 | The Custome of the Countrey |  |
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Zabulon and Servants.Zab.
Be quick, be quick, Out with the bucket there,
These sents are dull; cast richer on, and fuller;
Sente every place, where have you plas'd the musicke?
Ser.
Here they stand ready Sir.
Zab.
'Tis well, be sure
The wines be lusty, high, and full of spirit,
And Amberd all.
Ser.
They are
Zab.
Give faire attendance.
In the best trim, and state, make ready all.
(Banquet set forth
I shall come presently againe.
Exit.
2. Ser.
We shall Sir,
What preperation's this?
Some new devise
My Lady has in hand,
1. Ser.
ô, prosper it
As long as it carries good wine in the mouth?
And good meate with it, where are all the rest
2. Ser.
They are ready to attend.
Ser.
Sure some great person,
Musicke
They would not make this hurry else.
2. Ser.
Harke the Musicke.
Enter Zabulon and Arnoldo.
It will appeare now certaine, here it comes.
Now to our places.
Ar.
Whether will he lead me?
What invitations this? to what new end,
Are these faire preperations? a rich Banquet,
Musicke, and every place stuck with adornment,
Fit for a Princes welcome; what new game
Has Fortune now prepared to shew me happle?
And then againe to sink me? 'tis no illusion.
Mine eyes are not deceiv'd, all these are reall;
What wealth and State?
Zab.
Will you sit downe and eate Sir?
These carry little wonder, they are usuall;
But you shall see, if you be wise to observe it,
That that will strike indeed: strike with amazement,
Then if you be a man: this faire health to you.
Ar.
What shall I see? I pledge ye Sir, I was never
So buried in amazement—
Zab.
You are so still
Drinke freely.
Ar.
The very wines are admirable:
Good Sir, give me leave to aske this question,
For what great worthy man, are these prepard?
And why do you bring me hither?
Zab.
They are for you, Sir;
And under-vallve not the worth you carry,
You are that worthy man: thinke well of these.
They shall be more, and greater.
Ar.
Well, blinde fortune
Thou hast the prettiest changes when thou art pleas'd,
To play thy game out wantonly—
Zab.
Come be lusty
And awake your Spirits.
Cease Musick
Ar.
Good Sir, do not wake me.
For willingly I would dye in this dreame, pray whose Servants
Are all these that attend her?
Zab.
They are yours;
They wait on you,
Ar.
I never yet remember
I kept such faces, nor that I was ever able
To maintaine so many.
Zab.
Now you are, and shall be,
Ar.
You'l say this house is mine too?
Zab.
Say it? sweare it.
11
And all this wealth?
Zab.
This is the least you see Sir.
Ar.
Why, where has this been hid these thirtie yeares?
For certainely I never found I was wealthie
Till this hower, never dream'd of house, and Servants,
I had thought I had been a younger brother, a poore Gent.
I may eat boldly then.
Zab.
'Tis prepared for ye.
Ar.
The taste is perfect, and most delicate:
But why for me? give me some wine, I do drink;
I feele it sensibly, and I am here,
Here in this glorious place: I am bravely used too,
Good Gentle Sir, give me leave to thinke a little
For either I am much abus'd—
Zab.
Strike Musick
And sing that lusty Song.
Musick Song.
Ar.
Bewitching harmony!
Sure I am turn'd into another Creature.
Enter Hyppolita.
Happy and blest, Arnoldo was unfortunate;
Ha? blesse mine eyes; what pretious piece of nature
To poze the world?
Zab.
I told you, you would see that,
Would darken these poore preparations;
What think ye now? nay rise not, 'tis no vision.
Ar.
Tis more: 'tis miracle.
Hyp.
You are welcome Sir.
Ar.
It speakes, and entertaines me still more glorious;
She is warme, and this is flesh here: how she stirrs me.
Blesse me what stars are there?
Hyp.
May I sit neere ye?
Ar.
No, you are too pure an object to behold,
Too excellent to looke upon, and live;
I must remove.
Zab.
She is a woman Sir,
Fy, what faint hart is this
Ar.
The house of wonder.
Zab.
Do not you thinke your selfe now truely happie?
You have the abstract of all sweetnesse by ye,
The pretious wealth youth Labors to arrive at
Nor is she lesse in honour, then in beauty,
Ferraras, roiall Duke, is proud to call her
His best, his noblest, and most happie Sister,
Fortune has made her Mistris of herselfe,
Wealthy, and wise, without a power to sway her,
Wonder of Italy, of all harts Mistris.
Arn.
And all this is—
Zab.
Hyppolita the beauteous.
Hyp.
You are a poore relator of my fortunes,
Too weake a Chronicle to speak my blessings,
And leave out that essentiall part of Story
I am most high and happy in, most fortunate,
The acquaintance, and the noble fellowship
Of this faire Gentleman: pray ye do not wonder,
Nor hold it strange to heare a handsome Lady
Speak freely to ye: with your fair leave & courtesie
I will sit by ye.
Arn.
I know not what to answer,
Nor where I am, nor to what end consider,
Why do you use me thus?
Hyp.
are ye angry Sir,
Because ye are entertain'd with all humanity?
Freely and nobly us'd?
Arn.
No gentle Lady
That were uncivill, but it much amazes me
A stranger, and a man of no desert
Should finde such floods of courtesie.
