 | More Dissemblers besides Women |  |
1
The First Part.
Act. 1.
Scæn. 1.
Enter Lactantio, and Aurelia, and Servant.SONG.
Musick.
To be chaste, is Womans glory,
'Tis her fame and honors story.
Here sits she in Funeral weeds,
Onely bright in vertuous deeds.
Come and read her life and praise,
That singing weeps, and sighing plays.
Lact.
Welcome Souls Musick: I have been listening here
To melancholly strains from the Dutchess lodgings.
That strange great Widow, that has vow'd so stifly
Never to know loves heat in a second Husband:
And she has kept the Fort most valiantly
(To th'wonder of her Sex) this seven years day;
And that's no sorry tryal. A moneths constancy
Is held a vertue in a City-widow,
2
'My faith a rare example for our Wives.
Heavens blessing of her heart for't poor Soul,
Sh'ad need have somewhat to comfort her.
What wouldst thou do? Faith now
If I were dead, suppose I wear thy Husband,
(As shortly I will be, and that's as good)
Speak freely, and thou lov'st me.
Aur.
Alas Sir,
I should not have the leasure to make Vows,
For dying presently, I should be dead
Before you were laid out.
Lact.
Now fye upon thee for a hasty dier,
Wouldst thou not see me buried?
Aur.
Talk not on't Sir,
These many years, unless you take delight
To see me swoun, or make a ghost of me.
Lact.
Alas poor Soul, i'll kiss thee into colour,
Canst thou paint pale so quickly, I perceive then
Thou'dst go beyond the Dutchess in her vow,
Thou'dst die indeed: What's he?
Aur.
Be setled Sir,
Spend neither doubt, nor fear upon that fellow,
Health cannot be more trusty to mans life,
Then he to my necessities in love.
Lact.
I take him of thy word, and praise his face,
Though he look scurvily, I will think hereafter
That honesty may walk with fire in's Nose,
As well as brave desert in broken clothes:
But for thy further safety, I've provided
A shape, that at first sight will start thy modesty,
And make thee blush perhaps; but 'twill away
After a qualm or two. Virginity
Has been put often to those shifts before thee
Upon extremities; a little boldness
Cannot be call'd immodesty, especially
3
Thou knowest my Uncle the Lord Cardinal
Wears so severe an eye, so strict and holy,
It not endures the sight of Woman-kinde
About his Lodgings;
Hardly a Matron of Four-score's admitted,
Though she be worn to gums, she comes not there,
To mumble Mattens, all his admiration
Is plac'd upon the Dutchess; he likes her,
Because she keeps her vow, and likes not any;
So do's he love that man, above his Book,
That loves no woman, for my Fortunes sake then,
For I am like to be his onely Heir.
I must dissemble and appear as fair
To his opinion, as the brow of Piety;
As void of all impureness as an Altar,
Thine ear—that, and we are safe.
Aur.
You make me blush Sir.
Lact.
'Tis but a star shot from a beauteous cheek,
It blazes Beauties bounty, and hurts nothing.
Aur.
The power of Love commands me.
Lact.
I shall wither in comforts, till I see thee.
Exeunt.
Scæn. 2.
Enter L. Cardinal in his Closet, and two or three Lords.L. Card.
My Lords, I have work for you, when you have hours
Free from the cares of State, bestow your eyes
Upon those abstracts of the Dutchess vertues,
My studies ornaments. I make her Constancy
The holy Mistress of my contemplation,
Whole volumes have I writ in zealous praise
Of her eternal vow: I have no power
To suffer Vertue to go thinly clad,
4
To pleasures and to women, and could never love, but pity 'em,
And all their momentary frantick follies.
Here I stand up in admiration,
And bow to the chaste health of our great Dutchess,
Kissing her constant name, O my fair Lords,
When we finde grace confirm'd, especially
In a creature that's so doubtful as a woman,
We'are spirit ravish'd, men of our probation
Feel the Sphears, Musick playing in their Souls
So long, unto the eternizing of her sex.
Sh'as kept her vow so strictly, and as chaste
As everlasting life is kept for Vertue.
Ev'n from the sight of men, to make her oath
As uncorrupt as th'honor of a Virgin
That must be strict in thought, or else that title,
Like one of Frailties ruines, shrinks to dust.
