 | The Honey Moon |  |
57
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
—The Inn.Enter Hostess followed by Lampedo.
Hostess.
Nay, nay, another fortnight.
Lamp.
It can't be.
The man 's as well as I am:—have some mercy!—
He hath been here almost three weeks already.
Host.
Well, then, a week.—
Lamp.
We may a week detain him!
(Enter Balthazar behind, in his nightgown, with a drawn sword.)
You talk now like a reasonable hostess,
That sometimes has a reck'ning—with her conscience.
Host.
He still believes he has an inward bruise.
Lamp.
I would to heaven he had! or that he'd slipt
His shoulder-blade, or broke a leg or two
(Not that I bear his person any malice),
Or lux'd an arm, or even sprain'd his ancle!
Host.
Ay, broken any thing except his neck.
Lamp.
However, for a week I'll manage him.
Tho' he has the constitution of a horse—
A farrier should prescribe for him!
Balth.
A farrier! (Aside.)
Lamp.
To-morrow we phlebotomize again;
Next day my new-invented patent draught:—
I've tried it on a dog.—Then I have some pills prepar'd.
On Thursday we throw in the bark; on Friday—
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(Coming forward.)
Well, sir, on Friday?—what on Friday? come,
Proceed—
Lamp.
Discovered!
Hostess.
Mercy, noble sir!
(They fall on their knees.)
Lampedo.
We crave your mercy!
Balthazar.
On your knees, 't is well:
Pray; for your time is short.
Hostess.
Nay, do not kill us!
Balthazar.
You have been tried, condemned, and only wait
For execution. Which shall I begin with?
Lampedo.
The lady, by all means, sir!
Balthazar.
Come, prepare. (To the Hostess.)
Hostess.
Have pity on the weakness of my sex!
Balthazar.
Tell me, thou quaking mountain of gross flesh,
Tell me, and in a breath, how many poisons—
If you attempt it— (To Lampedo, who is endeavouring to make off)
—you have cook'd up for me.
Hostess.
None, as I hope for mercy!
Balthazar.
Is not thy wine a poison?
Hostess.
No, indeed, sir!
'T is not, I own, of the first quality;
But—
Balthazar.
What?
Hostess.
I always give short measure, sir,
And ease my conscience that way.
Balthazar.
Ease your conscience!
I'll ease your conscience for you!
Hostess.
Mercy, sir!
Balthazar.
Rise, if thou canst, and hear me.
Hostess.
Your commands, sir?
Balthazar.
If in five minutes all things are prepared
For my departure, you may yet survive.
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It shall be done in less.
Balthazar.
Away, thou lump-fish!
[Exit Hostess.
Lampedo.
So now comes my turn!—'t is all over with me!—
There 's dagger, rope, and ratsbane, in his looks!
Balthazar.
And now, thou sketch and outline of a man!
Thou thing that hast no shadow in the sun!
Thou eel in a consumption, eldest born
Of Death on Famine! thou anatomy
Of a starv'd pilchard!—
Lampedo.
I do confess my leanness.—I am spare!
And therefore spare me!
Balthazar.
Why! wouldst thou have made me
A thoroughfare for thy whole shop to pass thro'?
Lampedo.
Man, you know, must live!—
Balthazar.
Yes: he must die, too.
Lampedo.
For my patients' sake!—
Balthazar.
I'll send you to the major part of them.—
The window, sir, is open;—come, prepare.—
Lampedo.
Pray, consider!
I may hurt some one in the street.
Balthazar.
Why then
I'll rattle thee to pieces in a dice-box,
Or grind thee in a coffee-mill to powder;
For thou must sup with Pluto:—So, make ready!
Whilst I, with this good small-sword for a lancet,
Let thy starv'd spirit out—for blood thou hast none—
And nail thee to the wall, where thou shalt look
Like a dry'd beetle with a pin struck thro' him.
Lampedo.
Consider my poor wife!
Balthazar.
Thy wife!
Lampedo.
My wife, sir!
Balthazar.
Hast thou dar'd think of matrimony, too?
No flesh upon thy bones, and take a wife!
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I took a wife because I wanted flesh.
I have a wife, and three angelic babes,
Who, by those looks, are well nigh fatherless!
Balthazar.
Well, well! your wife your wife and children shall plead for you.
Come, come! the pills! where are the pills? produce them!
Lampedo.
Here is the box.
Balthazar.
Were it Pandora's, and each single pill
Had ten diseases in it, you should take them.
Lampedo.
What, all?
Balthazar.
Ay, all; and quickly too:—Come, sir, begin!
That 's well;—another.
Lampedo.
One's a dose!
Balthazar.
Proceed, sir!
Lampedo.
What will become of me?
I do beseech you, let me have some drink!
Some cooling liquid, sir, to wash them down!
Balthazar.
