 | Loves Pilgrimage |  |
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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