[Fedele and Fortunio] [The deceites in loue: excellently discoursed in a very pleasaunt and fine conceited comoedie, of two Italian gentlemen. Translated out of Italian, and set downe according as it hath beene presented before the Queenes moste excellent Maiestie]. — Fedele. English

Author: Pasqualigo, Luigi.1585

The pleasaunt and fine conceited Comoedie of two Italian Gentlemen, vvith the merie deuises of Captaine Crack-stone.

Actus prima.

Scena prima.Enter Fortunio and Captain Crack-stone, Fortunio shewing very sad countenance.
Fortunio.
HE that discloseth to a fréend the secrets of his minde:
Dooth rob him selfe of libertie, besides we dayly finde,
That others councels wil by such in euery eare be blowen:
As haue no power when time requires, to smother all their owne
Heauie and sad thow séest I am, but why my hart is sore:
Of curtesie content thy selfe and aske me that no more.
Crack-stone.
¶Heauie in déed and as heauie as lead,
Either it is some of these same bremy quauers, or some kinde of pricksong that runnes in his head.
Heare you Maister Fortunio, by the honor of a Soldier, by the glo­rye of a Captain▪
By all the Poleaxes and tormenters, that theise hands haue slain,
Doo but scoure your minde to mée, and shut vp your gréef:
Either Ile finde you some ease, or you shalbe hangd for a théef.
You knowe I am a good fellowe, nothing venture nothing haue,
If I had not put my carcas to the Iibbet, I had not béen thus braue.
So now, if you venture not to shewe some trusty body your minde:
It will be very long ere the dresser you finde.
And so peraduenture you shall neuer be sped:
For when the Cooke is out of the way, you must goe supperlesse to bed.
Fortunio.
¶How findeth he redresse, that breakes his minde vnto a foole?
Or what is learnd, where folly sets the wiser sorte to schoole?
[Page]Yet sith he braues it with the best, in euery company:
And knowes where euery gallant loues, and sées the remedy,
I will not stick to let him knowe the secrets of my hart:
And make him partner of my pain, and priuie to my smart.
Doo you knowe Victoria?
Crack-stone.
¶Doo not I knowe her? what think yée?
As though ere a proper gentlewoman in Naples were out of quain­tance with mée?
Fortunio.
¶Her haue I seen of late, and often by her windowe past:
From which shée let a letter fall, which taking vp in hast,
I read, and found within describde the frantique fits of looue:
Whether it were for mée, or any els I cannot prooue.
Whether she faine and baite her hookes the simple to beguile:
Cannot be found, till wit by line haue measured euery wile.
I knowe she loued Fedele once, before he went to Spain:
And meanes perhaps to loue him still, sith hée's returnd again.
Doo thou but sift him for my sake, and haunt out his desire:
And doutles thou shalt haue of mée, thy Captains pay for hire.
Crack-stone.
¶If this be all Sir, let mée alone,
About your businesse you may be gone.
I will féele Signior Fedeles minde very cunningly:
And return you an answer of this gear presently.
Fortunio.
¶Gramercie, be trustye.
Crack-st.
¶As trusty as stéele:
I haue no fault but one, I am somwhat short in the héele.
Fortunio.
¶Miraccommando. Exit.
Crack-st.
¶Basilus Codpéece for an olde Manus,
You shall not haue her at rack and maunger I trowe:
Somwhat by this for mine owne proportion I knowe.
When two bones are at strife for a dog, it is commonly séen:
That the third comes and takes it, and wipes their mouthes cléen.
I mean as you sée mée in this braualitie:
To be a suter to Victoria with all profigalitie.
I brought Butter and Chéese hether to vittaile the Camp a great while:
Many times I would nick them of their measure, and the Soldiers beguile.
Like a crafty knaue, by this meanes I got so much gain:
That I bought this apparell of a Captain that was slain.
And wearing the same abroad as you sée:
[Page]The Soldiers all the town ouer, make a Captain of mée.
One calles mée Captain Chéese, an other Captain Crust:
An other braue Crack-stone, take which name ye lust.
The Gentlemen are euery one glad of my company:
Because I haue such a wilde worme in my hed, as makes them all mery.
The women they loue mée, Victoria is chéefe:
But shée hath béen somwhat strange of late, therfore to be bréefe,
I thought some strawes were in the pad, that shée lookt so coy:
But now haue at her again, with a fresh hed in my toy.
I will first vnderproyn Sir Fedele his minde to vnderstand:
Sée good luck, his Schoolmaister and her Maid are at hand.
As bothe of them fréendly togither doo walke:
I will sneke into a corner and hearken to their talke. step aside.

Actus prima Scena secunda.

Enter Pedante the Parasite, attired in a gown and cap like a Schoolmaister, and with him Attilia.

Attilia.

I Pray you maister Schoolmaister let me be gone:

I haue haste on my way, Ile be at home again anone.

Pedante.

¶Swéet hart and bag pudding goe you so swiftly?

Haue with you then, doo ye lack any company?

Attilia.

¶In faith Sir no.

Pedante.

¶I pray you tell me one thing before you parte,

I think you be somwhat wetherwise by your arte.

Doo you knowe me by acqaintance, or gesse you by aime?

That you hit so right on my office in stead of my name?

Attilia.

¶I haue séen you before if I am not beguilde:

You haue béen Schoolmaister to maister Fedele euer since he was a childe.

Pedante.

¶True swéet hart, but I pray thée be not angry with mée▪

But giue me leaue a little while to mooue a question to thée.

What is your name, and where doo you dwell?

Attilia.

¶Softe, there lay a strawe, that will I not tell.

Alas poor Attilia, what meanes he by this?

If I stay with him long, my mistres Victoria her seruant wil misse.

About your busines good Sir, I pray you get you away:

I purpose not to tell you my name this day.

Pedante.

¶Be not so strange faire Lady, I knowe your name very well,

And the name of your mistres, and the place where you dwell.

Attilia.

[Page]

¶If you doo, much good doo it you, I can tary no longer:

Pedante.

¶Then I perceiue I shall be driuen to try who is the stronger.

stop her.

I shall tell you one thing if it please you to stay:

Attilia.

¶Speak your minde quickly, a woord and away,

Pedante.

¶Bee not angry I beséech you, to hear that is true,

You are the fairest Creature that euer I did view.

Attilia.

¶What followes of this?

Pedante.

¶I like you, and looue you, before all the

Creatures that euer I knew,

Attilia.

¶What ill luck is this? I sée nothing that makes me to loue and like you.

Pedante.

¶You might if you tride me, for I come of the siniters:

Attilia.

¶Great barkers are none of the greatest biters.

Pedante.

¶Good mistres Attilia, because you haue haste:

I will talke with you more, when your busines is past.

If I can be spared from my Maister so long, soon at night:

I will resorte to your house, and lay my meaning wide open before your sight.

Attilia.

¶Farwel Sir Pedante, look you be not too quick:

Exit.

Pedante.

¶What a drunken wooer am I that gaue her neuer a licke,

This falles out pat for my Maister Fedele, and comes in the nick.

By cogging and counterfaiting looue, as you sée:

If Attilia be so mad, as to like and looue mée,

By her all the Iugling ofher mistres I shall knowe:

And finde whether any new cōmers, have set my Maister beside the cushin or no.

Crack-stone.

¶This is as excrement for my proposition as can be desirde,

Soon at night like the Schoolmaister will I be attirde.

First come, first seru'd, if the maid be so fréendly to let mée in:

Then Sa Sa Sa, the battaile will beginne.

With that Magnaniminstrelsie and mercy, that in mée dooth floe:

Ile make a conflict of the Mistres, and let the maid goe.

Farewell seely Schoolmaister. this Iniunction is not found in his Aduerb I trowe▪

Exit.

Pedante.

¶These tidings wilbe ioyfull to my maister I am sure,

Who for loue of Victoria suffers many a sharp shower:

Enter Fedele.

Loe where he comes walking by him selfe alone,

With his head full of thoughts, and his hart full of mone.

Rowse vp your wittes Sir, what are you a sléep?

[Page]Neuer be so base minded to a woman to créep.

Sée, sée, your cap on your head, good manners forgot,

Now you are come to your owne swinge, you knowe me not.

Doo your dutie to your maister, good nurture is best:

In via virtutis non progredi, regredi est.

Fedele.

¶Alas my care so closeth vp my sight:

That all is lost, wherin I should delight.

Pedante.

¶You knowe that it may be said of me, which was said of Vlisses,

Multorum hominum mores qui vidit et vrbes.

Therfore if you desire mée your cares to reléeue:

The best counsell I can, to you I will giue.

Fedele.

¶You knowe Victoria is the cause of all my secret smart:

Victoriaes beautie is the worme, that gnawes me to the hart.

What counsaile now?

Pedante.

¶Did not I teach you long agoe out of tragicall Seneca:

His golden saying, duo omnium malorum foemina?

Did I not cause you with your pen in the margent of your book, to marke that place:

And yet will you be tooting on a beautifull face?

Which no otherwise vanisheth, and away dooth goe:

Then water, that neuer returnes to the spring, from whence it did flowe.

Beautie is so tickle a foundation to bear any frame:

And looue so vncertain, that it throwes the house on his hed that built the same.

Wherupon I gaue you a good lesson of olde:

Euery letter therof would be written in Golde.

Quod inuat exiguum est, plus est quod laedit amantes:

They knowe what I mean that are versificautes

Fedele.

¶If this colde comfort in my néed, be all that I shall haue:

Out of my sight. No succour at thy handes I mean to craue.

Pedante.

¶Adultus Iuuenis tandem custode remoto:

Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper.

The right course of the world, now he runnes vpon whéeles:

Had I knowen this when you were a boy, I would haue hamperd your héeles.

It were a good déed to set all your fortune at euen and od:

And let you alone till you are beaten with your owne rod.

[Page]But the looue that I bear to you euery day:

Will not suffer me to sée this good witte cast away.

Some tidings I haue for you, therfore be not afraid:

I am growen in acquaintance with Victoriaes maid.

By whome I trust in the end to knowe:

What Suters to her Mistres resorte too and fro.

If no body els do followe the game:

The spark that you left in her brest, will break out in a flame.

Fedele.

¶Thankes good Pedante, get thée home and leaue me héer a space:

To trye if I may méet with faire Victoria in this place.

Pedante.

¶I knowe where to prick that the vain may bléed:

Sée how faire he dooth speak, when his humour I féed.

This passeth Prosodia, Sintaxis and all,

Tis the way to my profit to stoop to his call.

Exit.

Fedele.

¶Héer was I wunt to méet with her, and héer I mean to walke:

And sound her meaning if I may, by moouing her to talke.

Victoria setteth open the Casement of her windowe and with her Lute in her hand playeth, and singeth this dittie.

Victoria.

If looue be like the flower that in the night,
When darknes drownes the glory of the Skyes:
Smelles sweet, and glitters in the gazers sight,
But when the gladsome Sun beginnes to rise,
And he that viewes it, would the same imbrace:
It withereth, and looseth all his grace.

Why doo I looue and like the cursed Tree,
Whose buddes appeer, but fruite will not be seen:
Why doo I languish for the flower I see?
Whose root is rot, when all the leaues be green.
In such a case it is a point of skill:
To followe chaunce, and looue against my will.

Speake.

