A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II | Page 7

the Citty, and fly back to thee

with loves wings. [Exit.
Ele. I prithee call him backe.
Buz. Signior _Henrico_, She has something more to say to you. [Redit.
Hen. To me, sweetest?
Ele. _Henrico_, doe you love me?
Hen. By this faire hand.
Ele. And will you leave me, too?
Hen. Not for the wealth of Spaine.
Ele. Since I must be your prisoner let me have My keepers company,
for I am afraid Some enemy in your absence, like a woolfe May ceize
on me. I know not whither now I ere shall see my father: doe not you
Ravish yourselfe from me, for at the worst We may dye here,
_Henrico_; and I had rather Fall in your eye than in your absence be
Dishonord; if the destinyes have not Spun out a longer thread, lets dye
together.
Hen. Oh doe not racke my soule with these sad accents. Am I
_Henrico_? there is not any place Can promise such security as this To
Eleonora. Doe not talke of dying, Our best dayes are to come: putt on
thy quiet, And be above the reach of a misfortune. Ile presently wayte
on thee, by this kisse.
Buz. Would I might keepe your oath: so please you, lady, Buzzano will
sweare too.
Hen. What?
Buz. That you'le be there and here agen presently.
Hen. Attend here, sirra.

Buz. If you must needes goe, pray, sir, keepe yourselfe out of
Gun-shott.
Hen. Mind you your charge.
Buz. You shall heare a good report of my piece, I warrant you. Take
heed you be not sent to heaven with a powder: a company of hott
shotts[15] are abroad, I can tell you.
Ele. If you will goe may your successe be faire.
Hen. Farewell; heaven cannot chuse but heare your prayer. [Exit.
Buz. Now what please you, madam? that I shall amble, trott, or walke?
Ele. Any pace.
Buz. Yet, if you would referre it to me, I'de use none of them.
Ele. What wouldst doe?
Buz. Why I would gallop or run, for I think long till I be at home in our
Castle of comfort. If it please you Ile lead you a hand gallop in the
plaine ground, trott up hill with you & racke[16] downewards.
Ele. Talke not of rackes, prithee; the times present too many.
Buz. Ride me as you will, then; I am used both to curbe and snaffle.
Ele. I prithee tell me, _Buzzano_,--so, I heare thy master call thee--
Buz. He may call me at his pleasure, forsooth.
Ele. Dost thou know the nature of the _English_?
Buz. Both men and women: I travelled thither with an Embassadour.
For the men Ile not misse you a haire of their condition; and for the
women I know 'em as well as if I had bene in their bellyes.

Ele. Are they not cruell?
Buz. As Tygers, when they set on't: no mercy unlesse we aske them
forgiveness.
Ele. That's somewhat yet.
Buz. But not to you; that's onely to men; for lett the women fall downe
afore 'em never so often they'le rather fall upon them. Nay, some of
them are so spitefull they'le breake their owne backes before they let
'em rise againe.
Ele. Foole, I meane not your way.
Buz. Keepe your owne way, madam; I meane the playne way.
Ele. Are they not unmercifull in their natures to such as are in their
power, their Enemyes as we may be?
Buz. Their enemyes as we may be in their power! I had rather be
cramm'd into a cannon and shott against their ships then you should
prove a witch & tell true now. The Tartar is not halfe so grim; not a
Turke would use us so like Jewes as they will. If it come to that once
that they take the Towne You will see Spanish Dons heads cryed up
and downe: as they doe our Orenges and Lymons; and the woemens
heads shall off, too,--not a maydenhead of gold shall scape 'em.
Ele. It is no valour to use Tyranny Upon the conquerd: they have been
reported A noble nation; and when last the pride Of this Citty adornd
their victory, by command Or their brave Generall, no outrage ever The
soldiers durst committ upon our persons: Though all our wealth ran in
full streames upon them Our honours were preserved, or fame belys
them.
Buz. No matter what fame sayes, perhaps I know more than she does; &
yet, now you talk of valour, they are not comparable to us.
Ele. How?

Buz. Why, valour is but the courage of a man; courage is, as they say,
the spirit of a man; and the spirit of a man is the greatnes, as we call it,
of his stomake. Now 'tis well