Part 20

_Theo._ Mark his language, And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish For one of such a breed: I'll pawn my hand, This is no boy.

_Phil._ No boy? what would you have him?

_Theo._ I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully, And yet how suddainly he cur'd his lies, The right wit of a Woman: Now I am sure.

_Phil._ What are ye sure?

_Theo._ That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.

_Phil._ Now I consider better, and take council, Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face, Than his fears dare deliver.

_Theo._ No more talk on't, There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night I'll tell ye more.

_Phil._ Come Sir, what e'r you are With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps In any need you have.

_Leo._ All my poor service Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.

_Phil._ Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.

[_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, _and a Ship-master,_ _two Chairs set out._

_Rod._ Call up the Master.

_Mast._ Here Sir.

_Rod._ Honest Master, Give order all the Gallies with this tyde Fall round, and near upon us; that the next wind We may weigh off together, and recover The Port of _Bar[c]elona_, without parting.

_Mast._ Your pleasure's done Sir. [_Ex._

_Rod._ Signior Mark-antonio, Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare Our stomachs with discourses.

_Mar[c]._ What you please Sir.

_Rod._ Pray ye answer me to this doubt.

_Marc._ If I can Sir.

_Rod._ Why should such plants as you are; pleasure children, That owe their blushing years to gentle objects, Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulness, Desire the stubborn wars?

_Marc._ In those 'tis wonder, That make their ease their god, and not their honor: But noble General my end is other, Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying Discretion to my time, which only shews me, And not my years, a man, and makes that more Which we call handsome, the rest is but Boys beauty, And with the Boy consum'd.

_Rod._ Ye argue well Sir.

_Mar._ Nor do I wear my youth, as they wear breeches, For object, but for use: my strength for danger, Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance, The wars must be my Mistress Sir.

_Rod._ Oh Signior, You'll find her a rough wench.

_Mar._ When she is won once, She'll show the sweeter Sir.

_Rod._ You can be pleas'd, though Sometimes to take a tamer?

_Mar._ 'Tis a truth Sir, So she be handsome, and not ill condition'd.

_Rod._ A Soldier should not be so curious.

_Marc._ I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.

_Rod._ Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews well Signior, A tougher soul than your few years can testifie: Yet, my young Sir, out of mine own experience When my spring was, I am able to confute ye, And say, y' had rather come to th' shock of eies, And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth, Then to the Cannons.

_Mar._ That's as their lading is Sir.

_Rod._ There be Trenches Fitter and warmer for your years, and safer Than where the bullet plaies.

_Mar._ Ther's it I doubt Sir.

_Rod._ You'll easily find that faith: But come, be liberal, What kind of Woman, could you make best wars with?

_Mar._ They are all but heavy marches.

_Rod._ Fie Marckantonio, Beauty in no more reverence?

_Mar._ In the Sex Sir, I honor it, and next to honor, love it, For there is only beauty; and that sweetness That was first meant for modesty: sever it And put it in one woman, it appears not, 'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross To mingle with it.

_Rod._ This is a meer heresie.

_Mar[c]._ Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss That cozens us for beauty, is but bravery, An outward shew of things well set, no more: For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir, Too excellent for object, and what is seen Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.

_Rod._ 'Twas no small study in their Libraries Brought you to this experience: But what think ye Of that fair red and white, which we call Beauty?

_Mar._ Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em, Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain A blew face with a motley nose would do it; And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it; That we cannot give, which is only beauty, Is a fair Mind.

_Rod._ By this rule, all our choices Are to no ends.

_Marc._ Except the dull end, Doing.

_Rod._ Then all to you seem equal?

_Marc._ Very true Sir, And that makes equal dealing: I love any That's worth love.

_Rod._ How long love ye Signior?

_Marc._ Till I have other business.

_Rod._ Do you never Love stedfastly one woman?

_Mar._ 'Tis a toil Sir Like riding in one rode perpetually, It offers no variety.

_Rod._ Right youth, He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think One Woman, can love one man?

_Mar._ Yes, that may be. Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant, And therefore apted to that superstition Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior, That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now That love at len[g]th, and to the right mark, all Stir now [as] the time stirs; fame and fashion Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love That wiser ages held ambition; They that cannot reach this may love by Index; By every days surveying who best promises, Who has done best, who may do, and who mended May come to do again: who appear nearest Either in new stampt clothes; or courtesies, Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things Longer than new are making, nor that succession Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City, There they go to't by gold weight, no gain from 'em All they can work by fire and water to 'em, Profit is all they point at, if there be love 'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out The bracks and old stains in it, that ye may purchase _French_ Velvet better cheap, all loves are endless.

