Oct. Come this way then, you’ll find more Aids to serve us.
[Go out.
Tick.—So! Thanks be prais’d, all’s still again, this Fright were enough to mortify any Lover of less magnanimity than my self.—Well, of all Sins, this itch of Whoring is the most hardy,—the most impudent in Repulses, the most vigilant in watching, most patient in waiting, most frequent in Dangers; in all Disasters but Disappointment, a Philosopher; yet if Barberacho come not quickly, my Philosophy will be put to’t, certo.
[This while Sir Signal is venturing from his Post, listening, and slowly advancing towards the middle of the Stage.
Sir Sig. The Coast is once more clear, and I may venture my Carcase forth again,—though such a Salutation as the last, wou’d make me very unfit for the matter in hand.—The Battoon I cou’d bear with the Fortitude and Courage of a Hero: But these dangerous Sharps I never lov’d. What different Rencounters have I met withal to night, Corpo de me? A Man may more safely pass the Gulf of Lyons, than convoy himself into a Baudy-House in Rome; but I hope all’s past, and I will say with Alexander,—Vivat Esperance en despetto del Fatto. [Advances a little.
Tick. Sure I heard a noise;—No, ‘twas only my surmise.
[They both advance softly, meeting just in the middle of the Stage, and coming close up to each other; both cautiously start back, and stand a tipto in the posture of Fear, then gently feeling for each other, (after listening and hearing no Noise) draw back their Hands at touching each other’s; and shrinking up their Shoulders, make grimaces of more Fear.
Tick. Que Equesto.
Sir Sig. Hah, a Man’s Voice!—I’ll try if I can fright him hence.
[Aside.
Una Malladette Spiritto Incarnate.
[In a horrible tone.
Tick. Hah, Spiritto Incarnate! that Devil’s Voice I shou’d know.
[Aside.
Sir Sig. See, Signior! Una Spiritto, which is to say, un Spiritalo,
Immortallo, Incorporallo, Inanimate, Immaterialle, Philosophicale,
Invisible—Unintelligible—Diavillo.
[In the same tone.
Tick. Ay, ay, ‘tis my hopeful Pupil, upon the same design with me, my life on’t,—cunning young Whore-master;—I’ll cool your Courage—good Signior Diavillo; if you be the Diavillo, I have una certaina Immaterial Invisible Conjuratione, that will so neatly lay your Inanimate unintelligible Diavilloship.— [Pulls out his wooden Sword.
Sir Sig. How! he must needs be valiant indeed that dares fight with the Devil. [Endeavours to get away, Tick, beats him about the Stage.] —Ah, Signior, Signior, Mia! ah—Caspeto de Baccus—he cornuto, I am a damn’d silly Devil that have no dexterity in vanishing.
[Gropes and finds the Door—going out, meets just entring Fillamour, Galliard with all the Musick—he retires, and stands close.
—Hah,—what have we here, new Mischief?—
[Tick. and he stands against each other, on either side of the Stage.
Fil. Prithee how came we to lose ye?
Gal. I thought I had follow’d ye—but ‘tis well we are met again. Come tune your Pipes.— [They play a little, enter Marcella as before.
Mar. This must be he. [Goes up to ‘em.
Gal. Come, come, your Song, Boy, your Song.
Whilst ‘tis singing, Enter Octavio, Julio, Crapine, and Bravos.
The SONG.
_Crudo Amore, Crudo Amore, |
Il mio Core non fa per te | bis
Suffrir non vo tormenti
Senza mai sperar mar ce
Belta che sia Tiranna,
Belta che sia Tiranna
Doll meo offerto recetto non e
Il tuo rigor singunna
Se le pene
Le catene
Tenta auolgere al mio pie
See see Crudel Amore |
Il mio Core non fa per te. | bis
Lusinghiero, Lusinghiero, |
Pui non Credo alta tua fe | bis
L’ incendio del tuo foce
Nel mio Core pui vivo none
Belta che li die Luoce
Belta che li die Luoce
Ma il rigor L’Ardore s’bande
Io non sato tuo gioce
Ch’ il Veleno
Del mio seno
Vergoroso faggito se n’e.
See see Crudel Amore |
Il mio Core non fa per te_. | bis
Oct. ‘Tis they we look for, draw and be ready.—
Tick. Hah, draw—then there’s no safety here, certo. [Aside.
[Octavio, Julio and their Party draw, and fight with Fil. and Gal. Marcella ingages on their side; all fight, the Musick confusedly amongst ‘em: Gal. loses his Sword, and in the hurry gets a Base Viol, and happens to strike Tickletext, who is getting away—his Head breaks its way quite through, and it hangs about his neck; they fight out.
Enter_ Petro with a Lanthorn. Sir Signal stands close still.
Tick. Oh, undone, undone! where am I, where am I?
Pet. Hah—that’s the voice of my amorous Ananias,—or I am mistaken— what the Devil’s the matter? [Opens his Lanthorn. —Where are ye, Sir?—hah, cuts so—what new-found Pillory have we here?
Tick. Oh, honest Barberacho, undo me, undo me quickly.
Pet. So I design, Sir, as fast as I can—or lose my aim—there, Sir, there: All’s well—I have set you free, come follow me the back way into the house.
[Ex. Pet. and Tickletext.
Enter Fillamour and Marcella, with their Swords drawn, Gal. after ‘em.
Gal. A plague upon ‘em, what a quarter’s here for a Wench, as if there were no more i’th’ Nation?—wou’d I’d my Sword again. [Gropes for it.
Mar. Which way shall I direct him to be safer?—how is it, Sir? I hope you are not hurt.
Fil. Not that I feel, what art thou ask’st so kindly?
Mar. A Servant to the Roman Curtezan, who sent me forth to wait your coming, Sir; but finding you in danger, shar’d it with you.—Come, let me lead you into safety, Sir—
Fil. Thou’st been too kind to give me cause to doubt thee.
Mar. Follow me, Sir, this Key will give us entrance through the Garden. [Exeunt.
Enter Octavio with his Sword in his hand.
Oct. Oh! what damn’d luck had I so poorly to be vanquisht! When all is hush’d, I know he will return,—therefore I’ll fix me here, till I become a furious Statue—but I’ll reach his heart.
Sir Sig. Oh lamentivolo fato—what bloody Villains these Popish Italians are!
Enter Julio.
Oct. Hah—I hear one coming this way—hah—the door opens too, and he makes toward it—pray Heaven he be the right, for this I’m sure’s the House.—Now, Luck, an’t be thy will— [Follows Julio towards the door softly.
