Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker
Page 106
Think’st thou the purity of my true soul
Can taste your leperous counsel? No, I defy you.
Incestancy dwell on his rivelled brow
That weds for dirt, or on th’enforced heart,
That lags in rearward of his father’s charge
When to some negro-gelderling he’s clogg’d
By the injunction of a golden fee.
When I call back my vows to Violetta,
May I then slip into an obscure grave,
Whose mould, unpress’d with stony monument,
Dwelling in open air, may drink the tears
Of the inconstant clouds to rot me soon
Out of my private linen sepulchre.
CAMILLO
Ay, is this your settled resolution?
FONTINELL
By my love’s best divinity, it is.
CAMILLO
Then bear him to his prison back again;
This tune must alter ere thy lodging mend.
To death, fond Frenchman, thy slight love doth tend.
FONTINELL
Then, constant heart, thy fate with joy pursue;
Draw wonder to thy death, expiring true.
Exit.
HIPOLITO
After him, Frisco; enforce thy mistress’s passion. Thou shalt have access to him to bring him love tokens. If they prevail not, yet thou shalt still be in presence, be’t but to spite him. In, honest Frisco.
FRISCO
I’ll vex him to the heart, sir, fear me not;
[Aside] Yet here’s a trick perchance may set him free.
Exit.
HIPOLITO
Come, wilt thou go laugh and lie down? Now sure there be some rebels in thy belly, for thine eyes do nothing but watch and ward, tho’ ‘ast not slept these three nights.
CAMILLO
Alas, how can I? He that truly loves
Burns out the day in idle fantasies;
And when the lamb bleating doth bid good night
Unto the closing day, then tears begin
To keep quick time unto the owl, whose voice
Shrieks like the bellman in the lover’s ears.
Love’s eye the jewel of sleep, oh, seldom wears!
The early lark is wakened from her bed,
Being only by love’s plaints disquieted,
And singing in the morning’s ease, she weeps,
Being deep in love, at lovers’ broken sleeps.
But say a golden slumber chance to tie
With silken strings the cover of love’s eye;
Then dreams, magician-like, mocking present
Pleasures, whose fading leaves more discontent.
Have you these golden charms?
Enter musicians.
OMNES
We have, my lord.
CAMILLO
Bestow them sweetly; think a lover’s heart
Dwells in each instrument, and let it melt
In weeping strains. Yonder direct your faces,
That the soft summons of a frightless parley
May creep into the casement; so, begin.
Music, speak movingly; assume my part,
For thou must now plead to a stony heart.
Song.
Pity, pity, pity,
Pity, pity, pity:
That word begins that ends a true-love ditty.
Your blessed eyes, like a pair of suns,
Shine in the sphere of smiling.
Your pretty lips, like a pair of doves,
Are kisses still compiling.
Mercy hangs upon your brow, like a precious jewel;
O, let not then,
Most lovely maid, best to be loved of men,
Marble lie upon your heart, that will make you cruel.
Pity, pity, pity,
Pity, pity, pity:
That word begins that ends a true-love ditty.
Violetta above.
VIOLETTA
Who owes this salutation?
CAMILLO
Thy Camillo.
VIOLETTA
Is not your shadow there too, my sweet brother?
HIPOLITO
Here, sweet sister.
VIOLETTA
I dreamt so. O, I am much bound to you,
For you, my lord, have us’d my love with honour.
CAMILLO
Ever with honour.
VIOLETTA
Indeed, indeed, you have.
HIPOLITO
‘Slight, she means her French garsoon.
VIOLETTA
The same. Good night; trust me, ’tis somewhat late,
And this bleak wind nips dead all idle prate.
I must to bed, good night.
CAMILLO
The god of rest
Play music to thine eyes, whilst on my breast
The Furies sit and beat, and keep care waking.
HIPOLITO
You will not leave my friend in this poor taking.
VIOLETTA
Yes, by the velvet brow of darkness.
