SCENE V.

_A street._

_Enter_ LOUIS.

LOUIS. That if [I], only I should be the man Made accessary and a party both To mine own torment, at a time so near The birth of all those comforts I have travail’d with So many, many hours of hopes and fears; Now at the instant—

_Enter_ RODERIGO.

Ha! stand! thy name, Truly and speedily. ROD. Don Louis? LOUIS. The same; But who art thou? speak! ROD. Roderigo. LOUIS. Tell me, As you’re a noble gentleman, as ever You hope to be enroll’d amongst the virtuous, As you love goodness, as you wish t' inherit The blessedness and fellowship of angels, As you’re my friend, as you are Roderigo, As you are any thing that would deserve A worthy name, where have you been to-night? O, how have you dispos’d of that fair creature Whom you led captive from me? speak, O speak! Where, how, when, in what usage have you left her? Truth, I require all truth. ROD. Though I might question The strangeness of your importunity, Yet, ’cause I note distraction in the height Of curiosity, I will be plain And brief. LOUIS. I thank you, sir. ROD. Instead of feeding Too wantonly upon so rich a banquet, I found, even in that beauty that invited me, Such a commanding majesty of chaste And humbly glorious virtue, that it did not More check my rash attempt than draw to ebb The float[183] of those desires, which in an instant Were cool’d in their own streams of shame and folly. LOUIS. Now all increase of honours Fall in full showers on thee, Roderigo, The best man living! ROD. You are much transported With this discourse, methinks. LOUIS. Yes, I am. She told ye her name too? ROD. I could not urge it By any importunity. LOUIS. Better still! Where did you leave her? ROD. Where I found her; farther She would by no means grant me to wait on her: O Louis, I am lost! LOUIS. This self-same lady Was she to whom I have been long a suiter, And shortly hope to marry. ROD. She your mistress, then? Louis, since friendship And noble honesty conjure[184] our loves To a continu’d league, here I unclasp The secrets of my heart. O, I have had A glimpse of such a creature, that deserves A temple! if thou lov’st her—and I blame thee not, For who can look on her, and not give up His life unto her service?—if thou lov’st her, For pity’s sake conceal her; let me not As much as know her name, there’s a temption[185] in’t; Let me not know her dwelling, birth, or quality, Or any thing that she calls hers, but thee; In thee, my friend, I'll see her: and t' avoid The surfeits and[186] those rarities that tempt me, So much I prize the happiness of friendship, That I will leave the city—— LOUIS. Leave it? ROD. Speed me For Salamanca; court my studies now For physic ’gainst infection of the mind. LOUIS. You do amaze me. ROD. Here to live, and live Without her, is impossible and wretched. For heaven’s sake, never tell her what I was, Or that you know me! and when I find that absence Hath lost her to my memory, I'll dare To see ye again. Meantime, the cause that draws me From hence shall be to all the world untold; No friend but thou alone, for whose sake only I undertake this voluntary exile, Shall be partaker of my griefs: thy hand, Farewell; and all the pleasures, joys, contents, That bless a constant lover, henceforth crown thee A happy bridegroom! LOUIS. You have conquer’d friendship Beyond example.

_Enter_ DIEGO.

DIEGO. Ha, ha, ha! some one That hath slept well to-night, should ’a but see me Thus merry by myself, might justly think I were not well in my wits. LOUIS. Diego? DIEGO. Yes, ’Tis I, and I have had a fine fegary,[187] The rarest wild-goose chase! LOUIS. ’Thad made thee melancholy. DIEGO. Don Roderigo here? ’tis well you met him; For though I miss’d him, yet I met an accident Has almost made me burst with laughter. LOUIS. How so? DIEGO. I'll tell you: as we parted, I perceiv’d A walking thing before me, strangely tickled With rare conceited raptures; him I dogg’d, Supposing ’t had been Roderigo landed From his new pinnace, deep in contemplation Of the sweet voyage[188] he stole to-night. ROD. You’re pleasant. LOUIS. Prithee, who was’t? ROD. Not I. DIEGO. You’re i' the right, not you indeed; For ’twas that noble gentleman Don John, Son to the count Francisco de Carcomo. LOUIS. In love, it seems? DIEGO. Yes, pepper’d, on my life; Much good may’t do him; I'd not be so lin’d[189] For my cap full of double pistolets. LOUIS. What should his mistress be? DIEGO. That’s yet a riddle Beyond my resolution; but of late I have[190] observ’d him oft to frequent the sports The gipsies newly come to th' city present. LOUIS. It is said there is a creature with ’em, Though young of years, yet of such absolute beauty, Dexterity of wit, and general qualities, That Spain reports her not without admiration. DIEGO. Have you seen her? LOUIS. Never. DIEGO. Nor you, my lord? ROD. I not remember. DIEGO. Why, then, you never saw the prettiest toy That ever sung or danc’d. LOUIS. Is she a gipsy? DIEGO. In her condition, not in her complexion: I tell you once more, ’tis a spark of beauty Able to set a world at gaze; the sweetest, The wittiest rogue! shall’s see ’em? they’ve fine gambols, Are mightily frequented; court and city Flock to ’em, but the country does ’em worship: This little ape gets money by the sack-full, It trolls upon her. LOUIS. Will ye with us, friend? ROD. You know my other projects; sights to me Are but vexations. LOUIS. O, you must be merry!— Diego, we’ll to th' gipsies. DIEGO. Best take heed You be not snapp’d. LOUIS. How' snapp’d? DIEGO. By that little fairy; 'T has a shrewd tempting face and a notable tongue. LOUIS. I fear not either. DIEGO. Go, then. LOUIS. Will you with us? ROD. I'll come after.— [_Exeunt._ LOUIS _and_ DIEGO.

Pleasure and youth like smiling evils woo us To taste new follies; tasted, they undo us. [_Exit._