Part 9

Sir, your daughter, for your comfort, Is now upon amendment. MAR. O, my lord, You speak an angel’s voice! FER. Pray, in and visit her; I'll follow instantly. [_Exeunt._ PEDRO _and_ MARIA.]— You shall not part[294] Without a cup of wine, my lord. FRAN. ’Tis now Too troublesome a time.—Which way take you, Don Louis? LOUIS. No matter which; for till I hear My Clara be recover’d, I am nothing.— My lord corregidor, I am your servant For this free entertainment. FER. You have conquer’d me In noble courtesy. LOUIS. O, that no art But love itself can cure a love-sick heart! [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A room in_ FERNANDO’S _house_.

CLARA _discovered seated in a chair_, PEDRO _and_ MARIA _standing by_.

MAR. Clara, hope of mine age! PED. Soul of my comfort! Kill us not both at once: why dost thou speed Thine eye in such a progress ’bout these walls? CLA. Yon large window Yields some fair prospect; good my lord, look out And tell me what you see there. PED. Easy suit: Clara, it overviews a spacious garden, Amidst which stands an alablaster[295] fountain, A goodly one. CLA. Indeed, my lord! MAR. Thy griefs grow wild,[296] And will mislead thy judgment through thy weakness, If thou obey thy weakness. CLA. Who owns these glorious buildings? PED. Don Fernando De Azevida,[297] the corregidor Of Madrill,[298] a true noble gentleman. CLA. May I not see him? MAR. See him, Clara? why? CLA. A truly noble gentleman, you said, sir? PED. I did: lo, here he comes in person.—

_Enter_ FERNANDO.

We are, My lord, your servants. FER. Good, no compliment.— Young lady, there attends below a surgeon Of worthy fame and practice; is’t your pleasure To be his patient? CLA. With your favour, sir, May I impart some few but needful words Of secrecy to you, to you yourself, None but yourself? FER. You may. PED. Must I not hear ’em? MAR. Nor I? CLA. O yes.—Pray, sit, my lord. FER. Say on. CLA. You have been married? FER. To a wife, young lady,[299] Who, whiles the heavens did lend her me, was fruitful In all those virtues which style[300] woman good. CLA. And you had children by her? FER. Had, ’tis true; Now have but one, a son, and he yet lives; The daughter, as if in her birth the mother Had perfected the errand she was sent for Into the world, from that hour took her life In which the other that gave it her lost hers; Yet shortly she unhappily, but fatally, Perish’d at sea. CLA. Sad story! FER. Roderigo, My son—— CLA. How is he call’d, sir? FER. Roderigo: He lives at Salamanca; and I fear That neither time, persuasions, nor his fortunes, Can draw him thence. CLA. My lord, d’ye know this crucifix?[301]

[_Shewing the crucifix._ FER. You drive me to amazement! ’twas my son’s, A legacy bequeath’d him from his mother Upon her deathbed, dear to him as life; On earth there cannot be another treasure He values at like rate as he does this. CLA. O, then I am a cast-away! MAR. How’s that? PED. Alas, she will grow frantic! CLA. In my bosom, Next to my heart, my lord, I have laid up, In bloody characters, a tale of horror. Pray, read the paper; and if there you find [_Giving a paper._ Ought that concerns a maid undone and miserable, Made so by one[302] of yours, call back the piety Of nature to the goodness of a judge, An upright judge, not of a partial father; For do not wonder that I live to suffer Such a full weight of wrongs, but wonder rather That I have liv’d to speak them: thou, great man, Yet read, read on, and as thou read’st consider What I have suffer’d, what thou ought’st to do,[303] Thine own name, fatherhood, and my dishonour: Be just as heaven and fate are, that by miracle Have in my weakness wrought a strange discovery: Truth copied from my heart is texted there: Let now my shame be throughly understood; Sins are heard farthest when they cry in blood. FER. True, true, they do not cry but holla here; This is the trumpet of a soul drown’d deep In the unfathom’d seas of matchless sorrows. I must lock fast the door. [_Exit._ MAR. I have no words To call for vengeance. PED. I am lost in marvel.

_Re-enter_ FERNANDO.