Ah poor Victoria, héer it was thy guise,

To stand and sée Fortunio passing by:

Whose loouely shape hath caught me by mine eyes,

And meanes to make me prisoner while I dye.

To gaze on him was life to mée before:

His absence death, because I sée no more.

Fedele.

[Page]

¶Oh gréedy looue that neuer féeleth glut,

How haue I boasted of Victoriaes grace?

With feare at last from fauour to be shut,

And lose the light of such a shining face?

Shall neither teares, nor toyle, nor broken sléep:

Haue force inough a Ladies looue to kéep?

Victoria.

¶And hath Fortunio now forgot the way.

Which by my windowe learnd of late to walke:

Sée the disturber of my peace this day,

Fedele comes to proffer mée some talke.

Sith hée is héer, his patience I will prooue:

Whome for Fortunios sake I cannot looue.

Fedele.

¶I serue a Mistres whiter then the snowe,

Straighter then Cedar, brighter then the Glasse:

Finer in trip and swifter then the Roe,

More pleasant then the Féeld of flowring Grasse.

More gladsome to my withering Ioyes that fade:

Then Winters Sun, or Sommers cooling shade,

Swéeter then swelling grape of ripest wine,

Softer then feathers of the fairest Swan:

Smoother then Iet, more stately then the Pine,

Fresher then Poplar, smaller then my span.

Clearer then Beauties fiery pointed beam:

Or Ysie cruste of Christalles frosen stream.

Yet is shée curster then the Beare by kinde,

And harder harted then the aged Oke:

More glib then Oyle, more fickle then the winde,

Stiffer then Stéele, no sooner bent but broke.

Loe thus my seruice is a lasting sore:

Yet will I serue although I dye therfore.

Enter Victoria.

Victoria.

¶Now must I either fode him off with fained curtesie:

Or els be coy in talke, to rid mée of his company.

Shee offreth to departe & he stayeth her.

Sir Fedele well met, and so farwell, I must away:

My busines is such as will not suffer me to staye.

Fedele.

¶Mistres Victoria: let us haue one woord before yée goe,

Oh looue, oh death, betwéen you bothe, vouchsafe to rid my woe.

Victoria.

¶A wunder sure it is to sée, how gentlemen complain:

[Page]What cark, what care, what hell on earth, for women they sustain.

Your peace is war, your sléep is watching, and your ease is toyle:

Your life is death, your mirth is mone, and your successe a foyle.

These woordes are vsde for ornaments to beautifie your stile:

And these I think you followe, poore Victoria to beguile.

Fedele.

¶If for your sake alone, more then for any other dame:

I were not thus tormented, then, I graunt I were too blame.

But sith your golden graces are the cause of all my gréfe:

Giue eare and credit to my plaint, and yéeld me some reléefe.

Victoria.

¶If this be true, why did you part? and stay so long in Spain:

Delay bréeds losse, either I thought you would not come again.

Or els that change of company would alter your delight,

And absence put me out of minde, that shut me out of sight.

Did not I say, that your departure would my death procure?

Fedele.

¶You did.

Victoria.

¶And could you make me then to féele so sharp a showre?

Fedele.

¶Need hathe no lawe, the matter toucht my land and life so néer:

That I was forste against my will, to stay no longer héer.

But sith I haue dispatcht, according to mine owne desire:

Loe héer I am to serue you still, in bitter frost, or fier.

Actus prima Scena tertia,

Enter Attilia, Maid to Mistresse Victoria, with Pamphila, Maid to Mistres Virginia, and Medusa the Enchantresse with her box of enchantments vnder her arme.

Victoria.

DEparte Fedele for this time, come to me soon at night,

I will consider better of your plaint and heauie plight.

My maid and other company dooth prease into this place:

It were not good to make them all, acquainted with your case.

Fedele.

¶A thousad thankes, this in your ear, let that the token bée,

Exit.

Victoria.

¶I knowe your meaning Sir, farwell, referre the rest to mée.

Alas poore soule, he little knowes, how colde a sute he hathe,

He must be dallied with a while, for fear of after scathe.

Attilia.

¶And must you séek Fedele out?

Pamphila.

¶I must.

Attilia.

¶But to what end?

Pamphila.

¶To craue of curtesie, that he would stand my Mistres fréend.

Attilia.

[Page]

¶Mistres Virginia:

Pamphil.

¶The same.

Attilia.

¶In what matter I pray.

Pamphil.

¶Thats counsaile vnto you, I must not euery thing bewray.

And yet by her, so bitter is the taste of looue, I finde:

That gall were swéeter to the mouth, and better to the minde.

¶I haue the Hare on foot.

Attilia.

¶But knowe you where Fedele is?

Pamphila

¶Him at his house, or walking in the stréet you shall not misse.

Attilia.

¶Farewell, I will goe séek him straight.

Exit.

Pamphila

¶Yet finde him not too soon:

Attilia.

Alas poore soule, her sute is colde before it be begun,

Loe héer the common fault of looue, to followe her that flyes:

And flye from her that makes pursuite, with loud lamenting cryes.

Fedele looues Victoria, and shée hath him forgot:

Virginia likes Fedele best, and hée regardes her not.

Medusa.

¶O foolish looue, and loouers that look not to theire state,

But swimme against the tide, and then repent when tis too late.

If wée could learne to séek to them, that vnto vs doo sue:

The match were made, and wée should haue no cause at all to rue.

When wée be coy, and holde our fréendes aloofe at cap and knée:

The Mart is marde, and euery eye our folly then dooth sée.

¶What talke you there Attilia?

Victoria.

¶No hurt at all to you.

Attilia.

¶What newes?

Victoria.

¶Good, swéet, and ioyfull newes, Mistres I bring you now.

Attilia.

¶Hast thou met with Fortunio?

Victoria.

¶Not so.

Attilia.

¶Then what's the newes?

Victoria.

¶As I was walking through the stréets alone:

Attilia.

Deuising how to finde a remedie to cure your mone,

I met Medusa with her box and trinckets as you sée:

Whose cunning shortly shall deuise, the way to set you frée.

Victoria.

¶No way without Fortunio.

Attilia.

¶Fortunio you shall haue:

Be not afraid therfore in this: this womans aide to craue.

Shée can enchant, and woorke wunders, by Magicks learned art:

Shée can with woordes, with charmes and hearbes, giue you Fortunioes hart.

[Page]Make much of her.

Victoria.

¶Ah foole, I knowe that looue is such a passion of the minde:

As neither Ayrye Sprites can rule, nor force of Magick binde.

Attilia.

¶Yet trye her cunning, sith that I haue brought her into place,

Victoria.

¶Medusa, will thy drugges procure a pining loouer grace?

Medusa.

¶Mistres, they will.

Victoria.

¶Open thy box and let me sée thy store:

Let me haue that shall pleasure me, Ile pay thée well therfore.

Medusa.

¶Héer is an Egge of a black Hen, a quill pluckt from a Crowe,

Who with this pen writes on this Egge, a charme y^e I doo knowe

And names the party whome they like: the same shall looue again,

What think you of this remedye?

Attilia.

¶This remedye is vain.

Look farther yet into your box, some other medicin prooue:

Because my Mistres cares not for the single iuice of looue.

She craueth more, shée must enioy the party shée desires:

Victoria.

¶Fye, holde thy peace.

Attilia.

¶Els hath shée not the thing that shée requires.

Medusa.

¶Loe héer a spoonfull of a Uirgins milke,

Incorporated with a péece of dowe:

Powdred with cinders of fine Spanish Silke,

And steeped in the licquor of a Slowe.

On thone side write Venus and Cupids name:

On thother his that loou'd, then take the same

And broyle it on the coales vnto a crust,

Basting it well with hony dropes and oyle:

Giue it to him you looue, to kindle lust,

And then your sute shall neuer suffer foyle.

This will so binde the gallant whome you choose:

That he shall nere him selfe héerafter loose.

Attilia.

¶All this is to no purpose, yet me thinks you are too wide:

What pleasure can my Mistres haue so long as he is tied?

Victoria.

¶Shée meanes not tied in hand or foot, but bound to be my slaue:

In all the seruices and duties that I mean to craue.

Medusa.

¶Héere are two hartes, the one was taken out of a black Cat:

The other from a Pigion: héer is the blood of a Batte.

Héere is a péece of Uirgin waxe, héers an inchaunted Bean,

To make you goe inuisible,

Victoria,

[Page]

¶You knowe not what I mean.

Attilia.

¶These thinges are prety, but they are not for my Mistres fit,

For if she be inuisible, I pray what profits it?

She shall beholdethe man, whome shée delighteth moste to sée:

But béeing hid: she neuer can enioye his companye.

Yet shewe vs more.

Medusa.

¶Héer's thinges will make men melt in fittes of looue,

A wanton Goates braine, and the Liuer of a purple Dooue.

A Cockes eye, and a Capons spurre, the left legge of a Quaile:

A Goose bill, and a Ganders tung, a mounting Eagles tayle.

But sith they must be taken in thincreasing of the Moone:

Before the rising of the Sun, or when the same is down.

And closely wrapt in Uirgin parchement on a Fryday night:

I will not trouble you with these.

Victoria.

¶Of more lets haue a sight.

Medusa.

¶Héer is the Image of a man, made out in Uirgin waxe,

Which béeing prickt, or toasted in the flame of burning Flaxe.

Hée that you looue shall come and throwe him selfe before your féet:

More humble then a Lambe, to doo what you shall think is méet.

Victoria.

¶O that is it.

Attilia.

¶This is it must doo my Mistres good:

By Images it must be wrought, Looue is a holy Rood.

Medusa.

¶Wée must withdrawe our selues aside, and woork it out of sight:

Victoria.

¶Enter my house, the Sun is set, & now begins the night.

Exeunt

The first Act beeing ended, the Consorte of Musique soundeth a pleasant Galliard.

Actus secunda.

Scena prima.

Enter Captain Crack-stone, disguised like a Schoolmaister, in the apparell of Pedante., with a book in his hand.

Crack-stone.

SOfte, for it is night, I must not make any noyse I trowe:

Me thinks this apparell makes me learnd,

which of all these Starres doo I knowe.

Yonder is the gréen Dog, and the blew Beare,

Harry Horners Girdle, and the Lyons eare.

Me thinkes I should spowt Lattin before I beware,

[Page]Argus mecum insputare?

Cur Canis tollit poplitem,

Cum mingit in parietem?

Alice tittle tattle Mistres Victoriaes Maid:

If I speake like the Schoolmaister, shée will neuer be afraid.

As soon as she opens the doore to let mée in:

With my Ropericall aliquanci I will begin.

Swinum, Velum, Porcum. Graye-goosorum iostibus:

Enter Fedele and Pedante.

Rentibus dentibus, lofadishibus, come after vs.

I haue berayed my selfe I think with speaking so high:

This is Sir Fedele that is so nigh.

Till he be past it were not good for mée to appéere:

Therfore Ile slip into the Temple, and hide me in the Tombe that standeth héere.

Fedele.

¶Too straunge it is, that when I should reioyce,

A chilling feare dooth flit through euery vaine:

And when I hope to heare Victoriaes voice,

Doubt throwes me downe into dispaire again.

The comfort that she gaue me, was so colde:

That for my life I dare not be too bolde.

Pedante.

¶Degeneres animos timor arguit, faint hart neuer wun faire Lady they say:

And Amor odit inertes, take that by the way.

