University of Virginia Library

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.