• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

My Will is able, but my Knowledge weak, Sir.

Mast. That’s a good Child: Why dost thou blush, my Boy?

’Tis certainly a Woman. [Aside.] Speak, my Boy.

Viol. Heav’n! how I tremble. — ’Tis unusual to me

To find such Kindness at a Master’s Hand,

That am a poor Boy, ev’ry way unable,

Unless it be in Pray’rs to merit it.

Besides, I’ve often heard old People say,

Too much Indulgence makes Boys rude and sawcy.

Mast. Are you so cunning!—

Viol. How his Eyes shake Fire,

And measure ev’ry Piece of Youth about me![Aside.

The Ewes want Water, Sir: Shall I go drive ’em

Down to the Cisterns? Shall I make haste, Sir?

’Would I were five Miles from him— How he gripes me![Aside.

Mast. Come, come, all this is not sufficient, Child,

To make a Fool of me.— This is a fine Hand,

A delicate fine Hand,— Never change Colour;

You understand me, — and a Woman’s Hand.

Viol. You’re strangely out: Yet if I were a Woman,

I know, you are so honest and so good,

That tho’ I wore Disguises for some Ends,

You would not wrong me.—

Mast. Come, you’re made for Love;

Will you comply? I’m madder with this Talk.

There’s Nothing you can say, can take my Edge off.

Viol. Oh, do but quench these foul Affections in you,

That, like base Thieves, have rob’d you of your Reason,

And I will be a Woman; and begin

So sad a Story, that if there be aught

Of humane in you, or a Soul that’s gentle,

You cannot chuse but pity my lost Youth.

Mast. No Stories now.—

Viol.Kill me directly, Sir;

As you have any Goodness, take my Life.

Rod. within. Hoa! Shepherd, will you hear, Sir?

Mast. What bawling Rogue is that, i’th’ Devil’s Name?

Viol. Blessings upon him, whatsoe’er he be![Runs out.

Enters Roderick.

Rod. Good Even, my Friend; I thought, you all had been asleep in this Country.

Mast. You had lied then; for you were waking, when you thought so.

Rod. I thank you, Sir.

Mast. I pray, be cover’d; ’tis not so much worth, Sir.

Rod. Was that thy Boy ran crying?

Mast. Yes; what then?

Rod. Why dost thou beat him so?

Mast. To make him grow.

Rod. A pretty Med’cine! Thou can’st not tell me the Way to the next Nunnery?—

Mast. How do you know That? — Yes, I can tell you; but the Question is, whether I will or no; and, indeed, I will not. Fare you well. [Exit Master.

Rod. What a brute Fellow’s this! Are they all thus?

My Brother Henriquez tells me by his Letters,

The Mistress of his Soul not far from hence

Hath taken Sanctuary: from which he prays

My Aid to bring her back.— From what Camillo

Hinted, I wear some Doubts.— Here ’tis appointed

That we should meet; it must be here; ’tis so.

He comes.

Enters Henriquez.

Now, Brother, what’s this post-haste Business

You hurry me about? — Some wenching Matter —

Henr. My Letter told you, Sir.

Rod. ’Tis true, it tells me, that you’ve lost a Mistress

Whom your Heart bleeds for; but the Means to win her

From her close Life, I take it, is not mention’d.

You’re ever in these Troubles.—

Henr. Noble Brother,

I own, I have too freely giv’n a Scope

To Youth’s intemp’rate Heat, and rash Desires:

But think not, that I would engage your Virtues

To any Cause, wherein my constant Heart

Attended not my Eye. ’Till now my Passions

Reign’d in my Blood; ne’er pierc’d into my Mind;

But I’m a Convert grown to purest Thoughts:

And must in Anguish spend my Days to come,

If I possess not her: So much I love.

Rod. The Means? — She’s in a Cloyster, is she not?

Within whose Walls to enter as We are,

Will never be: Few Men, but Fryars, come there;

Which We shall never make.

Henr. If That would do it,

I would make Any thing.

Rod. Are you so hot?

I’ll serve him, be it but to save his Honour. [Aside.

To feign a Corpse — By th’ Mass, it shall be so.

We must pretend, we do transport a Body

As ’twere to’s Funeral: and coming late by,

Crave a Night’s Leave to rest the Herse i’th’ Convent.

That be our Course; for to such Charity

Strict Zeal and Custom of the House give Way.

Henr. And, opportune, a vacant Herse pass’d by

From Rites but new perform’d: This for a Price