Jul. The Rogues are fled, but how secure I know not;— And I’ll pursue my first design of Love, And if this Silvianetta will be kind—
Enter Laura from the House in a Night-gown.
Lau. Whist—who is’t names Silvianetta?
Jul. A Lover, and her Slave— [She takes him by the hand.
Lau. Oh, is it you,—are you escap’d unhurt? Come to my Bosom—and be safe for ever—
Jul. ‘Tis Love that calls, and now Revenge must stay, —This hour is thine, fond Boy; the next that is my own I’ll give to Anger.—
Oct. Oh, ye pernicious Pair,—I’ll quickly change the Scene of Love into a rougher and more unexpected Entertainment.
[She leads Julio in.—Oct. follows close, they shut the door upon ‘em. Sir Sig. _thrusts out his head to hearken, hears no body, and advances.
Sir Sig. Sure the Devil reigns to night; wou’d I were shelter’d, and let him rain Fire and Brimstone: for pass the streets I dare not—this shou’d be the House—or hereabouts I’m sure ‘tis.—Hah—what’s this—a String—of a Bell I hope—I’ll try to enter; and if I am mistaken, ‘tis but crying Con licentia. [Rings, enter Philippa. Phil. Who’s there?
Sir Sig. ‘Tis I, ‘tis I, let me in quickly.—
Phil. Who—the English Cavalier?
Sir Sig. The same—I am right—I see I was expected.
Phil. I’m glad you’re come—give me your hand.—
Sir Sig. I am fortunate at last,—and therefore will say with the famous Poet.
No Happiness like that atchicv’d with Danger,
—Which once overcome—I lie at Rack and Manger.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Fillamour and Galliard, as in Silvianetta’s Apartment.
Fil. How splendidly these common Women live!
How rich is all we meet with in this Palace;
And rather seems the Apartment of some Prince,
Than a Receptacle for Lust and Shame.
Gal. You see, Harry, all the keeping Fools are not in our Dominions; but this grave, this wise People, are Mistress-ridden too.
Fil. I fear we have mistook the House, and the Youth that brought us in may have deceived us, on some other design; however whilst I’ve this—I cannot fear—[Draws.
Gal. A good caution, and I’ll stand upon my guard with this; but see— here’s one will put us out of doubt. [Pulls a Pistol out of his pocket.
Fil. Hah! the fair Inchantress.
[Enter Mar. richly and loosely drest.
Mar. What, on your guard, my lovely Cavalier? Lies there a danger
In this Face and Eyes, that needs that rough resistance?
—Hide, hide that mark of Anger from my sight,
And if thou wou’dst be absolute Conquerer here,
Put on soft Looks, with Eyes all languishing,
Words tender, gentle Sighs, and kind Desires.
Gal. Death, with what unconcern he hears all this! Art thou possest?—Pox, why dost not answer her?
Mar. I hope he will not yield—[Aside.
—He stands unmov’d—
Surely I was mistaken in this Face,
And I believe in Charms that have no power.
Gal. ‘Sdeath, thou deservest not such a noble Creature,— I’ll have ‘em both my self.—[Aside.
Fil.—Yes, thou hast wondrous power, And I have felt it long. [Pausingly.
Mar. How!
Fil.—I’ve often seen that Face—but ‘twas in Dreams:
And sleeping lov’d extremely!
And waking;—sigh’d to find it but a Dream:
The lovely Phantom vanish’d with my Slumbers,
But left a strong Idea on my heart
Of what I find in perfect Beauty here,
—But with this difference, she was virtuous too.
Mar. What silly she was that?
Fil. She whom I dream’d I lov’d.
Mar. You only dreamt that she was virtuous too;
Virtue it self’s a Dream of so slight force,
The very fluttering of Love’s Wings destroys it;
Ambition, or the meaner hope of Interest, wakes it to nothing;
In Men a feeble Beauty shakes the dull slumber off.—
Gal. Egad, she argues like an Angel, Harry.
Fil.—What haste thou’st made to damn thy self so young!
Hast thou been long thus wicked? hast thou sinn’d past Repentance?
Heaven may do much to save so fair a Criminal;
Turn yet, and be forgiven.
Gal. What a Pox dost thou mean by all this Canting?
Mar. A very pretty Sermon, and from a Priest so gay,
It cannot chuse but edify.
Do Holy men of your Religion, Signior, wear all this Habit?
Are they thus young and lovely? Sure if they are,
Your Congregation’s all compos’d of Ladies;
The Laity must come abroad for Mistresses.
Fil. Oh, that this charming Woman were but honest!
Gal. ‘Twere better thou wert damn’d; honest! Pox, thou dost come out with things so mal a propo—
Mar. Come leave this Mask of foolish Modesty,
And let us haste where Love and Musick calls;
Musick, that heightens Love, and makes the Soul
Ready for soft Impressions.
Gal. So, she will do his business with a Vengeance.
Fil. Plague of this tempting Woman, she will ruin me:
I find weak Virtue melt from round my Heart,
To give her Tyrant Image a Possession:
So the warm Sun thaws Rivers icy Tops.
Till in the stream he sees his own bright Face.
Gal. Now he comes on apace,—how is’t, my Friend?
Thou stand’st as thou’dst forgot thy business here,
—The Woman, Harry, the fair Curtezan;
Canst thou withstand her Charms? I’ve business of my own,
Prithee fall to—and talk of Love to her.
Fil. Oh, I cou’d talk Eternity away, In nothing else but Love;—cou’dst thou be honest?
Mar. Honest! was it for that you sent two thousand Crowns, Or did believe that trifling Sum sufficient To buy me to the slavery of Honesty?
Gal. Hold there, my brave Virago.
Fil. No, I wou’d sacrifice a nobler Fortune, To buy thy Virtue home.
Mar. What shou’d it idling there?
Fil. Why—make thee constant to some happy Man, That wou’d adore thee for’t.
Mar. Unconscionable! constant at my years?
—Oh, ‘twere to cheat a thousand,
Who between this and my dull Age of Constancy.
Expect the distribution of my Beauty.
Gal. ‘Tis a brave Wench— [Aside.
Fil. Yet charming as thou art, the time will come
When all that Beauty, like declining Flowers,
Will wither on the Stalk,—but with this difference,
The next kind Spring brings Youth to Flowers again,
But faded Beauty never more can bloom.
