 | The Gratefvll Servant |  |
ACTVS, 3.
SCÆNA, 1.
Enter Iacomo.Jac.
I smell a match agen, the Duke will fetch her about,
here was another Ambassadour at Dinner, and his Highnesse
I will continue my state posture, vse my toothpicke with discretion,
and cough distinctly, what can hinder my rising? I
am no Scholler, that exception is taken away, for most of our
states-men, doe hold it a sawcie thing, for any of their Seruants,
to be wiser then themselues, obserue the inuentorie of
a great Noblemans house, marke the number of the learned,
Ile begin with them. Jmprimis, Chaplaines and Schoole-masters
one, two Pages, 3. Gentlemen, 4. Footemen, 6. Horses,
8. Seruing creatures, and 10. couple of Dogs, a very Noble
family.
Enter Dulcino.
Dul.
Worthy Sir—
Jac.
My Lady shall be at leisure for you presently—
It may bee you would speake with mee first?
Dulc.
I only entreat my Lady may haue knowledge that
I waite here.
Iac,
I will enrich my Ladies vnderstanding, Ile say nothing
else but that you are here shall I? that's enough if you
haue another Letter.
Dulc.
What then?
Jac,
I would wish you deliuer it to her owne hand, but
vnder your fauour, the contents of the last Chapter, had like
to vndone vs all, and Cupid had not bin more mercifull.
Dulc.
Feare nothing, the newes I bring, will make you merry.
Jac.
Ide laugh at that, howsoeuer you are heartily welcome
and euer shall bee, you doe heare no harme of the Duke?
Dulc.
No harme?
Iac.
You shall heare more shortly, I say no more, but heauen
blesse my Lady and his Highnesse together, for my part
though I speake a proud word—Ile tell my Lady that you
attend her.
Exit.
Dulc.
I prethee do, and hasten the discharge
Of my sad Embassie, which when I haue done,
And that it prospers in mine owne misfortune,
Ile teach my breath to pray.
Enter Cleona, Fabrichio, Iacomo.
Fabr.
A glorious fate
Courts your acceptance, and I hope your wisedome
His Highnesse bosome, now Ile take my leaue.
Cleon:
Will you not see the Prince againe?
Fabr.
I saw his Highnesse walking with Grimund
Toward the Garden, and the Duke expects me,—
Thinke of a Dutches Madam.
Cleona:
I'me not worthy,
And needs must sinke, vnder the weight of such
A title, my humblest Seruice to his Grace,
I am his beades-woman.
Exit Fabrichio.
Jac.
Madam, here's the Youth.
Cl.
Art thou return'd already? why were you
So rude to make him waite.
Dulc.
Since I arriu'd,
Tis but a paire of minutes.
Cleon.
They are worth
As many dayes.
Iac.
He shall be with your Ladiship,
Next time, before he come, when I but spy him
A mile off, Ile acquaint you, in my duty
To your selfe, and my honour vnto him.
Cleon.
Withdraw.
Jac.
Here is no couch, I doe not like
My Ladies familiarity with a boy,
Me thinkes a man were fitter, and more able
To giue her a refreshing, but this Lobby
Shall be my next remoue.
Exit and stayes behind the hangings.
Dulc.
You will repent
This welcome Madam.
Cleon.
what harsh sound is that?
Thy lookes vpon a suddaine are become
Dismall, thy brow dull as Saturnes issue.
Thy lips are hung with blacke, as if thy tongue
Were to pronounce some Funerall.
Dulc.
It is,
But let your vertue place a guard about
Your eare, it is too weake a sence to trust
With a sad tale, that may disperse too soone.
Find out your heart.
