University of Virginia Library

Act. 2.

Scene 1.

Enter Varina sola.
Thus have I fram'd, though long first, my rescript,
As well as th'poor Minerva of my brain
Enabled me; 'tis tart enough, I'm sure,
To vulnerate and pierce a heart of steel:
If his affection's byassed with vertue,
He'l re-addresse to me to work the cure,
What Pelias wounded, it alone could heal;
The limb that's burnt we hold unto the fire,
Loves wounds must have their Balsam from that hand
That made the Ulcer. Stay! th'Times Clock doth prompt me
This houre Thomaso promis'd to be here,
To bear my answer back. He comes: Your actions
Enter Thomas
Are comments to your words, and what your tongue
Of late exprest, your diligence performs.

Tho.
Right worthy Lady, should I vilifie
My faith by misperformance, I should think
My selfe degenerate from what I was.

Var.
Your words engage my faith, friend, there's my answer.

Tho.
Thanks worthy Lady, this shall surely have
Acceptance far more gracious from your servant,
Then such a Jewell which th'Ægyptian Queen
(To add a complement to sumptuousness)
Dissolved drank unto her Anthony.

Var.
Then beare it to him instant, it may be
His expectation may be harrass'd out:
For what desire commands us to expect,
Time, if protracted, maketh us disgust;
Haste therefore, and farewell.

Exit.
Tho.
Adieu! sweet Lady!
Now if this Letter bear a gentle sense,
And gives a Fiat to Rod'riguez suit,
His heart will mount so high with joy, that it
Enter Roderiguez.
Outstrips imagination. Noble Sir—

Rod.
What newes Thomaso? come and glut my ears
With comfortable tidings.

Tho.
Whether such
As you expect, Sir, or the contrary,
Resides not in the confines of my knowledge.

Rod.
Spake you not with her at the time prefixt?

Tho.
Yes! and her mind salutes you in this paper.

Rod.
Came this from her?

Tho.
I had it from her hands.

Rod.
Hadst thou encompast all this Universe,
Especially the East and Western India,
And ransackt either of them for their pearls:
Or hadst thou ript the bowels of the earth,
And laid her hidden treasure at my feet,
It could not have procur'd the hundredth part
Of that content, as doth this piece of paper.

Tho.
Still may't be multiplyed, and augment
Your wisht beatitude a thousand fold.

(He reads it.)
Rod.
What have we here? A flat deniall? Ha?
Hard-hearted Lady! hadst thou spectacles
Which might so help thy optick faculties,
As to behold my bleeding heart, thou couldst not
Choose but relent, and love me for my love.

Tho.
Patience, noble Sir—

Rod.
'Tis cruelty! alas! sh'ad courteous been
Had she procur'd my death, or my proscription:
But thus to charact'rize my torments, and
To dally with my flames, doth argue she
Studies the Art of inhumanity.

Tho.
Let not such thoughts finde harbour in your breast,
Exile them thence.

Rod.
They've took possession:
And cannot easily be extruded thence.

Tho.
Why then encounter her your self, and speak:
Let not a Letter daunt you, storm again:
Your parts do speak you man, and you may win her:
It may be she observes formality,
In these her actions: and for fashion sake
Her tongue saies no (as maidens use to do)
When as her minde thinks yea: good Sir, about it.

Tho.
Thy Councel's prevalent, and I'll observe,
Next time I'll try her: and my reasons shall
Triumph victorious, or in th'Duell fall.

Exeunt.

Scena secunda.

Enter Hebes Solus.

Oh! my decaied panch! is't not a miserable case that a mans belly
should ne're see a piece of roast beef, nor ones guts feel one
drop of double drink in two years? There's one Mr. Want, a lean
Gentleman of our Parish, hath so debarred me from sustenance, that
I scarce weigh threescore on each side, besides feet, head, leggs,
and offall. There's an old shaver they call Don Præpontio, that lives
hereabouts, that maintains his men every day in holyday bellies,
and their chaps strut, as if they were created for nothing but to
blow bagpipes: now, if I could scrue into his service, my spiny Carcass
would begin to whine as a dog after flesh, when his chaps run
over. But soft, sure this is he.

Enter Præpontio & Rubio.
Heb.

I'll make as if I knew him not, and praise him to's very face,
and then I'll warrant you.

Præ.

Thus perambulating all alone, I ruminate on the multiplicity
of those joyes, that my Varina might afford me.

