 | A Tragi-Comedy : Called, Match mee in London |  |
ACTVS, I.
Enter Malevento.Malevento.
Tormiella Daughter—nor in this roome—Peace
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.
The dawne of Midnight, and the Drunkards noone,
No honest soules vp now, but Vintners, Midwiues,
The nodding Watch, and pitious Constable, Ha; Bilbo!
My street doore open! Bilbo, Puskeena, Bilbo.
Bawds, Panders, to a young Whore;
Enter Bilbo.
Bilb.
Theeues, Theeues, Theeues, where are they Master?
Mal.
Where are they Bilbo? What Theefe seest thou?
Bil.
That il fauor'd Theefe in your Candle sir, none else not I.
Mal.
Why didst thou cry Theeues then?
Bilb.
Because you cry'd Whores; I knew a Theefe was alwayes
within a stones cast of a Whore.
What mak'st thou vp at Midnight?
Bilb.
I make them which are made euery houre i'th day (patches.)
Mal.
Slaue what art doing?
Bil.
That which few men can doe, mending Sir.
Mal.
What art mending?
Bil.
That which few men care to mend, a bad sole.
Mal.
Looke here, come hither, dost thou see what's this?
Bil.
I see tis our Wicket master.
Mal.
Stop there and tell me, is Tormiella forth?
Bil.
I heard Puskeena our Kitchin-maid say, she was going about
a murther:
Mal.
A murther; of whom?
Bil.
Of certaine Skippers; she was fleaing her selfe.
Mal.
She dwels not in her Chamber, for my Ghost
(Call'd from his rest) from Roome to roome has stalk'd,
Yet met no Tormelia.
Was not her sweet heart here to night, Gazetto?
Bil.
Gazetto! no sir, here was no Gazetto here.
Mal.
Walke round the Orchard, holla for her there.
Bil.
So, ho ho, ho, ho.
Exit.
Mal.
She's certaine with Gazetto,
Should he turne Villaine, traine my poore child forth
Though she's contracted to him, and rob her youth
Of that Gemme none can prize (because nere seene)
The Virgins riches (Chastity) and then
(When he has left her vgly to all eyes)
His owne should loath her, vds death I would draw
An old mans nerues all vp into this arme.
And nayle him to the Bed—
Enter Bilbo.
Bil.
So, ho, ho, ho, the Conyes vse to feed most i'th night
Sir, yet I cannot see my young mistris in our Warren.
Mal.
No!
Bil.
No, nor you neither, tis so darke.
Mal.
Where should this foolish girle be? tis past twelue,
Bil.
My memory jogs me by the elbow, and tels me—
Mal.
What Bilbo out with all.
Bil.
A Barber stood with her on Saturday night very late,
when he had shau'd all his Customers, and as I thinke, came to
trimme her.
Mal.
A Barber! To trim her! Sawst thou the Muskeod?
Bil.
A chequer'd aprone Gentleman I assure you: he smelt
horrible strong of Camphire, Bay leaues and Rose water: and
he stood fidling with Tormiella.
Mal.
Ha?
Bil.
Fidling at least halfe an houre, on a Citterne with a mans
broken head at it, so that I thinke 'twas a Barber Surgion: and
there's one Cynamomo a Shopkeeper, comes hither a batfowling
euery Moone-shine night too.
Mal.
What's he! Cynamomo!
Bil.
I take him to be a Comfitmaker with rotten teeth, for
he neuer comes till the Barber's gone.
Mal.
A Comfitmaker!
Bii.
Yes Sir, for he gaue Tormiella a Candied roote once, and
she swore 'twas the sweetest thing—
Mal.
Dwels he hero i'th City?
Bil.
He has a house i'th City, but I know not where he liues.
Mal.
Sheele follow her kind; turne Monster, get a light.
Bil.
My sconce is ready Sir.
Mal.
Call at Gazettoes Lodging, aske how he dares
Make a Harlot of my child,—slaue say no more:
Begon, beat boldly.
Bil.
Ile beat downe the doore; and put him in mind of a
Shroue-tuesday, the fatall day for doores to be broken open.
Exit.
Mal.
