Marciano, or, The discovery a tragi-comedy, acted with great applause before His Majesties High Commissioner, and others of the nobility, at the Abby of Holyrud-house, on St. Johns night, by a company of gentlemen.

Actus primus, Scaena prima.

A noyse within, Trumpets, Drums, Pistols, Shot, Swords clash, &c.

Enter Marciano, wounded, chaffing, &c.

LOst—By heavens—all lost, All our hopes blasted By Jove, without hope of recovery. O gods, commiserate our despicable estate.

A noise within as before, Exit hastily. Enters again.

Oh heavens! this day were we at push of pike For our publike liberty—Now we are at our wits end For our private safety.—

A noyse within cry, they fly, they fly.

Harke, what a hideous noyse—this fatal day Hath cancell'd all our former victories, Never to be remembred—in this hour. Our ancient splendour suffers sad ecclipse. —They fly—They fly—Oh what a dismal word! How unaccustom'd—Siennois to fly; True Siennois—such as had vowed their lives. A victime for their publike liberty,

To fly, like dust before mechanick slaves; Such as while now never knew other armes, Then forks or shovels—Do the gods intend To revel in our miseries!—and prove Strange paradoxes to the credulous world! That abject, base, unmannag'd Varlets thus Should overcome the Cavalry of Siena: A thing unheard of! O! accursed wretches, Whose too politick pates first hatcht these wartes; You are least sharers here. My Prince and I Must suffer this reproach—I slight my wounds; —But O! my honour lost.—I'le bear it stoutly: —Up then my spirits, be not you dejected; There's something yet to care for—there's no time Now to complain: heavens know what just designes We undertook; though with unequal success. Wee've done what lay in humane power—Pistoia Bear witness, where so many insolent rebells Have found this day their sepulchre: thy fields Can testifie how dear some sold their lives. And thou, the Ensigne of all noble souls Make affidavit of this dayes behaviour.

Holds up his sword.

—Now to my generous Prince, whom cruel fates Have levell'd with my self—Him will I search, That if my fates require my quick departure For Stygian lakes: as in my life I've been Eminent in his service, I may now, Dying couragiously in his presence, have His royal Pass-port and Testificate, To raise my honour, and condole my fate.

Exit.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Borasco with Souldiers.

Bor.—

SO now the day's our own—but yet the Duke Escap'd—Marciano not prisoner! The victory is not such as I expected. But come, my Mirmydons,—wee'l not give over; Let's, with a party of our choicest horse, Make narrow search for Marciano: For, if we find him not, we must not think To gain the Generals favour.—Come, my Boyes, He hath attempted oft to strip the Senate Of their new power, and so destroy us all; Whose hopes are nourished by the present wars: So that if you shall catch him, you may sure Expect a great reward:—his excellency, The brave Lord Barbaro will hugg you for it.

Exit with Sould.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Marciano solus.

O Florence! don't insult at this dayes success, This unnatural victory over thy lawfull Prince Will quickly make thee sensible of unnatural And intolerable Tyranny: that Ichneumon, Who now tickles thee in all thy desires Will stop thy breath at length, whilst thy good Prince, Whom thou can blame for nothing but misfortune, Shall yet be more unfortunate in seeing Thee too unfortunate.—But, I perceive The main designe of this preposterous war, Love and ambition muzles humane souls;

So that when private Subjects covet honour And power, their lawfull Prince must quit his Throne, No matter for what reason, since they mean Some reformation; as if private preferment Were inconsistent with all Monarchy. —But what! 'tis unseasonable for me t'expostulate. My noble Prince (goodness protect him still) Is gone for Savoy; I am here commanded To rally those few forces I can find, With slender hopes—but yet I'le do my best To prosecute his Royal orders—so, Good Subjects votes assist me—'tis resolv'd, For while Dame nature does allow me breath, I'le serve my Prince—nought shall excuse but death.

Exit.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Cassio, Leonardo, as at Florence.

Cass.—

O! Leonardo—How dost do Boy?

Leon.

Cassio—thou art the man I was seek∣ing, welcome effaith, and how Prethee? Cass Well.

Leon.

As well as the Ladies will permit thee?—ha.

Cass.

Yes indeed—but how goes all with you—what news do'st hear.

Leon.

Bad news effaith, all our hopes are now perished, it is for certain that the Duke is beat at Pistoia; whether he hath escaped or not himself, is not yet known.

