Act 1
SCENE I.
[Enter Piso, Fabritio.]
PISO.
Come, I protest i'le have you home againe,
And tell all to your Father, if you goe not
More chearfully on about this businesse.
FABRITIO.
O Piso! Dearest (dearest?) only Friend,
That Name of Father tis, that checks my blood,
And strikes a filiall Reverence through my Soule;
Layes load upon my loynes, clogging my steps,
And like an armed Angell warnes me back.
PISO.
So, so, he runs away to proper purpose
That beares his Hue and Cry in's conscience.
FABRITIO.
It is not yet day-light: night will conceale
My secret purposes. I will returne.
PISO.
Do so; and damne thee blacker then the night,
Thee and thy Father too for company
Expresse your filiall Reverence so, doe so.
FABRITIO.
Deare Piso peace.
PISO.
Peace fond Fabritio.
Dost thou not fly from him to save his Soule?
His and thine own to boot? will not thy stay
(Stay not to answer me) ruine your Family;
Cut off all hope of Blessing, if not Being
Of your Posterity? and all this by obaying
A wilfull Father in a lawlesse Marriage;
More fatall (I foresee't) then ere our State
Of Venice yet produc'd example for.
FABRITIO.
O now thou tear'st my very bowells Piso,
Should I consent (as I dare not deny
My over-hasty Father) to this match,
I should submit my selfe the most perfidious,
That ever shadow'd Treachery with Love.
No, my Victoria, sooner shall this steele
Remove thy hindrance from a second choyce,
Then I give word or thought, but to be thine.
PISO.
Why flie we not to Rome then, where you left her,
And shun the danger of your Fathers Plot,
Which would not only force you break your Faith
With chast Victoria, but to wed another,
Whose faith is given already to another?
Double damnation! 'Twere a way indeed
To make your children bastards o' both sides.
FABRITIO.
Can there no way be found to shun the danger
Of this so hastily intended Marriage,
But by my flight, and the most certaine losse
Of mine inheritance?
PISO.
That would be thought on.
FABRITIO.
Stay; who comes here?
[Musick, and divers Gentlemen passe to and fro with lights, at last Enter Pantaloni, lighted by Nicolo, with darke Lanthorns.] [Suggested tune: "Lose Yourself to Dance, Bardcore Medieval Style" -- TF, 2023]
PISO.
Some Night-walkers, that throw
Balls at their Mistresses, well of all Citties
Under the universall raigne of venery,
This is the civill'st! in what sweet tranquillity,
The subjects passe by and salute each other!
Stay, what grave beast, what reverend Gib is that?
(I'th' name of darknesse) dropt out of a gutter?
O age what art thou come to!
FABRITIO.
Pray forbeare.
PISO.
Looke there Fabritio, Venus can it be?
FABRITIO.
Come y'are deceav'd.
PISO.
Nay now I know I am not,
For by that little loving glimpse of light
That leads him on, Fabritio, tis thy Father.
FABRITIO.
I pray thee peace.
PISO.
What will this City come to?
A young man shall not shortly venture to
A vaulting Schoole for feare he jumpe in the
Same sadle with his Father, to the danger
Of his old bones.
[Enter Francisco, and Horatio.]
Stay here comes more. This is
Some speciall haunt! sure tis the habitation
Of the Novella lately come to Town,
Which drawes the admiration of all
The Rampant Gallantry about the City!
FABRITIO.
They say shee's yet a Virgine.
PISO.
And is like
So to continue, still shee prove stale fish,
At the rate shee's stamp'd for: for she has set
Such a large price upon her new nothing,
That Venery and Prodigality are at ods
About her, it seemes thy Father could not bargaine.
FABRITIO.
Fie! 'twas not he.
PISO.
Not hee! peace and stand close.
FRANCISCO.
Is shee so rare a Creature, this Novella?
HORATIO.
Rare? above excellent (man) it is unpossible
For a Painter to flatter her, or a Poet to bely her
In ayming to augment her beauty: For I saw her that can judge.
