Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10

Now what's the news?

Pen. A pox of yonder old Rigel,
The Captain, the old Captain.

Isab. What old Captain?

Pen. Captain courageous yonder of the Castle,
Captain, Don Diego, old Bartello.

Isab. Where is he?

Pen. He's coming in:
'Twould vex the Devil, that such an old Potgun as this,
That can make no sport, should hinder them that can do it.

Isab. I would not have him see the Gentleman,
For all the world, my credit were undone then.

Pen. Shall I fling a piss-pot on's head as he comes in,
And take him into th' kitchin, there to drie him.

Isab. That will not do; and he is so humorous too
He will come in.

Cla. What is he?

Isab. One much troubles me.

Pen. And can do nothing, cannot eat.

Isab. Your sight now,
Out of a driveling dotage he bears to me,
May make him tell my husband, and undo me.

Cla. What would ye have me do?

Isab. But for a while Sir,
Step here behind this hanging, presently
I'll answer him, and then—

Cla. I will obey ye.

Enter Bartello.

Bar. Where's my rich Jeweller? I have stones to sett.

Pen. He is abroad, and sure Sir.

Bart. There's for your service:
Where's the fair Lady? all alone sweet beauty?

Isab. She's never much alone Sir, that's acquainted
With such companio[n]s as good honest thoughts are.

Bar. I'll sit down by thee, and I'll kiss thy hand too,
And in thine ear swear by my life I love thee.

Isab. Ye are a merry Captain.

Bar. And a mad one, Lady;
By th' mas thou hast goodly eies, excellent eies, wench,
Ye twinkling rogues, look what thy Captain brings thee,
Thou must needs love me, love me heartily,
Hug me, and love me, hug me close.

Isab. Fie Captain.

Bar. Nay, I have strength, and I can strain ye sirrah,
And vault into my seat as nimbly, little one.
As any of you[r] smooth-chinn'd boys in Florence,
I must needs commit a little folly with ye,
I'll not be long, a brideling cast, and away wench;
The hob-nail thy husband's as fitly out o'th' way now?

Isab. Do you think he keeps a bawdy-house?

Bar. That's all one.

Isab. Or did you ever see that lightness in my carriage,
That you might promise to your self—.

Bar. Away fool,
A good turn's a good turn; I am an honest fellow:

Isab. You have a handsome wife, a virtuous Gentlewoman.

Bar. They are not for this time o'th' year.

Isab. A Lady,
That ever bore that great respect to you,
That noble constancy.

Bar. That's more than I know.

Enter Maid, and Penurio.

Maid. Oh Mistriss, ye are undone, my Master's coming.

Pen. Coming hard by here.

Bar. Plague consume the Rascal,
Shall I make petty-patties of him?

Isab. Now what love Sir?
Fear of your coming made him jealous first;
Your finding here, will make him mad and desperate,
And what in that wild mood he will execute—

Bar. I can think of nothing, I have no wit left me,
Certain my head's a Mustard-pot.

Isab. I have thought Sir,
And if you'll please to put in execution
What I conceive—

Bar. I'll do it, tell it quickly.

Isab. Draw your sword quickly, and go down inrag'd,
As if you had persu'd some foe up hither,
And grumble to your self extreamly, terribly,
But not a word to him, and so pass by him.

Bar. I'll do it perfectly.

Enter Lopez.

Isa[b]. Stand you still good Sir.

Bar. Rascal, slave, villain, take a house so poorly,
After thou hast wrong'd a Gentleman, a Soldier,
Base Poultroon boy, you will forsake your neast sirrah.

Lop. The matter, good sweet Captain?

Bart. Run-away rogue,
And take a house to cover thy base cowardize,
I'll whip ye, I'll so scourge ye. [Exit.

Lop. Mercy upon me,
What's all this matter wife?

Isab. Did you meet the mad man?

Lop. I never saw the Captain so provok'd yet.

Isab. Oh he's a Devil sure, a most bloody devil,
He follow'd a young Gentleman, his sword drawn,
With such a fury, how I shake to think on't,
And foyn'd, and slash'd at him, and swore he'd kill him,
Drove him up hither, follow'd him still bloodily,
And if I had not hid him, sure had slain him;
A merciless old man.

