 | The Distresses |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Argilo, Gonsalvo, Dorando, Balthazar, Surgeon, (who binds up Balthazar's Wound.)Argilo.
Bring Lights More Lights! And set a guard upon
The Gates: Be sure none enter here, but those
Who are ally'd to us?
Gonsalvo.
Send unto th'Governor; Entreat him that
His Officers take care the people be
Disperc'd that throng about the house, though some
Are so ill natur'd, that they take the pains
Of hast'ning hither to see mischief, yet
Others are worse natur'd, and come to do it.
Dorando.
Vice, Famine, and mistaken Zeal consume 'em?
How their wise courages affect to gape
On danger, when themselves stand safe? Brave Sir,
How do you feel your wound?
Balthazar.
I am oblieg'd unto your valor Sir,
Which doth no less deserve my wonder, then
Your courtesie my praise; for I admire
A stranger should ingage his youth, and life
To so much hazard, where he neither knew
The persons, nor the cause.
Doran.
I saw you were
Distress'd with numbers Sir, I could not think
My honor well dispos'd, till it was throughly
Inclin'd to make you safe. Your wound (I hope)
Gives you no sence of inward sickness?
Bal.
A meer scratch?
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Tame posture in a Chair, are ways to make
It seem much greater then it is.
Argilo.
Cosin,
I pray sit still! Although your wound be slight,
Your motion may unbind it; and I know
No blood belonging to our family, but is too good to lose
Enter Claramante.
Gonsa.
Look there, your sister Claramante, Sir,
Is hurried hither by her loving fears.
Clar.
My Brother Balthazar!
How have my vows miscarry'd thus of late?
Or are my sins more powerful then my pray'rs,
That all my importunities to Heaven
Are lost. I've oftner beg'd your safety, then
Mine own.
Balt.
Dear Claramante, were I dead,
Men that stood by and saw those tears would chide
You for too great expence of grief, knowing
Your health and beauty most concern the World.
I feel a greater danger from
Your sorrow, then my wound. Trust me, I am well.
Clar.
Our City fam'd for Government, is by
These nightly Riots and Disorders, grown
Less safe then Galleys, where revolted Slaves
Inchain their Officers.
Balt.
This sister is th'unruly season, when
Young raging Lovers meet their Rivals in
The dark; but I as little know mine enemy,
As guess the cause of his malicious wrath.
That noble stranger doth deserve your thanks
And praise, if I can serve you with my life,
For 'tis his valor hath continued it.
Clar.
Sir, there were little hope that I should pay
So large a debt, should I not ask his name,
To whose great vertue I do ow it.
Dor.
Madam, I am call'd Dorando; but it
Is far from my ambition, to believe
That any act of mine can add such worth
Unto my name, that you should think it fit
To wear't one hour within your memory.
Clar.
Sir, your humility is too unkind:
You undervalue whom you have preserv'd,
And me, when you suspect I shall forget
His name that sav'd my Brothers life.
Dor.
O love! Thou busie Deity? How could
It need, thou shouldst o'ercome me with her voice
When I was conquer'd by her eyes before.
Enter Leonte.
Leon.
Brother! What are you for the Grave to night?
Must we shake hands, and never meet again,
Unless Philosophers agree upon another World.
Balt.
No Sir? I've resolv'd better on't? We'll
Stay here till they have ended their dispute.
Leon.
Content? I have examin'd
This incounter, and I find the night
Bred a mistake; certain furious lovers
Most bounteously design'd to serenade
My sister at her Window,
Met with their rivals here. In their blind rage
Suppose you for an opposit, and with
Their cold Iron, gave you this midnight mark
Of love. Their names, the shame, and error of
Their anger, made them conceal.
Clar.
At my window, Sir!
Leon.
Claramante! Though in this City such
Addresses are allow'd unto the fair
And eminent, and that our Spanish custom
Warrants Ladies in Musick to admit
Their lovers, Evening and their Morning plaints.
