Part 22

_Theo._ She's run away.

_Phil._ Begone, and let us never more behold Each others face, till we may, both together, Fasten our eyes on her: accursed be Those tender cozening names of charity, And natural affection, they have lost Me only by observing them, what cost Travel, and fruitless wishes may in vain Search through the world, but never find again.

_Theo._ Good Sir be patient, I have done no fault Worthy this banishment.

_Phil._ Yes _Leocadia_, The Lady so distress'd, who was content To lay her story, and to lay her heart As open as her story to your self, Who was content, that I should know her Sex, Before dissembl'd and to put her self Into my conduct, whom I undertook Safely to guard, is in this Tumult lost.

_Theo._ And can I help it Sir?

_Phil._ No, would thou couldst, You might have done, but for that zeald religion You women bear to swownings, you do pick Your times to faint when some body is by: Bound or by nature, or by love, or service To raise you from that well dissembled death: Inform me but of one that has been found Dead in her private chamber by her self, Where sickness would no more forbear, than here, And I will quit the rest for her.

_Theo._ I know not What they may do, and how they may dissemble; But by my troth, I did not.

_Phil._ By my troth, Would I had try'd; would I had let thee layn, And followed her.

_Theo._ I would you had done so Rather, than been so angry: where's _Antonio_?

_Phil._ Why do'st thou vex me with these questions? I'll tell thee where, he's carried to the Galleys, There to be chain'd, and row, and beat, and row With knotted ropes, and pizzels; if he swound, He has a dose of bisket.

_Theo._ I am glad He is alive.

_Phil._ Was ever man thus troubled, Tell me where _Leocadia_ is?

_Theo._ Good brother be not so hasty, and I think I can: You found no error in me, when I first Told you she was a woman, and believe me Something I have found out, which makes me think, Nay, almost know so well, that I durst swear She follow'd hurt _Antonio_.

_Phil._ What do we

_Enter the Governor, two Attendants, and the Townsmen._

Then lingring here; we will aboard the Galleys And find her.

_Gov._ Made he a shot into the Town?

_1. Attend._ He did Sir.

_Gov._ Call back those Gentlemen.

_1. Attend._ The Governor, commands you back.

_Phil._ We will obey him Sir.

_Gov._ You gave him cause to shoot; I know, he is So far from rash offence, and holds with me Such curious friendship: could not one of you Have call'd me while 'twas doing, such an uproar, Before my dore too?

_1. Towns._ By my troth Sir, we were so busy in the publick cause, of our own Private falling out: that we forgot it: at home we see now You were not, but as soon as the shot made us fly, we ran Away as fast as we could to seek your honor.

_Gov._ 'Twas gravely done; but no man tells the cause Or chance, or what it was that made you differ.

_1. Towns._ For my part Sir, if there were any that I knew Of, the shot drove it out of my head, do you know any neighbours?

_All._ Not we, not we.

_Gov._ Not we! nor can you tell.

_1. Attend._ No other cause, But the old quarrel betwixt the Town and the Galleys.

_Gov._ Come nearer Gentlemen: what are your names?

_Phil._ My name _Philippo_.

_Theo._ And mine _Theodoro_.

_Gov._ Strangers you are it seems.

_Phil._ Newly arriv'd.

_Gov._ Then you are they begun this Tumult.

_Phil._ No Sir.

_[G]ov._ Speak one of you.

_1. Attend._ They are not, I can quit 'em.

_Theo._ Yet we saw part, and an unhappy part Of this debate, a long sought friend of ours Strook down for dead, and born unto the Galleys, His name is _Mark-antonio_.

_Phil._ And another Of our company, a Gentleman Of noble birth, besides accompanyed With all the gifts of nature, ravish'd hence We know not how, in this dissention.

_Gov._ Get you home all, and work; and when I hear You meddle with a weapon any more But those belonging to your Trades, I'll lay you Where your best Customers shall hardly find you. [_Exit Townsmen._ I am sorry gentlemen, I troubled you, Being both strangers, by your tongues, and looks, Of worth: To make ye some part of amends If there be any thing in this poor Town Of _Barcelona_ that you would command, Command me.

