University of Virginia Library

Act. IV.

Scæn. 1.

Enter Chaves, Roderiguez, without disguise and swords drawn.
Cha.
Curse my fate!

Rod.
Have patience, Sir, we shall
Remove your grief too; or in streams of blood
We'll swim to our desires.

Enter Gaspar.
Cha.
O! Signior, Gaspar!
Why had not we your notice of this wedding?

Gas.
It was so closely carried, that my ears
Could ne'er be privy to't; what ailes my Master?
Why, Sir, so pensive? Fear not, Sir, my Mistris
Will love you still; but I do sound you come
To Butcher her new Bridegroom; Is't not so?

Cha.
Thy augury's most true; these swords but now
Reak'd in the streams of Don Præpontio's blood;
To help my Friend Rod'riguez to his Love.

Gas.
In troth the World's well rid of such a fool!

Cha.
And yet are thirsty; we must sail through blood
To our desired port; tell her I'll drink
A health unto her in Picarro's gore;
I once did in obedience to her will,
Spare it, but 'twas by Fate reserv'd to be
Drawn empty now, and this enraged hand
Shall break the Conduit up; 'twill do me good:
In expectation here Ile wait, untill
I finde and kill him—

Gas.
No! don't kill him now:
Twere too unholy to prophane those rites,
Besides, he's arm'd with th'choisest of his friends,
That should you kill him, 'twere impossible
You should escape the æstrum of their fury,
Patience awhile, bridle your wrath, Ile plot
To do't more easie: Pray be pleasd.

Cha.
Thou wer't
Hatcht in a Pigeons nest, thou art so timerous
Tell us of murther, not of safety, rather
Let's study to create new ways to kill
Though to destroy the world; and so to be
Earths common Executioners; then that
He should enjoy and crop those blessed Roses.

Gasp.
What if he do? he has but what you left,
Hee'll prick his Fingers ere he pluck that rose;
Before to morrow night his Glass is run.
Pray, Sir, withdraw, be sure on't.

Rod.
Good Sir, doe.

Cha.
Your counsell shall prevail.

Exeunt.
Gas.
So let them go, had this fresh Gamester entred
And kild Picarro; and her Father known
Twas he enjoy'd her, he would have procur'd
A pardon for him, and have giv'n him her,
So I'd been cozen'd, but I'm rid of all:
Balthazar kils Picarro, then himself
Suffers; Præpontio's kild by Chaves, whom
The Law for that fact strait shall apprehend,
And soon condemn as guilty; so not one
Is left to be an obstacle.

Enter Boy.
Boy.
Sir, my Master bids you not expect him, he'll not come.

Exit.
Gas.
He will not come? how now? Ile call them back:
Oh! that I were but registred the first
In Coxcombes catalogue, to place my hopes
On One, when others offerd to effect them.
Villains had need to see with Argus eyes,
They'll be most fools else, when they seem most wise.

Exit.

Scena secunda.

Enter Mariana and Catalina.
Cat.
Faith! Mistris do not grieve so, you do wrong
The beauty of your face; should your new husband
See this, he'ld grow suspitious; dry your eyes
For shame, 'ts a sin to weep in wedding shooes.

Ma.
Denude me of these gawdy garments, get
Funestal vestments for my new attire:
Lend me a book to pray on, and intreat
The Priest that married me; to com again;
I'd speak with him.

Cat.
Still in this mœstfull tune;
You will not dye I'm sure?

Ma.
Pray, keep those flowers
To straw my Coffin with, and tell the Virgins
That came to grace my nuptials, I invite
Them to my Obsequies.

Cat.
Bless me! Mistris, better
Chaves, were hang'd, then you should kill your self
For him, your husband is a proper man,
And for Sir Chaves, you may have him too,
Dye, quoth you, faith! that were a trick indeed;
Be merry, Mistris, come, you shall; this is
Your wedding day.

