University of Virginia Library

Actus primus

Scæna prima.

A noyse within, Trumpets, Drums, Pistols, Shot, Swords clash, &c.
Enter Marciano, Wounded, chaffing, &c.
—Lost—By heavens—all lost,
All our hopes blasted
By Jove, without hope of recovery.
O gods, commiserate our despicable estate.
A noise within as before.
Exit hastily.
Enters again.
Oh heavens! this day were we at push of pike
For our publike liberty—Now we are at our wits end
For our private safety.—


A noyse within cry,
they fly, they fly.

[Marciano]
Harke, what a hideous noyse—this fatal day
Hath cancell'd all our former victories,
Never to be remembred—in this hour.
Our ancient splendour suffers sad ecclipse.
—They fly—They fly—Oh what a dismal word!
How unaccustom'd—Siennois to fly;
True Siennois—such as had vowed their lives.
A victime for their publike liberty,
To fly, like dust before mechanick slaves;
Such as while now never knew other armes,
Then forks or shovels—Do the gods intend
To revel in our miseries!—and prove
Strange paradoxes to the credulous world!
That abject, base, unmannag'd Varlets thus
Should overcome the Cavalry of Siena:
A thing unheard of! O! accursed wretches,
Whose too politick pates first hatcht these warres;
You are least sharers here. My Prince and I
Must suffer this reproach—I slight my wounds;
—But O! my honour lost.—I'le bear it stoutly:
—Up then my spirits, be not you dejected;
There's something yet to care for—there's no time
Now to complain: heavens know what just designes
We undertook; though with unequal success.
Wee've done what lay in humane power—Pistoia
Bear witness, where so many insolent rebells
Have found this day their sepulchre: thy fields
Can testifie how dear some sold their lives.
And thou, the Ensigne of all noble souls
Holds up his sword.
Make affidavit of this dayes behaviour.
—Now to my generous Prince, whom cruel fates
Have levell'd with my self—Him will I search,
That if my fates require my quick departure
For Stygian lakes: as in my life I've been
Eminent in his service, I may now,
Dying couragiously in his presence, have
His royal Pass-port and Testificate,
To raise my honour, and condole my fate.
Exit.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Borasco with Souldiers.
Bor.
—So now the day's our own—but yet the Duke
Escap'd—Marciano not prisoner!
The victory is not such as I expected.
But come, my Mirmydons,—wee'l not give over;
Let's, with a party of our choicest horse,
Make narrow search for Marciano:
For, if we find him not, we must not think
To gain the Generals favour.—Come, my Boyes,
He hath attempted oft to strip the Senate
Of their new power, and so destroy us all;
Whose hopes are nourished by the present wars:
So that if you shall catch him, you may sure
Expect a great reward:—his excellency,
The brave Lord Barbaro will hugg you for it.

Exit with Sould.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Marciano solus.
Exit.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Cassio, Leonardo, as at Florence.
Cass.

—O! Leonardo—How dost do Boy?

Leon.

Cassio—thou art the man I was seeking,
welcome effaith, and how Prethee?

Cass.

Well.

Leon.

As well as the Ladies will permit thee?—ha.

Cass.

Yes indeed—but how goes all with you—what news
do'st hear.

Leon.

Bad news effaith, all our hopes are now perished, it is for
certain that the Duke is beat at Pistoia; whether he hath escaped
or not himself, is not yet known.

Cass.

—Sad—trust me 'tis most sad, but, prethee, who
shall be Duke now do'st think, when they have rejected him, who
by law of inheritance was their lawfull Prince.

Leon.

Why—thou,—if thou bee'st weary of thy life;
for a Prince now a dayes must raign no longer, then his Subjects
please his government—men now begin to act real Tragedies.

Cass.

Good; but how does thy learned cocks-comb judge of
the event of all our present broyls?

Leon.

Why, just as a sober Drawer does of a company of young
gulls inflaming the reckoning beyond the faculties of their pockets:
—they will look pittifully, when the bill is produc'd—for
they must pay for all.

Cass.

How! do'st think our state-mountebanks will not agree?

Leon.

Yes, for a while they may, like heiffers in the yoke, but
when once got loose, they'll push at one another.

