The action takes place at Naples
Enter Ercole, Romelio, and Jolenta.
Romelio:
O sister, come, the tailor must to work,
To make your wedding clothes.
Jolenta:
The tomb-maker,
To take measure of my coffin.
Romelio:
Tomb-maker?
Look you, the King of Spain greets you.
Gives her a paper
Jolenta: What does this mean?
Do you serve process on me?
Romelio:
Process? Come,
You would be witty now.
Jolenta:
Why, what's this, I pray?
Romelio:
Infinite grace to you: it is a letter
From his Catholic Majesty, for the commends
Of this gentleman for your husband.
Jolenta:
In good season:
I hope he will not have my allegiance stretch'd
To the undoing of myself.
Romelio:
Undo yourself? He does proclaim him her -
Jolenta:
Not for a traitor, does he?
Romelio:
You are not mad?
For one of the noblest gentlemen.
Jolenta:
Yet kings many times
Know merely but men's outsides. Was this commendation
Voluntary, think you?
Romelio:
Voluntary: what mean you by that?
Jolenta:
Why I do not think but he beg'd it of the King,
And it may fortune to be out of's way:
Some better suit, that would have stood his Lordship
In far more stead. Letters of commendations;
Why 'tis reported that they are grown stale,
When places fall i'th' university.
I pray you return his pa**: for to a widow
That longs to be a courtier, this paper
May do knight's service.
Ercole:
Mistake not excellent mistress, these commends
Express, his Majesty of Spain has given me
Both addition of honour, as you may perceive
By my habit, and a place here to command
O'er thirty galleys: this your brother shows,
As wishing that you would be partner
In my good fortune.
Romelio:
I pray come hither.
Have I any interest in you?
Jolenta:
You are my brother
Romelio:
I would have you then use me with that respect
You may still keep me so, and to be sway'd
In this main business of life, which wants
Greatest consideration, your marriage,
By my direction. Here's a gentleman -
Jolenta:
Sir: I have often told you,
I am so little my own to dispose that way,
That I can never be his.
Romelio:
Come, too much light
Makes you moo-eyed - are you in love with title?
I will have a herald, whose continual practice
Is all in pedigree, come a-wooing to you,
Or an antiquary in old buskins.
Ercole:
Sir, you have done me the mainest wrong
That e'er was off'red to a gentleman
Of my breeding.
Romelio:
Why sir?
Ercole:
You have led me
With a vain confidence, that I should marry
Your sister, have proclaim'd it to my friends,
Employ'd the greatest lawyers of our state
To settle her a jointure; and the issue
Is, that I must become ridiculous
Both to my friends and enemies: I will leave you
Till I call to you for a strict account
Of your unmanly dealing.
Romelio:
Stay my Lord!
Aside Do you long to have my throat cut? Good my Lord,
Stay but a little, till I have remov'd
This court-mist from her eyes, till I wake her
From this dull sleep, wherein she'll dream herself
To a deformed beggar. To Jolenta You would marry
The great Lord Contarino.
Enter Leonara
Leonora:
Contarino
Were you talking of? He lost last night at dice
Five thousand ducats; and when that was gone,
Set at one throw a lordship, that twice trebled
The former loss.
Romelio:
And that flew after.
Leonora:
And most carefully
Carried the gentleman in his caroche
To a lawyer's chaber, there most legally
To put him in possession: was this wisdom?
Romelio:
O yes, their credit in the way of gaming
Is the main thing they stand on; that must be paid,
Though the brewer bawl for's money. And this lord
Does she prefer i'th' way of marriage,
Before our choice here, noble Ercole!
Leonora:
You'll be advis'd, I hope. Know for your sakes
I married, that I might have children;
And for your sakes, if you'll be rul'd by me,
I will never marry again. Here's a gentleman
Is noble, rich, well featur'd, but 'bove all,
He loves you entirely; his intents are aim'd
For an expedition 'gainst the Turk,
Which makes the contract cannot be delayed.
Jolenta:
Contract? You must do this without my knowledge;
Give me some potion to make me mad,
And happily not knowing what I speak,
I may then consent to't.
Romelio:
Come, you are mad already,
And I shall never hear you speak good sense,
Till you name him for husband.
Ercole:
Lady, I will do
A manly office for you. I will leave you,
To the freedom of your own soul; may it mothe whither
Heaven and you please.