—If Interest make thee wicked, I can supply thy Pride.—
Mar. Curse on your necessary Trash!—which I despise, But as ‘tis useful to advance our Love.
Fil. Is Love thy business? who is there born so high,
But Love and Beauty equals?
And thou mayst chuse from all the wishing World.
This Wealth together wou’d inrich one Man,
Which dealt to all, wou’d scarce be Charity.
Mar. Together! ‘tis a Mass wou’d ransom Kings: Was all this Beauty given for one poor petty Conquest? —I might have made a hundred Hearts my slaves, In this lost time of bringing one to Reason.— Farewel, thou dull Philosopher in Love; When Age has made me wise, I’ll send for you again. [Offers to go, Gal. holds her.
Gal. By this good Light, a noble glorious Whore.
Fil. Oh, stay, I must not let such Beauty fall,
—A Whore—consider yet the Charms of Reputation,
The Ease, the Quiet, and Content of Innocence,
The awful Reverence all good Men will pay thee,
Who, as thou art, will gaze without respect,
—And cry—what pity ‘tis she is—a Whore—
Mar. O, you may give it what coarse name you please, But all this Youth and Beauty ne’er was given, Like Gold to Misers, to be kept from use. [Going out.
Fil. Lost, lost—past all Redemption.
Gal. Nay, Gad, thou shalt not lose her so—I’ll fetch her back, and thou shalt ask her pardon. [Runs out after her.
Fil. By Heaven, it was all a Dream! an airy Dream! The visionary Pleasure disappears,—and I’m myself again, —I’ll fly before the drousy Fit o’ertake me. [Going out, Enter Gal. and then Marcella.
Gal. Turn back—she yields, she yields to pardon thee. Gone! nay, hang me if ye part. [Runs after him, still his Pistol in his hand.
Mar. Gone! I have no leisure now for more dissembling. [Takes the Candle, and goes in.
Enter Petro, leading in Mr. Tickletext, as by dark.
Pet. Remain here, Signior, whilst I step and fetch a light.
Tick. Do so, do so, honest Barberacho.—Well, my escape even now from Sir Signal was miraculous, thanks to my Prudence and Prowess; had he discover’d me, my Dominion had ended, and my Authority been of none effect, certo.
[Philippa at the door puts in Sir Signal.
Phil. Now, Signior, you’re out of danger, I’ll fetch a Candle, and let my Lady know of your being here.
[Exit Phil. Sir Sig. advances a little.
Enter Petro with a light, goes between ‘em, and starts.
Tick. Sir Signal!—
Sir Sig. My Governour!
Pet. The two Fools met! a pox of all ill luck! Now shall I lose my Credit with both my wise Patrons; my Knight I cou’d have put off with a small Harlot of my own, but my Levite having seen my Lady Cornelia, that is, La Silvianetta,—none but that Susanna wou’d satisfy his Eldership. But now they both sav’d me the labour of a farther invention to dispatch ‘em.
Sir Sig. I perceive my Governour’s as much confounded as my self;—I’ll take advantage by the forelock, be very impudent, and put it upon him, faith—Ah, Governour, will you never leave your whoring? never be staid, sober and discreet, as I am?
Tick. So, so, undone, undone! just my Documents to him.— [Walks about, Sir Sig. follows.
Sir Sig. And must I neglect my precious studies, to follow you, in pure zeal and tender care of your Person? Will you never consider where you are? In a leud Papish Country, amongst the Romish Heathens! And for you, a Governour, a Tutor, a Director of unbridled Youth, a Gownman, a Politician; for you, I say, to be taken at this unrighteous time of the Night, in a flaunting Cavaliero Dress, an unlawful Weapon by your side, going the high way to Satan, to a Curtezan; and to a Romish Curtezan! Oh Abomination! Oh scandalum infinitum!
Tick. Paid in my own Coin.
Pet. So, I’ll leave the Devil to rebuke Sin: and to my young Lady, for a little of her assistance in the management of this Affair. [Exit Pet.
Tick. I do confess, I grant ye I am in the house of a Curtezan, and that I came to visit a Curtezan, and do intend to visit each Night a several Curtezan, till I have finished my work—
Sir Sig. Every night one! Oh Glutton!
Tick. My great work of Convertion, upon the whole Nation, Generation, and Vocation of this wicked provoking sort of Womankind call’d Curtezans. I will turn ‘em; I will turn ‘em, for ‘tis a shame that Man shou’d bow down to those that worship Idols. And now I think, Sir, I have sufficiently explain’d the business in hand,—as honest Barberacho is my witness;—And for you—to—scandalize—me—with so naughty an Interpretation—afflicteth me wonderfully.— [Pulls out his handkerchief, and weeps.
Sir Sig.—Alas, poor Mr. Tickletext, now as I hope to be sav’d, it grieves my heart to see thee weep; faith and troth now, I thought thou hadst some carnal Assignation:—but ne’er stir, I beg thy pardon, and think thee as innocent as my self, that I do—but see, the Lady’s here— s’life, dry your Eyes, man.
[Enter Cornelia, Phil, and Pet.
Cor. I cou’d beat thee for being thus mistaken, and am resolv’d to flatter him into some Mischief, to be reveng’d on ‘em for this disappointment; go you, and watch for my Cavalier the while.
Tick. Is she come? Nay, then turn me loose to her.
Cor. My Cavalier! [Addressing to Sir Sig. Tick. pulls him by, and speaks.
Tick.—Lady—
Sir Sig. You, Sir! why, who the Devil made you a Cavalier? most Potentissima Signiora, I am the man of Title, by name Sir Signal Buffoon, sole Son and Heir to Eight Thousand Pound a year.—
Tick. Oh, Sir, are you the Man she looks for?
Sir Sig. I, Sir? no, Sir: I’d have ye know, Sir, I scorn any Woman, be she never so fair, unless her design be honest and honourable.
Cor. The Man of all the World I’ve chosen out, from all the Wits and Beauties I have seen,—to have most finely beaten. [Aside.
Sir Sig. How! In love with me already,—she’s damnable handsome too: now wou’d my Tutor were hang’d a little for an hour or two, out of the way. [Aside.
Cor. Why fly you not into my Arms, [She approaching, he shunning. These Arms that were design’d for soft Embraces?
Sir Sig. Ay, and if my Tutor were not here, the Devil take him that wou’d hinder ‘em—and I think that’s civil, egad.