Heb.

Save thee honest friend.

Præ.

Why? what art thou?

Heb.

What am I? Thou seest I am neither horse nor mare,
bull nor cow, hog nor pig, dog nor rat, mouse nor cat, fish nor
flesh, nor good red herring: but as I may say, a meere
man.

Præ.

My Mistriss will be well taken, Rubio, to hear this fellow
talk; but say, art a meer man, canst thou keep thy money, and not
grease the ale-wifes fingers with it?

Heb.

How? grease the ale-wifes fingers with it; nay I should prove
a very fool then: for she might then grease my face with her talons,
for not paying my reck'ning.

Præ.
Well spoken of a fool.

Heb.
I, by my faith, Master, was it.

Præ.
I mean, canst thou keep thy money from spending?

Heb.
I, Master, if I had it.

Præ.
Wilt thou live with me?

Heb.
I, Sir, an't please you, I'm dissolved on that point already.

Præ.
Go, stand at the Curtains, and seal your lips.

Didst thou invite her, Rubio? you must wait very attentively at her
elbow, and if perchance a drop fall from her mouth, you must be sure
to catch it, I'll have it put in a reliquary: but does not my great ruff
become me admirably? will she not like me, thinkst thou, in this suit?
I will coyne words shall make her in love with me.

Rub.

You will bewitch her with your very looks, ne're doubt it;
you look now more compleatly then the great Mogull, or the Arch-Duke.

Præ.

I have a Lions Countenance.

Rub.

Nay, a Bears rather, or a Baboons, you look so smug on't,
Master.

Præ.

But didst thou see what an admirable piece of Poetry I consarcinated
in my bed; nay, in my sleep, Rubio?

Rub.

Some drowsie Poem.

Præ.

Ovid de Arte Amandi was never like it: Hold my Cloke Rubio,
doe you see?

Rub.

I see your back-side, Sir.

Præ.

But mark my Verses, how melodiously they run upon their
feet.

Rub.
They gallop.

Præ.

Rub.
Horribly, beyond expression.

Præ.

I wil write a whole volume of such Elegies, and put down Lope
de vega, or Gacilasso's, Poems.

Rub.

You must get tunes to them, they will passe for excellent new
Ballads.

Enter Alvarado.
Præ.

O! my Uncle!

Alv.

O! my wise kinsman, what sayes your Mistress?

Præ.

O Uncle! she is the noblest, wittiest woman that ever I encountred
with since I gallopt ore the Alps; she surpasses me in ingeniosity
for all my travels.

Rub.

And my Master, God blesse his worships Coxcomb, told her,
you would give her Holland Cheese, Parmasane, and Calves-head to
breakfast if she would have him.

Præ.

Nay, Uncle, she askt me if you would give her your land at
Granada.

Alv.

And what didst thou answer?

Præ.

Peace, sirrah, Uncle, aspect my judgement in being responsible:
I sayd, I, that he will, if I thought the old dotard would not, I would
dash out his brains.

Alv.

Thank you Nephew! How then?

Præ.

For, quoth I, although he were hang'd, or drownd, or dead any
way, though the Divel should carry him away in a Harricæne, I
should have his land, being as I am, eldest son to his eldest sister; is't
not so Uncle? I know my Pedigree.

Rub.

Master, you need no Herald to blaze your worth, you can doe
it sufficiently your selfe.

Præ.

True! very true; but Uncle, shall I dance with my Mistress
anon, I long to meet her in a measure, I can so caper it.

Enter Alonzo, Varina, and Servant.
Alv.

Here comes your Mistress, and her Uncle.

Præ.

Pray let me accost them.

Alv.

Welcome noble friends.

Præ.

For your part, Sir, à posteriore I salute you thus; and you Sir,
thus, with this Italian Frisco: But as for you, my superabundant Mistress,
accept the fœtus of my Minerva for your congratulatory welcome.

Var.

'Tis pitie, servant, you are not pictur'd with a Laurell wreath
in your forehead.

Rub.

Or rather with a Coxcombs Crest, Mistress.

(Aside.
Præ.

But my most inestimable Mistress, I must dictate to you, That
you vilifie my brains secundity, in not applauding my ingenious conceptions,
since sure you love me.

Rub.

Better then she loves Plum-porredge, or Minc't-pyes, I dare
protest.

Præ.

Tell me then, thou Master-piece of Nature.

Rub.

