 | The City-Night-Cap : Or, Crede quod habes, & habes |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Lodovico Jaspro, Jovani and Clown.Lor.
Did Chronicle ever match this couple, gentlemen?
Jasp.
You maks us wonder,
That both should seem to yeild to the temptation,
And both so meet in one resolved goodness,
Unknown to one another!
Lod.
There lies the jest on't. Sirrah Pambo, I do but think
and she had met him in the garden, how she would have ratled
him.
Clown.
And ruffled him too, sir; the Camomile would have
been better for it many a day after.
Jov.
Such an honest minded servant, where shall one finde?
Lod.
Servant? my sworn brother, man, he's too honest for an
office he'll never thrive in't: ye have few servants will deal
so mercifully with their Lords.
Jasp.
A wife! why she's a saint, one that ever bears
A good sound soul about her.
Clown.
Yes, when she wears her new shooes.
Jov.
Shall we see her, my Lord?
Lod.
Where is she, Pambo?
Clown.
Walking a turn or two i'th' garden with Francisco, sir:
I go call her.
Lod.
No, no, no; let her alone, 'tis pity indeed to part them,
they are so well match'd: was he not reading to her?
Clown.
No, sir, she was weeping to him: she heard this morning
that her confessor father Jacomo was dead.
Jasp.
Father Jacomo dead?
Lod.
Why now shall not we have her eat one bit this five days.
She'll munch the more in a corner, that's the Puritans
fast.
Lod.
Nay do but judge of her my Lords by one thing; whereas
most of our dames go to confession but once a month; some
twice a quarter, and some but once a year, and that upon constraint
too; she never misses twice a Week.
Jasp.
'Tis wonderful.
Jov.
'Tis a sign she keeps all well at home: thy are even
With the whole world, that so keep touch with heaven.
Lod.
Nay, I told ye, ye should finde no Philippo of Francisco.
Clown.
And I remember I told your honour, you should finde
no Abstemia of my Lady.
Lod.
Nor no Lorenzo of my self; he was ever a melancholy
stubborn fellow, he kept her in too much, and see what comes on't;
I give my wife her will, and see what comes on't too.
Clown.
Nay sir, there is two come on't, and a man could discover
'em.
Lod.
Two what, I prethee?
Clown.
It may be two babies, sir, for they come commonly with
giving a woman her will.
Lod.
I'd laugh at that, yfaith boy: but who has she now for
her confessor?
Clown.
She looks for one they call him father Antony, sir, and
he's wish'd to her by Madona Lussuriosa.
Enter Dorothea, Francisco.
Lod.
There's another modest soul too, never without a holy
man at her elbow: but here comes one out-weighs them all:
Why how now chick! weeping so fast? this is the fault of most of
our Ladies, painting, weeping for their sins I should say, spoils
their faces.
Fran.
Sweet Madam!
Lod.
Look, look, look, loving soul, he weeps for company.
Clown.
And I shall laugh out-right by and by.
Dor.
Oh that good man!
Lod.
Why bird?
Jasp.
Be patient, Lady.
Dor.
Would he go to heaven without his zealous pupil?
Clown.
It may be he knew not your mind, forsooth.
Dor.
He knew my mind well enough.
Clown.
Why then it may be he knew you could not hold out
for the journey; pray do not set us all a crying—
Weeps.
Lod.
Prethee sweet birds-nye be content.
Dor.
Yes, yes, content, when you too leave my company?
For modest simple Francis here—
Clown.
As modest as a gib-cat at midnight.
Dor.
That sometimes reads
Vertuous books to me; were it not for him,
I might go look content: but 'tis no matter,
No body cares for me.
Lod.
Nay prethee Doll; pray gentlemen comfort her.
[Weeps.
Clown.
Now is the devil writing an encomium upon cunning
cuckold-makers.
Fran.
You have been harsh to her of late, I fear, sir.
Lod.
By this hand, I turn'd not from her all last night: what
should a man do?
Jasp.
Come, this is but a sweet obedient shower,
To bedew the lamented grave of her old father.
Clown.
