 | Loves Pilgrimage |  |
Act. IV.
Scaena I.
Enter Markantonio, and a Gentleman.Marc.
Sir, this is complement; I pray you leave me.
Gent.
Sir, is it not?
Marc.
Why? I would only see the Town.
Gent.
And only that I come to shew you.
Marc.
Which I can see without you.
Gent.
So you may
Plainly, not safely: For such difference
As you have seen betwixt the sea and earth
When waves rise high, and land would beat 'em back
As fearfull of Invasion; such we find
When we land here at Barcelona.
Marc.
Sir.
Gent.
Besides our Generall of the Gallyes, fearing
Your hasty nature, charg'd me not return
Without you safe.
Marc.
O Sir, that Rodorigo
Is noble, and he do's mistake my temper.
There is not in the world, a mind lesse apt
To conceive wrongs, or do 'em; ha's he seen me
In all this voyage, in the which he pleases
Enter Eugenia, with divers Attendents.
To call me friend, let slip a hasty word?
'S'light Sir: yonder is a Lady vaild,
For propernesse, beyond comparison,
And sure her face is like the rest: we'l see't.
Gent.
Why? you are hasty Sir already: know you
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Marc.
Yes, I would see
The womans face.
Gent.
By heaven you shall not do't:
You do not know the custome of the place:
Iob. Bacon ready to shoot off a Pistol.
To draw that curtain here, though she were mean,
Is mortall.
Marc.
Is it? earth must come to earth
At last, and by my troth, ile try it Sir.
Gent.
Then I must hold you fast. By all the faith
That can be plac'd in man, 'tis an attempt
More dangerous then death: 'tis death and shame:
I know the Lady well.
Marc.
Is she a Lady?
I shall the more desire to see her Sir.
Gent.
She is Alanso's wife, the Governor,
A noble gentleman.
Marc.
Then let me go,
If I can win her, you and I will govern
This Town Sir, fear it not, and we will alter
These barbarous customes then; for every Lady
Shall be seen daily, and seen over too.
Gent.
Come, do not jest, nor let your passions bear you
To such wild enterprises: hold you still,
For as I have a soul, you shall not do't.
Rod.
She is a Lady of unblemishd'd fame,
above.
And here to offer that affront, were base?
Hold on your way, and we will see the Town,
And overlook the Ladyes.
Marc.
I am school'd,
And promise you I will: But good Sir, see,
She will passe by us now; if hope I may
Salute her thus far off.
Gent.
'S foot, are you mad?
'Twill be as ill as th'other.
1. Attend.
What's the matter?
What would that fellow have?
Gent.
Good Sir forbear.
1. Atte.
It seems you are new landed: would you beg
Any thing here?
Marc.
Yes Sir, all happinesse
To that fair Lady, as I hope.
Gent.
Marckantonio.
Marc.
Her face, which needs no hiding: I would beg
A sight of.
Gent.
Now go on, for 'tis too late
To keep this from a tumult.
1. Attend.
Sirrah, you
Shall see a fitter object for your eyes,
Then a fair Ladies face.
Eug.
For heavens sake, raise not
A quarrell in the streets for me.
1. Attend.
Slip in then;
This is your door.
Eug.
Will you needs quarrell then?
1. Attend.
We must, or suffer
This outrage: is't not all your minds sirs, speak?
all.
Yes.
Eug.
Then I do beseech ye, let my Lord
Enter three or four Soldiers.
Not think the quarrell about mee; for 'tis not.
Exit.
Gent.
See, happily some of our Galley Soldiers
Are come a shore.
1. Attend.
Come on Sir, you shall see
Faces enough.
Gent.
Some one of you call to
Enter certain Townsmen.
Our Generall, the whole rore of the Town
Comes in upon us.
Marc.
I have seen Sir better
Perhaps, then that was cover'd; and will yet
Enter Philippo, Theodosia, and Leocadia.
See that, or spoil yours.
fight
Phil.
On: why start you back?
