Inc. You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.
Die. 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse
Threw him into this fit.
Inc. You shall excuse me
It was his being in cuerpo, meerly caus'd it.
Die. Do you think so Sir?
Inc. Most unlucky cuerpo.
Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,
This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?
And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick
Enter Hostess.
With Sardinia and Zant Oil? how now?
Has he bespoke, what will he have a brace,
Or but one Partridge, or a short leg'd Hen,
Daintyly carbonado'd?
Host. 'Lass the dead
May be as ready for a supper as he.
Inc. Ha?
Host. He has no mind to eat, more than his shadow.
Inc. Say you.
Die. How does your worship?
Inc. I put on
My left shooe first to day, now I perceive it,
And skipt a bead in saying 'em 'ore; else
I could not be thus cross'd: He cannot be
Above seventeen; one of his years, and have
No better a stomach?
Host. And in such good cloaths too.
Die. Nay, these do often make the stomach worse, wife,
That is no reason.
Inc. I could, at his years, Gossips
(As temperate as you see me now) have eaten
My brace of Ducks, with my half Goose, my Conie,
And drink my whole twelve Marvedis in Wine
As easie as I now get down three Olives.
Die. And, with your temperance-favour, yet I think
Your worship would put to't at six and thirty
For a good wager; and the meal in too.
Inc. I do not know what mine old mouth can do.
I ha not prov'd it lately.
Die. That's the grief, Sir.
Inc. But is he without hope then gone to bed?
Host. I fear so, Sir, h'as lock'd the door close to him
Sure he is very ill.
Inc. That is with fasting,
You should ha told him Gossip, what you had had,
Given him the Inventory of your kitchen,
It is the picklock in an Inn, and often
Opens a close barr'd stomach: what may he be troh?
Has he so good a Horse?
Die. Oh a brave Jennet,
As e'r your worship saw.
Inc. And he eats?
Die. Strongly.
Inc. A mighty Solecisme, heaven give me patience,
What creatures has he?
Host. None.
Inc. And so well cloath'd,
And so well mounted?
Die. That's all my wonder, Sir,
Who he should be; he is attir'd and hors'd
For the Constables Son of Spain.
Inc. My wonders more
He should want appetite: well a good night
To both my Gossips: I will for this time
Put off the thought of supping: In the morning
Remember him of breakfast pray you.
Host. I shall Sir.
Die. A hungry time Sir.
Inc. We that live like mice
On others meat, must watch when we can get it. [Exit Incubo.
Host. Yes, but I would not tell him: Our fair guest
Says, though he eats no supper he will pay for one.
Die. Good news: we'll eat it spouse, t' his health,
'Twas politickly done t'admit no sharers.
Enter Philippo.
Phi. Look to the Mules there, where's mine Host?
Die. Here Sir.
Another Fayerie.
Host. Bless me.
Phi. From what sweet Hostess?
Are you afraid o' your guests?
Host. From Angels, Sir,
I think there's none but such come here to night,
My house had never so good luck afore
For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is
I cannot bid you welcome.
Host. Not lodge you Sir.
Phi. Not, Hostess?
Host. No in troth Sir, I do tell you
Because you may provide in time: my beds
Are both tane up by a young Cavalier
That will and must be private.
Die. He has paid Sir
For all our Chambers.
Host. Which is one: and Beds
Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,
So sweet a creature, I am very sorry
I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him
Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.
Phi. What train has he?
Die. None but himself.
Phi. And will no less than both beds
Serve him?
Host. H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.
Phi. Oh.
You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,
And young do you say?
Host. Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh
And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,
With such a Saddle.
Phi. She's in love with all.
The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,
Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:
Enter Incubo.
Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now
And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,
Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;
And make me a pallat?
Inc. Sir, she shall do reason....
I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,
Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,
And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,
Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?
This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.
Host. 'Lass Sir;
We ha' no such.
Inc. I kiss your hands fair Sir.
What ha you then? speak what you have? I'm one Sir
Here for the Catholique King, an Officer
T' enquire what guests come to these places; you Sir
Appear a person of quality, and 'tis fit
You be accommodated: why speak you not,
What ha' you Woman? are you afraid to vent
That which you have?
