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BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN
MONSIEUR THOMAS
THE CHANCES
THE BLOODY BROTHER
THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE
THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1906
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,
C.F. CLAY, Manager.
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.
Leipzig: F.A. BROCKHAUS.
New York: G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS.
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
[All Rights reserved.]
CONTENTS
NOTE
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN
MONSIEUR THOMAS.
THE CHANCES
THE BLOODY BROTHER; OR, ROLLO
THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE
APPENDIX
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
NOTE
A few addenda to the textual notes on The Elder Brother, Wit without Money and The Faithful Shepherdess (Volume II), will be found in the Appendix, before the notes to the plays contained in the present volume. As the volume or volumes of explanatory notes on the plays, their literary and stage history and their language, will not appear until after the completion of the publication of the entire text, it seemed best to give these few additions here, rather than to wait for the appearance of those volumes.
It might be as well to mention here that differences have been found to exist in copies of the second folio all dated 1679. In order to check these as far as possible the text is set up from one copy of the folio and the proofs are read word for word with two additional copies, once by myself and once by Mrs Glover, who, since I took over the editorship, has also been so good as to continue her collations of a set of the quartos, as an additional check upon my own collations of them.
A. R. WALLER.
Cambridge,
3 September, 1906.
THE
TRAGEDY
OF
VALENTINIAN.
| Valentinian, Emperour of Rome. | |
| Æcius, the Emperours Loyal General. | |
| Balbus, | 4 Noble Panders, and flatterers to the Emperour. |
| Proculus, | |
| Chilax, | |
| Licinius, | |
| Maximus, a great Souldier, Husband to Lucina. | |
| Lycias, an Eunuch. | |
| Pontius, an honest Cashier'd Centurion. | |
| Phidias, | two bold and faithful Eunuchs Servants to Æcius. |
| Aretus, | |
| Afranius, an eminent Captain. | |
| Paulus, a Poet. | |
| Licippus, a Courtier. | |
| 3 Senators. | |
| Physicians. | |
| Gentlemen. | |
| Souldiers. | |
| WOMEN. | |
| Eudoxia, Empress, Wife to Valentinian. | |
| Lucina, the chast abused Wife of Maximus. | |
| Claudia, | Lucina's waiting Women. |
| Marcellina, | |
| Ardelia, | two of the Emperou[r]s Bawds. |
| Phorba, | |
The Scene Rome.
The principal Actors were,
- Richard Burbadge.
- Henry Condel.
- John Lowin.
- William Ostler.
- John Underwood.
Actus Primus. Scena Prima.
Enter Balbus, Proculus, Chilax, Licinius.
No more another Woman, no more alter'd
With any hopes or promises laid to her
(Let 'em be ne're so weighty, ne're so winning)
Than I am with the motion of mine own legs.
You are a stranger yet in these designs,
At least in Rome; tell me, and tell me truth,
Did you ere know in all your course of practice,
In all the wayes of Women you have run through
(For I presume you have been brought up Chilax,
As we to fetch and carry.)
Ever discover such a piece of beauty,
Ever so rare a Creature, and no doubt
One that must know her worth too, and affect it,
I and be flatter'd, else 'tis none: and honest?
Honest against the tide of all temptations,
Honest to one man, to her Husband only,
And yet not eighteen, not of age to know
Why she is honest?
I never saw her fellow, nor e're shall,
For all our Grecian Dames, all I have tri'd,
(And sure I have tri'd a hundred, if I say two
I speak within my compass) all these beauties,
And all the constancy of all these faces,
Maids, Widows, Wives, of what degree or calling,
So they be Greeks, and fat, for there's my cunning,
I would undertake and not sweat for't, Proculus,
Were they to try again, say twice as many,
Under a thousand pound, to lay 'em bedrid;
But this Wench staggers me.
You would think these pretty baits; now I'le assure ye
[Pg 3] Here's half the wealth of Asia.
To the full honours I propounded to her;
I bid her think, and be, and presently
What ever her ambition, what the Counsel
Of others would add to her, what her dreams
Could more enlarge, what any President
Of any Woman rising up to glory,
And standing certain there, and in the highest,
Could give her more, nay to be Empress.
Never to be thaw'd again.
And so far, that I think she is no Woman,
At least as Women go now.
Of as much spleen as Doves have, I had reach'd her;
A safe revenge of all that ever hates her,
The crying down for ever of all beauties
That may be thought come near her.
I offer'd her a gift beyond all yours,
That, that had made a Saint start, well consider'd,
The Law to be her creature, she to make it,
Her mouth to give it, every creature living
From her aspect, to draw their good or evil
Fix'd in 'em spight of Fortune; a new Nature
She should be called, and Mother of all ages,
Time should be hers, and what she did, lame vertue
Should bless to all posterities: her Air
Should give us life, her earth and water feed us.
And last, to none but to the Emperour,
(And then but when she pleas'd to have it so)
She should be held for mortal.
That stands condemn'd his judgment, let me perish,
[Pg 4] But if there can be vertue, if that name
Be any thing but name and empty title,
If it be so as fools have been pleas'd to feign it,
A power that can preserve us after ashes,
And make the names of men out-reckon ages,
This Woman has a God of vertue in her.
All the contempt of glory and vain seeming
Of all the Stoicks, all the truth of Christians,
And all their Constancy: Modesty was made
When she was first intended: when she blushes
It is the holiest thing to look upon;
The purest temple of her sect, that ever
Made Nature a blest Founder.
To take this Phenix?
To ease or pleasure, or affected glory,
Proud to be seen and worship'd, 'twere a venture;
But on my soul she is chaster than cold Camphire.
Like a full sail she bears against: I askt her
After my many offers walking with her,
And her as many down-denyals, how
If the Emperour grown mad with love should force her;
She pointed to a Lucrece, that hung by,
And with an angry look, that from her eyes
Shot Vestal fire against me, she departed.
Yet I have brought young loving things together
This two and thirty years.
The calling of a Bawd to be a strange,
A wise, and subtile calling; and for none
But staid, discreet, and understanding people:
And as the Tutor to great Alexander,
Would say, a young man should not dare to read
His moral books, till after five and twenty;
[Pg 5] So must that he or she, that will be bawdy,
(I mean discreetly bawdy, and be trusted)
If they will rise, and gain experience,
Well steept in years, and discipline, begin it,
I take it 'tis no Boys play.
This is the first quick Eele, that sav'd her tail. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Lucina, Ardelia and Phorba.
Can it renew your youth, can it add wealth,
That takes off wrinkles: can it draw mens eyes,
To gaze upon you in your age? can honour,
That truly is a Saint to none but Souldiers,
And look'd into, bears no reward but danger,
Leave you the most respected person living?
Or can the common kisses of a Husband,
(Which to a sprightly Lady is a labour)
Make ye almost Immortal? ye are cozen'd,
The honour of a woman is her praises;
The way to get these, to be seen, and sought too,
And not to bury such a happy sweetness
Under a smoaky roof.
Kept from the eyes, that make it so, is nothing;
Then you are rarely fair, when men proclaim it;
The Phenix, were she never seen, were doubted;
That most unvalued Horn the Unicorn
Bears to oppose the Huntsman, were it nothing
But tale, and meer tradition, would help no man;
But when the vertue's known, the honour's doubled:
Vertue is either lame, or not at all,
[Pg 6] And love a Sacriledge, and not a Saint,
When it bars up the way to mens Petitions.
To make a Monster of ye.
If you have grace to make your use.
Had ye no other vertue, but your blushes,
And I a man, I should run mad for those:
How daintily they set her off, how sweetly!
It must not be, a better Orb stayes for you:
Here: be a Maid, and take 'em.
To make us guilty of your melancholy:
You must not be alone; in conversation
Doubts are resolv'd, and what sticks near the conscience
Made easie, and allowable.
Tempt me no more; how ugly ye seem to me?
There is no wonder men defame our Sex,
And lay the vices of all ages on us,
When such as you shall bear the names of women;
If ye had eyes to see your selves, or sence
Above the base rewards ye play the bawds for:
If ever in your lives ye heard of goodness,
(Though many Regions off, as men hear Thunder)
If ever ye had Mothers, and they souls:
If ever Fathers, and not such as you are;
If ever any thing were constant in you,
Besides your sins, or coming, but your courses;
If ever any of your Ancestors
Dyed worth a noble deed, that would be cherish'd;
Soul-frighted with this black infection,
You would run from one another, to repentance,
[Pg 7] And from your guilty eyes drop out those sins,
That made ye blind, and beasts.
A sign of fruitful education,
If your religious zeal had wisdom with it.
And we may all give thanks for't.
From his wild flying courses, this is she;
She can instruct him if ye mark; she is wise too.
And so religious, that I well believe,
Though she would sin she cannot.
She has the Empires cause in hand, not loves;
There lies the main consideration,
For which she is chiefly born.
Stronger than we can tell her, and believe it
I look by her means for a reformation,
And such a one, and such a rare way carried
That all the world shall wonder at.
I never thought the Emperor had wisdom,
Pity, or fair affection to his Country,
Till he profest this love: gods give 'em Children,
Such as her vertues merit, and his zeal.
I look to see a Numa from this Lady,
Or greater than Octavius.
Which is a Noble vertue, how she blushes,
And what a flowing modesty runs through her,
When we but name the Emperour?
Yes, and admire it too, for she considers,
Though she be fair as Heaven, and vertuous
As holy truth, yet to the Emperour
She is a kind of nothing but her service,
Which she is bound to offer, and she'll do it,
[Pg 8] And when her Countries cause commands affection,
She knows obedience is the key of vertues,
Then flye the blushes out like Cupid's arrows,
And though the tye of Marriage to her Lord
Would fain cry, stay Lucina, yet the cause
And general wisdom of the Princes love,
Makes her find surer ends and happier,
And if the first were chaste, this is twice doubled.
That chides all common fools as dare enquire
What Princes would have private.
Shall we be blest to serve?
Ye are your purses Agents, not the Princes:
Is this the vertuous Lore ye train'd me out to?
Am I a woman fit to imp your vices?
But that I had a Mother, and a woman
Whose ever living fame turns all it touches,
Into the good it self is, I should now
Even doubt my self, I have been search't so near
The very soul of honour: why should you two,
That happily have been as chaste as I am,
Fairer, I think, by much, for yet your faces,
Like ancient well built piles, shew worthy ruins,
After that Angel age, turn mortal Devils?
For shame, for woman-hood, for what ye have been,
For rotten Cedars have born goodly branches,
If ye have hope of any Heaven, but Court,
Which like a Dream, you'l find hereafter vanish,
Or at the best but subject to repentance,
Study no more to be ill spoken of;
Let women live themselves, if they must fall,
Their own destruction find 'em, not your Fevours.
And I must tell it you with admiration,
So true a joy ye have, so sweet a fear,
And when ye come to anger, 'tis so noble,
[Pg 9] That for mine own part, I could still offend,
To hear you angry; women that want that,
And your way guided (else I count it nothing)
Are either Fools, or Cowards.
Could she not frown a ravish'd kiss from anger,
And such an anger as this Lady learns us,
Stuck with such pleasing dangers. Gods (I ask ye)
Which of ye all could hold from?
Your own dark sins dwell with ye, and that price
You sell the chastity of modest wives at
Runs to diseases with your bones: I scorn ye,
And all the nets ye've pitcht to catch my vertues
Like Spiders Webs, I sweep away before me.
Go tell the Emperour, ye have met a woman,
That neither his own person, which is God-like,
The world he rules, nor what that world can purchase,
Nor all the glories subject to a Cæsar,
The honours that he offers for my body,
The hopes, gifts, everlasting flatteries,
Nor any thing that's his, and apt to tempt me,
No not to be the Mother of the Empire,
And Queen of all the holy fires he worships,
Can make a Whore of.
That I have heard his Knaves, and you his Matrons,
Fit Nurses for his sins, which gods forgive me;
But ever to be leaning to his folly,
Or to be brought to love his lust, assure him,
And from her mouth, whose life shall make it certain,
I never can: I have a noble Husband,
Pray tell him that too, yet a noble name,
A Noble Family, and last a Conscience:
Thus much for your answer: For your selves,
Ye have liv'd the shame of women, dye the better. [Exit Luc.
For there's no living here, and women thus,
[Pg 10] I am sure for us two.
Yet ye may halt if good luck serve.
She has almost spoil'd our trade.
This is ill breeding, Phorba.
Should have a longing now to see this Monster,
And she convert 'em all.
But if it be, I'll have the young men gelded;
Come, let's go think, she must not 'scape us thus;
There is a certain season, if we hit,
That women may be rid without a Bit. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Maximus, and Æcius.
That they fall off so fast from this wild man,
When (under our Allegiance be it spoken,
And the most happy tye of our affectio[n]s)
The worlds weight groans beneath him; Where lives vertue,
Honour, discretion, wisdom? who are call'd
And chosen to the steering of the Empire
But Bawds, and singing Girls? O my Æcius
The glory of a Souldier, and the truth
Of men made up for goodness sake, like shells
Grow to the ragged walls for want of action;
Only your happy self, and I that love you,
Which is a larger means to me than favour.
And though these truths would ask a Reformation,
At least a little squaring: yet remember,
We are but Subjects, Maximus; obedience
To what is done, and grief for what is ill done,
Is all we can call ours: The hearts of Princes
Are like the Temples of the gods; pure incense,
[Pg 11] Until unhallowed hands defile those offerings,
Burns ever there; we must not put 'em out,
Because the Priests that touch those sweets, are wicked;
We dare not, dearest Friend, nay more, we cannot,
While we consider who we are, and how,
To what laws bound, much more to what Law-giver;
Whilest Majesty is made to be obeyed,
And not to be inquired into, whilst gods and angels
Make but a rule as we do, though a stricter;
Like desperate and unseason'd Fools let flye
Our killing angers, and forsake our honours.
I never yet took surfeit, weigh but thus much,
Nor think I speak it with ambition,
For by the gods, I do not; why Æcius,
Why are we thus, or how become thus wretched?
Or are we now no more the Sons of Romans,
No more the followers of their happy fortunes,
But conquer'd Gauls, or Quivers for the Parthians?
Why, is this Emperour, this man we honour,
This God that ought to be?
Thus led away, thus vainly led away,
And we Beholders? misconceive me not,
I sow no danger in my words; But wherefore,
And to what end, are we the Sons of Fathers
Famous and fast to Rome? why are their Vertues
Stampt in the dangers of a thousand Battels?
For goodness sake, their honours, time outdaring?
I think for our example.
With Bawds and base informers, kiss discredit,
And court her like a Mistriss? 'pray, your leave yet;
You'll say the Emperour is young, and apt
[Pg 12] To take impression rather from his pleasures
Than any constant worthiness, it may be,
But why do these, the people call his pleasures,
Exceed the moderation of a man?
Nay to say justly, friend, why are they vices,
And such as shake our worths with forreign Nations?
In any other man this had been boldness,
And so rewarded; 'pray depress your spirit,
For though I constantly believe you honest,
Ye were no friend for me else, and what now
Ye freely spake, but good you owe to th' Empire,
Yet take heed, worthy Maximus, all ears
Hear not with that distinction mine do, few
You'll find admonishers, but urgers of your actions,
And to the heaviest (friend;) and pray consider
We are but shadows, motions others give us,
And though our pities may become the times,
Justly our powers cannot; make me worthy
To be your friend ever in fair Allegiance,
But not in force; For durst mine own soul urge me,
(And by that Soul I speak my just affections)
To turn my hand from Truth, which is obedience,
And give the helm my Vertue holds, to Anger;
Though I had both the Blessings of the Bruti,
And both their instigations, though my Cause
Carried a face of Justice beyond theirs,
And as I am a servant to my fortunes,
That daring soul, that first taught disobedience,
Should feel the first example: say the Prince,
As I may well believe, seems vicious,
Who justly knows 'tis not to try our honours?
Or say he be an ill Prince, are we therefore
Fit fires to purge him? No, my dearest friend,
The Elephant is never won with anger,
Nor must that man that would reclaim a Lion,
Take him by th' teeth.
Like morning from our service, chaste and blushing,
[Pg 13] Is that that pulls a Prince back; then he sees,
And not till then truly repents his errours,
When Subjects Crystal Souls are glasses to him.
The Emperour appears, I'll leave ye to him.
And as we both affect him, may he flourish. [Exit Max.
Enter the Emperour, and Chilax.
Mine own head be my helper, these are fools:
How now Æcius, are the Souldiers quiet?
To censure me extreamly for my pleasures,
Shortly they'll fight against me.
And for their censures they are such shrew'd Judgers;
A donative of ten Sestertias
I'll undertake shall make 'em ring your praises
More than they sang your pleasures.
Art thou in love, Æcius, yet?
I am too course for Ladies; my embraces,
That only am acquainted with Alarms,
Would break their tender Bodies.
They are stronger than ye think, they'll hold the Hammer.
My Empress swears thou art a lusty Souldier,
A good one I believe thee.
Is but your Graces Creature.
For thou dar'st tell me.
That's fit for me to speak and you to pardon.
Mince 'em not, good Æcius, but deliver
[Pg 14] The very forms and tongues they talk withal.
You be not stir'd, for should the gods live with us,
Even those we certainly believe are righteous,
Give 'em but drink, they would censure them too.
By which they judge your Majesty too sensual,
Apt to decline your strength to ease and pleasures,
And when you do not sleep, you drink too much,
From which they fear suspicions first, then ruines;
And when ye neither drink nor sleep, ye wench much,
Which they affirm first breaks your understanding,
Then takes the edge of Honour, makes us seem,
That are the ribs, and rampires of the Empire,
Fencers, and beaten Fools, and so regarded;
But I believe 'em not; for were these truths,
Your vertue can correct them.
For they will talk their freedoms, though the Sword
Were in their throat) that of late time, like Nero,
And with the same forgetfulness of glory,
You have got a vein of fidling, so they term it.
And that you rather study cruelty,
And to be fear'd for blood, than lov'd for bounty,
Which makes the Nations, as they say, despise ye,
Telling your years and actions by their deaths,
Whose truth and strength of duty made you Cæsar:
They say besides you nourish strange devourers,
Fed with the fat o'th' Empire, they call Bawds,
Lazie and lustful Creatures that abuse ye,
A People as they term 'em, made of paper,
In which the secret sins of each man's monies
Are seal'd and sent a working.
For I perceive they have no mind to spare me.
[Pg 15] (Nor can the power of man restrain it)
When they are full of meat and ease, must prattle.
Your ears should hear their Vanities; no profit
Can justly rise to you from their behaviour,
Unless ye were guilty of those crimes.
I am so, therefore forward.
Learn'd to obey, nor shall my life resist it.
To see the Nations, whom our ancient Vertue
With many a weary march and hunger conquer'd,
With loss of many a daring life subdu'd,
Fall from their fair obedience, and even murmur
To see the warlike Eagles mew their honours
In obscure Towns, that wont to prey on Princes,
They cry for Enemies, and tell the Captains
The fruits of Italy are luscious, give us Egypt,
Or sandy Africk to display our valours,
There where our Swords may make us meat, and danger
Digest our well got Vyands; here our weapons
And bodies that were made for shining brass,
Are both unedg'd and old with ease and women.
And then they cry again, where are the Germans,
Lin'd with hot Spain, or Gallia, bring 'em on,
And let the Son of War, steel'd Mithridates,
Lead up his winged Parthians like a storm,
Hiding the face of Heaven with showrs of Arrows?
Yet we dare fight like Romans; then as Souldiers
Tir'd with a weary march, they tell their wounds
Even weeping ripe they were no more nor deeper,
And glory in those scars that make them lovely,
And sitting where a Camp was, like sad Pilgrims
They reckon up the times, and living labours
Of Julius or Germanicus, and wonder
[Pg 16] That Rome, whose Turrets once were topt with Honours,
Can now forget the Custom of her Conquests;
And then they blame your Grace, and say Who leads us,
Shall we stand here like Statues? were our Fathers
The Sons of lazie Moors, our Princes Persians,
Nothing but silks and softness? Curses on 'em
That first taught Nero wantonness and blood,
Tiberius doubts, Caligula all vices;
For from the spring of these, succeeding Princes—
Thus they talk, Sir.
Why do you hear these things?
I take the gods to witness, with more sorrow,
And more vexation do I hear these tainters
Than were my life dropt from me through an hour-glass.
Are glad they should be so; take heed, you were better
Build your own Tomb, and run into it living,
Than dare a Princes anger.
And ten years more addition, is but nothing;
Now if my life be pleasing to ye, take it,
Upon my knees, if ever any service,
(As let me brag some have been worthy notice)
If ever any worth, or trust ye gave me
Deserv'd a fair respect, if all my actions,
The hazards of my youth, colds, burnings, wants,
For you, and for the Empire, be not vices;
By that stile ye have stampt upon me, Souldier,
Let me not fall into the hands of Wretches.
That has look'd bravely in his blood for Cæsar,
And covetous of wounds, and for your safety,
After the 'scape of Swords, Spears, Slings, and Arrows,
'Gainst which my beaten body was mine armour,
The Seas and thirsty Desarts now be purchase
For Slaves, and base Informers; I see anger,
And death look through your Eyes; I am markt for slaughter,
[Pg 17] And know the telling of this truth has made me
A man clean lost to this World; I embrace it;
Only my last Petition, sacred Cæsar,
Is, I may dye a Roman.
And worthy of my love, reclaim the Souldier,
I'll study to do so upon my self too,
Go, keep your Command, and prosper.
Enter Chilax.
I'll meet him in the Gallery:
The honesty of this Æcius,
Who is indeed the Bull-wark of the Empire,
Has div'd so deep into me, that of all
The sins I covet, but this Womans beauty,
With much repentance now I could be quit of;
But she is such a pleasure, being good,
That though I were a god, she'd fire my blood.
[Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter the Emperour, Maximus, Licinius, Proculus, Chilax, as at Dice.
I should neglect my fortune now 'tis prosperous.
But Cloaths or good conditions, let me perish.
You have all my money, Sir.
[Pg 18]
So may your Mare be too, if luck serve.
Set it I say.
Rather name any house I have.
And curious you are grown of toys! redeem't
If so I win it, when you please, to morrow,
Or next day, as you will, I care not,
But only for my lucks sake; 'tis not Rings
Can make me richer.
Is only ever fortunate; to morrow,
And't be your pleasure, Sir, I'll pay the price on't.
But this day 'tis my Victory; good Maximus,
Now I bethink my self, go to Æcius,
And bid him muster all the Cohorts presently;
They mutiny for pay I hear, and be you
Assistant to him; when you know their numbers,
Ye shall have monies for 'em, and above,
[Pg 19] Something to stop their tongues withal.
And gods preserve you in this mind still.
For ye are Fellows only know by rote,
As Birds record their lessons.
That never saw her yet; and you two see
The Court made like a Paradise. [Exit Chilax.
(As I shall give instructions) screw to th' highest,
For my main piece is now a doing; and for fear
You should not take, I'll have another Engine,
Such as if vertue be not only in her,
She shall not chuse but lean to, let the Women
Put on a graver shew of welcome.
Enter Chilax, and Lycias the Eunuch.
Come, let's walk in, and then I'll shew ye all,
If women may be frail, this wench shall fall. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Claudia, and Marcellina.
She never cares for Company?
Unless it be that Company causes Cuckolds.
[Pg 20]
Came to her lately
From the Court?
Some grave instructors on my life, they look
For all the world like old hatcht hilts.
For here and there, and yet they painted well too,
One might discover where the Gold was worn,
Their iron ages.
They have been sheathed like rotten Ships.
Till thou wert such as they are?
Now heaven have mercy upon me, and young men,
I had rather make a drallery till thirty,
While I am able to endure a tempest,
And bear my fights out bravely, till my tackle
Whistl'd i'th' Wind, and held against all weathers,
While I were able to bear with my tyres,
And so discharge 'em, I would willingly
Live, Marcellina, not till barnacles
Bred in my sides.
For who would live whom pleasures had forsaken,
To stand at mark, and cry a Bow short, Seigneur?
Were there not men came hither too?
I fear me Bawds of five i'th' Pound.
They seem'd as noble Visitants.
Nothing less, Marcellina, for I markt 'em,
[Pg 21] And by this honest light, for yet 'tis morning,
Saving the reverence of their gilded doublets,
And Millan skins.
Court Crabs that creep a side-way for their living,
I know 'em by the Breeches that they beg'd last.
Enter Lucina, and Lycias, the Eunuch.
That cites her to appear.
Excellent Lady, there are none will hurt you.
Ought in this Message, but what honesty,
The trust and fair obedience of a servant
May well deliver, yet take heed, and help me.
Pray'd me to do this office, I have done it,
It rests in you to come, or no.
[Pg 22]
And to all my sense so honest,
And this is such a certain sign ye have brought me,
That I believe.
Or were I brib'd to do this villany,
Can mony prosper, or the fool that takes it,
When such a vertue falls?
Would all the rest that serve the Emperour,
Had but your way.
And will not fail to meet him; yet good Sir, thus much
Before you goe, I do beseech ye too,
As little notice as ye can, deliver
Of my appearance there.
And so I wish you happiness.
SCENE [III]. [Tumult & noise within.
Enter Æcius, pursuing Pontius, the Captain, and Maximus, following.
I am a Roman, and a Souldier.
Give me my self, or by the Gods my friend
You'l make me dangerous; how dar'st thou pluck
The Souldiers to sedition, and I living,
And sow Rebellion in 'em, and even then
When I am drawing out to action?
To pardon him; I am so easie natur'd,
That if he speak but humbly I forgive him.
One stroak, and if he scape me then h'as mercy.
I never car'd for death; if ye will kill me,
Consider first for what, not what you can do;
'Tis true, I know ye for my General,
And by that great Prerogative may kill:
But do it justly then.
A made up Rebel.
What certain grounds ye have for this.
Did I not take him preaching to the Souldier[s]
How lazily they liv'd, and what dishonours
It was to serve a Prince so full of woman?
Those were his very words, friend.
Though they were rashly spoke, which was an errour
(A great one Pontius) yet from him that hungers
For wars, and brave imployment, might be pardon'd.
The heart, and harbour'd thoughts of ill, make Traytors,
Not spleeny speeches.
Goe to, it shews not honest.
For that shews worse Æcius: All your friendship
And that pretended love ye lay upon me,
Hold back my honesty, is like a favour
You do your slave to day, to morrow hang him,
Was I your bosome piece for this?
The nature of my zeal, and for my Country,
Makes me sometimes forget my self; for know,
[Pg 24] Though I most strive to be without my passions,
I am no God: For you Sir, whose infection
Has spread it self like poyson through the army,
And cast a killing fog on fair allegiance,
First thank this noble Gentleman, ye had dy'd else;
Next from your place, and honour of a Souldier,
I here seclude you.
At least command, ye bear no arms for Rome Sir.
Has yet that priviledge to speak, my Lord;
Law were not equall else.
For happily the fault he has committed,
Though I believe it mighty, yet considered,
If mercy may be thought upon, will prove
Rather a hastie sin, than heynous.
My words almost as ragged as my fortunes.
'Tis true I told the Souldier, whom we serv'd,
And then bewail'd, we had an Emperour
Led from us by the flourishes of Fencers;
I blam'd him too for women.
Will do sometimes: 'Tis true I told 'em too,
We lay at home, to show our Country
We durst goe naked, durst want meat, and mony,
And when the slave drinks wine, we durst be thirstie:
I told 'em this too, that the Trees and Roots
Were our best pay-masters; the Charity
Of longing women, that had bought our bodies,
Our beds, fires, Taylers, Nurses. Nay I told 'em,
(For you shall hear the greatest sin, I said Sir)
By that time there be wars again, our bodies
Laden with scarrs, and aches, and ill lodgings,
Heats, and perpetual wants, were fitter prayers
[Pg 25] And certain graves, than cope the foe on crutches:
'Tis likely too, I counsell'd 'em to turn
Their warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure Targets
And Swords hatcht with the bloud of many Nations,
To Spades, and pruning Knives, for those get mony,
Their warlike Eagles, into Daws, or Starlings,
To give an Ave Cæsar as he passes,
And be rewarded with a thousand drachma's,
For thus we get but years and beets.
Were these words to be spoken by a Captain,
One that should give example?
Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst Cæsar,
The Gods for ever hate me, if that motion
Were part of me: Give me but imployment, Sir;
And way to live, and where you hold me vicious,
Bred up in mutiny, my Sword shall tell ye,
And if you please, that place I held, maintain it,
'Gainst the most daring foes of Rome. I am honest,
A lover of my Country, one that holds
His life no longer his, than kept for Cæsar.
Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you)
What my rude tongue discovered, 'twas my want,
No other part of Pontius: you have seen me,
And you my Lord, do something for my Country,
And both beheld the wounds I gave and took,
Not like a backward Traytor.
Makes but against you Pontius, you are cast,
And by mine honour, and my love to Cæsar,
By me shall never be restor'd; In my Camp
I will not have a tongue, though to himself
Dare talk but near sedition; as I govern,
All shall obey, and when they want, their duty
And ready service shall redress their needs,
Not prating what they would be.
Yet shall my prayers still, although my fortunes
[Pg 26] Must follow you no more, be still about ye,
Gods give ye where ye fight the Victory,
Ye cannot cast my wishes.
Now to the Field again.
SCENE IV.
Enter Chilax, at one door, Licinius, and Balbus, at another.
In the great Chamber, at her entrance,
Let me alone; and do you hear Licinius,
Pray let the Ladies ply her further off,
And with much more discretion: one word more.
Enter Emperour, Balbus, and Proc[u]lus.
Your Grace were seen last to her.
Keep the Court emptie Proculus.
Retire, and man your self; let us alone,
We are no children this way: do you hear Sir?
'Tis necessary that her waiting women
Be cut off in the Lobby, by some Ladies,
They'd break the business else.
[Pg 27]
Enter Lucina, Claudia, and Marcellina.
Calls for his Horse to air himself.
I come so happily to take him absent,
This takes away a little fear; I know him,
Now I begin to fear again: O honour,
If ever thou hadst temple in weak woman,
And sacrifice of modesty burnt to thee,
Hold me fast now, and help me.
Ye are welcom to the Court, most nobly welcom,
Ye are a stranger Lady.
Nothing so strange:
And therefore need a guide I think.
And that a good one too.
Shall be your guide in this place; But pray ye tell me,
Are ye resolv'd a Courtier?
You are so ready to bestow your self,
Pray what might cost those Breeches?
Madam ye have a witty woman.
Or else ye underbuy us.
But is my Lord here, I beseech ye, Sir?
Exceeding kindly of ye, wondrous kindly
[Pg 28] Ye come so far to visit him: I'le guide ye.
To find him in this place without a Guide?
For I would willingly not trouble you.
Nor can it be a trouble to do service
To such a worthy beauty, and besides—
Should pass without attendants.
He'l take it wondrous kindly: Hark.
Good Sir, no more of that.
Pray take your place.
I'le make no such promise.
Take heed ye stand to't.
Enter Licinius, and Proculus, Balbus.
And as that stirs her, let's set on: perfumes there.
[Pg 29]
Golden yellow, gaudy Blew,
Daintily invite the view.
Every where, on every Green,
Roses blushing as they blow,
And inticing men to pull,
Lillies whiter than the snow,
Woodbines of sweet hony full.
All Loves Emblems and all cry,
Ladys, if not pluckt we dye.
Blushing red and purest white,
Daintily to love invite,
Every Woman, every Maid,
Cherries kissing as they grow;
And inviting men to taste,
Apples even ripe below,
Winding gently to the waste:
All loves emblems and all cry,
Ladies, if not pluckt we dye.
What the mighty Love has done,
Fear examples, and be wise,
Fair Calisto was a Nun,
Læda sailing on the stream,
To deceive the hopes of man,
Love accounting but a dream,
Doted on a silver Swan,
Danae in a Brazen Tower,
Where no love was, lov'd a Showr.
What the mighty Love can do,
Fear the fierceness of the Boy,
The chaste Moon he makes to wooe:
[Pg 30] Vesta kindling holy fires,
Circled round about with spies,
Never dreaming loose desires,
Doting at the Altar dies.
Ilion in a short hour higher
He can build, and once more fire.
Enter Chilax, Lucina, Claudia, and Marcellina.
Well Ring, if thou bee'st counterfeit, or stoln,
As by this preparation I suspect it,
Thou hast betrai'd thy Mistris: pray Sir forward,
I would fain see my Lord.
How do ye like the Song?
But for the words, they are lascivious,
And over light for Ladies.
Attendants for this Lady.
I bring no triumph with me.
So freely of your self to be a visitant,
The Emperour shall give ye thanks for this.
There's nothing to deserve 'em.
I come to see my husband, on command too,
I were no Courtier else.
Now ye are here, y'are welcom, and the Emperour
Who loves ye, but too well.
I came not to be Catechiz'd.
[Pg 31] And have we got you here? faith Noble Lady,
We'l keep you one month Courtier.
I never lik'd a trade worse.
'Tis true I tell ye, and you'l find it.
I'le rather find my grave, and so inform him.
(Nay I'le deal roughly with ye, yet not hurt ye)
Sho[u]ld live alone, and give such heavenly beauty
Only to walls, and hangings?
I am no wonder, neither come to that end,
Ye do my Lord an injury to stay me,
Who though ye are the Princes, yet dare tell ye
He keeps no wife for your wayes.
However you are pleas'd to think of us,
Ye are welcom, and ye shall be welcome.
In that I come for then, in leading me
Where my lov'd Lord is, not in flattery:— [Jewels shew'd.
Nay ye may draw the Curtain, I have seen 'em,
But none worth half my honesty.
Laid here to take?
Would fit your worths.
I'th' Emperours arms goe to, but be not angry—
These are but talks sweet Lady.
Enter Phorba, and Ardelia.
Rushes as green as Summer for this stranger.
I take it 'tis your Qu.
You are better fitted Madam, we but tire ye,
Therefore we'l leave you for an hour, and bring
Your much lov'd Lord unto you— [Exeunt.
I am betrai'd for certain; well Lucina,
If thou do'st fall from vertue, may the Earth
That after death should shoot up gardens of thee,
Spreading thy living goodness into branches,
Fly from thee, and the hot Sun find thy vices.
How did you find the way to Court?
Would I had never trod it.
Good noble Lady, and good sweet heart love us,
For we love thee extreamly; is not this place
A Paradise to live in?
That know no other Paradise but pleasure,
That little I enjoy contents me better.
Is one o'th' prettiest by my troth Ardelia,
I ever saw yet; 'twas not to frown in Lady,
Ye put this gown on when ye came.
Alas poor wretch how cold it is!
I am as well as may be, and as temperate,
If ye will let me be so: where's my Lord?
[Pg 33] For there's the business that I came for Ladies.
And ye have shew'd me all I come to look on.
We have some pretty tales to tell ye Lady,
Shall make ye merry too; ye come not here,
To be a sad Lucina.
Enter Chilax, and Balbus.
If she can hold out them, the Emperour [Musick.
Takes her to task: he has her; hark the Musick.
Enter Emperour, and Lucina.
Where are my women Sir?
What you think scorn to look on, the Courts bravery:
Would you have run away so slily Lady,
And not have seen me?
Consider what I am, and whose.
More than you love your vertue.
And if ye be so cruel to abuse me,
Think how the Gods will take it; does this beauty
Afflict your soul? I'le hide it from you ever,
Nay more, I will become so leprous,
That ye shall curse me from ye: My dear Lord
Has serv'd ye ever truly, fought your Battels,
[Pg 34] As if he daily long'd to dye for Cæsar,
Was never Traytor Sir, nor never tainted
In all the actions of his life.
And spred together like to sailing Cedars,
Over the Roman Diadem; O let not,
As ye have any flesh that's humane in you,
The having of a modest wife decline him,
Let not my vertue be the wedge to break him.
I do not think ye are lascivious,
These wanton men belye ye, you are Cæsar,
Which is the Father of the Empires honour,
Ye are too near the nature of the Gods,
To wrong the weakest of all creatures, women.
I did but try your temper, ye are honest,
And with the commendations wait on that
I'le lead ye to your Lord, and give you to him:
Wipe your fair eyes: he that endeavours ill,
May well delay, but never quench his hell.— [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Chilax, Licinius, Proculus, and Balbus.
If there be any justice, we are Villains,
And must be so rewarded.
I take it 'tis no time now to repent it,
Let's make the best o'th' trade.
Why should not he have setled on a beauty,
Whose honesty stuck in a piece of tissue,
Or one a Ring might rule, or such a one
That had an itching husband to be honourable,
And ground to get it: if he must have women,
[Pg 35] And no allay without 'em, why not those
That know the misery, and are best able
To play a game with judgement? such as she is,
Grant they be won with long siege, endless travel,
And brought to opportunity with millions,
Yet when they come to motion, their cold vertue
Keeps 'em like cakes of Ice; I'le melt a Crystal,
And make a dead flint fire himself, e're they
Give greater heat, than new departing embers
Give to old men that watch 'em.
Had sav'd all this, and happily as wholsom,
I, and the thing once done too, as well thought of,
But this same chastity forsooth.
Why should not women be as free as we are?
They are, but not in open, and far freer,
And the more bold ye bear your self, more welcom,
And there is nothing you dare say, but truth,
But they dare hear.—
Enter Emperour, and Lucina.
And if we can repent, let's home and pray. [Exeunt.
Take heed, and save your honour; if you talk.
And life to give me words, I'le cry for justice.
Thou bitter bane o'th' Empire, look upon me,
And if thy guilty eyes dare see these ruines,
Thy wild lust hath laid level with dishonour,
The sacrilegious razing of this Temple,
The mother of thy black sins would have blush'd at,
Behold and curse thy self; the Gods will find thee,
That's all my refuge now, for they are righteous,
Vengeance and horror circle thee; the Empire,
In which thou liv'st a strong continued surfeit,
Like poyson will disgorge thee, good men raze thee
[Pg 36] For ever being read again,—but vicious
Women, and fearfull Maids, make vows against thee:
Thy own Slaves, if they hear of this, shall hate thee;
And those thou hast corrupted first fall from thee;
And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier,
Tir'd with thy Tyrannies, break through obedience,
And shake his strong Steel at thee.
Nor any Agony ye utter Lady,
If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me,
Curse the first cause, the witchcraft that abus'd me,
Curse those fair eyes, and curse that heavenly beauty,
And curse your being good too.
What restitution canst thou make to save me?
For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred,
And can there be a love in violence?
Thy villany, than flattery, that's thine own,
The other basely counterfeit; flye from me,
Or for thy safety sake and wisdom kill me,
For I am worse than thou art; thou maist pray,
And so recover grace; I am lost for ever,
And if thou let'st me live, th'art lost thy self too.
And let them triumph too, and sing to Cæsar,
Lucina's faln, the chast Lucina's conquer'd;
Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me!
For I am now no wife for Maximus,
No company for women that are vertuous,
No familie I now can claim, nor Country,
Nor name, but Cæsar's whore; O sacred Cæsar,
(For that should be your title) was your Empire,
Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Justice,
Those fires that ever burn, to beg you blessings,
The peoples adoration, fear of Nations,
[Pg 37] What victory can bring ye home, what else
The usefull Elements can make your servants,
Even light it self, and suns of light, truth, Justice,
Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you,
And from the gods themselves, to ravish women?
The curses that I owe to Enemies,
Even those the Sabines sent, when Romulus,
(As thou hast me) ravish'd their noble Maids,
Made more, and heavier, light on thee.
And where there has a chast wife been abus'd,
Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter,
And last for ever thine, the fear'd example.
Where shall poor vertue live, now I am faln?
What can your honours now, and Empire make me,
But a more glorious Whore?
But if ye will be blind, and scorn it, who can help it?
Come leave these lamentations, they do nothing,
But make a noyse, I am the same man still,
Were it to do again; therefore be wiser,
By all this holy light, I should attempt it,
Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish,
There were no pleasure in ye else.
And every help to hold me right has lost me;
The God of love himself had been before me
Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly,
How can I choose but err then? if ye dare
Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious,
I envie any other should enjoy ye,
Almost look on ye; and your daring husband
Shall know h'as kept an offring from the Empire,
Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest,
More than my self I'le make it: if ye will not
Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom
Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever,
And be the same you were; if ye divulge it,
[Pg 38] Know I am far above the faults I do,
And those I do I am able to forgive too;
And where your credit in the knowledge of it,
May be with gloss enough suspected, mine
Is as mine own command shall make it:
Princes though they be sometime subject to loose whispers,
Yet wear they two edged swords for open censures:
Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier;
Your husband is my creature, they my weapons,
And only where I bid 'em strike; I feed 'em,
Nor can the Gods be angry at this action,
For as they make me most, they mean me happiest,
Which I had never been without this pleasure:
Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women
At home before ye, they have had some sport too,
But are more thankful for it— [Exit Emperour.
Now which way must I go? my honest house
Will shake to shelter me, my husband flee me,
My Family, because they are honest, and desire to be so,
Must not endure me, not a neighbour know me:
What woman now dare see me without blushes,
And pointing as I pass, there, there, behold her,
Look on her little Children, that is she,
That handsome Lady, mark; O my sad fortunes,
Is this the end of goodness, this the price
Of all my early prayers to protect me,
Why then I see there is no God but power,
Nor vertue now alive that cares for us,
But what is either lame or sensual,
How had I been thus wretched else?
Enter Maximus, and Æcius.
Command the company that Pontius lost,
And see the Fosses deeper.
What make you here, and thus?
Why are you thus? My Ring? O friend, I have found it,
Ye are at Court, sweet.
Oh my best friend, I am ruin'd; go Lucina,
Already in thy tears I have read thy wrongs,
Already found a Cæsar; go thou Lilly,
Thou sweetly drooping flower: go silver Swan,
And sing thine own sad requiem: goe Lucina,
And if thou dar'st, outlive this wrong.
That cursed Ring, my self, and all my fortunes:
'Thas pleas'd the Emperour, my noble master,
For all my services, and dangers for him,
To make me mine own Pander, was this justice?
Oh my Aecius, have I liv'd to bear this?
But such a one becomes ye well Lucina:
And yet me thinks we should not part so lightly,
Our loves have been of longer growth, more rooted
Than the sharp word of one farewel can scatter,
Kiss me: I find no Cæsar here; these lips
Taste not of Ravisher in my opinion.
Was it not so?
For thou wert ever truth it self, and sweetness;
Indeed she was, Æcius.
The blessing of my Youth, the life of my life.
Hold me ye equal Gods, this is too sinful.
To me thou wert too chaste; fall Crystal Fountains,
And ever feed your streams you rising sorrows,
[Pg 40] Till you have dropt your Mistris into Marble:
Now go for ever from me.
And as I have been loyal, gods think on me.
Farewel thou excellent example of us,
Thou starry Vertue, fare thee well, seek Heaven,
And there by Cassiopea shine in Glory,
We are too base and dirty to preserve thee.
And from a Woman of so ripe a Vertue,
Æcius must not take; Farewel thou Phœnix,
If thou wilt dye, Lucina; which well weigh'd,
If you can cease a while from these strange thoughts,
I wish were rather alter'd.
I would not stain your honour for the Empire,
Nor any way decline you to discredit,
'Tis not my fair profession, but a Villains;
I find and feel your loss as deep as you do,
And am the same, Æcius, still as honest,
The same life I have still for Maximus,
The same Sword wear for you, where Justice wills me,
And 'tis no dull one; therefore misconceive me not;
Only I would have you live a little longer,
But a short year.
Am I not grey enough with grief already?
And goodness in his days to come.
And will be ever coming, my Æcius.
His swoln sins at the full, and your fair vertues,
May like a fearful Vision fright his follies,
And once more bend him right again? which blessing
(If your dark wrongs would give you leave to read)
Is more than death, and the reward more glorious;
[Pg 41] Death, only eases you, this, the whole Empire;
Besides, compell'd and forc'd with violence,
To what ye have done, the deed is none of yours,
No, nor the justice neither; ye may live,
And still a worthier Woman, still more honoured;
For are those trees the worse we tear the fruits from?
Or should the eternal gods desire to perish
Because we daily violate their truths,
Which is the Chastity of Heaven? No, Lady,
If ye dare live, ye may; and as our sins
Make them more full of equity and justice,
So this compulsive wrong makes you more perfect;
The Empire too will bless you.
If she were any thing to me but honour,
And that that's wedded to me too, laid in,
Not to be worn away without my being;
Or could the wrongs be hers alone, or mine,
Or both our wrongs, not ty'd to after issues,
Not born anew in all our names and kindreds,
I would desire her live, nay more, compel her:
But since it was not Youth, but Malice did it,
And not her own, nor mine, but both our losses,
Nor stays it there, but that our names must find it,
Even those to come; and when they read, she liv'd,
Must they not ask how often she was ravish'd,
And make a doubt she lov'd that more than Wedlock?
Therefore she must not live.
To teach the world, such deaths are superstitious.
For could the World again restore my Credit,
As fair and absolute as first I bred it,
That world I should not trust again: The Empire
By my life, can get nothing but my story,
Which whilst I breath must be but his abuses;
And where ye counsel me to live, that Cæsar
May see his errours and repent, I'll tell ye,
His penitence is but encrease of pleasures,
His prayers never said but to deceive us,
[Pg 42] And when he weeps (as you think) for his Vices,
'Tis but as killing drops from baleful Yew-Trees,
That rot their honest Neighbour; If he can grieve
As one that yet desires his free Conversion,
And almost glories in his penitence,
I'll leave him Robes to mourn in, my sad ashes.