Jolenta:
Now you express yourself
Most nobly.
Romelio:
Stay sir, what do you mean to do?
Leonora:
Kneels Hear me: if ever thou dost marry Contarino,
All the misfortune that did ever dwell
In a parent's curse, light on thee!
Ercole:
O rise lady, certainly heaven never
Intended kneeling to this fearful purpose.
Jolenta:
Your imprecation has undone me for ever.
Ercole:
Give me your hand.
Jolenta:
No sir.
Romelio:
Giv't me then:
He takes her hand
O what rare workmanship have I seen this
To finish with your needle, what excellent music
Have these struck upon the viol! Now I'll teach
A piece of art.
Jolenta:
Rather a damnable cunning,
To have me go about to giv't away,
Without consent of my soul.
Romelio:
Kiss her my lord.
If crying had been regarded, maidenheads
Had ne'er been lost; at least some apprearance of crying
As an April shower i'th' sunshine.
Leonora:
She is yours.
Romelio:
Nay, continue your station, and deal you in dumb show;
Kiss this doggedness out of her.
Leonora:
To be contracted
In tears, is but fashionable.
Romelio:
Yet suppose
That they were hearty -
Leonora:
Virgins must seem unwilling.
Romelio:
O what else? And you remember, we observe
The like in greater ceremonies than these contracts:
At the consecration of prelates, the ever use
Twice to say nay, and take it.
Jolenta:
O brother!
He seizes her hand and lays it in Ercole's
Romelio:
Keep your possession, you have the door by'th'ring,
That's livery and seasin in England:
But my lord, kiss that tear from her lip;
You'll find the rose the sweeter for the dew.
Jolenta:
Bitter as gall.
Romelio:
Aye, aye, all you women,
Although you be of never so low stature,
Have gall in you most abundant; it exceeds
Your brains by two ounces. I was saying somewhat:
O, do but observe i'th' city, and you'll find
The thrifties bargains that were ever made,
What a deal of wrangling ere they could be brought
To an upshot!
Leonora:
Great persons do not ever come together -
Romelio:
With revelling faces, nor is it necessary
They should; the strangeness and unwillingness
Wears the greater state, and gives occasion that
The people may buzz and talk of't, though the bells
Be tongue-tied at the wedding.
Leonora:
And truly I have heard say,
To be a little strange to one another,
Will keep your longing fresh.
Romelio:
Aye, and make you beget
More children when y'are married: some doctors
Are of that opinion. You see, my lord, we are merry
At the contract; your sport is to come hereafter.
Ercole:
I will leave you excellent lady, and withal
Leave heart with you so entirely yours,
That I protest, had I the least of hope
To enjoy you, though I were to wait the time
That scholars do in taking their degree
In the noble arts, 'twere nothing. Howsoe'er,
He parts from you, that will depart from life,
To do you any service, and so humbly
I take my leave.
Jolenta:
Sir, I will pray for you.
Exit Ercole.
Romelio:
Why, that's well; 'twill make your prayer complete,
To pray for your husband.
Jolenta:
Husband!
Leonora:
This is
The happiest hour that I ever arriv'd at.
Exit.
Romelio:
Husband, aye,husband! Come you peevish thing,
Smile me a thank for the pains I have tane.
Jolenta:
I hate myself for being thus enforc'd;
You may soon judge then what I think of you
Which are the cause of it.
Enter (Winifrid) the waiting woman.
Romelio:
You lady of the laundry, come hither.
Winifrid:
Sir?
Romelio:
Look as you love your life, you have an eye
Upon your mistress: I do henceforth bar her
All visitansts. I do hear there are bawds abroad,
That bring cut-works, and mantoons, and convey letters
To such young gentlewomen, and there are others
That deal in corn-cutting, and fortune-telling:
Let none of these come at her on your life,
Nor Deuce-ace the wafer woman, that prigs abroad
With musk melons, and malakatoons;
Nor the Scotchwoman with the cittern, do you mark,
Nor a dancer by any means, though he ride on's footcloth,
Nor a hackney coachman, if he can speak French.
Winifrid:
Why Sir?
Romelio:
By no means: no more words;
Nor the woman with marrow-bone puddings. I have heard
Strange juggling tricks have been convey'd to a woman
In a pudding. You are apprehensive?
Winifrid:
O good sir, I have travell'd.