Ma:
My day of buriall call it;
For so it will be, I have lost the May,
The flower of Brides, my Virgin glory, and
I know, my husband hearing what has past
Twixt Balthasar and me, will be most curious
In searching; when as needs he must, he finds
Me for a Virgin thrust on him, to be
Not so, hee'll kill me.

Cat.
Is this all your fear?
Mercury water, or som Cypress berries
Will cozen th'cunningst searcher of them all.

Ma.
I must not trust it. Catalina, thou
Hast always lov'd me!

Cat.
Yes truly, Mistris.

Ma.
Thou wouldst be loath to see me murdered?

Cat.
Bless you, good Mistris!

Ma.
Thou art fair and young—

Cat.
Faith, reasonable; I've seen many a worse
Face in a Ladies habit, I'll assure you.

Ma.
And I dare say a Virgin—

Cat:
Yes, in truth,
The more's my grief.

Ma.
Wilt thou supply my room?
And be the Bride to my new husband?

Cat.
I
Would not, forsooth, lose my Virginity.

Ma:
Come, be not squeamish, when he is in bed
And th'Candle's out; then Ile frame an excuse
To rise, and thou shalt com into my place;
And after he's asleep, Ile come again.

Cat.
For your sake, Mistris, I will do't, and get
A drug to make him sleep.

Mar.
Doe, prithee doe.
'Tis late, about it.

Exit Catalina.
Enter Alonzo, Alvarez, Picarro.
Alo.
Son! you're beholding to the youth o'th City,
In the solemnity of these your Nuptials,
They have procur'd a Masque, they stand without.

Enter Masque.
Balthazar
sings,
Rursus.
Rursus.
Rursus.
Rursus.

Dance.
Pic.
This is a strange Epithalamium?

Alo.
'Tis a strange Song! and a far stranger dance!

Alv.
'Tis rare and new! it carries mystery with it.

Pic.
Who is the chief to whom we owe our thanks?

(Balthazar discovers himself.)
Bal.
'Tis I, Picarro! Sir, 'tis I, your Mistris
Knows me, I did provide this Masque on purpose
That you might know, how you are injured.

Pic.
Explain your Riddle, be our Oedipus,
W'are yet in darkness.

Bal.
Thus, Sir, That old man
That led the woman, represents Deceit,
And she his daughter Lust; the next pair, he
On the right hand is Treachery, who lead
In me deciphering True Affection:
And the last couple which came after us,
The first of them is Wantonnesse, who pulls
Lust from me, and doth give her to that person
Who signifies a Cuckold and a Fool.
You understand me!

Pic.
Tis a Paradox.

Bal.
Then know, your wife's a hatefull prostitute,
Her Father is a Villain, you a Cuckold.
I'll say no more.

Pic.
You've said enough already
To seale you to damnation.

(Drawes)
Ma.
O Sir, stay,
Give Losers leave to speak: his fury moves him
To be thus passionate.

Pic.
But that I will not
Stain with your blood my Nuptials, you should know
How false your tale is: but there's other times
To meet with you.

Bal.
I shall be ready when
You please to call me.

Exit Masque.
Alv.
It is strange me thinks
That Balthazar should be so spitefull, Brother:
This must not passe thus.

Pic.
No! I shall hereafter
Have vengeance.

Ma.
He deserves ten thousand deaths
For such a wrong.

Alo.
What muse you on, Sir; Ha!

Pic.
Balthazar, Sir, has always been a man
Of good esteem, I marvell he should raise
Without occasion, such a calumny.

(Mariana swouns)
Alo.
O! help my daughter!

Alv.
Hold her, else she falls!

Pic.
Heav'ns showre down Balm to cure her, or let loose
Some blasting lightning, that may feare me up
Till I convert to ashes: see, her breath
In little streaks flies from her, to make sweet
Death with its pretious flavor; send for hither
Those curious men that strive to give new life
To Carcasses, those that do spend their studies
In Image-making; let them here receive
A perfect patern, afterwards to cut
All womens Marbles by.

Alo.
There's life! there's life!

Pic.
She beautifies uncomly death! Might she
Remain thus uncorrupted, she would make
A Statue passing all the Alabasters
We can erect, in memory of her name.

