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Act. 2.
Scena. I.
Enter Contarini, Dandalo.Con.
My Wife must do't and then I may effect
My hope with the great Dutchesse as soone as he
Most proud of demerits. Dandalo
Wheres your Lady.
Dan.
Your Lordship may heare both her voyce and Lute,
Shees in the garden with Reollo your
Musitian.
Con.
Heare, does she so much dispaire of long life,
That she need flatter her soule to tarry here
With soft Ayres, and wanton Musicke.
My Lord.
Con.
Conduct her hither.
Enter Carintha.
Car.
I saw your entrance, you bring newes from Court,
Let me share in't.
Con.
I must worke her to it with art and leisure.
Car.
What does your lop say?
Con.
Sweete lend me thy eare in private—can I
Demand a thing from her that slumbred in
My bosome, and she be so unkind
To give my sute a hard repulse.
Car.
My Lord I am not guilty of a cause
That can warrant your suspect either of
My love or duty.
Con.
I beleeve thee (deere Carintha) but this
Injunction is so severe and strange, 'twill
Puzle thy consent at first.
Car.
Sir make it knowne, I cannot be so slow
In any performance of your will, as you
Are to reveale it.
Con.
Thy breath is sweeter then the smoke ascending
From the Phœnix funerall pile, I could
Kisse thee, even engender on thy lips.
Car.
You were not wont to be thus pleasd, shew me
Which way I may requite your passion, speake
The sute you talke on.
Con.
Now I know the strength of thy affection,
I slight my sute the grave will prove to easie.
Car.
What is it.
Con.
Ile have thee onely kill thy selfe, cruch, thou
Shat doe it, hah—
Car.
Sir I suspect your health, you were not wont
To shew your speech so much estrang'd from reason.
Con.
Is this your love, your forward kindnesse?
Car.
Scarse has the Moone expir'd a change since you
Received me in your bed a cold Virgin;
Are you so soone tyred with sacred marriage,
Desirous to motive my eternall
How have I deserved your hatred, or please
But to reveale the profit which by death
Can bring you.
Con.
I have not leasure to reply to your
Demands, will you do't.
Car.
You fright my soule.
Con.
Orseollo happy you, whose frozen nature
Will not permit a closure with a woman.
The sex doe quite degenerate from those
Great patternes which the former age produced.
Portia swallowed fire to please her husbands ghost,
Who inticed him to Elisium; Lucresse,
To purchase life unto her memory,
Noyse at her funerall such as might cleave
Her fame, priced her deare heart, and dyed
Car.
We have a certaine faith, a faith
That can assure reward, or punishment
For deeds, we know our dwelling after death,
Which Roman soules unlawfully did seeke,
And found too soone, we are prescrib'd those act
That makes us Angels.
Con.
She has bin gossipping with the holy
Sisters, zeale, and purity.
Car.
It were safer for my soule, if your selfe
Would be my Executioner.
Con.
I thanke you Lop I am exposed
To the justice of the law, he whose rich
And his Prince become his heire cannot live long;
Besides my hopes to enjoy the Duchesse,
Are then quite frustrate.
Car.
What said your Lop.
Con.
I did not thinke Carintha thou hadst beene
So sterne of nature, t'hast a stubborne heart;
Deny my first request.
Car.
Should I kill my selfe.
Con.
Why must we not all dye, 'tis a thrifty
Conscience that perswades the soule to hasten
Car.
You counsell strangely, I have deserv'd more
Kindenesse from your tongue.
Con.
If thou suspect'st thou hast not fortitude
Enough, t'attempt thy death by violence:
Expire with leasure: refraine from meate, till
Th' orifice of thy stomacke close, and grow
Together; or when thou feedst, eate Arsnicke,
Dye any way, so the law call not me
Thy murderer.
Car.
Heaven secure me, have you the use of all
Your sences, ye speake thus?
Con.
But if youle choose an easier way, each morning
Fetch a tedious sigh or two, twill make your
Heart to cleave, Ile give you cause enough to doe't.
Car.
You have a bloody mind.
Con.
Or as some Country Virgins doe scratch morter
From an aged wall and eate it up in
Private, so die on the greene disease, but now
I thinke upon't thats to perplex away,
Vnto the Grave.
Car.
I dare not hate the thought y'have tempted me,
Beyond mortall patience, oh unkind
Destiny.
Exit
Con.
Doe, fret, gall thy heart strings till they breake,
Ive the engine of a babe, any man
That had arrived at halfe my yeares, would soone
Invent a safe way to shift that trifle
From him. Hum, who shall I get to doe't,
Happy fancy, 'tis mature I will
Above it strait.