Cass.

Well—no more of that string; these distracted
times, I fear, will afford such discourses every day—how
does thy Mistress, the Lady you know of,—ha?

Leon.

—Why, faith as unreasonable as ever.

Cass.

How! unreasonable—

Leon.

Yes—unreasonable, she will admit of no tearms
whatsoever, so that I fear I shall be forc'd to storm her: 'slid,
I can have scarce liberty to survey her very parapet and out-works,
for fear ef a thing (I do not know what they mean now a dayes)
suspicion, I think she calls it; and for thee, I beleeve thou art in
no better condition, for her Sister, thy Mistress (otherwayes in my
opinion plyable) is rul'd by her, and both by an old urinal-peeping,
onyon-breath'd hag, whom they call the Countesse of Saromanca
forsooth, so that now she is impregnable.

Cass.

A devil she is, 'slid, I think it is become an epidemical disease
amongst that sexe, they intend, I think, to imitate the times,
and erect a new Commonwealth of themselves, excluding all masculine
society, and so be call'd the new assembly of zeal-copyholders.

Leon.

Yes, yes, for now they hold it a cryme to court.

Cass.

Since Monarchy fell, that trade is totally decayed, thou
must now either Marry at first sight or else march off; as if
who should throw the Dye for a maydenhead, Boy.

Leon.

Goodness, I think, by and by, we shall be constrained to
make love to one another, and so thou shalt be my Mistress, Cassio;
for our modern Criticks will not allow us womens flesh, even upon
holy-dayes.

Cass.

True—for all the Ladies in Florence have a spice of
this disease is there no remedy for't, do'st think?

Leon.

None but patience, stay while Fortune turn up her wheel
again, and then the Ladyes may turn up.

Cass.

What! their Petticoats?

Leon.

No—I have not sayd that yet, I mean may smile upon
us more then they do: for now wee must not so much as see
any Lady.

Cass.

No—why I hope they will yet admit of a visit in
civility?

Leon.

No—by no means, Cassio, thou must not name such a heresie
as a visit, for thou may'st hinder other suitors: Remember that,
Boy.

Cass.

You say right—But who comes here?

Enter Chrysolina, and Marionetta usher'd by Pantaloni, at sight of Cass. and Leon. they pull down their vailes, traverse, &c.
Leon.

I think they are women.

Cass.

Or else two things shufled in the forme
of women: dost know 'em Leonardo?

Leon.

Know 'em, why, who can know them
thus, such masquerades under their vailes are like
nuns at the grate, they may see us, but wee cannot see them.

Exeunt
Cass.

True, for there is no way else to discover them, but by
smelling; and what smell women have now a dayes, faith, I cannot
tell.

Leon.

Smell, say'st thou; they have a most acute smell, a woman
can now a dayes smell a mans love to her, before ever possibly
he be in love with any; I was rejected by a lady last day, before
ever I knew her well; yet such was the imagination that she had of
my respects, that she entertained her companions with the relation of
my adventures for her—you will think that strange.

Cass.

—Strange!—No faith, I hope, by progresse of time, they
will conceive by the meer wind of report, and so wee shall have a
hopefull race of young Florentine-jennets, as light-heel'd as those
of Spain, I warrand yow: but, prethee, what was that Lady, you
talk'd of?

Leon.

Why, the little handsome Donazella, what do you call
her, on the other syde of the river?

Cass.

Ho—Ho—I know her, a noble Lady effaith, but I am
sorry, that she is infected with that disease, she seemes to have a
spark of wit.

Leon.

Tush, 'tis become a plague, Cassio, a very plague; do'st
not know the gentelman, who was rejected of a Lady, having no
other evidence of his affection then the carrying of a letter from on:
of her freinds to her, wherein he was recommended to her acquaintance,
which as a trophee of her conquests she did impart to her
hearts-conquerour—and yet a Lady of admirable qualities.—Men
now a dayes breed their female children, as the Chineses do their
wives, or the Grand-signior his concubines, close at home.

Cass.

But, prethee, did'st know that same peece of foppery, who attended
them who by his garbe would seeme to challenge the title of
a man?

Leon.