Séeing shée appointed this time, forward with a courage, neuer stand you in doubt:

Imagination many times fetcheth wunders about.

Not because it changeth the course of the thing you would finde:

But because it dooth rule and gouern the minde.

Fedele.

¶I shiuer still, come beare me company,

Untill thou seest mée nearer to the doore:

Thy spéech dooth giue me comfort mightily,

And egges me on vnto it more and more.

Pedante.

¶Andate allegramente, you are right vnder her windowe now:

What shall I doo, will you haue me to leaue you?

Fedele.

¶Not so, but stay vntill thou séest me in:

To giue the signe I purpose to begin.

Heer let him either taste a Flute or whistle, at the sound wherof: Victoria comes to the windowe, and throwes out a letter, [Page] which Fedele taketh vp, and reades it at the lamp which burneth in the Temple.

What meaneth this? a letter: woe is mée,

Where shall I read it? light within the Temple I doo sée.

Pedante.

¶This gréeting me thinkes is none of the best:

I sée by his countenaunce he likes not the rest.

Fedele.

¶Ah cruell Dame that can dissemble so,

Dye poore Fedele, life thou must forgoe.

Pedante.

¶What newes in your letter Sir, tell mée?

Fedele.

¶Read it thy selfe and sée.

Pedante

readeth the Letter

‘La mia mala fortuna m'ha fatto d'auenire cosa che meglio sarebbe ch'io non fussi nata, m'incresce non poter attenderui la promessa, ma piú mi duole, che mi sia tolta la commodita del vederui, perô se m'amate, non passate mai piú di qua, perche sarete causa della mia rouina.’

This is strange vpon strange, your dayes are out worne,

Pedante interprets the Letter.

"My fortune is such, that it had béen better for mée I had neuer béen borne.

"I am sory that I can not stand to my woord:

"And more sory, that fortune to mée will not your presence affoord.

"Sith I am rob'd of your company whome moste I desire:

"If you looue mée come no more this way, for bréeding my trouble, and kindling of fier.

Héer is a sléeueles aunswer with all my hart,

You haue your errand Sir, now when you wil you may departe.

Fedele.

¶It cannot bée, but that Victoria hath an other looue:

Therfore I purpose presently, her priuie sleights to prooue.

Pedante.

¶You are the fearfullest gentleman that euer I knewe:

It is impossible that should be true.

Your owne doubtfulnes tangles you still in the briers,

Did I neuer teach you: That a woman denies that in showe, which in deed shée desires.

Are all those horrible othes which so oft shée hath sworne,

Any likelihode that shée would leaue you forlorne?

Remember her teares and her pitifull lookes:

If shée looue you not still, I dare burne my bookes.

Fedele.

¶No no, her othes and teares, and lookes, and all thou canst repeat

[Page]Were but as shadowes finely cast, to couer her deceit.

But sith I finde her as shée is, I will reuenge the wrong:

Or dye the death in this attempt, because I liue too long.

Pedante.

¶You are to hasty a Soldier, too the battaile to goe,

If you will be reuenged ere your enemy you knowe.

Fedele.

¶Mine enemies I purpose straight to try,

Hide thée within some priuie corner héer:

Be dilligent to mark who passeth by,

And if that any other man appéere

Either to enter, or to issue out,

Mark what he is, and put mée out of doubt.

Exit.

Pedante.

¶Farwell Sir, commit the care to my hande,

As close as I can, in this place I wil stand.

Unseen vnto any, yet vewing of all:

A pretty scowte set to take a knaue in a pit-fall.

Yonder come some, whatsouer they bée,

Stand close Pedante, that no body sée.

Actus secunda. Scena secunda.

Enter Medusa, Victoria, and Attilia, disguised like Nunnes, with lighted Tapers in their handes.

Crack-stone liftes vp his head out of the Tombe, and ducks downe againe, speaking this as followeth.

Crack-st.

¶A rope on these passengers, I am in a miserable plight,

I think I shall not get out of this place this night.

Medusa.

¶Tis almoste one a clock, the fittest houre to binde the Sprites:

And compas euery thing, that best may further your delights.

Victoria.

¶Then let vs goe.

Pedante.

¶O che cricca di vacche? What cattell haue we heare?

Be they women, or deuils in the likenes of women that appeare?

Attilia.

¶Mistres take héed we be not spide, for that may bréed vs harme:

Victoria.

¶No, no, but like a sorte of Nunnes vnto the Church we swarme.

Medusa.

¶Enter the Chappell, we will make as though we ment to pray:

Victoria

¶Read good Medusa.

Pedante.

¶Ah miserable Pedante, would I were away,

[Page]I quiuer so fast, that I féele no ground:

Tis a company of witches I hould forty pound.

Victoria,

¶When begin you swéet hart?

Attilia.

¶Make haste you had néed,

The day will approche, and the night gon with spéed.

Pedante.

¶A rope on them all, they goe a catter-walling I trow,

Whome they meane to torment I would gladly knowe.

Medusa.

¶This water and this oyle I haue, is coniured as you sée,

In the name of those Sprites that written on this Image bée.

Now must I write the name of him whom you so much doo loue:

Then binde these sprites, him to the like affection for to moue.

I charge you as you meane to purchase fauour in his sight:

And by the vertue of mine art, tell me his name aright.

¶Fortunio.

Victoria.

¶Thats he that dooth my maister Fedele disgrace,

Pedante.

And this is Victoria disguised in place.

Medusa.

¶Your name vpon the brest, his on the forehead must I write,

Then coniure, now it is the stillest time of all the night.

Victoria.

¶Doe so.

Medusa.

¶I coniure thée thou waxen Image héere,

By Venus fruitfull wombe that Cupid bare:

That in Fortunios name thy force appeare,

To comfort fayre Victoria ful of care.

That by the vertue of mine Art thou be:

In this her gréef a present remedy:

I coniure thée Fortunio at the length,

By head, eyes, eares, thy liuer and thy hart:

Thy Guttes, thy vaines, flesh, blood, bones, sinewes, strength,

Thy lights, thy lungs, féet, hands, and euery parte.

That presently thy brest be set on fier:

And all thy bowels boyle with hot desire.

Look that by night thou take no quiet rest,

By day thou lothe thy comfortable food:

Let euery ioy be daggers to thy brest,

Sée, heare, and touch naught that may doo thée good.

Til fancy make thée for a louer méet,

And throw thée down before Victoriaes féet.

Look that she neuer passe out of thy minde,

[Page]But paint her heauenly face in euery thought:

Looue her aboue all Creatures of her kinde,

Prosper not, till by thée her ioyes be wrought.

But waste as this melts at the candles flame:

Amen, fiat, fiat, in Cupidoes name.

Victoria.

¶What haue you doon? and is the Spirit come vp that you do call?

Pedante.

¶The greatest Féend of hell come and take you all.

Medusa.

¶With oyle of Uirgin waxe I thée annointe,

And signe, and marke thée with the holy Crosse:

In Venus name, I water euery ioynt.

That looue by thée may neuer suffer losse.

Victoria.

¶Now haue you doon?

Medusa.

¶It must be prickt, and set in greater heat:

Then the Spirits bound, before it doo the feat.

Attilia.

¶Make haste.

Medusa.

¶I Coniure you yée Sprites, whose names are on this Image writ:

And now rehearse you one by one, in order as you sit.

Nettabor, Temapttor, Vigilator, Somniator, Astarot, Berliche,

Buffon, Amachon, Suchon, Sustani, Asmodeus.

Pedante.

¶Ottomanus, Sophye, Turke, and the great Cham:

Robin goodfellowe, Hobgoblin, the deuill and his dam.

O vi possono portar in precipitio.

Medusa.

¶I coniure you, you foule infernall knot of baser Sprites,

By the moste Mighty power and force of that great God of looue:

Bothe by the Bowe and dreadfull dint of all his feathered Flights,

And by his wingges, and by the smoake of loouers scalding sighes.

And by the smart and sorowe, that this troubled dame dooth prooue:

By all the Planets that our hartes, to hate or liking mooue.

By the desires of her that hath Victoria vnto name:

By Venus Fillet, and the goulden pleasures of her game.

Breake loose I say, and trudge with hasty foot out of your denne,

Hunt and pursue, besturre your selues to seek Fortunio out:

Forsake with spéed the stincking fogge of that your vgly fenne,

Possesse, and chace him, sée that you returne no more again,

Till you haoue brught him down and humbled him, if he be stout,

Driue him with your tormenting gnawe, the Citie round about.

Goe make his bed of Thistles, and his seat of pricking thorne:

Untill you bring him hether vnto her that is forlorne.

Victoria.

[Page]

¶Haue you doon Medusa?

Medusa.

¶Now must I stick a néedle in his hart,

And prick him with the point, before we parte.

Attilia.

¶I pray you prick him well.

Medusa.

¶If that I strike the néedle through, the gentleman will dye:

Victoria.

¶Then spare him good Medusa, touch him tenderly.

Heer they throw their candles into the Tombe where Crack-stone lyeth.

Medusa.

¶Now haue I doon, follow and throw your Tapers out of hand,

Into this Tombe that as you sée, hard by vs héer dooth stand:

Set fier vnto their féet, and toast the corses of the dead,

That long haue slept within this place since they were buried.

Victoria.

¶But will this make him come, and then submit him selfe to mée?

Medusa.

¶Mistres it wil, and you th'euent therof shall shortly sée:

Crack-stone riseth out of the Tombe with one candel in his mouth, and in eche hand one. The women and Pedante sly, crying the deuil the deuil. The women let fall the Image, and Crack-stone taketh it vp.

¶All is mine, ho, ho. ho. All is mine,

Crack-stone.

Diuils were smocks, in this latter time.

Such sights, as among the bones of the dead in this Tombe I haue séen:

Would haue made any man but my selfe, out of his wittes to haue béen.

Good Lord: once me thought I saw my Grandam trot round about me in her gray peticote and her red cap,

Neuer since I was borne, was I taken in such a trap.

Another time me thought I saw the soules, of all them that died for loue,

Cry out vpon Lady Uengeance, one that was such a fair woman as nothing could moue.

Little Cuprit him selfe in the bottome of hell:

Curst fayer Lady Pilcher, for burning his skin with a Lamprell.

This coniugation put me in a terrible feare,

If it had continued longer, Termagant, Rawhead, Roste-meat, and Eatbread, and all the armies of Deuils had béen héer.

Whats this? somwhat I perceaue they haue let fall for haste,

[Page]An Image in waxe very pretely caste.

Fortunio is written in the forhead of the same,

And iumpe vpon his belly Victoriaes name.

This falleth out very well for me,

I'le sende this to Fedele that he and Fortunio the same may se.

This will make them to hate her wonderfully,

Then shall I haue her in spight of the pye.

What haue we here? a néedle in his heart,

And names of Augrem writte round about it with Margaris arte.

Nettabor, Temptator, Vigilator, and Buffon.

They come, they come, they come, tis time to be gone.

Run away.

Actus secunda. Sena tertia.

Enter victoria and Attilia.

Victoria.

¶In such a feare at rising of the spirites wée all were cast,

That being scarde, we lost our way and Image too at last.

I maruell where Medusa is?

Attilia.

¶Shée tooke her to her héeles,

And time I trowe, for all y^e world me thought did rūne on whéeles.

Victoria.