Cass.—

Sad—trust me 'tis most sad, but, prethee, who shall be Duke now do'st think, when they have rejected him, who by law of inheritance was their lawfull Prince.

Leon.

Why—thou,—if thou bee'st weary of thy life; for a Prince now a dayes must raign no longer, then his Subjects please his government—men now begin to act real Trage∣dies.

Cass.

Good; but how does thy learned cocks-comb judge of the event of all our present broyls?

Leon.

Why, just as a sober Drawer does of a company of young gulls inflaming the reckoning beyond the faculties of their pockets: —they will look pittifully, when the bill is produc'd—for they must pay for all.

Cass.

How! •• do'st think our state-mountebanks will not agree?

Leon.

Yes, for a while they may, like heissers in the yoke, but when once got loose, they'll push at one another.

Cass.

Well—no more of that string; these distracted times, I fear, will afford such discourses every day—how does thy Mistress, the Lady you know of,—ha?

Leon.

—Why, faith as unreasonable as ever.

Cass.

How! unreasonable—

Leon.

Yes—unreasonable, she will admit of no tearms whatsoever, so that I fear I shall be forc'd to storm her: 'slid, I can have scarce liberty to survey her very parapet and out-works, for fear of a thing (I do not know what they mean now a dayes) suspicion, I think she calls it; and for thee, I beleeve thou art in no better condition, for her Sister, thy Mistress (otherwayes in my opinion plyable) is rul'd by her, and both by an old urinal-peeping, onyon-breath'd hag, whom they call the Countesse of Saromanca forsooth, so that now she is impregnable.

Cass.

A devil she is, 'slid, I think it is become an epidemical dis∣ease amongst that sexe, they intend, I think, to imitate the times, and erect a new Commonwealth of themselves, excluding all mascu∣line society, and so be call'd the new assembly of zeal-copyholders.

Leon.

Yes, yes, for now they hold it a cryme to court.

Cass.

Since Monarchy fell, that trade is totally decayed, thou must now either Marry at first sight or else march off; as if who should throw the Dye for a maydenhead, Boy.

Leon.

Goodness, I think, by and by, we shall be constrained to make love to one another, and so thou shalt be my Mistress, Cassio; for our modern Criticks will not allow us womens flesh, even upon holy-dayes.

Cass.

True—for all the Ladies in Florence have a spice of this disease is there no remedy for't, do'st think?

Leon.

None but patience, stay while Fortune turn up her wheel again, and then the Ladyes may turn up.

Cass.

What! their Petticoats?

Leon.

No—I have not sayd that yet, I mean may smile upon us more then they do: for now wee must not so much as see any Lady.

Cass.

No—why I hope they will yet admit of a visit in civility?

Leon.

No—by no means, Cassio, thou must not name such a he∣resie as a visit, for thou may'st hinder other suitors: Remember that, Boy.

Cass.

You say right—But who comes here?

Leon.

I think they are women.

Enter Chrysolina, and Marionetta. usher'd by Panta∣loni, at sight of Cass. and Leon. they pull down their vailes, traverse, &c.

Cass.

Or else two things shufled in the forme of women: dost know 'em Leonarde?

Leon.

Know 'em, why, who can know them thus, such masquerades under their vailes are like nuns at the grate, they may see us, but wee cannot see them.

Exeunt

Cass.

True, for there is no way else to discover them, but by smelling; and what smell women have now a dayes, faith, I cannot tell.

Leon.

Smell, say'st thou; they have a most acute smell, a wo∣man can now a dayes smell a mans love to her, before ever possibly he be in love with any; I was rejected by a lady last day, before ever I knew her well; yet such was the imagination that she had of my respects, that she entertained her companions with the relation of my adventures for her—you will think that strange.

Cass.

—Strange!—No faith, I hope, by progresse of time, they will conceive by the meer wind of report, and so wee shall have a hopefull race of young Florentine-jennets, as light-heel'd as those of Spain, I warrand yow: but, prethee, what was that Lady, you talk'd of?

Leon.

Why, the little handsome Donazella, what do you call her, on the other syde of the river?

Cass.

Ho—Ho—I know her, a noble Lady effaith, but I am sorry, that she is infected with that disease, she seemes to have a spark of wit.

Leon.