_Rod._ Faith, if you have a Mistriss, would she heard you.

_Mar._ 'Twere but the vent'ring of my place, or swearing I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen Dispute high questions.

_Rod._ What a world is this When young men dare determine what those are Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.

_Marc._ They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.

_Rod._ Did you ne'r love?

_Mar._ Faith yes, once after supper, And the fit held till midnight.

_Rod._ Hot, or shaking.

_Mar._ To say true, both.

_Rod._ How did ye rid it?

_Mar._ Thus Sir, I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me And then said over certain charms I had learn'd Against mad dogs, for love and they are all one; Last thought upon a windmil, and so slept, And was well ever after.

_Rod._ A rare Physitian, What would your practise gain ye?

_Mar._ The wars ended, I mean to use my Art, and have these fools Cut in the head like Cats, to save the kingdom, Another Inquisition.

_Rod._ So old a Soldier Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.

_Mar._ I shall mend every day; but noble General, Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.

_Rod._ Oh ye are a cunning Gamester.

_Mar._ Mirths and toys To cosin time withal, for o' my troth Sir, I can love; I think, well too; well enough And think as well of women as they are, Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful, And some few worth a service: I am so honest, I wish 'em all in heaven, and you know how hard Sir 'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals.

_Rod._ Well _Mark-antonio_, I would not loose thy company For the best Galley I command.

_Marc._ Faith General, If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye Once every day. [_Knock within._

_Rod._ Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call Below to dinner: ye are my Cabbin guest, My bosom's, so you please Sir.

_Marc._ Your poor Servant. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter second Host, and his Wife._

_Host._ Let 'em have meat enough Woman, half a Hen; There be old rotten Pilchards, put 'em off too, 'Tis but a little new anointing of 'em. And a strong onion, that confounds the stink.

_Host[ess]._ They call for more Sir.

_Host._ Knock a dozen eggs down, But then beware your wenches.

_Host[ess]._ More than this too?

_Host._ Worts, worts, and make 'em porridge: pop 'em up wench But they shall pay for Cullyses.

_Host[ess]._ All this is nothing; They call for Kid and Partridge.

_Host._ Well remembred, Where's the Faulconers half dog he left?

_Host[ess]._ It stinks Sir, Past all hope that way.

_Host._ Run it o'r with Garlick, And make a _Roman_ dish on't.

_Host[ess]._ Pray ye be patient, And get provision in; these are fine gentlemen, And liberal gentlemen; they have _unde quare_ No mangey Muleters, nor pinching Posts, That feed upon the parings of Musk-millions And Radishes, as big and tough as Rafters: Will ye be stirring in this business? here's your brother, Mine old Host of _Ossuna_, as wise as you are, That is, as knavish; if ye put a trick, Take heed he do not find it.

_Host._ I'll be wagging.

_Host[ess]._ 'Tis for your own commodity: why wenches:

[_Serv._] Anon forsooth. [_within._

_Hostess._ Who makes a fire there? and who gets in water? Let _Oliver_ goe to the Justice, and beseech his Worship We may have two spits going; and do you hear _Druce_, Let him invite his Worship, and his Wives Worship, To the left-Meat to morrow.

_Enter Bayliff._

_Bayl._ Where's this Kitchen?

_Hostess._ Even at the next door Signior: what old Don? We meet but seldom.

_Bayl._ Prethee be patient Hostess, And tell me where the meat is.

_Host[ess]._ Faith Master Baylie, How have ye done? and how man?

_Bayl._ Good sweet Hostess, What shall we have to dinner?

_Hostess._ How does your woman, And a fine Woman she is, and a good Woman; Lord, how you bear your years!

_Bayl._ Is't Veal or Mutton, Beef, Bacon, Pork, Kid, Pheasant, or all these, And are they ready all?

_Host[ess]._ The hours that have been Between us two, the merry hours: Lord!

_Bayl._ Hostess, Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.

_Hostess._ Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.

_Bayl._ Monstrous hungry, And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither Right worshipful to pay the reckoning, Money enough too with 'em, desire enough To have the best meat, and of that enough too: Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have any thing, and instantly E'r you can lick your ears, Sir.

_Bayl._ Portly meat, Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish, Two Pheasants in a dish, if ye have Leverits, Rather for way of ornament, than appetite They may be look'd upon, or Larks: for Fish, As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye To serve above four dishes, but those full ones; Ye have no Cheese of _Parma_?

