menu_book Chapter 3

Act 3 of Tis Pity She's a Whore. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tis Pity She's a Whore by John Ford. Act 3. Scene 1. A Room in Donado's House. Enter Bergetto and Poggio.

Does my uncle think to make me a baby still? No, Poggio. He shall know I have a sconce now. Aye, let him not bob you off like an ape with an apple. Svutt, I will have the wench if he were ten uncles, in despite of his nose, Poggio. Hold him to the grindstone and give not a jot of ground. She hath in a manner promised you already.

True, Poggio. And her uncle, the doctor, swore I should marry her. He swore I remember. And I will have her, that's more. Did see the codpiece point she gave me? And the box of marmalade? Very well. And kissed you that my chops were watered at the site, aunt.

There is no way but to clap up a marriage and hugger-mugger. I will do it. For I tell thee, Poggio, I begin to grow valiant, methinks, and my courage begins to rise. Should you be afraid of your uncle? Hang him, old doting rascal. No, I say I will have her. Lose no time, then.

I will beget a race of wise men and constables that shall cart whores at their own charges, and break the duke's peace ere I have done myself. Come away. Exaunt. Scene 2. A Room in Florio's House. Enter Florio, Giovanni, Soranzo, Annabella, Putana, and Vasquez. My lord Soranzo, though I must confess the proffes that are made me have been great in

marriage of my daughter, yet the hope of your still rising honours has prevailed above all other jointures. Here she is. She knows my mind. Speak for yourself to her. And here you, daughter, see you use him nobly. For any private speech I'll give you time. Come, son, and you the rest. Let them alone. Agree they as they may. I thank you, sir.

Aside to Annabella. Sister, be not a woman. Think on me. Vasquez. My lord. Attend me without.

Exaunt all but Soranzo and Annabella. Sir, what's your will with me? Do you not know what I should tell you? Yes. You'll say you love me. And I will swear it too. Will you believe it?

Tis no point of faith. Enter Giovanni in the gallery above. Have you not will to love? Not you. Whom then?

That's as the fates infer. Of those I'm regent now. What mean you, sweet? To live and die a maid. Oh, that's unfit.

Here's one can say that's but a woman's note. Did you but see my heart, then would you swear? That you were dead. That's true. Or somewhat near it. See you this true love's tears?

No. Now she winks. They plead to you for grace. Yet nothing speak. O grant my suit.

What is't? To let me leave. Take it. Still yours. That is not mine to give.

One such another word would kill his hopes. Mistress, to leave those fruitless stripes of wed. Know I have loved you long and loved you truly. Not hope of what you have but what you are hath drawn me on. Then let me not in vain still feel the rigor of your chaste disdain.

I'm sick and sick to the heart. Help, Aquavite. What mean you? Why, I thought you had been sick. Do you mock my love?

There, sir. She is too nimble. Aside, it is plain she laughs at me. These cornwall taunts neither become your modesty, or yours. You are no looking glass.

Or if you were, I would dress my language by you. I am confirmed. To put you out of doubt, my lord. Methinks your common sense should make you understand. That if I loved you or desired your love,

some way I should have given you better taste. But since you are a nobleman, and one I would not wish should spend his youth in hopes, let me advise you to forbear your suit. And think I wish you well, I tell you this.

Is do you speak this? Yes, I myself. Yet no, thus far I give you comfort. If mine eyes could have picked out a man amongst all those that sued to me to make a husband of,

you should have been that man. Let this suffice. Be noble in your secrecy, and wise. Why, now, I see she loves me. One word more.

As ever virtue lived within your mind, as ever noble courses were your guide, as ever you would have me know you loved me, let not my father know hereof by you, if I hereafter find that I must marry,

it shall be you or none. I take that promise. Oh, oh, my head. What's the matter, not well? Oh, I begin to sicken.

Heaven forbid. Exit from above. Help, help, within here, ho. Enter Florio, Giovanni, and Putana. Look to you, daughter senor Florio.

Hold her up, she swoones. Sister, how do you? Sick. Brother, are you there? Brother, are you there?

Convey her to bed instantly, whilst I send for a physician. Quickly, I say. Alas, poor child. Exaunt all, but sorenso.

Re-enter Vasquez. My lord. O Vasquez, now I doubly am undone, both in my present and my future hopes. She plainly told me that she could not love,

and thereupon soon sickened, and I fear her life's in danger. Aside. By your lady, sir, and so is yours if you knew all.