Yet since your Beauty doth disorder Men,
Keep it within, lock up your looks?
Clar.
Brother, I hope, I have so liv'd, that you
May think your counsel lost; for though
I value it, yet sure I need it not.
Leon.
If I had hideous doubts, or knew to feed
And nourish them with real circumstance,
I wear a trifle here, should end your life,
And my suspition ere you could have hope
Or leasure to repent.
Clar.
Sir, though I strive to reverence your love, and care of my
Repute, yet when I find your anger rais'd
So high, as if you did presume
Your Reason could allow't, then I disdain'd,
And will have no honor, but what I can
Protect without your help.
Leon.
Hear me. Be sure
You live inclos'd! Keep to your Glass; and when
Y'are weary with looking on your own face,
I'll help you to another of the same sex.
Clar.
Forgive me Sir? Though I am innocent,
I was not wise enough to find
Your anger grows too high to be contemn'd.
Leon.
Obey what I enjoyn? for by
My fathers soul, thy hopes of liberty
Are but thy certainties of death.
Dor.
Fie Sir! how ill it doth become
A gallant nature to mistake, and make
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A Ladies vertue to an angry blush?
Leon.
Good, unknown Sir! What make you here? Or, pray
What do you find in me, that you should hope
I have been us'd to be rebuk'd?:
Arg.
Cosin Leonte, this noble stranger cannot
Offend so much, as he deserves to be excus'd.
Balt.
Brother, I ow him for my life. Had not
His valor rescu'd it, I had not had
The power to tell you now; he's fitter to
Be made a friend, then enemy.
Leon.
Then I am apt to tell you Sir, y'have had
The luck to save a life, more precious then
Your own. If you affect your self, begone?
And when you shall remember I have given
You leave to live; you'll think your courtesie
To him is overpaid.
Dor.
Good furious Sir; Make not a present of
My life, until you know you can command it:
I do not hold my breath by Patent, or
By Lease; nor can I think, that your
Celestial worship hath the pow'r to sign
Such Grants.
Leon.
I thank you Sir.
You have consider'd like a Gentleman,
I am content, my house shall be your priviledge;
But when remov'd from hence, you shall perceive
This Province will be much too narrow to
Contain us both alive.
Exit Leonte.
Balt.
Claramante, let's hasten after him,
He is unlucky in his fury, 'tis
Not fit to trust him with such angry thoughts.
You Argilo, and Gonsalvo, both
Attend on Don Dorando here.
Exeunt Balthazar, Claramante, Surgeon.
Arg.
Well may you wonder Sir, whil'st we lament
At the miss govern'd temper of his youth,
Who drowns a World of noble vertues in
The torrent of his rage.
Gonsal.
Don Leonte is to blame,
His courage like to powder, carelesly
And ill laid up, is in continual danger
Of ev'ry accidental spark that may
Inkindle it to ruine.
Dor.
'Tis most within
The pow'r of time to mend. But Gentlemen,
I am resolv'd such young mistaken wrath
Shall never stir my anger, but my grief.
Enter Claramante.
Clar.
Gentle Gonsalvo,
And you my Cosin Argilo, I shall
Entreat to hasten strait below, and wait
Until this Gentleman descend, to make
His passage forth secure.
Exeunt Argilo, Gonsalvo.
Dor.
What means this Providence? Would I could hope.
'Tis not deriv'd from pitty, but from love.
Clar.
Are you a Native of this City, Sir?
Dor.
No Madam, my affairs convey'd me hither,
Which though of great import, I value most
Because they luckily became the means
To make me fortunate in seeing you.
Clar.
I cannot guess, how I shou'd any way
Contribute to your happiness, unless
By my advice, my Brother Don Leonte hath
A fire within his Brest, that nothing but
Your blood can quench; his jealous honor waits
For all occasions to become the Soldiers talk,
His sword already hath been fatal to him,
By a contempt of Civil Laws: And though it were
A sin to doubt your valor can protect
You from his rage: Yet being in this City lov'd,
'Tis fit to fear your stay may by
His servants insolence, or faction of
Misguided friends endanger you.