Tush, 'tis become a plague, Cassio, a very plague; do'st not know the gentelman, who was rejected of a Lady, having no other evidence of his affection then the carrying of a letter from one of her friends to her, wherein he was recommended to her acquain∣tance, which as a trophee of her conquests she did impar to her hearts-conquerour—and yet a Lady of admirable qualities.—Men now a dayes breed their female children, as the Chineses do their wives, or the Grand-signior his concubines, close at home.

Cass.

But, prethee, did'st know that same peece of foppery, who at∣tended them who by his garbe would seeme to challenge the title of a man?

Leon.

Know him, why, who does not know him; 'tis Signior Pan∣taloni, the rich city-gull, whose golden fleece dazles the eyes of all the Ladyes in Toun, to whose chamber he is almost as wel∣come as a young batchelour of Divinity, who hath lately past his tryalls, is to a zealous widow of ten months standing, that would faine repeat her former allegiance, and taste the game again—But come, you shall go along with me to the Lady Chrysolina, there I hope wee shall have some favour, if wee get accesse, I mean.

Cass.

—I, with all my heart, but that's the question.

Exeunt

Scaena Quinta.

Enter Pantaloni, with Chrysolina and Marionetta.

Pant.

I take it so indeed, Ladies, you must excuse me if I do you the honour to visit you sometimes; for my mother sayes, Son, saith she, it is high time you were married—I hope you know my meaning.

Chrys.

Sir, you shall be welcome.

Pant.

I hope so indeed:—For, I vow I would never desire a handsomer wife then you are.—I protest, Mistress, you are very handsome, though I say it that should not say it.

Mar.

You flatter highly, Sir.

Pant.

Not indeed.

Chrys.

Well, Sir, as for your visit, I shall admit it; but for marriage—you know—

Pant.

Ho—I know well enough, you are governed by your friends; but I shall tickle them I warrand you, let me alone for that.

Mar.

It is the safest way, Sir.

Pant.

So—then forsooth, since I know the way to your Chamber, I will come and see you every day; now because my mo∣ther is sick and taking physick, I must go home and keep company with her, else I'l assure you, I would not leave you thus—farewell.

Exit.

Mar.

You see them Gentlemen, Cassio and Leonardo, as we passed along, Sister?

Chrys.

But I hope they did not know us, Sister, 'tis not fit we entertain them, they are not matches for us.

Mar.

But I warrand you, they'l render us a visit shortly.

Chrys.

I should rather wish they would abstain, Sister, you know our friends will not rellish it well; I should be very well con∣tent of this Signior Pantaloni for my husband; I hope no body hears us.

Mar.

True, for although the others may be Gentelmen of good parts, yet I know wee are design'd for them Signiors; so the Lady Saromanca told me last day.

Chrys.

And wee must follow their advice you know Sister.

Mar.

Yes indeed, and reason for it.

Enter Manduco hastily.

Man.

Hum—etiam confabulantes inveni? I have it in my pocket, that will afford them new cogitations,

Chrys.

Mr. Manduco, you are welcome, pray, how does my aunt?

Man.

I have a little negotiation with you in private; for I am le∣gate from Signior Becabunga, (my sometimes pupill) as more amp∣ly shall breifly appear. And how think you—marry thus, here's a letter for you—

takes out a Let∣ter out of a to∣bacco-box.

Chrys.

I hope he is in good health, Sir.

Man.

O! yes, he is valetudinary, herein he presents (as I co••∣jecture)

his amorous servitude to you both; he will be in Town next week, for I'l assure you he flagitates to see you: I hope you will afford him gracious entertainment—hum—hum—

Chrys.

He shall be welcome, Sir.

Man.

I will assure you, Ladies, he is an adolescent of eximious candor and egregious integrity: I have been at much pains and la∣bour in educating him, I may say, ever since his pubertie: but now that he is come to the years of intelligency, I have given him over—

Mar.

He will make us in love with him e're we see him.

Man.

But, for your further satisfaction, I shall, paucissimis, insi∣nuate to you the method of his education.—Primo, then, when he came under my gubernation, which was about the year of his age, Anno Domini, (let me see) mill••simo, sexcente simo, quadra∣gesimo sexto, it being then Leap year; he was, inquam, a very per∣verse youth, vitiat in his behaviour, knowing nothing but what he had learned amongst the ancilla's (what d'you call 'em) Chamber∣maids.

Chrys.

Now, Sister, you shall have him anatomized to you.

Man.

But, so soon as I took him in hand, I did so belabour his na••es with my ferula, that profecto I have whipped him, whip'd him thus—for half an hour together, untill his abundant lachry∣mation had mov'd compassion: but, I knew that was the only way to discipl••••ate him—

Chrys.