Cleon:
The Mandrake hath no voice
Like this, the Rauen, and the night birds sing
More soft, nothing in Nature, to which feare
Hath made vs superstitious, but speakes gently
Compar'd with thee, discharge thy fatall burden,
I am prepar'd, or stay, but answere me,
I will and saue thee breath, and quickly know
The totall of my sorrow, is Foscari
Dead since I saw thee last? Or hath some wound,
Or other dire misfortune seal'd him for
The graue, that though he yet liue, I may bid
My heart dispaire to see him?
Dulc.
None of these,
Since last I saw you Madam.
Cleona.
None of these?
Then I despise all sorrow boy, there is
Not left another mischiefe in my fate,
Call home thy beautie, why dost looke so pale?
See I am arm'd, and can with valiant bloud,
Heare thee discourse of my terrour row,
Me thinkes I can in the assurance of
His safety, heare of Battailes, Tempest, Death,
With all the horrid shapes that Poets fancie,
Tell me the tale of Troy, or Rome on fire,
Rich in the trophies of the conquered world,
I will not shed so many teares, to saue
The temples, as my ioy doth sacrifice,
To heare my Lord is well.
Dulc.
Turne them to griefe,
Agen, and here let me kneele, the accuser
Of him, that hath deseru'd more punishment,
Then your wrong'd pietie will inflict.
Cleon,
Dost kneele,
And call thy selfe accuser?
Dulc.
Yes.
Cleon.
Of whom?
I shall condemne thee ere thou speake.
Dulc.
You may,
But I accuse my selfe, and of an iniurie
To you.
Cleona.
To mee?
Dulc,
Too great to be forgiuen.
Cleon:
My loue to him thou seru'st, hath found a pardon
Already for it, be it an offence
Against my life.
Dulc.
For his sake, you must punish,
Deare Madam, I haue sinn'd against his Ghost,
In my deceiuing you.
Cleona.
His Ghost?
Dulc.
And if,
His Soule hath not forgotten how he loued you,
I must expect him to affright my dreames.
And prooue my waking euill, the truth is,
My Lord is dead.
Cleon.
How dead? when? where? did I
Not heare thee say, since I receiu'd his Letter,
He was aliue?
Dulc.
No Madam.
Cleon.
Be not impious.
Dulc,
I said that neither death, nor any blacke
Misfortune had befalne him, since I gaue
The Letter to you.
Cleona.
Grant this truth, I am
Secur'd agen.
Dulc:
'Las he was dead before,
I'm sure you could not chuse but heare as much,
It was my wickednesse arriu'd, to mocke
Your credulous heart, with a deuised Letter,
I know you are in wonder, what should moue mee,
To this imposture, sure it was no malice,
For you nere iniur'd me, and that doth make
My crime the more deform'd, all my ayme was,
Beeing a stranger here, and wanting meanes
After my Lords death, by this cunning, to
My life, vntill by some good fortune, I
Might get another Master, for I knew
There was no hope to benefit my selfe,
By saying he was dead, good Heauen forgiue me
And keepe my eyes from weeping.
Cleon.
Thou hast vndone me,
Like a most cruell boy.
Dulc.
Madam, I hope
I shall repaire the ruines of your eye,
When I declare the cause, that leades me to
This strange confession, I haue obseru'd
The Duke does loue you, loue you in that way,
You can deserue him, and though I haue sinn'd,
I am not stubborne in my fault, to suffer you,
In the beliefe of my deceitfull story,
To wrong your fortune, by neglect of him,
Can bring your merit such addition,
Of state and title.
Cleona:
Doest thou mocke agen?
Dulc:
Heauen knowes, I haue no thought of such impiety,
If you will not beleeue, that for your sake
I haue betrayed my selfe, yet be so charitable,
To thinke it something of my duty, to
The Duke, whose ends, while they are just, and noble,
All loyall Subiects, ought to serue, for him.
Whom I am bound to honour, and I loue him,
Else may I neuer know one day of comfort,
I durst not without guilt of treason, to
His chast desires, deceiue you any longer,
Collect your selfe deere Madam, in the graue,
There dwels no musicke, in the Dukes embrace
You meete a perfect happinesse.