And to thy memory be ever sung
The praises of a just and constant Lady,
This sad day whilst I live, a Souldiers tears
I'll offer on thy Monument, and bring
Full of thy noble self with tears untold yet,
Many a worthy Wife, to weep thy ruine.
All living Epitaphs be thine, Time, Story;
And what is left behind to piece our lives
Shall be no more abus'd with tales and trifles,
But full of thee, stand to eternity.
There where the happy Souls are crown'd with Blessings,
There where 'tis ever Spring and ever Summer.
Are keepers of that blessed Place; go thither,
For here thou liv'st chaste Fire in rotten Timber.
He ever was a noble Roman, but
I know not what to think on't, he hath suffered
Beyond a man if he stand this.
Am I alive, or has a dead sleep seiz'd me?
It was my Wife the Emperour abus'd thus,
And I must say I am glad I had her for him;
Must I not, my Æcius?
With such a stiff amazement, that no answer
Can readily come from me, nor no comfort;
Will ye go home, or go to my house?
[Pg 43] I have no home, and you are mad, Æcius,
To keep me company, I am a fellow
My own Sword would forsake, not tyed unto me;
A Pander is a Prince, to what I am faln;
I dare do nothing.
And yet I bless the Maker;
Death o' my Soul, must I endure this tamely?
Must Maximus be mention'd for his tales?
I am a Child too; what should I do railing?
I cannot mend my self, 'tis Cæsar did it,
And what am I to him?
However you are tainted, be no Traitor
Time may outwear the first, the last lives ever.
I fear ye, Maximus, nor can I blame thee
If thou break'st out, for by the gods thy wrong
Deserves a general ruine: do ye love me?
Ye shall not to your own house.
My griefs are greater far than Walls can compass,
And yet I wonder how it happens with me,
I am not dangerous, and o' my Conscience,
Should I now see the Emperour i'th' heat on't,
I should not chide him for't, an awe runs through me,
I feel it sensibly that binds me to it,
'Tis at my heart now, there it sits and rules,
And methinks 'tis a pleasure to obey it.
And how far ye dare do; no Roman farther,
Nor with more fearless Valour; and I'll watch ye,
Keep that obedience still.
(For her abuse much good may do his Grace,
I'll make as bold with his Wife, if I can)
[Pg 44] More than the fading of a few fresh colours,
More than a lusty spring lost?
To one that truly lives. Æcius:
For look you friend, for vertue, and those trifles,
They may be bought they say.
His grief has made him talk things from his Nature.
To get in Rome, unless it be bespoken
A hundred years before; Is it Æcius?
By'r Lady, and well handled too i'th' breeding.
If my Wife for all this should be a Whore now,
A kind of Kicker out of sheets, 'twould vex me,
For I am not angry yet; the Emperour
Is young and handsome, and the Woman Flesh,
And may not these two couple without scratching?
I am not wretched, for there's no man miserable
But he that makes himself so.
She knows the inticing sweets and delicacies
Of a young Princes pleasures, and I thank her,
She has made a way for Maximus to rise by.
Will't not become me bravely? why do you think
She wept, and said she was ravish'd? keep it here
And I'll discover to you.
I love no bitten flesh, and out of that hope
She might be from me, she contriv'd this knavery;
Was it not monstrous, friend?
Or is he mad indeed?
[Pg 45]
And yet I thank the gods I know my duty.
Enter Claudia.
She is so.
Into her house, after a world of weeping,
And blushing like the Sun-set, as we see her;
Dare I, said she, defile this house with Whore,
In which his noble Family has flourish'd?
At which she fell, and stir'd no more; we rub'd her. [Exit Clau.
If thou wilt do me pleasure, weep a little,
I am so parch'd I cannot: Your example
Has brought the rain down now: now lead me friend,
And as we walk together, let's pray together truly,
I may not fall from faith.
But do not name the Woman; fye, what fool
Am I to weep thus? Gods, Lucina, take thee,
For thou wert even the best and worthiest Lady.
Would there were wars now.
Of my deep lamentations here's an end. [Exeunt.
[SCENE II.]
Enter Pontius, Phidias, and Aretus.
Of your faln fortunes, what to say I know not,
For 'tis too true the Emperour desires not,
But my best master, any souldier near him.
[Pg 46]
For disobedience, how can we incline him,
(That are but under persons to his favours)
To any fair opinion? Can ye sing?
Go not to th' Lute, or Viol, but to th' Trumpet,
My tune kept on a Target, and my subject
The well struck wounds of men, not love, or women.
You must, if here you would plant your self, and rather
Learn as we do, to like what those affect
That are above us; wear their actions,
And think they keep us warm too; what they say,
Though oftentimes they speak a little foolishly,
Not stay to construe, but prepare to execute,
And think however the end falls, the business
Cannot run empty handed.
And if it were put to you, lye a little?
I cannot lie nor flatter.
If ye be there.
If it be grown so wicked.
Mens honest sayings for my truth?
But womens honest actions for your trial.
We ask you how you like 'em?
I tell ye I abhor 'em; they are ill ways,
And I will starve before I fall into 'em,
The doers of 'em Wretches, their base hungers
Care not whose Bread they eat, nor how they get it.
Because ye have been Souldiers, and born Arms,
The Servants of the brave Æcius,
And by him put to th' Emperour, give me leave,
Or I must take it else, to say ye are Villains,
For all your Golden Coats, debosh'd, base Villains,
Yet I do wear a Sword to tell you so,
Is this the way you mark out for a Souldier,
A Man that has commanded for the Empire,
And born the Reputation of a Man?
Are there not lazie things enough call'd fools and cowards,
And poor enough to be prefer'd for Panders,
But wanting Souldiers must be Knaves too? ha!
This the trim course of life; were not ye born Bawds,
And so inherit but your Rights? I am poor,
And may expect a worse; yet digging, pruning,
Mending of broken ways, carrying of water,
Planting of Worts and Onions, any thing
That's honest, and a Mans, I'll rather chuse,
I, and live better on it, which is juster,
Drink my well gotten water with more pleasure,
When my endeavours done, and wages paid me,
Than you do wine, eat my course Bread, not curst,
And mend upon't, your diets are diseases,
And sleep as soundly, when my labour bids me,
As any forward Pander of ye all,
And rise a great deal honester; my Garments,
Though not as yours, the soft sins of the Empire,
Yet may be warm, and keep the biting wind out,
When every single breath of poor opinion
Finds you through all your Velvets.
[Pg 48]
Though much neglected for it; So dare be still;
Your Curses are not ours; we have seen your fortune,
But yet know no way to redeem it: Means,
Such as we have, ye shall not want, brave Pontius,
But pray be temperate, if we can wipe out
The way of your offences, we are yours, Sir;
And you shall live at Court an honest Man too.
Fear not to be as we are; what we told ye,
Were but meer tryals of your truth: y'are worthy,
And so we'll ever hold ye; suffer better,
And then you are a right Man, Pontius,
If my good Master be not ever angry,
Ye shall command again.
For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye— [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Maximus.
This friend must dye, this soul of Maximus,
Without whom I am nothing but my shame,
This perfectness that keeps me from opinion,
Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever:
A hard choice, and a fatal; Gods ye have given me
A way to credit, but the ground to go on,
Ye have levell'd with that precious life I love most,
Yet I must on, and through, for if I offer
To take my way without him, like a Sea
He bears his high Command 'twixt me and vengeance,
And in mine own road sinks me, he is honest,
Of a most constant loyalty to Cæsar,
And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him,
But make a question of his ill, but say
What is a Cæsar, that he dare do this,
Dead sure he cuts me off; Æcius dyes,
[Pg 49] Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him?
Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing,
Æcius is my root, and wither him,
Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing.
Is he not more to me than Wife, than Cæsar?
Though I had now my safe revenge upon him,
Is he not more than rumour, and his friendship
Sweeter than the love of women? what is honour
We all so strangely are bewitch'd withal?
Can it relieve me if I want? he has;
Can honour 'twixt the incensed Prince and Envy,
Bear up the lives of worthy men? he has;
Can honour pull the wings of fearful Cowards,
And make 'em turn again like Tigers? he has;
And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so:
Why should this empty word incite me then
To what is ill and cruel? let her perish.
A friend is more than all the world, than honour;
She is a woman and her loss the less,
And with her go my griefs; but hark ye Maximus,
Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye
She was a ravish'd woman? Did not Justice
Nobly begin with her that not deserv'd it,
And shall he live that did it? Stay a little,
Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues
Dispute it afterward, and say I gave
(Affecting dull obedience, and tame duty,
And led away with fondness of a friendship)
The only vertue of the world to slander?
Is not this certain, was not she a chaste one,
And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her,
One of so sweet a vertue that Æcius,
Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it,
Out of his worthy love to me, and justice,
Had it not been on Cæsar, had reveng'd her?
He told me so; what shall I do then?
Enter a Servant.
Is come to seek ye.
O brave Æcius, I could wish thee now
As far from friendship to me, as from fears,
That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not,
Is there no way without him to come near it?
For out of honesty he must destroy me
If I attempt it, he must dye as others,
And I must lose him; 'tis necessity,
Only the time and means is the difference;
But yet I would not make a murther of him,
Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye,
I have found a way to do it, and a safe one,
It shall be honour to him too: I know not
What to determine certain, I am so troubled,
And such a deal of conscience presses me;
Enter Æcius.
How got you from me, friend?
A strong imagination made me wander.
But you must give me leave a little sometimes
To have a buzzing in my brains.
But I'll prevent it if I can; ye told me
You would go to th' Army.
Must he not be the bravest man, Æcius,
That strikes me first?
From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you?
Worse than the foes of Rome, I am a Coward,
A Cuckold, and a Coward, that's two causes
Why every one should beat me.
[Pg 51]
And durst another tell me so, he dyed for't,
For thus far on mine honour, I'le assure you
No man more lov'd than you, and for your valour,
And what ye may be, fair; no man more follow'd.
The Emperour nor all the Princes living
Shall find a flaw in my Coat; I have suffer'd,
And can yet; let them find inflictions,
I'le find a body for 'em, or I'le break it.
'Tis not a Wife can thrust me out, some look't for't;
But let 'em look till they are blind with looking,
They are but fools; yet there is anger in me,
That I would fain disperse, and now I think on't,
You told me, friend, the Provinces are stirring,
We shall have sport I hope then, and what's dangerous,
A Battle shall beat from me.
With such a setled look?
Do we not love extreamly? I love you so.
I should do that I never durst do, lye.
Our loves, and loving souls have been so us'd
But to one houshold in us: but to dye
Because I could not make you live, were woman,
Far much too weak, were it to save your worth,
Or to redeem your name from rooting out,
To quit you bravely fighting from the foe,
Or fetch ye off, where honour had ingag'd ye.
I ought, and would dye for ye.
What beast but I, that must, could hurt this man now?
Would he had ravish'd me, I would have paid him,
I would have taught him such a trick, his Eunuchs
Nor all his black-eyed Boys dreamt of yet;
[Pg 52] By all the Gods I am mad now; now were Cæsar
Within my reach, and on his glorious top
The pile of all the world, he went to nothing;
The Destinies, nor all the dames of Hell,
Were I once grappl'd with him, should relieve him,
No not the hope of mankind more; all perished;
But this is words, and weakness.
Nor what I am do I know.
Pray bid him be an honest man for my sake,
You may do much upon him; for his shadow,
Let me alone.
And to your friend; ye have some danger in you,
That willingly would run to action,
Take heed, by all our love take heed.
I, willing to do any thing, I dig.
Has not my Wife been dead two dayes already?
Are not my mournings by this time moth-eaten?
Are not her sins dispers'd to other Women,
And many one ravish'd to relieve her?
Have I shed tears these twelve hours?
And I must tell ye truth, were it not hazard,
And almost certain loss of all the Empire,
I would join with ye: were it any mans
But his life, that is life of us, he lost it
For doing of this mischief: I would take it,
And to your rest give ye a brave revenge:
But as the rule now stands, and as he rules,
And as the Nations hold in disobedience,
One pillar failing, all must fall; I dare not:
[Pg 53] Nor is it just you should be suffer'd in it,
Therefore again take heed: On forraign foes
We are our own revengers, but at home
On Princes that are eminent and ours,
'Tis fit the Gods should judge us: be not rash,
Nor let your angry steel cut those ye know not,
For by this fatal blow, if ye dare strike it,
As I see great aims in ye, those unborn yet,
And those to come of them, and these succeeding
Shall bleed the wrath of Maximus: for me
As ye now bear your self, I am your friend still,
If ye fall off I will not flatter ye,
And in my hands, were ye my soul, you perish'd:
Once more be careful, stand, and still be worthy,
I'le leave you for this hour. [Exit.
And friendship, since thou canst not hold in dangers,
Give me a certain ruin, I must through it. [Exit.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Emperour, Licinius, Chilax, and Balbus.
As people say.
Too much by you, you whetters of my follies,
Ye Angel formers of my sins, but Devils;
Where is your cunning now? you would work wonders,
There was no chastity above your practice,
You would undertake to make her love her wrongs,
And doate upon her rape: mark what I tell ye,
If she be dead—
Ye blasters of my youth, if she be gone,
'Twere better ye had been your Fathers Camels,
[Pg 54] Groan'd under daily weights of wood and water:
Am I not Cæsar?
Look she be living, slaves.
If she be dead, to make her new again.
I plant my love upon but common livers?
Their hours as others, told 'em? can they be ashes?
Why do ye flatter a belief into me
That I am all that is, the world's my creature,
The Trees bring forth their fruits when I say Summer,
The Wind that knows no limit but his wildness,
At my command moves not a leaf; the Sea
With his proud mountain waters envying Heaven,
When I say still, run into Crystal mirrors,
Can I do this and she dye? Why ye bubbles
That with my least breath break, no more remembred;
Ye moths that fly about my flame and perish,
Ye golden canker-worms, that eat my honours,
Living no longer than my spring of favour:
Why do ye make me God that can do nothing?
Is she not dead?
The pleasures of a body lam'd with lewdness;
A meer perpetual motion makes ye happy;
Am I a man to traffick with Diseases?
Can any but a chastity serve Cæsar?
And such a one that Gods would kneel to purchase?
You think because you have bred me up to pleasures,
And almost run me over all the rare ones,
Your Wives will serve the turn: I care not for 'em,
Your Wives are Fencers Whores, and shall be Footmens,
Though sometimes my nice will, or rather anger
Have made ye Cuckolds for variety;
I would not have ye hope, nor dream ye poor ones
Alwaies so great a blessing from me; go
Get your own infamy hereafter Rascals,
[Pg 55] I have done too nobly for ye, ye enjoy
Each one an heir, the Royal seed of Cæsar,
And I may curse ye for't; your wanton Gennets
That are so proud, the wind get's 'em with fillies,
Taught me this foul intemperance: Thou Licinius
Hast such a Messalina, such a Lais,
The backs of Bulls cannot content, nor Stallions,
The sweat of fifty men a night do's nothing.
The sins of other Women put by hers
Shew off like sanctities: Thine's a fool, Chilax,
Yet she can tell to twenty, and all lovers,
And all lien with her too, and all as she is,
Rotten, and ready for an Hospital.
Yours is an holy Whore, friend Balbus.
But not the punishments: she has had ten Bastards,
Five of 'em now are Lictors, yet she prayes;
She has been the Song of Rome, and common Pasquil;
Since I durst see a Wench, she was Camp Mistris,
And muster'd all the cohorts, paid 'em too,
They have it yet to shew, and yet she prayes;
She is now to enter old men that are Children,
And have forgot their rudiments: am I
Left for these withered vices? and but one,
But one of all the world that could content me,
And snatch'd away in shewing? If your Wives
Be not yet Witches, or your selves now be so
And save your lives, raise me this noble beauty
As when I forc'd her, full of constancy,
Or by the Gods—
Enter Proculus.
Is she not dead?
I come to bring your Grace a Letter, here
Scatter'd belike i'th' Court: 'tis sent to Maximus
And bearing danger in it.
Double our Guard.
And what a beast I am grown! I had forgotten
To ask Heaven mercy for my fault, and was now
Even ravishing again her memory,
I find there must be danger in this deed:
Why do I stand disputing then and whining?
For what is not the gods to give, they cannot
Though they would link their powers in one, do mischief.
This Letter may betray me, get ye gone [Exeunt.
And wait me in the Garden, guard the house well,
And keep this from the Empress: the name Maximus
Runs through me like a feavour, this may be
Some private Letter upon private business,
Nothing concerning me: why should I open't?
I have done him wrong enough already; yet
It may concern me too, the time so tells me;
The wicked deed I have done, assures me 'tis so.
Be what it will, I'le see it, if that be not
Part of my fears, among my other sins,
I'le purge it out in prayers:
How? what's this?
Letter read] Lord Maximus, you love Æcius,
And are his noble friend too; bid him be less,
I mean less with the people, times are dangerou[s]:
The Army's his, the Emperour in doubts;
And as some will not stick to say, declining,
You stand a constant man in either fortune;
Perswade him, he is lost else: Though ambition
Be the last sin he touches at, or never;
Yet what the people mad with loving him,
And as they willingly desire another
[Pg 57] May tempt him to, or rather force his goodness,
Is to be doubted mainly: he is all,
(As he stands now) but the meer name of Cæsar,
And should the Emperour inforce him lesser,
Not coming from himself, it were more dangerous:
He is honest, and will hear you: doubts are scatter'd,
And almost come to growth in every houshold:
Yet in my foolish judgment, were this master'd,
The people that are now but rage, and his,
Might be again obedience: you shall know me
When Rome is fair again; till when I love you.
No name! this may be cunning, yet it seems not;
For there is nothing in it but is certain,
Besides my safety.
Had not good Germanicus,
That was as loyal, and as straight as he is,
If not prevented by Tiberius,
Been by the Souldiers forc'd their Emperour?
He had, and 'tis my wisdom to remember it.
And was not Corbulo, even that Corbulo,
That ever fortunate and living Roman,
That broke the heart-strings of the Parthians,
And brought Arsaces line upon their knees,
Chain'd to the awe of Rome, because he was thought
(And but in wine once) fit to make a Cæsar,
Cut off by Nero? I must seek my safety:
For 'tis the same again, if not beyond it:
I know the Souldier loves him more than Heaven,
And will adventure all his gods to raise him;
Me he hates more than peace: what this may breed,
If dull security and confidence
Let him grow up, a fool may find and laught at.
But why Lord Maximus I injur'd so,
Should be the man to counsel him, I know not;
More than he has been friend, and lov'd allegeance:
What now he is I fear, for his abuses
Without the people dare draw blood; who waits there?
Enter a Servant.
[Pg 58]
I'le find a day for him too; times are dangerous,
The Army his, the Emperour in doubts:
I find it is too true; did he not tell me
1. As if he had intent to make me odious,
2. And to my face; and by a way of terror,
What vices I was grounded in, and almost
Proclaim'd the Souldiers hate against me? is not
The sacred name and dignity of Cæsar
(Were this Æcius more than man) sufficient
To shake off all his honesty? He's dangerous
Though he be good, and though a friend, a fear'd one,
And such I must not sleep by: are they come yet?
I do believe this fellow, and I thank him;
'Twas time to look about, if I must perish,
Yet shall my fears go formost.
Enter Phidias, and Aretus.
I rather think he's with the Army.
I do not like that Army: go unto him,
And bid him straight attend me, and do ye hear,
Come private without any; I have business
Only for him.
What Souldier is the same, I have seen him often,
That keeps you company, Aretus?
And't please your Grace.
But speaking something roughly in his want,
Especially of Wars, the Noble General
Out of strict allegiance cast his fortunes.
[Pg 59]
Souldiers will talk sometimes.
And for that noble Grace his life shall serve.
I shame a Souldier should become a Begger:
I like the man Aretus.
He shall receive the business, and reward for't:
I'le see him setled too, and as a Souldier,
We shall want such.
And till I be deliver'd, still am dying. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Maximus alone.
And business every where, and every corner
Full of strange whispers: I am least in rumour,
Enter Æcius and Phidias.
I see the bait is swallow'd: If he be lost
He is my Martyr, and my way stands open,
And honour on thy head, his blood is reckon'd.
Are ye turn'd Merchant?
And such a Merchant trafficks without danger;
I have forgotten all, Æcius,
And which is more, forgiven.
Is more than sacrifice of bloud and vengeance,
No eyes shall weep her ruins, but mine own.
The gods make poor Aecius worthy of thee.
Only in being yours:
But why your arm thus,
Have ye been hurt Aecius?
My horse fell with me friend: which till this morning
I never knew him do.
And now I think on't better, ye shall back,
Let my perswasions rule ye.
The Emperour commands me come.
At this time his command.
And all times will obey it, why not now then?
Be you so, noble friend: The Court's in Guard,
Arm'd strongly, for what purpose, let me fear;
I do not like your going.
And that fire certain to consume this body,
If Cæsar sent, I would goe; never fear man,
If he take me, he takes his arms away,
I am too plain and true to be suspected.
Because he meerely may, will have my life,
That's all he has to work on, and all shall have:
Let him, he loves me better: here I wither,
And happily may live, till ignorantly
I run into a fault worth death: nay more, dishonour.
Now all my sins, I dare say those of duty
Are printed here, and if I fall so happy,
I bless the grave I lye in, and the gods
[Pg 61] Equal, as dying on the Enemy,
Must take me up a Sacrifice.
And I'le goe with ye.
Shall I forsake ye in my doubts?
Only to be a Carpet friend for pleasure?
I can endure a death as well as Cato.
Nor none must goe along.
And once I could have us'd it for my friend.
And as ye love me, do not overlove me;
I am commanded none shall come: at supper
I'le meet ye, and weel drink a cup or two,
Ye need good Wine, ye have been sad: Farewel.
E're ye depart; it may be one of us
Shall never do the like again.
Till night: indeed you doubt too much.— [Exit.
Goe worthy innocent, and make the number
Of Cæsars sins so great, Heaven may want mercy:
I'le hover hereabout to know what passes:
And if he be so devilish to destroy thee,
In thy bloud shall begin his Tragedy.— [Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Proculus, and Pontius.
The noble name Patrician: more than that too,
The friend of Cæsar ye are stil'd: there's nothing
[Pg 62] Within the hopes of Rome, or present being,
But you may safely say is yours.
What has Aecius done to be destroy'd?
At least I would have a colour.
Nay all that may be given, he is a Traitor,
One, any man would strike that were a subject.
I ever thought the Souldier would undoe him
With his too much affection.
They have brought him to ambition.
Would save him yet.
Would goe to'th' Army to him.
All the disgrace he could.
Now ye have means to quit it,
The deed done, take his place.
'Tis ten to one I do it.
Sure, Murther was his Mother: none to lop,
But the main link he had? upon my conscience
[Pg 63] The man is truly honest, and that kills him;
For to live here, and study to be true,
Is all one to be Traitors: why should he die?
Have they not Slaves and Rascals for their Offrings
In full abundance; Bawds more than beasts for slaughter?
Have they not singing whores enough, and knaves too,
And millions of such Martyrs to sink Charon,
But the best sons of Rome must sail too? I will shew him
(since he must dye) a way to do it truly:
And though he bears me hard, yet shall he know,
I am born to make him bless me for a blow.— [Exit.
SCENE [IV].
Enter Phidias, Aretus, and Æcius.
And many when they see your sword out, and know why,
Must follow your adventure.
Is not the doom of Cæsar on this body,
Do not I bear my last hour here, now sent me?
Am I not old Aecius, ever dying?
You think this tenderness and love you bring me,
'Tis treason, and the strength of disobedience,
And if ye tempt me further, ye shall feel it:
I seek the Camp for safety, when my death
Ten times more glorious than my life, and lasting
Bids me be happy? Let the fool fear dying,
Or he that weds a woman for his honour,
Dreaming no other life to come but kisses;
Aecius is not now to learn to suffer:
If ye dare shew a just affection, kill me,
I stay but those that must: why do ye weep?
Am I so wretched to deserve mens pities?
Goe give your tears to those that lose their worths,
Bewail their miseries, for me wear Garlands,
Drink wine, and much; sing Peans to my praise,
I am to triumph friends, and more than Cæsar,
For Cæsar fears to die, I love to die.
[Pg 64]
Shew me not signs of sorrow, I deserve none:
Dare any man lament, I should die nobly?
Am I grown old to have such enemies?
When I am dead, speak honourably of me,
That is, preserve my memory from dying;
There if you needs must weep your ruin'd Master,
A tear or two will seem well: this I charge ye,
(because ye say you yet love old Aecius)
See my poor body burnt, and some to sing
About my Pile, and what I have done and suffer'd,
If Cæsar kill not that too: at your banquets
When I am gone, if any chance to number
The times that have been sad and dangerous,
Say how I fell, and 'tis sufficient:
No more I say, he that laments my end
By all the gods dishonours me; be gone
And suddainly, and wisely from my dangers,
My death is catching else.
I need no company to that that Children
Dare do alone, and Slaves are proud to purchase;
Live till your honesties, as mine has done,
Make this corrupted age sick of your vertues,
Then dye a sacrifice, and then ye know
The noble use of dying well, and Roman.
All leave our selves, it matters not where, when,
Nor how, so we die well: and can that man that does so
Need lamentation for him? Children weep
Because they have offended, or for fear;
Women for want of will, and anger; is there
In noble man, that truly feels both poyses
Of life and death, so much of this wet weakness,
To drown a glorious death in child and woman?
I am asham'd to see ye; yet ye move me,
And were it not my manhood would accuse me,
[Pg 65] For covetous to live, I should weep with ye.
Nor I the miseries that Rome shall suffer,
Which is a benefit life cannot reckon:
But what I have been, which is just, and faithfull;
One that grew old for Rome, when Rome forgot him,
And for he was an honest man durst die,
Ye shall have daily with ye: could that dye too,
And I return no traffick of my travels,
No pay to have been Souldier, but this Silver,
No Annals of Æcius, but he liv'd,
My friends, ye had cause to weep, and bitterly;
The common overflows of tender women,
And children new born crying, were too little
To shew me then most wretched: if tears must be,
I should in justice weep 'em, and for you,
You are to live, and yet behold those slaughters
The drie, and wither'd bones of death would bleed at:
But sooner, than I have time to think what must be,
I fear you'l find what shall be;
If ye love me,
Let that word serve for all, be gone and leave me;
I have some little practice with my soul,
And then the sharpest sword is welcom'st; goe,
Pray be gone, ye have obey'd me living,
Be not for shame now stubborn; so I thank ye,
And fare ye well, a better fortune guide ye—
[Exeunt Phi. and Aretus.
And yet it is a kind of fear, I say so;
Is it to be a just man now again,
And leave my flesh unthought of? 'tis departed:
I hear 'em come, who strikes first?
I stay for ye:
Enter Balbus, Chilax, Licinius.
But never saw the Enemy.
By heaven I dare not do it.
I am to die, come ye not now from Cæsar
To that end, speak?
'Tis Cæsars will.
That we may do it handsomly.
My sword up, handsomly? where were ye bred?
Ye are the merriest murderers my masters
I ever met withal; Come forward fools,
Why do ye stare? upon mine honour Bawds,
I will not strike ye.
Sees how you bear your self.
If you would kill me quietly.
He promis'd us to bring a Captain hither,
That has been used to kill.
Unless you will kill me quickly, and proclaim
What beastly, base, and cowardly companions
The Emperour has trusted with his safetie:
Nay I'le give out, ye fell of my side, villains,
Strike home ye bawdy slaves.
I mark'd his hand, he waits but time to reach us,
Now do you offer.
And kill me not at two blows, or at three,
Or not so stagger me, my senses fail me,
Look to your selves.
[Pg 67]
And take a thousand strokes.—
Enter Pontius.
Is this the love ye bear the Emperour?
Nay then I see ye are Traitors all, have at ye.— [Lici. runs away.
As ye have liv'd and flourish'd.
What hast thou done?
And you are next.
And in the face of all the Camp disgrac'd.
Shall my death be: is it revenge provok'd thee,
Or art thou hir'd to kill me?
To thank thee for my life?
For any courtesie, but killing me,
A fellow of thy fortune; do thy duty.
And not alone thee Pontius, but the Empire.
And first thy self: Thou canst fight well, and bravely,
Thou canst endure all dangers, heats, colds, hungers;
Heavens angry flashes are not suddainer,
Than I have seen thee execute; nor more mortal;
The winged feet of flying enemies
I have stood and view'd thee mow away like rushes,
And still kill the killer: were thy minde,
But half so sweet in peace, as rough in dangers,
I died to leave a happy heir behind me;
Come strike, and be a General.
And, for I see your honour cannot lessen,
And 'twere a shame for me to strike a dead man,
Fight your short span out.
I dare not give thee so much vantage of me,
As disobedience.
Against your enemy?
I have no power to make such enemies;
For as I am condemn'd, my naked sword
Stands but a hatchment by me; only held
To shew I was a Souldier; had not Cæsar
Chain'd all defence in this doom, let him die,
Old as I am, and quench'd with scarrs, and sorrows,
Yet would I make this wither'd Arm do wonders,
And open in an enemy such wounds
Mercy would weep to look on.
And look upon me, and be sure ye fear not:
Remember who you are, and why you live,
And what I have been to you: cry not hold,
Nor think it base injustice I should kill ye.
[Pg 69] Thou shalt behold and find I was no traitor,
And as I do it, bless me; die as I do.— [Pontius kills himself.
By all my hopes in Heaven, thou art a Roman.
For slanders self would shame to find you coward,
Or willing to out-live your honestie:
But noble Sir, ye have been jealous of me,
And held me in the rank of dangerous persons,
And I must dying say it was but justice,
Ye cast me from my credit; yet believe me,
For there is nothing now but truth to save me,
And your forgiveness, though ye held me hainous,
And of a troubled spirit, that like fire
Turns all to flames it meets with, ye mistook me;
If I were foe to any thing, 'twas ease,
Want of the Souldiers due, the Enemy
The nakedness we found at home, and scorn,
Children of peace, and pleasures, no regard
Nor comfort for our scars, but how we got 'em,
To rusty time, that eat our bodies up,
And even began to prey upon our honours,
To wants at home, and more than wants, abuses,
To them, that when the Enemy invaded
Made us their Saints, but now the sores of Rome;
To silken flattery, and pride plain'd over,
Forgetting with what wind their feathers sail,
And under whose protection their soft pleasures
Grow full and numberless: to this I am foe,
Not to the state, or any point of duty:
And let me speak but what a Souldier may,
Truly I ought to be so; yet I err'd,
Because a far more noble sufferer
Shew'd me the way to patience, and I lost it:
This is the end I die Sir; to live basely,
And not the follower of him that bred me,
In full account and vertue, Pontius dare not,
Much less to out-live what is good, and flatter.
For only good is far below thee Pontius,
[Pg 70] The gods shall find thee one; thou hast fashion'd death
In such an excellent, and beauteous manner,
I wonder men can live: Canst thou speak once more,
For thy words are such harmony, a soul
Would choose to flye to Heaven in.
Good noble General your hand, forgive me,
And think what ever was displeasing you,
Was none of mine: ye cannot live.
Yet one word more.
And Valentinian fall, thou hast broke thy Basis.
In joy ye have given me a quiet death,
I would strike more wounds, if I had more breath— [He dyes.
Or any man would out-live such a dying?
Would Cæsar double all my honours on me,
And stick me o're with favours, like a Mistris;
Yet would I grow to this man: I have loved,
But never doated on a face till now:
O death thou art more than beautie, and thy pleasure
Beyond posterity: Come friends and kill me;
Cæsar be kind, and send a thousand swords,
The more, the greater is my fall: why stay ye?
Come, and I'le kiss your weapons: fear me not,
By all the gods I'le honour ye for killing:
Appear, or through the Court, and world, I'le search ye:
My sword is gone; ye are Traitors if ye spare me,
And Cæsar must consume ye: all base cowards?
I'le follow ye, and e're I dye proclaim ye
The weeds of Italy; the dross of nature—
Where are ye, villains, traytors, slaves.— [Exit.
Enter Proculus, and 3 others running over the Stage.
H'ad kill'd the Captain.
An hundred men are not enough to do it,
[Pg 71] I'le to the Emperour, and get more aid.
Shift for your selves my Masters.— [Exeunt.
Enter Æcius.
See what thou darst thy self; hold my good sword,
Thou hast been kept from bloud too long, I'le kiss thee,
For thou art more then friend now, my preserver,
Shew me the way to happiness, I seek it:
And all you great ones, that have faln as I do,
To keep your memories, and honours living,
Be present in your vertues, and assist me,
That like strong Cato, I may put away
All promises, but what shall crown my ashes;
Rome, fare thee well: stand long, and know to conquer
Whilst there is people, and ambition:
Now for a stroak shall turn me to a Star:
I come ye blessed spirits, make me room
To live for ever in Elyzium:
Do men fear this? O that posterity
Could learn from him but this, that loves his wound,
There is no pain at all in dying well,
Nor none are lost, but those that make their hell— [Kills himself.
Enter Proculus, and two others.
And I am glad he's gone; he was a Devil:
His body, if his Eunuchs come, is theirs;
The Emperour out of his love to vertue,
Has given 'em that: Let no man stop their entrance. [Exeunt.
Enter Phidias, and Aretus.
Here's a sad sight.
O times that bring forth nothing but destruction,
And over[fl]ows of bloud: why wast thou kill'd?
Is it to be a just man now again,
[Pg 72] As when Tiberius and wild Nero reign'd,
Only assurance of his over throw?
Must like the Toad, feed only on corruptions,
And grow with those to greatness: honest vertue,
And the true Roman honour, faith and valour
That have been all the riches of the Empire,
Now like the fearfull tokens of the Plague,
Are meer fore-runners of their ends that owe 'em.
Enter Maximus.
From whom draw out our actions just, and worthy?
Oh thou art gone, and gone with thee all goodness,
The great example of all equitie,
O thou alone a Roman, thou art perish'd,
Faith, fortitude, and constant nobleness,
Weep Rome, weep Italy, weep all that knew him,
And you that fear'd him as a noble Foe,
(If Enemies have honourable tears)
Weep this decay'd Æcius faln, and scattered—
By foul, and base suggestion.
This was your worthy friend.
Think not the worse my friends, I shed not tears,
Great griefs lament within; yet now I have found 'em:
Would I had never known the world, nor women,
Nor what that cursed name of honour was,
So this were once again Æcius:
But I am destin'd to a mighty action,
And begg my pardon friend, my vengeance taken,
I will not be long from thee: ye have a great loss,
But bear it patiently, yet to say truth
In justice 'tis not sufferable: I am next,
And were it now, I would be glad on't: friends,
Who shall preserve you now?
[Pg 73] The man that's faln, and have been nourish'd by him,
Do not stay long behind: 'Tis held no wisdom.
I know what I must do. O my Æcius,
Canst thou thus perish, pluckt up by the roots,
And no man feel thy worthiness? From boys
He bred you both I think.
Our lives, and ruines of our families,
The utter being nothing of our names,
Were nothing near it.
He put ye to the Emperour.
Your Sisters he prefer'd to noble Wedlocks,
Did he not friends?
This worthy man would not be now forgotten,
I tell ye to my grief, he was basely murdred;
And something would be done, by those that lov'd him:
And something may be: pray stand off a little,
Let me bewail him private: O my dearest.
I know he points at ven[ge]ance; we are cold,
And base ungratefull wretches, if we shun it:
Are we to hope for more rewards, or greatness,
Or any thing but death, now he is dead?
Dar'st thou resolve?
That grew together all we'l fall together,
And with us that that bore us: when 'tis done
The world shall stile us two deserving servants:
[Pg 74] I fear he will be before us.
Let's burn this noble body: Sweets as many
As sun-burnt Meroe breeds, I'le make a flame of,
Shall reach his soul in Heaven: he that shall live
Ten ages hence, but to reherse this story,
Shall with the sad discourse on't, darken Heaven,
And force the painful burdens from the wombs
Conceiv'd a new with sorrow: even the Grave
Where mighty Sylla sleeps shall rend asunder
And give her shadow up, to come and groan
About our piles, which will be more, and greater
Than green Olympus, Ida, or old Latmus
Can feed with Cedar, or the East with Gums,
Greece with her wines, or Thessalie with flowers,
Or willing heaven can weep for in her showres. [Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Phidias, with his dagger in him, and Aretus, poyson'd.
Æcius to thy soul we give a Cæsar.
How long is't since ye gave it him?
Mine own two hours before him: how it boils me!
I dealt above his Antidotes: Physicians
May find the cause, but where the cure?
We are got before his Tyranny Aretus.
Anger would give me leave, to live an age yet;
That man is poorly spirited, whose life
[Pg 75] Runs in his bloud alone, and not in's wishes,
And yet I swell, and burn like flaming Ætna,
A thousand new found fires are kindled in me,
But yet I must not die this four hours Phidias.
Of what I have done, and why, makes poyson pleasure,
And my most killing torments mistresses.
For how can he have time to dye, or pleasure
That falls as fools unsatisfied, and simple?
Nor do I feel the danger of a dying,
And if I but endure to hear the curses
Of this fell Tyrant dead, I have half my Heaven.
And thou shalt see to wishes beyond ours,
Nay more beyond our meanings.
Farewel Aretus, and the souls of good men,
That as ours do, have left their Roman bodies
In brave revenge for vertue, guide our shadows,
I would not faint yet.
And as we have done nobly, gods look on us.—
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
Enter Lycias, and Proculus.
What shall become of us? would we had di'd
With happy Chilax, or with Balbus, bedrid—
Enter Licinius.
And let one sing to fasten sleep upon him:
Oh friends, the Emperour.
[Pg 76]
Beyond all cure too.
That most unhappy villain.
And since he has opened misery to all,
Let it begin with him first: Softly he slumbers.
Enter Emperour, sick in a Chair, with Eudoxia the Empress, and Physicians, and Attendants.
Brother to death, sweetly thy self dispose
On this afflicted Prince, fall like a Cloud
In gentle showrs, give nothing that is lowd,
Or painfull to his slumbers; easie, sweet,
And as a purling stream, thou son of night,
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain
Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver Rain,
Into this Prince gently, Oh gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers like a Bride.
Than snow on Scythian Mountains: O my heart-strings.
Dying Eudoxia, dying.
We hope shall comfort him.
See what thy god-head's come to: Oh Eudoxia.
Enter Proculus, Licinius, with Aretus.
I'le have brought through my body.
I find an hundred hells, a hundred Piles
Already to my Funerals are flaming,
Shall I not drink?
I'le let my breath out that shall burn ye all
If ye deny me longer: tempests blow me,
And inundations that have drunk up Kingdoms
Flow over me, and quench me: where's the villain?
Am I immortal now ye slaves? by Numa
If he do scape: Oh, oh.
But far more terrible, and full of slaughter,
I'th' midst of all my flames I'le fire the Empire:
A thousand fans, a thousand fans to cool me:
Invite the gentle winds Eudoxia.
A man, a mortal man: drink, drink, ye dunces;
What can your doses now do, and your scrapings,
Your oyles, and Mithridates? if I do die,
You only words of health, and names of sickness
Finding no true disease in man but mony,
That talk your selves into Revenues, oh
And e're ye kill your patients, begger 'em,
I'le have ye flead, and dri'd.
The most accursed wretch.
This is no sight for thee: goe to the Vestals,
Cast holy incense in the fire, and offer
One powerfull sacrifice to free thy Cæsar.
[Pg 78]
The Gods have set thy last hour Valentinian,
Thou art but man, a bad man too, a beast,
And like a sensuall bloudy thing thou diest.
And howle your miseries to come ye wretches,
You taught him to be poyson'd.
They cannot help thee; Thou hast now to live
A short half hour, no more, and I ten minutes:
I gave thee poyson for Aecius sake,
Such a destroying poyson would kill nature;
And, for thou shalt not die alone, I took it.
If mankind had been in thee at this murder,
No more to people earth again, the wings
Of old time clipt for ever, reason lost,
In what I had attempted, yet O Cæsar
To purchase fair revenge, I had poyson'd them too.
But not near my heat yet; what thou feel'st now,
Mark me with horror Cæsar, are but Embers
Of lust and leachery thou hast committed:
But there be flames of murder.
Thy tortures to what now I suffer Cæsar,
At which thou must arrive too, e're thou dy'st,
Are lighter, and more full of mirth and laughter.
But not near me yet.
Hold me; or I shall burst else.
And see to what thou must come for thy murder;
Millions of womens labours, all diseases.
[Pg 79]
Despairs, and all the Plagues the hot Sun breeds.—
The gods have found my sins:
Now break.
Thou hast a pull beyond all these.
Oh villain, cursed villain.
My poyson dances in me at this deed:
Now Cæsar, now behold me, this is torment,
And this is thine before thou diest, I am wildfire:
The brazen Bull of Phalaris was feign'd,
The miseries of souls despising Heaven
But Emblems of my torments.
And all the Poets tales of sad Avernus,
To my pains less than fictions: Yet to shew thee
What constant love I bore my murdred master;
Like a Southwind, I have sung through all these tempests
My heart, my wither'd heart, fear, fear thou Monster,
Fear the just gods, I have my peace.— [He dies.
A thousand April showres fall in my bosom:
How dare ye let me be tormented thus?
Away with that prodigious body, gods,
Gods, let me ask ye what I am, ye lay
All your inflictions on me, hear me, hear me;
I do confess I am a ravisher,
A murderer, a hated Cæsar; oh,
Are there not vows enough, and flaming altars,
The fat of all the world for sacrifice,
And where that fails, the blood of thousand captives
To purge those sins? but I must make the incense?
I do despise ye all, ye have no mercy,
And wanting that, ye are no Gods, your paroll
[Pg 80] Is only preach'd abroad to make Fools fearfull,
And women made of awe, believe your heaven:
Oh torments, torments, torments, pains above pains,
If ye be any thing but dreams, and ghosts,
And truly hold the guidance of things mortal;
Have in your selves times past, to come, and present,
Fashion the souls of men, and make flesh for 'em,
Weighing our fates, and fortunes beyond reason,
Be more than all the Gods, great in forgiveness,
Break not the goodly frame ye build in anger;
For you are things men teach us, without passions,
Give me an hour to know ye in: Oh save me
But so much perfect time ye make a soul in,
Take this destruction from me; no, ye cannot,
The more I would believe ye, more I suffer,
My brains are ashes, now my heart, my eyes friends;
I goe, I goe, more air, more air; I am mortal.— [He dyes.
The misery that we are left to suffer;
No pity shall find us.
Would I were chain'd again to slavery,
With any hope of life.
Or a consumption now Licinius,
That we might be too poor to kill, were something.
And if that cannot save us, we have swords.
There's other countries then.
Of what we are.
Enter a Messenger.
The Souldier is in arms for great Aecius,
And their Lieutenant general that stopt 'em,
[Pg 81] Cut in a thousand pieces: they march hither:
Beside, the women of the Town have murder'd
Phorba, and loose Ardelia, Cæsar's she-Bawds.
That we had never known thy lusts: Let's fly,
And where we find no womans man let's dye.—
SCENE III.
Enter Maximus.
My happy ends are come to birth, he's dead,
And I reveng'd; the Empire's all a fire,
And desolation every where inhabits:
And shall I live that am the author of it,
To know Rome from the awe o'th' world, the pity?
My friends are gone before too of my sending,
And shall I stay? is ought else to be liv'd for?
Is there an other friend, another wife,
Or any third holds half their worthiness,
To linger here alive for? Is not vertue
In their two everlasting souls departed,
And in their bodies first flame fled to heaven?
Can any man discover this, and love me?
For though my justice were as white as truth,
My way was crooked to it, that condemns me:
And now Aecius, and my honored Lady,
That were preparers to my rest and quiet,
The lines to lead me to Elyzium:
You that but stept before me, on assurance
I would not leave your friendship unrewarded,
First smile upon the sacrifice I have sent ye,
Then see me coming boldly: stay, I am foolish,
Somewhat too suddain to mine own destruction,
This great end of my veng[e]ance may grow greater:
Why may not I be Cæsar? Yet no dying;
Why should not I catch at it? fools and children
Have had that strength before me, and obtain'd it,
And as the danger stands, my reason bids me,
[Pg 82] I will, I dare; my dear friends pardon me,
I am not fit to dye yet, if not Cæsar;
I am sure the Souldier loves me, and the people,
And I will forward, and as goodly Cedars
Rent from Oeta by a sweeping tempest
Jointed again and made tall masts, defie
Those angry winds that split 'em, so will I
New piece again, above the fate of women,
And made more perfect far, than growing private,
Stand and defie bad fortunes: If I rise,
My wife was ravish'd well; If then I fall,
My great attempt honours my Funeral.— [Exit.
SCENE IV.
Enter 3 Senators, and Affranius.
And see 'em fast, we shall be rifled else,
Thou art an honest, and a worthy Captain.
And tell 'em we are now in council for 'em,
Labouring to choose a Cæsar fit for them,
A Souldier, and a giver.
Their free and liberal voices shall goe with us.
With distribution of all necessaries,
Corn, Wine, and Oyle.
And equal portions of the Provinces
To them, and to their families for ever.
