Am.
Here's none will bite, Sir.
Lean.
God forbid Lady.
Am.
'Pray come nearer.
Lean.
Yes forsooth.
Bar.
'Prethee observe these men: just as they stand here,
And see this Lady do not alter 'em,
And be not partial, Pupil.
Lean.
No indeed Sir.
Bar.
Let her not move a pawn, I'le come back presently,
Nay you shall know I am a Conquerour.
Have an eye Pupil—
[Exit.
Am.
Can ye play at Chess Sir?
Lean.
A little, Lady.
Am.
But you cannot tell me
How to avoid this Mate, and win the Game too;
H'as noble eyes: ye dare not friend me so far.
Lean.
I dare do any thing that's in mans power Lady,
To be a friend to such a noble beauty.
Am.
This is no Lawyers language: I pray ye tell me,
Whither may I remove, Ye see I am set round,
To avoid my husband?
Lean.
I shall tell ye happily,
But happily you will not be instructed.
Am.
Yes, and thank ye too, shall I move this man?
Lean.
Those are unseemly: move one can serve ye,
Can honour ye, can love ye.
Am.
'Pray ye tell quickly,
He will return, and then.
Lean.
I'le tell ye instantly,
Move me, and I will move any way to serve ye,
Move your heart this way, Lady.
Am.
How?
Lean.
'Pray ye hear me.
Behold the sport of love, when he is imperious,
Behold the slave of love.
Am.
Move my Queen this way?
Sure, he's some worthy man: then if he hedge me,
Or here to open him.
Lean.
Do but behold me,
If there be pity in you, do but view me,
But view the misery I have undertaken
For you, the povertie.
Am.
He will come presently.
Now play your best Sir, though I lose this Rook here,
Yet I get libertie.
Lean.
I'le seise your fair hand,
And warm it with a hundred, hundred kisses.
The God of love warm your desires but equal,
That shall play my game now.
Am.
What do you mean Sir?
Why do you stop me?
Lean.
That ye may intend me.
The time has blest us both: love bids us use it.
I am a Gentleman nobly descended,
Young to invite your love, rich to maintain it.
I bring a whole heart to ye, thus I give it,
And to those burning altars thus I offer,
And thus, divine lips, where perpetual Spring grows—
Am.
Take that, ye are too saucy.
Lean.
How, proud Lady?
Strike my deserts?
Am.
I was to blame.
Enter
Bartolus.
Bar.
What wife, there?
Heaven keep my house from thieves.
Lean.
I am wretched:
Opened, discovered, lost to my wishes.
I shall be whooted at.
Bar.
What noise was this, wife?
Why dost thou smile?
Lean.
This proud thing will betray me.
Bar. Why these lie here? what angry, dear?
Am.
No, Sir,
Only a chance, your pupil said he plaid well,
And so indeed he do's: he undertook for ye,
Because I would not sit so long time idle,
I made my liberty, avoided your mate,
And he again as cunningly endangered me,
Indeed he put me strangely to it. When presently
Hearing you come, & having broke his ambush too,
Having the second time brought off my Queen fair,
I rose o'th' sudden smilingly to shew ye,
My apron caught the Chesse-board, and the men,
And there the noise was.
Bar.
Thou art grown a Master,
For all this I shall beat ye.
Lean.
Or I, Lawyer,
For now I love her more, 'twas a neat answer,
And by it hangs a mighty hope, I thank her,
She gave my pate a sound knock that it rings yet,
But you shall have a sounder if I live lawyer,
My heart akes yet, I would not be in that fear—
Bar.
I am glad ye are a gamester, Sir, sometimes
For recreation we two shall fight hard at it.
Am.
He will prove too hard for me.
Lean.
I hope he shall do,
But your Chess-board is too hard for my head, line that, good Lady.
Bar.
I have been attoning two most wrangling neighbours,
They had no mony, therefore I made even.
Come, let's go in and eat, truly I am hungry.
Lean.
I have eaten already, I must intreat your pardon.
Bar.
Do as ye please, we shall expect ye at supper.
He has got a little heart, now it seems handsomly.
Am.
You'l get no little head, if I do not look to ye.
Lean.
If ever I do catch thee again thou vanity—
Am.
I was to blame to be so rash, I am sorry—
[Exeunt.
EnterDon Henrique, Violante, Ascanio.
H[en].
Hear but my reasons.
Viol.
O my patience, hear 'em!
Can cunning falshood colour an excuse
With any seeming shape of borrowed truth?
Extenuate this wofull wrong, not error?
Hen.
You gave consent that, to defeat my brother
I should take any course.
Vio.
But not to make
The cure more loathsom than the foul disease:
Was't not enough you took me to your bed,
Tir'd with loose dalliance, and with emptie veins,
All those abilities spent before and wasted,
That could confer the name of mother on me?
But that (to perfect my account of sorrow
For my long barr[en]ness) you must heighten it
By shewing to my face, that you were fruitfull
Hug'd in the base embraces of another?
If Solitude that dwelt beneath my roof,
And want of children was a torment to me,
What end of my vexation to behold
A bastard to upbraid me with my wants?
And hear the name of father paid to ye,
Yet know my self no mother,
What can I say?
Hen.
Shall I confess my fault and ask your pardon?
Will that content ye?
Vio.
If it could make void,
What is confirm'd in Court: no, no,Don Henrique,
You shall know that I find my self abus'd,
And adde to that, I have a womans anger,
And while I look upon this Basilisk,
Whose envious eyes have blasted all my comforts