Mistress-piece, Sir, she is a woman.

Præ.

Does not the superficies of my countenance demonstrate as

much love as Don Quixot's, or Gerardo's, the unfortunate and ominous
Spaniard? am not I kin to the Family of the Guzmans, think you?

Rub.

Alias, Goosman; alias, Goodman Goose.

(aside.)
Præ.

And am I not the most acute, compleat, polite Itinerator that
ever caper'd over the Alps, and the Pyrenæan mountains, and the most
sublime and ingenious Poet that ever drank of the Heliconian, Castalian,
and Pierian Fountains: Have not I sixteen languages exactly, perfectly,
and perspicuously.

Rub.

Sixscore, Master.

Præ.

Come, my supereminent Mistress, let us expatiate to refresh
our palats with our delicious banquets, the minc't pies, and the Plum-pudding
which my English Cook made me, will be cold else. Come,
sirrah, follow.

Exeunt.
Heb.

Now my sweet guts and garbege, my Fathers old Boots were
never so liquor'd and greas'd as you shall be.

Exit.

Scæna tertia.

Enter Chaves, Roderiguez, and Boy.
Cha.
Hast thou the Song? Boy?

Boy.
Yes, Sir.

Cha.
Are the Musitians ready?

Boy.
They expect behind yon pillar.

Cha.
But art thou sure this is her window?

Rod.
The same, ne're feare, we shall have audience.

Boy
sings.

Rod.
So now depart, and charge the Musitians they say nothing.

Boy.
I will Signior.

Exit.
Rod.
The window is opened, friend, list who speaks.

Mariana and Catalina, out at the window
Mar.
I marvail, Catalina, who bestowed
This Musick on us; it was good and sweet.

Cat.
Some one, that dog'd you home from Alvarado's,
Some Amorado.

Rod.
Speak Sir, now or never.

Cha.
All peace content and joy attend you Ladies.

Mar.
What man art thou, that when Nights Curtain's drawn,
And with her sable mantle vails the skies,
Dar'st venture on our secrets?

Cha.
One, you promis'd
When for your sake I sav'd Picarro's life,
To keep in memory.

Mar.
Sir, if you are he,
I am obliged, I confess, to honour
Your nobleness, but these untimely houres
Admit no conference: for your Musick, Sir,
We give you thanks; so much I love you, that
I'll not endanger you, if you be seen,
You run your lifes dire hazard, Sir, good night,
Fair thoughts attend you.

Cha.
Stay! for Loves sake, were there
Dangers as thick here, as there's stars above us,
I would contemn them all; if death it self
Should here incounter me, I'ld scorn the fury:
Tell him his hand had here no power; your presence
Makes men immortall.

Mar.
Cause you shall not, Sir,
Condemn me of discourtesie; I'll stay,
But to your purpose, let me know it briefly;
Or I must be unmannerly.

Cha.
Why then,
In brief I love you, and desire your love.

Mar.
And is this all, good night!—

Cat.
Hear him out, Mistress, he's an honest Gentleman,
I know by's words;

Cha.
My zeal could tell you, Lady,
That yout are fair; you know it; that your eyes.
Clothe night in days robes, and eclipse the stars
With their bright lustre; that you are the modell
Of Natures artifice; her true Idea,
In whose brow Art and Beauty wedded meet,
But these, dear Mariana, and the like
Pedantick terms, I leave to those whose loves
Are in their lips; I'll be as plain in speech,
As zealous in respects; my deeds shall speak
My Love no Changeling

Mar.
But I cannot, Sir,
Nor must not love you; many one would feed
Your flames with frustrate species to deride
Your passions, but I do carry with me
More honest thoughts: as you have been, I'll be
Brief: save your labour Signior, they are fruitless,
You sing to th'deaf, and plough the sandy shore,
I must not love you.

Cha.
I'm oblig'd to you!
'Tis well and nobly done to put an end
To my hot tortures, view this blade, the same
Which for your sake I did restrain from shedding
Picarro's blood for better ends; shall now
(goes to stab himself.)
In bloody Characters write me thy Martyr.

Rod.
Hold! hold! for heav'ns sake; hold!—
What mean you Chaves?

Cha.
Nothing, but to open
A vein that's stopt; 'tis good for me to bleed:
My sword will be a good Phlebotomist,
I'm sick of th'Plurify; a burning feaver!
'Tis better once to die, then thus to live
In lingring flames; and piece-meal crumble: ha!
Be thou my friend; and since my Life cannot,
Let death now make me pittied: Let me die!