PISO.
Now if a man
Were to unkennell the handsomest shee Fox
In Venice, let him follow these doggs. Sure
Shee is earth'd hereabouts. They have the sent.
FRANCISCO.
You have not seene her often?
HORATIO.
Onely thrice
At Church, That's once for every day, that shee
Has beautified this City.
PISO.
What rare helpe
May this be to devotion, that he speaks of!
FRANCISCO.
And all this Beauty, and this seeming vertue Offer'd to sale?
PISO.
I thought 'twas such a peece.
HORATIO.
Thence only springs the knowledge of her worth
Marke but the price shee's cry'd at: two thousand Duccats
For her Maydenhead, and one moneths society.
PISO.
What a way, now, would that money reach
In Buttock-beefe.
HORATIO.
Shee is indeed for beauty,
Person, and Price, fit onely for a Prince:
I cannot thinke a lesse man then the Duke
Himselfe must beare her; and indeed 'twere pitty
That shee should sinne at lesse advantage.
FRANCISCO.
Why do we then make way to visit her
By our expence in Musick?
PISO.
A wary whore-master: I like him well:
A penneyworth for a penny would be look'd for.
HORATIO.
Why Francisco? Why?
PISO.
Francisco! is it hee?
HORATIO.
Although her price be such to be sold for
In ready money, shee is yet allow'd
To give herselfe for love if shee be pleas'd.
Who knowes how well shee may affect a man
(As here and there a Woman may by chance)
Onely for vertue? That's worth our adventure,
But I wish rather we could purchace her
At the set price betwixt us for a twelvemonth
Our friendship should not suffer us to grudge
At one anothers good turnes.
PISO.
There's love in couples,
What whelpes are these? sure this Francisco is
The late forsaken lover, betroth'd to Flavia
Whom now thy Father would so violently
Force thee to marry.
FABRITIO.
Would he had her Piso.
PISO.
O here they pitch, stand close, wee'l heare their Musick.
[Song.] [The editor suggests "What is Love, Lady Thou Woundest" -- TF, 2023]
HORATIO.
Come sad Francisco, wee'l to morrow see
This Miracle of nature, whose meere sight
Will wipe away the injury thou sufferd'st
In Flavia; and make thee quite forget her.
PISO.
Tis he, and I will speake to him.
HORATIO.
Good forbeare.
PISO.
Francisco must not so forget his Flavia.
HORATIO.
What are you?
PISO.
Men, that would have you be so,
And not to wanton out your holy vowes
[Drawes]
Dancing your selfes to th’Devill.
FRANCISCO.
What doe you meane?
PISO.
I meane, Francisco, you too much forget
The love you bore to Flavia, shee to you,
HORATIO.
Shee has forsaken him, and is bestow'd
(Forc'd by the torrent of her fathers will)
On young Fabritio, Pantalonies Sonne.
PISO.
Here stands the man denies it, speake Fabritio.
FABRITIO.
Not that I undervalue Flavius worth,
But not to violate her faith by breach
Of mine, were all this signiory her dowry
(Here is my hand Francisco,) i'le not wed her.
FRANCISCO.
I must embrace you sir.
HORATIO.
And Gentlemen,
My Lodging is not farre, please you retire,
And there repose your selfes untill the light
That now is near at hand, shall point you forth
A way to future comfort; you shall finde
Good wine and welcome, please you to accept it.
PISO.
Your offer sir is large: yet let me aske
If we may rest securely for a day;
Lurke close and private, till the appointed houre
For this forc'd Marriage be over-slipp'd,
In case that our necessity may require it?
HORATIO.
I understand you, Take mine honor of it.
PISO.
Be cheard Fabritio, thou shalt not to Rome,
We may prevent thy danger nearer home.
Now night we thanke, and follow thee away
(As being thy servants) from th' approach day.
HORATIO.
You conclude well, lovers and sprights are
Night-walkers, warn'd away by th'morning Starre.
