Act 1 — SCENE V.

A street.

Enter Louis.

Louis. That if [I], only I should be the man

Made accessary and a party both

To mine own torment, at a time so near

The birth of all those comforts I have travail’d with

So many, many hours of hopes and fears;

Now at the instant—

Enter Roderigo.

Ha! stand! thy name,

Truly and speedily.

Rod. Don Louis?

Louis. The same;

But who art thou? speak!

Rod. Roderigo.

Louis. Tell me,

As you’re a noble gentleman, as ever

You hope to be enroll’d amongst the virtuous,

As you love goodness, as you wish t' inherit

The blessedness and fellowship of angels,

As you’re my friend, as you are Roderigo,

As you are any thing that would deserve

A worthy name, where have you been to-night?

O, how have you dispos’d of that fair creature

Whom you led captive from me? speak, O speak!

Where, how, when, in what usage have you left her?

Truth, I require all truth.

Rod. Though I might question

113The strangeness of your importunity,

Yet, ’cause I note distraction in the height

Of curiosity, I will be plain

And brief.

Louis. I thank you, sir.

Rod. Instead of feeding

Too wantonly upon so rich a banquet,

I found, even in that beauty that invited me,

Such a commanding majesty of chaste

And humbly glorious virtue, that it did not

More check my rash attempt than draw to ebb

The float^[183] of those desires, which in an instant

Were cool’d in their own streams of shame and folly.

Louis. Now all increase of honours

Fall in full showers on thee, Roderigo,

The best man living!

Rod. You are much transported

With this discourse, methinks.

Louis. Yes, I am.

She told ye her name too?

Rod. I could not urge it

By any importunity.

Louis. Better still!

Where did you leave her?

Rod. Where I found her; farther

She would by no means grant me to wait on her:

O Louis, I am lost!

Louis. This self-same lady

Was she to whom I have been long a suiter,

And shortly hope to marry.

Rod. She your mistress, then? Louis, since friendship

And noble honesty conjure^[184] our loves

To a continu’d league, here I unclasp

114The secrets of my heart. O, I have had

A glimpse of such a creature, that deserves

A temple! if thou lov’st her—and I blame thee not,

For who can look on her, and not give up

His life unto her service?—if thou lov’st her,

For pity’s sake conceal her; let me not

As much as know her name, there’s a temption^[185] in’t;

Let me not know her dwelling, birth, or quality,

Or any thing that she calls hers, but thee;

In thee, my friend, I'll see her: and t' avoid

The surfeits and^[186] those rarities that tempt me,

So much I prize the happiness of friendship,

That I will leave the city——

Louis. Leave it?

Rod. Speed me

For Salamanca; court my studies now

For physic ’gainst infection of the mind.

Louis. You do amaze me.

Rod. Here to live, and live

Without her, is impossible and wretched.

For heaven’s sake, never tell her what I was,

Or that you know me! and when I find that absence

Hath lost her to my memory, I'll dare

To see ye again. Meantime, the cause that draws me

From hence shall be to all the world untold;

No friend but thou alone, for whose sake only

I undertake this voluntary exile,

Shall be partaker of my griefs: thy hand,

Farewell; and all the pleasures, joys, contents,

That bless a constant lover, henceforth crown thee

A happy bridegroom!

115Louis. You have conquer’d friendship

Beyond example.

Enter Diego.

Diego. Ha, ha, ha! some one

That hath slept well to-night, should ’a but see me

Thus merry by myself, might justly think

I were not well in my wits.

Louis. Diego?

Diego. Yes,

’Tis I, and I have had a fine fegary,^[187]

The rarest wild-goose chase!

Louis. ’Thad made thee melancholy.

Diego. Don Roderigo here? ’tis well you met him;

For though I miss’d him, yet I met an accident

Has almost made me burst with laughter.

Louis. How so?

Diego. I'll tell you: as we parted, I perceiv’d

A walking thing before me, strangely tickled

With rare conceited raptures; him I dogg’d,

Supposing ’t had been Roderigo landed

From his new pinnace, deep in contemplation

Of the sweet voyage^[188] he stole to-night.

Rod. You’re pleasant.

Louis. Prithee, who was’t?

Rod. Not I.

Diego. You’re i' the right, not you indeed;

For ’twas that noble gentleman Don John,

Son to the count Francisco de Carcomo.

116Louis. In love, it seems?

Diego. Yes, pepper’d, on my life;

Much good may’t do him; I'd not be so lin’d^[189]

For my cap full of double pistolets.

Louis. What should his mistress be?

Diego. That’s yet a riddle

Beyond my resolution; but of late

I have^[190] observ’d him oft to frequent the sports

The gipsies newly come to th' city present.

Louis. It is said there is a creature with ’em,

Though young of years, yet of such absolute beauty,

Dexterity of wit, and general qualities,

That Spain reports her not without admiration.

Diego. Have you seen her?

Louis. Never.

Diego. Nor you, my lord?

Rod. I not remember.

Diego. Why, then, you never saw the prettiest toy

That ever sung or danc’d.

Louis. Is she a gipsy?

Diego. In her condition, not in her complexion:

I tell you once more, ’tis a spark of beauty

Able to set a world at gaze; the sweetest,

The wittiest rogue! shall’s see ’em? they’ve fine gambols,

Are mightily frequented; court and city

Flock to ’em, but the country does ’em worship:

117This little ape gets money by the sack-full,

It trolls upon her.

Louis. Will ye with us, friend?

Rod. You know my other projects; sights to me

Are but vexations.

Louis. O, you must be merry!—

Diego, we’ll to th' gipsies.

Diego. Best take heed

You be not snapp’d.

Louis. How' snapp’d?

Diego. By that little fairy;

'T has a shrewd tempting face and a notable tongue.

Louis. I fear not either.

Diego. Go, then.

Louis. Will you with us?

Rod. I'll come after.—

[Exeunt. Louis and Diego.

Pleasure and youth like smiling evils woo us

To taste new follies; tasted, they undo us. [Exit.