University of Virginia Library

Actus 4.

Scena. 1.

Dalia, Lamias Maide, going to market.
Da.
With my Mistresse, the worlde is chaunged well,
She fearde of late, of whipping cheere to smell:
And nowe againe, both gallant, fresh and gaye,
Who in Iulio flauntes it out, lyke Lamia?
A luckie friende (yea, one that beareth swaye)
Is nowe become, a proppe, of such a staye
To hir good name, as who is he dare saye:
That Lamia doeth offende, nowe any waye?
This, hir good friende, wyll be hir Geast this night,
And that he maye in his welcome delyght.
To market I, in haste, am sent to buye,
The best cheare, that, I fasten on my eye.

Exit.

Scena. 2.

Promos alone.
Pro.
By proofe I finde, no reason cooles desire,
Cassandraes sute, suffised to remoue
My lewde request, but contrarie, the fire,
Hir teares inflam'd, of lust, and filthy Loue.
And hauing thus, the conquest in my handes,
No prayer seru'de to worke restraint in mee:
But needes I woulde vntye the precious bandes,
Of this fayre Dames spotles Uirginitie.
The spoyle was sweete, and wonne euen as I woulde,
And yet vngainde, tyll I had giuen my trothe,
To marie hir, and that hir brother shoulde
Be free from death, all which I bounde with oathe:
It resteth nowe (vnlesse I wrong hir much)
I keepe my vowe: and shall Andrugio lyue?
Such grace woulde mee, with vnindifferencie tuch.
To pardon him, that dyd commit a Rape,
To set him free, I to Cassandra sware:
But no man else, is priuie to the same,
And rage of Loue, for thousande oathes nyll spare,
More then are kept, when gotten is the game.
Well, what I sayde, then Louer like I sayde,
Nowe reason sayes, vnto thy credite looke:
And hauing well, the circumstaunces wayde,
I finde I must, vnsweare the oathe I tooke:
But double wrong, I so should do Cassandra.
No force for that, my might, commaundeth right,
Hir preuie maime, hir open cryes will staye:
Or if not so, my frowning will hir fright,
And thus shall rule, conceale my filthy deede.
Nowe foorthwith, I wyll to the Gayler sende,
That secretelie Andrugio he behead,
Whose head he shall, with these same wordes commend.
To Cassandra, as Promos promist thee,
From prison loe, he sendes thy Brother free.

Scena. 3.

Cassandra.
Cas.
Fayne would I wretch conceale, the spoyle of my virginity,
But O my gilt doth make mee blush, chast virgins here to see:
I monster now, no mayde nor wife, haue stoupte to Promos lust,
The cause was nether sute nor teares, could quench his wātō thurst
What cloke wyl scuse my crime? my selfe, my conscience doth accuse
And shall Cassandra now be termed, in common speeche, a stewes?
Shall she, whose vertues bare the hell, be calld a vicious dame?
O cruell death, nay bell to her, that was constraynd to shame:
Alas few wyll giue foorth I fynd, to saue my brothers lyfe:
And fayntly I through Promos othes, doo hope to be his wife.
For louers feare not how they sweare, to wyn a Lady fayre,
And hauing wonne what they did wish, for othes nor Lady care,
But be he iust or no, I ioy Andrugio yet shall lyue,
But ah, I see a sight, that doth my hart a sunder ryue.

Scena. 4.

Gaylar, with a dead mans head in a charger. Cassandra.
Gay.
This present wilbe Galle I know, to fayre Cassandra,
Yet if she knewe as much as I, most swete I dare well say,
In good tyme, see where she doth come, to whome my arrand is:

Cas.
Alas his hasty pace to me, showes some what is amys.

Gay.
Fayre Cassandra my Lord Promos, commends him vnto thee,
To keepe his word, who sayes from prison he sends thy brother free.

Cas.
Is my Andrugio done to death? fye, fye of faythles trust,

Gay.
Be quiet Lady, law found his fault, thē was his iudgemēt iust

Cas.
Wel my good friend, show Promos this, since law hath don this deed
I thank him yet, he would vouchsaf on me my brothers head,
Loe this is all now geue me leaue to rew his losse alone.

Gay.
I wyll performe your will, and wish you cease your mone.