Theo.
Alas Sir, they are fighting.
Leoc.
Let's begon,
See, see, a hansome man strook down.
Gent.
Ho Generall,
Look out, Antonio is in distresse.
Enter Rodorigo above.
Theo.
Antonio?
Leoc.
Antonio! 'tis he.
Rod.
within.
Ho, Governor make a shot into the Town,
Ile part you: bring away Antonio
a shot.
Into my Cabben.
Exit Attendents and Townsmen.
Gent.
I will do that office.
I fear It is the last, that I shall do him.
Exit Soldiers and Gentlemen with Marckantonio.
Theo.
The last, why will he die?
Leoc.
Since I have found him: happinesse leave me,
When I leave him.
Exit.
Phil.
Why Theodosia?
My Sister; wake: alas, I griev'd but now
To see the streets so full; and now I grieve
To see 'em left so empty: I could wish,
Tumult himself were here, that yet at least
Amongst the band, I might espie some face
So pale and fearfull, that would willingly
Embrace an arrand for a Cordiall,
Or Aquavitæ, or a cup of sack,
Or a Phisitian: But to talk of these
She breaths: stand up, O Theodosia,
Speak but as thou wert wont, give but a sigh,
Which is but the most unhappy peece of life,
And I will ever after worship Sadnes,
Apply my self to grief; prepare and build
Altars to sorrow.
Theo.
O Philippo, help me.
Phil.
I do; these are my arms; Philippo's arms,
Thy Brothers arms that hold thee up.
Theo.
You help me
To life: but I would see Antonio
That's dead.
Phil.
Thou shalt see any thing; how dost thou?
Theo.
Better, I thank you.
Phil.
Why that's well: call up
Thy sences, and uncloud thy cover'd spirits.
How now?
Theo.
Recover'd: but Antonio,
Where is he?
Phil.
We will find him: art thou well?
Theo.
Perfectly well, saving the misse of him;
And I do charge you here, by our allyance,
And by the love which would have been betwixt us,
Knew we no kindred; by that killing fear,
Mingled with twenty thousand hopes and doubts,
Which you may think, plac'd in a Lovers heart,
And in a Virgins too, when she wants help,
To grant me your assistance, to find out
This man alive, or dead; and I will pay you
In service, tears, or prayers, a world of wealth:
But other treasure, I have none: alas!
You men have strong hearts; but we feeble maids
Have tender eyes, which only given be
19
Phil.
Why do'st thou charge me thus? have I been found
Slow to perform, what I could but imagine
Thy wishes were; have I at any time
Tender'd a businesse of mine own, beyond
A vanity of thine? have I not been
As if I were a senslesse creature, made
To serve thee without pow'r of questioning,
If so, why fear'st thou?
Theo.
I am satisfied.
Phil.
Come, then let's go: wher's Leocadia?
Theo.
I know not Sir.
Phil.
Wher's Leocadia?
Theo.
I do not know.
Phil.
Leocadia,
This Tumult made the streets as dead as night,
A man may talk as freely: what's become
Of Leocadia?
Theo.
She's run away.
Phil.
Begone, and let us never more behold
Each others face, till we may both together
Fasten our eyes on her: accursed be
Those tender cozening names of charity,
And naturall affection, they have lost
Me only by observing them, what cost
Travell, and fruitlesse wishes may in vain
Search through the world, but never find again.
Theo.
Good Sir be patient, I have done no fault
Worthy this banishment.
Phil.
Yes, Leocadia,
The Lady so distress'd, who was content
To lay her story, and to lay her heart
As open as her story to your self,
Who was content, that I should know her Sex,
Before dissembl'd, and to put her self
Into my conduct, when I undertook
Safely to guard, is in this Tumult lost.
Theo.
And can I help it Sir?
Phil.
No, would thou couldst,
You might have done, but for that scale religion
You woman bear to swownings, you do pick
Your times to faint, when some body is by:
Bound or by nature, or by love, or service
To raise you from that well dissembled death:
Inform me but of one that has been found
Dead in her private chamber by her self,
Where sicknesse would no more forbear, then here,
And I will quit the rest for her.
