Love's Cure

or The Martial Maid

by Francis Beaumont, John Fletcher, and Philip Massinger

Dramatis Personae

• Alguazier
• Alvarez
• Anastro
• Assistante
• Bobadilla
• Clara
• Eugenia
• Genevora
• Herald
• Lamoral
• Lazarillo
• Lucio
• Malroda
• Mendoza
• Metaldi
• Pachieco
• Pioratto
• Sayavedra
• Vitelli

Act 1

Scene 1

Actus Primus Scaena Prima.

Enter Vitelli, Lamoral, Anastro.

Vitelli:¶ALvarez pardoned?

Anastro:¶And returned.

Lamoral:¶I saw him land At St. Lucar’s, and such a general welcome Fame, as harbinger to his brave actions, Had with the easy people, prepared for him, As if by his command alone, and fortune Holland with those low Provinces, that hold out Against the Archduke, were again compelled With their obedience to give up their lives To be at his devotion.

Vitelli:¶You amaze me, For though I have heard, that when he fled from Seville To save his life (then forfeited to Law For murdering Don Pedro my dear Uncle) His extreme wants enforced him to take pay In th’ Army sat down then before Ostend, ’Twas never yet reported, by whose favor He durst presume to entertain a thought Of coming home with pardon.

Anastro:¶’Tis our nature Or not to hear, or not to give belief To what we wish far from our enemies.

Lamoral:¶Sir ’tis most certain the Infanta’s letters Assisted by the Archduke’s, to King Philip Have not alone secured him from the rigor Of our Castilian Justice, but returned him A free man, and in grace.

Vitelli:¶By what cursed means Could such a fugitive arise unto The knowledge of their highnesses? much more (Though known) to stand but in the least degree Of favor with them?

Lamoral:¶To give satisfaction To your demand, though to praise him I hate, Can yield me small contentment, I will tell you, And truly, since should I detract his worth, ’Twould argue want of merit in myself. Briefly, to pass his tedious pilgrimage For sixteen years, a banished guilty-man, And to forget the storms, th’ affrights, the horrors His constancy, not fortune overcame, I bring him, with his little son, grown man (Though ’twas said here he took a daughter with him) To Ostend’s bloody siege that stage of war Wherein the flower of many Nations acted, And the whole Christian world spectators were; There by his son, or were he by adoption Or nature his, a brave Scene was presented, Which I make choice to speak of, since from that The good success of Alvarez, had beginning,

Vitelli:¶So I love virtue in an enemy That I desire in the relation of This young man’s glorious deed, you’d keep yourself A friend to truth, and it.

Lamoral:¶Such was my purpose; The Town being oft assaulted, but in vain, To dare the proud defendants to a sally, Weary of ease, Don Inigo Peralta Son to the General of our Castile forces All armed, advanced within shot of their walls, From whence the muskateers played thick upon him, Yet he (brave youth) as careless of the danger, As careful of his honor, drew his sword, And waving it about his head, as if He dared one spirited like himself, to trial Of single valor, he made his retreat With such a slow, and yet majestic pace, As if he still called loud, dare none come on? When suddenly from a postern of the town Two gallant horsemen issued, and o’ertook him, The army looking on, yet not a man That durst relieve the rash adventurer, Which Lucio, son to Alvarez then seeing, As in the vanguard he sat bravely mounted, Or were it pity of the youth’s misfortune, Care to preserve the honor of his Country, Or bold desire to get himself a name, He made his brave horse, like a whirlwind bear him, Among the Combatants: and in a moment Discharged his Petronel, with such sure aim That of the adverse party from his horse, One tumbled dead, then wheeling round, and drawing A falchion swift as lightning, he came on Upon the other, and with one strong blow In view of the amazed Town, and Camp He strake him dead, and brought Peralta off With double honor to himself.

Vitelli:¶’Twas brave: But the success of this?

Lamoral:¶The Camp received him With acclamations of joy and welcome, And for addition to the fair reward Being a massy chain of gold given to him By young Peralta’s Father, he was brought To the Infanta’s presence kissed her hand, And from that Lady, (greater in her goodness Than her high birth) had this encouragement Go on young man; yet not to feed thy valor With hope of recompense to come, from me, For present satisfaction of what’s past, Ask any thing that’s fit for me to give, And thee to take, and be assured of it.

Anastro:¶Excellent princess.

Vitelli:¶And styled worthily The heart blood, nay the soul of Soldiers. But what was his request?

Lamoral:¶That the repeal Of Alvarez, makes plain: he humbly begged His Father’s pardon, and so movingly Told the sad story of your uncle’s death That the Infanta wept, and instantly Granting his suit, working the Archduke to it, Their Letters were directed to the King, With whom they so prevailed, that Alvarez Was freely pardoned.

Vitelli:¶’Tis not in the King To make that good.

Anastro:¶Not in the King? what subject Dares contradict his power?

Vitelli:¶In this I dare, And will: and not call his prerogative In question, nor presume to limit it. I know he is the Master of his Laws, And may forgive the forfeits made to them, But not the injury done to my honor; And since (forgetting my brave Uncle’s merits And many services, under Duke D’ Alva) He suffers him to fall, wresting from Justice The powerful sword, that would revenge his death, I’ll fill with this Astrea’s empty hand, And in my just wreak, make this arm the King’s, My deadly hate to Alvarez, and his house, Which as I grew in years, hath still increased, As if it called on time to make me man, Slept while it had no object for her fury But a weak woman, and her talked of Daughter: But now, since there are quarries, worth her sight Both in the father, and his hopeful son, I’ll boldly cast her off, and gorge her full With both their hearts: to further which your friendship , And oaths will your assistance, let your deeds Make answer to me; useless are all words Till you have writ performance with your Swords.

Exeunt.

Scene 2

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Bobadilla, and Lucio

Lucio:¶Go fetch my work: this ruff was not well starched, So tell the maid, ’t has too much blue in it, And look you that the Partridge and the Pullen Have clean meat, and fresh water, or my Mother Is like to hear on ’t.

Bobadilla:¶O good Sir Jaques help me: was there ever such an Hermaphrodite heard of? would any wench living, that should hear and see what I do, be wrought to believe, that the best of a man lies under this Petticoat, and that a Codpiece were far fitter here, than a pinned-Placket?

Lucio:¶You had best talk filthily: do; I have a tongue To tell my Mother, as well as ears to hear Your ribaldry.

Bobadilla:¶May you have ten women’s tongues that way I am sure: why my young Master or Mistress, Madam, Don or what you will, what the devil have you to do with Pullen, or Partridge? or to sit pricking on a clout all day? you have a better needle, I know, and might make better work, if you had grace to use it.

Lucio:¶Why, how dare you speak this before me, sirrah?

Bobadilla:¶Nay rather, why dare not you do what I speak? — though my Lady your mother, for fear of Vitelli and his faction, hath brought you up like her daughter, and has kept you this 20 year, which is ever since you were born, a close prisoner within doors, yet since you are a man, and are as well provided as other men are, methinks you should have the same motions of the flesh, as other Cavaliers of us are inclined unto.

Lucio:¶Indeed you have cause to love those wanton motions , They having hope you to an excellent whipping, For doing something, I but put you in mind of it, With the Indian maid, the governor sent my mother From Mexico.

Bobadilla:¶Why, I but taught her a Spanish trick in charity, and holp the King to a subject that may live to take grave Maurice prisoner, and that was more good to the State, than a thousand such as you are ever like to do: and I will tell you, (in a fatherly care of the Infant I speak it) if he live (as bless the babe, in passion I remember him) to your years, shall he spend his time in pinning, painting, purling, and perfuming as you do? no, he shall to the wars, use his Spanish Pike, though with the danger of the lash, as his father has done, and when he is provoked, as I am now, draw his Toledo desperately, as —

Lucio:¶You will not Kill me? oh.

Bobadilla:¶I knew this would silence him: how he hides his eyes? If he were a wench now, as he seems, what an advantage Had I, drawing two Toledos, when one can do this? But oh me, my Lady: I must put up: young Master I did but jest. O custom, what hast thou made of him?

Enter Eugenia, and Servants.

Eugenia:¶For bringing this, be still my friend; no more A servant to me.

Bobadilla:¶What’s the matter?

Eugenia:¶Here, Even here where I am happy to receive Assurance of my Alvarez’ return, I will kneel down: and may those holy thoughts That now possess me wholly, make this place a Temple to me, where I may give thanks For this unhoped for blessing Heaven’s Kind hand Hath poured upon me.

Lucio:¶Let my duty Madam Presume, if you have cause of joy, to entreat I may share in it.

Bobadilla:¶’Tis well, he has forgot how I frighted him yet.

Eugenia:¶Thou shalt: but first kneel with me Lucio, No more Posthumina now, thou hast a Father, A Father living to take off that name, Which my too credulous fears, that he was dead, Bestowed upon thee: thou shalt see him Lucio, And make him young again, by seeing thee, Who only hadst a being in my Womb When he went from me, Lucio: O my joys, So far transport me, that I must forget The ornaments of Matrons, modesty, And grave behavior; but let all forgive me If in th’ expression of my soul’s best comfort Though old, I do a while forget mine age, And play the wanton in the entertainment Of those delights I have so long despaired of.

Lucio:¶Shall I then see my Father?

Eugenia:¶This hour Lucio; Which reckon the beginning of thy life I mean that life, in which thou shalt appear To be such as I brought thee forth: a man, This womanish disguise, in which I have So long concealed thee, thou shalt now cast off, And change those qualities thou didst learn from me, For masculine virtues, for which seek no tutor, But let thy father’s actions be thy precepts; And for thee Zancho, now expect reward For thy true service.

Bobadilla:¶Shall I? you hear fellow Stephano, learn to know me more respectively; how dost thou think I shall become the Steward’s chair ha? will not these slender haunches show well with a chain, and a gold night-Cap after supper when I take the accompts?

Eugenia:¶Haste, and take down those blacks, with which my chamber Hath like the widow, her sad Mistress, mourned, And hang up for it, the rich Persian arras, Used on my wedding night: for this to me Shall be a second marriage: send for Music, And will the cooks to use their best of cunning To please the palate.

Bobadilla:¶Will your Ladyship have a Potato-pie, ’tis a good stirring dish for an old Lady, after a long Lent.

Eugenia:¶Be gone I say: why sir, you can go faster?

Bobadilla:¶I could Madam: but I am now to practice the Steward’s pace, that’s the reward I look for: every man must fashion his gate, according to his calling: you fellow Stephano, may walk faster, to overtake preferment: so, usher me.

Lucio:¶Pray Madam, let the waistcoat I last wrought Be made up for my Father: I will have A cap and boothose suitable to it.

Eugenia:¶Of that. We’ll think hereafter Lucio: our thoughts now Must have no object, but thy Father’s welcome, To which thy help —

Lucio:¶With humble gladness Madam.

Exeunt

Scene 3

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Alvarez, Clara.

Alvarez:¶Where lost we Syavedra?

Clara:¶He was met Entering the City by some Gentlemen Kinsmen, as he said of his own, with whom For compliment sake (for so I think he termed it) He was compelled to stay: though I much wonder A man that knows to do, and has done well In the head of his troop, when the bold foe charged home, Can learn so suddenly to abuse his time In apish entertainment: for my part (By all the glorious rewards of war) I had rather meet ten enemies in the field All sworn to fetch my head, than be brought on To change an hour’s discourse with one of these Smooth City fools, or tissue Cavaliers, Then only Gallants, as they wisely think, To get a Jewel, or a wanton Kiss From a Court-lip, though painted.

Alvarez:¶My Love Clara (For Lucio is a name thou must forget With Lucio’s bold behavior) though thy breeding I’ the camp may plead something in the excuse Of thy rough manners, custom having changed, Though not thy Sex, the softness of thy nature, And fortune (then a cruel stepdame to thee) Imposed upon thy tender sweetness, burdens Of hunger, cold, wounds, want, such as would crack The sinews of a man, not born a Soldier: Yet now she smiles, and like a natural mother Looks gently on thee, Clara, entertain Her proffered bounties with a willing bosom; Thou shalt no more have need to use thy sword; Thy beauty (which even Belgia hath not altered) Shall be a stronger guard, to keep my Clara, Then that has been, (though never used but nobly) And know thus much.

Clara:¶Sir, I know only that It stands not with my duty to gainsay you, In any thing: I must, and will put on What fashion you think best: though I could wish I were what I appear.

Alvarez:¶Endeavor rather. [Music.] To be what you are, Clara, entering here As you were born, a woman.

Enter Eugenia, Lucio, Servants.

Eugenia:¶Let choice Music In the best voice that e’er touched human ear, For joy hath tied my tongue up, speak your welcome.

Alvarez:¶My soul, (for thou giv’st new life to my spirit) Myriads of joys, though short in number of Thy virtues, fall on thee; Oh my Eugenia, Th’ assurance, that I do embrace thee, makes My twenty years of sorrow but a dream, And by the Nectar, which I take from these, I feel my age restored, and like old AEson Grow young again.

Eugenia:¶My Lord, long wished for welcome, ’Tis a sweet briefness, yet in that short word All pleasures which I may call mine, begin, And may they long increase, before they find A second period: let mine eyes now surfeit On this so wished for object, and my lips Yet modestly pay back the parting kiss You trusted with them, when you fled from Seville With little Clara my sweet daughter: lives she? Yet I could chide myself, having you here For being so covetous of all joys at once, T’ inquire for her, you being alone, to me My Clara, Lucio, my Lord, myself; Nay more than all the world.

Alvarez:¶As you, to me are.

Eugenia:¶Sit down, and let me feed upon the story Of your past dangers, now you are here in safety It will give relish, and fresh appetite To my delights, if such delights can cloy me. Yet do not Alvarez, let me first yield you Accompt of my life in your absence, and Make you acquainted how I have preserved The Jewel left locked up in my womb, When you, in being forced to leave your country , Suffered a civil death.

within Clashing swords.

