FEDELE

¶Alas my care so closeth up my sighed: That all is lost, wherein I should delight. ¶You know Victoriam is the cause of all my secret smart: Victoria's beauty is the worm, that gnaws me to the heart. What counsel now? ¶If this cold comfort in my need, be all that I shall have: Out of my sighed. No succour at thy hands I mean to crave. ¶Thanks good Pedante, get Thee home and leave me here a space: To try if I may meet with fair Victoriam in this place. ¶Here was I wunt to meet with her, and here I mean to walk: And found her meaning if I may, by moving her to talk. ¶O greedy Love that never feeleth glut, How have I boasted of Victoria's grace? With fear at last from favour to be shut, And loose the light of such a shining face? Shall neither tears, nor toil, nor broken sleep: Have force enough a Ladies Love to keep? ¶I serve a Mistress whiter then the snow, Straighter then Cedar, brighter then the Glass: Finer in trip and swifter then the Roe, More pleasant then the Field of flowering Grass. More gladsome to my withering Joys that fade: Then Winter's Sun, or Summers cooling shade, Sweeter then swelling grape of ripest wine, Softer then feathers of the fairest Swan: Smoother then Jet, more stately then the Pine, Fresher then Poplar, smaller then my span. Clearer then Beauty's fiery pointed beam: Or Ysy crust of Christalles frozen stream. Yet is she curster then the Bear by kind, And harder hearted then the aged Oak: More glib then Oil, more fickle then the wind, Stiffer then Steel, no sooner bent but broke. Lo thus my service is a lasting soar: Yet will I serve although I die therefore. ¶Mistress Victoriam : let us have one word before the go, O Love, o death, between you both, vouchsafe to rid my woe. ¶If for your sake alone, more then for any other dame: I were not thus tormented, then, I grant I were too blame. But sith your golden graces are the cause of all my gréfe: Give ear and credit to my plaint, and yield me some relief. ¶You did. ¶Needs hath no law, the matter touched my land and life so near: That I was forste against my will, to stay no longer here. But sith I have dispatched, according to mine own desire: Lo here I am to serve you still, in bitter frost, or fire. ¶A thousand thanks, this in your ear, let that the token been, Exit. ¶Too strange it is, that when I should rejoice, A chilling fear doth flit through every vain: And when I hope to hear Victoria's voice, Doubt throws me down into despair again. The comfort that she gave me, was so cold: That for my life I dare not be too bold. ¶I shiver still, come bear me company, Until thou seest Me nearer to the door: Thy speech doth give me comfort mightily, And eggs me on unto it more and more. ¶Not so, but stay until thou seest me in: To give the sign I purpose to begin. What means this? a letter: woe is Me, Where shall I read it? light within the Temple I do see. ¶Ah cruel Dame that can dissemble so, Die poor Fedele, life thou must forgo. ¶Read it thy self and see. ¶It cannot been, but that Victoriam hath and other Love: Therefore I purpose presently, her privy sleights to prove. ¶No no, her oaths and tears, and looks, and all thou canst repeat Were but as shadows finely cast, to cover her deceit. But sith I find her as she is, I will revenge the wrong: Or die the death in this attempt, because I live too long. ¶Mine enemies I purpose straight to try, Hide Thee within some privy corner here: Be diligent to mark who passes by, And if that any other man appear Either to enter, or to issue out, Mark what he is, and put Me out of doubt. Exit. ¶Ah cursed dams, their love is Like a flame, Quivering in the between too blasts of wind, Born here and there, by either of the same. Yet properly to none of both enclinde. Hate and disdain is painted in their eyes, Deceit and treason in their besom lies. Their promises are made of brittle glass, Ground with a fillop to the finest dust, Their thoughts as streaming rivers swiftly pass. Their words are oil, and yet they gather rust. Their virtues mount Like billows to the skies, And vanish straight out of the gazers eyes. True are they never found but in untruth, Constant in nought, but in inconstancy, The common foes of