University of Virginia Library

ACTVS SECVNDVS

SCÆNA PRIMA.

Enter Medice, Corteza a Page with a cuppe of Seeke, Strozza following close.
Med:
Come Lady, sit you heere: Page, fill some Sacke,
I am to worke vpon this aged Dame,
To gleane from her, if there be any cause
(In louing others) of her Neeces coines
To the most gratious loue suite of the Duke:
Heere noble Lady, this is healthfull drinke
After our supper.

Corteza
O, tis that my Lorde,
That of all drinkes keeps life and soule in me.

Med.
Heere, fill it Page, for this my worthy loue:
O how I could imbrace this good olde widdow.

Cort.
Now lord, when you do thus, you make me thinke
Of my sweete husband; for he was as like you;
Eene the same words, and fashion: the same eies,
Manly, and cholerike, eene as you are iust,
And eene as kinde as you for all the world.

Med.
O my sweete widdow, thou dost make me prowd.

Cort:
Nay, I am too old for you.

Med:
Too old, thats nothing,
Come pledge me wench, for I am drie againe,
And strait will charge your widdowhood fresh ifaith:
Why thats well done.

Cort:
Now fie on't, heeres a draught.

Med:
O, it will warme your blood: if you should sip,
Twould make you heart-burnd.

Cort:
Faith and so they say:
Yet I must tell you, since I plide this geere,
I haue beene hanted with a hoison paine heere,
And euery moone almost with a shrewd feuer,
And yet I cannot leaue it: for thanke God,
I neuer was more sound of winde and limbe.
Enter Strozza.
A great bumbasted legge.
Looke you, I warrant you I haue a leg,
Holds out as hansomly.

Med.
Beshrew my life,
But tis a legge indeed, a goodly limbe.

Stro.
This is most excellent.

Med.
O that your Neece
Were of as milde a spirit as your selfe.

Cort.
Alas Lord Medice, would you haue a girle.
As well seene in behauiour as I?
Ah shees a fond yong thing, and growne so prowde.
The wind must blow at west stil, or sheele be angry.

Med.
Masse so me thinke; how coy shees to the duke?
I lay my life she haz some yonger loue.

Cort.
Faith like enough.

Med.
Gods me, who should it bee?

Cort.
If it be any; Page, a little Sacke.
If it be any: harke now; if it be,
I know not, by this Sacke, but if it be,
Marke what I say, my Lord; I drinke tee first.

Med.
Well said good widdow, much good do thy heart,
So; now what if it be?

Cort.
Well, if it be;
To come to that I said, for so I said,
If it be any, Tis the Shrewde yong Prince,
For eies can speake, and eies can vnderstand.
And I haue markt her eies; yet by this cup,
Which I will onely kisse.

Stro.
O noble Crone,
Now such a huddle and kettle neuer was.

Cort.
I neuer yet haue seene; not yet I say,
But I will marke her after for your sake.

Med.
And doe I pray; for it is passing like;
And there is Strozza, a slie Counsailor
To the yong boy: O I would giue a limbe,
To haue their knauerie limm'd and painted out.
They stand vpon their wits and paper learning:
Giue me a fellow with a naturall wit,
That can make wit of no wit; and wade through
Great things with nothing, when their wits sticke fast,
O they be scuruie Lords.

Cort.
Faith so they be,
Your Lordship still is of my mind in all,
And eene so was my husband.

Mid.
Gods my life,
Strozza hath Euesdropt here, and ouer-heard vs.

Stro.
They haue descried me; what Lord Medice
Courting the lustie widow?

Med.
I, and why not?
Perhaps one does as much for you at home.

Stro.
What, cholericke man? and toward wedlocke too?

Cort.
And if he be my Lord; he may do woorse.

Stro.
If he be not; madame he may do better.

Enter Bassiolo with seruants with Rushes, and a Carpet.
Bass.
My Lords, and Madame, the Dukes grace intreates you
T'attend his new-made Dutchesse for this night,
Into his presence.

Stro.
We are readie sir.

Exeunt.
Bass.
Come strew this roome afresh; spread here this carpet,
Nay quickly man, I pray thee; this way foole,
Lay me it smoothe, and Euen; looke if he will;
This way a little more: a little there.
Hast thou no forecast? flood me thinks a man
Should not of meere necessitie be an Asse.
Looke how he strowes here too: Come sir Giles Goosecap,
I must do all my selfe, lay me vm thus:
In fine smoothe threaues, looke you sir, thus in threaues.
Perhaps some tender Ladie will squat here,
And if some standing Rush should chance to pricke her,
Shee'd squeak & spoile the songs that must be sung.

Stro.
See where he is; now to him, and prepare
Your familiaritie.

Enter Vin. and Stroz.
Vin.
Saue you master Bassiolo,
I pray a word sir; but I feare I let you.

Bass.
No my good Lord, no let.

Vin.
I thanke you sir.
Nay pray be couerd; O I crie you mercie,
You must be bare.

Bass.
Euer to you my Lord,

Vin.
Nay, not to me sir,
But to the faire right of your worshipfull place.