We want thy honesty again; these Cæsars,
[Pg 83] What noble Consuls got with blood, in blood
Consume again, and scatter.
And we beholders Fulvius.
Is every mans that will.
Must only feed the Souldiers fire of lust,
And sensual Gods be glutted with those Offerings,
Age like the hidden bowels of the earth,
Open'd with swords for treasure.
Gods defend us,
We are chaff before their fury else.
Let's to the Temples.
'Tis not a time to pray now, let's be strengthen'd—
Enter Affranius.
And all the Camp rings, Cæsar, Cæsar, Cæsar:
He forced the Empress with him for more honour.
[Exeunt Senators, Flourish.
Hail Cæsar Maximus.
Oh people excellent in war, and govern'd,
In peace more raging than the furious North,
When he ploughs up the Sea, and makes him brine,
Or the lowd falls of Nile; I must give way,
Although I neither love nor hope this:
[Pg 84] Or like a rotten bridge that dares a current,
When he is swell'd and high crackt, and farewel.
Enter Maximus, Eudox[i]a, Senat. and Souldiers.
Lead to the Palace, there my thanks in general,
I'le showre among ye all: gods give me life,
First to defend the Empire, then you Fathers,
And valiant friends, the heirs of strength and vertue,
The rampires of old Rome, of us the refuge;
To you I open this day all I have,
Even all the hazard that my youth hath purchas'd,
Ye are my Children, family, and friends
And ever so respected shall be, forward.
There's a Proscription, grave Sempronius,
'Gainst all the flatterers, and lazie Bawds
Led loose-liv'd Valentinian to his vices,
See it effected. [Flourish.
But Valentinian keeps my vows: Oh gods,
Why do we like to feed the greedy Ravenne
Of these blown men, that must before they stand,
And fixt in eminence, cast life on life,
And trench their safeties in with wounds, and bodies?
Well froward Rome, thou wilt grow weak with changing,
And die without an heir, that lov'st to breed
Sons for the killing hate of sons: for me,
I only live to find an enemy. [Exit.
SCENE V.
Enter Paulus (a Poet,) and Licippus (a Gent.)
[Pg 85]
A Cupid, or the God o'th' place will do it,
Where he must take the Fasces.
Will not his name yield something? Maximus
By th' way of Anagram? I have found out Axis,
You know he bears the Empire.
'Twill be a cruel carriage else.
And honest language Paulus, without bursting,
The air will fall the sweeter.
And in a Robe of blew too, as I take it.
That could paint nothing but a ramping Lion,
So all his learned fancies are blew Graces.
Me thinks a Rain bow.
Hanging in arch above him, and i'th' midle—
Coming from Hell.
And as he rises, full of fires.
Will not that spoil his Lutestrings, Paulus?
And with as good a grace as thou canst possible;
Good fury Paulus, be i'th' morning with me,
And pray take measure of his mouth that speaks it. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Maximus and Eudox[i]a.
Want neither Wine nor any thing he calls for,
And when the Senate's ready, give us notice:
In the mean time leave us.
Oh my dear sweet.
Should undertake such dangers for my beauty,
If it were excellent?
The world has left to brag of.
Long since bequeath'd to wrinkles with my sorrows,
Long since ras'd out o'th' book of youth and pleasure,
Have power to make the strongest man o'th' Empire,
Nay the most staid, and knowing what is Woman;
The greatest aim of perfectness men liv'd by,
The most true constant lover of his wedlock,
Such a still blowing beauty, earth was proud of,
Lose such a noble wife, and wilfully;
Himself prepare the way, nay make the rape.
Did ye not tell me so?
Break his strong helm he stear'd by, sink that vertue,
That valour, that even all the gods can give us,
Without whom he was nothing, with whom worthiest,
Nay more, arrive at Cæsar, and kill him too,
And for my sake? either ye love too dearly,
Or deeply ye dissemble, Sir?
[Pg 87]
And till I am more strengthen'd, so I must do;
Yet would my joy, and Wine had fashion'd out
Some safer lye: Can these things be, Eudox[i]a,
And I dissemble? Can there be but goodness
And only thine dear Lady, any end,
Any imagination but a lost one,
Why I should run this hazard? O thou vertue!
Were it to do again, and Valentinian
Once more to hold thee, sinful Valentinian,
In whom thou wert set, as Pearls are in salt Oysters,
As Roses are in rank weeds, I would find,
Yet to thy sacred self a dearer danger,
The Gods know how I honour thee.
Can I return for this, but my obedience?
My life, if so you please, and 'tis too little.
The sorrows for my dead Lord, fare ye well,
My living Lord has dried ye; and in token,
As Emperour this day I honour ye,
And the great caster new of all my wishes,
The wreath of living Lawrel, that must compass
That sacred head, Eudox[i]a makes for Cæsar:
I am methinks too much in love with fortune;
But with you ever Royal Sir my maker,
The once more Summer of me, meer in love,
Is poor expression of my doting.
Had I at loss of mankind.
Enter a Messenger.
And in a full form bring the ceremony:
This day I am your servant, dear, and proudly,
[Pg 88] I'le wear your honoured favour.
SCENE VII.
Enter Paulus and Licippus.
The work above?
The wreath your blue Grace must present, she made.
But hark ye, for the Souldiers?
I'le bring 'em in I warrant ye.
I must to th' Cupbord; and be sure good Paulus
Your Grace be fasting, that he may hang cleanly.
If there should need another voice, what then?
SCENE VIII.
Enter in state Maximus, Eudox[i]a, with Souldiers and Gentlemen of Rome, the Senators, and Rods and Axes born before them.
| A Synnet with Trumpets. | With a Banket prepared, with Hoboies, Musick, Song, wreath. |
And from the old Rome take these wishes;
You holy gods, that hitherto have held
As justice holds her Ballance equal pois'd,
[Pg 89] This glory of our Nation, this full Roman,
And made him fit for what he is, confirm him:
Look on this Son O Jupiter our helper,
And Romulus, thou Father of our honour,
Preserve him like thy self, just, valiant, noble,
A lover, and increaser of his people,
Let him begin with Numa, stand with Cato,
The first five years of Nero be his wishes,
Give him the age and fortune of Emylius,
And his whole raign renew a great Augustus.
Honour that is ever giving,
Honour that sees all and knows
Both the ebbs of man and flowes,
Honour that rewards the best,
Sends thee thy rich labours rest;
Thou hast studied still to please her,
Therefore now she calls thee Cæsar:
And thy name outlive the Land.
Noble Fathers to his brows
Bind this wreath with thousand vows.
And as I rule, may it still grow or wither:
Now to the Banket, ye are all my guests,
This day be liberal friends, to wine we give it;
And smiling pleasures: Sit, my Queen of Beauty;
Fathers, your places: these are fair Wars Souldiers,
And thus I give the first charge to ye all;
You are my second, sweet, to every cup,
I add unto the Senate a new honour,
And to the sons of Mars a donative.
[Pg 90] Ever honour'd, ever sung;
Stain'd with bloud of lusty Grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes;
Dance upon the Mazers brim,
In the Crimson liquor swim:
From thy plenteous hand divine,
Let a River run with Wine:
God of youth, let this day here
Enter neither care nor fear.
Envy of conquer'd Nations, nobly come
And to the fulness of your war-like noise
Let your feet move, make up this hour of joys;
Come, come I say, range your fair Troop at large,
And your high measure turn into a charge.
Souldiers, your Cæsar's murdered.
Nor arm the Court, ye have his killer with ye;
And the just cause, if ye can stay the hearing:
I was his death; that wreath that made him Cæsar,
Has made him earth.
Is that I wish for, Romans, and your swords,
The heaviest way of death: yet Souldiers grant me
That was your Empress once, and honour'd by ye,
But so much time to tell ye why I kill'd him,
And weigh my reasons well, if man be in you;
Then if ye dare do cruelly, condemn me.
[Pg 91] A subject not for swords, but pity: Heaven
(If she be guilty of malitious murder)
Has given us Laws to make example of her,
If only of revenge, and bloud hid from us,
Let us consider first, then execute.
That was your Cæsar, Lords, and noble Souldiers,
(And if I wrong the dead, Heaven perish me;
Or speak to win your favours but the truth)
Was to his Country, to his friends, and Cæsar
A most malitious Traitor.
(Whose blessed soul if I lye shall afflict me)
The man that all the world lov'd, you ador'd,
That was the master-piece of Arms, and bounty;
Mine own grief shall come last: this friend of his,
This Souldier, this your right Arm, noble Romans,
By a base letter to the Emperor;
Stufft full of fears, and poor suggestions,
And by himself, unto himself directed;
Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly;
Oh loss, O innocent, can ye now kill me?
And the poor stale my Noble Lord, that knew not
More of this villain, than his forc'd fears;
Like one foreseen to satisfie, dy'd for it:
There was a murder too, Rome would have blusht at;
Was this worth being Cæsar? or my patience? nay his Wife
By Heaven he told it me in wine, and joy;
And swore it deeply, he himself prepar'd
To be abus'd, how? let me grieve not tell ye;
And weep the sins that did it: and his end
Was only me, and Cæsar: But me he lyed in:
These are my reasons Romans, and my soul
Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice:
Now as I have done well, or ill, look on me.
Had we known this before? Romans, she is righteous;
And such a piece of justice Heaven must smile on:
[Pg 92] Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye.
For I must kneel, and on this vertuous hand;
Seal my new joy and thanks, thou hast done truly.
May'st thou live ever spoken our Protector:
Rome yet has many Noble Heirs: Let's in
And pray, before we choose, then plant a Cæsar
Above the reach of envy, blood, and murder.
And may our sins, and his together burn. [Exeunt. A dead March.
EPILOGUE.
'Tis but a little liking, both are eas'd:
We have your money, and you have our ware,
And to our understanding good and fair:
For your own wisdoms sake, be not so mad,
To acknowledge ye have bought things dear and bad:
Let not a brack i'th' Stuff, or here and there
The fading gloss, a general loss appear:
We know ye take up worse Commodities,
And dearer pay, yet think your bargains wise;
We know in Meat and Wine, ye fling away
More time and wealth, which is but dearer pay,
And with the Reckoning all the pleasure lost.
We bid ye not unto repenting cost:
The price is easie, and so light the Play,
That ye may new digest it every day.
Then noble friends, as ye would choose a Miss,
Only to please the eye a while and kiss,
Till a good Wife be got: So let this Play
Hold ye a while until a better may.
Monsieur Thomas.
A
COMEDY.
Actus Primus. Scena Prima.
Enter Alice, and Valentine.
And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight,
And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'd
My poor state in my absence, how my servants,
I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye,
The best and worthiest.
Which is but weak and crazie.
Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide,
The life of my affection, since my travel,
My long and lazie Travel? is her love still
Upon the growing hand? does it not stop
And wither at my years? has she not view'd
And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour,
Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is?
There lies my fears.
So well you have manag'd her, and won her mind,
Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness,
And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still,
So well distill'd your gentleness into her,
Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her,
And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful,
[Pg 94] And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at,
Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature,
Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,
His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother,
For though your body has been far off from her,
Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,
I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too,
And willingly to give it ever harbour;
Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle,
(Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her
By your observances, she cannot alter.
Were the Child living now ye lost at Sea
Among the Genoua Gallies, what a happiness!
What a main Blessing!
Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring.
With that Child all my hopes went, and you know
The root of all those hopes, the Mother too
Within few days.
But peace be with their souls.
I hope the beauteous Cellide.
For all she is, is yours.
I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel,
A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit,
If I have so much judgment to discern 'em,
Man yet was never master of.
And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it;
I found him at Valentia, poor and needy,
Only his mind the master of a Treasure.
I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,
His honesty and modesty still fearing
To thrust a charge upon me; how I love him,
He shall now know, where want and he hereafter
Shall be no more Companions, use him nobly,
[Pg 95] It is my will, good Sister, all I have
I make him free companion in, and partner,
But only—
Love and high Rule allows no Rivals, Brother,
He shall have fair regard, and all observance.
Enter Hylas.
I'm glad to see your merry Body well yet.
To breed new admirations; 'Tis my Sister,
'Pray ye know her, Sir.
A Body keen and active, somewhat old,
But that's all one; age brings experience
And knowledge to dispatch: I must be better,
And nearer in my service, with your leave, Sir,
To this fair Lady.
I love a woman of her years, a pacer
That lays the bridle in her Neck, will travel
Forty, and somewhat fulsome is a fine dish.
These young Colts are too skittish.
Enter Mary.
In all her joy, Sir, to congratulate
Your fair return.
A thousand welcomes.
For your safe voyage, and return.
I left her on her knees, thanking the gods
With tears and prayers.
If your old rule reign in you, ye may know her:
A happy stock ye have, right worthy Lady,
The poorest of your servants vows his duty
And obliged faith.
Take it, and tye your tongue up.
I do perceive now, a blind Ass, a Blockhead;
For this is handsomness, this that that draws us
Body and Bones: Oh what a mounted forehead,
What eyes and lips, what every thing about her!
How like a Swan she swims her pace, and bears
Her silver Breasts! this is the Woman, she,
And only she, that I will so much honour
As to think worthy of my love, all older Idols
I heartily abhor, and give to Gunpowder,
And all Complexions besides hers, to Gypsies.
Enter Francis at one door, and Cellide at another.
Distresses in my travel, all misfortunes,
Had they been endless like the hours upon me,
In this kiss had been buried in oblivion;
How happy have ye made me, truly happy!
That in my tears for your return—
My noble friend too! what a Blessedness
Have I about me now! how full my wishes
Are come again, a thousand hearty welcomes
I once more lay upon ye; all I have,
The fair and liberal use of all my servants
[Pg 97] To be at your command, and all the uses
Of all within my power.
Nor am I able to conceive those thanks, Sir.
Nothing accepted, nothing stuck between us
And our intire affections but this woman,
This I beseech ye friend.
I do confess, would make a Thief, but never
Of him that's so much yours, and bound your servant,
That were a base ingratitude.
'Pray be acquainted with her, keep your way, Sir,
My Cousin and my Sister.
To render ye content, and liberal welcome
May but appear, command it.
Happy in our performance.
Of both your goodnesses presents his service.
Dull, old, and tedious; ye are once more welcome
As your own thoughts can make ye, and the same ever.
And so we'll in to ratifie it.
Is wild Oats yet come over?
Why do you blush? the Gentleman will do well.
Shall we enjoy your Company?
A dainty Wench, a right one; a Devil take it,
What do I ail? to have fifteen now in liking,
Enough a Man would think to stay my stomach?
But what's fifteen, or fifteen score to my thoughts?
And wherefore are mine Eyes made, and have lights,
But to encrease my Objects? This last Wench
Sticks plaguey close to me, a hundred pound
I were as close to her; If I lov'd now,
As many foolish men do, I should run mad.
SCENE II.
Enter old Sebastian, and Launcelot.
If you be lowzie shift your self.
Your Master and my Son; Body O me Sir,
No money, no more money, Monsieur Launcelot,
Not a Denier, sweet Signior; bring the Person,
The person of my Boy, my Boy Tom, Monsieur Thomas,
Or get you gone again, du gata whee, Sir;
Bassa mi cu, good Launcelot, valetote.
My Boy or nothing.
Because your Worships vulgar Understanding
May meet me at the nearest; your Son, my Master,
Or Monsieur Thomas, (for so his Travel stiles him)
Through many foreign plots that Vertue meets with,
And dangers (I beseech ye give attention)
Is at the last arriv'd
To ask your (as the French man calls it sweetly)
Benediction de jour en jour.
[Pg 99] Leave me your rotten language, and tell me plainly,
And quickly, Sirrah, lest I crack your French Crown,
What your good Master means; I have maintain'd
You and your Monsieur, as I take it, Launcelot,
These two years at your ditty vous, your jours.
Jour me no more, for not another penny
Shall pass my purse.
For as I told you, your Son Tom, or Thomas,
My master and your Son is now arriv'd
To ask you, as our Language bears it nearest,
Your quotidian Blessing, and here he is in Person.
Enter Thomas.
Welcome, 'faith thou hast gladded me at soul, Boy,
Infinite glad I am, I have pray'd too, Thomas,
For you wild Thomas, Tom, I thank thee heartily
For coming home.
Have much prevail'd above my sins.
Ere I had won my self to that discretion,
I hope you shall hereafter find.
Discretion? is it come to that? the Boy's spoil'd.
Ten times more miserable than thou thought'st thy self
Before thou travell'dst; thou hast told my Father,
I know it, and I find it, all my Rogueries
By meer way of prevention to undo me.
Told him you came to ask his benediction,
De jour en jour.
I would beat thee like a Dog. Sir, however
The Time I have mispent may make you doubtful,
Nay harden your belief 'gainst my Conversion.
[Pg 100]
Your own experience in my after courses.
Enter Dorothea.
Undone without Redemption; he eats with picks,
Utterly spoil'd, his spirit baffled in him:
How have I sin'd that this affliction
Should light so heavy on me? I have no more Sons;
And this no more mine own, no spark of Nature
Allows him mine now, he's grown tame; my grand curse
Hang o'r his head that thus transform'd thee: travel?
I'll send my horse to travel next; we Monsieur.
Now will my most canonical dear Neighbours
Say I have found my Son, and rejoyce with me,
Because he has mew'd his mad tricks off: I know not,
But I am sure this Monsieur, this fine Gentleman
Will never be in my Books like mad Thomas,
I must go seek an Heir, for my inheritance
Must not turn Secretary; my name and quality
Has kept my Land three hundred years in madness,
And it slip now, may it sink. [Exit.
I am glad to see thee well; but where's thy father?
As he does all; for I was utte[r]ing
A handsome Speech or two, I have been studying
E'r since I came from Paris: how glad to see thee!
I dare maintain it, than my Father's sorry
To see (as he supposes) your Conversion;
And I am sure he is vext, nay more, I know it,
He has pray'd against it mainly; but it appears, Sir,
You had rather blind him with that poor opinion
Than in your self correct it: dearest Brother,
Since there is in our uniform resemblance,
No more to make us two but our bare Sexes;
And since one happy Birth produc'd us hither,
Let one more happy mind.
[Pg 101]
For I can do it when I list; and yet, Wench,
Be mad too when I please; I have the trick on't:
Beware a Traveller.
And prithee say how does she? I melt to see her,
And presently: I must away.
For o' my faith, she will not see you Brother.
How would my father love this! I'll assure you
She will not see you; she has heard (and loudly)
The gambols that you plaid since your departure,
In every Town ye came, your several mischiefs,
Your rowses and your wenches; all your quarrels,
And the no-causes of 'em; these I take it
Although she love ye well, to modest ears,
To one that waited for your reformation,
To which end travel was propounded by her Uncle,
Must needs, and reason for it, be examined,
And by her modesty, and fear'd too light too,
To fyle with her affections; ye have lost her
For any thing I see, exil'd your self.
For yond old thing will disinherit me
If I grow too demure; good sweet Doll, prithee,
Prithee, dear Sister, let me see her.
And shall we now grow strangers?
You, you were the cause of this; there be more lands too,
And better People in 'em, fare ye well,
[Pg 102] And other loves; what shall become of me
And of my vanities, because they grieve ye?
So light are you, and blown with every fancy:
Will ye but make me hope ye may be civil?
I know your Nature's sweet enough, and tender,
Not grated on, nor curb'd: do you love your Mistress?
A thing to be belov'd?
A little of your wildness into wisdom,
And put on a more smoothness;
I'll do the best I can to help ye, yet
I do protest she swore, and swore it deeply,
She would never see you more; where's your mans heart now?
What, do you faint at this?
But him she entertains next for a servant,
I shall be bold to quarter.
Go in, and there we'll talk more, be but rul'd,
And what lies in my power, ye shall be sure of. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Alice, and Mary.
I have now heard all, and all the truth.
Is he the first that has been giv'n a lost man,
And yet come fairly home? he is young and tender,
And fit for that impression your affections
Shall stamp upon him, age brings on discretion,
A year hence, these mad toys that now possess him
Will shew like Bugbears to him, shapes to fright him;
[Pg 103] Marriage dissolves all these like mists.
Hereditary in him, from his father,
And to his grave they will haunt him.
Which is a wise part in you; yet your love
However you may seem to lessen it
With these dislikes, and choak it with these errors,
Do what you can, will break out to excuse him,
Ye have him in your heart, and planted, Cousin,
From whence the power of reason, nor discretion
Can ever root him.
Believe it no, I never was so liberal;
What though he shew a so so comely fellow
Which we call pretty? or say it may be handsom?
What though his promises may stumble at
The power of goodness in him, sometimes use too?
Cozen thy self no more; thou hast no more power
To leave off loving him than he that's thirsty
Has to abstain from drink standing before him;
His mind is not so monstrous for his shape,
If I have Eyes, I have not seen his better.
A handsome brown Complexion.
Inclining to a tawney.
You would have wish'd my tongue out; then his making.
And cleaner made.
And better set together.
For against thy Conscience thou lyest stubbornly.
And where the outward parts are fair and lovely,
(Which are but moulds o'th' mind) what must the soul be?
[Pg 104] Put case youth has his swinge, and fiery Nature
Flames to mad uses many times.
You only use to make me say I love him;
I do confess I do, but that my fondness
Should fling it self upon his desperate follies.
Which will not prove a miracle, yet Mary,
I am afraid 'twill vex thee horribly
To stay so long.
Hugging of me, with good dear sweet Tom.
Upon my Conscience.
And then ye kiss'd me, Mary, more than once too,
And sigh'd, and O sweet Tom again; nay, do not blush,
Ye have it at the heart, Wench.
But you must have your way.
Enter Dorothea.
Or break down hedges for it. Dorothea,
The welcom'st woman living; how does thy Brother?
I hear he's turn'd a wondrous civil Gentleman
Since his short travel.
Ye stole away and left my company.
A Brother that I have some Cause to love well.
I hope he will be.
I hear Wench, and his hot love too.
[Pg 105] Have yielded him variety of Mistresses,
Fairer in his eye far.
Upon my troth most firmly, would fain see you.
Without the loss of credit too; he's not
Such a prodigious thing, so monstrous,
To fling from all society.
To my desires, such an antipathy
That I must sooner see my grave.
He was not so before he went.
For then I daily hop'd his fair Conversion.
Ye have a mind.
But to his qualities, his mad-cap follies,
Which still like Hydras heads grow thicker on him.
I have a credit, friend, and Maids of my sort,
Love where their modesties may live untainted.
If I have any interest within ye,
Do but this courtesie, accept this Letter.
And as we look on shapes of painted Devils,
Which for the present may disturb our fancy,
But with the next new object lose 'em, so
If this be foul, ye may forget it, 'pray.
But I presume, so much he honours you,
The worst part of himself was cast away
[Pg 106] When to his best part he writ this.
Not that I any way shall like his scribling.
I know she loves him.
Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that,
And then she'l scramble too; young wenches loves
Are like the course of quartans, they may shift
And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see
The least distemper pulls 'em back again,
And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not,
Unless he be a Devil.
Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh.
Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter?
So elegant a style? pray look upon't;
The rarest inventory of rank Oaths
That ever Cut-purse cast.
A little Julip gently sprinkled over
To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters,
Indeed law. Yours for ever.
And ever may command me vertuously,
But for your Brother, you must pardon me,
Till I am of his nature, no access friend,
No word of visitation, as ye love me,
And so for now I'le leave ye. [Exit.
[Pg 107]
Has this thing written, how it roars like thunder!
With what a state he enters into stile!
Dear Mistress.
As you two carry me thinks.
And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well,
The fool shall now fish for himself.
His tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing,
He'l catch no fish else, Farewel Dol.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Alice, and Cellide.
His colour faded strangely too.
The sharp and nipping air of our new climate
I hope is all, which will as well restore
To health again th' affected body by it,
And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous;
How do's my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now
Apace my Cellide, (it knocks at door)
In which our loves, and long desires like rivers
Rising asunder far, shall fall together,
Within these [two] daies dear.
Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am govern'd.
Enter Frank.
It shall be no blind wedding: and all the joy
Of all our friends I hope: he looks worse hourly,
How does my friend, my self? he sweats too coldly,
His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spowt,
[Pg 108] Scarce gives his function: how is't man, alas Sir,
You look extreme ill: is it any old grief,
The weight of which?
Your love is too too tender,
Nay believe Sir.
Either some feaver lyes in wait to catch ye,
Whose harbinger's already in your face
We see preparing: or some discontent,
Which if it lye in this house, I dare say
Both for this noble Gentleman, and all
That live within it, shall as readily
Be purg'd away, and with as much care soften'd,
And where the cause is.
Where such a vertuous fair Physitian
Is ready to relieve: your noble cares
I must, and ever shall be thankfull for,
And would my service (I dare not look upon her)
But be not fearfull, I feel nothing dangerous,
A grudging caus'd by th' alteration
Of air, may hang upon me: my heart's whole,
(I would it were.)
To purge the bloud, and keep your bed a day Sir,
And sweat it out.
That if you will but promise me to take 'em,
Indeed you shall be well, and very quickly,
I'le be your Doctor, you shall see how finely
I'le fetch ye up again.
Hot, very hot: his pulse beats like a drum now,
Feel Sister, feel, feel sweet.
[Pg 109]
Take courage man, 'tis nothing but an ague.
Now what 'tis to be truly miserable,
I feel at full experience.
I'le have a vomit for him.
And if he breath'd a vein.
A Clyster will cool all.
Softly, he's full of pain, be diligent
With all the care ye have: would I had scus'd him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Dorothea, and Thomas.
To force her to do this or that? your letter,
A wilde-fire on your letter; your sweet Letter;
You are so learned in your writs: ye stand now
As if ye had worried sheep: you must turn tippet,
And suddenly, and truely, and discreetly
Put on the shape of order and humanity,
Or you must marry Malkyn the May Lady:
You must, dear Brother: do you make me carrier
Of your confound-mee's, and your culverings?
Am I a seemly agent for your oaths?
Who would have writ such a debosh'd?
Rack a maids tender ears, with dam's and Devils?
How would you have me write?
Begin with my love premised? surely,
And by my truly Mistress.
For I see all perswasion's lost upon ye:
Humanitie, all drown'd: from this hour fairly
I'le wash my hands of all ye do: farewel Sir.
I would keep you company: get a new Mistress
Some suburb Saint, that six pence, and some others
Will draw to parley: carowse her health in Cans
And candles ends, and quarrel for her beauty,
Such a sweet heart must serve your turn: your old love
Releases ye of all your tyes; disclaims ye
And utterly abjures your memory
Till time has better manag'd ye, will ye command me—
Unto my Father Sir, that I may tell him
Even to his peace of heart, and much rejoycing
Ye are his true Son Tom still? will it please ye
To beat some half a dozen of his servants presently,
That I may testifie you have brought the same faith
Unblemish'd home, ye carried out? or if it like you
There be two chambermaids within, young wenches,
Handsom and apt for exercise: you have been good, Sir,
And charitable though I say it Signiour
To such poor orphans: and now, by th' way I think on't
Your young rear Admiral, I mean your last bastard
Don John, ye had by Lady Blanch the Dairy Maid,
Is by an Academy of learned Gypsies,
Foreseeing some strange wonder in the infant
Stoln from the Nurse, and wanders with those Prophets.
There is plate in the parlour, and good store Sir,
When your wants shall supply it. So most humbly
(First rendring my due service) I take leave Sir. [Exit.
[Pg 111]
And no access without I mend my manners?
All my designes in Limbo? I will have her,
Yes, I will have her, though the Devil roar,
I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground,
I'le not be bob'd i'th' nose with every bobtail:
I will be civil too, now I think better,
Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried:
And yet be mad upon occasion,
And stark mad too, and save my land: my Father,
I'le have my will of him, how e're my wench goes. [Exit.
Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot.
I say thou hast spoil'd thy Master.
First to read perfectly: which on my blessing
I warn'd him from: for I knew if he read once,
He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir Launcelot,
Sir lowsie Launcelot, ye have suffer'd him
Against my power first, then against my precept,
To keep that simpring sort of people company,
That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir?
Nor shall not please my worship: thirdly and lastly,
Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for,
(However I will lame thee) like a villain,
Thou hast wrought him
Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief,
A handsom mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well.
My servants all are sound now, my drink sowr'd,
Not a horse pawn'd, nor plaid away: no warrants
Come for the breach of peace.
Men travel with their mony, and nothing meets 'em:
I was accurs'd to send thee, thou wert ever
Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit,
Thou slept'st still like a cork upon the water.
[Pg 112] The most debosh'd, and please you to remember,
Every day drunk too, for your worships credit,
I broke the Butlers head too.
I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten,
And fledst before the Butler; a black jack
Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it:
I saw thee scatter'd rogue, behold thy Master.
Enter Thomas, with a Book.
We are all undone else.
I have forgot those journeys.
The Cocking holds at Derby, and there will be
Jack Wild-oats, and Will Purser.
They should employ their time so slenderly,
Their understandings will bear better courses.
What say ye to the Gentleman that challeng'd ye
Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with?
Remember not those follies; where I have wrong'd, Sir,
(So much I have now learn'd to discern my self)
My means, and my repentance shall make even,
Nor do I think it any imputation
To let the Law perswade me.
I care not of what colour, or complexion,
Any that can bear Children: rest ye merry. [Exit.
I am for the ragged Regiment.
I know him but too well: eightscore I take it
Will not keep me from beating, if not killing:
I'le give him leave to break a leg, and thank him:
You might have sav'd all this, and sworn a little:
What had an oath or two been? or a head broke,
Though 'thad been mine, to have satisfied the old man?
Will ye be drunk to night, (a less intreaty
Has serv'd your turn) and save all yet? not mad drunk,
For then ye are the Devil, yet the drunker,
The better for your Father still: your state is desperate,
And with a desperate cure ye must recover it:
Do something, do Sir: do some drunken thing,
Some mad thing, or some any thing to help us.
That sayes his Songs: but first where lyes my Mistris,
Did ye enquire out that?
None but her own Attendants.
Away then, find this Fidler, and do not miss me
By nine a Clock.
And ten to one will disinherit me:
I'le put him to his plunge, and yet be merry.
What Ribabald?
Enter Hylas and Sam.
De bene venew.
How do'st thou Sam?
They said thou wert all Monsieur.
[Pg 114] I am much alter'd, much another way:
The civil'st Gentleman in all your Country:
Do not ye see me alter'd? yea, and nay Gentlemen,
A much converted man: where's the best wine boys?
I have giv'n a shrewd push at it, for as I take it,
The last I fell in love with, scor'd sixteen.
Will rowze and rent thee piece-meal.
Longer than looking on.
To marry any that thou lov'st?
Nor any wise man I think; marriage?
Would you have me now begin to be prentice,
And learn to cobble other mens old Boots?
Or if 'twere possible I might get a Maid,
To what use should I put her? look upon her,
Dandle her upon my knee, and give her sugar-sops?
All the new Gowns i'th' Parish will not please her,
If she be high bred, for there's the sport she aims at,
Nor all the feathers in the Fryars.
A good stanch wench, that's tith.
Live in a dead mans monument, not I, Sir,
I'll keep mine own road, a true mendicant;
What pleasure this day yields me, I never covet
To lay up for the morrow; and methinks ever
Anothers mans Cook dresses my diet neatest.
And thou would'st say they kiss'd like Flounders, flat
All the face over.
They lye with half the Kingdom.
[Enter over the Stage, Physicians and others.
Whither go all these men-menders, these Physicians?
Whose Dog lies sick o'th' mulligrubs?
The young smug Seigniour, Master Valentine,
Brought out of travel with him, as I hear,
Is faln sick o'th' sudden, desperate sick,
And likely they go thither.
The only temper'd spirit, Scholar, Souldier,
Courtier; and all in one piece? 'tis not possible.
Enter Alice.
I joy to see you, Lady.
You're welcome from your travel; I am hasty,
A Gentleman lyes sick, Sir.
I must know, and I will know.
As well as may be, thank ye.
And prithee hark.
And that I love a life, I did not mark
This woman half so well before, how quick
And nimble like a shadow, there her leg shew'd;
By th'mass a neat one, the colour of her Stocking,
[Pg 116] A much inviting colour.
I have no time to talk now.
Finely becoming too.
I can assure you that, and so.
'Tis Charity; besides, I know she is there;
And under visitation I shall see her;
Will ye along?
I be a civil man: I have sport in hand, Boys,
Shall make mirth for a Marriage-day.
SCENE III.
Enter three Physicians with an Urinal.
For tremor Cordis.
'Tis a most pestilent contagious Feaver,
A surfeit, a plaguey surfeit; he must bleed.
The Person being spent so much before-hand,
And Nature drawn so low, Clysters, cool Clysters.
For take away the Cause, the Effect must follow,
The Stomach's foul and fur'd, the pot's unflam'd yet.
Nature so sunk must find no violence.
Enter a Servant.
Grows worse and worse still.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Valentine, and Michael.
And that without a speedy cure it kills him,
But that it lyes within the help of Physick
Now to restore his health, or art to cure him;
Believe it you are cozen'd; clean beside it.
I would tell ye the true cause too, but 'twould vex ye,
Nay, run ye mad.
So dearly and so tenderly I love him,
I do not know the cause why, yea my life too.
Hei mihi quod nullis Amor est medicabilis herbis.
I find my heart too full for further conference;
You are assur'd of this?
But bear it nobly, Sir, Youth hath his errours.
Is there no Constancy in earthly things,
No happiness in us, but what must alter?
No life without the heavy load of Fortune?
What miseries we are, and to our selves,
Even then when full content seems to sit by us,
What daily sores and sorrows!
Enter Alice.
The Gentleman if ever you will see him
Alive as I think.
Enter Cellide.
For Heavens sake, Sir.
And one word, sweet, with you; then we'll go to him.
What think you of this Gentleman?
'Tis great misfortune that he should thus perish.
Why do you weep so, Sir? he may recover.
You have a powerful tongue.
A friend of yours, whose heart another holds,
He knows it too; yet such a sway blind fancy,
And his not daring to deliver it,
Have won upon him, that they must undo him:
Never so hopeful and so sweet a Spirit,
Misfortune fell so foul on.
That can look on, and not relent, and deeply
At such a misery; she is not married?
Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so?
For there the match lyes mangled.
If she love him.
I will speak to her, all the art I have;
My best endeavours; all his Youth and Person,
His mind more full of beauty; all his hopes
The memory of such a sad example,
Ill spoken of, and never old; the curses
Of loving maids, and what may be alledg'd
I'll lay before her: what's her Name? I am ready.
Nay, were it my self, at your entreaty.
Because you urge it, Sir.
It is your self.
And now know how ye love me.
Let but your goodness judge; your own part's pity;
Set but your eyes on his afflictions;
He is mine, and so becomes your charge: but think
What ruine Nature suffers in this young man,
What loss humanity, and noble manhood;
Take to your better judgment my declining,
My Age hung full of impotence, and ills,
My Body budding now no more: seer Winter
Hath seal'd that sap up, at the best and happiest
I can but be your infant, you my Nurse,
And how unequal dearest; where his years,
His sweetness, and his ever spring of goodness,
My fortunes growing in him, and my self too,
Which makes him all your old love; misconceive not,
I say not this as weary of my bondage,
Or ready to infringe my faith; bear witness,
Those eyes that I adore still, those lamps that light me
[Pg 120] To all the joy I have.
And more than e'r I thought that tongue could utter,
But you are a man, a false man too.
Rob'd of her rest, and fool'd out of her fondness,
The Gentleman shall live, and if he love me,
Ye shall be both my triumphs; I will to him,
And as you carelessly fling off your fortune,
And now grow weary of my easie winning,
So will I lose the name of Valentine,
From henceforth all his flatteries, and believe it,
Since ye have so slightly parted with affection,
And that affection you have pawn'd your faith for;
From this hour no repentance, vows, nor prayers
Shall pluck me back again; what I shall do,
Yet I will undertake his cure, expect it,
Shall minister no comfort, no content
To either of ye, but hourly more vexations.
To be commanded by you, that even now,
Even in my hate, I will obey your wishes.
A bankrupt fool, that flings away his Treasure;
I must begin my cure.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Frank sick, Physicians, and an Apothecary.
Good learned Gentlemen.
Ready within this hour, pray keep your arms in,
The air is raw, and ministers much evil.
[Pg 121]
I have no other sickness but your presence,
Convey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em,
Your Vomits, and your Clysters.
And then how suddenly we'll make you sleep!
Are these about a wounded mind?
I am glad to see you well.
How old I am then? there's my hand, pray shew me
How many broken shins within this two year.
Who would be thus in fetters, good master Doctor,
And you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Doctor,
And precious master Apothecary, I do pray ye
To give me leave to live a little longer,
Ye stand before me like my Blacks.
For now his fancy turns too.
Enter Cellide.
And pray ye your leave a while too, I have something
Of secret to impart unto the Patient.
May chance to find the humour: be not long Lady,
For we must minister within this half hour. [Ex. Phys.
That ye might only intend one anothers itches:
Or would the Gentlemen with one consent
Would drink small Beer but seven years, and abolish
That wild fire of the blood, unsatiate wenching,
That your two Indies, springs and falls might fail ye,
[Pg 122] What torments these intruders into bodies.
Flew from these Angel eyes! O what a misery
What a most studied torment 'tis to me now
To be an honest man! dare ye sit by me?
I see ye have need.
You bring no bitterness gilt o're, to gull us,
No danger in your looks, yet there my death lyes.
And my good wishes for your health should merit
So stubborn a construction: will it please ye
To taste a little of this Cordial
Enter Valentine.
Sure she has found my grief: why do you blush so?
For 'tis no impudence, nor want of honour
Makes me do this: but love to save your life, Sir,
Your life too excellent to lose in wishes,
Love, vertuous love.
O goodly sweet, can there be so much charity
So noble a compassion in that heart
That's fill'd up with anothers fair affections?
Can mercy drop from those eyes?
Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man,
When all the power ye have, and perfect object
Lyes in anothers light, and his deserves it?
I dare abuse my promise, 'twas your friends
And so fast tyed, I thought no time could ruin:
But so much has your danger, and that spell
[Pg 123] The powerful name of friend, prevail'd above him
To whom I ever owe obedience,
That here I am, by his command to cure ye,
Nay more for ever, by his full resignment,
And willingly I ratifie it.
Must my friends misery make me a triumph?
Bear I that noble name, to be a Traitor?
O vertuous goodness, keep thy self untainted:
You have no power to yield, nor he to render,
Nor I to take: I am resolv'd to die first.
Beyond the wealth of Kingdoms, free content,
Sooner would snatch at such a blessing offer'd
Than at my pardon'd life by the law forfeited,
Yet, yet O noble Beauty, yet O Paradise
For you are all the wonder reveal'd of it,
Yet is a gratitude to be preserv'd,
A worthy gratitude to one most worthy
The name, and nobleness of friends.
If I had never known that Gentleman,
Would not you willingly embrace my offer?
He being old and impotent? his aim too
Levell'd at you, for your good? not constrain'd,
But out of cure, and counsel? Alas consider,
Play but the Woman with me, and consider
As he himself does, and I now dare see it,
Truly consider, Sir, what misery.
What everlasting banishment from that
Our years do only covet to arrive at,
Equal affections [texts blank] and shot together:
What living name can dead age leave behind him,
What art of memory but fruitless doating?
[Pg 124]
With more and firmer faith, and so digest it,
I speak but of things possible, not done
Nor like to be, a Posset cures your sickness,
And yet I know ye grieve this; and howsoever
The worthiness of friend may make ye stagger,
Which is a fair thing in ye, yet my Patient,
My gentle Patient, I would fain say more
If you would understand.
Nor you so willing to be lost.
Me thinks you are not fair now; me thinks more,
That modest vertue, men delivered of you,
Shews but like shadow to me, thin, and fading.
Ye are belyed; you are not Cellide,
The modest, immaculate: who are ye?
For I will know: what Devil, to do mischief
Unto my vertuous friend, hath shifted shapes
With that unblemished beauty?
Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye,
You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pity,
By those fair eyes I do.
O Woman, perfect Woman! what distraction
Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a Devil!
What an inviting Hell invented! tell me,
And if you yet remember what is goodness,
Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd
So sainted in the soul of him, whose service
Is almost turn'd to superstition,
Whose every day endeavours and desires
Offer themselves like Incense on your Altar,
Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy
And most Religious with his love; whose life
(And let it ever be remembred Lady)
[Pg 125] Is drawn out only for your ends.
Like ready Pages wait upon your pleasures;
Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye,
Must ye cast off this man, though he were willing,
Though in a nobleness, so cross my danger
His friendship durst confirm it, without baseness,
Without the stain of honour? shall not people
Say liberally hereafter, there's the Lady
That lost her Father, friend, herself, her faith too,
To fawn upon a stranger, for ought you know
As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless.
That 'tis most necessary I be undone.
[With all my soul possess her.] [Exit Val.
I scorn'd, and hated ye, and came to cozen ye:
Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me,
To make ye mad.
Move me a whit: nor you appear unto me
More than a common object; yet now truly,
Truly, and nobly I do love ye dearly,
And from this hour ye are the man I honour,
You are the man, the excellence, the honesty,
The only friend, and I am glad your sickness
Fell so most happily at this time on ye,
To make this truth the worlds.
'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high,
That draws on all ambitions, still repair it,
Still fortifie it: there are thousand foes
Besides the Tyrant Beauty, will assail it:
Look to your Centinels that watch it hourly,
Your eyes, let them not wander.
The two main Ports that may betray ye, strongly
From light belief first, then from flattery,
Especially where Woman beats the parley:
The body of your strength, your noble heart
From ever yielding to dishonest ends,
Rig'd round about with vertue, that no breaches,
No subtil [mynes] may meet ye.
Labouring in his Eclipse, dark, and prodigious,
She shew'd till now? when having won her way,
How full of wonder he breaks out again,
And sheds his vertuous beams: excellent Angel,
For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee,
Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful,
And like a Pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it,
Not with prophane lips now, nor burnt affections,
But, reconcil'd to faith, with holy wishes,
To kiss that virgin hand.
And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye,
No other fruit my love must ever yield ye,
I fear no more: yet your most constant memory
(So much I am wedded to that worthiness)
Shall ever be my Friend, Companion, Husband.
Farewel, and fairly govern your affections,
Stand, and deceive me not: O noble young man,
I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it:
Once more farewel, and prosper. [Exit.
My wonder like to fearful shapes in dreams,
Has wakened me out of my fit of folly,
But not to shake it off: a spell dwells in me,
A hidden charm shot from this beauteous Woman,
That fate can ne'r avoid, nor Physick find,
And by her counsel strengthen'd: only this
Is all the help I have, I love fair vertue.
Well, something I must do, to be a friend,
Yet I am poor, and tardy: something for her too
Though I can never reach her excellence,
[Pg 127] Yet but to give an offer at a greatness.
Enter Valentine, Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.
To try her fairly?
But where's the sick man?
That should attend him? there's the Patient.
Me thinks these Women—
O my best joy, my worthiest friend, pray pardon me,
I am so over-joy'd I want expression:
I may live to be thankful: bid your friends welcome.
[Exit Val.
What, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness?
Deavolo morte.
Gogs bores, I am well, speak like a man of worship.
A Gentleman may wander: sit thee down Frank,
And see what I have brought thee: come discover,
Open the Scene, and let the work appear.
A friend at need you Rogue is worth a million.
'Tis present death.
A Jeffery John bo peepe, thou mimister,
Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle, out puppey,
My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow:
Do'st thou see that Bottle? view it well.
Old reverend Sack, which for ought that I can read yet,
Was that Philosophers Stone the wise King Ptolomeus
Did all his wonders by.
Drink with a moderation.
Which I have ready here, and here a glass boy,
Take me without my tools.
You know your own state best.
And shall be careful: yet a glass or two
So fit I find my body, and that so needful.
Hang up your Julips and your Portugal Possets,
Your barley Broths, and sorrel Sops, they are mangy,
And breed the Scratches only: give me Sack:
I wonder where this Wench is though: have at thee.
With a clear heart, and no more fits I warrant thee.
The only Cordial, Frank. [Phys. and Serv. within.
And is the Barber come?
Do me a kindness and deliver me.
Physicians, Tom, Physicians, scowring-sticks,
They mean to read upon me.
Enter three Phys. Apoth. and Barber.
For look ye Doctor, say the Devil were sick now,
His horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a Biggin,
Sick of a Calenture, taken by a Surfeit
Of stinking souls at his Nephews, and St Dunstans,
What would you minister upon the sudden?
Your judgment short and sound.
It must be a Physicians for three causes,
The first because it is a bald-head likely,
Which will down easily without Applepap.
The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, Sir,
Which will so tumble in his stomach, Doctor,
And work upon the crudities, conceive me,
The fears, and the fiddle-strings within it,
That those damn'd souls must disembogue again.
My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors,
Because in most Physicians heads (I mean those
That are most excellent, and old withal,
And angry, though a Patient say his prayers,
And Paracelsians that do trade with poisons,
We have it by tradition of great writers)
There is a kind of Toad-stone bred, whose vertue
The Doctor being dri'd.
Caus'd by an inundation of Pease-porridge,
Are we therefore to open the port Vein,
[Pg 130] Or the port Esquiline?
Or grant the Diaphragma by a Rupture,
The sign being then in the head of Capricorn.
And so cause a Carnosity in the Kidneyes.
Must not the brains, being butter'd with this humour—
Answer me that.
