away there may be (know I love thee Livio)
To fix this Iewell in a Ring of gold,
Yet lodge it in a Cabanet of Ivory,
White pure, unspotted Ivorie, put case
Livio himselfe shall keepe the key on't?
Livio.
Oh Sir,
Create me what you please of yours, doe this,
You are another Nature,
Troy.
Be then pliable.
Troylo.
Be then pliable
To my first rules of your advancement—See,
Octavio my good Uncle, the great Marquesse
Of our Siena comes as we could wish
In private—Noble Sir
Oct.
My bosomes Secretary,
My dearest, best lov'd Nephew.
Troylo.
We have beene thirsty
In our pursuit—Sir her's a gentleman
Desert full of your knowledge, and as covetous
Of entertainment from it, you shall honour
Your judgment, to intrust him to your favours,
His merits will commend it.
Oct.
Gladly welcome.
Your own worth is a herald to proclaim it:
For tast of your preferment, we admit you
The chiefe provisor of our Horse.
Livio.
Your bounty
Stiles me your ever servant.
Troyo.
Hee's our owne,
Surely, nay most perswadedly—my thanks Sir
Owes to this just engagement.
Oct.
Slacke no time
To enter on your fortunes—thou art carefull
My Troylo in the study of a duty,
His name is Livio!
Li.
Livio my good Lord.
Oct.
Again y'are welcome to us, be as speedy
Deare Nephew as th'art constant—men of parts,
Fit parts and sound are rarelie to be met with,
But being met with, therefore to be cherish'd,
With love and with supportance, while I stand,
Livio can no way fall—
Yet once more welcome.
Exit. Oct. Page.
Troy.
An honourable liberality,
Commands a gratitude, is not this better
Then waiting three or foure months at livory,
With cup and knee unto this chaire of state,
And to the repainted Arras for a need
From Goodman Usher, or the formall Secretary
Especially the Iugler with the purse,
That paies some shares, in all a yonger brother
Sometimes an elder, not well trim'd i'th head-piece,
May spend what his friends left in expectation,
Of being turned out of service for attendance
Or marry a waiting woman, and be damb'd for't
To open laughter, (and what's worth) old beggerie,
What thinkes my Livio of this rise at first?
Is't not miraculous.
Livio.
It seemes the bargaine,
Was driven before betweene yee.
Troy.
'Twas, and nothing
Could void it, but the peevish resolution
Of your dissent from goodnesse, as you call it,
A Thin, a threadbare honesty, a vertue
Without a living to't.
Liv.
I must resolve
To turne my sister whore, speake a homeword,
For my old Batchelor—Lord, so, i'st not so?
A trifle in respect of present meanes,
Here's all—
Troy.
Be yet more confident, the slaverie
Of such an abject office, shall not tempt
The freedome of my spirit, stand ingenious
To thine owne fate, and we will practise wisely
Without the charge of scandall.
Liv.
May it prove so.
Exeunt.
Secco.
Admirable! incomparably admirable! to be the minion,
the darling, the delight of love, 'tis a very tickling to
the marrow, a kissing i'th blood, a bosoming the extasie, the
rapture of virginity, soule and paradise of perfection—ah—
pitty of generation Secco, there are no more such men.
Spa.
O yes, if any man, woman, or beast, have found,
stolne, or taken up a fine, very fine male Barber, of the age
of above or under eighteene more or lesse.
Sec.
Spadone, hold, what's the noise?
Spa.
Umh—pay the cryer, I have bin almost lost
my selfe in seeking you, heere's a letter from—
Sec.
Whom, whom my deare Spadone, whom?
Spa.
Soft and faire, and you be so briefe, I'le returne it
whence it came, or looke out a new owner, O yes.
Sa.
Low, low, what dost meane, i'st from the glory of
beauty, Morosa the fairest faire, be gentle to me, here's a
duccat, speake lowe prethe.
Spa.
Give me one, and take t'other, 'tis from the party,
Golden newes believe it.
Sec.
Honest Spadone divine Morosa.
Spa.
Fairest faire, quoth a, so is an old rotten Codled
mungrell, parcell Bawde, parcell midwife, all the markes
are quite out of her mouth, not the stumpe of a tooth left in
her head, to mumble the curd of a Posset—Seignior 'tis
as I told yee, all's right,
Sec.