HIPOLITO
You scurvy tit; ‘sfoot, scurvy anything! Do you hear, Susanna? You punk, if I geld not your muskcat! I’ll do’t, by Jesu! Let’s go, Camillo.
VIOLETTA
Nay, but, pure swaggerer, ruffian, do you think
To fright me with your bugbear threats? Go by!
Hark, tosspot, in your ear: the Frenchman’s mine,
And by these hands I’ll have him.
HIPOLITO
Rare rogue! Fine!
VIOLETTA
He is my prisoner, by a deed of gift;
Therefore, Camillo, you have wrong’d me much
To wrong my prisoner. By my troth, I love him
The rather for the baseness he endures
For my unworthy self. I’ll tell you what:
Release him, let him plead your love for you.
I love a’ life to hear a man speak French
Of his complexion; I would undergo
The instruction of that language rather far
Than be two weeks unmarried, by my life.
Because I’ll speak true French, I’ll be his wife.
CAMILLO
O, scorn to my chaste love! Burst heart!
HIPOLITO
‘Swounds, hold!
CAMILLO
Come, gentle friends, tie your most solemn tunes
By silver strings unto a leaden pace.
False fair, enjoy thy base-belov’d; adieu.
He’s far less noble, and shall prove less true.
Exeunt [all but Violetta]. Enter Truepenny above with a letter.
TRUEPENNY
Lady, Imperia the courtesan’s zany hath brought you this letter from the poor gentleman in the deep dungeon, but would not stay till he had an answer.
VIOLETTA
Her groom employed by Fontinell? O, strange!
I wonder how he got access to him.
I’ll read, and reading, my poor heart shall ache:
“True love is jealous; fears the best love shake.”
[Reading] “Meet me at the end of the old chapel, next Saint Lorenzo’s monastery; furnish your company with a friar, that there he may consummate our holy vows. Till midnight, farewell.
Thine Fontinell.”
Hath he got opportunity to ‘scape?
O happy period of our separation!
Blest night, wrap Cynthia in a sable sheet,
That fearful lovers may securely meet!
[Exeunt.]
Act III Scene 2.
AN OLD CHAPEL
Enter Frisco in Fontinell’s apparel, Fontinell making himself ready in Frisco’s. They enter suddenly and in fear.
FRISCO
Play you my part bravely; you must look like a slave, and you shall see I’ll counterfeit a Frenchman most knavishly. My mistress, for your sake, charg’d me on her blessing to fall to these shifts. I left her at cards; she’ll sit up till you come because she’ll have you play a game at noddy
. You’ll to her presently?
FONTINELL
I will, upon mine honour.
FRISCO
I think she does not greatly care whether you fall to her upon your honour or no. So, all’s fit; tell my lady that I go in a suit of durance for her sake. That’s your way, and this pithole’s mine. If I can ‘scape hence, why so; if not, he that’s hang’d is nearer to heaven by half a score steps than he that dies in a bed, and so adieu, monsieur.
Exit.
FONTINELL
Farewell, dear trusty slave. Shall I profane
This temple with an idol of strange love?
When I do so, let me dissolve in fire.
Yet one day will I see this dame, whose heart
Takes off my misery. I’ll not be so rude
To pay her kindness with ingratitude.
Enter Violetta and a friar apace.
VIOLETTA
My dearest Fontinell!
FONTINELL
My Violetta!
Oh God!
VIOLETTA
Oh God!
FONTINELL
Where is this reverend friar?
FRIAR
Here, overjoy’d, young man.
VIOLETTA
How didst thou ‘scape?
How came Imperia’s man?
FONTINELL
No more of that.
VIOLETTA
When did Imperia —
FONTINELL
Questions now are thieves,
And lies in ambush to surprise our joys.
My most happy stars shine still, shine on.
Away, come; love beset had need be gone.
[Exeunt.]
Act III Scene 3.
A ROOM IN Imperia’s house
Enter Curvetto and Simperina.
