Vinton A. Dearing and Alan Roper (eds), The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 14: Plays; The Kind Keeper; The Spanish Fryar; The Duke of Guise; and The Vindication of the Duke of Guise
Editor’s NoteACT I.
Alphonso, Pedro meet, with Souldiers on each side, Drums, &c.Critical Apparatus1
Alph. Stand: give the Word.
Pedro. The Queen of Arragon.2
Alph. Pedro?———how goes the night?
Pedr. She wears apace.3
Alph. Then welcom day-light: We shall have warm work on't:
4The Moore will 'gage
5His utmost Forces on this next Assault,
6To win a Queen and Kingdom.7
Pedro. Pox o' this Lyon-way of wooing though:
8Is the Queen stirring yet?9
Alph. She has not been abed: but in her Chapel
10All night devoutly watch'd: and brib'd the Saints
11With Vows for her Deliverance.
Pedro. O, Alphonso,
12I fear they come too late! her Father's crimes
13Sit heavy on her; and weigh down her prayers:
14A Crown usurp'd; a lawfull King depos'd;
15In bondage held; debarr'd the common light;
16His Children murther'd, and his Friends destroy'd: pg 10917What can we less expect then what we feel,
18And what we fear will follow?
Alph. Heav'n avert it!19
Pedro. Then Heav'n must not be Heav'n: Judge the event
20By what has pass'd: Th' Usurper joy'd not long
21His ill-got Crown! 'Tis true, he dy'd in peace:
22Unriddle that ye Pow'rs: But left his Daughter,
23Our present Queen, ingag'd, upon his death-bed,
24To marry with young Bertran, whose curs'd Father
25Had help'd to make him great.
26Hence, you well know, this fatal War arose;
Editor’s Note27Because the Moore, Abdalla, with whose Troops
28Th' Usurper gain'd the Kingdom, was refus'd;
29And, as an Infidel, his Love despis'd.30
Alph. Well; we are Souldiers, Pedro: and, like Lawyers,
31Plead for our Pay.
Pedro. A good Cause wou'd doe well though:
32It gives my Sword an Edge: You see this Bertran
33Has now three times been beaten by the Moores:
34What hope we have, is in young Torrismond,
35Your brother's Son.
Alph. He's a successfull Warriour,
36And has the Souldiers hearts: Upon the skirts
Editor’s Note37Of Arragon, our squander'd Troops he rallies:
38Our Watchmen, from the Tow'rs, with longing Eyes
39Expect his swift Arrival.40
Pedro. It must be swift, or it will come too late.41
Alph. No more:———Duke Bertran.Critical ApparatusEnter Bertran, attended.42
Bertr. Relieve the Cent'rys that have watch'd all night.
Critical Apparatus43To Ped. Now, Collonel, have you dispos'd your men,
pg 11044That you stand idle here?
Pedro. Mine are drawn off,
45To take a short repose.
Bertr. Short let it be:
46For, from the Moorish Camp, this hour and more,
47There has been heard a distant humming noise,
48Like Bees disturb'd, and arming in their hives.
49What Courage in our Souldiers? Speak! What hope?50
Pedro. As much as when Physicians shake their heads,
51And bid their dying Patient think of Heav'n.
52Our Walls are thinly mann'd: our best Men slain:
53The rest, an heartless number, spent with Watching,
54And harass'd out with Duty.
Bertran. Good-night all then.55
Pedro. Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life
56I have to lose: I'll plant my Colours down
57In the mid-breach, and by 'em fix my foot:
58Say a short Souldier's Pray'r, to spare the trouble
59Of my few Friends above: and then expect
60The next fair Bullet.61
Alph. Never was known a night of such distraction:
62Noise so confus'd and dreadfull: Justling Crowds,
63That run, and know not whither: Torches gliding,
64Like Meteors, by each other in the streets.65
Pedro. I met a reverend, fat, old, gouty Fryar;
66With a Paunch swoln so high, his double Chin
67Might rest upon't: A true Son of the Church;
Editor’s Note68Fresh colour'd, and well thriven on his Trade,
Editor’s Note69Come puffing with his greazy bald-pate Quire,
70And fumbling o'er his Beads, in such an Agony,
71He told 'em false for fear: About his Neck
Editor’s Note72There hung a Wench; the Labell of his Function;
73Whom he shook off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.