FER. Sir,[304] pray sit as you sat before. White paper, This should be innocence; these letters gules[305] Should be the honest oracles of revenge: What’s beauty but a perfect white and red? Both here well mix’d limn truth so beautiful, That to distrust it, as I am a father, Speaks me as foul as rape hath spoken my son; ’Tis true. CLA. ’Tis true. FER. Then mark me how I kneel Before the high tribunal of your injuries. [_Kneels._ Thou too, too-much-wrong’d maid, scorn not my tears, For these are tears of rage, not tears of love,— Thou father of this too, too-much-wrong’d maid,— Thou mother of her counsels and her cares, I do not plead for pity to a villain; O, let him die as he hath liv’d, dishonourably, Basely and cursedly! I plead for pity To my till now untainted blood and honour: Teach me how I may now be just and cruel, For henceforth I am childless. CLA. Pray, sir, rise; You wrong your place and age. FER. [_rising_] Point me my grave In some obscure by-path, where never memory Nor mention of my name may be found out. CLA. My lord, I can weep with you, nay, weep for ye, As you for me; your passions are instructions, And prompt my faltering tongue to beg at least A noble satisfaction, though not revenge. FER. Speak that again. CLA. Can you procure no balm To heal a wounded name? FER. O, thou’rt as fair In mercy as in beauty! wilt thou live, And I'll be thy physician? CLA. I'll be yours. FER. Don Pedro, we’ll to counsel; This[306] daughter shall be ours.—Sleep, sleep, young angel, My care shall wake about thee. CLA. Heaven is gracious, And I am eas’d! FER. We will be yet more private; Night[307] curtains o’er the world; soft dreams rest with thee! The best revenge is to reform our crimes, Then time crowns sorrows, sorrows sweeten times. [_Exeunt all except_ CLARA, _on whom the scene shuts_.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

_A court before an inn._

ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, SANCHO, SOTO, ANTONIO, CARLO, RODERIGO, _and others discovered, disguised as before. A shout within. Enter_ JOHN. ALV. } Welcome, welcome, welcome! GUI., _&c._[308] } SOTO. More sacks to the mill. SAN. More thieves to the sacks. ALV. Peace! CONSTI. I give you now my welcome without noise. JOHN. ’Tis music to me. [_Offering to kiss_ CONST. ALV. } O Sir! GUI., _&c._ } SAN. You must not be in your mutton[309] before we are out of our veal. SOTO. Stay for vinegar to your oysters; no opening till then. GUI. No kissing till you’re sworn. JOHN. Swear me then quickly, I have brought gold for my admission. ALV. What you bring leave, and what you leave count lost. SAN. I brought all my teeth, two are struck out; them I count lost, so must you. SOTO. I brought all my wits; half I count lost, so must you. JOHN. To be as you are, I lose father, friends, Birth, fortunes, all the world: what will you do With the beast I rode on hither?

SAN. A beast? is’t a mule? send him to Muly Crag a whee[310] in Barbary. SOTO. Is’t an ass? give it to a lawyer, for in Spain they ride upon none else. JOHN. Kill him by any means, lest, being pursu’d, The beast betray me. SOTO. He’s a beast betrays any man. SAN. Except a bailiff to be pumped. JOHN. Pray, bury the carcass and the furniture. SAN. Do, do; bury the ass’s household stuff, and in his skin sew any man that’s mad for a woman. ALV. Do so then, bury it: now to your oath. GUI. All things are ready. ALV. [_sings_[311]]

_Thy best[312] hand lay on this turf of grass, There thy heart lies, vow not to pass From us two years for sun nor snow, For hill nor dale, howe’er winds blow; Vow the hard earth to be thy bed, With her green cushions under thy head; Flower-banks or moss to be thy board, Water thy wine_—— SAN. [_sings_] _And drink like a lord._ _Chorus._ _Kings can have but coronations; We are as proud of gipsy-fashions: Dance, sing, and in a well-mix’d border Close this new brother of our order._ ALV. [_sings_] _What we get with us come share, You to get must vow to care; Nor strike gipsy, nor stand by When strangers strike, but fight or die; Our gipsy-wenches are not common, You must not kiss a fellow’s leman;[313] Nor to your own, for one you must, In songs send errands of base lust._ _Chorus._ _Dance, sing, and in a well-mix’d border Close this new brother of our order._ JOHN. [_sings_] _On this turf of grass I vow Your laws to keep, your laws allow._ ALL. A gipsy! a gipsy! a gipsy! GUI. [_sings_] _Now choose what maid has yet no mate, She’s yours._ JOHN. [_sings_] _Here then fix I my fate._ [_Takes_ CONSTANZA _by the hand, and offers to kiss her_. SAN. Again fall to before you ha' washed? SOTO. Your nose in the manger before the oats are measured, jade so hungry? ALV. [_sings_] _Set foot to foot; those garlands hold; Now mark[314]_ [_well_] _what more is told. By cross arms, the lover’s sign, Vow, as these flowers themselves entwine, Of April’s wealth building a throne Round, so your love to one or none; By those touches of your feet, You must each night embracing meet, Chaste, howe’er disjoin’d by day; You the sun with her must play, She to you the marigold, To none but you her leaves unfold; Wake she or sleep, your eyes so charm, Want, woe, nor weather do her harm._ CAR.[315] [_sings_] _This is your market now of kisses, Buy and sell free each other blisses._ JOHN. Most willingly. _Chorus._ _Holydays, high days, gipsy fairs, When kisses are fairings, and hearts meet in pairs._ ALV. All ceremonies end here: welcome, brother gipsy! SAN. And the better to instruct thee, mark what a brave life ’tis all the year long. [_Sings._ _Brave don, cast your eyes On our gipsy fashions: In our antic hey-de-guize[316] We go beyond all nations; Plump Dutch At us grutch, So do English, so do French, He that lopes[317] On the ropes, Shew me such another wench._[318] _We no camels have to shew, Nor elephant with growt_[319] _head; We can dance, he cannot go, Because the beast is corn-fed;_[320] _No blind bears Shedding tears, For a collier’s whipping; Apes nor dogs, Quick as frogs, Over cudgels skipping,_

