Enter Occulto, Silvio, and two or three other thieves
OCCULTO
Come, come, let’s watch th’event on yonder hill.
If he need help, we can relieve him suddenly.
SILVIO
Ay, and with safety too, the hill being watched, sir.
OCCULTO
Have you the blue coats and the beards?
SILVIO
They’re here, sir.
OCCULTO
Come, come away, then. A fine cock-shoot evening.
Exit [Occulto, with other thieves]
Enter Latrocinio (the chief thief) and Ansaldo
LATROCINIO
[singing]
Kuck before and kuck behind, etc.
ANSALDO
Troth, you’re the merriest and delightful’st company, sir,
That ever traveller was blessed withal.
I praise my fortune that I overtook you, sir.
LATROCINIO
Pish, I’ve a hundred of ‘em.
ANSALDO
And believe me, sir,
I’m infinitely taken with such things.
LATROCINIO
I see there’s music in you. You kept time, methought,
Pretty and handsomely with your little hand there.
ANSALDO
It only shows desire but, troth, no skill, sir.
LATROCINIO
Well, while our horses walk down yonder hill, sir,
I’ll have another for you.
ANSALDO
It rids way pleasantly.
LATROCINIO
Lemme see now. One confounds another, sir.
You’ve heard this certainly: [sings] Come, my dainty doxies.
ANSALDO
O that’s all the country over, sir.
There’s scarce a gentlewoman but has that pricked.
LATROCINIO
Well, here comes one I’m sure you never heard then.
[He sings a] song
I keep my horse, I keep my whore,
I take no rents, yet am not poor.
I travel all the land about
And yet was born to ne’er a foot.
With partridge plump, with woodcock fine,
I do at midnight often dine,
And if my whore be not in case
My hostess’ daughter takes her place.
The maids sit up and watch their turns;
If I stay long the tapster mourns;
The cook-maid has no mind to sin,
Though tempted by the chamberl’in.
But when I knock, O how they bustle!
The ostler yawns, the geldings justle.
If maid but sleep, O how they curse her!
And all this comes of ‘Deliver your purse, sir!’
[He draws a weapon]
ANSALDO
How, sir?
LATROCINIO
Few words. Quickly, come, deliver your purse, sir.
ANSALDO
You’re not that kind of gentleman, I hope, sir,
To sing me out of my money.
LATROCINIO
’Tis most fit
Art should be rewarded. You must pay your music, sir,
Where’er you come.
ANSALDO
But not at your own carving.
LATROCINIO
Nor am I common in’t. Come, come, your purse, sir.
ANSALDO
Say it should prove th’undoing of a gentleman?
LATROCINIO
Why, sir, do you look for more conscience in us than in usurers? Young gentleman, you’ve small reason for that, i’faith.
ANSALDO
[giving his purse]
There ’tis, and all I have, and — so truth comfort me —
All I know where to have.
LATROCINIO
Sir, that’s not written
In my belief yet. Search. ’Tis a fine evening;
Your horse can take no harm. I must have more, sir.
ANSALDO
May my hopes perish if you have not all, sir,
And more I know than your compassionate charity
Would keep from me, if you but felt my wants.
LATROCINIO
Search, and that speedily. If I take you in hand,
You’ll find me rough. Methinks men should be ruled
When they’re so kindly spoke to. Fie upon’t!
ANSALDO
[aside]
Good fortune and my wit assist me then!
A thing I took in haste, and never thought on’t. —
Look, sir, I’ve searched; here’s all that I can find,
[He shows a pistol]
And you’re so covetous, you will have all, you say,
And I’m content you shall, being kindly spoke to.
LATROCINIO
A pox o’ that young devil of a handful long!
That’s frayed many a tall thief from a rich purchase.
ANSALDO
This and my money, sir, keeps company.
Where one goes, th’other must. Assure your soul
They vowed never to part.
LATROCINIO
Hold, I beseech you, sir.
ANSALDO
You rob a prisoner’s box, an you rob me, sir.
LATROCINIO
[giving back the purse]
There ’tis again.
ANSALDO
I knew ’twould never prosper with you.
Fie, rob a younger brother? O take heed, sir.
’Tis against nature, that. Perhaps your father
Was one, sir, or your uncle; it should seem so
By the small means was left you, and less manners.
Go, keep you still before me. And do you hear me?
