Fab. That should be Frederick.
Jac. 'Tis he: Frederick?
Fred. Who's that?
Jac. A friend Sir.
Fred. It is so, by the voyce:
I have sought you Gentlemen, and since I have found you,
So near our house, I'le force ye stay a while,
I pray let it be so.
Fab. It is too late,
We'l come and dine to morrow with your Sister,
And do our services.
Jac. Who were those with you?
Fab. We met two came from hence.
Fred. Two idle fellows,
That you shall beat hereafter, and I'le tell ye
Some fitter time a cause sufficient for it.
Fab. But Frederick, tell me truly; do you think
She can affect my friend?
Fred. No certainer
Than when I speak of him, or any other,
She entertains it with as much desire
As others do their recreations.
Fabr. Let not him have this light by any means;
He will but think he's mockt, and so grow angry,
Even to a quarrel: he's so much distrustfull
Of all that take occasion to commend him—
Women especially: for which he shuns
All conversation with 'em, and believes
He can be but a mirth to all their Sex,
Whence is this musique?
Fred. From my Sisters chamber.
Fab. The touch is excellent, let's be attentive.
Jac. Hark, are the Waits abroad?
Fab. Be softer prethee,
'Tis private musick.
Jac. What a dyn it makes!
I had rather hear a Jews trump than these Lutes,
They cry like School-boys.
Fabr. Prethee Jacomo.
Jac. Well I will hear, or sleep, I care not whether.
THE SONG.
Enter at the Window Frank, and Clora.
1. Tell me dearest what is Love?
2. 'Tis a lightning from above,
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,
'Tis a boy they call Desire.
Both. 'Tis a grave,
Gapes to have
Those poor fools that long to prove.
1. Tell me more, are Women true?
2. Yes, some are, and some as you.
Some are willing, some are strange,
Since you men first taught to change.
Both. And till troth
Be in both,
All shall love, to love anew.
1. Tell me more yet can they grieve?
2. Yes, and sicken sore, but live:
And be wise, and delay,
When you men are as wise as they.
Both. Then I see
Fai[th] will be,
Never till they both believe.
Fran. Clora, come hither; who are these below there?
Clor. Where?
Clor. Ha? I should know their shapes
Though it be darkish; there are both our Brothers,
What should they make thus late here?
Fran. What's the tother?
Clor. What tother?
Fran. He that lyes along there.
Clor. O, I see him
As if he had a branch of some great Petigree
Grew out on's belly.
Fran. Yes.
Clor. That should be,
If I have any knowledge in proportion.—
Fab. They see us.
Fred. 'Tis no matter.
Fab. What a log
Is this, to sleep such musique out!
Fred. No more, let's hear 'em.
Clor. If I have any knowledge in proportion
The Captain Jacomo, those are his legs
Upon my conscience.
Fran. By my faith, and neat ones.
Clor. You mean the boots, I think they are neat by nature.
Fra. As thou art knavish, would I saw his face!
Clor. 'Twould scare you in the dark.
Fran. A worse than that
Has never scar'd you Clora to my knowledge.
Clor. 'Tis true, for I never have seen a worse;
Nor while I say my prayers heartily,
I hope I shall not.
Fran. Well, I am no tell tale:
But is it not great pity, tell me Clora,
That such a brave deserving Gentleman
As every one delivers this to be,
Should have no more respect, and worth flung on him
By able men? Were I one of these great ones,
Such vertues should not sleep thus.
Clor. Were he greater
He would sleep more I think: I'le waken him.
Fran. Away ye fool.
Clor. Is he not dead already, and they two taking order
About his Blacks? me thinks they are very busie,
A fine clean coarse he is: I would have him buried
Even as he lyes, cross legg'd, like one o'th' Templers
(If his Westphalia gammons will hold crossing)
And on his brest, a buckler with a pike in't,
In which I would have some learned Cutler
Compile an Epitaph, and at his feet
A musquet, with this word upon a Label
Which from the cocks mouth thus should be delivered,
I have discharg'd the office of a Souldier.
Fran. Well, if thy Father were a Souldier
Thus thou wouldst use him.
Clora. Such a Souldier,
I would indeed.
Fab. If he hear this, not all
The power of man could keep him from the windows
Till they were down and all the doors broke open:
For Gods sake make her cooler: I dare not venture
To bring him else: I know he will go to buffets
Within five words with her, if she holds this spirit;
Let's waken him, and away, we shall hear worse else.
Fran. Well if I be not even with thee Clora
Let me be hang'd for this: I know thou dost it
Only to anger me, and purge thy wit
Which would break out else.
Clora. I have found ye,
I'le be no more cross, bid 'em good night.