Bedlam shall find a Salve for: fare ye well Sir,
We came to do you good, but these young Doctors
It seems have bor'd our Noses.
And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one then
We shall hear further from ye, your note alter'd. [Exeunt.
To mend thy old Gown.
Enter Servant.
Sent me to see what company ye had with ye,
They much desire to visit ye.
And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence:
Ye see my company.
What Gentlewomen are these? my Mistris?
No word of my being here, unless she know it.
[Pg 131]
And not a word of me till ye hear from me,
And as you find my humour, follow it:
You two come hither, and stand close, unseen Boys,
And do as I shall tutor ye.
With the Gentlewomen.
Of what forsooth? whose Maiden-head the last Mask
Suffer'd impression? or whose Clyster wrought best?
Take me as I shall tell thee.
What other end came we along?
About the Farthing-ale;
Do as I bid ye,
Or by this light—
Enter Alice and Mary.
Creeps now again into his cheeks.
I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye
Lusty again, and frolick man; leave thinking.
I shall be govern'd by ye.
And suddenly, and soundly well.
Having now season'd ye, will keep ye ever.
[Pg 132] My life has been so lewd, my loose condition,
Which I repent too late, so lamentable,
That any thing but curses light upon me,
Exorbitant in all my wayes.
Another sick man?
No look before I leapt.
In's mind: great pity Ladies.
For some things done long since, which his distemper
Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so.
Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining?
The Sea, that ne'r knew sorrow, may be pitiful,
My credit's split, and sunk, nor is it possible,
Were my life lengthened out as long as—
A Mistris too, a noble Gentlewoman,
For goodness all out-going.
A man is not so soon made.
But it is just, I be despis'd and hated.
Strikes off an infinite of ills.
This cunning young Thief playes his part!
My Tom again, if this be truth.
And then what fortune shall befal me, welcome,
How does it show?
Away we are abus'd, Alice.
In your own noose she halter'd ye: you must be whispering
To know how things shew'd: not content to fare well
But you must roar out roast-meat; till that suspicion
You carried it most neatly, she believed too
And wept most tenderly; had you continu'd,
Without doubt you had brought her off.
For thou wert ever whispering: fye upon thee
Now could I break thy head.
For by this hand I'le beat the buzard blind then.
She shall not scape me thus: farewel for this time.
Must enter these [eyes], till I work a wonder. [Exit.
For this nights sins, I will never leave walking of thee
Till I have worn thee out.
[Pg 134]
My spightful Dame, I'le pipe ye such a hun[t]sup
Shall make ye dance a tipvaes: keep close to me. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Sebastian, and Dorothy.
What should I leave my state to, Pins and Poaking-sticks,
To Farthingals, and frownces? to fore-horses
And an old Leather Bawdy house behind 'em,
To thee?
Who is he like?
Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him:
Did not I take him singing yesternight
A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too,
And had a Catechism in's pocket, Damsel,
One of your dear disciples, I perceive it?
When did he ride abroad since he came over?
What Tavern has he us'd to? what things done
That shews a man, and mettle? when was my house
At such a shame before, to creep to bed
At ten a clock, and twelve, for want of company?
No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking?
Thou think'st not of these scandals; when, and where
Has he but shew'd his sword of late?
I do beseech you, Sir, nor tempt your weakness,
For if you like it so, I can assure you
He is the same man still.
On that condition; but believe it Gossip
You shall know you have wrong'd.
So well I know my duty: and for Heaven sake,
Take but this counsel with ye ere you marry,
[Pg 135] You were wont to hear me: take him, and confess him,
Search him to the quick, and if you find him false,
Do as you please; a Mothers name I honour.
Shall never harbour him: and for you Minion
I'le keep you close enough, lest you break loose,
And do more mischief; get ye in: who waits? [Exit Dor.
Enter Servant.
My pleasure in the morning: mark what house
He is in, and what he does: and truly tell me.
SCENE III.
Enter Thomas, Hylas, and Sam.
None of her servants enter, or go out,
If any Woman pass, she is lawful prize, Boys,
Cut off all convoyes.
I shall appear to th' action.
On honourable terms?
That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too
By your commission safely, some sweet parcels
Of Poetry to a Chamber-maid.
For there's my master-piece.
I am the man reserv'd for Air, 'tis my part,
And if she be not rock, my voyce shall reach her:
Ye may record a little, or ye may whistle,
As time shall minister, but for main singing,
Pray ye satisfie your selves: away, be careful.
[Pg 136]
Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten?
What Bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee?
Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass
Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it,
And dry it too for dogs-meat: get you gone;
I have things of moment in my mind: that door,
Keep it as thou would'st keep thy Wife from a Servingman.
No more I say: away, Sam.
Enter Launcelot, and Fidler.
Do something of some savour suddenly,
That we may eat, and live: I am almost starv'd,
No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur,
Not by the vertue of my languages,
Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for,
O Signieur du, nothing to line my life with,
But cold Pyes with a cudgel, till you help us.
What Ballads are you seen in best? be short Sir.
The Duke of Norfolk, or the merry Ballad
Of Diverus and Lazarus, the Rose of England,
In Creet when Dedimus first began,
Jonas his crying out against Coventry.
Rare matters all.
The Devil, and ye dainty Dames.
With the bloudy battel at Mile-end.
No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle
Speak Welch, or any thing that's out of all tune,
[Pg 137] The vilder still the better, like thy self,
For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance.
In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir.
We'l bear the burthen: proceed to incision Fidler. [Song.
Enter Servant, above.
At these hours?
O what is that to you,
Pluck in your face you bawling Ass,
Or I will break your brow. hey down, down, down.
A new Ballad, a new, a new.
My house and goods were burnt away, &c. [Maid above.
Open the door, and it shall appear,
Open the door.
I'le see thee hang'd first: farewel my dear,
'Tis master Thomas, there he stands.
Enter Mary above.
That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence,
Or sing him out in's own way, any thing
To be deliver'd of him.
My man Thomas did me promise
He would visit me this night.
How I may obtain thy sight.
[Pg 138] Come to my window my dear,
The wind, nor the rain shall trouble thee again,
But thou shalt be lodged here.
I'le warrant ye we'l cool him: Madge. [Madge above.
That he devised a way to goe.
Now sing the Duke of Northumberland.
He fell down suddenly.
[Madge with a Devils vizard roaring, offers to kiss him, and he falls down.
He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat.
O miserable woman, I am spoil'd,
My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs!
Broken in twenty places: O take heed,
Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon,
A Surgeon, or I dye: oh my good people,
No charitable people, all despightfull,
Oh what a misery am I in! oh my leg.
Enter Samuel, and Hylas, with his head broken.
Oh my head's kill'd.
Through key-holes, Captain Hylas, come and be comforted,
The skin is scarce broke.
A Surgeon.
Enter Mary, and Servant below.
O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, flye,
He will be dead else.
There's twelve pence for ye.
I never take above, and rest ye merry. [Exit.
How is my dear?
Shall we walk in, for now there's none to trouble us?
I knew your trick, and I was willing: my Tom,
Mine own Tom, now to satisfie thee, welcom, welcom,
Welcom my best friend to me, all my dearest.
I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it
As your poor Mistress favour. [Exit.
I see no venture is in no hand: I have it,
How now? the door lock't, and she in before?
Am I so trim'd?
Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler,
[Pg 140] I must not satisfie your folly too Sir,
Ye'are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye,
The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy,
And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else,
Good night.
Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly,
Now for a Ballad to bring me off again.
All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe a wooing.
Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c.
[Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Alice, and Servant.
Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd
Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs.
Only for walks I take it.
Had he a horse out?
Somewhat before the break of day.
My best friend's gone Alice; I have lost the noblest,
The truest, and the most man I e're found yet.
All, all, and all too little: O that honesty,
That ermine honesty, unspotted ever,
That perfect goodness.
He cannot be so harsh.
Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes.
[Pg 141]
Within this hour, things that shall startle thee,
He never must return.
Enter Michael.
Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel,
You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress?
She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i' bed yet?
Nor any night this week else.
I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me?
All this long night, and after many wakings,
The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide
Just at S. Katherines gate the Nunnery.
Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess,
For charity receive me holy woman,
A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections,
Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her,
Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her,
And there I left her.
Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me)
To step but up, and see.
And all this but a dream.
[Pg 142] They are unhappy ones, and often truths,
But this I hope, yet.
Dream of a Nunnery?
About the nature of his sickness Valentine?
That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me?
For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too,
How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool,
Tir'd with his joyes?
Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses.
Truly to weigh.
Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she?
Enter Alice.
Been in her bed.
And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning
A man of mine being employed about business,
Came early home, who at S. Katherines Nunnery,
About day peep, told me he met your Mistress,
And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled
And so received by the Abbess, did he see her,
The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye
To know the cause.
At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel,
Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Sebastian, and a Servant.
But twenty noyses.
Enter Launcelot.
He can inform ye all: he was among 'em,
A mad thing too: I stood but in a corner.
Your Master may return?
I will assure your worship on my credit
By the faith of a Travellor, and a Gentleman,
Your son is found again, the son, the Tom.
Last night Sir, as we handled it: cap à pe,
Footra for leers, and learings; O the noise,
The noise we made.
And all the Chambermaids in such a whobub,
One with her smock half off, another in hast
With a serving-mans hose upon her head.
And his mouth stopt with durt.
[Pg 144]
Inviron'd with his furious Myrmidons
The fiery Fidler, and my self; now singing,
Now beating at the door, there parlying,
Courting at that window, at the other scalling
And all these several noises to two Trenchers,
Strung with a bottom of brown thred, which show'd admirable.
Gave we the frolick over: though at length
We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition;
But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies:
A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from,
There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows:
The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold,
Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next:
Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus;
A crue of bawling curs we entertain'd last,
When having let the pigs loose in out parishes,
O the brave cry we made as high as Algate!
Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister
Most traiterously tramples upon Authority,
There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly
And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here
Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn,
Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion:
A potter rises, to enquire this passion,
A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop,
When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering,
Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans,
The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks.
This tale that thou tell'st me,
Then on thy back will I presently hang
A handsom new Livery:
But if this be false, thou little tyney page
As false it well may be,
Then with a cudgel of four foot long
[Pg 145] I'le beat thee from head to toe.
Enter Servant.
Enter Thomas.
Because I feel a scruple in my conscience
Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one,
And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd,
Get up to that window there, and presently
Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from Tripoly.
(Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't,
And with a little wonder I beseech [y]ou)
Choak up your noble judgement?
You lying Rascal.
Why, what a Devil do you mean?
Ye keep a company of sawcy fellows,
Debosh'd, and daily drunkards, to devour ye,
Things, whose dull souls, tend to the Celler only,
Ye are ill advis'd Sir, to commit your credit.
Nor feel the blessing of another blew-coat,
If this young Gentleman, sweet Master Thomas,
Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart Sir,
If yesternights discourse: speak fellow Robin,
And if thou speakest less than truth.
Can hear and see.
Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable
Last night?
I violate the Law?
And put 'em into pudding lane?
Those civil things you did at M. Valentines,
The Fiddle, and the fa'las.
I do beseech you Sir give no such licence
To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus:
Be wise in time, and turn 'em off: we live Sir
In a State govern'd civilly, and soberly,
Where each mans actions should confirm the Law,
Not crack, and cancel it.
Get you upon adventures: cast your coat
And make your exit.
I'le beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages.
I will have one shall please me. [Exit servant.
Enter two Servants with two bags.
Good Gentleman be cover'd.
You have been thought my son, and by my self too,
And some things done like me: ye are now another:
[Pg 147] There is two hundred pound, a civil summe
For a young civil man: much land and Lordship
Will as I take it now, but prove temptation
To dread ye from your setled, and sweet carriage.
For the word civil, and more setled course
It may but put to use, that on the interest
Like a poor Gentleman.
To mine again: do you see Sir: good fine Gentleman,
I give no brooding mony for a Scrivener,
Mine is for present traffick, and so I'le use it.
Enter Dorothy, and four Maids.
I sent to treat with you about, behold it;
Behold that piece of story work, and view it.
I want a right heir to inherit me,
Not my estate alone, but my conditions,
From which you are revolted, therefore dead,
And I will break my back, but I will get one.
In mine own tribe: I know their qualities
Which cannot fail to please me: for their beauties
A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect,
A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too.
Stand all a breast: now gentle M. Thomas
Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me,
And happily sometimes with some of these too,
Which fault I never frown'd upon; pray shew me
(For fear we confound our Genealogies)
Which have you laid aboord? speak your mind freely,
Have you had copulation with that Damsel?
[Pg 148]
Was ever sin so glorious?
In again all: and to your several functions. [Ex. Maids.
What say you to young Luce, my neighbours Daughter,
She was too young I take it, when you travel'd;
Some twelve years old?
For I have many yet to ask ye of,
Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger
When ye are right: what say ye to Valeria
Whose husband lies a dying now? why two,
And in that form?
The Sisters of St. Albons, all five; dat boy,
Dat's mine own boy.
A straw on pardon: prethee need no pardon:
I'le aske no more, nor think no more of marriage,
For o' my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold:
There's some good yet left in him: bear your self well,
You may recover me, there's twenty pound Sir,
I see some sparkles which may flame again,
You may eat with me when you please, you know me. [Exit Seb.
And do as I would have thee, or by this hand
I'le kill thy Parrat, hang up thy small hand,
And drink away thy dowry to a penny.
[Pg 149]
For abusing their wives and children?
Mens wives and children can be abus'd too much?
Before I have done.
E're I be twelve hours older: there's my business,
She is monstrous subtile Dol.
Cannot out-subtile thee.
Come, you must help me presently.
No bawd to your abuses.
Nothing but in the way of honesty.
Honestly marry her, if I mean not honourably,
Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you vex me,
I'le help thee to a husband too, a fine Gentleman,
I know thou art mad, a tall young man, a brown man,
I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Michael, and Valentine.
Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us,
Pull'd back again by sighs.
[Pg 150]
Sebastians Daughter can prevail much with her,
The Abbess is her Aunt too.
Whose love and loss is equal ty'd.
That shall be my task if he be alive,
Or where my travel and my care may reach him,
I'le bring him back again.
To piece his poor friends life out? and my Mistress
Be vow'd for ever a recluse?
She cannot, hast ye therefore instantly away Sir,
To put that Daughter by; first as to a Father,
Then as a friend she was committed to ye,
And all the care she now has: by which priviledge
She cannot do her this violence,
But you may break it, and the law allows ye.
Against your self, if you will needs be miserable
Spight of her goodness, and your friends perswasions.
Think on, and thrive thereafter.
And follow your advice, and good, good Michael.
Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage
E're my return, for then those thoughts that vext her,
While there ran any stream for loose affections,
Will be stopt up, and chaste ey'd honour guide her.
Away, and hope the best still: I'le work for ye,
And pray too heartily, away, no more words. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Hylas, and Samuel.
But that it should be his plot, and a wench too,
[Pg 151] A lowzie, lazie wench prepar'd to do it.
He'l put another on thee else.
To call him to account, was it not manifest
He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me,
When he lay roaring out, his leg was broken,
And no such matter? had he broke his neck,
Indeed 'twould ne'r have griev'd me; gallows gall him.
Why should he chuse out me?
To thrust thy self into these she occasions,
And he as full of knavery to accept it.
Is to no purpose; besides, he's truly valiant,
And a most deadly hand; thou never fought'st yet,
Nor o' my Conscience hast no faith in fighting.
Which has a woman in't to make it scurvy,
Who would lye stinking in a Surgeons hands,
A month or two this weather? for believe it,
He never hurts under a quarters healing.
But watch my time.
Watch him too, I would wish ye; prithee tell me,
Dost thou affect these women still?
I love 'em ev'n as well as e'r I did,
Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em.
Of what degree or calling.
Of any fashion.
[Pg 152] For those I love to lead me to repentance;
A woman with no Nose, after my surquedry,
Shews like King Philip's Moral, Memento mori;
And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates
Like Hypocrites, we halt before the gallows;
An old one with one tooth, seems to say to us,
Sweets meats have sowr sauce; she that's full of aches,
Crum not your Bread before you taste your Porridge,
And many morals we may find.
Ye make so worthy uses; but quid igitur,
What shall we now determine?
An hour or two how I may fit this fellow.
But take heed to your self, and say I warn'd ye;
He has a plaguey pate.
[Musick.
SCENE V.
Enter Saylers singing, to them Michael, and Francis.
What men they take aboard.
Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all vertue
Dwell in thy bosome, Cellide, my last tears
I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice,
For I dare stay no longer to betray ye.
[Pg 153] By virtue of this Warrant, as you will answer it,
For both your Ship and Merchant I know perfectly,
Lay hold upon this fellow.
Fetch out the manacles.
But I beseech you, Sir, inform me truly
How I am guilty.
One that you are bound to for your life and being;
Money and horse unjustly ye took from him,
And something of more note, but—for y'are a Gentleman.
Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it,
And which is more, a hundred of these robberies:
This Ring I stole too from him, and this Jewel,
The first and last of all my wealth; forgive me
My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em,
And may they prove of value but to recompence
The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten;
'Pray see 'em render'd noble Sir, and so
I yield me to your power.
I charge you, Saylers, there I will receive him,
And back convey him to a Justice.
Look to your neck, you are like to sail i'th' air now.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Maid.
Take heed my nose be not in grain too;
Come Doll, Doll, disen me.
Your Devils parts again.
[Pg 154]
Which only is access.
Out with this hair, Doll, handsomely.
What, dost thou think I love to blast my Buttocks?
What ye intend, Sir.
What, broke i'th bum? hold up your head.
I shall bepiss my Breeches if I cowr thus,
Come, I am ready.
As if you were my Mistress.
Now run for thy life, and get before him,
Take the by-way, and tell my Cousin Mary
In what shape he intends to come to cozen her;
I'll follow at thy heels my self, fly Wench.
Enter Sebastian, and Thomas.
And I'll away in time; look to your Skin, Thomas. [Exit.
You will not know your Father? what vagaries
Have you in hand? what out-leaps, durty heels,
That at these hours of night ye must be gadding,
And through the Orchard take your private passage?
What, is the breeze in your Breech? or has your Brother
Appointed you an hour of meditation
How to demean himself; get ye to bed, drab,
Or I'll so crab your Shoulders; ye demure Slut,
Ye civil dish of sliced Beef, get ye in.
[Pg 155]
Have at ye with a night Spell then.
He walks by day, so does he by night,
And when he had her found,
He her beat, and her bound,
Until to him her troth she plight,
She would not stir from him that night.
From Elves, Hobs, and Fayries, that trouble our Dayries,
From Fire-Drakes and Fiends, and such as the Devil sends,
Defend us good Heaven. [Exit.
Enter Launcelot.
Up with your eyes to heaven.
I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me,
A plaguey mankind Girl, how my [brain] totters?
Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more
With this dog trick,
Mine own true spirit in her too.
Alas poor Gentlewom[a]n, she a hand so heavy,
To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage
To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir.
And changes shapes as often; your Son Thomas;
Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me.
I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't.
Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis Thomas
In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him.
How heartily glad I am.
SCENE VII.
Enter Mary, Dorothy, and Maid.
Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready?
But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Valentine, and Thomas.
Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop?
You are met most happily; O gentle Doll,
You must now do me an especial favour.
With a salt rheum faln i' my gums.
And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress,
Upon a slight occasion taking anger,
Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery,
From whence by my perswasion to redeem her,
Will be impossible: nor have I liberty
To come and visit her; my good, good Dorothy,
You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too,
And have access at all hours liberally,
Speak now or never for me.
[Pg 157] That course must not be suffered, Master Valentine,
Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me;
Sport upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye,
And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye,
I cannot stay now.
Good night.
Every one takes me for my Sister, excellent;
This Nunnery's faln so pat too, to my figure,
Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it,
If once I creep in, ere they get me out again;
Stay, here's the house, and one of her Maids.
Enter Maid.
O Mistress Dorothy! you are a stranger.
You are come so fit to comfort her.
You know your side, creep softly in, your company
Will warm her well.
Even to her Chamber-door, and there commit ye. [Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Enter Michael, Francis, and Officers.
And like a Gentleman, how e'r your fortune
Hath cast ye on the worst part.
[Pg 158]
I am resolv'd, nor can a joy or misery
Much move me now.
For putting this forc'd way upon his patience,
Yet any other course had been too slender:
Yet what to think I know not, for most liberally
He hath confess'd strange wrongs, which if they prove so,
How e'r the others long love may forget all,
Yet 'twas most fit he should come back, and this way.
Drink that; and now to my care leave your Prisoner,
I'll be his guard for this night.
There shall be no such cause of such a sadness
As you put on.
And what I now pull shall no more afflict me
Than if I plaid at span-Counter, nor is my face
The map of any thing I seem to suffer,
Lighter affections seldom dwell in me, Sir.
A Feaver when I took this harsh way to disturb him.
Come, walk with me, Sir, ere to morrow night
I doubt not but to see all this blown over. [Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Hylas.
And I hope she will come back again this night too;
Sam I have lost of purpose; now if I can
With all the art I have, as she comes back,
But win a parley for my broken Pate,
Off goes her maiden-head, and there's vindicta.
They stir about the house, I'll stand at distance. [Exit.
Enter Mary and Dorothy, and then Thomas and Maid.
[Pg 159]
He is, and there he goes.
[A Bed discovered with a Black-moore in it.
How close the little thief lies!
At home, Mall?
The little fool has pull'd it self together!
Anon you will lye straighter;
Ha! there's rare circumstance
Belongs to such a treatise; do ye tumble?
I'll tumble with ye straight, wench: she sleeps soundly,
Full little think'st thou of thy joy that's coming,
The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kisses,
But those unthought of things come ever happiest.
How soft the Rogue feels! O ye little Villain,
Ye delicate coy Thief, how I shall thrum ye!
Your [']fy away, good servant, as you are a Gentleman.[']
What do you mean to do? I'll call the house up.
O God, I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye,
For up ye go now and ye were my father.
Yet I'le be quartered here first.
A coldness crept over't now? by your leave, candle,
And next door by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty,
[Pg 160] Shall I now look upon ye? by this light it moves me.
The Devil, Devil, Devil, O the Devil.
Yet if it be a she-Devil; but the house is up,
And here's no staying longer in this Cassock.
Woman, I here disclaim thee; and in vengeance
I'll marry with that Devil, but I'll vex thee.
Devil good night: good night, good Devil.
Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder.
How now Wench?
And entertain your sweet-heart.
But his kind farewel: ye may bake me now,
For o' my conscience, he has made me Venison.
And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too,
For Doll and I; come Wench, let's laugh an hour now.
To morrow, early, will we see young Cellide,
They say she has taken a Sanctuary; Love and they
Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles.
Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy.
You should hear further.
SCENE II.
Enter Hylas, and Thomas.
By th' Mass she comes; you are surely met fair Gentlewoman,
I take it, Mistress Doll Sebastians Daughter.
I'll fit you with a penny-worth presently.
Yet I am glad I have met so good a Gentleman,
Against all chances; for though I never knew ye,
Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye.
What if a man should kiss ye?
'Pray God he 'scapes my Beard, there lies the mischief.
Is but the sharpness of the weather; hark ye [once] more,
And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so,
And ever shall be from this hour: I have vow'd it.
Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot.
Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner?
Why, they'll wear Breeches too.
Not for the World.
I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing
Out the back way must needs have such a meaning.
[Pg 162]
Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me?
Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Covenant,
Wouldst thou not now be hang'd?
But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir,
(I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment,
And let the case be equally consider'd)
Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now,
'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it,
But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden,
That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable;
Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he,
But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of?
This is Sebastian truly.
And there's my hand once more.
And their first Boy shall be my heir.
Now ye go right to work.
Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry,
Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a Gentleman?
Tempts me extreamly: will ye marry presently?
Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest,
Little Sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony
Over without Book, for we must have no company,
Nor light, for fear my Father know, which must not yet be;
And then to morrow night.
About my dowry, Sweet, do not spoil all now,
'Tis of much haste: I can scarce stay the marriage,
[Pg 163] Now if you love me, get you gone.
Come, come, I stand o' thorns.
Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it,
Farewel.
And if he be a handsome fellow, Launcelot,
Fiat, 'tis done, and all my 'state is setled. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Abbess, Cellide, and Nuns.
My gentle Daughter, will disturb a while
Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease.
'Tis for my holy health, to purchase which,
They shall forget the Child of ease, soft slumbers.
O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd!
And Love, how like a Tyrant thou reign'st in me,
Commanding and forbidding at one instant;
Why came I hither, that desire to have
Only all liberty to make me happy?
Why did'st thou bring that young man home, O Valentine,
That vertuous Youth? why didst thou speak his goodness
In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises
Were made for him? O fond and ignorant!
Why didst thou foster my affection
Till it grew up to know no other Father,
And then betray it?
My sorrows only.
[Musick singing.
SCENE IV.
Enter Michael and Servant, and Francis.
His Sister thinks he's gone to th' Nunnery.
Come you along with this young Gentleman,
Do him all service, and fair office.
SCENE V.
Enter Hylas, and Sam.
I'll give thee a pair of Gloves, Sam.
I am i'th' order now, Sam.
I thought there was some such trick in't, you stole from me,
But who, for Heavens sake?
The rarest Woman, Samuel, and the lustiest,
But wondrous honest, honest as the ice, Boy,
Not a bit before hand, for my life, Sirrah,
And of a lusty kindred.
The fates will have it so.
Does he know of it?
'Tis done, Boy, we are fast 'faith, my Youth now
Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities.
[Pg 165]
I have made no Joynture neither, there I have paid him.
And if she anger me, all his abuses
I'll clap upon her Cassock.
And now shalt see me a most glorious Husband.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Dorothy, Mary, Valentine.
Did not you promise all your help and cunning
In my behalf, but for one hour to see her,
Did you not swear it? by this hand, no strictness
Nor rule this house holds, shall by me be broken.
I met ye, by my life, just as you entred
This gentle Ladies Lodge, last night, thus suited
About eleven a clock.
But that I saw or spoke to you.
Your Brother Thomas, Doll.
And wherein I can do you good, command me.
What a mad fool is this! stay here a while, Sir,
Whilst we walk in, and make your peace. [Exit.
Enter Abbess.
Now benedicite, have ye got the breeze there?
Give me my holy sprinkle.
Enter 2 Nuns.
Like Mistress Dorothy, I think the fiend
Crept into th' Nunnery we know not which way,
Plays revel rout among us.
Of water or of fire.
Or a shadow of the blest,
Be thou black, or white, or green,
Be thou heard, or to be seen.
Enter Thomas and Cellide.
And next, what would ye with me?
Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye,
I'le tell thee, Aunt, and I speak it with tears to thee,
If thou keepst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser,
Mark but the mischief follows.
Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye,
Or have among your Nuns again.
But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt.
SCENE VII.
Enter Dorothy, and Mary.
Sure he has run the Abbess out of her wits.
Nor the young Cellide.
Enter Hylas, and Sam.
How smart the pretty Thief looks! 'morrow Mistress.
A little with your Ladyship.
And those things you would have with you,
For my house is ready.
My friends will all be there too: for Trunks, and those things,
And houshold-stuff, and cloaths you would have carried,
To morrow, or the next day, I'le take order:
Only what mony you have, bring away with ye,
[Pg 168] And Jewels.
There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy:
And now come kiss me heartily.
Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow,
And where's his business?
There's none but friends, Wench.
Alas, 'tis ill, Sir, that ye suffer him
To walk in th' open Air thus: 'twill undo him.
A pretty handsome Gentleman: great pity.
At St Michaels Chapel?
I think no Wife of yours: at what hour was it?
Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve a Clock
Tye our hands fast? did not you swear you lov'd me?
Did not I court ye, coming from this Gentlewomans?
She was in my arms then, abed.
For I'le no Husband here, before I know him:
And so good morrow to ye: Come, let's go seek 'em.
Well, go with me; for now I will be married. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice.
Worthy the love you bear me.
I fear you'll change your faith: bring in the Gentleman.
Enter Francis, Servant, Abbess, and Cellide, severally.
And all you Stars that govern chast desires
Shine fair, and lovely.
To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver
In Loves defence, and his: and then your pleasure.
More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow
Sweet catching sorrow, he appears! O love,
That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us.
And what ye heard, believe, for 'tis so certain
He neither dar'd, nor must oppose my evidence;
And be you wise, young Lady, and believe too,
This man you love, Sir?
Of what his wants could ask: or your self render?
But this fair Maid; that friendship first was broken,
And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow
So fair a form should hide so dark intentions)
He hath himself confess'd (my purpose being
Only to stop his journey, by that policy
Of laying Felony to his charge, to fright the Sailers)
Divers abuses done, Thefts often practis'd,
Monyes, and Jewels too, and those no trifles.
[Pg 170]
Let's in for ever now, there is vertue.
Are ye not guilty thus?
Look here; do you know these Jewels?
Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary: then Sebastian, and Launcelot.
Nay do not look on me; I care not for ye.
And that's his Mistris.
Ha, boy! art there my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy,
Home Lance, and strike a fresh piece of Wine, the Town's ours.
And this is he; come hither Mistris Dorothy,
And Mistris Mary: who does that face look like;
And view my Brother well?
But much, and main resemblance, both of face
And lineaments of body: now Heaven grant it.
Now, as you are a Gentleman, resolve me,
Where did you get these Jewels?
Because blind fortune yet may make me happy,
Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet,
But from my infancy, upon this arm
I ever wore 'em.
[Pg 171]
By Heaven I ty'd 'em on: a little more, Sir,
A little, little more, what parents have ye?
That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune,
But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me,
Who, to my more affliction, dyed a poor man,
When I reach'd eighteen years.
But from what place he never could direct me,
I was taken in a Sea-fight, and from a Mariner,
Out of his manly pity he redeem'd me.
He told me of a Nurse that waited on me,
But she, poor soul, he said was killed.
A Letter too I had enclos'd within me,
To one Castruccio a Venetian Merchant,
To bring me up: the man, when years allow'd me,
And want of friends compell'd, I sought, but found him
Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him.
The Wars was my retreat then, and my travel
In which I found this Gentlemans free bounty,
For which Heaven recompenc'd him: now ye have all.
And all my prayers and thanks.
For now you have found a Father, and that Father
That will not venture ye again in Galleys.
And make me worthy of this benefit.
Now my best Mistress.
And thus, Sir, all my service I pay to you,
And all my love to him.
Take her Francisco: now no more young Callidon,
And love her dearly, for thy Father does so.
[Pg 172]
Enter Hylas and Sam.
And a hot lover too.
Now I perceive the Knavery.
Thou would'st fain have a Wife?
That I shall never be able to bring thee Children.
And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture.
Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her,
A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred,
And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first.
Play not the fool.
[Pg 173]
And love to live in contemplation.
There lye my Woman, now my man again,
And now for travel once more.
And so long I will travel, till I find a Father
That I never knew, and a Wife that I never look'd for,
And a state without expectation,
So rest you merry Gentlemen.
Upon my faith, I love you now extreamly,
And now I'le kiss ye.
The keyes of all I have, come, let's be merry,
For now I see thou art right.
The holy Priest shall make ye happy all.
TO THE
NOBLE HONOURER
OF THE
Dead Author's Works and Memory,
Master CHARLES COTTON.
SIR,
My directing of this piece unto you, renders me obvious to many censures, which I would willingly prevent by declaring mine own and your right thereto. Mine was the fortune to be made the unworthy preserver of it; yours is the worthy opinion you have of the Author and his Poems; neither can it easily be determined, whether your affection to them hath made you (by observing) more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them, deservedly, not partially. In this presumptuous act of mine, I express my twofold zeal; to him and your noble self, who have built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him, than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be. You will find him in this Poem as active as in others, to many of which, the dull apprehensions of former times gave but slender allowance, from malitious custom more than reason: yet they have since by your candid self and others, been clearly vindicated. You shall oblige by your acceptance of this acknowledgment (which is the best I can render you, mine own weak la[b]ours being too unworthy your judicious perusal) him that is ambitious to be known.
Your most humble Servant,
Richard Brome.
THE
CHANCES.
A
COMEDY.
| Duke of Ferrara. | |
| Petruccio, Governour of Bolognia. | |
| Don John, | two Spanish Gentlemen, and Comerades. |
| Don Frederick, | |
| Antonio, an old stout Gentleman, Kinsman to Petruccio. | |
| Three Gentlemen, friends to the Duke. | |
| Two Gentlemen, friends to Petruccio. | |
| Francisco, a Musician, Antonio's Boy. | |
| Peter Vecchio, a Teacher of Latine | |
| and Musick, a reputed Wizard. | |
| Peter and | two Servants to Don John and Frederick. |
| Anthonie, | |
| A Surgeon. | |
| WOMEN. | |
| Constancia, Sister to Petruccio, and Mistriss to the Duke. | |
| Gentlewoman, Servant to Constancia. | |
| Old Gentlewoman, Landlady to Don John and Frederick. | |
| Constancia, a Whore to old Antonio. | |
| Bawd. | |
The Scene Bolognia.
Actus Primus. Scena Prima.
Enter 2. Serving-men, Peter and Anthony.
That we might taste some quiet; for mine own part,
I'm almost melted with continual trotting
After enquiries, dreams, and revelations,
Of who knows whom, or where? serve wenching soldiers,
That knows no other Paradise but Plackets:
I'll serve a Priest in Lent first, and eat Bell-ropes.
[Pg 176]
Tell me but this; to what end came we hither?
Answer me that; resolve me there, good Anthony?
Not any thing I take it; nor that thing
We travel to discover, like new islands;
A salt itch serve such uses; in things of moment
Concerning things, I grant ye, not things errant,
Sweet Ladies things, and things to thank the Surgeon;
In no such things, sweet Anthony, put case—
Of infinite report for shape and vertue,
That bred us all this trouble to no purpose,
They are determin'd now no more to think on,
But fall close to their studies.
Men known to run mad with report before?
Or wonder after [that] they know not where
To find? or if found, how to enjoy? are mens brains
Made now adays of malt, that their affections
Are never sober? but like drunken People
Founder at every new Fame? I do believe too
That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men
Are ever loving.
And know, that they are none of those, not guilty
Of the least vanity of love, only a doubt
Fame might too far report, or rather flatter
The Graces of this Woman, made them curious
To find the truth, which since they find so blocked
And lockt up from their searches, they are now setled
To give the wonder over.
To give me some new shoos too: for I'll be sworn
[Pg 177] These are e'en worn out to the reasonable souls
In their good worships business; and some sleep
Would not do much amiss, unless they mean
To make a Bell-man on me; and what now
Mean they to study, Anthony, moral Philosophy
After their mar-all women?
Besides the Giblets to 'em.
And talk more out of hearing? your fools head
May chance to find a wooden night-cap else.
Enter Don John, and Frederick.
And your blind prophesying: here they come,
You had best tell them as much.
She must be some rare Creature, or Report lies.
All mens Reports too.
But since she is so conceal'd, so beyond venture
Kept and preserv'd from view, so like a Paradise,
Plac'd where no knowledge can come near her; so guarded,
As 'twere impossible, though known, to reach her,
I have made up my belief.
If I more think upon her, or believe her,
But as she came a strong Report unto me,
So the next Fame shall lose her.
But whither are you walking?
After my meat, and then to Bed.
[Pg 178]
I will not miss to meet you.
For not to lie, I have a few Devotions
To do first, then I am yours.
SCENE II.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen.
If you do thrust, be sure it be to th'hilts,
A Surgeon may see through him.
The honour of my house crack'd? my bloud poyson'd?
My Credit and my Name?
Before ye use this violence: Let not doubt,
And a suspecting anger so much sway ye,
Your wisedom may be question'd.
And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be,
And what is shall be safe.
Because 'tis possible he may be thievish!
Alas, is this good Justice?
As day must come again, as clear as truth,
And open as belief can lay it to me,
That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence;
Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever
[Pg 179] In name and honour, lost to all remembrance,
But what is smear'd, and shameful; I must kill him,
Necessity compells me.
All that is fair in man, all that is noble,
I am not greedy of this life I seek for,
Nor thirst to shed mans blood, and would 'twere possible,
I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble
To offend the sacred Image of my Maker,
My Sword could only kill his Crimes; no, 'tis Honour,
Honour, my noble friends, that Idol, Honour,
That all the world now worships, not Petruchio
Must do this Justice.
And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour,
Or both, be accessary.
The value of the person, power, and greatness,
And what this spark may kindle?
So much I am ty'd to Reputation,
And Credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,
That all this Dukedom smoak, and storms that toss me
Into the waves of everlasting ruine,
Yet I must through; if ye dare side me.
Do it in what design ye please, we'll back ye.
So mortal, nothing but his life?
A less offence has been the desolation
Of a whole name.
And if then ye find no safer Road to guide ye,
[Pg 180] We'll set up our Rests too.
And hang him for my part
Goes less than life.
May be as free and forward as your words. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Don John.
Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all Travellers,
As a most safe retirement in all troubles;
Beside the wholsome seat, and noble temper
Of those minds that inhabit it, safely wise,
And to all strangers vertuous; But I see
My admiration has drawn night upon me,
And longer to expect my friend may pull me
Into suspicion of too late a stirrer,
Which all good Governments are jealous of.
I'll home, and think at liberty: yet certain,
'Tis not so far night as I thought; for see,
A fair house yet stands open, yet all about it
Are close, and no lights stirring, there may be foul play;
I'le venture to look in: if there be knaves,
I may do a good office. [Woman within.
Fabritio?
Enter Woman with a Child.
For things are in strange trouble: here, be secret,
'Tis worth your care; begon now; more eyes watch us,
Than may be for our safeties.
It weighs well, and it feels well; it may chance
To be some pack of worth: byth' mass 'tis heavie;
If it be Coyn or Jewels, 'tis worth welcom:
I'le ne're refuse a fortune: I am confident
'Tis of no common price: now to my lodging:
If it hit right, I'le bless this night. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
Enter Frederick.
I cannot meet him; sure he has encountred
Some light o' love or other, and there means
To play at in and in for this night. Well Don John,
If you do spring a leak, or get an itch,
Till ye claw off your curl'd pate, thank your night-walks:
You must be still a bootehalling: one round more,
Though it be late, I'le venture to discover ye,
I do not like your out-leaps. [Exit.
SCENE V.
Enter Duke, and 3 Gentlemen.
Offer it self, let's stand sure.
E're ye shall be endangered, or deluded,
We'll make a black night on't.
[Pg 182]
You know your Quarters?
Shall bring ye to my rescue.
SCENE VI.
Enter Don John.
Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,
As I am? did the Devil lead me? must I needs be peeping
Into mens houses where I had no business,
And make my self a mischief? 'Tis well carried;
I must take other mens occasions on me,
And be I know not whom: most finely handled:
What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?
A piece of evening Arras work, a child,
Indeed an Infidel: this comes of peeping:
A lump got out of laziness; good white bread
Let's have no bawling with ye: 'sdeath, have I
Known wenches thus long, all the ways of wenches
Their snares and subtilties? have I read over
All their School learnings, div'd into their quiddits,
And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?
Fetch'd over with a Card of five, and in mine old days,
After the dire massacre of a million
Of Maiden-heads? caught the common way, i'th' night too
Under anothers name, to make the matter
Carry more weight about it? well Don John,
You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'd
A heavy of these Butter-prints together,
With searching out conceal'd iniquities,
Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,
If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,
So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been Justice
Then to have kept it; but to raise a dayrie
For other mens adulteries, consume my self in candles,
And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,
[Pg 183] Only for charity, for meer I thank you,
A little troubles me: the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.
Whose e're it is, sure 't had a wealthy Mother,
For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,
Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,
And ten to one would kill it: a more sin
Then his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,
And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,
To cry memento to me; no more peeping.
Now all the danger is to qualifie
The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,
For she will fall upon me with a Catechism
Of four hours long: I must endure all;
For I will know this Mother: Come good wonder,
Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebble
Will waken the rude watch else: all that be
Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee. [Exit.
SCENE VII.
Enter Frederick.
I have beaten all the purlews,
But cannot bolt him: if he be a bobbing,
'Tis not my care can cure him: To morrow morning
I shall have further knowledge from a Surgeon's—
Where he lyes moor'd, to mend his leaks.
Enter Constantia.
And through a world of dangers am flown to ye.
Be full of haste and care, we are undone else:
Where are your people? which way must we travel?
For Heaven sake stay not here Sir.
For ever perish'd. Sir, for Heaven sake tell me,
Are ye a Gentleman?
[Pg 184]
As ever your desires may gain their ends,
Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit,
For I am forc'd to trust ye.
Humanity and honour bids me help ye;
And if I fail your trust.—
To stay your protestations: I believe ye,
Alas, I must believe ye: From this place,
Good noble Sir, remove me instantly,
And for a time, where nothing but your self,
And honest conversation may come near me,
In some secure place se[t]tle me: what I am
And why thus boldly I commit my credit
Into a strangers hand, the fears and dangers,
That force me to this wild course, at more leisure
I shall reveal unto you.
He must strike through my life that takes ye from me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and 2 Gent.
Here's that will make 'em dance without a Fiddle.
Nor unadvised ones.
We shall fight close and handsom then.
You are a thought too bloudy.
And penny Almanacks allow the opening
Of veins this moneth: why do ye talk of bloudy?
What come we for, to fall to cuffes for apples?
[Pg 185] What, would ye make the cause a Cudgel quarrel?
On what terms stands this man? is not his honour
Open'd to his hand, and pickt out like an Oyster?
His credit like a quart pot knockt together,
Able to hold no liquor? clear but this point.
What should men do ally'd to these disgraces,
Lick o're his enemie, sit down, and dance him?
That's my fine boy, thou wilt do so no more child.
They shall not find me one: here's old tough Andrew,
A special friend of mine, and he but hold,
I'le strike 'em such a hornpipe: knocks I come for,
And the best bloud I light on; I profess it,
Not to scare Coster-mongers; If I lose mine own,
Mine audits cast, and farewel five and fifty.
As I directed ye, and when time calls us,
As ye are friends, so shew your selves.
SCENE IX.
Enter Don John, and his Land-lady.
Are welcom to me, whilst you bear your selves
Like honest and true Gentlemen: Bring hither
To my house, that have ever been reputed
A Gentlewoman of a decent, and fair carriage,
And so behav'd my self—
Stink in my neighbours nostrils? your Devises,
Your Brats, got out of Alligant, and broken oaths?
[Pg 186] Your Linsey Woolsy work, your hasty puddings?
I, foster up your filch'd iniquities?
Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am none
Of those receivers.
'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it?
She had better have worn pasterns.
When ye are high and pamper'd? What Saint know ye?
Or what Religion, but your purpos'd lewdness,
Is to be look'd for of ye? nay, I will tell ye,
You will then swear like accus'd Cut-purses,
As far off truth too; and lye beyond all Faulconers:
I'me sick to see this dealing.
I must ev'n make her drunk; nay gentle mother.
You fetch'd your evening walks for your digestions,
For this pretended holiness? no weather,
Not before day could hold ye from the Matins.
Were these your bo-peep prayers? ye'have pray'd well,
And with a learned zeal: watcht well too; your Saint
It seems was pleas'd as well: still sicker, sicker.
Enter Anthony, with a bottle of wine.
Give me: here mother take a good round draught,
'Twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper mother.
Alas you look not well; take a round draught,
It warms the bloud well, and restores the colour,
And then we'll talk at large.
A stranger? one the Town holds a good regard of?
Make no spare of it, as you love your health,
Mince not the matter.
Lodge in my house? now heav'ns my comfort, Signior!
A woman of my credit: one, heaven knows,
That lov'd you but too tenderly.
I ever found your kindness, and [ac]knowledge it.
Come, let's see your Workmanship.
But there 'tis, and a lusty one.
Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is,
'Tis many a good mans fortune: as I live
Your own eyes Signior, and the nether lip
As like ye, as ye had spit it.
Was not all lost, 'tis gold, and these are jewels,
Both rich, and right I hope.
I see ye are a wood-man, and can chuse
Your dear, though it be i'th' dark, all your discretion
Is not yet lost; this was well clapt aboard:
Here I am with you now; when as they say
[Pg 188] Your pleasure comes with profit; when ye must needs do,
Do where ye may be done to, 'tis a wisedom
Becomes a young man well: be sure of one thing,
Lose not your labour and your time together,
It seasons of a fool, son, time is pretious,
Work wary whilst ye have it: since ye must traffick
Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold Signior,
Trade with no broken Merchants, make your lading,
As you would make your rest, adventurously,
But with advantage ever.
The child wants looking to, wants meat and Nurses.
And instantly; I'le seek a Nurse my self, son;
'Tis a sweet child: ah my young Spaniard,
Take you no further care Sir.
I must by your leave Mother: these are yours,
To make your care the stronger: for the rest
I'le find a Master; the gold for bringing up on't,
I freely render to your charge.
Nor no more children, (good son) as you love me,
This may do well.
But where's Don Frederick, Mother?
About the like adventure: he told me,
He was to find you out. [Exit.
There may be some ill chance in't: sleep I will not,
Before I have found him: now this woman's pleas'd,
I'le seek my friend out, and my care is eas'd. [Exit.
SCENE X.
Enter Duke, and Gentlemen.
As to remove the City; the main faction
Swarm th[r]ough the streets like hornets, arm'd with angers
[Pg 189] Able to ruine States: no safety left us,
Nor means to dye like men, if instantly
You draw not back again.
And quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surer
Of death than thou art of thy fears, and with death
More than those fears are too.
Because I may find danger; wound my soul,
To keep my body safe.
Out of a baseness to you.
Out of a baseness leave me: what is danger,
More than the weakness of our apprehensions?
A poor cold part o'th' bloud? who takes it hold of?
Cowards, and wicked livers: valiant minds
Were made the Masters of it: and as hearty Sea-men
In desperate storms, stem with a little Rudder
The tumbling ruines of the Ocean:
So with their cause and swords do they do dangers.
Say we were sure to dye all in this venture,
As I am confident against it: is there any
Amongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd,
Would chuse luxuriously to lye a bed,
And purge away his spirit, send his soul out
In Sugar-sops, and Syrups? Give me dying
As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy,
Parting with man-kind, by a man that's manly:
Let 'em be all the world, and bring along
Cain's envy with 'em, I will on.
But with what safety?
You shall perceive Sir, here be those amongst us
Can dye as decently as other men,
And with as little ceremony: on brave Sir.
There's no such danger in it:
What's a clock?
Make no noise, and no tr[o]uble will attend us. [Exeunt.
SCENE XI.
Enter Frederick, and Peter, (with a candle.)
Let none come near the door without my knowledge,
No not my Landlady, nor my friend.
Enter Constantia.
That safety and civility ye wish'd for
Shall truly here attend you: no rude tongue
Nor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishes
Beyond the moderation of a man,
Dare enter here; your own desires and Innocence,
Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you,
Were dangers more than doubts.
And worth a womans trust: let it become me,
(I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness,
To render with my thanks, this worthless trifle;
I may be longer troublesome.
Are still their own rewards: Heav'n bless me Lady
From selling civil courtesies: may it please ye,
If ye will force a favour to oblige me,
[Pg 191] Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie me
For what good Angel I am engag'd.
For I am truly confident ye are honest:
The Piece is scarce worth looking on.
The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness,
Defend me honest thoughts, I shall grow wild else:
What eyes are there, rather what little heavens,
To stir mens contemplations! what a Paradise
Runs through each part she has! good bloud be temperate:
I must look off: too excellent an object
Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady,
If there be any further service to cast on me,
Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye,
Or the engagement of whole Families.
Thus far I shall entreat.
You make your power too poor.
With all convenient haste, you would retire
Unto the street you found me in.
With force and violence, do a mans office,
And draw your sword to rescue him.
Be what he will, and let his foes be Devils,
Arm'd with your pity, I shall conjure 'em.
Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary
Are there before ye.
Does all, engages all, works through all dangers:
Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer,
Nor all his wealthy Indies, could not draw me
Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure
Might make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards,
All our endeavours and our motions,
[Pg 192] (As they do to the North) still point at beauty,
Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman,
(Setting my soul aside) it should go hard,
But I would strain my body: yet to her,
Unless it be her own free gratitude,
Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me,
E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue. [Exit.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, pursued by Petruccio, Antonio, and that Faction.
Have at your love-sick heart Sir.
Enter Don John.
My friend may be engag'd: fie Gentlemen,
This is unmanly odds.
[Du. fals down, Don John bestrides him.
There's a plumb Sir to satisfie your longing.
We shall be endangered: where's Antonio?
Ha's given me my quietus est, I felt him
In my small guts, I'me sure, has feez'd me:
This comes of siding with ye.
I hear more rescue coming.
Enter the Dukes Faction.
My skull's uncloven yet, let me but kill.
Only a little stagger'd.
Thou hast sav'd me a shrewd welcom: 'twas put home too,
With a good mind I'me sure on't.
And manly courtesie came to my rescue.
That can pass by oppression.
But thus much honour more, to know your name?
And him I am so bound to?
'Tis every good mans tye: to know me further
Will little profit ye; I am a stranger,
My Country Spain; my name Don John, a Gentleman
That lye here for my study.
Much worthy mention of ye, yet I find
Fame short of what ye are.
To express your courtesie: may I demand
As freely what you are, and what mischance
Cast you into this danger?
I must desire your pardon: you shall know me
E're it be long Sir, and a nobler thanks
Than now my will can render.
[Pg 194]
Were night-snaps.
For 'twill be hard to find your own now.
I do beseech ye honour me.
And so I'le take my leave.
I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge,
Till when I love your memory. [Exit Duke, &c.
This is some noble fellow.
Enter Frederick.
Don John?
I thought ye had been a Bat-fowling: prethee tell me,
What Revelations hast thou had to night,
That home was never thought of?
I'le tell thee Frederick, but before I tell thee,
Settle thy understanding.
This bawdy night.
What dost think I have got?
I have got a Revelation will reveal me
An arrant Coxcomb while I live.
Thou hast lost nothing?
[Pg 195]
This Town's abominable.
Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd ye:
But where no grace is—
Peeping into a house, by whom I know not,
Nor where to find the place again: no Frederick,
Had I but kist the ring for't; 'tis no poor one,
That's my best comfort, for't has brought about it
Enough to make it man.
To him that searching out your serious worship,
Has met a stranger fortune?
A militant girle now to this boy would hit it?
Of a distressed Lady, one whose beauty
Would oversell all Italy?
So qualified, as admiration
Dwells round about her: of that perfect spirit—
That sweetness in discourse; young as the morning,
Her blushes staining his.
Shew me but that.
I have her sure Boy.
Stick to your charges good Don John, I am well.
Did ye not lately as ye walk'd along,
Discover people that were arm'd, and likely
To do offence?
As far as they had spirit.
It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal,
As I return'd to look you, I set in to him,
And without hurt (I thank heaven) rescued him,
And came my self off safe too.
And now to satisfie you, there is a woman,
Oh John, there is a woman—
And which is more, fain under my protection.
And which is most of all, she is at home too Sir.
You cannot see her, John.
That none else shall come near her: not my Mother,
Till some few doubts are clear'd.
A womans oaths are wafers, break with making,
They must for modestie a little: we all know it.
I smell an old dog trick of yours, well Frederick,
[Pg 197] Ye talkt to me of whoring, let's have fair play,
Square dealing I would wish ye.
(Which I know never will be) to that issue,
Your spoon shall be as deep as mine Sir.
And tell me true, is the cause honourable,
Or for your ease?
'Tis honest, and of great end.
But let me see her though: leave the door open
As ye go in.
But just so, as a jealous husband
Would level at his wanton wife through.
If ye desire no more, and keep it strictly,
I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Peter, and Anthony.
Among the gutters: But conceive me, Peter,
Where our good Masters should be?
I do conceive, but where they are, good Anthony—
With his slye popping in and out again,
Argued a cause, a frippery cause.
They bear up with some carvel.
For thou hast such a Master for that chase,
That till he spend his main Mast—
Your courtesie good Anthony, and withal,
[Pg 198] How long 'tis since your Master sprung a leak,
He had a sound one since he came. [Lute sounds within.
Again?
The use of eyes, lest thou should'st take a pride
And glorie in thy murthers: Why am I
That never yet transgress'd thy deity,
Never broke vow, from whose eyes never
Flew disdainfull dart
Whose hard heart never,
Slew those rewarders?
Thou art young and fair,
Thy Mother soft and gentle as the air,
Thy holy fire still burning, blown with praier.
Then everlasting Love restrain thy will
'Tis God-like to have power but not to kill.
Art sure we are at home?
Good Devil sing again: O dainty Devil!
Peter believe it, a most delicate Devil,
The sweetest Devil—
Enter Frederick, and Don John.
[Pg 199]
And as ye love your faith, presume no further
Than ye have promised.
She's playing on't.
For this we have heard this half year.
And make no words on't; we'll undertake this spirit,
If it be one.
Mum, there be Bats abroad.
Either allay this heat; or as I live
I will not trust ye.
Enter Constantia.
To rail at fortune, fall out with my Fate,
And tax the general world, will help me nothing:
Alas, I am the same still, neither are they
Subject to helps, or hurts: Our own desires
Are our own fates, our own stars, all our fortunes,
Which as we sway 'em, so abuse, or bless us.
Enter Frederick, and Don John, peeping.
[Pg 200]
Stand out o'th' light.
My minde o're-charg'd with care made me unmannerly.
A wondrous handsom body: would she would turn:
See, and that spightful puppy be not got
Between me and my light again.
As all that you command shall be: the Gentleman
Is safely off all danger.
Now does he melt like Marmalad.
Thou art the sweetest woman I e're look'd on:
I hope thou art not honest.
I thank your care.
But the Devil and that flesh there, o' the world,
What are we made to suffer?
Pull in your head and be hang'd.
I have brought ye home your Pack-saddle.
Stand peeping at your friends.
Here is no Duke.
Who e're he be?
Enter Don John.
He's of a noble strain, my kinsman, Lady,
My Country-man, and fellow Traveller,
One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us,
And one faith free between us; do not fear him,
He's truly honest.
Beyond your wishes: valiant to defend,
And modest to converse with, as your blushes.
Has broke the neck of all my hopes: for now
Must I cry, no forsooth, and I forsooth, and surely,
And truly as I live, and as I am honest.
Has done these things for 'nonce too; for he knows
Like a most envious Rascal as he is,
I am not honest, nor desire to be,
Especially this way: h'as watch'd his time,
But I shall quit him.
My faith, and all my service.
She kisses with a conjuration
Would make the Devil dance: what points she at?
My leg I warrant, or my well knit body,
Sit fast Don Frederick.
[Pg 202]
You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle.
I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy
May you be in all fights for that fair service.
For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for
Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [Knock within.
Enter Anthony.
Now what's the news with you?
Would speak with Don John.
Of no mean reckoning.
And then return a little wiser.
For all I am honest: you shall find it so too.
And modest as her blushes? What block-head
Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie,
For his dear friend? and to a Gentlewoman,
A woman of her youth, and delicacy.
They are arguments to draw them to abhor us.
An honest moral man? 'tis for a Constable:
A handsome man, a wholsome man, a tough man,
A liberal man, a likely man, a man
Made up like Hercules, unslak'd with service:
The same to night, to morrow night, the next night,
And so to perpetuitie of pleasures,
These had been things to hearken to, things catching:
But you have such a spic'd consideration,
[Pg 203] Such qualms upon your worships conscience,
Such chil-blains in your bloud, that all things pinch ye,
Which nature, and the liberal world makes custom,
And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honor,
Hang up your Eunuch honour: That I was trusty,
And valiant, were things well put in; but modest!
A modest Gentleman! O wit where wast thou?
Would laugh me to a S[c]hool-boy, make me blush
With playing with my Codpiece point: fie on thee,
A man of thy discretion?
And henceforth ye shall have your due.
Enter Anthony.
And calls himself Petrucchio.
Enter Constantia.
Does it concern you ought?
The hour of my destruction is come on me,
I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine:
As ever ye had pity—
Let the great devil come, he shall come through me:
Lost here, and we about ye?
Compar'd to his, to his—
Whilst we have power and life—stand up for heaven sake.
O he will cut me piece-meal.
I'le find him cut-work.
With more than common lives.
By heaven I'le fire the Town before ye perish,
And then, the more the merrier, we'l jog with ye.
Spoil a sweet face for nothing? my return
Shall end all this I warrant you.
SCENE III.
Enter Petrucchio, with a Letter.
For these commends carry no common way,
No slight worth with 'em:
He shall be he.
Enter Don John.
My business was so unmannerly, to make ye
Wait thus long here.
But is your name Don John?
First, for your own brave sake I must embrace ye:
Next, from the credit of your noble friend
Hernando de Alvara, make ye mine:
Who lays his charge upon me in this Letter
To look ye out, and for the goodness in ye,
Whilst your occasions make ye resident
In this place, to supply ye, love and honour ye;
[Pg 205] Which had I know[n] sooner—
You'l make my thanks too poor: I wear a sword, Sir,
And have a service to be still dispos'd of,
As you shall please command it.
That manly courtesie is half my business:
And to be short, to make ye know I honour ye,
And in all points believe your worth like Oracle,
And how above my friends, which are not few,
And those not slack, I estimate your vertues,
Make your self understand, This day Petrucchio,
A man that may command the strength of this place,
Hazard the boldest spirits, hath made choice
Only of you, and in a noble office.
I do beseech ye mark me.
But that he has raz'd out from his family,
As he has mine with Infamie, This man,
Rather this powerfull Monster, we being left
But two of all our house, to stock our memories,
My Sister, and my self; with arts, and witchcrafts,
Vows, and such oaths heaven has no mercy for,
Drew to dishonour this weak maid, by stealths,
And secret passages I knew not of,
Oft he obtain'd his wishes, oft abus'd her:
I am asham'd to say the rest: This purchas'd,
And his hot bloud allay'd, as friends forsake us
At a miles end upon our way, he left her,
And all our name to ruine.
And ought to be rewarded so.
He scap'd me yester-night: which if he dare
Again adventure for, Heaven pardon him,
I shall with all my heart.
Which from the commendations of this Letter,
I dare presume well plac'd, nobly to bear him
By word of mouth a single challenge from me,
That man to man, if he have honour in him,
We may decide all difference.
And I will do it home: When shall I visite ye?
For at a Castle six miles hence, we are sure
To find him.
My man shall wait: with all my love. [Ex. Petr.
Enter Frederick.
Ghess, and thou canst?
To all men by these presents, this is she,
She, she, and only she, our curious coxcombs
Were errant two moneths after.
Thou talk'st of Cocks and Bulls.
Of cocks and Hens Don Frederick; this is the Pullet
We two went proud after.
Sister to Don Petrucchio: I know all man.
Fumbling with Linnen Frederick.
You know her fame was pure as fire.
[Pg 207] Has melted out her maiden-head: she is crackt:
We have all that hope of our side, boy.
To my imagination, things incredible:
I see no loose thought in her.
She is loose i'th' hilts by heaven: but the world must know
A fair way, upon vow of marriage.
Whil'st the old game's a foot: I fear the boy
Will prove hers too I took up.
May cure all this yet.
Come, let's walk in and comfort her: her being here
Is nothing yet suspected: anon I'le tell thee
Wherefore her Brother came, who by this light
Is a brave noble fellow, and what honour
H'as done to me a stranger: there be Irons
Heating for some, will hiss into their heart blouds,
E're all be ended; so much for this time.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Land-lady, and Peter.
But I suspect.
At this price, women will ne're be sav'd
By their good works.
Lyes in my power: The Duke of Loraine now
Is seven thousand strong: I heard it of a fish-wife,
A woman of fine knowledge.
[Pg 208]
They shall be baited in England.
Who is it keeps your Master company?
He has a woman here.
'Tis then the better for him.
A worshipfull vocation for my elders;
For as I understand it is a place
Fitting my betters far.
So frumpt off with a fool? well sawcy Sirrah,
I will know who it is, and for what purpose;
I pay the rent, and I will know how my house
Comes by these Inflammations: if this geer hold,
Best hang a sign-post up, to tell the Signiors,
Here ye may have lewdness at Liverie.
Enter Frederick.
Why what's the matter Land-lady?
Ye use me decently among ye Gentlemen.
I will not be thus treated, that I will not.
[Pg 209] Thou tookst me up at every word I spoke,
As I had been a Mawkin, a flurt Gillian;
And thou thinkst, because thou canst write and read,
Our noses must be under thee.
She raves of wenches, and I know not what Sir.
Thou instrument of evil.
She is ever thus till dinner.
I'le answer you anon Sir.
I'le break your Posset pan. [Exit.
I'le lock the meat up.
For I can ghesse—
If there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on,
But how ye may abuse my house? not satisfi'd
With bringing home your Bastards to undoe me,
But you must drill your whores here too? my patience
(Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,
And as they say am willing to groan under)
Must be your make-sport now.
Nor no more murmurings Lady: for you know
That I know something. I did suspect your anger,
But turn it presently and handsomely,
And bear your self discreetly to this woman,
For such an one there is indeed.
Or we shall leave our lodgings.
To use these vagrant ways, and to much profit:
Ye had that might content
(At home within your selves too) right good Gentlemen,
[Pg 210] Wholsome, and ye said handsom: But you gallants,
Beast that I was to believe ye—
For as I live there's no such thing.
And 'twere not for mine honour.
Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me,
Are well enough: sleek up your self, leave crying,
For I must have ye entertain this Lady
With all civility, she well deserves it,
Together with all secresie: I dare trust ye,
For I have found ye faithfull: when you know her,
You will find your own fault: no more words, but do it.
Enter Don John.
How does thy velvet Scabbard? by this hand
Thou lookst most amiably, now could I willingly,
And 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva print there,
Venture my Body with thee.
When you come to my years.
Thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer Girl,
Thou hast not half thy teeth: come—
Let her alone, she has been vex'd already;
She'll grow stark mad, man.
An old mad woman—
She'll make the rarest faces.
And do not mind this fellow.
There will be times again; when O good Mother,
What's good for a Carnosity in the Bladder?
[Pg 211] O the green water, Mother.
Do ye remember that?
And Wastcoats at five pound apiece: good mother,
Quickly mother; now mock on Son.
I'll give thee a new hood for this.
Has she met with your Lordship?
Enter A[n]thony.
The Gentlemans man, Sir, that was with you.
My time is come then; yet if my project hold,
You shall not stay behind; I'll rather trust
Enter Constantia.
I feel her fears are working.
I do beseech ye think yet, to divert
This certain danger?
Their Honours are engag'd.
Which, Gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of,
Than make one in't: you may if you please, Sir,
Make all go less yet.
I could dispense; but loaden with my friends trust,
I must go on; though general massacres
As much I fear—
Too hot and fiery for the Cause; as ever
You did a vertuous deed, for honours sake
Go with him, and allay him; your fair temper
And noble disposition, like wish'd showrs,
May quench those eating fires, that would spoil all else.
I see in him destruction.
And 'tis a wise consideration,
To me a bounteous favour, hark ye, John;
I will go with ye.
Ye go upon a hazard; no denial,
For as I live, I'll go.
For I am straight o' horse-back.
I am as ready as you; what my best labour,
With all the art I have can work upon 'em,
Be sure of, and expect fair end; the old Gentlewoman
Shall wait upon you; she is both grave and private,
And ye may trust her in all points.
And so I kiss your hand.
And I hope happy issue, Lady.
Now my mind's at rest.
SCENE II.
Enter Antonio, a Surgeon, and 2 Gentlemen.
[Pg 213]
To be drest to the tune of Ale only!
Nothing but sawces to my sores!
You must be govern'd.
Only of sand and snow water, Gentlemen,
Has almost scour'd my guts out.
Is fittest for your state.
With rotten ends of Rooks, and drown'd Chickens,
Stew'd Pericraniums, and Pia-maters;
And when I go to bed (by Heaven 'tis true Gentlemen)
He rolls me up in Lints, with Labels at 'em,
That I am just the man i'th' Almanack,
In Head and Face, is Aries place.
To let your friends see you open'd?
To let me have a wench? I feel my Body
Open enough for that yet.
I can get nothing that I want.
And let him open ye.
Send for the Musick, let me have some pleasure
To entertain my friends, besides your Sallads,
Your green salves, and your searches, and some Wine too,
That I may only smell to it; or by this light
I'll dye upon thy hand, and spoil thy custome.
Enter Rowl. with Wine.
If he will ask no more but Wine— [Musick.
[Pg 214]
John Dorrie.
For to that warlike tune I will be open'd:
Give me some drink, have ye stopt the leaks well, Surgeon,
All will run out else?
And now advance your Plaisters. [Song of John Dorrie.
Give 'em ten shillings, friends; how do ye find me?
What symptoms do you see now?
But if you will be rul'd—
In forty days, if you will not transgress me.
In how long canst thou kill me?
Hinders himself; I have a dozen Rascals
To hurt within these five days; good man-mender,
Stop me with some Parsley, like stuft Beef,
And let me walk abroad.
We'll beg ye leave to play.
We'll certainly inform ye.
I shall drink Wine then too.
The mad Slave that thus slash'd me, commend me to him,
And bid him keep his Skin close.
SCENE III.
Enter Constantia, and Land-lady.
Those Gentlemen know of me; ever trusting
Your Counsel and Concealment; for to me
You seem a worthy Woman; one of those
Are seldome found in our Sex, wise and vertuous,
Direct me I beseech ye.
And hold ye to that point, for in these businesses
A Womans Counsel that conceives the matter,
(Do ye mark me? that conceives the matter, Lady)
Is worth ten mens engagements: She knows something,
And out of that can work like Wax; when men
Are giddy-headed, either out of Wine,
Or a more Drunkenness, vain Ostentation,
Discovering all; there is no more keep in 'em
Than hold upon an Eeles tail; Nay, 'tis held fashion
To defame now all they can.
Are as all Gentlemen of the same Barrel;
I, and the self same pickle too. Be it granted,
They have us'd ye with respect and fair behaviour,
Ere since ye came, do you know what must follow?
They are Spaniards, Lady, Gennets of high mettle,
Things that will thrash the Devil, or his Dam,
Let 'em appear but cloven.
To the least hair they have; and I tell you,
Old as I am, let but the pint pot bless 'em,
They'll offer to my years—
[Pg 216]
To fight of all four for my safety; there's the younger,
Don John, the arrantest Jack in all this City;
The other, Time has blasted, yet he will stoop,
If not o'rflown, and freely on the quarry;
Has been a Dragon in his days. But Tarmont,
Don Jenkin is the Devil himself, the dog-days,
The most incomprehensible Whore-master,
Twenty a night is nothing; Beggars, Broom-women,
And those so miserable, they look like famine,
Are all sweet Ladies in his drink.
Pity he should be master of such follies.
In's Pocket, those proclaim him; birding Pills,
Waters to cool his Conscience, in small Viols:
With thousand such sufficient emblems; the truth is,
Whose Chastity he chops upon he cares not,
He flies at all; Bastards upon my conscience,
He has now in making, multitudes; the last night
He brought home one; I pity her that bore it,
But we are all weak Vessels, some rich Woman
(For wise I dare not call her) was the mother,
For it was hung with Jewels; the bearing Cloath
No less than Crimson Velvet.
And judgment shew'd in's getting, as I'll say for him,
He's as well paced for that sport—
For there is a neighbour of mine, a Gentlewoman,
Has had a late mischance, which willingly
I would know further of; now if you please
To be so courteous to me.
But what do ye think of these men now ye know 'em,
[Pg 217] And of the cause I told ye of? Be wise,
Ye may repent too late else; I but tell you
For your own good, and as you will find it, Lady.
And instantly, I told ye of, be ready;
Don John, I'll fit you for your frumps.
But shall I see this Child?
Let's in, and there think better; she that's wise,
Leaps at occasion first; the rest pay for it. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Petrucchio, Don John, and Frederick.
If I that so much love him, may commend him,
Of free and vertuous parts; and one, if foul play
Should fall upon us, for which fear I brought him,
Will not flye back for phillips.
And once more I pronounce ye both mine.
Is that below i' th' Valley there?
Sirrah, draw back the Horses till we call ye,
I know him by his Company.
He bends up this way.
Within that Covert till I call: you, Frederick,
By no means be not seen, unless they offer
To bring on odds upon us; he comes forward,
Here will I wait him fairly: to your Cabins.
I'le give it him, and boldly. [Ex. Pet. and Fred.
Enter Duke and his faction.
We'll flie no more to day, O my blest fortune!
Have I so fairly met the man?
And him you know by this.
And love—
(For I know you too now) that love and honour
I come not to receive; nor can you give it,
Till ye appear fair to the world; I must beseech ye
Dismiss your train a little.
And out of hearing I command ye: Now, Sir.
You did a friends office: let your business
Be what it may, you must be still—
Never a friend to him, cannot be friend
To his own honour.
Ye make a bold breach at the first, Sir.
You made that breach that let in infamy,
And ruine, to surprise a noble stock.
Ye have wrong'd a Gentleman,
Little behind your self, beyond all justice,
Beyond mediation of all friends.
The wrong, ye have Whor'd his Sister.
And single, to decide all.
[Pg 219] And hear me with the like belief: this Gentleman,
His Sister that you nam'd, 'tis true I have long lov'd,
Nor was that love lascivious, as he makes it;
As true, I have enjoy'd her: no less truth,
I have a Child by her: but that she, or he,
Or any of that family are tainted,
Suffer disgrace, or ruin, by my pleasures,
I wear a Sword to satisfie the world no,
And him in this cause when he please; for know, Sir,
She is my Wife, contracted before Heaven,
(Witness I owe more tye to, than her Brother)
Nor will I flye from that name, which long since
Had had the Churches approbation,
But for his jealous danger.
And all that was my anger, now my service.
But that rough man here now too—
Whoa, hoa, hoo.
Enter Petrucchio.
Come put your anger off, we'll no fighting,
Unless you will maintain I am unworthy
To bear that name.
Shall put you out of these doubts.
And I beseech you pardon my suspicions,
You are now more than a Brother, a brave friend too.
Enter Frederick.
The Duke professes freely he's her Husband.
[Pg 220]
I must present ye: may it please your Grace,
To number this brave Gentleman, my friend,
And noble kinsman, amongst those your servants.
Amongst my best thoughts, Signior, in which number
You being worthily dispos'd already,
May place your friend to honour me.
And where your Grace dares trust me, all my service.
Now comes the bitter to our sweet: Constantia.
Wing'd with her fears last night, beyond my knowledge,
She quit my house, but whither—
She cannot be so lost.
Be free again, the Lady's found; that smile, Sir,
Shews ye distrust your Servant.
Met her in all her doubts last night, and to his Guard,
(Her fears being strong upon her) she gave her person,
Who waited on her to our lodging; where all respect,
Civil and honest service now attend her.
Well my good friends, or rather my good Angels,
For ye have both preserv'd me; when these vertues
Dye in your friends remembrance—
Lose no more time in complement, 'tis too precious,
[Pg 221] I know it by my self there can be no Hell
To his that hangs upon his hopes; especially
In way of lustly pleasures.
With all the joyes ye wish for.
Enter Francisco.
Was so fob'd off, as I am; made ridiculous,
And to my self mine own Ass: trust a Woman?
I'le trust the Devil first; for he dare be
Better than's word sometime: what faith have I broke?
In what observance fail'd? Let me consider,
Enter Don John, and Frederick.
We'll ride on fair and softly.
Were you not safely lodg'd from all suspicion?
Us'd with all gentle means? did any know
How ye came thither, or what your sin was.
I smell some juggling, John.
Without the counsel of your friends; so desperately
To put all dangers on ye?
After a strangers lure!
More cruel to reward ye? to leave all,
[Pg 222] All that should be your safegard, to seek evils?
Was this your wisdom? this your promise? well,
He that incited ye—
What will your last friend, he that should preserve ye,
And hold your credit up, the brave Antonio,
Think of this slip? he'll to Petrucchio,
And call for open justice.
To bolt ye out, for I know certainly
Ye are about the Town still: ha, no more words. [Exit.
I shall meet with 'em if ye have.
I am no Ass Don Frederick.
It shall appear I am no fool;
Disgrace me to make your self a lecher?
'Tis boyish, 'tis base.
Nor will I be your bolster, Sir.
Thou common womans courtesie, than thus
Lascivious, basely to have bent mine honour.
A friend? I'[l]e make a horse my friend first.
Ye kick too fast, Sir: what strange brains have you got,
That dare crow out thus bravely? I better been an Eunuch?
I privy to this dog trick? clear your self,
For I know where the wind sits, and most nobly,
[Pg 223] Or as I have a life—
Nor shew no discontent: to morrow comes;
Let's quietly away: if she be at home,
Our jealousies are put off.
Enter Duke, Petrucchio.
Now set on roundly: suppose ye have all Mistresses,
And mend your pace according.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Petrucchio, Frederick, and John.
I dare pronounce ye a hearty, and safe welcome,
Our loves shall now way-lay ye; welcome, Gentlemen.
Will ye step in and give the Lady notice
Who comes to honour her?
We come to see no curious wench: a night-gown
Will serve the turn: here's one that knows her nearer.
Ye are a merry Gentleman.
To observe her alterations; how like a wildfire
She'll leap into your bosom; then seeing me,
Her conscience, and her fears creeping upon her,
Dead as a fowl at souse, she'll sink.
I must intreat you—
I will not chide her: yet ten Duckets, Duke,
She falls upon her knees, ten more she dare not—
[Pg 224]
Enter Frederick, and Peter.
Mark how I'le guild her cheeks!
Not to abuse your patience, noble friends,
Nor hold ye off with tedious circumstance,
For you must know—
The woman of the house too.
Can testifie I lye not.
My Master was departed, with this Gentleman,
My fellow and my self being sent of business,
(As we must think) of purpose—
They appear like Owls, to ill ends.
The Devil in his own broth, I am so tortur'd.
Gone?
Wrong not my good opinion.
I will not be a Knave, Sir.
Are ye sure ye had her here, did ye not dream this?
Shall suffer more construction.
But if I be not clear of all dishonour,
Or practice that may taint my reputation,
And ignorant of where this Woman is,
Make me your Cities monster.
Upon that Rascal did this.
I would desire your Grace, for my mind gives me
Before night yet she is yours: stop all opinion,
And let no anger out, till full cause call it,
Then every mans own work's to justifie him,
And this day let us give to search: my man here
Tells me, by chance he saw out of a window
(Which place he has taken notice of) such a face
As our old Landladies, he believes the same too,
And by her hood assures it: Let's first thither,
For she being found, all's ended.
And Fortune, and thou be'st not ever turning,
If there be one firm step in all thy reelings,
Now settle it, and save my hopes: away friends. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Antonio and his Servant.
I left i'th' trunk?
[Pg 226]
I was no man of this world, and those trifles
Would but disturb my conscience.
You would not live to persecute 'em.
Why, what a consort have they made! Hen and Bacon!
Well my sweet Mistris, well good Madam mar-tail?
You that have hung about my neck, and lick't me,
I'le try how handsomely your Ladyship
Can hang upon a Gallows, there's your Master-piece;
But hark ye Sirrah, no imagination
Of where they should be?
All places we suspected; I believe, Sir,
They have taken towards the Ports.
One that can raise a water Devil, I'le port 'em;
Play at duck and drake with my mony; take heed Fidler;
I'le dance ye by this hand, your Fidle-stick
I'le grease of a new fashion, for presuming
To meddle with my degamboys: get me a Conjurer,
Enquire me out a man that lets out Devils:
None but my C. Cliffe serve your turn?
With red heads, and flat noses can perform it;
Thou shalt know 'em by their half Gowns and no Breeches:
Mount my Mare Fidler? ha boy! up at first dash?
Sit sure, I'le clap a nettle, and a smart one,
Shall make your Filly firk: I will fine Fidler,
I'le put you to your plunge, Boy: Sirrah meet me
Some two hours hence at home; in the mean time
Find out a conjurer and know his price,
How he will let his Devils by the day out,
I'le have 'em, and they be above ground. [Ex. Ant.
What a mad man is this! I must do something
To please his humour: such a man I'le ask for,
[Pg 227] And tell him where he is: but to come near him,
Or have any thing to do with his don Devils,
I thank my fear, I dare not, nor I will not. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Duke, Petrucchio, Frederick, John, Peter, and Servant with Bottle.
And ten to one this wine goes thither.
She has heard of this good fortune, and determines
To wash her sorrows off.
Is it: out of that window certainly
I saw my old Mistresses face.
Hark I hear Musick too.
A pallat for the purpose in a corner,
And good rich Wine within me; what gay sport
Could I make in an hour now!
I am mine own,
She is twice damn'd, that lives in Hell,
When Heaven is shown.
Budding beauty, blooming years
Were made for pleasure, farewel fears,
For now I am my self, mine own command,
My fortune alwayes in my hand.
Let's not stir yet by any means.
[Pg 228]
Enter Bawd (above.)
It spake of liberty, and free enjoying
The happy end of pleasure.
Do ye know that head?
I find fear has done all this.
And now do I know by the hanging of her Hood,
She is parcel drunk: shall we go in?
We'll step in, and amaze 'em: peace, more Musick.
That bred our first suspicions, the same fellow.
Discoursing of Constantia.
Now he slips in.
This is the very fellow, I told your Grace
Enter Francisco.
Francisco, Antonio's boy, a rare Musician,
He taught my Sister on the Lute, and is ever
(She loves his voice so well) about her: certain,
Without all doubt she is here: it must be so.
Do here without her? if she be not here (o'th' game else
I am so confident) let your grace believe,
[Pg 229] We two are arrant Rascals, and have abus'd ye.
The guard that guides us; I know the fabrick of it,
And know the old tree of that saddle yet, 'twas made of,
A hunting hood, observe it.
That all her joyes flow not together.
Your grace would none of her?
'Twould turn her wild, stark frantick.
That the conditions of our fear yet stand
On nice and dangerous knittings: or that a little
I seem to doubt the child.
To hate your grace with these things.
And now he sees me not, I'le search her soundly.
Sure she has heard some comfort.
To some strange melancholy she is loaden with.
The fears now, and the shakings! [Trampling above.
(Hark how they run) is even now at this instant
Ready to lose her head-piece by Don John,
Or creeping through a Cat hole. [Petr. and John within.
I must not suffer this.
Old Erra mater: you Lady leachery,
For the good will I bear to th' game, most tenderly
Shall be lead out, and lash'd.
Enter Petrucchio, John, Whore, and Bawd, with Francisco.
Why Gentlemen? what do you mean? is this she?
If you please to imploy me.
One, if you will Sir, can shew ye as much sport
In one half hour, and with as much variety,
As a far wiser woman can in half a year:
For there my way lies.
Old sack, old sack boys.
Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, Gentlemen?
Is this the woman meant?
To be your sport, Gentlemen?
I am a knave; but how, or when—
[Pg 231]
That lyes in Town, about Law business,
And't like your worships.
I had rather see a Custard.
Left it even thus Sir.
I was never so frighted with a case.
By your own free confessions?
Though to my self I am certain, and my life
Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with it.
I do not think my name's Don John, nor dare not
Believe any thing that concerns me, but my debts,
Nor those in way of payment: things are so carried,
What to entreat your grace, or how to tell ye
We are, or we are not, is past my cunning,
But I would fain imagine we are honest,
And o' my conscience, I should fight in't—
For we may be all abus'd.
For how should this concern them?
Until to morrow this time: we to our way,
To make this doubt out, and you to your way;
Pawning our honours then to meet again,
When if she be not found.
To answer any worthy way we are call'd to.
[Pg 232]
Belonging to a friend of mine: come out Fidler,
What say you to this Lady? be not fearfull.
I say she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him,
Hoping his hurts would kill him.
Nay Sirrah squeak, I'le see your treble strings
Ty'd up too; if I hang, I'le spoil your piping,
Your sweet face shall not save ye.
And thou dry'd Devil; where's the officer?
Enter Officer.
Let none come to 'em, nor no noise be heard
Of where they are, or why: away.
A handsom whore: Now will I be arrested,
And brought home to this officers: a stout whore,
I love such stirring ware: pox o' this business,
A man must hunt out morsels for another,
And starve himself: a quick-ey'd whore, that's wild-fire,
And makes the bloud dance through the veins like billows.
I will reprieve this whore.
We have something now to do.
I have not fought a great while.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Petrucchio, below, and Vecchio, above.
This is the house, I know it.
By the description we received.
Believe me, for I know it certainly,
This is the very house.
And can do rare tricks this way; for a figure,
Or raising an appearance, whole Christendom
Has not a better; I have heard strange wonders of him.
And for what cause too she departed.
For I am great with expectation,
Till this man satisfie me: I fear the Spaniards,
Yet they appear brave fellows: can he tell us?
Enter Vecchio.
SCENE II.
Enter Don John, and Frederick.
[Pg 234] Can he make 'em
Tell truth too, when he has rais'd 'em? for believe it,
These Devils are the lyingst Rascals.
Tye squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out?
Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan,
Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an Earth-quake?
The Devil such an Asse as people make him?
Such a poor coxcomb? such a penny foot-post?
Compel'd with cross and pile to run of errands?
With Asteroth, and Behemoth, and Belfagor?
Why should he shake at sounds, that lives in a smiths forge?
Or if he do—
They go as big as any? or an unshod Car,
When he goes tumble, tumble o're the stones,
Like Anacreons drunken verses, [make us tremble?]
These make as fell a noise; me thinks the colick
Well handled, and fed with small beer—
H'as lost a friend of me; the wise old Gentleman
Knows when, and how; I'le lay this hand to two pence,
Let all the Conjurers in Christendom,
With all their spells, and vertues call upon him,
And I but think upon a wench, and follow it,
He shall be sooner mine than theirs; where's vertue?
Not to believe a thing—
Is the best child of knowl[e]dge; I'le go with ye,
And if he can do any thing, I'le think
As you would have me.
For certain we are not far off.
SCENE III.
Enter Duke, Petrucchio, and Vecchio.
These things you promise.
No hand of Law shall seize me.
Till I prepare some Ceremonies, and I'le satisfie ye.
The Ladies name's Constantia?
Did your grace mark when we told all these circumstances,
How ever and anon he bolted from us
To use his studies help?
To talk with some familiar.
For sure he has 'em subject.
Tell when she went, and who went with her?
The Lady lov'd me dearly?
Enter Vecchio, in his habiliments.
I do beseech your grace sit down, and you Sir;
Nay pray sit close like Brothers.
[Pg 236] Until I ask ye; for what shall appear
Is but weak apparition and thin air,
Not to be held, nor spoken to. [Knocking within.
[John, Frederick, and a Servant within.
We must and will speak with him.
We know their tongues and business, 'tis our own,
And in this very cause that we now come for,
They also come to be instructed.
Sit down, I know your meaning.
Enter Frederick, John, and Servant.
Now we shall sure know something.
But make your Eyes your Tongues—
Neither indent before-hand for his payment,
Nor know the Breadth of the business; sure his Devil
Comes out of Lapland, where they sell men Winds
For dead drink, and old Doublets.
And you soft Winds so clear,
That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing
Gentle Love-lays to the Spring,
Gilding all the Vales below,
With your Verdure as ye blow,
Raise these forms from under ground
With a soft and happy sound. [Soft Musick.
[Pg 237] I like his words well, there's no bumbast in 'em,
But do you think now he can cudgel up the Devil
With this short Staff of Verses?
Away, away.
Have they no sweeter shapes in Hell?
Carries some metal in her gate.
You would see her face unvail'd?
This Devil for my mony; this is she, Boy,
Why dost thou shake? I burn.
'Tis all disso[l]v'd again; this was the Figure?
No hope once more to see it?
Now 'tis impossible.
To thaw the wonder from your hearts; drink well, Sir.
[Exit Vecchio.
A Lad of mettle; two such Devils more
Would make me a Conjurer; what wine is it?
Well, if I be—
That's your best comfort, Sir.
Nay, and the Devils live in this Hell, I dare venture
Within these two months yet to be delivered
Of a large Legion of 'em.
Enter Vecchio.
Silence of all sides, Gentlemen.
Observe a stricter temper, and you too, Gallants,
You'll be deluded all else. This merry Devil
That next appears, for such a one you'll find it,
Must be call'd up by a strange incantation,
A Song, and I must sing it: 'pray bear with me,
And pardon my rude Pipe; for yet, ere parting
Twenty to one I please ye.
Now, John?
(And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me)
This honest Conjurer, with some four or five
Of his good fellow Devils, and my self,
Shall be yet drunk ere midnight.
Hoist; how she stumbles!
Hark how she mumbles.
Dame Gillian. Answer. I come, I come.
[Pg 239] By old Claret I enlarge thee,
By Canary thus I charge thee,
By Britain, Mathewglin, and Peeter,
Appear and answer me in meeter.
Why when?
Why Gill?
Why when?
Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready.
Once again I conjure thee,
By the Pose in thy Nose,
And the Gout in thy Toes;
By thine old dryed Skin,
And the Mummie within;
By thy little, little Ruff,
And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;
By thy Bottle at thy Breech,
And thine old salt Itch;
By the Stakes, and the Stones,
That have worn out thy Bones.
Appear.
Appear.
Appear.
Answer. Oh I am here.
To see but our Don Gillian.
Enter Land-lady and the Child.
Satans old Syringes?
The very Child too, Frederick.
Aloud, John, has the Devil these affections?
I do believe 'tis she, indeed.
[Pg 240]
Who calls Jeronimo from his naked Bed?
Sweet Lady, was it you? if thou beest the Devil,
First, having crost my self, to keep out wildfire,
Then said some special Prayers to defend me
Against thy most unhallowed Hood, have at thee.
Thus as St. Dunstan blew the Devil's Nose
With a pair of tongs, even so, Right Worshipful—
Cannot assume that shape.
Tumbling and juggling here?
For all the pranks you plaid, and railings at me,
For to tell true, out of a trick I put
Upon your high behaviours, which was a lie,
But then it serv'd my turn, I drew the Lady
Unto my Kinsman's here, only to torture
Your Don-ships for a day or two; and secure her
Out of all thoughts of danger; here she comes now.
Enter Vecchio, and Constantia.
For one that loves you dearer—
[Pg 241]
Unto the joy I know, I bring ye, see Sir,
The happy fruit of all our Vows!
Be round about thee ever.
For if your Grace be well instructed this way,
You'll find the keeping half the getting.
Has done a charity worthy your favour,
And let him have it, dear Sir.
He has, and ever shall have: so must you, Sir,
To whom I am equal bound as to my being.
And all the art I have, Sir; those your Grace saw,
Which you thought spirits, were my Neighbours Children
Whom I instruct in Grammar here, and Musick;
Their shapes, the Peoples fond opinions,
Believing I can conjure, and oft repairing
To know of things stoln from 'em, I keep about me,
And always have in readiness, by conjecture
Out of their own confessions, I oft tell 'em
Things that by chance have fallen out so; which way
(Having the persons here, I knew you sought for)
I wrought upon your Grace; my end is mirth,
And pleasing, if I can, all parties.
For you have pleas'd me truly: so well pleas'd me,
That when I shall forget it—
I spy'd him at a window, coming mainly
I know about his Whore, the man you light on,
As you discovered unto me; good your Grace,
Let's stand by all, 'twill be a mirth above all,
To observe his pelting fury.
[Pg 242]
Where she is?
To have a Devil shew'd him, by all means
Let me be he, I can roar rarely.
But take heed to his anger.
There you shall find suits of all sorts: when I call
Be ready and come forward. [Exeunt all but Vecchio.
Who's there comes in?
Enter Antonio.
That way, if you please to employ me.
That was consenting to her.
Ye shall know presently: can ye pray heartily?
A form may chance affright ye.
Take you no care for me.
Enter Don John like a Spirit.
To be the great Chams Mistress.
For robbing of a Mill.
That e'r I dealt withal, and the unlikeliest!
What was that Rascal hurt me?
Dare you venture your Devil?
Have at your Devils pate; do you mew?
Enter all.
I do command you hold.
Why, Conjurer—
But now you shall forget all; your whore's safe,
And all your jewels, your Boy too.
Lay his ten claws upon thee, for my pate
Finds what it is to be a Fiend.
May now command me then: but where's my whore?
You may forgive, he was entic'd.
[Pg 244]
Would rather carry pity: a handsome whore.
And if we see contrition in your whore, Sir,
Much may be done.
And the full consummation of my Vow. [Exeunt.
Prologue.
Thalia hath prepared for your delight,
Her Choice and curious Viands, in each part
Season'd with rarities of Wit and Art;
Nor fear I to be tax'd for a vain boast,
My Promise will find Credit with the most,
When they know ingenious Fletcher made it, he
Being in himself a perfect Comedie:
And some sit here, I doubt not, dare averr
Living he made that House a Theatre
Which he pleas'd to frequent; and thus much we
Could not but pay to his lo[v]d Memorie.
For our selves, we do entreat that you would not
Expect strange turns, and windings in the Plot,
Objects of State, and now and then a Rhime,
To gall particular Persons with the time;
Or that his towring Muse hath made her flight
Nearer your apprehension than your sight;
But if that sweet Expressions, quick Conceit,
Familiar Language, fashion'd to the weight
Of such as speak it, have the power to raise
Your Grace to us, with Trophies to his Praise;
We may profess, presuming on his Skill,
If his Chances please not you, our Fortune's ill.
Epilogue.
One Brow in this selected Companie
Assuring a dislike, our Pains were eas'd
Could we be confident that all rise pleas'd:
But such ambition soars too high; If We
Have satisfi'd the best, and they agree
In a fair Censure, We have our Reward,
And in them arm'd desire no surer Guard.
THE
Bloody Brother;
OR,
ROLLO.
A
TRAGEDY.
| Rollo, | Brothers, Dukes of Normandy. |
| Otto, | |
| Aubrey, their kinsman. | |
| Gisbert, the Chancellour. | |
| Baldwin, the Princes Tutour. | |
| Grandpree, | Captains of Rollo's faction. |
| Verdon, | |
| Trevile, | Captains of Otto's faction. |
| Duprete, | |
| Latorch, Rollo's Earwig. | |
| Hamond, Captain of the Guard to Rollo. | |
| Allan, his Brother. | |
| Norbrett, | Five cheating Rogues. |
| La Fisk, | |
| Ru[s]ee, | |
| De Bube, | |
| Pipeau, | |
| Cook. | |
| Yeoman of the Seller. | |
| Butler. | |
| Pantler. | |
| Lords. | |
| Sheriff. | |
| Guard. | |
| Officers. | |
| Boys. | |
| WOMEN. | |
| Sophia, Mother to the Dukes. | |
| Matilda, her Daughter. | |
| Edith, Daughter to Baldwin. |
Actus Primus. Scena Prima.
