 | The History of Antonio and Mellida |  |
ACTVS SECVNDVS.
Enter Catzo (with a Capon) eating, Dildo following him.Dil.
Hah Catzo, your master wants a cleane trencher: doe you heare?
Balurdo cals for your diminutiue attendance.
Catz.
The belly hath no eares Dildo.
Dil.
Good pugge giue me some capon.
No capon, no not a bitte yee smooth bully; capon's
no meat for Dildo: milke, milke, yee glibbery vrchin,
is foode for infants.
Dil.
Vpon mine honour
Cat.
Your honour with a paugh? slid, now euery Iack
an Apes loads his backe with the golden coat of honour;
euery Asse puts on the Lyons skinne and roars
his honour, vpon your honour. By my Ladies pantable,
I feare I shall liue to heare a Vintners boy cry; tis
rich neat Canary, vpon my honour.
Dil.
My stomack's vp.
Cat.
I think thou art hungry.
Dil.
The match of furie is lighted, fastned to the linstock
of rage, and will presently set fire to the touch-hole
of intemperance, discharging the double couluering
of my incensement in the face of thy opprobrious
speach.
Cat.
Ile stop the barrell thus; god Dildo, set not fire to
the touch-hole.
Dil.
My rage is stopt, and I wil eate to the health of
the foole thy master Castilio.
Cat.
And I will suck the iuyce of the capon, to the
health of the Idiot thy master Balurdo.
Dil.
Faith, our masters are like a case of Rapiers sheathed
in one scabberd of folly.
Cat.
Right dutch blades. But was't not rare sport at
the sea-battle, whilst rounce robble hobble roard from
the ship sides, to viewe our masters pluck their plumes
and droppe their feathers, for feare of being men of
marke.
Slud (cri'd Signior Balurdo) O for Don Bessiclers
armour, in the Mirror of Knighthood: what coil's here?
O for an armour, Canon proofe: O, more cable, more
fetherbeds, more fetherbeds, more cable, till hee had
as much as my cable hatband, to fence him.
Enter Flauia in haste, with a rebato.
Catz.
Buxome Flauia: can you sing? song, song.
Fla.
My sweete Dildo, I am not for you at this time:
Madam Rossaline stayes for a fresh ruffe to appeare in
the presence: sweete away.
Dil.
Twill not be so put off, delicate, delicious, spark
eyed, sleek skind, slēder wasted, clean legd, rarely shap't.
Fla.
VVho, Ile be at all your seruice another season:
nay faith ther's reason in all things.
Dil.
VVould I were reason then, that I might be in
all things.
Cat.
The breefe and the semiquauer is, wee must
haue the descant you made vpon our names, ere you
depart.
Fla.
Faith, the song will seeme to come off hardly.
Catz.
Troth not a whit, if you seeme to come off
quickly.
Fla.
Peart Catzo, knock it lustily then.
CANTANT.
Enter Forobosco, with two torches: Castilio singing fantastically: Rossaline running a Caranto pase, and Balurdo: Feliche following, wondring at them all.
Foro.
Make place gentlemen; pages, hold torches,
the prince approacheth the presence.
Dill.
VVhat squeaking cart-wheel haue we here? ha?
prince approacheth the presence.
Ros.
Faugh, what a strong sent's here, some bodie
vseth to weare socks.
Bal.
By this faire candle light, tis not my feete, I neuer
wore socks since I suckt pappe.
Ross.
Sauourly put off.
Cast.
Hah, her wit stings, blisters, galles off the skinne
with the tart acrimony of her sharpe quicknesse: by
sweetenesse, she is the very Pallas that flewe out of Iupiters
brainepan. Delicious creature, vouchsafe mee
your seruice: by the puritie of bounty, I shall be proud
of such bondage.
Ross.
I vouchsafe it; be my slaue. Signior Balurdo, wilt
thou be my seruant too?
Ba.
O god: forsooth in very good earnest, law, you wold
make me as a man should say, as a man should say.