_Jack[s]-in-boxes,_[321] _nor decoys, Puppets, nor such poor things, Nor are we those roaring boys That cozen fools with gilt rings;_[322] _For an ocean, Not[323] such a motion As the city Nineveh;[324] Dancing, singing, And fine ringing, You these sports shall hear and see._

Come now, what shall his name be? CONSTI. His name shall now be Andrew.—Friend Andrew, mark me: Two years I am to try you; prove fine gold, The uncrack’d diamond of my faith shall hold. JOHN. My vows are rocks of adamant. CONSTI. Two years you are to try me: black[325] when I turn May I meet youth and want, old age and scorn! JOHN. Kings' diadems shall not buy thee. CAR.[326] Do you think You can endure the life, and love it? JOHN. As usurers doat upon their treasure. SOTO. But when your face shall be tann’d Like a sailor’s worky-day hand—— SAN. When your feet shall be gall’d, And your noddle be mall’d[327]—— SOTO. When the woods you must forage, And not meet with poor pease-porridge—— SAN. Be all to-be-dabbled,[328] yet lie in no sheet—— SOTO. With winter’s frost, hail, snow, and sleet; What life will you say it is then? JOHN. As now, the sweetest. DIEGO. [_within_] Away! away! the corregidor has sent for you. SAN. [_sings_] _Hence merrily fine to get money! Dry are the fields, the banks are sunny, Silver is sweeter far than honey; Fly like swallows, We for our conies must get mallows; Who loves not his dill,[329] let him die at the gallows. Hence, bonny girls, foot it trimly, Smug up your beetle-brows, none look grimly; To shew a pretty foot, O ’tis seemly!_ [_Exeunt all except_ SOTO: _as he is going out_,

_Enter_ CARDOCHIA, _who stays him_.

CARD. Do you hear, you gipsy? gipsy! SOTO. Me? CARD. There’s a young gipsy newly entertain’d; Sweet gipsy, call him back for one two words, And here’s a jewel for thee. SOTO. I'll send him. CARD. What’s his name? SOTO. Andrew. [_Exit._ CARD. A very handsome fellow; I ha' seen courtiers Jet[330] up and down in their full bravery,[331] Yet here’s a gipsy worth a drove of ’em.

_Re-enter_ JOHN.

