FORTUNIO

HE that discloseth to a Friend the secrets of his mind: Doth rob him self of liberty, beside we daily find, That others counsels will by such in every ear be blown: As have no power when time requires, to smother all their own Heavy and sad thou seest I am, but why my heart is soar: Of courtesy content thy self and ask me that no more. ¶How finds he redress, that breaks his mind unto a fool? Or what is learned, where folly sets the wiser sort to school? Yet sith he braves it with the best, in every company: And knows where every gallant loves, and sees the remedy, I will not stick to let him know the secrets of my heart: And make him partner of my pain, and privy to my smart. Do you know Victoriam ? ¶Her have I seen of late, and often by her window passed: From which she let a letter fallen, which taking up in hast, I read, and found within describe the frantic fits of Love: Whither it were for Me, or any else I cannot prove. Whither she feign and bait her hooks the simple to beguile: Cannot be found, till wit by line have measured every wile. I know she loved Fedele once, before he went to Spain: And means perhaps to love him still, sith he's returned again. Do thou but sift him for my sake, and haunt out his desire: And doubtless thou shalt have of Me, thy Captains pay for hire. ¶Gramercy, be trusty. ¶Miraccommando. Exit. ¶Sir Fedele God save you. ¶My leisure serves, and I will stand, to here withal my heart. ¶Go when you please Il'e bear you company, Exeunt Fede le & Fortunio arm in arm. ¶It doth in deed. Enter Pedante disguised, coming forth of Victoria's house. ¶A man me thinks, Oh let me go. ¶A villain, let me go Fedele, let me go I say: I will revenge this injury before he get away. ¶Out strumpet, I will make Thee now a mirror to this town, A pointing stock to every one that passes up and down. ¶By sword, and sheathe it in her breast, ¶And why? ¶How shall I be revenged then? ¶So should I escape, but the revenge in little steed would stand. For she should die, and none should know the villainy she did, But every tonge ere long shall talk of that, that I have spied. Some other way I will devise, ¶And I will see what this Victoriam says to me anon, Who is there within? Knock at her door. ¶Tush, hold your peace, I had as live you told me that it snowed. Even now came one out of thy house, who bidding Thee farewell, Triumphed of thy courtesy, and said it did excel. ¶Then had I neither listening ears to hear, nor eyes to see, Sith they fail not, I'll credit them, and give no heed to Thee. But trust to it, and look for it, thou shalt repent at last, That ere thou bleard'st Fortunioes sight with such a juggling cast. ¶Thy falsehood and thy Sorcery, at length I have perceiu'de, But by thy subtle train, no longer will I be deceiu'de. ¶I will, and will revenge it as far as you bind me. Fie heartless wretch, Slothful, and that that's more, Yet unrevenged, why did I stay my hand? Why did I not her faithless body gore? While in my power before me she did stand. Why did I not for to fulfil my vow: Do that, which none would cover nor allow? Her treason makes my raging thoughts to swell, Beyond the bounds of all humanity, Her falsehood drives the Furies out of hell. To practice strange and extreme cruelty. Yet neither rancoures force, nor ugly fiend, Hath scourge enough for such a double friend. But yet before revenge my fury take, I'll offer service to Virginia. Least every dame here after me forsake, When it is known how I used Victoriam. Good luck, Medusa here me thinks I see, A cunning broker, very fit for Me. ¶Well met Medusa, whither goest thou with thy Pack so late? ¶What hast thou sold? ¶That market thou mighst well have kept, and yet have left thy Pack behind, ¶What hast thou there? ¶Neither am I importunate, to wring it out of Thee, Yet must I crave Thee now, to show thy self a friend to Me. ¶Even in the love that I to fair Virginia bear. ¶Yet do thy best, to move my suit. ¶By Craft, or Magic, which you list, so I may purchase ease. ¶This is as well as can be wishte, depart I pray Thee straight. ¶Upon Thee will I waighte. See where Fedele comes, because he shall not me suspect, I will avoid the streets a while, that nothing me detect. Exit. ¶ Virginia, if that you can be content, To Like of him that loves you in his heart: Give me your hand, and if your mind be bent, To marry me, I never mean to part. My life, and living, more you can not crave, Remains yours, do now but ask and have. ¶But he hath now forsaken you. ¶Shall I have your good will? ¶I love you then, and mean to love you still. ¶Else take my head, I came not nigh Virginia, although she were in bed. ¶Agreed, this is the fittest time to pass the street, And give her music at her window, for a gallant meet. ¶Out Hypocrite, no, no, How do you Like your other love? ¶What hast thou God? ¶Stay Captain, lay no hands on me, a Gentleman I am, And will not flit,