¶Sith this enchanting takes no place, go séeke Fortunio streighte,

And tell him that to speake with him his pleasure I do wayte.

A worde or two will serue my turne, goe séeke him out of hand,

Attilia.

¶Where shall I séeke him? for I knowe not where his house doth stand.

Victoria.

¶By y^e Piazza, there I am sure y^t thou shalt sée him walke,

Spending the time with one or other of his friends in talke.

Attilia.

¶I goe.

Exit.

Actus secunda. Sena quarta.Enter Fedele whispering with Pedante.
Victoria.
¶I was so troubled in my minde, with fright of sudden feare,
That yet I féele my sinewes shake, and tremble euery where.
Alas looke where Fedele comes, I cannot scape vnséene,
He is importunate, I knowe not how to ridde me of him cléene.
Fedele.
¶Ah cursed dames, their loue is like a flame,
Quiuering in th'Ayre betwéene too blastes of wynde,
Borne here and there, by either of the same.
[Page]Yet properly to none of both enclinde.
Hate and disdaine is painted in their eyes,
Deceit and treason in their besome lies.
Their promises are made of brittle glasse,
Grounde with a fillop to the finest dust,
Their thoughtes as streaming riuers swiftly passe.
Their wordes are oyle, and yet they gather rust.
Their vertues mount like billowes to the skyes,
And vanish straight out of the gazers eyes.
True are they neuer founde but in vntrueth,
Constant in naught, but in inconstancie,
The common foes of weale, and fluddes of rueth.
Deuouring cankers of mans libertie.
Here doth the staine of modestie abide:
And shrowdingly desires her selfe to hide.
But get thée streight to Sir Fortunio.
Will him to come and speake a word with me,
Haste and poste haste with spéede sée that thou goe,
That he this treacherie may quickely sée.
Meane while on her whose face beginnes to glow:
The burden of my brest I meane to throw.
Pedante.
¶Then take you this Image of waxe that you sée,
Crackstone the Captaine deliuered it to mée.
Being his turne as he said for to watch this night,
And breaking vp sentinel when it began to be light.
This Image he tould me in the stréete he founde,
Lying harde by the chappell vpon the grounde.
This is the same that was made to inchante Fortunio,
Beholde it and sée whether I say trueth or no.
Fedele.
¶He plowghes the seas, and fishes in the lande,
And loseth all the labour of them both,
He fondly reares his fortresse on the sande.
That buildes his trust vpon a womans troth.
But get thée hence about thy businesse,
That I may talke with this my good mistresse.
Pedante.
¶A Dio. Exit.
Victoria.
¶Well met good Sir Fedele, whats the cause
Of these your troubled lookes that I beholde,
[Page]What rain is threatned by these stormy flawes:
Which by your gate, and gesture you vnfolde?
Is looue the spark that kindels all this fier:
Or doo you lack the fruit of your desire?
Fedele.
¶The cause that sets my gestures out of frame.
Is in your selfe if you doo search the same.
Victoria.
¶And why good Sir?
Fedele.
¶What make you héer so early in the stréet?
Victoria.
¶My longing thoughts did prophesie, that héer I should you méet.
Fedele.
¶Not mée but Sir Fortunio: you know this I am suer: Shew her the Image.
And what by magick you haue doon, his fauour to procure.
I neuer thought so fayre a dame, had béen so foule within,
But sith continued seruice, had no force thy grace to win:
Be suer vnthankful wretch, periur'd and moste disloyall dame:
I will not rest, before I bée reuenged of the same.
This to Fortunio presently I purpose shall be shown:
And open brute of thy reproche, throughout the Citie blown.
All that in Naples dwell this day, shall wunder at this déed,
And euery wounding tung shall make thine honor now to bléed.
My selfe will help to teare the hart, out of thy body quick,
And giue thy crimson coulered blood, vnto the dogs to lick.
So liuely wil I blaze thée out, to euery gazers eye:
That though thy carcas rot and waste, thy shame shall neuer dye.
As busy will I bée to plague thée more then is exprest:
As thou wast cunning to deceiue the man that lou'd thée best.
Victoria.
¶I think you are disposed to iest, and make some triall héere,
How trimly you can tread aloft to thunder in mine eare.
For when I slide into my selfe, and there examine well,
What I haue doon, I finde I neuer from Fedele fell.
And yet I sée your hart still workes, by which I doo suspect,
Some Sicophants would make you, your Victoria to reiect.
But pacience is a vertue, as the woorthiest wits doo say,
My loue to you, deserues not that you vttred héer this day.
Fedele.
¶Yes that, and more, in thée's no trueth, loue, faith, nor loyaltye,
But lies, dessembling, falshood, hate, sin, shame, and sorcery.
Bestur thy selfe, enchaunt, and coniure now and doo thy woorst,
The day thow knewst vs both, shall shortly be by thée accurst.
Victoria.
¶I am not priuy vnto this, nor know Fortunio.
[Page]Ah poore Victoria thou art caught, alas what shall I doo?
Now counsaile me Attilia, Attilia, is not héer:
Where be my gallants now, will not Crack-stone appeare?
Now is the time for thée Crack-stone my hart to gaine,
Oh saue my life, and him dispatch that dooth mine honor staine.
Doo this and then I wll be thine, and listen to thy sute,
But til that I may speak with him, tis best that I be mute.
Farwell Sir, be not rash, but Iudge, I cannot answere much:
More you shall know when time hath tried, my truth by perfect tuch. A Dio.Exit.
Fedele.
¶A diauolo.
As I haue known thée, so shall Sir Fortunio know thée straight,
For whome I sent, and héer he comes, whose comming I doo wait.

Actus secunda. Scena quinta.

Enter Fortunio with Pedante.

Pedante.

¶Est mora damnosa, pray let vs away,

For yonder my Maister your comming dooth stay.

Fortunio.

¶Sir Fedele God saue you.

Fedele.

¶And you Sir Fortunio,

I was so bolde to charge my man, vnto your house to goe.

Matters of waight I haue to you, of fréendship to imparte:

Fortunio.

¶My leasure serues, and I will stand, to héer withall my hart.

Fedele.

¶Not so, but sith it asketh time, if you will take the pain,

To walke with mée vnto my house, there wil I tell you plain.

Both what I saw and heard of late, which toucheth you so néer:

That you will giue mée thanks I know, when you the matter héer

Fortunio.

¶Goe when you please Il'e beare you company,

Exeunt Fedele & Fortunio arme in arme.

Fedele.

¶Pedante you may walke abroad, till Dinner draweth ny.

Pedante.

¶With a good wil Sir, thats the thing I desire,

But if I méet not Attillia, the fat is in the fier.

For my Maisters sake, I began to loue her in iest,

And may chaunce to swallow a Gudgion in earnest.

For loue is a Fox, he beginneth at first by dalliance and play:

Then encreaseth his gettings euery day.

Enter Attilia.

Oh deus adiunxit nostris sua numina votis.

Beholde I beséech you my delicate Mistris.

Attilia.

[Page]

¶How proue you that?

Crack-st.

¶I am so terrebinthinall and play such reakes when I come to the féeld:

That mine enemies choose, rather to murder them selues then to yéeld.

Wherby their Damned soules haue so pestered all hell:

That ther's no roome left for women to dwell.

Thus being thrust out of the place that is theirs by right:

They are constraind into heauen to take their flight.

Attilia.

¶I confes that this benefit is so great,

That my tung is not able your praise to repeat.

Crack-st.

¶Besides that, I haue as good luck as any man of my life,

To finde fauour and fréendship in Gentlewomens eyes.

I thank them they slout me to my face, when no other they mock,

This was my fathers craft, for he euer made my Mother to wrap mée in her smocke.

Giue me good luck and throw mée into the Seas,

Where women take a pitch, it is easy to please.

Attilia.

¶Truth Sir, but will you goe too my Mistres with mée,

Crack-st.

¶With an almond hart my girle I wil follow thée.

Exeunt.

The second Act beeing ended, the Consorte soundeth again.

Actus tertia,

Scena prima.

Enter Mistres Virginia, with Pamphila her maid.

Pamphila.

MIstresse I may, and will once more goe séek him if you please:

Although I feare his answere wil returne you little ease.

What though he loou'd you first? you sée his sute falles to the ground,

And by this small pursute, thinkes you are as good lost as found.

Hée stoopeth to Victoriaes lure, but she hath cast him of,

Hée bowes, and créepes to her, she turnes his labour too a scoffe.

Virginia.

¶How canst thou tell?

Pamphila.

¶Euen yesterday I heard it of her maid:

Virginia.

¶If it bée so, then is hée iustly plagued from aboue,

And féeles that hell of minde, which all forsakē Ghostes doo prooue

[Page]Yet can I not beléeue it Pamphila, before I sée,

And gather by his answere, that he hath forsaken mée.

Therefore goe seeke him out againe.

Pamphil.

¶Mistresse it shall not néede,

Ent. Fedele.

Loe where he walkes as sad as though his heart within did bléde.

Virginia.

¶Steppe to him straighte.

Pamphil.

¶Master Fedele, if you knew as well

To loue: and her that loues you, to reléeue,

As you are skilfull in deceite to dwell.

And to torment whome you should neuer gréeue.

Happie were she that beares you in her breste,

Happie were you of such a pearle posseste.

Fedele.

¶What meaneth this?

Pamphila.

¶Talke with my mistresse Sir, and you shall knowe,

Fedele.

¶Then to thy mistresse Pamphila, I goe.

Mistresse Virginia, what's the cause I pray,

That you did sende of late to séeke me out?

If you haue any thing to me to say,

Speake, that I may resolue you of the doubt.

Pamphila.

¶Fedele, now beholde thy crueltie,

Her voyce is stopt, and doth for sorowe die.

Virginia.

¶I neuer thought Fedele to haue founde,

Your shewe of faith in promises forgot:

Your lyking dead, and buried in the grounde,

My selfe cast off as though you knew me not.

To loue in ieste and turne it to a scorne,

Is not the nature of a Gentle borne.

Fedele.

¶Mistresse, I loue you as I did before,

As dearely as the dearest friend you haue,

Or as a brother, would you any more?

Commande of me what curtesie may craue.

If Fancies lurking poyson you remoue,

And be not shipt in Seaes of raging loue.

Whose great companions are discorde and wrath,

Flattery, Deceit, Treason and Crueltie:

Heuinesse of minde, gréef, penurie, and scathe:

Unrest, suspicion, feare, and Ielousie,

Consuming hunger, and an endlesse thirste,

A iuing death, life dying with the firste.

Virginia.

[Page]

¶Ah Pamphila, I finde thy wordes are true,

The more in liking I did thinke him bound:

The looser he, and hunteth after newe,

His talke was nothing but an empty sound.

Those vertues nowe, I sée he doth despise:

That once did painte my picture in his eyes.

If Iustice Pallace stande aboue the skyes,

And angrie gods doe looke into our life:

Some plague no doubt, for him they will deuise,

And scourge him with some storme of bitter strife.

Although he vaunt of conquest here a while,

T'is not praise worthy a woman to beguile.

Come Pamphila I'le learne to set him light,

That so dissembles with a double tongue,

Helpe to conueighe me streight out of his sight,

Whose wandring choyse hath done me double wrong.

Farewell Sir, as we met, we meane to parte.

Pamphila.

¶This gréeting answeres vnto his desert.

Exeunt Verg. & Pam.

