 | VVhat Yov VVill |  |
ACT. 4.
SCE 1.
Enter Celia Meletza Lyzabetta and Lucea.Celia.
Faith sister I long to play with a fether,
Pree-thee Lucia bring the shuttle-cock.
Melet.
Out on him light pated Phantasticke, he's like one
of our gallants at.—
Lyza.
I wonder who thou speak'st well of?
Mel.
Why of my selfe, for by my troth I know none els wil.
Celia.
Sweet sister Meletza lets sit in iudgment a little, faith
of my seruant Mounsier Lauerdure.
Mel.
Troth well for a seruant, but for a husband (figh) I.
Lyza.
Why why?
Why he is not a plaine foole, nor faire, nor fat, nor
rich, rich foole. But he is a knight, his honour will giue the passado
in the presence to morrow night, I hope he wil deserue: Al
I can say is as, as the common fiddlers will say in their God
send you well to do.
Ly.
How think'st thou of the amorous Iacomo.
Melet.
Iacomo why on my bare troth.
Celia.
Why bare troth.
Melet.
Because my troth is like his chinne tath no haire on't;
gods me his face lookes like the head of a taber, but trust me he
hath a good wit.
Ly.
Who told you so.
Mel.
One that knowes, one that can tell?
Celia.
Whose that.
Melet.
Him selfe.
Lyz.
Well wench, thou hadst a seruant one Fabius what hast
thou done with him.
Melet.
I donne with him? out of him puppy, by this fether
his beard is derectly brick collour, and perfectly fashion'd
like the husk of a cheessnut, hee kisses with the driest lip; figh
on him.
Celia.
O but your seruant Quadratus the absolute Courtier.
Melet.
Fie, fie, speake no more of him, he liues by begging?
He is a fine Courtier flatters admirable, kisses
Faire Madam, smells surpassing sweete, weares
And holds vp the arras, supportes the tapistry,
When I passe into the presence very gracefully and
I assure you.
Lucea.
Madam here is your shuttle-cock
Melet.
Sister is not your waighting wench rich?
Celia.
Why sister why?
Melet.
Because she can flatter: pree-thee call her not,
She has 24. houres to Maddam yet; come you
Yon prate yfaith Ile tosse you from post to piller.
Celia.
You post and I piller.
Melet.
No, no, you are the onely post, you must support
will fall—
Celia
Downe.
Lyza.
What must I stand out?
Melet.
I by my faith til you be married.
Ly.
Why do you tosse then?
Melet.
Why I am wed wench.
Celea
Pree thee to whome.
Melet.
To the true husband right head of a woman, my wil,
which vowes neuer to marry till I meane to be a foole, a slaue,
starch cambrick ruffes, and make candells (pur) tis downe serue
againe good wench.
Luc.
By your pleasing cheeke you play well.
Melet.
Nay good creature pree thee doe not flatter mee, I
thought twas for somthing you goe casd in your veluit skabberd,
I warrant these laces were nere stich'd on with true
stich, I haue a plaine waighting wench shee speakes plaine, and
faith, she goes plaine, she is vertuous and because she should go
like virtue by the consent of my bounty shee shall neuer haue a
boue two smockes to her back, for thats the fortune of desert,
& the maine in fashion or reward of merit (pur) iust thus do I vse
my seruants, I striue to catch them in my racket, and no sooner
caught but I tosse them away, if he flie wel and haue good feaethers
I play with them till he be downe, and then my maide
serues him to me againe, if a slug and weake wing'd if hee bee
downe there let him lie.
Celea.
Good Mell I wonder how many seruants thou hast.
Melet.
Troth so do I, let me see Dupatzo.
Lyxa.
Dupatzo which Dupatzo.
Melet.
Dupatzo the elder brother the foole, he that bought
the half penny riband wearing it in his eare swearing 'twas
the duches of Millans fauor, hee into whose head a man may
trauell 10, leagues before hee can meete with his eyes, then
ther's my chub my Epicure. Quadratus, that rubbes his guttes,
clappes his paunch & cries Riuo, intertayning my eares perpetually
with a most strong discourse of the praise of bottle ale &
Ly.
Why he is a foole.
Melet.
True or els he would nere be my seruant, then ther's
the cap cloakt Courtier Baltazar hee weares a double treble
quadruple ruffe, I in the sommer time, faith I ha seruants inow
and I doubt not but by my ordinary pride and extraordinary
cunning to get more. Mounsier Lauerdure with a troupe of gallants
is entring.
Lyza.
He capers the lasciuious bloud about.
Within heart pantes, nor leapes the eye nor lippes:
Prepare your selues to kisse for you must be kissd.