_Hostess._ Very old Sir.

_Bayl._ The less will serve us, some ten pound.

_Hostess._ Alas Sir, We have not halfe these dainties.

_Bayl._ Peace good Hostess, And make us hope ye have.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all Sir,

_Bay._ That may be got for money.

_Enter_ Diego, _the Host, and a Boy_.

_Host. Diego._ Where's your Master? Bring me your Master, Boy: I must have liquor Fit for the _Mermydons_; no dashing now child No conjurings by candle light, I know all; Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess, I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning And things of moment have had motion.

_Hostess._ Still mine old Brother.

_Host. Die._ Set thy Seller open, For I must enter, and advance my Colours, I have brought th[ee] Dons indeed wench, Dons with Duckets And those Dons must have dainty Wine, pure _Bacchus_ That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?

_Bayl._ We shall have Meat man.

_Host. Die._ Then we will have Wine man, And Wine upon Wine, cut and drawn with Wine.

_Hostess._ Ye shall have all, and more than all.

_Bay._ All, well then.

_Host. Die._ Away, about your business, you with her For old acquaintance sake, to stay your stomach. _Exit Hostess and Bayliff._ And Boy, be you my guide, _ad inferos_, For I will make a full descent in equipage.

_Boy._ I'll shew you rare Wine.

_Host. Die._ Stinging geer.

_Boy._ Divine Sir.

_Host. Die._ O divine boy, march, march my child, rare Wine boy.

_Boy._ As any is in _Spain_ Sir.

_Host. Die._ Old; and strong too, Oh my fine boy, clear too?

_Boy._ As Christal Sir, and strong as truth.

_Host. Die._ Away boy, I am enamor'd, and I long for Dalliance, Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing, I charge thee not to save thy Sisters honor, Nor to close thy Dames eies, were she a dying Till we arrive, and for thy recompence I will remember thee in my Will.

_Boy._ Ye have said Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Philippo, _and 2 Host_.

_Phi._ Mine Host, is that Apparel got ye spoke of? Ye shall have ready money.

_2 Host._ 'Tis come in, Sir, he has it on Sir And I think 'twill be fit, and o' my credit 'Twas never worn but once Sir, and for necessity Pawn'd to the man I told ye of.

_Phi._ Pray bargain for it, And I will be the pay-master.

_2 Host._ I will Sir.

_Phi._ And let our meat be ready when you please, I mean as soon.

_2 Host._ It shall be presently.

_Phi._ How far stands _Barcelona_?

_2 Host._ But two Leagues off Sir, You may be there by three a clock.

_Phi._ I am glad on't. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Theodosia, _and_ Leocadia.

_Theo._ Signior _Francisco_, why I draw you hither To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me My innocence yet never knew ill dealing, And as ye have a noble temper, start not Into offence, at any thing my knowledge, And for your special good, would be inform'd of, Nor think me vainly curious.

_Leo._ Worthy Sir, The courtesies you and your noble Brother, Even then when few men find the way to do 'em, I mean in want, so freely showr'd upon me, So truly, and so timely minister'd, Must, if I should, suspect those minds that made 'em, Either proclaim me an unworthy taker, Or worse, a base beleever; Speek your mind Sir Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.

_The._ Then my young Sir know, since our first acquaintance Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior, I have beheld ye narrowly: more blushes. Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye A thing confest already: yet more blushes? You would ill cover an offence might sink ye That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so? I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand Was never made for hardness, nor those eies (Come do not hide 'em,) for rough objects, harke ye, Ye have betraid your self, that sigh confirms me; Another? and a third too? then I see These boys cloths do but pinch ye, come, be liberal, Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not That loaden soul that labors to be open: Now you must weep, I know it, for I see Your eies down laden to the lids, another Manifest token that my doubts are perfect; Yet I have found a greater; tell me this Why were these holes left open, there was an error, A foul one my _Francisco_, have I caught ye? Oh pretty Sir, the custom of our Countrey Allows men none in this place: Now the show'r comes.

_Leo._ Oh Signior _Theodoro_.

_Theo._ This sorrow shows so sweetly I cannot choose but keep it company: Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness By all those perfect hopes that point at virtue By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for, If any sad misfortune have thus form'd ye, That either care or counsel may redeem, Pain, purse, or any thing within the power And honor of free gentlemen, reveal it, And have our labors.

_Leo._ I have found ye noble And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain, Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman, The great example of a wretched woman. Here you must give me leave to shew my sex; And now to make ye know how much your credit Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience, I'll tell you my unfortunate sad story.