Theo.
I know not
What they may do, and how they may dissemble;
But by my troth, I did not.
Phil.
By my troth,
Would I had try'd; would I had let thee layen,
And followed her.
Theo.
I would you had done so
Rather, then been so angry: wher's Antonio?
Phil.
Why do'st thou vex me with these questions?
Ile tell thee where, he's carried to the Gallyes,
There to be chain'd, and row, and beat, and row
With knotted ropes, and pizzels; if he swound,
He has a dotes of bisket.
Theo.
I am glad
He is alive.
Phil.
Was ever man thus troubled,
Tell me where Leocadia is?
Theo.
Good brother be not so hasty, and I think I can:
You found no error in me, when I first
Told you she was a woman, and beleeve me
Something I have found out, which makes me think,
Nay, almost know so well, that I durst swear
She follow'd hurt Antonio.
Phil.
What do we
Enter the Governor, two Attendents, and the Townsmen.
Then lingring here; we will aboard the Gallyes
And find her.
Gov.
Made he a shot into the Town?
1. Attend.
He did Sir.
Gov.
Call back those Gentlemen.
1. Attend.
The Governour, commands you back.
Phil.
We will obey him Sir.
Gov.
You gave him cause to shoot, I know; he is
So far from rash offence, and holds with me
Such curious friendship: could not one of you
Have call'd me while 'twas doing, such an uproar,
Before my dore too?
1. Townsm.
By my troth Sir, we were so busy in the publick cause, of our own
Private falling out, that we forgot it; at home we see now
You were not, but as soon as the shot made us fly, we ran
Away as fast as we could to seek your honour.
Gov.
'Twas gravely done; but no man tels the cause
Or chance, or what it was that made you differ.
1. Towns.
For my part Sir, if there were any that I knew
Of, the shot drove it out of my head: do you know any neighbours.
all.
Not we, not we.
Gov.
Not we! nor can you tell.
1. Attend.
No other cause,
But the old quarrell betwixt the Town and the Gallyes.
Gov.
Come neerer Gentlemen: what are your names?
Phil.
My name Philippo.
Theo.
And mine Theodoro.
Gov.
Strangers you are it seems.
Phil.
Newly ariv'd.
Gov.
Then you are they begun this Tumult.
Phil.
No Sir.
Gov.
Speak one of you.
1. Attend.
They are not, I can quiet 'em.
Theo.
Yet we saw part, and an unhappy part
Of this debate, a long sought friend of ours
Strook down for dead, and borne unto the Gallyes,
His name is Markantonio.
Phil.
And another
Of our own company, a Gentleman
Of noble birth, besides accompanied
With all the gifts of nature, ravish'd hence
We know not how, in this dissention.
Gov.
Get you home all, and work; and when I hear
You meddle with a weapon any more
But those belonging to your Trades, ile lay you
Where your best Customers shall hardly find you.
Exit Townsmen.
I am sorry gentlemen, I troubled you,
Being both strangers; by your tongues, and looks,
Of worth: To make ye some part of amends
If there be any thing in this poor Town
Of Barcelona that you would command,
Command me.
Theo.
Sir, this wounded Gentleman,
If it might please you, if your pow'r and love
Extend so far, I would be glad to wish
Might be remov'd into the Town for cure:
The Gallyes stay not, and his wound I know
Cannot endure a voyage.
Gov.
Sir, he shall,
I warrant you: Go call me hither Sirrah,
One of my other Servants.
Exit 1. attendant.
Phil.
And besides.
20
Shall he be render'd too.
Enter a Servant, Rawl: Ashton.
Gover.
And he Sir too: Go sirrah, bear this ring
To Rodorigo, my most noble friend,
The Generall of the Gallys: Tell him this.
Exit servant:
Theo.
Now we shall have 'em both.
