For Heavens sake hang him quickly, he will do
Ev'ry day such a murder else, there is nothing
But a strong Gallows that can make him quiet,
I finde it in his nature too late.
Let me come to him.
Let me alone good Sir.
Hast thou reserv'd thy life!
Nor utter one word for thee, unless it be
To have thee hang'd; for Heaven sake be more temperate.
He's too desperate for our enduring.
I'le have it so, here take him to his lodging, and
See him laid before you part. [Exeunt Jac. with Ser.
I thank you Sister for your grief, pray keep it
Till I am fitter for it.
To such a madness in his wine.
How now Frank?
Unless he be in chains.
After he has slept, Fabritio, but to try
How he will be; chide him, and bring him back.
To get this Fever off me.
Now could I grind him into priming powder.
Thou art so cross and peevish.
And if he be not graceless, make him cry for't.
He would look so like a whey cheese.
Venture a second tryal of his temper
I make no doubt to bring him.
Let him alone, I see his vein lyes only
For falling out at Wakes and Bear-baitings,
That may express him sturdy.
You are too sharp sweet Sister, for unless
It be this sin, which is enough to drown him,
I mean this sowrness, he's as brave a fellow,
As forward, and as understanding else
As any he that lives.
And good Sir when you see him, if we have
Distasted his opinion any way,
Make peace again.
Or something that shall make me keep my chamber,
I love him so well.
SCENE IV.
Enter Angelo.
This Lelia, whom I know too, yet am caught,
Her looks are nothing like her; would her faults
Were all in Paris print upon her face,
Cum Privilegio, to use 'em still,
I would write an Epistle before it, on the inside of her masque
And dedicate it to the whore of Babylon, with a preface upon
Her nose to the gentle Reader; and they should be to be sold
At the sign of the whores head i'th' pottage pot, in what
Street you please. But all this helps not me;—I
Am made to be thus catch'd, past any redress, with a thing
I contemn too.
I have read Epictetus twice over against the
Desire of these outward things, and still her face runs in
My mind, I went to say my prayers, and they were
So laid out o'th' way, that if I could find any prayers I
Had, I'm no Christian,
This is the door, and the short
Is, I must see her again.— [He knocks.
Enter Maid.
Your friend, and doth wish you both hang'd, which being so proper
Men, is great pity, that you are not.
Friend to neglect her, she deemeth whip-cord the most
Convenient unction for your back and shoulders.
Insomuch that you shall spend more time in arguing at the
Door, I am fully perswaded that my Mistris in person from
Above, will utter her mind more at large by way of
Urine upon your head, that it may sink the more soundly
Into your understanding faculties.
I pray thee let me in sweet-heart.
All thy Mistriss Servants.
It at this present: for truly if you would cry, I cannot
Let you in.
Here is ten pound for you, let me speak with her.
I cannot do, she
Will not speak with you, especially at this time, she has affairs.
And let me see her, bring me to a place
Where undiscerned of her self I may
Feed my desiring eyes but half an hour.
And body too for gold: if you will swear as you
Are gentle, not to stir, or speak, where you shall
See or hear, now, or hereafter: give me your gold, I'le plant you.
Enter Servant.
I think she be sunk;—why Nell—whiew—
Enter Maid.
My Mistris invited, is coming down the street, and the banquet
Not yet brought out?— [They bring in the Banquet.
Mistris sends me of a four hours errand: but if I go not
About mine own bodily business as well as she, I am a Turk.
[Exit Servant.
Enter Father.
Doubtless; but I must on; the gates of Hell
Are not more passable than these; how they
Will be to get out, God knows, I must try.
'Tis very strange, if there be any life
Within this house, would it would shew it self.
What's here? a Banquet? and no mouth to eat,
Or bid me do it? this is something like
The entertainment of adventurous Knights
Entring enchanted Castles: For the manner
Though there be nothing dismal to be seen
Amazes me a little; what is meant
By this strange invitation? I will sound
My Daughters meaning e're I speak to her,
If it be possible, for by my voyce— [Musique.
She will discover me! hark, whence is this.
The SONG.
of joyes still growing
Green, fresh, and lusty, as the pride of Spring,
and ever blowing.
what is desire,
And old men worse than you, that cannot blow
one spark of fire.
And with the power of my enchanting Song,
Boyes shall be able men, and old men young.
Enter Angelo, above.
leave off complaining,
Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never dye,
are here remaining.
Come hither fools, and blush, you stay so long
from being blest,
And mad men worse than you, that suffer wrong,
Yet seek no rest.
And in an hour, with my enchanting Song,
You shall be ever pleas'd, and young maids long.
Enter Lelia, and her Maid with a Night-gown and Slippers.
