 | VVomen pleas'd |  |
Actus Secundus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Rodope, and Silvio at severall doores.Rod.
Nephew.
Sil.
My deare Ant.
Rod.
Would you goe by thus slily
And never see me, not once send in to me
Your loving Neece? she that above all those
I call my Kindred honour'd you, and placed you
Nearest my heart?
Sil.
I thanke you worthy Cousen,
But such at this time are my occasions—
Rod.
You shall not goe yet, by my faith you shall not,
I will not be deny'd: why looke ye sad Nephew?
Sil.
I am seldome other: O, this blood sits heavy:
As I walk't this way late last night,
In meditation of some things concern'd me—
Rod.
What Nephew?
Sil.
Why me thought I heard a Peece, Lady,
A peece shot off, much about this place too,
But could not judge the cause, nor what it boaded,
Under the Castle wall.
Rod.
We heard it too,
And the Watch pursu'd it presently, but found nothing,
Not any tract.
Sil.
I am right glad to heare it:
The Ruffians surely, that command the night
Have found him, stript him: and into the River
Convey'd the body.
Rod.
You looke still sadder, Nephew,
Is any thing within these walls to comfort ye?
Speake, and be Master of it.
Sil.
Ye are a right Courtier,
A great Professor, but a poore performer.
Rod.
Do you doubt my faith: you never found me that way
I dare well speake it boldly, but a true friend.
Sil.
Continue then.
Rod.
Try me, and see who falters.
Sil.
I will, and presently: 'tis in your power
To make me the most bound man to your courtesie.
Rod.
Let me know how, and if I faile—
Sil.
'Tis thus then,
Get me accesse to the Lady Belvidere
But for a minute, but to see her: your Husband now
Is safe at Court, I left him full employ'd there.
Rod.
You have ask'd the thing without my power to grant ye,
The Law lyes on the danger: if I lov'd ye not
I would bid ye goe, and there be found, and dye for't.
Sil.
I knew your love, and where there shew'd a danger
How far you durst step for me: give me a true friend,
That where occasion is to doe a benefit
Aymes at the end, and not the rubs before it;
I was a foole to aske ye this, a more foole
To thinke a woman had so much noble nature
To entertaine a secret of this burthen;
Ye had best to tell the Dutchesse I perswaded ye,
That's a fine course, and one will win ye credit;
Forget the name of Cousen, blot my blood out,
And so you raise your selfe, let me grow shorter.
A woman friend? he that beleeves that weaknesse
Steeres in a stormy night without a Compasse.
Rod.
What is't I durst not do might not impeach ye?
Sil.
Why this ye dare not do, ye dare not thinke of.
Rod.
'Tis a maine hazard.
Sil.
If it were not so
I would not come to you to seeke a favour.
Rod.
You will lose your selfe.
Sil.
The losse ends with my selfe then.
Rod.
You will but see her?
Sil.
Onely looke upon her.
Rod.
Not stay?
Sil.
Prescribe your time.
Rod.
Not traffique with her
In any close dishonourable actions?
Sil.
Stand you your selfe by.
Rod.
I will venture for ye,
Because ye shall be sure I am a touch'd friend,
Ile bring her to ye: come walke, you know the Garden,
And take this key to open the little Posterne,
There stand no guards.
Sil.
I shall soone finde it Cousen.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter two Souldiers.1 Sol.
Is the Captaine come home?
2 Sol.
No, who commands the Guard to night?
1 Sol.
I thinke Petruchio.
2 Sol.
What's the Word?
1 Sol.
None knowes yet.
2 Sol.
I would this Lady were married out oth' way once,
Or out of our custodies; I wish they wold take in more companies,
For I am sure we feel her in our duties shrewdly.
1 Sol.
'Tis not her fault I warrant ye, she is ready for't,
And that's the plague, when they grow ripe for marriage
They must be slipt like Hawkes.
2 Sol.
Give me a meane wench,
No State doubt lyes on her, she is alwaies ready.
1 Sol.
Come to the Guard, 'tis late, and sure the Captaine
Can not be long away.
2 Sol.
I have watch'd these three nights,
To morrow they may keep me tame for nothing.
Exeunt.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Silvio, Belvidere, and Rodope with a light.Sil.
This is the place I think; what Light is that there?
