 | The Woman-Hater |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Gondarino flying the Lady.Gond.
Save me ye better powers, let me not fall
Between the lose embracements of a woman:
Heaven, if my Sins be ripe grown to a head,
And must attend your vengeance: I beg not to divert my fate,
Or to reprive a while thy punishment
Only I crave, and hear me equall heavens,
Let not your furious rod, that must afflict me
Be that imperfect peece of nature,
That art makes up, woman, unsatiate woman.
Had we not knowing souls, at first infus'd
To teach a difference, 'twixt extremes and goods?
Were we not made our selves, free, unconfin'd
Commanders of our own affections?
And can it be, that this most perfect creature,
This image of his maker, well squar'd man,
Should leave the handfast, that he had of grace,
To fall into a womans easie armes.
Enter Oriana.
Orian.
Now Venus, be my speed, inspire me with all the
severall subtil temptations, that thou hast already given,
or hast in store heareafter to bestow upon our Sex: grant
that I may apply that Physick that is most apt to work
upon him: whether he will soonest be mov'd with wantonness,
singing, dancing; or being passionate, with scorn;
or with sad and serious looks, cunningly mingled with sighs,
with smiling, lisping, kissing the hand, and making short
curt'sies, Or with whatsoever other nimble power, he may
be caught, doe thou infuse into me, and when I have him,
I will sacrifice him up to thee.
Gond.
It comes again; New apparitions,
And tempting spirits: Stand and reveal thy self,
Tell why thou followest me? I fear thee
As I fear the place thou cam'st from: Hell.
Orian.
My Lord, I'm a woman, and such a one—
Gond.
That I hate truely, thou hadst better bin a devill,
Orian.
Why my unpatient Lord?
Gond.
Devils were once good, there they excell'd you woman.
Orian.
Can ye be so uneasie, can ye freeze, and
Such a summers heat so ready
To dissolve? nay gentle Lord, turn not away in scorn,
Nor hold me less fair than I am: look on these cheeks,
They have yet enough of nature, true complexion,
If to be red and white, a forehead high,
An easie melting lip, a speaking eye,
And such a tongue, whose language takes the ear
Of strict religion, and men most austere:
If these may hope to please, look here.
Gond.
This woman with entreaty wo'd show all,
Lady there lies your way, I pray ye farewell.
Orian.
Y'are yet too harsh, too dissonant,
There's no true musick in your words, my Lord.
Gond.
What shall I give thee to be gone?
Here's ta, and tha wants lodging, take my house, 'tis big
enough, 'tis thine own, 'twill hold five leacherous Lords,
and their lackies without discovery: there's stoves and bathing
tubs.
Orian.
Dear Lord: y'are too wild.
Gond.
Shalt have a Doctor too, thou shat, 'bout six and
twentie, 'tis a pleasing age; Or I can help thee to a handsome
Vsher: or if thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one,
preethee keep house, and leave me.
Oria.
I doe confess I'm too easie, too much woman,
Not coy enough to take affection,
Yet I can frown and nip a passion,
Even in the bud: I can say
Men please their present heats; Then please to leave us.
I can hold off, and, by my Chymick power,
Draw Sonnets from the melting lovers brain;
Ayme's, and Elegies: yet to you my Lord
My Love, my better self, I put these off,
Doing that office, not befits our sex,
Entreat a man to love;
Are ye not yet relenting? ha'ye blood and Spirit
In those veins? ye are no image, though ye be as hard
As marble: sure ye have no liver, if ye had,
'Twould send a lively and desiring heat
To every member; Is not this miserable?
A thing so truely form'd, shapt out by Symetry,
Has all the organs that belong to man,
And working too, yet to shew all these
Like dead motions moving upon wyers?
Then good my Lord, leave off what you have been,
And freely be what you were first intended for, a man.
Gond.
Thou art a precious peece of slie damnation,
I will be deaf, I will lock up my ears,
Tempt me not, I will not love; If I doe.
Oria.
Then I'll hate you.
Gond.
Let me be 'nointed with hony, and turn'd into the Sun,
To be stung to death with horse-flies,
Hear'st thou, thou breeder, here I'll sit,
And, in despight of thee, I will say nothing.
Oria.
Let me with your fair patience, sit beside you.
Gond.
Madam, Lady, tempter, tongue, woman, ayr.
Look to me, I shall kick; I say again,
Oria.
I cannot think your better knowledg can use a
woman so uncivilly.
Gond.
I cannot think, I shall become a coxcombe,
To ha'my hair curl'd, by an idle finger,
My cheeks turn Tabers, and be plaid upon,
Mine eyes lookt babies in, and my nose blowd to my hand,
I say again I shall kick, sure I shall.
Oria.
'Tis but your outside that you shew, I know your mind
Never was guilty of so great a weakness,
Or could the tongues of all men joyn'd together.
Possess me with a thought of your dislike
My weakness were above a womans, to fall off
From my affection, for one crack of thunder,
O wo'd you could love, my Lord.
Gond.
I wo'd thou wouldst sit still, and say nothing: what
mad-man let thee lose to do more mischief than a dousen
whirlwinds, keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the
idle worms in thy fingers ends: will ye be doing still? will
no entreating serve ye? no lawfull warning? I must remove
and leave your Ladyship; Nay never hope to stay me,
for I will run, from that Smooth, Smiling, Witching, Cousening,
Tempting, Damning face of thine, as far as I can
find any land, where I will put my self into a daily course
of Curses for thee, and all thy Familie.
Oria,
Nay good my Lord sit still, I'll promise peace
And fold mine Armes up, let but mine eye discourse;
Or let my voyce, set to some pleasing cord, sound out
The sullen strains of my neglected love.
Gond.
Sing till thou crack thy treble-string in peeces,
And when thou hast done, put up thy pipes and walk,
Doe any thing, sit still and tempt me not.
Oria.
I had rather sing at doors for bread, than sing to
this fellow, but for hate: if this should be told in the Court,
that I begin to woe Lords, what a troop of the untrust
nobilitie should I have at my lodging to morrow morning?
Lock me in delight a while,
Let some pleasing Dreams beguile
All my fancies; That from thence,
I may feel an influence,
All my powers of care bereaving.
Let me know some little Ioy,
We that suffer long anoy
Are contented with a thought
Through an idle fancie wrought
O let my joyes, have some abiding.
Gond.
Have you done your wassayl? 'tis a handsome
drowsie dittie I'll assure ye, now I had as leave hear a Cat
cry, when her tail is cut off, as hear these lamentations,
these lowsie love-layes, these bewailements: you think you
have caught me Lady, you think I melt now, like a dish
of May butter, and run, all into brine, and passion? yes,
yes, I'm taken, look how I cross my arms, look pale, and
dwyndle, and wo'd cry, but for spoyling my face; we must
part, nay we'll avoyd all Ceremony, no kissing Lady, I desire
to know your Ladiship no more; death of my soul the Duke!
Oria.
God keep your Lordship.
Gond.
From thee and all thy sex.
Oria.
I'll be the Clark, and crie, Amen,
Your Lordships ever assured enemie Oriana.
Exit. Oriana, Manet Gondarino.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Duke, Arrigo, Lucio.Gond.
All the days good, attend your Lordship.
Duk.
We thank you Gondarino, is it possible?
Can belief lay hold on such a miracle,
To see thee, one that hath cloyst'red up all passion,
Turn'd wilfull votary, and forsworn converse with women,
in company and fair discourse, with the best beauty
of Millain?
Gon.
'Tis true, and if your Grace that hath the sway
Of the whole State, will suffer this lude sex,
These women: to pursue us to our homes,
Not to be prayd, not to be rail'd away,
But they will woe, and dance, and sing,
And, in a manner, looser than they are
By nature (which should seem impossible)
To throw their armes, on our unwilling necks.
Duk.
No more, I can see through your vissore, dissemble it no more.
Doe not I know thou hast us'd all Art,
To work upon the poor simplicitie
Of this yong Maid, that yet hath known none ill?
Thinkest that damnation will fright those that wooe
From oaths, and lies? But yet I think her chast,
And will from thee, before thou shalt apply
Stronger temptations, bear her hence with me.
Gond.
My Lord, I speak not this to gain new grace,
But howsoever you esteeme my words,
My love and dutie will not suffer me
To see you favour such a prostitute,
And I stand by dumb; Without Rack, Torture,
Or Strappado, I unrip my self:
I doe confess I was in company with that pleasing peece
of frailtie, that we call woman; I doe confess after along
and tedious seige, I yielded!
Duke.
Forward.
Gond.
Faith my Lord to come quickly to the point, the
woman you saw with me is a whore; An arrant whore.
Duke.
Was she not Count Valores, Sister?
Gond.
Yes, that Count Valores Sister is naught.
Duk.
Thou dar'st not say so.
Gond.
Not if it be distasting to your Lordship, but give
me freedome, and I dare maintain, she ha's imbrac'd this
body, and grown to it as close, as the hot youthfull vine
to the elme.
Duk.
Twice have I seen her with thee, twice my thoughts
were prompted by mine eye, to hold thy strictness false and
imposterous: Is this your mewing up, your strict retirement,
your bitterness and gaul against that sex? Have I
not heard thee say, thou wouldst sooner meet the Basilisks,
dead doing eye, than meet a woman for an object? Look
it be true you tell me, or by our countries Saint your head
goes off: if thou prove a whore, no womans face shall ever
move me more.
Exeunt.
Manet Gondarino.
Gond.
So, so, 'tis as't should be, are women grown so
mankind? Must they be wooing, I have a plot shall blow
her up, she flyes, she mounts; I'll teach her Ladyship to
dare my fury, I will be known, and fear'd, and more
truely hated of women than an Eunuch.
She's here again, good gaul be patient, for I must dissemble.
Orian.
Now my cold, frosty Lord, my woman-Hater, you
that have sworn an everlasting hate to all our sex: by
my troth good Lord, and as I'm yet a maid, my thought
'twas excellent sport to hear your honor swear out an Alphabet,
chafe nobly like a Generall, kick like a resty Jade,
and make ill faces: Did your good Honor think I was in
love? where did I first begin to take that heat? From those
two radiant eyes, that piercing sight? oh they were lovely, if
the balls stood right; and there's a leg made out of a
dainty staff, Where, the Gods be thanked, there is calf
enough.
Gond.
Pardon him Lady, that is now a convert.
Your beauty, like a Saint hath wrought this wonder.
Oriana.
Alass, ha's it been prick'd at the heart? is the
stomach come down? will it rail no more at women, and
call 'em Divells, she Cats, and Goblins?
Gond.
He that shall marry thee, had better spend the
poor remainder of his days in a dung-barge, for two pence
a week, and find him self.
Down again Spleen, I prethee down again, shall I find
favour Lady? shall at length my true unfeigned penitence
get pardon for my harsh unseasoned follies? I'm no more
an Atheist, no I doe acknowledge, that dread powerfull
Deity, and his all quic'kning heats burn in my breast: oh
be not as I was, hard unrelenting; but as I'm, be partner
of my sires.
Oria.
Sure we have store of Larks, the Skies will not hold
up long, I should have look'd as soon for Frost in the dog
days, or another Inundation, as hop'd this strange conversion
above miracle: let me look upon your Lordship; is
your name Gondarino? are you Millains Generall, that great
Bug-bear bloody-bones, at whose name all women, from
the Lady to the Landress, shake like a cold fit?
Gond.
Good patience help me, this Fever will inrage my
blood again: Madam I'm that man; I'm even he that once
did owe unreconcil'd hate to you, and all that bear the
name of woman: I'm the man that wrong'd your Honor
to the Duke: I'm the man that said you were unchast,
and prostitute, yet I'm he that dare deny all this.
Orian.
Your big Nobility is very merry.
Gond.
Lady 'tis true that I have wrong'd you thus,
And my contrition is as true as that,
Yet have I found a means to make all good again,
I doe beseech your beautie, not for my self,
My merits are yet in conception,
But for your honors safety and my zeal
Retire a while, while I unsay my self unto the Duke,
And cast out that ill Spirit I have possest him with,
I have a house conveniently private.
Ori.
Lord, thou hast wrong'd my innocence, but thy
confession hath gain'd thee faith.
Gond.
By the true honest service, that I owe these eyes strangely,
My meaning is as spotless as my faith.
Oria.
The Duke doubt mine honor? a may judge
'Twill not be long, before I'll be enlarg'd again.
Gond.
A day or two.
Orian.
Mine own servants shall attend me.
Gond.
Your Ladyships command is good.
Orian.
Look you be true.
Exit Oriana.
Gond.
Else let me lose the hopes my soul aspires to: I will
be a scourge to all females in my life, and after my death,
the name of Gondarino, shall be terrible to the mighty women
of the earth; They shall shake at my name, and at the
sound of it, their knees shall knock together; And they shall
run into Nunneries, for they and I are beyond all hope irreconcilable:
for if I could endure an ear with a hole in't, or
a pleated lock, or a bare headed Coachman, that sits like a
sign where great Ladys are to be sold within; agreement
betwixt us, were not to be dispaired of; if I could be
but brought to endure to see women, I would have them
come all once a week, and kiss me, as Witches doe the devill,
in token of homage: I must not live here, I will to the Court,
and there pursue my plot; when it hath took, women shall
stand in awe, but of my look.
