Part 8

_Pan._ And get you after her, I will work upon my citizen whilst he is warm, I must not suffer him to consult with his neighbours, the openest fools are hardly cousened, if they once grow jealous. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Gondarino flying the Lady._

_Gond._ Save me ye better powers, let me not fall Between the lo[o]se embracements of a woman: Heaven, if my Sins be ripe grown to a head, And must attend your vengeance: I beg not to divert my fate, Or to reprive a while thy punishment Only I crave, and hear me equall heavens, Let not your furious rod, that must afflict me Be that imperfect peece of nature, That art makes up, woman, unsatiate woman. Had we not knowing souls, at first infus'd To teach a difference, 'twixt extremes and goods? Were we not made our selves, free, unconfin'd Commanders of our own affections? And can it be, that this most perfect creature, This image of his maker, well squar'd man, Should leave the handfast, that he had of grace, To fall into a womans easie armes.

_Enter Oriana._

_Orian._ Now _Venus_, be my speed, inspire me with all the severall subtil temptations, that thou hast already given, or hast in store heareafter to bestow upon our Sex: grant that I may apply that Physick that is most apt to work upon him: whether he will soonest be mov'd with wantonness, singing, dancing; or being passionate, with scorn; or with sad and serious looks, cunningly mingled with sighs, with smiling, lisping, kissing the hand, and making short curt'sies, Or with whatsoever other nimble power, he may be caught, doe thou infuse into me, and when I have him, I will sacrifice him up to thee.

_Gond._ It comes again; New apparitions, And tempting spirits: Stand and reveal thy self, Tell why thou followest me! I fear thee As I fear the place thou cam'st from: Hell.

_Orian._ My Lord, I 'm a woman, and such a one--

_Gond._ That I hate truely, thou hadst better bin a devill.

_Orian._ Why my unpatient Lord?

_Gond._ Devils were once good, there they excell'd you wom[e]n.

_Orian._ Can ye be so uneasie, can ye freeze, and Such a summers heat so ready To dissolve? nay gentle Lord, turn not away in scorn, Nor hold me less fair than I am: look on these cheeks, They have yet enough of nature, true complexion, If to be red and white, a forehead high, An easie melting lip, a speaking eye, And such a tongue, whose language takes the ear Of strict religion, and men most austere: If these may hope to please, look here.

_Gond._ This woman with entreaty wo'd show all, Lady there lies your way, I pray ye farewell.

_Orian._ Y'are yet too harsh, too dissonant, There's no true musick in your words, my Lord.

_Gond._ What shall I give thee to be gone?

Here's ta, and tha wants lodging, take my house, 'tis big enough, 'tis thine own, 'twill hold five leacherous Lords, and their lackies without discovery: there's stoves and bathing tubs.

_Orian._ Dear Lord: y'are too wild.

_Gond._ Shalt have a Doctor too, thou shalt, 'bout six and twentie, 'tis a pleasing age; Or I can help thee to a handsome Usher: or if thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one, preethee keep house, and leave me.

_Oria._ I doe confess I'm too easie, too much woman, Not coy enough to take affection, Yet I can frown and nip a passion, Even in the bud: I can say Men please their present heats; Then please to leave us. I can hold off, and, by my Chymick power, Draw Sonnets from the melting lovers brain; _Ayme's_, and _Elegies_: yet to you my Lord My Love, my better self, I put these off, Doing that office, not befits our sex, Entreat a man to love; Are ye not yet relenting? ha'ye blood and Spirit In those veins? ye are no image, though ye be as hard As marble: sure ye have no liver, if ye had, 'Twould send a lively and desiring heat To every member; Is not this miserable? A thing so truely form'd, shapt out by Symetry, Has all the organs that belong to man, And working too, yet to shew all these Like dead motions moving upon wyers? Then good my Lord, leave off what you have been, And freely be what you were first intended for, a man.

_Gond._ Thou art a precious peece of slie damnation, I will be deaf, I will lock up my ears, Tempt me not, I will not love; If I doe.

_Oria._ Then I'll hate you.