Exit.
Enter Depazzi, Laura, and Crispino.
De.
I sent you a Letter Maddam.
Lau.
My Lord I received it.
De.
How did you taste it?
Lau.
Excellently.
De.
I have twenty as good as that lying by me, have I not Crispino
Cris.
Oh my good Lord.
They shall be all at your service.
Lau.
Yare too much a Courtier, I must chide you
Signiour, I never did deserve the Epithets
Your paper throws upon me.
De.
Epithets I beseech you Madam to impute
That to the fretfullnesse of my braine,
If any thing have slipt my pen whereby I may incurre
Your Ladiships indignation Ile recant
It publickely.
Lau.
I enjoyne no such pennance,
But tis an injury easily remitted,
Tis the glory they say of Lovers to Hiperbolise.
De.
Hiperbolize, whats that? I ha not that word
Yet in my Alphabet, I hope Madam you
Hold a better opinion of me then to imagine
I would hiperbolize with your Lady-ship;
That were immodest.
Lau.
Not so Signiour.
De.
By my faith Madam but it is, de thinke
I know not what hiperbolizing is,
That were simplicity, if any thing
Within my Letter may be drawne within
Construction of hiperbolizing, condemne
Not me for't, by service Madam, I
Had no intention to stretch so farre
To your dishonour, it shall teach me wit
To write my Letters hereafter.
Cris.
A haire in your honours locke is disordered,
Tis rectified,
Lau.
Signiour,
You doe me much too much satisfaction,
Your errour being a small one.
De.
Tis your favour,
Yet when I commit a peccadillo
Against your brightnesse, I deserve to be
Extinguished your presence for't, I did love
You Madam, as I remember when I was an Infant,
Lau.
How.
We are Infants you will grant
When we cannot speake, and I loved full eight moneths
And a halfe ere I had power to tell you on't
Ime certaine.
Lau.
I was not worth so much.
De.
Nay for that Madam
Ile shew my selfe deserving, were you worthy
Twere the lesse act of mine to love you,
That were a poore thing, I doe not stand on worth.
Madam I would not have you thinke so ignobly of me,
That I affect you for your worth, Ide rather
Vpon my honour have you in your smocke,
Than all the Ladies in the world starke naked.
Lau.
Now your language is course.
De.
You shall pardon me for that.
Cris.
Your Lordships fether waves to much toward the East,
Tis now in true point.
De.
My love is pure and like the Sun transparent.
Lau.
Now you Complement, I know
Y'are excellent at it.
De.
Troth not I Lady,
I cannot Complement, I doe but
Refulgent your beauty, whose mellifluous voice
Peirces the eare—faith Madam credit me
I nere could complement in my life: Most faire,
Whom young Apollo courted for her haire.
There are poeticall furies in the City,
But I converse not with em.
Were ever cheekes of roses, locks of amber
Ordain'd to be imprison'd in a chamber,
Laura I doe but piddle, a pretender,
I know not how to Complement.
Lau.
You now doe.
De.
Alas not I, I cannot make verses neither;
Thy dainty seale of Virgin wax,
That nothing but impression lackes.
Cris.
Your Lordships cloake discovers not sufficiently the riches of the inside.
An excellent Poet.
De.
Ile tell you Madam a strange thing, you see
These trifles; before I was in love, I could
Not ha made an Acrosticke in a day,
Sometimes two.
Lau.
Now you can make Chronograms.
De.
I thinke I can, and Anagrams for a need.
Lau.
Signiour you are wonderfull improv'd,
Love has inspir'd you richly. I perceive
Cupid is a mute too.
De.
Oh now I cannot sleepe for the multitude,
Of Verses that are capring in my skull.
Lau.
I wonder you are not mad.
De.
You may.
Cris.
A haire in your honours locke is disordered.
De.
But I've a gift to helpe it, I allow
My selfe set times to vent em, they would blow
Me up else.
Lau,
As how pray.
De.
Why thus ith' morning
When I have said my prayers in Verse, which fall
From me, and I nere thinke on em, next my heart
I scrible out an ode, after my breakefast
I fall upon a Satire, when I've rail'd
My selfe into a fresh stomacke, I dine,
Which done, because it is not good to study
Vpon repletion or full stomacke, you
Vnderstand me; for a matter of two houres
I dreame as it comports with our Italian
To sleepe, then I say, I dreame familiarly
An Heroicke Poem.
Lau.
Dreame.
De.