Alvarez:¶Do my Eugenia, ’Tis that I most desire to hear,

Eugenia:¶Then know

Sayavedra within.

Alvarez:¶What voice is that? If you are noble Enemies, [Vitelli within.] Oppress me not with odds, but kill me fairly, Stand off, I am too many of myself.

Enter Bobadilla.

Bobadilla:¶Murder, murder murder, your friend my Lord, Don Syavedra is set upon in the Streets, by your enemies Vitelli, and his Faction: I am almost killed with looking on them.

Alvarez:¶I’ll free him, or fall with him: draw thy sword And follow me.

Clara:¶Fortune I give thee thanks For this occasion once more to use it.

Bobadilla:¶Nay, hold not me Madam; if I do any hurt, hang me.

Exit.

Lucio:¶Oh I am dead with fear! let’s fly into Your Closet, Mother.

Eugenia:¶No hour of my life Secure of danger? heaven be merciful, Or now at once dispatch me.

Enter Vitelli, pursued by Alvarez, and Sayavedra, Clara beating of Anastro.

Clara:¶Follow him Leave me to keep these off.

Alvarez:¶Assault my friend So near by house?

Vitelli:¶Nor in it will spare thee, Though ’twere a Temple: and I’ll make it one, I being the Priest, and thou the sacrifice, I’ll offer to my uncle.

Alvarez:¶Haste thou to him, And say I sent thee:

Clara:¶’Twas put bravely by, And that: and yet comes on, and boldly rare, In the wars, where emulation and example Join to increase the courage, and make less The danger; valor, and true resolution Never appeared so lovely: brave again: Sure he is more than man, and if he fall; The best of virtue, fortitude would die with him: And can I suffer it? forgive me duty, So I love valor, as I will protect it Against my Father, and redeem it, though ’Tis forfeited by one I hate.

Vitelli:¶Come on, All is not lost yet: You shall buy me dearer Before you have me: keep off.

Clara:¶Fear me not, Thy worth has took me Prisoner, and my sword For this time knows thee only for a friend, And to all else I turn the point of it.

Sayavedra:¶Defend your Father’s Enemy?

Alvarez:¶Art thou mad?

Clara:¶Are you men rather? shall that valor, which Begot you lawful honor in the wars, Prove now the parent of an infamous Bastard So foul, yet so long lived, as murder will Be to your shames? have each of you, alone With your own dangers only, purchased glory From multitudes of Enemies, not allowing Those nearest to you, to have part in it, And do you now join, and lend mutual help Against a single opposite? hath the mercy Of the great King, but newly washed away The blood, that with the forfeit of your life Cleaved to your name, and family like an ulcer, In this again to set a deeper dye Upon your infamy? you’ll say he is your foe, And by his rashness called on his own ruin; Remember yet, he was first wronged, and honor Spurred him to what he did, and next the place Where now he is, your house, which by the laws Of hospitable duty should protect him; Have you been twenty years a stranger to it, To make your entrance now in blood? or think you Your countryman, a true born Spaniard, will be An offering fit, to please the genius of it? No, in this i’ll presume to teach my Father, And this first Act of disobedience shall Confirm I am most dutiful.

Alvarez:¶I am pleased With what I dare not give allowance to; Unnatural wretch, what wilt thou do?

Clara:¶Set free A noble Enemy: come not on, by — You pass to him, through me: the way is open: Farewell: when next I meet you, do not look for A friend, but a vowed foe; I see you worthy, And therefore now preserve you, for the honor Of my sword only:

Vitelli:¶Were this man a friend, How would he win me, that being my vowed foe Deserves so well? I thank you for my life; But how I shall deserve it, give me leave Hereafter to consider.

Exit.

Alvarez:¶Quit thy fear, All danger is blown over: I have Letters To the Governor, in the King’s name, to secure us, From such attempts hereafter: yet we need not That have such strong guards of our own, dread others; And to increase thy comfort, know, this young man Whom with such fervent earnestness you eye, Is not what he appears, but such a one As thou with joy wilt bless, thy daughter Clara.

Eugenia:¶A thousand blessings in that word.

Alvarez:¶The reason Why I have bred her up thus, at more leisure I will impart unto you: wonder not At what you have seen her do, it being the least Of many great and valiant undertakings She hath made good with honor.

Eugenia:¶I’ll return The joy I have in her, with one as great To you my Alvarez: you, in a man Have given to me a daughter: in a woman, I give to you a Son: this was the pledge You left here with me, whom I have brought up Different from what he was, as you did Clara, And with the like success; as she appears Altered by custom, more than woman, he Transformed by his soft life, is less than man.

Alvarez:¶Fortune, in this gives ample satisfaction For all our sorrows past.

Lucio:¶My dearest Sister.

Clara:¶Kind brother.

Alvarez:¶Now our mutual care must be Employed to help wronged nature, to recover Her right in either of them, lost by custom: To you I give my Clara, and receive My Lucio to my charge: and we’ll contend With loving industry, who soonest can Turn this man woman or this woman, man.

Exeunt.

Act 2

Scene 1

Actus secundus. Scaena prima.

Enter Pachieco, and Lazarillo.

Pachieco:¶Boy: my Cloak, and Rapier; it fits not a Gentleman of my rank, to walk the streets in Querpo.

Lazarillo:¶Nay, you are a very rank Gentleman Signior, I am very hungry, they tell me in Seville here, I look like an Eel, with a man’s head: and your neighbor the Smith here hard by, would have borrowed me th’ other day, to have fished with me, because he had lost his angle-rod.

Pachieco:¶Oh happy thou Lazarillo (being the cause of other men’s wits) as in thine own: live lean, and witty still: oppress not thy stomach too much: gross feeders, great sleepers: great sleepers, fat bodies; fat bodies, lean brains: No Lazarillo, I will make thee immortal, change thy humanity into deity, for I will teach thee to live upon nothing.

Lazarillo:¶Faith Signior, I am immortal then already, or very near it, for I do live upon little or nothing: belike that’s the reason the Poets are said to be immortal, for some of them live upon their wits, which is indeed as good as little or nothing: But good Master, let me be mortal still, and let’s go to supper.

Pachieco:¶Be abstinent; show not the corruption of thy generation: he that feeds, shall die, therefore he that feeds not, shall live.

Lazarillo:¶Ay; but how long shall he live? there’s the question.

Pachieco:¶As long as he can without feeding: didst thou read of the miraculous maid in Flanders?

Lazarillo:¶No, nor of any maid else; for the miracle of virginity now adays ceases, ere the virgin can read virginity?

Pachieco:¶She that lived three year without any other sustenance than the smell of a Rose.

Lazarillo:¶I heard of her Signior; but they say her guts shrunk all into Lute-strings, and her nether-parts clinged together like a Serpent’s Tail, so that though she continued a woman still above the girdle, beneath yet she was monster.

Pachieco:¶So are most women, believe it.

Lazarillo:¶Nay all women Signior, that can live only upon the smell of a Rose.

Pachieco:¶No part of the History is fabulous.

Lazarillo:¶I think rather no part of the Fable is Historical: but for all this, sir, my rebellious stomach will not let me be immortal: I will be as immortal, as mortal hunger will suffer: put me to a certain stint sir, allow me but a red herring a day.

Pachieco:¶O de dios: wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies?

Lazarillo:¶He that eats nothing but a red herring a day, shall ne’er be broiled for the devil’s rasher: a Pilchard, Signior, a Sardine, an Olive, that I may be a philosopher first, and immortal after.

Pachieco:¶Patience Lazarillo; let contemplation be thy food a while: I say unto thee, one Pease was a Soldier’s provant a whole day, at the destruction of Jerusalem.

Enter Metaldi, and Mendoza.

Lazarillo:¶Ay; and it were anywhere, but at the destruction of a place i’ll be hanged.

Metaldi:¶Signior Pachieco Alasto, my most ingenious Cobbler of Seville, the bonos noxios to your Signiory.

Pachieco:¶Signior Metaldi de forgio, my most famous Smith, and man of mettle, I return your courtesy ten fold, and do humble my Bonnet beneath the Shoe-sole of your congee: the like to you Signior Mendoza Pediculo de vermim, my most exquisite Hose-heeler.

Lazarillo:¶Here’s a greeting betwixt a Cobbler, a Smith, and a Butcher: they all belong to the foot, which makes them stand so much upon their Gentry.

Mendoza:¶Signior Lazarillo.

Lazarillo:¶Ah Signior si: nay, we are all Signiors here in Spain, from the Jakes-farmer to the Grandee, or Adelantado: this butcher looks as if he were dough-baked a little butter now, and I could eat him like an oaten-Cake: his father’s diet was new Cheese and Onions when he got him: what a scallion-faced rascal ’tis?

Metaldi:¶But why Signior Pachieco, do you stand so much on the priority, and antiquity of your quality (as you call it) in comparison of ours?

Mendoza:¶Ay; your reason for that.

Pachieco:¶Why thou Iron-pated Smith: and thou woolen-witted Hose heeler: hear what I will speak indifferently (and according to Ancient writers) of our three professions: and let the upright Lazarillo be both judge, and moderator.

Lazarillo:¶Still am I the most immortally hungry, that may be.

Pachieco:¶Suppose thou wilt derive thy pedigree, like some of the old Heroes, (as Hercules, Aeneas, Achilles) lineally from the Gods, making Saturn thy great Grandfather, and Vulcan thy Father: Vulcan was a God.

Lazarillo:¶He’ll make Vulcan your Godfather by and by.

Pachieco:¶Yet I say Saturn was a crabbed blockhead, and Vulcan a limping horn-head, for Venus his wife was a strumpet, and Mars begat all her Children; therefore however, thy original must of necessity spring from Bastardy: further, what can be a more deject spirit in man, than to lay his hands under everyone’s horses’ feet, to do him service, as thou dost? For thee, I will be brief thou dost botch, and not mend, thou art a hider of enormities, viz. scabs, chilblains, and kibed heels: much prone thou art to Sects, and Heresies, disturbing state, and government; for how canst thou be a sound member in the Commonwealth, that art so subject to stitches in the ankles? blush, and be silent then, Oh ye Mechanic, compare no more with the politic Cobbler: For Cobblers (in old time) have prophesied, what may they do now then, that have every day waxed better, and better? have we not the length of every man’s foot? are we not daily menders? yea, and what menders? not horse-menders.

Lazarillo:¶Nor manners-menders.

Pachieco:¶But soul-menders: Oh divine Cobblers; do we not like the wise man spin our own threads, (or our wives for us?) do we not by our sewing the hide, reap the beef? are not we of the gentle craft, whilst both you are but craftsmen? You will say you fear neither Iron nor steel, and what you get is wrought out of the fire, I must answer you again, though all this is but forgery, You may likewise say, a man’s a man, that has but a hose on his head: I must likewise answer, that man is a butcher, that has a heeled-hose on his head: to conclude there can be no comparison with the Cobbler, who is all in all in the Commonwealth, has his politic eye and ends on every man’s steps that walks, and whose course shall be lasting to the world’s end.

Metaldi:¶I give place: the wit of man is wonderful: thou hast hit the nail on the head, and I will give thee six pots for ’t though I ne’er clinch shoe again.

Enter Vitelli and Alguazier.

Pachieco:¶Who’s this? Oh our Alguazier: as arrant a knave as E’er wore out head under two offices: he is one side Alguazier.

Metaldi:¶The other side Sergeant.

Mendoza:¶That’s both sides carrion I am sure.

Pachieco:¶This is he apprehends whores in the way of justice, and lodges ’em in his own house, in the way of profit: he with him, is the Grand-Don Vitelli, ’twixt whom and Fernando Alvarez the mortal hatred is: he is indeed my Don’s Bawd, and does at this present lodge a famous Courtesan of his, lately come from Madrill.

Vitelli:¶Let her want nothing Signior, she can ask: What loss, or injury you may sustain I will repair, and recompense your love: Only that fellows coming I mislike, And did forewarn her of him: bear her this With my best love, at night i’ll visit her.

Alguazier:¶I rest your Lordship’s Servant.

Vitelli:¶Good even, Signiors: Oh Alvarez, thou hast brought a Son with thee Both brightens, and obscures our Nation, Whose pure strong beams on us, shoot like the Sun’s On baser fires: I would to heaven my blood Had never stained thy bold unfortunate hand, That with mine honor I might emulate Not persecute such virtue: I will see him Though with the hazard of my life: no rest In my contentious spirits can I find Till I have gratified him in like kind.

Exit.

Alguazier:¶I know you not: what are ye? hence ye base Besegnoes.

Pachieco:¶Marry Cazzo Signior Alguazier, do ye not know us? why, we are your honest neighbors, the Cobbler, Smith, and Butcher, that have so often sat snoring cheek by jowl with your signiory in rug at midnight.

Lazarillo:¶Nay, good Signior, be not angry: you must understand, a Cat and such an Officer see best in the dark.

Metaldi:¶By this hand, I could find in my heart to shoe his head.

Pachieco:¶Why then know you Signior; thou mongrel begot at midnight, at the Goal gate, by a Beadle, on a Catchpole’s wife, are not you he that was whipped out, of Toledo for perjury.

Mendoza:¶Next, condemned to the Galleys for pilfery, to the bull’s pizzle.

Metaldi:¶And after called to the Inquisition, for Apostasy.

Pachieco:¶Are not you he that rather than you durst go an industrious voyage being pressed to the Islands, skulked till the fleet was gone, and then earned your royal a day by squiring punks, and punklings up and down the City?

Lazarillo:¶Are not you a Portugese born, descended o’ the Moors, and came hither into Seville with your Master, an errant Tailor, in your red Bonnet, and your Blue Jacket lousy: though now your blockhead be covered with the Spanish Block, and your lashed Shoulders with a Velvet Pee?

Pachieco:¶Are not you he, that have been of thirty callings, yet ne’er a one lawful? that being a Chandler first, professed sincerity, and would sell no man Mustard to his beef on the Sabbath, and yet sold Hypocrisy all your life time?