Stro.
A shame of both your worships.

Bass.
What means your Lordship?

Vin.
Onely to doe you right sir, and my selfe ease.
And what sir, will there be some shew to night?

Bass.
A slender presentation of some musick
And some thing else my Lord.

Vin.
T'is passing good sir,
Ile not be ouer bold t'aske the particulars.

Bass.
Yes, if your Lordship please.

Vin.
O no good sir,
But I did wonder much; for as me thought
I saw your hands at work.

Bass.
Or else my Lord
Our busines would be but badly done.

Vin.
How vertuous is a worthy mans example?
Who is this throne for pray?

Bass.
For my Lords daughter,
Whom the duke makes to represent his dutches.

Vin.
T'will be exceeding fit; and all this roome
Is passing wel preparde; a man would sweare,
That all presentments in it would be rare.

Bass.
Nay, see if thou canst lay vm thus in threaues.

Vin.
In threaues dee call it?

Bass.
I my Lord in threaues.

Vin.
A pretty terme:
Well sir I thanke you highly for this kindnesse,
And pray you alwayes make as bold with me
For kindnesse more then this, if more may bee.

Bass.
O my Lord this is nothing.

Vin.
Sir, tis much.
And now ile leaue you sir; I know y'are busie.

Bass.
Faith sir alittle.

Vin.
I commend me tee Sir.
Exit Vin.

Bass.
A courteous prince beleeue it; I am sory
I was no bolder with him; what a phrase
He vsde at parting: I commend me toe.
Ile hate yfaith;

Enter Sarpego halfe drest.
Sarp.
Good master Vsher, will you dictate to me,
Which is the part precedent of this night-cap,
And which posterior? I do ignorare
How I should weare it.

Bass.
Why sir, this I take it
Is the precedent part; I, so it is.

Sarp.
And is all well sir thinke you?

Bass.
Passing well.

Enter Pogio, and Fungus.
Pog.
Why sir come on; the Vsher shal be iudge:
See master Vsher: this same Fungus here,
Your Lords retainer, whom I hope you rule,
Would weare this better Ierkin for the Rush-man,
When I doe play the Broome-man; and speake first.

Fun.
Why sir, I borrowed it, and I will weare it.

Pog.
What sir, in spite of your Lords gentleman Vsher:

Fun.
No spite sir, but you haue changde twice already,
And now woulde ha't againe.

Pog.
Why thats all one sir,
Gentillitie must be fantasticall.

Bass.
I pray thee Fungus let master Pogio weare it.

Fun.
And what shall I weare then?

Pog.

Why here is one, that was a Rush-mans Ierkin, and I
pray, wer't not absurd then; a Broome-man should weare it?

Fun.
Foe, theres a reason, I will keepe it sir.

Pog.
Will sir; then do your office maister Vsher,
Make him put off his Ierkin; you may plucke
His coate ouer his cares, much more his Ierkin.

Bass.
Fungus y'ad best be rulde.

Fun.
Best sir! I care not.

Pog.
No sir? I hope you are my Lords retainer.
I neede not care a pudding for your Lord:
But spare not, keepe it, for perhaps Ile play
My part as well in this, as you in that,

Bass.
Well said, master Pogio; my Lord shall know it.

Enter Corteza, with the Broom-wench, & Rush-wench in their petticotes, clokes ouer them, with hats ouer their head-tyres.
Cort.
Looke master Vsher, are these wags wel drest?
I haue beene so in labour with vm truly.

Bass.
Y'aue had a verie good deliuerance, Ladie:
How I did take her at her labour there,
I vse to gird these Ladies so sometimes.

Enter Lasso, with Syluan and a Nymph, a man Bugge, and a woman.
1
I pray my Lord, must not I weare this haire?

Lass.
I pray thee aske my Vsher; Come, dispatch,
The duke is readie: are you readie there?

2
See master Vsher; must he weare this haire?

1. Bug.
Pray master Vsher, where must I come in?

2
Am not I well for a Bug, master Vsher?

Bass.
What stirre is with these boyes here, God forgiue me,
If t'were not for the credite on't, I'de see
Your apish trash afire, ere I'de indure this.

1
But pray good master Vsher.

Bass.
Hence ye Brats.
You stand vpon your tyre; but for your action
Which you must vse in singing of your songs,
Exceeding dexterously and full of life.
I hope youle then stand like a sort of blocks,
Without due motion of your hands and heads,
And wresting your whole bodies to your words,
Looke too't, y'are best; and in; Go; All go in.

Pog.
Come in my masters; lets be out anon.

Exeunt.
Lass.
What, are all furnisht well?

Bass.
All well my Lord.

Lass.
More lights then here, and let lowd musicke sound.

Bass.
Sound Musicke.

Exeunt.
Enter Vincentio, Strozzabaro, Margaret, Corteza, and Cynanche bearing her traine. After her the duke whispering with Medice, Lasso with Bassiolo, &c.
Alp.
Aduaunce your selfe, faire Dutchesse to this Throne,
As we haue long since raisde you to our heart,
Better decorum neuer was beheld,
Then twixt this state and you: And as all eyes
Now fixt on your bright Graces thinke it fit,
So frame your fauour to continue it.