The Lady and my Cousen?
Bel.
Is this the Garden?
Rod.
Yes Madam.
Sil.
O my blessed Mistris,
Saint of my soule.
Bel.
Speake softly: take me to ye,
O Silvio I am thine, thine ever Silvio.
29
Is this your promise Sir? Lady your honour?
I am undone if this be seene, disgrac'd,
Fallen under all discredit.
Bel.
Do you love still?
Deere, do you keepe your old faith?
Sil.
Ever Lady;
And when that failes me, all that's good forsake me.
Rod.
Do not you shame? Madam, I must not suffer this,
I will not suffer it; men call you vertuous,
What do you meane to lose your selfe thus? Silvio
I charge thee get away, charge you retire ye,
Ile call the watch else.
Sil.
Call all the world to see us,
We live in one anothers happinesse,
And so will die.
Bel.
Here will I hang for ever.
Rod.
As ye respect me, as hereafter Madam
You would enjoy his love—nothing prevaile with ye?
I'le try my strength then; get thee gone thou villain,
Thou Promise-breaker.
Sil.
I am tide, I cannot.
Rod.
Ile ring the Bell then.
Sil.
Ring it to death, I am fixt here.
Enter Bartello, two Souldiers with lights.
Bart.
I saw a light over the Garden walke,
Hard by the Ladies Chamber, here's some knavery
As I live, I saw it twice.
Rod.
The Guard, the Guard there;
I must not suffer this, it is too mischievous.
Bart.
Light up the torch, I fear'd this, ha? young Silvio?
How got he in?
1. Sold.
The Divell brought him in sure
He came not by us.
Bart.
My wife between 'em busling?
Guard, pull him off.
Rod.
Now, now, ye feele the misery.
Bart.
You, Madam, at an houre so far undecent?
Death, O my soule! this is a foule fault in ye,
Your mothers care abusd too, light's to her Chamber,
I am sorry to see this.
Bell.
Farewell my Sylvio,
And let no danger sink thee.
Sil.
Nor death Lady.
Exit. Bell. Rod.
Bart.
Are ye so hot? I shall prepare ye Phisick
Will purge ye finely, neatly; you are too fiery,
Think of your prayers, Sir, and you have not forgot 'em;
Can ye fly i'th ayre, or creepe ye in at key-holes?
I have a gyn will catch ye though you conjur'd:
Take him to Guard to night, to strong and sure Guard;
Ile back to'th Dutchesse presently: no lesse sport serve ye,
Then the Heire to a Dukedom? play at push-pin there Sir?
It was well aim'd, but plague upon't, you shot short,
And that will lose your game.
Sil.
I know the losse then.
Exeunt.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Claudio (like a Merchant.)Cla.
Now, in this habit may I safely see
How my incensed friend carries my murther,
Who little I imagin'd had been wrought
To such a height of rage; and much I grieve now
Mine owne blinde passion had so master'd me,
I could not see his love, for sure he loves her,
And on a nobler ground then I pretended.
Enter Penurio.
It must be so, it is so; what Penurio,
My shotten friend, what winde blew you?
Pen.
Faith 'tis true,
Any strong winde will blow me like a feather,
I am all Ayre, nothing of earth within me,
Nor have not had this moneth, but that good Dinner
Your Worship gave me yesterday, that staies by me,
And gives me ballasse, else the Sun would draw me.
Cla.
But do's my Mistris speake still of me?
Pen.
Yes Sir,
And in her sleep, that makes my Master mad too,
And turne and fart for anger.
Cla.
Are sure she saw me?
Pen.
She saw ye at a window.
Cla.
'Tis most true,
In such a place I saw a Gentlewoman,
A young, sweet hansome woman.
Pen.
That's she, that's she Sir.
Cla.
And well she view'd me, I view'd her.
Pen.
Still she Sir.
Cla.
At last she blush'd, and then look't off.
Pen.
That blush Sir,
If you can read it truly—
Cla.
But didst thou tell her,
Or didst thou foole me, thou knew'st such a one?
Pen.
I told her, and I told her such a sweet tale—
Cla.
But did she heare thee?
Pen.
With a thousand eares Sir,
And swallow'd what I said as greedily,
As great-bellyed women do Cherries, stones and all Sir.
Cla.