Oh, yes—Produce the phial!
Lampedo.
Mercy on me!
Balthazar.
Come, sir, your new-invented patent draught!
You've tried it on a dog; so there is no danger.
Lampedo.
If you have any bowels, think of mine
Balthazar.
Nay, no demur!
Lampedo.
May I entreat to make my will first?
Balthazar.
No: you have nought but physic to bequeath;
And that no one will take, tho' you should leave it.
Lampedo.
Just to step home and see my wife and children?—
Balthazar.
No, sir.
Lampedo.
Let me go home, and set my shop to rights,
And, like immortal Cæsar, die with decency!—
Balthazar.
Away! and thank thy lucky star I have not
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For a large specimen of the lizard genus.
Lampedo.
Would I were one!—for they can feed on air.
Balthazar.
Home, sir! and be more honest!
[Exit.
Lampedo.
If I am not,
I'll be more wise at least!
[Exit.
SCENE II.
—A Wood.Enter Zamora, in woman's apparel, veiled.
Zamora.
Now, all good spirits that delight to prosper
The undertakings of chaste love, assist me!—
Yonder he comes: I'll rest upon this bank.—
If I can move his curiosity,
The rest may follow.
(She reclines upon the bank, pretending sleep.)
Enter Rolando.
Rolando.
What, hoa! Eugenio!
He is so little apt to play the truant,
I fear some mischief has befallen him. (Sees Zamora.)
What have we here?—a woman!—By this light,
Or rather by this darkness, 'tis a woman!—
Doing no mischief,—only dreaming of it!—
It is the stillest, most inviting spot!
We are alone!—if, without waking her,
I could just brush the fresh dew from her lips,
As the first blush of morn salutes the rose—
Hold, hold, Rolando! art thou not forsworn
If thou but touchest even the finger's end
Of fickle woman?—I have sworn an oath
That female flesh and blood should ne'er provoke me;—
That is, in towns, or cities: I remember
There was a special clause,—or should have been,—
Touching a woman sleeping in a wood:
For tho', to the strict letter of the law,
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We give a liberal and large construction
To its free spirit. Therefore, gentle lady—
(She stirs, as if awaking.)
Hush!—she prevents me. Pardon, gentle fair-one,
That I have broke thus rudely on your slumbers.
But, for the interruption I have caused,
You see me ready, as a gentleman,
To make you all amends.
Zamora.
To a stranger
You offer fairly, sir; but from a stranger—
Rolando.
What shall I say?—Not so; you are no
stranger.
Zamora.
Do you then know me?—Heav'n forbid!
(Aside.)
Rolando.
Too well.
Zamora.
How, sir?
Rolando.
I've known you, lady, 'bove a twelve-month;
And, from report, lov'd you an age before.
Why is it possible you never heard
Of my sad passion?
Zamora.
Never.
Rolando.
You amaze me!
Zamora.
What can he mean? (Aside.)
Rolando.
The sonnets I have written to your beauty
Have kept a paper-mill in full employ:
And then the letters I have giv'n by dozens
Unto your chambermaid!—but I begin,
By this unlook'd-for strangeness you put on,
Almost to think she ne'er delivered them.—
Zamora.
Indeed she never did.—He does but jest. (Aside.)
I'll try. (Aside.)
Perhaps you misdirected them.
What superscription did you put upon them?
Rolando.
What superscription?—None!
Zamora.
None!
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Not a tittle!
Think ye, fair lady, I have no discretion?—
I left a blank, that, should they be mislaid,
Or lost, you know—
Zamora.
And in your sonnets, sir,
What title was I honour'd by?
Rolando.
An hundred!—
All but your real one.
Zamora.
What is that? (Quickly.)
Rolando.
She has me.—
Faith, lady, you have run me to a stand.—
I know you not; never before beheld you;
Yet I'm in love with you extempore:
And tho', by a tremendous oath, I'm bound
Never to hold communion with your sex,
Yet has your beauty, and your modesty—
Come, let me see your face—
Zamora.
Nay; that would prove
I had no modesty, perhaps, nor beauty.—
Besides, I too have taken a rash oath,
Never to love but one man—
Rolando.
At a time?
Zamora.
One at all times.
Rolando.
You're right:—I am the man.
Zamora.
You are indeed, sir!
Rolando.
How! now you are jesting!
Zamora.
No, on my soul!—I have sent up to heav'n
A sacred and irrevocable vow;
And if, as some believe, there does exist
A spirit in the waving of the woods,
Life in the leaping torrent, in the hills
And seated rocks a contemplating soul
Brooding on all things round them, to all nature
I here renew the solemn covenant—
Never to love but you, sir.
Rolando.
And who are you?