Ma.
Oh! Oh!

Pic.
That breaks her heart-strings! Blessed Saint!
Fly not so fast, sweet soul; I'll rob the Turtle
Of his swift wings, but I'll o'retake thee, that
In thy society I may mount to yonder
Celestiall region, for thy sake they will not
Deny admission; the Saints are timerous
To lose their mansions; for her merit asks
A Crown above a Martyrs.

Alo.
Sonne!

Pic.
Behold!
Her spotlesse soul attir'd in white, ascends
In a clear Chariot, drawn by virgins: strait
I come, stand off.

He offers to make unready)
Alv.
She will recover:

Pic.
Yes!
When she's among her fellow-Angels, then
She may recover life, a glorious essence
Due to her goodness; Earth was too unworthy
To beare so rare a jewell, fitter farre
For Heav'ns rich wearing; yet you have done well
A while to stay me, while I steale a blessing
From those pure lips; though they are cold, one kisse
From them will glut me; which delight hath equall
To that she's gone to.

(he kisses her)
Alo.
Her eyes open.

Pic.
Look,
The Torches fade at such a brightnesse, surely
In this short trance sh'as lost that little remnant
She had of human essence; and 's become
Wholly immortall, and deserves our knees.
(he kneels)
Why gaze you on me? is't not just? A saint
Merits this honor.

Ma.
You all hate me; why
Did you recall my spirits from the blisse
They almost had attain'd to?

Pic.
I'll support thee,
And if thou fall'st, my arm shall keep the earth
From touching thee; 'twill grow too proud to bear
So rich a burden.

Ma.
O Picarro! I
Had thought you'd had a better faith in me,
Then to grow jealous at the false report
Of a base man; I will not live to have you
Deem so ignobly of me.

Pic.
Were this breast
Arm'd with th'obdurate shels of Tortoyses;
Or mal'd with soules of Dolphins, I would force
A passage into't, that you might behold
Each thought that's there, if any one but favour
Of jealousie, then utterly detest me;
But I will make this slave an expiation,
A very Anathema for this injury
Which he hath with such impudence aver'd
Against thy honor.

(Enter Catalina with bottles and glasses.)
Ma.
I believe you, Sir.
Fill me a bowle of water, I'll begin
Your Nuptiall health.

Pic.
Let it be wine I'll drink't:
Wer't liquid metall.

Mar.
Father-in-law, to you.

Alv.
Brother, to you.

Alo.
Son, to you; and may she
Be made a mother by you.

Ma.
Catalina.

(whispers.
Cat.
I've done.

Pic.
Come! Fill it till it over-flow,
Or bring a bigger glasse.

Ma.
'Tis needlesse, Sir.

Pic.
He that denies to pledge't, I'll flit his wezand.

Alv.
Alonzo, it growes late, 'tis time the Bride
Had put the Torches out; we'll see her bedded.

Pic.
I doe preferre the pleasures of this night
Before all treasures, or the earths delight.

Exeunt.

Scæna tertia.

Enter Chaves, Roderiguez, Gaspar, with a Torch.
Cha.
Is't possible he should be gone so soon
To bed? 'Tis yet scarce ten a clock.

Rod.
O Gaspar!
Lend me thy Torch; by heav'ns me thinks 'twere easie
To set the House on fire, and burn the villain
In her embraces.

Gas.
So youl'd burn her too!

Cha.
Faith! not much matter, since I left her, all
My Ice is turn'd to Marble, could I not
Borrow yon star for one halfe houre, and cast it
Like to a ball of wild-fire through you hole,
To make the chamber hotter? Were't not pretty
If from the top of yonder Pyramid
I could embrace the Moon, and pull her from
Her watry sphears, so sindge their plumes? Say friend,
May I not doe it?

Rod.
What strange temper's this?
His mind runs on the Moon, What? Lunatick?