_Theo._ Sit down and say on Lady:

_Leo._ I am born Sir Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble, And not to lie, the Daughter of Don _Zanchio_, If my unhappy fortune have not lost me: My name call'd _Leocadia_, even the same Your worthy brother did the special honor To name for beautiful; and without pride I have been often made believe so Signior; But that's impertinent: Now to my sorrows; Not far from us a Gentleman of worth, A neighbor and a noble visitor, Had his abode; who often met my Father In gentle sports of Chase, and River-Hawking In Course and Riding; and with him often brought A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman, Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection, A sprightly man, of understanding excellent, Of speech and civil 'haviour, no less powerful; And of all parts, else my eies lied, abundant: We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance Nearer into affection; from affection Into belief.

_Theo._ Well.

_Leo._ Then we durst kiss.

_Theo._ Go forward.

_Leo._ But oh, man, [man,] unconstant, careless man, Oh subtle man, how many are thy mischiefs; Oh _Mark-antonio_, I may curse those kisses.

_Theo._ What did you call him Lady?

_Leo. Mark-antonio_ The name to me of misery.

_Theo._ Pray foreward.

_Leo._ From these we bred desires sir; but lose me heaven If mine were lustful.

_Theo._ I believe.

_L[e]o._ This nearness Made him importunate; When to save mine honor Love having full possession of my powers, I got a Contract from him.

_Theo._ Sealed?

_Leo._ And sworn too; Which since, for some offence heaven laid upon me, I lost among my monies in the robbery, The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him Fool that I was, and too too credulous, I pointed him a by-way to my chamber The next night at an hour.

_Theo._ Pray stay there Lady; And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye? Be not so shamefac'd; had ye both your wishes? Tell me, and tell me true, did he enjoy ye, Were ye in one anothers arms abed? the Contract Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye? Answer to that; ha? did your father know this, The good old man, or kindred privy to't? And had ye their consents? did that nights promise Make ye a Mother?

_Leo._ Why do you ask so nearly? Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?

_Theo._ No Lady. Only the pitty why you should be used so A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?

_Leo._ No, no Signior, Alas he never came, nor never meant it, My Love was fool'd, time numbred to no end, My expectation flouted, and ghesse you Sir, What dor unto a doating Maid this was, What a base breaking off!

_Theo._ All's well then Lady; Go forward in your Story.

_Leo._ Not only fail'd Sir Which is a curse in Love, and may he find it When his affections are full-wing'd, and ready To stoop upon the quarry, then when all His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir But more injurious, faithless, treacherous, Within two daies fame gave him far remov'd With a new love, which much against my conscience But more against my cause, which is my hell I must confess a fair one, a right fair one, Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter Unto another of our noble neighbors The thief call'd _Theodosia_; whose perfections I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles, As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches; For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory And left me nothing but these tears, and travel: Upon this certain news, I quit my Father And if you be not milder in construction I fear mine honour too: and like a Page Stole to _Ossuna_, from that place to _Sivil_, From thence to _Barcelona_ I was travelling When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of Gallies bound up for Italy; for never Will I leave off the search of this bad man This filcher of affections, this love-Pedler, Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties And make her name as w[a]ndring as her nature Till standing face to face before their lusts I call heavens justice down.

_Theo._ This shows too angry Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd, If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?

_Leoc._ She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it And in despight of me to drown my blessings Which she shall dearly know.

_Theo._ Ye are too violent.

_Leoc._ She has Devils in her eyes, to whose devotion He offers all his service.

_Theo._ Who can say But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise Has he not still the same rule to deceive?

_Leoc._ No, no they are together, love together Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together, Live, and delight together, and such deceipt Give me in a wild desert.

_Theo._ By your leave Lady I see no honour in this cunning.

_Leoc._ Honour? True, none of her part, honour, she deserves none, 'Tis ceas'd with wandring Ladies such as she is, So bold and impudent.

_Theo._ I could be angry Extreamly angry now beyond my nature And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man Is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady I know the maid, and know she is not with him.

_Leoc._ I would you knew she were in heaven.

_Theo._ And so well know her That I think you are cozen'd.

_Leoc._ So I say Sir.

_Theo._ I mean in her behaviour For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit She never yet delighted to do wrong.

_Leoc._ How can she then delight in him? dare she think? Be what she will, as excellent as Angels My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle As right and rich as hers, my means as equal, My youth as much unblown; and for our worths And weight of virtue--

_Theo._ Do not task her so far.