Chapter VIII: Act II: Scene I

_A room in an Inn._

_Enter_ ALVAREZ, CARLO, _and_ ANTONIO, _disguised as
gipsies_.

ALV. Come, my brave boys! the tailor’s shears has cut
us into shapes fitting our trades.
CAR. A trade free as a mason’s.
ANT. A trade brave as a courtier’s; for some of them do
but shark, and so do we.
ALV. Gipsies, but no tanned ones; no red-ochre rascals
umbered with soot and bacon as the English gipsies are,
that sally out upon pullen,[191] lie in ambuscado for a
rope of onions, as if they were Welsh freebooters; no,
our stile has higher steps to climb over, Spanish
gipsies, noble gipsies.
CAR. I never knew nobility in baseness.
ALV. Baseness? the arts of Cocoquismo and Germania,[192]
used by our Spanish pickaroes[193]—I mean filching,
foisting,[194] nimming, jilting—we defy;[195] none in
our college shall study ’em; such graduates we degrade.
ANT. I am glad Spain has an honest company.
ALV. We’ll entertain no mountebanking stroll,
No piper, fiddler, tumbler through small hoops,
No ape-carrier, baboon-bearer;
We must have nothing stale, trivial, or base:
Am I your major-domo, your teniente,[196]
Your captain, your commander?
ANT. Who but you?
ALV. So then: now being entered Madrill,[197] the
enchanted circle of Spain, have a care to your new
lessons.
CAR. } We listen.
ANT. }
ALV. Plough deep furrows, to catch deep root in th'
opinion of the best, grandees,[198] dukes, marquesses,
condes, and other titulados; shew your sports to none
but them: what can you do with three or four fools in a
dish, and a blockhead cut into sippets?
ANT. Scurvy meat!
ALV. The Lacedemonians threw their beards over their
shoulders, to observe what men did behind them as well
as before; you must do['t].
CAR. We shall never do’t.
ANT. Our muzzles are too short.[199]
ALV. Be not English gipsies, in whose company a man’s
not sure of the ears of his head, they so pilfer! no
such angling; what you pull to land catch fair: there is
no iron so foul but may be gilded; and our gipsy
profession, how base soever in show, may acquire
commendations.
CAR. Gipsies, and yet pick no pockets?
ALV. Infamous and roguy! so handle your webs, that
they never come to be woven in the loom of justice:
take any thing that’s given you, purses, knives,
handkerchers, rosaries, tweezes,[200] any toy, any
money; refuse not a marvedi,[201] a blank:[202]
feather by feather birds build nests, grain pecked up
after grain makes pullen[203] fat.
ANT. The best is, we Spaniards are no great feeders.
ALV. If one city cannot maintain us, away to another!
our horses must have wings. Does Madrill yield no money?
Seville shall; is Seville close-fisted? Valladolid
is open; so Cordova,[204] so Toledo. Do not our
Spanish wines please us? Italian can then, French can.
Preferment’s bow is hard to draw, set all your strengths
to it; what you get, keep; all the world is a second
Rochelle;[205] make all sure, for you must not look to
have your dinner served in with trumpets.
CAR. No, no, sack-buts[206] shall serve us.
ALV. When you have money, hide it; sell all our horses
but one.
ANT. Why one?
ALV. ’Tis enough to carry our apparel and trinkets, and
the less our ambler eats, our cheer is the better. None
be sluttish, none thievish, none lazy; all bees, no
drones, and our hives shall yield us honey.

_Enter_ GUIAMARA, CONSTANZA, CHRISTIANA, _disguised as
gipsies, and_ CARDOCHIA.

