ACT I., SCENE 1.

_Enter severally_, ALERZO, FULGENTIO, _and_ PANDOLPHO.

ALER. Colonel?

FUL. Signor Alerzo?

ALER. Here.

PAN. Signors, well-met: The lazy morn has scarcely trimm'd herself To entertain the sun; she still retains The slimy tincture of the banish'd night: I hardly could discern you.

ALER. But you appear fresh as a city bridegroom, That has sign'd his wife a warrant for the Grafting of horns; how fares Belinda After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her To-night; come, speak, did you take up on trust, Or have you pawn'd a colony of oaths? Or an embroidered belt? or have you ta'en The courtier's trick, to lay your sword at mortgage? Or perhaps a feather? 'twill serve in traffic, To return her ladyship a fan, or so.

PAN. Y' are merry.

FUL. Come, be free, Leave modesty for women to gild Their pretty thriving art of plentitude, To enrich their husbands' brows with cornucopias. A soldier, and thus bashful! Pox! be open.

PAN. Had I the pox, good colonel, I should stride Far opener than I do; but pox o' the fashion!

ALER. Count Antonio.

[_To them enter_ ANTONIO.

FUL. Though he appear fresh as a bloom That newly kiss'd the sun, adorn'd with pearly Drops, flung from the hand of the rose-finger'd morn, Yet in his heart lives a whole host of valour.

PAN. He appears A second Mars.

ALER. More powerful, since he holds wisdom And valour captive.

FUL. Let us salute him.

[_Whilst they salute_ ANTONIO, _enters_ COUNT MACHIAVEL.

MACH. Ha! how close they strike, as if they heard A winged thunderbolt [that] threaten'd his death, And each ambitious were to lose his life; So it might purchase him a longer being: Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds, That join a friendly league, and fill the air With silken music; I may pass by, and scarce be spar'd a look, Or any else but young Antonio. Rise from thy scorching den, thou soul of mischief! My blood boils hotter than the poison'd flesh Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaur's shirt: Swell me, revenge, till I become a hill, High as Olympus' cloud-dividing top; That I might fall, and crush them into air. I'll observe.

[_Exit behind the hangings._

ANT. Command, I prythee, all[16] This little world I'm master of contains, And be assur'd 'tis granted; I have a life, I owe to death; and in my country's cause I should----

FUL. Good sir, no more, This ungrateful land owes you too much already.

ALER. And you still bind it in stronger bonds.

PAN. Your noble deeds that, like to thoughts, outstrip The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment: We are poor, but in unprofitable thanks; Nay, that cannot rehearse enough your merit.

ANT. I dare not hear this; pardon, bashful ears, For suffering such a scarlet to o'erspread Your burning portals. Gentlemen, your discourses taste of court, They have a relish of known flattery; I must deny to understand their folly: Your pardon, I must leave you: Modesty commands.

FUL. Your honour's vassals.

ANT. O good colonel, be more a soldier, Leave compliments for those that live at ease, To stuff their table-books; and o'er a board, Made gaudy with some pageant, beside custards, Whose quaking strikes a fear into the eaters, Dispute 'em in a fashionable method. A soldier's language should be (as his calling) Rough, to declare he is a man of fire. Farewell without the straining of a sinew, No superstitious cringe! adieu!

[_Exit._

ALER. Is't not a hopeful lord? Nature to him has chain'd the people's hearts; Each to his saint offers a form of prayer For young Antonio.

PAN. And in that loved name pray for the kingdom's good.

FUL. Count Machiavel!

_Enter_ MACHIAVEL _from behind the hangings_.

ALER. Let's away.

[_Exeunt_: _manet_ MACHIAVEL.

MACH. Heart, wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves Fawn like to whelps on young Antonio, And fly from me as from infection? Death, Confusion, and the list of all diseases, wait upon your lives Till you be ripe for hell, which when it gapes, May it devour you all: stay, Machi'vel, Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman That has no strength, but what her tongue Makes a monopoly; be more a man, Think, think; in thy brain's mint Coin all thy thoughts to mischief: That may act revenge at full. Plot, plot, tumultuous thoughts, incorporate; Beget a lump, howe'er deform'd, that may at length, Like to a cub lick'd by the careful dam, Become (like to my wishes) perfect vengeance. Antonio, ay, Antonio--nay, all, Rather than lose my will, shall headlong fall Into eternal ruin; my thoughts are high. Death, sit upon my brow; let every frown Banish a soul that stops me of a crown.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ EVADNE _and_ NURSE.