CURVETTO
I must not stay, thou sayst?
SIMPERINA
Gods me, away!
CURVETTO
Buss, buss again. Here’s sixpence; buss again.
Farewell, I must not stay then.
SIMPERINA
Foh.
CURVETTO
Farewell.
At ten a’ clock thou sayst, and ring a bell
Which thou wilt hang out at this window?
SIMPERINA
Lord,
She’ll hear this fiddling.
CURVETTO
No, close, on my word.
Farewell; just ten a’ clock, I shall come in.
Remember to let down the cord. Just ten
Thou’lt open, mouse? Pray God thou dost; Amen! Amen! Amen!
I am an old courtier, wench, but I can spy
A young duck. Close, mum. Ten. Close, ’tis not I.
Exit Curvetto.
SIMPERINA
Mistress! Sweet ladies!
Enter Imperia and [courtesans], with tablebooks.
IMPERIA
Is his old rotten aqua-vitae bottle stopp’d up? Is he gone? Fie, fie, fie, fie, he so smells of ale and onions and rosa-solis, fie. Bolt the door, stop the keyhole, lest his breath peep in; burn some perfume. I do not love to handle these dry’d stockfishes that ask so much tawing, fie, fie, fie.
FIRST COURTESAN
Nor I, trust me, lady. Fie!
IMPERIA
No, no, no, no; stools and cushions, low stools, low stools. Sit, sit, sit round, ladies, round. So, so, so, so, let your sweet beauties be spread to the full and most moving advantage, for we are fall’n into his hands, who they say has an ABC for the sticking in of the least white pin in any part of the body.
SECOND COURTESAN
Madame Imperia, what stuff is he like to draw out before us?
IMPERIA
Nay, nay, nay, ’tis Greek to me, ’tis Greek to me. I never had remnant of his Spanish-leather learning. Here he comes; your cares may now fit themselves out of the whole piece.
Enter [Lazarillo].
LAZARILLO
I do first deliver to your most skreet and long-finger’d hands this head, or top of all the members, bare and uncomb’d, to show how deeply I stand in reverence of your naked female beauties. Bright and unclipp’d angels, if I were to make a discovery of any new-found land, as Virginia or so, to ladies and courtiers, my speech should hoist up sails fit to bear up such lofty and well-rigged vessels; but because I am to deal only with the civil chitty matron, I will not lay upon your blushing and delicate cheek any other colours than such as will give luster to your chitty faces. In and to that purpose, our thesis is taken out of that most plentiful but most precious book, entitled the Economical Cornucopia.
FIRST COURTESAN
The what?
LAZARILLO
The Economical Cornucopia. Thus,
“Wise is that wife who with apt wit complains
That she’s kept under, yet rules all the reins.”
FIRST COURTESAN
Oh, again, sweet Signior. “Complains
That she’s kept under?” What follows?
LAZARILLO
“Yet rules all the reins.”
“Wise is that wife who with apt wit complains
That she’s kept under, yet rules all the reins.”
Most pure and refined plants of nature, I will not, as this distinction enticeth, take up the parts as they lie here in order: as first, to touch your wisdom, it were folly; next, your complaining, ’tis too common; thirdly, your keeping under, ’tis above my capachity; and lastly, the reins in your own hands, that is the a-per-se of all, the very cream of all, and therefore how to skim off that only, only listen: a wife wise, no matter; apt wit, no matter; complaining, no matter; kept under, no great matter; but to rule the roast, is the matter.
THIRD COURTESAN
That ruling of the roast goes with me.
FOURTH COURTESAN
And me.
FIFTH COURTESAN
And me; I’ll have a cut of that roast.
LAZARILLO
Since then a woman’s only desire is to have the reins in her own white hand, your chief practice, the very same day that you are wived, must be to get hold of these reins, and being fully gotten, or wound about, “yet to complain with apt wit as tho’ you had them not.”
