Scaena Quarta.
Enter Clara, and Bobadilla with Letters.
Cla.
What said he, sirrah?
Bob.
Little, or nothing: faith I saw him not,
Nor will not: he doth love a strumpet, Mistriss,
Nay, keeps her spitefully, under the Constables nose,
It shall be justified by the Gentleman
Your brothers Master that is now within
A practising: there are your Letters: come
You shall not cast your self away, while I live,
Nor will I venture my Right worshipful place
In such a business—here's your Mother, down:
And he that loves you: another 'gates fellow, I wish,
If you had any grace.
Enter Eugenia and Sayavedra.
Cla.
Well rogue.
Bob.
I'll in, to see Don Lucio manage, he'll make
A pretty piece of flesh, I promise you,
He does already handle his weapon finely. Exit.
Eug.
She knows your love, Sir, and the full allowance
Her Father and my self approve it with,
And I must tell you, I much hope it hath
Wrought some impression by her alteration;
She sighs, and saies, forsooth, and cries heigh-ho,
She'll take ill words o' th' Steward, and the Servants,
Yet answer affably, and modestly:
Things Sir, not usual with her: there she is,
Change some few words.
Say.
Madam, I am bound t'ye;
How now, fair Mistriss, working?
Cla.
Yes forsooth,
Learning to live another day.
Say.
That needs not.
Cla.
No forsooth: by my truly but it does,
We knew not what we may come to.
Eug.
'Tis strange.
Say.
Come, I ha begg'd leave for you to play.
Cla.
Forsooth
'Tis ill for a fair Lady to be idle.
Say.
She had better be well-busied, I know that.
Turtle: me thinks you mourn, shall I sit by you?
Cla.
If you be weary, Sir, you had best be gone
(I work not a true stitch) now you're my mate.
Say.
If I be so, I must do more than side you.
Cla.
Ev'n what you will, but tread me.
Say.
Shall we bill?
Cla.
Oh no, forsooth.
Say.
Being so fair, my Clara,
Why d'ye delight in Black-work?
Cla.
Oh White, Sir,
The fairest Ladies like the blackest men:
I ever lov'd the colour: all black things
Are least subject to change,
Say.
Why, I do love
A black thing too: and the most beauteous faces
Have oftnest of them: as the blackest eyes,
Jet-arched brows, such hair: I'll kiss your hand.
Cla.
'Twill hinder me my work Sir: and my Mother
Will chide me, if I do not do my taske.
Say.
Your Mother, nor your Father shall chide: you
Might have a prettier taske, would you be rul'd,
And look with open eyes.
Cla.
I stare upon you
And broadly see you, a wondrous proper man,
Yet 'twere a greater taske for me to love you
Than I shall ever work Sir, in seven year,
—O' this stitching, I had rather feel
Two, than sow one:—this rogue h' as given me a stitch
Clean cross my heart:
Now you grow troublesome: pish, the man is foolish.
Say.
Pray wear these trifles.
Cla.
Neither you, nor trifles,
You are a trifle, wear your self, Sir, out,
And here no more trifle the time away.
Say.
Come; you're deceiv'd in me, I will not wake,
Nor fast, nor dye for you.
Cla.
Goose, be not you deceiv'd,
I cannot like, nor love, nor live with you,
Nor fast, nor watch, nor pray for you.
Eug.
Her old fit.
Say.
Sure this is not the way, nay, I will break
Your melancholly.
Cla.
I shall break your pate then,
Away, you sanguine scabbard.
Eug.
Out upon thee
Thou'lt break my heart, I am sure,
Enter Alvarez, Piorato, Lucio, and Bobadilla.
Say.
She's not yet tame.
Alv.
On Sir; put home: or I shall goad you here
With this old Fox of mine, that will bite better:
Oh, the brave age is gone; in my young daies
A Chevalier would stock a needless point
Three times together: strait i' th' hams?
Or shall I give ye new Garters?
Bob.
Faith old Master.
There's little hope: the linnen sure was danck
He was begot in, he's so faint, and cold:
Ev'n send him to Toledo, there to study,
For he will never fadge with these Toledos;
Bear ye up your point there; pick his teeth: Oh base.
Pio.
Fie: you are the most untoward Scholar: bear
Your body gracefully: what a posture's there?
You lie too open-breasted.
Luc.
Oh!
Pio.
You'ld never
Make a good States-man:
Luc.
Pray no more.
I hope to breathe in peace, and therefore need not
The practise of these dangerous qualities,
I do not mean to live by't; for I trust
You'll leave me better able.
Alv.
Not a Button:
Let's goe get us a new heir.
Eug.
I by my troth: your Daughter's as untoward.
Alv.
I will break thee bone by bone, and bake thee,
E'r I'll ha' such a wooden Son to inherit:
Take him a good knock; see how that will work.
Pio.
Now, for your life Signior: