University of Virginia Library

Scæna Prima.

Enter Count and Arrigo.
Count.
Is the Duke private?

Arr.
He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.

Exit Count
Enter Gondarino.
Gond.
Who's with the Duke?

Arr.

The Count is new gone in, but the Duke will come

forth, before you can be weary of waiting.

Gond.

I will attend him here.

Arr.

I must wait without the door.

Exit Arrigo.

Gond.

Doth he hope to clear his Sister? she will come no
more to my house, to laugh at me: I have sent her to a habitation,
where when she shall be seen, it will set a gloss upon
her name; yet upon my soul I have bestow'd her
amongst the purest hearted creatures of her sex, and the
freest from dissimulation; for their deeds are all alike, only
they dare speak, what the rest think: the women of this age,
if there be any degrees of comparison amongst their sex,
are worse than those of former times; for I have read of
women, of that truth, spirit, and constancy; that were they
now living, I should endure to see them: but I fear the writers
of the time belied them, for how familiar a thing is it
with the Poets of our age, to extoll their whores, which
they call Mistresses, with heavenly praises? but I thank their
furies, and their craz'd brains, beyond belief: nay, how
many that would fain seem serious, have dedicated grave
Works to Ladies, toothless, hollow-ey'd, their hair shedding,
purple fac'd, their nails apparently coming off; and
the bridges of their noses broken down, and have call'd
them the choice handy works of nature, the patterns of
perfection, and the wonderment of Women. Our Women
begin to swarm like Bees in the Summer: as I came hither,
there was no pair of stairs, no entry, no lobby, but was pestred
with them: methinks there might be some course taken
to destroy them.

Enter Arrigo, and an old deaf countrey Gentlewoman suitor to the Duke.
Arri.

I do accept your money, walk here, and when the
Duke comes out, you shall have sit opportunity to deliver
your petition to him.

Gentlew.

I thank you heartily, I pray you who's he that
walks there?

Ar.

A Lord, and a Soldier, one in good favour with the
Duke; if you could get him to deliver your Petition—

Gentlew.

What do you say, Sir?

Ar.

If you could get him to deliver your petition for
you, or to second you, 'twere sure.

Gentlew.

I hope I shall live to requite your kindness.

Ar.

You have already.

Exit Arri.

Gentlew.

May it please your Lordship—

Gond.

No, no.

Gentlew.

To consider the estate—

Gond.

No.

Gentlew.

Of a poor oppressed countrey Gentlewoman.

Gond.

No, it doth not please my Lordship.

Gentlew.

First and formost, I have had great injury, then
I have been brought up to the Town three times.

Gond.

A pox on him, that brought thee to the Town.

Gentlew.

I thank your good Lordship heartily; though I
cannot hear well, I know it grieves you; and here we have
been delaid, and sent down again, and fetch'd up again, and
sent down again, to my great charge: and now at last they
have fetch'd me up, and five of my daughters—

Gond.

Enough to damn five worlds.

Gentlew.

Handsome young women, though I say it, they
are all without, if it please your Lordship I'll call them in.

Gond.

Five Women! how many of my sences should I
have left me then? call in five Devils first.

Gentlew.

I see your Lordship does believe, that they are
without, and I perceive you are much mov'd at our injury:
here's a paper will tell you more.

Gond.

Away.

Gentlew.

It may be you had rather hear me tell it viva
voce, as they say.

Gond.

Oh no, no, no, no, I have heard it before.

Gentlew.

Then you have heard of enough injury, for a
poor Gentlewoman to receive.

Gond.

Never, never, but that it troubles my conscience,
to wish any good to these women; I could afford them to be
valiant, and able, that it might be no disgrace for a Soldier
to beat them.

Gentlew.

I hope your Lordship will deliver my petition
to his grace, and you may tell him withal—

Gond.

What? I will deliver any thing against my self, to
be rid on thee.

Gentlew.

That yesterday about three a clock in the after
noon, I met my adversary.

Gond.

Give me thy paper, he can abide no long tales.

Gentlew.

'Tis very short my Lord, and I demanding of
him—

Gond.

I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn.

Gentlew,

How?

Gond.