Phil. This is a most strange man;
T' appoint my meat.
Host. The half of a cold hen, Sir,
And a boil'd quarter of Kid, is all i'th' house.
Inc. Why all's but cold; let him see it forth,
Cover, and give the eye some satisfaction,
A Travellers stomach must see bread and salt,
His belly is nearer to him, than his kindred;
Cold hen's a pretty meat Sir.
Phi. What you please;
I am resolv'd t' obey.
Inc. So is your Kid,
With Pepper, Garlick, and the juyce of an Orange:
She shall with Sallads help it, and clean linnen;
Dispatch; what news at Court Sir?
Phi. Faith, new tires
Most of the Ladies have, the men old Suits:
Only the Kings Fool has a new Coat
To serve you.
Inc. I did guess you came from thence, Sir.
Phi. But I do know I did not.
Inc. I mistook Sir.
What hear you of the Archdukes?
Phi. Troth your question.
Enter Hostess and Servants with Table.
Inc. Of the French business, What?
Phi. As much.
Inc. No more?
They say the French: Oh that's well: come, I'll help you:
Have you no Jiblets now? or a broil'd rasher.
Or some such present dish t' assist?
Host. Not any Sir.
Inc. The more your fault: you nev'r should be without
Such aids: what cottage would ha' lack'd a Pheasant
At such a time as this? well, bring your Hen,
And Kid forth quickly.
Phi. That should be my prayer
To scape his Inquisition.
Inc. Sir, the French,
They say are divided 'bout their match with us,
What think you of it.
Phi. As of naught to me, Sir.
Inc. Nay, it's as little to me too: but I love
To ask after these things, to know the affections
Of States and Princes, now and then for bettring.
Phi. Of your own ignorance.
Inc. Yes Sir:
Phi. Many do so.
Inc. I cannot live without it: what do you hear
Of our Indian Fleet; they say they are well return'd.
Phi. I had no venture with 'em Sir; had you?
Enter Hostess and Servants with meat.
Inc. Why do you ask Sir?
Phi. 'Cause it might concern you,
It does not me.
Inc. Oh here's your meat come.
Phi. Thanks,
I welcome it at any price.
Inc. Some stools here,
And bid mine Host bring Wine, I'll try your Kid,
If he be sweet: he looks well, yes, he is good;
I'll carve you Sir.
Phi. You use me too too Princely:
Tast, and carve too.
Inc. I love to do these Offices.
Phi. I think you do: for whose sake?
Inc. For themselves Sir,
The very doing of them is reward.
Phi. 'Had little faith would not believe you, Sir.
Inc. Gossip, some Wine.
Enter Diego with Wine.
Die. Here 'tis: and right St. Martyn.
Inc. Measure me out a glass.
Phi. I love the humanity
Us'd in this place:
Inc. Sir, I salute you here.
Phil. I kiss your hands Sir.
Inc. Good wine, it will beget an appetite:
Fill him, and sit down, Gossip, entertain
Your noble guest here, as becomes your title.
Die. Please you to like this Wine Sir?
Phi. I dislike
Nothing mine Host, but that I may not see
Your conceal'd guest: here's to you.
Die. In good faith Sir;
I wish you as well as him: would you might see him
Inc. And wherefore may he not:
Die. 'Has lock'd himself Sir
Up, and has hir'd both the beds o' my wife
At extraordinary rate.
Phil. I'll give as much
If that will do't, for one, as he for both;
What say you mine Host, the door once open
I'll fling my self upon the next bed to him
And there's an end of me till morning; noise
I will make none
Die. I wish your worship well—but
Inc. His honor is engag'd: And my she-Gossip
Hath past her promise, hath she not?
Die. Yes truly:
Inc. That toucheth to the credit of the house:
Well, I will eat a little, and think: how say you Sir
Unto this brawn o'th' Hen?
Phi. I ha' more mind
To get this bed Sir.
Inc. Say you so: Why then
Giv't me agen, and drink to me: mine Host
Fill him his Wine: thou'rt dull, and dost not praise it,
I eat but to teach you the way Sir.