[C]la. Most virtuous Lady,
Even as the giver of my life, I thank ye.

Lop. This fellow must not stay here, he is too handsome;
He is gone Sir, and you may pass now with all security,
I'll be your guide my self, and such a way
I'll lead ye, none shall cross, nor none shall know ye.
The door's left open Sirrah, I'll starve you for this trick,
I'll make thee fast o' Sundaies; and for you Lady,
I'll have your Lodgings farther off, and closer,
I'll have no street-lights to you; will you go Sir?

Cla. I thank ye Sir: the devil take this fortune;
And once more all my service to your goodness. [Exit.

Pen. Now could I eat my very arms for madness,
Cross'd in the nick o' th' matter! vengeance take it,
And that old Cavalier that spoil'd our Cock-fight;
I'll lay the next plot surer.

Isab. I am glad and sorry;
Glad, that I got so fairly off suspition;
Sorry, I lost my new lov'd friend.

Pen. Not lost Mistriss;
I'll conjure once again to raise that spirit;
In, and look soberly upon the matter,
We'll ring him one peal more, and if that fall,
The devil tak the Clappers, Bells, and all. [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Dutchess, Lords, and Rhodope.

Dutch. NOw Rodope, How do you find my daughter?

Rho. Madam, I find her now what you would have her,
What the State wishes her; I urg'd her fault to her,
Open'd her eyes, and made her see the mischief
She was running with a headlong will into,
Made her start at her folly, shake and tremble,
At the meer memory of such an ignorance,
She now contemns his love, hates his remembrance,
Cannot endure to hear the name of Silvio;
His person spits at.

Dutch. I am glad to hear this.

Rho. And humbly now to your Will, your care, Madam,
Bends her affections, bows her [best] obedience;
Syenna's Duke, with new eyes now she looks on,
And with a Princely love, fit for his person.
Returns that happiness and joy he look'd for;
The general good of both the neighbor Dukedoms,
Not any private end, or rash affection
She aims at now: hearing the Duke arriv'd too,
(To whom she owes all honor, and all service,)
She charg'd me kneel thus at your Graces feet,
And not to rise without a general pardon.

Dutch. She has it, and my love again, my old love,
And with more tenderness I meet this penitence,
Than if she ne'er had started from her honor;
I thank ye Rhodope, am bound to thank ye,
And daily to remember this great service,
This honest faithful service; go in peace,
And by this Ring, delivered to Bartello,
Let her enjoy our favour, and her liberty,
And presently to this place, with all honor,
See her conducted.

Rho. Your Grace has made me happy. [Exit.

Enter 1 Lord.

1 Lord. Syenna's noble Duke, craves his admitta[nc]e.

Enter Duke of Syenna with Attendants.

Dutch. Go; wait upon his Grace; fair Sir, you are welcome,
Welcome to her ever admir'd your virtues:
And now methinks, my Court looks truly noble;
You have taken too much pains Sir.

Syen. Royal Lady,
To wait upon your Grace is but my service.

Dutch. Keep that Sir, for the Saint ye have vow'd it to.

Syen. I keep a life for her: since your Grace pleases
To jump so happily into the matter,
I come indeed to claim your Royal promise,
The beauteous Belvidere in marriage,
I come to tender her my youth, my fortune,
My everlasting love.

Enter Belvidere, Bartello, Rhodope, Attendants.

Dutch. You are like to win, Sir:
All is forgot, forgiven too; no sadness
My good Child, you have the same heart still here,
The Duke of Syenna, Child, pray use him nobly.

Sy. An Angel beauty.

Bel. Your Grace is fairly welcome,
And what in modesty a blushing maid may
Wish to a Gentleman of your great goodness;
But wishes are too poor a pay for Princes.

Sy. You have made me richer than all States and Titles,
One kiss of this white hand's above all honors,
My faith dear Lady, and my fruitful service,
My duteous zeal—

Bel. Your Grace is a great Master,
And speaks too powerfully to be resisted:
Once more you are welcome, Sir, to me you are welcome,
To her that honors ye; I could say more Sir,
But in anothers tongue 'twere better spoken.

Sy. As wise as fair, you have made your servant happy;
I never saw so rich a Mine of sweetness.

