SCENE II.

_A room in the house of_ PEDRO.

_Enter_ CLARA.

CLA. I have offended; yet, O heaven, thou know’st How much I have abhorr’d, even from my birth, A thought that tended to immodest folly! Yet I have fallen; thoughts with disgraces strive, And thus I live, and thus I die alive.

_Enter_ PEDRO _and_ MARIA.

PED. Fie, Clara, thou dost court calamity too much. MAR. Yes, girl, thou dost. PED. Why should we fret our eyes out with our tears, Weary [heaven with[239]] complaints? ’tis fruitless, childish Impatience; for when mischief hath wound up The full weight of the ravisher’s foul life To an equal height of ripe iniquity, The poise will, by degrees, sink down his soul To a much lower, much more lasting ruin Than our joint wrongs can challenge. MAR.[240] Darkness itself Will change night’s sable brow into a sunbeam For a discovery; and be [thou] sure, Whenever we can learn what monster ’twas Hath robb’d thee of the jewel held so precious, Our vengeance shall be noble. PED. Royal, any thing: Till then let’s live securely; to proclaim Our sadness were mere vanity. CLA. ’A needs not; I'll study to be merry. PED. We are punish’d, Maria, justly; covetousness to match Our daughter to that matchless piece of ignorance, Our foolish ward, hath drawn this curse upon us. MAR. I fear it has. PED. Off with this face of grief: Here comes[241] Don Louis.

_Enter_ LOUIS _and_ DIEGO.

Noble sir. LOUIS. My lord, I trust I have you[r] and your lady’s leave T' exchange a word with your fair daughter. PED. Leave And welcome.—Hark, Maria.—Your ear too. DIEGO. Mine, my lord? LOUIS. Dear Clara, I have often sued for love, And now desire you would at last be pleas’d To style me yours. CLA. Mine eyes ne’er saw that gentleman Whom I more nobly in my heart respected Than I have you; yet you must, sir, excuse me, If I resolve to use awhile that freedom My younger days allow. LOUIS. But shall I hope? CLA. You will do injury to better fortunes, To your own merit, greatness, and advancement, Which I beseech you not to slack. LOUIS. Then hear me; If ever I embrace another choice, Until I know you elsewhere match’d, may all The chief of my desires find scorn and ruin! CLA. O me! LOUIS. Why sigh you, lady? CLA. ’Deed, my lord, I am not well. LOUIS. Then all discourse is tedious; I'll choose some fitter time; till when,[242] fair Clara—— CLA. You shall not be unwelcome hither, sir; That’s all that I dare promise. LOUIS. Diego. DIEGO. My lord? LOUIS. What says Don Pedro? DIEGO. He’ll go with you. Louis. Leave us.— [_Exit_ DIEGO. Shall I, my lord, entreat your privacy? PED. Withdraw, Maria; we’ll follow presently. [_Exeunt._ MARIA _and_ CLARA. LOUIS. The great corregidor, whose politic stream Of popularity glides on the shore Of every vulgar praise, hath often urg’d me To be a suitor to his Catholic Majesty For a repeal from banishment for him Who slew my father; compliments in vows And strange well-studied promises of friendship; But what is new to me, still as he courts Assistance for Alvarez, my grand enemy, Still he protests how ignorant he is Whether Alvarez be alive or dead. To-morrow is the day we have appointed For meeting, at the lord Francisco’s house, The earl of Carcomo: now, my good lord, The sum of my request is, you will please To lend your presence there, and witness wherein Our joint accord consists. PED. You shall command it. LOUIS. But first, as you are noble, I beseech you Help me with your advice what you conceive Of great Fernando’s importunity, Or whether you imagine that Alvarez Survive or not? PED. It is a question, sir, Beyond my resolution: I remember The difference betwixt your noble father And Conde de Alvarez; how it sprung From a mere trifle first, a cast[243] of hawks, Whose made the swifter flight, whose could mount highest, Lie longest on the wing: from change of words Their controversy grew to blows, from blows To parties, thence to faction; and, in short, I well remember how our streets were frighted With brawls, whose end was blood; till, when no friends Could mediate their discords, by the king A reconciliation was enforc’d, Death threaten’d [to] the first occasioner Of breach, besides the confiscation Of lands and honours: yet at last they met Again; again they drew to sides, renew’d Their ancient quarrel; in which dismal uproar Your father hand to hand fell by Alvarez: Alvarez fled; and after him the doom Of exile was se[n]t out: he, as report Was bold to voice, retir’d himself to Rhodes; His lands and honours by the king bestow’d On you, but then an infant. LOUIS. Ha, an infant? PED. His wife, the sister to the corregidor, With a young daughter and some few that follow’d her, By stealth were shipp’d for Rhodes, and by a storm Shipwreck’d at sea: but for the banish’d Conde, ’Twas never yet known what became of him: Here’s all I can inform you. LOUIS. A repeal? Yes, I will sue for’t, beg for’t, buy it, any thing That may by possibility of friends Or money, I'll attempt. PED. ’Tis a brave charity. LOUIS. Alas, poor lady, I could mourn for her! Her loss was usury more than I covet; But for the man, I'd sell my patrimony For his repeal, and run about the world To find him out; there is no peace can dwell About my father’s tomb, till I have sacrific’d Some portion of revenge to his wrong’d ashes. You will along with me? PED. You need not question it. LOUIS. I have strange thoughts about me: two such furies Revel amidst my joys as well may move Distraction in a saint, vengeance and love. I'll follow, sir. PED. Pray, lead the way, you know it.— [_Exit_ LOUIS.