CONST. See, father, how I'm fitted: how do you like
This our new stock of clothes?
ALV. My sweet girl, excellent.—
See their old robes be safe.
CARD. That, sir, I'll look to;
Whilst in my house you lie, what thief soever
Lays hands upon your goods, call but to me,
I'll make the[207] satisfaction.
ALV. Thanks, good hostess!
CARD. People already throng into the inn,
And call for you into their private rooms.
ALV. No chamber-comedies: hostess, ply you your tide;
flow let ’em to a full sea, but we’ll shew no pastime
till after dinner, and that in a full ring of good
people, the best, the noblest; no closet-sweetmeats,
pray tell ’em so.
CARD. I shall. [_Exit._
ALV. How old is Pretiosa?
GUI. Twelve and upwards.
CONST. I am in my teens, assure you, mother; as little
as I am, I have been taken for an elephant; castles and
lordships offered to be set upon me, if I would bear
’em: why, your smallest clocks are the prettiest things
to carry about gentlemen.
GUI. Nay, child, thou wilt be tempted.
CONST. Tempted? though I am no mark in respect of a huge
butt, yet I can tell you great bubbers[208] have shot at
me, and shot golden arrows, but I myself gave aim,[209]
thus,—wide, four bows; short, three and a half: they
that crack me shall find me as hard as a nut of Galicia;
a parrot I am, but my teeth too tender to crack a
wanton’s almond.[210]
ALV. Thou art, my noble girl! a many dons
Will not believe but that thou art a boy
In woman’s[211] clothes; and to try that
conclusion,[212]
To see if thou be’st alcumy[213] or no,
They’ll throw down gold in musses;[214] but, Pretiosa,
Let these proud sakers[215] and gerfalcons fly,
Do not thou move a wing; be to thyself
Thyself,[216] and not a changeling.
CONST. How? not a changeling?
Yes, father, I will play the changeling;
I'll change myself into a thousand shapes,
To court our brave spectators; I'll change my postures
Into a thousand different variations,
To draw even ladies' eyes to follow mine;
I'll change my voice into a thousand tones,
To chain attention: not a changeling, father?
None but myself[217] shall play the changeling.
ALV. Do what thou wilt, Pretiosa.
[_A knocking within._
What noise is this?

_Re-enter_ CARDOCHIA.

CARD. Here’s gentlemen swear all the oaths in Spain
they have seen you, must see you, and will see you.
ALV. To drown this noise let ’em enter.
[_Exit_ CARDOCHIA.

_Enter_ SANCHO _and_ SOTO.

SAN. Is your playhouse an inn, a gentleman cannot see
you without crumpling his taffeta cloak?
SOTO. Nay, more than a gentleman, his man being a
diminutive don too.
SAN. Is this the little ape does the fine tricks?
CONST. Come aloft,[218] Jack little ape!
SAN. Would my jack might come aloft! please you to set
the watermill with the ivory cogs[219] in’t a-grinding
my handful of purging comfits. [_Offers comfits._
SOTO. My master desires to have you loose from your
company.
CONST. Am I a pigeon, think you, to be caught with
cummin-seeds?[220] a fly to glue my wings to sweetmeats,
and so be ta’en?
SAN. When do your gambols begin?
ALV. Not till we ha' dined.
SAN. ’Foot, then your bellies will be so full, you’ll be
able to do nothing.—Soto, prithee, set a good face on’t,
for I cannot, and give the little monkey that letter.
SOTO. Walk off and hum to yourself. [SANCHO _retires_.]—
I dedicate, sweet Destiny, into whose hand every
Spaniard desires to put a distaff, these lines of love.
[_Offering a paper to_ CONSTANZA.
GUI. What love? what’s the matter?
SOTO. Grave mother Bumby,[221] the mark’s out a' your
mouth.
ALV. What’s the paper? from whom comes it?
SOTO. The commodity wrapped up in the paper are verses;
the warming-pan that puts heat into 'em, yon[222]
fire-brained bastard of Helicon.
SAN. Hum, hum.[223]
ALV. What’s your master’s name?
SOTO. His name is Don Tomazo Portacareco, nuncle[224] to
young Don Hortado de Mendonza, cousin-german to the
Conde de Tindilla, and natural brother to Francisco de
Bavadilla, one of the commendadors of Alcantara, a
gentleman of long standing.
ALV. And of as long a style.[225]
CONST. Verses? I love good ones; let me see ’em.
[_Taking paper._
SAN. [_advancing_] Good ones? if they were not good
ones, they should not come from me; at the name of
verses I can stand on no ground.
CONST. Here’s gold too! whose is this?
SAN. Whose but yours? If there be[226] any fault in the
verses, I can mend it extempore; for a stitch in a man’s
stocking not taken up in time, ravels out all the rest.
SOTO. Botcherly poetry, botcherly! [_Aside._
CONST. Verses and gold! these then are golden verses.
SAN. Had every verse a pearl in the eye, it should be
thine.
CONST. A pearl in mine eye! I thank you for that; do you
wish me blind?[227]
SAN. Ay, by this light do I, that you may look upon
nobody’s rhymes[228] but mine.
CONST. I should be blind indeed then.[229]
ALV. Pray, sir, read your verses.
SAN. Shall I sing ’em or say ’em?
ALV. Which you can best.
SOTO. Both scurvily. [_Aside._
SAN. I'll set out a throat then.
SOTO. Do, master, and I'll run division behind your
back.[230]
SAN. [_sings_]
_O that I were a bee, to sing
Hum, buz, buz, hum! I first would bring
Home honey to your hive, and there leave my sting._
SOTO. [_sings_] _He maunders._[231]
SAN. [_sings_]
_O that I were a goose, to feed
At your barn-door! such corn I need,
Nor would I bite, but goslings breed._
SOTO. [_sings_] _And ganders._
SAN. [_sings_] _O that I were your needle’s eye! How
through your linen would I fly, And never leave one
stitch awry!_
SOTO. [_sings_] _He’ll touse ye._
SAN. [_sings_] _O would I were one of your hairs, That
you might comb out all my cares, And kill the nits of my
despairs!_
SOTO. [_sings_] _O lousy!_
SAN. How? lousy? can rhymes be lousy?
CONST. } CAR., &c.[232] } No, no, they’re excellent.
ALV. But are these all your own?
SAN. Mine own? would I might never see ink drop out of
the nose of any goose-quill more, if velvet cloaks have
not clapped me for ’em! Do you like ’em?
CONST. Past all compare;
They shall be writ out: when you’ve as good or better,
For these and those, pray, book me down your debtor:
Your paper is long-liv’d, having two souls,
Verses and gold.
SAN. Would both those were in thy[233] pretty little
body, sweet gipsy!
CONST. A pistolet[234] and this paper? ’twould choke me.
SOTO. No more than a bribe does a constable: the verses
will easily into your head, then buy what you like with
the gold, and put it into your belly. I hope I ha'
chawed a good reason for you.
SAN. Will you chaw my jennet ready, sir?
SOTO. And eat him down, if you say the word. [_Exit._
SAN. Now the coxcomb my man is gone, because you’re but
a country company of strolls, I think your stock is
threadbare; here mend it with this cloak.
[_Giving his cloak._
ALV. What do you mean, sir?
SAN. This scarf, this feather, and this hat.
[_Giving his scarf, &c._
ALV. } Dear signor!——
CAR., &c.[235] }
SAN. If they be never so dear:—pox o' this hot ruff!
little gipsy, wear thou that. [_Giving his ruff._
ALV. Your meaning, sir?
SAN. My meaning is, not to be an ass, to carry a burden
when I need not. If you shew your gambols forty leagues
hence, I'll gallop to ’em.—Farewell, old greybeard;—
adieu, mother mumble-crust;—morrow, my little wart of
beauty. [_Exit._