To pass away the time to the next town,
I charge you, sir, sing all your songs for nothing.
LATROCINIO
O horrible punishment!
[He sings] a song
Enter Stratio [disguised as a servant]
STRATIO
Honest gentleman —
ANSALDO
How now, what art thou?
STRATIO
Stand you in need of help?
I made all haste I could. My master charged me,
A knight of worship. He saw you first assaulted
From top of yonder hill.
ANSALDO
Thanks, honest friend.
LATROCINIO
[aside]
I taste this trick already. Exit
STRATIO
Look, he’s gone, sir.
Shall he be stopped? What is he?
ANSALDO
Let him go, sir.
He can rejoice in nothing; that’s the comfort.
STRATIO
You have your purse still then?
ANSALDO
Ay, thanks fair fortune
And this grim handful.
STRATIO
We were all so ‘fraid o’ you.
How my good lady cried, ‘O help the gentleman!’
’Tis a good woman, that. But you’re too mild, sir.
You should ha’ marked him for a villain, faith,
Before he’d gone, having so sound a means, too.
ANSALDO
Why, there’s the jest, man. He had once my purse —
STRATIO
O villain! Would you let him ‘scape unmassacred?
ANSALDO
Nay, hear me, sir. I made him yield it straight again
And — so hope bless me! — with an uncharged pistol.
STRATIO
Troth, I should laugh at that.
ANSALDO
It was discharged, sir,
Before I meddled with’t.
STRATIO
I’m glad to hear’t.
[He threatens Ansaldo]
ANSALDO
Why, how now, what’s your will?
STRATIO
Ho! Latrocinio, Occulto, Silvio!
Enter Latrocinio and the rest: Occulto, Silvio,
Fiducio
LATROCINIO
[to Ansaldo] What, are you caught, sir?
STRATIO
The pistol cannot speak.
LATROCINIO
He was too young.
I ever thought he could not, yet I feared him.
ANSALDO
You’ve found out ways too merciless to betray
Under the veil of friendship and of charity.
LATROCINIO
Away, sirs! Bear him in to th’ next copse and strip him.
STRATIO
Brandino’s copse, the Justice?
LATROCINIO
Best of all, sir, a man of law. A spider lies unsuspected in the corner of a buckram bag, man.
ANSALDO
What seek you, sirs? Take all, and use no cruelty.
LATROCINIO
You shall have songs enough.
ALL THIEVES
[singing a] song
How round the world goes
And everything that’s in it.
The tides of gold and silver
Ebb and flow in a minute.
From the usurer to his sons,
There a current swiftly runs;
From the sons to queans in chief,
From the gallant to the thief,
From the thief unto his host,
From the host to husbandmen,
From the country to the court,
And so comes to use again.
How round the world goes
And everything that’s in it.
The tides of gold and silver
Ebb and flow in a minute. Exeunt
Enter Philippa and Violetta above at the window
PHILIPPA
What time of night is’t?
VIOLETTA
Time of night do you call’t? ft’s so late, ’tis almost early, mistress.
PHILIPPA
Fie on him! There’s no looking for him, then.
Why, sure this gentleman apprehends me not.
VIOLETTA
’Tis happy then you’re rid of such a fool, mistress.
PHILIPPA
Nay sure, wench, if he find me not out in this,
Which were a beaten path to any wiseman,
I’ll never trust him with my reputation.
Therefore I made this trial of his wit.
If he cannot conceive what’s good for himself,
He will worse understand what’s good for me.
VIOLETTA
But suppose, mistress, as it may be likely,
He never saw your letter.
PHILIPPA
How thou plyest me
With suppositions! Why, I tell thee, wench,
’Tis equally as impossible for my husband
To keep it from him as to be young again,
Or as his first wife knew him, which he brags on
For bearing children by him.
VIOLETTA
There’s no remedy then.
I must conclude Francisco is an ass.
PHILIPPA
I would my letter, wench, were here again.
I’d know him wiser ere I sent him one,
And travel some five year first.
VIOLETTA
So he’d need, methinks,
To understand the words. Methinks the words
Themselves should make him do’t, had he but the perceiverance
Of a cock-sparrow, that will come at ‘Philip!’,
And can nor write nor read, poor fool. This coxcomb,
He can do both, and your name’s but Philippa,
And yet to see if he can come when’s called!
