VICTORIA

If Love be Like the flower that in the night, When darkness drowns the glory of the Skies: Smells sweet, and glitters in the gazers sighed, But when the gladsome Sun begins to rise, And he that views it, would the same embrace: It withereth, and loses all his grace. Why do I Love and Like the cursed Tree, Whose buds appear, but fruit will not be seen: Why do I languish for the flower I see? Whose root is rot, when all the leaves be green. In such a case it is a point of skill: To follow chance, and Love against my will. ¶And hath Fortunio now forgotten the way. Which by my window learned of late to walk: See the disturber of my peace this day, Fedele comes to proffer Me some talk. Sith he is here, his patience I will prove: Whom for Fortunios sake I cannot Love. ¶Now must I either food him off with feigned courtesy: Or else be coy in talk, to rid Me of his company. She offereth to depart & he stay eth her. Sir Fedele well met, and so farewell, I must away: My business is such as will not suffer me to stay. ¶A wonder sure it is to see, how gentlemen complain: What cark, what care, what hell on earth, for women they sustain. Your peace is war, your sleep is watching, and your ease is toil: Your life is death, your mirth is moan, and your success a foil. These words are used for ornaments to beautify your style: And these I think you follow, poor Victoriam to beguile. ¶If this be true, why did you partly? and stay so long in Spain : Delay breeds lose, either I thought you would not come again. Or else that change of company would altar your delight, And absence put me out of mind, that shut me out of sighed. Did not I say, that your departure would my death procure? ¶And could you make me then to feel so sharp a shower? Depart Fedele for this time, come to me soon at night, I will consider better of your plaint and heavy plighted. My maid and other company doth press into this place: It were not good to make them all, acquainted with your case. ¶I know your meaning Sir, farewell, refer the rest to Me. Alas poor soul, he little knows, how cold a suit he hath, He must be dallied with a while, for fear of after scathe. ¶No hurt at all to you. ¶Good, sweet, and joyful news, Mistress I bring you now. ¶Not so. ¶As I was walking through the streets alone: ¶No way without Fortunio. ¶Ah fool, I know that Love is such a passion of the mind: As neither Airy Sprites can rule, nor force of Magic bind. ¶ Medusa, will thy drug procure a pining loover grace? ¶Open thy box and let me see thy store: Let me have that shall pleasure me, I'll pay Thee well therefore. ¶Fie, hold thy peace. ¶She means not tied in hand or foot, but bound to be my slave: In all the services and duties that I mean to crave. ¶Of more lets have a sighed. ¶Oh that is it. ¶Enter my house, the Sun is set, & now begins the night. Exeunt ¶Then let us go. ¶No, no, but Like a sort of Nuns unto the Church we swarm. ¶Thats he that doth my master Fedele disgrace, ¶Do so. ¶What have you done? and is the Spirit come up that you do call? ¶Now have you done? ¶Have you done Medusa ? ¶Then spare him good Medusa, touch him tenderly. ¶But will this make him come, and then submit him self to Me? ¶In such a fear at rising of the spirits we all were cast, That being scarde, we lost our way and Image too at last. I marvel where Medusa is? ¶Sith this enchanting takes no place, go seek Fortunio Straight, And tell him that to speak with him his pleasure I do wait. A word or two will serve my turn, go seek him out of hand, ¶By y e Piazza, there I am sure y to thou shalt see him walk, Spending the time with one or other of his friends in talk. ¶I was so troubled in my mind, with fright of sudden fear, That yet I feel my sinews shake, and tremble every where. Alas look where Fedele comes, I cannot escape unseen, He is importunate, I know not how to rid me of him clean. ¶Well met good Sir Fedele, whats the cause Of these your troubled looks that I behold, What rain is threatened by these stormy flaws: Which by your gate, and gesture you unfold? Is Love the spark that kindels all this fire: Or do you lack the fruit of your desire? ¶And why good Sir? ¶My longing thoughts did prophesy, that here I should you meet. ¶I think you are disposed to jest, and make some trial here, How trimly you can tread aloft to thunder in mine ear. For when I slide into my self, and there examine well, What I have done, I find I never from Fedele fell. And yet I see your heart still works, by which I do suspect, Some Sycophants would make you, your Victoriam to reject. But patience is a virtue, as the woorthiest wits do say, My love to you, deserves not that you uttered here this day. ¶I am not privy unto this, nor know Fortunio. Ah poor Victoriam thou art caught, alas what shall I do? Now counsel me Attilia, Attilia, is not here: Where be my gallants now, will not Crack-stone appear? Now is the time for Thee Crack-stone my heart to gain, O save my life, and him dispatch that doth mine honour stain. Do this and then I wll be thine, and listen to thy suit, But till that I may speak with him, 'tis best that I be mute. Farewell Sir, be not rash, but Judge, I cannot answer much: More you shall know when time hath tried, my truth by perfect tuch. A Dio. Exit. ¶I Like of none, but you. ¶Come hither maid, what have you done? tell me, why do you weep? ¶Peace peevish fool, I think not so, yet let me ask I pray, Because to slander me, you hear what Fortunio doth say. ¶It boots not to speak to him, he is in such a heat, But I durst lay my life Fedele wrought this feat. ¶I said, it was Fedeles deed, but Crack-stone is too slow, To cut him off, before this rumours root begin to grow. ¶Do so, and till I see Fortunioes angry mood be passed, T'is best out of his presence to convey my self in haste. Farewell Sir Fortunio, think as you find me. Exeunt Victo. & Attilia. ¶Art thou sure that it is so? ¶Who calls? ¶Out, I defy him. ¶Captain Sbirri, this night my maid Attilia ran away, Her I beseech you, if she be not passed the watch, to stay. Some thing I doubt that she hath stolen, and carried to her mates, Therefore I pray beset the streets, and all the city gates. ¶Step to them both and take them straight, for sure the same is she. ¶What Minion, are you there indeed? ¶Sith you have so prevented me, and perfect love protest, I will put up the injury, and yours for ever rest. ¶Sith with Crack-stone this night, you took my maid so short, To prison with her if you please, to cut off her resort. ¶You know not what I mean. ¶When begin you sweet heart? ¶I come to him, welcome good Sir. ¶And so is mine, although so stoutly he reprove me her. ¶Read good Medusa. Attilia, come hither straight, some stir is in the street, Me thinks I hear the noise of men, and trampling of their feet.