 | The Surprisal |  |
1
THE SURPRISAL.
ACT. I.
SCEN. I.
Enter Miranzo and Samira.Mir.
'Tis strange, Sister.
Sam.
'Tis true, Brother.
Mir.
Perhaps it is; but few such wonders have been heard of.
Sam.
Nor ever such a wonder caus'd it.
Mir.
There needs indeed a powerful Charm
To raise up Spirits fettered long in Age.
(They say that) Love is the Souls business here,
When Youth seems to promise
It shall have a long share in Time; but his
Is fitted for its journey; Age already
Hath pack'd up all his Faculties.
Sam.
Fie, fie, 'tis otherwise with him; he endeavours
Nay and (I think) believes he shall grow young again:
The warmth of Love serves for the heat of Youth.
Mir.
Where (in the name of wonder) could this Love
Find entrance in his breast? or how live there?
It has no blood to feed on; Nature sure in him
Is at low ebbe.
Sam.
There needs small fewel (Brother) to assist her influence;
She, like the Sun, warms all things with her sight,
Yet is not wasted with expence of heat.
Mir.
You speak a miracle, Sister.—
[He studies.
Sam.
—You seem troubled, Brother.
Mir.
Not much—but—I did believe,
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He did not apprehend my Uncle apt
For such a folly; and I little thought
To have been first saluted with this News
At my return from Travel.
Sam.
My Uncle still pretends
To remain just to us; and I believe he will.
Mir.
It may be so:
But when is this hot Lover to be Married?
Sam.
To morrow morning.
Mir.
But what mov'd her consent
To take this Mummy in her Arms?
Sam.
She's all obedience to her Father, and
With him my Uncles wealth pleads high.
I do believe she thinks choice were a sin,
And would seem guilty to her self,
As if she fell from perfect Innocence,
If that a partial thought for any
Should make a way for passion in her breast.
Mir.
Then it seems her Father wooes;
I hope my Uncle spares his pains.
—But Sister, since we are in dicourse of Lovers,
'Tis not unseasonable to ask for yours,
The brave Cialto; the last Intelligence I had
Was of his glorious Victory; such a Lawrel
Nere yet adorn'd a Brow so youthful.
Believe me, Sister, though you may be cruel,
And unconcern'd, I must confess I share
In all that's his good fortune.
Sam.
Alas, Brother, since that time
His condition is much alter'd.
Mir.
Ha—you amaze me:—Why do you appear
So sad? He is not dead I hope.
Sam.
No, perhaps his life
Is now the greatest part of his misfortune.
Mir.
Still I am lost in admiration. What
Changes a little time produceth?
Sam.
The Story is too long to tell you; only for what
Concerns my self, I have observ'd,
That since the loss of all his Fortunes, he
Shuns all occasions of seeing me.
—My Uncle will be with us presently;
I would not therefore ingage my self in a disorder,
Which the relation of his miseries
Cannot but bring upon me.
Mir.
Where is my Uncle?
Sam.
Abroad upon a strange design.
He has imploy'd the best Wits in Sienna
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For his doting at these years;
And that which he likes best when
He salutes his Mistress, must to
Morrow be presented before her Window.
Mir.
I am amaz'd; yet I'le suspend my thoughts,
And trouble (if I can) till fitter time.
Sam.
See, Brother, where he comes;
[Enter Castruccio.
Buis'ness and Love are mingled in his postures.
Mir.
How he mumbles to himself!
Sure he does chew the cud of some set Speech.
What an amorous look was there?—with that amiable smile?—
Which only adds a few wrincles in new places.
Sam.
Pray lets stand close;
He's neer beginning; a rising wind
You know is ever usher'd with a murmur.
Cast.
How am I swell'd by expectation!
As the day breaks before the rising Sun,
So is Emilia's fair approach prepar'd
Within me, by a precious sense of happiness.
[He studies and searches his pockets for Papers.
