ALISA

Lucrecia, who is that you talk withal? Now I am further to seek then I was before; if thou wilt give me to understand and unknown thing, by a thing that is less known, is to take up water in a Sieve. What Trade is she of? What is her Profession? it may be, by that I shall know her better. All this makes me never a whit the wiser. Tell me her name, I thou nowst it. If you know it so well, why then do not you tell it me? Go too, you fool; Tell me her name; Do not and her me by this your delay. Him, him, him! Now beshrew your fingers; Oh my heart! Oh my sides! I am not able to stand for laughing, to see that the lo thing which thou hast of this poor old woman, should make thee ashamed to name her unto me. Now I call her to mind; Go too; you are a wag; No more of this. She (poor soul) is come to beg somewhat of me. Bid her come up. Honest neighbour, thy discourse and kind offer move me to compassion: and so move me, that I had rather light upon some fit occasion, whereby I might supply thy wants, then diminish thy web, still thanking thee for thy kind offer: and if it be such as will serve my turn, I shall pay you well for it. Daughter Melibea, I will leave this honest woman with you; For me thinks it is now high time, if I have not stayed too long, to go visit my sister, Wife unto Chremes: for I have not seen her since yesterday; and beside, her Page is now come to call me, and tells me that her old fit hath already been on her this pretty while. Say, (friend) what is that thou sayest? A pain in her side, which takes her in such grievous man ner, that if it be true which her Page tells me, I fear me it will cost her her life. Good neighbour, let me entreat you for my sake to recommend her recovery unto your best devotions and prayers. Do you hear, Melibea? Content our neighbour, and give her that which is reason for her yarn. And you mother, I pray hold me excused, for I doubt not, but you and I shall have anon there day, when we shall have more leisure to enjoy one anon there. How now neighbour? What's the matter with you, that you are here thus day by day? And you too. Daughter Melibea, what would this old woman have? I marry, I rather believe this, then that, which the old lewd Hag told me. She was afraid, I would have been angry with her, and so she pop't me in the mouth with a Lie. Daughter, take heed of her. For she is and old crafty Fox; and as false as the devil. A whole Country can not afford you such another treache rous huswife. Take you heed therefore (I say) of her. For, your cunning and crafty thieves go always a prolling about the r richest houses. She knows by her treasons and false merchandise, how to change chaste purposes. She causeth and ill report, brings a bade name and fame upon those than have any thing to do with her. If she be but seen to have entered one house thrice, it is enough to engender suspicion. I charge you (Daughter) upon my blessing, and by that love which I bear unto you, that if she come hitther any more, when I am out of the way, that you do not give her any entertain meant, no manner of welcome, no, not so much as to show her any the least countenance of liking, lest it should encourage her to come again. Let her find, that you stand upon your honesty and reputation. And be you round and short with her in your answers, and she will never come at you again. For true virtue is more feared then a sword. No, Sir. Yes marry do I. Melibea, Melibea? My Lord Pleberio, heaven bless her, and send her so to do, that we may see our desires accomplished in our life time. And I am rather of opinion that we shall want one that is equal with our daughter, considering her virtue and nobleness of blood, then that there are overmany that are to wear her; but be cause this office more properly appertaineth to the father then the mother, as you shall dispose of her, so shall I rest contented, and she remain obedient, as shall best beseem her chaste carriage, her ho nest life, and meek disposition. What do you mean, husband? Why do you talk, and spend time in this? Who shall be the messenger to acquaint our daughter Melibea with this strange news, and shall not affright her therewith? Alas, do you think that she can tell what a man means, or what it is to marry, or be married? or whither by the conjunction of man and woman, children are begotten or no? Do you think, that her simple, and unspotted Virginity, can suggest un to her any filthy desire, of that which as yet she neither knows, nor understandeth; nor cannot so much as conceive what it means? It is the least partly of her thought. Believe it, (my Lord Pleberio' she does not so much as dream on any such matter; and assure your self, be he what he will be, either noble or base, fair or soul, we will make her to take whom it pleases us: whom we Like, him shall she Like: she shall confirm her will to ours, and shall think that fit, which we think fit, and no further; for I know, I trow, how I have bred and brought up my daughter. Why Pleberio? my Lord! what's the matter? why do you weep and snob? and take on in such extreme and violent manner? I have lyen ever since in a dead swoon, so was I overcome with grief, when I herd that our daughter was so ill. And now hearing your pitiful lamentations, your loud cryings, your unaccustomed complaints, your mournings and great anguish, they have so pierced my very bowels, made so quick a passage to my heart, and have so quickened and revived my troubled and benumbed senses, that I have now put away the grief, which I entertained: thus one grief drives out another; and sorrow expel leth sorrow. Tell me the cause of your complaint; Why do you curse your honourable old age? Why do you desire death? Why do you tear your milkwhite hairs up by the roates? Why do you scratch, and rend your reverend face? Is any ill befallen Me libea? For I pray you tell me; for if she be not well, I can not live.