ANGELO

Why were there no such sympathy sweet Lord? Yet the impressure of those ample favours, I have derived from your unmatched spirit, Would bind my faith to all observances. Why starts your Lordship? I hear not any thing, it was but your imagination sure. No, I assure your Lordship. Why, has he no knowledge of it then? A pox upon those brazen throated slaves, What are they mad, trow? Therefore I come sir, I'll to the eldest. God save you Ladies, these sad moods of yours, That make you choose these solitary walks, Are hurtful for your beauty's. Come, that condition might be for your hearts, When you protest faith, since we cannot see them. But this same heart of beauty, your sweet face Is in mine eye still. Nay Lady thats not so, your heart's to hard. Oh no. I mean that regent of affection, Madam, That tramples on all love with such contempt n this fair breast. That I might fly to you, when all else fail me. Sighs for a woman, would I fouled mine arms, Rave in my sleep, talk idly being awake, Pine and look pale, make love-walks in the night, To steal cold comfort from a day-starres eyes. Kit, thou art a fool, wilt thou be wise? then lad Renounce this boy-gods nice idolatry, Stand not on compliment, and wooing tricks, Thou love old Jaques daughter, dost thou? Come, come, I know't, be ruled and she's thine own, Thou'lt say her father Jaques, the old beggar, Hath pawned his word to thee, that none but thou, Shalt be his son in law. He has? wilt thou believe him, and be made a kooke, To wait on such and antique weather cock; Why he is more inconstant then the sea, His thoughts, Chameleon -Like, change every minute: No Kit, work soundly, steal the wench away, Wed her, and bed her, and when that is done, Then say to Jaques, shall I be your son? But come to our devise, where is this gold? Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden drops, Let these bald french crowns be uncovered, In open sighed, to do obeisance To Jaques staring eyes when he steps forth, The needy beggar will be glad of gold. So, now keep thou aloose, and as he treads This guilded path, stretch out his ambling Hope's, With scattering more & more, & as thou goest, cry Jaques, Jaques Mass, that's true, at the old Priory behind S. Foyes. Do good fool, do, but isle not meet you there. Now to this gear, Jaques, Jaques, what Jaques? Jaques. Steward, he comes, he comes Jaques. To a fools paradise that path will bring Thee and thy household Lar. Come sweet soul, leave wondering, start not, it I laid this plot to get thy father forth. Oh me no oo's, but hear, my Lord your love, Paulo Ferneze is returned from war, Lingers at Pont Valeria, and from thence By post at midnight last, I was conjured To man you thither, stand not on replies, A horse is saddled for you, will you go, And I am for you, if you will stay, why so. Sweet soul I guess thy meaning by thy looks, At po to Valerio thou thy love shalt see, But not Ferneze, Steward fare you well. You wait for Rachel to, when can you tell? Sbloud how Like a puppet do you talk now? Dishonour? what dishonour? come, come, fool, Nay then I see you're peevish, S'heart dishonour? To have you a topriest and marry you, And put you in and honourable state. Do you hear? what needs all this? say, will you have me, or no? Leave you? I was accursed to bring you hither, And make so fair and offer to a fool. A pox upon you, why should you be coy, What good thing have you in you to be proud of? Are y'any other then a beggars daughter? Because you have beauty. Oh Gods light a blast. You scornful baggage, I loved thee not so much, but now I hate thee. This will not do, I must to her again, Rachel, o that thou sawest my heart, or didst behold, The place from whence that scalding figh evented. Rachel, by Jesu I love thee as my soul, Rachel, sweet Rachel. Do but hear me, by heaven I love you Rachel. Sbloud and he were, what would he do. My noble Ferneze. My honourable Lord. You shall see, I will redeem your lost opinion. How now sweet Lord, whats the matter? Marry in the gallery, where your Lordship left him. Before your Lordship do proceed too far, Let me be bold to intimate thus much; That what so ere your wisdom hath t'expose, Be it the weightiest and most rich affair, That ever was included in your breast, My faith shall poise it, if not— I thank you Lady: I know you can flout. How shall we rid him hence. Before God, she is a sweet wench. Troth well my Lord, but shall I speak my mind. She is derived too meanly to be wife To such a noble person, in my judgement. Come you are so sententious my Lord. God save thee Jaques. Sbloud how the poor slave looks, as though He had be hauuted by the spirit Lar, Or seen the ghost of some great Satrapas. In and unsavoury sheet. Then hard favoured, Is that your meaning, Lady? And therefore you will ride them. No not with you, hark you sweet Lady. Come, I will not sue, stally to be your servant, But a new term, will you be my refuge? Nay take away the P. I'll warrant you. I'll borrow Cupid's wings. Oh this is rate. One of my Mistress's? why thinks your Lordship I have so many Nay good my Lord fourteen: it is not so. Sbloud you are such a Lord. Nay I prithee Rachel, I come to comfort thee, Be not so sad. Nay then you're found, And want that strength of judgement and election, That should be attendent on your years and form, Will you, because your Lord is taken prisoner, Blubber and weep and keep a peevish stir, As though you would turn turtle with the news, Come, come, be wise. Sblood say your Lord should die: And you go mar your face as you begin, What would you do trow? who would care for you; But this it is, when nature will bestow Her gifts on such as know not how to use them, You shall have some that had they but one quarter Of your fair beauty? they would make it show A little otherwise then you do this, Or they would see the painter twice and hour, And I commend them I, that can use art, With such judicial practice. And why sweet heart. Come I have sweeter vyands yet in store. Rachel? First isle play the ghost, I'll call him out, Kit keep aloof. Nay gentle Rachel? I faith she is not for you steward. My young and simple friend, Paulo Ferneze, Bound me with mighty solemn conjurations, To be true to him, in his love, to Rachel, And to solicit his remembrance still, In his inforced absence, much, I faith. True to my friend in cases of affection? In women's cases? what a jest it is? How silly he is, that imagines it! He is and ass that will keep promise strictly In any thing that checks his private pleasure; Chiefly in love. S'bloud am not I a man? Have I not eyes that are as free to look? And blood to be inflamed as well as his? And when it is so, shall I not pursue Mine own loves longings, but prefer my friends? I 'tis a good fool, do so, hang me then, Because I swore, alas, who does not know, That lovers perjuries are ridiculous? Have at thee Rachel: I'll go court her sure: For now I know her father is abroad. S'bloud see, he is here, o what damned luck is this? This labour's lost, I must by no means see him. S'bloud, I am betwixt, I think, this is twice now, I have been served thus. And me thinks another may be as fine as he. Signior Angelo?