ORSEOLLO

That ever man Should be so dull of soul to love a woman. No, I thank heaven My mother's dead, and all my sisters, I Had a contention in my nature, when They were alive, but tie of blood prevailed Against my disposition, I confess I never wished them dead. Let em, let em, May be 'twould move the Duchess to exempt me From my attendance; and she knew my mind She would allow me a writ of ease, least I Infect her Court with railing gainst her sex: I'de rather hear a mandrake, then let in The noise of women; heaven that I might never Converse with any. Marry? I'll first engender with a Viper, Were there but one woman alive, and but By knowing her, no hope to stock the world Again, Idem geld my self. If I stay I shall talk treason, a cold suit? for ever Ice dwell within their marrows can affect em, He was too worthy on her. So do I. At nothing, At a woman, how 'tis possible a man Should court and love em so, but now I think one, I do not wonder. They are All Circe's, and do steal away our souls; They juggle us into shapes and puppets lovers. Do not, the Moon Is yet but ith' first quarter Contarini, I would endear my thoughts to thee, and thou Wertenberg not married, boast thy opinion. Go sacrifice to sleep, why these are wome ̄ n Will cousin a strong faith, cuckold their husbands, Yet taken in the act persuade em into A belief they do but dream so. You talk I would the cause he ̄ went away so soon. I honour him. He is a brave Duke, a man, And in that, more then all his titles make him, Some easy nature's would would languished for her, And would been paler then you mean, with watching Distilled their brain, tired, yea some to seem Comit Idolatry, given her their souls, And changed em to her motion; in each window Bescratching with some Diamond her name, And warm it so with kisses till it thaw The very glass, which weeps it self away In pity of the dotage, been content To would worn their youth away in expectation; This Prince was wiser, he left Parma to Behold a creature ̄ was cried up, the miracle Of nature, a new star Like Cassiopeia That drew the eyes of Italy, and left em Fixed in the admiration, but he needing No Jacob's staff to take the height, and looking With a true eye upon this wonder, found She was a woman, nothing but a woman, His wisdom quickly taught him to return A shamed of his credulity. Not cringe as you, and adore the nods Of painted Ladies, weary my hammes to answer Madams half curtsies, I near come to Court But to defend me from it. The truth is, I would be feign discharged, 'tis a hell to me, There are so many wormed in't: would the Duchess Would banish me into some Wilderness, I should endure the beasts though they devoured me ̄ , I hate no monsters but the Harpies. Harpies have women's faces Contarini, Yet now I think Volterre I have herd There's another feminine murderer Called the Hiena, that invites men forth To be devoured; y'ave herd how the Egyptian Crocodile weeps, when death it self lies bathing Within her tears, think but upon women And tell me which I should avoide-first. Yes, heigh!— Twice have I kneeled to gain your kindness in My suit, now grant it, or isle turn Traitor. I have been bred in rugged wars, A woman's government is soft and fit For Babes to bow to, dismiss straight your Court. Send me straight to Sea, if but t'incounter A fleet of fiends rigged by witches, or with A colony to settle a Plantation In the deserts of Barbary, I'll choose Any employment rather then to hear a Lady utter perfumed breath, or see her Advance in her masculine garb, in her New mimic posture. I'll conspire with a constable, that commits Justice in's sleep, ere I'll want treachery To revenge this constraint of service. Now Ladies whats your pleasures, that you summon My appearance, I know you would supple joints, What mystery of state sends you to me? I cannot revel in long stockings, frisk To please your wanton eyesight; I never boasted My ribs, or largeness of my thighs, to invite you; I make no Sonnets of your antic dressings, Cry up your colour of your face, and swear You're divine pieces, for I know you are not: I will not draw heavens curse upon me, for Flattering into pride; say that the Lilies, Are pale, for envy of your white, and the Roses Blush, to see better in your cheeks, your hair Beams, rather drawn up to a net, might catch Jove when he played the Eagle; that your breasts Raise up themselves Like two fair Mountainers Ith' pleasant vale of temptation, I hate this I will not dam my self to make you proud, Do not, I know your faces? Do not unveil. Ime gone, if you attempt to let me see ̄ A piece of any countenance; while I thus Look on you, I can help my self t'imagine You are some other creatures. Wrack me not with your stay, Whats the design hath brought you hither? I? I am no Court physician, I but vex ̄ Your female constitutions, you know All my receipts are bitter, and her excel ̄ nce ̄ Hath plenty of those, she gives a pension to Can flatter; why does she send for me am so Unwelcome? 