Tem.
Well Mistris, yet peraduenture, they may make you open afore the Priest haue a penny for you,
Exeunt.
Enter Lodouico and Aemilia.
Lodo.
HEer’s a coyle to make wit and women friends: come hither wench, let me haue thee single; now sit thee downe, and heare good counsaile next thy heart, and God giue thee grace to lay it to thy heart.
Aem.
Fie Cozen, will this wilde tongue of yours neuer receiue the bridle?
Lod.
Yes, thou shalt now see me stroke my beard, and speake sententiously: thou tell [...]st me thy little father is in hand with a great rich marriage for thee, and would haue thee commit matrimony with old Gasparo, art thou willing with it?
Aem.
I rather wish my selfe marryed to a thousand deaths.
Lod.
Then I perceiue thou know’st him not; did he neuer wooe thee?
Aem.
I protest, I neuer chang’d three words with him in my life; he hath once or twice woo’de my father for me, but neuer me.
Lod.
Why thats the reason thou lou’st him not, because thou tak’st in none of his valiant breath to enflame thee, nor vouchsaf’st his knowledge; Ile tell thee what he is, an old saplesse trunke, fit to make touch-wood of hollow, and bald like a blasted Oke, on whose top Rauens sit and croke the portents of funerals; one that noints his nose with clow [...]ed creame, and Pomatum. His breath smels like the butt end of a shoo-makers horne. A leprous scaly hide like an Elephant. The sonne of a Sow-gelder, that came to towne (as I haue heard thy father himselfe say) in a tottred [...]uffer cote, high shooes, and yet his hose torne aboue’em; A long pike-staffe in his necke (and a tord in his teeth) and a wa [...]et on his right shoulder, and now the cullion hath with Nouerint vniuersi eaten vp some hundred Gentlemen: he must needs rise a Gentleman as ‘twere out of their Ashes, or disparage a Gentlewoman, to make himselfe a Gentleman, at least by the wiues side.
Aem.
The wurse my fortune to be entangled with such a winding bramble.
Lod.
Entangl’d? Nay if I thought twould euer come to that, I’de hire some shag-ragge or other for halfe a chickeene to cut’s throat, only to saue thy hands from doing it; for I know thou wouldst poison him within one moneth; loue thee he will neuer, and that must be thy happinesse: for if he doe, looke to be coop’t vp like a prisoner, condemn’d to execution, scarce suffred to take the aire, so much as at a window, or waited on continually by an old beldame: not to keepe thee company, but to keepe thee from company: thy pocket searcht, thy cabinets ransackt for letters: euer in opposition, vnlesse (like the Moone) once a Moneth in coniunction; wealth thou maist haue indeede, but enioy it as in a dreame, for when thou wak’st thou shalt finde nothing in thy hand;
(Enter Gasparo)
and (to keepe my tale in goodnesse) see how all the ill that can be spoken of him is exprest in his presence.
Aem.
O ougly, and monstrous spectacle.
Lod.
Now tell me whether thou wouldst make choice of him or a yong gallant in prime of his choicenesse; one that for birth, person, and good parts, might m [...]ritoriously marry a Countesse; and one to whom his soule is not so deere as thy selfe.
(Enter Aurelio)
For all the world such another as he that comes here now: marke him well, see whether Gasparo and he be not a little different.
Exit Aemilia.
How now? Sownds Aurelio? stay beast, wilt thou make such a blest opportunity curse thee? Ile fetch her out to thee.
Exit Lod.
Aure.
Wretch that I am, how shee lothes me? if I abide her, I shall consume in the lightnings of her anger.
(Enter Lodouico with Aemilia.)
Exit Aure.
Lod.