He thinks the devil's dead too.
Dor.
But 'tis no matter, were I such a one
As the Count Lorenzo's Lady, were I so graceless
To make you wear a pair of wicked horns,
You would make more reckoning of me—
Weeps.
Lod.
Weep again? she'll cry out her eyes, gentlemen.
Clown.
No I warrant yee; remember the two lines your
Honour read last night.
'S Aprils Dust, no sooner wet but dry.
Lod.
Good pigs-nye! Frank, prethee walk her t'other turn i'th
garden, and get her a stomach to her supper; we'll be with ye
presently, wench.
Dor.
Nay when ye please—But why should I go from
ye?
Lod.
Loving soul! prethee Frank take her away.
Dor.
Pray let me kiss ye first Come Francis,
No body cares for us—
At the door Francis kisses her. Exeunt.
Lod.
Well, there goes a couple; where shall a man match ye
indeed? Hark Pambo!
Jasp.
Did you observe?
Jov.
They kist.
Jasp.
Peace.
Lod.
And intreat Madona Lussuriosa to sup with us, as you
go, tell her my Lady's never well, but in her company.
Clown.
What if your honour invited the Count Lorenzo? he'll
be so melancholy now his Lady and he are parted!
Pray do as you are hid, kind sir, and let him alone; I'll
have no cuckold sup in my house to night.
Clown.
Tis a very hot evening, your honour will sup in the
garden then.
Lod.
Yes, marry will I, sir; what's that to you?
Clown.
Why, your honour was ever as good as your word:
keep the cuckolds out of door, and lay a cloath for my Lord in
the Arbour, gentlemen.
Exit.
Lod.
I have been this three months about a project.
Jov.
What is't, my Lord?
Lod.
Why I intend to compose a pamphlet of all my wives
vertues, put them in print, and dedicate them to the Duke, as orthodoxal
directions against he marries.
Jasp.
'Twill give him apt instructions, when he does marry, to
pick out such a woman.
Lod.
Pick her, where will he pick her? as the English proverb
says, He may as soon finde a needle in a bottle of hay:
would I know what sins she has committed, I would set them
down all one with another; they would serve as foyles to her vertues:
but I do think she has none; d'ye think she has any, gentlemen?
Jov.
Oh none sir but has some!
Lod.
I, pidling ones it may be, as when a pin pricks her fingers
to cry at sight on't, and throw't away; but for other matters.—
Jasp.
Now I think on't, sir, I have a device newly begotten,
that if you be so desirous to be resolv'd of her perfections,
'twill be an apt means for your intelligence.
Lod.
That will be excellent, and then my book grounded upon
mine own experience, the report of my judgement in the choyce
of a woman, will sell them off faster than the Compositor can set
the Letters together.
Jasp.
We will discourse it as we go; mean time, Sir,
Let this prepare the path to your construction.
Conceipt and confidence are juglers born:
One grafts in air, t'other hides the real born.
Lod.
Well, he that believes he has horns, has horns;
And Crede quod habes & habes, shall be my Motto.
Exeunt.
Enter Pandulpho and Spinoso.
Spin.
The powers of Venice upon our Confines!
Pand.
Yes, Seignor Philippo, it seems, having possest him
With the passages that past upon his Sister;
Embassadors were dispatch'd to Bergamo,
Where then his Forces lay; who thus return'd,
But to require justice against Count Lorenzo,
To approve his sister innocent.
Spin.
What witness,
Proof or apparent circumstance builds he
His bold attempt upon?
Pan.
He says, besides
The honour of Philippo, he has proof
So unresistable to affirm the plot
Of Count Lorenzo, that he only crav'd
(Hostages being tendered for their safe returns)
Here in the Senate-chamber, the fair tryal
Might publickly be censur'd: and by this
They are at hand.
Enter at one Door, Duke of Venice, Philippo and Lords: At the other, Duke of Verona, Jaspro, Jovani, Lorenzo guarded. A bar set out. The 1 Slave.
Vero.
Fair sir, the presence is levell'd for your grevances.
Ven.
First summon to the bar the Count Lorenzo.
