 | The Spanish Curat |  |
Actus Secundus
Scena prima
Enter Leandro (with a letter writ out) Milanes & AsermoMil.
Can any thing, but wonder?
Lean.
Wonder on,
I am as ye see, and what will follow Gentlemen
Ars.
Why dost thou put on this form? what can this do?
Thou lookest most sillily.
Mil.
Like a young Clerk
A half pin'd-puppy that would write for a Royall.
Is this a commanding shape to win a Beautie?
To what use, what occasion?
Lean.
Peace ye are fooles,
More silly then my out-side seems ye are ignorant
They that pretend to wonders must weave cunningly.
Ars.
What manner of accesse can this get? or if gotten
What credit in her eyes?
Lean.
Will ye but leave me?
Mil.
Me thinks a yong man, and a handsom Gentleman
(But sure thou art lunatick) me thinks a brave man
That would catch cunningly the beames of Beautie,
And so distribute 'em, unto his comfort,
Should like himself appeare, young, high, and buxom.
And in the brightest form.
Lean.
Ye are cozen'd (Gentlemen)
Neither doe I believe this, nor will follow it,
Thus I am, I will begin my voyage,
When you love, lanch it out in silks and velvets,
Ile love in Serge, and will outgo your Sattins
To get upon my great horse and appeare.
The signe of such a man, and trot my measures,
Or fiddle out whole frosty nights (my friends)
Vnder the window, while my teeth keep tune,
I hold no handsomnesse. Let me get in
There trot and fiddle where I may have faire play,
Ars.
But how get in?
Lean.
Leave that to me, your patience,
I have some toyes here that I dare well trust to:
I have smelt a Vicar out, they call him Lopez.
You are ne're the nearer now,
Mil.
We do confesse it.
Lean.
Weak simple men, this Vicar to this Lawyer
Is the most inward, Damon.
Ars.
What can this do?
Mil.
We know the fellow, and he dwells there.
Lean.
So.
Ars.
A poore, thin theef: he help? he; hang the Vicar
Can reading of an—preferre thee?
Lean.
Thou art dead-sick in love, and hee'l pray for thee
Have patience (Gentlemen) I say this Vicar,
This thing I say is all one with the Close Bartolus
(For so they call the Lawyer) or his nature
Which I have studied by relation;
And make no doubt I shall hit hansomly,
Will I work cunningly and home: understand me.
Enter Lopez and Diego.
Next I pray leave me, Leave me to my fortune
Difficilia pulchra, thats my Motto (Gentlemen)
I'le win this Diamond from the rock and weare her
Or—
Mil.
Peace, the Vicar: send ye a full sail, Sir.
Ars.
There's your Confessor, but what shal be your pennance?
exit lea.
A fools head if I fail and so forsake me.
You shall heare from me daily.
Mil.
We will be ready,
Lop.
Thin world indeed:
Lean.
I'le let him breathe and mark him:
No man would think a stranger as I am
Should reap any great commodity from his pigbelly,
Lop.
Poore stirring for poore Vicars,
Diego.
And poore Sextons.
Lop.
We pray and pray, but to no purpose
Those that enjoy our Lands, choak our Devotions.
Our poore thin stipends make us arrant dunces,
Diego.
If you live miserably, how shall we do (Master?)
That are fed onely with the sound of prayers?
We rise and ring the Bells to get good stomacks.
And must be fain to eat the ropes with reverence,
30
When was there a Christning (Diego?)
Dieg.
Not this ten weekes:
Alas, they have forgot to get children (Master)
The Warres, the Seas, and usurie undoe us,
Takes off our minds, our edges, blunts our plough-shares,
They eat nothing here, but herbs, & get nothing but green sauce:
There are some poore Labourers, that perhaps
Once in seven yeare, with helping one another,
Produce some few pind—Butter—prints, that scarce hold
The christning neither.
Lop.
Your Gallants, they get Honour,
A strange fantasticall Birth, to defraud the Vicar,
And the Camp Christens their Issues, or the Curtizans,
'Tis a lewd time.