Tick. Why, how now, Barberacho, what, am I cozen’d then, and is Sir Signal the Man in favour? [Aside to Petro.
Pet. Lord, Signior, that so wise a man as you cannot perceive her meaning,—for the Devil take me if I can. [Aside.—Why this is done to take off all suspicion from you—and lay it on him;—don’t you conceive it, Signior?
Tick. Yes, honest Rogue,—Oh the witty Wag-tail,—I have a part to play too, that shall confirm it—young Gentlewoman.—
Cor. Ah, Belle ingrate, is’t thus you recompense my suffering Love? to fly this Beauty so ador’d by all, that slight the ready Conquest of the World, to trust a Heart with you?—Ah—Traditor Cruella.
Sir Sig. Poor Heart, it goes to the very soul of me to be so coy and scornful to her, that it does; but a pox on’t, her over-fondness will discover all.
Tick. Fly, fly, young Man, whilst yet thou hast a spark of Virtue shining in thee, fly the temptations of this young Hypocrite; the Love that she pretends with so much zeal and ardour, is indecent, unwarrantable and unlawful; first indecent, as she is Woman—for thou art Woman—and beautiful Woman—yes, very beautiful Woman; on whom Nature hath shew’d her height of Excellence in the out-work, but left thee unfinisht, imperfect and impure.
Cor. Heavens, what have we here?
Sir Sig. A Pox of my Sir Domine; now is he beside his Text, and will spoil all.
Tick. Secondly, Unwarrantable; by what Authority dost thou seduce with the Allurements of thine Eyes, and the Conjurements of thy Tongue, the Wastings of thy Hands, and the Tinklings of thy Feet, the young Men in the Villages?
Cor. Sirrah, how got this Madman in? seize him, and take him hence.
Sir Sig. Corpo de mi, my Governour tickles her notably, I’faith—but had he let the care of my Soul alone to night, and have let me taken care of my Body, ‘twould have been more material at this time.
Tick. Thirdly, Unlawful—
Cor. Quite distracted! in pity take him hence, and lead him into Darkness, ‘twill suit his Madness best.
Tick. How, distracted! take him hence.
Pet. This was lucky—I knew she wou’d come again—Take him hence—yes, into her Bed-chamber—pretty device to get you to her self, Signior.
Tick. Why, but is it?—Nay then I will facilitate my departure— therefore I say, Oh most beautiful and tempting Woman— [Beginning to preach again.
Cor. Away with him, give him clean straw and darkness, And chain him fast, for fear of further mischief.
Pet. She means for fear of losing ye.
Tick. Ah, Baggage! as fast as she will in those pretty Arms. [Going to lead him off.
Sir Sig. Hold, hold, man; mad, said ye!—ha, ha, ha—mad! why we have a thousand of these in England that go loose about the streets, and pass with us for as sober discreet religious persons, as a man shall wish to talk nonsense withal.
Pet. You are mistaken, Signior, I say he is mad, stark mad.
Sir Sig. Prithee, Barberacho, what dost thou mean?
Pet. To rid him hence, that she may be alone with you—’slife, Sir, you’re madder than he—don’t you conceive?—
Sir Sig. Ay, ay; nay, I confess, Illustrissima Signiora, my Governour has a Fit that takes him now and then, a kind of frensy,—a figary—a whimsy—a maggot, that bites always at naming of Popery: [Exit. Pet. with Tick.]—so—he’s gone.—Bellissima Signiora,—you have most artificially remov’d him—and this extraordinary proof of your affection is a sign of some small kindness towards me; and though I was something coy and reserv’d before my Governour, Excellentissima Signiora, let me tell you, your Love is not cast away.
Cor. Oh, Sir, you bless too fast; but will you ever love me?
Sir Sig. Love thee! ay and lie with thee too, most magnanimous Signiora, and beget a whole Race of Roman Julius Caesars upon thee; nay, now we’re alone, turn me loose to Impudence, i’faith. [Ruffles her; Enter Philippa in haste, shutting the door after her.
Phil. Oh, Madam, here’s the young mad English Cavalier got into the House, and will not be deny’d seeing you.
Cor. This was lucky.
Sir Sig. How, the mad English Cavalier! if this shou’d be our young Count Galliard now—I were in a sweet taking—Oh, I know by my fears ’.is he;—Oh, prithee what kind of a manner of Man is he?
Phil. A handsom—resolute—brave—bold—
Sir Sig. Oh, enough, enough—Madam, I’ll take my leave—I see you are something busy at present,—an I’ll—
Cor. Not for the World:—Philippa, bring in the Cavalier—that you may see there’s none here fears him, Signior.
Sir Sig. Oh, hold, hold—Madam, you are mistaken in that point; for, to tell you the truth, I do fear—having—a certain—Aversion or Antipathy— to—Madam—a Gentleman—Why, Madam, they’re the very Monsters of the Nation, they devour every Day a Virgin.—
Cor. Good Heavens! and is he such a Fury?
Sir Sig. Oh, and the veriest Beelzebub;—besides, Madam, he vow’d my Death, if ever he catcht me near this House; and he ever keeps his word in cases of this Nature—Oh, that’s he, [Knocking at the Door.] I know it by a certain trembling Instinct about me!—Oh, what shall I do—
Cor. Why—I know not,—can you leap a high Window?
Sir Sig. He knocks again,—I protest I am the worst Vaulter in Christendom.—Have you no moderate danger—between the two extremes of the Window or the mad Count? no Closet?—Fear has dwindled me to the scantling of a Mousehole.
Cor. Let me see,—I have no leisure to pursue my Revenge farther, and will rest satisfy’d with this,—for this time. [Aside.]—Give me the Candle,—and whilst Philippa is conducting the Cavalier to the Alcove by dark, you may have an Opportunity to slip out—perhaps there may be danger in his being seen—[Aside.] Farewel, Fool—
[Ex. Cornelia with the Candle, Phil. goes to the Door, lets in Gal. takes him by the hand.
Gal. Pox on’t, my Knight’s bound for Viterbo, and there’s no persuading him into safe Harbour again.—He has given me but two hours to dispatch matters here,—and then I’m to imbark with him upon this new Discovery of honourable Love, as he call it, whose Adventurers are Fools, and the returning Cargo, that dead Commodity called a Wife! a Voyage very suitable to my Humour.—Who’s there?—
Phil. A Slave of Silvianetta, Sir; give me your hand.
[Ex. over the stage, Sir Sig. goes out softly.
SCENE II. Changes to a Bed-chamber Alcove.