Enter Gisbert and Baldwin.
[Pg 247] Doth direct their thoughts without self flattery,
Dare not hope it.
His equal care of both would have united,
Ambition hath divided: and there are
Too many on both parts, that know they cannot
Or rise to wealth or honour, their main ends,
Unless the tempest of the Princes fury
Make troubled Seas, and those Seas yield fit Billows
In their bad Arts to give way to a calm,
Which yielding rest and good, prove their ruin,
And in the shipwrack of their hopes and fortunes,
The Dukedom might be sav'd, had it but ten
That stood affected to the general good,
With that confirm'd zeal which brave Aubrey does.
Of a good man, and so his actions speak him.
The Brothers stood upon before they met?
Stand on more nice terms, than sworn Enemies
After a War proclaim'd, would with a stranger
Wrong the reporters credit; they saluted
At distance; and so strong was the suspicion
Each had of other, that before they durst
Embrace, they were by sev'ral servants searcht,
As doubting conceal'd weapons, Antidotes
Ta'ne openly by both, fearing the room
Appointed for the enter-view was poyson'd,
The Chairs, and Cushions, with like care survay'd;
And in a word in every circumstance
So jealous on both parts, that it is more
Than to be fear'd, concord can never joyn,
Minds so divided.
Should not be wanting, Gisbert.
Enter Grandpree, a[n]d Verdon.
[Pg 248]
But by their manners, and behaviours,
They should express themselves.
The Elder Brother, we'll be Rollians,
Who will maintain us, lads, as brave as Romans;
You stand for him?
How much the business, your so long'd for business,
By men that are nam'd from their swords, concerns you.
Lechery, our common friend, so long kept under,
With whips, and beating fatal hemps, shall rise,
And Bawdery, in a French-hood plead, before her
Virginity shall be Carted.
The Princes may continue, and the business
That's of the sword, t'outlast three suits in Law,
And we will make Atturnies Lansprisadoes,
And our brave gown-men practisers of back-sword;
The pewter of all Serjeants maces shall
Be melted, and turn'd into common Flaggons,
In which it shall be lawful to carouse
To their most lowsie fortunes.
To make demand of any debt; and that
Only once every leap-year, in which, if
The debtor may be won for a French Crown,
To pay a Soulz, he shall be registred
His benefactor.
And will be heard, and have all I speak, Law;
Have you no eyes? there is a reverence due,
From Children of the Gown, to Men of Action.
All business is not now prefer'd in Parchment,
[Pg 249] Nor shall a grant pass that wants this broad seal;
This seal d'ye see? your gravity once laid
My head and heels together in the Dungeon,
For cracking a scald Officers crown, for which
A time is come for vengeance, and expect it;
For know, you have not full three hours to live.
You have a pretty Daughter; let me see,
Near three a Clock, (by which time I much fear,
I shall be tyr'd with killing some five hundred)
Provide a Bath, and her to entertain me,
And that shall be your Ransom.
Enter to them Trevile and Duprete.
We stand for Otto.
And therefore I'le deal fairly, you shall have
The honour this day to be Chronicled
The first men kill'd by Grandpree; you see this sword,
A pretty foolish toy, my valour's Servant,
And I may boldly say a Gentleman,
It having made when it was Charlemaigns,
Three thousand Knights; this, Sir, shall cut your throat,
And do you all fair service else.
too, the servant of your servant shall be proud to be scour'd
in your sweet guts; till when pray you command me.
Or Justice be held cruelty, when it labours
To pluck such weeds up!
Enter to them Aubrey.
As are the principal Ministers of the State?
When they that are the heads, have fill'd the Court
With factions, a weak Woman only left
To stay their bloudy hands? can her weak arms
Alone divert the dangers ready now
To fall upon the Common-wealth, and bury
The honours of it, leaving not the name
Of what it was. Oh Gisbert, the fair tryals,
And frequent proofs which our late master made,
Both of your love and faith, gave him assurance,
To chuse you at his death a Guardian; nay,
A Father to his Sons; and that great trust,
How ill do you discharge! I must be plain,
That, at the best, y'are a sad looker on
Of those bad practices you should prevent.
And where's the use of your Philosophy
In this so needful a time? be not secure;
For, Baldwin, be assur'd, since that the Princes,
When they were young, and apt for any form,
Were given to your instruction, and grave ordering;
'Twill be expected that they should be good,
Or their bad manners will b' imputed yours.
Vouchsafe me hearing.
Or with your place, or persons, or your years?
Can Gisbert being the pillar of the Laws,
See them trod under foot, or forc'd to serve
The Princes unjust ends; and with a frown
Be silenc'd from exclaiming on th' abuse?
Or Baldwin only weep the desp'rate madness
Of his seduced pupills? see their minds,
Which with good Arts he labour'd to build up
Examples of succeeding times, o'return'd
By undermining parasites; no one precept
Leading to any Art, or great, or good,
[Pg 251] But is forc'd from their memory, in whose room
Black counsels are receiv'd, and their retirements,
And secret conference producing only
Dev'lish designs, a man would shame to father;
But I talk when I should do, and chide others
For that I now offend in: see't confirm'd,
Now do, or never speak more.
Enter Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Grandpree, Otto, Verdon, and Duprete.
In thy best bloud, to write thy self my subject,
And glad I would receive it.
A minute longer, only half my self;
My birth gave me this Dukedom, and my sword
Shall change it to the common grave of all
That tread upon her bosom, e're I part with
A piece of earth, or title that is mine.
Though offer'd, what I want not: therefore know
From me, though not deliver'd in great words,
Eyes red with rage, poor pride, and threatned action;
Our Father at his death, then, when no accent,
Wer't thou a Son, could fall from him in vain,
Made us Co-heirs, our part of Land and Honours
Of equal weight; and to see this confirm'd,
The Oaths of these are yet upon record,
Who though they should forsake me, and call down
The plagues of perjury on their sinful heads,
I would not leave my self.
That only carry matter to make a flame,
Which will consume you.
This is no time for arguments, my Title
Needs not your School-defences, but my sword,
With which the Gordian of your Sophistry
Being cut, shall shew th' Imposture. For your laws [To
It is in me to change them when I please, [Gisbert.
I being above them; Gisbert, would you have me protect them;
Let them now stretch their extreamest rigour,
And seize upon that Traytor; and your tongue
Make him appear first dangerous, then odious;
And after, under the pretence of safety
For the sick State, the Lands and Peoples quiet,
Cut off his head: and I'le give up my sword,
And fight with them at a more certain weapon
To kill, and with Authority.
T'assure the Innocent, not to oppress.
All that dare challenge any part in goodness,
Will become suppliants to you.
That dare move me in this: hence, I defie you,
Be of his party, bring it to your Laws,
And thou thy double heart, thou popular fool,
Your moral rules of justice and her ballance;
I stand on mine own guard.
Will make thy enemies; by the memory
Of him, whose better part now suffers for thee,
Whose reverend ashes with an impious hand
Thou throw'st out to contempt, in thy repining
At this so just decree; thou art unworthy
[Pg 253] Of what his last Will, not thy merits, gave thee,
That art so swoln within, with all those mischiefs
That e're made up a Tyrant, that thy breast,
The prison of thy purposes, cannot hold them,
But that they break forth, and in thy own words
Discover, what a monster they must serve
That shall acknowledge thee.
[He offers his sword at Otto, the faction joyning,
[Aubrey between severs the Brothers.
Do you stare on? is this a Theater?
Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers,
To make you sport? keep them asunder, or
By Heaven I'le charge on all.
I am for you, my Lord, and if you'l have me,
I'le act the Constables part.
Will you do that your enemies dare not wish,
And cherish in your selves those furies, which
Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me,
And these, that would fall willing sacrifices
To any power that would restore your reason,
And make you men again, which now you are not.
And were I not confirm'd, my justice in
The taking of thy life, could not weigh down
The wrong, in shedding the least drop of bloud
Of these whose goodness only now protects thee,
Thou should'st feel I in act would only prove my self
What thou in words do'st labour to appear.
But I will reach thy heart.
Enter Sophia.
[Pg 254] My Sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me,
And make this wretched body but one wound,
So this unnatural quarrel find a grave
In the unhappy womb that brought you forth:
Dare you remember that you had a Mother,
Or look on these gray hairs, made so with tears,
For both your goods, and not with age; and yet
Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had
Life, Nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons;
And dare you raise them against her, to whom
You owe the means of being what you are?
As if your arms could be advanc'd, and I
Not set upon the rack? your bloud is mine,
Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in;
I must be branded with those impious marks
You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine,
If you go on thus: for my good name therefore,
Though all respects of honour in your selves
Be in your fury choakt, throw down your swords;
Your duty should be swifter than my tongue;
And joyn your hands while they be innocent;
You have heat of bloud, and youth apt to Ambition,
To plead an easie pardon for what's past:
But all the ills beyond this hour committed,
From Gods or men must hope for no excuse.
No Syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power
To frustrate all the juggling deceits,
With which the Devil blinds you.
And, Sir, be thankful for the time you live,
Till we meet next (which shall be soon and sudden)
To her perswasion for you.
And rather than part thus, vouchsafe me hearing,
As enemies; how is my soul divided?
My love to both is equal, as my wishes;
[Pg 255] But are return'd by neither; my griev'd heart,
Hold yet a little longer, and then break.
I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this
Takes from me th' authority of a mothers power;
And therefore, like my self, Otto, to thee,
(And yet observe, son, how thy mothers tears
Outstrip her forward words, to make way for'em)
Thou art the younger, Otto, yet be now
The first example of obedience to me,
And grow the elder in my love.
And let thy piety give thy mother strength
To take that from thee, which no enemies force
Could e're despoil thee of: why do'st thou tremble,
And with a fearful eye fixt on thy Brother,
Observ'st his ready sword, as bent against thee?
I am thy armour, and will be pierc'd through,
Ten thousand times, before I will give way
To any peril may arrive at thee;
And therefore fear not.
But for you, mother; you are now ingag'd
In more tha[n] lies in your unquestion'd vertue;
For, since you have disarm'd me of defence,
Should I fall now, though by his hand, the world
May say it was your practice.
Before my piety turn treasons parent,
Take it again, and stand upon your guard,
And while your Brother is, continue arm'd;
And yet, this fear is needless, for I know,
My Rollo, though he dares as much as man,
So tender of his yet untainted valour,
So noble, that he dares do nothing basely.
You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear
Both; for others safety, and not mine own.
Know yet, my sons, when of necessity
You must deceive, or be deceiv'd; 'tis better
To suffer Treason, than to act the Traytor;
[Pg 256] And in a War like this, in which the glory
Is his that's overcome; consider then
What 'tis for which you strive: is it the Dukedom?
Or the command of these so ready subjects?
Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else
Fires your ambition? This still desp'rate madness,
To kill the people which you would be Lords of;
With fire, and sword to lay that Country waste
Whose rule you seek for: to consume the treasures,
Which are the sinews of your Government,
In cherishing the factions that destroy it:
Far, far be this from you: make it not question'd
Whether you have interest in that Dukedom,
Whose ruine both contend for.
To say I ruin'd all, divide the Dukedom,
I will accept the moiety.
And let them find as many several Graves
As there are villages in Normandy:
And 'tis less sin, than thus to weaken it.
To hear it mention'd doth already make me
Envy my dead Lord, and almost Blaspheme
Those powers that heard my prayer for fruitfulness,
And did not with my first birth close my womb:
To me alone my second blessing proves
My first of misery, for if that Heaven
Which gave me Rollo, there had staid his bounty,
And Otto, my dear Otto, ne're had been,
Or being, had not been so worth my love,
The stream of my affection had run constant
In one fair current, all my hopes had been
Laid up in one; and fruitful Normandy
In this division had not lost her glories:
For as 'tis now, 'tis a fair Diamond,
Which being preserv'd intire, exceeds all value,
But cut in pieces (though these pieces are
Set in fine gold by the best work-mans cunning)
[Pg 257] Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom,
As 'tis yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet,
But cannot compass; which divided, will
Become the spoil of every barbarous foe
That will invade it.
Good Otto, hath given place to pity.
Make them sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer
To your free choice, either to live Examples
Of Piety, or wickedness: if the later
Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot
Pierce through her painted out-side, and discover
That she is all deformity within,
Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief,
And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies,
The murther of a Mother, but begin
The stain of bloud you after are to heighten:
But if that vertue, and her sure rewards,
Can win you to accept her for your guide,
To lead you up to Heaven, and there fix you
The fairest Stars in the bright Sphere of honour;
Make me the parent of an hundred sons,
All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow,
And every one a Father to his Country,
In being now made Mother of your concord.
[The Brothers cast away their Swords and embrace.
Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones Goodness.
How to o'recome in brotherly affection.
Or as they have one mind, rather one name:
From this attonement let our lives begin,
[Pg 258] Be all the rest forgotten.
We all this night will at a publick Feast
With choice Wines drown our late fears, and with Musick
Welcome our comforts.
[Manent Grandpree, Verdon, Trevile and Duprete.
Have the least cause to fear.
You know the Chancellours promise.
To entertain you?
Frail thoughts, all friends, no Rollians now, nor Ottoes:
The sev'ral court'sies of our swords and servants
Defer to after consequence; let's make use
Of this nights freedom, a short Parliament to us,
In which it will be lawful to walk freely.
Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's
No usual business to the men o'th' sword.
Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow,
Or whip, or hang the merrier.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Latorch, and Rollo.
And like a wise man, take the current with you,
Which once turn'd head, will sink you; blest occasion
Offers her self in thousand safeties to you;
Time standing still to point you out your purpose,
[Pg 259] And resolution (the true child of Vertue)
Readie to execute: what dull cold weakness
Has crept into your bosom, whose meer thoughts
Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forests,
Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards.
What is't, your Mothers tears?
Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman!
Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable,
In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends,
The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by,
Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed
Your own repentance (like a passing-bell)
Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht:
What noble spirit, eager of advancement,
Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness
Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope,
After the world has blown abroad this weakness,
Will move again, or make a wish for Rollo?
Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts?
Friends to your fall: where is your understanding,
The noble vessel that your full soul sail'd in,
Rib'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruin'd,
The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it.
Friendship, take heed Sir, is a smiling harlot
That when she kisses, kills, a soder'd friendship
Piec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!
For hatred hatcht at home is a tame Tiger,
May fawn and sport, but never leaves his nature;
The jars of Brothers, two such mighty ones,
Is like a small stone thrown into a river,
The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current,
And you shall see a thousand angry rings
[Pg 260] Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing;
So jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers,
And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow,
Till nothing bound 'em but the shoar their graves;
There is no manly wisedom, nor no safety
In leaning to this league, this piec'd patcht friendship;
This rear'd up reconcilement on a billow,
Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune;
Is't not your own you reach at? Law and nature
Ushering the way before you; is not he
Born and bequeath'd your subject?
When he may shut the casement? can that man
Has won so much upon your pity,
And drawn so high, that like an ominous Comet,
He darkens all your light; can this toucht Lyon
(Though now he licks and locks up his fell paws,
Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you)
But when ambition whets him, and time fits him,
Leap to his prey, and seiz'd once, suck your heart out?
Do you make it conscience?
Palling the blood, and chilling the full spirit
With apprehension of meer clouds and shadows.
If the free soul could suffer such a curb
To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out;
Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely,
And twine about the top of all our happiness,
Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us?
And once more am my self again:
My Mothers tears and womanish cold prayers,
Farewel, I have forgot you; if there be conscience,
Let it not come betwixt a crown and me,
Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it:
Otto, our friendship thus I blow to air,
[Pg 261] A bubble for a boy to play withal;
And all the vows my weakness made, like this,
Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces.
And all the promises I clos'd his eyes with,
In the same grave I bury.
Which e're I put it on, like Heavens blest fire
In my descent I'le make it blush in blood;
A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me,
Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false Brother,
Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me,
And every dropping eye a court of mercy,
The same blood with me, nor the reverence
Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us,
Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here,
Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me:
A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me:
No safety else.
In your execution: swallowing waters
Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied,
And smile in thousand Curles, to guild their craft;
Let your sword sleep, and let my two edg'd wit work,
This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships
Shall be his last.
I'le presently go dive into the Officers
That minister at Table: gold and goodness,
With promise upon promise, and time necessary,
I'le pour into them.
Shall take off all suspicion.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter the Master Cook, Butler, Pantler, Yeoman of the Cellar, with a Jack of Beer and a Dish.
Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter:
Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Jack boy;
This wooden Skiff holds nothing.
Will be old eating.
I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a gods name,
Let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not.
I'le make you piggs speak French at table, and a fat swan
Come sailing out of England with a challenge;
I'le make you a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries,
And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'em;
A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks
Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time;
'Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification
Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable,
And against that, for two long hours together,
Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually:
For fish, I'le make you a standing lake of white broth,
And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them;
Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymæ,
And brave King Herring with his oyle and onyon
Crown'd with a Limon pill, his way prepar'd
With his strong Guard of Pilchers.
Turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently,
And sit down again, and cry come eat me:
These are for mirth. Now Sir, for matter of mourning,
I'le bring you in the Lady Loyn of Veal,
With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.
[Pg 263]
And a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.
A full Vine bending, like an Arch, and under
The blown god Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead,
His Altar Beer: before that, a plump Vintner
Kneeling, and offring incense to his deitie,
Which shall be only this, red Sprats and Pilchers.
I have fire enough to work it; come, stand close,
And now rehearse the Song, we may be perfect,
The drinking Song, and say I were the Brothers.
You shall perhaps not do it to morrow.
Best while you have it use your breath,
There is no drinking after death.
There is no cure 'gainst age but it.
It helps the head-ach, cough and tissick,
And is for all diseases Physick.
Who drinks well, loves the common-wealth.
And he that will to bed go sober,
Falls with the leaf still in October.
And that no lean one, I bequeath your vertues;
What friends hast thou to day? no citizens?
Sirrah, set by a chine of Beef, and a hot Pasty,
And let the Joll of Sturgeon be corrected:
[Pg 264] And do you mark Sir, stalk me to a Pheasant,
And see if you can shoot her in the Sellar.
And with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd,
That all thou speak'st shall be pure Helicon.
Enter Latorch.
You are casting for this preparation;
This joyfull supper for the royal Brothers:
I'm glad I have met you fitly, for to your charge
My bountifull brave Butler, I must deliver
A Bevie of young Lasses, that must look on
This nights solemnity, and see the two Dukes,
Or I shall lose my credit; you have Stowage?
Shall work you a good turn, though't be ten days hence, Sir.
And such most honest bounties, as yours are,
Should be confin'd thus to uncertainties?
We live between two stools, every hour ready
To tumble on our noses; and for ought we know yet,
For all this Supper, ready to fast the next day.
Out of the love I bear you, out of honesty,
For your own goods; nay, for the general blessing.
Your places and your credits ten times doubled,
The Princes favour, Rollo's?
[Pg 265]
He'd make the chimneys smoak.
And you too, if he had his right, true Courtiers;
What could you want then? dare you?
If you but dare your parts.
For I that fear nor fire nor water, Sir,
Dare do enough, a man would think.
But make this good upon us you have promis'd,
You shall not find us flinchers.
Shall be apparantly ty'd up and muzl'd,
The matter seeming mighty: there's your pardons.
And now behold the matter. [Latorch gives each a paper.
Or work upon a woman cold as Christmas?
I have an old Jade sticks upon my fingers,
May I taste them?
And have you said your prayers? for they'le pay you:
And now to come up to you, for your knowledge,
And for the good you never shall repent you
If you be wise men now.
Young Otto loves, by you into his wine, Sir,
Into his bread by you, by you into his linnen.
Now if you desire, you have found the means
[Pg 266] To make you, and if you dare not, you have
Found your ruine; resolve me e're you go.
It is to be all villains, knaves, and traytors.
I think too, this may be done, and yet we may be rewarded,
not with a rope, but with a royal master: and yet we may
be hang'd too.
And for his right?
Are we not his?
And yet me thinks, this prologue to our purpose,
These crowns should promise more: 'tis easily done,
As easie as a man would roast an egge,
If that be all; for look you, Gentlemen,
Here stand my broths, my finger slips a little,
Down drops a dose, I stir him with my ladle,
And there's a dish for a Duke: Olla Podrida.
Here stands a bak'd meat, he wants a little seasoning,
[Pg 267] A foolish mistake; my Spice-box, Gentlemen,
And put in some of this, the matter's ended;
Dredge you a dish of plovers, there's the Art on't.
Blessing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, 'tis past
And done once, 'tis as easie
For him to thank us for it, and reward us.
The fire's my play-fellow, and now I am resolv'd, boyes.
SCENE III.
Enter Servant, and Sewer.
Gentlemen officers, wait in your places.
Room for the Dukes meat. Gentlemen, be bare there,
Clear all the entrance: Guard, put by those gapers,
And Gentlemen-ushers, see the gallery clear,
The Dukes are coming on.
Hoboys, a banquet.
Enter Sophia, between Rollo, and Otto, Aubry, Latorch, Gis[b]ert, Baldwin, Attendants, Hamond, Matilda, Edith.
My long since blasted hopes shoot out in blossomes,
The fruits of everlasting love appearing;
Oh! my blest boys, the honour of my years,
Of all my cares, the bounteous fair rewarders.
[Pg 268] Oh! let me thus imbrace you, thus for ever
Within a Mothers love lock up your friendships:
And my sweet sons, once more with mutual twinings,
As one chaste bed begot you, make one body:
Blessings from heaven in thousand showrs fall on you.
May the most sinfull creatures of thy sex
But kneeling at thy monument, rise saints.
I, now me thinks the table's nobly furnisht;
Now the meat nourishes; the wine gives spirit;
And all the room stuck with a general pleasure,
Shews like the peacefull boughs of happiness.
Full as my cup; I give it round, my Lords.
Refuses it; men dying now should take it,
And by the vertue of this ceremony
Shake off their miseries, and sleep in peace.
Something is here you have lov'd; taste of this dish,
It will prepare your stomach.
You put us out of heart man, come, these bak't meats
Were ever your best dyet.
Drink it to me, I'le give it to my Mother.
Indeed I dare not: for of late, my body
Has been much weakned by excess of dyet;
The promise of a feaver hanging on me,
And even now ready, if not by abstinence—
[Pg 269]
A little health preferr'd before our friendship?
Come 'tis your fear, and not your favour Brother,
And you have done me a most worthy kindness
My Royal Mother, and you noble Lords;
Here, for it now concerns me to speak boldly;
What faith can be expected from his vows,
From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship
From all his dull embraces, what blest issue,
When he shall brand me here for base suspicion?
He takes me for a poysoner.
Without your great forgetfulness of vertue;
This is your Brother, and your honour'd Brother.
Begot your minds and bodies: one care rockt you,
And one truth to you both was ever sacred;
Now fye my Otto, whither flyes your goodness?
Because the right hand has the power of cutting,
Shall the left presently cry out 'tis maimed?
They are one my child, one power, and one performance,
And joyn'd together thus, one love, one body.
More certain counsellors than doubts or fears,
They strangle nature, and disperse themselves
(If once believ'd) into such foggs and errours
That the bright truth her self can never sever:
Your Brother is a royal Gentleman
Full of himself, honour, and honesty,
And take heed Sir, how nature bent to goodness,
(So streight a Cedar to himself) uprightness
Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous.
[Pg 270] Has he no more respect to piety?
And but he has by oath ty'd up his fury
Who durst but think that thought?
The eldest son in honour to this Dukedom.
That with her burning venome will infect all,
And once more blow a wilde fire through the Dukedom.
Contain thy self.
You'le find y'have plai'd the fool else, not a word more.
To make you understand how much I honour
This sacred peace, and next my innocence,
And to avoid all further difference
Discourse may draw on to a way of danger
I quit my place, and take my leave for this night,
Wishing a general joy may dwell among you.
Discerning eyes, what would this man appear then?
The tale of Synon when he took upon him
To ruine Troy; with what a cloud of cunning
He hid his heart, nothing appearing outwards,
But came like innocence, and dropping pity,
Sighs that would sink a Navie, and had tales
Able to take the ears of Saints, belief too,
And what did all these? blew the fire to Ilium.
His crafty art (but more refin'd by study)
My Brother has put on: oh I could tell you
But for the reverence I bear to nature,
Things that would make your honest blood run backward.
Where I will presently attend you; rise
I am a little troubled, but 'twill off.
[Pg 271]
Be not disturb'd dear Mother, I'le not fail you.
[Ex. Sop. and Otto.
But how to make it so that we may like it.
That fellow, if not lookt to narrowly, will do a suddain mischief.
For if there may be a Devil above all, yet
That Rogue will make him; keep you up this night,
And so will I, for much I fear a danger.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Sophia, Otto, Matillda, Edith.
My Brother Rollo makes of hearty love
And free possession of the Dukedom 'twixt us;
I notwithstanding should stand still suspicious,
As if beneath those veils, he did convey
Intents and practices of hate, and treason?
Since it is so safe and broad a beaten way,
Beneath the name of friendship to betray.
These falsehoods are so common, yet in him
They cannot so force nature.
The bands of truth bind, the more oft they sever,
Being better cloaks to cover falsehood over.
Can grow in nature; take heed gentle Son
Lest some suborn'd suggester of these treasons,
Believ'd in him by you, provok'd the rather
[Pg 272] His tender envies, to such foul attempts;
Or that your too much love to rule alone
Breed not in him this jealous passion;
There is not any ill we might not bear
Were not our good held at a price too dear.
That innocence is still aloud abused,
The fate of vertue even her friends perverts,
To plead for vice oft times against their hearts,
Heavens blessing is her curse, which she must bear
That she may never love.
Can or would wrest my whole care of your good
To any least secureness in your ill:
What I urge issues from my curious fear;
Lest you should make your means to scape your snare.
Doubt of sincereness is the only mean
Not to incense it, but corrupt it clean.
As he flyes from the practice, trust me Madam,
I know by their confessions, he suborn'd,
What I should eat, drink, touch, or only have scented,
This evening feast was poysoned, but I fear
This open violence more, that treacherous oddes
Which he in his insatiate thirst of rule
Is like to execute.
If still his stomach be so foul to feed
On such gross objects, and that thirst to rule
The state alone be yet unquench'd in him,
Poysons and such close treasons ask more time
Than can suffice his fiery spirits hast:
And were there in him such desire to hide
So false a practice, there would likewise rest
Conscience and fear in him of open force,
And therefore close nor open you need fear.
What proves his tendrest thoughts to doubt it just,
Who knows not the unbounded flood and sea,
In which my Brother Rollo's appetites
[Pg 273] Alter and rage with every puffe and breath?
His swelling blood exhales, and therefore hear,
What gives my temperate Brother cause to use
His readiest circumspection, and consult
For remedy against all his wicked purposes;
If he arm, arm, if he strew mines of treason,
Meet him with countermines, it is justice still
(For goodness sake) t'encounter ill with ill.
And all such cause of justice.
(For all the sacred privilege of night)
This is no time for us to sleep or rest in;
Who knows not all things holy are prevented
With ends of all impietie, all but
Lust, gain, ambition.
Enter Rollo, armed, and Latorch.
E're I but lose one foot of possible Empire,
Be slights and colour us'd by slaves and wretches,
I am exempt by birth from both these curbs,
And since above them in all justice, since
I sit above in power, where power is given,
Is all the right suppos'd of Earth and Heaven.
And through my breast let his rude weapon run,
To thy lives innocence.
Treacher and coward both; but yield a sword,
And let thy arming thee be odds enough
Against my naked bosom.
[Pg 274]
Or by the spouse of nature through hers
This leads unto thy heart.
One drop of blood in yours.
Ply it i'th' flame, and work your ends out.
Enter Aubrey.
Add to his mischief done. [Dyes.
Heaven will not see thee dye thus.
Latorch, take off here, bring too, of that blood
To colour o're my shirt, then raise the Court
And give it out how he attempted us
In our bed naked: shall the name of Brother
Forbid us to inlarge our state and powers?
Or place affects of blood above our reason?
[Pg 275] That tells us all things good against another,
Are good in the same line against a Brother. [Exit.
Enter Gisbert, Baldwin.
What hand hath author'd it?
For being his Schoolmaster, must own this doctrine,
You are his Counsellours, did you advise him
To this foul parricide?
To worse, than dye in force of his obedience?
And humane blood so fiery to commit it,
One so outgoes the other, it will never
Be turn'd to fit obedience.
With his full swing given, where it brooks no bound,
Complaints of it are vain; and all that rests
To be our refuge (since our powers are strengthless)
Is to conform our wills to suffer freely,
What with our murmurs we can never master;
Ladys, be pleased with what heavens pleasure suffers,
Erect your princely countenances and spirits,
And to redress the mischiefs now resistless,
Sooth it in shew, rather than curse or cross it;
Which all amends, and vow to it your best,
But till you may perform it, let it rest.
To breath the free air of a manly soul,
Which shall in me expire in execrations,
Before for any life I sooth a murtherer.
Of all lives services and humane comforts;
None left that looks at heaven is half so base
To do those black and hellish actions grace.
Enter Rollo, Lat. Ham. and Guard.
And raise the Citie as the Court is rais'd,
Proclaiming the abhor'd conspiracy
In plot against my life.
Arise and leave it if you love your lives,
And hear from me what (kept by you) may save you.
Command her, you grave Beldam, that know better
My deadly resolutions, since I drew them
From the infective fountain of your own,
Or if you have forgot, this fiery prompter
Shall fix the fresh impression on your heart.
Lest what we may not he enforce the rather,
Is this all you command us?
To quit me of this slaughter, you presume not
To cross me with a syllable for your souls;
Murmur, nor think against it, but weigh well,
It will not help your ill, but help to more,
And that my hand wrought thus far to my will,
Will check at nothing till his circle fill.
Consents, and who consents to tyrannie, does it.
More horrid to your people? I'le proclaim,
It is not as your instrument will publish.
Resign my sword, and dare not for thy soul
To offer what thou insolently threatnest;
One word, proclaiming cross to what Latorch
Hath in Commission, and intends to publish.
Since more hurt to you would more hurt your Country,
[Pg 277] And that you must make Vertue of the need
That now compels you, I'll consent as far
As silence argues to your will proclaimed:
And since no more Sons of your Princely Father
Survive to rule but you, and that I wish
You should rule like your Father, with the love
And zeal of all your Subjects; this foul slaughter
That now you have committed made ashamed
With that fair blessing, that in place of plagues,
Heaven trys our mending disposition with:
Take here your sword, which now use like a Prince,
And no more like a Tyrant.
That he thus wisely, and with need consents
To what I authour for your Countries good?
You being my Tutor, you my Chancellour.
In praise of your pure Oratory that rais'd you,
That when the people, who I know by this
Are rais'd out of their rests, and hastening hither
To witness what is done here, are arrived
With our Latorch, that you, ex tempore,
Shall fashion an Oration to acquit
And justifie this forced fact of mine;
Or for the proud refusal lose your head.
Sir, know you then, that 'tis a thing less easie
To excuse a parricide than to commit it.
But to accuse my Brother, as the cause
Of his own slaughter by attempting mine.
It were another murther to accuse
Him that fell innocent.
[Pg 278]
Guard do your office on him, on your lives pain.
He threatens me, Villains tear him piece-meal hence.
And bring me instant word he is dispatched,
And how his Rhetorick takes it.
That being executed, you deny
To all his friends the Rites of Funeral,
And cast his Carkass out to Dogs and Fowls.
Make here their entry, to discharge the Oration,
He hath denied my will.
Works misery of Age this, or thy judgment?
Which I will so enforce, I'll make thee wreak it
(With hate of what thou win'st by't) on thy self,
With such another justly merited murther.
Enter Latorch.
By my perswasion of your Brothers Treasons.
Enter Hamond.
[Pg 279]
My own fine Headsman done it with a Sword;
Go, take this Dotard here, and take his head
Off with a Sword.
Of all thy damned justices; away,
Captain, I'll follow.
Hear a poor Maids Petitions, hear a Daughter,
The only Daughter of a wretched Father;
Oh stay your haste as you shall need this mercy.
If there be any spark of pity in you,
If sweet humanity and mercy rule you;
I do confess you are a Prince, your anger
As great as you, your Execution greater.
By her soft soul that bare thee, I do confess, Sir,
Your doom of justice on your foes most righteous;
Good noble Prince look on me.
May Fathers Blessing never fall upon him,
May Heaven never hear his Prayers: I beseech you,
Oh Sir, these few tears beseech you; these chast hands woo you,
That never yet were heav'd but to things holy,
Things like your self, you are a god above us;
Be as a God then, full of saving mercy;
Mercy, Oh mercy, for his sake mercy;
That when your stout heart weeps shall give you pity;
Here I must grow.
All the most studied torments, so this good man,
[Pg 280] This old man, and this innocent escape thee.
I see it in thy Eyes, I charge you Souldiers
Even by the Princes power, release my Father,
The Prince is merciful, why do you hold him?
He is old, why do you hurt him? speak, Oh speak, Sir;
Speak as you are a man; a mans life hangs, Sir,
A friends life, and a foster life upon you:
'Tis but a word, but mercy quickly spoke, Sir;
Oh speak, Prince, speak.
Have I no rule yet? as I live he dyes
That does not execute my will, and suddenly.
Hew off my innocent hands as he commands you.
[Exeunt Guard, Count Baldwin.
Thou seed of Rocks, will nothing move thee then?
Are all my tears lost? all my righteous Prayers
Drown'd in thy drunken wrath? I stand thus then,
Thus boldly, bloody Tyrant,
And to thy face in Heavens high Name defie thee;
And may sweet mercy when thy soul sighs for it,
When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles,
When neither strength, nor youth, nor friends, nor gold
Can stay one hour, when thy most wretched Conscience
Wak'd from her dream of death, like fire shall melt thee,
When all thy Mothers tears, thy Brothers wounds,
Thy Peoples fears and curses, and my loss,
My aged fathers loss shall stand before thee.
Fly, and redeem his head. [Exit Latorch.
That comfort thou expect'st from Heaven, that mercy
Be lockt up from thee, fly thee, howling find thee,
Despair, Oh my sweet father, storms of terrours,
[Pg 281] Blood till thou burst again.
Enter Latorch and Hamond with a Head.
And his Head is here.
Give him fair Rites of Funeral, decent Honours.
Give him a punishment fit for his mischief.
Lady, have patience, 'twas unhappy speed;
Blame not the Duke, 'twas not his fault, but Fates;
He sent, you know, to stay it, and commanded
In care of you, the heavy object hence
Soon as it came: have better thoughts of him.
Enter Citizens.
And here the wounds he gave your soveraign Lord.
Belov'd of Heaven, whom Heaven hath thus preserv'd.
He must be just, and all his actions so.
A grace of Heaven is a wise Citizen!
For Heaven 'tis makes 'em wise, as't makes me just,
As it preserves me, as I now survive
By his strong hand to keep you all alive:
Your Wives, your Children, Goods and Lands kept yours,
That had been else preys to his tyrannous Power,
That would have prey'd on me, in Bed assaulted me
In sacred time of Peace; my Mother here,
My Sister, this just Lord, and all had felt
The certain Gulph of this Conspiracy,
Of which my Tutor and my Chancellour,
(Two of the gravest, and most counted honest
In all my Dukedom) were the monstrous Heads;
Oh trust no honest men for their sakes ever,
[Pg 282] My politick Citizens, but those that breathe
The Names of Cut-throats, Usurers and Tyrants,
Oh those believe in, for the foul-mouth'd World
Can give no better terms to simple goodness:
Even me it dares blaspheme, and thinks me tyrannous
For saving my own life sought by my Brother;
Yet those that sought his life before by poyson
(Though mine own servants, hoping to please me)
I'll lead to death for't, which your Eyes shall see.
My Nerves, my Spirits, or my vital Blood;
Turn to your needful rests, and setled peace,
Fix'd in this root of steel, from whence it sprung
In Heavens great help and Blessing: but ere sleep
Bind in his sweet oblivion your dull senses,
The Name and Vertue of Heavens King advance
For yours, in chief, for my deliverance.
[Exeunt Citizens.
And you my noble Kinsmen, things born thus
Shall make ye all command what ever I
Enjoy in this my absolute Empire,
Take in the Body of my Princely Brother,
For whose Death, since his Fate no other way
Would give my eldest birth his supream Right;
We'll mourn the cruel influence it bears,
And wash his Sepulchre with kindly tears.
What we have yielded to, we could not let.
[Exeunt omnes præter Latorch, and Edith.
More high than they are humbled; you have cause,
As much as ever honour'd happiest Lady;
And when your Ears are freer to take in
Your most amendful and unmatched fortunes,
I'll make you drown a hundred helpless deaths
[Pg 283] In Sea of one life pour'd into your Bosome;
With which shall flow into your arms, the Riches,
The Pleasures, Honours, and the rules of Princes;
Which though death stop your ears, methinks should open 'em,
Assay to forget death.
The Fate that yet you curse so; since for that
You spake so movingly, and your sweet eyes
With so much Grace fill'd, that you set on fire
The Dukes affection, whom you now may rule
As he rules all his Dukedome, is't not sweet?
Does it not shine away your sorrows Clouds?
Sweet Lady, take wise heart, and hear and tell me.
And be not barr'd up from your self, nor add
To your ill fortune with your far worse judgment;
Make me your servant to attend with all joys,
Your sad estate, till they both bless and speak it:
See how they'll bow to you, make me wait, command me
To watch out every minute, for the stay
Your modest sorrow fancies, raise your graces,
And do my hopes the honour of your motion,
To all the offered heights that now attend you:
Oh how your touches ravish! how the Duke
Is slain already with your flames embrac'd!
I will both serve and visit you, and often.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter the Guard, 3 or 4 Boys, then the Sheriff, Cook, Yeoman of the Cellar, Butler, Pantler to execution.
[Pg 284]
And, pray my honest friends, be not so hasty,
There will be nothing done till we come, I assure you.
if you please.
You look like a good fellow, I can afford you
A reasonable penny-worth.
Do you call this sport? are these your recreations?
Must we be hang'd to make you mirth?
You Custard Pate, we go to't for high Treason,
An honourable fault: thy foolish Father
Was hang'd for stealing Sheep.
You, Chip, Pantler, you peaking Rogue, that provided us
these Necklaces; you poor Rogue, you costive Rogue, you.
Goodman Manchet, for your fine discovery?
I do beseech you, Sir, where are your Dollers?
Draw with your fellows and be hang'd.
For now he shall be hang'd first, that's his comfort,
A place too good for thee, thou meal-mouth'd Rascal.
You peaking Knave, and dye like a good Courtier,
Dye honestly, and like a man; no preaching,
With I beseech you take example by me,
I liv'd a lewd man, good People. 'Pox on't,
Dye me as if thou hadst din'd, say Grace, and God be with you.
Was ne'r done well; give us so much time as but to sing
Our own Ballads, for we'll trust no man,
Nor no tune but our own; 'twas done in Ale too,
[Pg 285] And therefore cannot be refus'd in Justice.
Your penny-pot Poets are such pelting thieves,
They ever hang men twice; we have it here, Sir,
And so must every Merchant of our Voyage.
He'll make a sweet return else of his Credit.
We have chosen a loud tune too, because it should like well.
Would offer to strangle a Page of the Celler,
That should by his Oath to any Mans thinking,
And place, have had a defence for his drinking;
But thus she does still, when she pleases to palter,
Instead of his Wages, she gives him a Halter.
As ever did sing in a hempen string under the Gallow-tree.
And ever kept my Bottles,
That neither they were musty,
And seldome less than Pottles;
For me to be thus stopt now,
With Hemp instead of Cork, Sir,
And from the Gallows lopt now,
Shews that there is a fork, Sir,
In death, and this the token,
Man may be two ways killed,
Or like the Bottle, broken,
Or like the Wine, be spilled.
[Pg 286] In sowing whose fate, at so lofty a rate, no Taylor e'r had stitching,
For though he makes the Man, the Cook yet makes the Dishes,
The which no Taylor can, wherein I have my wishes,
That I who at so many a Feast, have pleas'd so many tasters,
Should now my self come to be drest, a dish for you my Masters.
And good Mr. Sheriff let me not be printed
With a brass Pot on my head.
That wear or brow or antler,
Prick up your ears, unto the tears
Of me poor Paul the Pantler,
That thus am clipt, because I chipt
The cursed Crust of Treason
With Loyal Knife; Oh doleful strife,
To hang thus without reason.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Aubrey, and Latorch.
And you must hearken; set not forth your leg
Of haste, nor put your face of business on;
An honester affair than this I urge too,
You will not easily think on; and 'twill be
Reward to entertain it; 'tis your fortune
To have our Masters ear above the rest
Of us that follow him, but that no man envies;
For I have well considered, Truth sometimes
May be convey'd in by the same Conduits
That Falshood is; These courses that he takes
Cannot but end in ruine; Empire got
By blood and violence, must so be held;
And how unsafe that is, he first will prove,
That toiling still to remove Enemies
[Pg 287] Makes himself more; It is not now a Brother,
A faithful Councellour of estate or two,
That are his danger, they are far dispatch'd;
It is a multitude that begin to fear,
And think what began there must end in them;
For all the fine Oration that was made 'em,
And they are not an easie Monster quell'd.
Princes may pick their suffering Nobles out;
And one by one employ 'em to the block; but when they
once grow formidable to their Clowns, and Coblers, ware
then, guard themselves; if thou durst tell him this, Latorch,
the service would not discredit the good name you hold with
men, besides the profit to your Master, and the publick.
They are airy fears; and why should I object them unto his fancy?
Wound what is yet sound? your counsels colour not,
With reason of state, where all that's necessary still is just.
The actions of the Prince, while they succeed,
Should be made good, and glorified; not question'd.
Men do but shew their ill affections, that—
Knave of the Chamber, art thou the Spye too?
Sir, to be rightly affected.
No less than of thy masters lusts. I now
See nothing can redeem thee; dost thou mention
Affection, or a Heart, that ne'r hadst any?
Knowst not to love or hate, but by the State,
As thy Prince does't before thee? that dost never
Wear thy own face, but put'st on his, and gather'st
Baits for his Ears: liv'st wholly at his beck,
[Pg 288] And e're thou dar'st utter a thought's thine own,
Must expect his; creep'st forth and wad'st into him
As if thou wert to pass a Ford, there proving
Yet if thy tongue may step on safely or no;
Then bring'st his vertue asleep, and stay'st the wheel
Both of his reason and judgment, that they move not,
Whit'st over all his vices; and at last
Dost draw a Cloud of words before his eyes,
Till he can neither see thee nor himself?
Wretch, I dare give him honest counsels, I,
And love him while I tell him truth; old Aubrey
Dares goe the straightest way, which still's the shortest,
Walk on the thorns thou scatter'st, Parasite,
And tread 'em into nothing: and if thou
Then let'st a look fall, of the least dislike,
I'll rip thy Crown up with my Sword at height,
And pluck thy skin over thy face, in sight
Of him thou flatter'st; unto thee I speak it,
Slave, against whom all Laws should now conspire,
And every Creature that hath sense, be arm'd,
As 'gainst the common Enemy of Mankind;
That sleep'st within thy Masters Ear, and whisper'st
'Tis better for him to be fear'd than lov'd;
Bid'st him trust no mans friendship, spare no blood
That may secure him: 'tis no cruelty
That hath a specious end; for Soveraignty
Break all the Laws of kind; if it succeed,
An honest, noble, and praise-worthy deed;
While he that takes thy poysons in, shall feel
Their virulent workings in a point of time,
When no Repentance can bring aid, but all
His spirits shall melt, with what his Conscience burn'd,
And dying in flatterers arms, shall fall unmourn'd.
There's matter for you now.
They hate ill Princes most that make them so.
Enter Rollo, Hamond, Allan, Guard.
[Pg 289]
Move me when it was fit that he should dye? away.
T' upbraid the Tyrant, I'm glad I'm faln
Now in those times that will'd some great example
T' assure men we can dye for honesty.
As bravely forth anon unto your Headsman.
Rollo, 'twould make thee quake to see me dye.
My gratitude and humanity are my crimes.
I do beseech your Highness, do not lose
Such men for such slight causes. This is one
Has still been faithful to you, a try'd soul
In all your fathers Battles; I have seen him
Bestride a friend against a score of Foes,
And look, he looks as he would kill his hundred
For you, Sir, were you in some danger.
Master, to which he can add nought to equal Nero,
But killing of his Mother.
Thou valiant Ass: here is his Brother too, Sir,
A Captain of your Guard, hath serv'd you long,
With the most noble witness of his truth
Mark'd in his face, and every part about him,
That turns not from an enemy. But view him,
Oh do not grieve him, Sir, if you do mean
That he shall hold his place: it is not safe
To tempt such spirits, and let them wear their Swords,
You'll make your Guards your terrours by these Acts,
And throw more hearts off from you than you hold;
And I must tell you, Sir, (with my old freedom,
And my old faith to boot) you have not liv'd so
[Pg 290] But that your state will need such men, such hands
Of which here's one, shall in an hour of tryal,
Do you more certain service with a stroke,
Than the whole bundle of your flatterers
With all the unsavory unction of their tongues.
And would not see you pull on your own ruines.