Die.
They are so hard-hearted here too.
They will not dye, there's nothing got by Burialls.
Lop.
Diego, the Ayre's too pure, they cannot perish:
To have a thin Stipend, and an everlasting Parish,
Lord what a torment 'tis!
Die.
Good sensible Master,
You are allow'd to pray against all weathers,
(Both foule, and faire, as you shall find occasion)
Why not against all ayres?
Lop.
That's not i'th' Canons,
I would it had, 'tis out of our way forty pence.
Di.
'Tis strange, they are starv'd too yet they wil not die here,
They will not Earth: a good stout plague amongst 'um,
Or halfe a dozen new fantasticall Fevers
That would turne up their heeles by whole-sale (Master)
And take the Doctors too, in their grave Counsells,
That there might be no naturall help for money;
How merrily would my Bells goe then?
Lop.
Peace Diego
The Doctors are our friends, let's please them well,
For though they kill but slow, they are certaine (Diego)
We must remove into a muddy Ayre,
A most contagious Clymat.
Die.
We must certaine,
An ayre that is the nursery of Agues,
Such Agues (Master) that will shake mens soules out,
Ne're stay for Possets, nor good old wives plaisters.
Lop.
Gowts and dead Palsies.
Die.
The dead doe's well at all times,
Yet Gowts will hang an arsse a long time (Master)
The Pox, or English Surfets if we had 'em;
Those are rich Marle, they make a Church-yard fat,
And make the Sexton sing, they never misse, Sir.
Lop.
Then Wills and Funerall Sermons come in season,
And Feasts that makes us frolicke.
Die.
Would I could see 'em.
Lop.
And though I weepe i'th' Pulpit for my Brother,
Yet (Diego) here I laugh.
Di.
The cause requires it.
Lop.
Since people left to die I am dunce (Diego).
Die.
'Tis a strange thing, I have forgot to dig too.
Lea.
A pretious pair of youths; I must make toward 'em
Lop.
Who's that? look out it seemes he would speak to us.
I hope a Marriage or some Wil to make (Diego.)
Dieg.
My friend your businesse?
Lea.
'Tis to that grave Gentleman;
Blesse your good learning (Sir)
Lop.
And blesse you also,
He beares a promising face, there's some hope toward.
Lea.
I have a Letter to your worship.
Lop.
Well Sir,
From whence I pray you?
Lea.
From Nova Hispania, Sir,
And from an ancient friend of yours.
Lop.
'Tis well (Sir)
'Tis very well: the divell a-one I know there.
Die.
Take heed of a Snap (Sir) has a cozening countenance,
I doe not like his way.
Lop.
Let him goe forward.
Cantabit Uacuus, They that have nothing, feare nothing,
All I have to loose (Diego) is my learning,
And when he has gotten that, he may put it in a Nut shell,
Letter Read.
Signior
Lopez, Since my arrivall from Cordova to these
parts, I have written divers Letters unto you but as
yet received no Answer of any (Good: and very good) And
although so great a forgetfulnesse might cause a want in my
due correspondence yet the desire I have still to serve you
must more prevaile with me (Better and better: the divell
a man know I yet) and therefore with the present occasion
offered I am willing to crave a continuance of the favours,
which I have heretofore received from you and doe recommend
my Son Leandro the Bearer to you with request
that he may be admitted in that Universitie till such time
as I shall arive at home; his studies he will make you acquainted
withall: This kindnesse shall supply the want of your
slacknesse: And so heaven keep you. Yours
Alonzo Tiveria.
Alonzo Tiveria very well,A very ancient friend of mine, I take it,
For till this houre I never heard his Name, yet.
Lea.
You looke (Sir) as if ye had forgot my Father.
Lop.
No, no, I look as I would remember him.
For that I never remembred, I cannot forget (Sir)
Alonzo Tiveria.
Lea.
The same (Sir.)
Lop.
And now i'th' Indies?
Lea.