Fedele.

¶So quickly gone? farewell, all women for Victoriaes sake,

And on them all for her, reuenge I meane to take.

Busie they are with pen to write our vices in our face,

But negligent to knowe the blemish of their owne disgrace.

Gestures and lookes in readinesse, at their command they haue,

Mirth, sorrowe, feare, hope, and what other passion you can craue.

Hence riseth euery cloude in loue, this bréedeth all the strife,

Snares to our féete, deuouring cankers, these are vnto life.

Actus tertia. Seena secunda.

Enter Pedante with the robe on his arme.

Pedante.

¶Ridetur chorda qui semper aberrat eadem.

I cannot abide Sir, to harpe still vpon one string,

It is too Cuckolike they say, one song continually to sing.

It were good for you to learne quickly in what cléefe you should take your part,

And be spéedely reuenged on her that strikes such a dagger to your heart.

Oh they are full of deceit, cogging, flattery, foisting, twitle-twatle, and I know not what,

[Page]This Genus demonstratiuam, is such a bottomlesse sea, you will neuer haue done if you enter into that.

The dispraise of women is so great, that without doubt,

All the tongnes in the world are not able to set it out.

T'is one of my precepts, to be short and sharpe in word and bloe,

When they anger you, bid the deuill take them all, and make no more adoe.

Fedele.

¶Waste thou so neare Pedante?

Pedante.

¶I heard you well ynough.

I thinke I must bring you to Copia rerū againe for chāge of stuffe,

Leaue these exclamations, and crying out vpon women now,

If you looke well to your selfe, the faulte is in you.

You would néedes loue, though in your last lecture among your sententiae, similitudines and dicendi flores.

I made you write this in your paper booke, Littore quot conchae, tot sunt in amore dolores.

Fedele.

¶Thou didst in déede Pedante, and I haue not it forgot,

Pedante.

¶Now you finde it by proofe, I beléeue you will not.

But let this matter passe, and tell me Sir, how with Fortunio you spéede,

Did you touch him so néere that his heart did bléede?

Fedele.

¶Oh no, for in Victoria he hath such confidence,

That he excuseth her, and now mistrusteth my pretence.

pedante.

¶What remedy then?

Fedele,

¶I knowe not, for he saith, except that I can plainly proue,

That other men besides him selfe Victoria doeth loue.

He was, and is, and will be hers, so long as he doth liue,

pedante.

¶Accidit in puncto, quod non contingit in anno, very good coūsell for this I can giue.

Doe you sée this braue robe?

Fedele.

¶I doe, very well,

pedante.

¶But why I haue brought it, you cannot tell,

Fedele.

¶No trust me.

pedante.

¶Did not I tel you that for your sake I begā to curry fauour with Victoriaes mayde?

Fedele.

¶In déede Pedante, I remember such a thing you saide.

pedante.

¶She tooke order this very day with mée,

Put on the Robe.

That disguised on this maner, as by and by you shall sée.

Euen thus Sir beholde, I should come this night,

Disguised that no man might know me by sight.

And begge an almes at the doore, she would let me in straighte,

And make me a posset for my labour, that so well can waight.

[Page]We shall be as merry as cup and can, when I am once there,

Fedele.

¶What's this to me?

Pedante.

¶Tush take you no care:

Look that some pretty corner, by you may be espied,

Where you and Fortunio your selues may hide.

Be both of you héer about the mid'st of the night,

That when I come out, both of you of me may haue a sight.

I at departure wil bid Victoria farwell,

Commend my entertainment, and say it dooth excell.

This will make him to think as soon as I am gone,

That Victoria loueth not him alone.

Fedele.

¶O excellent.

Pedante.

¶Sée what an olde Fox these rotten raggs shrowds,

I can play the knaue and conuay it in the clowdes.

But heare you Sir?

Fedele.

¶What saist thou?

Pedante.

¶Hould fast Master Fortunio, til I be out of his reach,

Least he cut me in péeces when he heares me preach.

Fedele.

¶Fear not, be suer he shall not stirre before I sée thée gon,

Farwel, and thankes to finish this, I wil to him anon.

Exit.

Pedante.

¶Adiew Sir, If Appollo the very brother of Diana and Iupiters sonne,

For the loue of a Lady that was hard to be wun.

Thought it no shame in a Shepheards wéed,

Him selfe to debase, the sooner to spéed.

Should I that am not worthy to beare out Apollos chamberpot, think any scorne,

That these rascolly ragges by me should be worne.

So long as I doo it my sute for to moue:

And further my Master with my slauering loue.

Quod exemplo fit, iure fieri putant, Tully dooth say,

Whose authoritie is a priuiledge to follow this way.

Therfore god Appollo whose example I take,

Uouchsafe to stay the course of thy Charriot a while for my sake.

Suffer not thy horses to hasten the day,

But prolong y^e night, as when Iupiter thy father with Alcmena lay.

Peraduenture I may get a young Hercules as wel as he,

But for very sinne and shame too, so it should be.

If I speed wel this day, I will shut vp my schoole door euery yéer,

[Page]It shall be festiuall to my Schollers, to make good chéere.

They shall play if they will, from morning to night,

During that time, they shall not be cōstrained to come in my sight.

This will be cake and pudding to them that are truantly,

And care not how little they take for their mony.

A begging Pedante, I a begging I goe,

Beg at Virginiaes gate.

Tic, toc, fate vna limosina, á vn pouerino.

¶What bolde begger haue we at the gate,

Pamphila comes Pamphila. to the doore.

Art thou not ashamed to goe a begging so late?

Pedante.

¶No good mistresse, it is no shame at all,

But the greatest honour that vnto a man may fall.

For an Almes is a gift, and a gifte is a token of reuerence I trow,

And reuerence is, when our superiours we know.

Thus I being presented of all men with almes as you sée,

Reuerenced of all men of force I must bée.

Pamphila.

¶For reasoning so déepely, no Almes shall you haue,

Because I will not honour such a beggerly knaue.

Exit.

Pedante.

¶Farewell and be hangde, there I was ouer-reacht with a crookte measure,

Witte bought at this rate is an excellent treasure.

Beginnings are harde, this prouerbe is olde,

Therefore at some other bodies doore I meane to be bolde.

Tic, toc, fate limosina: popoli mei benedetti,

Beg at Victoriaes gate.

Che iddio v'aiuterá, nelle vostre tribulationi.

Tic, toc, chi la diua ouer la fara dire,

Enter Crackstone out of Victoriaes house.

Di buona morte non potrà morire.

Crack-st

¶What sturdy knaue haue we heer in the stréete,

To begge at this time of the night? Sirra t'is not méete.

Packe hence Sirra I aduise you, least I giue you a sowce,

Or take thée by the héeles and throw thée ouer the howse.

Pedante.

¶Good maister beate not the poore, when they make their mone,

T'is not long since your courrage was as colde as a stone.

Crack-st

¶What sawcy knaue, me thinkes he doeth prate,

Doest thou know to whome thou speakest, or at whose gate?

Pedante.

¶No good maister, be good to me, I beséeche you, for I haue done,

I were best to be quiet till he be gone.

Crack-st.

¶We haue many good startoppes made heer in the cittie,

For publishing these vargery knaues that goe vp and down idlely

Sée how he is scapte, and shrinketh aside,

[Page]My lookes are to bigge for him too abide.

T'is a wonder to sée how they crouch where soeuer I come,

If I stande they stoupe, if I speake they are dumbe.

Mistresse Victarrogantie hath sent for me,

Her Chaplen against Fedele to be.

If I kill him for her sake, and put him to shame,

She hath promiste me her loue, to rewarde the same.

Pedante.

¶Oh, Traditora.

Crack-st.

¶How am I bound to Mars, y^t when my stomack so swelles y^t I am driuen to lay out my heart in my hose,

He sowes vp my gorget with the slaughter of my foes.

I'le goe put on my Horslittor, & the rest of mine Armor straight,

And here about her house for him I will waight.

Euery night she saith, he comes sneaking heer by,

But if he come now, I will handle him trimly.

Exit.

Pedante.

¶Goe goodman Goose, prouide you, & arme you as well as you can,

Lay about you, and play the proper man.

In tempore veni, I came hether in the nicke,

My master shall spéedely heare of this tricke.

Yet will I goe foreward with my businesse as I decreede,

And trye how well of my purpose I am like to spéede.

Tic toc, vna limosina al poueretto,

Date Signora per l'amour di Dio.

Attilia.

¶Who is there?

pedante.

¶Your charitie good mistresse,

Attilia.

¶Enter and take it,

pedante.

¶God rewarde you good mistresse, I will not forsake it.

Exit.

The third Act being doone, the Consort sounds a sollemne Dump.

Actus quarta.

Scena prima.

Enter Medusa and Pamphila.

O Happie is I trust that Doctors soule by whom I learnde,

This famous Arte, and easely by it my liuing earnde.

O that he knew how déere his life and learning was to me,

O y^t he could but for his death my griefe and sorrowe sée.

pamphila.

¶Medusa, if I did not feare my honour and my name,

Would soone be lost hereby, and turne my credite into shame.

I would become thy Scholler, but I blush to speake of it,

Medusa.

[Page]

¶No Pamphila, for such a mistresse thou art farre vnfit.

What talkst thou of thy name, and honour likely to be lost,

By learning of myne Arte? which should be honord of the moste.

And more estéemde then Phisike.

Pamphila▪

¶Why?

Medusa.

¶That's easy to be proued,

For, as by Phisikes learned skill, diseases be remoued.

So by my cunning, euery smarte that doth afflict the minde,

Is put to chace, for euery griefe, a remedy I finde.

Pamphila.

‡And haue you any salue for loue?

Medusa.

¶I haue.

Pamphila.

‡Whereof is it made?

Medusa.

¶Of diuers things, simple, and mixte, according to my trade.

Pamphila.

¶Then if for loue, or mony, you will graunt me my requeste,

Let me once by your cunning sée, my mistresse haue some reste.

Medusa.

¶Whome serue you then?

Pamphila.

¶Forsooth, I serue mistresse Virginia.

Medusa.

¶Yet farther, let me craue your name.

Pamphila.

¶My name is pamphila.

Medusa.

¶What's her disease?

Pamphila.

¶Nothing but loue.

Medusa.

¶How fareth she with it?

Pamphila.

¶Sad, sicke, and sore, with sorrow pinde, and disposseste of wit.

Medusa.

¶Whome loueth she?

Pamphila.

¶Fedele.

Medusa.

¶And how long hath she bin so?

Pamphila.

¶I know not, yet I gesse, that she sickned a yéere agoe.

Medusa.

¶What if I helpe her? tell me who shall please me for my paine?

Pamphila.

¶My selfe, because vnknowen to her, I séeke her health to gaine.

Medusa.

¶A louing seruant, goe thy wayes and leaue it all to me.

But harke thée.

Pamphila.

¶What?

Medusa.

¶Let me haue passage to her lodging frée.

That when she little thinkes thereof, my Medcins I may make,

By vertue of the which, her wounded heart may comfort take.

The lesse she lookes for remedy, the more is her delight, when t'is obtaynde.

Pamphila.

¶Then let's be gon.

Medusa.

[Page]

¶Content, for it is night.

And yonder comes Fedele with Fortunio hand in hande,

To shunne suspect, they shal not sée vs talking here to stāde.

Exit.