Cass.
Fare well.

Gay.
I sure had showen what I had done, her teares I pittied so,
But that I wayde, that women syld, do dye with greefe and woe,
And it behoues me to be secret or else my neck verse cun,
Well now to pack my dead man hence, it is hye tyme I run.

Cas.
Is he past sight, then haue I time to wayle my woes alone,
Andrugio, let mee kis thy lippes, yet ere I fall to mone.
O would that I could wast to teares, to wash this bloddy face,
Which fortune farre beyond desart hath followed with disgrace.
O Promos falce, and most vnkinde, both spoyld of loue and ruth,
O Promos thou dost wound my hart, to thinke on thy vntruth,
Whose plyghted fayth, is tournd to frawd, & words to works vniust
Why doe I lyue vnhappy wench, syth treason quites my trust,
O death deuorse me wretch at once, from this same worldly lyfe,
But why do I not slay my selfe, for to appease thys stryfe?
Perhaps within this wombe of myne, an other Promos is:
I so by death shalbe auengd of him in murthring his,
And ere I am assured that, I haue reuengd this deede,
Shall I dispatch my lothed life? that hast, weare more then speede,
So Promos would triumphe that none his Tiranny should know,
No, no this wicked fact of his so slightly shall not goe:
The king is iust and mercyfull, he doth both heare and see:
See mens desarts, heare their complaynts, to Iudge with equity.
My wofull case with speede, I wyll vnto his grace addresse,
And from the first, vnto the last, the truth I wyll confesse.
So Promos thou, by that same lawe shalt lose thy hated breth,
Through breach wherof, thou didst condemne Andrugio vnto death
So doing yet, the world will say I broke Dianas lawes,
But what of that? no shame is myne, when truth hath showne my cause:
I am resolued, the king shall knowe of Promos iniury,
Yet ere I goe, my brothers head, I wyll ingraued see.

Exit.

Scena. 5.

Gayler, Andrugio.
Gay.
Andrugio, as you loue our liues, forthwith post you away.
For Gods sake to no lyuing friend, your safety yet bewraye:
The prouerbe sayth, two may keepe counsell if that one be gone.

An.
Assure thy selfe, most faithful friend, I wylbe knowne to none:
To none alas, I see my scape yeeldes mee but small releefe,
Cassandra, and Polina wyll destroye themselues, with greefe:
Through thought yt I am dead: they dead, to liue what helpeth me?

Gay.
Leaue of these plaints of smal auaile, thank God yt you are free,
For God it was, within my mind, that did your safety moue,
And that same God, no doubt wyl worke for your and their behoue:

An.
Most faithful friend, I hope that God, wyl worke as you do say,
And therfore, to some place vnknowne, I wyl my selfe conuaye.
Gayler, fare wel: for thy good deede, I must remayne thy debter,
In meane whyle yet receyue this gyft, tyll fortune sends a better.

Gay.
God bwy syr, but kepe your mony, your need you do not know.

An.
I pas not now for fortuns threats, yea though hir force she show
And therefore styck not to receyue this smale reward in part.

Gay.
I wyll not sure, such proffers leaue, tys time you doe depart.

An.
Since so thou wilt, I wylbe gone adue tyl fortune smile.

Exit.
Gay.
Syr, fare you wel, I wyl not fayle to pray for you the while.
Well, I am glad, that I haue sent him gone,
For by my fayth, I lyu'd in perlous feare:
And yet God wot, to see his bytter mone,
When he should dye, would force a man forbeare,
From harming him, if pitty might beare sway:
But see how God hath wrought for his safety?
A dead mans head, that suffered th'other day,
Makes him thou'ht dead, through out the citie.
Such a iust, good and righteous God is he:
Although awhyle he let the wicked raygne,
Yet he releeues, the wretch in misery,
And in his pryde, he throwes the tyraunt downe.
I vse these wordes, vpon this onely thought,
That Promos long his rod can not escape:
Who hath in thought, a wylfull murder wrought,
Who hath in act performd a wicked rape,
Gods wyll be done, who well Andrugio speede,
Once well I hope, to heare of his good lucke,
For God thou knowest my conscience dyd this deede,
And no desire of any worldly muck.

Exit.

Scena. 6.