No longer she's a Virgin, then she's just.
1. Lord.
Chaste Sir, the Truth and Justice of her Vow
To her deceased Lord's able to make poor
Mans treasury of praises. But methinks
She that has no temptation set before her,
Her Vertue has no conquest; then would her constancy
Shine in the brightest goodness of her glory.
If she would give admittance, see, and be seen;
And yet resist, and conquer. There were argument
For Angels, 't would out-reach the life of praise,
Set in Mortalities shortness. I speak this
Not for Religion, but for love of her,
Whom I wish less religious, and more loving:
But I fear she's too constant, that's her fault,
But 'tis so rare, few of her sex are took with't,
And that makes some amends.
5
You have put my zeal into a way, my Lord.
I shall not be at peace, till I make perfect;
I'll make her victory harder, 'tis my crown
When I bring grace to great'st perfection;
And I dare trust that daughter with a world,
None but her vow and she. I know she wears
A constancy, will not deceive my praises,
A Faith so noble; she that once knows Heaven,
Need put in no security for her truth;
I dare believe her face, use all the art,
Temptation, witcheries, sleights, and subtleties,
You Temporal Lords, and all your means can practise.
2. Lord.
My Lord, not any we:
L. Card.
Her resolute goodness
Shall as a Rock stand firm, and send the sin
That beat against it, into the bosom of the owners, weeping.
3. Lord.
We with her vertues so.
L. Card.
O give me pardon,
I have lost my self in her, upon my friends.
Your charitable censures I beseech,
So dear her white fame is to my souls love,
'Tis an affliction; but to hear it question'd,
She's my religious triumph.
If you desire a belief rightly to her,
Think she can never waver then you'r sure.
She has a sixed heart, it cannot erre;
He kills my hopes of woman, that doubts her.
1. Lord.
No more, my Lord, 'tis fixt.
L. Card.
Believe my Judgment,
I never praise in vain, nor ever spent
Opinion idlely, or lost hopes of any,
Where I once plac'd it; welcome as my joys.
Now you all part believers of her Vertue.
4
We are the same most firmly:
L. Card.
Good opinion
In others reward you, and all your actions.
Who's neer us?
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
My Lord.
L. Card.
Call our Nephew: There's a work too
That for bloods sake I labor to make perfect,
And it comes on with joy; he's but a youth
To speak of years, yet I dare venture him
To old mens goodnesses and gravities,
For his strict manners, and win glory by him;
And for the chastness of his continence
(Which is a rare grace in the spring of man)
He do's excel the youth of all our time,
Which gift of his more then affinity,
Draws my affection in great plenty to him.
The company of a woman is as fearful to him,
As death to guilty men: I'have seen him blush,
When but a Maid was nam'd; I'm proud of him,
Heaven be not angry for't: He's near of kin
In disposition to me. I shall do much for him
In life time, but in death I shall do all;
There he will finde my love. He's yet too yong
In years to rise in state, but his good parts
Will bring him in the sooner: Here he comes.
Enter Lactantio with a Book.
What at thy Meditation? half in Heaven.
Lact.
The better half my Lord, my minde's there still.
And when the heart's above, the body walks here
But like an idle Serving-man below,
Gaping and waiting for his Masters coming.
L. Card.
What man in age, could bring forth graver thoughts?
7
He that lives Fourscore years, is but like one
That stays here for a Friend; when death comes, then
Away he goes, and is ne'er seen again.
I wonder at the yongmen of our days,
That they can dote on pleasure, or what 'tis
They give that title too, unless in mockage.
There's nothing I can finde upon the Earth,
Worthy the name of pleasure, unless't be
To laugh at folly; which indeed good Charity
Should rather pitty: But of all the frenzies
That follow flesh and blood (O reverend Uncle)
The most ridiculous is to fawn on women;
There's no excuse for that, 'tis such a madness,
There is no cure set down for't, no Physitian
Ever spent hour about it, for they ghest
'Twas all in vain, when they first lov'd themselves,
And never since durst practise, cry Heu mihi,
That's all the help they have for't. I had rather meet
A Witch far North, then a fine Fool in love,
The sight would less afflict me, but for modesty;
And your grave presence, that learns men respect,
I should fall foul in words upon fond man
That can forget his excellence and honor,
His serious Meditations being the end
Of his Creation, to learn well to die,
And live a prisoner to a womans eye.