EVAD. The tailor yet return'd, nurse?

NUR. Madam, not yet.

EVAD. I wonder why he makes gowns so imperfect; They need so many says.

NUR. Truly, in sooth, and in good deed, la, madam, The stripling is in love: deep, deep in love.

EVAD. Ha! Does his soul shoot with an equal dart From the commanding bow of love's great god, Keep passionate time with mine? or has She spi'd my error to reflect with eager beams Of thirsty love upon a tailor, being myself Born high? [_Aside._]----I must know more-- In love, good nurse, with whom?

NUR. Truly, madam, 'tis a fortune, Cupid, good lad--prais'd be his godhead for't, Has thrown upon me, and I am proud on't; O, 'tis a youth jocund as sprightly May, One that will do discreetly with a wife, Board her without direction from the stars, Or counsel from the moon to do for physic; No, he's a back;--O, 'tis a back indeed!

EVAD. Fie! this becomes you not.

NUR. Besides, he is of all that conquering calling, A tailor, madam: O, 'tis a taking trade! What chambermaid--with reverence may I speak of those lost maidenheads-- Could long hold out against a tailor?

EVAD. Y' are uncivil.

NUR. What aged female, for I must confess I am worn threadbare-- Would not be turn'd, and live a marriage life, To purchase heaven?

EVAD. Heaven----

NUR. Yes, my dear madam, heaven; whither, My most sweet lady, but to heaven? hell's a Tailor's warehouse; he has the keys, and sits In triumph cross-legg'd o'er the mouth: It is no place of horror, There's no flames made blue with brimstone; But the bravest silks, so fashionable-- O, I do long to wear such properties!

EVAD. Leave your talk, One knocks: go, see.

[_Knocks within._

NUR. O, 'tis my love! I come.

[_Exit._

EVAD. A tailor; fie! blush, my too tardy soul, And on my brow place a becoming scorn, Whose fatal sight may kill his mounting hopes. Were he but one that, when 'twas said he's born, Had been born noble, high, Equal in blood to that our house boasts great; I'd fly into his arms with as much speed As an air-cutting arrow to the stake. But, O, he comes! my fortitude is fled.

_Enter_ NURSE _and_ GIOVANNO _with a gown_.

GIO. Yonder she is, and walks, yet in sense strong enough to maintain argument; she's under my cloak; for the best part of a lady, as this age goes, is her clothes; in what reckoning ought we tailors to be esteemed then, that are the master-workmen to correct nature! You shall have a lady, in a dialogue with some gallant touching his suit, the better part of man, so suck the breath that names the skilful tailor, as if it nourished her. Another Donna fly from the close embracements of her lord, to be all-over-measured by her tailor. One will be sick, forsooth, and bid her maid deny her to this don, that earl, the other marquis, nay, to a duke; yet let her tailor lace and unlace her gown, so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion. Here's one has in my sight made many a noble don to hang the head, dukes and marquises, three in a morning, break their fasts on her denials; yet I, her tailor, blessed be the kindness of my loving stars, am ushered; she smiles, and says I have stayed too long, and then finds fault with some slight stitch, that eyelet-hole's too close, then must I use my bodkin, 'twill never please else; all will not do. I must take it home for no cause but to bring it her again next morning. We tailors are the men, spite o' the proverb, ladies cannot live without. It is we That please them best in their commodity: There's magic in our habits, tailors can Prevail 'bove him honour styles best of man.

EVAD. Bid him draw near.

NUR. Come hither, love, sweet chuck: My lady calls.

GIO. What means this woman? sure, she loves me too, Tailors shall speed, had they no tongues to woo: Women would sue to them.

[_Aside._]

EVAD. What, have you done it now?

GIO. Madam, your gown by my industry Is purg'd of errors.