Fe.
Slud sweet beauty, will you deign him your seruice?
Ros.
O, your foole is your only seruant. But good Feliche
why art thou so sad? a pennie for thy thought, mā.
Feli.
I sell not my thought so cheap: I valewe my
meditation at a higher rate.
Ball.
In good sober sadnesse, sweet mistris, you should
haue had my thought for a penny: by this crimson Satten
that cost eleuen shillings, thirteene pence, three
pence, halfe pennie a yard, that you should, law.
Ros.
VVhat was thy thought, good seruant?
Ba.
Marrie forsooth, hovv manie strike of pease would
feed a hog fat against Christide.
Ro.
Paugh; seruant rub out my rheum, it soiles the presence.
By my wealthiest thought, you grace my shoo
with an vnmeasured honour: I will preserue the soale
of it, as a most sacred relique, for this seruice.
Ross.
Ile spit in thy mouth, and thou wilt, to grace
thee.
Felich.
O that the stomack of this queasie age
Digestes, or brookes such raw vnseasoned gobs,
And vomits not them forth! O slauish sots.
Seruant quoth you? faugh: if a dogge should craue
And beg her seruice, he should haue it straight:
Sheed giue him fauours too; to lick her feete,
Or fetch her fanne, or some such drudgery:
A good dogs office, which these amorists
Tryumph of: tis rare, well giue her more Asse,
More sot, as long as dropping of her nose
Is sworne rich pearle by such low slaues as those.
Ross.
Flauia, attend me to attire me.
Exit Rossaline and Flauia.
Balur.
In sad good earnest, sir, you haue toucht the
very bare of naked truth; my silk stocking hath a good
glosse, and I thanke my planets, my legge is not altogether
vnpropitiously shap't. There's a word: vnpropitiously?
I thinke I shall speake vnpropitiously as well
as any courtier in Italy.
Foro.
So helpe me your sweete bounty, you haue the
most gracefull presence, applasiue elecuty, amazing
volubility, polisht adornation, delicious affabilitie.
Fel.
Whop: fut how he tickles yon trout vnder the
gilles! you shall see him take him by and by, with groping
flattery.
That euer rauisht the eare of wonder. By
your sweete selfe, then whome I knowe not a more
exquisite, illustrate, accomplished, pure, respected, ador'd,
obserued, pretious, reall, magnanimous, boūtious:
if you haue an idle rich cast ierkin, or so, it shall
not be cast away, if; hah? heres a foreheade, an eye,
a heade, a haire, that would make a: or if you haue any
spare paire of siluer spurs, ile doe you as much
right in all kinde offices
Fel.
Of a kinde Parasite
Foro.
As any of my meane fortunes shall be able to
Balur.
As I am true Christian now, thou hast wonne
the spurres
Feli.
For flattery.
O how I hate that same Egyptian louse;
A rotten maggot, that liues by stinking filth
Of tainted spirits: vengeance to such dogs,
That sprout by gnawing senselesse carion.
Enter Alberto.
Alb.
Gallants, saw you my mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline?
Foro.
My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, left the presence euen now.
Casti.
My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, withdrewe her gratious aspect euen now.
Balur.
My mistresse, the Ladie Rossaline, withdrewe her gratious aspect euen now.
Felich.
Well said eccho.
Alb.
My mistresse, and his mistresse, and your mistresse,
& the dogs mistresse: pretious dear heauen, that
Corner, and secret angle of the court:
And yet, and yet, and yet she liues conceal'd.
Good sweete Feliche, tell me how to finde
My bright fac't mistresse out.
Fel.
Why man, cry out for lanthorne and candlelight.
For tis your onely way, to finde your bright flaming
wench, with your light burning torch: for most
commonly, these light creatures liue in darknesse.
Alb.
Away you heretike, youle be burnt for
Fel.
Goe, you amorous hound, follow the sent of
your mistresse shooe; away.
Foro.
Make a faire presence, boyes, aduance your
lightes:
Bal.