Cha.
Look where the death-full Owle flies: Heark, her wings
Flask in the aire, t'invite the Dawes that nest
In yon tall steeple to deride me: is there
No heat in nature left? Am I converted
So soon to water? Yet my eyes are dry,
They cannot weep a flood, sufficient
For a new generall Deluge: Look! I quake
Like to a frosty Polander, when wrapt
In Iron sheets, he layes him down a man,
O're night in th'Field, and in the morning rises
A Cake of Ice, or Snow-ball. Is't not cold?
My limbs do play on th'Organs.

Gas.
'Tis your fancy:
You're passionatly mad.

Cha.
I do not vvalk yet—
Bare, vvith a long Horn arm'd, nor kisse the dust
With naked feet; but I vvill learn, these garments
Are very ponderous: vvhen I've rent them off,
I shall begin to be a Bedlam.

Rod.
Gaspar,
Prithee perswade him.

Gas.
Sir, you do conceit
Because your project mist to night, your love
Is lost for ever; do not so, to morrow
We'l have a night as opportune as this,
To kill her husband.

Cha.
Yes, if he vvould die,
When vve do vvish him dead, or could our eyes
Kill him, and never look upon him; so
I doe believe he might be slain, but else—

Gas.
Heare me a little, if I do not show
A vvay to kill him.—

Cha.
That's an easie thing:
Levell a Canon at him, blow him up
With Gunpowder.

Gas.
But heare me, Sir, to morrow
You and your friend, vvith others I'll procure,
In strange disguises shall present your selves
There in a Masque; I'll tell you are my friends,
And in the Dance one of the men I'll hire
Shall kill him; you shall not be touch't in this.
How like you't, Sir, is't not a good conceit?

Cha.
Good, very good, could my deeds but effect
What you have spoken—but I fear he has
Some charms about him, steele nor poyson will
Enter his body: so 'ts impossible;
That what you here advise can e're be done.

Gas.
Yes! fear not, Sir, I'll visit you to morrow.

Cha.
Do, and forget not what you promise now.

Rod.
His care and vigilance is far beyond
Our thoughts.

Cha.
Then let him glut himself to night.

Gas.
It surely, Sir, shall be his last good night:
Men may shun publick, but not privat spight:

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Mariana, Catalina.
Ma.
Come! thou'rt a wily strumpet; faith! thou didst
Excellent well! but not one word: I'll goe
And dress me;—

Exit.
Enter Picarro.
Pic.
Sure I have drunk the blood of scorpions,
Suckt mandrakes juice or henbane seed, my heart
Is almost burnt to ashes: Catalina,
Fetch me some water.

Cat.
Here's some ready Sir.

Pic.
Give me another cup, I hate that bowle:
'Twas that I drank last night in: was 't not you
Fill'd me the wine?

Cat.
It was.

Pic.
Was nothing in't?

Cat.
Nothing, but wine and sugar, Sir.

Pic.
What's this?

Cat.
Some of the sugar spilt on th'side of th'cup:
I'll wipe it off.

Pic.
Stay, is this sugar, minion?
I've found you out, you're hir'd to poyson me:
This is a drug, speak quickly, say by whom
Or perish.

Cat.
O good Sir! if I had thought
I should have had no better a requitall,
I'ld not have been so kinde.

Pic.
So kinde? as how?
Be brief, or this shall spoile your utterance.

Cat.
A Maidenhead deserves more favour, Sir.

Pic.
Impudent divell! who'd to do with that?

Cat.
Last night you had it, Sir.

Pic.
Dye, Monster!

(goes to kill her)
Cat.
Hold, Sir, for Heav'ns sake! I confess, my Mistress—

Pic.
What of my Love?

Cat.
To say truth, Sir, she hir'd me
To give y' a sleepy potion, having lost
The blossome of her honour, she procur'd
Me to supply her place, and laid me by you.

Pic.
But is this truth? ha! whore!
(Pulls out Mariana)
Egregious strumpet, was it not sufficient
To make me be the packhorse of thy lust;
The common father to thy odious fry:
The loathsome compound of laciviousness
Thou hast within thee? but thou must betray
My chaste embraces to the sinfull arms
Of a foul harlot, on that sacred night
When I was full with hopes of the reward
Of my true love: ask mercy quickly; pray,
For I will kill thee.