_Theo._ Sir, this wounded Gentleman, If it might please you, if your pow'r and love Extend so far, I would be glad to wish Might be remov'd into the Town for cure: The Galleys stay not, and his wound I know Cannot endure a voyage.

_Gov._ Sir, he shall, I warrant you: Go call me hither Sirrah, One of my other Servants. [_Exit 1. attendan[t]._

_Phil._ And besides. The Gentleman we lost, Signior _Francisco_, Shall be render'd too.

_Enter a Servant._

_Gover._ And he Sir too: Go sirrah, bear this ring To _Roderigo_, my most noble friend, The General of the Galleys: Tell him this. [_Exit servant._

_Whispers to his Servant._

_Theo._ Now we shall have 'em both.

_Phil._ Blest be thy thoughts For apprehending this: blest be thy breath For uttering it.

_Gov._ Come Gentlemen, you shall Enter my roof: and I will send for Surgeons, And you shall see your friends here presently.

_Theo._ His name was _Mark-antonio_.

_Gover._ I know it, And have sent word so.

_Phil._ Did you not forget _Francisco's_ name?

_Gover._ Nor his: y'are truly welcome, To talk about it more, were but to say The same word often over: you are welcome. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Mark-antonio, _carried,_ Leocadia _following; and the Servant. 2 Soldiers carrying him._

_Serv._ This is the house Sir.

_Mar._ Enter it, I pray you, For I am faint, although I think my wound Be nothing. Soldiers, leave us now: I thank you.

_1. Sold._ Heaven send you health Sir.

_Serv._ Let me lead you in.

_Mark._ My wound's not in my feet; I shall entreat 'em I hope to bear me so far. [_Exit._

_2. Sold._ How seriously these land men fled, when our General made a Shot, as if he had been a warning to call 'em to their Hall.

_1. Sold._ I cannot blame 'em, What man have they now in the Town, able to maintain a Tumult, or uphold a matter out Of square if need be? O the quiet hurley burleys that I Have seen in this Town, when we have fought four hours Together, and not a man amongst us so impertinent or Modest to ask why? but now the pillars that bare Up this blessed Town in that regular debate, and Scambling, are dead, the more's the pitty.

_2. Sold._ Old _Ignatio_ lives still.

_1. Sold._ Yes, I know him: he will do prettily well at a mans liver: But where is there any man now living in the Town That hath a steady hand, and understands _Anatomy_ Well? if it come to a particular matter of the lungs, Or the spleen, why? alas _Ignatio_ is to seek; are There any such men left as I have known, that Would say they would hit you in this place? is there Ever a good heartist, or a member-percer, or a Small-gut man left in the Town, answer Me that?

_2. Sold._ Mass, I think there be not.

_1. Sold._ No, I warrant thee. Come, come, 'tis time We were at the Galleys. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Governor, Eugenia, Mark-antonio, Philippo, Theodosia, Leocadia, _Attendants._

_Gover._ Sir, you may know by what I said already, You may command my house; but I must beg Pardon to leave you, if the publick business Forc'd me not from you, I my self should call it Unmannerly: but good Sir, do you give it A milder name: it shall not be an hour Ere I return.

_Mar[c]._ Sir, I was nere so poor In my own thoughts, as that I want a means To requite this with.

_Gov._ Sir, within this hour. [_Exit._

_Marc._ This the Lady that I quarrell'd for? O lust if wounds cannot restrain thy power, Let shame: nor do I feel my hurt at all, Nor is it ought, only I was well beaten: If I pursue it, all the civil world That ever did imagine the content Found in the band of man and wife unbroke, The reverence due to housholds, or the blemish That may be stuck upon posterity Will catch me, bind me, burn upon my forehead, This is the wounded stranger, that receiv'd For charity into a house, attempted-- I will not do it.

_Eug._ Sir, how do you do now? That you walk off.

_Marc._ Worse Madam, than I was; But it will over.

_Eug._ Sit, and rest a while.

_Marc._ Where are the Surgeons?

_Eug._ Sir, it is their manner, When they have seen the wound especially, The patient being of worth, to go consult, Which they are now at in another room, About the dressing.