Metaldi:¶Are not you he, that were since a Surgeon to the Stews, and undertook to cure what the Church itself could not, strumpets that rise to your Office by being a great Don’s Bawd?

Lazarillo:¶That commit men nightly, offenseless, for the gain of a groat a Prisoner, which your Beadle seems to put up, when you share three pence?

Mendoza:¶Are not you he, that is a kisser of men, in drunkenness, and a bewrayer in sobriety?

Alguazier:¶Diabolo: they’ll rail me into the Galleys again.

Pachieco:¶Yes Signior, thou art even he we speak of all this while: thou mayst by thy place now, lay us by the heels: ’tis true: but take heed, be wiser, pluck not ruin on thine own head: for never was there such an Anatomy, as we shall make thee then: be wise therefore, Oh thou Child of the night! be friends and shake hands, thou art a proper man, if thy beard were redder: remember thy worshipful function, a Constable though thou turn’st day into night, and night into day, what of that? watch less, and pray more: gird thy bear’s skin (viz. thy Rug-gown) to thy loins, take thy staff in thy hand, and go forth at midnight: Let not thy mittens abate the talons of thy authority, but gripe theft and whoredom, wheresoever thou meet’st ’em: bear ’em away like a tempest, and lodge ’em safely in thine own house:

Lazarillo:¶Would you have whores and thieves lodged in such a house?

Pachieco:¶They ever do so: I have found a thief, or a whore there, when the whole Suburbs could not furnish me.

Lazarillo:¶But why do they lodge there?

Pachieco:¶That they may be safe, and forthcoming: for in the morning usually the thief is sent to the Goal, and the whore prostrates herself to the Justice.

Mendoza:¶Admirable Pachieco.

Metaldi:¶Thou Cobbler of Christendom.

Alguazier:¶There is no railing with these rogues: I will close with ’em, till I can cry quittance: why Signiors, and my honest neighbors, will you impute that as a neglect of my friends, which is an imperfection in me? I have been Sand-blind from my infancy: to make you amends, you shall sup with me.

Lazarillo:¶Shall we sup with ye sir? O’ my conscience, they have wronged the Gentleman extremely,

Alguazier:¶And after supper, I have a project to employ you in shall make you drink, and eat merrily this month: I am a little knavish: why and do not I know all you to be knaves?

Pachieco:¶I grant you, we are all knaves, and will be your knaves: But, oh, while you live, take heed of being a proud knave.

Alguazier:¶On then pass: I will bear out my staff, and my staff shall bear out me.

Lazarillo:¶Oh Lazarillo, thou art going to supper.

Exeunt.

Scene 2

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Lucio, and Bobadilla.

Lucio:¶Pray be not angry.

Bobadilla:¶I am angry, and I will be angry diablo : what should you do in the Kitchen, cannot the Cooks lick their fingers without your overseeing? nor the maids make pottage, except your dogshead be in the pot? Don Lucio, Don Quot-quean, Don Spinster, wear a Petticoat still, and put on your smock a’ monday: I will have a badie o’ clouts made for it, like a great girl: nay, if you will needs be starching of Ruffs, and sewing of black-work, I will of a mild, and loving Tutor, become a Tyrant, Your Father has committed you to my charge, and I will make a man, or a mouse on you.

Lucio:¶What would you have me do? this scurvy sword So galls my thigh: I would ’twere burnt: pish, look This cloak will ne’er keep on: these boots too hidebound, Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen, And my Spurs jingle, like a Morris-dancer: Lord, how my head aches, with this roguish hat; This masculine attire, is most uneasy, I am bound up in it: I had rather walk In folio, again, loose, like a woman.

Bobadilla:¶In Foolio, had you not? Thou mock to heaven, and nature, and thy Parents, Thou tender Leg of Lamb; Oh, how he walks As if he had bepissed himself, and fleers! Is this a gate for the young Cavalier, Don Lucio, Son and heir to Alvarez? Has it a corn? or does it walk on conscience, It treads so gingerly? Come on your ways, Suppose me now your Father’s foe, Vitelli, And spying you i’ th’ street, thus I advance, I twist my Beard, and then I draw my sword.

Lucio:¶Alas.

Bobadilla:¶And thus accost thee: traitorous brat, How durst thou thus confront me? impious twig Of that old stock, dewed with my kinsman’s gore, Draw, for i’ll quarter thee in pieces four.

Lucio:¶Nay, Prithee Bobadilla, leave thy fooling, Put up thy sword, I will not meddle with ye; Ay, justle me, I care not: I’ll not draw, Pray be a quiet man.

Bobadilla:¶Do ye hear: answer me, as you would do Don Vitelli, or i’ll be so bold as to lay the pommel of my sword over the hilts of your head, my name’s Vitelli, and i’ll have the wall.

Lucio:¶Why then i’ll have the kennel: what a coil you keep? Signior, what happened ’twixt my Sire and your Kinsman, was long before I saw the world, No fault of mine, nor will I justify My Father’s crimes: forget sir, and forgive, ’Tis Christianity: I pray put up your sword, I’ll give you any satisfaction That may become a Gentleman; however I hope you are bred to more humanity Than to revenge my Father’s wrong on me That crave your love, and peace: law you now Zancho Would not this quiet him, were he ten Vitellies.

Bobadilla:¶Oh craven-chicken of a Cock o’ th’ game: well, what remedy? did thy father see this, O’ my conscience, he would cut of thy Masculine gender, crop thine ears, beat out thine eyes, and set thee in one of the Peartrees for a scarecrow: As I am Vitelli, I am satisfied but as I am Bobadilla Spindola Zancho, Steward of the house, and thy father’s servant, I could find in my heart to lop off the hinder part of thy face, or to beat all thy teeth into thy mouth: Oh thou whey-blooded milksop, I’ll wait upon thee no longer, thou shalt even wait upon me: come your ways sir, I shall take a little pains with ye else.

Enter Clara.

Clara:¶Where art thou Brother Lucio? ran tan tan ta ran tan ran tan tan, ta ran tan tan tan. Oh, I shall no more see those golden days, these clothes will never fadge with me: a — O’ this filthy vardingale, this hip hap: brother why are women’s haunches only limited, confined, hooped in, as it were with these same scurvy vardingales?

Bobadilla:¶Because women’s haunches only are most subject to display and fly out.

Clara:¶Bobadilla, rogue, ten Ducats, I hit the prepuce of thy Codpiece.

Lucio:¶Hold, if you love my life, Sister: I am not Zancho Bobadilla, I am your brother Lucio: what a fright you have put me in?

Clara:¶Brother? and wherefore thus?

Lucio:¶Why, Master Steward here, Signior Zancho, made me change: he does nothing but misuse me, and call me Coward, and swears I shall wait upon him.

Bobadilla:¶Well: I do no more than I have authority for: would I were away though: for she’s as much too mannish, as he too womanish: I dare not meddle with her, yet I must set a good face on ’t (if I had it) I have like charge of you Madam, I am as well to mollify you, as to qualify him: what have you to do with Armors, and Pistols, and Javelins, and swords, and such tools? remember Mistress; nature hath given you a sheath only, to signify women are to put up men’s weapons, not to draw them: look you now, it this a fit trot for a Gentlewoman? You shall see the Court Ladies move like Goddesses, as if they trod air; they will swim you their measures, like whiting-mops as if their feet were fins, and the hinges of their knees oiled: do they love to ride great horses, as you do? no, they love to ride great asses sooner: faith, I know not what to say to ye both Custom hath turned nature topsy-turvy in you.

Clara:¶Nay but Master Steward.

Bobadilla:¶You cannot trot so fast, but he ambles as slowly.

Clara:¶Signior Spindle, will you hear me,

Bobadilla:¶He that shall come to bestride your virginity, had better be afoot o’er the Dragon.

Clara:¶Very well.

Bobadilla:¶Did ever Spanish Lady pace so?

Clara:¶Hold these a little.

Lucio:¶I’ll not touch ’em, I.

Clara:¶First do I break your Office o’er your pate, You Dog-skin-faced-rogue, pilcher, you poor John, Which I will be at to Stockfish.

Lucio:¶Sister.

Bobadilla:¶Madam.

Clara:¶You Cittern-head, who have you talked to, ha? You nasty, stinking, and ill-countenanced Cur.

Bobadilla:¶By this hand, I’ll bang your brother for this, when I get him alone.

Clara:¶How? kick him Lucio, he shall kick you Bob, Spite o’ the nose, that’s flat: kick him, I say, Or I will cut thy head off.

Bobadilla:¶Softly y’ had best.

Clara:¶Now, thou lean, dried, and ominous visaged knave, Thou false and peremptory Steward, pray, For I will hang thee up in thine own Chain.

Lucio:¶Good Sister, do not choke him.

Bobadilla:¶Murder, murder.

Exit.

Clara:¶Well: I shall meet with ye: Lucio, who bought this? ’Tis a reasonable good one; but there hangs one Spain’s Champion ne’er used truer: with this Staff Old Alvarez has led up men so close, They could almost spit in the Cannon’s mouth, Whilst I with that, and this, well mounted, scurred A Horse-troop through, and through, like swift desire; And seen poor rogues retire, all gore, and gashed Like bleeding Shads.

Lucio:¶’Bless us, Sister Clara, How desperately you talk: what do ye call This Gun a dag?

Clara:¶I’ll give ’t thee: a French petronel: You never saw my Barbary, the Infanta Bestowed upon me, as yet Lucio? Walk down, and see it

Lucio:¶What into the Stable? Not I, the Jades will kick: the poor Groom there Was almost spoiled the other day.

Clara:¶Fie on thee, Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy mother.

Lucio:¶When will you be a woman?

Enter Alvarez and Bobadilla.

Clara:¶Would I were none. But nature’s privy Seal assures me one.

Alvarez:¶Thou anger’st me: can strong habitual custom Work with such Magic on the mind, and manners In spite of sex and nature? find out sirrah, Some skilful fighter.

Bobadilla:¶Yes sir.

Alvarez:¶I will rectify, And redeem either’s proper inclination, Or bray ’em in a mortar, and new mold ’em.

Bobadilla:¶Believe your eyes sir; I tell you, we wash an Ethiope.

Exit.

Clara:¶I strike it for ten Ducats.

Alvarez:¶How now Clara, Your breeches on still? and your petticoat Not yet off Lucio? art thou not gelt? Or did the cold Muscovite beget thee, That lay here Lieger in the last great frost? Art not thou Clara, turned a man indeed Beneath the girdle? and a woman thou? I’ll have you searched by —, I strongly doubt; We must have these things mended: come go in.

Exit.

Enter Vitelli, and Bobadilla.

Bobadilla:¶With Lucio say you? there is for you.

Vitelli:¶And there is for thee.

Bobadilla:¶I thank you: you have now bought a little advice Of me; if you chance to have conference with that Lady there, be very civil, or look to your head: she has Ten nails, and you have but two eyes: If any foolish Hot motions should chance to rise in the horizon Under your equinoctial there, qualify it as well as You can, for I fear the elevation of your pole will Not agree with the Horoscope of her constitution: She is Bell the Dragon I assure you.

Exit.

Vitelli:¶Are you the Lucio, sir, that saved Vitelli?

Lucio:¶Not I indeed sir, I did never brabble; There walks that Lucio, metamorphosed.

Exit.

Vitelli:¶Do ye mock me?

Clara:¶No, he does not: I am that Suposed Lucio, that was but Clara, That is, and daughter unto Alvarez.

Vitelli:¶Amazement daunts me; would my life were riddles, So you were still my fair Expositor: Protected by a Lady from my death. Oh I shall wear an everlasting blush Upon my cheek from this discovery: On you the fairest Soldier, I e’er saw; Each of whose eyes, like a bright beamy shield Conquers, without blows, the contentious.

Clara:¶Sir, guard yourself, you are in your enemy’s house, And may be injured.

Vitelli:¶’Tis impossible: Foe, nor oppressing odds dares prove Vitelli, If Clara side him, and will call him friend; I would the difference of our bloods were such As might with any shift be wiped away: Or would to Heaven yourself were all your name; That having lost blood by you, I might hope To raise blood from you. But my black-winged fate Hovers aversely over that fond hope: And he, whose tongue thus gratifies the daughter, And sister of his enemy, wears a Sword To rip the father and the brother up. Thus you, that saved this wretched life of mine, Have saved it to the ruin of your friends. That my affections should promiscuously Dart love and hate at once, both worthily? Pray let me kiss your hand.

Clara:¶You are treacherous, And come to do me mischief.

Vitelli:¶Speak on still: Your words are falser (fair) than my intents, And each sweet accent far more treacherous; for Though you speak ill of me, you speak so well, I do desire to hear you.

Clara:¶Pray be gone: Or kill me, if you please.

Vitelli:¶Oh, neither can: For to be gone, were to destroy my life; And to kill you, were to destroy my soul: I am in love, yet must not be in love: I’ll get away apace: yet valiant Lady, Such gratitude to honor I do owe, And such obedience to your memory, That if you will bestow something, that I May wear about me, it shall bind all wrath, My most inveterate wrath, from all attempts, Till you and I meet next.

Clara:¶A favor fir? Why I will give ye good council.

Vitelli:¶That already You have bestowed. a Ribbon, or a Glove.

Clara:¶Nay those are tokens for a waiting maid To trim the Butler with.

Vitelli:¶Your feather.

Clara:¶Fie; the wenches give them to their Serving-men.

Vitelli:¶That little ring.

Clara:¶’Twill hold you but by th’ finger; And I would have you faster.

Vitelli:¶Any thing That I may wear, and but remember you.

Clara:¶This smile: my good opinion, or myself. But that it seems you like not.

Vitelli:¶Yes, so well: When any smiles, I will remember yours; Your good opinion shall in weight poise me Against a thousand ill: Lastly, yourself, My curious eye now figures in my heart, Where I will wear you, till the Table break. So, whitest Angels guard you.

Clara:¶Stay sir, I Have fitly thought to give, what you as fitly May not disdain to wear.