Can there be greater thraldom, greater folly?
L. Card.
In making him my heir, I make good works,
And they give wealth a blessing, where on the contrary,
What curses does he heap upon his soul
That leaves his riches to a riotous yong man,
To be consum'd on Surfeits, Pride, and Harlets,
8
A quiet rest for mine.
Enter Page with a Letter.
Lact.
How now, the news?
Page.
A Letter Sir, brought by a Gentleman
That lately came from Rome.
Lact.
That's she, she's come:
I fear not to admit her in his presence;
There is the like already. I'm writ chaste
In my grave Uncles thoughts, and honest meanings
Think all men's like their own—Thou look'st so pale,
What ail'st thou here a' late.
Page.
I doubt I have cause Sir.
Lact.
Why, what's the news?
Page.
I fear Sir I'm with childe.
Lact.
With childe; peace, peace, speak low:
Page.
'Twill prove I fear so.
Lact.
Beshrew my heart for that—Desire the Gentleman
To walk a turn or two.
L. Card.
What Gentleman?
Lact.
One lately come from Rome, my Lord, in credit,
With L. Vincentio; so the Letter speaks him.
L. Card.
Admit him, my kinde Boy; the prettiest Servant
That ever man was blest with; 'tis so meek,
So good and gentle, 'twas the best almsdeed
That ere you did, to keep him. I have oft took him
Weeping alone (poor Boy) at the remembrance
Of his lost friends; which as he says, the Sea
Swallow'd with all their substance.
Lact.
'Tis a truth Sir,
Has cost the poor Boy many a feeling tear,
And me some too, for company. In such pity,
I always spend my part: Here comes the Gentleman.
9
L. Card.
Welcome to Milan Sir, how is the health
Of L. Vincentio.
Aur.
May it please your Grace,
I left it well and happy, and I hope
The same: Blest Fortune keeps it:
L. Card.
I hear your near him.
Aur.
One of his Chamber, my Lord.
Lact.
I'd near wish one of her condition nearer,
Then to be one of mine.
L. Card.
Your news is pleasing;
Whilst you remain in Milan, I request you,
To know the welcome of no house but ours.
Aur.
Thanks to your Grace.
L. Card.
I'll leave you to confer;
I'll to the Dutchess, and labor her perfection.
Exit Cardinal.
Lact.
Then thus begins our conference, I arrest thee
In Cupids name, deliver up your weapon,
It is not for your wearing, Venus knows it.
Here's a fit thing indeed, nay, Hangers and all,
Away with 'em, out upon 'em, things of trouble,
And out of use with you: Now y'are my prisoner,
And till you swear you love me, all, and onely
You, part not from mine arms.
Aur.
I swear it willingly.
Lact.
And that you do renounce the Generals love
That heretofore laid claim to you.
Aur.
My heart bids me
You need not teach me, that my eye ne'r knew
A perfect choice, till it stood blest with you.
There's yet a rival, whom you little dream of,
Tax me with him, and I'll swear too, I hate him.
I'll thrust 'em both together in one Oath,
10
To solder up their credits.
Lact.
Prethee what's he
Another yet, for laughter sake discover him.
Aur.
The Governor of the Fort:
Lact.
That old dri'd Neat's tongue.
Aur.
A Gentleman after my Fathers rellish.
Enter Father and Governor.
Father.
By your kinde favors Gentlemen.
Aur.
O my Father,
We are both betray'd.
Lact.
Peace, you may prove too fearful.
To whom your business Sir.
Fath.
To the Lord Cardinal,
If it would please your self, or that yong Gentleman,
To grace me with admittance.
Lact.
I will see Sir,
The Gentlemans a stranger, new come o'er.
He understands you not—Loff tro veen, Tantumbro, Hoff Tufftee
Locumber shaw.
Aur.
Quisquimken, sapadlaman, Fool-urchin old Astrata.
Father.
Nay, and that be the Language, we can speak't too: Strumpettikin,
Bold Harlottum Queaninisma, Whoremongeria.
