The Gardens of the Villa Medici.
Enter Morosini and Octavio.
Oct. By Heaven, I will not eat, nor sleep, nor pray for any thing but swift and sure Revenge, till I have found Marcella, that false deceiving Beauty, or her Lover, my hated Rival Fillamour; who, wanton in the Arms of the fair Fugitive, laughs at my shameful easiness, and cries, these Joys were never meant for tame Octavio.
Enter Crapine.
Mar. How now, Crapine! What, no News, no News of my Nieces yet, Marcella and Cornelia?
Crap. None, Sir.
Oct. That’s wondrous strange, Rome’s a place of that general Intelligence, methinks thou might’st have News of such trivial things as Women, amongst the Cardinals Pages: I’ll undertake to learn the Religion de stato, and present juncture of all affairs in Italy, of a common Curtezan.
Mar. Sirrah, Sirrah, let it be your care to examine all the Nunneries, for my own part not a Petticoat shall escape me.
Oct. My task shall be for Fillamour. [Aside.
Mor. I’ll only make a visit to your Sister Donna Laura Lucretia, and deliver her a Letter from my Nephew Julio, and return to you presently. — [Going out, is staid by Octavio.
Oct. Stay, Sir, defer your visit to my Sister Laura, she is not yet to know of my being in Town; ’tis therefore I have taken a Lodging in an obscure street, and am resolv’d never to be my self again till I’ve redeem’d my Honour. Come, Sir, let’s walk —
Enter to them, as they are going out, Marcella and Cornelia, drest like Curtezans, Philippa, and Attendance.
Mor. Stay, stay, what Women are these?
Oct. Whores, Sir, and so ’tis ten to one are all the kind; only these differ from the rest in this, they generously own their trade of Sin, which others deal by stealth in; they are Curtezans. [Exeunt.
Mar. The Evening’s soft and calm, as happy Lovers Thoughts; And here are Groves where the kind meeting Trees Will hide us from the amorous gazing Croud.
Cor. What should we do there, sigh till our wandering Breath
Has rais’d a gentle Gale amongst the Boughs;
To whose dull melancholy Musick we,
Laid on a Bed of Moss, and new-fallen Leaves,
Will read the dismal tale of Echo’s Love!
— No, I can make better use of famous Ovid.
[Snatches a little Book from her.
And prithee what a pox have we to do with Trees,
Flowers, Fountains, or naked Statues?
Mar. But, prithee, mad Cornelia, let’s be grave and wise, at least enough to think a little.
Cor. On what? your English Cavalier Fillamour, of whom you tell so many dull stories of his making Love! Oh, how I hate a civil whining Coxcomb!
Mar. And so do I, I’ll therefore think of him no more.
Cor. Good Lord! what a damnable wicked thing is a Virgin grown up to Woman.
Mar. What, art thou such a Fool to think I love this Fillamour?
Cor. It may be not at Rome, but at Viterbo, where Men are scarce, you did; and did you follow him to Rome, to tell him you cou’d love no more?
Mar. A too forward Maid, Cornelia, hurts her own Fame, and that of all her Sex.
Cor. Her Sex! a pretty consideration, by my Youth; an Oath I shall not violate this dozen years: my Sex shou’d excuse me, if to preserve their Fame they expected I should ruin my own Quiet; in chasing an ill-favour’d Husband, such as Octavio, before a young handsome Lover, such as you say Fillamour is.
Mar. I wou’d fain persuade my self to be of thy mind, — but the World, Cornelia —
Cor. Hang the malicious World —
Mar. And there’s such Charms in Wealth and Honour too.
Cor. None half so powerful as Love, in my opinion; ‘slife, Sister, thou art beautiful, and hast a Fortune too, which before I wou’d lay out upon so shameful a purchase as such a Bedfellow for life as Octavio, I wou’d turn errant keeping Curtezan, and buy my better Fortune.
Mar. That Word too startles me.
Cor. What, Curtezan! why, ’tis a noble Title, and has more Votaries than Religion; there’s no Merchandize like ours, that of Love, my Sister: — and can you be frighted with the Vizor, which you your self put on?