Petro leading in Tickletext.
Pet. Now, Signior, you’re safe and happy in the Bedchamber of your Mistress—who will be here immediately, I’m sure; I’ll fetch a Light, and put you to Bed in the mean time—
Tick. Not before Supper I hope, honest Barberacho.
Pet. Oh, Signior, that you shall do lying, after the manner of the antient Romans.
Tick. Certo, and that was a marvellous good lazy Custom.
[Ex. Pet.
Enter Philippa with Galliard by dark.
Phil. My Lady will be with you instantly—[Goes out.
Tick. Hah, sure I heard some body come softly in at the door: I hope ’.is the young Gentlewoman. [He advances forward.
Gal. Silence and Night, Love and dear Opportunity. [In a soft Tone. Join all your aids to make my Silvia kind; For I am fill’d with the expecting Bliss, [Tick, thrusts his Head out to listen. And much Delay or Disappointment kills me.
Tick. Disappointment kills me,—and me too, certo—’tis she— [Gropes about.
Gal. Oh, haste, my Fair, haste to my longing Arms, Where are you, dear and loveliest of your Sex?
Tick. That’s I, that’s I, my Alma! mea Core, mea Vita! [Groping and speaking low.
Gal. Hah—art thou come, my Life! my Soul! my Joy! [Goes to embrace Tick, they meet and kiss. ’.death, what’s this, a bearded Mistress! Lights, Lights there, quickly, Lights! nay, curse me if thou scap’st me.
[Tick. struggles to get away, he holds him by the Crevat and Perriwig; Enter Petro with a Candle.
Gal. Barberacho—confound him, ‘tis the Fool whom I found this Evening about the House, hovering to roost him here!—Ha—what the Devil have I caught—a Tartar? escap’d again! the Devil’s his Confederate.—
[Pet. puts out the Candle, comes to Tick, unties his
Crevat behind, and he slips his head out of the Perriwig,
and gets away, leaving both in Gal’s hands.
Pet. Give me your Hand, I’ll lead you a back-pair of stairs through the Garden.
Tick. Oh, any way to save my Reputation—oh—
Gal. Let me but once more grasp thee, and thou shalt find more safety in the Devil’s Clutches: none but my Mistress serve ye! [Gropes out after him.
[Pet. with Tick, running over the Stage, Gal. after ‘em, with the Crevat and Perriwig in one Hand, his Pistol in t’other.
Enter Philippa with a Light.
Phil. Mercy upon us! what’s the matter? what Noise is this—hah, a Pistol! what can this mean?
[A Pistol goes off.
Enter Sir Signal running.
Sir Sig. Oh, save me, gentle Devil, save me, the stairs are fortify’d with Cannons and double Culverins; I’m pursu’d by a whole Regiment of arm’d Men! here’s Gold, Gold in abundance, save me.—
Phil. What Cannons? what armed Men?
Sir Sig. Finding my self pursu’d as I was groping my way through the
Hall, and not being able to find the Door, I made towards the stairs
again, at the foot of which I was saluted with a great Gun—a pox of the
Courtesy.
Gal. [Without.] Where are ye, Knight, Buffoon, Dog of Egypt?
Sir Sig. Thunder and Lightning! ‘tis Gallaird’s Voice.
Phil. Here, step behind this Hanging—there’s a Chimney which may shelter ye till the Storm be over,—if you be not smother’d before. [Puts him behind the Arras.
Enter Gal. as before, and Corn, at the other door.
Cor. Heavens! What rude noise is this?
Gal. Where have you hid this Fool, this lucky Fool?
He whom blind Chance, and more ill-judging Woman,
Has rais’d to that Degree of Happiness,
That witty Men must sigh and toil in vain for?
Cor. What Fool, what Happiness?
Gal. Cease, cunning false one, to excuse thy self, See here the Trophies of your shameful Choice, And of my Ruin, cruel—fair Deceiver!
Cor. Deceiver, Sir, of whom? in what despairing minute did I swear to be a constant Mistress? to what dull whining Lover did I vow, and had the heart to break it?
Gal. Or if thou hadst, I know of no such Dog as wou’d believe thee:
No, thou art false to thy own Charms, and hast betray’d them
To the possession of the vilest Wretch
That ever Fortune curst with Happiness;
False to thy Joys, false to thy Wit and Youth:
All which thou’st damn’d with so much careful Industry
To an eternal Fool,
That all the Arts of Love can ne’er redeem thee.
Sir Sig. Meaning me, meaning me.
[Peeping out of the Chimney, his Face blackt.
Cor. A Fool! what Indiscretion have you seen in me, shou’d make ye think I would choose a Witty man for a Lover, who perhaps loves out his Month in pure good Husbandry, and in that time does more Mischief than a hundred Fools. You conquer without Resistance, you treat without Pity, and triumph without Mercy: and when you are gone, the World crys—she had not Wit enough to keep him, when indeed you are not Fool enough to be kept! Thus we forfeit both our Liberties and Discretion with you villanous witty Men: for Wisdom is but good Success in things, and those that fail are Fools.
Gal. Most gloriously disputed! You’re grown a Machivellian in your Art.
Cor. Oh, necessary Maxims only, and the first Politicks we learn from Observation—I have known a Curtezan grown infamous, despis’d, decay’d, and ruin’d, in the Possession of you witty Men, who when she had the luck to break her Chains, and cast her Net for Fools, has liv’d in state, finer than Brides upon their Wedding-day, and more profuse than the young amorous Coxcomb that set her up an Idol.
Sir Sig. Well argued of my side, I see the Baggage loves me!
[Peeping out with a Face more smutted.
Gal. And hast thou? Oh, but prithee jilt me on,
And say thou hast not destin’d all thy Charms
To such a wicked Use.
Is that dear Face and Mouth for Slaves to kiss?
Shall those bright Eyes be gaz’d upon, and serve
But to reflect the Images of Fools?
Sir Sig. That’s I still. [Peeping more black.
Gal. Shall that soft tender Bosom be approacht By one who wants a Soul, to breathe in languishment At every Kiss that presses it?
Sir Sig. Soul! what a pox care I for Soul—as long as my Person is so amiable?
Gal. No, renounce that dull Discretion that undoes thee,
Cunning is cheaply to be wise; leave it to those that have
No other Powers to gain a Conquest by,
It is below thy Charms.