Shame to thy Sex, and sorrow to thy Father.
Is this a shape for reputation?
And modesty to mask in? Thou too cunning
For credulous goodness.
Did not a reverent respect and honor
That's due unto the Sanctimonious peace
Of this Lords house, restrain my voice and anger,
11
Both your disgraces to the height of grief
That you have rais'd in me; but to shame you
I will not cast a blemish upon Vertue.
Call that your happiness, and the dearest too.
That such a bold attempt could ever boast off.
We'll see if a strong Fort can hold you now,
Take her Sir to you.
Gover.
How have I deserv'd
The strangeness of this hour?
Father.
Talk not so tamely,
For you Sir, thank the reverence of this place,
Or your Hypocrisie I had put out of grace,
I had 'ifaith, if ever I can fit you,
Expect to hear from me.
Exeunt:
Lact.
I thank you Sir,
The Cough o'th'Lungs requite you: I could curse him
Into diseases by whole dozens now.
But one's enough to begger him, if he light
Upon a wise Physitian. 'Tis a labor
To keep those little wits I have about me.
Still did I dream that Villain would betray her.
I'll never trust slave with a parboil'd nose again.
I must devise some trick to excuse her absence
Now to my Uncle too; there is no mischeif
But brings one Villain or other still
Ev'n close at heels on't. I'm pain'd at heart:
If ever there were hope of me to die
For love, 'tis now, I never felt such gripings:
If I can scape this Climacterical year,
Women ne'er trust me, though you hear me swear.
Kept with him in the Fort, why there's no hope
Of ever meeting now; my ways not thither,
Love bless us with some means to get together,
And I'll pay all the old rock'nings.
Exit.
12
Scæn. 3.
Enter Dutchess, above, and Celia.Dutch.
What a contented rest rewards my minde
For faithfulness; I give it Constancy,
And it returns me Peace: How happily
Might woman live, methinks, confin'd within
The knowledge of one Husband?
What comes of more, rather proclaims Desire
Prince of affections, then religious love;
Brings frailty and our weakness into question;
'Mongst our Male enemies makes Widows tears,
Rather the cup of laughter then of pity?
What credit can our sorrows have with men,
When in some moneths space, they turn light again;
Feast, dance, and go in colours? If my vow
Were yet to make, I would not sleep without it,
Or make a Faith as perfect to my self
In resolution, as a vow would come to;
And do as much right so to Constancy,
As strictness could require: For 'tis our goodness,
And not our strength that do's it. I am arm'd now
'Gainst all deserts in man, be't Valor, Wisdom,
Curtesie, Comeliness, nay, Truth it self,
Which seldom keeps him company. I commend
The Vertues highly, as I do an Instrument
When the Case hangs by th'Wall; but man himself
Never comes near my heart.
Enter Lord Cardinal.
L. Card.
The blessing of Perfection to your thoughts, Lady,
For I'm resolv'd they are good ones.
Dutch.
Honor of greatness,
13
Welcome, as Peace to Temples.
L. Card.
I bring War.
Dutch.
How Sir?
L. Card.
A harder fight: If now you conquer,
You crown my praises double.
Dutch.
What's your aym Sir?
L. Card.
To astonish sin, and all her tempting evils,
And make your goodness shine more glorious,
When your fair noble vow show'd you the way
To excellence in vertue, to keep back
The fears that might discourage you at first,
Pitying your strength, it shew'd you not the worst.
'Tis not enough for Tapers to burn bright,
But to be seen, so to lend others light,
Yet not impair themselves, their flame as pure,
As when it shin'd in secret, so t'abide
Temptations, is the Souls flame truly try'd.
I have an ambition, but a vertuous one,
I would have nothing want to your Perfection.
Dutch.
Is there a doubt found yet, is it so hard
For woman to recover, with all diligence,
And a true fasting faith from sensual pleasure,
What many of her sex has so long lost:
Can you believe that any sight of man,
Held he the worth of Millions in one spirit,
Had power to alter me.
L. Card:
No, there's my bope,
My credit, and my triumph.
Dutch.
I'll no more,
Keep strictly private, since the glory on't
Is but a vertue question'd; I'll come forth
And show my self to all, the world shall witness,
14
On Earth's corruptions, and shine clear it self.