Fran. No, no, they shall not know we have seen 'em;
Shut the window. [Ex. Fran. and Clora.
Fab. Will you get up Sir?
Jac. Have you paid the Fidlers?
Fab. You are not left to do it: Fie upon thee,
Hast thou forsworn manners?
Jac. Yes unless
They would let me eat my meat without long graces
Or drink without a preface to the pledger;
Oft, will it please you, shall I be so bold Sir,
Let me remember your good bed-fellow,
And lye and kiss my hand unto my Mistris
As often as an Ape does for an Aple;
These are meer Schisms in Souldiers; where's my friend?
These are to us as bitter as purgations,
We love that general freedom we are bred to;
Hang these faint fooleries, they smell of peace,
Do they not friend?
Fab. Faith Sir to me they are
As things indifferent, yet I use 'em not,
Or if I did, they would not prick my conscience.
Fred. Come, shall we go? 'tis late.
Jac. Yes any whither,
But no more Musick, it has made me dull.
Fab. Faith any thing but drinking disturbs thee Jacomo,
We'l ev'n to bed.
Jac. Content.
Fab. Thou wilt dream of wenches.
Jac. I never think of any I thank Heaven
But when I am drunk, and then 'tis but to cast
A cheap way how they may be all destroy'd
Like vermine; let's away, I am very sleepy.
Fab. I, thou art ever so, or angry, come. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Julio, and Angelo.
Jul. I will but see her once more Angelo,
That I may hate her more, and then I am
My self again.
Ang. I would not have thee tempt lust,
'Tis a way dangerous, and will deceive thee,
Hadst thou the constancy of all men in thee.
Jul. Having her sins before me, I dare see her
Were she as catching as the plague, and deadly,
And tell her she is fouler than all those
And far more pestilent, if not repentant,
And like a strong man, chide her well, and leave her.
Ang. 'Tis easily said, of what complexion is she?
Jul. Make but a curious frame unto thy self
As thou wouldst shape an Angel in thy thought;
Such as the Poets, when their fancies sweat,
Imagine Juno is, or fair ey'd Pallas,
And one more excellent, than all those figures
Shalt thou find her; she's brown, but of a sweetness,
(If such a poor word may express her beauty)
Believe me Angelo, would do more mischief
With a forc't smile, than twenty thousand Cupids
With their love quivers, full of Ladies eyes,
And twice as many flames, could fling upon us.
Ang. Of what age is she?
Jul. As a Rose at fairest,
Neither a bud, nor blown, but such a one,
Were there a Hercules to get again
With all his glory, or one more than he,
The god would choose out amongst a race of women
To make a Mother of: she is outwardly
All that bewitches sense; all that entices,
Nor is it in our vertue to uncharm it.
And when she speaks, oh Angelo, then musick
(Such as old Orpheus made, that gave a soul
To aged mountains, and made rugged beasts
Lay by their rages; and tall trees that knew
No sound but tempests, to bow down their branches
And hear, and wonder; and the Sea, whose surges
Shook their white heads in Heaven, to be as mid-night
Still, and attentive) steals into our souls
So suddenly, and strangely, that we are
From that time no more ours, but what she pleases.
Ang. Why look, how far you have thrust your self again
Into your old disease! are you that man
With such a resolution, that would venture
To take your leave of folly, and now melt
Even in repeating her?
Jul. I had forgot me.
Ang. As you will still do.
Jul. No, the strongest man
May have the grudging of an ague on him,
This is no more; let's go, I would fain be fit
To be thy friend again, for now I am no mans.
Ang. Go you, I dare not go, I tell you truly
Nor were it wise I should.
Jul. Why?
Ang. I am well,
And if I can, will keep my self so.
Jul. Ha? thou mak'st me smile, though I have little cause,
To see how prettily thy fear becomes thee;
Art thou not strong enough to see a woman?
Ang. Yes, twenty thousand: but not such a one
As you have made her: I'le not lye for th' matter:
I know I am frail, and may be cozen'd too
By such a Syren.
Jul. Faith thou shalt go, Angelo.
Ang. Faith but I will not; no I know how far Sir
I am able to hold out, and will not venture
Above my depth: I do not long to have
My sleep ta'ne from me, and go pulingly
Like a poor wench had lost her market-mony;
And when I see good meat, sit still and sigh,
And call for small beer; and consume my wit
In making Anagrams, and faithful posies;
I do not like that Itch, I am sure I had rather
Have the main pox, and safer.
Jul. Thou shalt go,
I must needs have thee as a witness with me
Of my repentance; as thou lov'st me go.