Mar. ’Twas the only Disguise that cou’d secure us from the search of my Uncle and Octavio. Our Brother Julio is by this too arriv’d, and I know they’ll all be diligent, — and some Honour I was content to sacrifice to my eternal Repose.
Cor. Spoke like my Sister! a little impertinent Honour, we may chance to lose, ’tis true; but our down-right Honesty I perceive you are resolv’d we shall maintain through all the dangers of Love and Gallantry; though to say truth, I find enough to do, to defend my Heart against some of those Members that nightly serenade us, and daily show themselves before our Window, gay as young Bridegrooms, and as full of expectation.
Mar. But is’t not wondrous, that amongst all these Crouds we should not once see Fillamour? I thought the Charms of a fair young Curtezan might have oblig’d him to some Curiosity at least.
Cor. Ay! and an English Cavalier too, a Nation so fond of all new Faces.
Mar. Heaven, if I should never see him, and I frequent all publick Places to meet him! or if he be gone from Rome, if he have forgot me, or some other Beauty have employ’d his Thoughts!
Cor. Why; if all these if’s and or’s come to pass, we have no more to do than to advance in this same glorious Profession, of which now we only seem to be — in which, to give it its due, there are a thousand Satisfactions to be found, more than in a dull virtuous Life: Oh, the world of Dark-Lanthorn-Men we should have! the Serenades, the Songs, the Sighs, the Vows, the Presents, the Quarrels, and all for a Look or a Smile, which you have been hitherto so covetous of, that Petro swears our Lovers begin to suspect us for some honest Jilts; which by some is accounted much the leuder scandal of the two: — therefore I think, faith, we must e’en be kind a little to redeem our Reputations.
Mar. However we may railly, certainly there’s nothing so hard to Woman, as to expose her self to villainous Man.
Cor. Faith, Sister, if ‘twere but as easy to satisfy the nice scruples of Religion and Honour, I should find no great Difficulty in the rest — Besides, another Argument I have, our Mony’s all gone, and without a Miracle can hold out no longer honestly.
Mar. Then we must sell our Jewels.
Cor. When they are gone, what Jewel will you part with next?
Mar. Then we must —
Cor. What, go home to Viterbo, ask the old Gentleman pardon, and be receiv’d to Grace again, you to the Embraces of the amiable Octavio, and I to St. Teresa’s, to whistle through a Grate like a Bird in a Cage, — for I shall have little heart to sing. — But come, let’s leave This sad talk, here’s Men — let’s walk and gain new Conquest, I love it dearly — [Walk down the Garden.
Enter Gall. Fill, and Jul. see the Women.
Gal. Women! and by their garb for our purpose too — they’re Curtezans, let’s follow ‘em.
Fil. What shall we get by gazing but Disquiet? If they are fair and honest, we look, and perhaps may sigh in vain; if beautiful and loose, they are not worth regarding.
Gal. Dear notional Knight, leave your satirical Fopperies, and be at least good-humour’d, and let’s follow them.
Jul. I’ll leave you in the Pursuit, and take this Opportunity to write my Uncle word of my Arrival; and wait on you here anon.
Fil. Prithee do so: hah, who’s that with such an Equipage?
[Exit Julio, Fil. and Gal. going after. Marcella and Cor. meet just entring, Laura with Silvio, Antonio, and her Equipage, drest like a Man.
Gal. Pox, let the Tradesmen ask, who cringe for such gay Customers, and follow us the Women!
[Exit Fil. and Gal. down the Scene, Lau. looking after ‘em.
Lau. ’Tis he, my Cavalier, my Conqueror: Antonio, let the Coaches wait, — and stand at distance all: Now, Silvio, on thy Life forget my Sex and Quality, forget my useless name of Laura Lucretia, and call me Count of —
Sil. What, Madam?
Lau. Madam! ah, foolish Boy, thy feminine Courage will betray us all: — but — call me Count — Sans Coeur. — And tell me, Silvio, how is it I appear? How dost thou like my Shape — my Face and Dress? My Mien and Equipage, may I not pass for Man? Looks it en Prince and Masculine?
Sil. Now as I live, you look all over what you wish, and such as will beget a Reverence and Envy in the Men, and Passion in the Women. But what’s the Cause of all this Transformation?