_Marc._ Madam, I do feel my self not well.

_Theo._ Alass!

_Leoc._ How do you Sir.

_Eug._ Will you drink waters?

_Marc._ No good Madam, 'tis not So violent upon me; nor I think Any thing dangerous: but yet there are Some things that sit so heavy on my conscience, That will perplex my mind, and stop my cure, So that unless I utter 'em. A scratch Here on my thumb will kill me: Gentlemen, I pray you leave the room, and come not in Your selves, or any other till I have Open'd my self to this most honour'd Lady.

_Phil._ We will not.

_Theo._ O blest! he will discover now His love to me.

_Leoc._ Now he will tell the Lady Our Contract. [_Exit._

_Eug._ I do believe he will confess to me The wrong he did a Lady in the streets; But I forgive him.

_Marc._ Madam, I perceive My self grow worse and worse.

_Eug._ Shall I call back your friends?

_Marc._ O no, but e'r I do impart What burthens me so sore, let me intreat you, (For there is no trust in these Surgeons) To look upon my wound; it is perhaps My last request: But tell me truely too, That must be in: how far do you imagine It will have pow'r upon me.

_Eug._ Sir, I will.

_Marc._ For heavens sake, softly: oh, I must needs lay My head down easily, whilst you do it.

_Eug._ Do Sir, 'Tis but an ordinary blow; a child Of mine has had a greater, and been well; Are you faint hearted?

_Marc._ Oh.

_Eug._ Why do you sigh? There is no danger in the world in this; I wonder it should make a man sit down; What do you mean, why do you kiss my breasts? Lift up your head, your wound, may well endure it.

_Mar._ O Madam, may I not express affection, Dying-affection too I fear, to those That do me favors, such as this of yours.

_Eug._ If you mean so, 'tis well; but what's the business Lies on your conscience?

_Mar._ I will tell you Madam.

_Eug._ Tell me and laugh?

_Mar._ But I will tell you true Though I do laugh, I know as well as you My wound is nothing, nor the power of earth Could lay a wound upon me in your presence, That I could feel; but I do laugh to think How covertly, how far beyond the reach Of men, and wise men too, we shall deceive 'em, Whilst they imagine I am talking here With that short breath I have, ready to swound At every full point; you my ghostly Mother To hear my sad confession, you and I Will on that bed within, prepar'd for me, Debate the matter privately.

_Eug._ Forbear, Thou wert but now as welcome to this house As certain cures to sick men, and just now This sudain alteration makes thee look Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst How loathsome thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat These wals, or posts to help thee to a hurt, Past thy d[i]ssimulation.

_Mar._ Gentle Madam Call 'em not in?

_Eug._ I will not yet, this place I know to be within the reach of tongue, And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born To end some way more disesteem'd than this, Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet. Come Gentlemen.

_Enter_ Leocadia.

_Mar._ Good Madam.

_Eug._ Gentlemen.

_Leoc._ Madam how is't? is _Mark-antonio_ well? Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see A strange distemper in you.

_Eug._ I am wrought By that dissembling man, that fellow worth Nothing but kicking.

_Enter_ Philippo _and_ Theodosia.

_Leo._ Gentle Madam speak To me alone let not them understand His fault, he will repent [it] I dare swear.

_Eug._ I'll tell it you in private.

_Phil. Mark-antonio_, How do you?

_Mar._ Stand farther off I pray you Give me some ayre.

_Theo._ Good Brother, will he scape, The Surgeons say there is no danger.

_Phil._ Scape? No doubt he will.

_Leo._ Alas will he not leave This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you Let me but speak to him, you and these by, And I dare almost promise you to make him Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shall open to you, Not put in so good words but in it self So full of chance, that you will easily Forgive my tediousness, and be well pleas'd With that so much afflicts me.

_Eug._ Good Sir do.

_Leo._ And I desire no interruption Of speech may trouble me till I have said What I will quickly do.

_Theo._ What will she say.

_Eug._ Come Gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears, And keep your voyces.

_Leo._ Signior _Mark-antonio_ How do you do?

_Mar._ Oh the Surgeons.

