Plainly, not safely: For such difference
As you have seen betwixt the sea and earth
When waves rise high, and land would beat 'em back
As fearful of Invasion; such we find
When we land here at Barcelona.
Your hasty nature, charg'd me not return
Without you safe.
Is noble, and do's mistake my temper.
There is not in the world, a mind less apt
To conceive wrongs, or do 'em; has he seen me
In all this voyage, in the which he pleases.
En[t]er Eugenia, with divers Attendants.
S'light Sir: yonder is a Lady va[il]d,
For properness beyond comparison,
And sure her face is like the rest: we'll see't.
What 'tis you go about.
The womans face.
You do not know the custom of the place:
To draw that curtain here, though she were mean,
Is mortall.
At last, and by my troth, I'll try it Sir.
That can be plac'd in man, 'tis an attempt
More dangerous than death, 'tis death and shame:
I know the Lady well.
I shall the more desire to see her Sir.
A noble Gentleman.
If I can win her, you and I will govern
This Town Sir, fear it not, and we will alter
These barbarous customs then; for every Lady
Shall be seen daily, and seen over too.
To such wild enterprises: hold you still,
For as I have a soul, you shall not do't.
She is a Lady of unblemish'd fame,
And here to offer that affront, were base:
Hold on your way, and we will see the Town,
And overlook the Ladies.
And promise you I will: but good Sir, see,
She will pass by us now; I hope I may
Salute her thus far off.
'Twill be as ill as th' other.
What would that fellow have?
Any thing here?
To that fair Lady, as I hope.
A sight of.
To keep this from a tumult.
Shall see a fitter object for your eyes,
Then a fair Ladies face.
A quarrel in the streets for me.
This is your door.
This outrage: is't not all your minds Sirs, speak?
Enter three or four Souldiers.
Are come ashoar.
Faces enough.
Enter certain Townsmen.
Comes in upon us.
Perhaps, than that was cover'd; and will yet
Enter Philippo, Theodosia, and Leocadia.
Look out, Antonio is in distress.
Enter Rodorigo above.
I'll part you: bring away Antonio [a shot.
Into my Cabben. [Exit Attendants and Townsmen.
I fear it is the last, that I shall do him.
[Exit Souldiers and Gentlemen with Marckantonio.
When I leave him.
My sister; wake: alass, I griev'd but now
To see the streets so full; and now I grieve
To see them left so empty: I could wish,
Tumult himself were here, that yet at least
Amongst the band, I might espie some face
So pale and fearful, that would willingly
Embrace an arrand for a Cordial,
Or Aquavitæ, or a cup of sack,
Or a Physitian: but to talk of these
She breaths: stand up, O Theodosia,
Speak but as thou wert wont, give but a sigh,
Which is but the most unhappy piece of life,
And I will ever after worship sadness,
Apply my self to grief; prepare and build
Altars to sorrow.
Thy Brothers arms that hold thee up.
To life: but I would see Antonio
That's dead.
Thy senses, and uncloud thy cover'd spirits.
How now?
Where is he?
And I do charge you here, by our allyance,
And by the love which would have been betwixt us,
Knew we no kindred; by that killing fear,
Mingled with twenty thousand hopes and doubts,
Which you may think, plac'd in a Lovers heart,
And in a Virgins too, when she wants help,
To grant me your assistance, to find out
This man alive, or dead; and I will pay you
In service, tears, or prayers, a world of wealth:
But other treasure, I have none: alas!
You men have strong hearts; but we feeble maids
Have tender eyes, which only given be
To blind themselves, crying for what they see.
Slow to perform, what I could but imagine
Thy wishes were; have I at any time
Tender'd a business of mine own, beyond
A vanity of thine? have I not been
As if I were a sensless creature, made
To serve thee without pow'r of questioning,
If so, why fear'st thou?
This Tumult made the streets as dead as night,
A man may talk as freely: what's become
Of Leocadia?
Each others face, till we may, both together,
Fasten our eyes on her: accursed be
Those tender cozening names of charity,
And natural affection, they have lost
Me only by observing them, what cost
Travel, and fruitless wishes may in vain
Search through the world, but never find again.
Worthy this banishment.
The Lady so distress'd, who was content
To lay her story, and to lay her heart
As open as her story to your self,
Who was content, that I should know her Sex,
Before dissembl'd and to put her self
Into my conduct, whom I undertook
Safely to guard, is in this Tumult lost.
You might have done, but for that zeald religion
You women bear to swownings, you do pick
Your times to faint when some body is by:
Bound or by nature, or by love, or service
To raise you from that well dissembled death:
Inform me but of one that has been found
Dead in her private chamber by her self,
Where sickness would no more forbear, than here,
And I will quit the rest for her.
What they may do, and how they may dissemble;
But by my troth, I did not.
Would I had try'd; would I had let thee layn,
And followed her.
Rather, than been so angry: where's Antonio?