_Gond._ Let me be 'nointed with hony, and turn'd into the Sun, To be stung to death with horse-flies, Hear'st thou, thou breeder, here I'll sit, And, in despight of thee, I will say nothing.

_Oria._ Let me with your fair patience, sit beside you.

_Gond._ Madam, Lady, tempter, tongue, woman, ayr. Look to me, I shall kick; I say again, Look to me I shall kick.

_Oria._ I cannot think your better knowledg[e] can use a woman so uncivilly.

_Gond._ I cannot think, I shall become a coxcombe, To ha'my hair curl'd, by an idle finger, My cheeks turn Tabers, and be plaid upon, Mine eyes lookt babies in, and my nose blowd to my hand, I say again I shall kick, sure I shall.

_Oria._ 'Tis but your outside that you shew, I know your mind Never was guilty of so great a weakness, Or could the to[n]gues of all men joyn'd together. Possess me with a thought of your dislike My weakness were above a womans, to fall off From my affection, for one crack of thunder, O wo'd you could love, my Lord.

_Gond._ I wo'd thou wouldst sit still, and say nothing: what mad-man let thee lo[o]se to do more mischief than a dousen whirlwinds, keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the idle worms in thy fingers ends: will ye be doing still? will no entreating serve ye? no lawfull warning? I must remove and leave your Ladyship; Nay never hope to stay me, for I will run, from that Smooth, Smiling, Witching, Cousening, Tempting, Damning face of thine, as far as I can find any land, where I will put my self into a daily course of Curses for thee, and all thy Familie.

_Oria._ Nay good my Lord sit still, I'll promise peace And fold mine Armes up, let but mine eye discourse; Or let my voyce, set to some pleasing cord, sound out The sullen strains of my neglected love.

_Gond._ Sing till thou crack thy treble-string in peeces, And when thou hast done, put up thy pipes and walk, Doe any thing, sit still and tempt me not.

_Oria._ I had rather sing at doors for bread, than sing to this fellow, but for hate: if this should be told in the Court, that I begin to woe Lords, what a troop of the untrust nobilitie should I have at my lodging to morrow morning.

SONG.

_Come sleep, and with th[y] sweet deceiving,_ _Lock me in delight a while,_ _Let some pleasing Dreams beguile_ _All my fancies; That from thence,_ _I may feel an influence,_ _All my powers of care bereaving._ _Though but a shadow, but a sliding,_ _Let me know some little Joy,_ _We that suffer long anoy_ _Are contented with a thought_ _Through an idle fancie wrought_ _O let my joyes, have some abiding._

_Gond._ Have you done your wassayl? 'tis a handsome drowsie dittie I'll assure ye, now I had as leave hear a Cat cry, when her tail is cut off, as hear these lamentations, these lowsie love-layes, these bewailements: you think you have caught me Lady, you think I melt now, like a dish of May butter, and run, all into brine, and passion, yes, yes, I 'm taken, look how I cross my arms, look pale, and dwyndle, and wo'd cry, but for spoyling my face; we must part, nay we'll avoyd all Ceremony, no kissing Lady, I desire to know your Ladiship no more; death of my soul the Duke!

_Oria._ God keep your Lordship.

_Gond._ From thee and all thy sex.

_Oria._ I'll be the Clark, and crie, _Amen_, Your Lordships ever assured enemie _Oriana_.

[_Exit. Oriana, Manet Gondarino._

_Actius Tertius. Scæna Secunda._

_Enter Duke, Arrigo, Lucia._

_Gond._ All the days good, attend your Lordship.

_Duk._ We thank you _Gondarino_, is it possible? Can belief lay hold on such a miracle, To see thee, one that hath cloyst'red up all passion, Turn'd wilfull votary, and forsworn converse with women, in company and fair discourse, with the best beauty of _Millain_?

_Gon._ 'Tis true, and if your Grace that hath the sway Of the whole State, will suffer this lude sex, These women, to pursue us to our homes, Not to be prayd, no[r] to be rail'd away, But they will woe, and dance, and sing, And, in a manner, looser than they are By nature (which should seem impossible) To throw their armes, on our unwilling necks.