_Leoc._ Let me tell you Who know as well as you, you do dissemble, It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood, And make your spirit an untroubled way To pass to what it ought.

_Mar._ Y're not in earnest? Why I can walk Sir, and am well.

_Leoc._ 'Tis true That you can walk, and do believe y're well: It is the nature, as your Surgeons say Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk, Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute: For heaven sake Sir, sit down again.

_Mar._ Alass Where are the Surgeons?

_Leoc._ Sir, they will not come, If they should dress you, you would dye they say Ere one would tell twenty; trouble not your mind, Keep your head warm, and do not stir your body, And you may live an hour.

_Mar._ Oh heavens, an hour? Alass, it is to[o] little t[o] remember But half the wrongs that I have done; how short Then for contrition, and how least of all For satisfaction?

_Leo._ But you desire To satisfie?

_Mar._ Heaven knows I do.

_Leo._ Then know That I am he, or she, or what you will Most wrong'd by you; your _Leocadia_, I know you must remember me.

_Mar._ Oh heaven!

_Le[o]._ That lost her friends, that lost her fathers house, That lost her fame in loosing of her Sex, With these strange garments, there is no excuse To hinder me, it is within your power To give me satisfaction; you have time Left in this little piece of life to do it: Therefore I charge you for your conscience sake, And for our fame, which I would fain have live When both of us are dead, to celebrate That Contract; which you have both seal'd and sworn Yet ere you dye, which must be hastily Heaven knows.

_Mar._ Alass, the sting of conscience To death-ward for our faults; draw nearer all And hear what I unhappy man shall say; First Madam I desire your pardon; next (I feel my spirits fail me) Gentlemen Let me shake hands with you, and let's be friends, For I have done wrong upon wrong so thick I know not where, that every man methinks Should be mine enemy; Forgive me both. Lastly 'tis true (oh I do feel the power Of death seize on me) that I was contracted By seal and oath to _Leocadia_; (I must speak fast, because I fear my life Will else be shorter than my speech would be) But 'tis impossible to satisfie You _Leocadia_, but by repentance, Though I can dyingly, and boldly say I know not your dishonor, yet that was Your virtue, and not mine, you know it well; But herein lies th' impossibility, O _Theodosia_, _Theodosia_ I was betroth'd to _Theodosia_ Before I ever saw thee; heaven forgive me She is my wife this half hour whilst I live.

_Theo._ That's I, that's I, I'm _Theodosia_, Hear me a little now, who have not suffer'd Disgrace at all methinks, since you confess What I so long have sought for, here is with me _Philippo_ too my Brother.

_Mar._ I am glad; All happiness to him; come let me kiss thee Beg pardon of that Maid for my offence, And let me farther, with a dying breath Tell in thine ear the rest of my desires.

_Eug._ I am afraid they will all four turn women If we hold longer talk.

_Leoc._ Alass there is No hope for me; that's _Theodosia_ And that her Brother, I am only sorry I was beholding to 'em; I will search Over the world, as careless of my fortunes, As they of me, till I can meet a curse To make these almost killing-sorrows worse. [_Exit._

_Theo._ Sir, as I live she ly'd, only to draw A just confession from you, which she hath A happy one for me, ask of this Lady, Ask of my Brother.

_Eug._ Sir, she did dissemble, Your wound is nothing.

_Phil. Leocadia_'s gone. [_Exit._

_Theo._ Rise up, and stir your self, 'tis but amazement And your imagination that afflicts you, Look you Sir now.

_Mar._ I think 'tis so indeed.

_Theo._ The Surgeons do not come, because they swear It needs no dressing.

_Eug._ You shall talk with 'em Within, for your own fancy.

_Mar._ Where's your Brother, and _Leocadia_?

_Eug._ Within belike.

_Mar._ I feel my self methinks as well as ever.

_Eug._ Keep then your mind so too; I do forgive The fault you did to me; But here is one Must not be wrong'd hereafter.

_Mar._ Neither shall she When I make jests of oaths again, or make My lust play with religion, when I leave To keep true joys for her, and yet within My self true sorrow for my passed deeds May I want grace, when I would fain repent, And find a great and sodain punishment. [_Exeunt._

_Actus V. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Philippo, Diego, _and_ Incubo.