Know him, why, who does not know him; 'tis Signior Pantaloni,
the rich city-gull, whose golden fleece dazles the eyes of
all the Ladyes in Toun, to whose chamber he is almost as welcome
as a young batchelour of Divinity, who hath lately past his
tryalls, is to a zealous widow of ten months standing, that would
faine repeat her former allegiance, and taste the game again—
But come, you shall go along with me to the Lady Chrysolina,
there I hope wee shall have some favour, if wee get accesse, I mean.

Cass.

—I, with all my heart, but that's the question.

Exeunt.

Scæna Quinta.

Enter Pantaloni, with Chrysolina and Marionetta.
Pant.

I take it so indeed, Ladies, you must excuse me if I do you
the honour to visit you sometimes; for my mother
sayes, Son, saith she, it is high time you were married—I hope you
know my meaning.

Chrys.

Sir, you shall be welcome.

Pant.

I hope so indeed:—For, I vow I would never desire
a handsomer wife then you are.—I protest, Mistress, you are
very handsome, though I say it that should not say it.

Mar.

You flatter highly, Sir.

Pant.

Not indeed.

Chrys.

Well, Sir, as for your visit, I shall admit it; but for
marriage—you know—

Pant.

Ho—I know well enough, you are governed by your
friends; but I shall tickle them I warrand you, let me alone for
that.

Mar.

It is the safest way, Sir.

Pant.

So—then forsooth, since I know the way to your
Chamber, I will come and see you every day; now because my mother
is sick and taking physick, I must go home and keep company
with her, else I'l assure you, I would not leave you thus—
farewell.

Exit.
Mar.

You see them Gentlemen, Cassio and Leonardo, as we
passed along, Sister?

Chrys.

But I hope they did not know us, Sister, 'tis not fit we
entertain them, they are not matches for us.

Mar.

But I warrand you, they'l render us a visit shortly.

Chrys.

I should rather wish they would abstain, Sister, you
know our friends will not rellish it well; I should be very well content
of this Signior Pantaloni for my husband; I hope no body
hears us.

Mar.

True, for although the others may be Gentelmen of good
parts, yet I know wee are design'd for them Signiors; so the Lady
Saromanca told me last day.

Chrys.

And wee must follow their advice you know Sister.

Mar.

Yes indeed, and reason for it.

Enter Manduco hastily.
Man.

Hum—etiam confabulantes inveni: I have it in my
pocket, that will afford them new cogitations,

Chrys.

Mr. Manduco, you are welcome, pray, how does my
aunt?

Man.

I have a little negotiation with you in private; for I am legate
from Signior Becabunga, (my sometimes pupill) as more amply
shall breifly appear. And how think
you—marry thus, here's a letter for you—

takes out a Letter out of a tobacco-box.
Chrys.

I hope he is in good health, Sir.

Man.

O! yes, he is valetudinary, herein he presents (as I cojecture)

his amorous servitude to you both; he will be in Town
next week, for I'l assure you he flagitates to see you: I hope you
will afford him gracious entertainment—hum—hum—

Chrys.

He shall be welcome, Sir.

Man.

I will assure you, Ladies, he is an adolescent of eximious
candor and egregious integrity: I have been at much pains and labour
in educating him, I may say, ever since his pubertie: but
now that he is come to the years of intelligency, I have given him
over—

Mar.

He will make us in love with him e're we see him.

Man.

But, for your further satisfaction, I shall, paucissimis, insinuate
to you the method of his education.—Primo, then, when
he came under my gubernation, which was about the year of his
age, Anno Domini, (let me see) millesimo, sexcentesimo, quadragesimo
sexto, it being then Leap-year; he was, inquam, a very perverse
youth, vitiat in his behaviour, knowing nothing but what he
had learned amongst the ancilla's (what d'you call 'em) Chambermaids.

Chrys.

Now, Sister, you shall have him anatomized to you.

Man.

But, so soon as I took him in hand, I did so belabour his
nates with my ferula, that profecto I have whipped him, whip'd
him thus—for half an hour together, untill his abundant lachrymation
had mov'd compassion: but, I knew that was the only way
to disciplinate him—

Chrys.

Indeed Sir—

Man.

