 | The Spanish Curat |  |
Actus Quartus
Scæna Prima.
Enter Don Henrique, Violante, Ascanio.Hen.
Heare but my reasons,
Viol.
O my patience heare 'em.
Can cunning falshood colour an excuse?
With any seeming shape of borrowed truth?
Extenuate this wofull wrong, not error.
Hen.
You gave consent that to defeat my brother
I should take any course,
Viol.
But not to make
The cure more loathsome then the fowle disease:
Was't not enough you took me to your bed,
Tir'd with loose dalliance, and with emptie veines,
All those abilities spent before and wasted,
That could conferre the name of mother on me?
But that (to perfect my account of sorrow)
For my long barrennesse you must highten it
By shewing to my face, that you were fruitfull
Hug'd in the base embraces of another?
If Solitude that dwelt beneath my roofe,
And want of children was a torment to me
What end of my vexation to behold
A bastard to upbraid me with my wants?
And heare the name of father paid to ye
Yet know my self no mother,
What can I say?
Hen.
shall I confesse my fault and ask your pardon?
Will that content ye?
Viol.
If it could make void,
What is confirm'd in Court. No no, Don Henrique,
You shall know that I find my self abus'd,
And adde to that I have a womans anger,
And while I look upon this Basilisk,
Whose envious eyes hath blasted all my comforts
Rest confident I'le study my dark ends,
And not your pleasures,
Asc.
Noble Lady, heare me,
Not as my Fathers son, but as your servant,
Vouchsafe to heare me, for such in my duty,
40
My poore ambition, ever to looke on you,
But with that reverence; which a slave stands bound
To pay a worthy Mistris: I have heard
That Dames of highest place, nay Queenes themselves,
Disdaine not to be serv'd by such as are
Of meanest Birth: and I shall be most happie,
To be emploi'd when you please to command me
Even in the coursest Office, as your Page,
I can wayte on your trencher: fill your wine
Carry your pontafles, and be sometimes bless'd
In all humilitie to touch your feete
Or if that you esteeme that too much grace
I can run by your Coach: observe your lookes
And hope to gaine a fortune by my service,
With your good favour, which now, as a Son,
I dare not challenge
Viol.
As a Son,
Asc.
Forgive me
I will forget the name, let it be death
For me to call you Mother.
Viol.
Still upbraided?
Hen.
No way left to appease you?
Viol.
None: now heare me,
Heare what I vow before the face of heaven,
And if I breake it all plagues in this life,
And those that after death are fear'd, fall on me,
While that this Bastard staies under my rooffe,
Looke for no peace at home, for I renounce
All Offices of a wife,
Hen.
What am I falne to?
Viol.
I will not eate, nor sleepe with you and those howres
Which I should spend in prayers for your health
Shall be emploi'd in Curses,
Hen.
Terrible.
Viol.
All the day long, i'le be as tedious to you
As lingring fevers, and i'le watch the nights,
To ring alou'd your shame and breake your sleepes
Or if you doe but slumber, i'le appeare
In the shape of all my wrongs, and like a fury
Fright you to madnes, and if all this faile
To worke out my revenge, I have friends and kinsmen,
That will not sit downe tame with the disgrace
That's offer'd to our noble familie
In what I suffer.
Hen.
How am I devided
Betweene the duties I owe as a Husband,
And pietie of a Parent?
Asc.
I am taught Sir
By the instinct of nature that obedience
Which bids me to prefer your peace of mind,
Before those pleasures that are dearest to me
Be wholy hers (my Lord) I quit all parts,
That I may challenge: may you grow old together
And no distast e're find you and before
The Characters of age are printed on you
May you see many Images of your selves,
Though I, like some false Glasse, that's never look'd in
Am cast a side, and broken from this hower
(Unles invited, which I dare not hope for)
I never will set my forbidden feete,
Over your threshold: onely give me leave
Though cast off to the world, to mention you,
In my devotions 'tis all I sue for
And so I take my last leave
Hen.
Though I am
Devoted to a wife nay allmost sol'd
A slave to serve her pleasures, yet I cannot
So part with all humanity, but I must
Shew something of a Father: thou shalt not goe
Unfurnish'd and unfriended too: take that
To guard thee from necessities; may thy goodnes
Meet many favours, and thine innocence
Deserve to be the heire of greater fortunes,
Then thou wer't borne to. Scorne me not Violante
This banishment is a kind of civill death,
And now, as it were at his Funerall
To shed a teare or two, is not unmanly
And so farewell for ever: one word more,
Though I must never see thee (my Ascanio)
When this is spent (for so the Judge decreed)
Send to me for supply: are you pleas'd now?