Dalia from Market.
Da.
In good sweete sooth, I feare I shalbe shent,
It is so long: since I to market went,
But trust me, wyldfowle are such costly geare,
Specially, woodcoks, out of reason deare,
That this houre, I haue the market bett,
To driue a bargayne to my most profyt:
And in the end I chaunst to light on one,
Hyt me as pat, as a pudding Pope Ione.
Other market maydes pay downe for their meate,
But that I haue bought, on my score is set.
Well fare credit when mony runneth low,
Marry yet, Butchers, the which do credit so:
(As much Good meate, as they kyll) may perchaunce,
Be glad and fayne at heryng cobs to daunce.
What force I that? euery man shyft for one,
For if I starue, let none my fortune mone,

She faynes to goe out.

Scena. 7.

Grimball, Dalia, eyther of them a Basket.
Gri.
Softe Dalia, a woorde with you, I praye.

Da.
What friend, Grimbal, welcome as I maye saye:

Gri.
Sayst thou me so, then kysse me for acquaintaunce.

Da.
If I lyke your manhoode, I may do so perchaunce.

She faynes to looke in his basket.
Gri.
Bate me an ase, quoth Boulton, Tush, your minde I know:
Ah syr, you would, be like, let my Cocke Sparrowes goe.

Da.
I warrant thee Grimball.

She takes out a vvhite pudding:
Gri.
Laye off handes Dalia.
You powte me, if that you got, my Pudding awaye:

Da.
Nay good sweete, honny Grimball, this Pudding giue mee.

Gri.
Iche were as good geete hir, for she wyll hate, I see.
Well, my nown good harte roote, I freelie giue thee this,
Upon condition, that thou giue me a kys.

Da.
Nay, but first wash your lippes, with sweete water you shall,

Gri.
Why ych was ryte now, for my Pudding, hony sweet Grimbal:
Well Dalia, you will floute so long, tyll (though I saye)
With kindnesse you wyll cast a proper handsome man away,
UUherfore soote Conny, euen a lyttle spurte:

Da.
Laye off handes Sir:

Gri
Good do not byte, for ych meane thee no hurte:
Come off Pyggesnie, prefarre me not a iote,

Da.
UUhat woulde the good foole haue,

Gri.
UUhy, you woot whote.
Hearke in your eare:

Da.
You shall commaunde, so proper a man ye are.
That for your sake, I wyll not sticke to ware:
A blew Cassocke, during my lyfe forsoothe,
Mary for my sake, I woulde be verie lothe:
So goodlie a handsome man, should lose his head.

Gri.
Nay, for my head, care not a Tinkers torde,
For so God iudge me, and at one bare worde:
Yle lose my death, yea, and my great browne Cowe,
I loue you so filthilie: law ye nowe.

Da.
Thou sayest valiantlie, nowe sing, aswell too:
And thou shalt quicklie knowe, what I meane to doo.

Gri:
Yes by Gogs foote, to pleasure thee, ych shall,
Both syng, spring, fight and playe, the dewl and all.

Da.
O lustilie:

The Song.
Gri.
Come smack me, come smack me, I long for a smouch,

Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthie fine slouch.

Gri.
Leard howe I loue thee,

Da.
This can not moue mee:

Gri.
Why pretie Pygsney, my harte, and my honny?

Da.
Because goodman Hogsface, you woe without mony.

Gri.
I lacke mony, chy graunt,

Da.
Then Grimball auaunt.

Gri.
Cham yong sweete hart, and feate, come kysse me for loue,

Da.
Crokeshanke, your Iowle is to great, such lyking to moue.

Gri.
What meane you by this?

Da.
To leaue thee by gys.

Gri.
First smack me, first smack, I dye for a smouch,

Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthy fine slouch.

Exit.
Gri.
Dalia, arte thou gone? what wolt serue me soe?
O God, cham readie to raye my selfe for woe:
Be valiaunt Grimball, kyll thy selfe man?
Nay, bum Ladie, I will not by Saint Anne.
Ich haue hearde my great Grandsier saye:
Maide will saye naye, and take it: and so she maye,
And therfore chyll, to Mistresse Lamia,
With these Puddings, and Cock Sparowes, by and by:
And in the darke, againe, ych wyll hir trye.

Exit: