Part 22

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

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

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

_Eug._ Sit, and rest a while.

_Marc._ Where are the Surgeons?

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

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

_Theo._ Alass!

_Leoc._ How do you Sir.

_Eug._ Will you drink waters?

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

_Phil._ We will not.

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

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

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

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

_Eug._ Shall I call back your friends?

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

_Eug._ Sir, I will.

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

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

_Marc._ Oh.

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

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

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

_Mar._ I will tell you Madam.

_Eug._ Tell me and laugh?

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

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

_Mar._ Gentle Madam Call 'em not in?

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

_Enter_ Leocadia.

_Mar._ Good Madam.

_Eug._ Gentlemen.

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

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

_Enter_ Philippo _and_ Theodosia.

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

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

_Phil. Mark-antonio_, How do you?

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

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

_Phil._ Scape? No doubt he will.

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

_Eug._ Good Sir do.

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

_Theo._ What will she say.

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

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

_Mar._ Oh the Surgeons.

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

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

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

_Mar._ Alass Where are the Surgeons?

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

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

_Leo._ But you desire To satisfie?

_Mar._ Heaven knows I do.

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

_Mar._ Oh heaven!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Phil. Leocadia_'s gone. [_Exit._

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

_Mar._ I think 'tis so indeed.

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

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

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

_Eug._ Within belike.

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

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

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

_Actus V. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Philippo, Diego, _and_ Incubo.

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

_Die._ Not I, i'faith Sir.

_Phil._ Nor the muleter?

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

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

_Inc._ Her Sir? who do you mean?

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

_Die._ He you gave the clothes too?

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

_Die._ Nay good Sir.

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

_Die._ For your honor Sir.

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

_Inc._ Best to divide.

_Die._ I'll this way.

_Inc._ And I this.

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

_Inc._ 'Tis done.

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

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

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

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

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

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Philippo.

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

_Enter_ Incubo.

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

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

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

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

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

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Leonardo _with a Surgeon._

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

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

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

_Surg._ Excuse me.

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

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

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

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

_Scæna Quarta._

_Enter_ Philippo, _and_ Leocadia.

_Ph._ Will you not hear me!

_Leo._ I have heard so much Will keep me deaf for ever; No, _Mark-antonio_ After thy sentence, I may hear no more, Thou hast pronounc'd me dead.

_Phi._ Appeal to reason, She will reprieve you from the power of grief, Which rules but in her absence; Hear me say A soveraign message from her, which in duty, And love to your own safety, you ought hear: Why do you strive so? whither would you flie? You cannot wrest your self away from care You may from counsel; you may shift your place But not your person; and another Clyme Makes you no other.

_Leo._ Oh.

_Phi._ For passions sake, (Which I do serve, honor, and love in you) If you will sigh, sigh here; If you would vary A sigh to tears, or out-cry, do it here. No shade, no desart, darkness, nor the grave Shall be more equal to your thoughts than I, Only but hear me speak.

_Leo._ What would you say?

_Phi._ That which shall raise your heart, or pull down mine, Quiet your passion, or provoke mine own; We must have both one balsome, or one wound, For know (lov'd fair) since the first providence Made me your rescue, I have read you through, And with a wondring pity look'd on you, I have observ'd the method of your blood, And waited on it even with sympathy Of a like Red, and Paleness in mine own; I knew which blush was angers, which was loves, Which was the eye of sorrow, which of truth: And could distinguish honor from disdain In every change: and you are worth my study; I saw your voluntary misery Sustain'd in travel: A disguis'd Maid Wearied with seeking: and with finding lost, Neglected, where you hop'd most, or put by; I saw it, and have laid it to my heart, And though it were my Sister which was righted, Yet being by your wrong, I put off nature, Could not be glad, where I [was] bound to triumph; My care for you, so drown'd respect of her; Nor did I only apprehend your bonds, But studied your release: and for that day Have I made up a ransom, brought [you] health Preservative 'gainst chance, or injury Please you apply it to the grief; my self.

_Leo._ Humph.

_Phi._ Nay, do not think me less than such a cure, _Antonio_ was not; And 'tis possible _Philippo_ may succeed: My bloud and house Are as deep rooted: and as fairly spread, As _Mark-antonio_['_s_], and in that, all seek, Fortune hath given him no precedency: As for our thanks to Nature I may burn Incense as much as he; I ever durst Walk with _Antonio_ by the self-same light At any feast, or triumph, and ne'r car'd Which side my Lady or her woman took In their survey; I durst have told my tale too Though his discourse new ended.

_Leo._ My repulse.

_Phil._ Let not that torture you, w[h]ich makes me happy Nor think that conscience (fair) which is no shame 'Twas no repulse, [I] was your Dowry rather: For then methought a thousand graces met To make you lovely, and ten thousand stories Of constant virtue, which you then out-reach'd, In one example did proclaim you rich: Nor do I think you wretched, or disgrac'd, After this suffering, and do therefore take Advantage of your need; but rather know You are the charge and business of those powers, Who, like best Tutors, do inflict hard tasks Upon great Natures, and of noblest hopes; Read trivial Lessons, and halfe lines to sluggs; They that live long, and never feel mischance, Spend more than halfe their age in ignorance.

_Leo._ 'Tis well you think so.

