 | The wonder of A Kingdome |  |
Actus secundus.
Scæna prima.
Enter Tibaldo sicke in his chaire, Alphonsina, Mutio, Philippo, Tornelli, Montivello.Mut.
In Lawes of courtesie, wee are bound sweete Lady,
(Being thus nigh) to see you and your brother,
Our noble friend, tho' the Duke had not sent.
Alp.
Thankes worthy sir.
Phil.
Signior Tibaldo hath desire to sleepe.
Tor.
Then leave him, Companie offends the sicke.
Alp.
Our humblest dutie to my Lord the Duke;
If in my Brothers name, and mine, you tender
For this his noble love, wee both shall rest
Highly indebted to you all.
Mut.
Sweete Madam,
You shall command our lives to worke your good.
Alp.
Signior, your love.
Omnes.
All at your service Madam.
Mut.
A quick, and good health to your noble Brother.
Alp.
And all faire fortunes doubled on your selfe.
Exit.
So: me-thinkes a Lady had more need have a new paire of
lips, then a new paire of gloves, for tho' they were both of one
skinne, yet one would weare out sooner then the other; I thinke
these Courtiers have al offices in the Spicerie, And taking my lips
for sweet-meates, are as sawcie with 'em, as if they were Fees; I
wonder Tibaldo thou can'st fit still, and not come in for a share;
If old Vanni's wife had beene heere, all the parts about you had
mov'd.
Tib.
Thou think'st I lie in, heere's such a gossiping, as if 'twere
a Child-bed Chamber.
Alp.
So 'tis, for Ile sweare, all this stirre is about having a woman
brought to bed; marry I doubt it must be a mans lying in.
Tib.
I would thy tongue were a man then, to lie.
Alp.
I had rather it were a woman, to tell trueth.
Tib.
Good sister Alphonsina, you still play
And you to quench mee, powre on scoopes of oyle;
I feele ten thousand plummets at my heart,
Yet you cry. Lay on more, and are more cruell
Then all my tortures.
Alp.
Sadnesse, I pittie thee,
And will to doe thee service, venture life,
Mine honour being kept spotlesse.
Tib.
Gentle sister,
The easiest thing ith' world to begge, I crave,
And the poorest Almes to give.
Alp.
But aske and have.
Tib.
A friendly counsell, loe that's all.
Alp.
'Tis yours.
Be rul'd by me then; in an ashie sheete,
Cover these glowing embers of desire.
Tib.
Embers? I wo'd you felt em, 'tis a fire—
Alp.
Come, and set hand to paper, Ile indite.
Tib.
And shee'le condemne me; no, I will not write.
Alp.
Then prethee take this Phisick; be not the sea, to drinke
strange Rivers up, yet still be drie; Be like a noble streame, covet
to runne betwixt faire bankes, which thou may'st call thine
owne, and let those bankes be some faire Ladies armes, fit for thy
youth, and birth.
Tib.
Against your charmes,
Witch, thus I stop mine eares.
Alp.
Ile hollow them; this Deere runnes in my Lords Parke,
And if you steale it, looke to have Blood-hounds scent you.
Tib.
Are you mad?
Alp.
Yes, you shall finde venison-sawce deerer then other flesh.
Tib.
No, no, none else must, none shall, none can,
My hunger feede but this; downe will I dive,
And fetch this Pearle, or nere come up alive—
Alp.
Are all my warme cawdles come to this? now I see th'art
too farre gone, this Lady hath overspent thee therefore settle
thine estate, plucke up a good heart, and Ile pen thy will.
Tib.
Oh fie, fie.
Alp.
Bequeath thy kisses to some Taylor, that hunts out weddings
every sunday, Item, Thy sighes to a noyse of fidlers ill paid,
thy palenesse to a Fencer fighting at sharpe, thy want of stomack
to one of the Dukes guard.
I begge it at thy hands, that being a woman, thou'lt make
a wonder.
Enter Cargo.
Alp.
What's that?
Tib.
Hold thy tongue.
Alp.
It's an Instrument ever plaid on, cause well strung,
Who's that come into the Chamber there? Oh, Mr. Cargo.
Carg.
