University of Virginia Library

Act. 2.

Scen. 1.

Enter Corbo with Bow and Arrows.
Cor.
So ho, ho, ho— (within a far off)
So ho, ho, ho,
That's my Father in Lawes yelpe, up and down;
I am glad of this yet, that we shall meet together
Now shal I have my Douzes picture to be enamoured on.
O rare; I shall be i'th fashion as well as the best.
For now your Court Madonae's paint their faces,
And what have they that marry 'um, but pictures?
And that's the cause that instead of a silk curtaine
They keep their snowts from dust with a black Cipress;
A Maskes too open, the dust would flye in at the eye-holes.
Your pretty Gentleman that marries an ill favour'd rich wench
Marries a picture, for he marries her gold not her.
Your spark that's cought up by a coy close whore,
Marries the picture of an honest woman.
I'de as live have a wooden one as any of these. (within)
so ho, ho.
So ho, ho, ho,—

Enter Silvio and Philagrio.
Silv.
Come neighbour tis' he: we did think 'twas you.
What, nere come home;

Cor.
Ah, ah! if Douze were here
I would shoot home, nay if I could not shoot home at pricks,
Let her use me as other women use their husbands,
Enjoyn mee to shoot at buts for ever after.

Philag.
Ha witty Corbo:

Cor.
Nay let me alone for wit.
But I ha been a most infortunate Archer.

Syl.
How Corbo how?

Cor.
O. I have had many misfortunes:
I'le tell you all another time: but where is Douzes picture.

Syl.
I had almost forgot it; O 'tis a sweet one!
I could finde in my heart to love it my own selfe;
Say do it not look like a Ladies face.

Philag.
In troth me thinks it does now it is painted:

Corb.
Dear, let me busse this maple face of thine,
Well farewell Father; ha, I think I'me in love,
I know not what I do, Remember me
to Douze.

Syl.
I, I, we will.

Cor.
Tell her I'le wooe her picture, and get her good will,
And then we will be married

(Phil., Syl.)
farewel Corbo.

Ex. manet Corb.
Cor.
Now must I goe kill a Deer: heaven blesse my eye-sight
That I shoot not a well spread Citizen in stead of it:
Ent. Gra. & Ful.
How now, whose here?

Grat.
Doest thou hear honest friend.

Cor.
Yes I do hear, and honest I allow of;
But soft, no friends till we be better acquainted.

Ful.
Then prithee honest fellow lets be acquainted.

Cor.
Fellow? Why what are you?

Ful.
I am a Lord.

Corb.
I am no Lords fellow; would you should well know it.

Gra.
But wilt thou help us now to finde our game

Corb.
I will instruct you both as well as I can;
Harken you silly Animals in silken outsides,
You were best go back to th'City, or to sent
About the suburbs, if you'l find your game:
We have no wagtailes for your Lordships diet,
But what were very leane.

Ful.
Would have Venison.

Grat.
We have no barren Does, ours are all breeders,
They are not fat enough; not worth your shooting;
But you do but jest: me thinks you are too gallant
To be Deer stealers: I think you are rather Cony catchers.

Grat.
Why dost thou think so?

Cor.
Why? i'le tell you why;
Because you are such busie bodies and medlers:
I knew one that having got money in his purse like you,
And gay cloathes on his back, had a mind to be a gentleman
And he must have an oar in every mans boat.
This Miller could not grinde his grist himselfe,
But he would be doing as much or more then he.
If his maids had been groping poultry, he would grope too.
But I say, let every tub stand on his own bottom,
And so farewell.

Ful.
What a mad fellow's this.

Exit Corbo.
Grat.
Come lets to horse i'le hunt no more to day.

Exeunt.
Enter Lord Julio in his woodmans habit.
Jul.
There is no life more safe and free from sin,
Or which doth better keep the antient rites,
Then that which having left the City walls,
Flies to the woods; he that has wed himself,
(If he be guiltlesse) to the hills and vales,
Is happy, but if once a conscious mind
Have seized on him, each tree will prove a Gallowes.
How proud am I that I have power to leave
The Princely riots of the Court, while great ones
Drink out of golden cups, with leaden hearts;
I thank thee tyrant Sforza; thou wert pleas'd
To be displeas'd with me and banish me:
Knowest thou the quiet that I now enjoy
Promoted to't by thee; thou wouldst be angry
That thou wast angry with me and punish me
With a sad repeale of my glad banishment.

Ent. Philag. & Syl.
Phila.
good morrow neighbour Julio.