Lau. Love! Love! dull Boy, cou’dst thou not guess ’twas Love? that dear Englese I must enjoy, my Silvio.
Sil. What, he that adores the fair young Curtezan?
Lau. That very he; my Window joins to hers, and ’twas with Charms.
Which he’ad prepar’d for her, he took this Heart,
Which met the welcome Arrows in their flight,
And sav’d her from their Dangers.
Oft I’ve return’d the Vows he’as made to her,
And sent him pleas’d away;
When through the errors of the Night, and distance,
He has mistook me for that happy Wanton,
And gave me Language of so soft a Power,
As ne’er was breath’d in vain to listning Maids.
Sil. But with Permission, Madam, how does this Change of Petticoat for Breeches, and shifting Houses too, advance that Love?
Lau. This Habit, besides many Opportunities ‘twill give me of getting into his acquaintance, secures me too from being known by any of my Relations in Rome: then I have changed my House for one so near to that of Silvianetta’s, and so like it too, that even you and I have oft mistook the entrance: by which means Love, Fortune or Chance, may with my Industry contrive some kind Mistake that may make me happier than the rest of Womankind.
Sil. But what shall be reserv’d then for Count Julio, whose last Letters promise his Arrival within a Day or two, and whom you’re then to marry?
Lau. Reserv’d for him! a Wife! a Wife, my Silvio, That unconcern’d domestick Necessary, Who rarely brings a Heart, or takes it soon away. —
Sil. But then your Brother, Count Octavio, do you not fear his Jealousy?
Lau. Octavio! Oh, Nature has set his Soul and mine at odds, And I can know no Fear but where I love.
Sil. And then that thing which Ladies call their Honour. —
Lau. Honour, that hated Idol, even by those
That set it up to worship! No,
I have a Soul, my Boy, and that’s all Love;
And I’ll the Talent which Heaven lent improve.
[Going out, meets Marcella and Cornelia follow’d by Gal. and Fil.
Sil. Here be the Curtezans, my Lord.
Lau. Hah, Silvianetta and Euphemia! pursu’d too by my Cavalier! I’ll round the Garden, and mix my self amongst ‘em. [Exit with Silvio and her Train.
Mar. Prithee, Sister, let’s retire into the Grove, to avoid the Pursuit of these Cavaliers.
Cor. Not I, by these killing Eyes! I’ll stand my ground were there a thousand, all arm’d with conquering Beauty.
Mar. Hah — now on my Conscience yonder’s Fillamour.
Cor. Hah! Fillamour!
Mar. My Courage fails me at the sight of him — I must retire.
Cor. And I’ll to my Art of Love.
[Mar. retires, and leans against a Tree,
Cor. walks about reading.
Gal. ’Tis she, ’tis Silvianetta: Prithee advance, that thou mayst behold her, and renounce all honest Women; since in that one young Sinner there are Charms that wou’d excuse even to thee all frailty.
Fil. The Forms of Angels cou’d not reconcile me To Women of her Trade.
Gal. This is too happy an Opportunity, to be lost in convincing thy Singularity, —
[Gal. goes bowing by the side of Cornelia. Fil.
walks about in the Scene.
— If Creatures so fair and charming as your self, had any need of Prayer,
I shou’d believe by your profound Attention you were at your Evening’s
Devotion.
Cor. That you may find your Mistake in the opinion of my Charms, pray believe I am so, and ought not to be interrupted.
Gal. I hope a Man may have leave to make his Devotions by you, at least without Danger or Offence.
Cor. I know not that, I have reason to fear your Devotion may be ominous; like a blazing Star, it comes but seldom, — but ever threatens mischief — Pray Heaven, I share not in the Calamity.
Gal. Why, I confess, Madam, my Fit of Zeal does not take me often; but when it does, ’tis very harmless and wondrous hearty. —
Cor. You may begin then, I shall not be so wicked as to disturb you Orisons.
Gal. Wou’d I cou’d be well assur’d of that, for mine’s Devotion of great Necessity, and the Blessing I pray for infinitely concerns me; therefore in Christian Charity keep down your Eyes, and do not ruin a young Man’s good Intentions, unless they wou’d agree to send kind Looks, and save me the expence of Prayer.