Lass, sir, I am sorry for that. Maybe it is but a maid's sickness, an over-flux of youth, and then, sir, there is no such present remedy as present marriage.

But hath she given you an absolute denial? She hath, and she hath not. I am full of grief, but what she said I'll tell thee as we go. Exaunt.

Scene 3. Another room in the same. Entha, Giovanni, and Putana. O sir, we are all undone, quite undone, utterly undone, and shamed forever.

Your sister, oh, your sister! Whatever. For heaven's sake, speak! How does she? O that ever I was born to see this day.

She is not dead, ah? Is she? Dead? No, she is quick. Tis worse.

She is with child. You know what you have done. Heaven forgive you. Tis too late to repent now. Heaven help us.

With child? How dost thou know it? How do I know it? Am I at these years ignorant what the meanings of qualms and water,

pangs be, of changing of colors, queasiness of stomachs, pukings, and another thing that I could name? Do not, for her and your credit's sake, spend the time in asking how and which way tis so.

She is quick, upon my word. If you let a physician see her water, you are undone. But in what case is she? Prittily amended.

Tis but a fit which I soon espied, and she must look for often henceforward. Commend me to her. Better take no care. Let not the doctor visit her, I charge you.

Make some excuse till I return. Oh me, I have a world of business in my head. Do not discomfort her. How do these news perplex me? If my father come to her, tell him she's recovered well.

Sage was but some ill diet. Do you hear, woman? Do you hear, woman? Look you to it. I will, sir.

Exaunt. Scene four. Another room in the same. Enter Florio and Ricardetto. And how do you find her, sir?

Indifferent well. I see no danger. Scarce perceive she's sick. But that she told me, she had lately eaten melons, and as she thought,

those disagreed with her young stomach. Did you give her aught? An easy surfeit water, nothing else. You need not doubt her health. I rather think her sickness is a fullness of her blood.

You understand me? I do. You counsel well, and once within these few days will so order it. She shall be married ere she know the time. Yet let not haste, sir, make unworthy choice.

That were dishonour. Master doctor, no. I will not do so neither. In plain words, my lord Saronzo is the man I mean. A noble and a virtuous gentleman.

As any is in Parma. Not far hence dwells father Bonaventure, a grave friar, once tutor to my son. Now at his cell I'll have them married. You have plotted wisely.

I'll send one straight to speak with him tonight. Saronzo's wise. He will delay no time. It shall be so. Enter friar and Giovanni.

Good peace be here. And love. Welcome, religious friar. You are one that still bring blessing to the place you come to. Sir, with what speed I could I did my best to draw this holy man from forth his cell,

to visit my sixth sister. That with words of ghostly comfort in this time of need he might absolve her, whether she live or die. T'was well done, Giovanni. Thou herein hast showed a Christian's care, a brother's love.

Come, father, I'll conduct you to her chamber, and one thing would entreat you. Say on, sir. I have a father's dear impression and wish, before I fall into my grave, that I might see her married as tis fit. A word from you, grave man, will win her more than all our best persuasions.

Gentle sir, all this I'll say, that heaven may prosper her. Exaunt. Scene five. A room in Riccardetto's house. Enter Grimaldi.

Now, if the doctor keep his word, Saronzo, twenty-two-one you miss your bride. I know tis an unhoable act, and not becomes a soldier's valour, but in terms of love, where merit cannot sway, policy must. I am resolved. If this physician play not on both hands, then Saronzo falls.

Enter Riccardetto. You are come, as I could wish. This very night Saronzo, tis ordained, must be affide to Annabella. And, for aught I know, married. How?

Yet your patience. The place tis Friar Bonaventurae sell. Now, I would wish you to bestow this night in watching thereabouts. Tis but a night. If you miss now, to-morrow I'll know all.

Have you the poison? Here tis, in this box. Doubt nothing. This will do it. In any case, as you respect your life, be quick and sure.

I'll speed him. Do. Away, for tis not safe you should be seen much here. Ever my love. And mine to you.

Exit. So, if this hit, I'll laugh and hug revenge. And they that now dream of a wedding feast, may chance to mourn the lusty bridegroom's ruin. But to my other business. Nice Philotus.

Enter Philotus. Uncle. My lovely niece, you have bethought you? Yes, and as you counseled, fashion my heart to love him. But he swears he will tonight be married.

For he fears his uncle else. If he should know the drift, will hinder all and cause his cousin to shrift. Tonight? Why, best of all. But let me see, I, ha, yes, so it shall be.

