A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II | Page 9

that lasts let 'em come & welcome,--the
drinke shalbe spicd to their hands. Their complexions are blacke, they
shall want no Balls to wash their faces; if any doe light in their bodies
they may chance be scourd all over.
Sol. 2. We may hap to be in the suddes ourselves.
Pike. There will be charges savd then; for my part I am but one, and
there are shotts enough.
Sol. 2. More by a score then I hope wilbe payd these two dayes.
Pike. Talke not of paying: here's more then a month comes to. Well, if
our service be done, & there be any other liquor to be gott, wele drinke
no salt water as long as this lasts.
Sol. 2. Come, let's have a dish to our countrymen & let's remember
Tavestock.
Pike. Godamercy for that, boy. A match, a match!
[Exeunt.

(SCENE 2.)
_Enter Henrico Gusman, his sword drawne, & Eleonora_.

Hen. Yet the Citty is safe enough; feare not, _Eleonora_; The Bullets
make no noyse here: if the Towne Should yield her strength up to
th'invader, thou Art lockd up like a spirit in a Christall: Not an
enchanted Castle, held up by Strong charme, is halfe so safe. This
house, though now It carry not the figure & faire shape Which the first
workeman gave it, eating Time Having devourd the face of't, is within
A Sanctuary, & hath so much cunning Couchd in the body not a
Laborinth Is so full of Meanders.
Ele. Sir, your presence Confirmes me in opinion of my safety; Not of
my life so much, for that's a thing I owe to nature & should one day be
A-weary of it; like to Innes we take Our houses up, having but here a
place Of Lodging not of _dwelling_:--but of honour You give me my
assurance, for in such A time of thicke confusions I much feare That
might be hazarded. And who knowes what The soldier that hath no
lawe but that Of cruelty and rapine, when like a Bird Of prey his
Tallents are possessd of one So weake as I am--
Hen. He that durst offend Thee with a sillable or but fright that bloud
Out of thy Cheekes to seeke another place, Not daring to be seene there
where it now Is of itselfe sufficient to ravish A mortall that with just
eyes can looke on it, Had better be a divell. But a haire, The poorest
part of thee & in this excellent Because 'tis thine, should any dare to
ravish From these his soft companions, which the wind Would be for
ever proud to play withall, H'had better dig his mothers coffin up And
with his teeth eate what the wormes have left.
Ele. I know you will defend me.
Hen. Will defend thee! Have I a life, a soule that in thy service I would
not wish expird! I doe but borrow My selfe from thee.
Ele. Rather you put to Interest And, for that principall you have
credited To Eleonora her heart is paid backe As the iust Usury.
Hen. You undoe me, sweet, With too much love; if ere I marry thee I
feare thou'lt kill me.

Ele. How?
Hen. With tendring me too much, my _Eleonora_; For in my
conscience thou'lt extreamely love me, And extreames often kill.
Ele. There can be no extreme of love[21], sir.
Hen. Yes, but there may; and some say Jealousy Runs from the Sea, a
rivolet but deducted From the mayne Channell.
Ele. This is a new language.
Hen. Have you not heard men have been killd with Joy? Our griefe
doth but contract the heart, & gladnesse Dilate the same; and soo too
much of eyther Is hott i'th' fourth degree.
Ele. Sir, your discourse Is stuff of severall pieces and knitts not With
that you usd but now: if we can practize A vertuous love there's no hurt
to exceed in't. --What doe you, Sir?
Hen. Looke on thee.
Ele. Why doe you eye me soe? this is not usuall. Are you well?
Hen. Well, never better.
Ele. Pray heaven it bode me no unhappinesse! How doth my father?
Hen. He's very well, too; feare not.
Ele. Still I read in your eyes--
Hen. What Babyes[22], prety one? Thy owne face, naught else; I
receive that way all this beauty into My heart, and 'tis perhaps come
backe to looke Out at the window. Come, Ile winke againe, It shall not
trouble you:--hence my trayterous thoughts.
Ele. Indeed you are not well.

Hen. Indeed I am not; all's not well within me. Why should I be a
villaine? Eleonora Doe not looke on me; turne those eyes away, They
would betray thee to thy sorrow; or Lett me by parting carry along