Act 3 — [Scene I.][2507]
Reading edition
[Scene I.][2507]
Enter Infelice, and Orlando [disguised as a Serving-man].
Inf. From whom say’st thou?
Orl. From a poor gentlewoman, madam, whom I serve.
Inf. And what ’s your business?
Orl. This madam: my poor mistress has a5 waste piece of ground, which is her own by inheritance, and left to her by her mother. There ’s a lord now that goes about not to take it clean from her, but to enclose it to himself, and to join it to a piece of his lordship’s.10
Inf. What would she have me do in this?
Orl. No more, madam, but what one woman should do for another in such a case. My honourable lord your husband, would do any thing in her behalf, but she had rather put herself15 into your hands, because you, a woman, may do more with the duke, your father.
Inf. Where lies this land?
Orl. Within a stone’s cast of this place. My mistress, I think, would be content to let20 him enjoy it after her decease, if that would serve his turn, so my master would yield too; but she cannot abide to hear that the lord should meddle with it in her lifetime.
Inf. Is she then married? Why stirs not25 her husband in it?
Orl. Her husband stirs in it underhand: but because the other is a great rich man, my master is loth to be seen in it too much.
Inf. Let her in writing draw the cause at large,30 And I will move the duke.
Orl. ’T is set down, madam, here in black and white already. Work it so, madam, that she may keep her own without disturbance, grievance, molestation, or meddling of any35 other; and she bestows this purse of gold on your ladyship.
Inf. Old man, I ’ll plead for her, but take no fees. Give lawyers them, I swim not in that flood; I ’ll touch no gold, till I have done her good.40
Orl. I would all proctors’ clerks were of your mind, I should law more amongst them than I do then. Here, madam, is the survey, not only of the manor itself, but of the grange-house, with every meadow pasture, plough-land,45 cony-burrow, fish-pond, hedge, ditch, and bush, that stands in it.
[Gives a letter.]
Inf. My husband’s name, and hand and seal at arms To a love letter? Where hadst thou this writing?
Orl. From the foresaid party, madam, that50 would keep the foresaid land out of the foresaid lord’s fingers.
Inf. My lord turn’d ranger now?
Orl. You ’re a good huntress, lady; you ha’ found your game already. Your lord would55 fain be a ranger, but my mistress requests you to let him run a course in your own park. If you ’ll not do ’t for love, then do ’t for money! She has no white money, but there ’s gold; or else she prays you to ring him by this token,60 and so you shall be sure his nose will not be rooting other men’s pastures.
[Gives purse and ring.]
Inf. This very purse was woven with mine own hands; This diamond on that very night, when he Untied my virgin girdle, gave I him;65 And must a common harlot share in mine? Old man, to quit thy pains, take thou the gold. Orl. Not I, madam, old serving-men want no money. Inf. Cupid himself was sure his secretary;70 These lines are even the arrows love let flies. The very ink dropt out of Venus’ eyes.
Orl. I do not think, madam, but he fetcht off some poet or other for those lines, for they are parlous hawks to fly at wenches.75
Inf. Here ’s honied poison! To me he ne’er thus writ; But lust can set a double edge on wit. Orl. Nay, that ’s true, madam, a wench will whet any thing, if it be not too dull. Inf. Oaths, promises, preferments, jewels, gold,80 What snares should break, if all these cannot hold? What creature is thy mistress? Orl. One of those creatures that are contrary to man; a woman. Inf. What manner of woman?85
Orl. A little tiny woman, lower than your ladyship by head and shoulders, but as mad a wench as ever unlaced a petticoat: these things should I indeed have delivered to my lord, your husband.90
Inf. They are delivered better: why should she Send back these things? Orl. ’Ware, ’ware, there ’s knavery. Inf. Strumpets, like cheating gamesters, will not win At first; these are but baits to draw him in. How might I learn his hunting hours?95
Orl. The Irish footman can tell you all his hunting hours, the park he hunts in, the doe he would strike; that Irish shackatory[2508] beats the bush for him, and knows all; he brought that letter, and that ring; he is the carrier.100
Inf. Knowest thou what other gifts have past between them? Orl. Little Saint Patrick knows all. Inf. Him I ’ll examine presently. Orl. Not whilst I am here, sweet madam.105 Inf. Be gone then, and what lies in me command. Exit Orlando.
Enter Bryan.
Inf. How much cost those satins, And cloth of silver, which my husband sent By you to a low gentlewoman yonder?109
Bry. Faat satins? faat silvers, faat low gentlefolks? Dow pratest dow knowest not what, i’ faat, la.
Inf. She there, to whom you carried letters.
Bry. By dis hand and bod dow saist true, if I did so, oh how? I know not a letter a’ de115 book i’ faat, la.
Inf. Did your lord never send you with a ring, sir, Set with a diamond?
Bry. Never, sa crees sa’ me, never! He may run at a towsand rings i’ faat, and I never120 hold his stirrup, till he leap into de saddle. By St. Patrick, madam. I never touch my lord’s diamond, nor ever had to do, i’ faat, la, with any of his precious stones.124
Enter Hippolito.
Inf. Are you so close,[2509] you bawd, you pand’ring slave? [Strikes Bryan.] Hip. How now? Why, Infelice; what ’s your quarrel? Inf. Out of my sight, base varlet! get thee gone. Hip. Away, you rogue! Bry. Slawne loot,[2510] fare de well, fare de well. Ah marragh frofat boddah breen![2511] Exit. Hip. What, grown a fighter? Prithee, what ’s the matter?131 Inf. If you ’ll needs know, it was about the clock. How works the day, my lord, pray, by your watch? Hip. Lest you cuff me, I ’ll tell you presently:[2512] I am near two. Inf. How, two? I ’m scarce at one.135 Hip. One of us then goes false. Inf. Then sure ’t is you, Mine goes by heaven’s dial, the sun, and it goes true. Hip. I think, indeed, mine runs somewhat too fast. Inf. Set it to mine at one then. Hip. One? ’t is past: ’T is past one by the sun. Inf. Faith, then, belike,140 Neither your clock nor mine does truly strike; And since it is uncertain which goes true, Better be false at one, than false at two. Hip. Y’ are very pleasant, madam. If. Yet not merry. Hip. Why, Infelice, what should make you sad?145 Inf. Nothing, my lord, but my false watch. Pray, tell me,— You see, my clock or yours is out of frame, Must we upon the workmen lay the blame, Or on ourselves that keep them? Hip. Faith on both. He may by knavery spoil them, we by sloth.150 But why talk you all riddle thus? I read Strange comments in those margins of your looks. Your cheeks of late are like bad printed books, So dimly charact’red, I scarce can spell One line of love in them. Sure all ’s not well.155 Inf. All is not well indeed, my dearest lord; Lock up thy gates of hearing, that no sound Of what I speak may enter. Hip. What means this? Inf. Or if my own tongue must myself betray, Count it a dream, or turn thine eyes away,160 And think me not thy wife. She kneels. Hip. Why do you kneel? Inf. Earth is sin’s cushion: when the sick soul feels Herself growing poor, then she turns beggar, cries, And kneels for help. Hippolito, for husband I dare not call thee, I have stolen that jewel165 Of my chaste honour, which was only thine, And given it to a slave. Hip. Ha? Inf. On thy pillow Adultery and lust have slept; thy groom Hath climb’d the unlawful tree, and pluckt the sweets; A villain hath usurp’d a husband’s sheets.170 Hip. S’death, who?—a cuckold!—who? Inf. This Irish footman. Hip. Worse than damnation! a wild kerne,[2513] a frog, A dog: whom I ’ll scarce spurn. Long’d you for shamrock? Were it my father’s father, heart, I ’ll kill him, Although I take him on his death-bed gasping ’Twixt Heaven and hell! A shag-hair’d cur! Bold strumpet,176 Why hang’st thou on me? Think’st I ’ll be a bawd To a whore, because she ’s noble? Inf. I beg but this, Set not my shame out to the world’s broad eye, Yet let thy vengeance, like my fault, soar high, So it be in dark’ned clouds. Hip. Dark’ned! my horns181 Cannot be dark’ned, nor shall my revenge. A harlot to my slave? The act is base, Common, but foul, so shall not thy disgrace. Could not I feed your appetite? O women185 You were created angels, pure and fair; But since the first fell, tempting devils you are. You should be men’s bliss, but you prove their rods: Were there no women, men might live like gods. You ha’ been too much down already; rise,190 Get from my sight, and henceforth shun my bed; I ’ll with no strumpet’s breath be poisoned. As for your Irish lubrican,[2514] that spirit Whom by prepost’rous charms thy lust hath raised In a wrong circle, him I ’ll damn more black195 Than any tyrant’s soul. Inf. Hippolito! Hip. Tell me, didst thou bait hooks to draw him to thee, Or did he bewitch thee? Inf. The slave did woo me. Hip. Tu-whoos in that screech-owl’s language! Oh, who ’d trust Your cork-heel’d sex? I think to sate your lust You ’d love a horse, a bear, a croaking toad,201 So your hot itching veins might have their hound: Then the wild Irish dart was thrown? Come, how? The manner of this fight? Inf. ’T was thus, he gave me this battery first.—Oh, I205 Mistake—believe me, all this in beaten gold; Yet I held out, but at length thus was charm’d. [Gives letter, purse and ring.] What? change your diamond, wench? The act is base, Common, but foul, so shall not your disgrace. Could not I feed your appetite? O men210 You were created angels, pure and fair, But since the first fell, worse than devils you are. You should our shields be, but you prove our rods. Were there no men, women might live like gods. Guilty, my lord? Hip. Yes, guilty, my good lady.215 Inf. Nay, you may laugh, but henceforth shun my bed. With no whore’s leavings I ’ll be poisoned. Exit. Hip. O’er-reached so finely? ’T is the very diamond And letter which I sent. This villany219 Some spider closely weaves, whose poison’d bulk I must let forth. Who ’s there without? Ser. (within.) My lord calls? Hip. Send me the footman. Ser. (within.) Call the footman to my lord.—Bryan, Bryan!224
Re-enter Bryan.
Hip. It can be no man else, that Irish Judas, Bred in a country where no venom prospers But in the nation’s blood, hath thus betray’d me.— Slave, get you from your service. Bry. Faat meanest thou by this now? Hip. Question me not, nor tempt my fury, villain!230 Couldst thou turn all the mountains in the land To hills of gold, and give me, here thou stayest not. Bry. I’ faat, I care not. Hip. Prate not, but get thee gone, I shall send else.234
Bry. Ay, do predy, I had rather have thee make a scabbard of my guts, and let out all de Irish puddings in my poor belly, den to be a false knave to de, i’ faat! I will never see dine own sweet face more. A mawhid deer a gra,[2515] fare dee well, fare dee well; I will go steal 240 cows again in Ireland.
Exit.
Hip. He ’s damn’d that raised this whirlwind, which hath blown Into her eyes this jealousy: yet I ’ll on, I ’ll on, stood armed devils staring in my face. To be pursued in flight, quickens the race,245 Shall my blood-streams by a wife’s lust be barr’d? Fond[2516] woman, no: iron grows by strokes more hard; Lawless desires are seas scorning all bounds, Or sulphur, which being ramm’d up, more confounds; Struggling with madmen madness nothing tames;250 Winds wrestling with great fires incense the flames. Exit.