In disguise will early to the friars. I have thought on it. Uncle, he comes. Enter Borghetto and Poggio. Well come, my worthy cousin.

Lass, pretty lass. Come, Buss, lass. Aha, Poggio. Kisses her. Aside.

There's hope of this yet. You shall have time enough. Withdraw a little. We must confer at large. Have you not sweetmeats or dainty devices for me?

You shall have enough, sweethearts. Sweetheart? Mark that, Poggio. By my truth, I cannot choose but kiss thee once more for that word, sweetheart. Poggio, I have a monstrous swelling about my stomach, whatsoever the matter be.

You shall have physics for it, sir. Time runs apace. Time's a blockhead. Be ruled. When we have done what's fit to do, then you may kiss your fill, and I shall kiss you.

Bed her too. Exaunt. Scene 6. Floria's house. Annabella's chamber.

A table with wax lights. Annabella at confession before the friar. She weeps and wrings her hands. I am glad to see this, penance. For, believe me, you have unripped a soul so foul and guilty, as I must tell you true.

I marvel how the earth has borne you up. But weep. Weep on. These tears may do you good. Weep faster yet, whilst I do read a lecture.

Wretched creature. Ay, you are wretched. Miserably wretched. Almost condemned alive. There is a place, list, daughter,

In a black and hollow vault, Where day is never seen. There shines no sun, But flaming horror of consuming fires, A lightless sulfur choked with smoky fogs

Of an infected darkness. In this place dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts Of never dying deaths. There damn souls roar without pity. There are gluttons fed with toads and adders.

There is burning oil poured down the drunkard's throat. The usurer is forced to sup whole draughts of molten gold. There is the murderer forever stabbed, Yet can he never die. There lies the wanton on racks of burning steel.

Whilst in his soul he feels the torment of his raging lust. Mercy, oh mercy. There stand these wretched things Who have dreamed out whole years in lawless sheets and secret incest, Cursing one another.

Then you will wish each kiss your brother gave Had been a dagger's point. Then you shall hear how he will cry, Oh would my wicked sister had first been damned When she did yield to lust.

But soft, methinks I see repentance Work new motions in your heart. Say, how is't with you? Is there no way left to redeem my miseries? There is, despair not.

Heaven is merciful, and offers grace even now. Tis thus agreed. First for your honor's safety that you marry my lord Saranso. Next to save your soul, leave off this life, And henceforth live to him.

Sigh not, I know the baits of sin are hard to leave. Tis a death to do it. Tis a death to do it. Remember what must come. Are you content?

I am. I like it well. We'll take the time. Who's near us there? Enter Florio and Giovanni.

Did you call, father? Is lord Saranso come? He stays below. Have you acquainted him at full? I have, and he is overjoyed.

And so are we. Bid him come near. Aside. My sister's weeping. I fear this friar's falsehood.

I will call him. Exit. Daughter, are you resolved? Father, I am. Re-enter Giovanni with Saranso and Vasquez.

My lord Saranso, here. Give me your hand. For that I give you this. Join their hands. Ladies say you so too?

I do, and vow to live with you and yours. Timely resolved. My blessing rests on both. More to be done, you may perform it on the morning sun. Exaunt.

Scene 7. The street before the monastery. Enter Grimaldi with his rapier drawn and a dark lantern. Tis early night as yet, and yet too soon to finish such a work. Here I will lie to listen who comes next.

He lies down. Enter Borghetto and Philotis disguised and followed, at a distance, by Ricardetto and Poggio. We are almost at the place, I hope, sweetheart. I hear them near, and heard one say sweetheart. Tis he.

Now guide my hand, some angry justice, home to his bosom. Now have it you, sir. Stab Borghetto and exit. Oh, help, help! Here's a stitch falling in my guts.

Oh, for a flesh tailor, quickly. Poggio! What ails my love? I am sure I cannot piss forward and backward. And yet I am wet before and behind.

Lights, lights, oh, lights. Alas, some villain here has slain my love. Oh, heaven forbid it. Raise up the neighbors, instantly, Poggio, and bring lights. Exit Poggio.

How is it, Borghetto? Exit Poggio. How is it, Borghetto? Slain? It cannot be.

Are you sure you are hurt? Oh, my belly seethes like a porridge pot. Some cold water I shall boil over else. My whole body is in a sweat that you may wring my shirt. Feel here.