Cor. Which wou’d be better laid out, you think, upon some other Blessing.
Gal. Why, faith, ’tis good to have a little Bank upon occasion, though I hope I shall have no great need here-after, — if the charming Silvianetta be but kind, ’tis all I ask of Heaven.
Cor. You’re very well acquainted with my Name, I find.
Gal. Your Name! ’tis all I have to live on!
Like chearful Birds, ’tis the first Tune I sing,
To welcome in the Day:
The Groves repeat it, and the Fountains purle it,
And every pretty Sound that fills my Ear.
Turns all to Silvianetta.
[Fil. looks awhile on Marcella.
Fil. Galliard, look there — look on that lovely Woman; ’tis Marcella, the beautiful Marcella.
[Offers to run to her, Gal. holds him.
Gal. Hold! Marcella! where?
Fil. That Lady there; didst ever see her equal?
Gal. Why, faith, as you say, Harry, that Lady is beautiful — and, make us thankful — kind: why, ’tis Euphemia, Sir, the very Curtezan I wou’d have shew’d you. —
Fil. Forbear, I am not fit for Mirth.
Gal. Nor I in Humour to make you merry; I tell ye — yonder Woman — is a Curtezan.
Fil. Do not profane, nor rob Heaven of a Saint.
Gal. Nor you rob Mankind of such a Blessing, by giving it to Heaven before its time. — I tell thee ’tis a Whore, a fine desirable expensive Whore.
Fil. By Heaven, it cannot be! I’ll speak to her, and call her my Marcella, and undeceive thy leud Opinion. [Offers to go, he holds him.
Gal. Do, salute her in good Company for an honest Woman — do, and spoil her Markets:— ‘twill be a pretty civil spiteful Compliment, and no doubt well taken; — come, I’ll convince ye, Sir. [Goes and pulls Philippa. — Harkye, thou kind Help meet for Man — thou gentle Child of Night — what is the Price of a Night or two ot Pleasure with yonder Lady — Euphemia, I mean, that Roman Curtezan —
Fil. Oh, Heavens! a Curtezan!
Phil. Sure you’re a great Stranger in Rome, that cannot tell her Price.
Gal. I am so; name it, prithee, here’s a young English Purchaser — Come forward, Man, and cheapen for your self — [Pulls him.
Phil. Oh, spare your pains, she wants no Customers. — [Flings away.
Fil. No, no, it cannot, must not be Marcella;
She has too much Divinity about her,
Not to defend her from all Imputation,
Scandal wou’d die to hear her Name pronounc’d.
Phil. Believe me, Madam, he knows you not; I over-heard all he said to that Cavalier, and find he’s much in love.
Mar. Not know me, and in love! punish him, Heaven, for his Falshood: but I’ll contribute to deceive him on, and ruin him with Perjury.
Fil. I am not yet convinc’d, I’ll try her farther. [Goes to her bowing.] — But, Madam, is that heavenly Beauty purchasable? I’ll pay a Heart, rich with such Wounds and Flames —
Gal. Not forgetting the Money too, good Lad, or your Wounds and Flames will be of little Use. [Gal. goes to Cornelia.
Mar. He tells you Truth, Sir, we are not like the Ladies of your Country, who tire out their Men with loving upon the square, Heart for Heart, till it becomes as dull as Matrimony: to Women of our Profession there’s no Rhetorick like ready Money, nor Billet-deux like Bills of Exchange.
Fil. Oh! that Heaven shou’d make two Persons so resembling, and yet such different Souls. [Looks on her.— ‘Sdeath, how she darts me through with every Look! But if she speak, she heals the Wound again.
Enter Octavio, with Followers.
Oct. Hah, my Rival Fillamour here! fall on — draw, Sir, — and say, I gave you one Advantage more, and fought thee fairly.
[Draws on Fil. who fights him out; the Ladies run off: Gal. falls on the Followers, with whom whilst he is engaged, enters Julio, draws and assists him, and Laura at the same time on the other side. Enter Petro drest like a Civility-Master; Sir Signal and Tickletext: Sir Signal climbs a Tree, Tick runs his Head into a Bush, and lies on his Hands and Knees. Pet. assists Gal. and fights out the Bravoes. Pet. re-enters.