[Exit.]
ACT I. SCENE II.
[Enter Guadagni in his Study. A Taper, Baggs, Books, &c.]
GUADAGNI.
Whilest yet the Leaden finger'd god of sleepe
Keeps close the eye-lids of phantastick youth,
Feeding their acry fancies with light dreames,
Of wanton pleasures; giddy, vaine delights,
The ever watchfull cares of aged Parents
Throw ope the gates and windowes of soft rest,
Making our midnight noone, to guard and order
The wholsome fruits of our continuall labour.
Wholsome and happy off-springs of my paines
Thus I salute you and implore your safty,
And thus that you may rest, grow and increase
Mine eyes prevent the breakers of your peace.
But see the morning hastens to relieve me!
Day spreads apace, and warmes the provident hand
Doe out the uselesse taper. Hoe! what hoe!
[Enter Nanulo, Astutta.]
Nanulo! Astutta! is it midnight with you?
NANULO.
Your servants are all here and ready sir.
GUADAGNI.
About about, you drowsy headed drones,
Where is my Daugher?
ASTUTTA.
Up and ready too sir.
GUADAGNI.
Sirrah haste you to Pantalonies house.
NANULO.
The rich Magnifico?
GUADAGNI.
Who else, you Rat?
Tell him I doe attend his comming hither,
To expedite the worke we have in hand.
NANULO.
It shall be done sir, please you give me passage.
GUADAGNI.
Here take the Keys; lock the dore after him
Then call my Daughter to me.
ASTUTTA.
See shee's here sir.
[Exit NANULO, ASTUTTA.]
GUADAGNI.
Flavia my Girle, see how my early care
Provides for thee. The toyle of many yeares
By dayly travaile, and my nightly watches
Lies here in readinesse to build thy fortune.
And take it willingly, since thou consentst
To match unto my will; whereby this Coyne,
Thy selfe, and both our joyes may finde increase.
I can no lesse then thanke thee Flavia,
Although I must confesse, my suite was long,
And grievous to me, ere thy childish will
Yeilded to my appointment of a husband:
For whom (with no small joy I speak't) thou didst
Cast off (indeed) the off-scum of his blood
The poore, degenerate in fortune, fellow,
I scorne to name him.
FLAVIA.
Alas my Francisco—
GUADAGNI.
By which thou gain'st the Nonpareil of heires
In all this wealthy City.
FLAVIA.
Sir tis not
The Riddance of the one, to gaine the other,
Both which are equall blessings unto me
Can ad unto my present happinesse
More, then the thought of your paternall wisdome,
Whose provident care was author of this good:
Chiefly to you I therefore wish the comfort.
GUADAGNI.
It will be so: I finde it my deare child
For though thy joy I know will be abundant
Mine must exceed, that includes thine with it.
Why smil'st thou Flavia? to think how deare
Thy Hymeneall day, to morow is?
FLAVIA.
No I could weepe for that.
GUADAGNI.
How! ha! whats that?
This money's mine againe, and thou art not
If thou dost wish one dayes procrastination,
Degenerate brat, changeling—
FLAVIA.
Deare Father—Father—
GUADAGNI.
Th'ast seene thy last of happinesse: all content
From this black minute, and thy selfe are strangers.
FLAVIA.
Sir, I beseech you heare me—
GUADAGNI.
Get you in
I'le mew you up where never Sun shall show
Into what endlesse misery i'le cast thee;
Nor any sound bring succour to thine Eare.
To call thee back from torment.
FLAVIA.
Sir,—deare sir—
GUADAGNI.
My selfe will be your Keeper, Cook, and Carver.
FLAVIA.
Indeed you will be sorry.
GUADAGNI.
Sorry! for what?
FLAVIA.
For the mistake you run away withall.
GUADAGNI.
Didst thou not say thou wept'st, because to morrow was come so nigh?
FLAVIA.
So nigh and yet not come sir,
Fearing how many dangerous houres are thither.
GUADAGNI.