Vitelli:¶What’s that?

Clara:¶This Sword. I never heard a man speak till this hour. His words are golden chains, and now I fear The Lioness hath met a tamer here; Fie, how his tongue chimes: what was I saying? Oh: this favor I bequeath you, which I tie In a love-knot, fast, ne’er to hurt my friends; Yet be it fortunate ’gainst all your foes (For I have neither friend, nor foe, but yours) As ere it was to me: I have kept it long, And value it, next my Virginity: But good, return it, for I now remember I vowed, who purchased it, should have me too.

Vitelli:¶would that were possible: but alas it is not; Yet this assure yourself, most honored Clara, I’ll not infringe an Article of breath My vow hath offered to ye: nor from this part Whilst it hath edge, or point, or I a heart.

Exit.

Clara:¶Oh leave me living: what new exercise Is crept into my breast, that blancheth clean My former nature? I begin to find I am a woman, and must learn to fight A softer sweeter battle, than with Swords. I am sick methinks, but the disease I feel Pleaseth, and punisheth: I warrant love Is very like this, that folks talk of so; I skill not what it is, yet sure even here, Even in my heart, I sensibly perceive It glows, and riseth like a glimmering flame, But know not yet the essence on ’t nor name.

Exit.

Act 3

Scene 1

Actus tertius, Scaena prima.

Enter Malroda, and Alguazier.

Malroda:¶He must not? nor he shall not, who shall let him? You? politic Diego, with your face of wisdom; Don-blirt, the — on your aphorisms, Your grave, and sage Ale physiognomy: Do not I know thee for the Alquazier Whose dunghill all the Parish Scavengers Could never rid? thou Comedy to men, Whose serious folly is a butt for all To shoot their wits at; whilst thou hast not wit, Nor heart, to answer, or be angry.

Alguazier:¶Lady.

Malroda:¶Peace, peace, you rotten rogue, supported by A staff of rottener office: dare you check Any’s accesses, that I will allow? Pioratto is my friend, and visits me In lawful sort to espouse me as his wife; And who will cross, or shall our interviews? You know me sirrah, for no Chambermaid, That cast her belly, and her waistcoat lately; Thou thinkst thy Constableship is much: not so, I am ten offices to thee: Ay, thy house, Thy house, and Office is maintained by me.

Alguazier:¶My house of office is maintained i’ th’ garden: Go to, I know you, and I have contrived; Y’ are a delinquent, but I have contrived A poison, though not in the third degree: I can say, blacks your eye, though it be gray; I have connived at this. your friend, and you: But what is got by this connivency? I like his feather well: a proper man, Of good discourse, fine conversation, Valiant, and a great carrier of the business, Sweet breasted, as the Nightingale, or Thrush: Yet I must tell you; you forget yourself, My Lord Vitelli’s love, and maintenance Deserves no other Jack-in-the-box, but he: What though he gathered first the golden fruit, And blew your pigscoat up into a blister, When you did wait at Court upon his mother; Has he not well provided for the bairn? Beside, what profit reap I by the other? If you will have me serve your pleasure, Lady, Your pleasure must accommodate my service; As good be virtuous and poor, as not Thrive by my knavery: all the world would be Good, prospered goodness like to villainy. I am the King’s vicegerent by my place; His right Lieutenant in mine own precinct.

Malroda:¶Thou art a right rascal in all men’s precincts; Yet now my pair of twins, of fool, and knave, Look we are friends; there’s Gold for thee, admit Whom I will have, and keep it from my Don; And I will make thee richer than thou art wise: Thou shalt be my Bawd, and my Officer: Thy children shall eat still my good night Owl, And thy old wife sell Andirons to the Court, Be countenanced by the Dons, and wear a hood, Nay keep my garden-house; I’ll call her mother, Thee father, my good poisonous red-haired Dill, And Gold shall daily be thy Sacrifice, Wrought from a fertile Island of mine own, Which I will offer, like an Indian Queen.

Alguazier:¶And I will be thy devil, thou my flesh, With which I’ll catch the world.

Malroda:¶Fill some Tobacco, And bring it in: if Pioratto come Before my Don, admit him; if my Don Before my Love, conduct him, my dear devil.

Exit.

Alguazier:¶I will my dear flesh: first come, first served. Well said. O equal Heaven, how wisely thou disposest Thy several gifts? one’s born a great rich fool, For the subordinate knave to work upon: Another’s poor, with wit’s addition, Which well or ill used, builds a living up; And that too from the Sire oft descends: Only fair virtue, by traduction Never succeeds, and seldom meets success; What have I then to do with ’t? My free will Left me by Heaven, makes me or good, or ill: Now since vice gets more in this vicious world Then piety, and my stars confluence Enforce my disposition to affect Gain, and the name of rich, let who will practice War, and grow that Way great: religious, And that way good: my chief felicity Is wealth the nurse of sensuality: And he that mainly labors to be rich, Must scratch great scabs, and claw a Strumpet’s itch.

Exit.

Scene 2

Scaena secunda.

Enter Pioratto, and Bobadilla, with Letters.

Pioratto:¶To say sir, I will wait upon your Lord, Were not to understand myself.

Bobadilla:¶To say sir You will do any thing but wait upon him, Were not to understand my Lord.

Pioratto:¶I’ll meet him Some half hour hence, and doubt not but to render His son a man again: the cure is easy, I have done divers.

Bobadilla:¶Women do ye mean, sir?

Pioratto:¶Cures I do mean sir: be there but one spark Of fire remaining in him unextinct, With my discourse I’ll blow it to a flame; And with my practice, into action: I have had one so full of childish fear, And womanish hearted sent to my advice, He durst not draw a Knife to cut his meat.

Bobadilla:¶And how sir, did you help him?

Pioratto:¶Sir, I kept him Seven days in a dark room by Candlelight, A plenteous Table spread with all good meats, Before his eyes, a case of keen broad Knives, Upon the board, and he so watched, he might not Touch the least modicum, unless he cut it: And thus I brought him first to draw a knife.

Bobadilla:¶Good.

Pioratto:¶Then for ten days did I diet him Only with burnt Pork sir, and gammons of Bacon; A pill of Caviary now and then, Which breeds choler adust you know.

Bobadilla:¶’Tis true.

Pioratto:¶And to purge phlegmatic humor, and cold crudities ; In all that time, he drank me Aqua fortis, And nothing else but —

Bobadilla:¶Aqua vite Signior, For Aqua fortis poisons.

Pioratto:¶Aqua fortis I say again: what’s one man’s poison Signior, Is another’s meat or drink.

Bobadilla:¶Your patience sir; By your good patience, he’d a huge cold stomach.

Pioratto:¶I fired it: and gave him then three sweats In the Artillery-yard three drilling days: And now he’ll shoot a Gun, and draw a Sword, And fight with any man in Christendom.

Bobadilla:¶A receipt for a coward: I’ll be bold sir To write your good prescription.

Pioratto:¶Sir, hereafter You shall, and underneath it put probatum: Is your chain right?

Bobadilla:¶’Tis both right and just sir; For though I am a Steward, I did get it With no man’s wrong.

Pioratto:¶You are witty.

Bobadilla:¶So, so. Could you not cure one sir, of being too rash And overdaring? there now’s my disease: Foolhardy as they say, for that in sooth I am.

Pioratto:¶Most easily.

Bobadilla:¶How?

Pioratto:¶To make you drunk sir, With small Beer once a day; and beat you twice, Till you be bruised all over: if that help not, Knock out your brains.

Bobadilla:¶This is strong Physic Signior, And never will agree with my weak body: I find the med’cine worse than the malady, And therefore will remain foolhardy still: You’ll come sir?

Pioratto:¶As I am a Gentleman.

Bobadilla:¶A man o’ th’ Sword should never break his word.

Pioratto:¶I’ll overtake you: I have only sir A complemental visitation To offer to a Mistress lodged here by.

Bobadilla:¶A Gentlewoman?

Pioratto:¶Yes sir.

Bobadilla:¶Fair, and comely?

Pioratto:¶Oh sir, the Paragon, the Non-pareil Of Seville, the most wealthy Mine of Spain, For beauty, and perfection.

Bobadilla:¶Say you so? Might not a man entreat a courtesy, To walk along with you Signior, to peruse This dainty Mine, though not to dig in ’t Signior? Ha — I hope you’ll not deny me, being a stranger; Though I am Steward, I am flesh and blood, And frail as other men.

Pioratto:¶Sir, blow your nose: I dare not for the world: no, she is kept By a great Don, Vitelli.

Bobadilla:¶How?

Pioratto:¶’Tis true.

Bobadilla:¶See, things will veer about: this Don Vitelli Am I to seek now, to deliver Letters From my young Mistress Clara; and I tell you, Under the Rose, because you are a stranger, And my special friend, I doubt there is A little foolish love betwixt the parties, Unknown unto my Lord.

Pioratto:¶Happy discovery: My fruit begins to ripen: hark you sir, I would not wish you now, to give those Letters: But home, and ope this to Madonna Clara, Which when I come I’ll justify, and relate More amply, and particularly.

Bobadilla:¶I approve Your counsel, and will practice it: beso las manos: Here’s two chores chored: when wisdom is employed ’Tis ever thus: your more acquaintance, Signior: I say not better, lest you think, I thought not Yours good enough.

Exit.

Enter Alguazier.

Pioratto:¶Your servant excellent Steward. Would all the Dons in Spain had no more brains, Here comes the Alguazier: dieu vous guard Monsieur. Is my coz stirring yet?

Alguazier:¶Your coz (good cousin?) A whore is like a fool, akin to all The gallants in the Town: Your coz, good Signior, Is gone abroad sir, with her other cousin, My Lord Vitelli: since when there hath been Some dozen cousins here to inquire for her.

Pioratto:¶She’s greatly allied sir.

Alguazier:¶Marry is she sir, Come of a lusty kindred: the truth is, I must connive no more: no more admittance Must I consent to; my good Lord has threatened me, And you must pardon.

Pioratto:¶Out upon thee man, Turn honest in thine age? one foot i’ th’ grave? Thou shalt not wrong thyself so, for a million: Look, thou three-headed Cerberus (for wit I mean) here is one sop, and two, and three, For every chop a hit.

Alguazier:¶Ay marry sir: Well, the poor heart loves you but too well. We have been talking on you ’faith this hour: Where, what I said, go to: she loves your valor; Oh and your Music most abominably: She is within sir, and alone: what mean you?

Pioratto:¶That is your Sergeant’s side, I take it sir; Now I endure your Constable’s much better; There is less danger in ’t: for one you know Is a tame harmless monster in the light, The Sergeant savage both by day, and night.

Alguazier:¶I’ll call her to you for that.

Pioratto:¶No, I will charm her.

Enter Malroda.

Alguazier:¶She’s come.

Pioratto:¶My Spirit.

Malroda:¶Oh my Sweet, Leap hearts to lips, and in our kisses meet.

Pioratto:¶Turn, turn thy beauteous face away, How pale and sickly looks the day, In emulation of thy brighter beams? Oh envious light, fly, fly, be gone, Come night, and piece two breasts as one; When what love does, we will repeat in dreams. Yet (thy eyes open) who can day hence fright, Let but their lids fall, and it will be night.

Alguazier:¶Well, I will leave you to your fortitude; And you to temperance: ah, ye pretty pair, ’twere sin to sunder you. Lovers being alone Make one of two, and day and night all one. But fall not out, I charge you, keep the peace; You know my place else.

Exit.

Malroda:¶No, you will not marry: You are a Courtier, and can sing (my Love) And want no Mistresses: but yet I care not, I’ll love you still; and when I am dead for you, Then you’ll believe my truth.

Pioratto:¶You kill me (fair) It is my lesson that you speak: have I In any circumstance deserved this doubt? I am not like your false and perjured Don That here maintains you, and has vowed his faith, And yet attempts in way of marriage A Lady not far off.

Malroda:¶How’s that?

Pioratto:¶’Tis so: And therefore Mistress, now the time is come You may demand his promise; and I swear To marry you with speed.

Malroda:¶And with that Gold Which Don Vitelli gives, you’ll walk some voyage And leave me to my trade; and laugh, and brag, How you o’erreached a whore, and gulled a Lord.

Pioratto:¶You anger me extremely: fare you well. What should I say to be believed? expose me To any hazard; or like jealous Juno (Th’ incensed stepmother of Hercules) Design me labors most impossible, I’ll do ’em, or die in ’em; so at last You will believe me.

Malroda:¶Come, we are friends: I do. I am thine, walk in: my Lord has sent me outsides, But thou shalt have ’em, the colors are too sad:

Pioratto:¶’Faith Mistress, I want clothes indeed.

Malroda:¶I have Some Gold too, for my servant.

Pioratto:¶And I have A better mettle for my Mistress.

Exeunt.

Scene 3

Scaena tertia.

Enter Vitelli and Alguazier, at several doors.

Alguazier:¶Undone — wit now or never help me: my Master He will cut my throat, I am a dead Constable; And he’ll not be hanged neither, there’s the grief: The party sir is here.

Vitelli:¶What?

Alguazier:¶He was here; I cry your Lordship mercy: but I rattled him; I told him here was no companions For such debauched, and poor-conditioned fellows; I bid him venture not so desperately The cropping of his ears, slitting his nose, Or being gelt.

Vitelli:¶’Twas well done.

Alguazier:¶Please your honor, I told him there were Stews, and then at last Swore three or four great oaths she was removed, Which I did think I might in conscience, Being for your Lordship.

Vitelli:¶What became of him?

Alguazier:¶Faith sir, he went away with a flea in ’s ear, Like a poor cur, clapping his trindle tail Betwixt his legs. — A chi ha, a chi ha, a chi ha — now luck.

Enter Malroda and Pioratto.

Malroda:¶’Tis he, do as I told thee: ’Bless thee Signior. Oh, my dear Lord.

Vitelli:¶Malroda, what alone?

Malroda:¶She never is alone, that is accompanied With noble thoughts, my Lord; and mine are such, Being only of your Lordship.