PHILIPPA
He never shall be called again for me, sirrah.
Well, as hard as the world goes, we’ll have a song, wench;
We’ll not sit up for nothing.
VIOLETTA
That’s poor comfort, though.
PHILIPPA
Better than any’s brought, for aught I see yet.
So set to your lute.
[They sing a] song
[PHILIPPA]
If in this question I propound to thee
Be any, any choice,
Let me have thy voice.
[VIOLETTA]
You shall most free.
[PHILIPPA]
Which hadst thou rather be
If thou mightst choose thy life:
A fool’s, a fool’s mistress
Or an old man’s wife?
[VIOLETTA]
The choice is hard; I know not which is best.
One ill you’re bound to, and I think that’s least.
[PHILIPPA]
But being not bound, my dearest sweet,
I could shake off the other.
[VIOLETTA]
Then, as you lose your sport by one,
You lose your name by t’other.
[PHILIPPA]
You counsel well, but love refuses
What good counsel often chooses.
[They remain above, unseen]
Enter Ansaldo in his shirt [below]
ANSALDO
I ha’ got myself unbound yet. Merciless villains!
I never felt such hardness since life dwelt in me.
’Tis for my sins. That light in yonder window —
That was my only comfort in the woods,
Which oft the trembling of a leaf would lose me —
Has brought me thus far; yet I cannot hope
For succour in this plight: the world’s so pitiless,
And everyone will fear or doubt me now.
To knock will be too bold; I’ll to the gate
And listen if I can hear any stirring.
Enter Francisco [aloof]
FRANCISCO
[aside]
Was ever man so crossed? — No, ’tis but sweat, sure,
Or the dew dropping from the leaves above me;
I thought ‘t’ad bled again. These wenching businesses
Are strange unlucky things and fatal fooleries;
No mar’l so many gallants die ere thirty.
’Tis able to vex out a man’s heart in five year,
The crosses that belong to’t: first, arrested —
That set me back two mangy hours at least;
Yet that’s a thing my heat could have forgiv’n,
Because arresting, in what kind soever,
Is a most gentleman-like affliction.
But here, within a mile o’th’ town, forsooth,
And two mile off this place, when a man’s oath
Might ha’ been taken for his own security,
And his thoughts brisk and set upon the business,
To light upon a roguy flight of thieves —
Pox on ‘em! Here’s the length of one of their whittles.
But one of my dear rascals I pursued so
The jail has him, and he shall bring out’s fellows.
Had ever young man’s love such crooked fortune?
I’m glad I’m so near yet. The surgeon bade me too
Have a great care. I shall never think of that now.
ANSALDO
[aside]
One of the thieves come back again? I’ll stand close.
He dares not wrong me now, so near the house,
And call in vain ’tis, till I see him offer’t.
FRANCISCO
[aside]
Life, what should that be? A prodigious thing
Stands just as I should enter, in that shape too
Which always appears terrible.
Whate’er it be, it is made strong against me
By my ill purpose. For ’tis man’s own sin
That puts an armour upon all his evils
And gives them strength to strike him. Were it less
Than what it is, my guilt would make it serve.
A wicked man’s own shadow has distracted him.
Were this a business now to save an honour,
As ’tis to spoil one, I would pass this then,
Stuck all hell’s horrors i’ thee; now I dare not.
Why may’t not be the spirit of my father
That loved this man so well, whom I make haste
Now to abuse? And I have been crossed about it
Most fearfully hitherto, if I well think on’t,
‘Scaped death but lately too, nay most miraculously.
And what does fond man venture all these ills for,
That may so sweetly rest in honest peace?
For that which, being obtained, [] is as he was
To his own sense, but removed nearer still
To death eternal. What delight has man
Now at this present for his pleasant sin
Of yesterday’s committing?’Las, ’tis vanished,
And nothing but the sting remains within him.
The kind man bailed me too. I will not do’t now,
An ‘twere but only that. How blest were man,
Might he but have his end appear still to him,
That he might read his actions i’th’ event?
’Twould make him write true, though he never meant.
Whose check soe’er thou art, father’s or friend’s
Or enemy’s, I thank thee. Peace requite thee. —
Light, and the lighter mistress, both farewell.
He keeps his promise best that breaks with hell. Exit
ANSALDO
He’s gone to call the rest, and makes all speed.