Ma.
Holy Angels guard me!
What mean you dear Picarro? Heav'ns and Saints
Help, as I'm guiltless.

Pic.
Guiltless? so's the Devil;
A plague upon this curst effeminate sex!
Would curses wound as doth the Mandrakes groan,
I would invent as bitter searching tearms,
As curst, as harsh, as horrible to hear
As lean-fac'd envy in her loathsome Cave;
My tongue should stumble in my earnest words,
My eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint,
My hair be fixt an end, as one distract,
Yea, every joynt should seem to curse and ban;
Oh! I could thunder out a Volley of Curses,
A rapsody of banefull execrations!

(He turns aside)
Ma.
What? dost thou turn away, and hide thy face;
I am no loathsome Leaper, look on me;
What? art thou like the Adder waxen deaf?
Be poys'nous too, and kill thy forlorn spouse.

Pic.
Thou hast a place about thee, where the furies
Take up their mansion; I do know, thy eyes
Can with false tears outvy the Crocodile:
Thy tongue can altercate more several notes,
Then the Hyæna's, and can sweetly charm
As doth a Syren, warble forth as sweet
Notes as a Philomel: 'tis bootless now
To seeke to palliate thy Crimes, thy partner
Reveal'd it all: repent, and do it quickly:
Or else die damn'd, I care not.

Ma.
Must I die?

Pic.
You should, though Queens upon their knees in tears
Su'd for thy pardon, Saints implore thy life,
They should not save it: canst thou nourish hopes
Of ought but death, when thy inhumane Acts
Tell thee thou hast deserv'd to suffer for them
More then eternall tortures?

Ma.
O Picarro!
Remember what I am, not what I have been,
I'm now your wife, Sir, if I have been tempted
To that Venerean sin: 'twas e're religion
Had made me yours: you were not injur'd by it,
And though for fear of being discover'd, I
Did thrust this hapless maid into your bed,
Though't be a fault, that well might merit death,
Damne me not for it: give me leave to make
My peace with Heav'n, and then I'll yeild to die:
Thank you to kill me.

Pic.
If I let her talk
A little longer, she'll perswade me: come,
Hold up your hands for mercy, make short praiers,
And this shall say Amen unto them, pray—

(Holds up his Sword)
Ma.
Since your stern rage will not permit you hear
A word of mercy: for your own sake do not
Draw double vengeance on your self: poor Girl,
'Twas I that caus'd her sin: a twofold murder
Will lie too heavy on you.

Pic.
Sure my hand
Has got the Palsey: yet before, thou dy'st,
Discharge thy conscience of one crime: thy soul
Will be the lighter: tell me this, what Fiend?
What Devill in humane shape? for man would never
Have tempted thee to sin, 'twas that betraid,
Thee to his Lust?

Ma.
I'm sure you've heard my Father
Contracted me to Balthasar.

Pic.
What then?

Ma.
Thinking that he should have been married to me,
I let him have my honour, little dreaming
Of what has happened since: remember once
I sav'd your life, for that good turn afford
A little Leisure.

Pic.
Mariana, since
Thou art dishonest, 'tis impossible
Vertue should rest in women: sure some Saint
Of your deceitfull sex has fled to Heav'n
With all your women-vertues: otherwise
Thou'dst had a share in't.

(Offers to strike)
Ma.
E're you strike, one word
E're I be silent ever: there must come
A day, when you must dye too, when your faults
Must be ript up, as mine are now: and then
You'll finde it written in your Conscience-book,
As first and greatest of your sins, that you
Not only were a parricide, but that
You damn'd a soul too, which will be requir'd
Of your poor Ghost: then that will quake to see
Me wrapt in flames, when it remembers how
Your anger caus'd it: rather shut us up
Poor Recluses in some strict Monastery,
Where we may weep, till in our tears we swim
To mercy, with our praiers beg heav'ns to showre
Their blessings on you.