Vitelli:¶Pretty Lass.

Malroda:¶Oh my good Lord, my picture’s done: but ’faith It is not like; nay this way sir, the light Strikes best upon it here.

Pioratto:¶Excellent wench.

Exit.

Alguazier:¶I am glad the danger’s over.

Exit.

Vitelli:¶’Tis wondrous like, But that Art cannot counterfeit what Nature Could make but once.

Malroda:¶All’s clear; another tune You must hear from me now: Vitelli, thou ’rt A most perfidious and a perjured man, As ever did usurp Nobility.

Vitelli:¶What meanst thou Malroda ?

Malroda:¶Leave your betraying smiles, And change the tunes of your enticing tongues To penitential prayers; for I am great In labor even with anger, big with child Of woman’s rage, bigger than when my womb Was pregnant by thee: go seducer, fly Out of the world, let me the last wretch be Dishonored by thee: touch me not, I loathe My very heart, because thou layst there long; A woman’s well helped up, that’s confident In e’er a glittering outside on you all: Would I had honestly been matched to some Poor Country-swain, ere known the vanity Of Court: peace then had been my portion, Nor had been cozened by an hour’s pomp To be a whore unto my dying day.

Vitelli:¶Oh the uncomfortable ways such women have, Their different speech and meaning, no assurance In what they say or do: Dissemblers Even in their prayers, as if the weeping Greek That flattered Troy afire had been their Adam; Liars, as if their mother had been made Only of all the falsehood of the man, Disposed into that rib: Do I know this, And more: nay, all that can concern this Sex, With the true end of my creation? Can I with rational discourse sometimes Advance my spirit into Heaven, before ’T has shook hands with my body, and yet blindly Suffer my filthy flesh to master it, With sight of such fair frail beguiling objects? When I am absent, easily I resolve Ne’er more to entertain those strong desires That triumph o’er me, even to actual sin; Yet when I meet again those sorcerer’s eyes, Their beams my hardest resolutions thaw, As if that cakes of Ice and July met, And her sighs powerful as the violent North, Like a light feather twirl me round about And leave me in mine own low state again. What ail’st thou? prithee weep not: Oh, those tears If they were true, and rightly spent, would raise A flowery spring i’ th’ midst of January: Celestial Ministers with Crystal cups Would stoop to save ’em for immortal drink: But from this passion; why all this?

Malroda:¶Do ye ask? You are marrying: having made me unfit For any man, you leave me fit for all: Porters must be my burdens now, to live And fitting me yourself for Carts, and Beadles You leave me to ’em: And who of all the world But the virago, your great Arch-foe’s daughter? But on: I care not, this poor rush: ’twill breed An excellent comedy: ha, ha: ’t makes me laugh: I cannot choose: the best is, some report It is a match for fear, not love o’ your side.

Vitelli:¶Why how the devil knows she, that I saw This Lady? are all whores, pieced with some witch? I will be merry, ’faith ’tis true, sweet heart, I am to marry?

Malroda:¶Are you? you base Lord. By — i’ll Pistol thee.

Vitelli:¶A roaring whore? Take heed, there’s a correction house hard by: You ha’ learned this o’ your swordman, that I warned you of, Your fencers, and your drunkards: but whereas You upbraid me with oaths, why I must tell you I ne’er promised you marriage, nor have vowed, But said I loved you, long as you remained The woman I expected, or you swore, And how you have failed of that (sweet heart) you know. You fain would show your power, but fare you well, I’ll keep no more faith with an infidel.

Malroda:¶Nor I my bosom for a Turk: do ye hear? Go, and the devil take me, if ever I see you more: I was too true.

Vitelli:¶Come, pish: That devil take the falsest of us two.

Malroda:¶Amen.

Vitelli:¶You are an ill Clerk; and curse yourself: Madness transports you: I confess, I drew you Unto my will: but you must know that must not Make me dote on the habit of my sin. I will, to settle you to your content, Be master of my word: and yet he lied That told you I was marrying, but in thought: But will you slave me to your tyranny So cruelly I shall not dare to look Or speak to other women? make me not Your smock’s Monopoly: come, let’s be friends: Look, here’s a Jewel for thee: I will come At night, and —

Malroda:¶What i’ faith: you shall not sir.

Vitelli:¶’Faith, and troth, and verily, but I will

Malroda:¶Half drunk, to make a noise, and rail?

Vitelli:¶No, no, Sober, and dieted for the nonce: I am thine, I have won the day.

Malroda:¶The night (though) shall be mine.

Exeunt.

Scene 4

Scaena quarta.

Enter Clara, and Bobadilla with Letters.

Clara:¶What said he sirrah?

Bobadilla:¶Little, or nothing: faith I saw him not, Nor will not: he doth love a strumpet, Mistress, Nay, keeps her spitefully, under the Constable’s nose, It shall be justified by the Gentleman Your brother’s Master, that is now within A-practicing: there are your Letters: come You shall not cast yourself away, while I live, Nor will I venture my right worshipful place [Enter Eugenia and Sayavedra.] In such a business — here’s your Mother: down: And he that loves you: another ’gates fellow, I wish If you had any grace.

Clara:¶Well rogue.

Bobadilla:¶I’ll in, to see Don Lucio manage: he’ll make A pretty piece of flesh; I promise you, He does already handle his weapon finely.

Exit.

Eugenia:¶She knows your love sir, and the full allowance Her Father and myself approve it with, And I must tell you, I much hope it hath Wrought some impression, by her alteration; She sighs, and says forsooth, and cries heigh ho, She’ll take ill words o’ th’ Steward, and the Servants, Yet answer affably, and modestly: Things sir, not usual with her: there she is, Change some few words.

Sayavedra:¶Madam, I am bound to ye; How now, fair Mistress, working?

Clara:¶Yes forsooth, Learning to live another day.

Sayavedra:¶That needs not.

Clara:¶No forsooth: by my truly but it does, We know not what we may come to.

Eugenia:¶’Tis strange.

Sayavedra:¶Come, I ha’ begged leave for you to play.

Clara:¶Forsooth ’Tis ill for a fair Lady to be idle.

Sayavedra:¶She had better be well-busied , I know that. Turtle: methinks you mourn, shall I sit by you?

Clara:¶If you be weary sir, you had best be gone (I work not a true stitch) now you’re my mate.

Sayavedra:¶If I be so, I must do more than side you.

Clara:¶Even what you will, but tread me.

Sayavedra:¶Shall we bill?

Clara:¶Oh no, forsooth.

Sayavedra:¶Being so fair, my Clara, Why do ye delight in black-work?

Clara:¶Oh white sir, The fairest Ladies like the blackest men: I ever loved the color: all black things Are least subject to change.

Sayavedra:¶Why, I do love A black thing too: and the most beauteous faces Have oftenest of them: as the blackest eyes, Jet-arched brows, such hair: i’ll kiss your hand.

Clara:¶’Twill hinder me work my sir: and my Mother Will chide me, if I do not do my task.

Sayavedra:¶Your Mother, nor your Father shall chide: you Might have a prettier task, would you be ruled, And look with open eyes.

Clara:¶I stare upon you: And broadly see you: a wondrous proper man, Yet ’twere a greater task for me to love you Than I shall ever work sir, in seven year, — o’ this stitching, I had rather feel Two, then sew one: — this rogue has given me a stitch Clean cross my heart: good faith sir: I shall prick you.

Sayavedra:¶In gooder faith, I would prick you again.

Clara:¶Now you grow troublesome: pish; the man is, foolish

Sayavedra:¶Pray wear these trifles.

Clara:¶Neither you, nor trifles, You are a trifle, wear yourself, sir, out, And here no more trifle the time away.

Sayavedra:¶Come; you’re deceived in me, I will not wake, Nor fast, nor die for you.

Clara:¶Goose, be not you deceived, I can not like, nor love, nor live with you, Nor fast, nor watch, nor pray for you.

Eugenia:¶Her old fit.

Sayavedra:¶Sure, this is not the way: nay, I will break Your melancholy.

Clara:¶I shall break your pate then, Away, you sanguine scabbard.

Eugenia:¶Out upon thee [Enter Alvarez, Pioratto, Lucio: and Bobadilla.] Thou ’lt break my heart, I am sure.

Sayavedra:¶She’s not yet tame.

Alvarez:¶On sir; put home: or I shall goad you here With this old Fox of mine, that will bite better: Oh, the brave age is gone; in my young days A Chevalier would stock a needle’s point Three times together: straight i’ th’ hams? Or shall I give ye new Garters?

Bobadilla:¶Faith old Master. There’s little hope: the linen sure was dank He was begot in, he’s so faint, and cold: [2 Torches ready.] Even send him to Toledo, there to study, For he will never fadge with these Toledos; Bear ye up your point there; pick his teeth: Oh base.

Pioratto:¶Fie: you are the most untoward Scholar: bear Your body gracefully: what a posture’s there? You lie too open breasted.

Lucio:¶Oh!

Pioratto:¶You’d never Make a good Statesman:

Lucio:¶Pray no more. I hope to breathe in peace, and therefore need not The practice of these dangerous qualities, I do not mean to live by ’t; for I trust You’ll leave me better able.

Alvarez:¶Not a Button: Eugenia, Let’s go get us a new heir.

Eugenia:¶Ay by my troth: your daughter’s as untoward.

Alvarez:¶I will break thee bone by bone, and bake thee, Ere i’ll ha’ such a wooden Son, to inherit: Take him a good knock; see how that will work.

Pioratto:¶Now, for your life Signior:

Lucio:¶Oh: alas, I am killed My eye is out: look Father: Zancho: — I’ll play the fool no more thus, that I will not.

Clara:¶’Heart: ne’er a rogue in Spain shall wrong my brother Whilst I can hold a sword.

Pioratto:¶Hold, Madam, Madam.

Alvarez:¶Clara.

Eugenia:¶Daughter.

Bobadilla:¶Mistress:

Pioratto:¶Bradamante. Hold, hold I pray.

Alvarez:¶The devil’s in her, o’ the other side: sure, There’s Gold for you: they have changed what-ye-call’t’s: Will no cure help? well, I have one experiment, And if that fail, I’ll hang him, then here’s an end on ’t. Come you along with me: and you sir:

Exit Alvarez Eugenia Lucio Bobadilla

Bobadilla:¶Now are you going to drowning.

Sayavedra:¶I’ll even along with ye: she’s too great a Lady For me, and would prove more than my match.

Exit.

Clara:¶You’re he spoke of Vitelli to the Steward?

Pioratto:¶Yes: and I thank you, you have beat me for ’t.

Clara:¶But are you sure you do not wrong him?

Pioratto:¶Sure? So sure, that if you please venture yourself I’ll show you him, and his Cockatrice together, And you shall hear ’em talk.

Clara:¶Will you? by — sir You shall endear me ever: and I ask You mercy.

Pioratto:¶You were somewhat boisterous.

Clara:¶There’s Gold to make you amends: and for this pains, I’ll gratify you further: i’ll but mask me And walk along with ye: faith let’s make a night on ’t.

Exit.

Scene 5

Scaena quinta.

Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Mendoza. Metaldi, Lazarillo.

Alguazier:¶Come on my brave water-spaniels: you that hunt Ducks in the night: and hide more knavery under your gowns then your betters: observe my precepts, and edify by my doctrine: at yond corner will I set you; if drunkards molest the street, and fall to brabbling, knock you down the malefactors, and take you up their cloaks and hats, and bring them to me: they are lawful prisoners, and must be ransomed ere they receive liberty: what else you are to execute upon occasion, you sufficiently know: and therefore I abbreviate my Lecture.

Metaldi:¶We are wise enough, and warm enough.

Mendoza:¶Vice this night shall be apprehended.

Pachieco:¶The terror of rug-gowns shall be known: and our bills Discharge us of after reckonings.

Lazarillo:¶I will do any thing, so I may eat.

Pachieco:¶Lazarillo, We will spend no more; now we are grown worse, we will live better: let us follow our calling faithfully.

Alguazier:¶Away, then the Commonwealth is our Mistress: and who Would serve a common Mistress, but to gain by her?

Exeunt.

Act 4

Scene 1

Actus quartus. Scaena prima.

Enter Vitelli, Lamoral, Genevora, Anastro, and two Pages with lights.

Lamoral:¶I pray you see the Masque, my Lord,

Anastro:¶’Tis early night yet.

Genevora:¶O if it be so late, take me along: I would not give advantage to ill tongues To tax my being here, without your presence To be my warrant.

Vitelli:¶You might spare this, Sister, Knowing with whom I leave you; one that is By your allowance, and his choice, your Servant, And may my council and persuasion work it, Your husband speedily: For your entertainment My thanks; I will not rob you of the means To do your Mistress some acceptable service In waiting on her to my house.

Genevora:¶My Lord,

Vitelli:¶As you respect me, without further trouble Retire, and taste those pleasures prepared for you, And leave me to my own ways.

Lamoral:¶When you please sir.

Exeunt.

Scene 2

Scaena secunda.

Enter Malroda, and Alguazier.

Malroda:¶You’ll leave my Chamber?

Alguazier:¶Let us but bill once, My Dove, my Sparrow, and I, with my office Will be thy slaves forever.

Malroda:¶Are you so hot?

Alguazier:¶But taste the difference of a man in place, You’ll find that when authority pricks him forward, Your Don, nor yet your Diego comes not near him To do a Lady right: no men pay dearer For their stol’n sweets, than we: three minutes trading Affords to any sinner a protection For three years after: think on that, I burn; But one drop of your bounty.

Malroda:¶Hence you rogue, Am I fit for you? is ’t not grace sufficient To have your staff, a bolt to bar the door Where a Don enters, but that you’ll presume To be his taster?

Alguazier:¶Is no more respect Due to this rod of justice?

Malroda:¶Do you dispute? Good Doctor of the Dungeon, not a word more, — If you do, my Lord Vitelli knows it.

Alguazier:¶Why I am big enough to answer him, Or any man.