Why, Poggio? Re-enter Poggio with offices and lights. Here, alas, how do you? Give me a light. What's here?

Oh, blood. Oh, sirs, Signor Donato's nephew now is slain. Follow the murderer with all the haste up to the city. He cannot be far hence. Follow, I beseech you.

Follow, follow, follow. Exaunt. Tear off thy linen, cuz, to stop his wounds. Be of good comfort, man. Is all this mine own blood?

Nay. Then good night with me. Poggio, commend me to my uncle, dust here. Bid him, for my sake, make mush of this wench. Oh, I am going the wrong way, sure.

My belly aches so. Oh, farewell, Poggio. Oh, oh. Dice. Oh, he is dead.

How, dead? He's dead, indeed. Tis now too late to weep. Let's have him home, and with what speed we may find out the murderer. Oh, my master, my master, my master.

Exaunt. Scene eight. A room in Hippolyta's house. Enter Vasquez and Hippolyta. Betrothed.

I saw it. And when's the marriage day? Some two days hence. Two days. Why, man, I would but wish two hours to send him to his last and lasting sleep.

And, Vasquez, thou shalt see I'll do it bravely. I do not doubt your wisdom. Nor, I trust, you my secrecy. I am infinitely yours. I will be thine in spite of my disgrace.

So soon. A wicked man. I durst be sworn he'd laugh to see me weep. And that's a villainous fault in him. No.

Let him laugh. I am armed in my resolves. Be thou still true. I should get little by treachery against so hopeful a performant as I am like to climb to.

Even to. My bosom, Vasquez. Let my youth revel in these new pleasures. If we thrive, he now hath but a pair of days to live. Exaunt.

Scene nine. The street before the Cardinal's gates. Enter Florio, Donado, Ricardetto, Poggio, and offices. Tis bootless now to show yourself a child, Signora Donado. What is done is done.

Spend not the time in tears, but seek for justice. I must confess. Somewhat I was in fault that had not first acquainted you what love past twitched him and my niece. But as I live, his fortune grieves me, as it were mine own.

Alas, poor creature, he meant no man harm, that I am sure of. I believe that too. But stay, my masters, are you sure you saw the murderer pass here? And it please you, sir, we are sure we saw a ruffian with a naked weapon in his hand, all bloody.

Get into my lord Cardinal's grace's gate, that we are sure of. But for fear of his grace, bless us, we durst go no farther. Know you what manner of man he was? Yes, sure I know the man. They say he is a soldier, that he loved your daughter, sir,

and please ye, twas he for certain. Grimaldi, on my life. Aye, aye, the same. The Cardinal is noble. He no doubt will give true justice.

Knock someone at the gate. I'll knock, sir. Knocks within. What would ye? We require speech with the lord Cardinal about some present business.

Pray inform his grace that we are here. Enter Cardinal, followed by Grimaldi. Why, how now, friends? What saucy mates are you, that know nor duty nor civility? Are we a person fit to be your host, or is our house become your common inn

to beat our doors at pleasure? What such haste is yours as that it cannot wait fit times? Are you the masters of this commonwealth? And no, no more discretion? Oh, your news is here before you.

You have lost a nephew, Donado, last night by Grimaldi's lane. Is that your business? Well, sir, we have knowledge on't. Let that suffice. In presence of your grace, in thought, I never meant burghetto harm.

But, Florio, you can tell, with how much scorn Soranzo, backed with his confederates, hath often wronged me, I to be revenged, for that I could but win him else to fight, had thought, by way of ambush, to have killed him, but was, unluckily, therein mistook, else he had felt what late burghetto did.

And though my fault to him were merely chance, yet humbly I submit me to your grace, to do with me as you please. Rise up, Grimaldi. He rises. You, citizens of Parma, if you seek for justice, know, as Nuncio from the pope,

for this offence I here receive Grimaldi into his holiness's protection. He is no common man, but nobly born, a prince's blood, though you, Sir Florio, thought him too mean a husband for your daughter. If more you seek for, you must go to Rome, for he shall thither learn more wit for shame.

Bury your dead. Away, Grimaldi. Leave him. Is this a churchman's voice? Dwells justice here?

Justice is fled to heaven, and comes no nearer. Soranzo, was't for him? Oh, impudence! Had he the face to speak it, and not blush? Come, come, Donato, there's no help in this,

when cardinals think murder's not a miss. Great men may do their wills. We must obey. But heaven will judge them, for it's another day. Exaunt.

End of Act III