Quisar. Can it be possible,
A stranger that I have not known, not seen yet,
A man I never grac'd; O Captain, Captain,
What shall I do? I am betray'd by fortune,
It cannot be, it must not be.
Py. It is Lady,
And by my faith a hansome Gentleman;
'Tis his poor Schollers prize.
Quisar. Must I be given
Unto a Man I never saw, ne're spoke with,
I know not of what Nation?
Py. Is a Portugal,
And of as good a pitch he will be giv'n to you Lady,
For he's given much to hansome flesh.
Quisar. Oh Ruy Dias,
This was your sloth, your sloth, your sloth Ruy Dias.
Py. Your love sloth; Unckle do you find it now?
You should have done at first, and faithfully: [A shout.
And then th'other had lyed ready for ye;
Madam, the general joy comes.
Quisar. We must meet it—but with what comfort?
Enter Citizens carrying boughs, boyes singing after 'em; Then King, Armusia, Soza, Emanuel; The Princes and train following.
Quisar. Oh my dear brother, what a joy runs through me,
To see you safe again, your self, and mighty,
What a blest day is this!
Kin. Rise up fair Sister,
I am not welcome till you have embraced me.
Ru. A general gladness sir flies through the City,
And mirth possesses all to see your Grace arrive,
Thus happily arriv'd again, and fairly;
'Twas a brave venture who so e'er put for it,
A high and noble one, worthy much honor;
And had it fail'd, we had not fail'd great Sir,
And in short time too, to have forc'd the Governor,
In spight of all his threats.
Kin. I thank ye Gentleman.
Ru. And all his subtilties to set you free,
With all his heart and will too.
Kin. I know ye love me.
Py. This had been good with something done before it,
Something set off to beautifie it, now it sounds empty, like
A Barbers bason, pox there's no metall in't, no noble marrow.
Ba. I have an Army Sir, but that the Governor,
The foolish fellow was a little provident,
And wise in letting slip no time, became him too,
That would have scour'd him else, and all his confines;
That would have rung him such a peal—
Py. Yes backward,
To make dogs houl, I know thee to a farthing,
Thy Army's good for Hawks, there's
Nothing but sheeps hearts in it.
Sy. I have done nothing Sir, therefore
I think it convenient I say little what I purposed,
And what my love intended.
Kin. I like your modesty,
And thank ye royal friends, I know it griev'd ye
To know my misery; but this man, [Prince],
I must thank heartily, indeed, and treuly,
For this Man saw me in't, and redeemed me:
He lookt upon me sinking, and then caught me.
This Sister this, this all Man, this all valor,
This pious Man.
Ru. My countenance, it shames me,
One scarce arriv'd, not harden'd yet, not
Read in dangers and great deeds, sea-sick, not season'd—
Oh I have boy'd my self.
Kin. This noble bulwark,
This launce and honor of our age and Kingdome;
This that I never can reward, nor hope
To be once worthy of the name of friend to,
This, this Man from the bowels of my sorrows
Has new begot my name, and once more made me:
Oh sister, if there may be thanks for this,
Or any thing near recompence invented.
Ar. You are too noble Sir, there is reward
Above my action too by millions:
A recompence so rich and glorious,
I durst not dreame it mine, but that 'twas promised;
But that it was propounded, sworn and sealed
Before the face of Heaven, I durst not hope it,
For nothing in the life of man, or merit,
It is so truly great, can else embrace it.
Kin. O speak it, speak it, bless mine ears to hear it,
Make me a happy man, to know it may be,
For still methinks I am a prisoner,
And feel no liberty before I find it.
Ar. Then know it is your sister, she is mine Sir,
I claime her by her own word, and her honor;
It was her open promise to that Man
That durst redeeme ye; Beauty set me on,
And fortune crowns me fair, if she receive me.
Kin. Receive ye, Sir—why Sister—ha—so backward,
Stand as you knew me not? nor what he has ventured?
My dearest Sister.
Ar. Good Sir pardon me,
There is a blushing modesty becomes her,
That holds her back; Women are nice to wooe Sir;
I would not have her forc'd; give her fair liberty;
For things compell'd and frighted, of soft natures,
Turn into fears, and flie from their own wishes.
Kin. Look on [him] my Quisara, such another,
Oh all ye powers, so excellent in nature!
In honor so abundant!—
Quisar. I confess Sir,
Confess my word is past too, he has purchased;
Yet good Sir give me leave to think; but time
To be acquainted with his worth and person;
To make me fit to know it; we are both strangers,
And how we should believe so suddenly,
Or come to fasten our affections—
Alas, love has his complements.
Kin. Be sudden
And certain in your way, no [woman] doubles,
Nor coy delayes, you are his, and so assure it,
Or cast from me and my remembrance ever;
Respect your word, I know you will, come Sister,
Lets see what welcome you can give a prisoner,
And what fair looks a friend—Oh my most noble
Princes, no discontents, but all be lusty,
He that frowns this day is an open enemy:
Thus in my armes my dear.
