Don Sayavedra is set upon in the streets, by your enemies
Vitelli, and his Faction: I am almost kill'd with looking on
them.
And follow me.
For this occasion once more to use it. [Exit.
Your Closet, Mother.
Secure of danger? heav'n be merciful,
Or now at once dispach me.
Enter Vitelli, pursued by Alvarez, and Sayavedra, Clara beating of Anastro.
Leave me to keep these of.
So near my house?
Though 'twere a Temple: and I'll make it one,
I being the Priest, and thou the sacrifice,
I'll offer to my Uncle.
And say I sent thee:
And that: and yet comes on, and boldly rare,
In the wars, where emulation and example
Joyn to increase the courage, and make less
The danger; valour, and true resolution
Never appear'd so lovely, brave again:
Sure he is more than man, and if he fall;
The best of virtue, fortitude would dye with him:
And can I suffer it? forgive me duty,
So I love valour, as I will protect it
Against my Father, and redeem it, though
'Tis forfeited by one I hate.
All is not lost yet: You shall buy me dearer
Before you have me: keep off.
Thy worth has took me prisoner, and my sword
For this time knows thee only for a friend,
And to all else I turn the point of it.
Begot you lawful honor in the wars,
Prove now the Parent of an infamous Bastard
So foul, yet so long liv'd, as murther will
Be to your shames? have each of you, alone
With your own dangers only, purchas'd glory
From multitudes of enemies, not allowing
Those nearest to you, to have part in it,
And do you now joyn, and lend mutual help
Against a single opposite? hath the mercy
Of the great King, but newly wash'd away
The blood, that with the forfeit of your life
Cleav'd to your name, and family like an ulcer,
In this again to set a deeper dye
Upon your infamy: you'll say he is your foe,
And by his rashness call'd on his own ruin;
Remember yet, he was first wrong'd, and honor
Spurr'd him to what he did, and next the place
Where now he is: your house, which by the laws
Of hospitable duty should protect him;
Have you been twenty years a stranger to it,
To make your entrance now in blood? or think you
Your countrey-man, a true born Spaniard, will be
An offering fit, to please the genius of it?
No, in this I'll presume to teach my Father,
And this first Act of disobedience shall
Confirm I am most dutiful.
With what I dare not give allowance to;
Unnatural wretch, what wilt thou do?
A noble enemy: come not on, by——You
pass to him, through me: the way is open:
Farewel: when next I meet you, do not look for
A friend, but a vow'd foe; I see you worthy,
And therefore now preserve you, for the honor
Of my sword only:
How would he win me, that being my vow'd foe
Deserves so well? I thank you for my life;
But how I shall deserve it, give me leave
Hereafter to consider. [Exit.
All danger is blown over: I have Letters
To the Governor, in the Kings name, to secure us,
From such attempts hereafter: yet we need not,
That have such strong Guards of our own, dread others;
And to increase thy comfort, know, this young man
Whom with such fervent earnestness you eye,
Is not what he appears, but such a one
As thou with joy wilt bless, thy Daughter Clara.
Why I have bred her up thus, at more leasure
I will impart unto you, wonder not
At what you have seen her do, it being the least
Of many great and valiant undertakings
She hath made good with honor.
The joy I have in her, with one as great
To you my Alvarez: you, in a man,
Have given to me a Daughter: in a Woman,
I give to you a Son, this was the pledge
You left here with me, whom I have brought up
Different from what he was, as you did Clara,
And with the like success; as she appears
Alter'd by custom, more than Woman, he
Transform'd by his soft life, is less than man.
For all our sorrows past.
Imploy'd to help wrong'd nature, to recover
Her right in either of them, lost by custom:
To you I give my Clara, and receive
My Lucio to my charge: and we'll contend
With loving industry, who soonest can
Turn this man woman, or this woman man. [Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Pachieco, and Lazarillo.
Pac. BOy: [my] Cloak, and Rapier; it fits not a Gentleman of my rank, to walk the streets in Querpo.
Laz. Nay, you are a very rank Gent. Signior, I am very hungry, they tell me in Sevil here, I look like an Eel, with a mans head: and your neighbor the Smith here hard by, would have borrowed me th' other day, to have fish'd with me, because he had lost his Angle-rod.