Pan.
Lorenzo Medico, stand to the bar.
Lor.
I do stand to the bar.
Ven.
I come not here, witness the good mans comfort, to adde one step
Unto my territories: and though I burthen
The neighbour-bosom of my confines with
The weight of armour, or do wound your brest
(My Dukedoms neer next neighbour) with the hoofs
Of war-apparell'd horses; 'tis not to seek
For martial honours, but for civil justice.
Conceave mine honour wounded, a sisters shame
Is an unpleasant spot upon our Arms:
Yet that we come not here to sanctifie
A sisters sin; for if she so be prov'd,
Shame sleep within her epitaph, and brand her;
Let Bears and Wolves that Angels Face confound,
Gives goodness such a foul unfriendly wound:
But if she chaste be prov'd, what balm can cure
A wounded name? As he that not inflicts
The bitter straok of law upon the strumper,
Fattens the sad afflictions of a thousand:
So who but stains an honest womans name,
Plagues are yet kept for him, steel is no defence
For the unclean tongue injures innocence.
I affirm my sister wrong'd, wrong'd by this man,
This that has wrong'd pure judgement, and thrown poyson
Upon the face of truth, and upon him
Lor.
I reply:
The law must give you satisfaction,
That justly did divorce us: I appeal
To the whole Consiliadory, if equal law
In her progression went a step astray,
Either by proof or information:
Let the Duke speak (not as he is my kinsman)
If I produc'd not legally in Court,
Besides mine own assertion (which even reason
Grounded on probability) two of my servants
That upon oath affirm'd they saw your sister
Even in the very act of sin and shame
With that Philippo there: blame me not then, sir,
If I return an error to your cause,
Reason (the Base where on we build the laws)
You injure in this action; give her the lye:
Who dares not build his faith upon his eye?
They swore what they did see; and men still fear,
(Reason concludes) what they not see, to swear.
Vero.
You hear my kinsmans answer.
Pan.
And 'tis requisite
That you produce your authour: it is held
Meer madness on a hill of sand to build.
Phil.
The foundation-work is mine, and that I answer:
He builds on truth, the good mans mistris,
And not in the sanctuary.
Of this injur'd brothers power, but the integrity
And glory of the cause: I throw the pawn
Of my afflicted honour, and on that
I openly affirm your absent Lady
Chastitie's well-knit abstract, snow in the fall,
Purely refin'd by the bleak Northern blast,
Not freer from a soyl, the thoughts of Infants;
But little neerer heaven: And if these Princes
Please to permit, before their guilty thoughts
Injure another hour upon the Lady,
My right drawn sword shall prove it.
Lor.
Upon my knee, sir,
(How my soul dances!) humbly I intreat
Your grant to his request; fight with Philippo
I'th' midst of flame, or pestilence in a Cave,
Where Basiliskes do breed.
Vero.
We must take counsell,
The price of blood is pretious.
Lor.
Blood desires burthen:
I have fought for you on land; the fears at sea,
Where I have tug'd with tempests, stood storms at midnight,
Out-star'd the flaring lightning; and the next morning
Chas'd the unruly stubborn Turk with thunder:
For all the bullets I have bravely shot,
And sent death singing to the slaughter, Sir.
Vero.
Peace.
Lod.
What should a souldier do with peace? remember
Mine Honour lies a bleeding, and in mine yours;
Her wide wound inward bleeds; and while you cry peace,
Shame wars upon my Name: Oh rather kill me,
Then cast me to this scandal.
Spin.
The doubtful cause,
With such a dare approv'd, you may permit it.
Vero.
Your request is granted, Coze.
Lor.
You have now, Sir, breath'd
Fresh air in the face of fainting Honour
Rapiers of fair equality.
Ver.
Look with what cunning
The spider, when she would snare the fly, doth weave;
With neater Art appearances deceive.
Stay, as you said, sir, blood, is a pretious price.
Let me but see the men produc'd, who I swore
They saw them in the shameful act: and then
Farewel a sister and her honour.
Pan.
Produce your servants, sir.
Venice sends off a Lord.