Another MS. addition.]

_Enter behind_ JOHN, _muffled_.

ALV. So, harvest will come in; such sunshine days
Will bring in golden sheaves, our markets raise:
Away to your task.

[_Exeunt._ ALVAREZ, CHRISTIANA, CARLO, _and_
ANTONIO; _and as_ GUIAMARA _and_ CONSTANZA
_are going out_, JOHN _pulls the latter back_.

CONST. Mother! grandmother!
JOHN. Two rows of kindred in one mouth?
GUI. Be not uncivil, sir; thus have you used her thrice.
JOHN. Thrice? three thousand more: may I not use mine
own?
CONST. Your own! by what tenure?
JOHN. Cupid entails this land upon me; I have wooed
thee, thou art coy: by this air, I am a bull of Tarifa,
wild, mad for thee! you told[236] I was some copper
coin; I am a knight of Spain; Don Francisco de Carcomo
my father, I Don John his son; this paper tells you
more. [_Gives paper._]—Grumble not, old granam; here’s
gold [_gives money_]; for I must, by this white hand,
marry this cherry-lipped, sweet-mouthed villain.
CONST. There’s a thing called _quando_.
JOHN. Instantly.
GUI. Art thou so willing?
JOHN. Peace, threescore and five!
CONST. Marry me? eat a chicken ere it be out o' th'
shell? I'll wear no shackles; liberty is sweet; that I
have, that I'll hold. Marry me? can gold and lead mix
together? a diamond and a button of crystal fit one
ring? You are too high for me, I am too low; you too
great, I too little.
GUI. I pray, leave her, sir, and take your gold again.
CONST. Or if you doat, as you say, let me try you do
this.
JOHN. Any thing; kill the great Turk, pluck out the
Mogul’s eye-teeth; in earnest, Pretiosa, any thing!
CONST. Your task[237] is soon set down; turn gipsy[238]
for two years, be one of us; if in that time you mislike
not me nor I you, here’s my hand: farewell. [_Exit._

GUI. There’s enough for your gold.—Witty child!
[_Aside, and exit._
JOHN. Turn gipsy for two years? a capering trade;
And I in th' end may keep a dancing-school,
Having serv’d for it; gipsy I must turn.
O beauty, the sun’s fires cannot so burn! [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A room in the house of_ PEDRO.