—So, I say, having taught him his Orthographia, Etymologia
and Prosodia, having alwayes a sollicitous eye over his behaviour:
I did learn him to make his reverence, not as your Monsieurs
do, but more gravely in this manner; next, how to
congees, &c.
take a Lady by the hand;—So—afterwards how to kiss,—
in this fashion—

Mar.

A pretty method indeed.

Man.

I gave him, as I say, wholsom admonitions, cautions, instructions,
and now and then some little exhortations. Primo,
Not to be garrulous; for, (believe me, Ladies) Vir sapit, qui
pauca loquitur; you are alwayes wisest when you hold your peace.
And then with what gesture to discourse, gravely, as you see me,

and like a School-man; (for, I have been sometimes Hypodidascalus
in the great School of Florence, imo Hypodidasculus, Ladies)
but, as I said, I learned him to be concinne aud terse in his habit,
with hair in the same longitude, as you see mine. Secundo, How
to keep a clean mundified nose, not with his sleeve, but with his sudarium,
or handkercher—

Mar.

He intends to weary us I think.

Man.

Tertio, As I said—(hoc agatur serio) tertio, as I
said tertio, inquam, to eat his meat with a great deal of circumspection
and neatly; that is to say, with one finger and his thumb
—thus—Quarto, To contain himself à capite scalpendo; from
scratching of his head, (give ear I beseech you, Ladies, for it concernes
you.)

Mar.

He thinks we are his Schollars.

Chrys.

Peace, Sister, let us hear him out.

Man.

Quarto, As I said, (take heed) Quinto, I say, and
maximè à crepitando & eructando; that is, from emitting ventositics
or flatuosities from his concavities: with several other admonitions,
according to the dictates of Joannes Sulpitius, and Guilielmus
Lillius, my two very good and learned friends—

Mar.

Will he never make an end?

Man.

But, above all, Ladies, for respect to his friends (because
I am incarcerate with obligations to all his paternal Relatiosn) I did
alwayes exhort him to abstain from tripudiation or dauncing, gladiation
or fencing, lusitation or gaming, equitation or riding, & sic
de cæteris; So that now he is one of the best educate youths in Florence,
else Ego operam & oleam perdiai.

Chrys.

He is very much obliged to you, Sir.

Man.

Now, I will not molest you with a more ample relation
of his good qualifications; but, he is a friend to modesty and chastity,
an enemy to superbity, in potu moderatus; but, notandum—
he is most locuplete both in argentary and frumentary rents—
not given to luxury or venery—no, not at all to venery—

Mar.

What a tedious harangue for nothing.

Man.

But, (to conclude, because now the time is gone) as I said
before, as I say now, and I hope your intelligence does comprehend
when he comes into Town, I shall concomitate him to your domicile

diversory, chamber, cubicular, or what you please, and—so
farewell.

Exit.
Chrys.

What a meer Pedant!

Mar,

As ever liv'd, Sister, I cannot love him.

Chrys.

Peace, Sister, let us appear civil before him; for, he is
imployed by that Gentleman Becabunga's friends, to sound our
humours I warrand you—

And what our friends have ordain'd, we will do,
What e're it be, there's reason for it too.

Exeunt.

Scæna Sexta.

Enter Arabella sola, as at Siena, having got intelligence of the Rebels victory.
Ar.
—Tootrue—I fear'd it alwayes;—now frail woman,
Has thou no eyes? Art thou not sensible
Already of our slavery?—Barbaro,
A Florentine, a profess'd enemy
To all Siennois, will become our Master.
—But hold—imagine the brave Marciano,
As gods know, and I fear, a prisoner.
Consequently thy heart in quarter with him,
—Pray, what wouldst do? Resolve, poor Arabella,
Would'st not go search him? or would'st rather stay
Thou at Siena here, he, God knows where.
Love prompts the first, honour perswades the last,
This fear advises, that hope strongly presses;
Fear tells me, I should erre; for, may be he
Whom in prosperity, I did scarce esteem,
May now forget me too, (a fault our Sex
Ofttimes commit, more through infirmity
Then malice) yet, were I assur'd he were
Prisoner in Florence, I'd no more debate,
But search and find him, at whatever rate.

Exit.