I'll tell thee where, he's carried to the Galleys,
There to be chain'd, and row, and beat, and row
With knotted ropes, and pizzels; if he swound,
He has a dose of bisket.
He is alive.
Tell me where Leocadia is?
You found no error in me, when I first
Told you she was a woman, and believe me
Something I have found out, which makes me think,
Nay, almost know so well, that I durst swear
She follow'd hurt Antonio.
Enter the Governor, two Attendants, and the Townsmen.
And find her.
So far from rash offence, and holds with me
Such curious friendship: could not one of you
Have call'd me while 'twas doing, such an uproar,
Before my dore too?
Private falling out: that we forgot it: at home we see now
You were not, but as soon as the shot made us fly, we ran
Away as fast as we could to seek your honor.
Or chance, or what it was that made you differ.
Of, the shot drove it out of my head, do you know any neighbours?
But the old quarrel betwixt the Town and the Galleys.
Of this debate, a long sought friend of ours
Strook down for dead, and born unto the Galleys,
His name is Mark-antonio.
Of our company, a Gentleman
Of noble birth, besides accompanyed
With all the gifts of nature, ravish'd hence
We know not how, in this dissention.
You meddle with a weapon any more
But those belonging to your Trades, I'll lay you
Where your best Customers shall hardly find you. [Exit Townsmen.
I am sorry gentlemen, I troubled you,
Being both strangers, by your tongues, and looks,
Of worth: To make ye some part of amends
If there be any thing in this poor Town
Of Barcelona that you would command,
Command me.
If it might please you, if your pow'r and love
Extend so far, I would be glad to wish
Might be remov'd into the Town for cure:
The Galleys stay not, and his wound I know
Cannot endure a voyage.
I warrant you: Go call me hither Sirrah,
One of my other Servants. [Exit 1. attendan[t].
The Gentleman we lost, Signior Francisco,
Shall be render'd too.
Enter a Servant.
Whispers to his Servant.
For apprehending this: blest be thy breath
For uttering it.
Enter my roof: and I will send for Surgeons,
And you shall see your friends here presently.
And have sent word so.
Francisco's name?
To talk about it more, were but to say
The same word often over: you are welcome. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Mark-antonio, carried, Leocadia following; and the Servant. 2 Soldiers carrying him.
For I am faint, although I think my wound
Be nothing. Soldiers, leave us now: I thank you.
I hope to bear me so far. [Exit.
Shot, as if he had been a warning to call 'em to their Hall.
Town, able to maintain a Tumult, or uphold a matter out
Of square if need be? O the quiet hurley burleys that I
Have seen in this Town, when we have fought four hours
Together, and not a man amongst us so impertinent or
Modest to ask why? but now the pillars that bare
Up this blessed Town in that regular debate, and
Scambling, are dead, the more's the pitty.
But where is there any man now living in the Town
That hath a steady hand, and understands Anatomy
Well? if it come to a particular matter of the lungs,
Or the spleen, why? alas Ignatio is to seek; are
There any such men left as I have known, that
Would say they would hit you in this place? is there
Ever a good heartist, or a member-percer, or a
Small-gut man left in the Town, answer
Me that?
We were at the Galleys. [Exeunt.
Enter Governor, Eugenia, Mark-antonio, Philippo, Theodosia, Leocadia, Attendants.
You may command my house; but I must beg
Pardon to leave you, if the publick business
Forc'd me not from you, I my self should call it
Unmannerly: but good Sir, do you give it
A milder name: it shall not be an hour
Ere I return.
In my own thoughts, as that I want a means
To requite this with.
O lust if wounds cannot restrain thy power,
Let shame: nor do I feel my hurt at all,
Nor is it ought, only I was well beaten:
If I pursue it, all the civil world
That ever did imagine the content
Found in the band of man and wife unbroke,
The reverence due to housholds, or the blemish
That may be stuck upon posterity
Will catch me, bind me, burn upon my forehead,
This is the wounded stranger, that receiv'd
For charity into a house, attempted—
I will not do it.
That you walk off.
But it will over.
When they have seen the wound especially,
The patient being of worth, to go consult,
Which they are now at in another room,
About the dressing.
So violent upon me; nor I think
Any thing dangerous: but yet there are
Some things that sit so heavy on my conscience,
That will perplex my mind, and stop my cure,
So that unless I utter 'em. A scratch
Here on my thumb will kill me: Gentlemen,
I pray you leave the room, and come not in
Your selves, or any other till I have
Open'd my self to this most honour'd Lady.
His love to me.
Our Contract. [Exit.
The wrong he did a Lady in the streets;
But I forgive him.
My self grow worse and worse.
What burthens me so sore, let me intreat you,
(For there is no trust in these Surgeons)
To look upon my wound; it is perhaps
My last request: But tell me truely too,
That must be in: how far do you imagine
It will have pow'r upon me.
My head down easily, whilst you do it.
'Tis but an ordinary blow; a child
Of mine has had a greater, and been well;
Are you faint hearted?
