SCENE I. ENTER MUSCO, DISGUISED LIKE A SOLDIER. MUS. 'Sblood, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus, from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable sort of lies, or else my profession loses his grace, and yet the lie to a man of my coat is as ominous as the Fico, oh, sir, it holds for good policy to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us: So much for my borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my master intends to follow his son dry-foot to Florence, this morning: now I, knowing of this conspiracy, and the rather to insinuate with my young master, (for so must we that are blue waiters, or men of service do, or else perhaps we may wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley you know:) I have got me afore in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado, and intercept him in the midway; if I can but get his cloak, his purse, his hat, nay, any thing so I can stay his journey, Rex Regum, I am made for ever, i'faith: well, now must I practise to get the true garb of one of these Lance-knights; my arm here, and my — God's so, young master and his cousin. LOR. JU. So, sir, and how then? [ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.] STEP. God's foot, I have lost my purse, I think. LOR. JU. How? lost your purse? where? when had you it? STEP. I cannot tell, stay. MUS. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me, would I could get by them. LOR. JU. What! have you it? STEP. No, I think I was bewitched, I. LOR. JU. Nay, do not weep, a pox on it, hang it, let it go. STEP. Oh, it's here; nay, an it had been lost, I had not cared but for a jet ring Marina sent me. LOR. JU. A jet ring! oh, the poesie, the poesie! STEP. Fine, i'faith: "Though fancy sleep, my love is deep": meaning that though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly. LOR. JU. Most excellent. STEP. And then I sent her another, and my poesie was: "The deeper the sweeter, I'll be judged by Saint Peter." LOR. JU. How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that. STEP. Marry, St. Peter to make up the metre. LOR JU. Well, you are beholding to that Saint, he help'd you at your need; thank him, thank him. MUS. I will venture, come what will: Gentlemen, please you change a few crowns for a very excellent good blade here; I am a poor gentleman, a soldier, one that (in the better state of my fortunes) scorned so mean a refuge, but now it's the humour of necessity to have it so: you seem to be, gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else I should rather die with silence, than live with shame: howe'er, vouchsafe to remember it is my want speaks, not myself: this condition agrees not with my spirit. LOR. JU. Where hast thou served? MUS. May it please you, Signior, in all the provinces of Bohemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland, where not? I have been a poor servitor by sea and land, any time this xiiij. years, and follow'd the fortunes of the best Commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna; I have been at America in the galleys thrice, where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both the thighs, and yet, being thus maim'd, I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my scars, the noted marks of my resolution. STEP. How will you sell this rapier, friend? MUS. Faith, Signior, I refer it to your own judgment; you are a gentleman, give me what you please. STEP. True, I am a gentleman, I know that; but what though, I pray you say, what would you ask? MUS. I assure you the blade may become the side of the best prince in Europe. LOR. JU. Ay, with a velvet scabbard. STEP. Nay, an't be mine it shall have a velvet scabbard, that is flat, I'd not wear it as 'tis an you would give me an angel. MUS. At your pleasure, Signior, nay, it's a most pure Toledo. STEP. I had rather it were a Spaniard: but tell me, what shall I give you for it? an it had a silver hilt — LOR. JU. Come, come, you shall not buy it; hold, there's a shilling, friend, take thy rapier. STEP. Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so: what, shall I go without a rapier? LOR. JU. You may buy one in the city. STEP. Tut, I'll buy this, so I will; tell me your lowest price. LOR. JU. You shall not, I say. STEP. By God's lid, but I will, though I give more than 'tis worth. LOR. JU. Come away, you are a fool. STEP. Friend, I'll have it for that word: follow me. MUS. At your service, Signior. [EXEUNT.]