Given with a larger freedom than the use
Of strangers will admit, shall witness to you.
Put the gown on him, in this chair sit down;
Give him his slippers: be not so amaz'd,
Here's to your health, and you shall feel this wine
Stir lively in me, in the dead of night,
Give him some wine; fall to your banquet Sir,
And let us grow in mirth; though I am set
Now thus far off you, yet four glasses hence
I will sit here,
And try, till both our bloods
Shoot up and down to find a passage out,
Then mouth to mouth will we walk up to bed,
And undress one another as we go;
Where both my treasure, body, and my soul
Are your's to be dispos'd of.
Is that your meaning? why, you are to me
The greater novelty, all our fresh youth
Are daily offer'd me, though you perform
As you think little, yet you satisfie
My appetite: from your experience
I may learn something in the way of lust
I may be better for. But I can teach
These young ones;
But this day I did refuse
A paire of 'em, Julio, and Angelo,
And told them they were as they were
Raw fools and whelps. [Ang. makes discontented signs.
[Stops his ears, shews he is troubled with the Musick.
To me.
Your freedom in for her; she knows my life
That she might write it;
Think she is a stone.
She is a kind of bawdy Confessor,
And will not utter secrets.
'Tis all one. [Exit Maid.—Fath. locks the door.
Is all now as you would? come meet me then,
And bring a thousand kisses on thy lips,
And I will rob thee of 'em, and yet leave
Thy lips as wealthy as they were before.
Leave these unheard of lusts which worse become thee,
Than mocking of thy Father; let thine eyes
Reflect upon thy soul, and there behold
How loathed black it is; and whereas now
Thy face is heavenly fair, but thy mind foul,
Go but into thy Closet, and there cry
Till thou hast spoil'd that face, and thou shalt find
How excellent a change thou wilt have made
For inward beauty.
To be my Father, never let me live
If my lust do abate,
I'le take upon me
To have known him all this while.
All the sad crosses that I laid upon you,
With such a noble temper, which indeed
I purposely cast on you, to discern
Your carriage in calamity, and you
Have undergone 'em with that brave contempt,
That I have turn'd the reverence of a child
Into the hot affection of a Lover.
Nor can there on the earth be found but yours
A spirit fit to meet with mine.
Something created to succeed the Devil
When he grows weary of his envious course,
And compassing the World; but I believe thee
Thou didst but mean to try my patience,
And dost so still; but better be advis'd,
And make thy tryal with some other things,
That safelier will admit a dalliance;
And if it should be earnest, understand
How curst thou art, so far from Heaven,
That thou believ'st it not enough to damn alone,
Or with a stranger, but wouldst heap all sins
Unnatural upon this aged head,
And draw thy Father to thy Bed, and Hell.
For us to lye together; if you have
An Arrow of the same Tree with your Bow,
Is't more unnatural to shoot it there
Than in another? 'Tis our general nature
To procreate, as fire is to consume,
And it will trouble you to find a stick
The fire will turn from; If't be Natures will
We should not mix, she will discover to us
Some most apparent crossness, as our organs
Will not be fit; which, if we do perceive,
We'll leave, and think it is her pleasure
That we should deal with others.
'Tis not Heavens will thou shouldst; when this is done
I'll kill my self, that never man may tell me
I got thee.
[Father draws his Sword, Angelo discovers himself.
Of that too-wicked woman yet to dye.
That I have broke an Oath in speaking this,
But I believe 'twas better broke than kept,
And I desire your patience; let me in,
And I protest I will not hinder you
In any act you wish, more than by word,
If so I can perswade you, that I will not
Use violence, I'll throw my Sword down to you;
This house holds none but I, only a maid
Whom I will lock fast in as I come down.
To be acquainted with the truth so well,
That I will let thee in; throw down thy Sword.
The fear of sudden death struck me all over
So violently, that I scarce have breath
[He lets in Angelo, and locks the Door.
Enter Father, and Angelo.
Thou art as welcome as these pliant arms
Twin'd round, and fast about thee, can perswade thee.
Yond' old mad fellow (it will make thee laugh,
Though it feared me) has talkt so wildly here—
Sirrah, he rush'd in at my doors, and swore
He was my Father, and I think believ'd it;
But that he had a Sword, and threatned me—
I' faith he was good sport, good, thrust him out,
That thou and I may kiss together; wilt thou?
Got in to rescue her from me? [Offers to run at him.
I swear I do not harbour such a thought,
I speak it not, for that you have two Swords,
But for 'tis truth.
Think this, that thou hast two young brawny arms
And ne'r a Sword, and he has two good Swords,
And ne'r an arm to use 'em; rush upon him,
I could have beaten him with this weak Body,
If I had had the spirit of a man.
I'll trample thy last damning word out of thee.