_Enter_ CLARA.

CLA. I have offended; yet, O heaven, thou know’st
How much I have abhorr’d, even from my birth,
A thought that tended to immodest folly!
Yet I have fallen; thoughts with disgraces strive,
And thus I live, and thus I die alive.

_Enter_ PEDRO _and_ MARIA.

PED. Fie, Clara, thou dost court calamity too much.
MAR. Yes, girl, thou dost.
PED. Why should we fret our eyes out with our tears,
Weary [heaven with[239]] complaints? ’tis fruitless,
childish
Impatience; for when mischief hath wound up
The full weight of the ravisher’s foul life
To an equal height of ripe iniquity,
The poise will, by degrees, sink down his soul
To a much lower, much more lasting ruin
Than our joint wrongs can challenge.
MAR.[240] Darkness itself
Will change night’s sable brow into a sunbeam
For a discovery; and be [thou] sure,
Whenever we can learn what monster ’twas
Hath robb’d thee of the jewel held so precious,
Our vengeance shall be noble.
PED. Royal, any thing:
Till then let’s live securely; to proclaim
Our sadness were mere vanity.
CLA. ’A needs not;
I'll study to be merry.
PED. We are punish’d,
Maria, justly; covetousness to match
Our daughter to that matchless piece of ignorance,
Our foolish ward, hath drawn this curse upon us.
MAR. I fear it has.
PED. Off with this face of grief:
Here comes[241] Don Louis.

_Enter_ LOUIS _and_ DIEGO.

Noble sir.
LOUIS. My lord,
I trust I have you[r] and your lady’s leave
T' exchange a word with your fair daughter.
PED. Leave
And welcome.—Hark, Maria.—Your ear too.
DIEGO. Mine, my lord?
LOUIS. Dear Clara, I have often sued for love,
And now desire you would at last be pleas’d
To style me yours.
CLA. Mine eyes ne’er saw that gentleman
Whom I more nobly in my heart respected
Than I have you; yet you must, sir, excuse me,
If I resolve to use awhile that freedom
My younger days allow.
LOUIS. But shall I hope?
CLA. You will do injury to better fortunes,
To your own merit, greatness, and advancement,
Which I beseech you not to slack.
LOUIS. Then hear me;
If ever I embrace another choice,
Until I know you elsewhere match’d, may all
The chief of my desires find scorn and ruin!
CLA. O me!
LOUIS. Why sigh you, lady?
CLA. ’Deed, my lord,
I am not well.
LOUIS. Then all discourse is tedious;
I'll choose some fitter time; till when,[242] fair
Clara——
CLA. You shall not be unwelcome hither, sir;
That’s all that I dare promise.
LOUIS. Diego.
DIEGO. My lord?
LOUIS. What says Don Pedro?
DIEGO. He’ll go with you.
Louis. Leave us.— [_Exit_ DIEGO.
Shall I, my lord, entreat your privacy?
PED. Withdraw, Maria; we’ll follow presently.
[_Exeunt._ MARIA _and_ CLARA.
LOUIS. The great corregidor, whose politic stream
Of popularity glides on the shore
Of every vulgar praise, hath often urg’d me
To be a suitor to his Catholic Majesty
For a repeal from banishment for him
Who slew my father; compliments in vows
And strange well-studied promises of friendship;
But what is new to me, still as he courts
Assistance for Alvarez, my grand enemy,
Still he protests how ignorant he is
Whether Alvarez be alive or dead.
To-morrow is the day we have appointed
For meeting, at the lord Francisco’s house,
The earl of Carcomo: now, my good lord,
The sum of my request is, you will please
To lend your presence there, and witness wherein
Our joint accord consists.
PED. You shall command it.
LOUIS. But first, as you are noble, I beseech you
Help me with your advice what you conceive
Of great Fernando’s importunity,
Or whether you imagine that Alvarez
Survive or not?
PED. It is a question, sir,
Beyond my resolution: I remember
The difference betwixt your noble father
And Conde de Alvarez; how it sprung
From a mere trifle first, a cast[243] of hawks,
Whose made the swifter flight, whose could mount
highest,
Lie longest on the wing: from change of words
Their controversy grew to blows, from blows
To parties, thence to faction; and, in short,
I well remember how our streets were frighted
With brawls, whose end was blood; till, when no friends
Could mediate their discords, by the king
A reconciliation was enforc’d,
Death threaten’d [to] the first occasioner
Of breach, besides the confiscation
Of lands and honours: yet at last they met
Again; again they drew to sides, renew’d
Their ancient quarrel; in which dismal uproar
Your father hand to hand fell by Alvarez:
Alvarez fled; and after him the doom
Of exile was se[n]t out: he, as report
Was bold to voice, retir’d himself to Rhodes;
His lands and honours by the king bestow’d
On you, but then an infant.
LOUIS. Ha, an infant?
PED. His wife, the sister to the corregidor,
With a young daughter and some few that follow’d her,
By stealth were shipp’d for Rhodes, and by a storm
Shipwreck’d at sea: but for the banish’d Conde,
’Twas never yet known what became of him:
Here’s all I can inform you.
LOUIS. A repeal?
Yes, I will sue for’t, beg for’t, buy it, any thing
That may by possibility of friends
Or money, I'll attempt.
PED. ’Tis a brave charity.
LOUIS. Alas, poor lady, I could mourn for her!
Her loss was usury more than I covet;
But for the man, I'd sell my patrimony
For his repeal, and run about the world
To find him out; there is no peace can dwell
About my father’s tomb, till I have sacrific’d
Some portion of revenge to his wrong’d ashes.
You will along with me?
PED. You need not question it.
LOUIS. I have strange thoughts about me: two such
furies
Revel amidst my joys as well may move
Distraction in a saint, vengeance and love.
I'll follow, sir.
PED. Pray, lead the way, you know it.—
[_Exit_ LOUIS.