Dutch. Will your Grace please, after your painful journey
To take some rest? Are the Dukes Lodgings ready?

Lord. All Madam.

Dutch. Then wait upon his Grace, all, and to morrow, Sir,
We'll shew ye in what high esteem we hold ye,
Till then a fair repose.

Sy. My fairest service. [Exit Duke, &c.

Dutch. You have so honour'd me, my dearest daughter,
So truly pleas'd me in this entertainment,
I mean your loving carriage to Syenna,
That both for ever I forget all trespasses,
And to secure you next of my full favour,
Ask what you will within my power to grant ye,
Ask freely: and if I forget my promise—
Ask confidently.

Bel. You are too Royal to me;
To me that have so foolishly transgress'd you,
So like a Girl, so far forgot my virtue,
Which now appears as base and ugly to me,
As did his Dream, that thought he was in Paradise,
Awak'd and saw the Devil; how was I wander'd?
With what eies could I look upon that poor, that cours thing,
That wretched thing call'd Sylvio? that (now) despis'd thing,
And lose an object of that graceful sweetness,
That god-like presence as Syenna is?
Darkness, a[n]d cheerful day, had not such difference:
But I must ever bless your care, your wisdom,
That led me from this labyrinth of folly,
How had I sunk else? what example given?

Dutch. Prethee no more, and as thou art my best one,
Ask something that may equal such a goodness.

Bel. Why did ye let him go so slightly from ye,
More like a man in triumph, than condemn'd:
Why did ye make his pennance but a question,
A Riddle, every idle wit unlocks.

Dutch. 'Tis not so,
Nor do not fear it so: he will not find it,
I have given that (unless my self discover it)
Will cost his head.

Bel. 'Tis subject to construction?

Dutch. That it is too.

Bel. It may be then absolv'd,
And then are we both scorn'd and laugh'd at, Madam;
Beside the promise you have ty'd upon it,
Which you must never keep.

Dutch. I never meant it.

Bel. For heaven sake let me know it, 'tis my Suit to ye,
The Boon you would have me ask; let me but see it,
That if there be a way to make't so strong,
No wit nor powerful reason can run through it,
For my disgrace, I may beg of heaven to grant it.

Dutch. Fear not, it has been put to sharper judgements
Than e'er he shall arrive at: my dear Father,
That was as fiery in his understanding,
And ready in his wit as any living,
Had it two years, and studied it, yet lost it:
This night ye are my Bed-fellow, there Daughter
Into your bosom I'll commit this secret,
And there we'll both take counsel.

Bel. I shall find
Some trick I hope too strong yet for his mind. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Penurio.

Pen. Methinks I am batten'd well of late, grown lusty,
Fat, high, and kicking, thanks to the bounteous Rugio;
And now, methinks I scorn these poor repasts,
Cheese-parings, and the stinking tongues of Pilchers;
But why should I remember these? they are odious,
They are odious in mine eyes; the full fat dish now,
The bearing dish is that I reverence,
The dish an able Serving-man sweats under,
And bends i' th' hams, as if the house hung on him,
That dish is the dish: hang your bladder Bankets,
Or halfe a dozen of Turnops and two Mushrumps,
These when they breed their best, hatch but two belches;
The state of a fat Turkey, the decorum
He marches in with, all the train and circumstance;
'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter,
And then his sauce with Oranges and Onions,
And he displaid in all parts, for such a dish now,
And at my need I would betray my Father,
And for a rosted Conger, all my Countrey.

Enter Bartello.

Bar. What my friend Lean-gut, how does thy beauteous Mistriss?
And where's your Master Sirrah? where's that horn-pipe?

Pen. My Mistriss, Sir, does as a poor wrong'd Gentlewoman,
Too much, heaven knows, opprest with injuries;
May do and live.

Bar. Is the old fool still jealous?

Pen. As old fools are, and will be still the same, Sir.

Bar. He must have cause: he must have cause.

Pen. 'Tis true, Sir,
And would he had with all my heart.

Bar. He shall have.

Pen. For then he had Salt to his Saffron porridge.

Bar. Why do not [I] see thee sometime? why thou starv'd rascal?
Why do not ye come to me, you precious bow-case?
I keep good meat at home, good store.

Pen. Yes Sir, I will not fail ye all next week.

