Second Lady. O, trust me, I like him most profoundly! why, he’s able to put down twenty such as I am.
Third Lady. Let them build upon that; nay, more, we’ll henceforth never go to a cunning woman, since men can teach us our lerry.[698]
Fourth Lady. We are all fools to him; and our husbands, if we can hold these reins fast, shall be fools to us.
Second Lady. If we can keep but this bias, wenches, our goodmen may perchance once in a month get a fore-game of us; but, if they win a rubbers, let them throw their caps at it.
Imp. No, no, no, dear features, hold their noses to the grindstone, and they’re gone. Thanks, worthy signior: fie, fie, fie, you stand bare too long. Come, bright mirrors, will you withdraw into a gallery, and taste a slight banquet?
First Lady. We shall cloy ourselves with sweets, my sweet madonna.
Second Lady. Troth, I will not, madonna Imperia.
Imp. No, no, no. Fie, fie, fie, signior Lazarillo, either be you our foreman, or else put in these ladies, at your discretion, into the gallery, and cut off this striving.
Laz. It shall be my office; my fees being, as they pass, to take toll of their alablaster[699] hands. [Exeunt Ladies: Imperia stays.] Admired creature, I summon you to a parley: you remember this is the night?
Imp. So, so, so, I do remember: here is a key; that is your chamber.—Lights, Simperina.—About twelve a’ clock you shall take my beauty prisoner:—fie, fie, fie, how I blush!—at twelve a’ clock.
Laz. Rich argosy of all golden pleasure—
Imp. No, no, no, put up, put up your joys till anon: I will come, by my virginity. But I must tell you one thing, that all my chambers are many nights haunted, with what sprites none can see; but sometimes we hear birds singing, sometimes music playing, sometimes voices laughing: but stir not you, nor be frighted at any thing.
Laz. By Hercules, if any spirits rise, I will conjure them in their own circles with toledo.
Imp. So, so, so; lights for his chamber.—Is the trap-door ready?
Simp. ’Tis set sure.
Imp. So, so, so, I will be rid of this broiled red sprat, that stinks so in my stomach, fie; I hate him worse than to have a tailor come a-wooing to me. [Aside.] God’s me! the sweet ladies, the banquet,—I forget: fie, fie, fie, follow, dear signior.—The trap-door, Simperina.
Simp. Signior, come away.
Laz. Cupid, I kiss the nock[700] of thy sweet bow: A woman makes me yield; Mars could not so.
[Pulls the cord hanging from the window, and is drenched with water.
Sim. God’s my life! what have you done? you are in a sweet pickle if you pulled at this rope.
Cur. Hang thyself in’t, and I’ll pull once again.
Sim. Marry muff,[712] will you up and ride? you’re mine elder. By my pure maidenhead, here’s a jest! why, this was a water-work to drown a rat that uses to creep in at this window.
Sim. You smell a sodden sheep’s-head: a rat? ay, a rat: and[713] you will not believe me, marry, foh! I have been believed of your betters, marry, snick up!
Cur. Simp, nay, sweet Simp, open again; why, Simperina!
Sim. Go from my window, go, go from, &c.,[714] away; go by, old Jeronimo:[715] nay, and[716] you shrink i’ th’ wetting, walk, walk, walk.
Sim. A rat by this hemp, and[717] you could ha’ smelt. Hark you; here’s the bell, ting, ting, ting: would the clapper were in my belly, if I am not mad at your foppery; I could scratch, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, as my mistress says. But go, hie you home, shift you, come back presently: here you shall find a ladder of cords; climb up; I’ll receive you: my mistress lies alone; she’s yours: away.
Cur. O Simp!
Sim. Nay, scud: you know what you promised me: I shall have simple yawling for this: begone, and mum.[718]
Music suddenly plays and birds sing: enter Lazarillo bareheaded, in his shirt, a pair of pantaples[722] on, a rapier in his hand and a tobacco-pipe: he seems amazed, and walks so up and down.[723]
Laz. Saint Jacques and the Seven deadly Sins (that is, the Seven Wise Masters of the world), pardon me, for this night I will kill the devil!
[Within.] Ha, ha, ha!
Laz. Thou prince of blackamoors, thou shalt have small cause to laugh, if I run thee through. This chamber is haunted: would I had not been brought a’ bed in it, or else were well delivered! for my heart tells me ’tis no good luck to have any thing to do with the devil; he’s a paltry merchant.
Laz. I shall be moused by puss-cats, but I had rather die a dog’s death: they have nine lives a piece (like a woman), and they will make it up ten lives, if they and I fall a-scratching. Bright Helena of this house, would thy Troy were a-fire, for I am a-cold; or else would I had the Greeks’ wooden curtal[725] to ride away. Most ambrosian-lipped creature, come away quickly, for this night’s lodging lies cold at my heart. [The Spanish pavin[726] played within.] The Spanish pavin? I thought the devil could not understand Spanish: but since thou art my countryman, O thou tawny Satan,[727] I will dance after thy pipe. [He dances the Spanish pavin.] Ho,[728] sweet devil, ho! thou wilt make any man weary of thee, though he deal with thee in his shirt. Sweet beauty! she’ll not come: I’ll fall to sleep, And dream of her; love-dreams are ne’er too deep.
