Part 13

_Bob._ Why, I but taught her a _Spanish_ trick in charity, and holpe 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 doe: 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--

_Luc._ You will not kill me? oh.

_Bob._ I knew this would silence him: how he hides his eies! If he were a wench now, as he seems, what an advantage Had I, drawing two _Toledo_'s, when one can do this! But oh me, my Lady: I must put up: young Master I did but jest: Oh custom, what hast thou made of him?

_Enter_ Eugenia _and Servants_.

_Eug._ For bringing this, be still my friend; no more A servant to me.

_Bo[b]._ What's the matter?

_Eug._ 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 unhop'd for blessing Heavens kind hand Hath pour'd upon me.

_Luc._ Let my duty Madam Presume, if you have cause of joy, to intreat I may share in it.

_Bob._ 'Tis well, he has forgot how I frighted him yet.

_Eug._ Thou shalt: but first kneel with me _Lucio_, No more _Posthumia_ now, thou hast a Father, A Father living to take off that name, Which my too credulous fears, that he was dead, Bestow'd 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_: Oh my joyes, So far transport me, that I must forget The ornaments of Matrons, modesty, And grave behaviour; 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 despair'd of.

_Luc._ Shall I then see my Father?

_Eug._ 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 conceal'd 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 fathers actions be thy precepts; And for thee _Zancho_, now expect reward For thy true service.

_Bob._ Shall I? you hear fellow _Stephano_, learn to know me more respectively; how dost thou think I shall become the Stewards chair, ha? will not these slender hanches show well with a chain, and a gold night-Cap after supper, when I take the accompts?

_Eug._ Haste, and take down those Blacks with which my chamber Hath like the widow, her sad Mistriss mourn'd, And hang up for it, the rich _Persian_ Arras, Us'd on my wedding night, for this to me Shall be a second marriage: send for Musique, And will the Cooks to use their best of cunning To please the palat.

_Bob._ Will your Ladyship have a Potato-pie, 'tis a good stirring dish for an old Lady, after a long _Lent_.

_Eug._ Begone I say: why Sir, you can goe faster?

_Bob._ I could Madam: but I am now to practise the Stewards 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.

_Luc._ Pray Madam, let the wastcoat I last wrought Be made up for my Father: I will have A Cap, and Boot-hose sutable to it.

_Eug._ Of that We'll think hereafter _Lucio_: our thoughts now Must have no object but thy Fathers welcome, To which thy help--

_Luc._ With humble gladness, Madam. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Alvarez, Clara.

_Alv._ Where lost we _Syavedra_?

_Cla._ He was met Ent'ring the City by some Gentlemen Kinsmen, as he said of his own, with whom For compliment sake (for so I think he term'd it) He was compell'd 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 charg'd home, Can learn so sodainly 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 hours discourse with one of these Smooth City-fools, or Tissue-Cavaliers, The only Gallants, as they wisely think, To get a Jewel, or a wanton Kiss From a Court-lip, though painted.

_Alv._ My Love _Clara_, (For _Lucio_ is a name thou must forget With _Lucio_'s bold behaviour) though thy breeding I' th' Camp, may plead something in the excuse Of thy rough manners, custom having chang'd, Though not thy Sex, the softness of thy nature, And fortune (then a cruel stepdame to thee) Impos'd upon thy tender sweetness, burthens 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 proffer'd bounties with a willing bosom; Thou shalt no more have need to use thy sword; Thy beauty (which even _Belgia_ hath not alter'd) Shall be a stronger guard, to keep my _Clara_, Than that has been, (though never us'd but nobly) And know thus much.

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

_Alv._ Endeavour rather [_Musick._ To be what you are, _Clara_, entring here, As you were born, a woman.

_Enter_ Eugenia, Lucio, _Servants_.

_Eug._ Let choice Musick In the best voice that e'er touch'd humane ear, For joy hath ti'd my tongue up, speak your welcome.

_Alv._ My soul (for thou giv'st new life to my spirit) Myriads of joyes, 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 restor'd, and like old _Æson_ Grow young again.

_Eug._ My Lord, long wish'd 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 eies now surfeit On this so wish'd for object, and my lips Yet modestly pay back the parting kiss You trusted with them, when you fled from _Sevil_, With little _Clara_ my sweet daughter: lives she? Yet I could chide my self, having you here For being so covetous of all joyes at once, T' enquire for her, you being alone, to me My _Clara, Lucio_, my Lord, my self, Nay more than all the world.

_Alv._ As you, to me are.

_Eug._ Sit down, and let me feed upon the story Of your past dangers, now you are here in safety It will give rellish, and fresh appetite To my delights, if such delights can cloy me. Yet do not _Alvarez_, let me first yield you Account of my life in your absence, and Make you acquainted how I have preserv'd The Jewel left lock'd up in my womb, When you, in being forc'd to leave your Countrey, Suffer'd a civil death. [_Within clashing swords._

_Alv._ Doe my _Eugenia_, 'Tis that I most desire to hear.

_Eug._ Then know. [Sayavedra _within_.

_Alv._ What noise is that?

_Saya._ If you are noble enemies, [Vitelli _within_. Oppress me not with odds, but kill me fairly.

_Vit._ Stand off, I am too many of my self.

_Enter_ Bobadilla.

_Bob._ Murther, murther, murther, your friend my Lord, _Don Sayavedra_ is set upon in the streets, by your enemies _Vitelli_, and his Faction: I am almost kill'd with looking on them.

_Alv._ I'll free him, or fall with him: draw thy sword And follow me.

_Cla._ Fortune, I give thee thanks For this occasion once more to use it. [_Exit._

_Bo[b]._ Nay, hold not me Madam; if I do any hurt, hurt me.

_Luc._ Oh I am dead with fear! let's flie into Your Closet, Mother.

_Eug._ No hour of my life Secure of danger? heav'n be merciful, Or now at once dispach me.

_Enter_ Vitelli, _pursued by_ Alvarez, _and_ Sayavedra, Clara _beating of_ Anastro.

_Cla._ Follow him Leave me to keep these of.

_Alv._ Assault my friend So near my house?

_Vit._ 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.

_Alv._ Haste thou to him, And say I sent thee:

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

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

_Cla._ 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.

_Say._ Defend your Fathers enemy?

_Alv._ Art thou mad?

_Cla._ Are you men rather? shall that valour, which Begot you lawful honor in the wars, Prove now the Parent of an infamous Bastard So foul, yet so long liv'd, as murther will Be to your shames? have each of you, alone With your own dangers only, purchas'd glory From multitudes of enemies, not allowing Those nearest to you, to have part in it, And do you now joyn, and lend mutual help Against a single opposite? hath the mercy Of the great King, but newly wash'd away The blood, that with the forfeit of your life Cleav'd 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 call'd on his own ruin; Remember yet, he was first wrong'd, and honor Spurr'd 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 countrey-man, 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.

_Alv._ I am pleas'd With what I dare not give allowance to; Unnatural wretch, what wilt thou do?

_Cla._ Set free A noble enemy: come not on, by----You pass to him, through me: the way is open: Farewel: when next I meet you, do not look for A friend, but a vow'd foe; I see you worthy, And therefore now preserve you, for the honor Of my sword only:

_Vit._ Were this man a friend, How would he win me, that being my vow'd foe Deserves so well? I thank you for my life; But how I shall deserve it, give me leave Hereafter to consider. [_Exit._

_Alv._ Quit thy fear, All danger is blown over: I have Letters To the Governor, in the Kings 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_.

_Eug._ A thousand blessings in that word.

_Alv._ The reason Why I have bred her up thus, at more leasure 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.

_Eug._ 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 Alter'd by custom, more than Woman, he Transform'd by his soft life, is less than man.

_Alv._ Fortune, in this gives ample satisfaction For all our sorrows past.

_Luc._ My dearest Sister.

_Cla._ Kind Brother.

_Alv._ Now our mutual care must be Imploy'd to help wrong'd 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._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Pachieco, _and_ Lazarillo.

_Pac._ Boy: [my] Cloak, and Rapier; it fits not a Gentleman of my rank, to walk the streets in _Querpo_.

_Laz._ Nay, you are a very rank Gent. Signior, I am very hungry, they tell me in _Sevil_ here, I look like an Eel, with a mans head: and your neighbor the Smith here hard by, would have borrowed me th' other day, to have fish'd with me, because he had lost his Angle-rod.

_Pac._ Oh happy thou _Lazarillo_ (being the cause of other mens 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.

_Laz._ 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.

_Pac._ Be abstinent; shew not the corruption of thy generation: he that feeds, shall die, therefore, he that feeds not shall live.

_Laz._ I; but how long shall he live? there's the question.

_Pac._ As long as he can without feeding: did'st thou read of the miraculous Maid in _Flanders_?

_Laz._ No, nor of any Maid else; for the miracle of Virgi[n]ity now-a-days ceases, e'r the Virgin can read Virginity?

_Pac._ She that liv'd three years without any other sustenance, than the smell of a Rose.

_Laz._ I heard of her _Signior_, but they say her guts shrunk all into Lute-strings, and her neather-parts cling'd together like a Serpents Tail, so that though she continued a woman still above the girdle, beneath yet she was monster.

_Pac._ So are most women, believe it.

_Laz._ Nay all women _Signior_, that can live only upon the smell of a Rose.

_Pac._ No part of the History is fabulous.

_Laz._ 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.

_Pac. O' de dios_: wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies?

_Laz._ He that eats nothing but a red herring a day, shall ne'r be broil'd for the devil's rasher: a Pilchard, _Signior_, a Surdiny, an Olive, that I may be a Philosopher first, and immortal after.

_Pac._ Patience _Lazarillo_; let contemplation be thy food awhile: I say unto thee, one Pease was a Soldiers Provant a whole day, At the destruction of _Jerusalem_.

_Enter_ Metaldi, _and_ Mendoza.

_Laz._ I; and it were any where but at the destruction of a place, I'll be hang'd.

_Met. Signior Pachieco Alasto_, my most ingenious Cobler of _Sevil_, the _bonos noxios_ to your Signiorie.

_Pac. Signior Metaldi de Forgio_, my most famous Smith, and man of Mettle, I return your courtesie ten fold, and do humble my Bonnet beneath the Shooe-sole of your congie: the like to you _Signior Mendoza Pediculo de Vermim_, my most exquisite Hose-heeler.

_Laz._ Here's a greeting betwixt a Cobler, a Smith, and a Botcher: they all belong to the foot, which makes them stand so much upon their Gentrie.

_Mend. Signior Lazarillo._

_Laz._ Ah Signior see: nay, we are all _Signiors_ here in _Spain_, from the Jakes-farmer to the Grandee, or _Adelantado_: this Botcher looks as if he were Dough-bak'd, a little Butter now, and I could eat him like an Oaten-cake: his fathers diet was new Cheese and Onions when he got him: what a scallion-fac'd rascal 'tis!

_Met._ 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?

_Mend._ I; your reason for that.

_Pac._ Why thou Iron-pated Smith: and thou Woollen-witted Hose-heeler: hear what I will speak indifferently (and according to antient Writers) of our three professions: and let the upright _Lazarillo_ be both judge and moderator.

_Laz._ Still am I the most immortally hungry; that may be.

_Pac._ Suppose thou wilt derive thy Pedigree, like some of the old _Heroes_, (as _Hercules, Æneas, Achilles_) lineally from the gods, making _Saturn_ thy great Grandfather, and _Vulcan_ thy Father: _Vulcan_ was a god.

_Laz._ He'll make _Vulcan_ your godfather by and by.