L. Card.
Hold conquest now, and I have all my wishes.
Cornets: And a shout within
Dutch.
The meaning of that sudden shout, my Lord.
L. Card.
Seignior Andrugio, General of the Field;
Successful in his Fortunes, is ariv'd,
And met by all the gallant hopes of Milan.
Welcom'd with Laurel wreaths, and Hymns of praises.
Vouchsafe but you, to give him the first grace Madam,
Of your so long hid presence, he has then
All honors that can bless victorious man.
Dutch.
You shall prevail grave Sir.
Enter Andrugio, attended with the Nobility and State, like a Victor.
SONG.
Musick.
Laurel is a Victors due,
I give it you,
I give it you.
Thy name with praise,
Thy brow with bays;
We circle round.
All men rejoyce
With cheerful voice,
To see thee like a Conqueror crown'd.
A Cupid discending, sings this.
I am a little Conqueror too
For wreaths of bays,
15
And that's my due.
I give the flaming heart,
It is my crest.
And by the Mothers side,
The weeping eye,
The sighing brest.
It is not power in you, fair beauties,
If I command Love, 'tis your duties.
Ascend.
During these Songs, Andrugio peruses a Letter delivered him by a Lord, and then closes with this Song below.
Welcome, Welcome, Son of Fame,
Honor triumphs in thy Name.
Exeunt in State.
Lord.
Alas poor Gentleman! I brought him news
That like a Cloud spred over all his glories,
When he mist her, whom his eye greedily sought for;
His welcome seem'd so poor, he took no joy in't:
But when he found her, by her Father forc'd
To the old Governors love, and kept so strictly,
A coldness strook his heart; there is no State
So firmly happy, but feels Envies might.
I know Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal,
Hates him as deeply as a Richman death;
And yet his welcome shew'd as fair and friendly,
As his that wore the truest love to him.
When in his wishes he could drink his blood,
And make his heart the sweetness of his food.
Exit.
Celia.
Madam, Madam.
Dutch.
Beshrew thy heart, do'st thou not see me busie:
You shew your manners.
16
In the name of Goodness,
What ails my Lady?
Dutch.
I confess I'm mortal,
There's no defending on't, 'tis cruel flattery
To make a Lady believe otherways.
Is not this flesh? Can you drive heat from fire?
So may you love from this; for Love and Death
Are Brothers in this Kingdom, onely Death
Comes by the Mothers side, and that's the surest.
That General is wondrous fortunate,
Has won another field since, and a victory
That credits all the rest: He may more boast on't,
Then of a thousand conquests, I am lost,
Utterly lost, where are my Women now,
Alas what help's in them, what strength have they?
I call to a weak guard, when I call them,
In rescuing me, they'ld be themselves o'er-come,
When I that profest war, am overthrown.
What hope's in them then, that nev'r stir'd from home?
My Faith is gone for ever, my Reputation with the Cardinal,
My Fame, my Praise, my Liberty, my Peace,
Chang'd for a restless Passion: Oh hard spight
To lose my seven years victory at one fight.
Exit.
Scæn. 4.
Enter Dondolo, and the Page with a Shirt.Page.
I prethee Dondolo, take this shirt, and air
it a little against my Master rises, I'had rather do any
thing then do't y'faith.
Dond.
O monstrous, horrible, terrible, intollerable!
Are not you big enough to air a shirt; were it a
smock now, you liquorish Page, you'ld be hang'd, ere
17
a smell-smock, as any the Town affords, in a Term
time, I'll lose my judgment in Wenching.
Page.
Pish; here Dondolo, prethee take it.
Dond.
It's no more but up and ride with you
then? All my generation were Bedles and Officers:
and do you think I'm so easily intreated? you shall
finde a harder peece of work (Boy) then you imagine,
to get any thing from my hands; I will not
disgenerate so much from the nature of my kinred;
you must bribe me one way or other, if you look to
have any thing done, or else you may do't your self.