ACT II. SCENE II. ENTER LORENZO SENIOR. LOR. SE. My labouring spirit being late opprest With my son's folly, can embrace no rest Till it hath plotted by advice and skill, How to reduce him from affected will To reason's manage; which while I intend, My troubled soul begins to apprehend A farther secret, and to meditate Upon the difference of man's estate: Where is decipher'd to true judgment's eye A deep, conceal'd, and precious mystery. Yet can I not but worthily admire At nature's art: who (when she did inspire This heat of life) placed Reason (as a king) Here in the head, to have the marshalling Of our affections: and with sovereignty To sway the state of our weak empery. But as in divers commonwealths we see, The form of government to disagree: Even so in man, who searcheth soon shall find As much or more variety of mind. Some men's affections like a sullen wife, Is with her husband reason still at strife. Others (like proud arch-traitors that rebel Against their sovereign) practise to expel Their liege Lord Reason, and not shame to tread Upon his holy and anointed head. But as that land or nation best doth thrive, Which to smooth-fronted peace is most proclive, So doth that mind, whose fair affections ranged By reason's rules, stand constant and unchanged, Else, if the power of reason be not such, Why do we attribute to him so much? Or why are we obsequious to his law, If he want spirit our affects to awe? Oh no, I argue weakly, he is strong, Albeit my son have done him too much wrong. [ENTER MUSCO.] MUS. My master: nay, faith, have at you: I am flesh'd now I have sped so well: Gentleman, I beseech you respect the estate of a poor soldier; I am ashamed of this base course of life, (God's my comfort) but extremity provokes me to't; what remedy? LOR. SE. I have not for you now. MUS. By the faith I bear unto God, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom, but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I may be, by your sweet bounty. LOR. SE. I pray thee, good friend, be satisfied. MUS. Good Signior: by Jesu, you may do the part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small value, the King of heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful: sweet Signior — LOR. SE. Nay, an you be so importunate — MUS. O Lord, sir, need will have his course: I was not made to this vile use; well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much: it's hard when a man hath served in his Prince's cause and be thus. Signior, let me derive a small piece of silver from you, it shall not be given in the course of time, by this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last night for a poor supper, I am a Pagan else: sweet Signior — LOR. SE. Believe me, I am rapt with admiration, To think a man of thy exterior presence Should (in the constitution of the mind) Be so degenerate, infirm, and base. Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg? To practise such a servile kind of life? Why, were thy education ne'er so mean, Having thy limbs: a thousand fairer courses Offer themselves to thy election. Nay, there the wars might still supply thy wants, Or service of some virtuous gentleman, Or honest labour; nay, what can I name, But would become thee better than to beg? But men of your condition feed on sloth, As doth the Scarab on the dung she breeds in, Not caring how the temper of your spirits Is eaten with the rust of idleness. Now, afore God, whate'er he be that should Relieve a person of thy quality, While you insist in this loose desperate course, I would esteem the sin not thine, but his. MUS. Faith, Signior, I would gladly find some other course, if so. LOR. SE. Ay, you'd gladly find it, but you will not seek it. MUS. Alas, sir, where should a man seek? in the wars, there's no ascent by desert in these days, but — and for service, would it were as soon purchased as wish'd for, (God's my comfort) I know what I would say. LOR. SE. What's thy name? MUS. Please you: Portensio. LOR. SE. Portensio? Say that a man should entertain thee now, Would thou be honest, humble, just, and true? MUS. Signior: by the place and honour of a soldier — LOR. SE. Nay, nay, I like not these affected oaths; Speak plainly, man: what thinkst thou of my words? MUS. Nothing, Signior, but wish my fortunes were as happy as my service should be honest. LOR. SE. Well, follow me, I'll prove thee, if thy deeds Will carry a proportion to thy words. [EXIT LOR. SE.] MUS. Yes, sir, straight, I'll but garter my hose; oh, that my belly were hoop'd now, for I am ready to burst with laughing. 'Slid, was there ever seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? now shall I be possest of all his determinations, and consequently my young master; well, he is resolved to prove my honesty: faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience: oh, I shall abuse him intolerably: this small piece of service will bring him clean out of love with the soldier for ever. It's no matter, let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant; why, this is better than to have stayed his journey by half: well, I'll follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed. [EXIT.]
