GIOVANNO

Yonder she is and walks, yet in sense strong e nough to maintain Argument, she's under my cloak; for the best partly of a Lady as this age goes is her Clothes; in what reckoning ought we Tailors to be esteemed then, that are the master workmen to correct nature? You shall have a Lady in a Dialogue with some gallant, touching his Suit, the better partly of man, so suck the breath that names the skilful Tailor as if it nourished her. Another Dona fly from the close embracements of her Lord, to be all over measured by her Tailor. One will be sick forsooth, and bid her maid deny her to this Done, that Earl, the other Marquess, nay to a Duke; yet let her Taylor lase and unlase her gown, so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion: here's one has in my sighed made many a noble Done to hang the head, Dukes and Marquesses, three in a morning break their fasts on her denials; yet I, her Tailor, blessed be the kindness of my loving stare, am ushered; she smiles and says I have stayed too long, and then finds fault with some slight stitch, that eyelet holes's too close, then must I use my Bodkin it'll never please else; all will not do, I must take it home, for no cause but to bring it her again next morning. We Tailors are the men spite o'the Proverb, Ladies cannot live without. It is we That please them best, in their commodity: There's magic in our habits, Tailors can Prevail above him, honour stile best of man. It is we That please them best, in their commodity: There's magic in our habits, Tailors can Prevail above him, honour stile best of man. What means this woman? sure she loves me too, Tailors shall speed had they no tongues to woo: Women would sue to them. Madam your gown by my industry Is purged of errors. What mean you Madam? Oh Lady, you are more fairer by far. Where art thou man? art thou transformed? Or art thou grown so base that This ridiculous witch should think I love her? At your best leisure. Protect me manhood, least my glutted sense Feeding with such and eager appetite on Your rare beauty, breaking the sluices, Burst into a flood of passionate tears; I must, I will enjoy her, though a Destroying clap from Jove's Artillery were the reward: And yet dull-daring fir by your favour no, He must be more than savage can attempt aside. To injure so much spotless innocence: Pardon great Powers the thought of such offence. Fear to the breast of women, Built thy throne on their soft hearts; Mine must not be thy slave. Your pleasure Madam. Command me Madam, were it a secret On whose hinges hung the casements of my life, Yet your command shall be obeyed; to the least Scruple. She's jealous, I'll try; As Oracle. it's so, isle further; I love her Madam, With as rich a flame as Anchorits Do Saints they offer prayers too: I hug her memory as I would embrace The breath of Jove, when it pronounced me Happy; or Prophet, that should speak my After life great, even with adoration deified. Rather let me loose all external being. Madam, good Madam. Madam, I do. Can any love the beauty of a stone, Set by some curious Artist in a Ring, But he must attribute some to The File that adds unto the lustre? You appear Like to a Jemme, cut by the Steady hand of careful Nature, into such Beauteous Tablets, that dull Art, Famous in skilful flattery, is become A Novice in what Fame proclaimed him Doctor; He cann't express one spark of your great lustre. Madam, those Beauty's that, but studied on By their admirers, are deified, serve But as spots, to make your read and white Envied of Cloisterd Saints. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious Rite, The Heathens used to pay their gods, I offer up. A life, that until now never knew a price; Made deer because you love it. Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave, Unless deer God less you forget to be Cruel to him adores you with a zeal, Equal to that of Hermit's. If sudden lightning, such as vengeful Jove Clears the infectious air with, threatened to Scorch my daring soul to Cinders, if I Did love you, Lady, I wo'd love you, spite Of the dogged Fates, or any power Those cursed Hags set to oppose me. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave. Love I am made thy envy; I am he This Votress prays unto, as unto thee: Tailors are more than men; and here's the odds, They make fine Ladies; Ladies make them gods: And so they are not men, but far above them: This makes the Tailors proud; then Ladies love them. Exit. Come bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble sheeres, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, Stelletto blades, and prove the Proverb lies, lies in his throat: one Tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart Gentlemen, known by their Clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker. Master I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows. Come my bold fellows, let us eternise, For our Countries good, some noble act That may by time be Registered at full; And as the year renews, so shall our fame Be fresh to after times: the Tailors name, So much trod under, and the scorn of all Shall by this act be high while others fallen. The City seig, and thou thus