Mar.
You're a faint hearted Soldier; what dasht
At first repulse? admit I could afford
You heart-room in my breast: you might well think
Me very light, should I at once be wonn
Without experience of your Loyalty:
Besides, our Countries use permits not Children
To choose their husbands: 'Tis my Fathers care,
Get his consent, and peradventure I
May yeild to love you.

Cat.
Do sweet Mistress, he's
A very honest man: I'd take his word.

Cha.
Look! how the enamour'd air hangs o're her lips
To suck a blessing from them? I can think
Now 'twas no fable, that bold Boreas
Rapt fair Orithya, since I see him haste
To ravish thee of that too pretious breath,
Thy words expire with; it will make his own
Sweeter then Syrian winds, when nought but Myrrhe
And Bysse perfume them.

Mar.
You're too hasty Sir.
It is impossible that I should love you,
I am contracted.

Cha.
Yet 'tis in your power
To love your servant.

Mar.
If Anatomists
Tell truth, that say, I'th' Center of our hearts
There is a little Concave, where resides,
Our best affections; then your Augury
Must needs be truth, for all the love lies there,
Is to anothers worth engag'd.

Cha.
Make me
But of your privy Councell, pray reveal him.

Mar.
Then know, since first I saw you, I have been
(The night will hide my blushing to your face)
A true devotarist to your lovely vertues;
Deride me not, dear Signior.

Cha.
I am
Ravisht beyond my hopes, my heart's too narrow,
Too strait-lac'd for th'exuberance of my joy.

Enter Balthasar.
Balt.
This is the house: now Gaspar I shall see
Thy truth, I heare some mutt'ring.—

Mar.
Walk round the house, my maid shall let you in.

Bal.
'Tis she, I hear her voyce, and here he comes.
Sir, stay, you must not passe so.

Rod.
What art thou?
That thus presum'st to over-hear our secrets,
And rashly tempt thy death.

Bal.
I am a man,
Thy equall every way.

Rod.
About your businesse,

Cha.
Sirrah, be packing, or I'll send you hence.

Balt.
Were you encompass'd with hot lightning, arm'd
With Corslets made of Dragons maile, your breath
As poysonous as a Vipers, or a Toads,
Yet I alone would dare t'encounter you.

Rod.
You're very valiant: Frenzy prompts you thus,
Or else tis some fat Fleming, who being drunk,
Hath lost his way to th'Brothell, and doth think
To find his drab here: Friend, you've lost your way:
Be wise, and save your carcasse by a retreat:
You I walk, nay make a leg, and thank me too
For letting you to passe, or I shall teach
Your noll more manners.

Bal.
Teach thy selfe, false man,
More honesty: which of you is it that
Thus Courts my Mariana? cause to him,
I only speak.

Cha.
'Tis I.

Bal.
Then let me tell you:
You injure one, that never injur'd you:
She's mine, betroth'd to me:

Cha.
I'm sorry 'twas
My hapless fate to meet you in this place,
I shall but poast you through the Avernal Lakes
On Ambassy to Pluto: and desire
Those Deities to fit you with a Mistress:
You'll have her forcibly, although you see
She cannot love you? gentle friend, put up!
This is a glorious quarrel, every drop
Of blood, that's spilt, will have a Crown beyond
The palm of Martyrs! For my Mistress? come!
Address your self to prayers first.

(Drawes.)
Balt.
Prithee stay:
Thou seem'st a person qualifi'd, before
We fight and die (for that one of's must do)
Think what unworthy and inhuman cause
You stand to justifie with blood: her Father
Hath giv'n her me, before whole Quires of Saints,
(Heav'ns hierarchy) we were contracted: do not,
Blinded with lust, run headlong to a sin,
So foul and horrid: hazard not your souls
Lasting salvation in a quarrel, so
Unjust on thy part: say, 't should be my fate
(As it may be) to kill you: what a mass
Of endless woe thou pluckst upon thy head?
Hadst thou no other crimes to charge thy soul,
Think what a monstrous, and ignoble sin
Is supplantation in this kind of wrong:
Above Astræa's Laws? A Christian, Sir,
(As you should be) at naming this would have
A frigid palzy in his veins: pray, tell me,
Feel you no Earthquake in you?

Cha.
Thus, and thus
I'll Catechize you.