_Pac._ Yet I say, _Saturn_ was a crabbed block-head, and _Vulcan_ a limping Horn-head, for _Venus_ his wife was a strumpet, and _Mars_ begot all her Children; therefore however, thy original must of necessity spring from Bastardie: further, what can be a more deject spirit in man, than to lay his hands under every ones 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 kib'd heels: much prone thou art to Sects, and Heresies, disturbing State, and Government; for how canst thou be a sound member in the common-wea[l]th, that art so subject to stit[c]hes in the ankles? blush, and be silent then, oh ye Mechanicks, compare no more with the politick Cobler: For Coblers (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 mans foot? are we not daily menders? yea, and what menders? not horse-menders.

_Laz._ Nor manners-menders.

_Pach._ But soul-menders: Oh divine Coblers; do we not, like the wise man, spin out our own threads, (or our wives for us?) do we not by our sowing the Hide, reap the Beef? are not we of the Gentle-craft, whilst both you are but Crafts-men; 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 botcher, that has a heel'd hose on his head: to conclude, there can be no comparison with the Cobler, who is all in all in the Common-wealth, has his politique eye and ends on every mans steps that walks, and whose course shall be lasting to the worlds end.

_Met._ 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'r clinch shooe again.

_Enter_ Vitelli _and_ Alguazier.

_Pac._ Who's this? oh our _Alguazier_: as arrant a knave as e'er wore one head under two offices: he is one side _Alguazier_.

_Met._ The other side Serjeant.

_Mend._ That's both sides carrion I am sure.

_Pac._ 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 Curtizan of his, lately come from _Madrid_.

_Vit._ Let her want nothing _Signior_, she can aske: What loss or injury you may sustain I will repair, and recompence your love: Only that fellows coming I mislike, And did fore-warn her of him: bear her this With my best love, at night I'll visit her.

_Alg._ I rest your Lordships Servant.

_Vit._ Good ev'n, 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 Suns On baser fires: I would to heaven my bloud Had never stain'd 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 gratify'd him in like kind. [_Exit._

_Alg._ I know you not: what are ye? hence ye base _Besegnios_.

_Pac. Mary Catzo Signior Alguazier_, d'ye not know us? why, we are your honest neighbors, the Cobler, Smith, and Botcher, that have so often sate snoaring cheek by joll with your Signiorie, in rug at midnight.

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

_Met._ By this hand, I could find in my heart to shooe his head.

_Pac._ Why then know you, _Signior_; thou mongril, begot at midnight, at the Goal gate, by a Beadle, on a Catchpoles wife, are not you he that was whipt out of _Toledo_ for perjury.

_Men._ Next; condemn'd to the Gallies for pilfery, to the Buls pizel.

_Met._ And after call'd to the Inquisition, for Apostacie.

_Pac._ Are not you he that rather than you durst goe an industrious voyage being press'd to the Islands, skulk'd till the Fleet was gone, and then earn'd your Royal a day by squiring puncks, and puncklings up and down the City?

_Laz._ Are not you a _Portuguize_ born, descended o' the _Moors_, and came hither into _Sevil_ with your Master, an arrant Tailor, in your red Bonnet, and your blue Jacket, lousie, though now your block-head be cover'd with the _Spanish_ block, and your lashed Shoulders with a Velvet Pee.

_Pac._ Are not you he that have been of thirty callings, yet ne'r a one lawful? that being a Chandler first, profess'd sincerity, and would sell no man Mustard to his Beef on the Sabbath, and yet sold Hypocrisie all your life time?

_Met._ Are not you he, that were since a Surgeon to the Stews, and undertook to cure what the Church it self could not, Strumpets that rise to your office by being a great Don's Bawd?

_Laz._ That commit men nightly, offenceless, for the gain of a groat a prisoner, which your Beadle seems to put up, when you share three pence?

_Mend._ Are not you he that is a kisser of men, in drunkenness, and a betrayer in sobriety?

_Alg. Diabolo_: they'll rail me into the Gallies again.