Dor.
I have not fear enough about me yet
To understand, what 'tis you would infer.
Clar.
I speak to your discretion, Sir: Keep that
Awake, and flie this Town, that can afford
You now no quiet dwelling, but a Grave.
Dor.
Shall I that never yet knew fear, be taught
It now, just now, when I do learn to love.
Clar.
What is it doth perswade your stay, brave Sir?
Dor.
Since 'tis the best and noblest cause, let it
Be lawful to reveal't, my love of you,
Although not known unto your eyes: 'Twas that
Ingag'd me to the rescue of your Brothers life.
Three Moons have waste I since my love increas'd,
And I conceal'd the flame, first kindled by
Your eye, when you did move in a devout
Procession to our great Provincial Saint.
Clar.
That which fond men, misname my Beauty, is
Become their fate; and so unlucky too,
That I shall fear to see it in my Glass,
Were I so false unto my self,
To credit all, that say they love. Yet he
Hath lost his vows, for since my heart hath given
Her plight before, they needs must come too late.
Dor.
I hope this secret meditation doth
Contrive no cruelty: Can you perswade
My absence now?
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If you do truly love,
You cannot chuse but value, and obey
What I injoyn. The most convenient trial of
Your truth, is that you follow strait,
And hast you hence, and not return till you
Have means to know, your visit may unto
My Brother, and your self, be safe.
Dor.
Since my obedience seems the chiefest help
T'advance my love, my honor may expect
To be excus'd, when it is known I flie,
'Cause you're ally'd unto mine enemy.
Exeunt.
Enter Androlio (with a dark Lanthorn) Orgemon, Orco.
Andr.
Don Orgemon, you cannot guess, where I
Have led you now?
Orge.
I hope 'tis to
A secret entertainment of dry beating.
Orco.
If we be soundly cudgel'd (Gentlemen)
Let's carry't privately; th'occasion will
Require't.
Orge.
The furniture and spacious Roof, shews 'tis
A house of quality.
Orco.
Yes faith. It may become
A very right good Man to suffer in't.
I had as lieve be pistoll'd here, as in
Any house I know i'th' Town.
Andr.
This is my Mistress Mansion, Gentlemen.
Orge.
How? Amiana's! Does she live here?
Andr.
Her Fathers house believe't.
Orge.
A meet Nunnery,
There's not so strict a Tenement in Spain.
By this hand, the Women in't wear Hair Smocks.
Orco.
Art thou mad? in so debash'd and rude
A season to bring us to a place
Of such a known civility.
Orge.
Don Orco, I
Dare warrant you the foresaid beating, and
The Pistol too, you talk of, together
With a brace of Bullets to boot. They are
Not over frugal here of their Leaden Plums,
To those that come a banqueting i'th' night.
Enter Amiana.
Amia.
Who's there? Don Androlio?
Andr.
Quick, step aside Amiana.
Amia.
Speak softly Sir!
For Heaven sake rule your voice, and strait inclose
That light: If heard, or seen, we are undone.
He shuts the Lanthorn.
Andr.
What was the cause that with such haste
You sent for me.
Amia.
To number and interpret all your vows,
So make them easie to your memory
My jealous Father hath been told you oft
Have made your visits here, suspects you false,
And threatens ruine to our loves.
Andr.
These old coughing Coxcombs, are most
Dangerous malicious Spies upon us, youth:
They hate a midnight parley with their Daughters,
And can seldom learn the good manners to
Retire betimes into their Tombs, for the
Convenience of young people.
Amia.
Your apprehension is too wanton Sir,
And shares no part o'th' miseries I feel.
Dispatch your Resolutions strait, if you
Will keep your credit with high Heaven, where all
Your promises are registred, and rid
Me of my cruel fears; be early as
The morning here, preparing some disguise
To fetch me hence and marry me.
Andr.