ACT II. SCENE III. ENTER PROSPERO, BOBADILLA, AND MATHEO. MAT. Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too. PROS. Oh, I came not there to-night. BOB. Your brother delivered us as much. PROS. Who, Giuliano? BOB. Giuliano. Signior Prospero, I know not in what kind you value me, but let me tell you this: as sure as God, I do hold it so much out of mine honour and reputation, if I should but cast the least regard upon such a dunghill of flesh; I protest to you (as I have a soul to be saved) I ne'er saw any gentlemanlike part in him: an there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Phoebus. MAT. Troth, nor I, he is of a rustical cut, I know not how: he doth not carry himself like a gentleman. PROS. Oh, Signior Matheo, that's a grace peculiar but to a few; "quos aequus amavit Jupiter." MAT. I understand you, sir. [ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.] PROS. No question you do, sir: Lorenzo! now on my soul, welcome; how dost thou, sweet rascal? my Genius! 'Sblood, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better while I live for this; my dear villain, now I see there's some spirit in thee: Sirrah, these be they two I writ to thee of, nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? why dost thou not speak? LOR. JU. Oh, you are a fine gallant, you sent me a rare letter. PROS. Why, was't not rare? LOR. JU. Yes, I'll be sworn I was ne'er guilty of reading the like, match it in all Pliny's familiar Epistles, and I'll have my judgment burn'd in the ear for a rogue, make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I marle what camel it was, that had the carriage of it? for doubtless he was no ordinary beast that brought it. PROS. Why? LOR. JU. Why, sayest thou? why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, (the sober time of the day too) would have ta'en my father for me? PROS. 'Sblood, you jest, I hope? LOR. JU. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now: but I'll assure you, my father had the proving of your copy some hour before I saw it. PROS. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith? LOR. JU. Nay, I know not what he said. But I have a shrewd guess what he thought. PRO. What? what? LOR. JU. Marry, that thou are a damn'd dissolute villain, And I some grain or two better, in keeping thee company. PROS. Tut, that thought is like the moon in the last quarter, 'twill change shortly: but, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two Zanies here, thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them if thou hear'st them once, but what strange piece of silence is this? the sign of the dumb man? LOR. JU. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make our music the fuller, an he please, he hath his humour, sir. PROS. Oh, what is't? what is't? LOR. JU. Nay, I'll neither do thy judgment nor his folly that wrong, as to prepare thy apprehension: I'll leave him to the mercy of the time, if you can take him: so. PROS. Well, Signior Bobadilla, Signior Matheo: I pray you know this gentleman here, he is a friend of mine, and one that will well deserve your affection, I know not your name, Signior, but I shall be glad of any good occasion to be more familiar with you. STEP. My name is Signior Stephano, sir, I am this gentleman's cousin, sir, his father is mine uncle; sir, I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman. BOB. Signior, I must tell you this, I am no general man, embrace it as a most high favour, for (by the host of Egypt) but that I conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts, I love few words: you have wit: imagine. STEP. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy. MAT. O Lord, sir, it's your only best humour, sir, your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: I am melancholy myself divers times, sir, and then do I no more but take your pen and paper presently, and write you your half score or your dozen of sonnets at a sitting. LOR. JU. Mass, then he utters them by the gross. STEP. Truly, sir, and I love such things out of measure. LOR. JU. I'faith, as well as in measure. MAT. Why, I pray you, Signior, make use of my study, it's at your service. STEP. I thank you, sir, I shall be bold, I warrant you, have you a close stool there? MAT. Faith, sir, I have some papers there, toys of mine own doing at idle hours, that you'll say there's some sparks of wit in them, when you shall see them. PROS. Would they were kindled once, and a good fire made, I might see self-love burn'd for her heresy. STEP. Cousin, is it well? am I melancholy enough? LOR. JU. Oh, ay, excellent. PROS. Signior Bobadilla, why muse you so? LOR. JU. He is melancholy too. BOB. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was perform'd to-morrow, being St. Mark's day, shall be some ten years. LOR. JU. In what place was that service, I pray you, sir? BOB. Why, at the beleaguering of Ghibelletto, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost their lives upon the breach: I'll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first, but the best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in of Tortosa last year by the Genoways, but that (of all other) was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, since I first bore arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a soldier. STEP. So, I had as lief as an angel I could swear as well as that gentleman. LOR. JU. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems. BOB. O Lord, sir: by Phaeton, I was the first man that entered the breach, and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had had a million of lives. LOR. JU. Indeed, sir? STEP. Nay, an you heard him discourse you would say so: how like you him? BOB. I assure you (upon my salvation) 'tis true, and yourself shall confess. PROS. You must bring him to the rack first. BOB. Observe me judicially, sweet Signior: they had planted me a demi-culverin just in the mouth of the breach; now, sir, (as we were to ascend), their master gunner (a man of no mean skill and courage, you must think,) confronts me with his linstock ready to give fire; I spying his intendment, discharged my petronel in his bosom, and with this instrument, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and put them pell-mell to the sword. PROS. To the sword? to the rapier, Signior. LOR. JU. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir: but did you all this, Signior, without hurting your blade? BOB. Without any impeach on the earth: you shall perceive, sir, it is the most fortunate weapon that ever rid on a poor gentleman's thigh: shall I tell you, sir? you talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana, or so: tut, I lend no credit to that is reported of them, I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the boldlier maintain it. STEP. I marle whether it be a Toledo or no? BOB. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, Signior. STEP. I have a countryman of his here. MAT. Pray you let's see, sir: yes, faith, it is. BOB. This a Toledo? pish! STEP. Why do you pish, Signior? BOB. A Fleming, by Phoebus! I'll buy them for a guilder a piece, an I'll have a thousand of them. LOR. JU. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much. PROS. Where bought you it, Signior? STEP. Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a pox of God on him, he swore it was a Toledo. BOB. A provant rapier, no better. MAT. Mass, I think it be indeed. LOR. JU. Tut, now it's too late to look on it, put it up, put it up. STEP. Well, I will not put it up, but by God's foot, an ever I meet him — PROS. Oh, it is past remedy now, sir, you must have patience. STEP. Whoreson, coney-catching rascal; oh, I could eat the very hilts for anger. LOR. JU. A sign you have a good ostrich stomach, cousin. STEP. A stomach? would I had him here, you should see an I had a stomach. PROS. It's better as 'tis: come, gentlemen, shall we go? LOR. JU. A miracle, cousin, look here, look here. [ENTER MUSCO.] STEP. Oh, God's lid, by your leave, do you know me, sir? MUS. Ay, sir, I know you by sight. STEP. You sold me a rapier, did you not? MUS. Yes, marry did I, sir. STEP. You said it was a Toledo, ha? MUS. True, I did so. STEP. But it is none. MUS. No, sir, I confess it, it is none. STEP. Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confest it. By God's lid, an you had not confest it — LOR. JU. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear. STEP. Nay, I have done, cousin. PROS. Why, you have done like a gentleman, he has confest it, what would you more? LOR. JU. Sirrah, how dost thou like him? PROS. Oh, it's a precious good fool, make much on him: I can compare him to nothing more happily than a barber's virginals; for every one may play upon him. MUS. Gentleman, shall I intreat a word with you? LOR. JU. With all my heart, sir, you have not another Toledo to sell, have you? MUS. You are pleasant, your name is Signior Lorenzo, as I take it? LOR. JU. You are in the right: 'Sblood, he means to catechise me, I think. MUS. No, sir, I leave that to the Curate, I am none of that coat. LOR. JU. And yet of as bare a coat; well, say, sir. MUS. Faith, Signior, I am but servant to God Mars extraordinary, and indeed (this brass varnish being washed off, and three or four other tricks sublated) I appear yours in reversion, after the decease of your good father, Musco. LOR. JU. Musco, 'sblood, what wind hath blown thee hither in this shape? MUS. Your easterly wind, sir, the same that blew your father hither. LOR. JU. My father? MUS. Nay, never start, it's true, he is come to town of purpose to seek you. LOR. JU. Sirrah Prospero, what shall we do, sirrah? my father is come to the city. PROS. Thy father: where is he? MUS. At a gentleman's house yonder by St. Anthony's, where he but stays my return; and then — PROS. Who's this? Musco? MUS. The same, sir. PROS. Why, how com'st thou transmuted thus? MUS. Faith, a device, a device, nay, for the love of God, stand not here, gentlemen, house yourselves, and I'll tell you all. LOR. JU. But art thou sure he will stay thy return? MUS. Do I live, sir? what a question is that! PROS. Well, we'll prorogue his expectation a little: Musco, thou shalt go with us: Come on, gentlemen: nay, I pray thee, (good rascal) droop not, 'sheart, an our wits be so gouty, that one old plodding brain can outstrip us all. Lord, I beseech thee, may they lie and starve in some miserable spittle, where they may never see the face of any true spirit again, but be perpetually haunted with some church-yard hobgoblin in seculo seculorum. MUS. Amen, Amen. [EXEUNT.]
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