Phil.
Blest be thy thoughts
For apprehending this: blest be thy breath
For utring it.
Gover.
Come gentlemen, you shall
Enter my roof: and I will send for Surgeons,
And you shall see your friends here presently.
Theo.
His name was Markantonio.
Gover.
I know it,
And have sent word so.
Phil.
Did you not forget
Francisco's name?
Gover.
Nor his: you'ar truly welcome,
To talk about it more, were but to say
The same word often over: you are welcome.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Markantonio, carried. Leocadia following, and the Servant. 2 Soldiers carrying him.Serv.
This is the house Sir.
Mar.
Enter it, I pray you,
For I am faint, although I think my wound
Be nothing. Soldiers, leave us now: I thank you.
1. Sold.
Heaven send you health Sir.
Serv.
Let me lead you in.
Mark.
My wounds not in my feet; I shall entreat 'em
I hope to bear me so far.
Exit.
2. Sold.
How seriously these land men fled, when our Generall made a
Shot, as if he had been a warning to cal 'em to their Hall.
1. Sold.
I cannot blame 'em: What a man have they now in the
Town, able to maintain a Tumult, or uphold a matter out
Of square if need be: O the quiet hurley burleys that I
Have seen in this Town, when we have fought four howrs
Together, and not a man amongst us so impertinent or
Modest to ask why? but now the pillars that bare
Up this blessed Town in that regular debate, and
Scambling, are dead, the more's the pity.
2. Sold.
Old Ignatio lives still.
1. Sold.
Yes, I know him: he will do pretily well at a mans liver:
But where is there a man now living in the Town
That hath a steady hand, and understands Anotomy
Well? if it come to a particular matter of the lungs,
Or the spleen, why? alas Ignatio is to seek; are
There any such men left as I have known, that
Would say they would hit you in this place? is there
Ever a good heartist, or a member percer, or a
Small-gut man left in the Town, answer
Me that.
2. Sold.
Masse, I think there be not.
1. Sold.
No, I warrant thee. Come, come, 'tis time
We were at the Gallys.
Exeunt.
Enter Governour, Eugenia, Markantonio, Philippo, Theodosia, Leocadia, Attendants.
Gover.
Sir, you may know by what I said already,
You may command my house; but I must beg
Pardon to leave you, if the publique businesse
Forc'd me not from you, I my self should call it
Unmannerly: but good Sir, do you give it
A milder name: it shall not be an houre
Ere I return.
Marc.
Sir, I was nere so poor
In my own thoughts, as that I want a means
To requite this with.
Gover.
Sir, within this houre.
Exit.
Marc.
This the Lady that I quarrell'd for:
O lust, if wounds cannot restrain thy power,
Let shame: nor do I feel my hurt at all,
Nor is it ought, only I was well beaten:
If I pursue it, all the civill world
That ever did imagine the content
Found in the band of man and wife unbroke,
The reverence due to housholds, or the blemish
That may be stuck upon posterity
Will catch me, bind me, burn upon my forehead,
This is the wounded stranger, that receiv'd
For charity into a house, attempted:
I will not do it.
Eug.
Sir, how do you now?
That you walk off.
Marc.
Worse Madam, then I was;
But it will over.
Eug.
Sit, and rest a while.
Marc.
Where are the Surgeons?
Eug.
Sir, it is their manner,
When they have seen the wound especially,
The patient being of worth, to go consult,
Which they are now at in another room,
About the dressing.
Marc.
Madam, I do feel
My self not well.
Theo.
Alas!
Leoc.
How do you Sir.
Eug.
Will you drink waters?
Marc.
No good Madam, 'tis not
So violent upon me; nor I think
Any thing dangerous: But yet there are
Some things that sit so heavy on my conscience
That will perplex my mind, and stop my cure,
So that unlesse I utter 'em. A scratch
Here on my thumb will kill me: Gentlemen,
I pray you leave the room, and come not in
Your selves, or any other till I have
Open'd my self to this most honour'd Lady.