Cleona:
Begon,
And neuer see me more, who euer knew
Falshood so ripe at thy yeares?
Exit,
Dulc:
Is not yet
My poore heart broke? hath nature giuen it
What charme was in my gratitude to make me
Vndoe so many comforts with one breath,
Or was it for some sinne I had to satisfie?
I haue not onely widowed Cleona,
But made my selfe a miserie beneath,
An Orphant, I nere came to haue a friend,
I ha destroy'd my hope, that little hope,
I had to be so happy.
Iacomo comes forth.
Iacom.
Is't e'ne so?
My friend, what make you here? who sent for you? begon
dee heare, begon I say the word too, there is a Porters
lodge else, where you may haue due chastisement, youle begon.
Dulc.
I'me sorry,
I haue offended Sir.
Exit Dulc.
Iac.
So am not I,
Let me see, some body is dead, if I knew who, no matter
'tis one that my Lady lou'd, and I am glad to heare it, for
mine owne sake, now Uenus speed the Dukes plough and
turne me loose to a priuy Councellor.
Enter Soranzo.
Sor.
Signior Jacomo, where's your Lady?
Iac.
She is within my good Lord, wilt please you Walke
this way?
Sor.
Prethee make hast, the Duke is comming.
Exeunt.
Iac.
I smell him hitherto,
Enter Jacomo presently.
So so, I will take this opportunity, to present my selfe to
his Highnesse, that hee may take particular notice, of my
bulke and personage, hee may chance speake to me, I haue
common places to answer any ordinary question, and for
other, he shall find by my impudence, I come not short of a
perfect Courtier. Here hee comes, I will dissemble some
contemplation, and with my hat on, giue him cause to obserue
me the better.
Enter the Duke, and Lords.
Duke,
What fellowes that?
Giot.
A Seruant of Cleona's.
The Duke extends his hand, Iacomo kisses it.
Fabr.
Signior?
Your Highnesse humble creature, you haue blest
my lips, and I will weare them thredbare, with my prayers,
for your Graces immortall prosperitie.
Enter Soranzo.
Duke,
Soranzo is return'd,
How fares Cleona?
Sor.
My Lord not well, I found her full of sadnesse, which
is increast, shee cannot as becomes her duty, obserue your
Highnesse.
Iacom:
One word with your Grace in priuate, shee is as
well, as either you, or I.
Duke,
Sayst thou so?
Jacom,
There came indeed before you certaine newes,
that a noble Gentleman, I know not who, and therefore he
shall bee namelesse, but some deare friend of hers, is dead,
and thats all, and that has put her into a melancholy mood,
with your gracious pardon, if I were worthy to bee one of
your Counsellours—
Duke,
What then?
Iaco.
I would aduise you, as others doe, to take your owne
course, your Grace knowes best, what is to be done.
Duke.
So Sir; Didst thou not see that pretty boy I told
thee of?
Soranzo.
No my good Lord.
Duke,
We are resolu'd to comfort her, set forward.
Grim.
You had simple grace?
Iac.
A touch or so, a beame with which his Highnesse,
Doth vse to keepe desert warme, good my Lord,
It is not come to that yet.
Exeunt.
Enter Foscari, and a Servant.
Fosc:
Goe to the next religious house, and pray,
Some Holy Father come and speake with mee,
But hasten thy returne, I dare not looke on
Exit Serv.
My selfe, least I forget to doe her horour,
And my heart prooue a partiall Aduocate,
I must not entertaine with the same thought,
Cleona and my Loue, least my owne passion
Betray the resolution, I ha made,
To make my seruice famous to all ages,
And strike a chilnesse through the actiue veines
Of noblest Louers, when they heare, or read,
That to advance a Mistresse, I haue giuen her.