Sam.
Peace; he has hit a fault, and now begins
To hunt again.
Cast.
O, these be they; now to my choice;
For I resolve to morrow 'fore the Wedding
One of them shall be sung, that which I judg
Will best describe my Passion.
—Let me see,—
Couldst thou be yet more fair or good,
[He reads.
This Fool begins with impossibilities,
I'le have none on't:—What this other?
Since phansie makes all Women fair,—
Worse and worse, he lies abominably:
What ways are our Poets got into,
They cannot make a Song without a lie,
A vapour, or impossibility?
There's none of these has hit my phansie yet:
Once again.—Oh, this I like well;
A very pretty Masque, short, and full of variety;
The Charges wont to be great,—let me see,—
Here is a Hymen, a Cupid, a Charon, and the Destinies:
For the Hymen a saffron Robe and a Torch,—
Hang cost at such a time; it shall be presented
Instead of a Song before her Window,
When I first appear; 'tis better
Than after the Wedding at night, when every body's sleepy.
Now I'le go see my Nephew,
And bid him welcome from his Travels.
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Step out, Brother, there's your Cue.
Mir.
Can these Lovers see, trow?
Cast.
My dear Nephew!—
Were thy brave Father living,
Thou couldst not fill his Arms and Breast
With a more welcome joy; I'le be sworn thou art return'd
With all advantages in Fame and Person.
Mir.
Your kindness, Sir, sees more in me than your eyes.
Cast.
Nay, believe me, Nephew, I joy in't;
And that I could not do, were it not visible
What cause I have for't.
Mir.
I wish I may continue, Sir,
Worthy your fair opinion.
Cast.
And how, man? merry still?
Mir.
I take nothing to heart, Sir; It seems you do;
For my Sister tells me, I am come seasonably
To see your Joys made perfect every way,
At least as you imagine.
Cast.
Oh, Nephew, 'tis past Imagination.
Nephew, thou canst not phancy what she is;
In Woman-kind no president is found
To shew thee her: But you it seems
Do apprehend that all my future Actions
Will shew me more her Husband then your Uncle.
Mir.
You mistake me, Sir;
Neither my Nature nor my Fortunes yet
Are prest with such mean thoughts; what I have said
Was more my care for you than for my self;
I would not have your last days
Shut up with Folly or Misfortune.
Cast.
Fear not, fear not; I must be happy;
It is an injury to her to doubt it.
Mir.
He is unreasonably possess'd.
[Aside.
Cast.
But I forget—My dearest Niece,
You shall perceive that neither my concerns
Nor passion hinder my just care of thee,
My best Samira.
I have provided such a Fortune for you;
[Samira starts.
Nay, start not at it.—
'Tis the rich Heir young Brancadoro;
This day he comes to visit thee,
We'l quickly make it up.—
Come, good Nephew, I have much to do;
Within I'le tell thee all my mind.
Sam.
How—
Mir.
Peace, Sister.
[Ex. Castruccio and Miranzo.
Sam.
Marry Brancadoro! Is that the happiness
I hope, I may depend? I shall enjoy
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And rise upon the poor Cialto's ruines.
Oh what a Crime was my feign'd cruelty!
Methinks I am as guilty
As this thriving Asses Father,
And seem an accessary to all Cialto's wrongs,
Because I did not openly declare
My Passion for him; that would have rendred me
Uncapable of being now a Party:
It is too much,
That poor Cialto at one time should find
Both me and Fortune equally unkind.
[Exit.
Enter Brancadoro and Tayler.
Tay.
Morrow to your Honour; how do you like your Clothes?
Bran.
I like my Clothes well enough, but my man Jocamo says
You are such a dear cheating kind of Tayler, that I vow
He'l have me turn you away; my last Mourning Suit did
Not cost me half so much.
Tayl.
Your Man is a pick-thank Knave.