Romelio:
When you had a ba*tard, you travell'd indeed:
But, my precious chaperones,
I trust thee the better for that; for I have heard
There is no warier keeper of a park,
To prevent stalkers, or your night-walkers,
That such a man, as in his youth has been
A most notorious deer-stealer.
Winifrid: Very well sir,
You may use me at your pleasure.
Romelio:
By no means, Winifrid, that were the way
To make thee travel again. Come, be not angry,
I do but jest; thou knowest, wit and a woman
Are two very frail things, and so I leave you.
Exit
Winifrid:
I could weep with you, but 'tis no matter,
I can do that at any time; I have now
A greater mind to rail a little. Plague of these
Unsanctified matches: they make us loathe
The most natural desire our grandame Eve ever left us.
Force one to marry against their will! Why 'tis
A more ungodly work than enclosing the commons.
Jolenta:
Prithee, peace.
This is indeed an argument so common,
I cannot think of matter new enogh
To express it bad enough.
Winifrid:
Here's one, I hope
Will put you out of't.
Enter Contarino.
Contarino:
How now, sweet mistress?
You have made sorrow look lovely of late,
You have wept.
Winifrid:
She has done nothing else these three days. Had you stood
behind the arras, to have heard her shed so much salt water
as I have done, you would have thought
she had been turn'd fountain.
Contarino:
I would fain know the cause can be worthy this
Thy sorrow.
Jolenta:
Reach me the caskanet. I am studying, sir,
To take an inventory of all that's mine.
Contarino:
What to do with it, lady?
Jolenta:
To make you a deed of gift.
Contarino:
That's done already. You are all mine.
Winifrid:
Yes, but the devil would fain put in for's share,
In likeness of a separation.
Jolenta:
O sir, I am bewitch'd.
Contarino:
Ha?
Jolenta:
Most certain. I am forespoken,
To be married to another: can you ever think
That I shall ever thrive in't? Am I not then bewitch'd?
All comfort I can teach myself is this:
There is a time left for me to die nobly,
When I cannot live so.
Contarino:
Give me in a word, to whom, or by whose means,
Are you thus torn from me?
Jolenta:
By Lord Ercole, my mother, and my brother.
Contarino:
I'll make his bravery fitter far for a grave,
Than for a wedding.
Jolenta:
So you will beget
A far more dangerous and strange disease
Out of the cure. You must love him again
For my sake: for the noble Ercole
Had such a true compa**ion of my sorrow.
Hark in your ear, I'll show you his right worthy
Demeanour to me.
Winifrid:
aside O you pretty ones!
I have seen this lord many a time and oft
Set her in's lap, and talk to her of love
So feelingly, I do protest it has mede me
Run out of my self to think on't.
O sweet-breath'd monkey; how they grow together!
Well, 'tis my opinion, he was no woman's friend
That did invent a punishment for kissing.
Contarino:
If he bear himself so nobly,
The manliest office I can do for him,
Is to afford him my pity, since he's like
To fail of so dear a purchase. For your mother,
Your goodness quits her ill; for your brother,
He that vows friendship to a man, and proves
A traitor, deserves rather to be hang'd,
Than he that counterfeits money. Yet for your sake
I must sign his pardon too. Why do you tremble?
Be safe, you are now free from him.
Jolenta:
O but sir,
The intermission from a fit of an ague
Is grievous; for indeed it doth prepare us
To entertain torment next morning.
Contarino:
Why, he's gone to sea.
Jolenta:
But he may return too soon.
Contarino:
To avoid which, we will instantly be married.
Winifrid:
To avoid which, get you instantly to bed together,
Do, and I think no civil lawyer for his fee
Can give you better counsel.
Jolenta:
Fie upon thee,
Prithee leave us.
Exit Winifrid.
Contarino:
Be of comfort, sweet mistress.
Jolenta:
Upon one condition, we may have no quarrel
About this
Contarino:
Upon my life, none.
Jolenta:
None,
Upon your honour?
Contarino:
With whom? With Ercole?
You have delivered him guiltless. With your brother?
He's part of yourself. With your complemental mother?
I use no fight with women. Tomorrow we'll
Be married. Let those that would oppose this union,
Grow ne'er so subtle, and entangle themselves
In their own work like spiders, while we two
Haste to our noble wishes, and presume
The hindrance of it will breed more delight,
As black copartaments shows gold more bright.
Exit