Yes.
Lop.
He may be any where,
For ought that I consider.
Lea.
Thinke againe (Sir)
You were Students both at one time in Salamanca,
And, as I take it, Chamber-fellowes.
Lop.
Ha?
Lea.
Nay, sure you must remember.
Lop.
Would I could.
Lea.
I have heard him say, you were Gossips too.
Lop.
Very likely,
You did not heare him say, to whom? for we Students
May often-times over-reach our memories,
Do'st thou remember (Diego) this same Signiour?
Thou hast been mine these twenty yeares.
Di.
Remember?
Why, this Fellow would make ye mad: Nova Hispania?
And Signiour Tiveria? what are these?
He may as well name ye Friends out of Cataya
Take heed I beseech your worship: doe you heare, (my friend?)
You have no Letters for me?
Lea.
Not any Letter,
But I was charged to doe my Fathers love
To the old honest Sexton Diego; are you he (Sir?)
Di.
Ha? have I friends, and know 'em not? my name is Diego,
Or Nova Hispania (I was never there Sir)
Or any kindred that you have—for heaven-sake, Master,
Let's cast about a little, and consider,
We may dreame out our time.
Lea.
It seemes I am deceiv'd (Sir)
31
The Curat here, and have bin some time (sir)
And you the Sexton Diego, such I am sent too,
The Letter tells as much: may be they are dead,
And you of the like names succeed: I thank ye gentlemen,
Ye have done honestly, in telling truth,
I might have bin forward els. For that Lopez.
That was my Fathers friend, I had a charge,
(A charge of Money) to deliver (Gentlemen)
Five hundred Duckets, a poore small gratuity,
But since you are not he, good sir, let me thinke,
I pray ye be patient.
Lop.
Pray ye stay a little,
Nay, let me remember, I beseech ye stay, Sir.
Die.
An honest noble friend, that sends so lovingly;
An old friend too; I shall remember sure, Sir.
Lop.
Thou sayst true Diego.
Di.
'Pray ye consider quickly,
Doe, doe, by any meanes, me thinkes already
A grave staid gentleman comes to my memory.
Lea.
He's old indeed, sir.
Di.
With a goodly white Beard,
(For now he must be so: I know he must be)
Signior Alonzo, (Master.)
Lop.
I begin to have him.
Di.
'Has bin from hence, about some twenty years (sir.)
Lea.
Som five and twenty (sir.)
Di.
You say most true (sir)
Just to an houre; 'tis now just five and twenty,
A fine straite timber'd man, and a brave souldier,
He married: let me see,—
Lea.
De Castro's Daughter.
Di.
The very same.
Lea.
Thou art a very Rascall,
De Castro is the Turke to thee, or any thing:
The Money rubbs 'em into strange remembrances,
For as many Duckets more they wou'd remember Adam.
Lop.
Give me your hand, you are welcome to your countrey,
Now I remember plainly, manifestly,
As freshly, as if yesterday I had seene him,
Most heartily welcome, sinfull that I am,
Most sinfull man, why should I loose this Gentleman?
This loving old Companion? we had all one soule, sir,
He dwelt here hard by, at a handsome—
Lea.
Farme sir,
You say most true.
Lop.
Alonzo Tiveria;
Lord, Lord, that time should play the treacherous knave thus?
Why, he was the onely friend, I had in Spaine (sir)
I knew your Mother too, a handsome Gentlewoman,
She was married very young: I married 'em:
I doe remember now the Maskes and Sports then,
The Fire-workes, and the fine delights; good faith, sir.
Now I looke in your face, whose eies are those Diego?
Nay, if he be not just Alonzo's picture—
Lea.
Lord how I blush for these two impudents?
Di.
Well Gentleman, I thinke your name's Leandro;
Lea.
It is indeed (sir)
Gra'-mercy Letter, thou hadst never knowne els.
Di.
I have dandled ye, and kist ye, and plaid with ye
A hundred, and a hundred times, and danc'd ye,
And swong ye in my Bell-ropes, ye lov'd swinging.