Pic.
I will have a Cave,
A darksome Spelunk in some Wilderness,
Where never grass grew, where the balefull tops
Of Yew and Cypress banish Titans light,
Where never harmless bird nor beast doth live
For the foul Airs infection, where the howles
Of wolves and goats (such as your selves are) shall
Joyn'd with the screech owles and the ravens notes
Make but harsh Musick to you, all that's there
Shall be an Emblem of that Stygian Grove
You both deserve to enter.

Mar.
Ought but death
So ne're so horrid.

Enter Gaspar.
Gas.
How now? is the wind
In this doore? what? is she discovered?

Pic.
Fly hence, who e're thou art, if thou wilt save
Thy soul from spilling, but yet stay, thou art
(If any good be on the earth) an honest
Plain-dealing man, thou told'st me that, which now
I finde too true: but I rejected thee,
Now to my woe I rue it.

Gas.
Las! Sir, I.
(Aside with Picarro)
Was griev'd to see a man of your true worth
So basely cozen'd, to be cast away
On such a Mammet: why? that very hour,
That luckless hour you came here, I had found
Her whoredome out: she was but thrust on you,
When all refus'd her: Me (poor man!) her Father
Tempted with gold, did vow her, and when I,
(Because I knevv she vvas a vvhore) rejected
His urged proffer: he resolv'd to vail her
A Nun, but that your coming did prevent it:
To your undoing,

Pic.
Knevv her father then,
That she vvas false?

Gas.
Knevv he? it vvas his plot
'Gainst my persvvasions (Heav'ns they knovv) to vvrong
Your noble self, and I for love to vertue
Would then have told you, what you know not, but
You deem'd me frantick: I could weep an Ocean
To think how you, Sir, are by them deluded,
But 'twas your fortune, 'tis past help.

Pic.
I prithee
Go to the sacred Church, and bid the Sexton
Evacuate the vaults and monuments
Of the old bones that many years have kept
Their rotten habitation there; and bid him
Make the Church-yard one sepulchre: I'll bring
Bodies enough to fill them; not the plague
Shall be more pestilent, then my vengeance.

Gas.
Sir,
You've found me true to you, and since my Master
Could be ignoble, Justice and the zeal
I ow to goodness, urges me to aid
You in revenge: Let it be thus.

Pic.
As how?

Gas.
I came to you now to crave license, that
At night I might have brought a masque to grace
Your Festivall: Let it go on, I'll hire
Men in the Masque to kill her, force her Father
That he may see his errour.

Pic.
Kill him too.

Gas.
I, Sir, what else!

Pic.
'Twas Balthasar she serv'd.
What time of day is't Gaspar?

Gas.
Early yet,
Near seaven a clock.

Pic.
My business calls away;
You will not fail at night.

Gas.
Question't no more.

Pic.
Mean time be sure that none, good Gaspar, speak
With these base strumpets, let none have access.

Exit.
Gas.
No! not the wind, Cousin, poor Cousin, had you
Not better have had me then these rude Ruffions?
Theres no way now but death.

Ma.
O! Cousin, yet
When I behold thee, I can fear no peril:
I know thou'lt save me.

Gas.
'T may be so, but what
Would you do for him, that should save you?

Ma.
Any thing.

Gas.
Though many that receive such injuries
As I have done, would be more prone to vengeance,
Then mercy: yet if you will love me, Cousin,
I'll save your life, and kill this same Picarro.

Mar.
Do it, and by this hand I'll marry thee.

Gas.
By this same kiss I will, before your maid!

Cat.
I, Gaspar, save our lives, and marry us both.

Gas.
Keep close your Conclave, stir not out, I'll plot
A means to save you: th'plot is in my brain.

Exit.
Ma.
We are alive yet, Catalina, Women
May sometimes overreach the archest villains:
Gaspar, I'll fit you: you may chance expire
Before us: Scorcht men use to shun the fire.

Exeunt.