Pac. Oh happy thou Lazarillo (being the cause of other mens wits) as in thine own: live lean, and witty still: oppress not thy stomach too much: gross feeders, great sleepers[: great sleepers,] fat bodies; fat bodies, lean brains: No Lazarillo, I will make thee immortal, change thy Humanity into Deity, for I will teach thee to live upon nothing.
Laz. Faith Signior, I am immortal then already, or very near it, for I do live upon little or nothing: belike that's the reason the Poets are said to be immortal, for some of them live upon their wits, which is indeed as good as little or nothing: But good Master, let me be mortal still, and let's go to supper.
Pac. Be abstinent; shew not the corruption of thy generation: he that feeds, shall die, therefore, he that feeds not shall live.
Laz. I; but how long shall he live? there's the question.
Pac. As long as he can without feeding: did'st thou read of the miraculous Maid in Flanders?
Laz. No, nor of any Maid else; for the miracle of Virgi[n]ity now-a-days ceases, e'r the Virgin can read Virginity?
Pac. She that liv'd three years without any other sustenance, than the smell of a Rose.
Laz. I heard of her Signior, but they say her guts shrunk all into Lute-strings, and her neather-parts cling'd together like a Serpents Tail, so that though she continued a woman still above the girdle, beneath yet she was monster.
Pac. So are most women, believe it.
Laz. Nay all women Signior, that can live only upon the smell of a Rose.
Pac. No part of the History is fabulous.
Laz. I think rather no part of the Fable is Historical: but for all this, Sir, my rebellious stomach will not let me be immortal: I will be as immortal, as mortal hunger will suffer: put me to a certain stint Sir, allow me but a red herring a day.
Pac. O' de dios: wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies?
Laz. He that eats nothing but a red herring a day, shall ne'r be broil'd for the devil's rasher: a Pilchard, Signior, a Surdiny, an Olive, that I may be a Philosopher first, and immortal after.
Pac. Patience Lazarillo; let contemplation be thy food awhile: I say unto thee, one Pease was a Soldiers Provant a whole day, At the destruction of Jerusalem.
Enter Metaldi, and Mendoza.
Laz. I; and it were any where but at the destruction of a place, I'll be hang'd.
Met. Signior Pachieco Alasto, my most ingenious Cobler of Sevil, the bonos noxios to your Signiorie.
Pac. Signior Metaldi de Forgio, my most famous Smith, and man of Mettle, I return your courtesie ten fold, and do humble my Bonnet beneath the Shooe-sole of your congie: the like to you Signior Mendoza Pediculo de Vermim, my most exquisite Hose-heeler.
Laz. Here's a greeting betwixt a Cobler, a Smith, and a Botcher: they all belong to the foot, which makes them stand so much upon their Gentrie.
Mend. Signior Lazarillo.
Laz. Ah Signior see: nay, we are all Signiors here in Spain, from the Jakes-farmer to the Grandee, or Adelantado: this Botcher looks as if he were Dough-bak'd, a little Butter now, and I could eat him like an Oaten-cake: his fathers diet was new Cheese and Onions when he got him: what a scallion-fac'd rascal 'tis!
Met. But why Signior Pachieco, do you stand so much on the priority, and antiquity of your quality (as you call it) in comparison of ours?
Mend. I; your reason for that.
Pac. Why thou Iron-pated Smith: and thou Woollen-witted Hose-heeler: hear what I will speak indifferently (and according to antient Writers) of our three professions: and let the upright Lazarillo be both judge and moderator.
Laz. Still am I the most immortally hungry; that may be.
Pac. Suppose thou wilt derive thy Pedigree, like some of the old Heroes, (as Hercules, Æneas, Achilles) lineally from the gods, making Saturn thy great Grandfather, and Vulcan thy Father: Vulcan was a god.
Laz. He'll make Vulcan your godfather by and by.