Ha! I beginne to be now sorry indeed.
FLAVIA.
Loves Minutes, sir, are dayes, and houres are years,
When each protracted, multiplies our feares.
GUADAGNI.
Now I am sorry with all my heart; and here's a
Thousand checqines to expiate my trespasse.
But do not let thy husband know of them
Till he redeeme a fault to their full value,
Oh mine own Girle, my honey, honey Girle?
FLAVIA.
Was not I, sir, applauding of your wisdome,
And giving you the glory of my comfort
In this approved match?
GUADAGNI.
Thou didst, thou didst,
With teares of joy I must confesse thou didst.
FLAVIA.
Had you but heard me out, I had magnified
My fortune, sprung out of your providence.
GUADAGNI.
Speake yet, and I will heare attentively.
FLAVIA.
First then, how first your admirable wisdome
Weighing how I had setled my affection
Upon Francisco excellent in parts,
Of noble blood, how ever low in fortune,
You gave your free consent (knowing your estate
To be a portion fitter to restore him
Unto the dignity of his Ancestors,
Then to be added to another’s Muck-hill)
That I should be his wife—
GUADAGNI.
What's this you say?
FLAVIA.
Nay deare sir flie not off.
GUADAGNI.
Well, on then, on.
FLAVIA.
I say you gave consent, that I should be
Wife to that noble Gentleman (pray sit still sir)
As you had foreseene my future happines
Only in him consisted—sir untill
This wealthy heire, young Fabritio,
You Neighbour Trades-mans Son, of great estate,
Was by his father tender'd unto you
For me a husband, then unseene by mee:
But since I must confesse a proper man,
Worthy a fitter Wife—
GUADAGNI.
Sweet Modesty.
FLAVIA.
But that your wisdome needs will have it so,
By reason that his heapes may purchase honour,
Which to'thers wants can never wash away,
But farewell him: I must looke this way now;
And crown your wisdome with this closing point,
That whereas I betroth'd was to Francisco,
And Pantalonies Sonne unto another,
(A Lady as tis justified at Rome)
You force me on this man, the fittest husband
On whom to make my party good hereafter,
Who shall not dare to upbraide my breach of faith.
GUADAGNI.
And ist not a sound policy my Flavia?
[A Bell rings.]
But now no more; old Pantaloni comes,
I take it. How now! dos he not come?
[Enter Nanulo.]
NANULO.
Signor Pantaloni, sir, intreats you
Meet him on the Rialto instantly,
That you may goe to the Advocates together.
GUADAGNI.
It is my Flavia interchangeably
To seale your Marriage covenants; make thee happy,
Looke to my house and havings; keepe all safe,
I shall be absent most part of this day,
Be carefull Girle, thine own speciall good
Requires thee to't: and therefore I dare trust thee.
FLAVIA.
Happy successe attend you sir, whilst I
Rest here in prayers for you.
GUADAGNI.
Thanks my child,
Come sirrah lock the doore. But first (dee hear)
Beware that none have entrance in my absence
Except Fabritio, Pantalonie's Sonne;
Or such as I have warranted, looke to it.
NANULO.
With due respect.
GUADAGNI.
Come lock the doore I say.
[Exit.]
FLAVIA.
I, I, be sure of that, and I could wish
My thoughts were prisoners too: that they might fly
No further then the casement, or the wicket;
Where they (loose things) get out, and nothing bring
Back to this heart, but cold and sad returnes.
O my Astutta—
[Enter Astutta.]
ASTUTTA.
Now or never helpe me!
FLAVIA.
As thou didst ever dreame what true love was,
Fancy some way to quit me of this bondage;
Or else contrive this houre to be my last.
ASTUTTA.
What! would you disobey your Father? what!
So good, so carefull, and so wise a Parent?
FLAVIA.
O doe not vex me into longer life.
Either speake helpe, or let me die in silence.
ASTUTTA.
Yes, at sixteene; you would die at sixteene?
FLAVIA.