Viol.
Yes: I have cause: to see you howle and blubber
At the parting of my torment, & your shame
Bed ready, wine, table Standish & Paper.
'Tis well: proceed: supply his wants: doe doe:
Let the great dowre I brought serve to maintain
Your Bastards riots: send my Clothes and Jewells,
To your old acquaintance, your deare dame his Mother
Now you begin to melt, I know 'twill follow,
Hen.
Is all I doe misconstrude?
Viol.
I will take
A course to right my selfe a speeding one:
By the bless'd Saints, I will; if I prove cruell
The shame to see thy foolish pitty taught me
To loose my naturall softnes, keepe off from me
Thy flateries are infectious, and i'le fle thee
As I would doe a Leaper.
Hen.
Let not fury
Transport you so: you know I am your Creature,
All love, but to your self, with him, hath left me
I'le ioyne with you in any thing
Viol.
In vaine
I'le take mine owne waies, and will have no partners,
Hen.
I will not crosse you,
Viol.
Doe not, they shall find
That to a Woman of her hopes beguil'd
A viper troad on, or an Aspick's, mild.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Lopez Millanes Arsenio.Lop.
Sits the game there? I have you by mine order,
I love Leandro for't
Mil.
But you must shew it
In lending him your helpe, to gain him meanes
And opportunitie.
Lop.
He shall want nothing,
I know my Advocate to a hayre, and what
Will fetch him from his prayers, if he use any,
I am honyed with the project: I would have him horn'd
For a most pretious Beast.
Ars.
But you loose time;
Lop.
I am gon, instruct you Diego, you will find him
A sharpe and subtle knave, give him but hints
And he will amplifie: Se all things ready
I'll fetch him with a vengeance.—
Exit.
Ars.
If he faile now,
Wee'll give him over too,
Mil.
Tush he is flesh'd,
And knowes what vaine to strike for his owne credit.
41
All things are ready.
Mil.
Then we shall have a merry Scene, ne're feare it.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Amaranta (with a note) and Moore.Amar.
Is thy Master gone out?
Moore.
Even now, the Curat fetch'd him,
About a serious businesse as it seem'd,
For he snatch'd up his Cloak, and brush'd his hat strait,
Set his Band handsomely, and out he gallop'd.
Amar.
'Tis well, 'tis very well, he went out (Egla.)
As luckily, as one would say, goe Husband,
He was call'd by providence: fling this short paper
Into Leandro's Cell, and waken him,
He is monstrous vexed, and musty, at my Chesse-play;
But this shall supple him, when he has read it:
Take your owne recreation for two houres,
And hinder nothing.
Moore.
If I doe, I'll hang for't.
Exeunt.
Scena quarta.
Enter Octavio, Jacintha.Oct.
If that you lov'd Ascanio for himselfe,
And not your private ends, you rather should
Blesse the faire opportunitie, that restores him
To his Birth-right, and the Honours he was borne to,
Then grieve at his good Fortune.
Jac.
Grieve Octavio?
I would resigne my Essence, that he were
As happy as my love could fashion him,
Though every blessing that should fall on him,
Might prove a curse to me, my sorrow springs
Out of my feare, and doubt he is not safe.
I am acquainted with Don Henrique's nature,
And I have heard too much the fiery temper
Of Madam Violante: can you thinke
That she, that almost is at war with heaven
For being barren, will with equall eyes
Behold a Son of mine?
Oct.
His Fathers care,
That for the want of Issue, tooke him home,
(Though with the forfeiture of his owne fame)
Will looke unto his safetie.
Jac.
Step-mothers
Have many eyes, to find a way to mischiefe,
Though blind to goodnesse.
Enter Jamy and Ascanio.
Oct.
Here comes Don Jamy,
And with him our Ascanio.
Jamy.
Good youth leave me,
I know thou art forbid my company,
And onely to be seene with me, will call on
Thy Fathers anger.
Ars.
