AREUSA

Who's there? Who is that, that at this time of night comes up into my chamber? Now the Devil take this old Trot! what news with you, that you come thus stealing Like a Ghost, and at so late and hour? How think you (Gentlewoman) is this a fair hour to come to ones chamber? I was even putting off my clothes to go to bed. How cold it is! I will go put on my clothes again: be shrew me if I am not cold at my very heart. Yes indeed, I have need so to do; for I have felt my self very ill all this day; so that necessity, rather then laziness, hath made me thus early to take my sheets, in stead of my petti coat, to wrap about me. Nay (good mother) leave, do not touch me; pray you do not, it does but increase my pain. Jest? Let me never taste of joy, if I jest with you; it is scarce four hours since, that every minute I was ready to die with pain of the Mother, which rising in my breast, swelled up to my throat, and was ready to stifle me; that I still looked when I should leave the world; and therefore am not so gamesome and wanton as you think I am: now I have little mind of that. Lay your hand higher up towards my stomach. Tush, mother, these are but words, and profit me no thing; give me something for my evil, and leave your jesting. As you love me, (good mother) tell me: seest thou me thus pained, and concealest thou thy self? Well, well, well; now trust me no more, if I un derstood thee But what is it thou wouldst have me to do? you know that my friend went yesterday with his Captain to the wars; would you have me to wrong him? Yes indeed, for he supplies all my wants; he will see I shall lack nothing; he holds me honest; he does love me, and uses me with that respect, as if I were his Lady and Mi stress. It is but my ill hap, and a curse laid upon me by my pa rends, else had I not been put to prove all this misery and pain, which now I feel. But to let this pass, because it is late, tell me I pray, what wind drove you hither? It is true (A nt) that you say; and I acknowledge my beholdingness. Now, heavens forbid. Fie; What did you mean? Ay me; I fear me, he hath herd every word. Mother, I am not ignorant, that as well these, as all oh there your former speeches unto me, have ever been directed to my good and benefit: but how is it possible, that I should do this, that you would now have me? For you know to whom I am bound to give and account, as already you have herd; and if he know I play false, he will kill me. My neighbours, they are envious and malici ous, and they will straightway acquaint him therewith. And say, that no great ill should befall me, save only the losing of his love; it will be more then I shall gain, by giving contentment to him, for whom you entreat, or rather command me. Nay, I do not speak for this night, but for many other that are to come. Tush, were it but for one night, I would not care. Oh let him not come up if you love me: the pocks be my death, if I am not ready to swoon, to think on't; I know not what to do for very shame. Nay fie, mother, what mean you to call him up? you know that I have no acquaintance with him; I never exchanged a word with him, in all my life; Fie, how I am ashamed! You are welcome, gentle Sir. For my maidenheads sake (mother) let it not be so, pray do not command it me. What does this Gentleman whisper in your ear? Thinks he that I will not perform ought of your request. He will not be so uncivil, as to enter into another bo die ground without leave, especially, when it lies in several. Nay fie, good Sir, for modesties sake, I beseech you let me alone: content your self, I pray, I pray let be. If not for my sake, yet look back upon those grey hairs of that reverend old Dame, which stands by you, and forbear for her sake. Get you gone, I say, for I am none of those you take me to be, I am none of your common hackneys, that hire out their bodies for money. Would I might never stir, if I do not get me out of the house, if you do but touch so much as a cloth about me. Mother, if I have offended, pardon me, for I had rather give contentment to you, then to my self. I would not anger you for a world. Good night, Aunt. What do you talk of day? Sleep, Sir, and take your rest; for it is but even now, since we lay down. I have scarce shut mine eyes yet, & would you have it to beday? I pray you open the window by you, the window there by your beds head, and you shall then see whither it be so or no? Far days? Never trust me; Alas, I am not eased of my Mother yet. It pains me still; I know not what should be the reason of it. That we talk a little on the matter concerning my in disposition. With all my heart; and I thank you too. Farewell, good luck be with you. I pray pull the door after you. Oh sister! hadst thou seen her as I have seen her (I tell thee no lie) if thou shouldst have met her fasting, thy stomach would have taken such a loathing, that all that day thou wouldst not have been able to have eaten any meat. All the year long she is mewed up at home, where she is daubed over with a thousand slut tish slibber slabbers; all which (forsooth) she must endure, for once perhaps going abroad in a twelvemonth to be seen: she anoints her face with gall and honey, with