(Stabs him)
Bal.
Oh!

(falls)
Rod.
So preach in hell:
We have full entrance now, but least the noyse
Disturb the house, we'd best depart, and come
When the next night in favour to us shrowds
Sleeping Olympus in her dusky clouds.

Cha.
I do approve your counsell:—

Exeunt.
Balthazar rises up.
Bal.
So! they are gon: I'm hurt, my loss of blood
Makes my legs falter: Fool, to shed a drop
In an effeminate quarrel: can the name
Of woman pass without fell execrations
Through these parcht lips? henceforth I will evade them,
As the infectious scum of pestilence:
To Troy once famous one base Helen brought
A finall ruine: fair Persepolis
Had still stood Asia's glory, had not Thaïs
(That obscæne Thaïs) by her witchcraft made
Fond Alexander to consume't by fire:
Each woman is a plague: I justly may
Curse their whole sex, since Mariana's false.
I must be silent.

Enter Gaspar.
Gasp.
Balthazar?

Bal.
Who art thou?

Gasp.
'Tis I, your servant Gaspar! are my words
Not truth: have you not met with them: Alas!
I fear you're wounded: Sir, base villains!—

Bal.
Yes doubly Gaspar, for my bodies harms
Surgeons may cure them: but the wounds my mind
Suffers, 's past help of plaisters: Oh! I bleed:
These are but scratches, here's a wound indeed.

Gasp.
Faith! think not on it, Sir, she may be honest,
Though she hath suitors: women will delight
In the plurality of servants.

Bal.
But
That she who stood the Goddess of my love,
Whose truth should Angels with me 've sought to blast,
I should have judg'd them lyars: should be thus
Inconstant, false: this puts me quite beyond
The confines of all reason!

Gasp.
Good Sir! patience.

Bal.
Patience! what's that? pray carry me to some
Infected Pesthouse, or foul Hospitall,
Where all diseases flourish: where no sound
Person can enter, but he must return
Full fraught with all contagions: there I'll steal
From one a plague-sore; rob another of
His purple spots, this of a feaver, till
I have ingross'd all maladies, that carrie
A spreading rancour with them, and that have
Death in their bosomes: then I'll straitway come,
And keep society with none, but women:
Til the whole sex have shar'd of death, and those
(For some will live) that do remain to keep
Earths store alive, be so infected, that
Their future issue be all monstrous: Tell me,
Should I not fit her then for this, and all
That bear the name of women?

Gas.
Sir, you grow
Outragious in your passion; your blood
Carries a fervor, that won't let this passe
Without revenge; I'll work the means, if you
Have heart to act it.

Bal.
Wilt thou doe't?

Gas.
Ne're fear't:
Go to your lodging, dress your wounds, you may
Inform her Father at your leasure.

Bal.
Well,
I'll rest upon thy care, and make my hand
In thanks retaliate thy just deserts.

Exit.
Gas.
O! that I could but borrow for this instant,
A vipers breath to blast thee, but 'tis well,
Vines clip not Elms for nothing, I must twine
About them subtly, till they kiss the earth,
Or else my ends will have abortive birth.

Exit.

Scena quarta.

Enter Varina.
Var.
Now should I be intrapt in my own Gin,
Whom should I blame, but only my false heart?
Should that unkindnesse dropping from my pen,
Extinguish quite poor Roderiquez flame,
On whom should I disgorge my troubled stomach,
But on my selfe? 'tis pretty to consider
How I expose my selfe unto a wound,
To make another bleed.—

Enter Rodriguez.
Rod.
Pardon, sweet Damsell, this my bold intrusion,
Urg'd not by rude behaviour, but by love.

Var.
Sir, you're a stranger; but if it be void
Of ill intent, your pardon's quickly seal'd.

Rod.
If that to evidence the true affection
I alwayes bare unto your noble self,
Be ill intent, then my accesse is conscious.

Var.
To court me with your love, Sir, it is strange,
I'm a poor Orphan, one whom Fate decreed
To hang my Fortunes on anothers girdle,
Time sure hath prov'd himselfe a cunning Artist,
That in so short a space could frame a subject
For your affection; 'tis not long agoe
My eyes tooke their first notice of you.