Exit
Scæna Tertia.
Enter two Intelligencers, discovering treason in the Courtiers words.1. Intel.
There take your standing, be close and vigilant,
here will I set my self, and let him look to his
language, a shall know the Duke has more ears in Court
than two.
2. Int.
I'll quote him to a tittle, let him speak wisely, and
plainly, and as hidden as a can, or I shall crush him, a shall
not scape charracters, though a speak Babel, I shall crush
him: we have a Fortune by this service hanging over us,
that within this year or two, I hope we shall be called to be
examiners, wear politick gowns garded with copper lace,
making great faces full of fear and office, our labors may
deserve this.
1. Int.
I hope it shall: why has not many men been raised
from this worming trade, first to gain good access to great
men, then to have commissions out for search, and lastly,
to be worthily nam'd at a great Arraignment: yes, and why
not we? They that endeavor well deserve their Fee.
Enter Count, Lazarello, and his Boy.
Laz.
Farewell my hopes, my Anchor now is broken,
Farewell my quondam joys, of which no token
Is now remaining, such is the sad mischance,
Where Lady Fortune leads the slipp'ry dance.
Yet at the length, let me this favour have,
Give me my wishes, or a wished grave.
Count.
The gods defend so brave and valiant maw,
Should slip into the never satiate jaw
Of black Despair; no, thou shalt live and know
Thy full desires, hunger thy ancient foe,
Shall be subdued; those guts that daily tumble
Through ayr and appetite, shall cease to rumble:
And thou shalt now at length obtain thy dish,
That noble part, the sweet head of a fish.
Laz.
Then am I greater than the Duke.
2. Int.
There, there's a notable peece of treason, greater
than the Duke, mark that.
Count.
But how, or where, or when this shall be compas'd,
is yet out of my reach.
Laz.
I am so truely miserable, that might
I be now knockt oth' head, with all my heart
I would forgive a dog-killer.
Count.
Yet doe I see through this confusedness some little comfort.
Laz.
The plot my Lord, as er'e you came of a woman, discover.
1. Int.
Plots, dangerous plots, I will deserve by this most liberally.
Count.
'Tis from my head again.
Laz.
O that it would stand me, that I might fight, or have
some venture for it, that I might be turn'd loose, to try my fortune
amongst the whole frie in a Colledge, or an Inn of
Court, or scramble with the prisoners in the dungeon; nay
were it set down in the outward court,
With their knives drawn, which were a dismall sight,
And after twenty leisurely were told,
I to be let loose only in my shirt,
To trie the valour, how much of the spoyl,
I would recover from the enemies mouths:
Wilt thou lose this opinion, for the cold head of a Fish?
I say, let it goe: I'll help thee to as good a dish of meat.
Laz.
God let me not live, if I doe not wonder,
Men should talk so propanely:
But it is not in the power of loose words,
Of any vain or misbeleeving man,
To make me dare to wrong thy purity.
Shew me but any Lady in the Court,
That hath so full an eye, so sweet a breath,
So soft and white a flesh: this doth not lie
In almond gloves, nor ever hath bin washt
In artificiall baths: no traveller
That hath brought doctor home with him, hath dar'd
With all his waters, powders, Fucusses,
To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.
Count.
I have it, 'tis now infus'd, be comforted.
Laz.
Can there be that little hope yet left in nature? shall
I once more erect up Trophies? Shall I enjoy the sight of
my dear Saint, and bless my pallate with the best of creatures,
ah good my Lord, by whom I breathe again, shall
I receive this Being?
Count.
Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled
revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord Gondarino
to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis.
Laz.
O 'tis far above the good of women, the Pathick
cannot yield more pleasing titilation.
Count.
But how to compass it search, cast about, and
bang your brains, Lazarello, thou art too dull and heavy to
deserve a blessing.
Laz.
My Lord, I will not be idle; now Lazarello, think,
think, think,
Count.
Yonder's my informer
And his fellow with table books, they nod at me
Upon my life, they have poor Lazarello, that beats
His brains about no such waighty matter, in for
Treason before this—
Laz.
My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self,
Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher,
And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child?
Count.
Good, very good.
Laz.
Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion.
1. Inte.
There's another point in's plot, corrupted with
money; to betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have
a care.
Laz.
And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would
in some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the
dish it self, though I cut out my means through sword and
fire, through poison, through any thing that may make
good my hopes.
2. Int.
Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the
plots discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace,
kill the Duke and poison his privie Councell.
Count.
To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we
can attain the means, to make up our acquaintance, the
fish be eaten?
Laz.
If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected,
most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave
this Province yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye
bravely, and like a Roman; and after death, amidst the
Elizian shades, I'll meet my love again.
1. In.
I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark
that, when he hath done all, he will kill himself.
Count.
Will nothing ease your appetite but this?
Laz.
No could the Sea throw up his vastness,
And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as
a bare temptation to me.
Count,
If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison, or
Fowl, 'twould be far the better.
Laza.
I doe beseech your Lordships patience,
I doe confess that in this heat of blood,
I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats,
But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef,
I doe reverence a loyn of Veal,
But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this:
But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of
taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all
humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if
Fortune stand propitious.
Count.
Sir you shall work me as you please.
Laza.
Let it be suddenly, I doe beseech your Lordship,
'tis now upon the point of dinner time.
Count.
I am all yours.
Exeunt Lazarello and Count.
1. In.
Come let us confer,
Imprimis he saith, like a blasphemous villain, he's greater than
the Duke, this peppers him, and there were nothing else.
2. In.
Then he was naming plots; did you not hear?
1. In.
Yes but he fell from that unto discovery, to corrupt
by money, and so attain.
2. In.
I, I, he meant some Fort, or Cyttadell the Duke hath,
his very face betraid his meaning, O he is very subtile and a
dangerous knave, but if he deal a Gods name, we shall worm
him
1. In.
But now comes the Stroak, the fatall blow, Fire,
Sword and Poyson, O Canibal, thou bloody Canibal.
2. In.
What had become of this poor state, had we not been?
1. In.
Faith it had lyen buried in his own ashes; had not
a greater hand been in't.
2. In.
But note the rascalls resolution, after th'acts done,
because he wo'd avoid all fear of torture, and cousen the Law,
he wo'd kill himself; was there ever the like danger brought
to light in this age? sure we shall merit much, we shall be
able to keep two men a peece, and a two hand-sword between
us, we will live in favour of the State, betray our ten
or twelve treasons a week, and the people shall fear us:
come, to the Lord Lucio, the Sun shall not goe down till
he be hang'd.
Exeunt.
Scæna quarta.
Enter Mercer.Mer.
Look to my shop, and if there come ever a Scholar
in black, let him speak with me; we that are shopkeepers
in good trade, are so pester'd, that we can scarce
pick out an hour for our mornings meditation: and howsoever
we are all accounted dull, and common jesting stocks
for your gallants; There are some of us doe not deserve it:
for, for my own part, I doe begin to be given to my book,
I love a scholar with my heart, for questionless there are
merveilous things to be done by Art: why Sir, some of them
will tell you what is become of horses, and silver spoons,
and will make wenches dance naked to their beds: I am yet
unmarried, and because some of our neighbours are said to
be Cuckolds, I will never be married without the consent
of some of these scholars, that know what will come of it.
Enter Pander.
Pan.
Are you busie Sir?
Mer.
Never to you Sir, nor to any of your coat.
Sir is there any thing to be done by Art, concerning the
great heir we talk'd on?
Pan.
Will she, nill she: she shall come running into my
house at the farther corner, in Sa. Marks street, betwixt
three and four.
Mer.
Betwixt three and four? she's brave in cloaths, is she not?
Pan.
O rich! rich! where should I get cloaths to dress
her in? Help me invention: Sir, that her running through the
fear to speak with her less, she shall come in a white wast-coat,
And—
Mer.
What shall she?
Pan.
And perhaps torn stockings, she hath lest her old wont else.
Enter Prentice.
Pren.
Sir my Lord Gond. hath sent you a rare fish head.
Mer.
It comes right, all things sute right with me since
I began to love scholars, you shall have it home with you
against she come: carrie it to this Gentleman's house.
Pan.
The fair white house at the farther corner at S.
Marks street, make haste, I must leave you too Sir, I have
two hours to study; buy a new Accedence, and ply your book,
and you shall want nothing that all the scholars in the Town
can doe for you.
Mer.
