payment page
SCENE 4
[A hall in Sir Politick's house.]
[Enter PEREGRINE disguised, and three MERCHANTS.]
PER: Am I enough disguised?
1ST MER: I warrant you.
PER: All my ambition is to fright him only.
2ND MER: If you could ship him away, 'twere excellent.
3RD MER: To Zant, or to Aleppo?
PER: Yes, and have his
Adventures put i' the Book of Voyages.
And his gull'd story register'd for truth.
Well, gentlemen, when I am in a while,
And that you think us warm in our discourse,
Know your approaches.
1ST MER: Trust it to our care.
[Exeunt MERCHANTS.]
[Enter WAITING-WOMAN.]
PER: Save you, fair lady! Is Sir Pol within?
WOM: I do not know, sir.
PER: Pray you say unto him,
Here is a merchant, upon earnest business,
Desires to speak with him.
WOM: I will see, sir.
[Exit.]
PER: Pray you.—
I see the family is all female here.
[Re-enter WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: He says, sir, he has weighty affairs of state,
That now require him whole; some other time
You may possess him.
PER: Pray you say again,
If those require him whole, these will exact him,
Whereof I bring him tidings.
[Exit WOMAN.]
—What might be
His grave affair of state now! How to make
Bolognian sausages here in Venice, sparing
One o' the ingredients?
[Re-enter WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: Sir, he says, he knows
By your word "tidings," that you are no statesman,
And therefore wills you stay.
PER: Sweet, pray you return him;
I have not read so many proclamations,
And studied them for words, as he has done—
But—here he deigns to come.
[Exit WOMAN.]
[Enter SIR POLITICK.]
SIR P: Sir, I must crave
Your courteous pardon. There hath chanced to-day,
Unkind disaster 'twixt my lady and me;
And I was penning my apology,
To give her satisfaction, as you came now.
PER: Sir, I am grieved I bring you worse disaster:
The gentleman you met at the port to-day,
That told you, he was newly arrived—
SIR P: Ay, was
A fugitive punk?
PER: No, sir, a spy set on you;
And he has made relation to the senate,
That you profest to him to have a plot
To sell the State of Venice to the Turk.
SIR P: O me!
PER: For which, warrants are sign'd by this time,
To apprehend you, and to search your study
For papers—
SIR P: Alas, sir, I have none, but notes
Drawn out of play-books—
PER: All the better, sir.
SIR P: And some essays. What shall I do?
PER: Sir, best
Convey yourself into a sugar-chest;
Or, if you could lie round, a frail were rare:
And I could send you aboard.
SIR P: Sir, I but talk'd so,
For discourse sake merely.
[Knocking without.]
PER: Hark! they are there.
SIR P: I am a wretch, a wretch!
PER: What will you do, sir?
Have you ne'er a currant-butt to leap into?
They'll put you to the rack, you must be sudden.
SIR P: Sir, I have an engine—
3RD MER: [Within.] Sir Politick Would-be?
2ND MER: [Within.] Where is he?
SIR P: That I have thought upon before time.
PER: What is it?
SIR P: I shall ne'er endure the torture.
Marry, it is, sir, of a tortoise-shell,
Fitted for these extremities: pray you, sir, help me.
Here I've a place, sir, to put back my legs,
Please you to lay it on, sir,
[Lies down while PEREGRINE places the shell upon him.]
—with this cap,
And my black gloves. I'll lie, sir, like a tortoise,
'Till they are gone.
PER: And call you this an engine?
SIR P: Mine own device—Good sir, bid my wife's women
To burn my papers.
[Exit PEREGRINE.]
[The three MERCHANTS rush in.]
1ST MER: Where is he hid?
3RD MER: We must,
And will sure find him.
2ND MER: Which is his study?
[Re-enter PEREGRINE.]
1ST MER: What
Are you, sir?
PER: I am a merchant, that came here
To look upon this tortoise.
3RD MER: How!
1ST MER: St. Mark!
What beast is this!
PER: It is a fish.
2ND MER: Come out here!
PER: Nay, you may strike him, sir, and tread upon him;
He'll bear a cart.
1ST MER: What, to run over him?
PER: Yes, sir.
3RD MER: Let's jump upon him.
2ND MER: Can he not go?
PER: He creeps, sir.
1ST MER: Let's see him creep.
PER: No, good sir, you will hurt him.
2ND MER: Heart, I will see him creep, or prick his guts.3RD MER: Come out here!
PER: Pray you, sir!
[Aside to SIR POLITICK.]
—Creep a little.
1ST MER: Forth.
2ND MER: Yet farther.
PER: Good sir!—Creep.
2ND MER: We'll see his legs.
[They pull off the shell and discover him.]
3RD MER: Gods so, he has garters!
1ST MER: Ay, and gloves!
2ND MER: Is this
Your fearful tortoise?
PER: [Discovering himself.] Now, Sir Pol, we are even;
For your next project I shall be prepared:
I am sorry for the funeral of your notes, sir.
1ST MER: 'Twere a rare motion to be seen in Fleet-street.
2ND MER: Ay, in the Term.
1ST MER: Or Smithfield, in the fair.
3RD MER: Methinks 'tis but a melancholy sight.
PER: Farewell, most politic tortoise!
[Exeunt PEREGRINE and MERCHANTS.]
[Re-enter WAITING-WOMAN.]
SIR P: Where's my lady?
Knows she of this?
WOM: I know not, sir.
SIR P: Enquire.—
O, I shall be the fable of all feasts,
The freight of the gazetti; ship-boy's tale;
And, which is worst, even talk for ordinaries.
WOM: My lady's come most melancholic home,
And says, sir, she will straight to sea, for physic.
SIR P: And I to shun this place and clime for ever;
Creeping with house on back: and think it well,
To shrink my poor head in my politic shell.
[Exeunt.]