For this night I'm her Porter; Oh haplesse Creatures!
There is in woman a Diuell from her birth,
Of bad ones we haue sholes, of good a dearth.
Exit.
Cor.
No more my Tormiella, night hath borne
Thy vowes to heauen, where they are fyl'd by this
Eyther one day to crowne thy constant Soule
Or (if thou spot it with foule periury,)
For euer to condemne thee.
Ter.
Come it shall not:
Here am I sphear'd for euer, thy feares (deare Loue)
Strike coldly on thy jealous breast I know
From that my Fathers promise to Gazetto
That he should haue me, contract is there none,
For my heart loath'd it, is there left an oath
Fit for a Maid to sweare by.
Cord.
Good sweet giue o're,
What need we binding oathes being fast before?
I dare the crabbed'st Fate, shee cannot spin
A thred thus fine and rotten; how now! sad!
Tor.
Pray Heauen, I bee not mist at home, deare Cordolente
Thou shalt no farther, Ile venter now my selfe.
Cor.
How sweet! venture alone!
Torm.
Yes, yes, good rest.
Cor.
By that are Louers parted, seldome blest.
Enter Bilbo.
Bil.
Who goes there, if you be a woman stand, for all the
men I met to night, lye in the Kennell.
Tor.
My Fathers man! I am betray'd.
Cor.
Feare nothing.
Tor.
Bilbo!
Whether art thou running?
Bil.
Out of my wits and yet no Churles Executor, 'tis no
money makes me mad, but want of money.
Tor.
Good tell me whether art going?
I am going to Hell (that's to say home) for my Master
playes the Diuell, and I come from seeking out a house of euerlasting
Thunder, (that's to say a Woman) I haue beene bouncing
at Signior Gazetto's Chamber for you.
Tor.
Ha!
Bil.
You'l be haa'd when you come home.
Tor.
I am vndone for euer.
Cor.
Thou art not, peace.
Bil.
Signior Gazetto is horne-mad, and leapt out of his Bed,
(as if fleas had bit him) so that I thinke he comes running starke
naked after me.
Tor.
Oh me, what helpe my dearest Soule?
Cor.
To desperate wounds
Let's apply desperate cure, dar'st thou flye hence?
Tor.
Dare! try me.
Cor.
Then farewell Cordoua;
Horses wee'l forthwith hire, and quicke to Siuell
My birth-place, there thou shalt defie all stormes.
Tor.
Talke not, but doe.
Bil.
She would haue you doe much but say little.
Tor.
Bilbo, thou seest me not.
Bil.
No, no, away, mum I.
Cor.
To shut thy lips fast, here are lockes of Gold.
Bil.
I'spy a light comming, trudge this way.
Tor.
You dally with fire, haste, haste, Bilbo farewell.
Cor.
O starre-crost Loue!
To find way to whose Heauen, man wades through Hell.
Exeunt manet Bilbo.
Enter Gazetto.
Gaz.
Wo, ho, ho, ho,—whew.
Bil.
Another Fire-drake! More Salamanders! Heere Sir.
Gaz.
Bilbo! How now! Is the Dy-dapper aboue water yet?
Bil.
Signior Gazetto! Mine Eyes are no bigger then litle
pinnes heads with staring, my heeles ake with trotting,
yet my yong Mistris your sweet hart, like sweet breath amongst
Tobacco-drinkers, is not to be found.
Gaz.
On, take my Torch, apace: the neer'st way home.
Fluttering abroad by Owle-light!
Bil.
Here sir, turne downe this Lane; shall I knocke your Torch Signior?
Gaz.
Prithee doe what thou wilt, the Diuell! where is she?
Bil.
Had you knockt your Torch well before Tormiella (ware
the post) and held it well vp when it was lighted, she had neuer
giuen you the slip, and i'faith Signior when is the day?
Gaz.
The wedding (meanst thou) on Saint Lukes day next,
'Tis mine owne name thou know'st: but now I feare
She's lost, and the day too.
Bil.
If she should driue you by foule weather into Cuckolds
Hauen before Saint Lukes day comes, Signior Luco how then?
Gaz.
