Act 2 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
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
130Impatience; 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.
131Diego. 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
132Of 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,
133I 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
134Some 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?
135San. 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]
136San. 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.
137