Sir, if that to serve you
Could loose me any thing (as indeed it cannot)
I still would follow you. Alas I was borne
To doe you hurt but not to help my selfe,
I was, for some particular end, tooke home,
But am cast off againe.
Jam.
Is't possible?
Asc.
The Lady, whom my Father calls his wife
Abhors my sight, is sick of me, and forc'd him
To turne me out of dores.
Iac.
By my best hopes
I thanke her crueltie, for it comes neere
A saving charitie.
Asc.
I am onely happy
That yet I can relieve you, 'pray you share:
My Father's wondrous kind, and promises
That I should be supplide: but sure the Lady
Is a malitious woman, and I feare
Meanes me no good.
Enter Servant.
Iamy.
I am turn'd a stone with wonder,
And know not what to thinke.
Ser.
From my Lady,
Your private eare, and this—
Iamy.
New Miracles?
Ser.
She sayes, if you dare make your selfe a Fortune,
She will propose the meanes; My Lord Don Henrique
Is now from home and she alone expects you,
If you dare trust her so, if not despaire of
A second offer,
Exit.
Jam.
Though there were an Ambush
Layd for my life, I'll on and sound this secret,
Retire thee (my Ascanio) with thy Mother:
But stir not forth, some great designe's on foot,
Fall what can fall, if e're the Sun be set,
I see you not, give me dead.
Asc.
We will expect you,
And those bless'd Angels, that love goodnesse, guard you.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Lopez and Bartolus.Bar.
Is't possible he should be rich?
Lop.
Most possible,
He hath bin long, though he had but little gettings,
Drawing together, Sir.
Bar.
Accounted a poore Sexton,
Honest poore Diego,
Lop.
I assure ye, a close Fellow,
Both close, and scraping, and that fills the bags, Sir,
Bar.
A notable good Fellow too?
Lop.
Sometimes, Sir,
Diego ready in Bed, wine, cup.
When he hop'd to drink a man into a surfeit,
That he might gaine by his Grave.
Bar.
So many thousands?
Lop.
Heaven knowes what.
Bar.
'Tis strange,
'Tis very strange; but we see by endeavour,
And honest labour—
Lop.
Milo by continuance
Grew from a silly Calfe (with your worships reverence)
To carry a Bull, from a penny, to a pound, Sir,
And from a pound, to many: 'tis the progresse.
Bar.
Ye say true, but he lov'd to feed well also,
And that me-thinks—
Lop.
From another mans Trencher, Sir,
And there he found it season'd with small charge:
There he would play the Tyrant, and would devoure ye
More then the Graves he made, at home he liv'd
Like a Camelion suckt th'Ayre of misery,
Table out Standish paper, stools.
And grew fat by th'Brewis of an Eg-shel,
42
And be a moneth in fasting out that Fever.
Bar.
These are good Symptomes: do's he lye so sick say ye?
Lop.
Oh, very sick.
Bar.
And chosen me Executor?
Lop.
Onely your Worship.
Bar.
No hope of his amendment?
Lop.
None, that we find.
Bar.
He hath no kinsmen neither?
Lop.
'Truth, very few.
Bar.
His mind will be the quieter,
What Doctors has he?
Lop.
There's none sir, he believes in.
Bar.
They are but needlesse things, in such extremities.
Who drawes the good-man's will?
Lop.
Marry that doe I, Sir.
And to my griefe.
Bar.
Griefe will doe little now, Sir,
Draw it to your comfort, Friend, and as I counsell ye,
An honest man, but such men live not alwayes
Who are about him?
Lop.
Many now he is passing,
That would pretend to his love, yes, and some gentlemen
That would faine counsell him, and be of his kindred;
Rich men can want no heires, Sir.
Bar.
They doe ill,
Indeed they doe, to trouble him: very ill, Sir,
But we shall take a care.
Enter Diego (in a Bed) Millanes, Arsenio, and Parishioners.
Lop.
Will ye come neare, Sir,
'Pray ye bring him out; Now ye may see in what state:
Give him fresh ayre.
Bed thrust out.
Bar.
I am sorry, Neighbour Diego,
To find ye in so weake a state.
Die.
Ye are welcome,
But I am fleeting, Sir.
Bar.
Me-thinkes he looks well,
His colour fresh, and strong, his eyes are chearfull.
Lop.
A glimmering before death, 'tis nothing els, Sir,
Do you see how he fumbles with the sheet? do ye note that
Di.
