Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Jacomo, and Fabricio.
Jac. Seignior, what think you of this sound of Wars?
Fab. As only of a sound; they that intend
To do, are like deep waters that run quietly,
Leaving no face of what they were, behind 'em.
This rumour is too common, and too loud
To carry truth.
Jac. Shall we never live to see
Men look like men again,
Upon a March?
This cold dull rusty peace makes u appear
Like empty Pictures, only the faint shadows
Of what we should be;
Would to Heaven my Mother
Had given but half her will to my begetting,
And made me woman, to sit still and sing,
Or be sick when I list, or any thing
That is too idle for a man to think of;
Would I had been a Whore, 't had been a course
Certain, and (o' my Conscience) of more gain
Than two commands, as I would handle it:
'Faith, I could wish I had been any thing
Rather tha[n] what I am, a Souldier;
A Carrier or a Cobler, when I knew
What 'twas to wear a Sword first; for their trades
Are, and shall be a constant way of life,
While men send Cheeses up, or wear out Buskins.
Fab. Thou art a little too impatient,
And mak'st thy anger a far more vexation
Than the not having Wars; I am a Souldier,
Which is my whole inheritance, yet I
Though I could wish a breach with all the world,
If not dishonourable, I am not so malicious,
To curse the fair peace of my Mother Country;
But thou want'st money, and the first supply
Will bury these thoughts in thee.
Jac. 'Pox o' peace,
It fills the Kingdom full of holydays,
And only feeds the wants of Whores and Pipers;
And makes the idle drunken Rogues get Spinsters:
'Tis true, I may want money, and no little,
And almost Cloaths too; of which if I had both
In full abundance; yet against all peace,
That brings up mischiefs thicker than a shower,
I would speak louder than a Lawyer;
By Heaven, it is the surfeit of all youth,
That makes the toughness, and the strength of Nations
Melt into Women. 'Tis an ease that broods
Thieves, and Bastards only.
Fab. This is more,
(Though it be true) than we ought to lay open,
And savours only of an indiscretion.
Believe me, Captain, such distemper'd spirits
Once out of motion, though they be proof valiant,
If they appear thus violent and fiery,
Breed but their own disgraces; and are nearer
Doubt and suspect in Princes, than rewards.
Jac. 'Tis well they can be near 'em any way.
But call you those true spirits ill affected,
That whilst the wars were, serv'd like walls and ribs
To girdle in the Kingdom?
And now faln
Through a faint Peace into affliction,
Speak but their miseries? come, come, Fabritio,
You may pretend what patience ye please,
And seem to yoak your wants like passions;
But while I know thou art a Souldier,
And a deserver, and no other Harvest
But what thy Sword reaps for thee to come in,
You shall be pleas'd to give me leave to tell ye,
You wish a Devil of this musty peace;
To which Prayer,
As one that's bound in Conscience, and all
That love our trade, I cry, Amen.