Phil.
We will not.
Theo.
O blest! he will discover now
His love to me.
Leoc.
Now he will tell the Lady
Our Contract.
Exit.
Eug.
I do beleeve he will confesse to me
The wrong he did a Lady in the streets;
But I forgive him.
Marc.
Madam, I perceive
My self grow worse and worse.
Eug.
Shall I call back your friends?
Marc.
O no; but ere I do impart
What burthens me so sore, let me entreat you,
(For there is no trust in these Surgeons)
To look upon my wound; it is perhaps
My last request: But tell me truly too,
That must be in: how far you do imagine
Ir will have pow'r upon me.
Eug.
Sir, I will.
Marc.
For heavens sake, softly: oh, I must needs lay
My head down easily, whilst you do it.
Eug.
Do Sir,
'Tis but an ordinary blow; a child
Of mine has had a greater, and been well;
Are you faint hearted?
21
Oh.
Eug.
Why do you sigh?
There is no danger in the world in this;
I wonder it should make a man sit down;
What do you mean, why do you kisse my breasts?
Lift up your head, your wound, may well endure it.
Mar.
O Madam, may I not expresse affection,
Dying-affection too I fear, to those
That do me favors, such as this of yours.
Eug.
If you mean so, 'tis well; but what's the busines
Lies on your conscience?
Mar.
I will tell you Madam.
Eug.
Tel me, and laugh?
Mar.
But I wil tel you true
Though I do laugh, I know as well as you
My wound is nothing, nor the power of earth
Could lay a wound upon me, in your presence,
That I could feel; But I do laugh to think
How covertly, how far beyond the reach
Of men, and wisemen too, we shal deceive 'em,
Whilst they imagine I am talking here
With that short breath I have, ready to swound
At every full point; you my ghostly Mother
To hear my sad confession, you and I
Will on that bed within, prepar'd for me,
Debate the matter privately.
Eug.
Forbear,
Thou wert but now as welcome to this house
As certain cures to sick men, and just now
This sodain alteration makes thee look
Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst
How loathsom thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat
These walls, or postes to help thee to a hurt,
Past thy dissimulation.
Mar.
Gentle Madam
Cal 'em not in?
Eug.
I will not yee, this place
I know to be within the reach of tongue,
And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me
What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born
To end some way more disesteem'd then this,
Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet,
Come gentlemen.
Enter Leocadia.
Mar.
Good Modam.
Eug.
Gentlemen.
Leoc.
Madam how is't? is Mark-antonio well?
Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see
A strange distemper in you.
Eug.
I am wrought
By that dissembling man, that fellow worth
Nothing but kicking.
Enter Philippo, and Theodosia.
Leo.
Gentle Madam speak
To me alone, let not them understand
His fault, he wil repent it I dare swear.
Eug.
Ile tell it you in private.
Phil.
Mark-antonio,
How do you?
Mar.
Stand further off I pray you
Give me some ayre.
Theo.
Good Brother, wil he scape,
The Surgeons say there is no danger.
Phil.
Scape?
No doubt he wil.
Leo.
Alas wil he not leave
This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you
Let me but speak to him, you and these by,
And I dare almost promise you to make him
Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shal open to you,
Not put in so good words but in it self
So full of chance, that you wil easily
Forgive my tediousnesse, and be wel pleas'd
With that so much afflicts me.
Eug.
Good Sir do.
Leo.
And I desire no interruption
Of speech may trouble me, till I have said
What I wil quickly do.
Theo.
What wil she say?
Eug.
Come gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears,
And keep your voyces.
Leo.
Signior Mark-antonio
How do you?
Mar.
Oh the Surgeons.
Leoc.
Let me tel you
Who know as wel as you, you do dissemble,
It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts
Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood,
And make your spirit an untroubled way
To passe to what it ought.
Mar.
You'r not in earnest?
Why I can walk Sir, and am wel.
Leoc.