Malroda:¶’Tis well.

Vitelli within.

Vitelli:¶Malroda.

Alguazier:¶How?

Malroda:¶You know the voice, and now crouch like a Cur Ta’en worrying sheep: I now could have you gelded For a Bawd rampant: but on this submission For once I spare you

Alguazier:¶I Will be revenged My honorable Lord.

Vitelli:¶There’s for thy care

Alguazier:¶I am mad, stark mad: proud Pagan scorn her host I would I were but valiant enough to kick her, [Enter Pioratto and Clara, above.] I’d wish no manhood else.

Malroda:¶What’s that?

Alguazier:¶I am gone.

Exit.

Pioratto:¶You see, I have kept my word.

Clara:¶But in this object Hardly deserved my thanks.

Pioratto:¶Is there aught else You will command me?

Clara:¶Only your sword Which I must have: nay willingly I yet know To force it, and to use it.

Pioratto:¶’Tis yours Lady.

Clara:¶I ask no other guard.

Pioratto:¶If so I leave you: And now, if that the Constable keep his word, A poorer man may chance to gull a Lord.

Exit.

Malroda:¶By this good — you shall not.

Vitelli:¶By this — I must, and will, Malroda; What do you make A stranger of me?

Malroda:¶I’ll be so to you, And you shall find it.

Vitelli:¶These are your old arts T’ endear the game you know I come to hunt for, Which I have borne too coldly.

Malroda:¶Do so still, For if I heat you, hang me.

Vitelli:¶If you do not I know who’ll starve for ’t: why, thou shame of women, Whose folly, or whose impudence is greater Is doubtful to determine; this to me That know thee for a whore.

Malroda:¶And made me one, Remember that.

Vitelli:¶Why should I but grow wise And tie that bounty up, which nor discretion Nor honor can give way too; thou wouldst be A Bawd ere twenty, and within a month A barefoot, lousy, and diseased whore, And shift thy lodgings oftener than a rogue That’s whipped from post to post.

Malroda:¶Pish: all our College Know you can rail well in this kind.

Clara:¶For me He never spake so well.

Vitelli:¶I have maintained thee The envy of great fortunes, made thee shine As if thy name were glorious: stuck thee full Of jewels, as the firmament of Stars, And in it made thee so remarkable That it grew questionable, whether virtue poor, Or vice so set forth as it is in thee, Were even by modesty’s self to be preferred, And am I thus repaid?

Malroda:¶You are still my debtor; Can this (though true) be weighed with my lost honor, Much less my faith? I have lived private to you, And but for you, had ne’er known what lust was, Nor what the sorrow for ’t.

Vitelli:¶’Tis false.

Malroda:¶’Tis true, But how returned by you, thy whole life being But one continued act of lust, and Shipwrack Of women’s chastities.

Vitelli:¶But that I know That she that dares be damned dares any thing, I should admire thy tempting me: but presume not On the power you think you hold o’er my affections, It will deceive you: yield, and presently Or by the inflamed blood, which thou must quench I’ll make a forcible entry.

Malroda:¶Touch me not: You know I have a throat, — if you do I will cry out a rape, or sheath this here, Ere i’ll be kept, and used for Julep-water T’ allay the heat which luscious meats and wine And not desire hath raised.

Vitelli:¶A desperate devil, My blood commands my reason: I must take Some milder way.

Malroda:¶I hope (dear Don) I fit you. The night is mine, although the day was yours You are not fasting now: this speeding trick Which I would as a principle leave to all, That make their maintenance out of their own Indies As I do now; my good old mother taught me, Daughter, quoth she, contest not with your lover His stomach being empty; let wine heat him, And then you may command him: ’tis a sure one: His looks show he is coming.

Vitelli:¶Come this needs not, Especially to me: you know how dear I ever have esteemed you.

Clara:¶Lost again.

Vitelli:¶That any sight of yours, hath power to change My strongest resolution, and one tear Sufficient to command a pardon from me, For any wrong from you, which all mankind Should kneel in vain for.

Malroda:¶Pray you pardon those That need your favor, or desire it

Vitelli:¶Prithee. Be better tempered: I’ll pay as a forfeit For my rash anger, this purse filled with Gold. Thou shalt have servants, gowns, attires, what not? Only continue mine.

Malroda:¶’Twas this I fished for

Vitelli:¶Look on me, and receive it.

Malroda:¶Well, you know My gentle nature, and take pride t’ abuse it: You see a trifle pleases me, we are friends; This kiss, and this confirms it.

Clara:¶With my ruin.

Malroda:¶I’ll have this diamond; and this pearl.

Vitelli:¶They are yours.

Malroda:¶But will you not, when you have what you came for, Take them from me tomorrow? ’tis a fashion Your Lords of late have used.

Vitelli:¶But I’ll not follow.

Clara:¶That any man at such a rate as this Should pay for his repentance.

Vitelli:¶Shall we to bed now?

Malroda:¶Instantly, Sweet: yet now I think on ’t better There’s something first that in a word or two I must acquaint you with.

Clara:¶Can I cry ay me, To this against myself? I’ll break this match, Or make it stronger with my blood.

Descends.

Enter Alguazier, Pioratto, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, Lazarillo, Etc.

Alguazier:¶I am yours, A Don’s not privileged here more than yourself, Win her, and wear her.

Pioratto:¶Have you a Priest ready?

Alguazier:¶I have him for thee, Lad; and when I have Married this scornful whore to this poor gallant. She will make suit to me; there is a trick To bring a high-prized wench upon her knees: For you my fine neat Harpies stretch your talons And prove yourselves true night-Birds.

Pachieco:¶Take my word For me and all the rest.

Lazarillo:¶If there be meat Or any banquet stirring, you shall see How I’ll bestow myself.

Alguazier:¶When they are drawn, Rush in upon ’em: all’s fair prize you light on: I must away: your officer may give way To the Knavery of his watch, but must not see it. You all know where to find me.

Exit.

Metaldi:¶There look for us.

Vitelli:¶Who’s that?

Malroda:¶My Pioratto, welcome, welcome: Faith had you not come when you did, my Lord Had done I know not what to me.

Vitelli:¶I am gulled, First cheated of my Jewels, and then laughed at: Sirrah, what make you here?

Pioratto:¶A business brings me, More lawful than your own,

Vitelli:¶How’s that, you slave?

Malroda:¶He’s such, that would continue his a whore Whom he would make a wife of.

Vitelli:¶I’ll tread upon The face you dote on, strumpet.

Enter Clara.

Pachieco:¶Keep the peace there.

Vitelli:¶A plot upon my life too?

Metaldi:¶Down with him.

Clara:¶Show your old valor, and learn from a woman, One Eagle has a world of odds against A flight of Daws, as these are.

Pioratto:¶Get you off, I’ll follow instantly.

Pachieco:¶Run for more help there.

Exeunt all but Vitelli and Clara.

Vitelli:¶Loss of my gold, and jewels, and the wench too Afflicts me not so much, as th’ having Clara The witness of my weakness.

Clara:¶He turns from me, And yet I may urge merit, since his life Is made my second gift.

Vitelli:¶May I ne’er prosper If I know how to thank her.

Clara:¶Sir, your pardon For pressing thus beyond a Virgin’s bounds Upon your privacies: and let my being Like to a man, as you are, be th’ excuse Of my soliciting that from you, which shall not Be granted on my part, although desired By any other: sir, you understand me, And ’twould show nobly in you, to prevent From me a farther boldness, which I must Proceed in, if you prove not merciful, Though with my loss of blushes, and good name.

Vitelli:¶Madam, I know your will, and would be thankful If it were possible I could affect The Daughter of an enemy.

Clara:¶That fair false one Whom with fond dotage you have long pursued Had such a father: she to whom you pay Dearer for your dishonor, than all titles Ambitious men hunt for are worth.

Vitelli:¶’Tis truth.

Clara:¶Yet, with her, as a friend you still exchange Health for diseases, and to your disgrace Nourish the rivals to your present pleasures, At your own charge, used as a property To give a safe protection to her lust, Yet share in nothing but the shame of it.

Vitelli:¶Grant all this so, to take you for a wife Were greater hazard, for should I offend you (As ’tis not easy still to please a woman) You are of so great a spirit, that I must learn To wear your petticoat, for you will have My breeches from me.

Clara:¶Rather from this hour I here abjure all actions of a man, And will esteem it happiness from you To suffer like a woman: love, true love Hath made a search within me, and expelled All but my natural softness, and made perfect That which my parents care could not begin. I will show strength in nothing, but my duty, And glad desire to please you, and in that Grow every day more able.

Vitelli:¶Could this be, What a brave race might I beget? I find A kind of yielding; and no reason why I should hold longer out: she’s young, and fair, And chaste for sure, but with her leave the Devil Durst not attempt her: Madam, though you have A Soldier’s arm, your lips appear as if They were a Lady’s.

Clara:¶They dare sir from you Endure the trial.

Vitelli:¶Ha: once more I pray you: The best I ever tasted; and ’tis said I have proved many, ’tis not safe I fear To ask the rest now: well, I will leave whoring And luck herein send me with her: worthiest Lady, I’ll wait upon you home, and by the way (If e’er I many, as I’ll not forswear it) Tell you, you are my wife.

Clara:¶Which if you do, From me all mankind women, learn to woo.

Exeunt.

Scene 3

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, Lazarillo.

Alguazier:¶A cloak? good purchase, and rich hangers? well, We’ll share ten Pistolets a man

Lazarillo:¶Yet still I am monstrous hungry: could you not deduct So much out of the gross sum, as would purchase Eight loins of Veal, and some two dozen of Capons?

Pachieco:¶O strange proportion for five.

Lazarillo:¶For five? I have A legion in my stomach that have kept Perpetual fast these ten years: for the Capons, They are to me but as so many black Birds: May I but eat once, and be satisfied, Let the fates call me, when my ship is fraught, And I shall hang in peace.

Alguazier:¶Steal well tonight, And thou shalt feed tomorrow; so now you are Yourselves again, I’ll raise another watch To free you from suspicion: set on any You meet with boldly: I’ll not be far off, T’ assist you, and protect you.

Exit.

Metaldi:¶O brave officer.

Enter Alvarez, Lucio, Bobadilla.

Pachieco:¶Would every ward had one but so well given, And we would watch for rug, in gowns of velvet.

Mendoza:¶Stand close: a prize.

Metaldi:¶Satin, and gold Lace, Lads.

Alvarez:¶Why dost thou hang upon me?

Lucio:¶’Tis so dark I dare not see my way: for heaven’s sake father Let us go home.

Bobadilla:¶No, even here we’ll leave you: Let’s run away from him, my Lord.

Lucio:¶Oh ’las.

Alvarez:¶Thou hast made me mad: and I will beat thee dead Then bray thee in a mortar, and now mold thee But I will alter thee.

Bobadilla:¶’Twill never be: He has been three days practising to drink, Yet still he sips, like to a waiting woman, And looks as he were murdering of a fart Among wild Irish swaggerers.

Lucio:¶I have still Your good word, Zancho, father.

Alvarez:¶Milksop coward; No house of mine receives thee: I disclaim thee, Thy mother; on her knees shall not entreat me Hereafter to acknowledge thee.

Lucio:¶Pray you speak for me.

Bobadilla:¶I would; but now I cannot with mine honor.

Alvarez:¶There’s only one course left, that may redeem thee, Which is, to strike the next man that you meet, And if we chance to light upon a woman, Take her away, and use her like a man, Or I will cut thy hamstrings.

Pachieco:¶This makes for us

Alvarez:¶What dost thou do now?

Lucio:¶Sir, I am saying my prayers; For being to undertake what you would have me, I know I cannot live.

Enter Lamoral, Genevora, Anastro, and Pages with lights.

Lamoral:¶Madam, I fear You’ll wish you had used your coach: your brother’s house Is yet far off.

Genevora:¶The better sir: this walk Will help digestion after your great supper, Of which I have fed largely.

Alvarez:¶To your task, Or else you know what follows:

Lucio:¶I am dying: Now Lord have mercy on me: by your favor, Sir I must strike you.

Lamoral:¶For what cause?

Lucio:¶I know not: And I must likewise talk with that young Lady, An hour in private.

Lamoral:¶What you must, is doubtful, But I am certain sir, I must beat you.

Lucio:¶Help, help.

Alvarez:¶Not strike again?

Lamoral:¶How, Alvarez?

Anastro:¶This for my Lord Vitell’s love.

Pachieco:¶Break out, And like true thieves, make pray on either side, But seem to help the stranger.

Bobadilla:¶Oh my Lord, They have beat him on his knees.

Lucio:¶Though I want courage: I yet have a son’s duty in me, and Compassion of a father’s danger; that, That wholly now possesses me.

Alvarez:¶Lucio. This is beyond my hope.

Metaldi:¶So Lazarillo, Take up all boy: well done.

Pachieco:¶And now steal off Closely, and cunningly.

Anastro:¶How? have I found you? Why Gentlemen, are you mad, to make yourselves A prey to Rogues?

Lamoral:¶Would we were off.

Bobadilla:¶Thieves, thieves.

Lamoral:¶Defer our own contention: and down with them.

Lucio:¶I’ll make you sure.

Bobadilla:¶Now he plays the Devil.

Genevora:¶This place is not for me.

Exit.

Lucio:¶I’ll follow her Half of my penance is passed o’er.

Exit.

Enter Alguazier, Assistante and other Watches.

Alguazier:¶What noise? What tumult’s there? keep the King’s peace I charge you.

Pachieco:¶I am glad he’s come yet.

Alvarez:¶O, you keep good Guard Upon the City, when men of our rank Are set upon in the streets.

Lamoral:¶The assistance Shall hear of ’t be assured.

Anastro:¶And if he be That careful Governor he is reported, You will smart for it.

Alguazier:¶Patience, good Signiors: Let me survey the Rascals: O, I know them, And thank you for them: they are pilfering rogues Of Andaluzia, that have perused All Prisons in Castile: I dare not trust The dungeon with them: no, I’ll have them home To my own house.