I’ll knock, whate’er befalls, to please my fears,
For no compassion can be less than theirs.
[Ansaldo knocks]
PHILIPPA
He’s come, he’s come. — O, are you come at last, sir?
Make little noise. — Away, he’ll knock again else.
[Exeunt above]
ANSALDO
I should have been at Istria, by daybreak too;
Near to Valeria’s house, the wealthy widow’s,
There waits one purposely to do me good.
What will become of me?
Enter Violetta [below]
VIOLETTA
O you’re a sweet gallant. This, your hour?
Give me your hand. Come, come, sir, follow me.
I’ll bring you to light presently. Softly, softly, sir.
Exeunt
Enter Philippa below
PHILIPPA
I should ha’ given him up to all my thoughts
The dullest young man, if he had not found it.
So short of apprehension and so witless,
He were not fit for woman’s fellowship.
I’ve been at cost too for a banquet for him.
Why, ’twould ha’ killed my heart, and most especially
To think that man should ha’ no more conceit.
I should ha’ thought the worse on’s wit forever,
And blamed mine own for too much forwardness.
Enter Violetta
VIOLETTA
O mistress, mistress!
PHILIPPA
How now, what’s the news?
VIOLETTA
O I was out of my wits for a minute and a half.
PHILIPPA
Ha?
VIOLETTA
They are scarce settled yet, mistress.
PHILIPPA
What’s the matter?
VIOLETTA
Do you ask that seriously?
Did you not hear me squeak?
PHILIPPA
How? Sure thou art
Out of thy wits indeed.
VIOLETTA
O, I’m well now,
To what I was, mistress.
PHILIPPA
Why, where’s the gentleman?
VIOLETTA
The gentleman’s forthcoming, and a lovely one,
But not Francisco.
PHILIPPA
What sayst? not Francisco?
VIOLETTA
Pish, he’s a coxcomb. Think not on him, mistress.
PHILIPPA
What’s all this?
VIOLETTA
I’ve often heard you say ye’d rather have
A wise man in his shirt than a fool feathered,
And now Fortune has sent you one, a sweet young gentleman,
Robbed e’en to nothing but what first he brought with him.
The slaves had stripped him to th’ very shirt, mistress.
I think it was a shirt; I know not well,
For gallants wear both nowadays.
PHILIPPA
This is strange.
VIOLETTA
But for a face, a hand, and as much skin
As I durst look upon, he’s a most sweet one.
Francisco is a child of Egypt to him.
I could not but in pity to th’ poor gentleman
Fetch him down one of my old master’s suits.
PHILIPPA
’Twas charitably done.
VIOLETTA
You’d say, mistress, if you had seen him as I did.
Sweet youth! I’ll be sworn, mistress, he’s the loveliest,
Proper’st young gentleman, and so you’ll say yourself,
If my master’s clothes do not spoil him; that’s all the fear now.
I would ‘t’ad been your luck to have seen him
Without ‘em, but for scaring on you.
PHILIPPA
Go, prithee fetch him in whom thou commend’st so.
Exit Violetta
Since fortune sends him, surely we’ll make much on him;
And better he deserves our love and welcome
Than the respectless fellow ’twas prepared for.
Yet if he please mine eye never so happily
I will have trial of his wit and faith
Before I make him partner with my honour.
’Twas just Francisco’s case, and he deceived me.
I’ll take more heed o’th’ next for’t. Perhaps now
To furnish his distress he will appear
Full of fair promising courtship; but I’ll prove him then
For a next meeting, when he needs me not,
And see what he performs then when the storm
Of his so rude misfortunes is blown over
And he himself again. A distressed man’s flatteries
Are like vows made in drink, or bonds in prison;
There’s poor assurance in ‘em. When he’s from me
And in’s own pow’r, then I shall see his love.
Enter Ansaldo [in Brandino’s clothes] and Violetta
Mass, here he comes.
[Ansaldo and Violetta talk apart]
ANSALDO
Never was star-crossed gentleman
More happy in a courteous virgin’s love
Than I in yours.
VIOLETTA
I’m sorry they’re no better for you.
I wished ‘em handsomer and more in fashion,
But truly, sir, our house affords it not.
There is a suit of our clerk’s hangs i’th’ garret,
But that’s far worse than this, if I may judge
With modesty of men’s matters.
ANSALDO
I deserve not this,
Dear and kind gentlewoman. Is you your mistress?
PHILIPPA
Why, trust me, here’s my husband young again! —
It is no sin to welcome you, sweet gentleman.
ANSALDO
I am so much indebted, courteous lady,
To the unmatched charity of your house,
My thanks are such poor things they would but shame me.
[Philippa and Violetta talk apart]
PHILIPPA
Beshrew thy heart for bringing o’ him! I fear me
I have found wit enough already in him.
If I could truly but resolve myself
My husband was thus handsome at nineteen,
Troth, I should think the better of him at fourscore now.
VIOLETTA
Nay, mistress, what would he be, were he in fashion —
A hempen curse on those that put him out on’t! —
That now appears so handsome and so comely, in clothes
Able to make a man an unbeliever
And good for nothing but for shift or so
If a man chance to fall i’th’ ditch with better?
This is the best that ever I marked in ‘em.
A man may make him ready in such clothes
Without a candle.
PHILIPPA
Ay, for shame of himself, wench.
VIOLETTA
My master does it oft in winter mornings
And never sees himself till he be ready.
PHILIPPA
No, nor then neither, as he should do, wench. —
I am sorry, gentle sir, we cannot show you
A courtesy in all points answerable
To your undoubted worth. Your name I crave, sir.
ANSALDO
Ansaldo, lady.
PHILIPPA
’Tis a noble name, sir.
ANSALDO
The most unfortunate now.
VIOLETTA
So do I think, truly,
As long as that suit’s on.
PHILIPPA
The most unfitting
And unprovidest, sir, of all our courtesies,
I do presume, is that you’ve passed already.
Your pardon but for that, and we’re encouraged.
ANSALDO
My faithful service, lady.
PHILIPPA
Please you, sir,
To taste the next, a poor slight banquet, for sure I think you were
Unluckily prevented of your supper, sir.
ANSALDO
My fortune makes me more than amends, lady,
In your sweet kindness, which (so nobly shown to me)
It makes me bold to speak my occasions to you.
I am this morning, that with clearness now
So cheerfully hastens me, to meet a friend
Upon my state’s establishing, and the place
Ten mile from hence. O I am forced unwillingly
To crave your leave for’t; which done, I return
In service plentiful.
PHILIPPA
Is’t so important?
ANSALDO
If I should fail, as much as my undoing.
PHILIPPA
I think too well of you to undo you, sir,
Upon this small acquaintance.
ANSALDO
My great happiness.
PHILIPPA
But when should I be sure of you here again, sir?
ANSALDO
As fast as speed can possibly return me.
PHILIPPA
You will not fail?
ANSALDO
May never wish go well with me then!
PHILIPPA
[giving him money]
There’s to bear charges, sir.
ANSALDO
Courtesy dwells in you.
I brought my horse up with me from the woods;
That’s all the good they left me, ‘gainst their wills too.
May your kind breast never want comfort, lady,
But still supplied as liberally as you give.
PHILIPPA
Farewell, sir, and be faithful.
ANSALDO
Time shall prove me.
Exit
PHILIPPA
In my opinion now, this young man’s likeliest
To keep his word. He’s modest, wise, and courteous.
He has the language of an honest soul in him.
A woman’s reputation may lie safe there.
I’m much deceived else. H’as a faithful eye,
If it be well observed.
VIOLETTA
[calling] Good speed be with thee, sir! —
He puts him to’t, i’faith.
PHILIPPA
Violetta.
VIOLETTA
Mistress?
PHILIPPA
Alas, what have we done, wench?
VIOLETTA
What’s the matter, mistress?
PHILIPPA
Run, run, call him again. He must stay, tell him,
Though it be upon’s undoing. We’re undone else.
Your master’s clothes, they’re known the country over.
VIOLETTA
Now by this light that’s true, and well remembered.
But there’s no calling of him; he’s out of sight now.
PHILIPPA
O what will people think?
VIOLETTA
What can they think, mistress?
The gentleman has the worst on’t. Were I he now
I’d make this ten mile forty mile about
Before I’d ride through any market town with ‘em.
PHILIPPA
Will he be careful, think’st?
VIOLETTA
My life for yours, mistress.
PHILIPPA
I shall long mightily to see him again.
VIOLETTA
And so shall I; I shall ne’er laugh till then. Exeunt