'Tis true
That you can walk, and do beleeve you'r wel:
It is the nature, as your Surgeons say
Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk,
Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute:
For heaven sake sir, sit down again.
Mar.
Alas
Where are the Surgeons?
Leoc.
Sir, they will not come,
If they should dresse you, you would dye they say
Ere one told twenty; trouble not your mind,
Keep your head warm, and do not stir you body,
And you may live an hour.
Mar.
Oh heavens, an hour?
Alas, it is to little to remember
But half the wrongs that I have done; how short
Then for contrition, and how least of all
For satisfaction?
Leo.
But you desire
To satisfie.
Mar.
Heaven knows I do.
Leo.
Then know
That I am he, or she, or what you will
Most wrong'd by you; your Leocadia,
I know you must remember me.
Mar.
Oh heaven!
Leo.
That lost her friends, that lost her fathers house,
That lost her fame, in loosing of her Sex,
With these strange garments, there is no excuse
To hinder me, it is within your power
To give me satisfaction; you have time
Left in this little peece of life to do it:
Therefore I charge you for your conscience sake,
And for our fame, which I would fain have live
When both of us are dead; to celebrate
That Contract; which you have both seal'd and sworn
Yet ere you dye, which must be hastily
Heaven knows.
Mar.
Alas, the sting of conscience
To death-ward for our faults; draw neerer all
And hear what I unhappy man shal say;
First Madam I desire your pardon; next
22
Let me shake hands with you, and let's be friends,
For I have done wrong upon wrong so thick
I know not where, that every man methinks
should be mine enemy; Forgive me both.
Lastly 'tis true (oh I do feel the power
Of death seize on me) that I was contracted
By seal and oath to Leocadia;
(I must speak fast, because I fear my life
Will else be shorter then my speech would be)
But 'tis impossible to satisfie
You Leocadia, but by repentance,
Though I can dyingly, and boldly say
I know not your dishonor, yet that was
Your vertue, and not mine, you know it wel;
But herein lies th'impossibility,
O Theodosia, Theodosia
I was betroth'd to Theodosia
Before I ever saw thee; heaven forgive me
She is my wife this half hour whilst I live.
Theo.
That's I, that's I, I'me Theodosia,
Hear me a litle now, who have not suffer'd
Disgrace at all methinks, since you confess
What I so long have sought for, here is with me
Philippo too, my Brother.
Mar.
I am glad;
All happiness to him; Come let me kiss thee
Beg pardon of that Maid for my offence,
And let me further, with a dying breath
Tell in thine ear, the rest of my desires.
Eug.
I am afraid they wil all four turn women
If we hold longer talk.
Leoc.
Alas there is
No hope for me; that's Theodosia
And that her Brother, I am only sorry
I was beholding to 'em; I will search
Over the world, as carelesse of my fortunes,
As they of me, till I can meet a curse
To make these almost-killing sorrows worse.
Exit.
Theo.
Sir, as I live she ly'd, only to draw
A just confession from you, which she hath
A happy one for me, ask of this Lady,
Ask of my Brother.
Eug.
Sir, she did dissemble,
Your wound is nothing.
Phil.
Leocadia's gone.
Exit.
Theo.
Rise up, and stir your self, 'tis but amazement
And your imagination that afflicts you,
Look you Sir now.
Mar.
I think 'tis so indeed.
Theo.
The Surgeons do not come, because they swear
It needs no dressing.
Eug.
You shal talk with 'em
Within, for your own fancy.
Mar.
Where's your Brother And Leocadia?
Eug.
Within Belike.
Mar.
I feel my self methinks as well as ever.
Eug.
Keep then your mind so too; I do forgive
The fault you did to me; But here is one
Must not be wrong'd hereafter.
Mar.
Neither shall shee
When I make jests of oathes again, or make
My lust play with religion, when I leave
To keep true joyes for her, and yet within
My self true sorrow for my passed deeds
May I want grace, when I would fain repent,
And find a great and sodain punishment.
Exeunt.
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