There is no danger in the world in this;
I wonder it should make a man sit down;
What do you mean, why do you kiss my breasts?
Lift up your head, your wound, may well endure it.
Dying-affection too I fear, to those
That do me favors, such as this of yours.
Lies on your conscience?
Though I do laugh, I know as well as you
My wound is nothing, nor the power of earth
Could lay a wound upon me in your presence,
That I could feel; but I do laugh to think
How covertly, how far beyond the reach
Of men, and wise men too, we shall deceive 'em,
Whilst they imagine I am talking here
With that short breath I have, ready to swound
At every full point; you my ghostly Mother
To hear my sad confession, you and I
Will on that bed within, prepar'd for me,
Debate the matter privately.
Thou wert but now as welcome to this house
As certain cures to sick men, and just now
This sudain alteration makes thee look
Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst
How loathsome thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat
These wals, or posts to help thee to a hurt,
Past thy d[i]ssimulation.
Call 'em not in?
I know to be within the reach of tongue,
And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me
What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born
To end some way more disesteem'd than this,
Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet.
Come Gentlemen.
Enter Leocadia.
Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see
A strange distemper in you.
By that dissembling man, that fellow worth
Nothing but kicking.
Enter Philippo and Theodosia.
To me alone let not them understand
His fault, he will repent [it] I dare swear.
How do you?
Give me some ayre.
The Surgeons say there is no danger.
This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you
Let me but speak to him, you and these by,
And I dare almost promise you to make him
Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shall open to you,
Not put in so good words but in it self
So full of chance, that you will easily
Forgive my tediousness, and be well pleas'd
With that so much afflicts me.
Of speech may trouble me till I have said
What I will quickly do.
And keep your voyces.
How do you do?
Who know as well as you, you do dissemble,
It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts
Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood,
And make your spirit an untroubled way
To pass to what it ought.
Why I can walk Sir, and am well.
That you can walk, and do believe y're well:
It is the nature, as your Surgeons say
Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk,
Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute:
For heaven sake Sir, sit down again.
Where are the Surgeons?
If they should dress you, you would dye they say
Ere one would tell twenty; trouble not your mind,
Keep your head warm, and do not stir your body,
And you may live an hour.
Alass, it is to[o] little t[o] remember
But half the wrongs that I have done; how short
Then for contrition, and how least of all
For satisfaction?
To satisfie?
That I am he, or she, or what you will
Most wrong'd by you; your Leocadia,
I know you must remember me.
That lost her fame in loosing of her Sex,
With these strange garments, there is no excuse
To hinder me, it is within your power
To give me satisfaction; you have time
Left in this little piece of life to do it:
Therefore I charge you for your conscience sake,
And for our fame, which I would fain have live
When both of us are dead, to celebrate
That Contract; which you have both seal'd and sworn
Yet ere you dye, which must be hastily
Heaven knows.
To death-ward for our faults; draw nearer all
And hear what I unhappy man shall say;
First Madam I desire your pardon; next
(I feel my spirits fail me) Gentlemen
Let me shake hands with you, and let's be friends,
For I have done wrong upon wrong so thick
I know not where, that every man methinks
Should be mine enemy; Forgive me both.
Lastly 'tis true (oh I do feel the power
Of death seize on me) that I was contracted
By seal and oath to Leocadia;
(I must speak fast, because I fear my life
Will else be shorter than my speech would be)
But 'tis impossible to satisfie
You Leocadia, but by repentance,
Though I can dyingly, and boldly say
I know not your dishonor, yet that was
Your virtue, and not mine, you know it well;
But herein lies th' impossibility,
O Theodosia, Theodosia
I was betroth'd to Theodosia
Before I ever saw thee; heaven forgive me
She is my wife this half hour whilst I live.
Hear me a little now, who have not suffer'd
Disgrace at all methinks, since you confess
What I so long have sought for, here is with me
Philippo too my Brother.
All happiness to him; come let me kiss thee
Beg pardon of that Maid for my offence,
And let me farther, with a dying breath
Tell in thine ear the rest of my desires.
If we hold longer talk.
No hope for me; that's Theodosia
And that her Brother, I am only sorry
I was beholding to 'em; I will search
Over the world, as careless of my fortunes,
As they of me, till I can meet a curse
To make these almost killing-sorrows worse. [Exit.
A just confession from you, which she hath
A happy one for me, ask of this Lady,
Ask of my Brother.
Your wound is nothing.
And your imagination that afflicts you,
Look you Sir now.
It needs no dressing.
Within, for your own fancy.
The fault you did to me; But here is one
Must not be wrong'd hereafter.
When I make jests of oaths again, or make
My lust play with religion, when I leave
To keep true joys for her, and yet within
My self true sorrow for my passed deeds
May I want grace, when I would fain repent,
And find a great and sodain punishment. [Exeunt.
Actus V. Scæna Prima.
Enter Philippo, Diego, and Incubo.