Pac. Yet I say, Saturn was a crabbed block-head, and Vulcan a limping Horn-head, for Venus his wife was a strumpet, and Mars begot all her Children; therefore however, thy original must of necessity spring from Bastardie: further, what can be a more deject spirit in man, than to lay his hands under every ones horses feet, to do him service, as thou dost? For thee, I will be brief, thou dost botch, and not mend, thou art a hider of enormities, viz., Scabs, chilblains, and kib'd heels: much prone thou art to Sects, and Heresies, disturbing State, and Government; for how canst thou be a sound member in the common-wea[l]th, that art so subject to stit[c]hes in the ankles? blush, and be silent then, oh ye Mechanicks, compare no more with the politick Cobler: For Coblers (in old time) have prophesied, what may they do now then, that have every day waxed better, and better? have we not the length of every mans foot? are we not daily menders? yea, and what menders? not horse-menders.
Laz. Nor manners-menders.
Pach. But soul-menders: Oh divine Coblers; do we not, like the wise man, spin out our own threads, (or our wives for us?) do we not by our sowing the Hide, reap the Beef? are not we of the Gentle-craft, whilst both you are but Crafts-men; You will say, you fear neither Iron nor Steel, and what you get is wrought out of the fire; I must answer you again, though, all this is but forgery: You may likewise say, a man's a man, that has but a hose on his head: I must likewise answer, that man is a botcher, that has a heel'd hose on his head: to conclude, there can be no comparison with the Cobler, who is all in all in the Common-wealth, has his politique eye and ends on every mans steps that walks, and whose course shall be lasting to the worlds end.
Met. I give place: the wit of man is wonderful: thou hast hit the nail on the head, and I will give thee six pots for't, though I ne'r clinch shooe again.
Enter Vitelli and Alguazier.
Pac. Who's this? oh our Alguazier: as arrant a knave as e'er wore one head under two offices: he is one side Alguazier.
Met. The other side Serjeant.
Mend. That's both sides carrion I am sure.
Pac. This is he apprehends whores in the way of justice, and lodges 'em in his own house, in the way of profit: he with him, is the Grand Don Vitelli, 'twixt whom and Fernando Alvarez, the mortal hatred is; he is indeed my Don's Bawd, and does at this present, lodge a famous Curtizan of his, lately come from Madrid.
What loss or injury you may sustain
I will repair, and recompence your love:
Only that fellows coming I mislike,
And did fore-warn her of him: bear her this
With my best love, at night I'll visit her.
Oh Alvarez, thou hast brought a Son with thee
Both brightens, and obscures our Nation,
Whose pure strong beams on us, shoot like the Suns
On baser fires: I would to heaven my bloud
Had never stain'd thy bold unfortunate hand,
That with mine honor I might emulate,
Not persecute such virtue: I will see him,
Though with the hazard of my life: no rest
In my contentious spirits, can I find
Till I have gratify'd him in like kind. [Exit.
Alg. I know you not: what are ye? hence ye base Besegnios.
Pac. Mary Catzo Signior Alguazier, d'ye not know us? why, we are your honest neighbors, the Cobler, Smith, and Botcher, that have so often sate snoaring cheek by joll with your Signiorie, in rug at midnight.
Laz. Nay, good Signior, be not angry: you must understand, a Cat, and such an Officer see best in the dark.
Met. By this hand, I could find in my heart to shooe his head.
Pac. Why then know you, Signior; thou mongril, begot at midnight, at the Goal gate, by a Beadle, on a Catchpoles wife, are not you he that was whipt out of Toledo for perjury.
Men. Next; condemn'd to the Gallies for pilfery, to the Buls pizel.
Met. And after call'd to the Inquisition, for Apostacie.
Pac. Are not you he that rather than you durst goe an industrious voyage being press'd to the Islands, skulk'd till the Fleet was gone, and then earn'd your Royal a day by squiring puncks, and puncklings up and down the City?
Laz. Are not you a Portuguize born, descended o' the Moors, and came hither into Sevil with your Master, an arrant Tailor, in your red Bonnet, and your blue Jacket, lousie, though now your block-head be cover'd with the Spanish block, and your lashed Shoulders with a Velvet Pee.
Pac. Are not you he that have been of thirty callings, yet ne'r a one lawful? that being a Chandler first, profess'd sincerity, and would sell no man Mustard to his Beef on the Sabbath, and yet sold Hypocrisie all your life time?