From mine owne heart, if any shall be so
Impious at my memory, to say
I could not doe this act, and loue her too,
Some power diuine, that knew how much I lou'd her,
Some Angell that hath care to right the dead,
Punish that crime for me, and yet me thinks,
In such a cause my owne enraged Spirit,
In pitty of my ashes, so prophan'd,
Should nimbly lift my sweating marble vp,
And leape into my dust, which new inlifen'd
Should walk to him, that questioned my honor,
And be its owne reuenger, he is come.
Enter Valentio, a religious man.
Welcome good Father,
I sent to intreat your helpe, but first, pray tell me,
I haue no perfect memory, what Saint
Giues title to your Order?
Val.
Wee doe weare
The Scapular of Saint Bennet Sir.
Fosc.
Your Charity
Make you still worthy of that reuerend habit,
I haue a great Deuotion, to bee made
A Brother of your sacred institution,
What persons of great birth hath it receiu'd?
Val.
To fashion my reply to your demaund,
Is not to boast, though I proclaime the honours
Of our profession; Foure Emperours,
Forty sixe Kings, and one and fiftie Queenes,
Haue chang'd their Royall Ermines for our sables,
These Cowles haue cloth'd the heads of fourteene hundred,
And sixe Kings Sonnes, of Dukes, great Marquises,
And Earles, two thousand and aboue foure hundred
Haue turn'd their Princely Coronets, into
An humble Corronet of haire of haire, left by
The Razour thus.
No, it is not.
There is a Sunne ten times more glorious,
Then that which riseth in the East, attracts me
To feed vpon his sweet beames, and become
A Bird of Paradice, a religious man
To rise from earth, and no more to turne backe,
But for a buriall.
Ual.
Thinke what tis you doe,
It is no thing to play the wanton with,
In the strong bended passion of an humour,
For a friends death, a Kings frowne, or perhaps
Losse of a Mistresse.
Fosc.
O still blesse the guide
What euer, that shall leade this happy way.
Ual.
My Lord, the truth is like your coate of armes,
Richest when plainest, I doe feare the world
Hath tir'd you, and you seeke a cell to rest in,
As Birdes that wing it o're the Sea, seeke ships,
Till they get breath, and then they flie away.
Fosc.
Doe not mistake a piety, I am prepar'd
And can endure your strict mortifications,
Good Father then preferre my humble Suite,
To your Superiour for the habit, and
Let me not long expect you, say I am,
Noble, but humblest in my thoughts.
Ual.
I goe,
Meane time examine well this new desire,
Whether 't be a wild flash, or a Heauenly fire.
Exit.
Fosc.
Now my good boy.
Enter Dulcino.
Dulc.
Sir, your command is done,
And she beleeues?
Fosc:
That I am dead Dulcino?
Dulc:
That you are dead, and as shee now scorn'd life,
Death lends her cheekes his palenesse, and her eyes
Tell downe their drops of siluer to the earth,
Wishing her teares might raine vpon your graue,
To make the gentle earth produce some flower,
Should beare your names and memories.
But thou seest,
I liue Dulcino.
Dulc:
Sir I should bee blest,
If I did see you sought the meanes to liue,
And to liue happily, O noble Sir,
Let mee vntread my steps, vnsay my words,
And tell your loue, you liue.
Fosc.
No my sweet Boy,
Shee thinkes not much amisse, I am a man
But of an houre or two, my will is made,
And now I goe, neuer more cheerefully,
To giue eternall farewell to my friends.
Dulc.
For Heauens sake Sir, whats this you meane to do?
There is a feare sits cold vpon my heart,
And tels me—
Fosc:
Let it not misinforme thee Boy,
Ile vse no violence to my selfe, I am
Resolu'd a course, wherein I will not doubt,
But thou wilt beare mee company? weele enter
Into Religion.
Dulc:
Into Religion?
Fosc.
O tis a Heauenly life, goe with me boy,
Wee'l imitate the singing Angels there,
Learne how to keepe a Quire in Heauen, and scorne
Earths transitory glorie, wo't Dulcino?