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In birth and breeding, sir, a gentlewoman:
And, but I know the high pitch of your mind
From such low thoughts maintains a tow'ring distance,
I would add, rich; yet is it no misfortune.—
Virtuous, I will say boldly. Of my shape,
Your eyes are your informers. For my face,
I cannot think of that so very meanly,
For you have often prais'd it.
Rolando.
I!—Unveil, then,
That I may praise it once again.
(Volante enters.)
Zamora.
Not now, sir,
We are observed.
Rolando.
(Seeing Volante)
Confusion!—this she-devil!—
'Tis time, then, to redeem my character.—
I tell you, lady, you must be mistaken,
I'm not the man you want. (To Zamora).
Meet me to-night. (Aside.)
Will not that answer serve?—At eight precisely.
(Aside.)
I tell you 'tis not I. (Aloud.)
Here; on this spot.
(Aside.)
Zamora.
I humbly beg your pardon.
Rolando.
Well, you have it;—
Remember.—
Zamora.
Trust me!
[Exit.
Rolando.
A most strange adventure!
Pray, lady, do you know who that importunate
woman in that just left us?
Volante.
No, signor.
Rolando.
(They walk by each other, he whistling, and she humming a tune.)
Have you any business
with me?
Volante.
I wanted to see you, that's all. They
tell me you are the valiant captain that have turn'd
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he met with a sour one.
Rolando.
Would I were in a freemasons' lodge!
Volante.
Why there?
Rolando.
They never admit women.
Volante.
It must be a dull place.
Rolando.
Exceeding quiet.—How shall I shake
off this gadfly?—Did you ever see a man mad?
Volante.
Never.
Rolando.
I shall be mad presently.
Volante.
I hope it wont be long first. I can
wait an hour or so.
Rolando.
I tell you I shall be mad!
Volante.
Will it be of the merry sort?
Rolando.
Stark staring, maliciously, mischievously
mad!
Volante.
Nay, then I can't think of leaving you;
for you'll want a keeper.
Rolando.
Would thou hadst one!—If it were valiant
now to beat a woman—
Volante.
Well! why don't you begin? Pshaw!
you have none of the right symptoms: you don't
stare with your eyes, nor foam at the mouth.—
Mad, indeed! You're as much in your sober senses
as I am!
Rolando.
Then am I mad incurably! Will you
go forward?
Volante.
No.
Rolando.
Backward?
Volante.
No.
Rolando.
Will you stay where you are?
Volante.
No. Rank and file, captain:—I mean
to be one of your company.
Rolando.
Impossible! You're not tall enough for
any thing but a drummer: and then the noise of
your tongue would drown the stoutest sheepskin in
Christendom.
Volante.
Can you find any employment for me?
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No: you are fit for nothing but to
beat hemp in a workhouse, to the tuneful accompaniment
of a beadle's whip.
Volante.
I could be content to be so employed, if
I was sure you would reap the full benefit of my
labour.
Rolando.
Nay, then I'll go another way to work
with you, madam.—What, hoa, Eugenio! serjeant!
corporal!
Volante.
Nay, then 'tis time to scamper: he's
bringing his whole regiment on me!
[Exit.
Rolando.
She's gone; and has left me happy.—
But this other:—How is her absence irksome!
There is such magick in her graceful form,
Such sweet persuasion in her gentle tongue,
As thaws my firm resolves, and changes me
To that same soft and pliant thing I was
E'er yet a haughty woman's scorn had stung me.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
—A rural scene.A Dance of Rustics. Lopez seeing the Duke and Juliana approach.
Lopez.
Hold!—our new guests.
(Enter the Duke and Juliana.)
Neighbours, you're kindly welcome.
Will't please you join the dance, or be mere gazers?
Duke.
I am for motion, if this lady here
Would trip it with me.
Lopez.
My wife, sir—at your service!
If it be no offence, I'll take a turn
With yours.
Duke.
By all means. Lady, by your leave—
Lopez.
A good example—
(Attempts to salute Juliana;—she boxes his ears.)
Juliana.
Badly follow'd, sir!
Lopez.
Zounds! what a tingler!
Duke.
Are you not asham'd? (To Jul.)
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Than to return a courtesy so tartly:—
Yours has been better tutor'd.
Lopez.
Tutor'd! Zounds!—
I only meant to ape your husband, lady!
He kisses where he pleases.—
Juliana.
So do I, sir!
Not where I have no pleasure.
Duke.
Excellent! (Aside.)
Juliana.
My lips are not my own. My hand is free, sir. (Offering it.)
Lopez.
Free! I'll be sworn it is!
Juliana.
Will 't please you take it?
Duke.
Excuse her rustic breeding: she is young;
And you will find her nimble in the dance.
Lopez.
Come, then, let's have a stirring roundelay.
[They dance; Juliana at first perversely, but afterwards entering into the spirit of it; and then go off.
| The Honey Moon | |