Syl.
Good morrow.

Jul.
Each minute of the day drop on your heads,
As many blessings as the day hath minutes,
My honest harmlesse neighbours: saw you Corbo?

Syl.
We saw him lately, but his game proved bad,
And so we left him traversing the woods.

Jul.
Pray now walk in with me, where wee'l discourse
Till he comes home: and then wee'l dine together,
I love your honest company, 'tis harmlesse,
As are the lambs you feed.

Phila.
We thank you sir.

Exeunt.
Enter Corbo.
Corb.
A man cannot study in quiet for So ho, ho:
It has put a verse or two out of my head:
Let me see, how shall I begin her praise?
Happy am I in Douzes love, that ever I bespoke her,
Whose hairs as fine as any hemp, and colour'd like red oker.
Whose hammer head and beetle brows will never me deceive,
If I have any naile to drive, or any block to cleave.
These eye holes if thy eyes were out would serve us well for sawcers;
But thy plump cheeks puft up do hang like to a pair of dossers,
And from this Limbeck the rare juyce continually that flows,
Lest thou shouldst lose one drop of it, thou host a bottle nose;
Thy chops do water, I protest, as they were greaz'd with tallow;
Thy scattering teeth enamel'd are with blew, and black, and yellow.
When thou dost talk I do admire thy stumblings and thy trips.
Thou art no great blab of thy tongue, but a little of thy lips.
The Rubies and the Carbuncles on thy face shines most star-like.
But O thy spicie fragrant breath smels like a bed of garlick,
Thy comly breaks to me appear like mole-hils newly raised,
Which for their mountainous extent are highly to be praised.
But—now I'm out: I must go study agen—but, but,
But now I think on't, Poetry will kill no venison:
I must go hunt yet for all this: 'Tis the best way;
For if I now should crack my brain with study,
And then my Master crack my crown with his staffe,
For having more care of Douze then of him:
I should be ready to say a pox of her picture.
Exit Corbo.

Enter Charmia.
Char.
I have his promise to perform my will,
That is some comfort: yet I have no more:
Where's all my comfort gone? what blessing is't
For one that has been kept in a dark dungeon
To see the light: when all the light he has
Serves but to bring him to his execution,
To fasten him to the rack, to butcher him:
What is his promise to me? but a word:
And oftentimes the man that speaks the word,
Is as soon vanisht as the word he speaks:
Desires to sin's as bad as half committed:
Being quite committed, my desire would cease,
I know it would, and give repentance room:
Then sorrow, sorrow, and a bleeding heart,
Nothing but speaking sobs, and swiming eyes.

Enter Gratiano, Fulvio, Julietta, and Clarinda.
Grat.
My dearest, dearest love, why art thou melancholly?

Char.
Alass, my Lord, I know not what it means.

Grat.
Your tongue even in denying it confesses
Y'ar sad, exceeding sad.

Clar.
What Aunt, take care?
Why that's a physick able to kill a Cat
That has eight lives more then you have.

Ful.
What's the reason?

Char.
I know no reason more then you do, brother:
Hard hearted, cruel as you are to use me so;
(aside.
But here's a friend.

(points to her sheath.
Ful.
Be patient—

Jul.
O dear mother, you have made
My nature a disease; and you have chang'd by your example my civility,
To deep dy'd sadness.

Clar.
I, and in grain Ile assure you.

Grat.
When you crane up your heavy words with sighs,
And in th'obstructed passage of your throat
Strangle what ere you speak; art thou not sad?
Where be your orisons, your devout prayers
Worthy the lips and hearts of glorious Saints
When they solicited heaven for sinfull earth?
Art thou not sad? where be those sweet dew'd raptures,
Thy dayly meditations on heaven,
That merit to be written down with pens
Made of choice quils pluckt from good Angels wings,
Could these be intermitted, and thou not sad?
Judge you Clarinda, nay, judge you my brother,
Nay my Julietta, thou art her own daughter,
Thou'lt deal impartially, is she not sad,
And yet unkind conceals the cause of it
From my poor heart: you that were wont to be
As frequent in the assembly as the Saint
Under whose patronage the Temple stands,
Now chain your feet at home, you that were wont
To rouse the Sexton at the early Mattens,
Waiting in winter frosts, and churlish winds
At the Temple door, and then returning home
Sow'd your alms largely, free from expectation
Of the least harvest: all this layd by,
And you not sad? come I must know your grief.