Right, just as thou tould'st me, all's right,
Spa.
To a very haire Seignior mio.
Sec.
For which Sirrah Spadone, I will make thee a man,
a man, dost heare? I say a man.
Th'art a prickeard foyst, a citterne headed gew,
gaw, a knacke, a snipper-snapper, twit mee with the decrements
of my pendants, though I am made a gelding, and
like a tame Buck have lost my Dowsets, more a monster then
a Cuckold with his hornes seene, yet I scorne to be jeer'd by
any checker, aproved Barbarian of yee all, make me a man,
I defie thee.
Sec.
How now fellow, how now, roring ripe indeed?
Spa.
Indeed? Th'art worse, a drie shaver, a copper basand-suds-monger.
Sec.
Nay, nay, by my Mistresse faire eyes I meant no
such thing.
Spa.
Eyes in thy belly, the reverend Madam shall know
how I have beene used, I will blow my nose in thy casting-bottle,
breake the teeth of thy combes, poyson thy camphire
Balls, slice out thy towels with thine owne razor, betallow
thy tweezes, and urine in thy bason, make me a man?
Sec.
Hold take another Duccat, as I love new cloathes.
Spa.
Or cast old ones.
Sec.
Yes or cast old ones, I intended no injury.
Spa.
Good, we are piec'd againe, reputation, Seignior, is
precious.
Sec.
I know it is.
Spa.
Old sores would not be rub'd.
Sec.
For me never.
Spa.
The Lady guardianesse, the mother of the Fancies,
is resolved to draw with yee, in the wholesome of matrimony,
suddenly.
Sec.
Shee writes as much, and Spadone, when wee are
married.
Spa.
You will to bed no doubt.
Sec.
We will revell in such variety of delights.
Spa.
Doe miracles and get Babies.
Sec.
Live so sumptuously.
Spa.
In feather and old furres.
Feed so deliciously.
Spa.
On Pap and Bulbeefe.
Sec.
Enjoy the sweetnes of our yeers.
Spa.
Eighteene and threescore with advantage,
Sec.
Tumble and wallow in aboundance.
Spa.
The pure christall puddle of pleasures.
Sec.
That all the world should wonder.
Spa.
A pox on them that envy yee.
Sec.
How doe the beauties (my dainty knave) live, wish,
thinke, and dreame, sirrah ha.
Spa.
Fumble one with an other, on the gambos of imagination
betweene their legs, eate they doe, and sleepe, game,
laugh, and lye downe, as beauties ought to doe, there's
all.
Sec.
Commend me to my choisest, and tell her, the minute
of her appointment shall be waited on, say to her, she
shall find me a man at all points.
Enter Nitido.
Spa.
Why, there's another quarrell, man, once more in
spight of my nose.
Nit.
Away Secco away, my Lord cals, a' ha's a loose
haire started from his fellowes, a clip of your art is commanded.
Sec.
I fly Nitido, Spadone remember me.
Exit.
Nit.
Trudging betweene an old moyle, and a young
Calfe, my nimble intelligencer,
Spa.
Yes crimpe, 'tis a gallant life to bee an old Lords
pimpe whiskin, but beware of the porters lodge, for carrying
tales out of the schoole.
Nit.
What a terrible sight to a lib'd breech is a sow gelder?
Spa.
Not so terrible as a crosse tree that never growes, to
a wag-halter-Page.
Nit.
Good! witty rascall, th'art a Satire I protest, but
that the Nimphs need not feare the evidence of thy mortality,
sing'em a bawdy song, all the children thou ge'tst, shall bee
christened in wassaile bowles, and turn'd into a college of
men Midwives, farewell night-mare.
Spa.
Very, very well, if I dye in thy debt for this crack-rope)
let me be buried in a cole-sacke, I'le fit yee, (apes face)
looke for't.
Nit.
And still the Vrchin would, but could not doe.
sing.
Spa.
Marke the end on't, and laugh at last.
Exeunt.
Enter Romanello and Castamela.
Rom.
Tell me you cannot love me,
Chast.