Met. Are not you he, that were since a Surgeon to the Stews, and undertook to cure what the Church it self could not, Strumpets that rise to your office by being a great Don's Bawd?
Laz. That commit men nightly, offenceless, for the gain of a groat a prisoner, which your Beadle seems to put up, when you share three pence?
Mend. Are not you he that is a kisser of men, in drunkenness, and a betrayer in sobriety?
Alg. Diabolo: they'll rail me into the Gallies again.
Pac. Yes Signior, thou art even he we speak of all this while: thou mayst by thy place now, lay us by the heels: 'tis true: but take heed, be wiser, pluck not ruin on thine own head: for never was there such an Anatomie, as we shall make thee then: be wise therefore, [Oh] thou child of the night! be friends, and shake hands, thou art a proper man, if thy beard were redder: remember thy worshipful function, a Constable; though thou turn'st day into night, and night into day, what of that? watch less and pray more: [gird thy beares skin (viz. thy Rug-gowne) to thy loyes, take thy staffe in thy hand, and goe forth at midnight:] Let not thy mittens abate the talons of thy authority, but gripe theft and whoredom, wheresoever thou meet'st 'em: bear 'em away like a tempest, and lodge 'em safely in thine own house:
Laz. Would you have whores and thieves lodgd in such a house?
Pac. They ever do so: I have found a thief, or a whore there, when the whole Suburbs could not furnish me.
Laz. But why do they lodge there?
Pac. That they may be safe and forth-coming: for in the morning usually, the thief is sent to the Goal, and the whore prostrates her self to the Justice.
Men. Admirable Pachiecho.
Met. Thou Cobler of Christendom.
Alg. There is no railing with these rogues: I will close with 'em, till I can cry quittance: why Signiors, and my honest neighbors, will you impute that as a neglect of my friends, which is an imperfection in me? I have been Sandblind from my infancy: to make you amends you shall sup with me.
Laz. Shall we sup with ye, Sir? O' my conscience, they have wrong'd the Gentleman extreamly.
Alg. And after supper, I have a project to employ you in, shall make you drink and eat merrily this month: I am a little knavish: why, and doe not I know all you to be knaves?
Pac. I grant you, we are all knaves, and will be your knaves: But oh, while you live, take heed of being a proud knave.
Alg. On then pass: I will bear out my staffe, and my staffe shall bear out me.
Laz. Oh Lazarillo, thou art going to supper. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Lucio, and Bobadilla.
Luc. Pray be not angry.
Bob. I am angry, and I will be angry Diabolo: what should you do in the Kitchin, cannot the Cooks lick their fingers without your overseeing? nor the maids make pottage, except your dogs-head be in the pot? Don Lucio, Don Quot-Quean, Don Spinster, wear a Petticoat still, and put on your Smock a' Monday: I will have a baby o' clouts made for it, like a great girl: nay, if you will needs be starching of Ruffs, and sowing of Black-work, I will of a mild, and loving Tutor, become a Tyrant, your Father has committed you to my charge, and I will make a man or a mouse on you.
So galls my thigh: I would 't were burnt: pish, look,
This Cloak will ne'r keep on: these Boots too hide-bound,
Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen,
And my Spurs gingle like a Morris-dancer:
Lord, how my head akes with this roguish Hat;
This masculine attire is most uneasie,
I am bound up in it: I had rather walk
In folio, again, loose like a woman.
Thou mock to heav'n, and nature, and thy Parents,
Thou tender Leg of Lamb; oh, how he walks
As if he had bepiss'd himself, and fleers!
Is this a gate for the young Cavalier,
Don Lucio, Son and Heir to Alvarez?
Has it a corn? or do's it walk on conscience,
It treads so gingerly? Come on your ways,
Suppose me now your Fathers foe, Vitelli,
And spying you i' th' street, thus I advance
I twist my Beard, and then I draw my sword.
How durst thou thus confront me? impious twig
Of that old stock, dew'd with my kinsmans gore,
Draw, for I'll quarter thee in pieces four.