_Duk._ No more, I can see through your vissore, dissemble it no more. Doe not I know thou hast us'd all Art, To work upon the poor simplicitie Of this yong Maid, that yet hath known none ill? Thinkest that damnation will fright those that wooe From oaths, and lies? But yet I think her chast, And will from thee, before thou shalt apply Stronger temptations, bear her hence with me.

_Gond._ My Lord, I speak not this to gain new grace, But howsoever you esteeme my words, My love and dutie will not suffer me To see you favour such a prostitute, And I stand by dumb; Without Rack, Torture, Or Strappado, I[le] unrip my self:

I doe confess I was in company with that pleasing peece of frailtie, that we call woman; I doe confess after a long and tedious seige, I yielded.

_Duke._ Forward.

_Gond._ Faith my Lord to come quickly to the point, the woman you saw with me is a whore; An arrant whore.

_Duke._ Was she not Count _Valores_ Sister?

_Gond._ Yes, that Count _Valores_ Sister is naught.

_Duk._ Thou dar'st not say so.

_Gond._ Not if it be distasting to your Lordship, but give me freedome, and I dare maintain, she ha's imbrac'd this body, and grown to it as close, as the hot youthfull vine to the elme.

_Duk._ Twice have I seen her with thee, twice my thoughts were prompted by mine eye, to hold thy strictness false and imposterous: Is this your mewing up, your strict retirement, your bitterness and gaul against that sex? Have I not heard thee say, thou wouldst sooner meet the _Basilisks_ dead doing eye, than meet a woman for an object? Look it be true you tell me, or by our countries Saint your head goes off: if thou prove a whore, no womans face shall ever move me more. [_Exeunt. Manet Gondarino._

_Gond._ So, so, 'tis as 't should be, are women grown so mankind? Must they be wooing, I have a plot shall blow her up, she flyes, she mounts; I'll teach her Ladyship to dare my fury, I will be known, and fear'd, and more truely hated of women than an Eunuch.

_Enter Oriana._

She's here again, good gaul be patient, for I must dissemble.

_Orian._ Now my cold, frosty Lord, my woman-Hater, you that have sworn an everlasting hate to all our sex: by my troth good Lord, and as I'm yet a maid, my thought 'twas excellent sport to hear your honor swear out an Alphabet, chafe nobly like a Generall, kick like a resty Jade, and make ill faces: Did your good Honor think I was in love? where did I first begin to take that heat? From those two radiant eyes, that piercing sight? oh they were lovely, if the balls stood right; and there's a leg made out of a dainty staff. Where, the Gods be thanked, there is calf enough.

_Gond._ Pardon him Lady, that is now a convert[ite]. Your beauty, like a Saint hath wrought this wonder.

_Oriana._ Alass, ha's it been prick'd at the heart? is the stomach come down? will it rail no more at women, and call 'em Divells, she Cats, and Goblins?

_Gond._ He that shall marry thee, had better spend the poor remainder of his days in a dung-barge, for two pence a week, and find him self.

Down again Spleen, I prethee down again, shall I find favour Lady? shall at length my true unfeigned penitence get pardon for my harsh unseasoned follies? I'm no more an Atheist, no I doe acknowledge, that dread powerfull Deity, and his all quic'kning heats burn in my breast: oh be not as I was, hard unrelenting; but as I [am], be partner of my fires.

_Oria._ Sure we [shall] have store of Larks, the Skies will not hold up long, I should have look'd as soon for Frost in the dog days, or another Inundation, as hop'd this strange conversion above miracle: let me look upon your Lordship; is your name _Gondarino_? are you _Millains_ Generall, that great Bugbear bloody-bones, at whose name all women, from the Lady to the Landress, shake like a cold fit?

_Gond._ Good patience help me, this Fever will inrage my blood again: Madam I'm that man; I'm even he that once did owe unreconcil'd hate to you, and all that bear the name of woman: I'm the man that wrong'd your Honor to the Duke: [I am hee] that said you were unchast, and prostitute, yet I'm he that dare deny all this.

_Orian._ Your big Nobility is very merry.