Lau. Hah, my Cavalier engag’d amongst the Slaves!
Pet. My Lady’s Lovers! and set upon by Octavio! We must be diligent in our Affairs; Sir Signal, where are ye? Signior Tickletext. — I hope they have not miscarried in the fray.
Sir Sig. Oh, vos Servitor, vos Signiora; miscarried! no, the Fool has Wit enough to keep out of harm’s way. [Comes down from the Tree.
Pet. Oh, very discreetly done, Signior. — [Sees Tick, in a bush, pulls him out by the heels.
Sir Sig. Why, how now, Governour, what, afraid of Swords?
Tick. No, Sir, I am not afraid of Swords, but I am afraid of Danger.
Enter Gal. embracing Laura; after ‘em, Julio and Fil. Fil. looks about.
Gal. This Bravery, Sir, was wondrous.
Lau. ’Twas only Justice, Sir, you being opprest with odds.
Fil. She’s gone, she’s gone in Triumph with my Soul.
Jul. What was the matter, Sir? how came this Mischief?
Fil. Oh, easily, Sir; I did but look, and infinitely loved.
Jul. And therefore were you drawn upon, or was it some old Pique?
Fil. I know not, Sir, Oh, tell me not of Quarrels. The Woman, Friend, the Woman has undone me.
Gal. Oh, a blessed Hearing! I’m glad of the Reformation: Sir, you were so squeamish, forsooth, that a Whore wou’d not down with ye; no, ‘twou’d spoil your Reputation. —
Fil. A Whore! wou’d I cou’d be convinc’d she were so; ‘twou’d call my Virtue home, and make me Man again.
Gal. Thou ly’st — thou’rt as weak a Brother as the best of us, and believe me, Harry, these sort of Damsels are like Witches, if they once get hold of a Man, he’s their own till the Charm be ended; you guess what that is, Sir?
Fil. Oh, Frank, hadst thou then felt how tenderly she prest my Hand in hers, as if she wou’d have kept it there for ever, it wou’d have made thee mad, stark mad in Love! — and nothing but Marcella cou’d have charm’d me. [Aside.
Gal. Ay, Gad, I’ll warrant thee, — well, thou shalt this Night enjoy her.
Fil. How?
Gal. How! why, faith, Harry, e’en the old way, I know no other. Why, thou shalt lie with her, Man; come, let’s to her.
Fil. Away, let’s follow her instantly. [Going out is stopt by Sir Signal.
Enter Sir Sig. Tick. Petro.
Sir Sig. Signior, I have brought Mr. Tickletext to beg your Pardon — Sir.
Fil. I’ve other business, Sir. [Goes out.
Gal. Come, let’s follow him; and you, my generous Cavalier, must give me leave to beg the Honour of your Friendship.
Lau. My Inclinations, Sir, have given you more — pray let me wait on you to your Lodgings, lest a farther Insolence shou’d be offer’d you.
Gal. Sir, you oblige too fast.
[They go out.
Sir Sig. Ah, che Diavilo Ayles, these hot-brain’d fellows, sure, they’re drunk.
Pet. Oh, fy, Signior, drunk, for a Man of Quality— ’tis intolerable.
Sir Sig. Ay: why how so, Signior Morigoroso?
Pet. Imbriaco had made it a fine Speech indeed.
Sir Sig. Why, faith, and so it had, as thus, — ach Diavilo Ayles, these are hot-brain’d Fellows, sure they are imbriaco, — Now, wou’d not I be drunk for a thousand Crowns: Imbriaco sounds Cinquante per cent better. — Come, noble Signior, let’s andiamo a casa, which is as much as to say, let’s amble home. —
Tick. In troth, wondrous expert — Certo, Signior, he’s an apt Scholar.
Sir Sig. Ah, Sir, you shall see, when I come to my Civilities. —
Pet. Where the first Lesson you shall learn, is, how to give and how to receive with a Bon-Grace.
Tick. That receiving Lesson I will learn my self.