Here’s a life indeede; what’s he gone? passion of death, what a babe ’tis? I could finde in my heart to ierke him, but temper me friendship, no remedy now; now wit turne his defects to perfection. Why Cuze hee’s quite out of sight. By my life I commend him; why this is done like thy selfe Aurelia, were shee the Queene of loue and woude runne from thee, flie thou from her; why now I loue thee, for I see th’art worthy of my loue, thou carriest a respect to thine owne worth, and wilt expresse it with spirit; I dare say, thou look’st to haue had him fall on his knees, and ador’d thee, or begge his life at thy hands: or el [...]e turn’d Queene Dido, and pierce his tender heart with sword full sharpe; no faith wench, the case is altered, loue made Hercules spin, but it made him rage after: there must goe time to the bridling of euery passion; I hope my friend will not loue a wench against her will, if shee woude haue met his kindnesse halfe way, so: if shee skit and recoile, he shootes her off warily, and away he goes: I marry Sir, this was a Gentlemanly part indeede. Farewell Cuze, be thou free in thy choice too, and take a better and thou canst a Gods name.
Exiturus.
Aem.
Nay deere Cuze, a word.
Lod.
A word? what’s the matter? I must needs after him, and clap him ath’backe, this spirit must be cherisht.
Aem.
Alas what would you wish me to doe?
Lod.
Why, nothing.
Aem.
Would you counsaile me to marry him against my fathers will?
Lod.
Not for the world, leaue him, leaue him, leaue him: you see hee’s resolu’d, hee’ll take no harme an you, neuer feare to embrew your hands with his liuer I warrant you.
Aem.
Come you are such an other.
Lod.
This same riches with a husband, is the only thing in the world, I protest; good Gasparo, I am sorry I haue abused thee yfaith, for my Cozens sake; how prettily the wretch came crawling by with his crooked knees euen now: [Page] I haue seene a yong Gentlewoman, liue as merry a life with an old man, as with the proudest yong vpstart on’em all: farewell Cuze, I am glad th’art so wise yfaith.
Aem.
If you goe, I die: fie on this affection, it rageth with suppression. Good Cuze, I am no longer able to continue it, I loue, Aurelio better then it is possible for him to loue me.
Lod.
Away, away, and could not this haue beene done at first, without all these superfluous disgracings? O this same vnhearty nicenesse of women, is good for nothing but to keepe their huswife hands still occupied in this warp of dissembling.
Wel [...] wench redeeme thy fault, and write a kinde letter to him presently, before this resolution of his take too deept roote in him.
Aem.
Nay sweet Cuze, make me not so immodest, to write so sodainly, let me haue a little time to thinke vpon’t.
Lod.
Thinke me on nothing till you write: thinke as you write, and then you shall be sure to write as you thinke. Women doe best when they least thinke on’t.
Aem.
But rather then write I will meete him at your pleasure.
Lod.
Meete him? dost thou thinke that I shall euer draw him againe to meete thee, that rush’t from thee euen now with so iust a displeasure?
Aem.
Nay good Cuze, vrge not my offence so bitterly, our next meeting shall pay the forfeit of all faults.
Lod.
Well th’art my pretty Cuze, and Ile doe my best to bring him to thee againe, if I cannot, I shall be sorry yfaith, thou wr’t so iniuriously strange to him. But where shall this interview be now.
Aem.
There is the mischiefe, and we shall hardly auoide it, my father plies my haunts so closely: and vses meanes by our maide to entrap vs, so that this Tarrasse at our backe gate is the only place we may safely meete at: from whence I can stand and talke to you. But sweet Cuze you shall sweare, to keepe this my kindnesse from Aurelio, and not intimate by any meanes that I am any thing acquainted with his comming.
Lod.
Slife, do’st thinke I am an Asse? to what end should I tell him? hee and
Ile come wandring that way to take the aire, or so, and Ile discouer thee.
Aem.
By meere chance as t’were.
Lod.
By chance, by chance, and you shall at no hand see him at first, when I bring him for all this kindnesse you beare him.
Aem.
By no meanes Cuze.
Lod.
Very good: And if you endure any conference with him, let it be very little; and as neere as you can, turne to your former strangenesse in any case.
Aem.
If doe not Cuze, trust me not.
Lod.
Or if you thinke good, you may flirt away againe as soone as you see him, and neuer let your late fault be any warning t’ee.
Aem.
I will doe all this, I warrant thee Cuze.
Lod.
Will you so Cozen foole? canst thou be brought to that silly humour againe by any perswasions? by Gods Lord, and you be strange againe, more then needs must, for a temperat modesty, Ile break’s necke downe from thee, but he shall doe as he did to thee.
Aem.