Pachieco:¶We had rather go to prison.

Alguazier:¶Had you so dog-holts? yes, I know you had: You there would use your cunning fingers on The simple locks; you would: but i’ll prevent you.

Lamoral:¶My Mistress lost? good night.

Exit.

Bobadilla:¶Your Son’s gone too, What should become of him?

Alvarez:¶Come of him, what will: Now he dares fight, I care not: i’ll to bed: Look to your prisoners Alguazier.

Exit with Bobadilla

Alguazier:¶All’s cleared: Droop not for one disaster: let us hug, And triumph in our knaveries.

Assistante:¶This confirms What was reported of him.

Metaldi:¶’Twas done bravely.

Alguazier:¶I must a little glory in the means We officers have, to play the Knaves, and safely: How we break through the toils, pitched by the Law, Yet hang up them that are far less delinquents: A simple shopkeeper’s carted for a bawd For lodging (though unwittingly) a smock-Gamester: Where, with rewards, and credit I have kept Malroda in my house, as in a cloister, Without taint, or suspicion.

Pachieco:¶But suppose The Governor should know ’t?

Alguazier:¶He? good Gentleman, Let him perplex himself with prying into The measures in the market, and th’ abuses The day stands guilty of: the pillage of the night Is only mine, mine own feesimple; Which you shall hold from me, tenants at will, And pay no rent for ’t.

Pachieco:¶Admirable Landlord.

Alguazier:¶Now we’ll go search the taverns, commit such As we find drinking: and be drunk ourselves With what we take from them: these silly wretches Whom I for form’s sake only have brought hither Shall watch without, and guard us.

Assistante:¶And we will. See you safe lodged, most worthy Alguazier, With all of you his comrades.

Metaldi:¶’Tis the Governor.

Alguazier:¶We are betrayed?

Assistante:¶My guard there: bind them fast: How men in high place, and authority Are in their lives and estimation wronged By their subordinate Ministers? yet such They cannot but employ: wronged justice finding Scarce one true servant in ten officers. T’ expostulate with you, were but to delay Your crimes due punishment, which shall fall upon you So speedily, and severely, that it shall Fright others by th’ example: and confirm However corrupt officers may disgrace Themselves, ’tis not in them to wrong their place. Bring them away.

Alguazier:¶We’ll suffer nobly yet, And like to Spanish Gallants.

Pachieco:¶And we’ll hang so.

Lazarillo:¶I have no stomach to it: but i’ll endeavor.

Exeunt.

Scene 4

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Lucio, and Genevora.

Genevora:¶Nay you are rude; pray you forbear; your offer now More than the breeding of a Gentleman Can give you warrant for.

Lucio:¶’Tis but to kiss you, And think not i’ll receive that for a favor Which was enjoined me for a penance, Lady.

Genevora:¶You have met a gentle confessor, and for once (So men you will rest satisfied) I vouchsafe it.

Lucio:¶Rest satisfied with a kiss? why can a man Desire more from a woman? is there any Pleasure beyond it? may I never live If I know what it is.

Genevora:¶Sweet Innocence.

Lucio:¶What strange new motions do I feel? my veins Burn with an unknown fire: in every part I suffer alteration: I am poisoned, Yet languish with desire again to taste it, So sweetly it works on me.

Genevora:¶I ne’er saw A lovely man, till now.

Lucio:¶How can this be? She is a woman, as my mother is, And her I have kissed often, and brought off My lips unscorched; yours are more lovely, Lady, And so should be less hurtful: pray you vouchsafe Your hand, to quench the heat ta’en from your Lip, Perhaps that may restore me.

Genevora:¶Willingly.

Lucio:¶The flame increases: if to touch you, burn thus, What would more strict embraces do? I know not, And yet methinks to die so; were to ascend To Heaven, through Paradise.

Genevora:¶I am wounded too, Though modesty forbids that I should speak What ignorance makes him bold in: why do you fix Your eyes so strongly on me?

Lucio:¶Pray you stand still, There is nothing else, that is worth the looking on: I could adore you, Lady.

Genevora:¶Can you love me?

Lucio:¶To wait on you, in your chamber, and but touch What you, by wearing it, have made divine, Were such a happiness. I am resolved, I’ll sell my liberty to you for this glove, And write myself your slave.

Enter Lamoral.

Genevora:¶On easier terms, Receive it as a friend.

Lamoral:¶How! giving favor! I’ll have it with his heart.

Genevora:¶What will you do?

Lucio:¶As you are merciful, take my life rather.

Genevora:¶Will you depart with ’t so?

Lamoral:¶Does that grieve you?

Genevora:¶I know not: but even now you appear valiant.

Lucio:¶’Twas to preserve my father: in his cause I could be so again.

Genevora:¶Not in your own? Kneel to thy rival and thine enemy? Away unworthy creature, I begin To hate myself, for giving entrance to A good opinion of thee: For thy torment, If my poor beauty be of any power, Mayst thou dote on it desperately: but never Presume to hope for grace, till thou recover And wear the favor that was ravished from thee.

Lamoral:¶He wears my head too then.

Genevora:¶Poor fool, farewell.

Exit.

Lucio:¶My womanish soul, which hitherto hath governed This coward flesh, I feel departing from me; And in me by her beauty is inspired A new, and masculine one: instructing me What’s fit to do or suffer; powerful love That hast with loud, and yet a pleasing thunder Roused sleeping manhood in me, thy new creature, Perfect thy work so that I may make known Nature (though long kept back) will have her own.

Exeunt.

Act 5

Scene 1

Actus Quintus. Scaena prima.

Enter Lamoral and Lucio.

Lamoral:¶Can it be possible, that in six short hours The subject still the same, so many habits Should be removed? or this new Lucio, he That yesternight was baffled and disgraced, And thanked the man that did it, that then kneeled And blubbered like a woman, should now dare One term of honor seek reparation For what he then appeared not capable of?

Lucio:¶Such miracles, men that dare do injuries Live to their shames to see, and for punishment And scourge to their proud follies.

Lamoral:¶Prithee leave me: Had I my Page, or footman here to flesh thee, I durst the better hear thee.

Lucio:¶This scorn needs not: And offer such no more.

Lamoral:¶Why say I should, You’ll not be angry?

Lucio:¶Indeed I think I shall, Would you vouchsafe to show yourself a Captain, And lead a little further, to some place That’s less frequented.

Lamoral:¶He looks pale.

Lucio:¶If not, Make use of this.

Lamoral:¶There’s anger in his eyes too: His gesture, voice, behavior, all new fashioned; Well, if it does endure in act the trial Of what in show it promises to make good, Ulysses’ Cyclops, Io’s transformation, Eurydice fetched from Hell, with all the rest Of Ovid’s Fables, I’ll put in your Creed; And for proof, all incredible things may be Writ down that Lucio, the coward Lucio, The womanish Lucio fought.

Lucio:¶and Lamoral, The still employed great duelist Lamoral. Took his life from him.

Lamoral:¶’Twill not come to that sure: Methinks the only drawing of my Sword Should fright that confidence.

Lucio:¶It confirms it rather. To make which good, know you stand now opposed By one that is your Rival, one that wishes Your name and title greater, to raise his; The wrong you did, less pardonable than it is, But your strength to defend it, more than ever It was when justice friended it. The Lady For whom we now contend, Genevora Of more desert, (if such incomparable beauty Could suffer an addition) your love To Don Vitelli multiplied, and your hate Against my father and his house increased; And lastly, that the Glove which you there wear, To my dishonor, (which I must force from you) Were dearer to you then your life.

Lamoral:¶You’ll find It is, and so i’ll guard it:

Lucio:¶All these meet then With the black infamy, to be foiled by one That’s not allowed a man: to help your valor, That falling by your hand, I may, or die, Or win in this one single opposition My Mistress, and such honor as I may Enrich my father’s Arms with.

Lamoral:¶’Tis said Nobly; My life with them are at the stake.

Lucio:¶At all then.

Fight.

Lamoral:¶She’s yours: this, and my life, to follow your fortune ; And give not only back that part the looser Scorns to accept of —

Lucio:¶What’s that?

Lamoral:¶My poor life, Which do not leave me as a further torment, Having despoiled me of my Sword, mine honor, Hope of my Lady’s grace, fame, and all else That made it worth the keeping.

Lucio:¶I take back No more from you, than what you forced from me; And with a worser title: yet think not That I’ll dispute this, as made insolent By my success, but as one equal with you, If so you will accept me; that new courage, Or call it fortune if you please, that is Conferred upon me by the only sight Of fair Genevora, was not bestowed on me To bloody purposes: nor did her command Deprive me of the happiness to see her But till I did redeem her favor from you; Which only I rejoice in, and share with you In all you suffer else.

Lamoral:¶This courtesy Wounds deeper than your Sword can, or mine own; Pray you make use of either, and dispatch me.

Lucio:¶The barbarous Turk is satisfied with spoil; And shall I, being possessed of what I came for, Prove the more Infidel?

Lamoral:¶You were better be so, Then publish my disgrace, as ’tis the custom, And which I must expect.

Lucio:¶Judge better on me: I have no tongue to trumpet mine own praise To your dishonor: ’tis a bastard courage That seeks a name out that way, no true born one; Pray you be comforted, for by all goodness But to her virtuous self, the best part of it, I never will discover on what terms I came by these: which yet I take not from you, But leave you in exchange of them, mine own, With the desire of being a friend; which if You will not grant me, but on further trial Of manhood in me, seek me when you please, (And though I might refuse it with mine honor) Win them again, and wear them: so good morrow.

Exit.

Lamoral:¶I ne’er knew what true valor was till now; And have gained more by this disgrace, than all The honors I have won: they made me proud, Presumptuous of my fortune; a mere beast, Fashioned by them, only to dare and do: Yielding no reasons for my wilful actions But what I stuck on my Sword’s point, presuming It was the best Revenue. How unequal Wrongs well maintained makes us to others, which Ending with shame teach as to know ourselves, I will think more on ’t.

Enter Vitelli.

Vitelli:¶Lamoral.

Lamoral:¶My Lord?

Vitelli:¶I came to seek you.

Lamoral:¶And unwillingly; You ne’er found me till now: your pleasure sir?

Vitelli:¶That which will please thee friend: thy vow love to me Shall now be put in action: means is offered To use thy good Sword for me; that which still Thou wear’st, as if it were a part of thee. Where is it?

Lamoral:¶’Tis changed for one more fortunate: Pray you inquire not how.

Vitelli:¶Why, I ne’er thought That there was music in ’t, but ascribe The fortune of it to the arm.

Lamoral:¶Which is grown weaker too. I am not (in a word) Worthy your friendship: I am one new vanquished, Yet shame to tell by whom.

Vitelli:¶But I’ll tell thee ’gainst whom thou art to fight, and there redeem Thy honor lost, if there be any such: The King, by my long suit, at length is pleased That Alvarez and myself, with either’s Second, Shall end the difference between our houses, Which he accepts of I make choice of thee; And where you speak of a disgrace, the means To blot it out, by such a public trial Of thy approved valor, will revive Thy ancient courage. If you embrace it, do; If not, I’ll seek some other.

Lamoral:¶As I am You may command me.

Vitelli:¶Spoke like that true friend That loves not only for his private end.

Exeunt.

Scene 2

Scaena secunda.

Enter Genevora with a Letter and Bobadilla.

Genevora:¶This from Madonna Clara?

Bobadilla:¶Yes, and ’t please you.

Genevora:¶Alvarez’ daughter?

Bobadilla:¶The same, Lady.

Genevora:¶She, That saved my brother’s life?

Bobadilla:¶You are still in the right, She willed me wait your walking forth: and knowing How necessary a discreet wise man Was in a business of such weight, she pleased To think on me: it may be in my face Your Ladyship not acquainted with my wisdom Finds no such matter: what I am, I am; Thought’s free: and think you what you please.

Genevora:¶’Tis strange,

Bobadilla:¶That I should be wise, Madam?

Genevora:¶No, thou art so; There’s for thy pains: and prithee tell thy Lady I will not fail to meet her: I’ll receive Thy thanks and duty in thy present absence: Farewell, farewell, I say, now thou art wise. [Exit Bobadilla] She writes here, she hath something to impart That may concern my brother’s life; I know not, But general fame does give her out so worthy, That I dare not suspect her: yet wish Lucio [Enter Lucio.] Were Master of her mind: but fie upon ’t; Why do I think on him? see, I am punished for it, In his unlooked for presence: Now I must Endure another tedious piece of Courtship, Would make one forswear courtesy.

Lucio:¶Gracious Madam, The sorrow paid for your just anger towards me Arising from my weakness, I presume To press into your presence, and despair not An easy pardon.

Genevora:¶He speaks sence: oh strange.

Lucio:¶And yet believe, that no desire of mine, Though all are too strong in me, had the power For their delight, to force me to infringe What you commanded, it being in your part To lessen your great rigor when you please, And mine to suffer with an humble patience What you’ll impose upon it.

Genevora:¶Courtly too.

Lucio:¶Yet hath the poor, and contemned Lucio, Madam, (Made able only by his hope to serve you) Recovered what with violence, not justice, Was taken from him: and here at your feet With these, he could have laid the conquered head Of Lamoral (’tis all I say of him) For rudely touching that, which as a relic I ever would have worshipped, since ’twas yours.

Genevora:¶Valiant, and every thing a Lady could Wish in her servant.

Lucio:¶All that’s good in me, That heavenly love, the opposite to base lust, Which would have all men worthy, hath created; Which being by your beams of beauty formed, Cherish as your own creature.

Genevora:¶I am gone Too far now to dissemble: rise, or sure I must kneel with you too: let this one kiss Speak the rest for me: ’tis too much I do, And yet, if chastity would, I could wish more.

Lucio:¶In overjoying me, you are grown sad; What is it Madam? by — There’s nothing that’s within my nerves (and yet Favored by you, I should as much as man) But when you please, now or on all occasions You can think of hereafter, but you may Dispose of at your pleasure.

