University of Virginia Library

Scæna prima.

Enter Hilario, Corisca.
Hilario.
You like my speech?

Corisca.
Yes, if you giue it action
In the deliuerie.

Hilario.
If? I pitty you.
I haue plaide the foole before, this is not the first time,
Nor shall be I hope the last.

Corisca.
Nay I thinke so to.

Hila.
And if I put her not out of her dumps with laughter,
Ile make her howle for anger.

Corisca.
Not too much
Of that good fellow Hilario. Our sad Lady
Hath dranke too often of that bitter cup,
A pleasant one must restore her. With what patience
Would she indure to heare of the death of my Lord,
That meerely out of doubt he may miscary
Afflicts her selfe thus?

Hilario.
Vm, 'tis a question
A widdow onely can resolue. There be some
That in their husbands sicknesses haue wep'd
Their pottle of teares a day: but being once certaine
At midnight he was dead, haue in the morning
Dri'd vp their handkerchers, and thought no more on't.

Corisca.
Tush, shee is none of that race, if her sorrow
Be not true and perfit, I against my sex
Will take my oath woman nere wep'd in earnest.
She has made her selfe a prisoner to her chamber,
Darke as a dungeon, in which no beame
Of comfort enters. She admits no visits;
Eares little, and her nightly musicke is
Of sighes and groanes tun'd to such harmonie
Of feeling greefe, that I against my nature
Am made one of the consort. This houre onely
She takes the aire, a custome euery day
She sollemnly obserues, with greedy hopes
From some that passe by to receiue assurance
Of the successe, and safety of her Lord:
Now if that your deuice will take

Hilario.
Nere feare it:
I am prouided cap a pe, and haue
My properties in readinesse.

Sophia
within.
Bring my vaile there.

Corisca.
Be gone, I heare her comming.

Hilario.
If I doe not
Appeare, and what's more, appeare perfit, hisse me.
Exit Hilario.

Enter Sophia.
Sophia.
I was flatter'd once I was a Star, but now
Turn'd a prodigious meteor, and like one
Hang in the aire betweene my hopes, and feares,
And euery howre the little stuffe burnt out
That yeelds a waning light to dying comfort,
I doe expect my fall and certaine ruine.
In wretched things more wretched is delay,
And hope a parasite to me, being vnmasqu'd
Appeares more horrid then despaire, and my
Distraction worse then madnesse: eu'n my prayers
When with most zeale sent vpward, are pull'd downe,
With strong imaginary doubts and feares,
And in their suddaine precipice orewhelme me.
Dreames, and phantastick evisions walke the round
About my widdowed bed, and euery slumber
Broken with lowd alarms: can these be then
But sad presages girle?

Corisca.
You mak 'em so,
And antedate a losse shall ne're fall on you.
Such pure affection, such mutuall loue,
A bed, and vndefil'd on either part,
A house without contention, in two bodies
One will, and Soule like to the rod of concord,
Kissing each other, cannot be short liu'd
Or end in barrennesse: if all these deare Madam
(Sweet in your sadnesse) should produce no fruite,
Or leaue the age no models of your selues,
To witnesse to posterity what you were
Succeeding times frighted with the example
But hearing of your story, would instruct
Their fairest issue to meete sensually,
Like other creatures, and forbeare to raise
True loue, or Himen Altars.

Sophia.
O Corisca,
I know thy reasons are like to thy wishes,
And they are built vpon a weake foundation,
To raise me comfort. Ten long dayes are past,
Ten long dayes my Corisca, since my Lord
Embarqu'd himselfe vpon a Sea of danger,
In his deare care of me. And if his life
Had not beene ship wrack'd on the rocke of war,
His tendernesse of me (knowing how much
I languish for his absence) had prouided
Some trusty friend from wohm I might receiue
Assurance of his safety.

Corisca.
Ill newes Madam,
Are swallow-wing'd, but what's good walkes on crutches:
With patience expect it, and ere long
No doubt you shall heare from him.

A sowgelders horne blowne. A Post.
Sophia.
Ha! What's that?

Corisca.
The foole has got a sowgelders horne
As I take it Madam.

Sophia.
It makes this way still,
Neerer and neerer.

Corisca.
From the Campe I hope.

Enter Hilario, with a long white hayre and beard, in an anticke armour, one with a horne before him.
Sophia.
The messenger appeares, and in strange armour.
Heauen if it be thy will!