Lop.
A sweet Boy.
Lea.
Sweet lying knaves.
What would these doe for thousands?
Lop.
A wondrous sweet Boy then it was, see now
Time that consumes us, shoots him up, still sweeter.
How do's the noble Gentleman? how fares he?
When shall we see him? when will he blesse his Country?
Lea.
O, very shortly, sir, till his returne,
He has sent me over to your charge.
Lop.
And welcome,
Nay, you shall know you are welcome to your friend, sir,
Lea.
And to my Study (sir) which must be the Law,
To further which, he would entreat your care
To plant me in the favour of some man
That's expert in that knowledge: for his paines
I have three hundred Duckets more: For my Diet,
Enough (sir) to defray me: which I am charged
To take still, as I use it, from your custodie,
I have the money ready, and I am weary.
Lop.
Sit down, sit down, and once more ye are most welcome,
The Law you have hit upon most happily,
Here is a Master in that Art, Bartolus,
A neighbour by, to him I will preferre ye,
A learned man, and my most loving Neighbour,
I'll doe ye faithfull service (sir.)
Di.
He's an Asse,
And so wee'll use him; he shall be a Lawyer.
Lo.
But if ever he recover this mony again: before Diego.
And get some pretty pittance: my Pupill's hungry.
Lea.
Pray ye Sir, unlade me.
Lop.
I'le refresh ye Sir;
When ye want, you know your Exchequer.
Lea.
If all this get me but accesse, I am happy.
Lop.
Come, I am tender of ye,
Lea.
I'll goe with ye,
To have this Fort betray'd, these fooles must fliece me.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Bartolus, and Amaranta.Bar.
My Amaranta, a retir'd sweet life,
Private and close, and still, and houswifely,
Becomes a Wife, sets off the grace of woman
At home to be beleev'd both young, and handsome,
As Lillies that are casde in christall Glasses,
Makes up the wonder: shew it abroad, 'tis stale,
And still and the more eyes cheapen it, 'tis more slubberd,
And what need windowes open to inviting?
Or evening Tarrasses, to take opinions?
When the most wholsome Ayre (my wife) blowes inward,
When good thoughts are the noblest Companions,
And old chast stories (wife) the best discourses;
But why doe I talke thus, that know thy nature?
Ama.
You know your own disease: distrust, & jealousies,
And those two, give these Lessons, not good meaning,
What triall is there of my honestie,
When I am mew'd at home? to what end, Husband,
Serves all the vertvous thoughts, and chast behaviours
Without their uses? Then they are known most excellent
When, by their contraries they are set off, and burnish'd,
If ye both hold me faire, and chast, and vertuous,
Let me goe fearelesse out, and win that greatnesse;
These Seeds grow not in Shades, and conceal'd places
Set 'em i'th' heat of all, then they rise glorious.
Bar.
Peace, ye are too loude.
Ama.
You are too covetous,
If that be rank'd a vertue, you have a rich one,
32
Attended as I ought, and as they have it,
My Coach, my people, and my handsome women,
My will, in honest things.
Bar.
Peace Amaranta:
Ama.
They have content, rich clothes, and that secures 'em,
Bindes, to their carefull Husbands, their observance,
They are merry, ride abroad, meet, laugh,
Bar.
Thou shalt too:
Ama.
And freely may converse with proper Gentlemen,
Suffer temptations daily to their honour.
Enter Woman-Moore.
Bar.
You are now too far again: thou shalt have any thing,
Let me but lay up for a handsome Office,
And then my Amaranta—
Ama.
Here's a thing now,
Ye place as pleasure to me: all my retinue,
My Chamber-maid, my Kitchin-maid, my friend,
And what she failes in, I must doe my selfe.
A foyle to set my Beauty off, I thanke ye,
You will place the Devill next for a Companion,
Bar.
No more such words (good wife)
What would you have (Maid?)
Moor.
Master Curate, and the Sexton, & a stranger (sir)
Attend to speake with your worship.