My Lord hath sent you a Iewell, lock't up in this paper,
and the moisture of a goose quill, that's to say, words in that—
Alp.
Oh sir, I thanke your Lord, and this your paines; have
him into the Buttery—let me see, Lady, that I love you, I dare
sweare like a Lord (I shall have oathes enough then) I send you
all that is mine, in hope all shall bee mine that is yours, for it
stands to reason, that mine being yours, yours should bee mine,
and yours being mine, mine should be yours. Love me, or I die,
If I die, you kill me, If you kill me, I will say nothing, but take
the blow patiently. I hold my life this Lord has bin bastinado'd,
out upon him rammish foxe, he stinks hither; Prethee good Brother
reade.
Tib.
I will.
Reades.
Alp.
Is't Gander moneth with him? How the devill is my maydenhead
blasted? that among such shoales of Gallants, that swim
up and downe the Court, no fish bites at the baite of my poore
beautie, but this tough Cods-head?
Tib.
Oh sister, peace for heavens sake; heere lies health
Even in this bitter pill (for me) so you
Would play but my Phisician, and say, take it;
You are offered heere, to soiourne at his house:
Companion with his Lady.
Alp.
Sr, I have you. And I goeing vpon so weightie a businesse,
as getting of children, you would ha' me pin you to my
sleeve.
Tib.
Most true.
Alp.
You care not so I turne whore to pleasure you.
Tib.
Oh Sister, your high worth is knowne full well
Gainst base assault, a Fort Impregnable;
And therefore, as you love my life, ith' sprindge,
Catch this old Wood-cocke.
In the flame I'le sindge
My wings, unlesse I put the candle out,
That you i'th'darke may bring your hopes about.
You have wonne me.
Tib.
You revive me.
Alp.
Have a care you cast not your selfe downe too soone now.
Tib.
I warrant you.
Alp.
As for my old Huck-sters artillery, I have walls of
Chastity strong enough shoote he never so hard, to keepe him
From making any breach.
Tib.
'Twill be a noble-battaile on each side;
Yet now my spirits are rouzed, a stratageme
Lies hatching heere, pray helpe me noble sister,
to give it forme and life.
Alp.
My best.
Tib.
What thinke you?
(The marke of man not yet set in my face)
If as your sister, or your kins-woman,
I goe in womans habit; for thereby,
Speech, free accesse, faire opportunity;
Are had without suspition.
Alp.
Mine be your will;
Oh me! what paines we take to bring forth ill!
Such a disguise is safe too, since you never but once
Were seene there.
Tib.
My wise sister ever.
(Enter Cargo)
Alp.
Send in the fellow there that brought the letter;
Why how now? doe his leggs faile him already?
A staffe for his declining age.
Carg.
I have a pike-staffe of mine owne already, but I could not
Keep our your scurvy desperate hoggs-head from coming
In upon me, I'me cut i'th' cockscombe.
Alb.
Nothing I see is so like an old-man, as a youngman
drunke.
Carg.
Or when he comes from a wench.
Alp.
Before he beare your answer let him sleep.
Tib.
Whil'st you laugh at what I could almost weepe.
Exit.
Enter Angelo, like a Doctor, Baptista, his man.
Ang.
Deare friend, I should both wrong my faith & fortunes,
To make'em thus dance Antickes; I shall never
play the dissembler.
Bapt.
Then never play the Lover;
Death! for a woman, I'de be fleade alive,
Could I but finde one constant: i'st such a matter
For you then to put on a Doctours-gowne,
And his flat velvet-Cap, and speake the gibbering
Of an Apothecary.
Ang.
If thus disguis'd
I'me taken all the phisicke in the world
Cannot prolong my life.
Bapt.
And dying for her,
You venture bravely, all women o're you grave
will pray that they so kinde a man may have,
As to die for'em; say your banishment
Had borne you hence, what hells of discontent,
Had rack'd your soule for her as hers for you?
Should you but faint, well might you seeme untrue,
Where this attempt your loyalty shall approve,
Who ventures farthest winns a Ladies-love.
Ang.
How are my beard and haire?
Bapt.