Dulc.
Alas my Lord, I am too young.
Fosc:
Too young
To serue Heauen? Neuer, neuer, O take heed,
Of such excuse.
Dulc:
Alas, what shall I doe?
And yet I'me weary of the world, but how
Can I doe this? I am not yet discouered,
Sir, I shall still attend you.
Fosc:
Th'art my comfort,
I haue propounded it already, to
A Benedictine, by whose meanes we may
Obtaine the habit, stay thou and expect him,
I must bee absent for a little time,
Eternall quiet, if th'hast any scruple,
Hee will direct thee, hauing both made euen
With earth, weele trauaile hand, in hand to heauen.
Exit.
Dulc.
Fortune hath lent me a prospectiue glasse,
By which I haue a looke beyond all ioyes,
To a new world of miserie, whats my best
Let it be so, for I am hopelesse now,
And it were well, if when those weedes I haue,
That I might goe disguised to my graue.
Exit.
Enter Lodwicke, and Grimundo.
Lodw,
This is strange.
Grim.
You know I haue giuen you many precepts of
honestie?
Lodw.
And you know how I haue followed em.
Grim.
To mine owne heart, I haue made tedious discourses
of Heauen to yee, and the morrall vertues, numbred
vp the duties of a good Prince, vrg'd examples of vertues,
for your imitation.
Lodw.
To much purpose.
Grim.
Seem'd to sweat with agony and vexation, for
your obstinate courses, reproou'd you, nay sometimes made
complaints of you, to the Duke.
Lodw,
And I ha curst you for it, I remember.
Grim,
Alas my Lord, I durst doe no otherwise, was not
the Duke your Father an honest man, and your Brother now
foolishly takes after him, whose credulities, when I had already
coozened, I was bound to appeare stoicall to preserue
the opinion they had conceiued of me.
Lodw.
Possible.
Grim.
It speakes discretion and abilities, in States-men,
to apply themselues to their Princes disposition, vary a thousand
shapes, if he be honest, we put on a forme of grauity,
if he be vitious, we are Parasites, indeed in a politique Common
wealth, if you obserue well, there is nothing but the appearance,
and likenesse of things that carrieth opinion, your
great men will appeare odde, and phantasticall, and fooles
seeme to carry their owne haire, and your handsomest Ladies
their owne faces, you cannot know a Secretary from a
Scholler in blacke, nor a Gentleman Vsher in Scarlet, from
a Captaine, your Iudge that is all compos'd of Mercy,
hath still the face of a Phylosopher, and to some is more terrible
and crabbed, then the Law it selfe. All things are but
representation, and my Lord, howsoeuer I haue appear'd to
you, I am at heart one of your owne Sect, an Epicure, bee
but so subtle to seeme honest, as I doe, and we will laugh at
the foolish world in our Cels, declaime against intemperate
liuers, and hug our owne Licentiousnesse, while wee surfet
our Soules in the darke with Nectar and Ambrosia.
Lod.
Can this be earnest, you did talke of Hell and Bugbeares.
Grim,
I confesse, and were you in publique, I would
vrge many other empty names to fright you, put on my Holyday
countenance, and talke nothing but diuinity, and golden
sentences, looke like a superlicious Elder, with a starch'd
face, and a tunable nose, whilst he is edifying his Neighbors
woman.
Lod.
You were a Christian, how came you to be conuerted.
Grim.
I thinke I had a name giuen me, and thats all I retaine,
I could neuer endure really, their seuere discipline,
marry for my preferment, and other politique ends, I haue,
and can still dispence, with fasting, prayer, and a thousand
fond austerities, though I doe penance for em in priuate.
Lod.
Let me aske you one question, were you neuer drunk?
Grim,
A thousand times in my study, that's one of my recreations.
Lodw.
How chance I could neuer see't in you, you know
I would ha beene drunke for company.