My learned Sir 'pray ye sit: I am bold to send for ye,
To take a care of what I leave.
Lop.
Doe you heare that?
Ars.
Play the knave finely.
Die.
So I will, I warrant ye,
And carefully.
Bar.
'Pray ye doe not trouble him,
You see he's weake and has a wandring fancie.
Di.
My honest Neighbours, weep not, I must leave ye,
I cannot alwayes beare ye company,
VVe must drop still, there is no remedie:
'Pray ye Master Curat, will ye write my Testament,
And write it largely it may be remembred
And be witnesse to my Legacies, good Gentlemen;
Your worship I doe make my full Executor,
You are a man of wit and understanding:
Give me a cup of wine to raise my Spirits,
For I speake low: I wou'd before these Neighbours
Have ye to sweare (Sir) that you will see it executed,
And what I give, let equally be rendred
For my soules health.
Bar.
I vow it truly, Neighbours,
Let not that trouble ye before all these,
Once more I give my Oath.
Di.
Then set me higher,
And pray ye come neare me all.
Lop.
VVe are ready for ye.
Mil.
Now spur the Asse, and get our friend time.
Die.
First then,
After I have given my Body to the wormes
(For they must be serv'd first, they are seldome cozen'd)
Lop.
Remember your Parish, Neighbour.
Di.
You speake truly,
I doe remember it, a lewd vile Parish,
And pray it may be mended: To the Poore of it,
(VVhich is to all the Parish) I give nothing,
For nothing, unto nothing, is most naturall,
Yet leave as much space, as will build an Hospitall,
Their children may pray for me.
Bar.
What doe you give to it?
Die.
Set downe two thousand Duckets,
Bar.
'Tis a good gift,
And will be long remembred.
Die.
To your worship,
(Because you must take paines to see all finish'd)
I give two thousand more, it may be three, Sir,
A poore gratuitie for your paines-taking.
Bar.
These are large summes;
Lop.
Nothing to him that has 'em.
Die.
To my old Master Vicar, I give five hundred,
(Five hundred, and five hundred, are too few Sir)
But there be more to serve.
Bar.
This fellow coynes sure.
Di.
Give me some more drink. Pray ye buy Books, buy Books,
You have a learned head, stuffe it with Libraries,
And understand 'em, when ye have done, 'tis Justice,
Run not the Parish mad with Controversies,
Nor preach not Abstinence to longing women,
'Twill budge the bottoms of their consciences:
I would give the Church new Organs, but I prophecie
The Church-wardens would quickly pipe 'em out o'th' Parish,
Two hundred Duckets more to mend the chancel,
And to paint true Orthographie, as many,
They write Sunt with a C, which is abominable,
'Pray you set that downe, to poore Maidens marriages.
Lo.
I that's wel thought of, what's your wil in that point?
A meritorious thing.
Bar.
No end of this will?
Di.
I give per annum two hundred ells of Lockram,
That there be no strait dealings in their Linnens,
But the Sayles cut according to their Burthens;
To all Bell-Ringers, I bequeath new Ropes,
And let them use 'em at their owne discretions.
Ars.
You may remember us.
Di.
I doe, good Gentlemen,
And I bequeath ye both good carefull Surgeons
A Legacy, you have need of, more then money,
I know you want good Diets and good Lotions,
And in your pleasures good take heed.
Lop.
He raves now.
But 'twill be quickly off,
Di.
I doe bequeath ye
Commodities of pins: browne papers: pack-threds,
Rost porke, & puddings: Ginger-bread, & Jewes-trumps,
Of penny Pipes, and mouldy Pepper: take 'em,
Take 'em even where you please, and be cozen'd with 'em,
I should bequeath ye Executions also,
But those I'll leave to th'Law.
Lop.
Now he growes temperate.
Bar.
You will give no more?
Di.
I am loth to give more from ye.
43
Onely, to pious uses, Sir, a little.
Bar.
If he be worth all these, I am made for ever,
Die.
I give to fatall Dames, that spin mens threds out,
And poore distressed Damsells, that are militant
As members of our owne Afflictions,
A hundred Crowns to buy warm tubbs to worke in,
I give five hundred pounds to buy a Church-yard,
A spacious Church-yard, to lay Theeves and knaves in,
Rich men, and honest men, take all the roome up.