parched grapes and figs crumb shed and pressed together, with many other things, which for man ners sake, and reverence of the Table, I omit to mention. It is their riches, that make such creatures as she to be accounted fair; it is their wealth, that causeth them to be thus commended, and not the graces, and goodly features of their bodies. For, she has such breasts, being a maid, as if she had been the mother of three children; and are for all the world, Like nothing more, then two great Pompeans, or big bottled-Goords. Her belly I have not seen, but judging it by the rest, I verily believe it, to be as slack, and as flaggy, as a woman of fifty year old. I know not what Calisto should see in her, that for her sake, he should forsake the love of oh the, whom he may with great ease obtain, and far more plea sure enjoy: Unless it be, that Like the Palate that is distasted, he thinketh sour things the sweetest. There is nothing farther from truth, then the opinion of the vulgar, and nothing more false, then the reports of the multi tude, nor shalt thou ever live a merry life, if thou govern thy self by the will of the common people: and these conclusions, are un controllable, and infallibly true; that whatsoever thing the vulgar thinks, is vanity: whatsoever they speak, is falsehood: what they reprove, that is good: what they approve, that is bade, And since this is a true rule, and common custom amongst them, do not judge of Melibea's either goodness or beauty, by that which they affirm. Let him be base that holds himself base; they are the Noble Actions of men, that make men Noble. For in conclusion, we are all of one making flesh and blood all. Let every man strive to be good of himself, and not go searching for his virtue in the Nobleness of his Ancestors. Come, sister, come, and fit with us; I pray, come eat with us. Have you no more wit, then to be angry with such a cross fool as he? I would not do him so much pleasure, as to forbear my meat for him; let him go hang, if he be peevish, will you be peevish too? I pray you fit down, unless you will have me Like wise to rise from the Table. Since we are come hither to be merry, (good mother) do not weep, I pray, do not vex your self: be of good cheer, pluck up your heart Like a woman; the world while we are in it, is bound to keep us all, and no doubt but you shall have enough. Get thee out of my house, thou ruffianly Rascal; thou lying companion; thou cheating Scoundrel; thou hast deluded me, thou Villain; thou hast played bob-foole with me, by thy vain and idle offers; and with thy fair words and flattering spea ches (A pocks on that smooth tongue of thine!) thou hast robbed me of all that I have. I gave thee (you Rogue) a Jerkin and a Cloak, a Sword and a Buckler, and a couple of Shirts, wrought with a thou sand devices, all of needlework; I furnished thee with arms and a Horse, and placed thee with such a Master, as thou wast not wor thy to wipe his shoes. And now that I entreat thee to do a business for me, thou makest a thousand frivolous excuses. Why then did you play away your horse? You must be a Dicer with a murrain; had it not been for me, thou hadst been hanged long since. Thrice have I freed thee from the gallows; four times have I disimpawnd thee, first from this, and then from that Ordinary, when as thou mightest have rotted in prison, had not I redeemed thee, and paid thy debts. Oh that I should have any thing to do with such a Villain? that I should be such a fool? that I should have any affiance in such a falsehearted, white-livered slave? that I should believe him and his lies? that I should once suffer him to come within my doors? What a devil is there good in him? his hair is cum led, and shagged Like a water Spaniel; his face scotched, and notched; he hath been twice whipped up and down the Town; he is lame on his sword-arme, and hath some thirty whores in the common Stews. Get thee out of my house, and that presently too; look me no more in the face; speak not to me; no not a word; neither say thou, that thou didst ever know me; lest, by the bones of my father, who begotten me, & of my mother, who brought me forth; I cause 2000. Bastinadoes to be laid upon that Millers back of thine. For, I would thou shouldst know, I have a friend in a corner, that will not stick to do a greater matter then that for me, and come off handsomely with it, when he has done. Oh wretch that I am; Is't you, my Elicia? I can hardly believe it. But what means this? Who hath clothed thee thus in sorrow? What mourning weed is this? Believe me (Cousin) you much affright me. Tell me quickly, what's the matter? For I long to know it. Oh, what a qualm comes over my stomach! Thou hast not left me one drop of blood in my body. Ay miserable me; why dost thou hold me in suspense? Tell me, tell me, I say, do not you tear your hair, do not you scratch and martyr your face; deal not so ill with your self. Is this evil common to us both? Appertains it also unto me? What dost thou tell me? No more I entreat thee; for pity hold thy peace, lest I fallen down dead at thy feet. Oh strong tribulation! Oh heavy news worthy our be wailing! Oh swift-footed misfortunes! Oh incurable destruction Oh