You importune
Too strict a resolution, as a gentleman
Of commendable parts, and faire deserts,
In every sweet condition that becomes
A hopefull expectation, I doe honour
Th'example of your youth, but Sir our fortunes
Concluded on both sides in narrow bands,
Move you to conster gently my forbearance,
In argument of fit consideration.
Rom.
Why Castamela, I have shapt thy vertues
(Even from our childish yeeres) into a dowry
Of richer estimation, then thy portion,
Doubled an hundred times, can equall: now
I cleerely find, thy current of affection
Labours to fall into the guilt of riot,
Not the free ocean of a soft content.
You'd marry pompe and plenty, 'tis the Idoll
(I must confesse) that creatures of the time,
Bend their devotions to, But I have fashion'd
Thoughts much more excellent of you.
Cast.
Enjoy your own prosperity, I am resolv'd,
Never by any charge with me, to force
A poverty upon yee, want of love.
Ile not be your undoing.
Rom.
Sure some dotage
Of living stately, richly, lend a cunning
To Eloquence. How is this piece of goodnesse
Chang'd to ambition? oh you are most miserable
In your desires, the female curse ha's caught yee.
Cast.
Fie, fie, how il this suits.
Rom.
A Divell of pride,
Ranges in airy thoughts to catch a starre,
Whiles yee graspe mole-hils.
Cast.
Worse and worse I vow.
Rom.
But that some remnant of an honest sence,
Ebbes a full tide of blood to shame, all women
Would prostitute al honour to the luxurie of ease and titles.
Cast.
Romanello, know
You have forgot the noblenesse of truth,
And fixt on scandall now.
Rom.
A Dogge, a Parrot,
A Monkey, a Caroach, a guarded lackey,
A waiting woman with her lips seald up,
Are pretty toyes to please my Mistresse wanton:
So is a fiddle too, 'twill make it dance,
Or else be sicke and whine.
Cast.
This is uncivill.
I am not Sir your charge.
Rom.
My griefe you are,
For all my services are lost and ruin'd.
Chast.
So is my chiefe opinion of your worthinesse,
When such distractions tempt yee, you would prove
A cruell Lord, who dare, being yet a servant,
As you professe, to bait my best respects
Of duty to your welfare, 'tis a madnesse
I have not oft observed, possesse your freedome,
You have no right in me, let this suffice:
I wish your joyes much comfort.
Liv.
Sister, looke yee,
How by a new creation off my Taylors,
I've shooke off old mortality, the rags
Of home spun Gentry (prethee sister marke it)
Are cast by, and I now appeare in fashion
Vnto men, and receiv'd, observe me sister,
The consequence concernes you.
Cast.
True good Brother,
For my well doing must consist in yours.
Li.
Heere's Romanello, a fine temper'd gallant,
Of decent carriage, of indifferent meanes,
Considering that his sister, new hoist up,
From a lost merchants warehouse, to the titles
Of a great Lords-bed, may supply his wants
Not sunck in his acquaintance, for a scholler
Able enough, and one who may subsist
Without the helpe of friends, provided alwayes,
He flie not upon wedlocke without certainty
Of an advancement, else a batchelor
May thrive by observation on a little.
As single life's no burthen, but to draw
In yoakes is chargeable, and will require
A double maintenance, why I can live
Without a wife, and purchase.
Rom.
I'st a mysterie?
Y'ave lately found out Livio, or a cunning
Conceal'd, till now for wonder?
Livio.
Pish, believe it,
Endevours and an active braine, are better
Then patrimonies left by parents. Prove it.
One thrives by cheating; shallow fooles and unthrifts,
Are game knaves onely flie at: then a fellow
Presumes on his haire, and that his backe can toile
Reputed valiant, lives by the sword, and takes up
Quarrels or braves them, as the novice likes,
To guild his reputation, most improbable.
A world of desperate undertakings, possibly,
Procures some hungry meales, some taverne surfets,
Some frippery to hide nakednesse: perhaps
The scambling halfe a duccat now and then
To rore and noyse it with the tatling hostesse,
For a weekes lodging: these are pretty shifts,
Soules bankerupt of their royalty submit to.
Give me a man, whose practice and experience,
Conceives not barely the Philosophers stone,
But indeed ha's it, one whose wit's his Indies.
The poore is most ridiculous.