Phil. Sir:
Find but the way to lodge me in this chamber
I'll give mine Host two Duckets for his bed,
And you Sir two Reals: here's to you—
Inc. Excuse me,
I am not mercenary: Gossip pledge him for me,
I'll think a little more; but ev'n one bit
And then talk on: you cannot interrupt me.
Die. This piece of wine Sir, cost me—
Inc. Stay: I have found:
This little morsel, and then: here's excellent garlick:
Have you not a bunch of grapes now: or some Bacon
To give the mouth a relish?
Die. Wife, do you hear?
Inc. It is no matter: Sir give mine Host your Duckets.
Die. How Sir?
Inc. Do you receive 'em: I will save
The honesty of your house: and yours too Gossip,
And I will lodge the Gentleman: shew the chamber.
Die. Good Sir do you hear.
Inc. Shew me the chamber.
Die. Pray you Sir,
Do not disturb my guests.
Inc. Disturb? I hope
The Catholick King Sir, may command a lodging
Without disturbing in his Vassals house,
For any Minister of his, emploid
In business of the State. Where is the door?
Open the door, who are you there? within?
In the Kings name. [Theodosia within.
Theo. What would you have?
Inc. Your key Sir,
And your door open: I have here command
To lodge a Gentleman, from the Justice, sent
Upon the Kings affairs.
Theod. Kings and necessities
Must be obey'd: the key is under the door.
Inc. How now Sir, are you fitted? you secur'd?
Phi. Your two Reals are grown a piece of Eight.
In[c]. Excuse me Sir.
Phi. 'Twill buy a Hen; and Wine
Sir, for to morrow. [Exit Phil.
Inc. I do kiss your hands Sir.
Well this will bear my charge yet to the Gallies
Where I am owing a Ducket: whither this night
By the Moons leave I'll march: for in the morning
Early, they put from Port St. Maries. [Ex. all but Diego.
Die. Lazaro.
Enter Lazaro.
How do the horses?
Laz. Would you would go and see Sir,
A —— of all Jades, what a clap h'as given me:
As sure as you live Master he knew perfectly
I couzen'd him on's Oats: he lookt upon me
And then he sneer'd, as who should say, take heed sirrah:
And when he saw our half Peck, which you know
Was but an old Court dish, lord how he stampt:
I thought 't had been for joy, when suddenly
He cuts me a back caper with his heels
And takes me just o'th crupper, down came I,
And all my ounce of Oats: Then he neigh'd out
As though he had had a mare by th' tail.
Die. Faith Lazaro
We are t[o] blame to use the poor dumb serviters
So cruelly.
Laz. Yonder's this other Gentleman's horse
Keeping our Lady Eve: the devil a bit
H'as got since he came in yet: there he stands
And looks, and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Sir,
He shall look lean enough: h'as Hay before him
But 'tis as big as Hemp, and will as soon choak him,
Unless he eat it butter'd: he had four shooes
And good ones when he came: 'tis a strange wonder
With standing still he should cast three.
Die. O Lazaro.
The Devil's in this Trade: truth never knew it
And to the devil we shall travel, Lazaro
Unless we mend our manners: once every week
I meet with such a knock to mollifie me
Sometimes a dozen to awake my conscience
Yet still I sleep securely.
Laz. Certain Master
We must use better dealing.
Die. 'Faith for mine own part
Not to give ill example to our issues,
I could be well content to steal but two girths,
And now and then a saddle-cloth: change a bridle
Only for exercise.
Laz. If we could stay there
There were some hope on's Master: but the devil is
We are drunk so early we mistake whole Saddles
Sometimes a horse; and then it seems to us too
Every poor jade has his whole peck, and tumbles
Up to his ears in clean straw, and every bottle
Shews at the least a dozen; when the truth is, Sir,
There's no such matter, not a smell of Provinder,
Not so much straw as would tie up a horse tail,
Nor any thing i'th' rack, but two old Cobwebs
And so much rotten Hay as had been a hens nest.