If she dares let her, I haue her Fathers promise, nay
oath that I shall haue her.
Bil.
Here is my Masters Gate.
Gaz.
Stay she's at home sure now: Ile slip aside,
Knocke thou, and if she answeres (as 'tis likely)
Weel try if still th'old fencing be in vse,
That faulty women neuer want excuse.
Bil.
They are made for the purpose to lye and cullor,
Ile knocke.
Mal.
Who's there?
Bil.
'Tis I, open the doore.
Mal.
What! to a Common!
Bil.
What common! You doe me wrong sir, though I goe
in breeches, I am not the roaring girle you take me for.
Mal.
Wert thou with Gazetto?
Bil.
Yes.
Mal.
Was she with Gazetto?
Bil.
No.
Mal.
Was Gazetto alone?
Bil.
No sir, I was with him.
Mal.
Foole knew not he she was forth?
Bil.
Yes when I told him.
Signior Malevento open the doore pray.
Mal.
Oh Luke Gazetto.
Gaz.
Not yet come home!
Mal.
No, no.
Gaz.
Not yet! vds death
When I shall take the Villaine does this wrong,
Had better stolne away a Starre from Heauen
No Spaniard sure dares doe it.
Bil.
'Tis some English man has stolne her, I hold my life, for
most Theeues and brauest Cony-catchers are amongst them.
Gaz.
All Cordoua search ere morning, if not found
Ile ride to Siuill, Ile mount my Iennet Sir
And take the way to Madrill.
Mal.
Ne're speake of Madrill,
The iourney is for her too dangerous,
If Cordoua hold her not, lets all to Siuill.
Haste, haste, by breake of day
Signior Gazetto let vs meet agen.
Gaz.
Agreed:
Mal.
We'll hunt her out.
Exit.
Bil.
But you know not when, will you take your Torch.
Exit.
Gaz.
Keepe it, lustfull maiden!
Hot Spanish vengeance followes thee, which flyes
Like three forkt Lightning, whom it smites, he dyes.
Exit.
Enter Prince Iohn all vnready, and Pacheco his Page.
Iohn.
Pacheco?
Pach.
My Lord.
Ioh.
Is't so earely! What a Clocke Is't?
Pach.
About the houre that Souldiers goe to bed, and Catchpoles
rise: Will your Lordship be truss'd vp this morning?
Ioh.
How dost meane, goe to hanging!
Pach.
Hanging! does your Lordship take me for a crack-rope,
Ioh.
No, but for a notable Gallowes, too many Lordships
are truss'd vp euery day (boy) some wud giue a 1000. Crownes
to haue 'em vnty'd, but come sir tye vp my Lordship.
As fast as I can, Oh my Lord and a man could tye
friends to him as fast as I doe these points, 'twere a braue world.
Ioh.
So he does, for these are fast now, and loose at night.
Pach.
Then they are like the loue of a woman.
Ioh.
Why boy! Do you know what the loue of a woman is!
Pach.
No faith my Lord, nor you neither, nor any man else I thinke.
Ioh.
Y'are a noble Villaine.
Pach.
Would I were, then I should be rich.
Ioh.
Well get you gon—
Exit.
Here's a braue fyle of noble Portugals
Haue sworne to helpe me, its hard trusting strangers,
Nay more, to giue them footing in a Land
Is easie, hard to remoue them; say they and I
Should send my Brother King out of this world,
And inthrone me (for that's the Starre I reach at,)
I must haue Spaine mine, more then Portugall,
Say that the Dons and Grandies were mine owne,
And that I had the Keyes of the Court Gates
Hang at my Girdle; in my hand the Crowne,
There's yet no lifting it vp to my head
Without the people: I must ride that Beast,
And best sit fast: who walkes not to his Throne
Vpon their heads and hands, goes but alone;
This Dogfish must I catch then, the Queenes Father!
(Pedro Valasco) what if I got him!
Its but a shallow old fellow, and to build
On the great'st, wisest Statesman, in a dessigne
Of this high daring, is most dangerous;
We see the tops of tall trees, not their heart;
To find that sound or rotten, there's the Art.
How now Iago?
Enter Iago.
Iago.