Genevora:¶If you break That oath again, you lose me. Yet so well I love you, I shall never put you to ’t; And yet forget it not: rest satisfied With that you have received now: there are eyes May be upon us, till the difference Between our friends are ended: I would not Be seen so private with you.

Lucio:¶I obey you.

Genevora:¶But let me hear oft from you, and remember I am Vitelli’s sister.

Lucio:¶What’s that Madam?

Genevora:¶Nay nothing, fare you well: who feels love’s fire, Would ever ask to have means to desire.

Exeunt

Scene 3

Scaena tertia.

Enter Assistante, Sayavedra, Anastro, Herald, Attendants.

Assistante:¶Are they come in?

Herald:¶Yes.

Assistante:¶Read the Proclamation, That all the people here assembled may Have satisfaction, what the King’s dear love, In care of the Republic, hath ordained; Attend with silence: read aloud.

Herald reads.

Herald:¶FOrasmuch as our high and mighty Master, Philip, the potent and most Catholic King of Spain, hath not only in his own Royal person, been long, and often solicited, and grieved, with the deadly and uncurable hatred, sprung up betwixt the two ancient and most honorably descended Houses of these his two dearly and equally beloved Subjects, Don Ferdinando de Alvarez, and Don Pedro de Vitelli: (all which in vain his Majesty hath often endeavored to reconcile and qualify:) But that also through the debates, quarrels, and outrages daily arising, falling, and flowing from these great heads, his public civil Government is seditiously and barbarously molested and wounded, and many of his chief Gentry (no less tender to his Royal Majesty than the very branches of his own sacred blood) spoiled, lost, and submerged, in the impious inundation and torrent of their still-growing malice: It hath therefore pleased His sacred Majesty, out of His infinite affection to preserve his Commonwealth, and general peace, from farther violation, (as a sweet and heartily loving father of his people) and on the earnest petitions of these Arch-enemies, to Order, and Ordain, That they be ready, each with his well-chosen and beloved friend, armed at all points like Gentlemen, in the Castle of St. Jago, on this present Monday morning betwixt eight and nine of the clock; where (before the combatants be allowed to commence this granted Duel) This to be read aloud for the public satisfaction of his Majesty’s well-beloved Subjects. ’Save the King.

Drums within.

Sayavedra:¶Hark how their Drums speak their insatiate thirst Of blood, and stop their ears ’gainst pious peace, Who gently whispering, implores their friendship?

Assistante:¶Kings, nor authority can master fate; Admit ’em then, and blood extinguish hate.

Enter severally, Alvarez and Lucio, Vitelli and Lamoral.

Sayavedra:¶Stay, yet be pleased to think, and let not daring Wherein men nowadays exceed even beasts, And think themselves not men else, so transport you Beyond the bounds of Christianity: Lord Alvarez, Vitelli, Gentlemen, No Town in Spain, from our Metropolis Unto the rudest hovel, but is great With your assured valors daily proofs: Oh will you then, for a superfluous fame, A sound of honor, which in these times, all Like heretics profess (with obstinacy) But most erroneously, venture your souls, ’Tis a hard task, through a Sea of blood To sail, and land at Heaven?

Vitelli:¶I hope not If justice be my Pilot: but my Lord, You know, if argument, or time, or love, Could reconcile, long since we had shook hands; I dare protest, your breath cools not a vein In any one of us, but blows the fire Which naught but blood reciprocal can quench.

Alvarez:¶Vitelli, thou sayst bravely, and sayst right, And I will kill thee for ’t, I love thee so.

Vitelli:¶Ha, ha, old man: upon thy death I’ll build A story (with this arm) for thy old wife To tell thy daughter Clara seven years hence As she sits weeping by a winter fire, How such a time Vitelli slew her husband With the same Sword his daughter favored him, And lives, and wears it yet: Come Lamoral, Redeem thyself.

Lamoral:¶Lucio, Genevora Shall on this Sword receive thy bleeding heart, For my presented hat, laid at her feet.

Lucio:¶Thou talk’st well Lamoral, but ’tis thy head That I will carry to her to thy hat: Fie father, I do cool too much.

Alvarez:¶Oh boy: Thy father’s true son: Beat Drums, — and so good morrow to your Lordship.

Enter above Eugenia, Clara, Genevora.

Sayavedra:¶Brave resolutions.

Anastro:¶Brave, and Spanish right.

Genevora:¶Lucio.

Clara:¶Vitelli.

Eugenia:¶Alvarez.

Alvarez:¶How the devil Got these Cats into th’ gutter? my puss too?

Eugenia:¶Hear us.

Genevora:¶We must be heard.

Clara:¶We will be heard Vitelli; look, see Clara on her knees Imploring thy compassion: Heaven, how sternly They dart their emulous eyes, as if each scorned To be behind the other in a look! Mother, death needs no Sword here: oh my sister (Fate fain would have it so) persuade, entreat, A Lady’s tears are silent Orators (Or should be so at least) to move beyond The honest-tongued Rhetorician: Why will you fight? why does an uncle’s death Twenty year old, exceed your love to me But twenty days? whose forced cause, and fair manner You could not understand, only have heard. Custom, that wrought so cunningly on nature In me, that I forgot my sex, and knew not Whether my body female were, or male, You did unweave, and had the power to charm A new creation in me, made me fear To think on those deeds I did perpetrate, How little power though you allow to me That cannot with my sighs, my tears, my prayers Move you from your own loss, if you should gain.

Vitelli:¶I must forget you Clara, ’till I have Redeemed my uncle’s blood, that brands my face Like a pestiferous Carbuncle: I am blind To what you do: deaf to your cries: and Marble To all impulsive exorations. When on this point, I have perched thy father’s soul, I’ll tender thee this bloody reeking hand Drawn forth the bowels of that murderer: If thou canst love me then, i’ll marry thee, And for thy father lost, get thee a Son; On no condition else.

Assistante:¶Most barbarous.

Sayavedra:¶Savage.

Anastro:¶Irreligious.

Genevora:¶Oh Lucio! Be thou more merciful: thou bear’st fewer years, Art lately weaned from soft effeminacy, A maiden’s manners, and a maiden’s heart Are neighbors still to thee: be then more mild, Proceed not to this combat; beest thou desperate Of thine own life? yet (dearest) pity mine Thy valor’s not thine own, I gave it thee, These eyes begot it, this tongue bred it up, This breast would lodge it: do not use my gifts To mine own ruin: I have made thee rich, Be not so thankless, to undo me for ’t.

Lucio:¶Mistress, you know I do not wear a vein. I would not rip for you, to do you service: Life’s but a word, a shadow, a melting dream, Compared to essential, and eternal honor. Why, would you have me value it beyond Your brother: if I first cast down my sword May all my body here, be made one wound, And yet my soul not find heaven through it.

Alvarez:¶You would be caterwauling too, but peace, Go, get you home, and provide dinner for Your Son, and me: we’ll be exceeding merry: Oh Lucio, I will have thee cock of all The proud Vitellis that do live in Spain: Fie, we shall take cold: hunch: — I am hoarse Already.

Lamoral:¶How your Sister whets my spleen! I could eat Lucio now:

Genevora:¶Lamoral: you have often sworn You’d be commanded by me.Vitelli, Brother, Even for your Father’s soul, your Uncle’s blood, As you do love my life: but last, and most As you respect your own Honor, and Fame, Throw down your sword; he is most valiant That herein yields first.

Vitelli:¶Peace, you fool.

Clara:¶Why Lucio, Do thou begin; ’tis no disparagement: He’s elder, and thy better, and thy valor Is in his infancy.

Genevora:¶Or pay it me, To whom thou owest it: Oh, that constant time Would but go back a week, then Lucio Thou wouldst not dare to fight.

Eugenia:¶Lucio, thy Mother, Thy Mother begs it: throw thy sword down first.

Alvarez:¶I’ll throw his head down after then.

Genevora:¶Lamoral. You have often swore you’d be commanded by me.

Lamoral:¶Never to this: your spite, and scorn Genevora, Has lost all power in me:

Genevora:¶Your hearing for six words.

Assistante, Sayavedra, Anastro:¶Strange obstinacy!

Alvarez, Vitelli, Lamoral, Lucio:¶We’ll stay no longer.

Clara:¶Then by thy oath Vitelli, Thy dreadful oath, thou wouldst return that sword When I should ask it, give it to me, now, This instant I require it.

Genevora:¶By thy vow, As dreadful, Lucio, to obey my will In any one thing I would watch to challenge, I charge thee not to strike a stroke: now he Of our two brothers that loves perjury Best, and dares first be damned, infringe his vow.

Sayavedra:¶Excellent Ladies.

Vitelli:¶Pish you tyrannize.

Lucio:¶We did equivocate.

Alvarez:¶On.

Clara:¶Then Lucio, So well I love my husband, for he is so, (wanting but ceremony) that I pray His vengeful sword may fall upon thy head successfully for falsehood to his Sister.

Genevora:¶I likewise pray (Vitelli) Lucio’s sword (who equally is my husband, as thou hers) May find thy false heart, that durst gage thy faith, And durst not keep it.

Assistante:¶Are you men, or stone.

Alvarez:¶Men, and we’ll prove it with our swords:

Eugenia:¶Your hearing for six words, and we have done, Zancho come forth — we’ll fight our challenge too: [Enter Bobadilla with two swords and a Pistol.] Now speak your resolutions.

Genevora:¶These they are, The first blow given betwixt you, sheathes these swords In one another’s bosoms.

Eugenia:¶And rogue, look You at that instant do discharge that Pistol Into my breast: if you start back, or quake, I’ll stick you like a Pig.

Alvarez:¶— hold: you are mad.

Genevora:¶This we said: and by our hope of bliss This we will do: speak your intents.

Clara, Genevora:¶Strike.

Eugenia:¶Shoot.

Alvarez, Vitelli, Lucio, Lamoral:¶Hold, hold: all friends.

Assistante:¶Come down.

Alvarez:¶These devilish women Can make men friends and enemies when they list.

Sayavedra:¶A gallant undertaking and a happy; Why this is noble in you: and will be A welcomer present to our Master Philip Than the return from his Indies.

Enter Clara, Genevora Eugenia and Bobadilla.

Clara:¶Father your blessing.

Alvarez:¶Take her: if he bring not Betwixt you, boys that will find out new worlds, And win ’em too I’m a false Prophet.

Vitelli:¶Brother. There is a Sister: long divided streams Mix now at length, by fate.

Bobadilla:¶I am not regarded: I was the careful Steward that provided these Instruments of peace, I put the longest weapon in your Sister’s hand, (my Lord) because she was the shortest Lady: For likely the shortest Ladies, love the longest — men: And for mine own part, I could have discharged it: my Pistol is no ordinary Pistol, it has two ramming Bullets; but thought I, why should I shoot my two bullets into my old Lady? if they had gone, I would not have stayed long after: I would even have died too, bravely i’ faith, like a Roman-Steward: hung myself in mine own Chain; and there had been a story of Bobadilla, Spindola, Zancho, for after ages to lament: hum: I perceive I am not only not regarded, but also not rewarded.

Alvarez:¶Prithee peace: ’shalt have a new chain, next Saint Jaques day, or this new gilt:

Bobadilla:¶I am satisfied: let virtue have her due: And yet i am melancholy upon this atonement: pray heaven the State rue it not: I would my Lord Vitelli’s Steward, and I could meet: they should find it should cost ’em a little more to make us friends: well, I will forswear wine, and women for a year: and then I will be drunk tomorrow, and run a whoring like a dog with a broken bottle at ’s tail; then will I repent next day, and forswear ’em again more vehemently: be forsworn next day again, and repent my repentance: for thus a melancholy Gentleman doth, and ought to live.

Assistante:¶Nay, you shall dine with me: and afterward I’ll with ye to the King: But first, I will Dispatch the Castle’s business, that this day May be complete. Bring forth the malefactors. [Enter Alguazier, Pachieco, Metaldi, Mendoza, Lazarillo.] You Alguazier, the Ringleader of these Poor fellows, are degraded from your office, You must restore all stolen goods you received, And watch a twelvemonth without any pay: This, if you fail of, (all your goods confiscate) You are to be whipped, and sent into the Galleys.

Pioratto. Malroda, and Guard.

Alguazier:¶I like all, but restoring that Catholic doctrine I do dislike: Learn all ye officers By this to live uprightly (if you can)

Exit.

Assistante:¶You Cobbler, to translate your manners new, Are doomed to th’ Cloister of the Mendicants, With this your brother; butcher there, for nothing To cobble, and heel hose for the poor Friars, Till they allow your penance for sufficient, And your amendment; than you shall be freed, And may set up again,

Pachieco:¶Mendoza, come. Our souls have trod awry, in all men’s sight, We’ll underlay ’em, till they go upright.

Exit. Pachieco and Mendoza

Assistante:¶Smith, in those shackles you for your hard heart Must lie by th’ heels a year.

Metaldi:¶I have shod your horse, my Lord.

Exit.

Assistante:¶Away: for you, my hungry white-loafed face, You must to th’ Galleys, where you shall be sure To have no more bits, than you shall have blows.

Lazarillo:¶Well, though herrings want, I shall have rows.

Assistante:¶Signior, you have prevented us, and punished Yourself severaller than we would have done. You have married a whore: may she prove honest.

Pioratto:¶’Tis better my Lord, than to marry an honest woman That may prove a whore.

Vitelli:¶’Tis a handsome wench: and thou canst keep her tame: I’ll send you what I promised.

Pioratto:¶Joy to your Lordships.

Alvarez:¶Here may all Ladies learn, to make of foes The perfectest friends: and not the perfectest foes Of dearest friends, as some do nowadays.

Vitelli:¶Behold the power of love, to nature lost By custom irrecoverably, past the hope Of friends restoring, love hath here retrieved To her own habit, made her blush to see Her so long monstrous metamorphoses, May strange affairs never have worse success.

Exeunt.