Put up thy sword, I will not meddle with ye;
I, justle me, I care not: I'll not draw,
Pray be a quiet man.
or I'll be so bold as to lay the pomel of my sword over the hilts
of your head: my name's Vitelli, and I'll have the wall.
Signior, what happen'd 'twixt my Sire and your
Kinsman, was long before I saw the world,
No fault of mine, nor will I justifie
My Fathers crimes: forget Sir, and forgive.
'Tis Christianity: I pray put up your sword,
I'll give you any satisfaction
That may become a Gentleman: however
I hope you are bred to more humanity
Than to revenge my Fathers wrong on me
That crave your love, and peace: law-you-now Zancho
Would not this quiet him, were he ten Vitellies.
Bob. Oh craven-chicken of a Cock o' th' game: well, what remedy? did thy Father see this, O' my conscience, he would cut off thy Masculine gender, crop thine ears, beat out thine eyes, and set thee in one of the Pear trees for a scare-crow: As I am Vitelli, I am satisfied; But as I am Bobadilla, Spindola, Zancho, Steward of the house, and thy Fathers Servant, I could find in my heart to lop off the hinder part of thy face, or to beat all thy teeth into thy mouth: Oh thou whay-blooded milk-sop, I'll wait upon thee no longer, thou shalt ev'n wait upon me: come your ways Sir, I shall take a little pains with ye else.
Enter Clara.
Cla. Where art thou brother Lucio? ran tan tan ta ran tan ran tan tan ta, ta ran tan tan tan. Oh, I shall no more see those golden daies, these clothes will never fadge with me: a —— O' this filthy vardingale, this hip-hape: brother, why are womens hanches only limited, confin'd, hoop'd in, as it were with these same scurvy vardingales?
Bob. Because womens hanches only are most subject to display and flie out.
Cla. Bobadilla, rogue, ten Duckets, I hit the prepuce of thy Codpiece.
Luc. Hold, if you love my life, Sister: I am not Zancho Bobadilla, I am your brother Lucio: what a fright you have put me in!
Cla. Brother? and wherefore thus?
Luc. Why, Master Steward here, Signior Zancho made me change: he does nothing but mis-use me, and call me Coward, and swears I shall wait upon him.
Bob. Well: I do no more than I have authori[t]y for: would I were away though: for she's as much too manish, as he too womanish: I dare not meddle with her, yet I must set a good face on't (if I had it) I have like charge of [you] Madam, I am as well to mollifie you, as to quallifie him: what have you to do with Armors, and Pistols, and Javelins, and swords, and such tools? remember Mistriss; nature hath given you a sheath only, to signifie women are to put up mens weapons, not to draw them: look you now, is this a fit trot for a Gentlewoman? You shall see the Court-Ladies move like Goddesses, as if they trode air; they will swim you their measures, like Whiting-mops, as if their feet were finns, and the hinges of their knees oil'd: doe they love to ride great horses, as you do? no, they love to ride great asses sooner: faith, I know not what to say t' ye both: Custom hath turn'd nature topsie-turvie in you.
Cla. Nay, but Master Steward.
Bob. You cannot trot so fast, but he ambles as slowly.
Cla. Signior Spindle, will you hear me?
Bob. He that shall come to bestride your Virginity, had better be afoot o'er the Dragon.
Cl[a]. Very well.
Bob. Did ever Spanish Lady pace so?
Cla. Hold these a little.
Luc. I'll not touch 'em, I.
You Dog-skin-fac'd rogue, pilcher, you poor John,
Which I will beat to Stock-fish.
Luc. Sister.
Bob. Madam.
Cla. You Cittern-head, who have you talk'd to, ha? You nasty, stinking, and ill-countenanc'd Cur.
Bob. By this hand, I'll bang your brother for this, when I get him alone.
Spight o' the nose, that's flat: kick him, I say,
Or I will cut thy head off.
Thou false and peremptory Steward, pray,
For I will hang thee up in thine own chain.
'Tis a reasonable good one; but there hangs one
Spain's Champion ne'er us'd truer: with this Staffe
Old Alvarez has led up men so close,
They could almost spit in the Cannons mouth,
Whilst I with that, and this well mounted, scour'd
A Horse-troop through, and through, like swift desire,
And seen poor rogues retire, all gore, and gash'd
Like bleeding Shads.