Mel.
By my troth tis a pretty thing to be towards marriage,
a pretty louing: looke where he comes ha ha.
Lauer.
Good day sweete loue.
Mel.
Wish her good night man.
Lau.
God morrow sister.
Mel.
A cursie to you caper, to morrow morne Ile call you
brother.
Lauer.
But much much falls betwixt the cup and lip.
Mel.
Be not to confident the knot may slip.
Qua.
Bounty, blessednes, and the spirit of wine attend my
Mistres.
Mel.
Thankes good chub.
Sim.
God yee god morrow heartely mistres, and how do you
since last I saw you.
Qua.
Gods mee you must not inquire how shee does, thats
priuy counsell, fie, ther's manners indeed.
Si.
Pray you pardon my inciuility, I was som-what bould with
you, but beleeue me Ile neuer be so sawcy to aske you how you
do againe, as long as I liue la.
Mel.
Square chub, what sullene black is that.
Qua.
A tassell that hangs at my purse strings, hee dogs mee
and I giue him scraps and pay for his ordinary, feede him, hee liquors
himselfe in the iuice of my bounty, and when hee hath
suckt vp strength of spirit he squeaseth it in my owne face, when
I haue refind and sharp'd his wits with good food, hee cuts my
but by this light the dull eyed thinks he dos wel, dos very well,
and but that hee and I are of two faithes—I fill my belly, and
feeds his braine, I could find in my heart to hug him, to hug him.
Melet.
Pree-thee perswade him to assume spirit and salute vs.
Quad.
Lampatho, Lampatho, art out of countenance, for witts
sake salute these beauties, how doost like them?
Lam.
Vds fut, I can liken them to nothing, but great mens
great horse vpon great dayes, whose tailes are trust vp in silke
and siluer.
Quad.
To them man, salute them.
Lam.
Blesse you faire Ladies, God make you all his seruants.
Melet.
God make you all his seruants.
Qua.
Hee is holpen well had need of you, for bee it spoken
without prophanisme hee hath more in this traine, I feare mee
you ha more seruants then he, I am sure the Diuill is an Angell
of darkenesse.
Lamp.
I but those are Angels of light.
Qua.
Light Angels, pree-thee leaue them, with-draw a little
and heare a Sonnet pree-thee, heare a Sonnet.
Lamp.
Made of Albanos widdow that was, and Mounsieur
Lauerdures wife that must be.
Qua.
Come leaue his lips and command some liquor, if you
haue no Bottle-Ale, command some Claret-wine and Bourrage,
for that's my predominate humor sleeke billid Bacchus, lets fill
thy guttes.
Lamp.
Nay heare it, and rellish it iuditiously.
Qua.
I do rellish it most iuditially.
Quad. drinkes.
Lamp.
Adored excellence, delicious sweet.
Qua.
Delicious sweete good, very good.
Lamp.
If thou canst taste the purer iuice of loue.
Qua.
If thou canst taste the purer iuice, good still, good still.
Qua.
I doe rellish it, it tastes sweete.
Lamp.
Is not the metaphor good, ist not well followed?
Qua.
Passing good, very pleasing.
Lamp.
Ist not sweete.
Qua.
Let me see't Ile make it sweete,
Ile soake it in the iuice of Helicon.
Lamp.
You wrong my Muse.
Qua.
The Irish flux vpon thy Muse, thy whorish Muse,
Heere is no place for her loose brothelry,
We will not deale with her, goe, away, away,
Lamp.
Ile be reueng'd.
Qua.
How pree-thee in a play? come, come, be sosiable
In priuate seuerance from societie,
Here leapes a vaine of bloud inflam'd with loue,
Mounting to pleasure, all adict to mirth,
Thoult read a Satyre or a Sonnet now,
Clagging their ayery humor with—
Lam.
Lamp oyle, watch Candles, Rug-gownes & small iuice,
Thin commons, foure a clock rising, I renounce you all,
Now may I ternally abandon meat
Rust fustie you which most imbrac'd disuse,
You a made me an Asse, thus shapt my lot,
I am a meere Scholler, that is a meere sot.
Qua.
Come then Lampe, ile powre fresh Oyle into thee,
Apply thy spirit that it may nimbly turne,
Vnto the habit, fashion of the age,
Ile make thee man the Scholler, inable thy behauiour,
Apt for the intertaine of any presence:
Ile turne thee gallant, first thou shalt haue a Mistresse,
How is thy spirit rais'd to yonder beauty?