Ar. You make me blush Sir.
Kin. And now lead on—
Our whole Court crown'd with pleasure.
Ru. Madam, despair not, something shall be done yet,
And suddenly, and wisely.
Quisar. O Ruy Dias. [Ex.
Py. Well, he's a brave fellow, and he has deserv'd her richly;
And you have had your hands full I dare swear Gentlemen.
Soz. We have done something, Sir, if it hit right.
Ch. The woman has no eyes else, nor no honesty,
So much I think.
Py. Come, let's goe bounce amongst 'em,
To the Kings health, and my brave Country-mans.
My Unckle looks as though he were sick oth'
Worms friends. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Pyniero.
Mine Unckle haunts me up and down, looks melancholy,
Wondrous proof melancholy, sometimes swears
Then whistles, starts, cries, and groans, as if he had the Bots,
As to say truth, I think h'as little better,
[A[n]d] we'd fain speak; bids me good morrow at midnight,
And good night when 'tis noon, has something hovers
About his brains, that would fain find an issue,
But cannot out, or dares not: still he follows.
Enter Ruy Dyas.
How he looks still, and how he beats about,
Like an old dog at a dead scent! I marry,
There was a sigh wou'd a set a ship a sailing:
These winds of love and honor, blow at all ends.
Now speak and't be thy Will: good morrow Uncle.
Ru. Good morrow Sir.
Py. This is a new salute:
Sure h'as forgot me: this is pur-blind Cupid.
Ru. My Nephew?
Py. Yes Sir, if I be not chang'd.
Ru. I wou'd fain speak with you.
Py. I wou'd fain have ye, Sir,
For to that end I stay.
Ru. You know I love ye,
And I have lov'd [ye] long, my dear Pyniero,
Bred and supply'd you.
Py. Whither walks this Preamble?
Ru. You may remember, though I am but your Uncle,
I sure had a father's care, a father's tenderness.
Py. Sure he would wrap me into something now suddenly,
He doubts my nature in, for mine is honest,
He winds about me so.
Ru. A fathers diligence.
My private benefits I have forgot, Sir,
But those you might lay claim to as my follower;
Yet some men wou'd remember—
Py. I do daily.
Ru. The place which I have put ye in, which is no weak one,
Next to my self you stand in all employments,
Your counsels, cares, assignments with me equal,
So is my study still to plant your person;
These are small testimonies I have not forgot ye,
Nor wou'd not be forgotten.
Pyn. Sure you cannot.
Ru. Oh Pyniero—
Pyn. Sir, what hangs upon you,
What heavy weight oppresses ye, ye have lost,
(I must confess, in those that understand ye)
Some little of your credit, but time will cure that;
The best may slip sometimes.
Ru. Oh my best Nephew—
Pyn. It may be ye fear her too, that disturbs ye,
That she may fall her self, or be forc'd from ye.
Ru. She is ever true, but I undone for ever.
Oh that Armusia, that new thing, that stranger,
That flag stuck up to rob me of mine honor;
That murd'ring chain shot at me from my Countrey:
That goodly plague that I must court to kill me.
Pyn. Now it comes flowing from him, I fear'd this,
Knew, he that durst be idle, durst be ill too,
Has he not done a brave thing?
Ru. I must confess it Nephew, must allow it,
But that brave thing has undone me, has sunk me,
Has trod me like a name in sand, to nothing,
Hangs betwixt hope and me, and threatens my ruin;
And if he rise and blaze, farewel my fortune;
And when that's set, where's thy advancement, Cosin?
That were a friend, that were a noble [kinsman,]
That would consider these; that man were grateful;
And he that durst do something here, durst love me.
Pyn. You say true, 'tis worth consideration,
Your reasons are of weight, and mark me Uncle,
For I'll be sudden, and to th' purpose with you.
Say this Armusia, then [were] taken off,
As it may be easily done,
How stands the woman?
Ru. She is mine for ever;
For she contemns his deed and him.
Pyn. Pox on him.
Or if the single pox be not sufficient,
The hogs, the dogs, the devils pox possess him:
'Faith this Armusia stumbles me, 'tis a brave fellow;
And if he could be spared Uncle—
Ru. I must perish:
Had he set up at any rest but this,
Done any thing but what concern'd my credit,
The everlasting losing of my worth—
Pyn. I understand you now, who set you on too.
I had a reasonable good opinion of the devil
Till this hour; and I see he is a knave indeed,
An arrant, stinking knave, for now I smell him;
I'll see what may be done then, you shall know
You have a kinsman, but no villain Uncle,
Nor no betrayer of fair fame, I scorn it;
I love and honor virtue; I must have
Access unto the Lady to know her mind too,
A good word from her mouth you know may stir me;
A Ladies look at setting on—
Ru. You say well,
Here Cosin, here's a Letter ready for you,
And you shall see how nobly she'll receive you,
And with what [c]are] direct.