Grim.
But I durst not trust so young a sinner, for I alwayes
held it a maxime, to doe wickednesse with circumspection.
Lodw.
Wickednesse?
Grim.
I speake in the phrase of the foolish world, that
holds voluptuousnesse a crime, which you and I, and euery
inheritance, we are borne to.
Lodw.
But stay, how comes it to passe, that accounting me
so young a sinner, you now aduenture to discouer your selfe?
Grim.
To you?
Lodw.
To mee.
Grim.
Good my Lord conceiue me, you were a young
sinner, and in your Nonage, does that inferre that you haue
made no growth, that y'are a child still, dee thinke that I ha
not wit to distinguish a Principiant in vice, from a Graduate,
shall I be afraid to lay open my secretst impieties to you,
that are almost as perfect as my selfe in Epicurisme, I beseech
you, doe not thinke, I ha so little manners to vndervalue
you.
Lodw.
Very well, proceed.
Grim.
And yet my Lord, with your princely license, you
may learn too, and indeed the first vertue that I would commend
to your practice should be that, by which I haue attain'd
to this height, and opinion, and thats Hypocrisie.
Lodw.
Hypocrisie?
Grim.
Yes, a delicate white diuell, doe but fashion your
selfe to seeme holy, and studie to be worse in priuate, worse,
youle find your selfe more actiue in your sensualitie, and it
will be an other titillation, to thinke what an asse you make
a'the beleeuing world, that will be readie to dote, nay superstitiously
adore you, for abusing them.
Lodw.
This is pretty wholsome doctrine, and harke you,
ha you no wenches now and then?
Grim.
Wenches? would the Duke your Brother had so
many for his owne sake, or you either.
Lodw.
Hast ifaith?
Grim.
Faith? why judge by your selfe, how dee thinke
a man should subsist, wenching? why tis the top-branch, the
heart, the very Soule of pleasure, ile not giue a chip to bee
an Emperour, and I may not curuet as often as my constitution
requires, Lecherie is the Monarch of Delight,
whose Throne is in the bloud, to which all other sinnes
doe homage, and bow like seruiceable Vassailes, petty
Subiects in the Dominion of flesh—Wenches
keepe that to my selfe, store makes a good prouerbe.
Lodw.
Nay nay, be free and open to mee, you haue my
oath not to betray.
Grim.
Well, Ile not bee nice to you, you little imagine
(though I be married,) that I am the greatest whoremaster
i'th Dukedome.
Lodw.
Not the greatest?
Grim:
Haue a strong faith and saue my proofes, I? the
Vsurer doe not hoard vp his gold, nor the Countrey oppressor
his Corne more against a deare yeare, but Caute
si non Caste, my Nunne at home knowes nothing, like a
Mole in the earth, I worke deepe, but inuisible; I haue
my priuate Houses, my Granaries, my Magasines bully, as
many Concubines, as would collected, furnish the Great
Turkes Seraglio.
Lodw.
How doe you conceale 'em, I should nere keepe
halfe so many, but 'twould be knowne.
Grim:
You are then a Nouice in the Art of Uenus,
and will tell Tales out a'the Schoole, like your weake
Gallants o'the first chin, that will brag what Ladies they
haue brought to their obedience, that thinke it a mighty
honour, to discourse how many Fortes they haue beleaguerd,
how many they haue taken by battery, how many
by composition, and how many by Stratagem; that will
proclaime, how this Madam kisses, how like Iuie the tother
bona Roba embraced em, and with what actiuity, a third
playes her amorous prize, a fine commendation for such
Whelpes ist not?
Lodw:
A fault, a fault, who can deny it? But what
are those you practice with? A touch, come, what
Commodities?