She with the sanguine cheeke, the dimpled chinne,
The pretty amorous smile that clips her lips,
And dallyes bought her cheeke—
Shee with the speaking eye,
That castes out beames as ardent as those flakes,
Which sing'd the world by rash braind Phaeton,
She with the lip, O lips! she for whose sake,
A man could finde in his heart to in-hell himselfe,
There's more Philosophy, more theoremes,
More demonstrations, all inuincible,
More cleare diuinity drawne on her cheeke,
Of musty eld, O who would staggering doubt,
The soules eternity, seeing it hath
Of heauenly beauty, but to case it vp,
Who would distrust a supreame existence,
Able to confound when it can creale,
Such heauen on earth able to intrance,
Amaze: O I 'tis prouidence, not chance.
Lam.
Now by the front of Ioue me thinks her eye
Shootes more spirit in me, O beautie feminine!
How powerfull art thou, what deepe magick lyes
Within the circle of thy speaking eyes.
Qua.
Why now could I eate thee, thou doost please mine appetite,
I can disist thee, God made thee a good foole, and happy
and ignorant, and amarous, and riche and fraile, and a Satyrist,
and an Essayest, and sleepy, and proud, and indeed a foole and
then thou shalt bee sure of all these. Doe but scorne her shee is
thine owne, accost her carelesly, and her eye promiseth shee will
be bound to the good abbearing.
Celia.
Now sister Meletza doost marke their crast, some straggling
thoughts transport thy attentiuenesse from his discourse,
wast Iacomos or our brothers plot?
Lauer.
Both, both, sweete Lady, my Page heard all, we mette
the roague, so like Albano, I beat the roague.
Sim.
I but when you were gone the roague beat me.
Lau.
Now take my counsell, listen.
Melet.
A pretty youth, a pretty well shapt youth, a good leg,
a very good eye, a sweete ingenious face, and I warrant a good
witte, nay which is more, if hee bee poore I assure my soule hee
is chaste and honest, good faith I fancy, I fancie him, I and I may
chance, well Ile thinke the rest.
Qua.
I say bee carelesse still, court her without complement
take spirit.
Lauer.
Wert not a pleasing ieast for me to cloath
Another rascall like Albano, say
And rumor him return'd without all deceit,
Qua.
Meletza bella belletza, Madonna, bella bella genteletza
pree-thee kisse this initiated gallant.
Melet.
How would it please you I should respect yee.
Lamp.
As any thing, What you will as nothing.
Melet.
As nothing, how will you valew my loue.
Lamp.
Why iust as you respect me, as nothing, for out of nothing,
nothing is bred, so nothing shall not beget any-thing,
any-thing bring nothing, nothing bring any-thing, any-thing &
nothing shal be What you will, my speach mounting to the valieu
of my selfe which is.
Melet.
What sweete—
Lamp.
Your nothing light as your selfe scencelesse as your
sex, and iust as you would ha me, nothing.
Melet.
Your wit skips a morisco, but by the brightest spangle
of my tier, I vouchafe you intire vnaffected fauor, were this
gentle spirit be not proud.
Beleeue it youth slow speech, swift loue doth often shrowd.
Lamp.
My soul's intranc'd your fauor doth transport,
My scence past scence, by your adored graces,
I doat, am rapt.
Melet.
Nay if you fall to passion and past scence,
My breasts no harbor for your loue, go packe, hence.
Qua.
Vds fut thou gull, thou inkie scholler, ha, thou whoreson fop,
Wilt not thou clappe into our fashion'd gallantry,
Couldst not be proud and skornfull, loofe and vaine
Gods my hearts obiect, what a plague is this:
My soul's intraunc'd, fut couldst not clip and kisse,
My soul's intraunc'd, ten thousand crownes at least
Lost lost, my soul's intraunc'd, loues life O beast!
Alba.
Celia open, open Celia, I would enter, open Celia.
Fran.
Celia, open, open Celia, I would enter open Celia.
Alba.
What Celia let in thy husband Albano what Celia.
Fran.
What Celia let in thy husband Albano what Celia
Alba.
Vds f, f, f, fut let Albano enter.
Vds, f, f, f, fut let Albano enter.
Celia.
Sweete breast you ha playd the wag yfaith.
Qua.
Beleeue it sweete not I.
Melet.
Come you haue attired some fiddler like Albano to
fright the perfumer, ther's the iest.
Ran.
Good fortunes to our sister.
Melet.
And a speedy marriage.
Adri.
Then we must wish her no good fortunes.
Iaco.
For shame, for shame straight cleere your house; sweepe
out this dust, fling out this trash, returne to modesty your husband
I say your husband Albano that was supposd drownd is
return'd I and at the dore.
Celia.
Ha ha, my husband, ha ha.
Adri.
Laugh you, shameles? laugh you?
