The Noble Spanish Soldier Part 7

Enter Onaelia from one way, Cornego another.

CORNEGO Madam, there's a bear without to speak with you

ONAELIA A bear?

CORNEGO It's a man all hair, and that's as bad.

ONAELIA Who is it?

CORNEGO 'Tis one Master Captain Balthazar.

ONAELIA I do not know that Balthazar.

CORNEGO He desires to see you: and if you love a water-spaniel before he be shorn, see him.

ONAELIA Let him come in.

Enter Balthazar.

CORNEGO Hist; a duck, a duck. There she is, Sir.

BALTHAZAR A soldier's good wish bless you lady.

ONAELIA Good wishes are most welcome Sir, to me, So many bad ones blast me.

BALTHAZAR Do you not know me?

ONAELIA I scarce know myself.

BALTHAZAR I have been at tennis Madam, with the king. I gave him fifteen and all his faults, which is much, and now I come to toss a ball with you.

ONAELIA I am bandied too much up and down already.

CORNEGO Yes, she has been struck under line, master soldier.

BALTHAZAR I conceit you, dare you trust yourself alone with me?

ONAELIA I have been laden with such weights of wrong That heavier cannot press me. Hence Cornego.

CORNEGO Hence Cornego? Stay Captain? When man and woman are put together, Some egg of villainy is sure to be sat upon.

Exit Cornego.

BALTHAZAR What would you say to him should kill this man that hath you so dishonoured?

ONAELIA Oh, I would Crown him With thanks, praise, gold and tender of my life.

BALTHAZAR Shall I be that German fencer, and beat all the knocking boys before me? Shall I kill him?

ONAELIA There's music in the tongue that dares but speak it.

BALTHAZAR That fiddle then is in me, this arm can do it, by poniard, poison or pistol: but shall I do it indeed?

ONAELIA One step to human bliss is sweet revenge.

BALTHAZAR Stay. What made you love him?

ONAELIA His most goodly shape Married to royal virtues of his mind.

BALTHAZAR Yet now you would divorce all that goodness; and why? For a little lechery of revenge? It's a lie. The burr that sticks in your throat is a throne. Let him out of his mess of kingdoms cut out but one, and lay Sicily, Aragon or Naples or any else upon your trencher <25>, and you will praise b.a.s.t.a.r.d <26> for the sweetest wine in the world, and call for another quart of it. 'Tis not because the man has left you, but because you are not the woman you would be that mads you. A she- cuckold is an untameable monster.

ONAELIA Monster of men thou are, thou b.l.o.o.d.y villain, Traitor to him who never injured thee.

Dost thou profess arms, and art bound in honour To stand up like a brazen wall to guard Thy king and country, and would'st thou ruin both?

BALTHAZAR You spur me on to it.

ONAELIA True; Worse am I then the horridest fiend in h.e.l.l To murder him who I once loved too well: For thou I could run mad, and tear my hair, And kill that G.o.dless man that turned me vile, Though I am cheated by a purjurious Prince Who has done wickedness, at which even heaven Shakes when the sun beholds it, O yet I'd rather Ten thousand poisoned poniards stab my breast Than one should touch his. b.l.o.o.d.y slave! I'll play Myself the hangman, and will butcher thee If thou but p.r.i.c.kest his finger.

BALTHAZAR Sayest thou me so! Give me thy goll <27>, thou are a n.o.ble girl. I did play the Devil's part, and roar in a feigned voice, but I am the honestest Devil that ever spat fire. I would not drink that infernal draft of a King's blood, to go reeling to d.a.m.nation, for the weight of the world in diamonds.

ONAELIA Art thou not counterfeit?

BALTHAZAR Now by my scars I am not.

ONAELIA I'll call thee honest soldier then, and woo thee To be an often visitant.

BALTHAZAR Your servant, Yet must I be a stone upon a hill, For thou I do no good, I'll not lie still.

Exeunt.

ACT THREE SCENE ONE

Enter Malateste and the Queen.

MALATESTE When first you came from Florence, would the world Had with a universal dire eclipse Been overwhelmed, no more to gaze on day, That you to Spain had never found the way, Here to be lost forever.

QUEEN We from one climate Drew suspiration <28>. As thou then hast eyes To read my wrongs, so be thy head an engine To raise up ponderous mischief to the height, And then thy hands, the executioners.

A true Italian spirit is a ball Of wild-fire, hurting most when it seems spent.

Great s.h.i.+ps on small rocks, beating oft are rent.

And so, let Spain by us. But Malateste, Why from the presence did you single me Into this gallery?

MALATESTE To show you Madam, The picture of yourself, but so defaced, And mangled by proud Spaniards, it would whet A sword to arm the poorest Florentine In your just wrongs.

QUEEN As how? Let's see that picture.

MALATESTE Here 'tis then: time is not scarce four days old, Since I, and certain Dons, sharp-witted fellows, And of good rank, were with two Jesuits Grave profound scholars, in deep argument Of various propositions. At the last, Question was moved touching your marriage And the King's pre-contract.

QUEEN So, and what followed?