Marry Amiana, is that the word?
For me a trap to catch all
Mankind in. A trick your old Law-makers first
Found out to keep us tame. And then they fob
Us off with stale deceptions of Prerogative,
That every Husband is a Monarch in
His family. Of what I pray? Of small
Milk-eaters, that complain of breeding Teeth,
And we of breeding them; till they
Are weary too of us at last: So the
Dislike goes round.
Amia.
Why do you meditate,
As if this business did require new thoughts?
Andr.
Is there a soft Bed here?
Amia.
What do you mean?
Doth sleep invade you, Sir? Are you not well?
Andr.
Would you were half so well in understanding.
What pity 'tis, one of thy hopeful being,
Should want capacity in natural
Affairs. By this good Darkness thou delight'st
To vex me; if there be joys, are they
Not greater by our liberty, and less
When we that make them are confin'd?
Amia.
I hope, I am not well
Indeed; and 'tis my understanding that
Is sick, or I would have it so, rather
Then know your meaning.
Andr.
Come pretty thief;
Though these are fitting hours for stealth, our robberies
Shall be but interchanging what's our own.
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Away, begone. Although my Faith cannot
Perswade me all this vanity comes from
Thy heart, yet I abhor it on thy Tongue.
My foolish love forbids me chide thee more;
Yet thou wilt find my anger easier far
Then Heavens.
Exit.
Andr.
Don Orgemon! Orco!
Orco.
What a cold sweat y'have left us in? I spy'd
One single glowing coal, i'th' Chimny of
The Weather Room, and thought 't had been a Muskettier
With his Match cock'd.
Andr.
Gentlemen, do you see the Key
That opens to this blind Paradice? this will
I lend, when either of your Constitutions call
Upon me to make way unto my Mistress.
Orco.
But what success (Androlio) she being chaste?
Andr.
Why then corrupt her, you shall have my help;
That's fair I think: If you would both be rul'd.
By me, we'd lead such pleasant envy'd lives.
The great Turk himself shou'd leave his business
And his throne, to make a fourth among us.
Orco.
As how? Now do I grow a little sensual.
Andr.
Our Mistresses in common, that's the way;
Each may apply himself t'assist his friend.
Think on those blessed Greeks that had the skill
Of mutual procuration. Oh how
Deliciously they liv'd! What pity 'tis, that this
Dull age admits it not in fashion now.
If we would help each other heartily,
Strait all the sex were ours.
Orge.
Think you so Sir.
Andr.
Yes, and without the miseries of Matrimony,
Let Haberdashers marry, and those poor
Shop Traffickers, that spend their precious hours
In narrow Lanes.
Orco.
Who are a kind of pious Eunuchs, and their Wives
Your Concubines, whom they keep for your use
At their own charge.
Andr.
Y'are in the right.
Orge.
Orco would get a pretty nimble way
Of profiting, if he be well taught.
Andr.
You have a secret Mistress, Orgemon,
I prethee bring me to her.
Orge.
No Sir, I'am content
To manage my own fortune without help.
Andr.
Orco, you have a handsome Sister, make
My way that I may visit her.
Orco.
How Sir!
You must make your own way then with your Sword.
Andr.
Th'art not intirely cleans'd from folly yet.
Like to a Gun ill cleans'd, thou dost recoil
At the first charge. If you like my sister,
Appoint your time, and I will do my best.
Orco.
I, that may mollifie.
Andr.
She'll make a proper Woman; but
The mischief is, she's yet but three years old.
A young Bird, thou may'st catch her with a Cherry.
Orge.
My hour draws on, and my affairs require
That I should walk alone, I prethee lead me out—
Andre.
He is a Schollar, let him take
His learned way, poor melancholly Angler,
He must fish with those Philosophical Worms,
He finds in rotten Books. Thou (Orco) and
My self (if we do faithfully conspire)
Will lay such subtle Baits, as first shall vex
Our own, then vanquish all the other sex.
Exeunt.
| The Distresses | |