Hyp.
I love ye,
I honour ye, the first and best of all men,
And where that faire opinion leads, 'tis usuall
These trifles that but serve to set off, follow,
I would not have you proud now, nor disdainful
Because I say I love ye, though I sweare it,
Nor thinke it a stale favour I fling on ye,
Though ye be handsome, and the only man
I must confesse I ever fixt mine eye on,
And bring along all promises that please us,
Yet I should hate ye then, despise ye, scorne ye,
And with as much contempt pursue your person,
As now I doe with love. But you are wiser,
At least I think, more master of your fortune,
And so I drink your health.
Arn.
Hold fast good honesty,
I am a lost man else.
Hyp.
Now you may kisse me,
'Tis the first kisse, I ever aske, I sweare to ye.
Arn.
That I dare doe sweet Lady.
Hyp.
You doe it well too;
You are a Master Sir, that makes you coy.
Arn.
Would you would send your people off.
Hyp.
Well thought on.
Wait all without.
Exit. Zab. and servants
Zab.
I hope she is pleas'd throughly.
Hyp.
Why stand ye still? her'es no man to detect ye,
My people are gon off: come, come, leave conjuring
The Spirit you would raise, is here already
Looke boldly on me.
Ar.
What would you have me doe?
Hyp.
O most unmanly question! have you do?
Is't possible your yeares should want a Tutor?
I'le teach ye: come, embrace me.
Ar.
Fy stand off;
And give me leave, more now, then ere, to wonder,
A building of so goodly a proportion,
Outwardly all exact, the frame of Heaven,
Should hide within so base Inhabitants?
You are as faire, as if the morning bare ye,
Imagination never made a sweeter;
Can it be possible this frame should suffer,
And built on slight affections, fright the vewer?
Be excellent in all, as you are outward,
The worthy Mistris of those many blessings
Heaven has bestowed, make 'em appeare still nobler,
Because they are trusted to a weaker keeper.
Would ye have me love ye?
Hyp.
Yes,
Ar.
Not for your beautie;
Though I confesse, it blowes the first fire in us,
Time as he passes by, puts out that sparkle,
Nor for your wealth, although the world kneele to it,
And make it all addition to a woman,
Fortune that ruines all, makes that his conquest;
Be honest, and be vertuous, i'le admire ye,
At least be wise, and where ye lay these nets,
Strow over 'em a little modesty,
'Twill well become your cause, and catch more Fooles.
Hyp.
Could any one that lov'd this wholsome counsell
But love the giver more? you make me fonder:
You have a vertuous minde, I want that ornament;
Is it a sin I covet to enjoy ye?
If ye imagine I am too free a Lover,
And act that part belongs to you I am silent;
Mine eyes shall speake my blushes, parly with ye,
I will not touch your hand, but with a tremble
Fitting a vestall Nun; not long to kisse ye,
But gently as the aire, and undiscerned too,
12
So still and silent that it shall be equall,
To put me off, as that, and when I covet,
To give such toyes as these—
Ar.
A new temptation—
Hyp.
Thus like the lazie minuts will drop 'em,
Which past once are forgotten.
Ar.
Excellent vice!
Hyp.
Will ye be won? looke stedfastly upon me,
Looke manly, take a mans affections to you;
Young women, in the old world were not wont, Sir,
To hang out gaudy busshes for their beauties,
To talke themselues into young-mens affections;
How cold and dull you are?
Ar.
How I stagger?
She is wise, as faire; but 'tis a wicked wisedome;
I'le choacke before I yield.
Zabulon within.
Hyp.
who waites within there
Make ready the greene chamber,
Zab.
It shall be Madam.
Ar.
I am afraid she will injoy me indeed,
Hyp.
What Musicke do ye love?
Ar.
A modest tongue.
Hyp.
Wee'll have enough of that: fy, fy, how lumpish?
In a young Ladies armes, thus dull?
Ar.
For heaven sake
Profess a little goodnesse.
Hyp.
Of what Countrey?
Ar.
I am of Rome.
Hyp.
Nay then I know you mock me,
The Italians are not frighted with such bug-bears,
Prethee go in.
Ar.
I am not well;
Hyp.
I'le make thee,
I'le kisse thee well:
Ar.
I am not sicke of that sore.
Hyp.
upon my conscience, I must ravish thee,
I shall be famous for the first example:
With this I'le tye ye first, then trye your strength Sir,
Ar.
My strength, away base woman? I abhor thee.
I am not caught with stales, disease dwell with thee.
Exit.
Hyp.
Are ye so quicke? and have I lost my wishes?
Hoe, Zabulon; my Seruants.
Enter Zabulon and Servants.
Call'd ye Madam?
Hyp.
Is all that beautie scorned, so many sude for?
So many Princes? by a stranger too?
Must I endure this?
Zab.
Wher's the Gentleman?
Hyp.
Go presently, pursue the stranger, Zabulon.
He has broke from me, Jewels I have given him:
Charge him with theft: hee has stolne my love, my freedome,
Draw him before the Governour, imprison him,
Why dost thou stay?
Zab.
I'le teach him a new daunce,
For playing fast and loose with such a Lady.
Come fellowes, come: I'le execute your anger,
And to the full.
Hyp.
His scorne shall feele my vengeance.—
Exeunt.
| The Custome of the Countrey | |