_Phil._ Where is mine Host, did not he see him neither?

_Die._ Not I, i'faith Sir.

_Phil._ Nor the muleter?

_Inc._ Nay he is past seeing, unless it be in's sleep, By this time; all his visions were the pots, Three hours since Sir.

_Phil._ Which way should she take? Nay, look you now; do you all stand still? good Heaven You might have lighted on him, now this instant? For loves sake see[k] him out, who ever find him I will reward his fortune as his diligence; Get all the Town to help, that will be hir'd, Their pains I'll turn to annual holiday, If it shall chance, but one bring word of her, Pray you about it.

_Inc._ Her Sir? who do you mean?

_Phil._ (I had forgot my self) the Page I meant That came along with us.

_Die._ He you gave the clothes too?

_Phil._ I ga' the clothes to; Rascal?

_Die._ Nay good Sir.

_Phi._ Why dost thou mention or upbraid my courtesies Slave?

_Die._ For your honor Sir.

_Phi._ Wretch; I was honor'd, That she would wear 'em (he, I would say) 's death? Go, get, and find 'em out, or never see me, I shall betray my love e'r I possess it, Some Star direct me, or ill Planet strike me. [_Exit_ Phil.

_Inc._ Best to divide.

_Die._ I'll this way.

_Inc._ And I this.

_Die._ I, as you, find him for a _Real_.

_Inc._ 'Tis done.

_Die._ My course is now directly to some Pie-house I know the Pages compass.

_Inc._ I think rather The smock-side o'th' Town, the surer harbor At his years to put in.

_Die._ If I do find The hungry haunt, I take him by the teeth now.

_Inc._ I by the tail, yet I as you.

_Die._ No more. [_E_]_xeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Philippo.

_Phi._ Dear _Leocadia_, where canst thou be fled Thus like a spirit hence? and in a moment? What cloud can hide thee from my following search If yet thou art a body? sure she hath not Tane any house? she did too late leave one Where all humanity of a place receiv'd her, And would, (if she had staid) have help'd to right The wrong her fortune did her; yet she must Be [inter'd] somewhere, or be found, no street, Lane, passage, corner, turn, hath scap'd enquiry: If her despair had ravish'd her to air She could not yet be ratified so But some of us should meet her? though their eyes Perhaps be leaden, and might turn; mine would Strike out a lightning for her, and divide A mist as thick as ever darkness was, Nay see her through a quarry; they do lye, Lye grosly that say love is blind; by him, And heaven they lye; he has a sight can pierce Through Ivory, as cleer as it were horn, And reach his object.

_Enter_ Incubo.

_Inc._ Sir, he's found, he's found.

_Phi._ Ha? where? But reach that happy Note again And let it relish truth, thou art an Angel.

_Inc._ He's here; fast by Sir, calling for a Boat To go aboard the Gallies.

_Phi._ Where, where; hold thee. [_Exit._

_Inc._ He might ha' kept this now, I had nought to shew for't, If he had had the wit t' have gone from's word, These direct men, they are no men of fashion, Talk what you will, this is a very smelt. [_Exit._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Leonardo _with a Surgeon._

_Leo._ Upon your Art Sir, and your faith to assist it Shall I believe you then his wound's not mortal?

_Surg._ Sir, 'tis not worth your question; less your fear.

_Leo._ You doe restore me Sir, I pray you accept This small remembrance of a fathers thanks For so assur'd a benefit.

_Surg._ Excuse me.

_Leo._ Sir, I can spare it, and must not believe But that your fortune may receiv't, except You'ld ha' me think you live not by your practice.

_Sur._ I crave your pardon Sir; you teach me manners.

_Leo._ I crave your love and friendship, and require As I have made now, both my self and business A portion of your care, you will but bring me Under the person of a call'd assistant To his next opening, where I may but see him, And utter a few words to him in private, And you will merit me; for I am loth Since here I have not to appear my self, Or to be known unto the Governor, Or make a tumult of my purpose.

_Surg._ Neither I hope will be your need Sir; I shall bring you Both there, and off again without the hazard. [_Exeunt._