Chapter 14
A HALL IN SIR POLITICK'S HOUSE.
ENTER PEREGRINE DISGUISED, AND THREE MERCHANTS.
PER: Am I enough disguised?
1 MER: I warrant you.
PER: All my ambition is to fright him only.
2 MER: If you could ship him away, 'twere excellent.
3 MER: To Zant, or to Aleppo?
PER: Yes, and have his Adventures put i' the Book of Voyages. And his gull'd story register'd for truth. Well, gentlemen, when I am in a while, And that you think us warm in our discourse, Know your approaches.
1 MER: Trust it to our care.
[EXEUNT MERCHANTS.]
[ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
PER: Save you, fair lady! Is sir Pol within?
WOM: I do not know, sir.
PER: Pray you say unto him, Here is a merchant, upon earnest business, Desires to speak with him.
WOM: I will see, sir. [EXIT.]
PER: Pray you.-- I see the family is all female here.
[RE-ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: He says, sir, he has weighty affairs of state, That now require him whole; some other time You may possess him.
PER: Pray you say again, If those require him whole, these will exact him, Whereof I bring him tidings. [EXIT WOMAN.] --What might be His grave affair of state now! how to make Bolognian sausages here in Venice, sparing One o' the ingredients?
[RE-ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: Sir, he says, he knows By your word "tidings," that you are no statesman, And therefore wills you stay.
PER: Sweet, pray you return him; I have not read so many proclamations, And studied them for words, as he has done-- But--here he deigns to come.
[EXIT WOMAN.]
[ENTER SIR POLITICK.]
SIR P: Sir, I must crave Your courteous pardon. There hath chanced to-day, Unkind disaster 'twixt my lady and me; And I was penning my apology, To give her satisfaction, as you came now.
PER: Sir, I am grieved I bring you worse disaster: The gentleman you met at the port to-day, That told you, he was newly arrived--
SIR P: Ay, was A fugitive punk?
PER: No, sir, a spy set on you; And he has made relation to the senate, That you profest to him to have a plot To sell the State of Venice to the Turk.
SIR P: O me!
PER: For which, warrants are sign'd by this time, To apprehend you, and to search your study For papers--
SIR P: Alas, sir, I have none, but notes Drawn out of play-books--
PER: All the better, sir.
SIR P: And some essays. What shall I do?
PER: Sir, best Convey yourself into a sugar-chest; Or, if you could lie round, a frail were rare: And I could send you aboard.
SIR P: Sir, I but talk'd so, For discourse sake merely.
[KNOCKING WITHIN.]
PER: Hark! they are there.
SIR P: I am a wretch, a wretch!
PER: What will you do, sir? Have you ne'er a currant-butt to leap into? They'll put you to the rack, you must be sudden.
SIR P: Sir, I have an ingine--
3 MER [WITHIN.]: Sir Politick Would-be?
2 MER [WITHIN.]: Where is he?
SIR P: That I have thought upon before time.
PER: What is it?
SIR P: I shall ne'er endure the torture. Marry, it is, sir, of a tortoise-shell, Fitted for these extremities: pray you, sir, help me. Here I've a place, sir, to put back my legs, Please you to lay it on, sir, [LIES DOWN WHILE PEREGRINE PLACES THE SHELL UPON HIM.] --with this cap, And my black gloves. I'll lie, sir, like a tortoise, 'Till they are gone.
PER: And call you this an ingine?
SIR P: Mine own device--Good sir, bid my wife's women To burn my papers.
[EXIT PEREGRINE.]
[THE THREE MERCHANTS RUSH IN.]
1 MER: Where is he hid?
3 MER: We must, And will sure find him.
2 MER: Which is his study?
[RE-ENTER PEREGRINE.]
1 MER: What Are you, sir?
PER: I am a merchant, that came here To look upon this tortoise.
3 MER: How!
1 MER: St. Mark! What beast is this!
PER: It is a fish.
2 MER: Come out here!
PER: Nay, you may strike him, sir, and tread upon him; He'll bear a cart.
1 MER: What, to run over him?
PER: Yes, sir.
3 MER: Let's jump upon him.
2 MER: Can he not go?
PER: He creeps, sir.
1 MER: Let's see him creep.
PER: No, good sir, you will hurt him.
2 MER: Heart, I will see him creep, or prick his guts.
3 MER: Come out here!
PER: Pray you, sir! [ASIDE TO SIR POLITICK.] --Creep a little.
1 MER: Forth.
2 MER: Yet farther.
PER: Good sir!--Creep.
2 MER: We'll see his legs. [THEY PULL OFF THE SHELL AND DISCOVER HIM.]
3 MER: Ods so, he has garters!
1 MER: Ay, and gloves!
2 MER: Is this Your fearful tortoise?
PER [DISCOVERING HIMSELF.]: Now, sir Pol, we are even; For your next project I shall be prepared: I am sorry for the funeral of your notes, sir.
1 MER: 'Twere a rare motion to be seen in Fleet-street.
2 MER: Ay, in the Term.
1 MER: Or Smithfield, in the fair.
3 MER: Methinks 'tis but a melancholy sight.
PER: Farewell, most politic tortoise!
[EXEUNT PER. AND MERCHANTS.]
[RE-ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
SIR P: Where's my lady? Knows she of this?
WOM: I know not, sir.
SIR P: Enquire.-- O, I shall be the fable of all feasts, The freight of the gazetti; ship-boy's tale; And, which is worst, even talk for ordinaries.
WOM: My lady's come most melancholy home, And says, sir, she will straight to sea, for physic.
SIR P: And I to shun this place and clime for ever; Creeping with house on back: and think it well, To shrink my poor head in my politic shell.
[EXEUNT.]