SCENE III.

_A Room in_ BRANDINO’S _House_.

_Enter_ PHILIPPA.

PHIL. I should ha’ given him up to all my thoughts The dullest young man, if he had not found it; So short of apprehension and so worthless, He were not fit for woman’s fellowship; I’ve been at cost too for a banquet for him: Why, 'twould ha’ kill’d my heart, and most especially To think that man should ha’ no more conceit;[643] I should ha’ thought the worse on’s wit for ever, And blam’d mine own for too much forwardness.

_Enter_ VIOLETTA.

VIO. O mistress, mistress! PHIL. How now, what’s the news? VIO. O, I was out of my wits for a minute and a half! PHIL. Hah! VIO. They are scarce settled yet, mistress. PHIL. What’s the matter? VIO. Do you ask that seriously?[644] Did you not hear me squeak? PHIL. How? sure thou art Out of thy wits indeed. VIO. O, I’m well now, To what I was, mistress. PHIL. Why, where’s the gentleman? VIO. The gentleman’s forthcoming, and a lovely one, But not Francisco. PHIL. What say’st? not Francisco? VIO. Pish, he’s a coxcomb! think not on him, mistress. PHIL. What’s all this? VIO. I’ve often heard you say, ye’d rather have A wise man in his shirt than a fool feather’d; And now fortune has sent you one, a sweet young gentleman, Robb’d even to nothing, but what first he brought with him: The slaves had stript him to the very shirt, mistress; I think it was a shirt; I know not well, For gallants wear both[645] now-a-days. PHIL. This is strange. VIO. But for a face, a hand, and as much skin As I durst look upon, he’s a most sweet one; Francisco is a child of Egypt[646] to him: I could not but, in pity to th’ poor gentleman, Fetch him down one of my old master’s suits. PHIL. ’Twas charitably done. VIO. You’d say, mistress, if you had seen him as I did. Sweet youth! I’ll be sworn, mistress, he’s the loveliest, properest young gentleman, and so you’ll say yourself, if my master’s clothes do not spoil him, that’s all the fear now; I would’t had been your luck to have seen him without 'em, but for scaring on you. PHIL. Go, prithee, fetch him in, whom thou commend’st so. [_Exit_ VIOLETTA. Since fortune sends him, surely we’ll make much on him; And better he deserves our love and welcome Than the respectless fellow ’twas prepar’d for: Yet if he please mine eye never so happily, I will have trial of his wit and faith Before I make him partner with my honour. 'Twas just Francisco’s case, and he deceiv’d me; I’ll take more heed o’ th’ next for’t: perhaps now, To furnish his distress, he will appear Full of fair, promising courtship; but I’ll prove him then For a next meeting, when he needs me not, And see what he performs then when the storm Of his so rude misfortunes is blown over, And he himself again. A distrest man’s flatteries Are like vows made in drink, or bonds in prison; There’s poor assurance in 'em: when he’s from me, And in’s own power, then I shall see his love. 'Mass, here he comes.

_Enter_ MARTIA _in_ BRANDINO’S _clothes, and_ VIOLETTA.

MARTIA. Never was star-cross’d gentleman More happy in a courteous virgin’s love Than I in yours. VIO. I’m sorry they’re no better for you; I wish’d 'em handsomer and more in fashion, But truly, sir, our house affords it not: There is a suit of our clerk’s hangs i’ th’ garret, But that’s far worse than this, if I may judge With modesty of men’s matters. MARTIA. I deserve not this, Dear and kind gentlewoman. Is yond your mistress? PHIL. Why, trust me, here’s my husband young again!— It is no sin to welcome you, sweet gentleman. MARTIA. I am so much indebted, courteous lady, To the unmatched charity of your house, My thanks are such poor things they would but shame me. PHIL. Beshrew thy heart for bringing o’ him! I fear me I have found wit enough already in him. If I could truly but resolve[647] myself My husband was thus handsome at nineteen, Troth, I should think the better of him at fourscore now. VIO. Nay, mistress, what would he be, were he in fashion— A hempen curse on those that put him out on’t!— That now appears so handsome and so comely In clothes able to make a man an unbeliever, And good for nothing but for shift, or so, If a man chance to fall i’ th’ ditch with better? This is the best that ever I mark’d in 'em,— A man may make him ready[648] in such clothes Without a candle. PHIL. Ay, for shame of himself, wench. VIO. My master does it oft in winter mornings, And never sees himself till he be ready. PHIL. No, nor then neither, as he should do, wench.— I’m sorry, gentle sir, we cannot shew you A courtesy in all points answerable To your undoubted worth: your name, I crave, sir. MARTIA. Ansaldo, lady. PHIL. ’Tis a noble name, sir. MARTIA. The most unfortunate now! VIO. So do I think truly, As long as that suit’s on. PHIL. The most unfitting And unprovided’st, sir, of all our courtesies, I do presume is that you’ve pass’d already; Your pardon but for that, and we’re encourag’d. MARTIA. My faithful service, lady. PHIL. Please you, sir, to taste the next, A poor slight banquet, for sure I think you were Unluckily prevented of your supper, sir. MARTIA. My fortune makes me more than amends, lady, In your sweet kindness, which so nobly shewn to me, It makes me bold to speak my occasions to you: I am this morning, that with clearness now So cheerfully hastens me, to meet a friend Upon my state’s establishing, and the place Ten mile from hence: O, I am forc’d unwillingly To crave your leave for’t, which done, I return In service plentiful. PHIL. Is’t so important? MARTIA. If I should fail, as much as my undoing. PHIL. I think too well of you, t’ undo you, sir, Upon this small acquaintance. MARTIA. My great happiness! PHIL. But when should I be sure of you here again, sir? MARTIA. As fast as speed can possibly return me. PHIL. You will not fail? MARTIA. May never wish go well with me then! PHIL. There’s to bear charges, sir. [_Gives purse._ MARTIA. Courtesy dwells in you: I brought my horse up with me from the woods, That’s all the good they left me, 'gainst their wills too. May your kind breast never want comfort, lady, But still supplied as liberally as you give! PHIL. Farewell, sir, and be faithful. MARTIA. Time shall prove me. [_Exit._ PHIL. In my opinion, now, this young man’s likeliest To keep his word; he’s modest, wise, and courteous, He has the language of an honest soul in him; A woman’s reputation may lie safe there, I’m much deceiv’d else; has a faithful eye, If it be well observ’d. VIO. Good speed be with thee, sir!— He puts him to’t, i’faith. [_Looking out._ PHIL. Violetta. VIO. Mistress? PHIL. Alas, what have we done, wench? VIO. What’s the matter, mistress? PHIL. Run, run, call him again; he must stay, tell him, Though it be upon’s undoing; we’re undone else; Your master’s clothes, they’re known the country over. VIO. Now, by this light, that’s true, and well remember’d; But there’s no calling of him, he’s out of sight now. PHIL. O, what will people think? VIO. What can they think, mistress? The gentleman has the worst on’t: were I he now, I’d make this ten mile forty mile about, Before I’d ride through any market-town with 'em. PHIL. Will he be careful, think’st? VIO. My life for yours, mistress. PHIL. I shall long mightily to see him agen.[649] VIO. And so shall I; I shall ne’er laugh till then. [_Exeunt._