_Enter_ SANCHO _without his cloak, &c._,[244] _and_ SOTO.

How[245] now? from whence come you, sir? SAN. From flaying myself, sir. SOTO. From playing with fencers, sir; and they have beat him out of his clothes, sir. PED. Cloak, band, rapier, all lost at dice? SAN. Nor cards neither. SOTO. This was one of my master’s dog-days, and he would not sweat too much. SAN. It was mine own goose, and I laid the giblets upon another coxcomb’s trencher: you are my guardian, best beg me for a fool[246] now. SOTO. He that begs one begs t’other. [_Aside._ PED. Does any gentleman give away his things thus? SAN. Yes, and gentlewomen give away their things too. SOTO. To gulls sometimes, and are cony-catched[247] for their labour. PED. Wilt thou ever play the coxcomb? SAN. If no other parts be given me, what would you have me do? PED. Thy father was as brave a Spaniard As ever spake the haut[248] Castilian tongue. SAN. Put me in clothes, I'll be as brave[249] as he. PED. This is the ninth time thou hast play’d the ass, Flinging away thy trappings and thy cloth[250] To cover others, and go nak’d thyself. SAN. I'll make ’em up ten, because I'll be even with you. PED. Once more your broken walls shall have new hangings. SOTO. To be well hung is all our desire. PED. And what course take you next? SAN. What course? why, my man Soto and I will go make some maps. PED. What maps? SOTO. Not such maps[251] as you wash houses with, but maps of countries. SAN. I have an uncle in Seville, I'll go see him; an aunt in Siena in Italy, I['ll] go see her. SOTO. A cousin of mine in Rome, I['ll] go to him with a mortar.[252] SAN. There’s a courtesan in Venice, I'll go tickle her. SOTO. Another in England, I'll go tackle her. PED. So, so! and where’s the money to do all this? SAN. If my woods,[253] being cut down, cannot fill this pocket, cut ’em into trapsticks. SOTO. And if his acres, being sold for a marvedi[254] a turf, for larks[255] in cages, cannot fill this pocket, give ’em to gold-finders. PED. You’ll gallop both to the gallows; so fare you well. [_Exit._ SAN. And be hanged you! new clothes, you’d best. SOTO. Four cloaks, that you may give away three, and keep one. SAN. We’ll live as merrily as beggars; let’s both turn gipsies. SOTO. By any means; if they cog,[256] we’ll lie, if they toss, we’ll tumble. SAN. Both in a belly, rather than fail. SOTO. Come then, we’ll be gipsified. SAN. And tipsified too. SOTO. And we will shew such tricks and such rare gambols, As shall put down the elephant and camels.[257] [_Exeunt._