Friend I protest,
So rarely counterfeit, as if a painter
Should draw a Doctour: were I sicke my selfe,
And met you with an urinall in my hand,
I'de cast it at your head, unlesse you cast
The water for me, come, all's passing well;
Love which makes pale the cheeks, gives you complexion,
Fit for a sallow French-man.
Ang.
I will on then,
In France I long haue liv'd, And know the Garbe
Of the French-Mounte-bankes, whose apish gesture,
Although in them I hold ridiculous,
My selfe shall practise.
Bapt.
For a Doctours-man,
You see I'me fitted, foote by foote I'le walke,
and meete all dangers sent against your breast.
Ang.
I thanke thee noble friend; let's then to court.
The pangs a lover suffers are but short.
Exit.
Flo.
How now Nurse, how does my Fiametta?
Nurs.
Oh my sweete Lord, shees at it agen, at it agen!
Flo.
Who are with her? call for more helpe.
Nurs.
More helpe! alas there's my Lady Vanni with her, and
ladies upon Ladies, and Doctours upon Doctours, but all cannot
doe.
Pisa.
How does it take her Nurse?
Nurs.
Oh sweete Princesse, it takes her all over with a pricking;
first about her stomack, and then she heaves and heaves,
that no one man with all his weight, can keepe her downe.
Pier.
At this I wonder, that her sicknesse makes
her Doctours fooles.
Nic.
He that she findes most ease in, is Dr. Iordan.
Flo.
I will give halfe my Duke-dome for her health.
Nic.
Well, well, If death do take her, he shall have the sweetest
bed-fellow that ever lay by leane mans-side.
Flo.
I entreate thee Nurse be tender over her.
Nurs.
Tender quoth a? I'me sure my heeles are growne as
hard as hoofes, with trotting for her, I'le put you in one comfort.
Flo.
What's that Nurse?
Nurs.
In her greatest conflict sh as had a worthy feeling of
her selfe.
Exit
Flo.
So, so, I'me glad of it my Lord of Pisa.
Vnder this common blow, which might have strooke the
strongest heart, here pray doe not you shrinke.
Pisa.
Sicknes is lifes retainer, Sir, and I
(What is not to be shun'd) beare patiently;
But had she health as sound as hath the spring,
She wo'd to me prove sickly Autumne still.
Flo.
Oh say not so,
Pis.
I finde it, for being loyall,
As the touch-needle to one starre still turning,
I loose that starre, my faith is paid with scorning.
Who then with eagles wings of faith and truth,
W'ud in her sun-beames plaie away his youth,
And kisse those flames, which burne but out mine eyes,
Flo.
'Tis but her way-ward sicknes casts this eye
of slightnes on you.
Pis.
'Tis my Lord her hate;
For when death sits even almost on her browes,
She spreads her armes abroad, to welcome him,
When in my bridall-bed I finde a grave.
Flo.
Now Mutio?
Enter Mutio.
Mut.
There's a French-man come to court,
A profest Doctour, that has seen the Princesse,
And will on her recovery pawne his life.
Flor.
Comfort from heaven, I hope, let's see this Doctour.
Enter Angelo like a Doctour, Baptista his man.
Flo.
Welcome good Doctour: have you seen my daughter?
Restore her health, and nothing in my Duke-dome,
Shall be too deare for thee, how doe you Iudge her?
Ang.
Be me trat me Lord, I finde her a very bad lady, & no well.
Flo.
Piero take the Duke of Pisa pray and be your sisters visitants—
Piero.
Sir we shall, if the Duke please—
Pisa.
The poysoned may drinke gall.
Exit.
Flo.
Attend the Duke.
Enter Cargo, with a letter.
Cargo.
The party Sir.
Nico.
Thou shalt have Cæsars pay—my Coach,
Car.
Old Ianuary goes to lie with May.
Exit.
Flo.
Doctor I thus have singled you, to sound
The depth of my girles sicknes, that if no skill
Of man can save her, I against heavens will,
May arme my breast with patience, therefore be free.
Ang.
By my tra' and fa' my Lor', me no point can play
The hound, and fawre upon de most puissant Roy in de world;
A French-man beare the brave minde for dat.
Flo.
So, so, I like him better.
Ang.