Char.
But I must feel it first, and then Ile tell you.
Exit. Charm.

Grat.
Lets after her, perhaps we may at dinner
Sift something out, that may afford such light
As may give her content, and me delight.

Exeunt.
Enter Carolo solus.
Car.
Methinks Julietta yet should not be false
She seems so full of innocence and modesty:
Yet who that does intend to commit sin
Will not seem virtuous? yet she kist not him,
'Twas he kist her, and honest Lurco he
Is loth to tell me all he saw him do.

Enter Lurco.
Lur.
Pat to my wish—Sir, I would speak with you.

Car.
Hast thou discover'd any thing since then?

Lurc.
Nothing at all but this, they did not see you:
For I was speaking even now of a Deer
That I saw closely lurking in a brake
Hard by the two cross stiles in Pales wood,
And straight he sent me to entreat you
To meet him after dinner there to hunt it.

Car.
'Twil be a deer hunting indeed: tel him ile meet him afore dinner:
But hast thou seen no more then thou hast told me.

Lur.
Pray Sir no more of that, good faith I am forry.
I brought you to so bad a spectacle,
Would I had been sick in my bed, or lame when I did it:
I see you'r angry at it.

Cor.
No not I.

Lur.
Indeed you are: it greeves me to think on't.
Yet I cannot blame you, I should be angry my selfe
At such a thing. I that have no point of honour
To stand on: you'r an honourable Gentleman.
Yet I cannot say Julietta is in fault.

Car.
Dost think shee's chast.

Lur.
I would be charitable.
She might do something when I did not see,
(as the worst he did was when you did not see him)
Yet I protest I saw her do no hurt.
And for Alphonso, 'twas but in heat of blood,
Perhaps he's sorry now the fit is ore,
And being your Cozen, I know you'l pardon him,
His neernesse to you will make his fault the lesse.

Car.
O no, it will aggravate it much, much Lucro,
That he should wrong me.

Lur.
What for kissing her.

Car.
Oh I Lurco, 'tis a great step to venery.

Lur.
I cannot think so, methinks it is a very
Harmelesse complement: if't be no more but
a bare kisse: I ha' seen him kisse her above
twenty and twenty times.

Car.
Hast thou so?

Lur.
Nay, how greedily you catch me, as if 'twere
Such a matter: this 'tis to tell you any thing:
Yet pray Sir do not tell him,
(If you be angry with him) wherefore it is:
I hope you will not bring my name in question
For my good will.

Car.
No on my honour Lurco.

Lur.
I thank you Sir, my minde is somewhat quieter.
Your servant takes his leave.

Cor.
Farewel good Lurco.
Ex. Lur
The jealous Ram prepares his curled hornes
Bow'd with the weight of jealousie and rage,
When the Commander of another flock
Follows his Ewes; then follows his revenge:
Th'officious Cock tends on his jetting Hen,
And will admit no Rival that shall wooe her,
But blood shall be the hire: If birds and beasts
Do thus; why should not I? I saw him wooe her,
And had I seen what honest Lucro saw,
I had not seen this light; glut my revenge;
Mince not like City dames in durty weather,
On tiptoes through the streets:
Wade to the Chin in blood, ere want thy will:
The blood runs in my veines, is all Italian,
It alwayes flames as soon as it takes fire;
And being at the highest would flame higher.

Exit.
Enter Fulvio and Lurco.
Ful.
Have my men provided all ready for our journey?
We must home presently.
Exit Fulvio.

Lur.
Now do I hope when Carolo shall meet
Alphonso in the wood, hee'l murder him
At unawares, for he will mistrust nothing,
Enter Alphonso with his sword draws.
Ile put 'em both together, let 'em get off
As well as they can.

Alph.
Are you here pandar,
Slave, that officious lickings of your fingers
Shan't serve the turn; I saw you in the garden,
With the hot Leacher Carolo and Clarinda.

Lur.
I know you did: but who wa'st long on, think you?
I was coming to tell you all, but now I won't;
Come kill me.

Alph.
I must flatter him, nay Lurco,
I did but jest.

Lur.
I but 'tis ill jesting with edge tooles.
Put up your sword.

Alph.
'Tis done.

Lur.
Now swear to me
You will not draw't till I ha told you all.

Alph.
By my honour I wont.

Lur.
And by my honour I swear.
I care not if I nere tell you any thing,
And that will be a way to keep your sword warm:
Draw against him has done you the best service
As ere was done you?

Alph.
Do you mock me?