—Come swear, and be foresworn most damnably,
Thou hast not yielded yet; say ‘twas intended only,
And though thou ly’st, by Heaven, I must believe thee;
—Say,—hast thou—given him—all?
Cor. I’ve done as bad, we have discours’d th’ Affair, And ‘tis concluded on.—
Gal. As bad! by Heaven, much worse! discours’d with him!
Wert thou so wretched, so depriv’d of Sense,
To hold Discourse with such an Animal?
Damn it; the Sin is ne’er to be forgiven.
—Hadst thou been wanton to that leud degree,
By dark he might have been conducted to thee;
Where silently he might have serv’d thy purpose,
And thou hadst had some poor excuse for that:
But bartering words with Fools admits of none.
Cor. I grant ye,—had I talk’d sense to him, which had been enough to have lost him for ever.
Sir Sig. Poor Devil, how fearful ‘tis of losing me! [Aside.
Gal. That’s some Atonement for thy other Sins,— Come, break thy Word, and wash it quite away.
Sir Sig. That cogging won’t do, my good Friend, that won’t do.
Gal. Thou shall be just and perjur’d, and pay my Heart the debt of Love you owe it.
Cor. And wou’d you have the Heart—to make a Whore of me?
Gal. With all my Soul, and the Devil’s in’t if I can give thee a greater proof of my Passion.
Cor. I rather fear you wou’d debauch me into that dull slave call’d a Wife.
Gal. A Wife! have I no Conscience, no Honour in me?
Prithee believe I wou’d not be so wicked—
No,—my Desires are generous, and noble,
To set thee up, that glorious insolent thing,
That makes Mankind such Slaves, almighty Curtezan!
—Come, to thy private Chamber let us haste,
The sacred Temple of the God of Love;
And consecrate thy Power.
[Offers to bear her off.
Cor. Stay, do you take me then for what I seem?
Gal. I am sure I do, and wou’d not be mistaken for a Kingdom: But if thou art not, I can soon mend that fault, And make thee so.—Come, I’m impatient to begin the Experiment. [Offers again to carry her off.
Cor. Nay, then I am in earnest,—hold, mistaken Stranger—I am of noble Birth; and shou’d I in one hapless loving Minute destroy the Honour of my House, ruin my Youth and Beauty, and all that virtuous Education my hoping Parents gave me?
Gal. Pretty dissembled Pride and Innocence! And wounds no less than smiles!—Come, let us in,—where I will give thee leave to frown and jilt; such pretty Frauds advance the Appetite. [Offers again.
Cor. By all that’s good, I am a Maid of Quality, Blest with a Fortune equal to my Birth.
Gal. I do not credit thee; or if I did, For once I wou’d dispense with Quality, And to express my Love, take thee with all these Faults.
Cor. And being so, can you expect I’ll yield?
Gal. The sooner for that reason, if thou’rt wise; The Quality will take away the Scandal. Do not torment me longer— [Offers to lead her again.
Cor. Stay and be undeceiv’d,—I do conjure ye.—
Gal. Art thou no Curtezan?
Cor. Not on my life, nor do intend to be.
Gal. No Prostitute? nor dost intend to be?
Cor. By all that’s good, I only feign’d to be so.
Gal. No Curtezan! hast thou deceiv’d me then?
Tell me, thou wicked honest cozening Beauty,
Why didst thou draw me in, with such a fair Pretence,
Why such a tempting Preface to invite,
And the whole Piece so useless and unedifying?
—Heavens! not a Curtezan!
Why from thy Window didst thou take my Vows,
And make such kind Returns? Oh, damn your Quality:
What honest Whore but wou’d have scorn’d thy Cunning?
Cor. I make ye kind Returns?
Gal. Persuade me out of that too; ‘twill be like ye.
Cor. By all my Wishes I never held Discourse with you—but this Evening, since I first saw your Face.
Gal. Oh, the Impudence of Honesty and Quality in Woman!
A plague upon ‘em both, they have undone me!
Bear witness, oh thou gentle Queen of Night,
Goddess of Shades, ador’d by Lovers most;
How oft under thy Covert she has damn’d her self,
With feigned Love to me! [In Passion.
Cor. Heavens! this is Impudence: that Power I call to witness too, how damnably thou injur’st me. [Angry.
Gal. You never from your Window talk’d of Love to me?
Cor. Never.
Gal. So, nor you’re no Curtezan?
Cor. No, by my Life.
Gal. So, nor do intend to be, by all that’s good?
Cor. By all that’s good, never.
Gal. So, and you are real honest, and of Quality?
Cor. Or may I still be wretched.
Gal. So, then farewel Honesty and Quality—’Sdeath, what a Night, what Hopes, and what a Mistress, have I all lost for Honesty and Quality! [Offers to go.
Cor. Stay.—
Gal. I will be rack’d first, let go thy hold!
[In fury.
—Unless thou wou’dst repent.—
[In a soft tone.
Cor. I cannot of my fixt Resolves for Virtue! —But if you could but—love me—honourably— For I assum’d this Habit and this Dress—
Gal. To cheat me of my Heart the readiest way: And now, like gaming Rooks, unwilling to give o’er till you have hook’d in my last stake, my Body too, you cozen me with Honesty.—Oh, damn the Dice—I’ll have no more on’t, I, the Game’s too deep for me, unless you play’d upon the square, or I could cheat like you.— Farewel, Quality— [Goes out.
Cor. He’s gone; Philippa, run and fetch him back; I have but this short Night allow’d for Liberty; Perhaps to morrow I may be a Slave. [Ex. Phil. —Now o’ my Conscience there never came good of this troublesome Virtue— hang’t, I was too serious; but a Devil on’t, he looks so charmingly—and was so very pressing, I durst trust my gay Humour and good Nature no farther. [She walks about, Sir Signal peeps and then comes out.
Sir Sig. He’s gone!—so, ha, ha, ha. As I hope to breathe, Madam, you have nost neatly dispatcht him; poor fool—to compare his Wit and his Person to mine.—
Cor. Hah, the Coxcomb here still.—
Sir Sig. Well, this Countenance of mine never fail’d me yet.
Cor. Ah—
[Looking about on him, sees his face black,
squeaks and runs away.
Sir Sig. Ah, whe, what the Deavilo’s that for?
—Whe, ‘tis I, ‘tis I, most Serenissima Signiora!
[Gal. returns and Philippa.
Gal. What noise is that, or is’t some new design To fetch me back again?
Sir Sig. How! Galliard return’d!
Gal. Hah! what art thou? a Mortal or a Devil?
Sir Sig. How, not know me? now might I pass upon him most daintily for a Devil, but that I have been beaten out of one Devilship already, and dare venture no more Conjurationing.
Gal. Dog, what art thou—not speak! Nay, then I’ll inform my self, and try if you be flesh and blood. [Kicks him, he avoids.
Sir Sig. No matter for all this—’tis better to be kickt than discovered, for then I shall be kill’d: and I can sacrifice a Limb or two to my Reputation at any time.
Gal. Death, ‘tis the Fool, the Fool for whom I am abus’d and jilted? ’.is some revenge to disappoint her Cunning, and drive the Slave before me—Dog! were you her last reserve? [Kicks him, he keeps in his cry.
Sir Sig. Still I say Mum.
Gal. The Ass will still appear through all disguises, Nor can the Devil’s shape secure the Fool— [Kicks him, he runs out, as Cor. enters and holds Gal.
Cor. Hold, Tyrant—
Gal. Oh Women, Women, fonder in your Appetites Than Beasts, and more unnatural! For they but couple with their Kind, but you Promiscuously shuffle your Brutes together, The Fop of business with the lazy Gown-men —the learned Ass with the illiterate Wit—the empty Coxcomb with the Politician, as dull and insignificant as he; from the gay Fool made more a Beast by Fortune to all the loath’d infirmities of Age. Farewel—I scorn to croud with the dull Herd, or graze upon the Common where they fatten. [Goes out.
Phil. I know he loves, by this concern I know it, And will not let him part dissatisfied. [Goes out.
Cor. By all that’s good, I love him more each moment, and know he’s destin’d to be mine.—
[Enter Marcella.
—What hopes, Marcella? what is’t we next shall do?
Mar. Fly to our last reserve; come, let’s haste and dress in that disguise we took our flight from Viterbo in,—and something I resolve.
Cor. My soul informs me what—I ha’t! a Project worthy of us both— which whilst we dress I’ll tell thee,—and by which,
My dear Marcella, we will stand or fall:
‘Tis our last Stake we set; and have at all.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Corso.
Enter Petro, Tickletext, from the Garden.
Tick. Haste, honest Barberacho, before the Day discover us to the wicked World, and that more wicked Galliard.
Pet. Well, Signior, of a bad turn it was a good one, that he took you for Sir Signal! the Scandal lies at his door now Sir,—so the Ladder’s fast, you may now mount and away.—
Tick. Very well, go your ways, and commend me, honest Barberacho, to the young Gentlewoman, and let her know, as soon as I may be certain to run no hazard in my Reputation, I’ll visit her again.
Pet. I’ll warrant ye, Signior, for the future.
Tick. So, now get you gone lest we be discover’d.
Pet. Farewel, Signior, a bon viage. [Ex. Pet. Tick, descends.
Tick. ‘Tis marvellous dark, and I have lost my Lanthorn in the fray! [Groping.] —hah—whereabouts am I—hum—what have we here!—ah, help, help, help! [Stumbles at the Well, gets hold of the Rope, and slides down in the Bucket.] I shall be drown’d, Fire, Fire, Fire! for I have Water enough! Oh, for some House,—some Street; nay, wou’d Rome it-self were a second time in flames, that my Deliverance might be wrought by the necessity for Water: but no human Help is nigh—oh!
Enter Sir Sig. as before.
Sir Sig. Did ever any Knight-Adventurer run through so many Disasters in one night! my worshipful Carcase has been cudgel’d most plentifully, first bang’d for a Coward, which by the way was none of my Fault, I cannot help Nature: then claw’d away for a Diavillo, there I was the Fool; but who can help that too? frighted with Gal’s coming into an Ague; then chimney’d into a Fever, where I had a fine Regale of Soot, a Perfume which nothing but my Cackamarda Orangate cou’d exceell; and which I find by [snuffs] my smelling has defac’d Nature’s Image, and a second time made me be suspected for a Devil.—let me see—[Opens his Lanthorn, and looks on his Hands.] ‘tis so—I am in a cleanly Pickle: if my Face be of the same Hue, I am fit to scare away old Beelzebub himself, i’faith: [Wipes his Face.]—ay, ‘tis so, like to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier: well I’ll home, scrub my self clean if possible, get me to Bed, devise a handsom Lye to excuse my long stay to my Governour, and all’s well, and the Man has his Mare again. [Shuts his Lanthorn and gropes away, runs against the Well.—Quequesto (feels gently.)] Make me thankful ‘tis substantial Wood, by your leave— [Opens his Lanthorn.] How! a Well! sent by Providence that I may wash my self, lest People smoke me by the scent, and beat me a-new for stinking: [Sets down his Lanthorn, pulls of his Masking-Coat, and goes to draw Water.] ‘Tis a damnable heavy Bucket! now do I fancy I shall look, when I am washing my self, like the sign of the Labour-in-vain.
Tick. So, my cry is gone forth, and I am delivered by Miracle from this Dungeon of Death and Darkness, this cold Element of Destruction—
Sir Sig. Hah—sure I heard a dismal hollow Voice.
[Tick. appears in the Bucket above the Well.
Tick. What, art thou come in Charity?
Sir Sig. Ah, le Diavilo, le Diavilo, le Diavilo. [Lets go the Bucket, and is running frighted away.
Enter Fillamour and Page, he returns.
—How, a Man! was ever wretched Wight so miserable, the Devil at one hand, and a Roman Night-walker at the other; which danger shall I chuse? [Gets to the door of the House.
Tick. So, I am got up at last—thanks to my Knight, for I am sure ‘twas he! hah, he’s here—I’ll hear his Business. [Goes near to Fillamour.
Fil. Confound this Woman, this bewitching Woman: I cannot shake her from my sullen Heart; Spite of my Soul I linger hereabouts, and cannot to Viterbo.
Tick. Very good; a dainty Rascal this!
Enter Galliard with a Lanthorn, as from Silvia’s House, held by Philippa.
Fil.—Hah, who’s this coming from her House? Perhaps ‘tis Galliard.
Gal. No Argument shall fetch me back, by Heaven.
Fil. ‘Tis the mad Rogue.
Tick. Oh Lord, ‘tis Galliard, and angry too; now cou’d I but get off, and leave Sir Signal to be beaten, ‘twere a rare project—but ‘tis impossible without discovery.
Phil. But will you hear her, Signior?
