Believe that we are rich.
Asc.
I am sure I am,
While I have power to comfort you, and serve
you.
[Exeunt.
SCENA III.
Enter Henrique, and
Violante.
Viol.
Is it my fault, Don Henrique, or my
fate?
What's my offence? I came young to your
bed,
I had a fruitfull Mother, and you met
me
With equall ardour in your May of
blood;
And why then am I barren?
Hen.
'Tis not in Man
To yield a reason for the will of
Heaven,
Which is inscrutable.
Viol.
To what use serve
Full fortunes, and the meaner sort of
blessings,
When that, which is the Crown of all our
wishes,
The period of humane happiness,
One only Child that may possess what's
ours,
Is cruelly deni'd us?
Hen.
'Tis the curse
Of great Estates to want those Pledges,
which
The poor are happy in: They in a
Cottage,
With joy, behold the Models of their
youth,
And as their Root decaies, those budding
Branches
Sprout forth and flourish, to renew their
age;
But this is the beginning, not the end
Of misery to me, that 'gainst my will
(Since Heaven denies us Issue of our
own)
Must leave the fruit of all my care and
travel
To an unthankfull Brother that insults
On my Calamity.
Viol.
I will rather choose
A Bastard from the Hospital and adopt
him,
And nourish him as mine own.
Hen.
Such an evasion
(My Violante) is forbid to us;
Happy the Romane State, where it was
lawfull,
(If our own Sons were vicious) to choose
one
Out of a vertuous Stock, though of poor
Parents,
And make him noble. But the laws of
Spain,
(Intending to preserve all ancient
Houses)
Prevent such free elections; with this, my
Brother's
Too well acquainted, and this makes him bold
to
Reign o're me, as a Master.
Viol.
I will fire
The Portion I brought with me, e're he
spend
A Royal of it: no Quirck left? no
Quiddit
That may defeat him?
Hen.
Were I but confirmed,
That you would take the means I use with
patience,
As I must practise it with my
dishonour,
I could lay level with the earth his
hopes
That soar above the clouds with
expectation
To see me in my grave.
Viol. Effect but this,
And our revenge shall be to us a Son
That shall inherit for us.
Hen.
Do not repent
When 'tis too late.
Viol.
I fear not what may fall
He dispossess'd that does usurp on
all.
[Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena prima.
Enter Leandro, (with a letter writ
out) Milanes, and Arsenio.
Mil.
Can any thing but wonder?
Lea.
Wonder on,
I am as ye see, and, what will follow,
Gentlemen?
Ars.
Why dost thou put on this form? what can this
do?
Thou lookest most sillily.
Mil.
Like a young Clerk,
A half pin'd-puppy that would write for a
Royal.
Is this a commanding shape to win a
beauty?
To what use, what occasion?
Lean.
Peace, ye are fools,
More silly than my out-side seems, ye are
ignorant;
They that pretend to wonders must weave
cunningly.
Ars.
What manner of access can this get? or if
gotten
What credit in her eyes?
Lean.
Will ye but leave me?
Mil.
Me thinks a young man and a handsom
Gentleman
(But sure thou art lunatick) me thinks a brave
man
That would catch cunningly the beams of
beauty,
And so distribute 'em unto his
comfort,
Should like himself appear, young, high, and
buxom,
And in the brightest form.
Lean.
Ye are cozen'd (Gentlemen)
Neither do I believe this, nor will follow
it,
Thus as I am, I will begin my voyage.
When you love, lanch it out in silks and
velvets,
I'le love in Serge, and will outgo your
Sattins.
To get upon my great horse and appear
The sign of such a man, and trot my
measures,
Or fiddle out whole frosty nights (my
friends)
Under the window, while my teeth keep
tune,
I hold no handsomness. Let me get in,
There trot and fiddle where I may have fair
play.
Ars.
But how get in?
Lean.
Leave that to me, your patience,
I have some toyes here that I dare well trust
to:
I have smelt a Vicar out, they call him
Lopez.
You are ne're the nearer now.
Mil.
We do confess it.
Lea.
Weak simple men, this Vicar to this
Lawyer
Is the most inward Damon.
Ars.
What can this do?
Mil.
We know the fellow, and he dwells
there.
Lean. So.
Ars.
A poor, thin thief: he help? he? hang the
Vicar,
Can reading of an ---- prefer thee?
Thou art dead-sick in love, and hee'l pray for
thee.
Lean.
Have patience (Gentlemen) I say this
Vicar,
This thing I say is all one with the Close
Bartolus
(For so they call the Lawyer) or his
nature
Which I have studied by relation:
And make no doubt I shall hit
handsomly,
Will I work cunningly, and home: understand
me.
Enter Lopez, and Diego.
Next I pray leave me, leave me to my
fortune
Difficilia pulchra, that's my Motto
(Gentlemen)
I'le win this Diamond from the rock and wear
her,
Or—
Mil.
Peace, the Vicar: send ye a full sail,
Sir.
Ars.
There's your Confessor, but what shall be your
penance?
Lean.
A fools head if I fail, and so forsake
me.
You shall hear from me daily.
Mil.
We will be ready.
[Exeunt Mil. Ars.
Lop.
Thin world indeed!
Lean.
I'le let him breath and mark him:
No man would think a stranger as I am
Should reap any great commodity from his
pigbelly.
Lop.
Poor stirring for poor Vicars.
Diego. And poor Sextons.
Lop.
We pray and pray, but to no purpose,
Those that enjoy our lands, choak our
Devotions.
Our poor thin stipends make us arrant
dunces.
Diego.
If you live miserably, how shall we do
(Master)
That are fed only with the sound of
prayers?
We rise and ring the Bells to get good
stomachs,
And must be fain to eat the ropes with
reverence.
Lop.
When was there a Christning,
Diego?
Diego.
Not this ten weeks:
Alas, they have forgot to get children
(Master)
The Wars, the Seas, and usurie undoe
us,
Takes off our minds, our edges, blunts our
plough-shares.
They eat nothing here, but herbs, and get nothing
but green sauce:
There are some poor Labourers, that
perhaps
Once in seven year, with helping one
another,
Produce some few pin'd-Butter-prints, that scarce
hold
The christning neither.
Lop.
Your Gallants, they get Honour,
A strange fantastical Birth, to defraud the
Vicar,
And the Camp Christens their Issues, or the
Curtizans,
'Tis a lewd time.