University of Virginia Library

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Soto.
Soto.
Can any living man unlesse a Rascall
That neither knowes himselfe, nor a fashion'd Gentleman
Take me for a worse man then my Master now?
I am naturally proud in these cloths: but if pride now
Should catch a fall in what I am attempting,
'Tis but a Proverb sound, and a Neck broken,
That's the worst can come on't: a Gentleman's gone then,
A Gentleman oth' first house, there's the end on't:
My Master lyes most pittifully complaining,
Wringing and kicking up toth' eares in love yonder,
And such a lamentable noyse he keepes, it kills me:
I have got his cloths, and if I can get to her
By hooke or crooke here, such a song ile sing her—
I think I shall be hang'd, but that's no matter,
What's a hanging among friends: I am valiant now as an Elephant;
I have consider'd what to say too: let me see now,
This is the place, 'tis plaguy high: stay at that lower window
Let me ayme finely now, like a good Gunner,
It may prove but a whipping.

Enter Silvio.
Sil.
I saw some-body
Passe by me now, and though it were dark, me thought yet
I knew the clothes: ha, let me not be cozen'd,
The Ladder too, ready to fling it? monstrous,
'Tis he, 'tis Claudio: most voluptuous villaine,
Scandall to womans credit: Love, I forget thee.

Soto.
What will he do ith' name of heaven, what's that there?

Sil.
And all the friendship that I bore thee, bury here.

Soto.
What has he in's hand? I hope but a Cudgell.

Sil.
Thy fault's forgive O Heaven: farewell thou traitor.

Soto.
I am slaine: I am slaine.

Sil.
He's downe, and dead: dead certaine,
'Twas too rash, too full of spleene, stark dead:
This is no place now to repent in, onely
Would I had given this hand that shot the Pistoll
I had miss'd thee, and thou wert once more Claudio.

Exit.
Enter Claudio.
Cla.
Why should I love thus foolishly? thus desperatly?
And give away my heart where no hope's left me?
Why should not the true counsell of a friend restraine me?
The Devills mouth I run into affright me,
The honour of the Lady charme my wildnesse;
I have no power, no being of my selfe,
No reason strong enough now left within me
To binde my will: O Love, thou God, or Devill,
Or what thou art that playes the tyrant in me.

Soto.
Oh.

Cla.
What's that cry?

Soto.
A Surgeon, a Surgeon,
Twenty good Surgeons.

Cla.
'Tis not far from me,
Some Murther o' my life,

Soto.
Will you let me dye here?
No drink come, nor no Surgeon?

Cla.
'Tis my man sure,
His voyce, and here he lyes: how is it with thee?

Sot.
I am slaine, Sir, I am slaine.

Cla.
Slaine? Who has slaine thee?

Soto.
Kill'd, kill'd, out-right kill'd.

Cla.
Where's thy hurt?

Soto.
I know not,
But I am sure I am kill'd.

Cla.
Canst thou sit up,
That I may finde the hurt out?

Soto.
I can sit up,
But ne're the lesse I am slaine.

Cla.
'Tis not o'this side?

Soto.
No Sir, I thinke it be not.

Cla.
Nor o'this side,
Was it done with a Sword?

Soto.
A Gun, a Gun sweet Master.

Cla.
The devill a'bullet has been here: thou art well, man.

Soto.
No sure, I am kill'd.

Cla.
Let me see thy thighes, and belly,
As whole as a fish for any thing I see yet:
Thou bleed'st no where.

Soto.
I thinke I do not bleed Sir,
But yet I am afraid I am slaine.

Cla.
Stand up Foole,
Thou hast as much hurt as my naile: who shot thee,
A Pottle, or a Pinte?

Soto.
Signiour Silvio shot me
In these clothes, taking me for you, and seeing
The Ladder in my hand here, which I stole from ye,
Thinking to have gone to the Lady my selfe, & have spoke for ye

Cla.
If he had hit ye home, he had serv'd ye right sirra,
You sawcy rogue, how poore my intent showes to me,
How naked now, and foolish?

Soto.
Are ye sure he has not hit me,
It gave a monstruous bounce?

Cla.
You risse of your right side,
And said your prayers too, you had been payed else:
But what need'st thou a Bullet when thy feare kills thee?
Sirrah, keep your own counsell for all this, you'l be hang'd else,
If it be knowne.

Soto.
If it be by my meanes let me;
I am glad I am not kill'd, and far more gladder
My gentleman-like humours out: I feele 'tis dangerous,
And to be a gentleman, is to be kill'd twice a week.

Cla.
Keepe your selfe close ith' Country for a while sirra.
There's Money, walk to your friends.

Soto.
They have no Pistolls,
Nor are no Gentlemen, that's my comfort.

Exit.
Cla.
I will retire too, and live private; for this Silvio
Inflam'd with noblenesse will be my death else;
And if I can forget this love that loades me,
At least the danger: and now I think on't better,
I have some conclusions else invites me to it.

Exit.