 | Loves Pilgrimage |  |
Scena secunda.
Enter Theodosia, and Leocadia.Theo.
Signior Francisco why I draw you hither
To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me
My innocence yet never knew ill dealing,
And as ye have a noble temper, start not
Into offence, at any thing my knowledg,
And for your special good, would be inform'd of,
Nor think me vainly curious.
Leoc.
Worthy Sir,
The courtesies you and your noble Brother
Even then when few men find the way to do 'em,
I mean in want, so freely showrd upon me,
So truly and so timely minister'd,
Must if I should suspect those minds that made 'em,
Either proclaim me an unworthy taker,
Or worse, a base believer; Speak your mind Sir
Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.
The.
Then my yong Sir, know since our first acquaintance
Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not
To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior,
I have beheld ye narrowly; more blushes!
Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye
A thing confest already; yet more blushes?
You would ill cover an offence might sink ye
That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so?
I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand
Was never made for hardness, nor those eys.
Come do not hide 'em, for rough objects, hark ye,
Ye have betrayd your self, that sigh confirms me;
An other? and a third to? then I see
These Boys clothes do but pinch ye, come be liberal,
Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not
That loaden soul that labors to be open:
Now you must weep, I know it, for I see
Your eys down laden to the lids, another
Manifest token that my doubts are perfect;
Yet I have found a greater; till me this
Why were these holes left open, there was an error,
A foul one my Francisco, have I caught ye?
O pretty Sir, the custom of our Country
Allows men none in this place: Now the showr comes.
Leoc.
O Signior Theodoro.
Theo.
This sorrow shews so sweetly
I cannot chuse but keep it company:
Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness
by all those perfect hopes that point at vertue
By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for,
If any sad mis-fortune have thus form'd ye,
That either care or counsel may redeem,
Pain, purse, or any thing within the power
And honor of free Gentlemen, reveal it,
And have our labors.
Leoc.
I have found ye noble
And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain,
Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman,
The great example of a wretched woman;
Here you must give me leave to shew my Sex;
And now to make ye know how much your credit
Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience,
Ile tell you my unfortunate sad story.
Theo.
Sit down and say on Lady.
Leoc.
I am born Sir
Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble,
And not to lye, the daughter of Don Zanchio,
If my unhappy fortune have not lost me:
My name cal'd Leocadia, even the same
Your worthy brother did the special honor
To name for beautiful; and without pride
I have been often made believe so Signior;
But thats impertinent: Now to my sorrows;
Not far from us a Gentleman of worth,
A neighbor and a noble visitor,
Had his aboad; who often met my Father
In gentle sports of chase, and river hawking,
In course and riding, and with him often brought
A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman,
Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection,
A sprighly man, of understanding excellent,
Of speech, and civill 'havior, no less powerful;
And of all parts, else my eys lyed, abundant:
We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance
Neerer into affection; from affection
Into belief.
Theo.
Well.
Leoc.
Then we durst kiss.
Theo.
Go forward.
Leoc.
But O man, man, unconstant, careless man,
O subtile man, how many are thy mischiefs?
O Marck-antonio, I may curse those kisses.
Theo.
What did you call him Lady?
Leoc.
Mark antonio,
The name to me of misery.
Theo.
Pray foreward.
Leoc.
From these we bred desires Sir: but lose me heaven
If mine were lustful.
Theo.
I believe.
Leoc.
This neerness
Made him importunate: When to save mine honor
Love having full possession of my powers,
I got a contract from him.
Theo.
Sealed?
Leoc.
And sworn too:
Which since for some offence heaven laid upon me
I lost among my moneys in the robbery,
The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him
Fool that I was, and too too credulous,
I pointed him a by-way to my chamber
The next night at an hour.
Theo.
Pray stay there Lady:
And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye?
Be not so shamefast: had he both your wishes?
14
Were ye in one anothers arms, abed? the Contract
Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye?
Answer to that; ha? did your father know this,
The good old man, or kindred privy to't?
And had ye their consents? did that nights promise
Make ye a Mother?