'Twas just my Fathers humor when he bore office;
you know my minde Page, The Song, the Song; I
must either have the Song, you sung to my Master
last night, when he went to Bed, or I'll not do a
stitch of service for you, from one weeks end to the
other. As I am a Gentleman, you shall brush Cloaks,
make clean Spurs, nay, pull of strait Boots, although
in the tugging, you chance to fall and hazard the
breaking of your little Buttocks; I'll take no more
pity of your Maribones, then a Butchers Dog of a
Rump of Beef; nay, ka me, ka thee, If you will
ease the Melancholy of my minde with singing, I
will deliver you from the calamity of Bootshaling.
Page.
Alas you know I cannot sing.
Dond.
Take heed, you may speak at such an hour,
that your voice may be clean taken away from you:
I have known many a good Gentlewoman say so
much as you say now, and have presently gone to
Bed, and lay speechless; 'Tis not good to jest, as old
Chaucer was wont to say, that broad famous English
Poet. Cannot you sing say you? Oh that a Boy
should so keep cut with his Mother, and be given to
dissembling.
18
Faith to your knowledge in't, ill may seem well;
But as I hope in comforts, I've no skill.
Dond.
A pox of skill, give me plain simple cunning:
Why should not singing be as well got without
skill, as the getting of children; you shall have
the arrant'st Fool do as much there, as the wisest
Coxcomb of 'em all, let 'em have all the help of
Doctors put to 'em; both the directions of Physitians,
and the erections of Pothecaries; you shall have a
plain Hobnail'd Countrey-Fellow, marrying some
Dairy-wench, tumble out two of a year, and sometimes
three, By'rlady, as the crop falls out; and your
nice paling Physicking-Gentlefolks, some one in nine
years, and hardly then a whole one, as it should be;
the wanting of some Apricock, or something, looses
a member on him, or quite spoils it. Come will you
sing, that I may warm the shirt; by this light, he shall
put it on cold for me else.
Page.
A Song or two I learnt, with hearing Gentlewomen
practise themselves.
Dond.
Come, you are so modest now, 'tis pity
that thou was't ever bred to be thrust through a
pair of Canions; thou wouldst have made a pretty
foolish Waiting-woman, but for one thing. Wil't'
sing?
Page.
As well as I can Dondolo.
Dond.
Give me the shirt then, I'll warm't as well I can too.
Why look you Whoreson Cockscomb, this is a smock.
Page.
No 'tis my Masters shirt.
Dond.
Why that's true too,
Who knows not that; why 'tis the fashion Fool,
All your yong Gallants here of late wear smocks;
Those without Beards especially.
19
Why what's the reason Sir.
Dond.
Marry very great reason in't: A yong gallant
lying a Bed with his Wench, if the Constable
should chance to come up and search, being both in
smocks, they'd be taken for Sisters; and I hope a
Constable dare go no further: And as for the knowing
of their Heads, that's well enough too; for I
know many yong Gentlemen, wear longer hair then
their Mistresses.
Page.
'Tis a hot world the whilst:
Dond.
Nay, that's most certain,
And a most witty age of a bald one; for all Languages
y'have many daughters so well brought up,
they speak French naturally at fifteen, and they are
turn'd to the Spanish and Italian half a year after.
Page.
That's like learning the Grammar first, and the Accidence after;
They go backward so.
Dond.
The fitter for the Italian; thou'st no wit Boy,
Hadst had a Tutor, he'ld have taught thee that.
Come, come, that I may be gone Boy?
SONG.
Musick.
Page.
Cupid is Venus onely joy,
But he's a wanton Boy:
A very, very wanton Boy.
He shoots at Ladies naked Brests;
He is the cause of most mens Crests;
I mean upon the Forehead,
Invisible, but horrid.
Of the short Velvet Mask, he was deviser,
That wives may kiss, the husband's ne'r the wiser.
'Twas he first thought upon the way,
To keep a Ladies Lips in play.
20
Oh rich, ravishing, rare, and inticing:
Well, go thy ways, for as sweet a Brested Page, as
ever lay at his Masters feet in a Truckle-bed.
Page.
You'll hie you in straight Dondolo?
Exit.
Dond.
I'll not miss you.
This smockified shirt, or shirted smock,
I will go toste; let me see what's a clock,
I must to th'Castle straight to see his love,
Either by hook or crook: My Master storming
Sent me last night, but I'll be gone this morning.
Exit.
| More Dissemblers besides Women | |