Good morrow to your Lordship,
The King lookes for you,
You must come presently.
Well Sir: must come! So:
florish.
As I must come, so he ere long must goe.
Exeunt.
Enter King, Valasco, Martines, Alphonso.
Valasc.
And broad awake!
King.
As is that eye of Heauen.
Val.
It spake! not, did it?
King.
No; but with broad eyes,
Glassie and fierie stair'd vpon me thus,
As blacke, as is a Soule new dipt in Hell;
The t'other was all white, a beard and haire
Snowie like Portugall, and me thought his looke:
But had no armes.
Val.
No armes!
King.
No: just my height,
Now, and e're this it was shot vp so high,
Me thought I heard the head knocke at a Starre,
Cleane through the Seeling.
Val.
Fancy, Fancy.
King.
I saw it.
Val.
A meere Deceptio visus.
King.
A vice Asse;
Y'are an incredulous Coxcombe, these saw it.
Val.
Well; they did, they did.
King.
I call'd for helpe; these enter'd, found mee dead with feare!
Omn.
'Tis right Sir.
King.
Did not the Spirits glide by thee?
Mar.
Your Grace must pardon me, I saw none.
King.
'Shart doe I lye! doe you braue me! you base Peasant?
Mart.
No my Lord, but I must guard my life against an Emperor.
King.
One of my wiues men, is't not! Ha!
What a Pox fawnes the Curre for here! away.
Exit. Martines.
Here Spye Sir! Are you!
Val.
Sooth him vp, y'are fooles,
If the Lyon say the Asses eares are hornes
The Asse if he be wise will sweare it, la Sir
These tell me they all saw it.
Yes my Lord.
Enter Iago.
King.
And yet I lye a whoreson buzzard—Now sir
Iago.
Prince Iohn is comming.
King.
When sir!
Iago.
Instantly.
King.
Father Ile tell you a Tale, vpon a time
The Lyon Foxe and silly Asse did jarre,
Grew friends and what they got, agreed to share:
A prey was tane, the bold Asse did diuide it
Into three equall parts, the Lyon spy'd it,
And scorning two such sharers, moody grew,
And pawing the Asse, shooke him as I shake you.
Valasc.
Not too hard good my Lord, alas I am craz'd.
King.
And in rage tore him peece meale, the Asse thus dead,
The prey was by the Foxe distributed
Into three parts agen; of which the Lyon
Had two for his share, and the Foxe but one:
The Lyon (smiling) of the Foxe would know
Where he had this wit, he the dead did show.
Valasc.
An excellent Tale.
King.
Thou art that Asse.
Valasc.
I!
King.
Thou: you, and the Foxe my Brother cut my Kingdome,
Into what steakes you list, I share no more,
Then what you list to giue.
You two broach Warre or Peace; you plot, contriue,
You flea off the Lyons skinne, you sell him aliue,
But hauing torne the Asse first limbe from limbe
His death shall tell the Foxe Ile so serue him.
Valasc.
I doe all this! 'tis false in Prince Iohns face
Ile spit if he dares speake it, you might ride me
For a right Asse indeed if I should kick
In whom the hope of my posterity
(By marriage of my child your wife ) doth grow
None but an Asse would doe it.
King.
If I know, your little finger was but in't, neither age;
Your place in Court, and Councell, respect of honour,
Nor of my wife (your Daughter) shall keepe this head
Vpon these shoulders—
Enter Prince Iohn.
Valasc.
Take it; now here's Prince Iohn.
King.
How now Brother! Sick!
Ioh.
Not very well.
King.
Our Court is some Inchanted Tower you come not neare it.
Are you not troubled with some paine i'th head?
Your Night-cap shewes you are?
Ioh.
Yes wonderously,—a kind of Megrim Sir.
Ioh.
I thinke to bind
Your Temples with the Crowne of Spaine would ease you.
Ioh.
The Crowne of Spaine! my Temples!
King.
Nay, I but iest,
A Kingdome would make any Sicke man well,
And Iohn I would thou hadst one.
Ioh.
It shall goe hard else.
Valasc.
The King I thanke him sayes that you and I—
King.
What?
Valasc.