inrreparable lose! Oh how quickly hath fortune turned about her wheel! Who slew them? How did they die? Thou hast made me almost beside my self with this thy news, and to stand, ama z as one, who hears a thing that seems to be impossible. It is not eight days ago since I saw them all alive. Tell me (good friend) How did this cruel and unlucky chance happen? Oh unfortunate woman! Wast thou ordained to end thy days in so miserable a manner as this? But for them, I pray what became of them? How came they to their end? Oh my Parmeno, my love; what sorrow do I feel for thy sake? How much does thy death torment me? It grieves me, for that my great love, which in so short a space, I had settled upon him, since it was not my fortune to enjoy him longer. But be king that this ill success hath ensued, being that this mischance hath happened, and being that their lives now lost, cannot be bought, or restored by tears, do not thou vex thy self so much in grieving and weeping out thine eyes: I grieve as much, and believe, thou hast but little advantage of me in thy sorrowing; and yet thou seest with what patience I bear it, and pass it over. Good Cousin, content your self, I pray, be quiet; in join silence to your complaints; stop the Couduit-pipes to your tears; wipe your eyes; take heart again unto you. For when for tune shuts one gate, she usually sets open another; and this estate of yours, though it be never so much broken, it will be soldered, and made whole again: And many things may be revenged, which are impossible to be remedied; whereas this hath a doubtful remedy, and a ready revenge. If this be true, of whom can we revenge our selves bet ter? And therefore, he that hath eaten the meat, let him pay the shot; leave the matter to me, let me alone to deal with them: For, if I can but track them, or but once find the sent of their footing, or but have the least inkling in the world, when, how, where, and at what hour they visit one another, never hold me true daughter to that old pasty-wench whom you knew full well, if I do not give them sour sauce to their sweet meat; and make that their love distasteful, which now they swallow down with delight; and if I employ in this business that Ruffian, whom you found me railing against, when you came into the house, if he prove not a worse Ex ecutioner for Calisto, then Sempronio was for Celestina, never trust me more. Oh! how quickly the Villain would fat himself with joy, and how happy would he hold himself, if I would but impose any service upon him! for he went away from me very sad and heavy, to see how coursely I used him: and should I but now send for him again, and speak kindly unto him, he would think himself taken up in some strange sweet rapture; so much will he be ravished with joy. And therefore tell me (Cousin) how I may learn, how this but sinesse goes, for I will set such a trap for them, as, if they be taken in it, shall make Melibea weep as much, as now she laugheth. But hear you me, Cousin, I pray do me the kindness, to send Sosia hither unto me, I will take him in hand a little, I will entertain talk with him; and one while I will so flatter him, and other while make him such fair offers, that in the end, I will dive into him, and reach the very depth of his heart, and learn from him, as well what hath been already, as what is to be done here after: At least learn so much as we desire to know, or may serve our turn; and when I shall have effected this, I will make him and his Master to vomit up all the pleasure they have eaten. And thou ( Eli cia ) that art as deer to me, as mine own soul, do not you vex your self any more, but bring your apparel, and such implements as you have, and come and live with me; for there where you are, you shall remain all alone: and sadness (you know) is a friend to solitariness. What wench? anew Love will make thee forget the old: one Son that is born, will repair the love of three that be dead. With a new successor, we receive a new the joyful me mory, and lost delights of forepassed times. If I have a loaf of bred, or a penny in my purse, thou shalt have half of it. And I have more compassion of thy sorrow, then of those that did cause it. True it is, that the lose of that does grieve a man more, which he already possesses, then the hope of the Like good can glad him, be it never so certain. You see, the matter is passed all remedy; and dead men cannot be recalled: you know the old saying: Fie upon this weeping, let them die, and we live. As for the rest that remain behind, leave that to me; I will take order for Calisto and M libea; and I shall give them as bitter a potion to drink, as they have given thee. Oh Cou sin, Cousin, how witty am I when I am angry, to turn all these their plots upside down! and though I am but young, and a Girl to speak of, to break the neck of these their devises, I shall over throw them horse and foot. Who's at door? Come in, good Cousin, heaven reward you for this kind ness; believe me, I think my self much beholding unto you, that you would take the pains to come and visit me. I marry, wench, now it is as it should be; now thou pleasest me, thou canst not imagine what contentment my eye takes, to see that