Methinkes she should not love thy Master?
Pen.
Hang him Pilcher,
There's nothing loves him: his owne Cat cannot endure him,
She had better lye with a Beare, for he is so hairie,
That a tame warren of flyes frisk round about him.
Cla.
And wilt thou worke still?
Pen.
Like a Miner for ye.
Cla.
And get accesse.
Pen.
Or conjure you together,
'Tis her desire to meet: she is poyson'd with him,
And till she take a sweet fresh ayre, that's you Sir.
Cla.
There's money for thee: thou art a precious Varlet,
Be fat, be fat, and blow thy Master backward.
Pen.
Blow you my Mistris Sir, as flat as a flounder,
Then blow her up againe as Butchers blow their Veales;
If she dye upon the same
Bury her, bury her in Gods name.
Cla.
Thou art a merry knave: by this hand ile feed thee,
Till thou crack'st at both ends, if thou dar'st do this
Thou shalt eat no fantasticall Porredge,
Nor lick the dish where oyle was yesterday,
Dust, and dead flyes to day; Capons, fat Capons—
Pen.
O hearty sound.
Cla.
Cramb'd full of itching Oysters.
Pen.
Will ye have the Dutchesse?
Cla.
And Lobsters big as Gauntlets,
Thou shalt despise base Beefe.
Pen.
I do despise it,
And now me thinkes I feele a Tart come sliding.
Cla.
Leaping into thy mouth: but first deale faithfully.
Pen.
When will ye come?
Cla.
To morrow.
Pen.
Ile attend ye,
For then my Master will be out in businesse.
Cla.
What newes abroad?
Pen.
'Mas as I was comming to you,
I heard that Signiour Silvio, a good Gentleman,
Many a good meale I have eaten with him—
Cla.
What of him?
Pen.
Was this day to be Arraigned before the Duchesse,
But why I could not heare.
Cla.
Silvio arraign'd?
30
Pen.
I fly Sir.
Exit Pen.
Cla.
Arraign'd? for what? for my supposed death? no,
That cannot be sure, there's no rumour of it,
Be it what it will, I will be there and see it,
And if my help will bring him off he has it.
Exit.
Scæna Quinta.
Enter Duchesse, Lords, Silvio prisoner, Belvidere, Bartello, Rodope, Clerke, Counsellours, Attendants.Du.
Read the Edict last made,
Keepe silence there.
Clerk.
If any man of what condition soever, and a subject,
after the publishing of this Edict, shall without speciall
Licence from the great Duchesse, attempt or buy, offer, or
make an attempt, to solicite the love of the Princesse Belvidere,
the person so offending shall forfeit his life.
Counsellour.
The reason why my Royall Mistris here
In her last Treaty with Siennas Duke,
Promis'd her beauteous Daughter there in marriage,
The Duke of Millaine, rivall in this fortune,
Un-nobly sought by practise to betray her;
Which found, and cross'd, the Cittadell receiv'd her
There to secure her Mothers word; the last cause
So many Gentlemen of late enamour'd
On this most beauteous Princesse, and not brooking
One more then other, to deserve a favour,
Blood has been spilt, many brave spirits lost,
And more unlesse she had been kept close from their violence
Had like to have followed: therefore for due prevention
Of all such hazards and unnoble actions,
This last Edict was publish'd, which thou Silvio
Like a false man, a bad man, and a Traitor
Hast rent a peeces, and contemn'd; for which cause
Thou standest a guilty man here now.
Ent. Claudio.
Clark.
Speak Silvio,
What canst thou say to avoyd the hand of Justice?
Sil.
Nothing, but I confesse, submit, & lay my head to it.
Bel.
Have ye no eyes my Lords, no understandings?
The Gentleman will cast himselfe away,
Cast himselfe wilfully: are you, or you guilty?
No more is he, no more taint sticks upon him:
I drew him thether, 'twas my way betray'd him,
I got the entrance kept, I entertain'd him,
I hid the danger from him, forced him to me,
Poore gentle soule, he's in no part transgressing,
I wrot unto him.
Sil.
Do not wrong that honour,
Cast not upon that purenesse these aspersions,
By Heaven it was my love, my violence,
My life must answer it: I broke in to her,
Tempted the Law, sollicited unjustly.
Bel.