Mercy becomes a Prince, and guards him best,
Awe and affrights are never tyes of Love;
And when men begin to fear the Prince, they hate him.
urge that question.
Safety, whose ears are blockt up against truth; come, captain.
Live thou so, Captain, I will assure thee,
Although I die for't too; come— [Ex. all but Rol. & Lat.
Of what I would be, 'tis so dangerous:
But with your Highness favour and your licence.
We now are Duke alone, Latorch, secur'd;
Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect,
We look right forth, beside, and round about us,
And see it ours with pleasure: only one
Wish'd joy there wants to make us to possess it,
And that is Edith, Edith, she that got me
In blood and tears, in such an opposite minute,
As had I not at once felt all the flames
[Pg 291] And shafts of Love shot in me (his whole armory)
I should have thought him as far off as Death.
Is nearer than you think it, yet her griefs
Are green and fresh, your vigilant Latorch
Hath not been idle; I have leave already
To visit her, and send to her.
And proper instruments to work and bring her
To your fruition; that she be not watch'd
Tame to your Highness wish, say you have no servant
Is capable of such a trust about you,
Or worthy to be Secretary of your pleasure.
For all thy travels, care, and love?
The Scheme of your Nativity judg'd by them,
I have't already erected; O my Lord,
You do not know the labour of my fears,
My doubts for you are such as cannot hope
Any security, but from the Stars;
Who, being rightly ask'd, can tell man more
Than all power else, there being no power beyond them.
Ask for thy self.
We'l study our selves a means how to reward thee.
Begins to live, from this hour count your joyes:
But, Sir, I must have warrants, with blanks figur'd,
To put in names, such as I like.
Oh I shall bring you wonders; there's a Frier
Rusee, an admirable man, another
A Gentleman, and then Lafiske,
[Pg 292] The mirrour of his time; 'twas he that set it.
But there's one Norbret, (him I never saw)
Has made a mirrour, a meer Looking-glass,
In shew you'ld think't no other; the form oval,
As I am given to understand by letter,
Which renders you such shapes, and those so differing,
And some that will be question'd and give answers;
Then has he set it in a frame, that wrought
Unto the revolutions of the Stars,
And so compact by due proportions
Unto their harmony, doth move alone
A true automaton; thus Dædalus Statues,
Or Vulcans Tools—
He has been about it above twenty years,
Three sevens, the powerfull, and the perfect numbers;
And Art and time, Sir, can produce such things.
What do I read there of Hiarbas banquet?
The great Gymnosophist, that had his Butlers
And carvers of pure gold waiting at table?
The images of Mercury, too, that spoke?
The wooden door that flew? a snake of brass
That hist? and birds of Silver that did sing?
All those new done by the Mathematicks,
Without which there's no science, nor no truth.
Than I'le contend w'ye for it, I'le believe it,
Y'have won upon me that I wish to see
My fate before me now, what e're it be.
For which I should have one of trust go with me,
If you please, Hamond, that I may by him
Send you my first dispatches; after I
Shall bring you more, and as they come still more.
Choose your own means, and be it prosperous to us.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Rusee, de Bube, la Fiske, Norbret, Pippeau.
My Almanack tells me.
Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide
To see thee look like a poor Jade i'th' pound,
That saw no meat these three days.
It seems thirteen dayes since I saw any.
Or meat or mony, you may talk of both
To open a mans stomach or his purse,
But feed 'em still with air.
You do not say your Office well a dayes.
With leachery, and lives upon th' exchange
Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women.
Whom you perswade, upon your Doctoral bed,
To take the Mathematical trance so often?
Four of the seven deadly spots we are;
Besides our Leachery, we are envious,
And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus,
Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy
He is a fifth spot, sloth and he undoes us.
And now and then sent to a Merchants wife
Sick of the Husband, or a swearing Butler
That mist of his Bowls, a crying Maid
Had lost a Silver spoon; the Curry comb
Sometimes was wanting; there was something gotten;
But now—
[Pg 294] Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant,
Whose ass I had driven aside, and hid, that you
Might conjure for him? and then last night,
Six Soulz from the Cooks wife, you shar'd among you
To set a figure for the Pestle I stole,
It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters,
In a hard time, they would be thought on: you
Talk of your lands and Castles in the air,
Of your twelve houses there: but it is I
That bring you in your rents for 'em, 'tis Pippeau
That is your bird-call.
And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say
In a fine dextrous line.
At first, then he would sail with any wind
Int' every Creek and Corner.
New built and rigg'd when I came to you, Gentlemen,
But now with often and far venturing for you
Here be leaks sprung, and whole Planks wanting see you;
If you'l new sheath me again, yet I am for you
To any bog or sleights, where e're you'l send me,
For as I am, where can this ragged Bark
Put in for any service; 'less it be
O'th' Isle of Rogues, and there turn Pirate for you.
Your neat crisp Claret, and fall to your Cyder
A while; and you la Fiske, your larded Capons
And Turkys for a time, and take a good
Clean Tripe in your way; de Bube too must content him with
wholsom two souz'd petitoes, no more Crown Ordinaries,
till we have cloath'd our Infant.
Your own good motions, Doctor, your dear self.
Of your Concupiscence.
As soon as the best of us.
[Pg 295] Fis. And dip your wrist-bands,
(For Cuffs y'have none) as comely in the sauce [The Bell rings.
As any Courtier—hark, the Bell, who is there?
[Exit and enter again.
On with your gown, there's a new suite arriv'd, [To Norbret.
Did I not tell you, Sons of hunger? Crowns,
Crowns are coming toward you, wine and wenches
You shall have once again, and Fidlers:
Into your studyes close; each lay his ear
To his door, and as you hear me to prepare you
So come, and put me on that visard only.
Enter Latorch, Hamond.
Business is done you shall receive present dispatch.
The Stars are happy still that guide you hither.
My learned Father Russe, where's la Fiske,
Monsieur de Bube, how do they?
They are the Secretaries of the Stars, Sir,
Still at their books, they will not be pull'd off,
They stick like cupping glasses; if ever men
Spoke with the tongue of destiny, 'tis they.
Tell them who's here, say, that their friends do challenge
Some portion of their time, this is our minute,
Pray 'em they'l spare it: they are the Sun and Moon
Of knowledge; pity two such noble lights
Should live obscur'd here in an University,
Whose beams were fit to'illumine any court
Of Christendom.
Enter la Fisk, de Bube, and Pippeau.
Four Almucanturies at least.
But how to know, as negli[g]ent of their bodies
In dyet, or else, especially in their cloaths,
As if they had no change.
As well may free them from the name of shifters.
It will be happier; the Duke greets you both
Thus, and though you may touch no mony, Father,
Yet you may take it.
But yet to me, and these that have put off
The world, superfluous.
Thanks to his Stars; which Stars he prayes by me,
You would again consult, and make a Judgement
On what you lately erected for my love.
Here's to assure you, his Signet, write your names,
And be secured all three.
[Pg 297]
Would not perform the second part.
Here is a warrant Father, I conceiv'd
That he had solely applyed himself to Magick.
He was initiated, but we shall hardly
Draw him from his chair.
Ever to breath in your sight.
Must have't convey'd under a paper.
He knows his holes, and how to bait his Spirits.
Pray Heaven his Spirits be in a good humor to take,
They'l fling the gold about the house else.
Furnisht with holy-water.
Mass he's here, this is speed.
Enter Norb[re]t, Russ, Pippeau.
Let's see, dispatch, nay fumbling now, who's this?
[Pg 298]
I'le spare his complement, tell him: what's here?
The geniture Nocturnal, Longitude
At forty nine and ten minutes? How are the cardins?
And Capricorn.
Where, how are they dispos'd? the Sun and Mercury,
Mars with the Dragons tail in the third house,
And pars Fortunæ in the Imo Cœli,
Then Jupiter in the twelfth, the Cacodemon.
Luna i'th' Seventh, and much of Scorpio,
Then Mars his Gaudium, rising in th'ascendent,
And joyn'd with Libra too, the house of Venus,
And [Imum] Cœli, Mars his exaltation
In the seventh house, Aries being his natural house
And where he is now seated, and all these shew him
To be the Almuten.
Whether you examine it by Ptolomeys way,
Or Messethales, Lael, or Alkindus.
Either by himself, or in regard of the Cusps.
The Lady of the Horoscope, being Libra,
The other part, Mars rules: So that the geniture,
Being Nocturnal, Luna is the highest,
None else being in sufficient dignity,
She being in Aries in the Seventh house,
Where Sol exalted, is the Alchoroden.
In the degrees where she is, and enjoyes
By that, six dignities.
Than any else that view her in the Scheam.
That he beholds her with a Trine aspect
Here out of Sagittary, almost partile,
[Pg 299] And how that Mars out of the self same house,
(But another Sign) here by a Platique aspect
Looks at the Hilege, with a Quartile ruling
The house where the Sun is; all this could I
Have told you, but that you'll outrun me; and more,
That this same Quartile aspect to the Lady of life,
Here in the seventh, promises some danger,
Cauda Draconis being so near Mars,
And Caput Algol in the house of Death.
Or Alchorodon by direction come
To a Quartile opposition of the place
Where Mars is in the Geniture (which is now
At hand) or else oppose to Mars himself; expect it.
That rules the Stars, may do it; for Mars being
Lord of the Geniture in Capricorn,
Is, if you mark it, now a Sextile here,
With Venus Lady of the Horoscope.
So she being in her Exilium, which is Scorpio,
And Mars his Gaudium, is o'rerul'd by him,
And clear debilitated five degrees
Beneath her ordinary power, so
That, at the most she can but mitigate.
That is a work, Sir, of another place.
I should be glad; for we should soon prevent him.
Lay hold of't Norbret.
Is he not near of kin unto the Duke?
[Pg 300]
Let me receive this under all your hands.
If you intreat him, and but gratifie
A spirit or two more.
If he will have it, so shall you all; there's that
Amongst you first, let me have this to send
The Duke in the mean time; and then what sights
You please to shew; I'le have you so rewarded
As never Artists were, you shall to Court
Along with me, and there wait you[r] fortunes.
Boy we will all be new, you shall along too. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Sophia, Matilda, and Edith.
With such submiss beseeches; nor remain
So strictly bound to sorrow for your son,
That nothing else, though never so befitting,
Obtains your ears, or observation.
That you would please to think as well of justice
Due to your sons revenge, as of more wrong added
To both your selves for it, in only grieving.
Th' undaunted power of Princes should not be
Confin'd in deedless cold calamity;
Anger, the Twin of sorrow, in your wrongs
[Pg 301] Should not be smother'd, when his right of birth
Claims th' Air as well, and force of coming forth.
Should be conceived but where it may [be] born
In some fact fit t'employ his active flame,
That else consumes who bears it, and abides
Like a false star that quenches as it glides.
Can think no better, easier, or securer;
And such as but th' honours I intend
To your partakings, I alone could end:
But your parts in all dues to crying blood
For vengeance in the shedder, are much greater:
And therefore should work your hands to his slaughter.
For your consent to which, 'twere infinite wrong
To your severe and most impartial justice,
To move you to forget so false a son
As with a Mothers duty made you curse him.
Born of my Mother, or to me a Brother.
For should we still perform our rights to him
We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be
In blood and damned parricide as he.
And therefore tell the happy means that Heaven
Puts in thy hand, for all our long'd for freedom
From so abhorr'd and impious a monster.
To whatsoever Heaven puts in her power. [Exit Sophia.
Sweet Edith be not any thought the more
Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assured,
Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two
Shall be enough to all we wish to do.
Shall be afforded power enough from Heaven
To end the murtherer: all I wish of you,
Is but some richer Ornaments and Jewels
Than I am able to provide my self,
To help out the defects of my poor Beauty,
That yet hath been enough, as now it is,
[Pg 302] To make his fancy mad with my desire.
But you know, Madam, Women never can
Be too fair to torment an amorous man;
And this mans torments I would heighten still,
Till at their highest he be fit to kill.
And thou shalt paint too, that his bloods desire
May make him perish in a painted fire;
Hast thou been with him yet?
I set that hour back to haste more his longing;
But I have promis'd to his instruments,
The admittance of a visit at our house,
Where yet I would receive him with all lustre
My sorrow would give leave to, to remove
Suspicion of my purpose.
All I can add, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres,
I'le be my self thy dresser; nor may I
Serve my own love with a contracted Husband
More sweetly, nor more amply than maist thou
Thy forward will with his bewitch'd affections:
Affect'st thou any personal aid of mine
My noblest Edith?
For full effect and speed of my affair.
For thou well know'st, if blood shed of the best
Should cool and be forgotten, who would fear
To shed blood still? or where, alas, were then
The endless love we owe to worthy men?
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Rollo with a glass, Aubrey, and Servants.
It is exceeding well; now leave me; Cousin,
How takes your eye the object?
[Pg 303]
So much Sir of the Courtier, as to say
Your person does become your habit;
But being called unto it by a noble War,
Would grace an armour better.
For that great Art of which you are the Master;
Yet I must tell you, that to the encounters
We oft attempt, arm'd only thus, we bring
As troubled blood, fears mixt with flatt'ring hopes,
The danger in the service too as great,
As when we are to charge quite through and through
The body of an Army.
How you may rank the dangers, but will die in't,
The ends which they arrive at, are as distant
In every circumstance, as far as honour
Is from shame and repentance.
Nor am I so ambitious of the title
Of one that dares talk any thing that was
Against the torrent of his own opinion,
That I affect to speak ought may offend you:
And therefore gracious Sir, be pleas'd to think
My manners or discretion have inform'd me
That I was born, in all good ends, to serve you:
And not to check at what concerns me not:
I look not with sore eyes on your rich out-side,
Nor rack my thoughts to find out to what purpose
'Tis now employ'd; I wish it may be good,
And that, I hope, offends not for a subject
Towards his Prince in things indifferent;
To use the austereness of a censuring Cato
Is arrogance, not freedom.
This temper in you, and will cherish it.
Enter Hamond with Letters.
[Pg 304]
Of any new design; good Aubrey read 'em,
And as they shall direct you, use my power,
Or to reply or execute.
To th' house that late was Baldwins, and there wait me.
Or scorn'd or fear'd, as now thou favour'st me. [Exit Rollo.
Your Lordships privacy.
Is ever welcome; I intreat your patience
While I peruse these.
In th' letters that I brought, that thus transports him?
Brought to the Axe by Knaves that cheat for bread?
The Creatures of a Parasite, a slave;
I find you here Latorch, not wonder at it;
But that this honest Captain should be made
His instrument, afflicts me; I'le make trial
Whether his will or weakness made him do it.
Captain you saw the Duke when he commanded
I should do what these letters did direct me,
And I presume you think I'le not neglect
For fear or favour, to remove all dangers
How near soever that man can be to me
From whom they should have birth.
Or for respect of thankfulness, or hopes,
To use your sword with fullest confidence
Where he shall bid you strike.
[Pg 305]
Draw, so, 'tis well, and next cut off my head.
My innocence hath made me dangerous,
And I must be remov'd, and you the man
Must act his will.
And that you may not doubt it, there's your warrant,
But as you read, remember Hamond, that
I never wrong'd one of your brave profession;
And, though it be not manly, I must grieve
That man of whose love I was most ambitious
Could find no object of his hate but me.
Be pleas'd to hear thy servant, I am wrong'd,
And cannot, being now to serve the Duke,
Stay to express the manner how; but if
I do not suddenly give you strong proofs,
Your life is dearer to me than my own,
May I live base, and dye so: Sir, your pardon. [Exit Ham.
On every side, about, behind, before me,
My certain fate is fix't: were I a Knave now,
I could avoid this: had my actions
But meer relations to their own ends, I could 'scape now:
Oh honesty! thou elder child of vertue,
Thou seed of Heaven, why to acquire thy goodness
Should malice and distrust stick thorns before us,
And make us swim unto thee, hung with hazards?
But Heaven is got by suffering, not disputing;
Say he knew this before-hand, where am I then?
Or say he does [not] know it, where's my Loyalty?
I know his nature, troubled as the Sea,
And as the Sea devouring when he's vex'd,
And I know Princes are their own expounders.
[Pg 306] Am I afraid of death? of dying nobly?
Of dying in mine innocence uprightly?
Have I met death in all his forms, and fears,
Now on the points of Swords, now pitch'd on Lances?
In fires, and storms of Arrows, Battels, breaches,
And shall I now shrink from him, when he courts me
Smiling and full of sanctity? I'le meet him;
My Loyal hand and heart shall give this to him,
And though it bear beyond what Poets feign
A punishment, duty shall meet that pain;
And my most constant heart to do him good,
Shall check at neither pale affright nor bloud.
Enter Messenger.
Thy honour living, though thy body sleep. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Edith, a Boy, and a Banquet set out.
All chastity shall suffer if he raign;
Thou blessed soul, look down, and steel thy Daughter,
Look on the sacrifice she comes to send thee,
And through the bloudy clouds behold my piety,
Take from my cold heart fear, from my sex pity,
And as I wipe these tears off, shed for thee,
So all remembrance may I lose of mercy;
Give me a womans anger bent to bloud,
The wildness of the winds to drown his prayers,
Storm-like may my destruction fall upon him,
My rage like roving billows as they rise,
Pour'd on his soul to sink it, give me flattery,
(For yet my constant soul ne'r knew dissembling)
Flattery the food of Fools, that I may rock him
And lull him in the Down of his desires;
That in the height of all his hopes and wishes,
His Heaven forgot, and all his lusts upon him,
[Pg 307] My hand, like thunder from a cloud, may seize him.
I hear him come, go boy, and entertain him.
Enter Rollo.
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, like break of day,
Lights that do mislead the Morn,
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, though seal'd in vain.
Which thy frozen blossome bears,
On whose tops the Pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears,
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those Ivy chains by thee.
In all the happy lustre of Heavens glory,
Has drop'd down from the Skye to comfort me?
Wonder of nature, let it not prophane thee
My rude hand touch thy beauty, nor this kiss,
The gentle sacrifice of love and service,
Be offer'd to the honour of thy sweetness.
Nor nothing of that vertue, but obedience,
The servant to your will affects no flattery.
Are loves eternal lamps he fires all hearts with?
That tongue the smart string to his bow? those sighs
The deadly shafts he sends into our souls?
Oh, look upon me with thy spring of beauty.
Thy Mother fed on Roses when she bred thee.
Upon the treasures of perfumes and spices,
[Pg 308] In all their pride and pleasures call thee Mistris.
Fair gentle maid, there is no speaking to thee,
The excellency that appears upon thee
Tyes up my tongue: pray speak to me.
Will you take my directions? speak of love then;
Speak of thy fair self Edith; and while thou speak'st,
Let me, thus languishing, give up my self wench.
How masterly he turns himself to catch me!
Is hard and crooked, scarce Repentance finding,
With all her holy helps, the door to enter,
Give me thy hand, what dost thou feel?
You weep extreamly; strengthen me now justice.
Why are these sorrows Sir?
If I should tell thee, yet there's no way left
Ever to purchase this blest Paradise,
But swimming thither in these tears.
For guiltless blood, and they must drop, my Edith,
They must thus drop, till I have drown'd my mischiefs.
Alas I do confess I'me made of mischiefs,
Begot with all mans miseries upon me;
But see my sorrows, maid, and do not thou,
Whose only sweetest sacrifice is softness,
Whose true condition, tenderness of nature.
As I have done, to murther with thy eyes,
[Pg 309] (Those blessed eyes) as I have done with malice,
When thou hast wounded me to death with scorn,
(As I deserve it Lady) for my true love,
When thou hast loaden me with earth for ever,
Take heed my sorrows, and the stings I suffer;
Take heed my nightly dreams of death and horrour
Pursue thee not: no time shall tell thy griefs then,
Nor shall an hour of joy adde to thy beauties.
Look not upon me as I kill'd thy Father,
As I was smear'd in blood, do not thou hate me,
But thus in whiteness of my wash't repentance,
In my hearts tears and truth of love to Edith,
In my fair life hereafter.
Of Heaven we call for mercy and obtain it;
To Justice for our right on Earth and have it;
Of thee I beg for love, save me, and give it.
His tongue has turn'd me into melting pity.
Enter Hamond, and Guard.
Let no man enter till I give the word.
Thou mad'st me do to Aubrey; pray.
Pray suddenly.
For I perceive your end; a womans hand
Must not rob me of vengeance.
[Pg 310] There is no way to save thy life.
Will cast upon thy cursed head.
When your most vertuous Brother, shield-like, held her;
Such I'le give you, put her away.
Him, my body's honor'd with that sword that through me,
Sends his black soul to Hell: Oh, but for one hand.
What, has he got a knife?
Do's it so tickle you? have at you once more.
To him again, you give him too much respite.
And give thee all, all honours, all advancements,
Call thee my friend.
His tongue will tempt a Saint.
Are you so wary? take you that.
Oh thou hast kill'd me basely, basely, basely. [Dyes.
How do you Sir? has he not hurt you?
[Pg 311]
Enter Sophia, Matilda, Aubrey, Lords and attendants.
Sorrow on sorrow seeks me, Oh, in his blood he lyes.
This might have been prevented;
Take the Dutchess,
And lead her off, this is no sight for her eyes.
Oh 'twas a deed of high and brave adventure,
A justice even for heaven to envy at,
Farewel my sorrows, and my tears take truce,
My wishes are come round: Oh bloody Brother,
Till this hour never beauteous; till thy life,
Like a full sacrifi[c]e for all thy mischiefs,
Flow'd from thee in these rivers, never righteous:
Oh how my eyes are quarri'd with their joys now!
My longing heart even leaping out for lightness!
But dye thy black sins with thee, I forgive thee.
And as they grappl'd.
Had it not been on him, th'adst dy'd too honest.
Did you know of his death?
Of Law shall not fall on you, that of life
Must presently, go to a Cloyster, carry her,
And there for ever lead your life in penitence.
[Pg 312] And now my fair revenges have their ends,
My vows shall be my kin, my prayers my friends. [Exit.
Enter Latorch, and Juglers.
Where's that good Gentleman? oh, I could laugh now,
And burst my self with meer imagination;
A wise man, and a valiant man, a just man;
To suffer himself be juggl'd out of the world,
By a number of poor Gipseys? farewel Swash-buckler,
For I know thy mouth is cold enough by this time;
A hundred of ye I can shave as neatly,
And ne'r draw bloud in shew: now shall my honour,
My power and vertue walk alone: my pleasure
Observ'd by all, all knees bend to my worship,
All sutes to me as Saint of all their fortunes,
Prefer'd and crowded to, what full place of credit,
And what place now? your Lordship? no, 'tis common,
But that I'le think to morrow on; now for my business.
Prepare your self good Devil, you must to it,
Millions of gold shall not redeem thy mischief,
Behold the Justice of thy practice, villain;
The mass of murthers thou hast drawn upon us:
Behold thy doctrine; you look now for reward, Sir,
To be advanc'd, I'm sure, for all your labours?
And you shall have it, make his gallows higher
By ten foot at the least, and then advance him.
Such as you meant for me, away with him. [He is led out.
What gaping knaves are these, bring 'em in fellows,
[Pg 313] Now, what are you?
Whip 'em extremely, whip that Doctor there,
Till he record himself a Rogue.
Lead 'em to the gallows to see their patron hang'd;
Away with them. [They are led out.
And here stand ready to invest you with it.
Than bloud or mischiefs dare infringe again,
Behold this Lady, Sir, this noble Lady,
Full of the bloud as you are, of that nearness,
How blessed would it be?
Me her ever constant servant.
In all humility of heart and services,
To the most noble Aubrey, I submit me.
This, as he was a Prince, so Princely funeral
Shall wait upon him: on this honest Captain,
The decency of arms; a tear for him too.
May his Example in our Rule raise good.
THE
Wild-Goose Chase;
A
COMEDY.
| De-Gard, A Noble stay'd' Gentleman that being newly lighted from his Travels, assists his Sister Oriana in her chase of Mirabel the Wild-Goose. | |
| La-Castre, the Indulgent Father to Mirabell. | |
| Mirabell, the Wild-Goose, a Travell'd Monsieur, and great defyer of all Ladies in the way of Marriage, otherwise their much loose servant, at last caught by the despis'd Oriana. | |
| Pinac, his fellow Traveller, of a lively spirit, and Servant to the no less sprightly Lillia-Bianca. | |
| Belleur, Companion to both, of a stout blunt humour, in love with Rosalura. | |
| Nantolet, Father to Rosalura and Lillia-Bianca. | |
| Lugier, the rough and confident Tutor to the Ladies, and chief Engine to entrap the Wild-Goose. | |
| Oriana, the fair betroth'd of Mirabell, and witty follower of the Chase. | |
| Rosalura, | the Airie Daughters of Nantolet. |
| Lillia-Bianca, | |
| Petella, their Waiting-woman. | |
| Mariana, an English Courtezan. | |
| A young Factor. | |
| Page. | |
| Servants. | |
| Singing-Boy. | |
| Two Merchants. | |
| Priest. | |
| Four Women. |
The Scene Paris.
The Actors were,
- Robert Benfield.
- John Lowin.
- William Trigg.
- Richard Robinson.
- William Penn.
- Sander Gough.
- Joseph Taylor.
- Hilliard Swanston.
- Mr. Shank.
- Thomas Pollard.
- Stephen Hammerton.
- John Hony-man. [Pg 315]
Actus Primus. Scena Prima.
Enter Monsieur De Gard, and a Foot-Boy.
And let him want no Litter.
Would some body would walk me, & see me Litter'd;
For I think my fellow-horse, cannot in reason
Desire more rest, nor take up his Chamber before me,
But we are the Beasts now, and the Beasts are our Masters.
For I have a Twenty Crown stomach.
There's for your Provender: Bespeak a Dinner
For Monsieur Mirabell, and his Companions,
They'll be in Town within this hour.
When you have done, Sirrah,
Make ready all things at my Lodging, for me,
And wait me there.
'Tis the best part of a Foot-mans faith. [Exit Boy.
For all they have been in Italy, to learn thrift,
And seem to wonder at mens lavish waies,
Yet they cannot rub off old friends, their French itches;
They must meet sometimes to disport their Bodies
With good Wine, and good Women; and good store too.
Let 'em be what they will, they are Arm'd at all points,
And then hang saving. Let the Sea grow high,
This Ordinary can fit 'em of all sizes,
Enter La-Castre and Oriana.
Indeed ye are welcome home, most welcome.
You are grown a handsome woman, Oriana,
(Blush at your faults) I am wondrous glad to see ye.
Monsieur La-Castre: Let not my Affection
To my fair Sister, make me be held unmannerly:
I am glad to see ye well, to see ye lusty,
Good health about ye, and in fair company,
Believe me, I am proud—
Monsieur de Gard, you are welcome from your journey,
Good men, have still good welcome: give me your hand, Sir.
Once more, you are welcome home: you look still younger.
We wander every where: Age cannot find us.
But you have often seen him in your journeys,
And bring me some fair News.
And grown a proper Gentleman: he is well, and lusty,
Within this eight hours, I took leave of him,
And over-ey'd him, having some slight business
That forc'd me out o'th' way: I can assure you
He will be here to night.
For o' my faith, I almost long to see him,
Me thinks he has been away—
What are three years? a love-sick wench will allow it:
His friends that went out with him are come back too;
Belleur, and young Pinac: he bid me say little,
Because he means to be his own glad Messenger.
[Pg 317]
And his friends too: indeed I thank you heartily:
And how (for I dare say, you will not flatter him)
Has Italy wrought on him? has he mew'd yet
His wild fantastick Toyes? they say that Climate
Is a great purger of those humorous Fluxes.
How is he improved, I pray ye?
H'as born himself a full, and noble Gentleman,
To speak him farther is beyond my Charter.
You long to enjoy your Sister: yet I must intreat ye
Before I go, to sup with me to night
And must not be deni'd.
My neighbour Natolet, and his two fair Daughters.
How have ye done since I went? have ye had your health well?
And your mind free?
Merry, and eat my meat.
And how have you been us'd? You know, Oriana,
Upon my going out, at your request,
I left your Portion in La-Castre's hands,
(The main Means you must stick to) for that reason
(And 'tis no little one) I ask ye, Sister,
With what humanity he entertains ye,
And how ye find his courtesie?
I can assure you, Sir, I am us'd most nobly.
(And tell me true) what end had you, Oriana,
In trusting your mony here? He is no Kinsman,
Nor any tie upon him of a Guardian;
Nor dare I think ye doubt my prodigality.
Nor carryed so: 'tis common (my fair Sister)
Your love to Mirabel; your blushes tell it:
'Tis too much known, and spoken of too largely;
And with no little shame I wonder at it.
A Virgin should be tender of her honour,
Close, and secure.
And stand upon as strong and honest guards too;
Unless this Warlike Age need a Port-cullis:
Yet I confess, I love him.
Believe what they say, dares be mad, and give
His Mother, nay his own Wife up to Rumor;
All grounds of truth they build on, is a Tavern,
And their best censure's Sack, Sack in abundance:
For as they drink, they think: they ne're speak modestly
Unless the wine be poor, or they want mony.
Believe them? believe Amadis de Gaul,
The Knight o'th' Sun, or Palmerin of England;
For these, to them, are modest, and true stories.
Pray understand me; if their tongues be truth,
And if in Vino veritas be an Oracle,
What Woman is, or has been ever honest?
Give 'em but ten round cups, they'll swear Lucretia
Dy'd not for want of power to resist Tarquin,
But want of Pleasure, that he stay'd no longer:
And Portia, that was famous for her Piety
To her lov'd Lord, they'll face ye out, dy'd o'th' Pox.
'Tis none of their things, 'tis not yet so monstrous;
My thing is Marriage: And at his return
I hope to put their squint-eyes right again.
Rich both in land and money: he his heir,
[Pg 319] A young and handsome man, I must confess too;
But of such qualities, and such wild flings,
Such admirable imperfections, Sister,
(For all his Travel, and bought experience)
I should be loth to own him for my Brother:
Methinks a rich mind in a state indifferent
Would prove the better fortune.
The reclaiming him to good, and honest, (Brother)
Will make much for my honour; which, if I prosper,
Shall be the study of my love, and life too.
He Marry? he'll be hanged first: he knows no more
What the conditions and the ties of Love are,
The honest purposes and grounds of Marriage,
Nor will know, nor be ever brought t' endeavour,
Than I do how to build a Church; he was ever
A loose and strong defier of all order,
His Loves are wanderers, they knock at each door,
And taste each dish, but are no residents:
Or say he may be brought to think of Marriage,
(As 'twill be no small labour) thy hopes are strangers.
I know there is a labour'd match, now follow'd,
(Now at this time, for which he was sent for home too)
Be not abus'd, Natolet has two fair Daughters,
And he must take his choice.
For all this I despair not; my mind tells me
That I, and only I, must make him perfect;
And in that hope I rest.
Prosper your hope; I'll be no adversary;
Keep your self fair and right, he shall not wrong ye.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, Bellure, and Servants.
We have had a merry and a lusty Ordinary,
[Pg 320] And Wine, and good meat, and a bounsing Reckoning;
And let it go for once; 'Tis a good Physick,
Only the Wenches are not for my diet,
They are too lean and thin; their embraces brawn-faln.
Give me the plump Venetian, fat, and lusty,
That meets me soft and supple; smiles upon me,
As if a Cup of full Wine leapt to kiss me;
These slight things I affect not.
Pin-buttockt, like your dainty Barbaries,
And weak i'th' pasterns; they'll endure no hardness.
Till we are travel'd, and live abroad, we are Coxcombs:
Ye talk of France, a slight unseason'd Country,
Abundance of gross food, which makes us Block-heads:
We are fair set out indeed, and so are fore-horses:
Men say we are great Courtiers, men abuse us:
We are wise, and valiant too, non credo, Seignior:
Our Women the best Linguists, they are Parrats;
O' this side the Alpes they are nothing but meer Drolleries:
Ha, Roma la Santa, Italy for my money,
Their policies, their customs, their frugalities,
Their courtesies so open, yet so reserved too,
As when ye think y'are known best, ye are a stranger;
The very pick-teeth speak more man than we do,
And season of more salt.
Not pester'd with your stubborn precise Puppies,
That turn all useful and allow'd contentments
To scabs and scruples; hang 'em Capon-worshippers.
And would fain do as others do; but I am so bashful,
So naturally an Ass: Look ye, I can look upon 'em,
And very willingly I go to see 'em,
(There's no man willinger) and I can kiss 'em,
And make a shift—
Or say ye are too bold; fie, Sir, remember;
I pray sit farther off;—
[Pg 321] I am gone, I confess ingenuously I am silenced,
The spirit of Amber cannot force me answer.
Yet where I fasten well I am a tyrant.
And fight with any man at any weapon,
Would the other were no more; but a pox on't,
When I was sometimes in my height of hope,
And reasonable valiant that way, my heart harden'd,
Some scornful jest or other chops between me
And my desire: what would ye have me to do then, Gentlemen?
And bring home such a Baby to betray ye
As bashfulness? a great fellow, and a Souldier?
Every man has not the like talent: I will study
And if it may be reveal'd to me.
And of Pinac: no doubt you'll find employment;
Ladies will look for Courtship.
But standing one good brunt or two: hast thou any mind to marriage?
We'l provide thee some soft-natur'd wench, that's dumb too.
And car'd not for Discourse, I were excellent at.
And stand all hazards; flye at all games bravely;
They'll say you went out like an Oxe, and return'd like an Ass else.
I know it is to marry, but my Father shall pardon me,
Although it be a witty Ceremony,
And may concern me hereafter in my Gravity;
I will not lose the freedom of a Traveller;
A new strong lusty Bark cannot ride at one Anchor;
[Pg 322] Shall I make divers suits to shew to the same eyes?
'Tis dull and home-spun; Study several pleasures,
And want employments for 'em? I'll be hang'd first;
Tye me to one smock? make my travels fruitless?
I'll none of that; for every fresh behaviour,
By your leave, Father, I must have a fresh Mistriss,
And a fresh favour too.
As many as you will, so they be willing,
Willing, and gentle, gentle.
A Gentleman, and a Traveller should be clapt up,
For 'tis a kind of Bæboes to be married
Before he manifest to the World his good parts:
Tug ever like a Rascal at one Oar?
Give me the Italian liberty.
And that I will enjoy; Come, go in Gentlemen,
There mark how I behave my self, and follow. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter La-Castre, Natolet, Lugie[r], Rosa Lieura, Lylia-Biancha.
Beshrew my blood they are fair ones; welcom Beauties,
Welcome, sweet Birds.
For certain, Sir, I much desire your Alliance:
You see 'em, they are no Gypsies, for their breeding,
It has not been so coarse, but they are able
To rank themselves with women of fair fashion;
Indeed they have been trained well.
To say more, is to sell 'em. They say your Son
Now he has travell'd must be wondrous curious,
And choice in what he takes: these are no coarse ones;
[Pg 323] Sir, here's a merry wench, let him look to himself,
(All heart, i'faith) may chance to startle him;
For all his care, and travell'd caution,
May creep into his Eye; if he love Gravity,
Affect a solemn face, there's one will fit him.
Else I would tell you, Sir, she is a Mistriss
Both of those manners and that modesty
You would wonder at: She is no often Speaker,
But when she does, she speaks well; Nor no Reveller,
Yet she can dance, and has studied the Court Elements,
And sings, as some say, handsomely; if a woman,
With the decency of her Sex, may be a Scholar,
I can assure ye, Sir, she understands too.
Yes, they are handsome women; they have handsome parts too;
Pretty becoming parts.
Had it abundantly; they need not blush at it;
I taught it, I'll avouch it.
I am no Trumpet of their Commendations
Before their Father; else I should say farther.
A man well bred and learn'd, but blunt and bitter,
Yet it offends no wise man; I take pleasure in't:
Many fair gifts he has, in some of which
That lye most easie to their understandings,
H'as handsomely bred up my Girls, I thank him.
I have put it to 'em, that's my part, I have urg'd it,
It seems they are of years now to take hold on't.
He's wondrous blunt.
Does he not fall out with the Gentlewomen sometimes?
[Pg 324]
Too hard for thy Husbands head if he wear not armour.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, De-Gard, [Belleur,] and Oriana.
Sure, as I live, he beats them, he's so puisant.
I know thou art a pretty wench; I know thou lov'st me,
Preserve it till we have a fit time to discourse on't,
And a fit place: I'll ease thy heart I warrant thee:
Thou seest I have much to do now.
With me ye shall have nothing on these conditions.
'Bless ye, ye are very welcome:
'Pray know this Gentleman,
And these fair Ladies.
I am much affected with your fair return, Sir;
You bring a general joy.
And these bright Beauties, Sir.
Welcome, with all my heart.
They'll look upon us, though we shew like strangers.
And this fair Gentlewoman: you are welcome from your Travel too.
All welcome, all.
The best Wealth we bring home: By your Favours, Beauties,
One of these two: you know my meaning.
They are fair and handsom, I must needs confess it;
[Pg 325] And let it prove the worst, I shall live after it,
Whilst I have meat and drink Love cannot starve me;
For if I dye o'th' first fit I am unhappy,
And worthy to be buried with my heels upward.
And every hour declining to my Grave,
One foot already in, more Sons I have not,
Nor more I dare not seek whilst you are worthy,
In you lies all my hope, and all my name,
The making good or wretched of my memory,
The safety of my state.
Out of this tenderness these handsom Gentlewomen,
Daughters to this rich man, to take my choice of?
Would ye were young again, and in full vigor;
I love a bounteous Fathers life, a long one,
I am none of those that when they shoot to ripeness,
Do what they can to break the boughs they grew on;
I wish ye many years and many Riches,
And pleasures to enjoy 'em: But for Marriage,
I neither yet believe in't, nor affect it,
Nor think it fit.
You would have me marry a Maid?
I never lov'd to prove those; nor never long'd yet
To be buried alive in another mans cold monument.
And there be maids appearing, and maids being:
The appearing are fantastick things, meer shadows;
And if you mark 'em well, they want their heads too;
Only the World to cozen misty eyes,
Has clapt 'em on new faces. The maids being,
A man may venture on, if he be so mad to marry;
If he have neither fear before his eyes, nor fortune;
And let him take heed how he gathers these too,
[Pg 326] For look ye, father, they are just like melons,
Musk-melons are the emblems of these maids;
Now they are ripe, now cut 'em, they taste pleasantly,
And are a dainty fruit, digested easily:
Neglect this present time, and come to morrow,
They are so ripe they are rotten gone, their sweetness
Run into humour, and their taste to surfeit.
And if I like their taste—
Lady, what think you of a handsom man now?
A handsom, wholsom man then, and a kind man,
To cheer your heart up, to rejoyce you, Lady?
Close as a Cockle? keep the cold nights from you?
I have known a Cobler do it, a poor thin Cobler;
A Cobler out of mouldy Cheese perform it,
Cabbage, and coarse black Bread; methinks a Gentleman
Should take foul scorn to have an awl outname him.
Two at a Birth? why, every house-Dove has it:
That man that feeds well, promises as well too,
I should expect indeed something of worth from.
Ye talk of two?
Like Buttons, at a Birth.
If you proclaim these offers at your Marriage,
You are a pretty timber'd man, take heed.
They may be taken hold of, and expected,
Yes, if not hoped for at a higher rate too.
Will make, no doubt, a good wife.
I marry her, and happily get nothing;
In what a state am I then? Father, I shall suffer
For any thing I hear to the contrary, more majorum,
I were as sure to be a Cuckold, Father,
A Gentleman of Antler.
I had rather get the Pox than get her Babies.
'Pray try the other; she's of a more demure way.
I love that plain-spoken Gentlewoman admirably,
And certain I could go as near to please her,
If down-right doing—she has a per'lous Countenance,
If I could meet one that would believe me,
And take my honest meaning without circumstance.
But 'twill be to small use. I hope, fair Lady
(For methinks in your eyes I see more mercy)
You will enjoin your Lover a less penance;
And though I'll promise much, as men are liberal,
And vow an ample sacrifice of service,
Yet your discretion, and your tenderness,
And thriftiness in Love, good huswives carefulness
To keep the stock entire—
That these may witness too ye talk of nothing,
I should be loth alone to bear the burthen
Of so much indiscretion.
Ods bobs, you are angry, Lady.
I never own'd an anger to lose poorly.
For all your set-austerity, to hear
Of a good husband, Lady?
[Pg 328] For by my troth, I have heard of none these ten years,
They are so rare, and there are so many, Sir,
So many longing-women on their knees too,
That pray the dropping down of these good husbands,
The droping down from heaven; for they are not bred [here],
That you may guess at all my hope, but hearing—
When ye came over the Alpes; those are near Heaven;
But since ye miss'd that happiness, there is no hope of ye.
That is, be honest, modest; I would have him valiant,
His anger slow, but certain for his honour;
Travell'd he should be, but through himself exactly;
For 'tis fairer to know manners well than Countries;
He must be no vain Talker, nor no Lover
To hear himself talk, they are brags of a wanderer,
Of one finds no retreict for fair behaviour;
Would ye learn more?
Fond Girls are got with tongues, women with tempers.
Go thy way good Wife Bias; sure thy Husband
Must have a strong Philosophers stone, he will ne'r please thee else.
Here's a starcht piece of austerity; do you hear, Father?
Do you hear this moral Lecture?
This thing must have the strangest observation,
Do you mark me (father?) when she is married once,
The strangest custom too of admiration
On all she does and speaks, 'twill be past sufferance;
I must not lie with her in common language,
Nor cry have at thee, Kate, I shall be hiss'd then;
Nor eat my meat without the sawce of sentences,
Your powder'd Beef, and Problems, a rare diet;
My first Son, Monsieur Aristotle, I know it,
Great Master of the Metaphysicks, or so;
[Pg 329] The second Solon, and the best Law-setter;
And I must look Egyptian God-fathers,
Which will be no small trouble: my eldest daughter
Sapho, or such a fidling kind of Poetess,
And brought up, invita Minerva, at her needle.
My dogs must look their names too, and all Spartan,
Lelaps, Melampus; no more Fox and Baudiface.
I married to a sullen set of sentences?
To one that weighs her words and her behaviours
In the gold-weights of discretion? I'll be hang'd first.
If they can set me any thing to play at,
That seems fit for a Gamester, have at the fairest
Till I see more, and try more.
I'll bar ye no fair liberty: come Gentlemen,
And Ladies come: to all once more welcome,
And now let's in to supper.
And mettle to my mind; Come, let's be merry.
Before ten words of hers.
Do you think he will be ever firm?
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, Belleur.
The state they bring with being sought to scurvey,
I had rather make mine own play, and I will do.
My happiness is in mine own content,
And the despising of such glorious trifles,
As I have done a thousand more. For my humour,
Give me a good free fellow, that sticks to me,
A jovial fair Companion; there's a Beauty:
[Pg 330] For women, I can have too many of them;
Good women too, as the Age reckons 'em,
More than I have employment for.
Against my nature, to conceal my self.
Health, and an able Body are two jewels.
I would think otherwise, and do accordingly:
Yes, and recant my heresies, I would fain, Sir;
And be more tender of opinion,
And put a little off my travel'd liberty
Out of the way, and look upon 'em seriously.
Methinks this grave carried wench.
The home-spoken Gentlewoman, that desires to be fruitful,
That treats of the full manage of the matter,
For there lies all my aim; that wench, methinks
If I were but well set on; for she is a fable,
If I were but hounded right, and one to teach me:
She speaks to th' matter, and comes home to th' point:
Now do I know I have such a body to please her,
As all the Kingdom cannot fit her with, I am sure on't,
If I could but talk my self into her favour.
You should see then how I would lay about me;
If I were vertuous, it would never grieve me,
Or any thing that might justifie my modesty,
But when my nature is prone to do a charitie,
And my calfs-tongue will not help me.
They cannot but take it courteously.
Though I am sure 'twill be the hardest I e're plaid yet,
A way I never try'd too, which will stagger me,
And if it do not shame me, I am happy.
[Pg 331] Or sing, or any thing that were but handsom,
I would be with her presently.
A merry ready wench.
She'l fleer me out of faith too.
Pluck up thy heart, I'le second thee at all brunts;
Be angry if she abuse thee, and beat her a little,
Some women are won that way.
And let me think: I am resolv'd to go on;
But how I shall get off again—
Thou wilt so please her, she will go near to ravish thee.
Warm but this frozen snow-ball, 'twill be a conquest
(Although I know thou art a fortunate Wencher,
And hast done rarely in thy daies) above all thy ventures.
And take thee off, and set thee on again, Boy;
And cherish thee, and stroak thee.
For I know I shall stick i'th' mire: if ye see us close once,
Be gone, and leave me to my fortune, suddenly,
For I am then determin'd to do wonders.
Farewel, and fling an old shooe: how my heart throbs!
Would I were drunk: Farewel Pinac; Heaven send us
A joyfull and a merry meeting, man.
And chear thy heart up; and remember Bellure
They are but women.
Enter Oriana.
No quiet for these creatures? Am I ordain'd
[Pg 332] To be devour'd quick by these she-Canibals?
Here's another they call handsom, I care not for her,
I ne'r look after her: when I am half tipled
It may be I should turn her, and peruse her,
Or in my want of women, I might call for her;
But to be haunted when I have no fancie,
No maw to th' matter—Now, why do you follow me?