Heaven prosper both our studies, what a dull slave
was I before I fell in love with this learning? not worthy
to tread upon the earth, & what fresh hopes it hath put in
to me? I doe hope within this twelve-month to be able by
Art to serve the Court with silks, and not undoe my self;
to trust Knights, and yet get in my money again; to keep
my wife brave, and yet she keep no body else so.
Your Lordship is most honourably welcome in regard of your
Nobility; but most especialy in regard of your scholarship: did
your Lordship come openly?
Count,
Sir this cloak keeps me private, besides no man will
suspect me to be in the company of this Gentleman, with
whom, I will desire you to be acquainted, he may prove a
good customer to you.
Laza.
For plain silks and velvets.
Mer.
Are you scholasticall?
Laza.
Something addicted to the Muses.
Count.
I hope they will not dispute.
Mer.
You have no skill in the black Art.
Enter a Prentice.
Pren.
Sir yonder's a Gentleman enquires hastily for Count Valore,
Count.
For me? what is he?
Pren.
One of your followers my Lord I think.
Count.
Let him come in.
Mer.
Shall I talk with you in private Sir?
Enter a Messenger with a Letter to the Count, he reads.
Count.
Count, come to the Court your business calls you thither,
I will goe, farewell Sir, I will see your silks some other
time: Farewell Lazarillo.
Mer.
Will not your Lordship take a peice of Beef with me?
Count.
Sir I have greater business than eating; I will leave
this Gentleman with you.
Exeunt Count. & Mes.
Laza.
No, no, no, no: now doe I feel that strain'd strugling
within me, that I think I could prophesie.
Mer.
The Gentleman is meditating.
Laza.
Hunger, valour, love, ambition are alike pleasing,
and let our Philosophers say what they will, are one kind
of heat, only hunger is the safest: ambition is apt to fall;
love and valour are not free from dangers; only hunger,
begotten of some old limber Courtier, in pan'de hose, and
nurs'd by an Attourneys wife; now so thriven, that he need
not fear to be of the great Turks guard: is so free from
all quarrels and dangers, so full of hopes, joyes, and ticklings,
that my life is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.
Enter Lazarello's boy.
Boy.
Sir the Fish head is gone.
Laza.
Then be thou henceforth dumb, with thy ill-boding voice.
Farewell, Millain, farewell Noble Duke,
Farewell my fellow Courtiers all, with whom,
I have of yore made many a scrambling meal
In corners, behind Arasses, on stairs;
And in the action oftentimes have spoil'd,
Our Doublets and our Hose with liquid stuff:
Farewell you lusty Archers of the Guard,
To whom I now doe give the bucklers up,
And never more with any of your coat
Will eat for wagers, now you happy be,
When this shall light upon you, think on me:
You sewers, carvers, ushers of the court
Sirnamed gentle for your fair demean,
Here I doe take of you my last farewell,
May you stand stifly in your proper places, and execute your offices aright.
Farewell you Maidens, with your mother eke,
Farewell you courtly Chaplains that be there
All good attend you, may you never more
Marry your Patrons Ladys wayting-woman,
But may you raised be by this my fall
May Lazarillo suffer for you all.
Merc.
Sir I was hearkning to you.
Laz.
I will hear nothing, I will break my knife, the Ensign
of my former happy state, knock out my teeth, have them
hung at a Barbers, and enter into Religion.
Boy.
Why Sir, I think I know whither it is gone.
Laza.
See the rashness of man in his nature, whither? I
do unsay all that I have said, go on, go on: Boy, I humble
my self and follow thee; Farewell Sir.
Mer.
Not so Sir, you shall take a piece of Beef with me.
Laz.
I cannot stay.
Mer.
By my fay but you shall Sir, in regard of your love
to learning, and your skill in the black Art.
Laz.
I do hate learning, and I have no skill in black Art, I would I had.
Mer.
Why your desire is sufficient to me, you shall stay.
Laz.
The most horrible and detested curses that can be
imagined, light upon all the professors of that Art; may
they be drunk, and when they goe to conjure, and reel in
the Circle, may the spirits by them rais'd, tear 'em in pieces,
and hang their quarters on old broken walls and Steeple tops.
Mer.
This speech of yours, shews you to have some skill in
the Science, wherefore in civilitie, I may not suffer you to
depart empty.
Laz.
My stomach is up, I cannot endure it, I will fight
in this quarrell as soon as for my Prince.
Exeunt Omnes.
Room, make way:
Hunger commands, my valour must obey.
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