IMPERIA
How shall we know, signior, when we have them all or not?
LAZARILLO
I will furnish your capable understandings, out of my poor Spanish store, with the chief implements and their appurtenances. Observe: it shall be your first and finest praise to sing the note of every new fashion at first sight, and if you can, to stretch that note above ela.
OMNES
Good.
LAZARILLO
The more you pinch your servants’ bellies for this, the smoother will the fashion sit on your back; but if your goodman like not this music, as being too full of crochets, your only way is to learn to play upon the virginals, and so nail his ears to your sweet humours. If this be out of time too, yet your labour will quit the cost, for by this means your secret friend may have free and open access to you under the colour of pricking you lessons. Now, because you may tie your husband’s love in most sweet knots, you shall never give over labouring, till out of his purse you have digged a garden; and that garden must stand a pretty distance from the chitty, for by repairing thither, much good fruit may be grafted.
FIRST COURTESAN
Mark that.
LAZARILLO
Then, in the afternoon, when you address your sweet perfum’d body to walk to this garden, there to gather a nosegay, sops-in-wine, cowslips, columbines, heart’s-ease, etc., the first principle to learn is that you stick black patches for the rheum on your delicate blue temples, tho’ there be no room for the rheum. Black patches are comely in most women, and being well-fastened, draw men’s eyes to shoot glances at you. Next, your ruff must stand in print, and for that purpose, get poking-sticks with fair and long handles, lest they scorch your lily sweating hands. Then your hat with a little brim, if you have a little face; if otherwise, otherwise. Besides,
you must play the wag with your wanton fan; have your dog (call’d Pearl or Min or Why ask you, or any other pretty name) dance along by you; your embroidered muff before you on your ravishing hands, but take heed who thrusts his fingers into your fur.
SECOND COURTESAN
We’ll watch for that.
LAZARILLO
Once a quarter, take state upon you and be chick; being chick, thus politicly, lie at your garden. Your lip-sworn servant may there visit you as a physician; where otherwise, if you languish at home, be sure your husband will look to your water. This chickness may be increas’d with giving out that you breed young bones, and to stick flesh upon those bones, it shall not be amiss if you long for peascods, at ten groats the cod, and for cherries at a crown the cherry.
FIRST COURTESAN
O dear tutor!
SECOND COURTESAN
Interrupt him not.
LAZARILLO
If, while this pleasing fit of chickness hold you, you be invited forth to supper, whimper and seem unwilling to go; but if your goodman, bestowing the sweet duck and kiss upon your moist lip, entreat, go. Marry, my counsel is, you eat little at table, because it may be said of you you are no cormorant; yet at your coming home you may counterfeit a qualm, and so devour a posset. Your husband need not have his nose in that posset; no, trust your chambermaid only in this, and scarcely her, for you cannot be too careful into whose hands you commit your secrets.
OMNES
That’s certain.
LAZARILLO
If you have daughters capable, marry them by no means to chittizens, but choose for them some smooth-chinned, curl’d-headed gentleman, for gentlemen will lift up your daughters to their own content; and to make these curl’d-pated gallants come off the more roundly, make your husband go to the herald for arms, and let it be your daily care that he have a fair and comely crest. Yea, go all the ways yourselves you can to be made ladies, especially if, without danger to his person, or for love or money, you can procure your husband to be dubbed. The goddess of memory lock up these jewels, which I have bestowed upon you, in your sweet brains; let these be the rules to square out your life by, tho’ you ne’er go level, but tread your shoes awry. If you can get these reins into your lily hand, you shall need no coaches but may drive your husband’s. Put it down, and according to that wise saying of you, be saints in the church, angels in the street, devils in the kitchen, and apes in your bed. Upon which, leaving you tumbling, pardon me that thus abruptly and openly I take you all up.
FIRST COURTESAN
You have got so far into our books, signior, that you cannot ‘scape without a pardon here, if you take us up never so snappishly.