Fris. Ha, ha, ha!
Laz. Ho, ho, Frisco, madonna! I am in hell, but here is no fire; hell-fire is all put out. What ho, so ho, ho! I shall be drowned. I beseech thee, dear Frisco, raise Blurt the constable, or some scavenger, to come and make clean these kennels of hell; for they stink so, that I shall cast[729] away my precious self.
Imp. Is he down, Frisco?
Fris. He’s down: he cries out he’s in hell; it’s heaven to me to have him cry so.
Imp. Fie, fie, fie, let him lie, and get all to bed. [Exit.
Wood. Yonder’s a light, master constable.
Blurt. Peace, Woodcock, the sconce[735] approaches.
Cur. Whew!
Blurt. Ay, whistling?—Slubber, jog the watch, and give the lantern a flap.
Cur. Whew! Simp, Simperina!
Fris. Who’s there?
Cur. Who’s there?
Fris. Signior Curvetto? here’s the ladder; I watch to do you a good turn: I am Frisco. Is not Blurt abroad and his bill-men?[736]
Fris. Help, help, help! thieves, thieves! help, thieves, &c.[739]
Blurt. Thieves? where? Follow close. Slubber, the lantern.—Hold, I charge you, in the duke’s name, stand: sirrah, you’re like to hang for this.—Down with him.
Fris. Master Blurt, master constable, here’s his ladder: he comes to rob my mistress. I have been scared out of my wits above seven times by him, and it’s forty to one if ever they come in again. I lay felony to his charge.
Cur. Felony? you cony-catching[740] slave.
Fris. Cony-catching will bear an action. I’ll cony-catch you for this.—If I can find our key, I will aid you, Master Blurt: if not, look to him, as you will answer it upon your deathbed.
Blurt. What are you?
Cur. A Venetian gentleman.—Woodcock, how dost thou, Woodcock?[741]
Wood. Thank your worship.
Blurt. Woodcock, you are of our side[742] now, and therefore your acquaintance cannot serve. And[743] you were a gentleman of velvet, I would commit you.
Cur. Why, what are you, sir?
Blurt. What am I, sir? do not you know this staff? I am, sir, the duke’s own image: at this time the duke’s tongue (for fault of a better) lies in my mouth; I am constable, sir.
Cur. Constable, and commit me? marry, Blurt master-constable.
Blurt. Away with him! [He strives.
Omnes. It’s folly to strive.
Blurt. I say, away with him.—I’ll Blurt you; I’ll teach you to stand covered to authority: your hoary head shall be knocked when this staff is in place.
Cur. Ay, but, master-constable——
Blurt. No, pardon me, you abuse the duke in me, that am his cipher.—I say, away with him; Gulch, away with him; Woodcock, keep you with me. I will be known for more than Blurt.
Laz. Thou honest fellow, the man in the moon, I beseech thee set fire on thy bush of thorns, to light and warm me, for I am dung-wet. I fell like Lucifer, I think, into hell, and am crawled out, but in worse pickle than my lean Pilcher.[744] Hereabout is the hothouse of my love. Ho, ho! why ho, there!
Fris. Who’s that? What devil stands hohing at my door so late?
Laz. I beseech thee, Frisco, take in Lazarillo’s ghost.
Fris. Lazarillo’s ghost? haunt me not, I charge thee; I know thee not: I am in a dream of a dry summer, therefore appear not to me.
Laz. Is not this the mansion of the cherry-lipped madonna Imperia?
Fris. Yes; how then? You fly-blown rascal, what art thou?
Laz. Lazarillo de Tormes: sweet blood, I have a poor Spanish suit[745] depending in your house; let me enter, most precious Frisco; the mistress of this mansion is my beautiful hostess.
Fris. How, you turpentine pill, my wife your hostess? away, you Spanish vermin!
Laz. I beseech thee, most pitiful Frisco, allow my lamentation.
Fris. And[746] you lament here, I’ll stone you with brickbats: I am asleep.
Laz. My slop[747] and mandillion[748] lie at thy mercy, fine Frisco; I beseech thee, let not my case be thine: I must and will lament.
Fris. Must you? I’ll wash off your tears; away, you hog’s-face!
Laz. Thou hast soused my poor hog’s-face. O Frisco, thou art a scurvy doctor, to cast my water no better! it is most rammish urine: Mars shall not save thee; I will make a brown toast of thy heart, and drink it in a pot of thy strong blood.
Blurt. Such fellows must be taken down. Stand. What white thing is yonder?
Slub. Who goes there? come before the constable.
Laz. My dear host Blurt!
Blurt. You have Blurted fair: I am by my office to examine you, where you have spent these two nights.
Laz. Most big Blurt, I answer thy great authority, that I have been in hell, and am scratched to death with puss-cats.
Blurt. Do you run a’ th’ score at an officer’s house, and then run above twelve score off?