Bar.
A stranger?
Ama.
You had best to be jealous of the man you know not.
Bar.
'Preethee no more of that.
Ama.
'Pray ye goe out to 'em,
That will be safest for ye, I am well here,
I onely love your peace, and serve like a slave for it.
Bar.
No, no, thou shalt not; 'tis some honest Client,
Rich, and litigious, the Curate has brought to me,
Pre'thee goe in (my Duck) I'll but speake to 'em,
And returne instantly.
Ama.
I am commanded,
One day you will know my sufferance.—
Exit.
Bar.
And reward it.
So, so, fast bind, fast find; Come in my Neighbours,
My loving Neighbours pray ye come in, ye are welcome,
Enter Lopez Leandro, and Diego.
Lop.
Blesse your good reverence.
Bar.
Good-day, good Master Curate,
And neighbour Diego, welcome: what's your businesse?
And 'pray ye be short (good friends) the time is pretious,
Welcome, good sir.
Lop.
To be short then with your Mastership,
(For I know your severall houres, are full of businesse)
We have brought ye this young-man, of honest parents,
And of an honest face.
Bar.
It seemes so (Neighbours)
But to what end?
Lop.
To be your Pupill (Sir)
Your Servant, if you please.
Lea.
I have travell'd far, sir.
To seeke a worthy man,
Bar.
Alas, good Gentleman,
I am a poore man, and a private too,
Unfit to keep a Servant of your Reckoning;
My house a little Cottage, and scarce able
To hold my selfe, and those poore few live under it;
Besides, you must not blame me Gentleman,
If I were able to receive a Servant.
To be a little scrupulous of his dealing
For in these times—
Lop.
'Pray let me answer that (sir)
Here is fiue hundred Duckets, to secure him,
He cannot want (sir) to make good his credit,
Good gold, and coyne.
Bar.
And thats an honest pledge;
Yet sure, that needs not, for his face, and carriage,
Seeme to declare an in-bred honesty,
Lea.
And for I have a ripe mind to the Law (sir)
(In which I understand you live a Master)
The least poore corner in your house, poore Bed (sir)
(Let me not seeme intruding to your Worship)
With some Books to instruct me, and your Counsell,
Shall I rest most content with: other Acquaintance
Then your grave presence, and the grounds of Law
I dare not covet, nor I will not seeke (sir)
For surely mine owne nature desires privacie.
Next, for your monthly paines (to shew my thanks,)
I doe proportion out some twenty Duckets;
As I grow riper, more: three hundred now (sir)
To shew my love to learning, and my Master,
My diet, I'll defray too, without trouble.
Lop.
Note but his mind to learning.
Bar.
I do strangely, yes, and I like it too, thankes to his money.
Di.
Would he would live with me, and learn to dig too.
Lop.
A wondrous modest man (sir.)
Bar.
So it seemes,
His deare love to his Studie must be nourish'd
Neighbour, he's like to prove.
Lop.
With your good counsell,
And with your diligence, as you will ply him;
His Parents, when they know your care—
Bar.
Come hither;
Die.
An honester young man, your worship ne're kept,
But he is so bashfull—
Bar.
O I like him better,
Say I should undertake ee, which indeed (sir)
Will be no little straightnesse to my living.
Considering my Affaires, and my small house (sir)
For I see some promises that pull me to ye;
Could you content your selfe, at first thus meanly,
To lye hard, in an out—part of my house (sir?)
For I have not many Lodgings to allow ye;
And studie should be still remote from company;
A little fire sometimes too, to refresh ye;
A Student must be frugall: sometimes Lights too,
According to your labour.
Lea.
Any thing (sir)
That's dry, and wholsome: I am no bred-wanton.
Bar.
Then I receive you: but I must desire ye
To keep within your confines.
Lea.
Ever sir,
There's the Gold, and ever be your servant,
Take it and give me Bookes: may I but prove (sir)
According to my wish, and these shall multiply.
Lop.