Bar. Thou art welcome,
I have a secret I would fain impart to thee,
But thou art so thin, the wind will blow it from thee,
Or men will read it through thee.

Pen. Wrap't up in beef Sir,
In good gross beef, let all the world look on me,
The English have that trick to keep intelligence.

Bar. A wi[tt]y knave, first there's to tie your tongue up.

Pen. Dumb as a Dog, Sir.

Bar. Next, hark in your ear, Sirrah.

Pen. Well, very well, excellent well: 'tis done, Sir,
Say no more to me.

Bar. Say and hold.

Pen. 'Tis done, Sir.

Bar. As thou lov'st butter'd eggs, swear.

Pen. Let me kiss the Book first,
But here's my hand, brave Captain.

Bar. Look ye hold, sirrah. [Exit.

Pen. Oh the most precious vanity of this world;
When such dry'd Neats-tongues must be soak'd and larded
With young fat supple wenches! Oh the Devil.
What can he do, he cannot suck an egg off
But his back's loose i'th' hilts: go thy wayes Captain,
Well may thy warlike name work Miracles,
But if e'er thy founder'd courser win [match] more,
Or stand right but one train—

Enter three Gentlemen.

1 Gen. Now Signior Shadow,
What art thou thinking of, how to rob thy Master?

Pen. Of his good deeds? The Thief that undertakes that
Must have a hook will poze all Hell to hammer:
Have ye dined Gentlemen, or do you purpose?

2 Gent. Dined, two long hours ago.

Pen. Pray ye take me with ye.

3 Gent. To supper dost thou mean?

Pe[n]. To any thing
That has the smell of meat in't: tell me true, Gentlemen,
Are not you three going to be sinful?
To iropard a joynt, or so? I have found your faces,
And see whore written in your eyes.

1 Gent. A parlous rascal,
Thou art much upon the matter.

Pen. Have a care Gentlemen,
'Tis a sore age, very sore age, lewd age,
And women now are like old Knights adventures,
Full of inchanted flames, and dangerous.

2 Gent. Where the most danger is, there's the most honor.

Pen. I grant ye, honor most consists in sufferance,
And by that rule you three should be most honorable.

3 Gent. A subtle Rogue: but canst thou tell Penurio
Where we may light upon—

Pen. A learned Surgeon?

3 Gent. Pox take ye fool; I mean good wholsome wenches.

Pen. 'Faith wholsome women will but spoil ye too,
For you are so us'd to snap-haunces: But take my counsel,
Take fat old women, fat, and five and fifty,
The Dog-dayes are come in.

2 Gent. Take fat old women?

Pen. The fatter and the older, still the better,
You do not know the pleasure of an old Dame,
A fat old Dame, you do not know the knack on't:
They are like our countrey Grotts, as cool as Christmas,
And sure i' th' keels.

1 Gent. Hang him starv'd fool: he mocks us.

3 Gent. Penurio, thou know'st all the handsome wenches?
What shall I give thee for a Merchants wife now?

Pen. I take no money Gentlemen, that's base,
I trade in meat, a Merchants wife will cost ye
A glorious Capon; a great shoulder of Mutton;
And a Tart as big as a Conjurers Circle.

3 Gent. That's cheap enough.

1 Gent. And what a Haberdashers?

Pen. Worse meat will serve for her, a great Goose-Pie,
But you must send it out o' th' Countrey to me,
It will not do else: with a piece of Bacon,
And if you can, a pot of Butter with it.

2 Gent. Now do I aim at horse-flesh: what a Parsons?

Pen. A Tithe-Pig has no fellow, if I fetch her,
If she be Puritane, Plumb-porridge does it,
And a fat loin of Veal, well sauc'd and roasted.

2 Gent. We'll meet one night, and thou shalt have all these;
O' that condition we may have the wenches
A dainty rascal.

Pen. When your stomachs serve ye,
(For mine is ever ready) I'll supply ye.

1 Gent. Farewel, and there's to fill thy paunch.

Pen. Brave Gentleman.

2 Gent. Hold sirrah, there.

Pen. Any young wench i' th' Town, Sir.

