 | The Spanish Gipsie |  |
Actus Primus.
Enter Roderigo, Lewys, and Diego.Lew.
Roderigo.
Die.
Art mad?
Ro.
Yes, not so much with Wine, its as rare to see
a Spaniard a drunkard, as a Germane sober, an
Italian no Whoremonger, an English man to
pay his debts. I am no Borachie, Sack, Maligo,
nor Canary breeds the Calenture in my braines, mine eye mads me,
not my cups.
Lew.
What would'st have us do?
Ro.
Doe?
Die.
So far as tis fit for a Gentlemen wee'l venture.
Ro.
I aske no more, I ha seen a thing has bewitched me, a delicate
body, but this in the waste, Foot and Leg tempting, the Face I had a
glimpse of: but the Fruit must needs be delicious, the Tree being so
beautifull.
Lew.
Prithee to the point.
Ro.
Here tis, an old Gentleman, (no matter who he is) an old
Gentlewoman (I ha nothing to do with her) but a young creature that
followes them, Daughter or Servant, or whatsoever shee be her I
must have, they are comming this way, shall I have her? I must have her.
How, how?
Lew.
Thou speak'st impossibilities.
Ro.
Easie, easie, easie, i'le seize the young girls: stop you the old man,
stay you the old woman.
Lew.
How then?
Ro.
I'le fly off with the young Bird, that's all, many of our Spanish
Gallants act these merry parts every night, they are weak and old,
we young and sprightly, will you assist me?
Lew.
Troath Roderigo any thing in the way of honour.
Ro.
For a wench Man any course is honorable.
Lew.
Nay not any, her Father, if he her Father may be noble.
Ro.
I am as noble.
Lew.
Would the adventure were so.
Ro.
Stand close, they come.
Enter Pedro, Maria, and Clara.
Ped.
'Tis late would we were in Madrill.
Ma.
Go faster my Lord.
Ped.
Clara, keep close.
They seize them.
Cla.
Helpe, helpe, helpe!
Ro.
Are you crying out? I'le be your Midwife.
Exit with Clara.
Ped.
What mean you Gentlemen?
Ma.
Villaines, Thieves, Murderers.
Ped.
Do you know me? I am De Cortes, Pedro de Cortes!
Lew.
De Cortes, Diego, come away.
Exit.
Ped.
Clara, where is my Daughter?
Ma.
Clara I these Villaines
Have rob'd us of our comfort, and will, I feare,
Her of her honour.
Ped.
This had not wont
To be our Spanish Fashion, but now our Gallants,
Our Gentry, our young Dons heated with Wine,
(A fire our Country-men doe seldome sit at)
Commit these outrages, Clara!—Maria,
Let's homeward, I will raise Madrill to finde
These traytors to all goodness, Clara.
Ma.
Clara.
Exit.
Enter Lewys and Diego.
Lew.
Oh Diego I am lost, I am mad!
Die.
So we are all.
'Tis not with wine, i'me drunk with too much horror,
Inflam'd with rage, to see us two made Bawds
To Roderigo's lust, did not the old man
Name Decortes, Pedro de Cortes?
Die.
Sure he did.
Lew.
Oh Diego, as thou lov'st me, nay on the forfeit
Of thine own life or mine, seale up thy lips,
Let 'em not name De Cortes, stay, stay, stay,
Roderigo has into his Fathers house
A passage through a Garden.
Die.
Yes, my Lord.
Lew.
Thither I must finde Roderigo out,
And check him, check him home, if he but dare
No more; Diego along my soule does fight
A thousand battailes blacker then this night.
Exit.
Enter Roderigo and Claria.
Cla.
Tho the black veyle of night hath over-clowded
The World in darknesse, yet e're many howers
The Sun will rise again, and then this act
Of my dishonor will appear before you;
More black then is the Canopy that shrowds it,
What are you, pray what are you?
Ro.
Husht, a friend! a friend.
Cla.