Else let thy pitty of my youth preserve me.
ASTUTTA.
O Cupid what a Termagant tyrant art thou
Over poore subjects of sixteene! There is not one
Among a hundred of those ticklish Trifles
But is more taken with a Toy at sixteene
Then six and twenty: because by that time
The edges of most maydenheads are allayd.
FLAVIA.
Nay deare Astutta hast thou thought a course?
ASTUTTA.
What, to prevent your Father, my good Master?
Thinke you I can turne traytor to his trust,
And crosse his purpose for your Marriage?
FLAVIA.
If Knife, or Poyson, Fire, or Water may
Remove this wretched cause, i'le do it else.
ASTUTTA.
Yes, you were best leape from the top o'th'house
Into the Cavail grande: and there perhaps
Some courteous Gondaliar may catch you up,
And waft you to some house of deare delight.
FLAVIA.
Thou tortur'st me.
ASTUTTA.
You see the doore is shut,
And Go-by-ground your fathers Giant here
More sterne then Cerberus holds fast the Key,
You can make no excursion; nor let in
Any attempt for your redemption:
No Letter or a Message can approach you,
But by this Gyant-dwarfe your Fathers Agent,
Though I my selfe were wicked to assist you.
FLAVIA.
O couldst thou be so vertuous! Then I know
Some quaint devise would issue from thy braine
To conjure and controwle his weaker spirits.
Thou knowst I have command of Gold and Jewells
Enough to buy a Senators large conscience:
Doe thou command it all to win him to us,
That petty thing. Dos he appeare bribe-free?
Is he the only officer uncorrupted?
[Enter Nanulo.]
NANULO.
Madona Flavia, newes.
FLAVIA.
What I beseech you?
NANULO.
From your elected Bridegroome, brave Fabritio.
ASTUTTA.
Dissemble patience as you are a woman,
Or hope to be; and heare him handsomely.
FLAVIA.
How dos hee Nanulo?
ASTUTTA.
That was well said.
NANULO.
Well and respectfull towards you it seemes,
For hee desires you not to stir abroad,
As I could wish you would not—
FLAVIA.
Insolent slave!
You know I may not stir beyond the Key
You keepe, and yet you wish me stay within.
ASTUTTA.
Will you marre all? the reason?
NANULO.
The reason is, he meanes to send anon
A Mercadante from the Merceria,
The famous Pedler woman of this City
With her most precious wares; for you to choose
What you shall like, and take them as his presents,
(A ceremony us'd on wedding Eves)
Such Rings, such Things, such Knacks, such Knots & Bobs;
Such Curles, such Purles, such Tricks and Trilly bubkins
As Mayds would turne no Mayds almost to see 'hem!
And can you yet be angry at such newes
With me the gladsome bringer?
ASTUTTA.
Very good!
I have heard of this rare Pedler-woman;
And that shee is much us'd in close affaires
Twixt parties Hee and Shee; and doe not doubt
Since you make golden offers (gentle Mistresse)
To worke her to your ends, as neare (dee marke?)
As womans wit may reach at such a pinch,
Pray let her come.
FLAVIA.
Well sir, you know I shall not stir abroad;
When shee is come shee's welcome with my thanks.
Returne so by the messenger.
NANULO.
Most readily.
[Exit.]
ASTUTTA.
Now Mistris if I chance to set the sadle
On the right horse; that is, to place your Mayden-head
Where you would faine bestow it, I trust you will
Out of your store reward me with a dowry
Fit to convey me to a Tradesmans Bed.
FLAVIA.
Yes, and wish there a second Maydenhead,
On the condition.
ASTUTTA.
Well, be chearfull then,
And cleare those cloudy looks, awake your senses,
Refresh your temples, rowse invention up.
I have found ground to build on; but there lacks
Much rewing, squaring, joynting, to make sure,
Against all stormes, our lofty Archi'ture,
Come up to councell?
FLAVIA.
Now thou comforts me.
[Exeunt Omnes.]