University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter Piso, Fabritio.
Pi.
Come, I protest i'le have you home againe,
And tell all to your Father, if you goe not
More chearfully on about this businesse.

Fab.
O Piso! dearest (dearest?) only Friend,
That Name of Father tis, that checks my blood,
And strikes a filiall Reverence through my Soule;
Layes load upon my loynes, clogging my steps,
And like an armed Angell warnes me back.

Pi.
So, so, he runs away to proper purpose
That beares his Hue and Cry in's conscience.

Fab.
It is not yet day-light: night will conceale
My secret purposes. I will returne.

Pi.
Do so; and damne thee blacker then the night,
Thee and thy Father too for company
Expresse your filiall Reverence so, doe so.

Fab.
Deare Piso peace.

Pi.
Peace fond Fabritio.
Dost thou not fly from him to save his Soule?
His and thine own to boot? will not thy stay
(Stay not to answer me!) ruine your Family;
Cut off all hope of Blessing, if not Being
Of your Posterity? and all this by obaying
A wilfull Father in a lawlesse Marriage;
More fatall (I foresee't) then ere our State
Of Venice yet produc'd example for.

Fab.
O now thou tear'st my very bowells Piso,
Should I consent (as I dare not deny
My over-hasty Father) to this match,
I should submit my selfe the most perfidious,
That ever shadow'd Treachery with Love.
No, my Victoria, sooner shall this steele
Remove thy hindrance from a second choyce,
Then I give word or thought, but to be thine.

Pi.
Why flie we not to Rome then, where you left her,
And shun the danger of your Fathers Plot,
Which would not only force you break your Faith
With chast Victoria, but to wed another,
Whose faith is given already to another?
Double damnation! 'Twere a way indeed
To make your childen bastards o' both sides.

Fab.
Can there no way be found to shun the danger
Of this so hastily intended Marriage,
But by my flight, and the most certaine losse
Of mine inheritance?

Pi.
That would be thought on.

Fab.
Stay; who comes here?

Musick, and divers Gentlemen passe to and fro with lights, at last Enter Pantaloni, lighted by Nicolo, with darke Lanthorns.
Pi.
Some Night-walkers, that throw
Balls at their Mistresses, well of all Citties
Under the universall raigne of venery,
This is the civill'st! in what sweet tranquillity,
The subjects passe by and salute each other!
Stay what grave beast, what reverend Gib is that?
(I'th' name of darknesse) dropt out of a gutter?
O age what art thou come to!

Fab.
Pray forbeare.

Pi.
Looke there Fabritio, Venus can it be?

Feb.
Come y'are deceav'd.

Pi.
Nay now I know I am not,
For by that little loving glimpse of light
That leads him on, Fabritio, tis thy Father.

Fab.
I pray thee peace.

Pi.
What will this City come to?
A young man shall not shortly venture to
A vaulting Schoole for feare he jumpe in the
Same sadle with his Father, to the danger
Of his old bones.
Enter Francisco, and Horatio.
Stay here comes more. This is
Some speciall haunt! sure tis the habitation
Of the Novella lately come to Town,
Which drawes the admiration of all
The Rampant Gallantry about the City!

Fab.
They say shee's yet a Virgine.

Pi.
And is like
So to continue, still shee prove stale fish,
At the rate shee's stamp'd for: for she has set
Such a large price upon her new nothing,
That Venery and Prodigality are at ods
About her, it seemes thy Father could not bargaine.

Fab.
Fie! 'twas not he.

Pi.
Not hee! peace and stand close.

Fran.
Is shee so rare a Creature, this Novella?

Ho.
Rare? above excellent (man) it is unpossible
For a Painter to flatter her, or a Poet to bely her
In ayming to augment her beauty: For
I saw her that can judge.

Pi.
Now if a man
Were to unkennell the handsomest shee Fox
In Venice, let him follow these doggs. Sure
Shee is earth'd hereabouts. They have the sent.

Fran.
You have not seene her often?

Hor.
Onely thrice
At Church, That's once for every day, that shee
Has beautified this City.

Pi.
What rare helpe
May this be to devotion, that he speaks of!

Fran.
And all this Beauty, and this seeming vertue
Offer'd to sale?

Pi.
I thought 'twas such a peece.

Hor.
Thence only springs the knowledge of her worth
Marke but the price shee's cry'd at: two thousand
Duccats
For her Maydenhead, and one moneths society.

Pi.
What a way, now, would that money reach
In Buttock-beefe.

Hor.
Shee is indeed for beauty,
Person, and Price, fit onely for a Prince:
I cannot thinke a lesse man then the Duke
Himselfe must beare her; and indeed 'twere pitty
That shee should sinne at lesse advantage.

Fran.
Why do we then make way to visit her
By our expence in Musick?

Pi.
A wary whore-master: I like him well:
A penneyworth for a penny would be look'd for.

Hor.
Why Francisco? Why?

Pi.
Francisco! is it hee?

Hor.
Although her price be such to be sold for
In ready money, shee is yet allow'd
To give herselfe for love if shee be pleas'd.
Who knowes how well shee may affect a man
(As here and there a Woman may by chance)
Onely for vertue? That's worth our adventure,
But I wish rather we could purchace her
At the set price betwixt us for a twelvemonth
Our friendship should not suffer us to grudge
At one anothers good turnes.

Pi.
There's love in couples,
What whelpes are these? sure this Francisco is
The late forsaken lover, betroth'd to Flavia
Whom now thy Father would so violently
Force thee to marry.

Fab.
Would he had her Piso.

Pi.
O here they pitch, stand close, wee'l heare their
Musick.

Song.
Hor.
Come sad Francisco, wee'l to morrow see
This Miracle of nature, whose meere sight
Will wipe away the injury thou sufferd'st
In Flavia; and make thee quite forget her.

Pi.
Tis he, and I will speake to him.

Hor.
Good forbeare.

Pi.
Francisco must not so forget his Flavia.

Hor.
What are you?

Pi.
Men, that would have you be so,
And not to wanton out your holy vowes
Drawes
Dancing your selfes to th'Devill.

Fran.
VVhat doe you meane?

Pi.
I meane, Francisco, you too much forget
The love you bore to Flavia, shee to you,

Hor.
Shee has forsaken him, and is bestow'd
(Forc'd by the torrent of her fathers will)
On young Fabritio, Pantalonies Sonne.

Pi.
Here stands the man denies it, speake Fabritio.

Fab.
Not that I undervalue Flavius worth,
But not to violate her faith by breach
Of mine, were all this signiory her dowry
(Here is my hand Francisco,) i'le not wed her.

Fran.
I must embrace you sir.

Hor.
And Gentlemen,
My Lodging is not farre, please you retire,
And there repose your selfes untill the light
That now is near at hand, shall point you forth
A way to future comfort; you shall finde
Good wine and welcome, please you to accept it

Pi.
Your offer sir is large: yet let me aske
If we may rest securely for a day;
Lurke close and private, till the appointed houre
For this forc'd Marriage be over-slipp'd,
In case that our necessity may require it?

Hor.
I understand you, Take mine honor of it.

Pi.
Be cheard Fabritio, thou shalt not to Rome,
VVe may prevent thy danger nearer home.
Now night we thanke, and follow thee away
(As being thy servants) from th' approach day.

Hor.
You conclude well, lovers and sprights are
Night-walkers, warn'd away by th'morning, Starre.

Ex.