_Phi._ You shall think so too, You shall sweet _Leocadia_, and do so.

_Leo._ Good Sir no more; you have too fair a shape To play so foul a part in, as the Tempter: Say that I [could] make peace with fortune, who, Who should absolve me of my vow yet; ha? My Contract made?

_Phi._ Your Contract?

_Leo._ Yes, my Contract, Am I not his? his wife?

_Phi._ Sweet, nothing less.

_Leo._ I have no name then?

_Phi._ Truly then you have not; How can you be his wife, who was before Anothers Husband?

_Leo._ Oh, though he dispence With his faith given, I cannot with mine.

_Phi._ You do mistake (cleer soul) his precontract Doth annul yours, and you have giv'n no faith That ties you in Religion, or humanity, You rather sin against that greater precept, To covet what's anothers; Sweet, you do Believe me, who dare not urge dishonest things, Remove that scruple therefore, and but take Your dangers now, into your judgements skale And weigh them with your safeties: Think but whither Now you can goe: what you can do to live? How near you ha' barr'd all Ports [to] your own succor, Except this one that I here open: Love Should you be left alone, you were a prey To the wild lust of any, who would look Upon this shape like a temptation And think you want the man you personate Would not regard this shift, which love put on As virtue forc'd, but covet it like vice; So should you live the slander of each Sex, And be the child of error and of shame, And which is worse, even _Mark-antonie_ Would be call'd just, to turn a wanderer off, And Fame report you worthy his contempt; Where if you make new choice, and settle here There is no further tumult in this flood, Each current keeps his course, and all suspitions Shall return honors: Came you forth a Maid? Go home a Wife? alone? and in disguise? Go home a waited _Leocadia_: Go home, and by the vir[t]ue of that charm Transform all mischiefs, as you are transform'd; Turn your offended Fathers wrath to wonder, A[n]d all his loud grief to a silent welcome: Unfold the Riddles you have made, what say you?

_Enter_ Sanchio _carried,_ Alphonso, _and Servants._

Now is the time; delay is but despair, If you be chang'd, let a kiss tell me so.

_Leo._ I am: but how, I rather feel than know.

_Sanc._ Come Sir; you are welcome now to _Barcelona_, Take off my hood.

_Phi._ Who be these? stay, let's view 'em?

_Alph._ 'Twas a long journey: are you not weary Sir?

_Sanc._ Weary? I could have rid it in mine Armour.

_Leo._ Alas!

_Phi._ What ail you dear?

_Leo._ It is my Father.

_Phi._ Your Father: which?

_Leo._ He that is carried: oh Let us make hence.

_Phi._ For loves sake: good my heart.

_Leo._ Into some house before he see me.

_Phi._ Dear, Be not thus frighted.

_Leo._ Oh his wrath is tempest.

_Phi._ Sweet, take your spirit to you, and stay, be't he, He cannot know you in this habit, and me I'm sure he less knows, for he never saw me.

_Alph._ Ha? who is that? my Son _Philippo_?

_Phi._ Sir.

_Alph._ Why, what make you here? Is this _Salamanca_? And that your study? ha? nay stay him too, We'll see him by his leave.

_Serv._ You must not strive Sir.

_Alph._ No, no, come near.

_Sanc._ My Daughter: _Leocadia_?

_Alph._ How Sir, your Daughter?

_Sanc._ Yes Sir, and as sure As that's your Son: Come hither: what now? run Out o' your sex? breech'd? was't not enough At once to leave thy Father, and thine honor, Unless th' hadst quit thy self too.

_Phi._ Sir, what fault She can be urg'd of, I must take on me The guilt and punishment.

_Sanc._ You must Sir: how If you shall not, though you must? I deal not With boys Sir; I, you have a Father here Shall do me right.

_Alph._ Thou art not mad _Philippo_? Art thou _Mark-antonie_? Son to _Leonardo_? Our business is to them.

_Sanc._ No, no, no, no. I'll ha' the business now; with you, none else, Pray you let's speak, in private: (carry me to him) Your Son's the ravisher Sir, and here I find him: I hope you'll give me cause to think you noble, And do me right, with your sword Sir, as becomes One gentleman of honor to another; All this is fair Sir: here's the Sea fast by, Upon the sands, we will determine 'Tis that I call you to; let's make no daies on't, I'll lead your way; to the sea-side Rascals.

_Phil._ Sir I would beseech your stay; he may not follow you.

_San._ No, turn, I'll kill him here then: Slaves, Rogues, Bloks. Why do you not bear me to him? ha' you been Acquainted with my motions, loggs, so long And yet not know to time 'em.

_Phi._ Were you Sir Not impotent.

_Alph._ Hold you your peace Boy.

_Sanc._ Impotent, 'Death, I'll cut his throat first, and then his Fathers.

_Alph._ You must provide you then a sharper Razor Than is your tongue, for I not fear your sword.

_Sanc._ 'Heart bear me to either of 'em.

_Phi._ Pray Sir your patience.

_Enter Governor and Attendants._

_Alph._ My curse light on thee if thou stay him.

_Phi._ Hold.

_Gov._ Why, what's the matter, Gentlemen, what tumult Is this you raise i'th' street? before my door? Know you what 'tis to draw a weapon here?