_Enter_ SANCHO _without his cloak, &c._,[244] _and_
SOTO.

How[245] now? from whence come you, sir?
SAN. From flaying myself, sir.
SOTO. From playing with fencers, sir; and they have beat
him out of his clothes, sir.
PED. Cloak, band, rapier, all lost at dice?
SAN. Nor cards neither.
SOTO. This was one of my master’s dog-days, and he would
not sweat too much.
SAN. It was mine own goose, and I laid the giblets upon
another coxcomb’s trencher: you are my guardian, best
beg me for a fool[246] now.
SOTO. He that begs one begs t’other. [_Aside._
PED. Does any gentleman give away his things thus?
SAN. Yes, and gentlewomen give away their things too.
SOTO. To gulls sometimes, and are cony-catched[247] for
their labour.
PED. Wilt thou ever play the coxcomb?
SAN. If no other parts be given me, what would you have
me do?
PED. Thy father was as brave a Spaniard
As ever spake the haut[248] Castilian tongue.
SAN. Put me in clothes, I'll be as brave[249] as he.
PED. This is the ninth time thou hast play’d the ass,
Flinging away thy trappings and thy cloth[250]
To cover others, and go nak’d thyself.
SAN. I'll make ’em up ten, because I'll be even with
you.
PED. Once more your broken walls shall have new
hangings.
SOTO. To be well hung is all our desire.
PED. And what course take you next?
SAN. What course? why, my man Soto and I will go make
some maps.
PED. What maps?
SOTO. Not such maps[251] as you wash houses with, but
maps of countries.
SAN. I have an uncle in Seville, I'll go see him; an
aunt in Siena in Italy, I['ll] go see her.
SOTO. A cousin of mine in Rome, I['ll] go to him with a
mortar.[252]
SAN. There’s a courtesan in Venice, I'll go tickle her.
SOTO. Another in England, I'll go tackle her.
PED. So, so! and where’s the money to do all this?
SAN. If my woods,[253] being cut down, cannot fill this
pocket, cut ’em into trapsticks.
SOTO. And if his acres, being sold for a marvedi[254] a
turf, for larks[255] in cages, cannot fill this pocket,
give ’em to gold-finders.
PED. You’ll gallop both to the gallows; so fare you
well. [_Exit._
SAN. And be hanged you! new clothes, you’d best.
SOTO. Four cloaks, that you may give away three, and
keep one.
SAN. We’ll live as merrily as beggars; let’s both turn
gipsies.
SOTO. By any means; if they cog,[256] we’ll lie, if they
toss, we’ll tumble.
SAN. Both in a belly, rather than fail.
SOTO. Come then, we’ll be gipsified.
SAN. And tipsified too.
SOTO. And we will shew such tricks and such rare
gambols,
As shall put down the elephant and camels.[257]
[_Exeunt._