_Gond._ Lady 'tis true that I have wrong'd you thus, And my contritio[n] is as true as that, Yet have I found a means to make all good again, I doe beseech your beautie, not for my self, My merits are yet in conception, But for your honors safety and my zeal Retire a while, while I unsay my self unto the Duke, And cast out that [evill] Spirit I have possest him with, I have a house conveniently private.

_Ori._ Lord, thou hast wrong'd my innocence, but thy confession hath gain'd thee faith.

_Gond._ By the true honest service, that I owe th[o]se eyes My meaning is as spotless as my faith.

_Oria._ The Duke doubt mine honor? a may judge [strangely,] 'Twill not be long, before I'll be enlarg'd again.

_Gond._ A day or two.

_Orian._ Mine own servants shall attend me.

_Gond._ Your Ladyships command is good.

_Orian._ Look you be true. [_Exit Oriana._

_Gond._ Else let me lose the hopes my soul aspires to: I will be a scourge to all females in my life, and after my death, the name of _Gondarino_ shall be terrible to the mighty women of the earth; They shall shake at my name, and at the sound of it, their knees shall knock together; And they shall run into Nunneries, for they and I are beyond all hope irreconcilable: for if I could endure an ear with a hole in't, or a pleated lock, or a bare headed Coachman, that sits like a sign where great Lad[ie]s are to be sold within; agreement betwixt us, were not to be dispaired of; if I could be but brought to endure to see women, I would have them come all once a week, and kiss me, [where] Witches doe the devill, in token of homage: I must not live here; I will to the Court, and there pursue my plot; when it hath took, women shall stand in awe, but of my look. [_Exit._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Tertia._

_Enter two Intelligencers, discovering treason in the_ _Courtiers words._

_1 Intel._ There take your standing, be close and vigilant, here will I set my self, and let him look to his language, a shall know the Duke has more ears in Court than two.

_2 Int._ I'll quote him to a tittle, let him speak wisely, and plainly, and as hidden as a can, or I shall crush him, a shall not scape charracters, though a speak Babel, I shall crush him: we have a Fortune by this service hanging over us, that within this year or two, I hope we shall be called to be examiners, wear politick gowns garded with copper lace, making great faces full of fear and office, our labors may deserve this.

_1 Int._ I hope it shall: why has not many men been raised from this worming trade, first to gain good access to great men, then to have commissions out for search, and lastly, to be worthily nam'd at a great Arraignment: yes, and why not we? They that endeavor well deserve their Fee. Close, close, a comes: mark well, and all goes well.

_Enter Count, Lazarello, and his Boy._

_Laz._ Farewell my hopes, my Anchor now is broken, Farewell my _quondam_ joys, of which no token Is now remaining, such is the sad mischance, Where Lady Fortune leads the slipp'ry dance. Yet at the length, let me this favour have, Give me my wishes, or a wished grave.

_Count._ The gods defend so brave and valiant maw, Should slip into the never satiate jaw Of black Despair; no, thou shalt live and know Thy full desires, hunger thy ancient foe, Shall be subdued; those guts that daily tumble Through ayr and appetite, shall cease to rumble: And thou shalt now at length obtain thy dish, That noble part, the sweet head of a fish.

_Laz._ Then am I greater than the Duke.

_2 Int._ There, there's a notable peece of treason, greater than the Duke, mark that.

_Count._ But how, or where, or when this shall be compas'd, is yet out of my reach.

_Laz._ I am so truely miserable, that might I be now knockt oth' head, with all my heart I would forgive a dog-killer.

_Count._ Yet doe I see through this confusedness some little com[f]ort.

_Laz._ The plot my Lord, as er'e you came of a woman, discover.

_1 Int._ Plots, dangerous plots, I will deserve by this most liberally.

_Count._ 'Tis from my head again.

_Laz._ O that it would stand me, that I might fight, or have some venture for it, that I might be turn'd loose, to try my fortune amongst the whole frie in a Colledge, or an Inn of Court; or scramble with the prisoners in the dungeon; nay were it set down in the [owter] court, And all the Guard about it in a ring, With their knives drawn, which were a dismall sight, And after twenty leisurely were told, I to be let loose only in my shirt, To trie the valour, how much of the spoyl, I would recover from the enemies mouths: [I would accept the challenge.