Madam while you live,
Your dreaming Poets are the best, and have
Distilled raptures, spirits that converse with em,
And teach em what to write; this I set downe
Before I eate againe, after I walke
Vpon the strength of Supper into th' parke,
I doe discourse of Epigrams, and an Epitaph
Vpon some one or other of my kindred.
Enter Comachio, and Giotto.
I ha made a rare one on my Vncle, and
He would dye shortly to deserve it.
Com.
Whats that?
Lau.
If you so methodise your study Signiour
I shall but sinne against your muse, tis now
Your houre by course, for your heroicke Poem:
Twere best you sleepe my Lord, Ile take my leave.
De.
Nay Madam, tis not every day I study
So hard, on some I whet my muse
Cris.
Your Lordships weapon hangs to much a fore.
Com.
Thou hast my bosome, treasure up my secrets
Faithfully, and deserve I should be thine;
Giotto, the first opportunity
Commends thee to the Dutchesse, then's the time,
To shew thy gratitude, if she still looke on me
With lucky eyes.
Gio.
My Lord y'ave made
Your selfe the creditour of what I am;
If I returne you not the interrest
Of all my service, I should justly forfeit
To be unmade againe.
De.
Sweete Laura, world confounding beauty.
Lau.
Againe Hyperbolizing, then your Lordship
Must pardon me.
Exit.
De,
What's the signification of this word? hum.
Cris.
I have heard some say, to hyperbolize
Is to lye, and it may be she would not have
Your Lordship lye with her.
Com.
Signiour de patri, what part of your discourse
Concerned my death, I heard with Madam Laura
You name your Vncles dying.
De.
Twas with griefe then,
I had no cause to name you else my Lord.
Com.
Apply your selfe Nephew to this Gentleman,
Exit.
Gio.
I shall study his honours service.
De.
Giotto.
Gio.
My Lord.
De.
You are a Scholler.
Gio.
I have lost time in Padua.
De.
Ile tell you a jest, a Gentleman ith Court
Writing a Letter to his Mistresse could not
Containe himselfe from hyperbolizing with her.
Gio.
Is your Lordship serious?
De.
True upon my honour, what a gull twas
To make himselfe ridiculous, I laugh'd at him,
Then he asked me what that word meant, Giotto
What doe you thinke on't?
Gio.
I my Lord,
Your honour needes no comment to informe you,
Much lesse my translation.
De.
Yes I knowt, but what sayes your Dictionarie.
Gio.
Your Lordship shal pardon me, for that hyperbolizing
De.
It is some baudy word, he is so modest,
Wherein did I hyperbolize with her Ladyship;
My Lord Volterre.
Enter Uolterre.
Uol.
Signiour de Pazzi Comesta.
De.
I am transported to see your Lordship well.
Uol.
Io soy il nvestra servadore.
De.
Whats this?
Gio.
Betweene Goth and Uaundell, Spanish.
De.
And Giotto were not here now, I would aske him
What were hyperbolizing by your Lordships favour.
Vol.
Women are taken with the presence of
A man, the garbe, and ornaments of state
Endeere him to their senses, I would faine
Appeare in glorious habit can you dance?
De.
I were no Lord else, I was a French mans Scholler,
For twenty crownes a moneth, you may guesse by that
My abilities.
Uol.
Tis the best fooling, and the safest for
Without a noise, and turning with Meanders,
Out move ye, your lofty trickes, are rude,
And doe to much examine.
De.
May we not rise,
I ha knowne good dancers rise at Court, what say you to
A crosse caper.
Vol.
Ride the Cannon, and you ha
No care to preserve your bonds, but I forget,
Adios signiour, I must attend the Dutchesse.
De.
Doe not hyperbolize with her my Lord.
Vol.
Pardonate Signior mio.
De,
Tis so, tis baudy, that shrug tells me so, Giotto.
Gio.
Your honours servant.
De.
Were you never a Courtier before.
Gio.
I onely hitherto have spent my eyesight.
In observation, now I grow proud to write
My selfe dependant.
De.
Signiour Comachio my Vncle, lends you.
Gio.
But Ime not to learne
To adore the rising Sun, I looke on him
As in his West, but I've ambition
To merit your grace.
De.
I see then thou wot be a Courtier.
Enter Dutchesse, Comachio, Contarini, Uolterre, Laura.
Dutch.
Comachio, shew me your Nephew!
Y'are welcome to Court my Lord.
De Pazzi kneeles, kisses her hand,
De.
It is your highnesse pleasure I should presume so,
And I am confident I may.