EVAD. Lord, what a neat methodical way you have To vent your phrases; pray, when did you commence?

GIO. What mean you, madam?

EVAD. Doctor, I mean; you speak so physical.

NUR. Nay, madam, 'tis a youth, I praise my stars For their kind influence, a woman may be proud on, And I am. O, 'tis a youth in print, a new Adonis. And I could wish, although my glass tells me I'm wondrous fair, I were a Venus for him.

GIO. O lady, you are more fairer by far.

NUR. La you there, madam!

GIO. Where art thou, man? art thou transform'd, Or art thou grown so base, that This ridiculous witch should think I love her?

[_Aside._]

EVAD. Leave us.

NUR. I go. Duck, I'll be here anon; I will, dove.

[_Exit._

GIO. At your best leisure. Protect me, manhood, lest my glutted sense, Feeding with such an eager appetite on Your rare beauty, [and] breaking the sluices, Burst into a flood of passionate tears. I must, I will enjoy her, though a Destroying clap from Jove's artillery were the reward: And yet, dull-daring sir, by your favour, no, He must be more than savage can attempt To injure so much spotless innocence: Pardon, great powers, the thought of such offence.

[_Aside._]

EVAD. When Sebastiano, clad in conquering steel, And in a phrase able to kill, or from a coward's heart Banish a thought of fear, woo'd me, [He] won not so much on my captive soul As this youth's silence does. Help me, some power, out of this tangling maze, I shall be lost else.

[_Aside._

GIO. Fear, to the breast of women; build Thy throne on their soft hearts; mine must not be Thy slave.--[_Aside._] Your pleasure, madam?

EVAD. I have a question must be directly answer'd; No excuse, but from thy heart a truth.

GIO. Command me, madam; were it a secret, On whose hinges hung the casements of my life, Yet your command shall be obey'd to the least Scruple.

EVAD. I take your word: My aged nurse tells me you love her: Answer; is't a truth?

GIO. She's jealous, I'll try; As oracle.

EVAD. Ha!

GIO. 'Tis so, I'll further; I love her, madam, With as rich a flame as anchorites Do saints they offer prayers unto. I hug her memory as I would embrace The breath of Jove when it pronounced me Happy, or prophet that should speak my After-life great, even with adoration deified.

EVAD. My life, like to a bubble i' th' air, Dissolv'd by some uncharitable wind, Denies my body warmth: your breath Has made me nothing.

[_She faints._

GIO. Rather let me lose all external being. Madam, good madam.

EVAD. You say you love her.

GIO. Madam, I do. Can any love the beauty of a stone, Set by some curious artist in a ring, But he must attribute some [virtue] to The file that adds unto the lustre? You appear like to a gem, cut by the Steady hand of careful nature into such Beauteous tablets, that dull art, Famous in skilful flattery, is become A novice in what fame proclaim'd him doctor; He can't express one spark of your great lustre. Madam, those beauties that, but studied on By their admirers, are deifi'd, serve But as spots to make your red and white Envi'd of cloister'd saints.

EVAD. Have I, ungrateful man, like to the sun, That from the heavens sends down his Cherishing beams on some religious plant, That with a bow, the worship of the Thankful, pays the preserver of his life And growth: but thou, unthankful man, In scorn of me, to love a calendar of many Years.[17]

GIO. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious rite, The Heathens us'd to pay their gods, I offer up A life, that until now ne'er knew a price-- Made dear because you love it.

EVAD. Arise; It is a ceremony due unto none but heaven.

GIO. Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave, Unless, dear goddess, you forget to be Cruel to him adores you with a zeal, Equal to that of hermits.

EVAD. I believe you, and thus exchange a devout vow Humbly upon my knees, that, though the Thunder of my brother's rage should force divorce, Yet in my soul to love you; witness all The wing'd inhabitants of the highest heaven!

GIO. If sudden lightning, such as vengeful Jove Clears the infectious air with, threaten'd to scorch My daring soul to cinders, if I Did love you, lady, I would love you, spite Of the dogged fates or any power those curs'd Hags set to oppose me.

_To them enter_ NURSE.

EVAD. Be thyself again.