Indeed Sir—

Man.

—So, I say, having taught him his Orthographia, Etymo∣logia and Prosodia, having alwayes a fellicitous eye over his beha∣viour: I did learn him to make his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, not as your Monfieurs do, but more gravely, 〈…〉〈…〉 how to 〈◊〉〈◊〉, &c. take a Lady by the hand••;—do—〈◊〉〈◊〉 how to kiss,—in this fashion—

Mar.

A pretty 〈…〉〈…〉

Man.

I gave 〈…〉〈…〉 caution, in∣structions, and now and 〈…〉〈…〉 Primo, Not to 〈…〉〈…〉 Vir sap••••, qui 〈…〉〈…〉 you are alwayes wisest when you hold your pe•••• And then with what gesture to discourse, gravely; 〈…〉〈…〉

and like a School-man; (for, I have been sometimes Hypodidasea∣lus in the great School of Florence, im•• Hypodidasculus, Ladies) but, as I said, I learned him to be concinne aud terse in his habit, with hair in the same longitude, as you see mine. Secundo, How to keep a clean m••ndified nose, not with his sleeve, but with his su∣darium, or handkercher—

Mar.

He intends to weary us I think.

Man.

Tertio, As I said—(hoc agatur serio) tertio, as I said, tertio, inquam, to eat his meat with a great deal of circum∣spection and neatly; that is to say, with one finger and his thumb —thus—Quarto, To contain himself à capite scalpendo; from scratching of his head, (give ear I beseech you, Ladies, for it con∣cernes you.)

Mar.

He thinks we are his Schollars.

Chrys.

Peace, Sister, let us hear him out.

Man.

Quarto, As I said, (take heed) Quinto, I say, and maximè à crepitando & eructando; that is, from emitting ven∣tosities or flatuosities from his concavities: with several other ad∣monitions, according to the dictates of Joannes Sulpitius, and Gui∣li••lmus Lillius, my two very good and learned friends—

Mar.

Will he never make an end?

Man.

But, above, all, Ladies, for respect to his friends (because I am incarcerate with obligations to all his paternal Relatiosn) I did alwayes exhort him to abstain from tripudiation or danncing, gla∣diation or fencing, lusitation or gaming, equitation or riding, & sic de caeteris; So that now he is one of the best educate youths in Flo∣rence, else Ego operam & oleam perdi••i.

Chrys.

He is very much obliged to you, Sir.

Man.

Now, I will not molest you with a more ample relation of his good qualifications; but, he is a friend to modesty and chasti∣ty, an enemy to superbity, in potu moderatus; but, not andum—he is most locuplete both in argentary and frumentary rents—not given to luxury or venery—••o, not at all to venery—

Mar.

What a tedious ••arangue for nothing.

Man.

But, (to conclude, because now the time is gone) as I said before, as I say now, and I hope your intelligence does comprehend when he comes into Town, I shall concomitate him to your domi∣cile,

diversory, chamber, cubicular, or what you please, and—so farewell.

Exit.

Chrys.

What a meer Bedant!

Mar.

As ever liv'd, Sister, I cannot love him.

Chrys.

Peace, Sister, let us appear civil before him; for, he is imployed by that Gentleman B••••ab••••g••'s friends, to sound our humours I warrand you—

And what our friends have ordain'd, we will do, What e're it be, there's reason for it too.

Exeunt.

Scaena Sexta.

Enter Arabella so••a, as at Sie••••, having got intelligences of the Robels victory.

Ar.—

TOo true—I fear'd it alwayes;—now frail woman, Has thou no eyes? Art thou not sensible Already of our slavery?—Barbare, A Florentine, a profess'd enemy To all Siennois, will become our Master. —But hold—imagine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Marciano, As gods know, and I fear, a 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Consequently thy heart in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with him, —Pray, what wouldst do? Resolve, poor Arabella, Would'st not go search him? or would'st rather stay Thou at Siena here, he, God knows where. Love prompts the first, honour pers••des the last, This fear advises that hope strongly presses; Fear tests me, I should erre; for, may be he Whom in pr••••perity, I did 〈◊〉〈◊〉 esteem, May now forget me too, (a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 our Sex Oftimes commit more through infirmity Then malice•• yet, were I assur'd he were Prisoner in Florence, I'd no more debate, But search and find him, at whatever rate.

Exit.