Now, fie vpon you Cuze, what a foole doe you make me?
Lod.
Well Dame, leaue your superfluous nicety in earnest▪ and within this houre I will bring him to this Tarrasse.
Aem.
But good Cuze if you chance to see my chamber window open, that is vpon the Tarrasse, doe not let him come in at it in any case.
Lod.
Sblood how can he? can he come ouer the wall think’st?
Aem.
O Sir, you men haue not deuices with ladders of topes to scale such walles at your pleasure, and abuse vs poore wenche [...].
Lod.
Now a plague of your simplicity, would you discourage him with prompting him? well Dame, Ile prouide for you.
Aem.
As you loue me Cuze, no wordes of my kindnesse from me to him.
Lod.
Goe to, no more adoe.
Exit Lodouico and Aemilia.
Enter Leonoro Lionell and Temperance.
Tem.
GOd yee God morrow Sir, truly I haue not heard a sweeter breath then your Page has.
Leo.
I am glad you like him Mistris Temperance.
Tem.
And how dee Sir?
Leo.
That I must know of you Lady, my welfare depends wholly vpon your good speede.
Tem.
How say Sir? and by my soule I was comming to you in the morning when your yong man came to me; I pray let him put on, vnlesse it be for your pleasure.
Leo.
He is yong, and can endure the cold well enough bare-headed.
Tem.
A pretty sweet child ’tis I promise you.
Leo.
But what good newes Mistris Temperance, will your Mistris be wonne to our kinde meeting?
Tem.
Faith Ile tell you Sir, I tooke her in a good moode this morning, and broke with her againe about you, and shee was very pleasant as shee will be many times.
Leo.
Very well, and is there any hope of speede?
Tem.
No by my troth Gentleman, none in the world, an obstacle yong thing it is, as euer I broke with all in my life: I haue broke with a hundred in my dayes, tho I say it, yet neuer met her comparison.
Leo.
Are all my hopes come to this Mistris Temperance?
Tem.
Nay ’tis no matter Sir, this is the first time that euer I spake to any in these matters, and It shall be the last God willing.
Leo.
And euen now shee had broke with a hundred and a hundred.
Tem.
But doe you loue her Sir indeede?
Leo.
Do’st thou make a question of that?
Tem.
Pardon me I pray Sir, I meane dee loue her as a Gentleman ought to doe, that is, to consumi [...]ate matrimony with her as they say?
Leo.
Thats no matter to you Mistris Temperance, doe you procure our meeting, and let my fauour be at her hands as I can enforce it.
Tem.
You say like an honest Gentleman; a woman can haue no more: and faith Sir I wish you well, and euery day ter dinner my Mistris vses to go to her chaire or else lie down vpon her bedde, to take a nappe or so, to auoide idlenesse as many good huswifes do, you know, and then doe I sit by her and [...]ew, or so: and when I see her fast a-sleepe, Lord doe I thinke to my selfe, (as you know we waiting women haue many light thoughts in our heads) Now if I were a man, and should beare my Mistris an ill will, what might I doe to her now.
Leo.
Indeede then you haue very good opportunity.
Tem.
The best that may be, for shee sleepes like a sucking P [...]gge, you may jogge her a hundred times, and shee’ll stirre no more then one of your stones, here.
Leo.
And could you put a friend in your place thinke you?
Tem.
Nay birlady Sir, backe with that legge, for if any thing come on’t but well, all the burthen will lye vpon me.
Leo.
Why what can come of it? only that by this meanes I may solicite her loue my selfe.
Tem.
I but who knowes if the Deuill (God blesse vs) should be great wee’, how you would vse her?
Leo.
What do’st thou take me for a beast, to force her that I would make my wife?
Tem.
Beast Sir; Nay ther’s no beastlinesse in it neither, for a man will shew like a man in those cases: and besides, you may marre the bedde, which euery body will see that comes in; and that I would not for the best gowne I shall weare this twelue Moneth.
Leo.
Well, to put thee out of that feare, it shall be worth such a gowne to thee.
Tem.
I thanke you for that Sir, but thats all one, and thus Sir, my old Master Honorio, at two a clocke will be at Tilting, and then will his sonne Signior Aurelio, and his man Augelo, be abroad; at which houre if you will be at the backe gate, and muffle your selfe handsomely, you may linger there till I call you.