chained In airy fetters of a Ladies love; It must not be, stay, it's Evadne's love; Her life is with the City ruined, if the French become victorious: Evadne must not die, her Chaster name That once made cold, now does my blood inflame. Exit. It's a near Gown and fashionable Madam; i'st not love? He is asleep. His conscience gripes him to purpose: see he wakes; Let us observe. Why how now friend, what talking to thy self? Who were they? Is Evadne banished? Oh Antonio, the sudden grief almost, distracts Thy friend; but come, let's go each several1, And meet at Fill-ford : if thou findest Evadne, Bear her unto the Castle. Exit. I cannot find her yet, The King of Flames protests she Is not there: but hang him Rogue, They say he'll lie; Oh how my glutted spleen Tickles to think how I have paid the slave? I made him led me into every hold: Would, would, would, what crying was there there? Here on a Wheel, turned by a Furies hand, Hangs a distracted Statesman, that had spent The little wit Heaven to strange purpose lent him, To suppress right, make beggars, and get means To be a Traitor. Would, would, would, and here A Usurer fat with the curses of so many heirs His Extortion had undone, sat to the Chin In a warm both, made of new melted gold; And now and then a draught passed through his throat: He fed upon his God; but he being angry Scalded his Chops. Right against him Stood a fooled Gallant, chained unto a post, And lashed by Folly for his want of wit. The reeling drunkard and plump glutton stood Making of faces, close by Tantalus : But drank and fed on Air. The whoremaster tied to a painted Punk, Was by a Fury termed insatiate Lust, Whipped with a blade of fire. And here— What's here! it's my Evadnes vale ; it's hers I know't: Some slave has ravished my Evadne: Well, There breathes not such and impious slave in hell: Nay, it is hers, I know it too too plain: Your breath is lost, it's hers, you speak in vain. Exit. Stay Satire; stay; you are too light of foot, I cannot reach your paces, prithee stay. What Goddess have you there? sure it's Evadne : Are you the Dragons that never sleep but watch The golden fruit of the Hisperides : Would, then I am Hercules ; fly ye? Sure that face dwelled on Evadnes shoulders. It's, it's she; she must not know I'm mad. It may be it's not she; I'll ask her name. What are you called sweet goddess? 'Tis she: I, I, 'tis she. Not worth your knowledge: I am a poor, A very, very poor despised thing: but say I pray, are you sure your name's Evadne? I do belelieve you, indeed I do; but stay I don't Are you a Maid, a Virgin, pray tell me? For my Evadne could not tell me a lie; speak, I shall love you, though that Jewel's gone. No more, no more, trust me I do believe you. So many slaves, whose flaming appetites, Would in one night ravish a throng of Virgins, And never feel degression in their heat. I'll of er and murder all. Well, very well: be Like you think I'm mad. 'Tis but your thoughts, indeed I me wondrous well. How fair she looks after so foul a deed? It cannot be she should be false to me: No, thou'rt mad to think so. Fool, Oh fool, Thinkest thou those slaves, having to fair a mark Would not be Shooting? yes, they would, they have, Evadne is flyblown, I cannot love her. The innocence that sits upon the face Says she is chased, the guilty cannot speak So evenly as she does: guilty, said, I! Alas it were not her fault, were she ravished. Oh madness, madness, whither wilt thou bear me? She speaks Like to and Angel, she's the same As when I saw her first, as pure, as chased. Did she retain the substance of a sinner, For she is none, her breath wo'd then be Sour, And betray the rankness of the but Her chased sighs beget as sweet a As that of May. Why weeps Evadne, truly I'm not mad? See, I am tame, pray lead me where you please. Exeunt. Oh what a blessedness am I bereft of! What pleasure has the least partly of a minute Stolen from my eyes: me thought I did embrace A Brother and a friend; and both Antonio. What Evadne —have deceived my eyes, Take heed Evadne, worship not a dream, It's of a smoky substance, and will shrink Into the compass of report; that 'twas: And not reward the labour of a word Were it substantial: Could I know but see That man, of men; i'de by my practice Of Religious prayers, add to the Calendar One Holiday, and keep it once a year. Be moderate my joys, do not over whelm me Here take Aurelia, may you live happy: Oh Antonio this, this was the cause of my disguise; Sebastine could not win Evadne's love, But Giovanni oh did; come now to our father's Castle. Sebastine is your Page, and bound to follow, Lead on. It is no news to me, I have been used to't. Begare Madam me make de gown so brave; Oh, de hold vorle vorke be me patron, me would vorke for le grand Duchess le Shevere, le Royne de Franciam, Spanea de Angleter and all d'fine Madamosels. Be me trot a Madam ever do ill, de English man do ill, de Spanere do, de Duch, de all do ill, but your Franch man, and begare he do incomparable brave. Begare me no proud idem vorle, me speak be me trot de trut, ang me no lie; metra Madam begare you have de find bode a de vorle, Oh de fine brave big ting me have e for measure, me waire