Lop.
Are ye not weary?
Di.
Never of well-doing.
Bar.
These are mad Legacies.
Die.
They were got as madly;
My Sheep, and Oxen, and my moveables,
My Plate, and Jewells, and five hundred Acres;
I have no heires.
Bar.
This cannot be, 'tis Monstrous.
Die.
Three Ships at Sea too.
Bar.
You have made me full Executor.
Di.
Full, full, and totall, would I had more to give ye
But these may serve an honest mind.
Bar.
Ye say true,
A very honest mind, and make it rich too;
Rich, wondrous rich, but where shall I raise these monys,
About your house? I see no such great promises;
Where shall I find these summes?
Die.
Even where you please Sir,
You are wise and provident and know businesse
Ev'n raise 'em where you shal think good, I am reasonable
Bar.
Thinke good? will that raise thousands?
What doe you make me?
Di.
You have sworn to see it done, that's all my comfort.
Bar.
Where I please? this is pack'd sure to disgrace me.
Di.
Ye are just, and honest, and I know you will doe it,
Ev'n where you please, for you know where the wealth is.
Bar.
I am abused, betrayed, I am laugh'd at, scorn'd,
Baffel'd, and boared, it seemes.
Ars.
No, no, ye are fooled.
Lop.
Most finely fooled, and handsomely, and neatly,
Such cunning Masters must be fooled sometimes, Sir,
And have their worships noses wiped, 'tis healthfull,
We are but quit: you foole us of our moneys
In every Cause, in every Quiddit wipe us.
Di.
Ha, ha, ha ha, some more drink, for my heart, Gentlemen,
This merry Lawyer—ha, ha, ha, ha this Scholler—
I thinke this fitt will cure me: this Executor—
I shall laugh out my Lungs.
Bar.
This is derision above sufferance, villany
Plotted, and set against me.
Die.
Faith 'tis knavery,
In troth I must confesse, thou art fooled indeed, Lawyer.
Mil.
Did you thinke, had this man been rich—
Bar.
'Tis well, Sir.
Mil.
He would have chosen such a Wolfe, a Cancker,
A Maggot-pate, to be his whole Executor.
Lop.
A Lawyer, that entangles all mens honesties,
And lives like a Spider in a Cobweb lurking,
And catching at all Flies that passe his pitt-falls?
Puts powder to all States, to make em caper?
Would he trust you?
Die.
Doe you deserve? I find, Gentlemen,
This Cataplasme of a well cozen'd Lawyer
Laid to my stomach lenisies my Fever,
Me-thinkes I could eat now and walke a little.
Bar.
I am asham'd to feele how flat I am cheated,
How grossely, and malitiously made a May-game,
A damned Trick; my wife, my wife, some Rascall:
My credit, and my wife, some lustfull villaine,
Some Bawd, some Rogue,
Ars.
Some craftie Foole has found ye:
This 'tis Sir, to teach ye to be too busie,
To covet all the gaines, and all the rumours
To have a stirring oare, in all mens actions.
Lop.
We did this, but to vex your fine officiousnesse.
Bar.
Good yeild ye and go'd thank ye: I am fooled, gentlemen;
The Lawyer is an Asse, I doe confesse it,
A weak dull shallow Asse: good even to your worships:
Vicar, remember Vicar, Rascall remember,
Thou notable rich Rascall.
Die.
I doe remember, Sir,
'Pray ye stay a little, I have ev'n two Legacies
To make your mouth up, Sir.
Bar.
Remember Varletts,
Quake & remember, Rogues; I have brine for your Buttocks.
Ex.
Lop.
Oh how he frets, and fumes now like a dunghill.
Di.
His gall containes fine stuffe now to make poysons,
Rare damned stuffe.
Ars.
Let's after him, and still vex him,
And take my Friend off: by this time he has prosper'd,
He cannot loose this deere time: 'tis impossible.
Mil.
Well Diego, thou hast done.
Lop.
Hast done it daintily.
Mil.
And shalt be as well paid, Boy—
Ars.
Goe, let's crucifie him.
Exeunt.
Scæna Sexta.
Enter Amaranta, Leandro.Lea.
I have told ye all my story, and how desperately.
Am.
I doe believe: let's walke on, time is pretious,
Not to be spent in words, here no more wooing.