NUR. Madam, your brother.

EVAD. Fie! you have done it ill; our brother, say you? Pray you, take it home and mend it.

GIO. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave. Love, I am made thy envy; I am he This vot'ress prays unto, as unto thee: Tailors are more than men; and here's the odds: They make fine ladies: ladies make them gods: And so they are not men, but far above them. This makes the tailors proud; then ladies love them.

[_Exit._

ANTONIO _meets him_.

ANT. What's he that pass'd?

EVAD. My tailor.

ANT. There's something in his face I (sure) should know. But, sister, to your beads; pray for distress'd Seville; Whilst I mount some watchtower, To o'erlook our enemies: religion's laws Command me fight for my lov'd country's cause.

[_Exit._

EVAD. Love bids me pray, and on his altars make A sacrifice for my lov'd tailor's sake.

[_Exit._

_Alarum._ _Enter_ RAYMOND, PHILIPPA, LEONIS, GILBERTI, _and_ FIRENZO.

RAY. Stand.

LEO. Stand.

GIL. Stand.

FIR. Give the word through the army, stand there.

WITHIN. Stand, stand, stand, stand, ho!

RAY. Bid the drum cease, whilst we embrace our love: Come, my Philippa, like the twins of war, Lac'd in our steelly corselets, we're become The envy of those brain-begotten gods Mouldy antiquity lifted to heaven; Thus we exchange our breath.

[_Kiss._

PHIL. My honour'd lord, Duty commands, I pay it back again. 'Twill waste me into smoke else. Can my body retain that breath that would Consume an army dress'd in a rougher habit? Pray, deliver (come, I'm a gentle thief) The breath you stole.

[_He kisses her._

RAY. Restore back mine. [_She kisses him._] So, go, pitch our tent, we'll Have a combat i' th' field of love with thee Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art A friendly enemy. How say you, lords? Does not my love appear Like to the issue of the brain of Jove, Governess of arms and arts, Minerva! Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons?

LORDS. She is a mine of valour.

PHIL. Lords, spare your praises till, like Bradamant, The mirror of our sex, I make the foe Of France and us crouch like a whelp, Awed by the heaving of his master's hand; My heart runs through my arm, and when I deal A blow, it sinks a soul. My sword flies nimbler than the bolts of Jove, And wounds as deep. Spain, thy proud host shall feel Death has bequeath'd his office to my steel.

RAY. Come on, brave lords; upon your general's word, Philippa loves no parley like the sword.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ GIOVANNO, OLD TAILOR, VERMIN, _and two more_.

GIO. Come, bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble shears, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, stiletto blades, and prove the proverb lies, lies in his throat: one tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart gentlemen, known by their clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker.

O. TAI. We must to the wars, my boys.

VER. How, master, to the wars?

O. TAI. Ay, to the wars, Vermin; what say'st thou to that?

VER. Nothing, but that I had rather stay at home: O, the good penny-bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master, good master, let me alone to live with honest John, noble John Black.

2D TAI. Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Vermin?

VER. No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me: I shall be gaping for my morning's loaf and dram of ale, I shall; and now and then look for a cabbage-leaf or an odd remnant to clothe my bashful buttocks.

O. TAI. You shall.

VER. Yes, marry; why, I hope poor Vermin must be fed, and will be fed, or I'll torment you.

GIO. Master, I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows.

O. TAI. Ay, ay, do, do, good boy.

[_Exit._

GIO. Come, my bold fellows, let us eternise, For our country's good, some noble act, That may by time be regist'red at full: And as the year renews, so shall our fame Be fresh to after-times: the tailor's name, So much trod under and the scorn of all, Shall by this act be high, whilst others fall.

3D TAI. Come, Vermin, come.

VER. Nay, if Vermin slip from the back of a tailor, spit him with a Spanish needle: or torment him in the louse's engine--your two thumb-nails.

[_Exit all but_ GIOVANNO.

GIO. The city's sieged, and thou thus chain'd In airy fetters of a lady's love! It must not be: stay, 'tis Evadne's love; Her life is with the city ruined, if The French become victorious: Evadne must not die: her chaster name, That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame.

[_Exit._