And please the gods, now in very good deede,
law, you shal see me tickle the measures for the heauēs.
Enter Piero, Antonio, Mellida, Rossaline, Galeatzo, Matzagente, Alberto, and Flauia. As they enter, Feliche, & Castilio make a ranke for the Duke to passe through. Forobosco vshers the Duke to his state: then whilst Piero speaketh his first speach, Mellida is taken by Galeatzo and Matzagente, to daunce; they supporting her: Rossaline, in like maner, by Alberto and Balurdo: Flauia, by Feliche and Castilio.
Beautious Amazon, sit, and seat your thoughts
In the reposure of most soft content.
Sound musick there. Nay daughter, cleare your eyes,
From these dull fogs of mistie discontent:
Look sprightly girl. What? though Antonio's droun'd,
That peeuish dotard on thy excellence,
That hated issue of Andrugio:
Yet maist thou tryumph in my victories;
Since, loe, the high borne bloodes of Italy
Sue for thy seate of loue.
Let musique sound.
Beautie and youth run descant on loues ground.
Matz.
Ladie, erect your gratious summetry:
Shine in the spheare of sweete affection:
Your eye as heauie, as the heart of night.
Mell.
My thoughts are as black as your bearde, my
fortunes as ill proportioned as your legs; and all the
powers of my minde, as leaden as your wit, and as
dustie as your face is swarthy.
Gal.
Faith sweet, ile lay thee on the lips for that iest.
Mell.
I pree thee intrude not on a dead mans right.
Gal.
No, but the liuings iust possession.
Thy lips, and loue, are mine.
Mell.
You nere tooke seizin on them yet: forbeare:
There's not a vacant corner of my heart,
But all is fild with deade Antonios losse.
Then vrge no more; O leaue to loue at all;
Tis lesse disgracefull, not to mount, then fall.
Mat.
Bright and refulgent Ladie, daine your eare:
You see this blade, had it a courtly lip,
It would diuulge my valour, plead my loue,
Out of your loues seat; I am Matzagent.
Gale.
Harke thee, I pray thee taint not thy sweete eare
With that sots gabble; By thy beautious cheeke,
He is the flagging'st bulrush that ere droopt
With each slight mist of raine. But with pleas'd eye
Smile on my courtshippe.
Mel.
What said you sir? alas my thought wax fixt
Vpon another obiect. Good, forbeare:
I shall but weepe. Aye me, what bootes a teare!
Come, come, lets daunce. O musicke thou distill'st
More sweetnesse in vs then this iarring world:
Both time and measure from thy straines doe breath,
Whilst from the channell of this durt doth flowe
Nothing but timelesse griefe, vnmeasured woe.
Anto.
O how impatience cramps my cracked veins,
And cruddles thicke my blood, with boiling rage!
O eyes, why leape you not like thunderbolts,
Or canon bullets in my riuals face;
Oy me infeliche misero, o lamenteuol fato!
Alber.
What meanes the Lady fal vpon the groūd?
Ross.
Belike the falling sicknesse.
Anto.
I cannot brooke this sight, my thoughts grow wilde:
Here lies a wretch, on whome heauen neuer smilde.
Ross.
What seruant, nere a word, and I here man?
I would shoot some speach forth, to strike the time
With pleasing touch of amorous complement.
Say sweete, what keepes thy minde, what think'st thou on?
Alb.
Nothing,
Rossa.
Whats that nothing?
A womans constancie.
Rossa.
Good, why, would'st thou haue vs sluts, & neuer
shift the vestur of our thoughts? Away for shame.
Alb.
O no, thart too constant to afflict my heart,
Too too firme fixed in vnmooued scorne.
Ross.
Pish, pish; I fixed in vnmooued scorne?
Why, Ile loue thee to night.
Alb.
But whome to morrow?
Ross.
Faith, as the toy puts me in the head.
Bal.
And pleased the marble heauens, now would I
might be the toy, to put you in the head, kindly to conceipt
my my my: pray you giue in an Epithite for loue.