74It seems the holy Stallion durst not score
75Another Sin before he left the world.Enter a Captain.pg 111 76
Capt. To Arms, My Lord, to Arms.
77From the Moors Camp the noise grows louder still:
Editor’s Note78Rattling of Armour, Trumpets, Drums, and Ataballes;
79And sometimes Peals of Shouts that rend the Heav'ns,
80Like Victory: Then Groans again, and Howlings,
81Like those of vanquish'd men: But every Echo
82Goes fainter off; and dyes in distant Sounds.83Enter second Captain.
Bertran. Some false Attaque: expect on t'other side:
85Bid 'em, for shame,
86Level their Cannon lower: On my Soul,
Editor’s Note87They're all corrupted with the Gold of Barbary
88To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.89
2. Capt. My Lord, here's fresh Intellience arriv'd:
90Our Army, led by Valiant Torrismond,
91Is now in hot Engagement with the Moors;
92'Tis said, within their Trenches.93
Bertr. I think all Fortune is reserv'd for him.
94He might have sent us word though;
95And then we cou'd have favour'd his Attempt
96With Sallies from the Town.———
Alph. It cou'd not be:
97We were so close block'd up that none cou'd peepe
98Upon the Walls and live: But yet 'tis time:———99
Bertr. No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:
100On pain of Death, let no man dare to sally.Critical Apparatus101
Pedr. (Aside.) Oh Envy, Envy, how it works within him!
102How now! What means this Show?
Alph. 'Tis a Procession:
103The Queen is going to the great Cathedral
104To pray for our Success against the Moores.Editor’s Note105
Pedro. Very good: She usurps the Throne; keeps the old King
pg 112106in Prison; and, at the same time, is praying for a Blessing: Oh
107Religion and Roguery, how they go together!A Procession of Priests and Choristers in white, with Tapers, Critical Apparatusfollow'd by the Queen and Ladies, goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing.
- 108Look down, ye bless'd above, look down,
- Critical Apparatus109 Behold our weeping Matrons Tears,
- 110 Behold our tender Virgins Fears,
- 111And with success our Armies crown.
[The Procession goes off; and shout within. Then enter Lorenzo, who kneels to Alphonso.
- 112Look down, ye bless'd above, look down:
- 113 Oh! save us, save us, and our State restore;
- 114 For Pitty, Pitty, Pitty, we implore;
- 115For Pitty, Pitty, Pitty, we implore.Critical Apparatus116
Bertr. to Alph. A joyfull Cry: and see your Son Lorenzo:
117Good news kind Heav'n!118
Alph. to Lorenzo. O, welcome, welcome! Is the General safe?
119How near our Army? When shall we be succour'd?
Critical Apparatus120Or, are we succour'd? Are the Moores remov'd?
121Answer these Questions first; and then, a Thousand more:
122Answer 'em all together.123
Lorenzo. Yes, when I have a thousand Tongues, I will.
124The General's well: His Army too is safe
125As Victory can make 'em: The Moores King
126Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.
127At dawn of day our General cleft his Pate,
Editor’s Note128Spight of his woollen Night-cap: A slight wound:
129Perhaps he may recover.pg 113
Alphonso. Thou reviv'st me.130
Pedro. By my computation now, the Victory was gain'd before
131the Procession was made for it; and yet it will go hard, but the
132Priests will make a Miracle on't.133
Lorenzo. Yes, Faith; we came like bold intruding Guests;
134And took 'em unprepar'd to give us welcome:
135Their Scouts we kill'd; then found their Body sleeping:
136And as they lay confus'd, we stumbl'd o'er 'em;
137And took what Joint came next; Arms, Heads, or Leggs;
138Somewhat undecently: But when men want light
139They make but bungling work.