Dutch.
He has not onely profited in growth
Of person, but in's judgement too: talkes well,
Our Court wants such Comachio, your Nephewes
Contemplation ends here. Padua must
Loose him, he shall be our servant.
Com.
Shee jeeres him, and I gaine no credit by 't.
Keepe your tongue quiet, cease your abortive
Language, or Ile cut your throate.
This is the tricke of all Courtiers,
They would engrosse Princes e'n to
Themselves, I must not speake to her.
Com.
This is the Gentleman, your grace was pleas'd
T'accept from my commends.
Leads Giotto to her, who kisses her hand.
Dutch.
You are a Florentine.
Gio.
I am proud to owne my Country.
Dutch.
We have heard so much of your demerits,
That 'twere injustice not to cherish you,
Be confident, to gaine our best favour.
Gio.
I've often pray'd for this blessed houre, and thought
I did not sinne in my ambition.
It is a vertue to covet honour
From your excellence: which I shall ever
Study to deserve.
Dutch.
Laura begin your triall.
Laura whispers with Giotto Orseollo runnes in and kneeles.
Dutch.
This is a rude kinde of duty, speake your
Intention.
Ors.
Twice have I kneel'd to gaine your kindnesse in
My sute, now grant it, or ile turne Traitour.
Dutch.
Make your sute knowne.
Ors.
I have beene bred in rugged warres,
A womans governement is soft and fit
For Babes to bow to, dismisse streight your Court.
Dutch.
Orseollo, did not your offence breed mirth,
You should perceiv't more difficult to finde
A pardon fort.
Ors.
Send me streight to Sea, if but t'incounter
A fleet of fiends rigg'd by witches, or with
A colony to settle a Plantation
In the desarts of Barbary, Ile choose
Any employment rather then to heare a
Lady utter perfum'd breath, or see her
Advance in her masculine garbe, in her
New mimicke posture.
Leave us! but so, that in an houres space
We may command your presence here, to move
Our laughter, when leisure will permit it,
Or you shall never live to weare gray haires.
Ors.
Ile conspire with a constable, that commits
Iustice in's sleepe, ere Ile want treachery
To revenge this constraint of service.
Exit.
Com.
Your grace will beget charity in
Other Ladies, if you pardon this his
Bold behaviour, for he offends all women.
Dutch.
How Comachio.
Con.
Does not your excellence know, he is cald
The woman hater.
Dutch.
Deserves he that Epithite?
Uol.
Ile shew your highnesse the reall cause, why
He hates all women; he was ever bred
In the campe, where there are no females, but
Sutlers wives: fit drudges, to make fiers
Ith'devils kitchin, whose very lookes
Disparage the complexion of all their sex;
He nere converst with an Italian
Bona Koba, a plumpe Lady, that fils
Her growne, or with a French Bruvette,
A Spanish Muser umbrada, or a
Germane Yefrow, the Dutch.—
De.
Or with a Welsh—
Com.
Parrot! will ye be prating?
De.
What should a man doe withs tongue, an ye
Won't let him talke.
Dutch.
My Lord Uolterre, is a copious linguist.
Uol.
I still desire to be enabled for
Your graces service.
Dutch.
Are all the sluces stop'd, that we may see
Your Cormorants dive for their prey?
Vol.
We onely want your highnesse presence there,
And the sport beginnes.
Dutch.
Comachio—
She whispers.
Con.
Signiour? these are your Cormorants, you still
She did you publicke grace, this morning too
Before the French leiger; but you ha travaild Sir.
Uol.
My Lord, the French conceive things with justice
Ime but an isorit du moude, and as
The Spaniard saies, Altera, es trabajo
Del hombre, but Ive observ'd her grace names
Contarini often, lookes on you with
A smooth brow.
Con.
On me my Lord?
Dutch.
Lead forward to the River.
Com.
My hopes doe still encrease, fate smiles on me.
Dutch.
Signiour De Patri, be you neere us,
Exit. Uolt. Dep. Contar. Com. Dutch.
Lau.
Y'ave heard her graces will, this is the first
Imployment. She knowes you Florentines
Insinuate with great subtlety in
Humane natures.
Gio.
She shall receive each man in's just character.
Lau.
Sir I congratulate your new fortune,
Youle finde her excellence a noble mistresse.
Gio.
You are a gentle Lady, and adde much
Credit to her Court.
Laura.
We shall lose the sport unlesse we hasten
To the River.
Gio.
You have use of my attendance, and I am
Happy in't.
Exeunt Omnes.
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