As there is truth in Heaven I was the first cause,
How could this man have come to me, left naked
Without my counsell and provision?
What hower could he finde out to passe the Watchs,
But I must make it sure first? Reverend Judges,
Be not abus'd, nor let an innocent life lye
Upon your shaking Conscience; I did it,
My love the maine wheele that set him a going:
His motion but compell'd.
Sil.
Can ye beleeve this,
And know with what a modesty and whitenesse
Her life was ever ranck'd? Can you beleeve this
And see me here before ye young, and wilfull?
Apt to what danger Love dares thrust me on,
And where Law stops my way, apt to contemne it?
If I were bashfull, old, or dull, and sleepy
In Loves allarmes, a woman might awake me,
Direct, and clew me out the way to happinesse:
But I like fire, kindled with that bright beauty,
Catch hold of all occasions, and run through 'em.
Bel.
I charge ye as your honest soules will answer it.
Sil.
I charge ye, as you are the friends to vertue,
That has no patterne living but this Lady.
Bel.
Let not his blood—
Sil.
Let not her wilfulnesse—
For then you act a scene Hell will rejoyce at.
Bel.
He is cleare.
Sil.
She is as white in this as infants.
Cla.
The god of Love protect your cause, and help ye,
Two nobler peeces of affection
These eyes ne're look'd on, if such goodnesse perish,
Let never true hearts meet againe, but break.
Exit.
1 Lord.
A strange example of strong love, a rare one.
2 Lord.
Madam, we know not what to say to think on.
Duch.
I must confesse it strikes me tender too,
Searches my Mothers heart: you found 'em there?
Bar.
Yes certaine Madam.
Duch.
And so linked together?
Bar.
As they had been one peece of Alablaster.
Duch.
Nothing dishonourable?
Sil.
So let my soule have happinesse,
As that thought yet durst never seeke this bosome.
Duch.
What shall I do? 'has broke my Law, abus'd me,
Faine would I know the truth, either confesse it,
And let me understand the maine offender,
Or both shall feele the torture.
Sil.
Are ye a Mother?
The Mother of so sweet a Rose as this is?
So pure a Flower? and dare ye lose that nature?
Dare ye take to your selfe so great a wickednesse,
(O holy Heaven) of thinking what may ruine
This goodly building? this temple where the gods dwell?
Give me a thousand tortures, I deserve 'em,
And shew me death in all the shapes imagin'd.
Bel.
No death but I will answer it, meet it, seeke it;
No torture but ile laugh upon't, and kisse it.
1 Lord.
This is no way.
2 Lord.
They say no more for certaine
Then their strong hearts will suffer.
Duch.
I have bethought me;
No Lords, although I have a Childe offending,
Nature dares not forget she is a Childe still;
Till now I never look'd on love imperious:
I have bethought me of a way to breake ye,
To separate, though not your loves your bodies:
Silvio attend, ile be your Judge my selfe now,
The sentence of your death (because my Daughter
Will beare an equall part in your afflictions)
I take away and pardon: this remaines then
An easie, and a gentle punishment,
And this shall be fulfill'd: because unnobly
You have sought the love, and marriage of a Princesse,
The absolute and sole Heire of this Dukedome,
By that meanes as we must imagine strongly,
To plant your selfe into this Rule hereafter,
We here pronounce ye a man banish'd from us.
Sil.
For ever banish'd Lady?
Duch.
Yet more mercy,
But for a yeare: and then againe in this place
To make your full appearance: yet more pitty,
If in that time you can absolve a question,
Writ down within this scrowle, absolve it rightly,
31
If not, you loose your head.
Sil.
I take this honour,
And humbly kisse those Royall hands.
Duch.
Receive it: Bartello, to your old guard take the Princesse,
And so the Court break up.
Sil.
Farewell to all,
And to that spotlesse heart my endlesse service.
Exit.
1. Lord.
What will this prove?
2. Lord.
Ile tell you a yeare hence, Sir.
Exeunt.
Scæna Sexta.
Enter Penurio, Isabella, Claudio.Pen.
Are you pleas'd now? have I not wrought this wonder
Non eben fatto Signieur.
Cla.
Rarely Penurio.
Pen.
Close, close then, and work wax.
Cla.
I am studying for thee
A dinner, that shall victuall thee for ten yeare.