_Count._ Let it go: hast not thou beene held To have some wit in the Court, and to make fine jests] Upon country people in progress time, and Wilt thou lose this opinion, for the cold head of a Fish? I say, let it goe: I'll help thee to as good a dish of meat.

_Laz._ God let me not live, if I doe not wonder, Men should talk so profanely: But it is not in the power of loose words, Of any vain or misbeleeving man, To make me dare to wrong thy purity. Shew me but any Lady in the Court, That hath so full an eye, so sweet a breath, So soft and white a flesh: this doth not lie In almond gloves, nor ever hath bin washt In artificiall baths: no traveller That hath brought doctor home with him, hath dar'd With all his waters, powders, Fucusses, To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.

_Count._ I have it, 'tis now infus'd, be comforted.

_Laz._ Can there be that little hope yet left in nature? shall I once more erect up Trophies? Shall I enjoy the sight of my dear Saint, and bless my pallate with the best of creatures, ah good my Lord, by whom I breathe again, shall I receive this Being?

_Count._ Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord _Gondarino_ to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis.

_Laz._ O 'tis far above the good of women, the _Pathick_ cannot yield more pleasing titilation.

_Count._ But how to compass it, search, cast about, and bang your brai[n]s, _Lazarello_, thou art too dull and heavy to deserve a blessing.

_Laz._ My Lord, I will not be idle; now _Lazarello_, think, think, think.

_Count._ Yonder's my informer And his fellow with table books, they nod at me Upon my life, they have poor _Lazarello_, that beats His brains about no such waighty matter, in for Treason before this--

_Laz._ My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self, Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher, And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child?

_Count._ Good, very good.

_Laz._ Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion.

_1 Inte._ There's another point in's plot, [corrupt] with money; to betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have a care.

_Laz._ And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would in some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the dish it self, though I cut out my means through sword[s] and fire, through poison, through any thing that may make good my hopes.

_2 Int._ Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the plots discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace, kill the Duke and poison his privie Councell.

_Count._ To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we can attain the means, to make up our acquaintance, the fish be eaten?

_Laz._ If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected, most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this Province yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye bravely, and like a Roman; and after death, amidst the Elizian shades, I'll meet my love again.

_1 In._ I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark that, when he hath done all, he will kill himself.

_Count._ Will nothing ease your appetite but this?

_Laz._ No could the Sea throw up his vastness, And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as a bare temptation to me.

_Count._ If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison, or Fowl, 'twould be far the better.

_Laza._ I doe beseech your Lordships patience, I doe confess that in this heat of blood, I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats, But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef, I doe reverence a loyn of Veal, But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this: But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if Fortune stand propitious.

_Count._ Sir you shall work me as you please.

_Laza._ Let it be suddenly, I doe beseech your Lordship, 'tis now upon the point of dinner time.

_Count._ I am all yours. [_Exeunt Lazarello and Count._

_1 In._ Come let us confer, Imprimis he saith, like a blasphemous villain, he's greater than the Duke, this peppers him, and there were nothing else.

_2 In._ Then he was naming plots; did you not hear?

_1 In._ Yes but he fell from that unto discovery, to corrupt by money, and so attain.

_2 In._ I, I, he meant some Fort, or Cyttadell the Duke hath, his very face betraid his meaning, O he is [a] very subtile and a dangerous knave, but if he deal a Gods name, we shall worm him.

_1 In._ But now comes the Stroak, the fatall blow, Fire, Sword and Poyson, O Canibal, thou bloody Canibal.

_2 In._ What had become of this poor state, had [not we] been?

_1 In._ Faith it had lyen buried in his own ashes; had not a greater hand been in't.

_2 In._ But note the rascalls resolution, after th'acts done, because he wo'd avoid all fear of torture, and cousen the Law, he wo'd kill himself; was there ever the like danger brought to light in this age? sure we shall merit much, we shall be able to keep two men a peece, and a two handsword between us, we will live in favour of the State, betray our ten or twelve treasons a week, and the people shall fear us: come, to the Lord _Lucio_, the Sun shall not goe down till he be hang'd. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Quarta._

_Enter Mercer._