Bertr. I'll to the Queen,
140And bear the News.
Pedro. That's young Lorenzo's duty.141
Bertr. I'll spare his trouble.———
142This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;
Critical Apparatus143He must be mine, or ruin'd. (Aside.)
Lorenzo. Pedro, a word:———(Whisper.)[Exit Bertran.144
Alph. How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,
145In spight of his dissembling. To Lorenzo. Critical Apparatus146How many of the Enemy are slain?147
Lorenzo. Troth, Sir, we were in hast; and cou'd not stay
148To score the men we kill'd: But there they lye.
149Best send our Women out to take the tale;
Editor’s Note150There's Circumcision in abundance for 'em.[Turns to Pedro again.151
Alph. How far did you pursue 'em?
Lorenzo. Some few miles.———
To Pedro. Editor’s Note152Good store of Harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?
153Pedro, They must be had; and speedily:
154I've kept a tedious Fast. (Whisper again.)155
Alph. When will he make his Entry? He deserves
156Such Triumphs as were giv'n by Ancient Rome:
157Ha, Boy, What saiest thou?158
Lorenzo. As you say, Sir, That Rome was very ancient———
pg 114 To Pedro. Critical Apparatus159I leave the choice to you; Fair, Black, Tall, Low:
Editor’s Note160Let her but have a Nose:———and you may tell her
161I'm rich in Jewels, Rings, and bobbing Pearls
162Pluck'd from Moores ears.———
Lorenzo. Somewhat busie
Editor’s Note163About Affairs relating to the publick.———
Editor’s Note164———A seasonable Girl, just in the nick now:———Critical Apparatus[To Pedro. [Trumpets within.165
Pedro. I hear the General's Trumpets: Stand, and mark
166How he will be receiv'd; I fear, but coldly:
167There hung a Cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.168
Lorenzo. Then look to see a Storm on Torrismond's:
169Looks fright not men: The General has seen Moores,
170With as bad Faces; no dispraise to Bertran's.171
Pedro. 'Twas rumour'd in the Camp, he loves the Queen.172
Lorenzo. He drinks her Health devoutly.173
Alph. That may breed bad bloud 'twixt him and Bertran.174
Pedro. Yes, in private:
175But Bertran has been taught the Arts of Court,
176To guild a Face with Smiles; and leer a man to ruin.
177O here they come.———Enter Torrismond and Officers on one side: Bertran attended on the other: they embrace; Bertran bowing low.
Just as I prophesy'd.———178
Lorenzo. Death and Hell, he laughs at him:———in's Face too.179
Pedro. O, you mistake him: 'Twas an humble Grin;
180The fawning Joy of Courtiers and of Dogs.Critical Apparatus181
Lorenzo. (Aside.) Here are nothing but Lyes to be expected: 182I'll e'en go lose my self in some blind Alley; and try if any cour-183teous Damsel will think me worth the finding.[Exit Lorenzo.Editor’s Note184
Alph. Now he begins to open.185
Bertran. Your Country rescu'd, and your Queen reliev'd!
186A glorious Conquest; Noble Torrismond! pg 115187The People rend the Skyes with loud Applause;
188And Heav'n can hear no other Name but yours.
189The thronging Crowds press on you as you pass;
190And, with their eager Joy, make Triumph slow.Editor’s Note191
Torr. My Lord, I have no taste
192Of popular Applause; the noisie Praise
193Of giddy Crowds, as changeable as Winds;
194Still vehement, and still without a cause:
195Servants to Chance; and blowing in the tyde
196Of swoln Success; but, veering with its ebbe,
197It leaves the channel dry.
Bertran. So young a Stoick!198
Torr. You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop
199Within these Veins for Pageants: But let Honour
200Call for my Bloud; and sluce it into streams;
201Turn Fortune loose again to my pursuit;
202And let me hunt her through embattell'd Foes,
203In dusty Plains, amidst the Cannons roar,
Critical Apparatus204There will I be the first.
Bert. I'll try him farther———(Aside.)