How desperately you talk: what d' ye call
This Gun a dag?
You never saw my Barbary, the Infanta
Bestow'd upon me, as yet Lucio?
Walk down, and see it.
Not I, the Jades will kick: the poor Groom there
Was almost spoil'd the other day.
Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy Mother.
Enter Alvarez and Bobadilla.
But natures privy Seal assures me one.
Work with such Magick on the mind and manners,
In spight of sex and nature? find out sirrah,
Some skilful fighter.
And redeem eithers proper inclination,
Or bray 'em in a morter, and new mold 'em. [Exit.
Your Breeches on still? and your petticoat
Not yet off Lucio? art thou not guelt?
Or did the cold Muscovite beget thee,
That lay here Lieger in the last great frost?
Art not thou Clara, turn'd a man indeed
Beneath the girdle? and a woman thou?
I'll have you search'd by —— I strongly doubt;
We must have these things mended: come goe in. [Exit.
Enter Vitelli and Bobadilla.
Of me; if you chance to have conference with that
Lady there, be very civil, or look to your head: she has
Ten nails, and you have but two eies: If any foolish
Hot motions should chance to rise in the Horizon
Under your equinoctial there, qualifie it as well as
You can, for I fear the elevation of your pole will
Not agree with the Horoscope of her constitution:
She is Bell the Dragon I assure you. [Exit.
There walks that Lucio Metamorphosed. [Exit.
Supposed Lucio that was, but Clara,
That is, and daughter unto Alvarez.
So you were still my fair Expositor:
Protected by a Lady from my death.
Oh, I shall wear an everlasting blush
Upon my cheek from this discovery:
Oh, you the fairest Soldier, I e'er saw;
Each of whose eyes, like a bright beamy Shield,
Conquers without blows, the contentious.
And may be injur'd.
Foe, nor oppressing odds dares prove Vitelli,
If Clara side him, and will call him friend;
I would the difference of our bloods were such
As might with any shift be wip'd away:
Or would to heaven your self were all your name;
That having lost blood by you, I might hope
To raise blood from you. But my black-wing'd fate
Hovers aversely over that fond hope:
And he, whose tongue thus gratifies the daughter,
And Sister of his enemy, wears a sword
To rip the Father and the Brother up.
Thus you that sav'd this wretched life of mine,
Have sav'd it to the ruin of your friends.
That my affections should promiscuously
Dart love and hate at once, both worthily?
Pray let me kiss your hand.
And come to do me mischief.
Your words are falser (fair) than my intents,
And each sweet accent far more treacherous; for
Though you speak ill of me, you speak so well,
I doe desire to hear you.
Or kill me if you please.
For to be gone, were to destroy my life;
And to kill you, were to destroy my soul:
I am in love, yet must not be in love:
I'll get away apace: yet valiant Lady,
Such gratitude to honor I do owe,
And such obedience to your memory,
That if you will bestow something, that I
May wear about me, it shall bind all wrath,
My most inveterate wrath, from all attempts,
Till you and I meet next.
Why, I will give ye good counsel.
You have bestowed; a Ribbon, or a Glove.
To trim the Butler with.
And I would [have] you faster.
That I may wear, and but remember you.
But that it seems you like not.
When any smiles, I will remember yours;
Your good opinion shall in weight poize me
Against a thousand ill: Lastly, your self,
My curious eye now figures in my heart,
Where I will wear you, till the Table break.
So, whitest Angels guard you.
Have fitly thought to give, what you as fitly
May not disdain to wear.
I never heard a man speak till this hour.
His words are golden chains, and now I fear
The Lyonesse hath met a tamer here:
Fie, how his tongue chimes: what was I saying?
Oh: this favour I bequeath you, which I tie
In a Love-knot, fast, ne'er to hurt my friends;
Yet be it fortunate 'gainst all your foes
(For I have neither friend, nor foe, but yours)
As e'er it was to me: I've kept it long,
And value it, next my Virginity:
But good, return it, for I now remember
I vow'd, who purchas'd it, should have me too.
