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Scæna secunda.
Enter Theodosia. and Phillipo on several Beds.Theo.
Oh,—ho—? oh—ho?
Phil.
Ha?
Theo.
Oh—oh? heart—heart—heart—heart?
Phil.
What's that?
Theo.
When wilt thou break?—break, break, break?
Phil.
Ha?
I would the voice were strong, or I neerer,
Theo.
Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?
Phil.
Done?
Theo.
And to no end: what a wild Jorney
Have I more wildly undertaken?
Phil.
Jorney?
Theo.
How without counsel? care? reason? or fear?
Phil.
Whither wil this fit carry?
Theo.
O my folly:
Phil.
This is no common sickness.
Theo.
How have I left
All I should love, or keep? ô heaven.
Phil.
Sir.
Theo.
Ha?
Phil.
How do you gentle Sir?
Theo.
Alas my fortune
Ph.
It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness
Let me bear half Sir: a divided burthen
Is so made lighter.
Theo.
Oh,
Phil.
That sigh betrayes
The fulness of your grief:
Theo.
I, if that grief
Had not bereft me of my understanding,
I should have wel remembred where I was,
And in what company; and clapt a lock
Upon this tongue for talking.
Phil.
Worthy Sir
Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard
A sigh, or groan come from you: That is all Sir:
The.
Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,
Would I had taken poppy when I spake it.
Phil.
It seems you have an ill belief of me
And would have feard much more, had you spoke ought
I could interpret. But beleeve it Sir
Had I had means to look into your breast,
And tane you sleeping here, that so securely
I might have read, all that your woe would hide
I would not have betrayd you.
Theo.
Sir that speech
Is very noble, and almost would tempt
My need to trust you.
Phil.
At your own election,
I dare not make my faith so much suspected
As to protest again: nor am I curious
To know more then is fit.
Theo.
Sir I wil trust you
But you shal promise Sir to keep your bed,
And whatsoe'er you hear, not to importune
More I beseech you from me.
Phil.
Sir I wil not.
Theo.
Then I am proan to utter.
Phil.
My faith for it.
Theo.
If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace
You wil be noble.
Phil.
You shal make me so
If you'l but think me such.
Theo.
I do: then know
You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk so long.
I am a most unfortunate lost woman.
Phil.
Ha?
Theo.
Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.
Phil.
Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.
Theo.
You'l keep your faith.
Phil.
Ile perish else.
Theo.
Beleeve then
Of birth too noble for me, so descended—
I am ashamd, no less then I am affrighted.
Phil.
Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.
Theo.
I am the daughter of a noble Gentleman
Born in this part of Spain: my fathers name Sir:
But why should I abuse that reverence
When a childs duty has forsaken me.
Phil.
All may be mended: in fit time too: speak it
Theo.
Alphonso, sir.
Phil.
Alphonso? what's your own name?
Theo.
Any base thing you can invent.
Phil.
Deal truely.
Theo.
They call me Theodosia
Phi.
Ha? and love
Is that that hath chang'd you thus?
Theo.
Ye have observ'd me
Too neerly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:
And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?
Why should they use their arts to cozen us?
That have no cunning, but our fears about us?
And ever that too late to; no dissembling
Or double way but doating: too much loving?
Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?
Phil.
What may his name be?
Theo.
Sir a name that promises
Me thinks no such ill usage: Mark-antonio
A noble neighbours Son: Now I must desire ye
To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.
Phil.
I will:—Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?
Theo.
His best a theef Sir: that he would be known by;
Is, heir to Leonardo, a rich Gentleman:
Next, of a handsome body, had heaven made him
A minde fit to it. To this man, my fortune,
(My more then purblind fortune) grave my faith,
Drawn to it by as many shews of service
And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:
6
Phil.
'Tis wel said: forward Lady.
Theo.
Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings
Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd
But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.
For that I must confess was the first wise doubt
I ever made: yet after all this love sir,
All this profession of his faith; when dayly
And hourly I expected the blest priest
Hee left me like a dream, as all this story
Had never been, nor thought of, why I know not;
Yet I have called my conscience to confession,
And every sillable that might offend
I have had in shrift: yet neither loves law Signiour,
Nor try of maidens duty, but desiring
Have I transgrest in: left his father too,
Nor whither he is gone, or why departed
Can any tongue resolve mee: All my hope
(Which keeps mee yet alive, and would perswade mee
I may be once more happy, and thus shapes mee
A shame to all my modest sex) is this Sir,
I have a Brother and his old Companion,
Studient in Sallimanca, there my last hope
If hee bee yet alive, and can be loving
Is left mee to recover him: For which travel
In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers
Thus as you find mee, without fear, or wisdom,
I have wander'd from my father, fled my friends,
And now am only child of hope and danger:
You are now silent Sir: this tedious story
(That ever keeps mee waking) makes you heavy:
'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I
Can be but troubles.