Do, study hard, pray ye take him in, and settle him,
He's onely fit for you; Shew him his Cell (sir.)
Di.
Take a good heart; and when ye are a cunning Lawyer,
I'le sell my Bells and you shall prove it lawfull,
Ba.
Come, sir, with me: neighbors I thank your diligence.
Lop.
I'll come sometimes, and crack a case with ye.
Bar.
Welcome—
Exit.
Lop.
Here's mony got with ease: here, spend that jovially,
And pray for the Foole, the Founder.
Die.
Many more Fooles
I heartily pray may follow his example,
Lawyers, or Lubbers, or of what condition,
33
Lop.
It will do well; Let 'em but send their moneys,
Come from what quarter of the world, I care not,
I'll know 'em instantly; nay I'll be a kin to 'em;
I cannot misse a man, that sends me money:
Let him Law there, 'long as his Duckets last, Boy,
I'll grace him, and prefer him.
Die.
Ill turn Trade (Master) and now live by the living
Let the dead stinke, 'tis a poore stinking Trade.
Lop.
If the young Foole now
Should chance to chop, upon his faire Wife (Diego.)
Die.
And handle her Case (Master) that's a law point,
A point would make him start, and put on his Spectacles
A hidden point, were worth the canvassing.
Lop.
Now surely, surely, I should love him (Diego)
And love him heartily: nay, I should love my selfe,
Or any thing that had but that good fortune,
For to say truth the Lawyer is a dog-bolt,
An arrant worme: and though I call him worshipfull,
I wish him a canoniz'd Cuckold (Diego)
Now, if my youth doe dub him—
Di.
He is too demure (sir.)
Lop.
If he do sting her home.
Die.
There's no such matter,
The woman was not borne to so much blessednesse,
He has no heate: study consumes his oyle (Master,)
Lop.
Let's leave it to the will of Fate, and presently
Over a cup of lustie Sack, let's prophecie.
I am like a man that dreampt he was an Emperour.
Come Diego, hope, & whilst he lasts, we'll lay it on.
Exit.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Jamy Millanes, Arsenio.Jam.
Angelo, Millanes, did you see this wonder?
Mil.
Yes, yes.
Jam.
And you Arsenio?
Ar.
Yes he's gon (Sir)
Strangely disguis'd, he's set upon his voyage.
Love guide his thoughts: he's a brave honest fellow,
Sit close Don Lawyer, ô that arrant knave now,
How he will stinke, will smoake againe, will burst:
He's the most arrant Beast.
Mil.
He may be more beast.
Ja.
Let him beare six, and six, that all may blaze him,
The villany he has sowed into my Brother,
And from his State the Revenue he has reach'd at:
Pay him, my good Leandro, take my praiers.
Ar.
And all our wishes plough with his fine white heifer.
Ja.
Marke him (my deare Friend) for a famous Cuckold,
Let it out-live his Bookes, his paines, and heare me,
The more he seeks to smother it with Justice,
Enter a Servant.
Let it blaze out the more: what news Andrea?
Andr.
Newes I am loth to tell ye: but I am charg'd (Sir)
Your Brother layes a strict command upon ye,
No more to know his house, upon your danger,
I am sorry (Sir.)
Jam.
'Faith never be: I am glad on't,
He keepes the house of pride, and foolery:
I meane to shun it: so returne my Answer,
'Twill shortly spew him out; Come, let's be merry,
And lay our heads together, carefully
How we may helpe our friend; and let's lodge neare him,
Be still at hand: I would not for my patrimony,
But he should crown his Lawyer, a learned Monster,
Come, let's away I am stark mad till I see him.
Exeunt.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Bartolus, and Amaranta.Amar.
Why, will ye bring men in, and yet be jealous?
Why will ye lodge a young man, a man able,
And yet repine?
Bar.
He shall not trouble thee (Sweet)
A modest poore slight thing, did I not tell thee
He was onely given to the Booke, and for that
How royally he paies? finds his owne meat too.