Grim:
Not Sale-ware, Mercenary stuffe, that yee may
haue i'th Suburbs, and now maintenance traffique with Ambassadours
Seruants, nor with Laundresses, like your Students
in Law, who teach her to argue the case so long,
till she find a Statute for it, nor with Mistris Silkeworme in
the Citty, that longs for creame and cakes, and loues to
Gentlewoman, that is in loue with poetry, and will not part
with her honour, vnder a Copie of fine verses, or an Anagram,
nor with your course Lady her selfe, that keepes a
Stallion and cozens the old Knight, and his two paire of
Spectacles, in the shape of a Seruingman, but with your rich,
faire, high-fed, glorious and springing Catamountaines,
Ladies of bloud, whose eyes will make a Souldier melt, and
he were compos'd of marble, whose euery smile, hath a
magneticke force to draw vp Soules, whose voyce will
charme a Satyre, and turne a mans prayers into ambition,
make a Hermit runne to Hell for a touch on her, and there
hug his owne damnation.
Lodw.
I haue heard you, and now I thinke fit to discouer
my selfe to you, you are a Rascall.
Grim.
Sir, I thinke I am one.
Lodw.
Let not your wisdome thinke, I can bee so easily
guld.
Grim.
How Sir?
Lodw.
Hou thinke you haue talked very methodically,
and cunningly all this while, and that I am as they say, a
credulous coxecombe, and cannot perceiue, that by your politique
jeeres vpon my pleasures, you labour to discredit, not
onely my recreations, but my selfe to my owne face, D'ee
heare? the time may come you will not dare these things, and
yet you shall see, I will not now so much as seeme angry, preserue
your humor, 'twill appeare fresh o'th Stage my learned
Gymnosophist, very well, excellent well.
Grim.
Why does not your Lordship beleeue me then?
Lodw.
Do'st thou thinke throughout the yeare, I will
loose one minute of my pastime, for this your tooth-lesse
Satyre, your mocke-ballad, goe get some pretty tune, 'twill
doe you a great deale of credit, the next Lent to be presented
by folly in an Anti-maske, ile to a wench presently.
Grim.
I came to carry you to one.
Lodw.
How? thou?
Grim.
Doe not deceiue your selfe, come you shall beleeue
and thanke mee, will that serue turne, shall I bee thought
worthy to bee trusted then, if I doe the office of a Bawd
you?
Lodw.
Yes, yes, then I will beleeue thee.
Grim.
Then goe with me, and I will demonstrate.
Lodw.
Whither?
Grim.
I will carry you to a Lady bee not afraid shee is
honest, a handsome peece of flesh, a Lady that will bound
yee, and rebound, a Ladie that will rauish you.
Lodw.
Me?
Grim.
With delight and admiration, one in whom doth
flourish all the excellencie of women, honesty only excepted,
such a charming brow speaking eye, springing cheeke, tempting
lip, swelling bosome.
Lodw.
Will you leade me to such a creature?
Grim.
Yes.
Lodw.
And shall I enioy her in dalliance?
Grim.
Yes, and thinke your selfe richer, then to be Lord
of both the Indies, heres my hand cut it off if I doe not this
feare for you, when you please, and when you are satisfied
with her, Ile helpe you to forty more, but wee are interrupted.
Enter Giotto, Soranzo.
Giot.
There he is with Grimundo.
Sor.
His late Gouernour, he is giuing him good counsell.
Giot.
Pray heauen he haue the grace to follow it.
Grim.
Consider Sir, but what will be the end,
Of all these wicked courses.
Lodw.
Pretious villaine.
Grim.
We must be circumspect.
Lodw.
No more, I haue a crotchet new sprung,
Where shall I meete thee?
Grim.
Ile expect you in the parke—be very secret
My Lord I can but grieue for you.
Exit.
Lodw.
How haue we all beene cozen'd?
What is my brother here?
Sor.
This houre my Lord, he is now vpon returne.
Lodw.
Ile see him, and then prepare me for this Lady.
This is the life of greatnesse, and of Court
They'r fooles that will be frighted from their sport.
Exeunt
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