University of Virginia Library

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.