Me gra tanke you, now for de maladie of de Princesse,
Me one two, tre time, feele her pulse, and ron up and downe all
De oder parts of her body, and finde noting but dat
She be trobla with le gran desire of de man.
Flo.
A great desire of a man?
Ang.
A my trat 'tis verament, she longa to do some ting in
Love upon le gentle home.
Doctor thou hit'st her heart, 'tis there shee's wounded,
By a poyson'd Arrow, shot from a villaines hand;
One Angelo of the Lotti Familie,
And till that head be pluckt out, shee will pine,
Vnlesse controul'd by some deepe Art of thine.
Ang.
All tings possibela me sall undergoe, mee ha read Gallen,
Hipocratus, Avicen, but no point can peeke out le remedie for
de Madam in de bryars of love.
Flo.
No medicine you say in any of them for Love.
Ang.
Ay me, trat not worth a lowse, onely in my perigrination
about le grand gloabe of de world, me find out a fine trick for
make a de man, and Voman doe, dat is tickla in love.
Flo:
The man and the woman doe? how doe, how doe?
Ang.
To be cura, and all whole, Admirable vell.
Flo.
As how pray?
Ang.
Me have had under my fingera, many brave vench, and
most Noble gentle Dames, dat have bee much troubla, upon de
wilde vorme in de taile for de man.
Flo.
Very good.
Ang.
And bee my tra my Lord, by experement me finde dat
de heart of de man; you understanda me.
Flo.
Yes, yes, the heart of the man.
Ang.
Wee wee, de heart of de man being all dry as peppera.
Flo.
So so
Ang.
And rub upon de ting (vat you call it) sall make it
moulder all to crumble and dust.
Flo.
Oh, oh, a Grater.
Ang.
Ee by my tra you say vell, rub a de mans dry Art upon
de Grater, and drinke de powder in de pot le Vine, by de Gentle-woman,
and by gars-blor, she presentamently kick up de heele
at de man she lova.
Flo.
Excellent.
Ang.
No point more remembra, but cry out le French poo upon
le varlet.
Flo.
So shee will hate her lover.
Ang.
Be-gat, as my selfe hate le puz-cat, cry mew at my shin;
and will have de rombling a de gut, for de other gentle home.
Flo.
Thou com'st up close to me now, my brave Doctor.
Ang.
Be-gar me hope so, and derfore my Lord apply le desperate
cut in de troate, and be man-slaughtered.
Flo.
You then advise me to have Angelo slaine.
Ang,
Wee.
Flo.
And then to have my daughter drincke his heart.
Ang.
Wee, wee.
Flo.
Grated and dried, and so—
Ang.
Wee, wee, wee.
Flo.
I wo'd I grip'd it fast now in this hand,
And eat it panting hot, to teach a peasant
To climbe above his being, Doctor, hee dies.
Ang.
Knocka de pate downe be-gar.
Flo.
But stay, stay, hee's fled Florence; It will bee
A worke to find him first out, and being found,
A taske to kill him; for our Gallants speake
Much of his worth; The varlet is valiant.
Ang.
No matera for dat; for two tree foure crowne, dar be
Rascalls sall run him in on de backe-shide.
Flor.
He shall be sought for, and being found, he dies.
Ang.
Pray my lor' suffera le Princesse and me for be in private,
Le Doctor uses for toucha doe Ooman—
Flo.
Doe, so, whil'st I for Angeloes death use speede,
For till I have his heart, mine owne must bleede.
Exit.
Enter Baptista.
Ang.
Oh my Baptista.
Bapt.
I have heard the thunder aym'd at your life.
Ang.
And it will strike me dead,
With a most soddaine and Invisible blowe.
Bapt.
Now that you see his vengeance apt to fall,
Flie from it.
Ang.
How?
Bapt.
By fayre, and free accesse,
Open your dangers to your Mistris eyes,
Where shee starke mad, so she be mad for love,
You'le bring her to her witts, if wisely now
You put her intoth' way; Gold bar'd with locks,
Is best being stolne; steale her then.
Ang.
'Tis but a wracke at most,
Oh on what boisterous Seas is True love tost!
Exeunt.
| The wonder of A Kingdome | |