Leoc.
Why do you ask so neerly?
Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?
Theo.
No Lady,
Only the pitty why you should be used so,
A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?
Leoc.
No, no Signior,
Alas he never came nor never meant it,
My love was fool'd, time numbred to no end,
My expectation flouted, and ghess you Sir,
What dor unto a doating Maid this was,
What a base breaking off.
Theo.
All's well then Lady;
Go forward in your Story.
Leoc.
Not only fail'd Sir
Which is a curse in love, and may he find it
When his affections are full wing'd, and ready
To stoop upon the quarry, then when all
His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir
But more injurious, faithless, treacherous,
Within two days fame gave him far remov'd
With a new love, which much against my conscience
But more against my cause, which is my hell
I must confess a fair one, a right fair one,
Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter
Unto another of our noble neighbors
The thief cal'd Theodosia; whose perfections
I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles,
As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches,
For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench
Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory
And left me nothing but these tears, and travel:
Upon this certain news, I quit my Father
And if you be not milder in construction
I fear mine honor too; and like a Page
Stole to Ossuna: from that place to Civill,
From thence to Barcellona I was travelling
When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of
Gallies bound up for Italy; for never
Will I leave off the search of this bad man
This filcher of affections, this love Pedler,
Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties
And make her name as wandring as her nature
Till standing face to face before their lusts
I call heavens justice down.
Theo.
This shows too angry
Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd,
If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?
Leoc.
She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it
And in despight of me to drown my blessings
Which she shall dearly know.
Theo.
Ye are too violent.
Leoc.
She has Devils in her eys, to whose devotion
He offers all his service.
Theo.
Who can say
But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders
From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise
Has he not still the same rule to deceive?
Leoc.
No, no they are together, love together
Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together,
Live, and delight together, and such deceipt
Give me in a wild desert.
Theo.
By your leave Lady
I see no honor in this cunning.
Leoc.
Honor?
True, none of her part, honor, she deserves none,
'Tis ceas'd with wandering Ladies such as she is,
So bold and impudent.
Theo.
I could be angry
Extreamly angry now beyond my nature
And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man
is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady
I know the maid, and know she is not with him.
Leoc.
I would you knew she were in heaven.
Theo.
And so well know her
That I think you are cozend.
Leoc.
So I say Sir.
Theo.
I mean in her behaviour
For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit
She never yet delighted to do wrong:
Leoc.
How can she then delight in him; dare she think
Be what she will, as excellent as Angels
My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent
That I must take her prewnings; stoop at that
She has tyr'd upon: No Sir, I hold my beauty
Wash but these sorrows from it; of a sparkle
As right and rich as hers, my means as equal,
My youth as much unblown: and for our worths
And waight of vertue.
Theo.
Do not task her so far.
Leo.
By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light sir, vapor
But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts,
Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art
And only art preserves her, and meer spels
That work upon his powers: let her but shew me
A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour
And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows
An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shadows
And wrinckle not the face: besides she is little
A demy dame that, that makes no object.
Theo.
Nay,
Then I must say you err: for credit me
I think she is taller then your self.
Leoc.
Why let her
It is not that shall mate me: I but ask
My hands may reach unto her.
Theo.
Gentle Lady
'Tis now ill time of further argument,
For I perceive your anger voyd of councel,
Which I could wish more temperate.
Leoc.
Pray forgive me
If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on
See more than we that play: and I beseech ye
Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments,
If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses
You must confesse are seldom ty'd to patience,
Yet I could wish I had said lesse.
Theo.
No harm then;
Ye have made a full amends; our Company
You may command, so please you in your travels
With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.
Leoc.
Ye make too great an offer.
Theo.
Then it shal be
Go in and rest your self, our wholsom dyet
Will be made ready straight: But hark ye Lady
One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance
That these things may be open to my Brother
For more respect and honour.
15
Do your pleasure.
Theo.
And do not change this habit by no means
Unless ye change your self.
Leoc.
Which must not yet be.
Theo.
It carries ye concealed and safe.
Leoc.