A friend, be then a gentle Ravisher,
An honorable villaine, as you have
Disroab'd my youth of natures goodliest portion,
My Virgin purity, so with your Sword
Let out that blood which is infected now,
By your soule-stayning lust.
Ro.
Pish.
Cla.
Are you noble?
I know you then will marry me, say.
Ro.
Umh.
Cla.
Not speak to me! are want on Divells dumbe?
How are so many harmelesse Virgins wrought
By falshood of prevailing words to yeild
To easie forfeits of their shames and liberty,
If every Orator of folly plead
In silence, like this untongu'd piece of violence?
Ro.
Phew no more.
Cla.
You shall not,
Who e're you are, Disease of natures sloth:
Birth of some monstrous sinne, or scourge of virtue,
Heavens wrath and mankinds burthen, I will hold you,
I will, be rough and therein mercifull,
I will not loose my hold else.
Ro.
There, 'tis gold.
Cla.
Gold, why! alas for what? the hire of pleasure,
Perhaps is payment, mine is misery;
I need no wages for a ruin'd name,
More then a bleeding heart.
Ro.
Nay then y'are troublesome,
I'le lock you safe enough.
Exit.
Cla.
They cannot feare
Whom grief hath arm'd with hate and scorn of life.
Revenge I kneele to thee, alas 'gainst whom?
By what name shall I pull Confusion down
From Justice on his head that hath betrayd me?
I know not where I am, up I beseech thee
Thou Lady regent of the aire, the Moon,
And lead me by thy light to some brave vengeance,
It is a Chamber sure, the guilty Bed.
Sad evidence against my losse of honour
Assures so much, what's here, a window curtaine?
Oh Heaven! the stars appeare 'too, ha! a chamber,
A goodly one, dwells Rape in such a paradice!
Help me my quickned senses, 'tis a garden
To which this window guides the covetous prospect,
A large one and a faire one, in the midst
A curious Alablaster Fountaine stands,
Fram'd like-like what? no matter, swift remembrance,
Rich furniture within too! and what's this?
A precious Crucifix? I have enough,
Assist me oh you powers that guard the innocent.
Enter Roderigo.
Ro.
Now!
Cla.
Welcome, if you come arm'd in destruction,
Ro.
Tell me your Name,
And what you are.
Cla.
You urge me to a sinne
As cruell as your lust, I dare not grant it,
Thinke on the violence of my defame,
And if you meane to write upon my Grave
An Epitaph of peace, forbear to question,
Or whence, or who I am; I know the heate
Of your desires are after the performance
Of such a hellish act, by this time drown'd
In cooler streams of penance; and for my part
I have wash'd off the Leaprosie that cleaves
To my just shame, in true and honest teares;
I must not leave a mention of my wrongs,
The staine of my unspotted birth to memory,
Let it lie buried with me in the dust,
That never time hereafter may report
How such a one as you have made mee live;
Be resolute, and do not stagger, doe not,
For I am nothing.
Ro.
Sweet let me enjoy thee
Now with a free allowance.
Cla.
Ha, enjoy me!
Insufferable villaine!
Ro.
Peace: speak low,
I meane no second force, and since I find
Such goodness in an unknown frame of virtue:
Forgive my soule attempt, which I shall grieve for
So hartily, that could you be your self
Eye-witness to my constant vow'd repentance,
Trust me you'd pitty me.
Cla.
Sir, you can speak now.
Ro.
So much I am the Executioner
Of mine own trespasse, that I have no heart,
Nor reason to disclose my name or quality;
You must excuse me that, but trust me (faire one)
Were this ill deede undone, this deed of wickednesse.
I would be proud to court your love like him,
Whom my first birth presented to the World: this for your satisfaction,
I both expect and beg it.
Cla.
First, that you swear neither
In riot of your Mirth, in Passion
Of Friendship, or in folly of Discourse,
To speak of wrongs done to a ravish'd Maide.
Ro.
As I love truth I sweare.