Call me Cheat! I'le ne're work skitch
For ye more as long as I live,
Unless you pay me for calling me Cheat.
Bran.
Nay, stay, stay;
What a devilish Fellow are you now to exact upon me,
Because you see I love you? The Divel take you for me;
What Composition must you have?
Tayl.
I'le have forty shillings, and I'le have it in Gold too.
Bran.
Pox take you for me; will not Silver serve your turn,
When you know I love Gold so well?
Pray ye heartily now Jack take Silver.
Tayl.
I vow Gold, or fare you well.
Bran.
Stay, and be hang'd then; here, here; now are you
Good Friends Jack? nay, I vow now speak truth.
Tayl.
Yes, I vow I forgive you.
Enter Man.
Bran.
Look ye here's my Man. What a devilish Rogue are you
To rail at my Taylor Robin, and say he cheats me?
Serv.
Pray Sir view his Bill; in the first place
Here is fifteen Shillings a yard for Stuff of half a Crown.
Bran.
Why look ye there now Jack; what a strange Rogue
Are you now to cheat me so?
Tayl.
What a strange piece of Ignorance is your Man, to call
it Stuff? I protest my Lord 'tis o'th' same piece that the King of
France his Wedding Suit was on; the Stuff is call'd Adam man
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of it; and I bought this of his Tayler a purpose for you; and
your wise Man calls it Stuff, forsooth.
Bran.
Look you there now, you blockheadly Fool you;
What would you more? prethee how do ye call the Stuff,
And the King that sent it, Jack.
Tayl.
The Stuff is call'd Adam man hee,
And the Kings name is Haccamantacu.
Serv.
What a Mountebank Rogue is this?
Bran.
I vow that's fair satisfaction;
I wou'd not for my Money but know this;
I vow, I vow, 'tis very pretty.
Serv.
Pray ye ask him why he sets down forty Shillings
For making a riding Coat.
Bran.
Nay, but I vow, Jack, the Devil take ye
For me, for being so base; why forty shillings now?
Tayl.
There is ten Shillings for making your Coat,
And thirty shill. for a Port-hole for your Sword to peep out at.
Bran.
Why, is not that very fair now?
Why, art thou grown a stark Fool now?
Prethee, Jack, what is a Port hole?
I vow thou hast the prettiest Names.
Tayl.
A Port hole is, as the vulgar have it, a kind of Slit; but in
France it is call'd Port-hole, and is made with a whife down
Here, and a whife down there; they are very chargable.
Bran.
I vow, thou art a pretty Fellow:
But has the King of France his Port-hole made
With a whife down here, and a whife down there, as mine is?
But here's Villerotto; I vow I must talk
[Enter Villerotto.
A little wiser to him.
[Ex. Tayler and Servant.
How dost thou like my Clothes, Villerotto; are they not brave,
Fit for my quality?
Vil.
Exceeding brave, Sir.
Bran.
I long'd to be out of Mourning, to shew my self;
For whilst my Father liv'd I never could appear.
Vil.
No, he was asham'd you shou'd.
[Aside.
Bran.
Besides, I hate this Mourning, it makes my hands so
Devilish dirty; and I will not wash them till my Mother dies;
And when I have done mourning for her, I'le wash them
For good and all.—
Well, and what says my Council?
Vil.
Why, they say, Sir, by these Writings
Cialto has no justice to redeem,
Nor can it bear dispute in any Court of Equity.
Bran.
Why, this 'tis to have a wise Father;
As he has order'd it, 'tis not a farthing matter
If I were an arrant Ass.
Thou saist, my Council says,
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Vill.
None, Sir,—but by the Senate.
Bran.
That were fine y'faith,
To save him they had a mind to ruine,
Which my Father help'd to do (peace be with him)
And dy'd when he had done; two Courtesies at once.
Vill.
But suppose, Sir, the Senate wants his Conduct,
They can he kind again on such occasions.