I am counsel'd.
Exit.
Enter Philippo.
Phil.
What's done?
Theo.
Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman,
And of a noble strain too, ghesse.
Phil.
I cannot.
Theo.
You have heard often of her.
Phil.
Stay I think not.
Theo.
Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair Leocadia
Daughter unto Don Zanchio, our noble neighbor.
Phil.
Nay?
Theo.
'Tis she Sir o' my credit.
Phil.
Leocadia,
Pish Leocadia, it must not be.
Theo.
It must be, or be nothing.
Phil.
Pray give me leave to wonder, Leocadia?
Theo.
The very same.
Phil.
The damsel Leocadia
I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one
I see it through her shape, transparant plain
But that it should be she; tell me directly.
Theo.
By heavens 'tis shee.
Phil.
By heaven then 'tis a sweet one.
Theo.
That's granted too.
Phil.
But heark ye, heark ye Sister,
How came she thus disguis'd?
Theo.
Ile tell you that too
As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.
Phil.
By the same man?
Theo.
The same too.
Phil.
As I live
You lovers have fine fancies,
Wonderous fine ones.
Theo.
Pray heaven you never make one.
Phil.
Faith I know not,
But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble,
'Tis a more Christian trade; pray tell me one thing
Are not you two now monstrous jealous
Of one another?
Theo.
She is much of me
And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully
And to my face, and o' my conscience
Had she but known me, either she or I
Or both, had parted with strange faces
She was in such a fury.
Phil.
Leocadia?
Do's she speak hansomly?
Theo.
Wondrous wel Sir
And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.
Phil.
How seem'd she when you found her?
Theo.
Had you seen
How sweetly fearfull her pretty self
Betray'd her self, how neat her sorrow show'd,
And in what hansom phrase shee put her story,
And as occasion stir'd her how she started
Though roughly, yet most aptly into anger
You would have wonder'd.
Phil.
Do's she know ye?
Theo.
No,
Nor must not by no means.
Phil.
How stands your difference?
Theo.
Ile tell ye that some fitter time, but trust me
My Marck-antonio has too much to answer.
Phil.
May I take knowledge of her?
Theo.
Yes she is willing.
Phil.
Pray use her as she is, with all respects then,
For she is a woman of a noble breeding.
Theo.
Ye shal not find me wanting.
Phil.
Which way bears she?
Theo.
Our way, and to our end.
Phil.
I am glad on't; heark ye,
She keeps her shape?
Enter Leocadia.
Theo.
Yes, and I think by this time
Has mew'd her old.
Phil.
She is here: by heaven a rare one,
An admirable sweet one, what an eye
Of what a full command she bears, how gracious
All her aspect shows; bless me from a feavor
I am not well o'th sodain.
Leoc.
Noble friends
Your meat and all my service waits upon ye.
Phil.
Ye teach us manners Lady; all which service
Must now be mine to you, and all too poor too;
Blush not, we know ye; for by all our faiths
With us your honor is in sanctuary
And ever shal be.
Leoc.
I do well beleeve it,
Will ye walk neerer Sir.
Exit.
Theo.
She shows still fairer,
Yonger in every change, and clearer, neater;
I know not, I may fool my self, and finely
Nourish a wolfe to eat my heart out; Certain
As she appears now, she appears a wonder,
A thing amazes me; what would she do then
In womans helps, in ornaments apt for her
And deckings to her delicacy? without all doubt
She would be held a miracle; nor can I think
He has forsaken her: Say what shee please,
I know his curious eye, or say he had,
Put case he could be so boy-blind and foolish,
Yet stil I fear she keeps the Contract with her
Not stolne as she affirms, nor lost by negligence,
She would loose her self first, 'tis her life, and there
All my hopes are dispatch'd; O noble love
That thou couldst be without this jealousie,
Without this passion of the heart, how heavenly
Would thou appear upon us? Come what may come
Ile see the end on't: and since chance has cast her
Naked into my refuge, all I can
She freely shal command, except the man.
Exit.
| Loves Pilgrimage | |