Die. Well, these mistakings must be mended, Lazaro,
These apparitions, that abuse our sences,
And make us ever apt to sweep the manger
But put in nothing; these fancies must be forgot
And we must pray it may be reveal'd to us
Whose horse we ought, in conscience, to couzen,
And how, and when; A Parsons Horse may suffer
A little greazing in his teeth, 'tis wholsome;
And keeps him in a sober shuffle: and his Saddle
May want a stirrop, and it may be sworn
His Learning lay on one side, and so broke it:
H'as ever Oats in's Cloak-bag to prevent us
And therefore 'tis a meritorious office
To tythe him soundly.
Laz. And a Grazier may
(For those are pinching puckfoysts, and suspitious)
Suffer a myst before his eyes sometimes too,
And think he sees his horse eat halfe a bushel:
When the truth is, rubbing his gums with salt,
Till all the skin come off: he shall but mumble
Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,
And drop 'em out again.
Die. That may do well too,
And no doubt 'tis but venial, But good Lazaro
Have you a care of understanding horses,
[Horses with angry heels, gentlemens horses,]
Horses that know the world: let them have meat
Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribs
Shine like a wenches forehead; they are devils.
Laz. And look into our dealings: as sure as we live
These Courtiers horses are a kind of Welsh Prophets,
Nothing can be hid from 'em: For mine own part
The next I cozen of that kind shall be founder'd,
And of all four too: I'll no more such complements
Upon my crupper.
Die. Steal but a little longer
Till I am lam'd too, and we'll repent together,
It will not be above two daies.
Laz. By that time
I shall be well again, and all forgot Sir.
Die. Why then I'll stay for thee. [Exit.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Theodosi[a] and Phillipo on several Beds.
Theo. Oh,—ho! oh—ho!
Phi. Ha?
Theo. Oh—oh! heart—heart—heart—heart?
Phil. What's that?
Theo. When wilt thou break?—break, break, break?
Phil. Ha?
I would the voice were strong, or I nearer.
Theo. Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?
Phil. Done?
Theo. And to no end, what a wild journey
Have I more wildly undertaken?
Phil. Journey?
Theo. How, without counsel? care? reason, or fear?
Phil. Whither will this fit carry?
Theo. Oh my folly!
Phil. This is no common sickness.
Theo. How have I left
All I should love, or keep? oh heaven.
Phil. Sir?
Theo. Ha?
Phil. How do you gentle Sir?
Theo. Alas my fortune!
Phil. It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness,
Let me bear half, Sir: a divided burthen
Is so made lighter.
Theo. Oh!
Phil. That sigh betraies
The fulness of your grief.
Theo. I, if that grief
Had not bereft me of my understanding,
I should have well remembred where I was,
And in what company; and clapt a lock
Upon this tongue for talking.
Phil. Worthy Sir
Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard
A sigh or groan come from you: That is all Sir:
The. Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,
Would I had taken Poppy when I spake it.
Phi. It seems you have an ill belief of me
And would have fear'd much more, had you spoke ought
I could interpret. But believe it Sir
Had [I] had means to look into your breast,
And tane you sleeping here, that so securely
I might have read all that your woe would hide
I would not have betraid you.
Theo. Sir, that speech
Is very noble, and almost would tempt
My need to trust you.
Phil. At your own election,
I dare not make my faith so much suspected
As to protest again: nor am I curious
To know more than is fit.
Theo. Sir, I will trust you
But you shall promise Sir to keep your bed,
And whatsoe'r you hear, not to importune
More I beseech you from me.
Phi. Sir I will not.
Theo. Than I am prone to utter.
Phi. My faith for it.
Theo. If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace.
You will be noble?
Phil. You shall make me so
If you'll but think me such.
Theo. I do: then know
You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk'd so long.
I am a most unfortunate lost woman.
Phil. Ha?
Theo. Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.
Phil. Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.
Theo. You'll keep your faith.
Phil. I'll perish else.
Theo. Believe then
Of birth too noble for me, so descended—I
am asham'd, no less than I am affrighted.
Phil. Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.
Theo. I am the Daughter of a noble Gentleman
Born in this part of Spain: my fathers name Sir:
But why should I abuse that reverence
When a childs duty has forsaken me.
Phil. All may be mended, in fit time too: speak it.
Theo. Alphonso, sir.
Phil. Alphonso? What's your own name?
Theo. Any base thing you can invent.
Phil. Deal truly.
Theo. They call me Theodosia.