'Tis a mystery. Is there in nature any happiness for me ̄ ? Stay, from a woman, would? the Duchess— Herd a noise she would choose a Lover from Her own Court, can it be that? death I have ̄ Been boundless in my railing. I begin To curse my self fort. I could see your cheek, Nay half your face for tother sillable. Lady you can say more, I know such creatures cannot mock, sweet Lady. Your are over dark still, enrich me, What? one Letter of your meaning. Would? Shall I not see the faces, To which I owe my blessedness. Nay, good Madam, I can endure to see Your face, without danger to my eyes—Signiour Giotto, I joy in your great Fortune's. How deer Lady. But she shall Giotto, she and we be kind,— Madam,—we three will share in all achievements. I will forget I herd it; I, I me a soldier Signiour, and shall deserve your faith. Sancho! Theres a famous Painter sojornes here In Mantua, a Germane! The same, you are to seek him out, I have Use for him. Do not suspect my servants silence, I Trust him with a secret of weightier Consequence then this, my creature! hunk Give me thy hand, Giotto, thine too: Weel govern Like the Triumveri — What is't? Heart, let me but know't? What does she think? How? a metophrase upon that word. Horror, horror, name the author of this Calumny. 'Sdeath insufficient! you shall know a secret Which I have feared, even ith' keeping of my own heart. 'Tis only dangerous to me, but sir, It must out, for I'll stifle now this damed Aspersion. It reveals the cause, why I Was still a satire against women. Know what Lady? we are in a discourse, merely, Concerns us two, walk aside, she must not heare't. Sancho, I now release off the Oath, Which did oblige your secrecy about My continence, nay good Madam, troth we desire to be particular. A personal secret, as Ime a soldier. How many whores hast thou in keeping for my use? alas, Ime insufficient! a mere Eunuch, I. The Duchess has a chased court: 'twas safety To disguise m'incontinence, least she should Punish it. You shall visit my seragho, and chosen your whore. That's the medicinal pimp; who prescribes Plasters for my belly. His sins maintain him; those of his function. Grow mighty now adays. Are you mad Signiour? Slight, you are treacherous. Troth Madam, my constitution is to blame. But a young sinner deserves mercy. Howsoever I would not have the Duchess know Of this; till I am more endear unto Her heart. Enough I shall be politic. I will be active in my reign, in large My Duchy. Genon is proud, it shall Grow humble I have a long arm, it'll reach Florence. Or if I chance to lay my hand on Parma I shall gripe it till my fist ache, ere I For sake my tenure. Your greeting's too familiar! He had a bold Muse, that durst undertake So high and argument, sure a woman Was the object, struck old Homer blind; And for his eyes left him a Muse. I've lost My business. Signiour a word, Does this night then conclude— Be not tempted from me, I have writ Pamphlets in praise of women, I have a volume Of Recantations. I hate this overgrown thing, 'tis high time He should intend's affairs in Heaven, yet still He hath some business upon earth, Why do you hope so? The groom is witty. A woman is the pride of nature: her Husbands best Gaurius, made to credit Heaven, to justify the first creation good: She is the destiny of time, her womb Contains the hope of our succession, The power to add new life unto the world. Madam I recanted that heresy, Giotto is my witness: there are creatures— Your Highness— Giotto, I shall prick your veins. Thats one reason Should make our love the less to e'm, they do But bring's acquainted with the world, which at Our birth we are afraid of, and grow old But to repent we are not embrois still, Or things lost in conception. I have it, Contarini hast any other faith, Are they not all so Volterre? Thou hast been a traveler, and conversed with the Antipodes, almost put a girdle about the world, taken dimensions Of every nature, tasted all airs, and canst Distinguish em to and atom, tell me Signiour And be not partial to the Sex, didst ever Upon thy honour meet with such a creature, We here call virtuous woman, are not all The stock of em inconstant? I'ld feign know my destiny; Madam Ime rough. The wars have spoilt my Courtship; I cannot Flatter kindness from you; but I affect Gratitude. What news Lady, hah? has there Been no mention of my name or person Since I received your last intelligence?