Cut you out sir in steakes: Ile not be silent,
And that I am an Asse, and a Foxe you;
Haue I any dealings with you?
Ioh.
When I am to deale sir,
A wise man then shall hold the Cards.
Valasc.
Now I'm call'd foole too.
King.
Sir if you remember
Tunes that did sound but scuruily.
Val.
I buz! What buz!
King.
That he should sell me to the Portugall.
Val.
Wer't thou as big as all the Kings i'th world,
'Tis false and I defie thee.
King.
Nay Sir, and more,—
Val.
Out with't; no whispering,
King.
I shall blush to speake it,
Harke you, a Poxe vpon't, cannot you sooth
His sullen Lordship vp, you see I doe
Flatter him, confesse any thing.
Val.
A good Iest!
I should confesse to him I know not what,
And haue my throat cut, but I know not why.
Ioh.
W'ud your Grace
Would licence me a while to leaue the Court
To attend my health.
King.
Doe.
Ioh.
I take my leaue—as for you Sir—
Exit.
King.
My Lord doe you see this Change i'th Moone, sharpe hornes
Doe threaten windy weather, shall I rule you
Send to him dead words, write to him your mind
And if your hearts be vnsound purge both, all humors
That are corrupt within you.
Val.
Ile neuer write, but to him in person.
Exit.
Enter old Lady.
King.
Pray Madam rise.
Iag.
Doe you know this old furie?
Alph.
No: what is she?
Iag.
She's the Kings nuthooke (if report has not a blister on
her tongue) that when any Filberd-tree is ripe; puls downe
yeares Almanacke sayes) has a priuate hot-house for his Grace
onely to sweat in: her name the Lady Dildoman: the poore
Knight her Husband is troubled with the City Gowt, lyes i'th
Counter.
K.
Ile hang him that stirres in't, the proudest Fawlcon that's
pearcht vp nearest the Eagle, if he dare, make this his prey, how
many yeares!
Lad.
Fifteene and vpwards if it please your Grace.
Kin.
Some two-footed Diuell in our Court,
Would thrust you out of all, Inclos'd! or Common!
Lad.
'Tis yet inclos'd if it like your Grace.
King.
Entayl'd!
Lad.
Newly Entayl'd, as there 'tis to be seene in blacke and white.
King.
This case my selfe will handle; fee no Lawyer
Ile stand for you, ha! Servants of mine turn'd grinders!
To oppresse the weake! What slaue is't! from my sight,
Least my heau'd hand swerue awry, and Innocence smite.
Alph.
This Bawd belike has her house pull'd downe.
Exeunt
King.
So: come hither, nearer, where shines this starre?
Lad.
I'th City, brightly, sprightly, brauely, oh 'tis a Creature—
King.
Young!
Lad.
Delicate, piercing eye, inchanting voyce, lip red and
moyst, skin soft and white; she's amorous, delicious, inciferous tender, neate.
King.
Thou madst me, newly married!
Lad.
New married, that's all the hole you can find in her
coate, but so newly, the poesie of her wedding Ring is scarce
warme with the heate of her finger; therefore my Lord, fasten
this wagtayle, as soone as you can lime your bush, for women
are Venice-glasses, one knocke spoyles em.
King.
Crackt things! pox on 'em.
Lad.
And then they'l hold no more then a Lawyers Conscience.
King.
How shall I get a sight of this rich Diamond.
Lad.
I would haue you first disguis'd goe along with mee,
into her lap like Iove, a net of Goldsmiths worke will plucke
vp more women at one draught, then a Fisherman does Salmons
at fifteene.
King.
What's her Husband?
Lad.
A flatcap, pish; if he storme, giue him a Court-Loafe
stop's mouth with a Monopoly.
King.
T'hast fir'd me.
La.
You know where to quench you.
King.
Ile steale from Court in some disguise presently.
Lad.
Stand on no ground good your Highnesse.
King.
Away, Ile follow thee, speake not of hast,
Thou tyest but wings to a swift gray Hounds heele,
And add'st to a running Charriot a fift wheele.
Thou now dost hinder me, away, away.
| A Tragi-Comedy : Called, Match mee in London | |