Actus quarta. Scena secunda.

Enter Fedele and Fortunio togither.

Fedele.

¶Come Sir Fortunio, now is the time to put you out of doubt,

Whether Victoria loue you, or your dealings doe but floute.

Here let vs shrowde our selues a while, that standing out of sight,

We may perceiue what louers haunt Victoriaes house by night.

Fortunio

¶Agreede, this is the fittest time to passe the stréete,

And giue her musike at her windowe, for a gallant méete.

Fedele.

¶Whiste, for her doore beginnes to creake,

Fortunio.

¶It doeth in déede.

Enter Pedante disguised, comming forth of Victoriaes house.

Fedele.

¶I sée.

Fortunio.

¶A man me thinkes, O let me goe.

Fedele.

¶Stay Sir, be ruled by me,

Pedante.

¶O delicate Victoria so long as I liue,

For this entertainement, great thankes will I giue.

The remembrance of the swéetenesse of this night so well past,

Will féede me with hony whyle my life doeth last.

Exit.

Fortunio.

¶A villane, let me goe Fedele, let me goe I say:

I will reuenge this iniurie before he get away.

Fedele.

¶Not so, for raising of a tumult in the stréete so late,

And troubling of the watche that stande armed at euery gate.

Fortunio.

¶Out strumpet, I will make thée now a mirror to this towne,

A pointing stocke to euery one that passeth vp and downe.

Fedele.

¶How will you be reuenged?

Fortunio.

¶By sworde, and sheathe it in her breste,

Fedele.

¶Be not too swift to serue her so, I thinke it were not beste.

Fortunio.

¶And why?

Fedele.

¶Because that if you kill her, then your selfe you doe defame,

Discredite her, and put her house, and kindred vnto shame.

Thus you shall euer walke in feare of those you neuer sawe,

Besides, her friendes will trippe at you, by danger of the lawe.

Fortunio.

¶How shall I be reuenged then?

Fedele.

¶Giue her a Fico out of hande,

Fortunio.

[Page]

¶So should I scape, but the reuenge in little stéede would stande.

For she should die, and none should know the villainie she did,

But euery tong ere long shall talke of that, that I haue spide.

Some other way I will deuise,

Fedele.

¶Doe so, for I'le be gone.

Exit.

Fortunio.

¶And I will sée what this Victoria saith to me anon,

Who is there within?

Knocke at her doore.

Actus quarta. Scena tertia.

Enter Victoria and Attilia to Fortunio.

Attilia.

¶Mistresse, beholde Fortunio.

Victoria,

¶I come to him, welcome good Sir.

Fortunio,

¶Out Hipocrite, no, no,

How do you like your other loue?

Victoria.

¶I like of none, but you.

Fortunio.

¶Tush, holde your peace, I had as liue you tolde me that it snew.

Euen now came one out of thy house, who bidding thée farewell,

Triumphed of thy courtesie, and said it did excell.

Victoria.

¶Come hither mayde, what haue you done? tell me, why doe you wéepe?

Attilia.

¶T'is no matter mistresse, you thinke I let in my companions when you are a sléepe.

¶But séeing you haue no better confidence in me,

Pay me my wages, I'le be gone, your seruant no longer will I be.

Séeing you goe about, me so much to disgrace,

Prouide for your selfe, I can haue more wages in another place.

Victoria.

¶Peace péeuish foole, I thinke not so, yet let me aske I pray,

Because to slaunder me, you heare what Fortunio doeth say.

Attilia.

¶I force not what he saith, I know my conscience to be cleare,

Victoria,

¶And so is mine, although so stoutly he reproue me heer.

Fortunio.

¶Then had I neither listning eares to heare, nor eyes to sée,

Sithe they faile not, I'le credite them, and giue no héede to thée.

But trust to it, and looke for it, thou shalt repent at last,

That ere thou bleard'st Fortunioes sighte with such a iugling cast.

Victoria.

¶It booteth not to speake to him, he is in such a heate,

But I durst lay my life Fedele wrought this feate.

Attilia.

¶It may be so.

Fortunio.

¶Thy falshood and thy Sorcerie, at length I haue perceiu'de,

[Page]But by thy subtile traine, no longer will I be deceiu'de.

Victoria.

¶I said, it was Fedeles déede, but Crack-stone is too slow,

To cut him off, before this rumors roote beginne to grow.

Attilia.

¶Mistresse, I'le séeke Crack-stone, and haste him to the deede,

Els I perceiue that very ill, your selfe is like to spéede.

Victoria.

¶Doe so, and till I sée Fortunioes angry moode be past,

T'is best out of his presence to conueighe my selfe in haste.

Farewell Sir Fortunio, thinke as you finde me.

Exeunt Victo. & Attilia.

Fortunio.

¶I will, and will reuenge it as farre as you binde me.

Fye hartlesse wretche, slowthfull, and that that's more,

Yet vnreuenged, why did I stay my hand?

Why did I not her faithlesse body gore?

Whiles in my power before me she did stand.

Why did I not for to fulfill my vowe:

Doe that, which none would couer nor allowe?

Her treason makes my raging thoughts to swell,

Beyonde the boundes of all humanitie,

Her falshoode driues the Furies out of hell.

To practise straunge and extreame crueltie.

Yet neither rancoures force, nor ougly fiende,

Hath scourge ynough for such a double friende.

But yet before reuenge my furie take,

I'le offer seruice to Virginia.

Least euery dame here after me forsake,

When it is knowen how I vsed Victoria.

Good lucke, Medusa héer me thinkes I sée,

A cunning broker, very fit for mée.

Actus quarta. Scena quarta.

Enter Medusa, with a Pedlers Basket vnder her arme, to Fortunio.

Medusa.

¶Mytoyle so great, rewarde so small, that euery man dooth giue,

Hath made me weary of my trade, vncertaine how to liue.

Fortunio.

¶Well met Medusa, whether goest thou with thy Packe so late?

Medusa.

¶I was abroade to sell my wares, at euery Ladies gate.

But being ouertaken thus by night, I hie me home,

[Page]Till Fortune send a better market, for the worlde is done.

Fortunio.

¶What hast thou solde?

Medusa.

¶Nothing but wordes,

Fortunio,

¶What hast thou got?

Medusa.

Nothing but winde:

Fortunio.

¶That market thou mighst well haue kept, and yet haue left thy Packe behinde,

Medusa.

¶Not so, for by the carriage that within my prettie Packe I haue,

I enter in those Ladies chambers, that I finde both fine and braue.

And vnder colour of the trifles I beare about to sell,

I pleade for such as you good Syr, that féele by loue the force of hell.

Fortunio.

¶What hast thou there?

Medusa.

¶Calles Gorgets, Heares, Powders to make a Ball,

Vallentia Gloues, and Venice Rolles, to rubbe the téeth withall.

Laces, Purses, Rings, Buskes, Wyers, and Glasses fine,

Bracelettes, Perfumes, Stilled waters, Sops in wine.

Pinnes, Bodkins, Staies, and other kinde of stuffe,

No more but tell me what you lacke, and you shall haue ynough.

A thousand knackes I haue, to vtter, which I must be slow,

Because they are so secret, as becomes not you to knowe.

Fortunio.

¶Neither am I importunate, to wring it out of thée,

Yet must I craue thée now, to showe thy selfe a friend to mée.

Medusa.

¶Wherein?

Fortunio.

¶Euen in the loue that I to faire Virginia beare.

Medusa.

¶I doubte it is too harde a taske, she loues Fedele so,

That she by no meanes can be wonne, Fedele to forgo.

Fortunio.

¶Yet doe thy best, to moue my sute.

Medusa.

¶The best I can I will,

And ransacke euery corner of my wittes to shewe my skill.

Either it must be done by crafte, or Magicke, which you please,

Fortunio.

¶By Crafte, or Magicke, which you liste, so I may purchase ease.

Medusa.

[Page]

¶Sir, first by deceit I'le trie how I can bring the same about,

If shiftes doe faile, Enchaunted herbes shall put you out of doubt.

I will vnto her lodging straight, and stay your comming there,

Within an houre or halfe, to followe, sée you doe not feare.

I'le tell her that I meane to bring Fedele to her bed,

When lightes are out, and sléepe is crept into her fathers head.

When you are in and halfe vnbraste, a tumult will I make,

And call her father vp, you in her chamber there to take.

You know age will suspect the worst, and when he sées you so,

Will force you then to marrie her, whether shée will or no.

Besides, when that the brute heer of is blowen in euery place,

Fedele and all other suters, will forsake the chace.

Loe, thus by subtiltie you shall possesse the dame you crau'de,

And yet by me when all is tolde, her honour shall be sau'de.

Fortunio.

¶This is as well as can be wishte, depart I pray thée straight.

Medusa.

¶I goe, forget not you to come.

Exit.

Actus quarta. Scena quinta.

Enter Fedele with Pedante, and with them, two Watch-men with Billes.

Fortunio.

¶Upon thée will I waighte.

Sée where Fedele comes, because he shall not me suspecte,

I will auoyde the stréetes a while, that nothing me detecte.

Exit.

Fedele.

¶And is it so Pedante?

Pedante.

¶It is as I tell ye.

Attilia tolde me, that her mistresse had made a request,

To Crack-stone, to sheathe his sworde in your brest.

Besides I goe as you knowe, disguised to the house for an other intent,

I sawe him come thence, bragging what he would doe, in the stréetes as he went.

Fedele.

¶Alas poore soule, I know he dare scarce looke a flye in the face,

But séest thou this? I will prouide my Captaine to disgrace.

Come on my friendes, goe you and set this net at the Lanes end,

For when he comes, my sworde vpon this Gallant will I bend.

And crye aloude arme, arme, as though our enemies had the wall,

He hearing this, will take his héeles and let his anger fall.

We will pursue him so, that we will driue him to the net,

[Page]When he is in, pull you the cordes, for that same purpose set.

And make him fast, then will we leade him hampred in the same,

With mirth and glée about the towne, to put him to the shame.

Goe set it vp.

Watchmē

¶We will.

Pedante.

¶Ah, Sirra, I perceiue we shall goe a batfowling this night,

I would y^e Captaine would come, that of this pretie sport I might haue a sight.

Fedele.

¶Whiste, not a worde, for he is at hande,

Come let vs both priuily in ambush stande.

Actus quarta. Scena sexta.

Enter Captaine Crack-stone, armed like a Champion.

Crack-st.

¶Now shall my valerositie appeare vnto all,

How I can kill men, and serue a woman at her call.

My greatest griefe is, that in dooing this feate,

I am sure my honour will not be so greate.

As when I giue a charger to my foes in the open féelde,

Or put Citties into sackes, and make thousandes to yéelde.

To bring Fedele to the Counter, is but to fight with a flie,

There is neither praise, pride, nor prouidence in the victorie.

Therefore take héede Crack-stone what you doe,

You hazarde your good name, your honour standes on tip toe.

To kill a Gentlemā y^t neuer ought me malice, is more thē crueltie,

And to kill him for a woman, will bring me vtterly to infancie.

Shall I kill him then? peraduenture yea: shall I let him go?

Peraduenture I may, peraduenture no.

Oh single deuise, here is a braine I beléeue,

Able to shoote birdboltes of inuentiōs, from my head into my sléeue.

I will make a great noyse before Victoriaes doore in the stréete,

As though at this present with Fedele I did méete.