3 Gent. It shall go round. [Exit Gent.

Pen. Most honorable Gentlemen,
All these are Courtiers, but they are meer Coxcombs,
And only for a wench, their purses open,
Nor have they so much judgement left to chuse her;
If e'r they call upon me, I'll so fit 'em,
I have a pack of wry-mouth'd mackrel Ladies,
Stink like a standing ditch, and those dear Damsels;
But I forget my business, I thank ye Monsieurs,
I have a thousand whimseys in my brain now. [Exit.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter (to a Banquet) Dutchess, Syenna, Lords, Attendants.

Dutch. Your Grace shall now perceive how much we honor ye
And in what dear regard we hold your friendship:
Will you sit Sir, and grace this homely Banquet?

Sy. Madam, to your poor friend, you are too magnificent.

Dutch. To the Dukes health, and all the joyes I wish him,
Let no man miss this cup: have we no Musick?

Sy. Your noble favours still you heap upon me,
But where's my virtuous Mistriss, such a Feast,
And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it?
Methinks it should not be, it shews not fully.

Dutch. Young Ladies Sir; are long, and curious
In putting on their trims, forget how day goes,
And then 'tis their good morrow when they are ready:
Go some and call her, and wait upon her hither,
Tell her the Duke and I desire her company:
I warrant ye, a hundred dressings now
She has survey'd, this, and that fashion look'd on,
For Ruffs and Gowns; cast this away, these Jewels
Suited to these and these knots: o' my life Sir,
She fears your curious eye will soon discover else:
Why stand ye still, why gape ye on one another?
Did I not bid ye go, and tell my Daughter?
Are ye nailed here? nor stir? nor speak? who am I,
And who are you?

1 Lord. Pardon me, gracious Lady,
The fear to tell you that you would not hear of
Makes us all dumb, the Princess is gone, Madam.

Dutch. Gone? whither gone? some wiser fellow answer me.

2 Lord. We sought the Court all over, and believe Lady
No news of where she is, nor how convey'd hence.

Dutch. It cannot be, it must not be.

1 Lord. 'Tis true, Madam,
No room in all the Court, but we search'd through it,
Her women found her want first, and they cry'd to us.

Dutch. Gone? stol'n away? I am abus'd, dishonour'd.

Sy. 'Tis I that am abus'd, 'tis I dishonour'd.
Is this your welcome, this your favour to me?
To foist a trick upon me, this trick too,
To cheat me of my love? Am I not worthy?
Or since I was your guest, am I grown odious?

Dutch. Your Grace mistakes me, as I have a life, Sir.

Sy. And I another, I will never bear this,
Never endure this dor.

Dutch. But hear me patiently.

Sy. Give me my Love.

Dutch. As soon as care can find her,
And all care shall be used.

Sy. And all my care too,
To be reveng'd; I smell the trick, 'tis too rank,
Fie, how it smells o' th' Mother.

Dutch. You wrong me, Duke.

Sy. For this disgrace ten thousand Florentines
Shall pay their dearest bloods, and dying curse ye,
And so I turn away, your mortal enemy. [Exit.

Duc. Since ye are so high and hot Sir, ye have half arm'd us,
Be careful of the Town, of all the Castles,
And see supplies of Soldiers every where,
And Musters for the Field when he invites us,
For he shall know 'tis not high words can fright us.
My Daughter gone? has she so finely cozen'd me?
This is for Silvio's sake sure, Oh cunning false one;
Publish a Proclamation thorough the Dukedom.
That whosoe'er can bring to th' Court young Silvio,
Alive or dead, beside our thanks and favour,
Shall have two thousand Duckets for his labour;
See it dispatch'd, and sent in haste: Oh base one. [Exeunt.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Isabella, and Penurio with a Light.

Isab. Was't thou with Rugio?

Pen. Yes marry was I closely.

Isab. And does he still remember his poor Mistriss?
Does he desire to see me?

Pen. Yes, and presently:
Puts off all business else, lives in that memory,
And will be here according to directions.

Isab. But where's thy Master?

Pen. Where a coxcomb should be,
Waiting at Court with his Jewels,
Safe for this night I warrant ye.

Isab. I am bound to thee.

Pen. I would ye were, as close as I could tye ye.

Isab. Thou art my best, my truest friend.

Pen. I labour
I moil and toil for ye: I am your hackney.