Pyn. Farewel then Uncle,
After I have talk'd with her, I am your servant,
To make you honest if I can—else hate you.
Pray ye no more compliments, my head is busie, heaven bless me;
What a malicious soul does this man carry!
And to what scurvy things this love converts us!
What stinking things, and how sweetly they become us!
Murther's a moral virtue with these Lovers,
A special piece of Divinity, I take it:
I may be mad, or violently drunk.
Which is a whelp of that litter; or I may be covetous,
And learn to murther mens estates, that's base too;
Or proud, but that's a Paradise to this;
Or envious, and sit eating of my self
At others fortunes; I may lye, and damnably,
Beyond the patience of an honest hearer;
Cosin, Cutpurses, sit i'th' Stocks for apples.
But when I am a Lover, Lord have mercy,
These are poor pelting sins, or rather plagues,
Love and Ambition draw the devils Coach.
Enter Quisana, and Panura.
How now! who are these? Oh my great Ladies [followers,]
Her Riddle-founders, and her Fortune-tellers.
Her readers of her Love-Lectures, her Inflamers:
These doors I must pass through, I hope they are wide.
Good day to your beauties, how they take it to 'em!
As if they were fair indeed.
Quisan. Good morrow to you, Sir.
Pyn. That's the old Hen, the brood-bird! how she busles!
How like an Inventory of Lechery she looks!
Many a good piece of iniquity
Has past her hands, I warrant her—I beseech you,
Is the fair Princess stirring?
Pan. Yes marry is she, Sir.
But somewhat private: [you have] a business with her?
Py. Yes forsooth have I, and a serious business.
Pan. May not we know?
Py. Yes, when you can keep counsel.
Pan. How prettily he looks! he's a soldier sure,
His rudeness sits so handsomly upon him.
Quisan. A good blunt Gentleman.
Py. Yes marry am I:
Yet for a push or two at sharp, and't please you—
Pan. My honest friend, you know not who you speak to:
This is the [Princesses] Aunt,
Py. I like her the better
And she were her Mother (Lady) or her Grandmother,
I am not so bashful, but I can buckle with her.
Pan. Of what size is your business?
[Py[n].] Of the long sixteens,
And will make way I warrant ye.
Pan. How fine he talks!
Pyn. Nay in troth I talk but coursely, Lady,
But I hold it comfortable for the understanding:
How fain they wou'd draw me into ribaldry!
These wenches that live easily, live high,
[And l]ove these] broad discourses, as they love possets;
These dry delights serve for preparatives.
Pan. Why do you look so on me?
Pyn. I am guessing
By the cast of your face, what the property of your place, should be,
For I presume you turn a key, sweet beauty,
And you another, gravity, under the Princess,
And by my —— I warrant ye good places,
Comly commodious [Seats].
Quisan. Prethee let him talk still.
For me thinks he talks handsomely.
Py. And truly
As near as my understanding shall enable me
You look as if you kept my Ladies secrets:
Nay, do not laugh, for I mean honestly,
How these young things tattle, when they get a toy by th' end!
And how their hearts go pit-a-pat, and look for it!
Wou'd it not dance too, if it had a Fiddle?
Your gravity I guess, to take the Petitions,
And hear the lingring suits in love dispos'd,
Their sighs and sorrows in their proper place,
You keep the Ay-me Office.
Quisan. Prethee suffer him,
For as I live he's a pretty fellow;
I love to hear sometimes what men think of us:
And thus deliver'd freely, 'tis no malice:
Proceed good honest man.
Pin. I will, good Madam.
According to mens states and dignities,
Moneys and moveables, you rate their dreams,
And cast the Nativity of their desires,
If he reward well, all he thinks is prosperous:
And if he promise place, his dreams are Oracles;
Your antient practique Art too in these discoveries,
Who loves at such a length, who a span farther,
And who draws home, yield you no little profit,
For these ye milk by circumstance.
Qui. Ye are cunning.
Pin. And as they oil ye, and advance your Spindle,
So you draw out the lines of love, your doors too,
The doors of destiny, that men must pass through;
These are fair places.
Pan. He knows all.
Pin. Your trap-doors,
To pop fools in it, that have no providence,
Your little wickets, to work wise men, like wires, through at,
And draw their states and bodies into Cobwebs,
Your Postern doors, to catch those that are cautelous,
And would not have the worlds eye find their knaveries:
Your doors of danger, some men hate a pleasure,
Unless that may be full of fears; your hope doors,
And those are fine commodities, where fools pay
For every new [encoragement], a new custom;
You have your doors of honor, and of pleasure;
But those are for great Princes, glorious vanities,
That travel to be famous through diseases;
There be the doors of poverty and death too:
But these you do the best you can to damm up,
For then your gain goes out.
Qui. This is a rare Lecture.
Pin. Read to them that understand.
Pan. Beshrew me,
I dare not venture on ye, ye cut too keen, Sir.