Pen.
Do you heare Mistris?
You know what a dundier whelp my Master is,
I need not preach to ye, how unfit and wanting
To give a woman satisfaction:
How he stinks, and snores, a Bull's a better bed-fellow;
And for his love never let that deceive ye.
Isab.
Nay sure he loves me not.
Pen.
If he could coyne ye,
Or turne ye into mettle much might be then;
He loves not any thing but what is traffique:
I have heard him sweare he would sell ye to the grand Signior.
Isab.
The Turk.
Pen.
The very Turke, and how they would use ye.
Isab.
Ile fit him fort: the Turke?
Pen.
I know the price too:
Now ye have time to pay him, pay him home Mistris;
Pay him o'th pate, clout him for all his curtesies;
Here's one that daunces in your eyes, young delicate
To work this vengeance; if ye let it slip now,
There is no pittying of ye, od's precious, Mistris,
Were I his wife, I would so mall his Mazard,
'Tis charity, meere charity, pure charity,
Are you the first? has it not been from Eves time,
Women would have their safe revenges this way?
And good, and gracious women, excellent women;
Is't not a handsome Gentleman? a sweet Gentleman?
View him from head to foot, a compleat Gentleman;
When can ye hope the like againe? I leave ye,
And my revenge too, with ye; I know my Office,
Ile not be farre off, be not long a fumbling,
When danger shall appeare, Ile give the larme.
Exit.
Isab.
You are welcome Sir, and would it were my fortune
To afford a Gentleman of your faire seeming,
A freer entertainment then this house has,
You partly know Sir.—
Cla.
Know, and pitty Lady,
Such sweetnesse in the bud, should be so blasted;
Dare you make me your Servant?
Isab.
Dare you make Sir,
That service worthy of a womans favour
By constancy and goodnesse?
Cla.
Here I sweare to ye,
By the unvalued love I beare this beauty,
(And kisse the Book too) never to be recreant,
To honour ye, to truly love, and serve ye,
My youth to wait upon ye, what my wealth has.
Isab.
O make me not so poore, to sell affection,
Those bought love's Sir, weare faster then the moneys;
A handsome Gentleman.
Cla.
A most delicate sweet one,
Let my truth Purchase then.
Isab.
I should first try it,
But you may happily.—
Cla.
You shall not doubt me,
I hope she loves me; when I prove false shame take me;
Will ye believe a little?
Isab.
I feare, too much, Sir.
Cla.
And will ye love a little?
Isab.
That should be your part.
Cla.
Thus I begin then, thus and thus.
Isab.
A good beginning,
We have a Proverbe saies, makes a good ending.
Cla.
Say ye so? 'tis well infer'd.
Isab.
Good Sir, your patience:
Me thinks I have ventur'd now, like a weak Bark
Upon a broken billow, that will swallow me,
Upon a rough sea of suspitions,
Stuck round with ieallous rocks.
Pen.
within.
A hem, a hem there.
Isab.
This is my man; my feares too soone have found me,
Enter Penurio.
Now what's the newes?
Pen.
A pox of yonder old Rigell,
The Captaine, the old Captaine.
Isab.
What old Captaine?
Pen.
Captaine couragious yonder of the Castle,
Captaine dondeigo, old Bartello.
Isab.
Where is he?
Pen.
He's comming in:
'Twould vex the Divell, that such an old Potgun as this,
That can make no sport, should hinder them that can do it.
Isab.
I would not have him see the Gentleman
For all the world, my credit were undone then.
Pen.
Shall I fling a pisse-pot on's head as he comes in,
And take him into'th Kitchin, there to dry him.
Isab.
That will not do; and he is so humerous too
He will come in.
Cla.
What is he?
Isab.
One much troubles me.
Pen.
And can do nothing, cannot eat.
Isab.
Your sight now,
Out of a driveling dotage he beares to me,
May make him tell my husband, and undo me.
Cla.
What would ye have me do?
Isab.
But for a while Sir,
Step here behind this hanging, presently
I'le answer him, and then.—
Cla.
I will obey ye.
Enter Bartello.
Bar.
Where's my rich Jeweller? I have stones to set.
Pen.
He is abroad, and sure Sir.
Bart.
Ther's for your service:
Wher's the faire Lady? all alone sweet beauty?