Am.
I will not have him here: I know your courses,
And what fits you will fall into of madnesse.
Bar.
Y'faith, I will not Wife,
Am.
I will not try ye,
Bar.
He comes not neare thee: shall not dare to tread
Within thy Lodgings, in an old out-Roome
Where Logs, and Coles were layd.
Am.
Now ye lay fire; Fire to consume your quiet.
Bar.
Didst thou know him,
Thou wouldst thinke as I doe: he disquiet thee?
Thou mayst weare him next thy heart, & yet not warme him,
His mind (poore man) 's o'th' Law, how to live after,
And not on lewdnesse: on my conscience
He knowes not how to looke upon a woman
More then by reading what Sex she is.
Am.
I doe not like it (Sir.)
Bar.
Do'st thou not see (Foole)
What presents he sends hourely in his gratefulnesse?
What delicate meates?
Am.
You had best trust him at your Table,
Doe and repent it doe.
Bar.
If thou be'st willing,
By my troth, I thinke he might come, he's so modest,
He never speakes: there's part of that he gave me,
He'll eat but halfe a dozen bits, and rise immediatly,
Even as he eats, he studies: he'll not disquiet thee,
Doe as thou pleasest (Wife.)
Am.
What means this Wood-cocke?
Knock within.
Bar.
Retire (Sweet) there's one knocks: come in, your businesse.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
My Lord, Don Henrique, would entreat ye, Sir,
To come immediatly, and speake with him,
He has businesse of some moment.
Bar.
I'll attend him,
I must be gon: I pre'thee thinke the best (wife)
At my returne, I'll tell thee more, good morrow;
Sir, keep ye close, and study hard: an houre hence
I'll read a new Case to ye:—
Exit.
Leandro within.
Lean.
I'll be ready.
Enter Amaranta.
Amar.
So many hundred Duckets, to ly scurvily?
And learne the pelting law? this sounds but slenderly,
But very poorely: I would see this fellow
Very faine see him, how he lookes: I will find
To what end, and what study: there's the place:
I'll goe o'th' other side, and take my Fortune;
I think there is a window.
Exit.
Enter Leandro.
Lean.
He's gone out
Now, if I could but see her: she is not this way:
How nastily he keepes his house? my Chamber,
If I continue long, will choak me up,
It is so damp: I shall be mortifide
For any woman, if I stay a moneth here:
I'll in, and strike my Lute, that sound may call her.
Exit.
Enter Amaranta. Lute and Song.
Ama.
He keeps very close: Lord, how I long to see him:
A Lute strooke handsomely, a voice too; I'll heare that:
These Verses are no Law, they sound too sweetly.
Now I am more desirous.
(Leandro peeping.)
Lea.
'Tis she certain.
Am.
What's that that peeps?
Lea.
O, admirable face!
Am.
Sure 'tis the man.
Lea.
I will goe out a little.
34
Hee lookes not like a foole, his face is noble:
How still he stands?
Lea.
I am strucken dumb, with wonder,
Sure, all the Excellence of Earth dwells here.
Am.
How pale he looks? yet how his eies like torches,
Fling their beames round: how manly his face shewes?
He comes on: surely he will speak: he is made most handsomly:
This is no Clerk behaviour; Now I have seen ye,
I'l take my time: husbād, ye have brought home tinder.
Ex
Lea.
Sure she has transform'd me,
I had forgot my tongue cleane,
I never saw a face yet, but this rare one,
But I was able boldly to encounter it,
And speak my mind, my lips were lock upon me,
This is divine, and onely serv'd with reverence;
O most faire cover, of a hand far fairer,
Thou blessed Innocence, that gaurds that whiteness,
Live next my heart. I am glad I have got a relick,
A noise within.
A relick when I pray to it, may work wonders.
Harke, there's some noyse: I must retire againe.
This blessed Apparition, makes me happy;
I'll suffer, and I'll sacrifice my substance,
But I'll enjoy: now softly to my Kennell.
Exit.
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