Editor’s Note205Suppose th' assembled States of Arragon
206Decree a Statue to you thus inscrib'd,
Critical Apparatus207To Torrismond, who freed his native Land.208
Alph. to Pedro. Mark how he sounds and fathoms him, to find
Editor’s Note209The shallows of his Soul!
Bertr. The just Applause
210Of God-like Senates, is the Stamp of Vertue,
211Which makes it pass unquestion'd through the World:
212These Honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage
213Be last to fix 'em on you: If refus'd,
214You brand us all with black Ingratitude;
215For times to come shall say, Our Spain, like Rome,
216Neglects her Champions, after Noble Acts,
217And lets their Laurels wither on their heads.218
Torrismond. A Statue, for a Battel blindly fought,
219Where Darkness and Surprise made Conquest cheap! pg 116Critical Apparatus220Where Virtue borrow'd but the Arms of Chance,
221And struck a random blow! 'Twas Fortune's work;
222And Fortune take the praise.
Bertr. Yet Happiness
Editor’s Note223Is the first Fame: Vertue without Success
224Is a fair Picture shown by an ill light:
225But lucky men are Favorites of Heaven:
226And whom should Kings esteem above Heaven's Darlings?
227The Praises of a young and beauteous Queen
228Shall crown your glorious Acts.
Pedro to Alphonso. There sprung the Mine.229
Torr. The Queen! That were a happiness too great!
230Nam'd you the Queen, My Lord?231
Bertr. Yes: You have seen her, and you must confess
232A Praise, a Smile, a Look from her is worth
233The shouts of thousand Amphitheaters:
234She, she shall praise you; for I can oblige her:
235To morrow will deliver all her Charms
236Into my Arms; and make her mine for ever.
237Why stand you mute?
Torr. Alas! I cannot speak.238
Bertr. Not speak, My Lord! How were your thoughts employ'd?239
Torr. Nor can I think; or I am lost in thought.240
Bertr. Thought of the Queen, perhaps?
Torr. Why, if it were,
241Heav'n may be thought on, though too high to climbe.242
Bertr. O, now I find where your Ambition drives:
243You ought not think of her.
Torr. So I say too;
244I ought not: Madmen ought not to be mad:
Editor’s Note245But who can help his frenzy?246
Bertr. Fond young Man!
247The Wings of your Ambition must be dipt:
248Your shamefac'd Vertue shunn'd the Peoples Praise,
249And Senates Honours: But 'tis well we know
250What price you hold your self at: you have fought
pg 117250With some Success, and that has seal'd your Pardon.Critical Apparatus251
Torr. Pardon from thee! O, give me patience Heav'n!
252Thrice vanquish'd Bertran; if thou darst, look out
253Upon yon slaughter'd Host, that Field of bloud:
254There seal my Pardon, where thy Fame was lost.255
Ped. He's ruin'd, past redemption!to Torr.
Alph. Learn respect
256To the first Prince o'th' bloud.
Bert. O, let him rave!
257I'll not contend with Madmen.
Torr. I have done:
258I know 'twas Madness to declare this Truth:
259And yet 'twere Baseness to deny my Love.
260'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;
261Lighter then childrens bubbles blown by winds:
262My merit's but the rash results of chance:
263My birth unequal: all the stars against me:
264Pow'r, promise, choice; the living and the dead:
265Mankind my foes; and onely love to friend:
266But such a love, kept at such awfull distance,
267As, what it loudly dares to tell, a Rival
268Shall fear to whisper there: Queens may be lov'd,
269And so may Gods; else, why are Altars rais'd?
270Why shines the Sun, but that he may be view'd?
271But, Oh! when he's too bright, if then we gaze,
272'Tis but to weep; and close our eyes in darkness.[Exit Torrismond.273
Bert. 'Tis well: the Goddess shall be told, she shall,
274Of her new Worshipper.[Exit Bertran.
Pedro. So, here's fine work!