And I will rid her quickly.
Clear of this business, yet I cannot pray.
If she were good, convey her from this place,
Where none but you, and such as you appoint,
May visit her; where, let her hear of nought
But death and damning, which she hath deserv'd,
Till she be truly, justly sorrowful,
And then lay mercy to her, who does know
But she may mend?
'Tis large, and private, I will lend it you.
With some design I have: but how shall we
Convey her?
That people will be drawn to rescue her.
Who is as fast as she.
There bind 'em, and then gag 'em, and then throw 'em
Into a Coach I'll bring to the back-door,
And hurry 'em away.
I owe you much for this, and I may pay you,
There is your Sword, lay hold upon her quickly,
This way with me, thou disobedient Child,
Why does thy stubborn heart beat at thy breast?
Let it be still, for I will have it search'd
Till I have found a Well of living tears
Within it, that shall spring out of thine eyes,
And flow all o'r thy Body foul'd with sin,
Till it have wash'd it quite without a stain. [They drag her.
Murther, I shall be murthered, I shall be murthered.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Lodowick, and Piso.
Home to his Garrison again; I ake all over,
That I am sure of; certainly my Body
Is of a wild-fire, for my head rings backward,
Or else I have a morise in my brains.
Did not the Vision promise to appear
About this time again?
He's just on's word.
Enter Father.
She's penitent, and by my troth I stagger
Whether (as now she is) either of these
Two fools be worthy of her; yet because
Her youth is prone to fall again, ungovern'd,
And marriage now may stay her, one of 'em;
And Piso, since I understand him abler,
Shall be the man; the other bear the charges,
And willingly, as I will handle it.
I have a Ring here, which he shall believe
Is sent him from a woman I have thought of;
But e're I leave it, I'll have one of his
In pawn worth two on't; for I will not lose
By such a mess of sugar-sops as this is:
I am too old.
I am glad I have met you, Sir, so happily,
You do remember me I am sure.
And for your special good; nay, you may hear too.
(How the poor thing begins to warm already)
Come to this town, (as yet a stranger here, Sir)
Fair, young, and rich, both in possessions,
And all the graces that make up a Woman,
A Widow, and a vertuous one; it works,
He needs no broth upon't.
And with a strong affection, but a fair one,
If ye be wise and thankful ye are made; there's the whole matter.
Which after she had seen you at a window,
She bad me haste, and give it, when she blush'd
Like a blown Rose.
your years should promise no ill meaning.
Of broken-winded women; if you fear me,
I'll take my leave, and let my Lady use
A fellow of more form; an honester
I am sure she cannot.
Yet let me feel; you are in health?
My water's well enough, and my pulse.
All may be excellent; pray pardon me,
For I am like a Boy that had found money,
Afraid I dream still.
Of what proportion is your Lady?
Do you know a woman in this town they call
(Stay, yes, it is so) Leila?
To rail upon a woman they never saw;
So they would use their Kindred.
Just of the same Complexion, making, speech,
But a thought sweeter is my Lady.
She must be excellent indeed.
And you will find it so; you do believe me?
Do not delay the time, Sir; at a house
Where Don Valasco lay, the Spanish Seignior
(Which now is Seignior Angelo's) she is.
Let it be night by all means, willingly
By day she would not have such Gallants seen
Repair unto her, 'tis her modesty.
You send provision in, in full abundance,
Fit for the Marriage; for this night I know
She will be yours, Sir, have you never a token
Of worth to send her back again? you must,
She will expect it.
And with it all I have; I am made for ever. [Exit Lod.
As an old Oak, and say my prayers hourly,
I should not be the better of a penny;
I think the Devil be my ghostly father;
Upon my conscience I am full as handsome,
I am sure I have more wit, and more performance,
Which is a pretty matter.
That your friend, Seignior Piso, will be constant
Unto my Lady? you should know him well.
And his is Lodowick.
For I was sent at first to Piso; what a Rascal
Was I, so ignorantly to mistake you?
There is no harm done yet.
I know my errour;
At turning of a Street,
For you were then upon the right hand of him,
You chang'd your places suddenly; where I
(Like a cross block-head) lost my memory;
What shall I do? my Lady utterly
Will put me from her favour.
I'll be thy guard I warrant thee; O, O,
Am I at length reputed? for the Ring,
I'll fetch it back with a light vengeance from him;
H'ad better keep tame Devils than that Ring;
Art thou not Steward?
Art t' sure [it] was to Piso?
Give me patience, heav'n, to bear this blessing I beseech thee;
I am but man, I prithee break my head
To make me understand I am sensible.
I believe now like a good Christian.
Since I have so mistaken.
[Exit Piso.
Enter Angelo, and Julio.