Hilario.
It is no boote
To striue, our horses tir'd let's walke on foot,
And that the Castle which is very neere vs,
To giue vs entertainment may soone heare vs,
Blow lustily my Lad, and drawing nigh a,
Aske for a Lady which is clep'd Sophia.

Corisca.
He names you Madam.

Hilario.
For to her I bring,
Thus clad in in armes, newes of a pretty thing,
By name Mathias.

Sophia.
From my Lord? O Sir,
I am Sophia, that Mathias wife.
So may Mars fauour you in all your battailes,
As you with speede vnloade me of the burthen
I labour vnder, till I am confirm'd
Both where, and how you left him.

Hilario.
If thou art
As I beleeue, the pigs-ney of his heart,
Know hee's in health, and what's more full of glee,
And so much I was will'd to say to thee.

Sophia.
Haue you no letters from him?

Hilario.
No more words.
In the Campe we vse no pens, but write with swords:
Yet as I am inioyn'd, by word of mouth
I will proclaime his deeds from North to South.
But tremble not while I relate the wonder,
Though my eyes like lightning shine, and my voyce thunder.

Sophia.
This is some counterfeit bragart.

Corisca.
Heare him Madam.

Hila.
The Reere march'd first, which follow'd by the Van,
And wing'd with the Battalia, no man
Durst stay to shift a shirt or louze himselfe;
Yet ere the armies ioyn'd, that hopefull elfe,
Thy deere my dainty duckling, bold Mathias
Aduanc'd, and star'd like Hercules or Golias.
A hundred thousand Turkes, it is no vaunt,
Assail'd him, euery one a Termagaunt,
But what did he then? with his keene edge speare
He cut, and Carbonadode 'em, heere, and there,
Lay leggs and armes, and as 'tis sayd truely
Of Beuis, some he quarter'd all in three.

Sophia.
This is ridiculous.

Hilario.
I must take breath
Then like a Nightingale i'le sing his death;

Sophia.
His death?

Hilario.
I am out.

Corisca.
Recouer dunder-head.

Hilario.
How he escap'd I should haue sung, not dide
For, though a knight, when I said so I lide
Weary he was, and scarse could stand vpright
And looking round for some couragious Knight
To reskue him, as one perplex'd in woe
He cald to me, helpe, helpe Hilario,
My valiant seruant helpe.

Corisca.
He has spoyld all.

Sophia.
Are you the man of armes then? ile make bold
To take of your martiall beard, you had fooles hayre
Enough without it. Slaue, how durst thou make
Thy sport of what concernes me more then life,
In such an anticke fashion? am I growne
Contemptible to those I feed? you mignion
Had a hand in it to, as it appeares,
Your petticote serues for bases to this warrior.

Corisca.
We did it for your mirth.

Hilario.
For my selfe I hope,
I haue spoke like a souldier.

Sophia.
Hence you rascall.
I neuer but with reuerence name my Lord
And can I heere it by thy tongue prophain'd
And not correct thy folly? but you are
Transform'd, and turnd Knight errant, take your course
And wander where you please, for heere I vow
By my Lords life (an oath I will not breake)
Till his returne, or certainty of his safety,
My doores are shut against thee.
Exit Sophia.

Corisca.
You haue made
A fine peece of worke on't: how do you like the quality?
You had a foolish itch to be an actor,
And may strowle where you please.

Hilario.
Will you buy my share?

Corisca.
No certainely, I feare I haue already
Too much of mine owne, I'le onely as a damsell
(As the bookes say) thus far helpe to disarme you,
And so deere Don Quixote taking my leaue,
I leaue you to your fortune.
Exit Corisca.

Hilario.
Haue I sweate
My braines out for this quaint and rare inuention,
And am I thus rewarded? I could turne?
Tragœdian, and rore now, but that I feare
'Twould get me too great a stomacke hauing no meat
To pacifie Colon, what will become of me?
I cannot begge in armor, and steale I dare not:
My end must bee to stand in a corne feild
And fright away the crowes for bread, and cheese,
Or finde some hollow tree in the high way,
And there vntill my Lord returne sell switches
No more Hilario, but Dolorio now.
Ile weepe my eyes out, and bee blind of purpose
To moue compassion, and so I vanish,
Exit Hilario.