Lor.
Plague of this change, here's one of them; the t'other
In that I threaten'd him for some neglect,
The next day ran away.
Ven.
Did you sir, swear
You saw our sister and this gentleman
In this base act of sin?
Lor.
Fear nothing.
1 Slave.
To deny truth, is more dangerous then to displease a Duke:
I saw it and did swear it.
Enter Lord and a Slave.
Venice.
But here comes one,
Will swear you saw it not, and are forsworn.
1 Slave.
'Sfoot, Stratzo!
Spin.
This is the other fellow took his oath.
Vero.
What come you here to say, sir?
2 Slave.
That we swore falsely, may it please your Grace,
And as I now have spoke the truth, so heaven
Forgive my former perjury.
Vero.
Hear you, cosen?
1 Slave.
Would you would say something; I have nettles in
my breeches.
Lor.
Now, now, I hope your eyes are open, Lords,
The bed of snakes is broak, the trick's comes about,
And here's the knot i'th' rush: good heaven, good heaven,
That craft in seeking to put on disguise,
Should so discover her self!
Vero.
Explain your self.
Lor.
Now see sir, where this scorpion lurks to sting
Mine honour unto death: this noble Duke
By nature is ingag'd to defend a sister:
And to this Duke so ingag'd, this malitious Lord
(For sin still ha her scourger) makes repair,
And prepossesses him with that suppos'd innocence
Of an injur'd sister; which he had hir'd this Slave
To follow him, and affirm, and layes the cause
To scruple, and to conscience: they did consent
To steal belief by seeming accident.
Sin Jugler-like, casts sin before our eyes;
Craft sometimes steals the wonder of the wise.
With an equal hand now weigh me, and if I want
A grain of honour, tear me from your blood,
And cast me to contempt.
1 Slave.
My Lord would have made an excellent state-sophister.
Vero.
In what a strange dilemma judgement sits,
Charm'd to her chair with wonder.
Ven.
Shall I have justice?
Pan.
Yes, in that this fellow swears for the Duke:
Reach him the book, you shall see him again
Take the former oath.
Vero.
This doubt must be so ended;
If it give not satisfaction, send back our hostage,
You have fair regress to your forces: but
The blood remains on you; and still remember
The price of blood is pretious.
Phil.
Let us end it.
Ven.
Oh what a Combat Honour holds with Conscience!
Reach him the book; and if thou false dost say;
May thine own tongue, thine own foul heart betray.
1 Slave.
Amen, say I:
Give me the book, my oath must end all then.
It must.
Lor.
Now you shall hear him swear,
He saw them both in the base act.
1 Slave.
Nay I swear
They are now both seen in the base act.
Omn.
How's this?
Pan.
'Tis a strange oath.
1 Slave.
'Tis true though.
Lor.
True, villain! are both now seen in the base act?
1 Slave.
Yes, both.
Lor.
VVhich both?
1 Slave.
You and I, sir.
Omn.
How?
1 Slave.
Both you and I are seen in the base act,
Slandering spotless honour; an act so base,
The barbarous Moor would blush at.
Phil.
D'ye hear him now?
Lor.
Out Slave, wilt thou give ground too? fear works upon 'em.
Did you not both here swear i'th' Senate-chamber
You saw them both dishonest?
1 Slave.
Then we swore true, sir.
Lor.
I told you 'twas but fear.
Vero.
Swore ye true then, sir, when ye swore
Ye both saw them dishonest?
1 Slave.
Yes marry did we, sir:
For we were both two villains when we saw them,
So we saw them dishonest.
Ven.
Heaven, thou art equal!
1 Slave.
This is a jealous Lord, his Lady chaste,
A rock of christal not more clear: this gentleman
Basely abus'd: this great Prince dishonour'd;
And so we kneel for mercy.
Vero.
You have redeem'd it:
Depart, prove honest men: that I should bear
Dishonour in my blood!
Omn.
Much injur'd Lady!
Ven.
What justice, sir, belongs unto the injur'd?
Vero.