Yet this assure your self, most honour'd Clara,
I'll not infringe a particle of breath
My vow hath offered to ye: nor from this part
Whilst it hath edge, or point, or I a heart. [Exit.
Is crept into my breast, that blauncheth clean
My former nature? I begin to find
I am a woman, and must learn to fight
A softer sweeter battel, than with swords.
I am sick methinks, but the disease I feel
Pleaseth, and punisheth: I warrant love
Is very like this, that folks talke of so;
I skill not what it is, yet sure even here,
Even in my heart, I sensibly perceive
It glows, and riseth like a glimmering flame,
But know not yet the Essence on't, nor name. [Exit.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Malroda and Alguazier.
You politique Diego, with your face of wisdom;
Don-blirt, the —— on your Aphorismes,
Your grave, and Sage-Ale Physiognomy:
Do not I know thee for the Alguazier,
Whose dunghil all the Parish Scavengers
Could never rid? thou Comedy to men,
Whose serious folly is a Butt for all
To shoot their wits at; whilst thou hast not wit,
Nor heart, to answer, or be angry.
A staffe of rottener office: dare you check
Any accesses that I will allow?
Piorato is my friend, and visits me
In lawful sort to espouse me as his wife;
And who will cross, or shall our enter-views?
You know me sirrah, for no Chambermaid,
That cast her belly, and her wastecoat lately;
Thou think'st thy Constableship is much: not so,
I am ten offices to thee: I, thy house,
Thy house, and office is maintain'd by me.
Go too, I know you, and I have contriv'd;
Y'are a delinquent, but I have contriv'd
A poison, though not in the third degree:
I can say, black's your eye, though it be grey;
I have conniv'd at this, your friend, and you:
But what is got by this connivency?
I like his feather well: a proper man,
Of good discourse, fine conversation,
Valiant, and a great carrier of the business,
Sweet breasted, as the Nightingale, or Thrush:
Yet I must tell you; you forget your self,
My Lord Vitellies love, and maintenance
Deserves no other Jack i' th' box, but he:
What though he gather'd first the golden fruit,
And blew your pig's-coat up into a blister,
When you did wait at Court upon his mother;
Has he not well provided for the barn?
Beside, what profit reap I by the other?
If you will have me serve your pleasure, Lady,
Your pleasure must accommodate my service;
As good be virtuous and poor, as not
Thrive by my knavery, all the world would be
Good, prosper'd goodness like to villany.
I am the Kings Vice-gerent by my place;
His right Lieutenant in mine own precinct.
Yet now my pair of twins, of fool, and knave,
Look we are friends; there's Gold for thee, admit
Whom I will have, and keep it from my Don;
And I will make thee richer than thou'rt wise:
Thou shalt be my Bawd, and my Officer:
Thy children shall eat still, my good night Owl,
And thy old wife sell Andirons to the Court,
Be countenanced by the Dons, and wear a hood,
Nay, keep my Garden-house; I'll call her Mother,
Thee Father, my good poysonous Red-hair'd Dill,
And Gold shall daily be thy Sacrifice,
Wrought from a fertile Island of mine own,
Which I will offer, like an Indian Queen.
With which I'll catch the world.
And bring it in: if Piorato come
Before my Don, admit him; if my Don
Before my Love, conduct him, my dear Devil. [Exit.
Oh equal Heaven, how wisely thou disposest
Thy several gifts! one's born a great rich fool,
For the subordinate knave to work upon:
Anothers poor, with wits addition,
Which well or ill-us'd, builds a living up;
And that too from the Sire oft descends:
Only fair virtue, by traduction
Never succeeds, and seldom meets success,
What have I then to do with't? My free will
Left me by heaven, makes me or good, or ill:
Now since vice gets more in this vicious world
Than Piety, and my Stars confluence
Enforce my disposition to affect
Gain, and the name of rich, let who will practise
War, and grow that way great: religious,
And that way good: my chief felicity
Is wealth the nurse of sensuality:
And he that mainly labours to be rich,
Must scratch great scabs, and claw a Strumpets itch. [Exit.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Piorato, and B[o]badilla, with Letters.