Lur.
Nay, I ha' not told you al
Remember your oath; I know you prize you honour;
'Tis true Sir, I met Caralo and Clarinda,
I would I had not: Carolo drew his rapier
And vow'd my death, if that I would not bring them
To a private place.

Alph.
What to do?

Lur.
Nay, I know not.
Doe I know any mans intention?
I knew you were i'th garden with Julietta.

Alph.
Therefore thou brought'st them thither?

Lur.
Y'are 'ith right Sir,
Why you knew a Chamber had been far more private.

Alph.
A hundred times.

Lur.
Yet I perswaded them
The bower i'th garden was convenienter,
And was as pleasant too, as it was secret.

Alph.
And they beleeved it.

Lur.
Beleeved it with applause.
The Devil sure ought them a shame, and so he paid them.
I brought them just upon you.

Alph.
Ere they spied us,

Lur.
And then they both ran back, and I escap'd,
Carolo sure thought to ha' made me his pandar,
But heaven that kept me honest to this day
Would not let me fall now; I think you know
I ha' been an honest servant to my Lord.
You can't conceive what strangelings I had in me
At the thought of being bad, though I were for'st to't.

Alph.
A very honest fellow; I ha' much wrong'd him,
What think'st thou of Clarinda.

Lur.
She was forc't sure,
She was frighted with his weapon, I beleeve,
As well as I; she durst not speak one word,
I think you never took me in a lye,

Alph.
No, I did not truely.

Lur.
No I hate a lye.
Were Carolo my utter enemy, I would not tell a lye of him,
Not I for all the world: therefore to speak the truth
I did not see him offer the least violence to her,
Onely to me, because I went unwillingly.

Alph.
And had she been unwilling, I beleeve
He would have used like violence to her.

Lur.
Pry Sir let her not know it,
And since the ill was onely in intention
Forget it, pray sir doe, let me entreat you:
Carolo is in hope you did not see em,
Nay he is confident, neither suspects he
My plot to betray him to you; he has feed me well
To conceale it, yet me thought I could keep nothing
From your noble brest.

Alph.
Thus I reward thee for it.

Lur.
I had almost forgot my message to you
From Caralo.

Alph.
From Carolo to me?

Lur.
Yes Sir, I spied a Deer to day in a brake,
At the crosse stile in Pales wood, I told him out
When I came home: and straight he did entreat me
To pray you meet him at the chase of it.

Alph.
I'le thither presently.

Lur.
I hope this meeting
Will reconcile ye together.

Alph.
Yes no doubt.

Lur.
I humbly take my leave.

Alph.
I thank thee Lurco.
Ex. Lur.
I did observe Clarinda yesterday.
When Carolo drank to her, she turn'd from me,
And cry'd here cuz Julietta;
Yet I then did think but slightly on't,
Which now confirms their base compact together.
But I lose time, and he I think has fed it
To let him live longer then he deserves.
All Italy shall ring of my revenge;
It shall be a chief Master-peece, which ended
Shall even of my enemies be commended.
But I must quit the place.

Exit.
Enter Charmia and Fulvio.
Ful.
Are these the present looks you promis'd me?
Fie Sister, fie.

Char.
Are these the promises
You made to me, fie brother Fulvio, fie.

Ful.
Pray wherein is the breach?

Char.
In your delay.

Ful.
'Twas your permission, so it were done,
Though at the latest minute of your life.

Char.
'Twas that destructive modesty which makes
Our sex to say what we oft wish unsaid,
And you take hold of it; this is your love,
You hope a sudden death will seize on me
For this my sin, heaven knows I have deserv'd it.
Go read your Letters from Lord Gasparo,
And send an answer by the messenger:
You'l find a magazene of complements
Worthy your Lordships view.

Ful.
Be not so bitter.

Char.
You'l find more business here with me my Lord,
I am a Letter of more consequence.
Read me, and answer me with expedition,
'Tis upon life and death; d'ee hear me brother?

Ful.
I would I did not—Yes, I will answer you
With what convenience I can.

Char.
Swear to me.

Ful.
By my honour, even with my loss of honour
Ile save your life.

Char.
Y'have sworn, farewel.
Exit Charm.

Enter Gratiano and Jovio.
Ful.
Brother, I'm glad y'ar come; there's a doubt troubles me
That you must needs resolve.

Grat.
Pray then be brief.

Ful.
Jovio, keep a further distance off,
I must be private with your Lord a while.