habit of mourning and of sorrow, to be changed into garments of joy, and of gladness; now we will enjoy one another; we will laugh and be merry; now I shall have some heart to come and visit thee; thou shalt come to my house, and I will come to thine; it may be that Celestina's death will turn to both our goods; for I find, that it is better now with me, then it was before; and therefore it is said, that the dead do open the eyes to the living; to some by wealth; to other some by liberty, as it is with thee. No, not yet; stay, we will talk more anon. How loud he knocks! I will go down and see who it is. Sure; either he is a madman, or our familiar friend. Who is't that knocks there? Now in good time: The Wolf is in the fable. Hide your self, sister, behind these hangings, and you shall see how I will work him; and how I will puff him up with the wind of my fair and flattering words. And assure your self, that before we two partly, I will make him wholly ours; he shall not go hence the same Sosia that he came; but with my smooth and enticing terms, my so to and gentle handling of him, I will quite vnmaw him, and draw from him all that he either knows concerning his Master or any body else, as he draws dust from his horses with his currycomb. What? My Sosia? My inward friend? Him whom I wish so well unto, though perhaps he knows not of it? Him, whom I have lon ged to know, led only by the fame and good report, which I hear of him? What? He that is so faithful to his Master? So good a friend to his acquaintance? I will embrace thee (my Love) I will hug thee in mine arms; for now that I see thee, I see report comes short; and verily persuade my self, that there are more virtues in thee, then I have been told of. Fame hath been too sparing of thy praise; come (sweet heart) let us go in, and fit down in my chamber; for it does me good to look upon thee. Oh! how thou dost resemble my unfortunate Parmeno! How lively does thy person represent him unto me? This is it that makes this day to shine so clear, that thou art come to visit me. Tell me (gentle Sir) did you ever know me before? Your talk would make me blush, and run away for shame, were there any body here, to hear how you play upon me. But (as it is the fashion of all you men) you never go unprovided of such kind of phrases as these: these false and deceitful praises are too common amongst you; you have words moulded of purpose, to serve your turn withal, and to suit your selves as you see cause, to any woman whatsoever: yet for all this, am I not afraid of you, neither will I start, or budge from you. But I must tell you ( Sosia ) by the way; this praising of me thus, is more then needs, for though thou shouldst continued ̄ mend me, yet should I love thee. And that thereby thou shouldst think to gain my love, is as needless; for thou hast gained it already. There are two things, which caused me ( Sosia ) for to send for thee, entreating thee to take the pains to come and see me; wherein if I find you to double, or dissemble with me, I have done with you. What they are, I will leave them to your self to relate, though I know it is for your own good, which makes me to do as I do. My Love, thou knowest how dearly I loved Parmeno. And as it is in the Proverb, He that loves Beltram, loves any thing that is his; all his friends were always welcome unto me; his good service to his Master did as much please me, as it pleased himself. When he saw any harm towards Calisto, he did study to prevent it. Now as all this is true, so thought I it good to acquaint thee with it. First then did I send for thee, that I might give thee to understand how much I love thee; & how much I joy and ever shall, in this thy visiting me; nor shalt thou loose a nigh thing by it, if I can help it, but rather turn to thy profit and be nefit. Secondly, since that I have settled my eyes, my love and affection on on thee, that I may advise thee to take heed how thou comest in danger; and beside, to admonish thee, that thou do not dis cover thy secrers to any: For you see what ill befell Parmeno and Sempronio, by imparting things of secrecy unto Celestina; for I would not willingly see thee die in such and ill fashion, as your fellow and companion did; it is enough for me that I have bewailed one of you already, and therefore I would have you to know, that there came one unto me, and told me that you had discovered unto him the love, that is betwixt Calisto and Melibea; and how he won her; and how you your self night by night went along with him; and many other things which now I cannot call to mind. Take heed (friend) for not to keep a secret, is proper only unto woe men, yet not unto all, but such as are fools and children. Take heed (I say) for here-hence great hurt may come unto you: and to this end did Nature give you two ears, and two eyes, and but one tongue; to the end that what you see and hear, should be double to that you speak. Take heed, and do not think your friend will keep your secret, when you your self cannot keep it; when therefore thou art to go with thy Master, Calisto, to that La die house, make no noise, lest you be herd; for some have told me, that every night you keep a coil, and