The open Ayre's an enemy to Lovers,
Pewter ready for noyse.
Doe as I tell ye.
Lea.
I'll doe any thing.
I am so over-joy'd, I'll fly to serve ye.
Am.
Take your joy moderately, as it is ministred,
And as the cause invites: that man's a foole
That at the sight o'th' Bond, dances and leapes,
Then is the true joy, when the money comes.
Lea.
You cannot now deny me.
Am.
Nay, you know not,
Women have crotchets, and strange fits.
Lea.
You shall not.
Am.
Hold ye to that and sweare it confidently,
Then I shall make a scruple to deny ye:
'Pray ye let's step in, and see a friend of mine,
The weather's sharp: we'll stay but halfe an houre,
We may be miss'd els: a private fine house 'tis, Sir,
And we may find many good welcomes.
Lea.
Doe Lady,
Doe happy Lady.
Am.
All your mind's of doing,
You must be modester.
Lea.
I will be any thing.—
Exeunt.
Scæna Septima.
Enter Bartolus.Bar.
Open the dores, and give me roome to chafe in
Mine owne roome, and my liberty: why Maid there,
44
I am subject to much fury: when ye dish-clout?
When doe ye come? a sleepe, ye lazie hell-hound?
Nothing intended, but your ease, and eating?
No body here? why wife, why wife? why jewell?
No tongue to answer me? 'pre'thee (good Pupill)
Dispence a little with thy carefull study,
And step to th'doore, and let me in; nor he neither?
Ha! not at's study? nor asleepe? nor no-body?
I'll make ye heare: the house of Ignorance,
No sound inhabits here: I have a key yet
That commands all: I feare I am metamorphiz'd.
Enter Lopez, Arsenio, Milanes, Diego.
Lop.
He keepes his fury still, and may doe mischiefe.
Mil.
He shalbe hang'd first, we'll be sticklers there, boyes
Di.
The hundred thousand Dreams now, that posses him
Of jealousie, and of revenge, and frailtie
Of drawing Bills against us, and Petitions.
Lop.
And casting what his credit shall recover.
Mil.
Let him cast till his Maw come up, we care not.
You shall be still secured.
A great noyse within.
Die.
We'll pay him home then;
Hark what a noyse he keeps within?
Lop.
Certaine
H'as set his Chimneys o' fire, or the divell roars there.
Di.
The Codixes o'th' Law are broke loose, Gentlemen.
Ars.
He's fighting sure,
Di.
I'll tell ye that immediatly—
Exit.
Mil.
Or doing some strange out-rage on himselfe.
Ars.
Hang him, he dares not be so valiant.
Enter Diego.
Di.
There's no body at home and he chases like a Lyon,
And stinkes withall.
Noyse still.
Lop.
No body?
Di.
Not a creature,
Nothing within, but he and his Law-tempest,
The Ladles, dishes, kettles, how they fly all?
And how the Glasses through the Roomes?
Enter Bartolus.
Ars.
My friend sure
Has got her out and now he has made an end on't.
Lop.
See where the Sea comes? how it foams, & brussels?
The great Leviathan o'th' Law, how it tumbles?
Bar.
Made every way an Asse? abus'd on all sides?
And from all quarters, people come to laugh at me?
Rise like a Comet; to be wonder'd at?
A horrid Comet, for Boyes tongues, and Ballads?
I will run from my wits.
Enter Amaranta, Leandro.
Ars.
Doe, doe, (good Lawyer)
And from thy money too, then thou wilt be quiet.
Mil.
Here she comes home: now mark the salutations;
How like an Asse my friend goes?
Ars.
She has pull'd his eares downe.
Bar.
Now, what sweet voyage? to what Garden, Lady?
Or to what Cosens house?
Am.
Is this my welcome?
I cannot goe to Church but thus I am scandall'd,
Use no devotion for my soule, but Gentlemen—
Bar.
To Church?
Am.
Yes, and ye keep sweet youths to wait upon me,
Sweet bred-up youths, to be a credit to me.
There's your delight againe, pray take him to ye,
Homever comes neare me more to debase me.
Ba.
How's this? how's this? good wife, how has he wrongd ye?
Am.