Pet. This unfrequented part of the Garden, Signior, will fit our purpose as well as your Lodgings. — first then — Signiors, your Address. [Puts himself in the middle. [Petro bows on both sides, they do the like. — Very well, that’s at the Approach of any Person of Quality, after which you must take out your Snuff-Box.
Sir Sig. Snuff-Box; why, we take no Snuff, Signior.
Pet. Then, Sir, by all means you must learn: for besides the Mode and Gravity of it, it inviveates the Pericranium; that is, sapientates the Brain, — that is, inspires Wit, Thought, Invention, Understanding, and the like — you conceive me, Signiors — [Bowing.
Sir Sig. Most profoundly, Signior. — [Bowing.
Pet. — Then, Signiors, it keeps you in confidence, and Countenance; and whilst you gravely seem to take a snush, you gain time to answer to the purpose, and in a politick Posture — as thus — to any intricate Question.
Tick. Hum — certo, I like that well; and ‘twere admirable if a Man were allow’d to take it when he’s out in’s Sermon.
Pet. Doubtless, Signior, you might, it helps the Memory better than Rosemary: therefore I have brought each of you a Snuff-Box.
Sir Sig. By no means: excuse me Signior.
[Refuses to take ‘em.
Pet. Ah, Baggatelles, Signior, Baggatelles; and now, Signiors, I’ll teach you how to take it with a handsom Grace: Signior, your Hand — and yours, Signior; [Lays Snuff on their hands. — so, now draw your hand to and fro under your Noses, and snuff it hard up — Excellent well.
[They daub all their Noses, and make Grimaces, and sneeze.
Sir Sig. Methinks, Signior, this Snuff stinks most damnably: pray, what scent do you call this?
Pet. Cackamarda Orangate, a rare Perfume I’ll assure ye, Sir.
Sir Sig. Cackamarda Orangate; and ‘twere not for the Name of Cackamarda, and so forth, a Man had as good have a Sir-reverence at his Nose.
[Sneezes often, he crys bonprovache.
Pet. Bonprovache — Signior, you do not understand it yet, bonprovache.
Sir Sig. Why, Sir, ’tis impossible to endure this same Cackamarda; why Assafetida is odoriferous to it. [Sneezing.
Pet. ’Tis your right Dulce Piquante, believe me: — but come, Signiors, wipe your Noses, and proceed to your giving Lesson.
Sir Sig. As how, Signior?
Pet. Why — present me with something — that — Diamond on your Finger, to shew the manner of giving handsomly. [Sir Sig. gives it him. — Oh, fie, Signior — between your Finger and Thumb — thus — with your other Fingers at a distance — with a speech, and a bow. —
Sir Sig. Illustrissimo Signior, the manifold Obligations.
Pet. Now a fine turn of your hand — thus — Oh, that sets off the Present, and makes it sparkle in the Eyes of the Receiver. — [Sir Sig. turns his hand.
Sir Sig. Which you have heap’d upon me, —
Pet. There flourish again. [He flourishes.
Sir Sig. Oblige me to beg your acceptance of this small Present, which will receive a double Lustre from your fair Hand. [Gives it him.
Pet. Now kiss your fingers ends, and retire back with a bow.
Tick. Most admirably perform’d.
Sir Sig. Nay, Sir, I have Docity in me, though I say’t: Come, Governor, let’s see how you can out-do me in the Art of presenting.
Tick. Well, Sir, come; your Snuff-Box will serve instead of my Ring, will it not?
Pet. By no means, Sir, there is such a certain Relation between a Finger and a Ring, that no Present becomes either the giving or the receiving Hand half so well.
Sir Sig. Why, ‘twill be restor’d again, ’tis but to practise by.
Pet. Ay, Signior, the next thing you are to learn is to receive.
Tick. Most worthy Signior, I have so exhausted the Cornucopia of your Favours, [Flourishes.] — and tasted so plenteously of the fulness of your bounteous Liberality, that to retaliate with this small Gem — is but to offer a Spark, where I have received a Beam of superabundant Sunshine. [Gives it.
Sir Sig. Most rhetorically perform’d, as I hope to breathe;
Tropes and Figures all over.