Rod.
Time,
Is not that cunning Artist, but your vertues,
Which through the winding convex of my ears,
Convey'd their winding admiration to my heart,
'Tis not your means, sweet Lady, but your love
That I now covet: For your guardians favour,
I weigh it little, so you'l grant me yours:
Throw not those angry fire-balls of thy eyes
Upon me who am Touch-wood, left I here
Moulder to ashes; bid them that they keep
Fast their Artillery; 'tis your milder beams,
Those rayes of favour that we now request.

Var.
Though I am conscious of no demerits
Residing in me, that might claim these praises,
These pick-thanks of your tongue, I think my selfe
Too good to entertain a scornfull jeer;
For honours sake forbear't.

Rod.
Wretched mistake!
That you should once conceive my heart could lodge
The least base thought that's Traytor to your honor!

Var.
But hear me, Sir, Once walking with my Nurse
For recreation in our shady groves,
She told me her prophetick spirit fear'd
Some false One would betray me to his love,
And to my ruine.

Rod.
If 'twas me she meant,
The Sibyll lyed.

Var.
Howe're, it breeds suspition.

Rod.
What demonstration of my zealous faith
Can this your incredulity exact?
Shall I contend in combat with the Lion?
Or else affront the ugly foaming Boar?
What is't that I shall doe? Speak, and 'tis done:
Shall I betake my self to th'Russian Fields
Ith' midst of Winter, where my faithfull blood
May freeze to Corall, and my sad laments,
Congeal with th'aire? Shall I devote my selfe
A sacrifice to Ætna, or to Neptune?
Shall I atchieve to fetch the golden fruit
From th'scaly Dragon? pluck fell Cerberus out
From's stinking den? These, or a thousand more,
I'll doe at your command.

Var.
To promise, Sir,
Is easie, when performance lags behind.

Rod.
'S your heart so prepossest, that there's no room,
No corner left to hold one grain of faith?

Var.
I'll try your love; here, take this, drink it off.
(gives him wine)
Leave not one drop i'th' bottom of the cup.

Rod.
What e're it be, I'll banish feare and do't.

(drinks.)
Var.
Is't off?

Rod.
It is.

Var.
Then know that thou art poyson'd.
This is that draught which to Ulysses mates,
In stead of drink sage Circe did extend;
'Tis venoms quintessence, rank poyson.

Rod.
Poyson?

Var.
Yea, poyson! not the ugly Toad includes
Worse venome then that potion.

Rod.
Methinks,
I feel no alteration in my blood.

Var.
I know that too. Th'time for its operation
Is not yet come; some sev'n hours hence, and then
A deadly fire raging within thy breast,
Shall make thy Arteries crack, and tear thy nerves:
An Iron girdle shall not hold thy body
It shall so swell with this envenom'd draught.

Rod.
Alas! good Lady, you much fail i'th' end
For which you practise this; you plot my torture
By fear of death, alas! you doe mistake,
My love shall own you for her greatest friend:
For thus to live, deprived of your love,
Is worse ten thousand times then death it selfe.
Then, thank you for this cruell courtesie,
I will not stile you cruel, or hard hearted,
But pitifull, a kind and loving Lady,
And so will limb your vertues to the life:
This kindness chalenges my best respects;
First, that you fix a period to my flames:
Next, that I dye a sacrifice to you.

Var.
What? Art thou glad to die, and proud to fall
A victime by my hands?

Rod.
Your victime, Lady!

Var.
Do not dissemble, in the heav'nly Quire
There's no permission for an hypocrite
To be a Chorister; do not palliate
Th'internall thoughts with such Hypocrisie.

Rod.
I scorn the Title of an Hypocrite,
I liv'd your Lover, and will dye your Martyr.

Var.
Then am I sorry for my cruel act.
There, take thou that, and work thine own revenge
(gives a bodkin.)
While time permits.

Rod.
It shall not be, sweet Lady.
First, should these eyes behold these wretched hands
Pluck forth my entrals: should my harmlesse soul
When 'tis transported over Charons, passage,
But have intelligence that you were injur'd.
It would return, and kill your enemy.

Var.
What needs a further triall of thy love?
Then know, that draught I gave thee was not poyson,
But is as cordiall as th'Hyblæan Nectar.

Rod.
This is beyond the fadome of my weak
Conception's, that you durst expose your life
To one, whom you (for ought he knew) had injur'd.

Var.
I durst expos't to thee, I knew thy hart,
Forgive me now the rude assault I made
Upon thy patience: here accept my hand,
My heart, my love, 'tis all thine own.

