MALEVENTO

TO Ormiella Daughter—nor in this room—Peace: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. The dawn of Midnight, and the Drunkards noon, No honest souls up now, but Vintners, Midwives, The nodding Watch, and piteous Constable, Would; My street door open! Bilbo, Puskeena, Bilbo. Bawds, Panders, to a young Whore; Bilbo! Where are they Bilbo? What Thief seest thou? Why didst thou cry Thieves then? What makest thou up at Midnight? Slave what art doing? What art mending? Look here, come hither, dost thou see what's this? Stop there and tell me, is Tormiella forth? A murder; of whom? She dwells not in her Chamber, for my Ghost (Called from his rest) from Room to room has stalked, Yet met no Tormelia. Was not her sweet heart here to night, Gazetto? Walk round the Orchard, holla for her there. She's certain with Gazetto, Should he turn Villain, train my poor child forth Though she's contracted to him, and rob her youth Of that Gem none can prize (because never seen) The Virgins riches (Chastity) and then (When he has left her ugly to all eyes) His own should loath her, uds death I would draw And old men nerves all up into this arm. And nail him to the Bed— No! Where should this foolish girl be? 'tis passed twelve, Who has invited her forth to her quick ruin! What Bilbo out with all. A Barber! To trim her! Sawest thou the Muskeod? Would? What's he! Cynamomo! A Comfitmaker! Dwells he hero i'th City? Sheele follow her kind; turn Monster, get a light. Call at Gazettoes Lodging, ask how he dares Make a Harlot of my child, slave say no more: Begun, Beatrice boldly. For this night I'm her Porter; O hapless Creatures! There is in woman a Devil from her birth, Of bade ones we have shoal, of good a dearth. Who's there? What! to a Common! Wertenberg thou with Gazetto? Was she with Gazetto? Was Gazetto alone? Fool knew not he she was forth? O Lycia Gazetto. No, no. Never speak of Madrill, The journey is for her too dangerous, If Cordova hold her not, lets all to Seville. Haste, haste, by break of day Signior Gazetto let us meet again. We'll hunt her out. Umh! I have known that voice, what! Run away! Why how now Bilbo! grown a Shopkeeper! It's well: good Fortune's bless you. It's true: but Bilbo, no news yet of my Daughter? Not any. Prithee step forth, speak softly, thou warmest my blood, I'll give thee the best suit Prentize ever wore. Fly to the mark I prithee? So, so, what of all this? Hall Is this he? Pray sir a word? You do not know me? Too well, thou hast undone me, Thou art a Civil These with looks demure As is thy habit, but a Villains heart. Hear me sir—to rob me of that fire That fed my life with heat (my only Child) Turn her into— Thy Strumpet, she's a disobedient Child, To cross my purposes; I promised her To a man whom I had chosen to be her Husband. I'll swear, She told me I should rule her, that she was Affied to no other man, and that to please me She would only take Gazetto Must I not see her! She has cracked my very heartstrings quite in sunder. Well I shall, Parents with milk feed Children, they them with gall. Thanks Son: Good Air, very good Air, and Son I think. You stand well too for trading. I am glad on't. I, I, good youth call her, She plays the Tortoyes now, you shall betwixt her and me, See a rare Combat; tell her here's her Father, No, and old swaggering Fencer, dares her at the weapon, Which women put down men at, Scolding! boy I will so chide her Son. Taken up already, it's well, yet I commend her She flies with birds that are of better wing Then those she spreads her self. Nay she's wise A subtle Ape, but loving as the Moon, is to the Sea: Then is the needle to the Adamant, The God of gold pour down on both your heads His comfortable showers. May never gall be filled into your Cup, Nor wormwood strew your Pillow; so live, so love, That none may say, a Raven does kiss a Dove, I am sorry that I cursed you, but the string Sounds as it's played on, as it's set we sing. Oh-pray Son, use Bilbo Caveare well. Where's thy Mistress? Of hay thou meanest, she'l not be lost I warrant. Nothing by no means No let her flutter, now she's fast i'th net, On disobedience, a graceful shame is set, Do you know these! By their starched faces, Small shanks, and blisted shoo-knobs, they should be Courtiers. For brave men, th'are no less i'th Tailors books, Courtiers in Citizens Houses, are Summer fires, May well be spared, and being clean out are best They do the house no good, but help consume, They burn the wood up, and overheat the room, Sweetening only the a little, that's all, Play the right Citizen then, whilst you gain by them, Hug'em, if they pluck your feathers, come not nigh them. Do. Of Court I pray Sir are you? Pray Sir what news at Court? I see then Jacks are saucy in every corner, I have gi ven it him under the list of the ear. Dancing Baboon! What's that they talk! Would! sick! how sick! Run into the Street, and if thou seest the privileged Bawdy house she went into, Well; what wilt thou say, if this be a plot, Of merriment betwixt thy wife and them, For them to come thus, and disguise her thus, Thus whorry her away to some by-Towne, But four or five miles distance from the City, Then must we hunt on Horseback, find our game See and not know her in this strange disguise, But the jest smelled out, shouts, and plandities Must ring about the Table where she sits, Then you kissing her, I must applaud their wits. What Bird! Come then. Your Grace is gracious. My proper flesh and blood Sir. Mine, Andrada Malevento. Son you forget your self. Is not a change good? The King is vexed, let me persuade thee Son To wink at small faults. You're a baggage. Has not that fellow done there? Not yet done? The more fool she. O royal Sir, my Daughter Tormiella Has lost her use of reason and run mad. Not half and hour since. Apollo bless thee. Gazetto! This is he, To whom by promise of my mouth, (not hers) Tormiella should have been married, but flying him To run away with this, he in disguise Has followed Both thus long to be revenged. Nor I, as I am true Lord. Does the Bell ring out! I care not Your Kingdom was a departing too, I had a place in Court for nothing, and if it begun, I can lose nothing; I have been Like a Lord in a play, and that done, my partly ends. I shall find-company i'th City I warrant; I am not the first hath given up my Cloak of honour.