Gal. That is, will I lose more time about her? Plague on’t, I have thrown away already such Songs and Sonnets, such Madrigals and Posies, such Night-walks, Sighs, and direful Lovers looks, as wou’d have mollify’d any Woman of Conscience and Religion; and now to be popt i’th’ mouth with Quality! Well, if ever you catch me lying with any but honest well-meaning Damsels hereafter, hang me:—farewel, old Secret, farewel. [Ex. Philippa. —Now am I asham’d of being cozen’d so damnably, Fillamour, that virtuous Rascal, will so laugh at me; s’heart, cou’d I but have debaucht him, we had been on equal terms.—but I must help my self with lying, and swear I have—a—
Fil. You shall not need, I’ll keep your Counsel, Sir.
Gal. Hah—estes vous la?—
Tick. How, Fillamour all this while! some Comfort yet, I am not the only Professor that dissembles: but how to get away—
Gal. Oh Harry, the most damnably defeated!
[A Noise of Swords.
Fil. Hold! what Noise is that? two Men coming this way as from the house of the Curtezans.
Enter Julio backwards, fighting Octavio and Bravoes.
Gal. Hah, on retreating,—S’death, I’ve no Sword!
Fil. Here’s one, I’ll take my Page’s. [Takes the Boy’s Sword.
Gal. Now am I mad for mischief; here, hold my Lanthorn, Boy.
[They fight on Julio’s side, and fight Octavio out at t’other side: Enter Laura and Sabina at the Fore-door, which is the same where Sir Signal stands: Tick. groping up that way, finds Sir Sig. just entring in; Laura and Sab. pass over the Stage.
Sir Sig. Hah, a door open! I care not who it belongs to, ‘tis better dying within Doors like a Man, than in the Street like a Dog. [Going in, Tick. in great fear comes up and pulls him.
Tick. Signior, gentle Signior, whoe’er you are that owns this Mansion, I beseech you to give Protection to a wretched Man half dead with Fear and Injury.
Sir Sig. Nay, I defy the Devil to be more dead with Fear than I— Signior, you may enter, perhaps ‘tis some body that will make an Excuse for us both,—but hark, they return. [Both go in, just after Lau. and Sab. and Silvio enter.
Lau. He’s gone! he’s gone! perhaps for ever gone.—
Tell me, thou silly Manager of Love,
How got this Ruffian in? how was it possible
Without thy Knowledge he cou’d get Admittance?
Sab. Now as I hope to live and learn, I know not, Madam, unless he follow’d you when you let in the Cavalier, which being by dark he easily conceal’d himself; no doubt some Lover of Silvianetta’s, who mistaking you for her, took him too for a Rival.
Lau. ‘Tis likely, and my Fortune is to blame, my cursed Fortune,
Who like Misers deals her scanty Bounties with so slow a hand,
That or we die before the Blessing falls,
Or have it snatcht e’er we can call it ours.
[Raving.]
To have him in my House, to have him kind,
Kind as young Lovers when they meet by stealth;
As fond as Age to Beauty, and as soft
As Love and Wit cou’d make impatient Youth,
Preventing even my Wishes and Desires,
—Oh Gods! and then, even then to be defeated,
Then from my o’erjoy’d Arms to have him snatcht;
Then when our Vows had made our Freedom lawful;
What Maid cou’d suffer a Surprize so cruel?
—The Day begins to break,—go search the Streets,
And bring me news he’s safe, or I am lost.
Enter Gal. Fil. and Jul.
Fil. Galliard, where art thou?
Gal. Here safe, and by thy side.—
Lau. ‘Tis he!
Jul. Whoe’er he were, the Rogue fought like a Fury, and but for your timely Aid I’d been in some Danger.
Fil. But, Galliard, thou wert telling me thy Adventure with Silvianetta; there may be comfort in’t.
Lau. So, now I shall hear with what concern he speaks of me.— [Aside.
Gal. Oh, damn her, damn her!
Lau. Hah!
Gal. The veriest Jilt that ever learnt the Art.
Lau. Heavens!
Gal. Death, the Whore took me for some amorous English elder Brother, and was for Matrimony, in the Devil’s name; thought me a loving Fool, that ne’er had seen so glorious a sight before, and wou’d at any rate enjoy.
Lau. Oh Heaven! I’m amaz’d, how much he differs from the thing he was but a few Minutes since. [Aside.
Gal. And to advance her Price, set up for Quality; nay, swore she was a Maid, and that she did but act the Curtezan.
Lau. Which then he seem’d to give a credit to.—O, the forsworn Dissembler!
Gal. But when I came to the matter then in debate, she was for honourable Love forsooth, and wou’d not yield, no marry wou’d she, not under a Licence from the Parson of the Parish.
Jul. Who was it, prithee? ‘twere a good Deed to be so reveng’d on her.
Gal. Pox on her; no, I’m sure she’s a damn’d Gipsy, for at the same time she had her Lovers in reserve, lay hid her Bed-chamber.
Lau. ‘Twas that he took unkindly, And makes me guilty of that rude Address.
Fil. Another Lover had she?
Gal. Yes, our Coxcomb Knight Buffoon, laid by for a relishing Bit, in case I prov’d not season’d to her Mind.
Lau. Hah, he knew him then.
Gal. But damn her, she passes with the Night, the Day will bring new Objects.
Fil. Oh, do not doubt it, Frank.
Lau. False and Inconstant! Oh, I shall rave, Silvio— [Aside to Sil.
Enter Cornelia in Man’s Clothes with a Letter.
Cor. Here be the Cavaliers: give me, kind Heaven, but hold of him; and if I keep him not, I here renounce my Charms of Wit and Beauty—Signiors, is there a Cavalier amongst ye, call’d Fillamour?
Fil. I own that Name; what wou’d you, Sir?
Cor. Only deliver this, Signior.
[Fil. goes aside, opens his Lanthorn, and reads,
Jul. and Gal. talk aside.
Fil. [Reads.] I’ll only tell you I am Brother to that Marcella whom you have injured, to oblige you to meet me an Hour hence, in the Piazo Despagnia: I need not say with your Sword in your hand, since you will there meet Julio Sebastiano Morosini! —Hah! her Brother sure return’d from Travel. [Aside.
—Signior,—I will not fail to answer it as he desires.
[To Cornelia.
I’ll take this Opportunity to steal off undiscover’d.
[Aside going out.
Cor. So, I’ve done my Sister’s Business; now for my own.
Gal. But, my good Friend, pray what Adventure have you been on to night.