275He has supply'd his onely foe with arms
Editor’s Note276For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale
277Inverted: h' has unravell'd all by day
Editor’s Note278That he has done by night.———What, Planet-struck!279
Alph. I wish I were; to be past sense of this!280
Ped. Wou'd I had but a Lease of life so long
pg 118281As till my Flesh and Bloud rebell'd this way
282Against our Sovereign Lady: mad for a Queen?
283With a Globe in one hand, and a Sceptre in t'other?
284Avery pretty Moppet!285
Alph. Then to declare his Madness to his Rival!
286His Father absent on an Embassy:
287Himself a Stranger almost; wholly friendless!
288A Torrent, rowling down a Precipice,
289Is easier to be stopt, then is his Ruin.290
Ped. 'Tis fruitless to complain: haste to the Court:
291Improve your interest there, for Pardon from the Queen.Critical Apparatus292
Alph. Weak remedies; but all must be attempted.Critical Apparatus[Exit Alphonso. Enter Lorenzo.293
Lor. Well, I am the most unlucky Rogue! I have been ranging 294over half the Town; but have sprung no Game. Our Women 295are worse Infidels then the Moores: I told 'em I was one of their 296Knight-errants, that deliver'd them from ravishment: and I think 297in my conscience that's their Quarrel to me.298
Pedro. Is this a time for fooling? Your Cousin is run honour-299ably mad in love with her Majesty: He is split upon a Rock; and 300you, who are in chase of Harlots, are sinking in the main Ocean. 301I think the Devil's in the Family.Critical Apparatus[Exit Pedro. Lorenzo solus.302
Lor. My Cousin ruin'd, saies he! hum! not that I wish my 303Kinsman's ruin; that were Unchristian: but if the General's 304ruin'd, I am Heir; there's comfort for a Christian. Money I have, 305I thank the honest Moores for't; but I want a Mistress. I am will-Editor’s Note306ing to be leud; but the Tempter is wanting on his part.Critical ApparatusEnter Elvira veil'd.pg 119 Editor’s NoteCritical Apparatus307
Elvira. Stranger! Cavalier———will you not hear me? you Editor’s Note308Moore-killer, you Matador.———309
Lor. Meaning me, Madam?310
Elvira. Face about, Man; you a Souldier, and afraid of the 311Enemy!312
Lor. I must confess, I did not expect to have been charg'd first: 313I see Souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this Devil's Critical Apparatus314reign:———(Aside.)
Editor’s Note315To her. Now; Madam Cynthia behind a cloud; your will and 316pleasure with me?317
Elvira. You have the appearance of a Cavalier; and if you are 318as deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your 319Adventure. If a Lady like you well enough to hold discourse with 320you at first sight; you are Gentleman enough, I hope, to help her 321out with an Apology: and to lay the blame on Stars, or Destiny; 322or what you please, to excuse the Frailty of a Woman.Editor’s Note323
Lorenzo. O, I love an easie Woman: there's such a doe to crack 324a thick shell'd Mistress: we break our Teeth; and find no Kernel. 325'Tis generous in you, to take pity on a Stranger; and not to suffer 326him to fall into ill hands at his first arrival.327
Elvira. You may have a better opinion of me then I deserve; 328you have not seen me yet; and therefore I am confident you are 329heart-whole.330
Lorenzo. Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I am draw-331ing on apace: you have a dangerous Tongue in your head, I can 332tell you that; and if your Eyes prove of as killing metal, there's 333but one way with me: Let me see you, for the safeguard of my Editor’s NoteCritical Apparatus334Honour: 'tis but decent the Cannon should be drawn down upon 335me, before I yield.Critical Apparatus336
Elvira. What a terrible Similitude have you made, Colonel, to 337shew that you are inclining to the Wars: I could answer you with Editor’s Note338another in my Profession: Suppose you were in want of Money; Editor’s Note339wou'd you not be glad to take a Sum upon content in a seal'd pg 120Editor’s Note340bagg, without peeping?———but however; I will not stand with Editor’s Note341you for a sample.[Lifts up her Veil.342