Tick. Oh Lord, Sir Signal.
Pet. Excellent — Now let’s see if you can refuse as civilly as you gave, which is by an obstinate denial; stand both together — Illustrious Signiors, upon my Honour my little Merit has not intitled me to the Glory of so splendid an Offering; Trophies worthy to be laid only at your Magnanimous Feet.
Sir Sig. Ah, Signior, no, no.
Pet. Signior Tickletext.
[He offers, they refuse going backward.
Tick. Nay, certo, Signior.
Pet. With what confidence can I receive so rich a Present? Signior Tickletext, ah — Signior —
Sir Sig. I vow, Signior — I’m ashamed you shou’d offer it.
Tick. In verity, so am I. [Still going back, he follows.]
Pet. Pardio! Baccus, most incomparable. —
Tick. But when, Signior, are we to learn to receive again? —
Pet. Oh, Sir, that’s always a Lesson of it self: — but now, Signiors, I’ll teach you how to act a story.
Sir Sig. How, how, Signior, to act a story?
Pet. Ay, Sir, no matter for words or sense, so the Body perform its part well.
Sir Sig. How, tell a story without words! why, this were an excellent device for Mr. Tickletext, when he’s to hold forth to the Congregation, and has lost his Sermon-Notes — why, this is wonderful. —
Pet. Oh, Sir, I have taught it Men born deaf [Gets between ‘em: Makes a sign of being fat; galloping about the Stage.] and blind: — look ye, stand close together, and observe — closer yet: — a certain Eclejastico, Plump and Rich — Riding along the Road, meets a Paver strapiao, — un Pavaro strapiao, Paure strapiao: — strapiao — strapiao — strapiao [Puts himself into the Posture of a lean Beggar; his hands right down by his sides, — and picks both their Pockets.] Elemosuna per un Paure strapiao, par a Moure de Dievos — at last he begs a Julio — Neinte [makes the fat Bishop.] the Paure strapiao begs a Mezo Julio — [lean] Neinte [fat] — une bacio — [lean] — Neinte — [fat] — at last he begs his Blessing — and see how willingly the Ecclesiastico gave his Benediction. [Opening his Arms, hits them both in the face.] — Scusa, scusa mea, Patronas — [Begs their pardon.]
Sir Sig. Yes, very willingly, which by the way he had never done had it been worth a farthing.
Tick. Marry, I wou’d he had been a little sparing of that too at this time — [sneezes] a shame on’t, it has stir’d this same Cackamarda again most foully.
Pet. Your pardon, Signior; — but come, Sir Signal, — let’s see how you will make this silent relation — Come, stand between us two —
Sir Sig. Nay, let me alone for a memory — come.
Pet. I think I have reveng’d my Backsword-beating. [Goes off.]
Sir Sig. Un paureo strapado — plump and rich, no, no, the Ecclesiastico meet un paureo strapado — and begs a Julio.
Tick. Oh, no, Sir, the strapado begs the Julio.
Sir Sig. Ay, ay, and the Ecclesastico crys Niente — [snaps his nail.] un meze Julio! — Niente — un Bacio, Niente: your Blessing then, Signior Ecclesastico. [Spreads out his Arms to give his blessing — and hits Tick.]
Tick. Adds me, you are all a little too liberal of this same Benediction.
Sir Sig. Hah — but where’s Signior Morigoroso? what, is he gone? — but now I think on’t, ’tis a point of good manners to go without taking leave.
Tick. It may be so, but I wish I had my Ring again, I do not like the giving Lesson without the taking one; why this is picking a Man’s pocket, certo.
Sir Sig. Not so, Governour, for then I had had a considerable loss: Look ye here, — how — how [feeling in his Pocket.] how — [in another] how — gone? gone as I live, my Money, Governour; all the Gold Barberacho receiv’d of my Merchant to day — all gone. —
Tick. Hah — and mine — all my stock, the Money which I thought to have made a present to the Gentlewoman, Barberacho was to bring me to — [Aside.] — Undone, undone — Villains, Cutpurses — Cheats, oh, run after him.
Sir Sig. A Pox of all silent stories; Rogue, Thief — undone. —
[Exeunt.