I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn, begone: man
never doth remember how great his offences are, till he do
meet with one of you, that plagues him for them: why
should Women, above all other creatures that were created
for the benefit of man, have the use of speech? or why
should any deed of theirs, done by their fleshly appetites, be
disgraceful to their owners? nay, why should not an act
done by any beast I keep, against my consent, disparage
me as much as that of theirs?

Gentlew.

Here's some few Angels for your Lordship.

Gond.

Again? yet more torments?

Gentlew.

Indeed you shall have them.

Gond.

Keep off.

Gentlew.

A small gratuity for your kindness.

Gond.

Hold away.

Gentlew.

Why then I thank your Lordship, I'll gather
them up again, and I'll be sworn, it is the first money that
was refus'd since I came to the Court.

Gond.

What can she devise to say more?

Gentlew.

Truly I would have willingly parted with them
to your Lordship.

Gond.

I believe it, I believe it.

Gentlew.

But since it is thus—

Gond.

More yet.

Gentlew.

I will attend without, and expect an answer.

Gond.

Do, begone, and thou shalt expect, and have any
thing, thou shalt have thy answer from him; and he were
best to give thee a good one at first, for thy deaf importunity,
will conquer him too, in the end.

Gentlew.

God bless your Lordship, and all thar favour
a poor distressed countrey Gentlewoman.

Exit Gentlew.

Gond.

All the diseases of man light upon them that doe,
and upon me when I do. A week of such days, would either
make me stark mad or tame me: yonder other woman
that I have sure enough, shall answer for thy sins: dare
they incense me still, I will make them fear as much to be
ignorant of me and my moods, as men are to be ignorant
of the law they live under. Who's there? My bloud grew
cold, I began to fear my Suiters return; 'tis the Duke.

Enter the Duke and the Count.
Count.
I know her chaste, though she be young and free,
And is not of that forc'd behaviour
That many others are, and that this Lord,
Out of the boundless malice to the sex,
Hath thrown this scandal on her.

Gond.

Fortune befriended me against my Will, with this
good old countrey gentlewoman; I beseech your grace, to
view favourably the petition of a wronged Gentlewoman.

Duke.

What Gondarino, are you become a petitioner for
your enemies?

Gond.

My Lord, they are no enemies of mine, I confess,
the better to recover my deeds, which sometimes were loose

enough, I pretended it, as it is wisdom, to keep close our
incontinence, but since you have discover'd me, I will no
more put on that vizard, but will as freely open all my
thoughts to you, as to my Confessor.

Duke.
What say you to this?

Count.
He that confesses he did once dissemble,
I'll never trust his words: can you imagine
A Maid, whose beauty could not suffer her
To live thus long untempted, by the noblest,
Richest, and cunningst Masters in that Art
And yet hath ever held a fair repute;
Could in one morning, and by him be brought,
To forget all her virtue, and turn whore?

Gond.
I would I had some other talk in hand,
Than to accuse a Sister to her Brother:
Nor do I mean it for a publick scandal,
Unless by urging me you make it so.

Duke.
I will read this at better leisure:

Gond.
Where is the Lady?

Count.
At his house.

Gond.
No, she is departed thence,

Count.
Whither?

Gond.
Urge it not thus, or let me be excus'd,
If what I speak betray her chastity,
And both increase my sorrow, and your own?

Count.
Fear me not so, if she deserve the fame
Which she hath gotten, I would have it publisht,
Brand her my self, and whip her through the City:
I wish those of my bloud that doe offend,
Should be more strictly punish, than my foes.
Let it be prov'd.

Duke.

Gondarino, thou shalt prove it, or suffer worse
than she should do.

Gond.
Then pardon me, if I betray the faults
Of one, I love more dearly than my self,
Since opening hers, I shall betray mine own:
But I will bring you where she now intends
Not to be virtuous, pride and wantonness,
That are true friends indeed, though not in shew,
Have entr'd on her heart, there she doth bathe,
And sleek her hair, and practise cunning looks
To entertain me with; and hath her thoughts
As full of lust, as ever you did think
Them full of modesty.

Duke.
Gondarino, lead on, we'll follow thee.

Exeunt.