Only the obeying part of men
Observe the rules of Honour in their Friendship.
They can as quickly too produce the Sum,
And compel you to give him up his Land.
Bran.
But they won't, I hope.
Vill.
So do I; but how if such a thing shou'd be?
Bran.
Pish, pish, they'l not displease me,
They use to borrow money of my Father;
Yet for all that, it puts me just in such a sudden sweat
As the stumbling of my Horse uses to do.
Vill.
I shall hardly work him to't.—
[Aside.
But, Sir, 'tis not amiss to talk of things
That may be; Plots of prevention are not made
Extempore; nor is haste a Friend to Counsel:
Besides, I take it,
You go the ready way to make Cialto
Yet more your Enemy.
Bran.
How so?
Vill.
You are about to rob him of his Mistress,
The fair Samira; what kindness can you expect,
When you possess at once his Love and Fortunes?
Enter Messenger.
Bran.
What care I.—How now?—what's your business?
Mess.
Signior Castruccio, Sir, presents his Service to you,
And has by me sent you a Counter-part
Of the Writings which concern your Marriage.
Bran.
Oh, I thank him; 'tis very well.
Vill.
How's this? it seems strange to me,
You should agree with him, and never ask
The Ladies free consent.
Bran.
Why, dost thou think I need doubt that?
Would any Woman be so simple to refuse me?
Why Man, there have been many of them have faln
Stark mad for me at first sight.
Vill.
Will it not be dangerous for you to go?
Bran.
Whither?
Vill.
To visit your Mistress? you may meet Cialto there.
Bran.
Let him be afraid of me if he will.
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I doubt he will not.
Br.
I am told the pittiful fellow dares not come neer her now;
This 'tis to be poor: And I go boldly;
This 'tis to be rich.
Vill.
But if he should hear you were like to have her,
It might perhaps move him—
Bran.
To what?
Vill.
To cut your Throat.
Bran.
Let him be hang'd: But if Signior Castruccio
Admit such Ruffians in his House, I'le send her word
Flatly, I'le have nothing to do with her.
Vill.
But your Writings and Covenants,—
You can't in honour break them.
Bran.
I care not; who dares sue me? If any do,
I am rich enough to make them weary on't;
Though I confess I like the Gentlewoman well enoguh.
Vill.
Yet there's another way would do your business.
Bran.
Saist thou so? nay, and there be another way,
I care not if I take it, so I may do nothing
Unbefitting my Estate and Quality.
Vil.
You'l pardon, Sir, this liberty I take;
It springs from my affection to you;
For ever since I came into your Service
All your concernments have been mine.
Bran.
I do believe it, and have trusted thee
With every thing; and for my part, I have told
Thee my mind, I care for any body
As little as they care for me;
Thou may'st see I love thee,
Otherwise I regard no body that is not richer then my self.
Vill.
What an insensible stock have I to work on?
[Aside.
But you forget what I propose, Sir.
Bran.
No, I do not; 'tis that I should have Samira;
Why say no more, I will have her.
Vill.
You consider not the danger of Cialto's revenge.
Bran.
I care not for Cialto, nor her neither;
I can let her alone, if there be such adoe about her.
Vill.
But you may prevent it.
Bran.
How, prethee?
Vill.
Why, if Cialto were once dead,
There were no further trouble;
You might enjoy his Mistress, and his Fortune.
Bran.
Wou'd he wou'd die then.
Vill.
Men do not use to do it for a wish.
Bran.
Why, how then?
Vill.
Wou'd you hang your self if Cialto shou'd desire it?
Bran.
It may be I would, if I were as poor as he;
For this is the case,—say now—
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Now will he ramble again into another matter.—
[Aside.
But, Sir, he does not think himself so poor
As you imagine, while he lives in hope
That what you now possess of his may once
Again return; yet if he be unwilling
To depart this World, he may be forc'd.
Bran.
Which way, which way?
Vill.