Lorenzo. What Eyes were there! how keen their Glances! you 343doe well to keep 'em veil'd: they are too sharp to be trusted out 344o'th' Scabbard.345
Elvira. Perhaps now you may accuse my forwardness; but this Editor’s Note346day of Jubilee is the onely time of freedom I have had: and there 347is nothing so extravagant as a Prisoner, when he gets loose a lit-348tle, and is immediately to return into his Fetters.349
Lorenzo. To confess freely to you, Madam, I was never in love 350with less then your whole Sex before: but now I have seen you, 351I am in the direct road of languishing and sighing: and, if Love 352goes on as it begins, for ought I know, by to morrow morning you 353may hear of me in Rhyme and Sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not 354like these Symptoms in my self: perhaps I may go shufflingly at Editor’s Note355first; for I was never before walk'd in Trammels; yet I shall 356drudge and moil at Constancy, till I have worn off the hitching 357in my pace.358
Elvira. Oh, Sir, there are Arts to reclaim the wildest Men, as 359there are to make Spaniels fetch and carry: chide 'em often, and 360feed 'em seldom: now I know your temper, you may thank your 361self if you are kept to hard meat:———you are in for years if 362you make love to me.363
Lorenzo. I hate a formal obligation with an Anno Domini at Critical Apparatus364end on't; there may be an evil meaning in the word Years, call'd 365Matrimony.366
Elvira. I can easily rid you of that Fear: I wish I could rid my 367self as easily of the bondage.368
Lorenzo. Then you are married?Editor’s Note369
Elvira. If a Covetous, and a Jealous, and an Old man be a 370husband.371
Lor. Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish: 372now love be prais'd.Enter Elvira's Duenna, and whispers to her.pg 121 373
Elvira. (Aside.) If I get not home before my Husband, I shall 374be ruin'd.Critical Apparatus375
To him. I dare not stay to tell you where———farwell——— Critical Apparatus376cou'd I once more———[Exit Elvira, Duenna.Critical Apparatus377
Lorenzo. This is unconscionable dealing; to be made a Slave, Critical Apparatus378and not know whose livery I wear:——— Who have we yonder?Enter Gomez.
379By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old Banquer, 380Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona: As I live 'tis he——— Critical Apparatus381To Gomez. What, Old Mammon here?382
Gom. How! Young Beelzebub!383
Lorenzo. What Devil has set his Claws in thy Hanches, and 384brought thee hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther Jour-385ney with thee.386
Gom. I alwaies remove before the Enemy: When the Moores 387are ready to besiege one Town, I shift quarters to the next: I 388keep as far from the Infidels as I can.389
Lor. That's but a hair's breadth at farthest.390
Gom. Well, You have got a famous Victory; all true Subjects Critical Apparatus391are overjoy'd at it: there are Bonfires decreed: and if the times 392had not been hard, my Billet should have burnt too.393
Lor. I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single 394Billet, thou would'st almost have thrown on thy self to save it: 395thou art for saving every thing but thy Soul.396
Gom. Well, well, You'll not believe me generous 'till I carry 397you to the Tavern, and crack half a Pint with you at my own 398charges.399
Lor. No; I'll keep thee from hanging thy self for such an ex-400travagance: and, instead of it, thou shalt doe me a meer verbal 401courtesie: I have just now seen a most incomparable young Lady.pg 122 402
Gom. Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young Critical Apparatus403Lady?———My mind misgives me plaguily.———(Aside.)404
Lor. Here, man; just before this Corner-house: Pray Heaven 405it prove no Bawdy-house.406
Gom. (Aside.) Pray heaven he does not make it one.407
Lor. What dost thou mutter to thy self? Hast thou any thing 408to say against the Honesty of that house?409
Gom. Not I, Colonel, the Walls are very honest Stone, and 410the Timber very honest Wood, for ought I know. But for the 411Woman, I cannot say, till I know her better: describe her per-412son; and, if she live in this quarter, I may give you tidings of her.Editor’s Note413