Isab. If ever I be able—

Pen. Steal the great Cheese Mistriss,
Was sent him out o'th' Countrey.

Isab. Any thing.

Pen. That's meat, 'tis lawful Mistriss: where's the Castle Custard
He got at Court?

Isab. He has lock'd it in's study.

Pen. Get a warrant to search for counterfeit Gold.

Isab. Give me thy Candle,
I'll find a time to be thy careful Cater.

Pen. And many a time I'll find to be his Cook,
And dress his Calves head to the sweetest sauce Mistriss.

Isab. To bed Penurio, go, the rest is my charge,
I'll keep the Watch out.

Pen. Now if you spare him— [Exit.

Isab. Peace fool,
I hope my Rugio will not fail, 'twould vex me:
Now to my string; so, sure he cannot miss now,
And this end to my finger: I'll lie down,
For on a suddain I am wondrous heavy,
'Tis very late too; if he come and find this,
And pull it, though it be with easie motion
I shall soon waken, and as soon be with him.

Enter Lopez.

Lop. Thou secret friend, how am I bound to love thee!
And how to hug thee for thy private service!
Thou art the Star all my suspitions sail by,
The fixed point my wronged honor turns to,
By thee I shall know all, find all the subtilties
Of devilish women, that torment me daily:
Thou art my Conjurer, my Spell, my Spirit,
All's hush'd and still, no sound of any stirring,
No tread of living thing: the Light is in still,
And there's my Wife, how prettily the fool lies,
How sweet, and handsomely, and in her clothes too,
Waiting for me upon my life; her fondness
Would not admit her rest till I came to her:
O careful fool, why am I angry with thee?
Why do I think thou hat'st thy loving Husband?
[I] am an Ass, an over-doting Coxcomb,
And this sweet soul, the mirror of perfection:
How admirable fair and delicate,
And how it stirs me, I'll sing thy sweets a Requiem,
But will not waken thee.

SONG.

Oh fair sweet face, oh eyes celestial bright,
Twin Stars in Heaven, that now adorn the night;
Oh fruitful Lips, where Cherries ever grow,
And Damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow;
Oh thou from head to foot divinely fair,
Cupid's most cunning Nets made of that hair,
And as he weaves himself for curious eyes;
Oh me, Oh me, I am caught my self, he cries:
Sweet rest about thee sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,
To beauty sacred, and those Angel-eyes.

Now will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her,
And suck the Rosie breath of this bright beauty;
What a Devil is this? ty'd to her finger too?
A string, a damned string to give intelligence
Oh my lov'd key, how truly hast thou serv'd me;
I'll follow this: soft, soft, to th' door it goes,
And through to th' other side; a damned string 'tis,
I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded,
Ridden to death, to madness; stay, this helps not:
Stay, stay, and now invention help me,
I'll sit down by her, take this from her easily,
And thus upon mine own: Dog, I shall catch ye,
With all your cunning, Sir: I shall light on ye,
I felt it pull sure: yes, but wondrous softly,
'Tis there again, and harder now, have at ye,
Now and thou scap'st, the Devil's thy ghostly father. [Exit.

Isab. Sure 'twas my husband's voice, the string is gone too,
He has found th[e] trick on't: I am undone, betray'd,
And if he meet my friend he perishes,
What fortune follows me, what spightful fortune?
Hoa Jaquenet.

Enter Jaquenet.

Jaq. Here Mistriss, do you call me?

Isab. Didst thou hear no noise?

Jaq. I hear my Master mad yonder,
And swears, and chafes—

Isab. Dar'st thou do one thing for me?
One thing concerns mine honor, all is lost else?

Jaq. Name what you will.

Isab. It can bring but a beating,
Which I will recompence so largely—

Jaq. Name it.

Isab. Sit here, as if thou wert asleep.

Jaq. Is that all?

Isab. When he comes in, whate'er he do unto thee
(The worst will be but beating) speak not a word,
Not one word as thou lovest me.

Jaq. I'll run through it.

Isab. I'll carry away the Candle. [Exit.

Jaq. And I the blows Mistriss.

Enter Lopez.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10

About This Book

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Scæna Secunda.

Scæna Tertia.

Scæna Quarta.