fit it so pat. Me Signior, Be povera I nile homa a Franch A votre commandment. We Monsieur de Madam Tailor. No begar me show something for de man. Begar me no ne de threaten; me be as close to your secret, or my Ladies secrets as de skin to de flesh; de flesh to de bone: if me tell me de—what, de you call de modero de Dog, de Bich; call me de son oh de Bich. Folly go from my tongue, the French so nigh, And thou half ruined Spain, so wretchedly provided; Strange, yet not, all Countries have bred monsters: It's a Proverb as plain as true, and aged as it's both: One tainted Sheep mares a whole flock. Machvile that tainted beast, whose spreading ills Infecteth all; and by infecting kills. I'll to the Franch, what he intends to be Our ruin; shall confound their villainy. Exit. Peace my Avadne, the King must not yet know me. Wil't please your Highness? That my Lord is yet to do, let him mount higher. That his fallen may be too deep for a resurrection; They're gone to the great Hall, whither wilt please your Grace disguised to go, your person by our care shall be Secure. Their French troops I have sent as useless into France, by virtue of Raimond's Ring, which he gave Me to bid the General by that token To march to this City. We Mounsier. None paw Signior. Give him some air, the wound cannot be mortal. For a blessing. Upon my truth and loyalty great King, What they did was but feigned, merely words Without a heart: 'twas by Antonio's counsel. What else, kind Nurse. That's certain, none prouder. Faith Madam your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs, or scarcity, as seanty shoulders, are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet with it and un daunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in sub stance they have in air: They will scold the Tailor out of his Art, And impute the defect of nature to his want Of skill, though his labour make her appearance Pride worthy. They will scold the Tailor out of his Art, And impute the defect of nature to his want Of skill, though his labour make her appearance Pride worthy. I were ungrateful else. Your eager love may be termed dotage, For shame confess your self to less expressions: Leave my Lady. Death she has left a scent to poison me; Love her said she, is any man so mad, to hug a disease, Or embrace a colder Image the Pygmalions Or play with the bird of Frosty antiquity, not I: Her gums stink worse then a Pesthouse, And more danger of infecting. As I'm a mortal Tailor; and your servant Madam, Her breath has tainted me I dare not salute Your Ladyship. Sweet say you Madam, a muster of diseases Can't smell worse, than her rotten teeth. Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing; Thus I am new created with your breath. Kisses. My gaping pores will never be satisfied. Again—they still are hungry. By this I must. Again I countercheck it. Sir I am hasty too; yet in the presence of my Mistress can use a temper. It's but and error, treason d'ye call it; to kill The Governor in heat of blood, and not intended? For my Evadne's sake, something I'll do Shall save his life. Exit. Can this kindness merit your love? Do I deserve your sister? Have not I— Sir this may, but— May I not call her mistress? I'm yours, friend I am proud on't; you shall find, That though a Tailor, I've and honest mind. Pray Master help my Lord unto a Suit, his life Lies at your mercy. Cheer up Antonio, take him in, The rest will make him merry; I'll go try The temper of a sword upon some Shield That guards a foe. Pray for my good success. Exit. This my reward? Pomander box thou liest. Slaves you're not worth my anger. Ye are not worth my breath, Else I should curse you; but I must weep, Not that I partly from thee unthankful Spain, But my Evadne, well, it must be so: Heart keep thy still tough temper spite of woe. Exit. Sir if on me this language, I must tell you, You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness that makes Her seem so ugly in your eyes, perhaps Hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them. I am as noble, but that I hate to make Comparisons, as any you can think worthy To be called her husband. This More speaks truth, Wrapped in a voice of thunder. Ods is dishonourable combat: my lads Lets one to one; I am for the More. Saucy? You have protection, by the Governors presence, Else my plumed Estrages, it's not your feathers, More weighty than your heads, should stop My vengeance, but I'de text my wrong In bloody Characters upon your pampered flesh. By Heaven I would. Musk-Cat, I'do make your Civet worship stink first in your perfumed Buff. Blood less Commanders. So. Raimond you're now my prisoner: Blind Chance has favoured where your thoughts, And hope she meant to ruin From our discord, which heaven has made victorious, You meant to strike a harmony should glad you. My Lord. You're obeyed. Who calls for help? 'tis my Evadne ; I It was her voice that gave the Echo life; That cried a Rape: Devil dost love a wench? Who was thy Pander, would? What saucy friend Durst lay his unpard Fangs on my Evadne? Come I'll swim unarmed over Acheron, And sink grim Charon in his fiery Boat. I come, I come. Exit. She loves him still. He wakes.