Rom.
Y'are pleasant
In new discoveries of fortune; use them
With moderation, Livio.
Cast.
Such wilde language
Was wont to be a stranger to your custome;
How ever, Brother, you are pleas'd to vent it,
I hope for recreation.
Li.
Name and honour.
What are they? a meer sound without supportance,
A begging chastity, youth, beauty, hansomnesse,
Discourse, behaviour which might charm attention,
And curse the gazers eyes into amazement;
Are Nature's common bounties. So are Diamonds
Uncut, so flowers unworne, so silke-wormes webs
Unwrought, gold unrefin'd, then all those glories
are of esteeme, when us'd and set at price,
There's no darke sence in this.
Rom.
I understand not
The drift on't, nor how meant, nor yet to whom.
Cast.
Pray Brother be more plaine.
Liv.
First Romanello,
More houres in courtship to this maid, my sister,
Weighing her competency with your owne,
You goe about to build without foundation;
So that care will prove void.
Rom.
A sure acquittance,
If I must be discharged.
Liv.
Next Castamela,
To thee (my owne lov'd Sister) let me say
I have not beene so bountifull, in shewing
To Fame, the treasure, which this age hath open'd,
As thy true value merits.
Cast.
You are merry.
Liv.
My jealousie of thy fresh blooming yeeres,
Prompted a feare of husbanding too charily
Thy growth to such perfection as no flattery
Of art can perish now.
Cast.
Here's talke in riddles.
Brother, th'exposition?
Liv.
I'le no longer
Chamber thy freedome, we have beene already
Thrifty enough in our lowe fortunes henceforth
Command thy liberty, with that thy pleasures.
Rom.
Is't come to this?
Cast.
Y'are wondrous full of curtesie.
Livio.
Ladies of birth and quality are suitors
For being knowne t'ee, I have promised, sister,
They shall partake your company.
Cast.
What Ladyes,
Where, when, how, who?
Liv.
A day, a weeke, a month
Sported amongst such beauties, is a gaine
On time, th'are young, wise, noble, faire, and chast.
Cast.
Chast?
Livio.
Castamela chast, I would not hazard
My hopes, my joyes of thee, on dangerous triall.
Passe without blush in tatling to the words,
Fall not too broad, 'tis but a pastime smil'd at
Amongst your selves in counsaile, but beware
Of being over-heard.
Cast.
This is pretty.
Rom.
I doubt I know not what, yet must be silent.
Enter Troylo, Floria, Clarelia, Silvia and Nitido.
Li.
They come as soon as spoke of—sweetest faire-ones
My sister cannot but conceive this honour
Particular in your respects: Deare sir
You grace us in your favours.
Troy.
Vertuous Lady.
Flo.
We are your servants.
Clar.
Your sure friends.
Sil.
Society,
May fix us in a league.
Cast.
All fitly welcome.
I find not reason (gentle Ladyes) whereon
To cast this debt of mine, but my acknowledgement
Shall study to pay thankfulnesse.
Troy.
Sweet beauty,
Your Brother hath indeed beene too much churle
In this concealement from us all, who love him,
Of such desir'd a presence.
Sil.
Please to enrich us
With your wish'd amity.
Flo.
Our coach attends;
We cannot be deny'd:
Clar.
Command it Nitido.
Nit.
Ladies, I shall, now for a lusty harvest.
'Twill prove a cheap yeare, should these barnes be fil'd once.
Cast.
Brother one word in private.
Livio.
Phew—anon
And easily intreated; 'tis good manners
Not to be troublesome.
Troy.
Thou art perfect Livio.
Cast.
Whether—but—hee's my brother.
Troy.
Faire, your arme.
I am your Usher Lady.
Cast.
As you please sir.
Liv.
I waite you to your coach,
Some two houres hence.
I shall returne againe.
Exeunt.
Rom.
Troylo-Savelli,
Next heire unto the marquesse? and the Page too?
The Marquesses owne page. Livio transform'd
Into a suddaine bravery, and alter'd
In Nature, or I dreame? amongst the Ladies,
I not remember I have seene one face.
There's cunning in these changes, I am resolute,
Or to pursue the trick on't, or lose labour.
Exeunt.
| The Fancies Chast and Noble | |