Cla.
Next that you leade me
Neere to the place you met me, and there leave me
To my last fortunes e're the morning rise.
Ro.
Say more.
Cla.
Lay a new man, if e're you marry
(Oh me! my heart's a breaking) but if e're
You marry in a constant love to her
That shall be then your Wife, redeem the fault
Of my undoing, I am lost for ever,
Pray use no more words.
Ro.
You must give me leave
To veile you close.
Cla.
Do what you will, no time
Can ransome me from sorrows or dishonors,
Shall we now goe?
Ro.
My shame may live without me,
But in my soul I beare my guilt about me,
Lend me your hand, now follow.
Exit.
Enter Lewys, Diego, and a servant.
Lu.
Not yet come in, not yet?
Ser.
No i'le assure your Lordship, I have seldom known
Him keep out so long, my Lord usually observes
More seasonable houres.
Lew.
What time of night is't?
Ser.
On the stroake of three.
Lew.
The stroake of three! 'tis wondrous strange!
Dost heare?
Ser.
My Lord.
Lew.
E're six I will be here againe,
Tell thy Lord so: ere six,—a must not sleepe,
Or if a doe, I shall be bold to wake him:
Be sure thou tell'st him—doe.
My Lord I shall.
Exit.
Lew.
Diego.
Walke thou the street that leads about the Perado,
I'le round the West part of the City, meet me
At the Inquisition Chappell; if we misse him
Wee'l both back to his Lodgings.
Die.
At the Chappell?
Lew.
I there wee'l meete.
Die.
Agreed, I this way.
Exit. Lewys.
Enter Don Iohn Reading.
Jo.
Shee is not noble, true, wise nature meant
Affection should enable her discent,
For love and beauty keeps as rich a seat
Of sweetnesse in the meane borne, as the great—
I am resolv'd.
Exit.
Die.
'Tis Roderigo certainly,
Yet his voyce makes me doubt, but I'le ore-hear him.
Ex.
Enter Lewys.
Lew.
That if only I should be the Man
Made accessary, and a party both
To mine own torment, at a time so neere
The birth of all those comforts I have travell'd with,
So many, many howers of hopes and fears;
Now at the instant—Ha, stand! thy name,
Truly and speedily.
Enter Roderigo.
Ro.
Don Lewys!
Lew.
The same; but who art thou—speake?
Ro.
Roderigo.
Lew.
Tell mee,
As y'are a noble Gentleman, as ever
You hope to be enrowl'd amongst the vertuous,
As you love goodnesse, as you wish to inherit
The blessednesse and fellowship of Angels,
As you are my friend, as you are Roderigo,
As you are any thing that would deserve
A worthy name, where have you been to night?
Oh! how have you dispos'd of that faire Creature
Where, how, when, in what usage have you left her?
Truth I require all truth.
Ro.
Tho I might question
The strangenesse of your importunity;
Yet cause I note distraction in the height
Of curiosity, I will be plaine, and briefe.
Lu.
I thank you sir.
Ro.
Instead of feeding
Too wantonly upon so rich a Banquet,
I found even in that beauty that invited me
Such a commanding majesty of chaste
And humbly glorious vertue, that it did not
More check my rash attempt, then draw to ebb
The float of those desires, which in an instant
Were cool'd in their own streames of shame and folly.
Lu.
Now all encrease of honours.
Fall in full showers on thee Roderigo,
The best man living.
Ro.
You are much transported
With this discourse methinks.
Lu.
Yes, I am.
Shee tould yee her Name too.
Ro.
I could not urge it
By any importunity.
Lu.
Better still;
Where did you leave her?
Ro.
Where I found her, farther
Shee would by no means grant me to waite on her,
Oh Luys I am lost.
Lu.
This selfe-same Lady
Was shee to whom I have been long a Suiter,
And shortly hope to marry.
Ro.