Then will I runne to her house amayne,

And make her beléeue that Fedele is slayne.

Then before that she heare any newes of his life,

I'le haue her to the Priest, and make her my wife.

Haue euen at it as well as I can,

Fight with the Ayre.

Ah Uillaines, thus many of you set vpon a naked man.

Drawe on my good fellowes and spare not, strike home,

Ah cowardly Dastardes, so sone be you gone?

Fedele.

[Page]

¶Arme, Arme, Arme.

Pedante.

¶Kill, kill, kill.

Fedele.

¶Downe with Crack-stone.

Pedante.

¶Giue me a Bill.

Heere Crack-stone runnes into the net, Fedele after him; leauing Pedante on the stage.

Fedele.

¶Followe, followe.

Crack-st.

¶Out alas where am I now?

Pedante.

¶Faste ynough by this time I trow.

Is this my lusty kill Cow, that will eate vp so many men at a bit,

And when he deales with a shadowe will not stand to it?

Enter Fedele and two or three other, leading Crack-stone in the net, singing.

BE still my mates, that keepe the gates,
When euery watch is set:
Your lucke is naught, your freendes haue caught,
Your Captaine in a net.
Heigh ho Crack-stone, heigh ho Crack-stone.
A Nodie, a Nodie, a Nodie, we haue,
Heigh hoe, Crack-stone, lustie and braue.
‡ Now souldiers all, forsake the wall,
Your foes haue got the towne,
Manhood is fled, God Mars is dead,
Your Captaine is a clowne.
Heigh ho Crack-stone, Heigh ho Crack-stone,
A Nodie, a Nodie, a Nodie, we haue,
Heigh ho Crack-stone, lusty and braue.

Victoria

out at her windowe.

Attilia, come hither streight, some sturre is in the stréete,

Me thinkes I heare the noise of men, and trampling of their féete.

Fedele.

¶Ah Sir, you meant to kill me you, to please Victoria,

But now I trust to make of thée a poore Crack-stone, if I may.

Crack-st

¶If that victorious Prince of battaile god Marche-beere, had not bene a sléepe,

I had made you euery one into corners to créepe.

T'is the Fortune of warre, lucke runnes not euer to one side,

Therefore I am content the prickatorie to abide.

I am not strong Sampier to breake out of your hands,

But oh y^t some little hōgry Mouse, would gnaw a sunder my bāds.

I would giue you such a frezado, or cāuazado, take which you please

As should be small to your comfort, and little to your ease.

Pedante.

¶Oh what this Captaine would do, if he were out of his skin,

[Page]Till his courage be cooler, I pray you holde him in.

Attilia.

¶Mistresse, I can not tell what is best to be saide,

Once more I perceiue you are betraide.

I sée that Fedele and his friendes haue your Champion beset,

And now both to his shame and yours, he is caught in a net.

Victoria.

¶Art thou sure that it is so?

Attilia.

¶Haue an eye to the ende.

Fedele.

¶Now let vs shew him to Victoria, his dearest friend.

Here they bring him singing vnto Victor. windowe.

Pedante.

¶Then let him be led through euery stréete in y^e towne,

That euery crackrope, may throw rottē egs at y^e clown.

Fedele.

¶Hoe, Victoria if y^u be awake, rise & looke out I pray,

Crack-st.

¶The hunt is vp,

And fooles be fledg'de before the perfect day.

Shrinke in & looke out againe.

Victoria.

¶Who calles?

Fedele.

¶Fedele: Sée the Champion, whome you set to murder me,

This déed throughout the Cittie, shortly shall dishonour thée.

Victoria.

¶Out, I defie him.

Fedele.

¶What sayest thou Attilia?

Attilia.

¶He is a knaue, I denie him.

Crack-st

¶Thou art a Drabbe and a Queane, if my name be Crack-stone, you say?

I was requested to this, both by thée and Victoria.

Attilia.

¶By my mistresse and me good man Coward, doe you know what

Take y^t Sir, your face was not washte yester day.

Emptie a chā ber pot on his head.

Crack-st

¶A rope on all whores, will you drinke any Ale,

I thinke she crownde me with a potle of stale.

This drinke was ill brued, and might haue bene sparde,

The very graines of the Malte, stickes fast to my bearde.

Pedante.

¶You will tell me more anon, when euery maide in this towne,

Hath emptied her almes box on the top of your crowne.

Crack-st

¶Alas good maister Fedele, as you are a Gentleman, no farther let me go,

I shall be chok'te with this dole, if you handle me so.

Consider I am a man, subiect to y^e same pressing-yron of y^e minde y^e other mē are,

For the loue of a woman, ouerwhelmed with care.

I confesse I am as you are, flesh & blood, and loued Victoria so well,

That I could haue bin content for her sake, to haue gone quicke to hell.

Therefore forgiue me, and if I take not your part, and be reuenged vpon her, before I doe reste,

Set the gun-shot of tyrannie to the bulwarkes of my breste.

[Page] [...][Page] [...]

[Page]Cut off my Rammes hornes, and breake into the belfrie,

And blesse the cursed dayes of my virginitie.

Pedante.

¶He rowles in his Retorike as an Ape in his tayle,

Wynde and tide at commaundement, he flyes with full sayle.

Fedele.

¶So that thou séeke all meanes thou canst, Victoria to deface,

And blaze her in eache company, and strike her in disgrace.

I let thée goe.

Let him out of the net.

Crack-st

¶Unhoode me I pray,

I am as wearie of my cariage as a Dogge of his day.

Pedante.

¶Slacke the cordes there my masters, giue him sea-roome in haste,

Close ayre is not holsome for Gallants to taste.

Crack-st

¶Now I beginne to féele my heart by little & little rise out of my hose,

Yet the sente of this water, is still in my nose.

I thinke I am the perplexionablest man that liues at this day,

For I would faine be reuenged of Victoria, and I know not which way.

Pedante.

¶Follow my counsell, and be ruled by mée,

Then shalt thou sée Captaine, what I'le doe for thée.

I'le teache thée a way, to crye quittance with her before it be long,

And make her recant her chatering at window with an other song.

Crack-st

¶Gramercy Pediculus, thou art the comfortablest fellowe that euer I did sée,

I thinke thou wast borne vnder some merry Planet, in the time of diuersitie.

Fedele.

¶Now sith Victoriaes name is like for euer to be lost,

Further reuenge I will not séeke, as I to her did boste.

Because that as my selfe vniustly seru'd Virginia.

So am I now iustly requited by Victoria.

Therefore Pedante goe, and pardon of Virginia craue,

And tell her that I will be hers,

Pedante.

¶That's it she would haue.

But I beséech you Sir, tarry till the day be light,

I am loth to goe stumbling in the stréetes this night,

Fedele.

¶Then till the morning let it rest, but early sée thou rise,

And doe my message in the méekest sort thou canst deuise.

Meane whyle wée'le home and take a sléepe,

Exit with them that helde the net.

for I am ouer-watcht.

Pedante.

¶Uery well Sir, beare you the net after,

I haue some businesse with the Captaine to be dispatcht.

[Page]Now maister Captaine come with me, for as soone as my maister to bed I haue brought,

You shall sée what a thing for you I haue wrought.

And because you haue determined on Victoria to reuenge your wrōg,

It must be done this night or neuer, time doe not prolong.

As her flatterie this night, bring did you in bandes,

So this night I shall deliuer her into your handes.

Crack-st.

¶Then let vs away and our selues prouide,

Thou knowest the paruerbe, no body taries for the tide.

Exeunt.

The fourth Act being ended, the Consort soundeth a pleasant Allemaigne.

Actus quinta.

Scena prima.Enter Fortunio alone.
I Knowe Virginia loues Fedele best,
Medusa likewise may be sent to flowte:
My selfe her fauour neuer yet possest,
If none of these, yet all may make me doubte.
How seruice should with bright triumphing face,
Disperse the cloudes, that put my ioyes to chace.
Yet if Fedele be not lik'te alone,
Or if Medusa of true promise be:
Or faire Virginia will be mou'de by mone.
If not all these, yet one may pleasure me.
Therefore, to giue the watch woord I'le beginne, Whistle.
Good lucke, the doore opens, I'le enter in. Exit.
Enter Atilia.
Attilia.
¶Take héede Attilia, was not that Fortunio thou did'ste sée?
T'is now midnight, so late abroade i'th stréete what maketh he?
I sée Pedante is not heer, I muse he méetes me not,
I litle thought he could so soone his promise haue forgot.
If he be maister of his woord, and loue me as his life,
The time is come to shewe the same, and take me for his wife.

Actus quinta. Scena secunda.Enter Pedante and Crack-stone with the Beggers weede.
Come on Sir apace, what makes you so slacke?
Presently put me this Robe on your backe.
[Page]Now get you vp along the stréete, and be not afrayde,
There shall you méete Victoria, in the apparell of her mayde.
Thinking you thus disguised, to be Fortunio,
Uery ready you shall finde her with you to go.
When you haue her, hold fast, for she will not resist,
Woe her, wed her, bedde her, and vse her as you list.
Either now or neuer, your desire you shall haue,
Or be reuenged on the entertainement that out of her window to you she gaue.
Crack-st.
¶Sée the force of loue, how it is able for a néede,
To shrowde a braue minde in a base kinde of wéede.
Maister Pediculus, or Pedantonie, I am not very prospect in your name,
If this geare fall out, I shall be bound while I liue, to thanke you for the same.
Pedante.
¶I would not be he that should so couragious a Captaine, and valiant Gentleman deceiue.
Therefore trie me, & trust me, for this time I purpose to take my leaue
Crack-st.
¶Farewell little Pastrie, Exit.
 If I may méete with Mistresse Victoriarie heer.
Thinking that Fortunio in this place, to her will appeare.
Either I will make her incant the former words that she spake,
When she defied me, & denied that she wild me to kil Fedele for her sake.
Or I will backe beate her, & belly beate her too too pitifully,
You know loue is a fire, and they say fire and water hath no mercy.
But first I will speake her faire, because to be plaine,
Commonly faire fooles make wordes and perswasions to be faine.
Attilia.
¶Alas how long in the stréete shall I for my Pedante stay?
He promised to méete me heer, and steale me quite away.
Some body in the stréete I heare, I trust the same is hée,
And so I doe perswade me, by the beggers wéede I sée.
Crack-st
¶I'le beleeue Pediculus againe another day,
For yonder in Alice tittle tattles parrell the Mistresse dooth stay,
O yt I had some of Pediculus Schoole-butter to make me a lip salue,
Or could but wet my tonge in his inkhorne, for women will herken when we speake braue.
O thou that carriest a ball of wilde fire in thine eye, to burne vp my heart,
What shall I say more, to set out my smarte.
The time will not suffer to shew my prosperitie,
[Page]Therefore I committe you to the Gods for lacke of breuitie.

Actus quinta. Scena tertia.

Enter Sbirri the Captaine of the watche, with some Soldiers, and with him Mistresse Victoria.

Attilia.

¶Sée how Pedante counterfeites Crack-stone in talke,

Thereby we shall escape, and through the watch in safetie walke.

Victoria.

¶Captaine Sbirri, this night my maide Attilia ran away,

Her I beséeche you, if she be not past the watch, to stay.

Some thing I doubt that she hath stolne, and carried to her mates,

Therefore I pray beset the stréetes, and all the citie gates.