Ang. Well I will go, since you will have it so,
But if I prove a fool too, look to have me
Curse you continually, and fearfully.
Jul. And if thou seest me fall again, good Angelo
Give me thy counsel quickly lest I perish.
Ang. Pray Heaven I have enough to save my self,
For as I have a soul, I had rather venture
Upon a savage Island, than this woman. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Father, and Servant.
Fath. From whom Sir, comes this bounty? for I think
You are mistaken.
Serv. No Sir, 'tis to you
I am sure my Mistris sent it.
Fath. Who's your Mistris,
That I may give her thanks?
Serv. The vertuous Widow.
Fath. The vertuous widow Sir? I know none such:
Pray what's her name?
Ser. Lælia.
Fath. I knew you err'd,
'Tis not to me I warrant ye; there Sir,
Carry it to those she feeds fat with such favours,
I am a stranger to her.
Serv. Good Sir take it,
And if you will, I'le swear she sent it to you,
For I am sure mine eye never went off ye
Since you forsook the Gentlemen you talk'd with
Just at her door.
Fath. Indeed I talkt with two
Within this half hour in the street.
Serv. 'Tis you Sir,
And none but you I am sent to: wiser men
Would have been thankful sooner, and receiv'd it,
'Tis not a fortune every man can brag of,
And from a woman of her excellence.
Fa. Well Sir, I am Catechiz'd; what more belongs to't?
Serv. This only Sir; she would intreat you come
This evening to her without fail.
Fath. I will.
Serv. You ghess where.
Fath. Sir I have a tongue else. [Exit Ser.
She is down-right Devil; or else my wants
And her disobedience have provok't her
To look into her foul self, and be sorry.
I wonder how she knew me? I had thought
I had been the same to all, I am to them
That chang'd me thus: Heaven pardon me for lying,
For I have paid it home: many a good man
That had but found the profit of my way
Would forswear telling true again in hast.
Enter Lodovico, and Piso.
Here are my praters; now if I did well
I should belabour 'em, but I have found
A way to quiet 'em, worth a thousand on't.
Lod. If we could get a fellow that would do it.
Fat. What villany is now in hand?
Pis. 'Twill be hard to be done in my opinion
Unless we light upon an English-man
With seven-score surfeits in him.
Lod. Are the English-men such stubborn drinkers?
Piso. Not a leak at Sea
Can suck more liquor; you shall have their children
Christened in mull'd sack, and at five years old, able
To knock a Dane down: Take an English-man
And cry St. George, and give him but a rasher,
And you shall have him upon even terms
Defy a hogshead; such a one would do it
Home boy, and like a work-man: at what weapon?
Lod. Sherry sack: I would have him drink stark dead
If it were possible: at worst past portage.
Piso. What is the end then?
Lod. Dost thou not perceive it?
If he be drunk dead, there's a fair end of him.
If not, this is my end, or by enticing,
Or by deceiving, to conduct him where
The fool is, that admires him; and if sober,
His nature be so rugged, what will't be
When he is hot with wine? come let's about it,
If this be done but handsomely, I'le pawn
My head she hath done with Souldiers.
Piso. This may do well.
Fat. Here's a new way to murther men alive,
I'le choak this train: God save ye Gentlemen.
It is to you, stay: yes it is to you.
Lod. What's to me?
Fath. You are fortunate,
I cannot stand to tell you more now, meet me
Here soon, and you'l be made a man. [Exit Father.
Lod. What Vision's this?
Piso. I know not.
Lod. Well, I'le meet it,
Think you o'th' other, and let me a while
Dream of this fellow.
Piso. For the Drunkard, Lodovick,
Let me alone.
Lod. Come, let's about it then. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Clora, and Frank.
Clor. Ha, ha, ha, pray let me laugh extreamly.
Fra. Why? prethee why? hast thou such cause?
Clor. Yes faith, my Brother will be here straightway, and—
Fra. What?
Clor. The other party: ha, ha, ha.
Fra. What party?
Wench thou art not drunk?
Clor. No faith.
Fra. Faith thou hast been among the bottles Clora.
Clor. Faith but I have not Frank: Prethee be handsom,
The Captain comes along too, wench.
Fra. O is that it
That tickles ye?
Clor. Yes, and shall tickle you too,
You understand me?
Fran. By my troth thou art grown
A strange lewd wench: I must e'ne leave thy company,
Thou wilt spoil me else.
Clor. Nay, thou art spoil'd to my hand;
Hadst thou been free, as a good wench ought to be,
When I went first a birding for thy Love,
And roundly said, that is the man must do it,
I had done laughing many an hour agoe.
Fra. And what dost thou see in him, now thou knowst him
To be thus laught at?