First, witness heaven, I tear thee from my blood,
And cast thee off a stranger: Assume you, sir,
(Since the great cause is yours) my seat of justice,
And sentence this foul homicide; it must be,
And suddenly; he will infect the air else:
Proceed, great sir, with rigor, whilst I stand by
And do adore the sentence.
Ven.
Answer, Lorenzo,
Art thou not guilty?
Give me my merit, death;
Princes can build and ruine with one breath.
Ven.
The cause may seem to merit death, in that
Two souls were hazarded, a Princess fame,
A Duke dishonour'd, and a noble Lord
Wounded in reputation: but since she lives,
And that no blood was spilt (though something dearer)
Mercy thus far stretches her silver wings
Over your trespass; we do banish you,
Both from our Dukedomes Limits and your own:
If you but set a daring foot upon them
Whilest life lends you ability to stand,
You fall into the pit of death, unless
You shall finde out our most unfortunate sister,
And bring her to our Court.
Lor.
You sir are merciful!
Vero.
This let me adde, in that you have made impartial justice, sir,
Princes should punish vice in their own blood:
Until you finde that excellent injur'd Lady,
Upon this gentleman, who hath suffer'd for you,
We confer your lands, revenues, and your place;
That during three days stay within our confines
It shall be death, to any that relieves you,
But as they do a begger at their door.
So cast him from our presence.
Lor.
Your dooms are just!
Oh love, thy first destruction is distrust!
Exeunt Lord, Jaspro and Jovani.
Vero.
For you, fair sir, until we shall hear tydings
Of your most injur'd sister, please you to call
My Court your own, conceive it so: where live,
Two partners in one passion we will be,
And sweeten sorrow with a sympathy.
Exeunt.
Enter Lodovico like a Fryer, Jaspro And Jovani.
Lod.
What, am I fitted, gallants? am I fitted?
Jasp.
To th'life, able to cheat suspition, and so like
Father Antony the confessor, that I protest
There's not more semblance in a pair of egges.
Jov.
An apple cut in half, is not so like.
Lod.
Well, of Lords you're mad Lords to counsel me to this;
but now in this habit shall I know the very core of her heart,
all her little pedling sins, which will shew in my book as foils to
her giant-bodied vertues.
Jasp.
That will be admirable!
We'll step aside: by this she's upon coming.
Jasp.
We shall know all.
Lod.
Reveal confession: but go your ways; as much as may
lawfully be reveal'd, we'll laugh at, as next meeting.
Jasp.
Come, let's be gone: but once upon a time, sir,
A begger found a larks nest, and o'er-joy'd
At his suddain glut, for he thought 'twas full of young ones,
Looking, they were all gone; he was forc'd again to beg,
For he found in the Larks nest a Serpents egge;
So much good d'ye sir.—
Exeunt.
Enter Dorothea.
Lod.
Well, thou surpassest all the courtiers in these pretty
ones; if a man had the wit to understand them—Yonder
she comes; I can hardly forbear blushing, but that for discovering
my self.
With a Sons obedience, and do but borrow thee,
As men would play with flyes, who i'th' midst of modest mirth
With care preserve themselves.
Dor.
Hail holy Father.
Lod.
Welcome my chaste daughter.
Dor.
Death having taken good father Yacomo,
Upon the plenal and approv'd report
Of your integrity and upright dealing.—
Lod.
Delicate Doll.
Dor.
I have made a modest choyce of you, grave sir,
To be my ghostly father: and to you I fall
For absolution.
Lod.
Empty then my daughter,
That vessel of your flesh, of all the dregs,
Which (since your last confession clear'd you) have
Taken a setled habitation in you;
And with a powerful sweet acknowledgment,
Hunt out those spirits which haunt that house of flesh:
Tears makes dry branches flourish green and fresh.
Dor.
Since last I confest, then I do confess,
My first sin was, that my Taylor bringing home
My last new gown, having made the sleeves too slanting
In an unchristian passion I did bid
The devil take him.
Lod.
That was something harsh, dear daughter,
Yet the more pardonable, for it may be your taylor
Lyes in hell, night by night: pray to your second.
Dor.