Phil. Ha? and love
Is that that hath chang'd you thus?
Theo. Ye have observ'd me
Too nearly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:
And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?
Why should they use their arts to cozen us?
That have no cunning, but our fears about us?
And ever that too late too; no dissembling
Or double way but doating: too much loving?
Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?
Phil. What may his name be?
Theo. Sir, a name that promises
Methinks no such ill usage: Mark-Antonio
A noble neighbors son: Now I must desire ye
To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.
Phil. I will:—Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?
Theo. His best a thief Sir: that he would be known by
Is heir to Leonardo, a rich Gentleman:
Next of a handsome body, had heaven made him
A mind fit to it. To this man my fortune,
(My more than purblind fortune) gave my faith,
Drawn to it by as many shews of service
And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:
Heaven pardon all.
Phil. 'Tis well said: forward Lady.
Theo. Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings
Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd
But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.
For that I must confess was the first wise doubt
I ever made: yet after all this love Sir,
All this profession of his faith; when daily
And hourly I expected the blest Priest
He left me like a dream, as all this story
Had never been, nor thought of, why, I know not;
Yet I have called my conscience to confession,
And every syllable that might offend
I have had in shrift: yet neither loves Law Signior,
Nor tye of Maidens duty, but desiring
Have I transgrest in: left his father too,
Nor whither he is gone, or why departed
Can any tongue resolve me: All my hope
(Which keeps me yet alive, and would perswade me
I may be once more happy, and thus shapes me
A shame to all my modest Sex) is this Sir,
I have a Brother and his old Companion,
Student in Salamanca, there my last hope
If he be yet alive, and can be loving
Is left me to recover him: For which travel
In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers
Thus as you find me, without fear, or wisdom,
I have wander'd from my Father, fled my friends,
And now am only child of hope and danger:
You are now silent Sir: this tedious story
(That ever keeps me waking) makes you heavy:
'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I
Can be but troubles.
Phil. No, I sleep not Lady:
I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort?
Theo. What ail you gentle Sir?
Phil. Oh.
Theo. Why do you groan so?
Phil. I must, I must; oh misery;
Theo. But now Sir,
You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye
Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule?
Phil. No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,
But 'tis not in your power.
Theo. I fear intemperance.
Phil. Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you:
By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:
Strive not, I will not stir ye.
Theo. Noble Sir
This is a breach of promise.
Phil. Tender Lady
It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there,
Some light, some light for heavens sake.
Theo. Will ye betray me?
Are ye a Gentleman?
Phil. Good woman:
Theo. Sir.
Enter Diego with a light.
Phil. If I be prejudicial to you, curse me.
Dieg. Ye are early stirring Sir.
Phil. Give me your Candle
And so good morrow for a while.
Dieg. Good morrow Sir. [Exit.
Theo. My Brother Don Philippo: nay Sir, kill me
I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,
My noble Father, then your self, last all
That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:
I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:
Do you forget the pity tied to that:
Let not compassion sway you: you will be then
As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,
A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,
And such a cause to kill me in.
Phil. Rise Sister,
I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger
While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.
Theo. By those bright Stars, it is Sir.
Phil. For my Sister
I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us
With the dear love I ever bore your virtues
That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:
Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman
Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
As there be growing Truths, and great ones.
Theo. O Sir[!]
Phil. Do not despair.
Theo. Can ye forgive?
Phil. Yes Sister,
Though this be no small error, a far greater.
Theo. And think me still your Sister?
Phil. My dear Sister.
Theo. And will you counsel me?
Phil. To your own peace too:
Ye shall love still.
Theo. How good ye are!
Phil. My business,
And duty to my Father: which now drew me
From Salamanca I will lay aside
And only be your Agent to perswade ye
To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye.
Theo. Oh gentle Brother.
Phil. I perceive 'tis folly:
Delaies in love, more dangerous.
Theo. Noble Brother.
Phil. Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you,
Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel:
I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture?
Theo. Alas, I know not Sir!
Phil. Come, 'tis bright morning
Let's walk out, and consider: you'll keep this habit.
Theo. I would Sir.
Phil. Then it shall be: what must I call ye?
Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.
Theo. Pray call me Theodoro.
Enter Diego.