Enter Lopez.
Lop. Thou secret friend, how am I bound to love thee!
And how to hug thee for thy private service!
Thou art the Star all my suspitions sail by,
The fixed point my wronged honor turns to,
By thee I shall know all, find all the subtilties
Of devilish women, that torment me daily:
Thou art my Conjurer, my Spell, my Spirit,
All's hush'd and still, no sound of any stirring,
No tread of living thing: the Light is in still,
And there's my Wife, how prettily the fool lies,
How sweet, and handsomely, and in her clothes too,
Waiting for me upon my life; her fondness
Would not admit her rest till I came to her:
O careful fool, why am I angry with thee?
Why do I think thou hat'st thy loving Husband?
[I] am an Ass, an over-doting Coxcomb,
And this sweet soul, the mirror of perfection:
How admirable fair and delicate,
And how it stirs me, I'll sing thy sweets a Requiem,
But will not waken thee.
SONG.
Oh fair sweet face, oh eyes celestial bright,
Twin Stars in Heaven, that now adorn the night;
Oh fruitful Lips, where Cherries ever grow,
And Damask cheeks, where all sweet beauties blow;
Oh thou from head to foot divinely fair,
Cupid's most cunning Nets made of that hair,
And as he weaves himself for curious eyes;
Oh me, Oh me, I am caught my self, he cries:
Sweet rest about thee sweet and golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches keep,
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice,
To beauty sacred, and those Angel-eyes.
Now will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her,
And suck the Rosie breath of this bright beauty;
What a Devil is this? ty'd to her finger too?
A string, a damned string to give intelligence
Oh my lov'd key, how truly hast thou serv'd me;
I'll follow this: soft, soft, to th' door it goes,
And through to th' other side; a damned string 'tis,
I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded,
Ridden to death, to madness; stay, this helps not:
Stay, stay, and now invention help me,
I'll sit down by her, take this from her easily,
And thus upon mine own: Dog, I shall catch ye,
With all your cunning, Sir: I shall light on ye,
I felt it pull sure: yes, but wondrous softly,
'Tis there again, and harder now, have at ye,
Now and thou scap'st, the Devil's thy ghostly father. [Exit.
Isab. Sure 'twas my husband's voice, the string is gone too,
He has found th[e] trick on't: I am undone, betray'd,
And if he meet my friend he perishes,
What fortune follows me, what spightful fortune?
Hoa Jaquenet.
Enter Jaquenet.
Jaq. Here Mistriss, do you call me?
Isab. Didst thou hear no noise?