Laz. I did not run, my sweet-faced Blurt: the Spanish fleet is bringing gold enough to discharge all from the Indies: lodge me, most pitiful bill-man.[749]
Blurt. Marry, and will. I am, in the duke’s name, to charge you with despicious of felony; and burglary is committed this night; and we are to reprehend any that we think to be faulty. Were not you at madonna freckle-face’s house?
Laz. Signior, si.
Blurt. Away with him, clap him up.
Laz. Most thundering Blurt, do not clap me; most thundering[750] Blurt, do not clap me.
Blurt. Master Lazarus, I know you are a sore fellow where you take, and therefore I charge you, in the duke’s name, to go without wrasling, though you be in your shirt.
Laz. Commendable Blurt——
Blurt. The end of my commendations is to commit you.
Laz. I am kin to Don Diego,[751] the Spanish adelantado.[752]
Blurt. If you be kin to Don Diego that was smelt out in Paul’s,[753] you pack; your lantedoes nor your lanteeroes cannot serve your turn. I charge you, let me commit you to the tuition——
Laz. Worshipful Blurt, do not commit me into the hands of dogs.
Omnes. Dogs!
Blurt. Master Lazarus, there’s not a dog shall bite you: these are true bill-men,[754] that fight under the commonwealth’s flag.
Laz. Blurt——
Blurt. Blurt me no Blurts; I’ll teach all Spaniards how to meddle with whores.
Laz. Most cunning constable, all Spaniards know that already; I have meddled with none.
Blurt. Your being in your shirt bewrays[755] you.
Laz. I beseech thee, most honest Blurt, let not my shirt bewray me.
Blurt. I say, away with him. [Music.] Music? that’s in the courtesan’s; they are about some ungodly act; but I’ll play a part in’t ere morning. Away with Lazarus.
Omnes. Come, Spaniard.
Enter Camillo, Hippolito, Virgilio, Asorino, Baptista, Bentivoglio, Doyt, and Dandyprat, all weaponed, their rapiers’ sheaths[756] in their hands.
Cam. Gentlemen and noble Italians, whom I love best, who know best what wrongs I have stood under, being laid on by him who is to thank me for his life: I did bestow him, as the prize of mine honour, upon my love, the most fair Violetta: my love’s merit was basely sold to him by the most false Violetta. Not content with this felony, he hath dared to add the sweet theft of ignoble marriage: she’s now none’s but his; and he, treacherous villain, any one’s but hers: he doats, my honoured friends, on a painted courtesan; and, in scorn of our Italian laws, our family, our revenge, loathes Violetta’s bed, for a harlot’s bosom. I conjure you, therefore, by all the bonds of gentility, that as you have solemnly sworn a most sharp, so let the revenge be most sudden.
Vir. Be not yourself a bar to that suddenness by this protraction.
Omnes. Away, gentlemen, away then!
Hip. As for that light hobbyhorse, my sister, whose foul name I will rase out with my poniard, by the honour of my family, which her lust hath profaned, I swear—and, gentlemen, be in this my sworn brothers—I swear, that as all Venice does admire her beauty, so all the world shall be amazed at her punishment. Follow, therefore.
Vir. Stay, let our resolutions keep together: whither go we first?
Cam. To the strumpet Imperia’s.
Omnes. Agreed: what then?
Cam. There to find Fontinelle: found, to kill him——
Vir. And killed, to hang out his reeking body at his harlot’s window.
Cam. And by his body, the strumpet’s——
Hip. And between both, my sister’s.
Vir. The tragedy is just: on then, begin.
Cam. As you go, every hand pull in a friend, to strengthen us against all opposites. He that has any drop of true Italian blood in him, thus vow, this morning, to shed others’, or let out his own. If you consent to this, follow me.
Imp. Ah, you little effeminate sweet chevalier, why dost thou not get a loose periwig of hair on the chin, to set thy French face off? By the panting pulse of Venus, thou art welcome a thousand degrees beyond the reach of arithmetic. Good, good, good; your lip is moist and moving; it hath the truest French close, even like Mapew,[759] la, la, la, &c.
Imp. So, so, so; do, do, do. Come, come, come, will you condemn the mute rushes[761] to be pressed to death by your sweet body? Down, down, down; here, here, here; lean your head upon the lap of my gown; good, good, good. O Saint Mark! here is a love-mark able to wear more ladies’ eyes for jewels than—O, lie still, lie still! I will level a true Venetian kiss over your right shoulder.
Imp. No, no, no, I’ll beat this cherry-tree thus, and thus, and thus, and[762] you name wound. [Kisses him.
Font. I will offend so, to be beaten still.
Imp. Do, do, do; and if you make any more such lips when I beat you, by my virginity, you shall buss this rod. Music, I pray thee be not a puritan; sister to the rest of the sciences, I knew the time when thou couldst abide handling. [Loud music.] O fie, fie, fie, forbear! thou art like a puny barber, new come to the trade; thou pickst[763] our ears too deep. So, so, so; will my sweet prisoner entertain a poor Italian song?
Font. O most willingly, my dear madonna!
Imp. I care not if I persuade my bad voice to wrestle with this music, and catch a strain: so, so, so: keep time, keep time, keep time. [Sings.