I was faine to drive him like a sheep before me,
I blush to thinke how people sleere, and scorn'd me,
Others have handsome men, that know behaviour,
Place, and observance: this silly thing knowes nothing,
Cannot tell ten; Let every Rascall justle me,
And still I push'd him on as he had bin comming.
Bar.
Ha! did ye push him on? is he so stupid?
Am.
When others were attentive to the Priest,
Good devout Gentleman, then fell he fast
Fast, sound asleepe: then first began the Bag-pipes
The severall stops on's nose, made a rare musick,
A rare and lowd, and those plaid many an Antheme
Put out of that, he fell strait into dreaming.
Ars.
As cunning, as she is sweet; I like this carriage.
Bar.
What did he then?
Am.
Why then he talked in his Sleep too,
Nay I'll divulge your morall vertues (sheeps-face)
And talk'd aloude, that every eare was fixt to him:
Did not I suffer (doe you thinke) in this time?
Talk of your bawling Law, of appellations
Of Declarations, and Excommunications:
Warrants, and Executions: and such divells
That drove all the Gentlemen out o'th' Church, by hurryes
With execrable oaths, they would never come there again
Thus am I serv'd, and man'd.
Lea.
I pray ye forgive me,
I must confesse I am not fit to wait upon ye:
Alas, I was brought up—
Am.
To be an Asse,
A Lawyers Asse, to carry Bookes, and Buckrams.
Bar.
But what did you at Church?
Lop.
At Church, did ye aske her?
Doe you heare gentlemen, doe you mark that question?
Because you are halfe an heretique your selfe, Sir,
Would ye breed her too? this shall to the Inquisition,
A pious Gentlewoman, reprov'd for praying?
I'll see this filed, and you shall heare further, Sir.
Ars.
Ye have an ill heart.
Lop.
It shall be found out Gentlemen,
There be those youths will search it.
Die.
You are warme Signiour,
But a Faggot will warme ye better: we are witnesses.
Lop.
Enough to hang him, doe not doubt.
Mil.
Nay certaine,
I doe beleeve has rather no Religion.
Lop.
That must be knowne too, because shee goes to Church, sir?
O monstrum informe ingens!
Die.
Let him goe on, sir,
His wealth will build a Nunnery, a faire one,
And this good Lady, when he is hang'd, and rotten,
May there be Abbesse.
Bar.
You are cozend, honest Gentlemen,
I doe not forbid the use, but the forme, marke me.
Lop.
Forme? what doe ye make of Forme?
Bar.
They will undoe me,
Sweare, as I oft have done, and so betray me;
I must make faire way, and hereafter, Wife,
You are welcome home, & henceforth take your pleasure,
Goe, when ye shall thinke fit, I will not hinder ye,
My eyes are open now, and I see my errour,
My shame as great as that, but I must hide it.
The whole conveyance now I smell, but Basta,
Another time must serve: you see us friends, now
Heartily friends, and no more chiding (gentlemen)
I have bin too foolish, I confesse, no more words,
No more (sweet wife.)
45
You know my easie nature
Bar.
Goe get ye in: you see she has bin angry:
Forbeare her sight a while and time will pacify.
And learne to be more bold.
Lea.
I would I could,
I will doe all I am able.
Exit.
Bar.
Doe Leandro,
We will not part, but friends of all hands.
Lop.
Well said,
Now ye are reasonable, we can looke on ye,
Bar.
Ye have ierckt me: but for all that I forgive ye
Forgive ye hartily, and doe invite ye
To morrow to a Breakfast, I make but seldome
But now we will be merry.
Ars.
Now ye are friendly,
Your doggednes and nigardize flung from ye.
And now we will come to ye
Bar.
Give me your hands, all;
You shall be wellcome hartily.
Lop.
We will be,
For wee'll eate hard
Bar.
The harder, the more wellcome,
And till the morning farewell; I have busines.
Exit.
Mil.
Farewell good bountiful Bartolus 'tis a brave wench
A sudaine witty Theif, and worth all service:
Goe wee'll all goe, and crucifie the Lawyer,
Die.
I'll clap foure tire of teeth into my mouth more
But I will grind his substance.
Ars.
Well Leandro,
Thou hast had a strange voyage, but I hope
Thou rid'st now in safe harbour,
Mil.
Lets goe drinke, Friends,
And laugh alou'd at all our merry may-games
Lop.
A match, a match 'twill whet our stomachs better.
Exeunt.
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