Shee your Mistris then? Luys, since friendship,
And noble honesty conjures our loves
To a continued league, here I unclaspe
The secrets of my heart. Oh I have had
A glimpse of such a Creature, that deserves
A Temple, if thou lov'st her, (and I blame thee not)
For who can look on her, and not give up
For pitties sake conceale her; let me not
As much as know her Name, there's a temption in't,
Let me not know her Dwelling, Birth or Quality,
Or any thing that she calls hers, but thee
In thee my friend, I'le see her, and to avoyd
The surfeits and those rarities that tempt me,
So much I prize the happiness of friendship,
That I will leave the City.
Lew.
Leave it.
Ro.
Speede me!
For Salamanca, court my studies now
For Phisick 'gainst infection of the minde.
Lew.
You doe amaze me!
Ro.
Here to live, and live
Without her, is impossible and wretched.
For Heavens sake never tell her what I was,
Or that you know me, and when I finde that absence
Hath lost her to my, memory, I'le dare
To see yee againe meane time the cause that drawes mee
From hence, shall be to all the World untol'd;
No friend but thou alone, for whose sake only
I undertake this voluntary exile
Shall be partaker of my griefes; thy hand
Farwell: and all the pleasures, joyes, contents
That blesse a constant Lover, henceforth crown thee
A happy Bridegroom.
Lew.
You have conquer'd friendship
Beyond example.
Enter Diego.
Die.
Ha, ha, ha I some one
That hath slept well to night, should a but see mee
Thus merry by my selfe, might justly think
I were not well in my wits.
Lew.
Diego!
Die.
Yes 'tis I, and I have had a fine fegary,
The rarest, Wild-goose chase.
Lew.
'Thad made thee melancholy.
Die.
Don Roderigo here? 'tis well you met him;
For tho I mist him, yet I met an accident
Lew.
How so?
Die.
I'le tell you, as we parted, I perceiv'd
A walking thing before me strangely tickled
With rare conceited raptures, him I dogg'd,
Supposing 'thad been Roderigo landed
From his new Pinnace, deepe in contemplation
Of the sweet voyage he stole to night.
Ro.
Y'are pleasant.
Lew.
Prithee who was't?
Ro.
Not I.
Die.
Y'are i'the right, not you indeed;
For 'twas that noble Gentleman Don John,
Son to the Counte Francisco de Carcomo.
Lew.
In love it seems.
Die.
Yes, pepperd on my life,
Much good may't do him, Ide not be so lind
For my Cap full of double Pistolets.
Lew.
What should his Mistris be?
Die.
That's yet a Riddle
Beyond my resolution, but of late
I have observ'd him oft to frequent
The sports the Gipsies newly come to th'City present.
Lew.
'Tis said there is a Creature with'em,
Tho young of years, yet of such absolute beauty,
Dexterity of wit, and generall qualities,
That Spaine reports her not without admiration.
Die.
Have you seen her?
Lew.
Never.
Die.
Nor you my Lord?
Ro.
I not remember.
Die.
Why then you never saw the prettiest toy
That ever Sung or Danc'd.
Lew.
Is shee a Gipsie?
Die.
In her condition, not in her complexion.
I tell you once more, 'tis a sparke of beauty
Able to set a World at gaze, the sweetest,
The wittiest rogue, shalls see 'em? they have fine gambolls,
Are mightily frequented, Court and City
Flock to 'em, but the Country does 'em worship.
It troules upon her.
Lew.
Will yee with us friend?
Ro.
You know my other projects, fights to me
Are but vexations.
Lew.
Oh you must be merry,
Diego, wee'l toth' Gipsies.
Die.
Best take heed
You be not snap'd.
Lew.
How snap'd?
Die.
By that little Faire,
'Thas a shrewd tempting Face, and a notable Tongue.
Lew.
I fear not either.
Die.
Goe then.
Lew.
will you with us?
Ro.
I'le come after.
Pleasure and youth like smiling evills wooe us,
To taste new follies; tasted, they undoe us.
Exeunt.
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