Isab.
She's never much alone Sir, that's acquainted
With such companions as good honest thoughts are.
Bar.
Ile sit down by thee, and ile kisse thy hand too,
And in thine eare sweare by my life I love thee.
Isab.
Ye are a merry Captaine.
Bar.
And a mad one, Lady;
By th'mas thou hast goodly eyes, excellent eyes, wench,
Ye twinkling rogue, look what thy Captain brings thee,
Thou must needs love me, love me heartily,
Hug me, and love me, hug me close.
Isab.
Fye Captaine.
Bar.
Nay, I have strength, and I can straine ye sirrah,
And vault into my seat as nimbly, little one.
As any of your smooth chinn'd boyes in Florence,
I must needs commit a little folly with ye,
32
The hobnaile thy husband's as fitly out o'th way now.
Isab.
Do you think he keeps a bawdy house?
Bar.
That's all one.
Isab.
Or did you ever see that lightnesse in my carriage,
That you might promise to your self—
Bar.
Away foole,
A good turn's a good turne; I am an honest fellow.
Isab.
You have a handsome wife, a vertuous Gentlewoman.
Bar.
They are not for this time o'th yeer.
Isab.
A Lady,
That ever bore that great respect to you,
That noble constancy.
Bar.
That's more then I know.
Enter Maid, and Penurio.
Maid.
O Mistris, ye are undone, my Master's coming.
Pen.
Coming hard by here.
Bar.
Plague Consume the Rascall,
Shall I make petty-patties of him?
Isab.
Now what love Sir?
Feare of your comming made him jealous first;
Your finding here, will make him mad and desperate,
And what in that wilde mood he will execute—
Bar.
I can think of nothing, I have no wit left me,
Certaine my heads a mustard-pot.
Isab.
I have thought Sir.
And if you'l please to put in execution
What I conceive—
Bar.
I'le do it, tell it quickly.
Isab.
Draw your Sword quickly, and go down inrag'd,
As if you had pursu'd some foe up hither,
And grumble to your self extremely, terribly,
But not a word to him, and so passe by him.
Bar.
Ile do it perfectly.
Enter Lopes.
Isab.
Stand you still good Sir.
Bar.
Rascall, slave, villaine, take a house so poorely,
After thou hast wrong'd a Gentleman, a Souldier,
Base Poultroon boy, you will forsake your neast sirrah.
Lop.
The matter, good sweet Captain?
Bart.
Run-away rogue,
And take a house to cover thy base cowardize,
Ile whip ye, Ile so scourge ye.
(Exit.
Lop.
Mercy upon me,
What's all this matter wife?
Isab.
Did you meet the mad man?
Lop.
I never saw the Captain so provok't yet.
Isab.
O he's a Devill sure, a most bloody devill,
He follow'd a young Gentleman, his sword drawne,
With such a fury, how I shake to think on't,
And foyn'd, and flash't at him, and swore he'd kill him,
Drove him up hither, follow'd him still bloodily,
And if I had not hid him, sure had slaine him;
A mercilesse old man.
Cla.
Most vertuous Lady,
Even as the giver of my life, I thank ye.
Lop.
This fellow must not stay here, he is too hansom;
He is gone Sir, and you may passe now with all security,
Ile be your guide my selfe, and such a way
Ile lead ye, none shall crosse, nor none shall know ye.
The doore's left open Sirrah, ile starve you for this trick,
Ile make thee fast o' Sondayes; and for you Lady,
Ile have your lodgings, farther off, and closer,
Ile have no street lights to you; will you go Sir?
Cla.
I thank ye Sir; the Devill take this fortune;
And once more all my service to your goodnesse.
Exit.
Pen.
Now could I eat my very arms for madnesse,
Cross'd in the nick o'th matter? vengeance take it,
And that old Cavalier that spoil'd our Cock-fight;
Ile lay the next plot surer.
Isab.
I am glad and sorry;
Glad, that I got so fairely off suspition;
Sorry I lost my new lov'd friend.
Pen.
Not lost Mistris;
Ile conjure once againe to raise that spirit;
In, and looke soberly upon the matter,
Wee'l ring him one peale more, and if that fall,
The Devill take the clappers, bells, and all.
Exeunt.
| VVomen pleas'd | |