Fel.
Roaring, roaring.
O loue thou hast murdred me, made me a shadowe,
and you heare not Balurdo, but Balurdos ghost.
Rossa.
Can a ghost speake?
Bal.
Scuruily, as I doe.
Ross.
And walke?
Bal.
After their fashion.
Ross.
And eate apples?
Bal.
In a sort, in their garbe.
Feli.
Pre thee Flauia be my mistresse.
Fla.
Your reason, good Feliche?
Fel.
Faith, I haue nineteene mistresses alreadie, and I
not much disdeigne that thou should'st make vp the ful
score.
Fla.
Oh, I heare you make common places of your
mistresses, to performe the office of memory by. Pray
you, in auncient times were not those satten hose? In
good faith, now they are new dyed, pinkt & scoured,
What, mute Balurdo?
Feli.
I in faith, & twere not for printing, and painting,
my breech, and your face would be out of reparation.
Bal.
I, an faith, and twere not for printing, & pointing,
my breech, and your face would be out of reparation.
Fel.
Good againe, Echo.
Fla.
Thou art, by nature, too foule to be affected.
Feli.
And thou, by Art, too faire to be beloued.
By wits life, most sparke spirits, but hard chance.
Latydine.
Pie.
Gallants, the night growes old; & downy sleep
Courts vs, to entertaine his company:
Our tyred lymbes, brus'd in the morning fight,
Intreat soft rest, and gentle husht repose.
Fill out Greeke wines; prepare fresh cressit-light:
Weele haue a banquet: Princes, then good night.
The Cornets sound a Synnet, and the Duke goes out in state. As they are going out, Antonio stayes Mellida: the rest Exeunt.
An.
What meanes these scattred looks? why tremble you?
Why quake your thoughts, in your distracted eyes?
Collect your spirits, Madam; what doe you see?
Dost not beholde a ghost?
Look, look where he stalks, wrapt vp in clouds of grief,
Darting his sowle, vpon thy wondring eyes.
Looke, he comes towards thee; see, he stretcheth out
With a most wisht embrace: see'st him not yet?
Nor yet? Ha, Mellida; thou well maist erre:
For looke; he walkes not like Antonio:
Like that Antonio, that this morning shone,
In glistering habilliments of armes,
To seize his loue, spight of her fathers spite:
But like himselfe, wretched, and miserable,
Banisht, forlorne, despairing, strook quite through,
With sinking griefe, rowld vp in seauen-fould doubles
Of plagues, vanquishable: harke, he speakes to thee.
Mell.
Alas, I can not heare, nor see him.
Anto.
Why? al this night about the roome he stalkt,
And groand, and houl'd, with raging passion,
To view his loue (life blood of all his hopes,
Crowne of his fortunes) clipt by strangers armes.
Looke but behinde thee.
Mel.
O, Antonio; my Lord, my Loue, my
An.
Leaue passion, sweet; for time, place, aire, & earth,
Are all our foes: feare, and be iealous; faire,
Lets fly.
Mell.
Deare heart; ha, whether?
Anto.
O, tis no matter whether, but lets fly.
Ha! now I thinke ont, I haue nere a home:
No father, friend, no country to imbrace
These wretched limbes: the world, the All that is,
Is all my foe: a prince not worth a doite:
Onelie my head is hoised to high rate,
Worth twentie thousand double Pistolets,
To him that can but strike it from these shoulders.
My father, country, riches, and my friend:
My all, my soule; and thou and I will liue:
(Lets thinke like what) and thou and I will liue
Like vnmatcht mirrors of calamitie.
The iealous eare of night eaue-drops our talke.
Holde thee, thers a iewell; & look thee, thers a note
That will direct thee when, where, how to fly;
Bid me adieu.
Mell.
Farewell bleak misery.
Anto.
Stay sweet, lets kisse before you goe.
Mel.
Farewell deare soule.
Anto.
Farewell my life, my heart.
| The History of Antonio and Mellida | |