Leo.
I marry Sir, so I may be there long enough.
Tem.
Nay, but two a clocke, now, now is my houre Sir.
Leo.
Very well, and till then farewell.
Tem.
Boye to you hartily.
Leo.
Boy to him indeede if he knew all.
Exeunt.
Enter Lodouico and Aurelio.
Lod.
I Haue prouided thee a ladder of ropes, therefore resolue to meete her, goe wash thy face, and prepare thy selfe to die, Ile goe make ready the ladder.
Aur.
But when is the happy houre of our meeting?
Lod.
Marry Sir, thats something vncertaine, for it depends wholly vpon her fathers absence, and when that will be God knowes: but I doubt not it will happen once within this twelue-Moneth.
Aur.
Sownds a twelue-Moneth.
Lod.
Nay harke you, you are all vpon the spurre now, but how many louers haue seru’d seauen twelue-Moneths prenticeships, for the freedome of their Mistris fauours? notwithstanding to shorten your torments, your man Angelo must be the meane, to draw the lap wing her father from his nest, by this deuice that I tell you.
Enter Angelo.
Ang.
I did euer dreame that once in my life good fortune would warme her cold hand in my naked bosome. And that once is now come, Ile lay hold vpon’t, yfaith; I haue you my little squire, I haue you vpon mine Anueill, vpon which I will mallet you and worke you; coyning crownes, chickins, bracelets, and what not out of you; for procuring you the deere gullage of my sweete heart mistresse Francischina.
Aure.
I am glad it rests in my kinde seruant Angelo. Angelo, well met, it lies in thee now, make me no more thy master, but thy friend, and for euer happy in thy friendshi
p.
Ang.
In what part of me does that lie Sir, that I may pull it out, for you presently?
Aure.
My friend Lodouico heere hath told me, what thou reuealedst to him to day, touching his vncle Lorenzo, and his louesute to Francischina.
Ang.
Slight I told it him in secret sir.
Lod.
And so did I tell it him Angelo, I am a Iew else.
Ang.
It may well be sir, but what of that?
Lod.
This Angelo, he would haue thee procure my olde vnckles absence from home this afternoone, by making him meete or pretending his meeting with his mistresse, and thy sweete heart Francischina.
Aure.
Which if thou do’st Angelo, be sure of reward to thy wishes.
Ang.
What talke you of reward sir? to the louing and dutifull seruant, ’tis a greater encouragement to his seruice to heare his master say, God a mercy Angelo, spie out Angelo, Ile thinke of thy paines one day Angelo, then all your base rewards and preferments: yet not to hinder your hand sir, I will extend mine to his seruice presently, and get your old vncle (Signior Lorenzo) out of the waies long enough I warrant you.
Lod.
Tis honestly said, which when thou hast performed, enforce vs
Exeunt.
Ang.
I will not faile sir, I was resolu’d to make him away afore they spake to me, in procuring his accesse to Francischina, for what is his presence at her house, but his absence at his ownes? and thus shall I with one trewell daube two walles,
(Enter Francisc.)
see how fitly shee meetes me. I will stand close heere as if it were in my shop of good fortune, & in respect of all orname¯ts I can help her to, I will out of the fulnesse of my ioy, put her out of her studie and encounter her thus;Hold vp the bracelets. D’ee lacke gentlewoman, d’ee lacke: very fayre new gownes, kirtles, petticots, wrought smocks, bracelets, d’ee lacke gentlewoman, d’ee lacke?
Fran.
What means my loue by these strange salutations?
Ang.
Pre thee aske me no questions; hold take these bracelets, put vp this purse of gold quickly, and if thou wilt haue any of these things, I haue cried to thee, speake and tis performed.
Fran.
From whose treasury comes all this, I pre thee?
Ang.
Lorenzo, Lorenzo, a gentleman of much antiquitie, and one that for his loue hath burn’d hundreds of hearts to powder; yet now it fals out, that his tree of life is scorch’t and blasted with the flames of thy beauty, readie to wither eternally, vnlesse it be speedily comforted with the sweete drops of thy nose.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 193