Celia.
Come, come, your plots discouerd, good faith kinsmen I
am no skold: to shape a Perfumer like my husband, O sweete
iest.
Iaco.
Last hopes all knowne.
Celi.
For pennance of your fault will you maintaine a iest now,
my loue hath tired some fiddler like Albano, like the Perfumer.
Lau.
Not I by blessednesse not I.
Mel.
Come tis true, do but support the iest and you shal surfet,
with laughter.
Iaco.
Faith we condiscend twill not be crosd I see,
Marriage and hanging go by destiny.
Alba.
B, b, b, bar out Albano, O Adulterous impudent.
Fran.
B, b, b, bar out Albano, O thou matchlesse g, g, g,
gigglet.
Enter Albano and Francisco.
Qua.
Let them in, let them in, now, now, now obserue, obserue,
look, look, look.
Iaco.
That sames a fiddler, shapt like thee, feare naught, bee
confident thou shalt know the iest heereafter, be confident; feare
naught, blush not, stand firme.
Alba.
Now brothers, now gallants, now sisters now call a
Perfumer a gutter-maister, bar mee my house, beate mee: baffle
by the mas I would ha you all by the eares, by the mas law; I
am Francisco Soranza am I not gigglet: strumpet, cutters, swaggerers,
brothell haunters, I am Francisco, O god, O slaues, O
dogges, dogges, curres.
Iaco.
No sir pray you pardon vs, we confesse you are not Francisco
nor a Perfumer, but euen.
Alba.
But euen Albano.
Iaco.
But euen a fiddler, a miniken tickler, a pum, pum.
Frau.
A scraper, scraper.
Art not asham'd before Albanos face,
To clip his spouze, O shamlesse impudent!
Iaco.
Well said perfumer.
Alb.
A fiddler a scraper, a miniken tickler, a pum, a pum, euen
now a Perfumer, now a fiddler, I will be euen What you will, do,
do do, k, k, k, kisse my wife be, be, be, be, fore.
Qua.
Why would'st haue him kisse her behind?
Alba.
Before my owne f, f, f, face.
Iaco.
Well done fiddler.
Alba.
Ile f, f, fiddle yee.
Fran.
Dost f, f, floute mee.
Alba.
Dost m, m, m, mock me.
Fran.
Ile to the Duke Ile p, p, p, paste vp infamies on euery
post.
Iaco.
Twas rarely, rarely done, away, away.
[Exit Francisco.
Alba.
Ile f, f, follow, though I st, st, st, stut, ile stumble to the
Duke in p, p, plaine language, I pray you vse my wife well, good
faith shee was a kinde soule and an honest woman once, I was
her husband and was call'd Albano before I was drown'd, but
now after my resurrection I an I know not what indeede brothers,
and indeed sisters and in deed wife I am: What you will,
do'st thou laugh, dost thou ge, ge, ge, gerne; a p, p, p, perfumer a
fiddler, a Diabalo, matre de Dios, Ile f, f, f, firk you by the Lord
now, now I will.
Exit Albano.
Qua.
Ha ha tis a good roague, a good roague.
A good roague ha, I know him not.
Celia.
No good sweete loue come come dissemble not,
Lau.
Nay if you dread nothing happy be my lot
Come Via sest, come faire cheekes, come lets dance,
The sweetes of loue is amorous dalliance.
Celia.
All friends, all happy friends, my vaines are light,
Ly.
Thy praiers are now god send it quickly night.
Melet.
And then come morning.
Ly.
I thats the hopefull day,
Mel.
I there thou hitst it.
Qua.
Pray God he hit it.
Lau.
Play.
The Daunce.
Iaco.
They say ther's reuells and a Play at Court.
Lau.
A Play to night?
Qua.
I tis this gallants wit,
Iaco.
Ist good ist good?
Lamp.
I feare twill hardly hit.
Qua.
I like thy feare, wel, twil haue better chance,
Ther's naught more hatefull then ranck ignorance.
Celia.
Come gallants the table spread will you to dinner?
Qua.
Yes first a maine at dice and then weele eate.
Sim.
Truely the best wittes haue the bad'st fortune at dice
still.
Qua.
Whole Play, whole play.
Sim.
Not I, in truth I haue still exceeding bad fortune at
dice.
Celia.
Come shall we in, infayth thou art suddaine sad,
Dost feare the shaddow of my long dead Lord.
Lauer,
Shaddow ha I cannot tel
Time tryeth all things well. wel, well.
Qua.
Would I were time then, I thought twas for some thing
that the old fornicator was bald behinde; go passe on passe on.
Exeunt.
| VVhat Yov VVill | |