Sbirri.

¶Mistresse Victoria I will, but some bodie I sée,

Victoria.

¶Steppe to them bothe and take them streight, for sure the same is shée.

Crack-st.

¶Come mine own Parragon, I know thou hast tarried for me all this while,

Therefore follow me streight, least the lickorish Souldiers méete vs, and me beguile.

Sbirri.

¶Softe not to fast, but stay I charge you in the Princes name,

Crack-st

¶God saue the Princes grace, and put his enemies to shame.

Wée are the Kings friendes, I would you should well knowe,

Therefore trouble vs no farther, but let vs goe.

The kings head is occupied with matters of great importunitie,

I know he is not conswapted, at this time to speake with me.

We are peace-able people, we haue no weapons héere,

We are neither drunke nor sober, nor make any stéere.

Get you to your places, kéepe the watch as you should,

And wee'le to our lodging you may be bould.

Sbirri.

¶Nay Sir, we will know your name, and eke the place where you haue beene,

[Page]Whether you goe, night-walkers heer are very seldom séene.

Crack-st

¶Then I pray you, what make you abroade so late?

T'is longing to your office to kéepe the gate.

As for our names, I know of no such commencement you haue,

Why you should be so pearchant the same to craue.

Attilia.

¶We haue bin foorth at supper Sir, i'the towne with a good friend,

And now we are returning home, nigh at our yournies end.

Victoria.

¶What Minion, are you there indéede?

Attilia.

¶My Mistresse, out alas,

Beholde Pedante we are tane, how shall we doe to passe?

Crack-st,

¶I hold fourty pound I am Unckled, I would Pediculus were heer,

I would méete with the scalde Squitterbe-booke for this geare.

Sbirri.

¶Is this your mayde?

Crack-st

¶It is.

Sbirri.

¶Lay hold on her with spéede,

Let vs sée what Uagabonde is hid within this wéede.

Crack-stone? Whowe?

Crack-st.

¶And whowe too then, did you neuer sée man before?

I am not taken in deuowtrie, therefore wonder no more.

Attilia.

¶A halter come to him, is it hee?

Sbirri.

¶Sorrie I am good Captaine, you in such a case to sée.

Heer you are taken with this mayde, which is like to be tachte

Offellonie, and accessarie you with her are cachte.

Crack-st.

¶I steale nothing from women but their honestie:

Which is as good, as he that robbes the Printer of a Bible, because he would studie Diuinitie.

Actus quinta. Scena quarta.

Enter Fortunio running halfe vnreadie, after him Ottauiano the father to mistresse Virginia, and Medusa with a spitte in her hande, and to them Fedele and Pedante, with weapons in their handes.

Ottaui.

¶Stoppe, stoppe.

Sbirri.

¶What meaneth this? come bende your weapons at them all,

Whome shall we stoppe? and what's the cause that makes you thus to call?

Fedele.

¶Pedante, take thy sworde,

Fedele and Pedante speake out at a windowe within.

arise let's goe into the streéete,

[Page]Some wondrous broyle I doubt there is,

Pedante.

¶I am so fast wrapt in the vpper shéete.

That I can not get out, I pray you make not such haste,

Till you thinke that the hottest of the broile be paste.

Fortunio▪

¶Stay Captaine, lay no handes on me, a Gentleman I am,

And will not flitte,

Ottaui.

¶Woe worth the time that to my house he came.

Sbirri.

¶Ottauiano, what's the cause of your lamenting crye?

Let's knowe, hath Sir Fortunio done you any iniurie?

Enter Fedele and Pedante with weapons.

Fedele.

¶Come quickely man, let's sée this Pageant ere it take an ende,

Pedante.

¶He that breaks me of my sléepe, is none of my fréende,

Virginia.

¶Ah wretche that am I alas, and halfe vndone,

Pedante.

¶What strange kinde of broyle is this that is begonne?

Ottaui.

¶Is it Fortunio in déede? This is thy treacherie, Medusa.

Medusa.

¶Mine, alas good Sir, you doe me iniurie,

I graunt that after I had brought my young mistresse to bed,

Féeling the sléepe shut vp mine eyes, and drouping with my head,

I laide me downe to take my rest, and so with haste forgot,

To locke the doores about the house, and how it comes God wot,

I can not tell, but when I fet a nap and wooke againe,

I heard a bustling in the darke, and then did I complaine.

And cryed aloude to you for helpe, whereat immediatly,

This Gentleman withdrewe him selfe, and foorth began to flye.

Pedante.

¶Master.

Fedele.

¶What sayst thou?

Pedante.

¶Your cake is dowe,

Fedele.

¶It killes me to thinke on it: the greater my woe.

Crack-st

¶This is lucke nidget with all my heart,

¶I am glad, that I haue some body to take my part.

But oh that my handes were at liberalitie now to strike,

I would set my Gramariner a lesson to pike.

Ottaui.

¶Ah Sir Fortunio, vse you thus the man that lou'de you best,

Take him, this villainie shall not be turned to a iest.

Sbirri.

¶Quiet your selfe Ottauiano, sith it is so past,

The brute will not be called backe so long as life dooth last.

His punishment makes not your daughter as she was before,

[Page]But giue her vnto him to wife, and talke of it no more.

His liuing is as good as yours, make vp the match with speede,

Ottaui.

¶Néede hath no lawe, I am content, if they be bothe agréede.

Virginia.

¶Alas I neuer knew the man, he neuer toucht me yet,

I loue Fedele, and he alone is for Virginia fit?

Fedele.

¶I'le take no wife at second hande, thankes for your curtesie,

Let him that hath possest your honor, weare the same for me.

Pedante.

¶In euery Tennis Court in the world, false play it is found,

To take vp the Ball at the second rebound.

Fortunio.

¶Virginia, if that you can be content,

To like of him that loues you in his heart:

Giue me your hand, and if your minde be bent,

To marrie me, I neuer meane to parte.

My life, and liuing, more you can not craue,

Remaineth yours, doe now but aske and haue.

Virginia.

¶I thanke you Sir, in that it pleaseth you to vse me so,

My promise was nigh graunted to Fedele long ago.

Fortunio.

¶But he hath now forsaken you.

Fedele.

¶Virginia, you are frée,

Assure your selfe, your marriage neuer shall be staide by me.

Virginia.

¶Then if you loue I will be yours.

Fortunio.

¶Shall I haue your good will?

Ottaui.

¶You haue.

Fortunio.

¶I loue you then, and meane to loue you still.

Medusa.

¶Now man and wife, Ottauiano hearken vnto me,

Although this Gallant in Virginiaes chamber you did sée.

Yet is her honour as it was, vnspotted by the same,

And kept by me, which euer had regarde vnto her name.

Fortunio made his mone and said, he lou'de Virginia best,

Virginia for Fedeles sake could neuer take her rest.

His minde was on Victoria, Virginia light estéemde,

Now that Virginiaes life and libertie might be redéemde.

I brought Fortunio to the house when she was fast a sléepe,

And close this night into her chamber both of vs did créepe.

I made him to vnbrace him selfe, and presently did call

For you to come, as though some greater matter did befall.

You came, he fled, and now is taken in Fedeles sight,

As though Virginia had dishonoured béene by him this night.

[Page]Which is not so, but this was done to bleare the gazers eyes,

To pleasure him, and saue her life, this thing did I deuise.

Pedante.

¶O mischieuous head, maister did you heare this geare,

Such a girle is worth golde in a deare yéere.

Crack-st.

¶I Ipse tipse, tittle, tittle este amen,

Such a wench is not be found in the world againe.

I haue heard it often, and nowe I do proue,

That women are suttle wormes for the conuariance of loue.

Ottaui.

¶If this be true I ioy?

Fortunio.

¶Els take my head,

I came not nigh Virginia, although she were in bed.

Fedele.

¶Fortunio you are quitte with me, for when we lay in scowte,

To watch by faire Victoriaes house, who passed in and out.

It was my man disguisde, that issued forth out of the same,

That for the nonce by me was set, to call Victoria by her name.

He went vnto Attilia, with counterfeited loue,

That by his meanes, from fayre Victoria I might you remoue.

You séeing him, and hearing when he came foorth, what he said,

Thought he had bene with her, when he had bene but with the maide.

Whereat you stormde, and left the chace of her that lou'de you déere,

Which is no griefe at all to me, that hopes to winne her héere.

Therefore Victoria now forget Fortunio which is loste,

And loue Fedele, who for you, yet neuer spared coste.

Let fall thy wrath, for giue me too, that meanes to be thine owne,

T'is seldome séen but warres haue end, whē foes are ouerthrown.

Victoria.

¶Sith you haue so preuented me, and perfect loue proteste,

I will put vp the iniurie, and yours for euer rest.

Crack-st,

¶My nose is ioynted, I may goe shoe the Gosling now if I will,

He that eats with y^e deuil without a long spoone, his fare wil be ill.

What spirits of the Buttry were abroad this night,

I haue béene so hard harted to mine enemies, that I thinke all the Gods of loue ought me a spite.

I graunt I am none of these fine Criminadoes, that can tumble in a Genlewomās lap, and rumble in her eare,

But without vauntage be it spoken, I am as góod as the best at the push of a speare.

[Page]I can cut and flash to make mine enemies to bléede.

And pricke it proudly I tell you, when I am surmounted vpon my stéede.

Sbirri.

¶Mistresse Victoria, now I see this onely rests to knowe,

What shall be done vnto your mayde, or shall we let her goe?

Victoria.

¶Sith with Crack-stone this night, you tooke my maide so shorte,

To prison with her if you please, to cut off her resorte.

Attilia.

¶Good mistresse beare with me, I tooke no hurt by him at all,

But meane to tell you iustly how the matter did befall.

The Schoolemaister that on Fedele euer dooth attende,

Promi'ste to marrie me this night, my seruile life to ende.

Upon whose woord, from you I fled, and staide for him in the stréete

Where I against my will, with this Crack-stone did méete.

Crack-st

¶Bowle to thy biase, master Pediculus, I pray you take your wife,

You and I for this matter will not stande at strife.

Are you bememberde what you said when you constulted with me,

To come hether in this parrell secretly.

Pedante.

¶What maister Crack-stone, and mistresse Attilia, you are welcome to the buttes,

Crack-st

¶Welcome with a Knaues name, I beshrumpe your guttes.

Pedante.

¶Why so Sir?

Crack-st.

¶Didst not thou tell me, that in this parrell mistresse Victoria I should sée.

This night in the stréete to be compensed of my iniurie,

Pedante.

¶So you may if you please, take your eyes in your hande,

Turne about Sir, and sée where Victoria doth stande.

And as for Attilia, as you brew, so bake,

I am not so base minded your leauings to take.

Attilia.

¶Why maister Pedante, will you serue me so?

Pedante.

¶I must I perceiue whither I will or no.

Crack-st.

¶Drawe Uillaine.

Sbirri.

¶Soft there Crack-stone, be not too rash to proffer fight,

You and this mayde together in the darke were tane this night.

The matter is suspitious, sith he forsaketh her,

To take her to your wife no time you should deferre.

We cannot force her vpon him, sith she was tane with you.

And howsoeuer you cloke it, none your méeting can allowe.

Crack-st

¶Well sith there is no remorce of conscience to be founde,

How saist thou Allice tittle tattle, art thou content by loue to be bounde?

[Page]

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