JOHN. With me, sweetheart? CARD. Your name is Andrew? JOHN. Yes. CARD. You can tell fortunes, Andrew? JOHN. I could once, But now I ha' lost that knowledge; I'm in haste, And cannot stay to tell you yours. CARD. I cannot tell yours then; And ’cause you’re in haste, I'm quick; I am a maid—— JOHN. So, so, a maid quick? CARD. Juanna Cardochia, That’s mine own name; I am my mother’s heir Here to this house, and two more. JOHN. I buy no lands. CARD. They shall be given you, with some plate and money, And free possession during life of me, So the match like[332] you; for so well I love you, That I, in pity of this trade of gipsying, Being base, idle, and slavish, offer you A state to settle you, my youth and beauty, Desir’d by some brave Spaniards, so I may call you My husband: shall I, Andrew? JOHN. ’Las, pretty soul, Better stars guide you! may that hand of Cupid Ache, ever shot this arrow at your heart! Sticks there one such indeed? CARD. I would there did not, Since you’ll not pluck it out. JOHN. Good sweet, I cannot; For marriage, ’tis a law amongst us gipsies We match in our own tribes; for me to wear you, I should but wear you out. CARD. I do not care; Wear what you can out, all my life, my wealth, Ruin me, so you lend me but your love, A little of your love! JOHN. Would I could give it, For you are worth a world of better men, For your free noble mind! all my best wishes Stay with you; I must hence. CARD. Wear for my sake This jewel. JOHN. I'll not rob you, I'll take nothing. CARD. Wear it about your neck but one poor moon; If in that time your eye be as ’tis now, Send my jewel home again, and I protest I'll never more think on you; deny not this, Put it about your neck. JOHN. Well then,’tis done. [_Putting on jewel._ CARD. And vow to keep it there. JOHN. By all the goodness I wish attend your fortunes, I do vow it! [_Exit._ CARD. Scorn’d! thou hast temper’d poison to kill me Thyself shall drink; since I cannot enjoy thee, My revenge shall.

_Enter_ DIEGO.

DIEGO. Where are the gipsies? CARD. Gone. Diego, do you love me? DIEGO. Love thee, Juanna? Is my life mine? it is but mine so long As it shall do thee service. CARD. There’s a young[333] gipsy newly entertain’d. DIEGO. A handsome rascal; what of him? CARD. That slave in obscene language courted me, Drew reals[334] out, and would have bought my body, Diego, from thee. DIEGO. Is he so itchy? I'll cure him. CARD. Thou shalt not touch the villain, I'll spin his fate; Woman strikes sure, fall the blow ne’er so late. DIEGO. Strike on, since[335] thou wilt be a striker.[336] [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A room in_ FERNANDO’S _house_.

_Enter_ FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, PEDRO, _and_ LOUIS.

FER. See, Don Louis; an arm,[337] The strongest arm in Spain, to the full length Is stretch’d to pluck old count Alvarez home From his sad banishment. LOUIS. With longing eyes, My lord, I expect the man: your lordship’s pardon, Some business calls me from you. FER. Prithee, Don Louis, Unless th' occasion be too violent, Stay and be merry with us; all the gipsies Will be here presently. LOUIS. I'll attend your lordship Before their sports be done. FER. Be your own carver. [_Exit_ LOUIS. [_To_ FRAN.] Not yet shake off these fetters? I see a son Is heavy when a father carries him On his old heart. FRAN. Could I set up my rest That he were lost, or taken prisoner, I could hold truce with sorrow; but to have him Vanish I know not how, gone none knows whither, ’Tis that mads me. PED. You said he sent a letter. FRAN. A letter? a mere riddle; he’s gone to see[k] His fortune in the wars; what wars have we? Suppose we had, goes any man to th' field Naked, unfurnish’d both [of] arms and money? FER. Come, come, he’s gone a-wenching; we in our youth Ran the self-same bias.

_Enter_ DIEGO.

DIEGO. The gipsies, my lord, are come. FER. Are they? let them enter. [_Exit_ DIEGO. My lord De Cortes, send for your wife and daughter; Good company is good physic: take the pains To seat yourselves in my great chamber. See, They[338] are here.— [_Exeunt._ FRANCISCO _and_ PEDRO.

_Enter_ ALVAREZ, GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, JOHN, RODERIGO, ANTONIO, CARLO, SANCHO, _and_ SOTO, _disguised as before_.

What’s your number? SAN. The figure of nine casts us all up, my lord. FER. Nine? let me see—you are ten, sure. SOTO. That’s our poet, he stands for a cipher. FER. Ciphers make numbers:—what plays have you? ALV. Five or six, my lord. FER. It’s well so many already. SOTO. We are promised a very merry tragedy, if all hit right, of Cobby Nobby. FER. So, so; a merry tragedy! there is a way Which the Italians and the Frenchmen use, That is, on a word given, or some slight plot, The actors will extempore fashion out Scenes neat and witty. ALV. We can do that, my lord; Please you bestow the subject. FER. Can you?—Come hither, You master poet: to save you a labour, Look you, against your coming I projected This comic passage [_producing a paper_]; your drama, that’s the scene—— ROD. Ay, ay, my lord. FER. I lay in our own country, Spain. ROD. ’Tis best so. FER. Here’s a brave part for this old gipsy; look you, The father: read the plot; this young she-gipsy, This lady: now the son, play him yourself. ROD. My lord, I am no player. FER. Pray, at this time, The plot being full, to please my noble friends, Because your brains must into theirs put language, Act thou the son’s part; I'll reward your pains. ROD. Protest, my lord—— FER. Nay, nay, shake off protesting; When I was young, sir, I have play’d myself. SAN. Yourself, my lord? you were but a poor company then. FER. Yes, full enough, honest fellow.—Will you do it? ROD. I'll venture. FER. I thank you: let this father be a don Of a brave spirit.—Old gipsy, observe me—— ALV. Yes, my lord. FER. Play him up high; not like a pantaloon,[339] But hotly, nobly, checking this his son, Whom make a very rake-hell, a debosh’d fellow.— This point, I think, will shew well. ROD. This of the picture? It will indeed, my lord. SAN. My lord, what part play I? FER. What parts dost use to play? SAN. If your lordship has ever a coxcomb, I think I could fit you. FER. I thank your coxcombship. SOTO. Put a coxcomb upon a lord! FER. There are parts to serve you all; go, go, make ready, And call for what you want. [_Exit._ ALV. Give me the plot; our wits are put to trial. What’s the son’s name? Lorenzo: that’s your part, [_To_ RODERIGO. Look only you to that; these I'll dispose: Old Don Avero, mine; Hialdo, Lollio, Two servants,—you for them. [_To_ SANCHO _and_ SOTO. SAN. One of the foolish knaves give me; I'll be Hialdo. SOTO. And I, Lollio. SAN. Is there a banquet in the play? we may call for what we will. ROD. Yes, here is a banquet. SAN. I'll go, then, and bespeak an ocean of sweet-meats, marmalade, and custards. ALV. Make haste to know what you must do. SAN. Do? call for enough; and when my belly is full, fill my pockets. SOTO. To a banquet there must be wine; fortune’s a scurvy whore, if she makes not my head sound like a rattle, and my heels dance the canaries.[340] ALV. So, so; despatch, whilst we employ our brains To set things off to th' life. ROD. I'll be straight with you.— [_Exeunt all except_ RODERIGO. Why does my father put this trick on me? Spies he me through my vizard? if he does, He’s not the king of Spain, and ’tis no treason; If his invention jet[341] upon a stage, Why should not I use action? A debosh’d fellow! A very rake-hell! this reflects on me, And I'll retort it: grown a poet, father? No matter in what strain your play must run, But I shall fit you for a roaring son. [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_A large apartment in_ FERNANDO’S _house_.

_Enter_ FERNANDO, FRANCISCO, PEDRO, DIEGO, MARIA, CLARA, _and Servants_.

FER. Come, ladies, take your places. [_Flourish within._] This their music? ’Tis very handsome: O, I wish this room Were freighted but with [pleasures[342]], noble friends, As are to you my welcomes!—Begin there, masters. SAN. [_within_] Presently, my lord; we want but a cold capon for a property.[343] FER. Call, call for one.

_Enter_ SANCHO _as Prologue_.

Now they begin. SAN. _Both short and sweet some say is best; We will not only be sweet, but short: Take you pepper in the nose,[344] you mar our sport._ FER. By no means pepper. SAN. _Of your love measure us forth but one span; We do, though not the best, the best we can._ [_Exit._ FER. A good honest gipsy!

_Enter_ ALVAREZ (_as_ AVERO), _and_ SOTO (_as_ LOLLIO).

ALV. _Slave, where’s my son Lorenzo?_ SOTO. _I have sought him, my lord, in all four elements: in earth, my shoes are full of gravel; in water, I drop at nose with sweating; in air, wheresoever I heard noise of fiddlers, or the wide mouths of gallon-pots roaring; and in fire, what chimney soever I saw smoking with good cheer, for my master’s dinner, as I was in hope._ ALV. _Not yet come home? before on this old tree Shall grow a branch so blasted, I'll hew it off, And bury it at my foot! Didst thou inquire At my brother’s?_ SOTO. _At your sister’s._ ALV. _At my wife’s father’s?_ SOTO. _At your uncle’s mother’s: no such sheep has broke through their hedge; no such calf as your son sucks or bleats in their ground._

ALV. _I am unbless’d to have but one son only, One staff to bear my age up, one taper left To light me to my grave, and that burns dimly; That leaves me darkling hid in clouds of woe: He that should prop me is mine overthrow._ FER. Well done, old fellow! is’t not? FRAN. } _Yes, yes, my lord._ PED., _&c._ } SOTO. _Here comes his man Hialdo._

_Enter_ SANCHO (_as_ HIALDO).