weal, and floods of rues. Devouring cankers of men liberty. Here does the stain of modesty abide: And shrowdingly desires her self to hide. But get Thee straight to Sir Fortunio. Will him to come and speak a word with me, Haste and post haste with speed see that thou go, That he this treachery may quickly see. Mean while on her whose face begins to glow: The burden of my breast I mean to throw. ¶He plowghes the seas, and fish in the land, And loses all the labour of them both, He fondly rears his fortress on the sand. That builds his trust upon a woman's troth. But get Thee hence about thy business, That I may talk with this my good mistress. ¶The cause that sets my gestures out of frame. Is in your self if you do search the same. ¶What make you here so early in the street? ¶Not Me but Sir Fortunio: you know this I am sure: Show her the Ima ge. And what by magic you have done, his favour to procure. I never thought so fair a dame, had been so foul within, But sith continued service, had no force thy grace to win: Be sure unthankful wretch, perjured and most disloyal dame: I will not rest, before I been revenged of the same. This to Fortunio presently I purpose shall be shown: And open bruit of thy reproach, throughout the City blown. All that in Naples dwell this day, shall wonder at this deed, And every wounding tongue shall make thine honour now to bleed. My self will help to tear the heart, out of thy body quick, And give thy crimson coloured blood, unto the dogs to lick. So lively will I blaze Thee out, to every gazers eye: That though thy carcase rot and waste, thy shame shall never die. As busy will I been to plague Thee more then is expressed: As thou wast cunning to deceive the man that loved Thee best. ¶Yes that, and more, in thee's no truth, love, faith, nor loyalty, But lies, dissembling, falsehood, hate, sin, shame, and sorcery. Bestur thy self, enchant, and conjure now and do thy worst, The day thou knewest us both, shall shortly be by Thee accursed. ¶A diauolo. As I have known Thee, so shall Sir Fortunio know Thee straight, For whom I sent, and here he comes, whose coming I do wait. ¶And you Sir Fortunio, I was so bold to charge my man, unto your house to go. Matters of weight I have to you, of friendship to impart: ¶Not so, but sith it asks time, if you will take the pain, To walk with Me unto my house, there will I tell you plain. Both what I saw and herd of late, which touches you so near: That you will give Me thanks I know, when you the matter here ¶ Pedante you may walk abroad, till Dinner draws nigh. ¶What means this? ¶Then to thy mistress Pamphila, I go. Mistress Virginia, what's the cause I pray, That you did send of late to seek me out? If you have any thing to me to say, Speak, that I may resolve you of the doubt. ¶Mistress, I love you as I did before, As dearly as the dearest friend you have, Or as a brother, would you any more? Command of me what courtesy may crave. If Fancies lurking poison you remove, And be not shipped in Seas of raging love. Whose great companions are discord and wrath, Flattery, Deceit, Treason and Cruelty: Heaviness of mind, grief, penury, and scathe: Unrest, suspicion, fear, and Jealousy, Consuming hunger, and and endless thirst, A iuing death, life dying with the First. ¶So quickly gone? farewell, all women for Victoria's sake, And on them all for her, revenge I mean to take. Busy they are with pen to write our vices in our face, But negligent to know the blemish of their own disgrace. Gestures and looks in readiness, at their command they have, Mirth, sorrow, fear, hope, and what other passion you can crave. Hence riseth every cloud in love, this breedeth all the strife, Snares to our feet, devouring cankers, these are unto life. ¶Waste thou so near Pedante ? ¶Thou didst in deed Pedante, and I have not it forgotten, ¶O no, for in Victoriam he hath such confidence, That he excuseth her, and now mistrusteth my pretence. ¶I do, very well, ¶No trust me. ¶In deed Pedante, I remember such a thing you said. ¶What's this to me? ¶Oh excellent. ¶What sayest thou? ¶Fear not, be sure he shall not stir before I see Thee gone, Farewell, and thanks to finish this, I will to him anon. Exit. ¶Come