Lor. She's of a middle Stature, dark colour'd Hair, the most be-414witching Leer with her Eyes, the most roguish Cast; her Cheeks 415are dimpled when she smiles; and her Smiles would tempt an 416Hermit.417
Gom. (Aside.) I am dead, I am buried, I am damn'd.——— Critical Apparatus418To him. Go on———Colonel———have you no other Marks 419of her?420
Lor. Thou hast all her Marks; but that she has an Husband; 421a jealous, covetous, old Huncks: speak; canst thou tell me News 422of her?423
Gom. Yes; this News, Colonel; that you have seen your last 424of her.425
Lor. If thou helpst me not to the knowledge of her, thou art 426a circumcised Jew.427
Gom. Circumcise me no more then I circumcise you, Colonel 428Hernando: once more you have seen your last of her.Editor’s Note429
Lor. (Aside.) I am glad he knows me onely by that Name of 430Hernando, by which I went at Barcelona: now he can tell no 431tales of me to my Father. 432To him. Come, thou wert ever good-natur'd, when thou Editor’s Note433couldst get by't:———Look here, Rogue, 'tis of the right damn-434ing colour:———thou art not Proof against Gold, sure!——— 435do not I know thee for a covetous,———436
Gomez. Jealous, old Huncks: those were the Marks of your 437Mistresse's Husband, as I remember, Colonel.pg 123 438
Lor. Oh, the Devil! What a Rogue in understanding was I, 439not to find him out sooner!(Aside.)440
Gom. Do, do, Look sillily, good Colonel: 'tis a decent Melan-441choly after an absolute Defeat.Critical Apparatus442
Lor. Faith, not for that, dear Gomez;———but,———Editor’s Note443
Gom. But———no Pumping, My dear Colonel.444
Lor. Hang Pumping; I was———thinking a little upon a 445point of Gratitude: we two have been long Acquaintance; I Editor’s Note446know thy Merits, and can make some Interest: go to; thou wert Editor’s NoteCritical Apparatus447born to Authority: I'll make thee Alcaide, Mayor of Sarragossa.448
Gom. Satisfie your self; you shall not make me what you think, 449Colonel.450
Lor. Faith but I will; thou hast the Face of a Magistrate al-451ready.Editor’s Note452
Gom. And you would provide me with a Magistrate's Head to 453my Magistrate's Face; I thank you Colonel.Editor’s Note454
Lor. Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle Story——— 455that Woman I saw, I mean that little, crooked, ugly Woman; for 456t'other was a Lye;———is no more thy Wife:———As I'll go 457home with thee, and satisfie thee immediately, My dear Friend.458
Gom. I shall not put you to that trouble: no not so much as 459a single Visit: not so much as an Embassy by a civil, old Woman: Editor’s Note460nor a Serenade of Twinckledum, Twinckledum, under my win-461dows: Nay, I will advise you out of my tenderness to your Person, 462that you walk not near yon Corner-house by night; for to my 463certain knowledg, there are Blunderbusses planted in every loop-464hole, that go off constantly of their own accord, at the squeaking 465of a Fiddle, and the thrumming of a Ghittar.466
Lor. Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open War 467against thee: I'll demolish thy Citadel by force: or, at least, I'll Editor’s Note468bring my whole Regiment upon thee: my thousand Red Locusts Editor’s Note469that shall devour thee in Free-quarter.———Farwell wrought 470Night-cap.[Exit Lorenzo.Editor’s Note471[Exit Gomez.
Gom. Farwell Buff! Free-quarter for a Regiment of Red-coat Editor’s Note472Locusts? I hope to see 'em all in the Red-sea first!———But oh, Critical Apparatus473this Jezebel of mine! I'll get a Physician that shall prescribe her pg 124Editor’s Note474an ounce of Camphire every morning for her Breakfast, to abate 475Incontinency: she shall never peep abroad, no, not to Church 476for Confession; and for never going, she shall be condemn'd for Editor’s Note477a Heretick: she shall have Stripes by Troy weight; and Suste-Editor’s Note478nance by drachms and scruples: Nay, I'll have a Fasting Alma-479nack printed on purpose for her use; in which, 480No Carnival nor Christmass shall appear; Editor’s Note481But Lents and Ember-weeks shall fill the year.