Phil.
No, I sleep not Lady:
I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort.
Theo.
What aile you gentle Sir?
Phil.
Oh.
Theo.
Why do you groan so?
Phil.
I must, I must; oh misery.
Theo.
But now Sir
You were my comfort: if any thing afflict yee
Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule.
Phil.
No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,
But 'tis not in your power.
Theo.
I fear intemperance.
Phil.
Nay do not seek to shun mee: I must see you:
By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:
Strive not, I wil not stir ye.
Theo.
Noble Sir
This is a breach of promise.
Phil.
Tender Lady
It shal be none but necessary: hoa, there,
Some light, some light for heavens sake.
Theo.
Wil ye betray mee?
Are ye a gentleman?
Phil.
Good woman:
Theo.
Sir.
Enter Diego with a light.
Phil.
If I be prejudicial to you, curse mee.
Dieg.
Ye are early stirring sir.
Phil.
Give mee your Candle
And so good morrow for a while.
Dieg.
Good morrow Sir.
Exit.
Theo.
My Brother Don Philippo; nay Sir, kil mee
I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
Behold in infinite these foul dishonors
My noble Father, then your self: last all
That bear the name of kindred, suffer in mee:
I have forgot whose child I am, whose Sister:
Do you forget the pity tyed to that:
Let not compassion sway you: you wil be then
As foul as I, and bear the same brond with me,
A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword sir,
And such a cause to kil me in.
Phil.
Rise Sister:
I wear no sword for women: nor no anger
While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.
Theo.
By those bright starrs, it is Sir.
Phil.
For my Sister
I do beleeve ye: and so neer blood has made us
With the dear love I ever bore your vertues
That I wil be a Brother to your griefs too:
Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
To love, nor to love him you do: he is a gentleman
Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
As there be growing truths, and great ones.
Theo.
O sir!
Phil.
Do not despair.
Theo.
Can ye forgive?
Phil.
Yes Sister,
Though this be no smal error, a far greater.
Theo.
And think me stil your Sister?
Phil.
My dear Sister.
Theo.
And wil you counsel mee?
Phil.
To your own peace too:
Ye shal love stil.
Theo.
How good ye are?
Phil.
My business,
And duty to my father, which now drew mee
From Salimanca, I wil lay aside
And only be your Agent to perswade ye
To leave both love, and him, and wel retyre ye.
Theo.
Oh gentle Brother.
Phil.
I perceive 'tis folly:
Delayes in love, more dangerous.
Theo.
Noble Brother.
Phil.
Fear not, ile run your own way: and to help you,
Love having rackt your passions beyond counsel:
Ile hazard mine own fame: whither shal we venture?
Theo.
Alas, I know not Sir.
Phil.
Come, 'tis bright morning
Let's walk out, and consider: you'l keep this habit.
Theo.
I would sir.
Phil.
Then it shal be: what must I cal ye?
Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.
Theo.
Pray cal me Theodoro.
Enter Diego.
Dieg.
Are ye ready?
The day draws on a pace: once more good morrow.
Theo.
Good morrow gentle Host: now I must thank ye:
Phil.
Who do'st thou think this is?
Die.
Were you a wench Sir
I think you would know before me.
Phi.
Mine own Brother.
Diego.
By'th Masse your noses are a kin: should I then
Have been so barbarous to have parted Brothers?
Phi.
You knew it then.
Diego.
I knew 'twas necessary
You should be both together: Instinct Signior
Is a great matter in an Host.
Theo.
I am satisfied.
Enter Pedro.
Ped.
Is not mine Host up yet?
Phil.
Who's that?
Die.
Ile see.
Phil.
Sister, withdraw your self.
7
Signiour Philippo
Phil.
Noble Don Pedro, where have you been this way?
Pedr.
I came from Port St Maries, whence the Gallyes
Put this last tide, and bound for Barcellona,
I brought Mark-antonie upon his way.
Phil.
Marc-antonie?
Pedr.
Who is turn'd Soldier
And entertain'd in the new Regiment,
For Naples.
Phil.
Is it possible?
Pedr.
I assure you.
Phil.
And pot they in at Barcellona?
Pedr.
So
One of the Masters told me.
Phil.
Which way go you Sir?
Pedr.
Home:
Phil.
And I for Civill: pray you Sir, say not
That you saw me, if you shall meet the question,
I have some little businesse
Pedr.
Were it lesse Sir.
It shall not become me, to loose the caution:
Shall we break-fast together?
Phil.
Ile come to you Sir:
Sister you hear this: I beleeve your fortune
Begins to be propitious to you: we will hire
Mules of mine host here: if we can himself
To be our guid, and streight to Barcellona,
This was as happy news, as unexpected
Stay you, till I rid him away.
Theo.
I will.
Exeunt.
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