Sir Fortunio, now is the time to put you out of doubt, Whither Victoriam love you, or your dealings do but flout. Here let us shroud our selves a while, that standing out of sighed, We may perceive what lovers haunt Victoria's house by night. ¶Whist, for her door begins to creak, ¶I see. ¶Stay Sir, be ruled by me, ¶Not so, for raising of a tumult in the street so late, And troubling of the watch that stand armed at every gate. ¶How will you be revenged? ¶Be not too swift to serve her so, I think it were not best. ¶Because that if you kill her, then your self you do defame, Discredit her, and put her house, and kindred unto shame. Thus you shall ever walk in fear of those you never saw, Beside, her friends will trip at you, by danger of the law. ¶Give her a Fico out of hand, ¶Do so, for I'll be gone. Exit. ¶And is it so Pedante ? ¶Alas poor soul, I know he dare scarce look a fly in the face, But seest thou this? I will provide my Captain to disgrace. Come on my friends, go you and set this net at the Lanes end, For when he comes, my sword upon this Gallant will I bend. And cry aloud arm, arm, as though our enemies had the wall, He hearing this, will take his heels and let his anger fallen. We will pursue him so, that we will driven him to the net, When he is in, pull you the cords, for that same purpose set. And make him fast, then will we lead him hampered in the same, With mirth and glee about the town, to put him to the shame. Go set it up. ¶Whist, not a word, for he is at hand, Come let us both privily in ambush stand. ¶Arm, Arm, Arm. ¶Down with Crack-stone. ¶Follow, follow. ¶Ah Sir, you meant to kill me you, to please Victoriam, But now I trust to make of Thee a poor Crack-stone, if I may. ¶Now let us show him to Victoriam, his dearest friend. Here they bring him singing un to Victor. window. ¶Hoe, Victoriam if y u be awake, rise & look out I pray, ¶ Fedele : See the Champion, whom you set to murder me, This deed throughout the City, shortly shall dishonour Thee. ¶What sayest thou Attilia ? ¶So that thou seek all means thou canst, Victoriam to deface, And blaze her in each company, and strike her in disgrace. I let Thee go. Let him out of the net. ¶Now sith Victoria's name is Like for ever to be lost, Further revenge I will not seek, as I to her did boast. Because that as my self unjustly served Virginia. So am I now justly requited by Victoriam. Therefore Pedante go, and pardon of Virginia crave, And tell her that I will be hers, ¶Then till the morning let it rest, but early see thou rise, And do my message in the meekest sort thou canst devise. Mean while wée'le home and take a sleep, Exit with them that held the net. for I am overwatched. ¶ Pedante, take thy sword, Fedele and Pedante speak out at a window within. arise let's go into the streéete, Some wondrous broil I doubt there is, ¶Come quickly man, let's see this Pageant ere it take and end, ¶What sayest thou? ¶It kills me to think on it: the greater my woe. ¶I'll take no wife at second hand, thanks for your courtesy, Let him that hath possessed your honour, wear the same for me. ¶ Virginia, you are free, Assure your self, your marriage never shall be stayed by me. ¶ Fortunio you are quit with me, for when we lay in scowte, To watch by fair Victoria's house, who passed in and out. It was my man disguised, that issued forth out of the same, That for the nonce by me was set, to call Victoriam by her name. He went unto Attilia, with counterfeited love, That by his means, from fair Victoriam I might you remove. You seeing him, and hearing when he came forth, what he said, Thought he had be with her, when he had be but with the maid. Whereat you stormde, and left the chase of her that lou'de you dear, Which is no grief at all to me, that Hope's to win her here. Therefore Victoriam now forget Fortunio which is lost, And love Fedele, who for you, yet never spared cost. Let fallen thy wrath, for give me too, that means to be thine own, T'is seldom seen but wars have end, when ̄ foes are overthrown. ¶I know not, for he says, except that I can plainly prove, That other men beside him self Victoriam doth love. He was, and is, and will be hers, so long as he does live,