Rod.
This gift
Is more to me then th'Orientall Empire,
Which lies embroider'd with earths chiefest treasure,
Pactolus, nor proud Tagus cannot bring
So rich a Present to their native Prince,
As is Varina's love: Alas! one kisse
Stoln from her lips, is worth th'Grand-Signiors bliss.

Exeunt.

Scæna quinta.

Enter Gaspar, solus.
I'll be an Argus, for no other name
Will better fit me; I will watch this Io,
I'll dive into her secrets, and her maids;
I'll look with Eagles eyes into her wayes,
And went she through her actions as the snakes
Glide o're the stones, yet would I find their tract.

Exit.

Scena sexta.

Enter Alonzo, Frederique, Picarro.
Alo.
Let me perswade you, Brother, to surcease
This endlesse suit, what will't advantage you
To keep his carcasse?

Fred.
Why ran he in debt?
I could have kept my money.

Pic.
Sir, my Father
Doth not deny to pay you, all he asks
Is time of payment.

Alo.
Can he offer fairer?
He owes me money, yet I so respect
Alvarez credit, that I'll take his word
Without security.

Fred.
And because you
Will play the fool, and lose your money, must
I doe so too; let me then have his land.

Pic.
Sir, if you'l take my bond, I will oblige
My selfe, and all the land my Father leaves me,
To give you satisfaction.

Fred.
Keep your land,
Sow garlick on't, I will have nought but money.
Give me my money.

Alo.
You're the strangest man
That e're I dealt with, had not you farre better
Take that then loose all; say, he die in prison,
What will you get then?

Fred.
'S body, that I'll sell
To the Dice-makers, they shall put his bones
To the same use they were at while he liv'd,
He may thank's gaming for't, the Dice, and 's Drabs.

Pic.
My patience will not hear this: Covetous man,
Were't not for th'reverence I ow, this house,
Thou shouldst not thus abuse thy betters—

Fre.
He
Threatens, bear witnesse, Sir, I'll have your tongue
Bound to the peace.

Enter Balthazar.
Alo.
Balthazar, pray perswade
Your Fathers patience.

Bal.
Where's your daughter, Sir?
Not stirring?

Alo.
Yes!—Mariana!

Enter Mariana.
Ma.
Did you call?

Bal.
My business, Sir, is private.

Alo.
We'll withdraw

Exeunt Alonzo, Frederique, Picarro.
Bal.
Good morrow, Mistress, slept you well last night?
Your eyes look red, I doubt you slept not well.

Ma.
What makes you look so ghastly?

Bal.
Faith! I dream'd
Last night, that being underneath your window,
I heard men talk there, and you answer.

Ma.
Dreams
Are foolish fancies, and 'tis witchcraft, Sir,
To credit them.

Bal.
Nay more, I heard you vow
Love unto one, and bid him come and enter
Into your Conclave; you doe understand me?

Ma.
Yes! that you dream'd so.

Bal.
And as he was going,
I staid his passage, and he wounded me.
And when I wak't, blushing Aurora told me
That I was wounded.

Ma.
Sir, You did but dream,
Beleeve it not.

Bal.
Yes, Mariana, see
This Crimson livery which your servants bounty
Last night bestow'd upon me, 'tis a brave one,
Does't not become me finely?

Ma.
Saints protect me!
How came you hurt, my dearest Balthazar?
You are not wounded?

Bal.
This is brave, she will
Perswade me she is innocent. O woman!
How various are thy humours? thy devices?
How sly thy projects? Men with ease can find
Natures obscurest reaches, over-reach
The craft of Serpents, tame wild beasts, and bring
All things to their subjection, onely woman
With her deceit, surpasses man, confounds
His best capacity. But tell me, Mistress,
Did you not see me wounded?

Ma.
I? These eyes
Would have turn'd blind at such a sight; let's see!
Is your wound dangerous?

Bal.
Heav'ns! I think deceit
Has left its room in Hell, and built its mansion
Within thy breast: Is't possible your face
Can be so full of impudence, to sweare
A thing so false?

Ma.
He raves! I'll call for help!

Bal.
Yet more Mæanders! tell me hypocrite,
My fine dissembler, who it was you set
To be my Butcher? I'll not seek revenge;
But (as my duty is) go kiss his hands,
Prostrate my neck unto his honor'd feet,
Because my Mistress loves him.

Ma.
Las! he's frantick!