Mar.
My Lord; but to obey your earnest will,
And not make serious scruple of a toy,
I scarce durst haue presumde this minuts height.

Lass.
Vsher, cause other musicke; begin your shew.

Bass.
Sound Consort; warne the Pedant to be readie.

Cor.
Madam, I thinke you'le see a prettie shew.

Cyn.
I can expect no lesse in such a presence.

Alp.
Lo what attention and state beautie breedes,
Whose moning silence no shrill herauld needes.

Enter Sarpego.
Sar.
Lords of high degree,
And Ladies of low courtesie,
I the Pedant here,
Whom some call schoolmaistere,
Because I can speake best,
Approch before the rest.

Vin.
A verie good reason.

Sar.
But there are others comming,
Without maske or mumming:
For they are not ashamed,
If need be, to be named,
Nor will they hide their faces,
In any place or places;
For though they seeme to come,
Loded with Rush, and Broome:
The Broomeman you must know,
Is seigneur Pogio,
Nephew, as shall appeare,
To my Lord Strozza here.

Stro.
O Lord, I thanke you sir, you grace me much.
And to this noble dame,
Whome I with finger name.

Vin.
A plague of that fooles finger.

Sar.
And women will ensue,
Which I must tell you true,
No women are indeed,
But Pages made for need,
To fill vp womens places.
By vertue of their faces,
And other hidden graces.
A hall, a hall; whist, stil, be mum,
For now with siluer song they come.

Enter Pogio, Fungus, with the song Broome-maid, and Rush-maid. After which, Pogio.
Pog.
Heroes, and Heroines, of gallant straine,
Let not these Broomes, motes in your eies remaine,
For in the Moone, theres one beares with'red bushes:
But we (deare wights) do beare greene broomes, green rushes,
Whereof these verdant herbals cleeped Broome,
Do pierce and enter euerie Ladies roome,
And to proue them high borne, and no base trash,
Water with which your phisnomies you wash,
Is but a Broome. And more truth to deliuer,
Grim Hercules swept a stable with a riuer,
The wind that sweepes fowle clowds out of the ayre,
And for you Ladies makes the Welken faire,
Is but a Broome: and O Dan Titan bright,
Most clearkly calld the Scauenger of night,
What art thou, but a verie broome of gold?
For all this world not to be cride nor sold;
Philosophy, that passion sweepes from thought,
Is the soules Broome, and by all braue wits sought,
Now if Philosophers but Broomemen are,
Each Broomeman then is a Philosopher.
And so we come (gracing your gratious Graces)
To sweepe Cares cobwebs from your cleanly faces.

Alp.
Thanks good master Broomeman.

Fun.
For me Rushman then,
To make Rush ruffle in a verse of ten,
A Rush which now your heeles doe lie on here.

Vin.
Crie mercie sir.

Fun.
Was whilome vsed for a pungent speare,
In that odde battaile, neuer fought but twice
(As Homer sings) betwixt the frogs and mice,
Rushes make True-loue knots; Rushes make rings,
Your Rush maugre the beard of winter springs
And when with gentle, amorous, laysie lims,
Each Lord with his faire Ladie sweetly swims
On these coole Rushes; they may with these bables,
Cradles for children make; children for cradles,
And lest some Momus here might now crie push,
Saying our pageant is not woorth a Rush,
Bundles of Rushes, lo, we bring along,
To picke his teeth that bites them with his tongue.

Stro.
See, see, thats Lord Medice.

Vin.
Gods me, my Lord,
Haz hee pickt you out, picking of your teeth?

Med.
What picke you out of that?

Stro.
Not such stale stuffe
As you picke from your teeth.

Alp.
Leaue this warre with Rushes,
Good master pedant; pray forth with your shew.

Sar.
Exeunt
Bugs song.

Exit.
Alp.
Generally well, and pleasingly performed.

Mar.
Now I resigne this borrowed maiesty,
Which fate vnseemely on my worthlesse head,
With humble seruice to your Highnesse hands.

Alp.
Well you became it Lady, and I know
All heere could wish it might be euer so.

Stro.
Heeres one saies nay to that.

Vin.
Plague on you, peace.

Lass.
Now let it please your Highnesse to accept
A homely banquet, to close these rude sports.

Alp.
I thanke your Lordship much.

Bass.
Bring lights, make place.

Enter Pogio in his cloke and broome-mans attire.
Pog.
How dee my Lord?

Alp.
O master broomeman, you did passing well.

Vin.
A you mad slaue you! you are a tickling Actor.

Pog.
I was not out like my Lord Medice.
How did you like me Aunt?

Cyn.
O rarely, rarely.

Stro.
O thou hast done a worke of memory,
And raisde our house vp higher by a story.

Vin.
Friend, how conceit you my young mother heere?

Cyn.
Fitter for you my Lord, than for your father.

Vin.
No more of that sweete friend, those are bugs words.

Exeunt.