Clor. Prethee be not angry
And I'le speak freely to thee.
Fran. Do, I will not.
Clor. Then as I hope to have a handsom husband,
This fellow in mine eye, (and Frank I am held
To have a shrewd ghess at a pretty fellow)
Appears a strange thing.
Fra. Why, how strange for Gods sake?
He is a man, and one that may content
(For any thing I see) a right good woman:
And sure I am not blind.
Clor. There lyes the question?
For, (but you say he is a man, and I
Will credit you,) I should as soon have thought him
Another of Gods creatures; out upon him,
His body, that can promise nothing
But laziness and long strides.
Fra. These are your eyes;
Where were they Clora, when you fell in love
With the old foot-man, for singing of Queen Dido?
And swore he look'd in his old velvet trunks
And his slic't Spanish Jerkin, like Don John?
You had a parlous judgment then, my Clora.
Clora. Who told you that?
Fran. I heard it.
Clora. Come, be friends,
The Souldier is a Mars, no more, we are all
Subject to slide away.
Fra. Nay, laugh on still.
Clor. No faith, thou art a good wench, and 'tis pity
Thou shouldst not be well quarried at thy entring,
Thou art so high flown for him: Look, who's there?
Enter Fabricio, and Jacomo.
Jac. Prethee go single, what should I do there?
Thou knowst I hate these visitations,
As I hate peace or perry.
Fab. Wilt thou never
Make a right man?
Jac. You make a right fool of me
To lead me up and down to visit women,
And be abus'd and laugh'd at; let me sta[rv]e
If I know what to say, unless I ask 'em
What their shooes cost?
Fab. Fye upon thee, coward,
Canst thou not sing?
Jac. Thou knowest I can sing nothing
But Plumpton park.
Fab. Thou't be bold enough,
When thou art enter'd once.
Jac. I had rather enter
A breach: if I miscarry, by this hand
I will have you by th' ears for't.
Fab. Save ye Ladies.
Clo. Sweet Brother I dare swear, you're welcom hither,
So is your Friend.
Fab. Come, blush not, but salute 'em.
Fra. Good Sir believe your Sister; you are most welcom,
So is this worthy Gentleman whose vertues
I shall be proud to be acquainted with.
Jac. She has found me out already, and has paid me;
Shall we be going?
Fab. Peace;
Your goodness Lady
Will ever be afore us, for my self
I will not thank you single, lest I leave
My friend, this Gentleman, out of acquaintance.
Jac. More of me yet?
Fra. Would I were able, Sir,
From either of your worths to merit thanks.
Clor. But Brother, is your friend thus sad still? methinks
'Tis an unseemly nature in a Souldier.
Jac. What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour?
Fab. He do's but shew so, prethee to him Sister.
Jac. If I do not break thy head, I am no Christian,
If I get off once.
Clor. Sir, we must intreat you
To think your self more welcom, and be merry,
'Tis pity a fair man of your proportion
Should have a soul of sorrow.
Jac. Very well;
Pray Gentlewoman what would you have me say?
Clora. Do not you know, Sir?
Jac. Not so well as you
That talk continually.
Fran. You have hit her, Sir.
Clora. I thank him, so he has,
Fair fall his sweet face for't.
Jac. Let my face
Alone, I would wish you, lest I take occasion
To bring a worse in question.
Clora. Meaning mine?
Brother, where was your friend brought up? h'as sure
Been a great lover in his youth of pottage,
They lye so dull upon his understanding.
Fab. No more of that, thou'lt anger him at heart.
Clo. Then let him be more manly, for he looks
Like a great School-boy that had been blown up
Last night at dust-point.
Fran. You will never leave
Till you be told how rude you are, fye Clora.
Sir will it please you sit?
Clora. And I'le sit by you.
Jac. Woman be quiet, and be rul'd I would wish you.
Clora. I have done, Sir Captain.
Fab. Art thou not asham'd?
Jac. You are an asse, I'le tell you more anon,
You had better have been hang'd than brought me hither.
Fab. You are grown a sullen fool; either be handsom,
Or by this light I'le have wenches bait thee;
Go to the Gentlewoman, and give her thanks,
And hold your head up; what?
Jac. By this light I'le brain thee.
Fra. Now o' my faith this Gentleman do's nothing
But it becomes him rarely; Clora, look
How well this little anger, if it be one,
Shews in his face.
Clo. Yes, it shews very sweetly.
Fra. Nay do not blush Sir, o' my troth it does,
I would be ever angry to be thus.
Fabritio, o' my conscience if I ever
Do fall in love, as I will not forswear it
Till I am something wiser, it must be,
I will not say directly with that face,
But certainly, such another as that is,
And thus dispose my chance to hamper me.