Bal.
True! you have made me, Mariana, were there
Any evasion to excuse thy crime,
I should be ready to believe thou mightst
Be blamelesse yet! But I have proofs that banish
All probabilities, my ears can tell
That thou'rt turn'd Harpy; Oh! there is no trust,
No faith in woman left!

Mar.
Yet in this fury?
Dear Balthasar, what have your jealous eyes
Observ'd in my behaviour? You should think
That when my Fathers will hath made me yours.
I should fall off and take another.

Bal.
Nothing!
My eyes and feeling faile me, all my senses
Were wrapt in extasies of endlesse pleasure,
To think you were my Misress; I do know
That you are vertuous, your affection's wholly
Bent to my love; let me but kisse your hand,
But touch it onely, and you'l soon perceive
With what an equall temper I can doe it;
I'm none of those who carry hot-houses,
Stoves in their blood, I've been too cold a Lover,
Too modest with you, therefore you reject me.

Mar.
Yet more outragious?

Bal.
And have taken one
Some strange-backt monster, whom perchance you've seen
Out of your window in the Placa, take
The quick Strapado nimbly; or, have born
Some massy burden, and his big-made joynts
Ne're crack beneath his ponderous weight, that promis'd
An abler body to content your lust,
More raging then a Goats; be briefe, who is't?
Some slavish Galliego, that has stoln
My int'rest in thee?

Ma.
You're a foul mouth'd man!
Come you to rail? you shall find fuell, friend
To feed your fire with, till its heat has burn'd
Thy intrails out; I love another, goe,
And tell my father on't, nor you nor he
Shall know his name: it was the same that hurt you,
You may goe tell, Sir.

Bal.
Impudence, declare
(draws his sword.)
Or perish.

Mar.
Murder!

Enter Alonzo, Frederique, Gaspar.
Alo.
How now Balthazar?
What drawn upon my daughter? 'tis not fair.

Mar.
Pray give an ear unto my short request;
As you're my Father, kill me, e're my name
Be blasted thus by this ignoble man,
Whose head hath forg'd a crime against me; Fiends
Would ne're have dream't of.

Bal.
Strumpet!

Alo.
Sir, desist.
You have done more already then you'l answer.

Mar.
He charges me, that underneath my window
Last night some people hurt him; that he heard
Men talk to me: which how 'tis possible,
And you not heare it, judge your selfe: but malice
Ne're wants a subject to defame.

Bal.
Your servant
Can verifie my words as truth.

Gas.
Who I?
Did not the rev'rence which I ow this house,
With-hold me from the fury which the lie
(You call me as a witness to) had stir'd?
In these hot veins, you should be taught, base man,
How to create such Fabricks.

Bal.
Slave! we will
Have vengeance.

Gas.
Yes! we mean to have it, Sir.
You'l walk, or by this Rapier

Bal.
Walk awhile, I shall
Live to dissect thy treacherous Corps, as small
As crums or Atomes.

Exeunt Balth. Fred. Mariana.
Gas.
Heark you, Signior,
The goodness that your goodness makes me owe
Your Family, obliges me to be
Nice in a point, that does so near concern
Your houses reputation: Balthasar
Said nought but truth, for Mariana has
Assiduall suitors.

Alo.
Hadst th' a Devils spleen,
Or Serpents breath, thou could'st not blast her goodness?

Gas.
First should this weapon rip my entrals out,
E're I would be so impious as to seek
To blast her fame: honest? her sex may raise
After her death Mausolæan monuments,
Or some tall Pyramid, as to the chastest,
E're crown'd the name of women. Nature first
Would go awry, the Ocean lose its course;
E're she her vertue. Lass! Sir, I do only
Tell, she's frequented.

Alo.
Why did you deny this?
When he did charge you with it?

Gas.
Though to you
In privat I give notice; think not, Patron,
I am so careless of your Daughters honour,
Or your good name: (although in things of truth)
To back her foes. I do believe, her spirit
Flowing with noble thoughts rejected him
Only to place her love upon another,
Of higher merit.

Alo.
Then it seems you know
Whom she's frequented by?

Gas.
Your'e pleas'd to call
My faith in question, Sir.

Alo.
Next time he comes,
Be sure you give me notice; that's your charge

Gas.
I'll loose this worthlesse breath else, when you see,
You will believe it, mean time what you please,
Do Sir: Be sure you shall behold that she
Shall miss her match by my fine treachery.

(Aside)
Exeunt.