Next, in a more savage rage, my chamber-maid
I most unmercifully broak her head.
Lod.
'Twas rashly done too: but are ye sure, dear daughter,
The maids head was not broak before?
Dor.
No, no, sir, she came to me with ne'er a crack about
her.
Lod.
These will be brave sins to mix with her vertues; why
they will make no more shew then three or four bayliffs amongst
a company of honest men. These sins, my Dove-like daughter,
are out of contradiction verrial, trivial and light: have you
none of greater growth?
Dor.
Oh Yes, sir, one!
Lod.
One? what should that be, I wonder?
Dor.
One yet remains behind,
Of weight and consequence: the same order
Heralds prescribe in shews, I now observe
In placing of my sins; as there inferiours
(Because the last lives freshest in our memories)—
Far more the persons of great note, so last
My great sin comes to obliterate those past.
Lod.
Sh'as trod some chicken to death, I warrant her.
Dor.
Hear me, and let a blush make you look red,
Unseemly I have abus'd my husbands bed.
Lod.
You did ill to drink too hard ere you went to bed.
Dor.
Alas, sir, you mistake me; I have lain
With another man, besides my husband.
Lod.
How?
Dor.
Nay the same way I use to lye with him,
But not altogether so often.
Lod.
Why then Crede quod habes, & habes; I will believe I
have hornes, for I have 'em: 'Sfoot, a woman, I perceive, is a
neat Herald, she can quarter her husbands coat with Butchers
Arms at pleasure: but I have a penance for your pure whoreship:
you are somewhat broad, are you not with childe, daughter?
Dor.
Yes, yes, sure 'twas that nights work.
Lod.
How know you that?
Dor.
Alas, by experience, sir: the kind fool my husband
Wishes all well; but like a light piece of gold,
He's taken for more then he weighs.
Lod.
With child! there's charges too: a t'other side, there should follow
A zealous exhortation: but great affairs
That brook no stay, make me be brief, remembring
Lawful necessity may dispence with ceremony:
You are ingenuously sorry?
You are ingenuously sorry?
Dor.
Yes indeed sir.
Lod.
And resolve to fall no more so?
Dor.
No in truth sir.
Lod.
I then pronounce you here absolv'd: now for your penance.
Dor.
Any thing.
Lod.
As the fact in you seems strange, so blame me not
If your penance be as strange: you may wonder it;
But it is wondrous easie in performance,
But as your penance I enjoyn it: nay now I remember,
In an old French Authentick Author, his book
Titled, De Satisfactione, I read the same
Enjoyn'd a Lady of Dauphin. 'Tis no holy fast,
No devout prayer, nor no zealous pilgrimage;
'Tis out of the prescrib'd road.
Dor.
Let it be
So strange, story ne'er matcht the injunction, I do vow
The plenal strict performance.
Lod.
Listen to me.
Soon at night (so rumour spreads it through the City)
The two great Dukes of Venice and Verona
Are feasted by your Lord, where a mask's intended.
Dor.
That's true, sir.
Lod.
Now when ye all are set round about the Table
In depth of silence, you shall confess these words
Aloud to your husband: YOU ARE NOT THIS CHILD'S FATHER;
And 'cause my orders bar me such inquisition,
You shall say, Such a man lay with me, naming the party
Was partner in your sin.
Dor.
Good sir!
Lod.
This is your penance, I enjoyn you; keep it,
You are absolv'd; break it, you know the danger of it: god-buy.
Dor.
Oh good sir stay, never was penance of more shame then
this.
Lod.
You know the danger of the breach as to us,
'Tis the shameful loss of our religious orders if we reveal.
Dor.
For heaven sake,
Enjoyn me first upon my knees to creep
From Verona to Loretto.
Lod.
That's nothing.
Dor.
Nothing indeed to this: is this your penance so wondrous
easie in performance?
'Tis irrevocable.
Dor.
I am silent: your new penance may meet a new performance:
farewel, sir.
Lod.
And this the trick to catch a near pure whore.
Exeunt.
| The City-Night-Cap : Or, Crede quod habes, & habes | |