cannot contain your selves, as men transported and overjoyed. If you love me then (my deer Love) that I may accuse them to their faces, and take them in the nooze of their falsehood, acquaint me with those days you determine to go thither; and if then they shall err in their report, I shall thereby be assured of your secrecy, and their roguery; for that being not true, which they tell me, your person shall be secured from danger, and I freed from any sudden fear of your life, hoping long to enjoy you. And on which side of the garden (my sweetheart?) be cause I may contradict them the better, if I find them varying. Brother Sosia; this that thou hast said, shall suffice to make known thy innocency, and their wickedness; and so a good speed with thee: for I have some other business to dispatch, and I fear me I have spent too much time with you. And you too. So: Are you gone, Muleteer? How proud lie the Villain goes his way! I have put a trick upon you (you Rogue) I have bored you I wiss, thorough the nose; pardon me, if I turn my back to thee, and withdraw my favour from thee. I will have your coat soundly cudgeled for this gear. But to whom do I speak? Sister, come forth, tell me what dost thou think of him, whom I sent away? Have I not handsomely played my partly with him? Thus know I how to handle such fellows; thus do such Asses go out of my hands, beaten and laden with blows; thus your bashful fools, and no better do I use your discreeter men that are timorous; and your devout persons that are passionate; and your chaste men, when they are once set on fire. Learn of me therefore, Cousin: for this is another kind of Art then that of Celestina; it is a trick beyond any that she had in her budget; though she took me for a fool, because I was content to be so accounted at her hands. And since now that we have squeezed the Orange, and wrung out of this fool as much as we desire to know; I think it not amiss, that we go to seek out that dogs-face, at his house, whom on Thursday last I rated so bitterly out of mine. You shall make show, as though you were desirous to make us friends, and that you had earnestly entreated me to come and see him. If you love me (Sister) let us not in any further; for the Villain stands upon his pantoffles, and begins to look big; think king, perhaps, that I am come to cry him mercy. He had rather have such company as himself then ours; come, let us go, for I am the worse to look upon him; I am ready to swoon with the very sighed of such and ill-favoured face. Think you (Sister) that you have used me well, to train me thus along to such a walk as this? Is it a fit thing, that we should come from good company, and enter in here to see this villainous fellow, that flayeth off the skins from dead men's faces, that he may go disguised and unknown? Embrace him? Marry gup with a murrain! I had ra there see him under the power and rigour of the Law; and had ra there see him die by the hands of his enemies, then that I should do the slave such a kindness. No, no, I have done with him; I have nothing to say to him; as long as I live, he and I shall be two. And wherein (I pray) am I so beholding unto him, that I should embrace him? nay, so much as once vouchsafe to look upon such a profess said enemy as he? I did but entreat him the other day, to have gone but a little way for me about a business that did as much concern me as my life; and do you think that I could get him to go? Speak him fair, entreat him, do what I could for my life, he still answered me, No. And shall I embrace a Villain, that regards me no more then so? I take thee at thy word; now we be friends; and in good time have we met. I here pardon what is passed, but upon condition that you revenge me upon a Gentleman, called Calisto, who hath wronged both me, and my Cousin. All's one for that, take you no care. But do you hear? Interrupt me not; Fail me not, I advise you; this night (if you will) you may take him napping. Only two; and those young fellows. No, no; this is but to shift us off, and to excuse your not doing it. It will not serve your turn, you must give this bone to some other dog to pick; I must not be fed with delays; I will see whither sayings and doings eat together at your Table; when there deeds and words fit both at one board with you? We will have nothing to do with your Pedigree, nor famous Acts of old; if you will do that I spoke to you of, resolve suddenly, for we must be gone. I pray content your self, Sister, hold your peace. Name that City unto us (if you can) which is not full of hurly-burlies, and where some scandals do not arise. Sister, let not you and I sorrow for the matter; why should we seem to pity him? Let him do with him what he will; let him kill him, as he finds himself humoured, when he comes to do the business: let Melibea weep as well as you have done before her: and so let us leave him. Centurio; see you give a good account of that which is committed to your charge. Take your own course; any way, so as you revenge us on him, shall con tent us; but in any case take heed, that he do not escape without paying for his error. Mars direct thy hand aright. And so farewell, for it is time for us to be gone.