Jov.
Now am I mad to over-hear their talk;
He steales neerer and neerer.
If they had not forbid me, I should nere ha' car'd.

Ful.
There is a Lady truly vertuous,
Truely religious, and truly chast:
So she was ever held: she now sollicites me
To her embraces, alledging she must perish,
Or with one act distain her marriage bed,
And I the man disguis'd within her breast,
Whom if she enjoy not, she shall lose her self,
Her future vertuous life, her pious deeds
That after she shall do.

Grat.
'Tis strange.

Jov.
If it be true

Grat.
But tell me, does no secret lust in you
Urge you to satisfie her strong desire?

Ful.
Heaven bear me witnesse, my intents are honest.
If I consent, it is for vertues sake,
To preserve that.

Grat.
The sins but venial,
If it were lust in both, and that your Confessor
Can wipe away, and done to a good end.
T'will much extenuate the crime, methinks,
Go doe't, and let me know the issue on't
Heaven turn all to the best: your coach is ready,
And all your men attend you at the gate,
Will you walk: methinks 'tis a strange passion.
Come sirrah.

Jov.
I nere heard the like in my life.

Exeunt.
Enter Carolo and Alphonso.
Car.
I care not then if we change sweet-hearts Cuz.

Alph.
Agreed, O impudence.

Car.
he dares confirm it too.
But where's the Deer?

Carolo draws his sword out half way.
Alph.
'Tis here.

Alphonso closes with him.
Car.
Thou doest anticipate my revenge good Cuz.

Alph.
No you deceive your selfe.

Car.
Unhand me villaine:
No? we must try for't then; I shall get off.

They goe off the Stage grapling together: in the mean time Carolo's Sword falls out of his scabard; they enter again panting.
Alph.
Your horse is gone, nor shall your coward heeles
Snatch you from my revenge, thus I will hold thee.

Car.
Alas, it needs not, thy own treachery
Has chain'd me to this ground till it be punisht:
Were both Clarind and Julietta here,
They should not ransome thee, were every tear
An orient pearl: my revenge can't be valu'd
That I will take of thee; so, now I'm free.
My sword, my sword: dishonourable coward,
Fight with an unarm'd man.

Alph.
No, no, Carolo,
I will not fight but punish: 'tis sufficient
That the Judge holds a sword, while the offender
Stands bound before him: No, if heaven had thought
That your base crime had merited defence,
It would have had no hand in your disarming,
But now y'ar stript, and this same rod must whip you.

Car.
My cause and this thy baseness give me strength.

Alphonso makes a thrust at Carolo, he wards it with his dagger, and gets within him, thrusts his dagger betwixt Alphonso's dublet and shirt, he with conceit falls down.
Alph.
False jealousie has kild me, and not thou—oh, oh.

Car.
He's dead, and where's my conquest? there's no Law
Can hang a man upon suspition:
Yet I ha' kild thee so, and on such grounds,
I by thy words find that thou soughtst my life;
I grieve to see thee dead, and I can say
This only for my self, I kild thee fairly,
If any fairness be in murdering.
But I must shift from hence, yet in this wood
Ile hide my self, and in some mean disguise
Ile cloth my self and misery.
Exit Carolo.

Alph.
Oh, oh,—a Surgeon help, help me Clarinda,
My breath returns to me in charity
That I might take my leave of thee; hast, hast,
I'm wounded past all cure; come close my eyes:
The war in which I fel was caus'd by thee,
Yet spight of wars and quarrels, if thou come
I shall depart in peace: but that which burnt down Troy,
And would o'rthrow the world without prevention
Has ruin'd me, a woman: this end o'th clue will lead me
Through the labyrinth, where am I now?
In Pales wood I think: what's this?
His dagger—ha! my wound's not mortal,
Would thou hadst kill'd me, Cosen Carola.
What shall I do now? Carola sure is fled:
If I reveal my self I shall stand guilty
As if I had murthered him; and then the shame
The greater part of every punishment,
Worse then death it self: no hope of pardon:
His friends in favour, and my father banisht:
But say that Carolo be known to live,
Though in some forraign part, and I be sav'd,
Yet when I shall be question'd on my honour
(That cannot take, and should not tell a lye)
How we fell out, what weapons we did fight at,
And all the circumstances of our combat,
My shame will set a tincture on my face,
That will betray my cowardize, and brand me
With bastardy in honour. In some cave
Ile hide my self till opportunity
Permit me to escape. O conscience!
Though brazen walls should compass me about,
Their strength is no strength to keep horror out.

Exit.