Why, for a little money Instruments
May be found.
Bran.
To do what?
Vill.
To kill him.
Bran.
Um, that may be found out,
And so good-night to my Estate.
Vill.
Nay, if you please, Sir, he shall live, and do you
The Curtesie to cut your Throat.
Bran.
Talk no more, good Villerotto; another time,
Another time, and that in private too.
I hope no body has heard us; men may hear
At a distance: I have heard of a Conjurer
That could make a Glass for a man to look in,
And hear his Enemies fourty miles off.
Vill.
Do you believe such stories?
Bran.
The Devil may do much, that's certain:
But for the present I am going to see my Mistress,
Fair Samira; 'tis fit I shou'd see her
Before I Marry her.
Vill.
'Twere strange if he should Marry her
Before you saw her.—
[Aside.
Why, are you neer marrying her?
Bran.
To morrow, man, to morrow; her Uncle and I
Make but one business on't.
Vill.
To morrow Sir, and her leave yet unask'd!
Bran.
What needs that? her Uncle has done it for me.
Thou hast the Agreements; I must away.
[Exit Brancadoro.
Vill.
This suits with my Designs:—
And yet it startles me,
To have so dull a Fooll to work on:
But easie paths do seldome lead us to revenge;
Let them be rough, as are the ways
Through troubled Seas, I'le tread 'um.
The base injury I receiv'd from Cialto,
Cashiering me from my Command for a petty plunder,
And a Rape (as the Wench call'd it) was the first cause
That brought me to Brancadoro's Service,
Whose Father was his mortal Enemy;
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To right my wrongs upon Cialto's heart.
[Exit Villerotto.
Enter Moreno, Emilia, and Bottolo.
Mor.
Come, my best Daughter, this day thou shalt
Be made a happy Woman; fear not, fear not,
Nor look upon his age with prejudice;
Age is far steadier than Youth, Emilia;
He'l never make thee jealous.
Bot.
No more than an Eunuch wou'd, I dare swear for him.
[Aside.
Emil.
You speak, Sir, as if you thought me alter'd,
Or else as if I still had been an Hypocrite;
But truly, Sir, you need not doubt me,
I do believe I shall be happy with him,
Because a blessing waits upon Obedience:
You might command me 'gainst my Inclination,
But I am bless'd with such indifference,
That 'tis no trial of my Duty, Sir,
To give my free consent.
Mor.
That's my best Girl; get thy self ready,
The Bride-groom's neer at hand; I must about,
There's nothing done if I be not at their elbows.
[Exit Moreno.
Bot.
The Devil had as good be there.
Why, how is it, Mistress?
Emil.
Very well, Bottolo, I thank you.
Bot.
I wish it may continue so, Mistress.
Emil.
Dost thou fear I shall be sick?
Bot.
Nay, I can't tell; it may be the Palsey
Or Cough o'th' Lungs is not infectious;
You are going to venture, Mistress.
Emil.
What dost thou talk of?
Bot.
Why, of that which is nothing else
But talk, of Old Age;
Sure, Mistress, it will never agree with you;
Has not your Father perswaded you
Y'are above Fifty? And that you were born
Before the Battle of Lepanto?
Emil.
Why should he do that?
Bot.
Why, 'twere convenient he should
Either perswade you that you were old, or
That Castruccio were young.
Emil.
Away, you Fool.
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Well, Mistress, hang me if ever frosty day
Did well at Frint-time; for my part, I wonder
The old Gentleman has no more Conscience
Than to marry you.—
If I were worthy to advise you, Mistress,—
Emil.
Peace, you Fool, and be not rude.
[Exit Emilia.
Bot.
Go thy way.—I am half perswaded
Thou art no Woman, or at least
Thou dost not know thou art one,
More then by thy Petticoats.—Well,—
If thou art pleas'd, thanks to the Powers Divine;
For my own Cares I'le try the power of Wine.
[Exit.
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