Fab. Dost thou hear this, and stand still?
Jac. You will prate still;
I would you were not women, I would take
A new course with ye.
Clora. Why couragious?
Jac. For making me a stone to whet your tongues on.
Clora. Prethee sweet Captain.
Jac. Go, go spin, go hang.
Clo. Now could I kiss him.
Jac. If you long for kicking,
You'r best come kiss me, do not though, I'de wish ye,
I'le send my Foot-man to thee, he shall leap thee,
And thou wantst horsing: I'le leave ye Ladies.
Fra. Beshrew my heart you are unmannerly
To offer this unto a Gentleman
Of his deserts, that comes so worthily
To visit me, I cannot take it well.
Jac. I come to visit you, you foolish woman?
Fra. I thought you did Sir, and for that I thank you,
I would be loth to lose those thanks; I know
This is but some odd way you have, and faith
It do's become you well to make us merry;
I have heard often of your pleasant vein.
Fab. What wouldst thou ask more?
Jac. Pray thou scurvy fellow
Thou hast not long to live; adieu dear Damsels,
You filthy women farewel, and be sober,
And keep your chambers.
Clor. Farewel old Don Diego.
Fra. Away, away, you must not [be so] angry,
To part thus roughly from us; yet to me
This do's not shew, as if it were yours, the wars
May breed men something plain I know,
But not thus rude; give me your hand good Sir
I know 'tis white, and—
Jac. If I were not patient,
What would become of you two prating houswives?
Clo. For any thing I know, we would in to supper,
And there begin a health of lusty Claret
To keep care from our hearts, and it should be—
Fab. Faith to whom? Mark but this Jacomo.
Clo. Even to the handsomest fellow now alive.
Fab. Do you know such a one?
Fra. He may be ghest at,
Without much travel.
Fab. There's another item.
Clor. And he should be a Souldier.
Fra. 'Twould be better.
Clor. And yet not you sweet Captain.
Fra. Why not he?
Jac. Well; I shall live to see your husbands beat you,
And hiss 'em on like ban-dogs.
Clora. Ha, ha, ha.
Jac. Green sicknesses and serving-men light on ye
With greasy Codpieces, and woollen stockings,
The Devil (if he dare deal with two women)
Be of your counsels: farewel Plaisterers— [Exit Jac.
Clora. This fellow will be mad at Mid-summer
Without all doubt.
Fab. I think so too.
Fra. I am sorry,
He's gone in such a rage; but sure this holds him
Not every day.
Fab. 'Faith every other day
If he come near a woman.
Clor. I wonder how his mother could endure
To have him in her Belly, he's so boysterous.
Fra. He's to be made more tractable I doubt not.
Clo. Yes, if they taw him as they do whit-leather
Upon an iron, or beat him soft like Stock-fish.
SCENE IV.
Enter Lelia and her waiting-woman with a Vail.
Lel. Art t' sure 'tis he?
Wom. Yes, and another with him.
Lel. The more the merrier; did you give that money
And charg'd it to be delivered where I shew'd you?
Wom. Yes, and what else you bad me.
Lel. That brave fellow,
Though he be old, whate'r he be, shews toughness,
And such a one I long for, and must have
At any price; these young soft melting gristles
Are only for my safer ends.
Wom. They are here.
Lel. Give me my Vail, and bid the Boy go sing
That song above, I gave him; the sad song;
Now if I miss him, I am curst, go, wench,
And tell 'em I have utterly forsworn
All company of men, yet make a venture
At last to let 'em in; thou knowst these things,
Do 'em to th' life.
Wom. I warrant you I am perfect.
Lel. Some ill woman for her use would give
A million for this Wench, she is so subtle.
Enter to the door Julio, and Angelo.
Wom. Good Sir, desire it not, I dare not do it,
For since your last being here, Sir, believe me,
She has griev'd her self out of all Company,
And (sweet Soul) almost out of life too.
Jul. Prithee,
Let me but speak one word.
Wom. You will offend, Sir,
And yet your name is more familiar with her
Than any thing but sorrow, good Sir, go.
Ang. This little Varlet hath her Lesson perfect,
These are the baits they bob with.
Jul. 'Faith I will not.
Wom. I shall be chidden cruelly for this;
But you are such a Gentleman—
Jul. No more.
Ang. There's a new Tyre, wench; peace, thou art well enough.
Jul. What, has she musick?
Wom. Yes, for Heavens sake stay,
'Tis all she feeds upon.
Jul. Alas, poor soul.
Ang. Now will I pray devoutly, for there's need on't.
The SONG.