Nor need you (out of scruple) ask that question,
If you remember ye, before your Travel
The contract you ty'd to me: 'tis my love, Sir,
That makes me seek ye, to confirm your memory,
And that being fair and good, I cannot suffer:
I come to give ye thanks too.
That constant nobleness.
Of Monsieur Natolets; those handsom Beauties,
Those two prime Ladies, that might well have prest ye,
If not to have broken, yet to have bow'd your promise,
I know it was for my sake, for your faith sake,
You slipt 'em off: your honesty compell'd ye.
And let me tell ye, Sir, it shew'd most handsomly.
Nothing intended that way of that nature;
I have more to do with my honesty than to fool it,
Or venture it in such leak barks as women;
I put 'em off, because I lov'd 'em not,
Because they are too queazie for my temper,
And not for thy sake, nor the Contract sake,
Nor vows, nor oaths; I have made a thousand of 'em,
They are things indifferent, whether kept or broken;
Meer venial slips, that grow not near the conscience;
Nothing concerns those tender parts; they are trifles;
For, as I think, there was never man yet hop'd for
Either constancie, or secrecie, from a woman,
Unless it were an Ass ordain'd for sufferance;
Nor to contract with such can be a Tial;
[Pg 333] So let them know again; for 'tis a Justice,
And a main point of civil policie,
What e're we say or swear, they being Reprobates,
Out of the state of faith, we are clear of all sides,
And 'tis a curious blindness to believe us.
And hold it positively, as a Principle,
As ye are strange things, and made of strange fires and fluxes,
So we are allow'd as strange wayes to obtain ye,
But not to hold; we are all created Errant.
I have tales of all sorts for all sorts of women,
And protestations likewise of all sizes,
As they have vanities to make us coxcombs;
If I obtain a good turn, so it is,
I am thankfull for it: if I be made an Ass,
The mends are in mine own hands, or the Surgeons,
And there's an end on't.
When I am high and lusty, I love thee cruelly:
After I have made a plenteous meal, and satisfi'd
My senses with all delicates, come to me,
And thou shalt see how I love thee.
I must not lose my liberty, dear Lady,
And like a wanton slave cry for more shackles.
What should I marry for? Do I want any thing?
Am I an inch the farther from my pleasure?
Why should I be at charge to keep a wife of mine own,
When other honest married men will ease me?
And thank me too, and be beholding to me:
Thou thinkst I am mad for a Maiden-head, thou art cozen'd;
Or if I were addicted to that diet
Can you tell me where I should have one? thou art eighteen now,
And if thou hast thy Maiden-head yet extant,
Sure 'tis as big as Cods-head: and those grave dishes
[Pg 334] I never love to deal withal: Do'st thou see this book here?
Look over all these ranks; all these are women,
Maids, and pretenders to Maiden-heads; these are my conquests,
All these I swore to marry, as I swore to thee,
With the same reservation, and most righteously,
Which I need not have done neither; for alas they made no scruple,
And I enjoy'd 'em at my will, and left 'em:
Some of 'em are married since, and were as pure maids again,
Nay o' my conscience better than they were bred for;
The rest fine sober women.
I hold it as commendable to be wealthy in pleasure,
As others do in rotten sheep, and pasture.
Enter de Gard.
No troth? nor modesty in men?
Why weeping thus? did I not prophesie?
Come tell me why—
You have been playing the wag with her.
She is crying for a cod-piece; is she gone?
Lord, what an Age is this! I was calling for ye,
For as I live I thought she would have ravish'd me.
She found not her name here, and cry'd down-right,
Because I would not pity her immediately,
And put her in my list.
They'l quarrel sooner for precedence here,
And take it in more dudgeon to be slighted,
Than they will in publique meetings; 'tis their natures:
[Pg 335] And alas I have so many to dispatch yet,
And to provide my self for my affairs too,
That in good faith—
Summe not your Travels up with vanities,
It ill becomes your expectation:
Temper your speech, Sir; whether your loose story
Be true, or false (for you are so free, I fear it)
Name not my Sister in't; I must not hear it;
Upon your danger name her not: I hold her
A Gentlewoman of those happy parts and carriage,
A good mans tongue may be right proud to speak her.
Do you hold her such a piece, she may not be play'd withal?
I have had an hundred handsomer and nobler,
Have su'd to me too for such a courtesie:
Your Sister comes i'th' rear: since ye are so angry,
And hold your Sister such a strong Recusant,
I tell ye I may do it, and it may be will too,
It may be have too, there's my free confession;
Work upon that now.
And work such stubborn work, should make your heart ake;
But I believe ye, as I ever knew ye,
A glorious talker, and a Legend maker
Of idle tales, and trifles; a depraver
Of your own truth; their honours fly about ye;
And so I take my leave, but with this caution,
Your sword be surer than your tongue, you'l smart else.
And I'le talk louder, and despise thy Sister;
Set up a Chamber-maid that shall out-shine her,
And carry her in my Coach too, and that will kill her.
Go get thy Rents up, go.
How they behave themselves, and then I'le study
What wench shall love me next, and when I'le lose her.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Pinac, and a Servant.
But servant to her horse, Sir.
The way to her chamber? or where I may conveniently
See her, or come to talk to her?
But the question is whether I will or no.
And this way she comes out; stand ye but here, Sir,
You have her at your prospect, or your pleasure.
May be she'll call ye sawcy scurvey fellow,
Or some such familiar name: 'may be she knows ye,
And will fling a Piss-pot at ye, or a Pantofle,
According as ye are in acquaintance: if she like ye,
'May be she'll look upon ye, 'may be no,
And two moneths hence call for ye.
She is monstrous proud then?
Of a small body, she has a mind well mounted.
Can ye speak Greek?
And talk of stars, and firmaments, and fire-drakes.
Do you remember who was Adams School-master,
And who taught Eve to spin? she knows all these,
And will run ye over the beginning o'th' world
As familiar as a Fidler.
Can ye sit seven hours together, and say nothing?
Which she will do, and when she speaks, speak Oracles;
[Pg 337] Speak things that no man understands, nor her self neither.
For naturally I bear a mirth about me.
If she see one laugh, she'll swound past Aqua vitæ:
Never come near her, Sir; if ye chance to venture,
And talk not like a Doctor, you are damn'd too;
I have told enough for your crown, and so good speed ye. [Ex.
As sure it seems she is; if I fall off now,
I shall be laugh'd at fearfully; if I go forward,
I can but be abus'd, and that I look for,
And yet I may hit right, but 'tis unlikely.
Stay, in what mood and figure shall I attempt her?
A careless way? no, no, that will not waken her;
Besides, her gravity will give me line still,
And let me lose my self; yet this way often
Has hit, and handsomly. A wanton method?
I, if she give it leave to sink into her consideration;
But there's the doubt: if it but stir her blood once,
And creep into the crannies of her phansie,
Set her a gog: but if she chance to slight it,
And by the pow'r of her modesty fling it back,
I shall appear the arrantst Rascal to her,
The most licentious knave, for I shall talk lewdly.
To bear my self austerely? rate my words,
And fling a general gravitie about me,
As if I meant to give Laws? but this I cannot do,
This is a way above my understanding;
Or if I could, 'tis odds she'll think I mock her;
For serious and sad things are ever still suspicious.
Well, I'le say something.
But learning I have none, and less good manners,
Especially for Ladies; well, I'le set my best face;
Enter Lilia, Petella.
I ever fear'd yet, the first face that shakes me,
[Pg 338]
This sullen cloud, it darkens my delights;
Come wench be free, and let the Musick warble,
Play me some lusty measure.
The very same I saw, the very woman,
The Gravitie I wonder'd at: Stay, stay,
Let me be sure; ne'r trust me, but she danceth,
Summer is in her face now, and she skippeth:
I'le go a little nearer.
Enter Mirabel.
This the austeritie ye put upon ye?
I'le see more o' this sport.
Call in for a merry, and a light Song,
And sing it with a liberal spirit.
Enter a Man.
Let's walk our selves: come wench, would we had a man or two.
She has put on this for the purpose; yet I will try her.
Madam, I would be loth my rude intrusion,
Which I must crave a pardon for—
Ye are very welcom, Sir, we want such a one;
Strike up again: I dare presume ye dance well:
Quick, quick, Sir, quick, the time steals on.
This is the finest Masque.
[Pg 339]
Come sing now, sing; for I know ye sing well,
I see ye have a singing face.
If I could, she'd never give me breath,
Madam would I might sit and recover.
Let's do things quickly, Sir, and handsomly,
Sit close wench, close, begin, begin. [Song.
Here's to ye a lusty health.
Would I were off again; I smell my misery;
I was never put to this rack; I shall be drunk too.
I thank Heaven that I have scap'd thee; To her Pinac;
For thou art as sure to have her, and to groan for her—
I'le see how my other youth does; this speeds trimly:
A fine grave Gentlewoman, and worth much honour. [Exit.
And put on sadder dispositions,
Yet we are compounded of free parts, and sometimes too
Our lighter, airie, and our fierie mettles
Break out, and shew themselves; and what think you of that Sir?
And then I'le tell ye.
Up, and walk; be still in action.
The motions of the body are fair beauties,
Besides 'tis cold; ods-me Sir, let's walk faster,
What think ye now of the Lady Felicia?
And Bella-fronte the Dukes fair Daughter? ha?
Are they not handsom things? there is Duarta,
And brown Olivia.
[Pg 340]
Had kept her self till this day from a Husband,
Why what a Beauty, Sir! you know Ismena
The fair Jem of Saint Germans?
How unlike a Gentleman—
In troth I have sprain'd my leg, Madam.
And tell me why ye came hither, why ye chose me out?
What is your business? your errant? dispatch, dispatch!
'May be ye are some Gentlemans man, and I mistook ye,
That have brought me a Letter, or a haunch of Venison,
Sent me from some friend of mine.
You might allow me what I am, a Gentleman.
You are new come out of Travel, I mistook ye;
And how do all our impudent friends in Italie?
Service, and honour to ye.
Ye see I am merry, Sir, I have chang'd my copy:
None of the Sages now, and 'pray ye proclaim it,
Fling on me what aspersion you shall please, Sir,
Of wantonness, or wildness, I look for it;
And tell the world I am an hypocrite,
Mask in a forc'd and borrow'd shape, I expect it;
But not to have you believ'd; for mark ye, Sir,
I have won a nobler estimation,
A stronger tie by my discretion
Upon opinion (how e're you think I forced it)
Than either tongue or art of yours can slubber,
And when I please I will be what I please, Sir,
So I exceed not Mean; and none shall brand it
Either with scorn or shame, but shall be slighted.
[Pg 341]
And when I want observers, I'll send for ye:
Heigh, ho; my fit's almost off, for we do all by fits, Sir:
If ye be weary, sit till I come again to ye. [Exit.
Either what to think, or make of her; she had her will of me,
And baited me abundantly, I thank her,
And I confess I never was so blur[t]ed,
Nor ever so abus'd; I must bear mine own sins;
Ye talk of Travels, here's a curious Country,
Yet I will find her out, or forswear my facultie. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Rosalura, and Oriana.
Thus like a girl, and give him leave to triumph—
Sink under his proud scornings, he'll laugh at ye:
For me secure your self; and for my Sister,
I partly know her mind too: howsoever
To obey my Father we have made a tender
Of our poor beauties to the travel'd Monsieur;
Yet two words to a bargain; he slights us
As skittish things, and we shun him as curious.
May be my free behaviour turns his stomach,
And makes him seem to doubt a loose opinion.
I must be so sometimes, though all the world saw it.
As long as here ye stand secure.
As long as mine own Conscience makes no question,
What care I for Report? That Woman's miserable
That's good or bad for their tongues sake: Come let's retire.
And get my veil Wench: By my troth your sorrow,
And the consideration of mens humorous maddings,
Have put me into a serious contemplation.
Enter Mirabel and Belleur.
Sneaking, and peaking, as thou would'[st] steal linnen?
Hast thou not place and time?
Studied, and almost ready, and your violence
Has beat it out of my brains.
Go me on like a man.
How has Pinac performed?
He stands not thrumming of caps thus.
What a cold I have over my stomach; would I had some Hum.
Certain I have a great mind to be at her:
A mighty mind.
For I will not be abused by both.
I will not trouble you, I see you are valiant,
And work your own way.
I will 'faith, I will go presently:
Will ye forsake me now and leave me i'th' suds?
You know I am false-hearted this way; I beseech ye,
Good sweet Mirabel; I'le cut your throat if ye leave me,
Indeed I will sweet heart.
Still at thine elbow; take a mans heart to thee,
And speak thy mind: the plainer still the better.
She is a woman of that free behaviour,
Indeed that common courtesie, she cannot deny thee;
Go bravely on.
[Pg 343]
Still at my back. Madam, sweet Madam—
What noise is that, what saucy sound to trouble me?
What are we born to? would ye speak with any of my people?
Go in, Sir, I am busie.
Is this two Children at a Birth? I'le be hang'd then:
Mine was a merry Gentlewoman, talkt daintily,
Talkt of those matters that befitted women;
This is a parcel-pray'r-book; I'm serv'd sweetly;
And now I am to look too; I was prepar'd for th' other way.
Should wander up and down and want employment.
To stay this wanderer, and set him a work, forsooth,
He can do something that may please your Ladiship.
I have heard of Women that desire good breedings,
Two at a birth, or so.
Sure this is want of grace; indeed 'tis great pity
The young man has been bred so ill; but this lewd Age
Is full of such examples.
And some shall rue the setting of me on.
Turn'd holy at the heart too? I'le be hang'd then:
Why this is such a feat, such an activity,
Such fast and loose: a veyl too for your Knavery?
O dio, dio!
[Pg 344]
How e're ye seem, and thus ye are to be handled.
Mark me Belleur, and this you love, I know it.
Jewels, love Feasts, and Masques.
Ye are to be lull'd.
I will 'faith; for though I cannot skill o'this matter
My self, I will not see another do it before me,
And do it worse.
You have travell'd far, Sir, to return again
A windy and poor Bladder: you talk of Women,
That are not worth the favour of a common one;
The grace of her grew in an Hospital:
Against a thousand such blown fooleries
I am able to maintain good Womens honours,
Their freedoms, and their fames, and I will do it.
Against your base malicious tongues; your noises;
For they are nothing else: You teach behaviours?
Or touch us for our freedoms? teach your selves manners,
Truth and sobriety, and live so clearly
That our lives may shine in ye; and then task us:
It seems ye are hot, the suburbs will supply ye.
Good Women scorn such Gamesters; so I'le leave ye,
I am sorry to see this: 'faith Sir, live fairly. [Exit.
'Tis almost possible: we'll have a new day.
I am asham'd, I am scorn'd, I am flurted; yes, I am so:
Though I cannot talk to a woman like your worship,
And use my phrases, and my learned figures,
Yet I can fight with any man.
[Pg 345]
And I will fight.
For all men now will laugh at me.
Never tell me, I will not be a History.
And let me see the proudest of ye jeer me,
And I'le begin with you first.
If I do not satisfie thee—
But now I think on't better, 'tis impossible;
I must beat some body, I am maul'd my self,
And I ought in justice—
But walk, and let me talk to thee.
And see that no man laugh upon no occasion;
For I shall think then 'tis at me.
A pox on't, I must fight.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter De Gard, and Leverdure, alias Lugier.
What I am, I am; I pity your poor Sister,
And heartily I hate these Travellers,
[Pg 346] These Gim-cracks, made of Mops, and Motions:
There's nothing in their houses here but hummings;
A Bee has more brains. I grieve, and vex too
The insolent licentious carriage
Of this out-facing fellow, Mirabell,
And I am mad to see him prick his plumes up.
Since he has begun with wit, let wit revenge it;
Keep your sword close, we'll cut his throat a new way.
I am asham'd the Gentlewoman should suffer
Such base lewd wrongs.
And left to your revenge.
He makes a common scorn of handsome Women;
Modesty, and good manners are his May-games:
He takes up Maidenheads with a new Commission;
The Church warrant's out of date: follow my Counsel,
For I am zealous in the Cause.
And will be still directed: for the truth is
My Sword will make my Sister seem more monstrous:
Besides there is no honour won on Reprobates.
Sets me a fire too: go I'le prepare your Sister,
And as I told ye.
See that observ'd; and then.
Enter Lillia, Rosalure, and Oriana.
We thank ye, Sir, ye have set us off most gallantly
With your grave precepts.
Out of your Documents, and taught behaviours;
Excellent Husbands, thought men would run stark mad on us,
Men of all Ages, and all states: we expected
An Inundation of desires, and offers,
A Torrent of trim Suitors: all we did,
Or said, or purpos'd to be Spells about us,
Spells to provoke—
We follow'd your directions, we did rarely,
We were Stately, Coy, Demure, Careless, Light, Giddy,
And play'd at all points: This you swore would carry.
With such a reverent put-on Reservation
Which could not miss according to your Principles,
Now gave more hope again. Now close, now publick,
Still up and down, we beat it like a Billow;
And ever those behaviours you read to us,
Subtil, and new. But all this will not help us.
They have frighted off all Friends: what am I better
For all my Learning, if I love a Dunce,
A handsome dunce? to what use serves my Reading?
You should have taught me what belongs to Horses,
Doggs, Dice, Hawks, Banquets, Masks, free and fair Meetings,
To have studied Gowns and Dressings.
I'le take mine own way now.
We may live Maids else till the Moon drop Mil-stones;
I see your modest Women are taken for monsters,
A Dowry of good breeding is worth nothing.
And ye shall see how I'le convert this Heretick;
Mark how this Mirabell—
[Pg 348]
For, though I long for a Husband, I hate him,
And would be marryed sooner to a Monkey,
Or to a Jack of Straw, than such a Juggler.
And plays at fast and loose too learnedly
For a plain-meaning Woman; that's the truth on't.
Here's one too, that we love well, would be angry;
And reason why: No, no, we will not trouble ye
Nor him, at this time: may he make you happy.
We'll turn our selves loose now, to our fair fortunes,
And the down-right way.
We'll bait, that men may bite fair, and not be frighted;
Yet we'll not be carryed so cheap neither: we'll have some sport,
Some mad-Morris or other for our mony, Tutor.
Ye are old enough to choose: But for this Gentlewoman,
So please her, give me leave.
To find a friend, whose pity may direct me.
But then ye must be ruled.
And hunts the recovery of a lost Lover deadly.
Here ye can know no more.
And all our Fortunes, arrive at our own wishes.
He is within: to do her good, take any thing,
Take us, and all.
And so we'll leave ye to your own disposes. [Exeunt.
[Pg 349]
A safe, and sure way too: and yet a by-way,
I must confess I have a great mind to be married.
And would as fain be dispatch'd. But this Monsieur Quicksilver.
There is no safety in his Surquedrie:
An Army-Royal of women, are too few for him,
He keeps a Journal of his Gentleness,
And will go near to print his fair dispatches,
And call it his triumph over time and women:
Let him pass out of memory: what think ye
Of his two Companions?
A little modestie he has brought home with him,
And might be taught in time some handsom duty.
A free light touch or two becomes a Gentleman,
And sets him seemly off: so he exceed not,
But keep his compass, clear he may be lookt at;
I would not marry a man that must be taught,
And conjur'd up with kisses; the best game
Is plaid still by the best Gamesters.
What talk hast thou?
Why should we be asham'd to speak what we think? thy Gentleman
The tall fat fellow; he that came to see thee.
H'as weight enough I warrant thee: Mercy upon me;
What a Serpent wilt thou seem under such a S. George.
Brings substance with him; needs no Broths to Lare him:
These little fellows shew like Fleas in boxes,
Hop up and down, and keep a stir to vex us;
Give me the puissant Pike, take you the small shot.
A bashfulness, which is a point of grace, wench:
But when these fellows come to moulding, Sister,
To heat, and handling: as I live, I like him;
Enter Mirabel.
Sweet wits: sweet humours: 'Bless you, learned Lady,
And you, most holy Nun; 'Bless your Devotions.
They are in Trav[ail], may they be delivered
Of a most hopeful Wild-Goose.
They say ye are a Gentleman of action,
A fair accomplish'd man; and a rare Engineer,
You have a trick to blow up Maidenheads,
A subtle trick, they say abroad.
I have a speedy trick: please you to try it:
My Engine will dispatch ye instantly.
As there be such, no doubt, may Engine you too;
May with a Counter-mine blow up your valour:
But in good faith, Sir, we are both too honest:
And the plague is, we can not be perswaded:
For, look ye: if we thought it were a glory
To be the last of all your lovely Ladies.
This pride, and pufft-up heart, will make ye fast, Ladies,
Fast, when ye are hungry too.
Have made men stand amaz'd; those men that lov'd ye;
Men of fair States and parts; your strange conventions
Into I know not what, nor how, nor wherefore;
[Pg 351] Your scorns of those that came to visit ye;
Your studied Whim-whams; and your fine set faces:
What have these got ye? proud, and harsh opinions:
A Travel'd-Monsieur, was the strangest Creature,
The wildest Monster to be wondred at:
His Person made a publique Scoff, his knowledge,
(As if he had been bred 'mongst Bears or Bandoggs)
Shunn'd and avoided: his conversation snuft at.
What Harvest brings all this?
An understanding Gentleman, and a Monsieur
Is to be held, and to your griefs confess it,
Both to your griefs, and galls.
We would be glad to understand your excellence.
For me, I have blest me from ye, scoff on seriously,
And note the Man ye mock'd: you, (Lady Learning)
Note the poor Traveller, that came to visit ye,
That flat unfurnish'd fellow: note him throughly,
You may chance to see him anon.
Held dear, and honour'd by a vertuous virgin,
May be a Beautie, not far short of yours, neither
It may be, clearer.
As killing eyes as yours: a wit as poynant
May be, a State to that may top your Fortune;
Enquire how she thinks of him, how she holds him;
His good parts; in what precious price already;
Being a stranger to him, how she courts him;
A stranger to his Nation too, how she dotes on him:
Enquire of this; be sick to know: Curse, Lady,
And keep your chamber: cry, and curse: a sweet one,
A thousand in yearly land; well bred; well friended:
Travell'd, and highly followed for her fashions.
[Pg 352]
I think they call his name Pinac; this serving-man
That brought ye Venison, as I take it, Madam;
Note but this Scab; 'tis strange that this course creature,
That has no more set off, but his jugglings,
His travell'd tricks.
Nor envy not his fortune: yet I wonder,
He's handsom; yet I see no such perfection.
Of that sweet temper'd nature, and that judgment,
Besides her state, that care, clear understanding,
And such a wife to bless him.
So modest that mens eyes are frighted at her,
And such a noble carriage. How now Sirrah?
Enter a Boy.
Where you may see her plain: Monsieur Pinac,
The only man that leads her.
Enter Pinac, Mariana, and Attendants.
Would I had such a favour: now vex Ladies,
Envy, and vex, and rail.
A sweet and delicate aspect: mark, mark, and wonder!
Hast thou any hope of her?
She is well.
A well bred woman, I warrant her.
May I crave this Gentlewomans name?
For making me your Stale: a noble Gentleman
Would have had more courtesie; at least, more faith,
Than to turn off his Mistris at first trial:
You know not what respect I might have shew'd ye;
I find ye have worth.
Ye see my charge: I am beholding to ye
For all your merry tricks ye put upon me,
Your bobs, and base accounts: I came to love ye,
To wooe ye, and to serve ye; I am much indebted to ye
For dancing me off my legs; and then for walking me;
For telling me strange tales I never heard of,
More to abuse me; for mistaking me,
When ye both knew I was a Gentleman,
And one deserv'd as rich a match as you are.
She is young enough, and fair enough to please me,
A woman of a loving mind, a quiet,
And one that weighs the worth of him that loves her,
I am content with this, and bless my fortune,
Your curious Wits, and Beauties.
And in your bitterness, ye may abuse her;
[Pg 354] Which if she comes to know, (for she understands ye not)
It may breed such a quarrel to your kindred,
And such an indiscretion fling on you too;
For she is nobly friended.
And afford your honest neighbours some of your prayers. [Exit.
She has got a pretty catch too.
Monstrous angry now; grievously angry;
And the pretty heart does swell now.
And it will curse it self: and eat no meat, Lady;
And it will fight.
It will be very merry.
There are no more men living, nor no handsomer
Than he, or you, By this light there be ten thousand?
Ten thousand thousand: comfort your self, dear Monsieur,
Faces, and bodies, Wits, and all Abiliments
There are so many we regard 'em not.
Enter Belleur, and two Gentlemen.
So far above such trifles?
And I know why ye laughed.
If we did laugh, we had some private reason,
And not at you.
Stand this way, and look sad; I'le be no May-game;
Sadder; demurer yet.
And not a simper on your lives.
You are strangely humorous: is there no mirth, nor pleasure,
But you must be the object?
Where ever I am nam'd;
The very word shall raise a general sadness,
For the disgrace this scurvy woman did me;
This proud pert thing; take heed ye laugh not at me;
Provoke me not, take heed.
Do any thing to keep ye quiet.
Till I receive a satisfaction
Equal to the disgrace, and scorn ye gave me:
Ye are a wretched woman; till thou woo'st me,
And I scorn thee asmuch, as seriously
Jear, and abuse thee; ask what Gill thou art;
Or any baser name; I will proclaim thee;
I will so sing thy vertue; so be-paint thee.
Because ye are a woman ye are lawless,
And out of compass of an honest anger.
Than falling out with your friends?
And thou shalt see how prosperously 'twill guide thee.
I never should have made a civil Suiter.
Well, I'le about it still. [Exit.
[Pg 356]
What sport do I make with these fools! What pleasure
Feeds me, and fats my sides at their poor innocence!
Enter Leverduce, alias Lugier, Mr. Illiard.
Witty and dainty mirth: I shall grow in love sure
With mine own happy head. Who's this? To me, Sir?
What youth is this?
If your name be Monsieur Mirabel.
Your business, I beseech ye?
There is a Gentlewoman hath long time affected ye,
And lov'd ye dearly.
'Tis long enough: I have no faith in women, Sir.
Or sing her praises, though she well deserve 'em,
I come to tell ye, ye have been cruel to her,
Unkind and cruel, falser of faith, and careless,
Taking more pleasure in abusing her,
Wresting her honour to your wild disposes,
Than noble in requiting her affection:
Which, as ye are a man, I must desire ye
(A Gentleman of rank) not to persist in,
No more to load her fair name with your injuries.
And I'le be short: I'le tell ye, because I love ye,
Because I would have you shun the shame may follow:
There is a noble man, new come to Town, Sir,
A noble and a great man that affects her,
A Cou[n]trey-man of mine, a brave Savoyan,
Nephew to th'Duke, and so much honours her,
That 'twill be dangerous to pursue your old way,
To touch at any thing concerns her honour,
Believe, most dangerous: her name is Oriana,
And this great man will marry her: take heed, Sir;
[Pg 357] For howsoe'r her Brother, a staid Gentleman,
Lets things pass upon better hopes, this Lord, Sir,
Is of that fiery, and that poynant metal,
(Especially provok'd on by affection)
That 'twill be hard: but you are wise.
This will not stir her Lord; a Barronness,
Say ye so; say ye so? by'r Lady, a brave title;
Top, and top gallant now; 'save her great Ladiship.
I was a poor servant of hers, I must confess, Sir,
And in those daies, I thought I might be jovy,
And make a little bold to call into her:
But Basto, now; I know my rules and distance;
Yet, if she want an Usher; such an implement;
One that is throughly pac'd; a clean made Gentleman;
Can hold a hanging up; with approbation
Plant his hat formally, and wait with patience
I do beseech you, Sir.
And as ye are a Gentleman, deal fairly:
I have given ye a friends counsel, so I'le leave ye.
I may believe what you say?
No Pitfals to catch Puppies?
You may believe; if not, stand to the danger. [Exeunt.
A man so mighty? By 'Lady a fair marriage;
By my faith, a handsom fortune: I must leave prating;
For to confess the truth, I have abused her,
For which I should be sorry, but that will seem scurvy;
I must confess, she was ever since I knew her
As modest, as she was fair: I am sure she lov'd me;
Her means good; and her breeding excellent;
And for my sake she has refus'd fair matches:
I may play the fool finely. Stay who are these?
Enter De-Gard, Oriana, and Attendants.
He carries a fair Port; is a handsom man too:
I do begin to feel, I am a Coxcomb.
I am so far below your rank and honour,
That what ye can say this way, I must credit
But spoken to beget your self sport: Alas, Sir,
I am so far off from deserving you,
My beauty so unfit for your Affection,
That I am grown the scorn of common Railers,
Of such injurious things, that when they cannot
Reach at my person, lie with my reputation:
I am poor besides.
And none but such as are the scum of men,
The Ulcers of an honest state; Spight-weavers,
That live on poyson only, like swoln spiders,
Dare once profane such excellence, such sweetness.
Let me but know these poor, and base depravers;
Lay but to my revenge their persons open,
And you shall see how suddenly, how fully
For your most beauteous sake, how direfully
I'le handle their despights. Is this thing one?
Be what he will.
This Gentleman's a stranger to my knowledge,
And no doubt, Sir, a worthy man.
But had he been a tainter of your honour;
A blaster of those beauties raign within ye;
But we shall find a fitter time: dear Lady,
[Pg 359] As soon as I have freed ye from your Guardian,
And done some honour'd offices unto ye,
I'le take ye with those faults the world flings on ye;
And dearer than the whole world I'le esteem ye. [Exeunt.
How lovingly the wench disclaim'd my villany!
I am vext now heartily that he shall have her;
Not that I care to marry, or to lose her;
But that this Bilbo-Lord shall reap that Maiden-head
That was my due; that he shall rig and top her;
I'de give a thousand Crowns now, he might miss her.
Enter a Servant.
You have good luck, Sir; I'le teach ye to strike lighter.
Where this great Lord lies? This Savoy Lord? Thou met'st him;
He now went by thee certain.
I know him; and I know you are fool'd.
Here's all this, give me truth.
(And yet that may do much) but I have been beaten:
And by the worshipfull Contrivers beaten, and I'le tell ye;
This is no Lord, no Savoy Lord.
By one Lugier; the Lord is Monsieur de-Gard, Sir;
An honest Gentleman, and a neighbour here;
Their ends you understand better than I, sure.
Know him now plain.
All the whole cast on's face, though 'twere umber'd,
And mask'd with patches: what a dunder-whelp
To let him domineer thus: how he strutted,
And what a load of Lord he clapt upon him!
Would I had him here again, I would so bounce him,
[Pg 360] I would so thank his Lordship for his lewd plot:
Do they think to carry it away, with a great band made of bird-pots,
And a pair of pin-buttockt breeches? Ha! 'Tis he again.
He comes, he comes, he comes; have at him.
Enter de-Gard, Oriana, &c.
And will that favour never sweeter be?
Wilt thou I say, for ever play the fool?
de-Gard be wise, and Savoy go to School.
My Lord de-Gard, I thank ye for your Antick;
My Lady bright, that will be sometimes Frantick;
You worthy Train, that wait upon this Pair,
'Send you more wit, and they a bouncing Baire
And so I take my humble leave of your honours. [Exit.
Lilia Biancha's man upon my life,
In stubbornness, because Lugier corrected him.
(A shameless slaves plague on him for a Rascal.)
He will make mirth on mirth, to persecute us.
I'le try once more; then if I fail: Here's one speaks.
Away, and let me shift; I shall be hooted else. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Lugier, Lilia, Servants.
Believe me too, for what I have told ye, Lady,
As true as you are Lilia, is Authentick;
I know it; I have found it; 'tis a poor courage
Flies off for one repulse; these Travellers
Shall find before we have done, a home-spun wit,
A plain French understanding may cope with 'em;
They have had the better yet, thank your sweet Squire, here;
[Pg 361] And let 'em brag: you would be reveng'd?
You know how to proceed: I have other Irons
Heating as well as yours: and I will strike
Three blows with one Stone home, be rul'd, and happie;
And so I leave ye. Now is the time.
If he do come to do me.
And let the people think, ye are God knows what Mistris?
Let Boys, and Prentices presume upon ye?
If any of the Mad-cap Gentlemen should come by
That take up women upon speciall warrant,
You were in a wise case now.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, Mariana, Priest, Attendants.
And wait you here.
I told thee what would follow; she is mad for thee;
Shew, and advance. So early stirring Lady?
It shews a busie mind, a fancie troubled:
A willow Garland too? Is't possible?
'Tis pity so much beautie should lie mustie,
But 'tis not to be help'd now.
Good fortune to ye, Ladie, you deserve it:
To me, too late Repentance; I have sought it:
I do not envy, though I grieve a little,
You are Mistris of that happiness, those Joyes
That might have been, had I been wise: but fortune.
And do not cross me like a Hare thus, 'tis as ominous.
[Pg 362]
Though ye made shew of Love, and though I lik'd ye
To claim an interest; we are yet both Strangers,
But what we might have been, had you persever'd, Sir,
To be an eye-sore to your loving Lady;
This garland shews, I give my self forsaken;
(Yet she must pardon me, 'tis most unwillingly:)
And all the power and interest I had in ye;
As I perswade my self, somewhat ye lov'd me;
Thus patiently I render up, I offer
To her that must enjoy ye: and so bless ye;
Only, I heartily desire this Courtesie,
And would not be deni'd: to wait upon ye
This day, to see ye ty'd, then no more trouble ye.
And a most ready will to do you service.
She will hang her self, if she have thee not.
Entertain my noble Mistris: only a word or two
With this importunate woman, and I'le relieve ye.
Now ye see what your flings are, and your fancies,
Your states, and your wild stubborness, now ye [fi]nd
What 'tis to gird and kick at mens fair services,
To raise your pride to such a pitch, and glory
That goodness shews like gnats, scorn'd under ye,
'Tis ugly, naught, a self will in a woman,
Chain'd to an over-weening thought, is pestilent,
Murthers fair fortune first; then fair opinion:
There stands a Pattern, a true patient Pattern,
Humble, and sweet.
Repentance some say too, is the best sacrifice;
For sure, Sir, if my chance had been so happy,
(As I confess I was mine own destroyer)
[Pg 363] As to have arrived at you; I will not prophesie,
But certain, as I think, I should have pleas'd ye;
Have made ye as much wonder at my courtesie,
My love, and duty, as I have dishearten'd ye,
Some hours we have of youth, and some of folly;
And being free-born Maids, we take a liberty,
And to maintain that, sometimes we strain highly.
Married, and those light vanities purg'd from us;
How fair we grow, how gentle, and how tender,
We twine about those loves that shoot-up with us!
A sullen woman fear, that talks not to ye;
She has a sad and darkn'd soul, loves dully:
A merry and a free wench, give her liberty;
Believe her in the lightest form she appears to ye,
Believe her excellent, though she despise ye,
Let but these fits and flashes pass, she will shew to ye;
As Jewels rub'd from dust, or Gold new burnish'd:
Such had I been, had you believ'd.
If True love be accounted so; your pleasure,
Your will, and your command had tyed my Motions:
But that hope's gone; I know you are young, and giddy,
And till you have a Wife can govern with ye,
You sail upon this wo[r]ld-Sea, light and empty;
Your Bark in danger daily; 'tis not the name neither
Of Wife can steer ye; but the noble nature,
The diligence, the care, the love, the patience,
She makes the Pilot, and preserves the Husband,
That knows, and reckons every Rib he is built on;
But this I tell ye, to my shame.
And now am sorry, that I aim beyond ye.
She comes now, without Lure.
Be reckon'd to me as a wantonness,
Or worse, a madness, to forsake a Blessing,
[Pg 364] A Blessing of that hope.
And yet, dear Sir.
If 'twere in my own choice, for you are my country-woman,
A Neighbour, here born by me, she a Stranger;
And who knows how her friends?
If ye be fast; not all the World; I love ye,
'Tis most true, and clear, I would perswade ye;
And I shall love you still.
So much you have won upon me; do it presently:
Here's a Priest ready; I'll have you.
No, you shall pardon me; advance your Lady,
I dare not hinder your most high Preferment,
'Tis honour enough for me I have unmask'd ye.
Nor no great Traveller, yet I have found ye,
I have found your Lady too, your beauteous Lady;
I have found her birth and breeding too, her discipline;
Who brought her over, and who kept your Lady;
And when he laid her by, what vertuous Nunnery
Receiv'd her in; I have found all these: are ye blank now?
Methinks such travel'd wisdoms should not fool thus;
Such excellent indiscretions.
And so I hope you'll find her, to your comfort,
Alas, I am ignorant of what she cost ye;
The price of these hired cloaths I do not know Gentlemen;
Those Jewels are the Brokers, how ye stand bound for 'em.
That she is an Engl[i]sh Whore, a kind of fling dust,
One of your London Light o' Loves; a right one,
Came over in thin Pumps, and half a Petticoat,
One Faith, and one Smock, with a broken Haberdasher;
[Pg 365] I know all this without a Conjurer;
Her name is jumping-Joan, an ancient Sin-Weaver;
She was first a Ladies Chamber-maid, there slip'd
And broke her leg above the knee; departed
And set up shop her self. Stood the fierce Conflicts
Of many a furious Term; there lost her colours,
And last ship'd over hither.
To stir me with a stink none can endure, Sir?
I pray ye proceed, the Wedding will become ye;
Who gives the Lady? you? an excellent Father;
A careful man, and one that knows a Beauty,
'Send ye fair Shipping, Sir, and so I'll leave ye,
Be wise and manly, then I may chance to love ye. [Exit.
Monstrous asham'd, but there's no remedy,
This skew'd eye'd Carrion.
Come, come, uncase, we have no more use of ye;
Your Cloaths must back again.
'Tis not our English use to be degraded;
If you will visit me, and take your venture,
You shall have pleasure for your properties;
And so sweet heart.
We have never better luck with these preludiums;
Come, be not daunted; think she is but a woman,
And let her have the Devils wit, we'll reach her. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Rosalure, and Lugier.
And ye stand fair again.
And sweat in your affairs; I am sure Belleur
Will be here instantly, and use his anger,
[Pg 366] His wonted harshness.
With patience to outdo all he can offer;
But how does Oriana?
There is a sad house for her: she is now,
Poor Lady, utterly distracted.
Infinite pity! 'tis a handsome Lady,
That Mirabel's a Beast, worse than a Monster,
If this affliction work not.
Enter Lilia Biancha.
Belleur is coming on, here, hard behind me,
I have no leisure to relate my Fortune.
Only I wish you may come off as handsomely,
Upon the sign you know what. [Exit.
Enter Belleur.
That Court'sie again, and hold your Countenance stai'dly;
That look's too light; take heed: so, sit ye down now,
And to confirm me that your Gall is gone,
Your bitterness dispers'd, for so I'll have it:
Look on me stedfastly, and whatsoe'r I say unto ye,
Move not, nor alter in your face, ye are gone then:
For if you do express the least distaste,
Or shew an angry wrinkle, mark me, woman,
We are now alone, I will so conjure thee;
The third part of my Execution
Cannot be spoke.
But touch me not, nor do not lie I charge ye.
[Pg 367] Begin now.
May ever hope the Grace.
Like a lewd thing ye lie: may hope that grace?
Why, what grace canst thou hope for? Answer not,
For if thou dost, and liest again I'll swindge thee:
Do not I know thee for a pestilent Woman?
A proud at both ends? Be not angry,
Nor stir not o' your life.
As much unworthy of a man of merit,
Or any of ye all? Nay, of meer man?
Though he were crooked, cold, all wants upon him:
Nay, of any dishonest thing that bears that figure:
As Devils are of mercy?
And is it not our bounty that we take ye?
That we are troubled, vex'd, or tortur'd with ye?
Our meer and special bounty?
That for your wickedness we swindge ye soundly;
Your stubbornness, and your stout hearts, we be-labour ye,
Answer to that.
(Thou Impudent, thou Pert; do not change countenance.)
I am a Gentleman.
It was my weakness, Sir, I did not view ye,
I took no notice of your noble parts,
[Pg 368] Nor call'd your person, nor your proper fashion.
And study to deserve.
Canst thou repent thy villainy?
Cry monstrously, that all the Town may hear thee;
Cry seriously, as if thou hadst lost thy Monkey;
And as I like thy tears.
Enter Lilia, and four Women laughing.
Have ye broke your bounds again, Dame?
And laugh most heartily.
Is Hell broke loose, and all the Furies flutter'd?
Am I greas'd once again?
And once again ye shall be, if ye quarrel;
Do you come to vent your fury on a Virgin?
Is this your Manhood, Sir?
Let's see the utmost of his indignation,
I long to see him angry; Come, proceed, Sir.
Hang him, he dares not stir, a man of Timber.
To threaten Gentlewomen? Thou a man? A May-pole,
A great dry Pudding.
Be angry if thou darst.
[Pg 369] Or give us one foul word. We are all mistaken,
This is some mighty Dairy-maid in Mans Cloaths.
A Gentleman, Civility, and Breeding:
Some Tinkers Trull, with a Beard glew'd on.
And as we find him.
Sweet Christian-women.
If e'r I talk again of beating Women,
Or beating any thing that can but turn to me;
Of ever thinking of a handsome Lady
But vertuously and well; of ever speaking
But to her honour; This I'll promise ye,
I will take Rhubarb, and purge Choler mainly,
Abundantly I'll purge.
I will do any thing.
When ye come next to woo, 'pray come not boisterously,
And furnish'd like a Bear-ward.
I will appear a Gentleman.
For a true noble Gentleman's a brave thing;
Upon that hope we quit ye. You fear seriously?
And honour ye, and any thing.
[Exeunt.
Enter two Gentlemen.
Sure if I had provok'd 'em, they had quarter'd me.
I am a most ridiculous Ass, now I perceive it:
A Coward, and a Knave too.
Let's set our Faces right.
And laugh aloud.
And beat me if you please.
A Coxcomb, and a Calf.
Kick me a little now: Why, when? Sufficient:
Now laugh aloud, and scorn me; so good b'ye;
And ever when ye meet me laugh.
SCENE III.
Enter Nantolet, La-Castre, De-Gard, Lugier, Mirabel.
So stony and so dull to such a Lady,
Of her Perfections, and her Misery?
For your sake only, her most pitied lunacie
Of all but you, shew ye? does it not compel ye?
The least touch of a noble heart.
It is his glory that he can kill Beauty,
Ye bear my Stamp, but not my Tenderness;
Your wild unsavoury Courses set that in ye!
For shame, be sorry, though ye cannot cure her,
[Pg 371] Shew something of a Man, of a fair Nature.
You take a strange felicity in slighting
And wronging Women, which my poor Sister feels now,
Heavens hand be gentle on her: Mark me, Sir,
That very hour she dies, there's small hope otherwise,
That minute you and I must grapple for it,
Either your life or mine.
I am not to be wrought on by these policies,
In truth I am not; Nor do I fear the tricks,
Or the high sounding threats of a Savoyan;
I glory not in Cruelty, ye wrong me;
Nor grow up water'd with the tears of Women;
This let me tell ye, howsoe'r I shew to ye,
Wild, as ye please to call it, or self-will'd;
When I see cause I can both do and suffer,
Freely, and feelingly, as a true Gentleman.
Enter Rosalure, and Lilia.
She will not know, nor speak now.
And love of such a Youth! I would dye for a Dog first,
He that kills me I'll give him leave to eat me;
I'll know men better ere I sigh for any of 'em.
Ye have kill'd a Maid the wrong way, ye are a conqueror.
Go hide thy self for shame, go lose thy memory;
Live not 'mongst Men; thou art a Beast, a Monster;
A Blatant Beast.
Or ever heard of any; take my Counsel;
Off with your Garters: and seek out a Bough,
A handsom Bough; (for I would have ye hang like a Gentleman;)
And write some doleful matter to the World,
A Warning to hard hearted men.
[Pg 372]
What Catterwauling's here? what Gibbing?
Do you think my heart is softned with a black Santis?
Shew me some reason.
Enter Oriana on a Bed.
You are my Godfather; and that's the Monsieur.
Oh oh, my heart! were ye never in love, sweet Lady?
And do you never dream of Flowers and Gardens?
I dream of walking Fires; take heed, it comes now;
Who's that? pray stand away; I have seen that face sure;
How light my head is!
For I must be up to morrow to go to Church,
And I must dress me, put my new Gown on,
And be as fine to meet my Love: Heigh ho!
Will not you tell me where my Love lies buried?
Should be so damnable, to let her suffer?
Give me your hand.
I'll tell you your fortune, Friend.
I warrant you may have a hundred Sweet-hearts;
Will ye pray for me? I shall dye to morrow,
And will ye ring the Bells?
I do confess, unhappy; do you know me?
[Pg 373]
You mock me; I'l go home, and pray.
Or if it please ye to consider justly,
Scorn me, for I deserve it: Scorn, and shame me:
Sweet Oriana.
Her fits will grow more strong if ye provoke her.
How she smiles now!
[Enter Belleur.]
What a Devil! art thou sad, and such a subject,
Such a ridiculous subject as I am
Before thy face?
This is no time for mirth, nor place; I have us'd too much on't:
I have undone my self, and a sweet Lady,
By being too indulgent to my foolery,
Which truly I repent; look here.
They are coz'ning mad, they are brawling mad, they are proud mad:
They are all, all mad; I came from a World of mad Women.
Mad as March-Hares; get 'em in Chains, then deal with 'em.
There's one that's mad; she seems well, but she is dog-mad.
Is she dead dost' think?
For till they be key cold dead, there's no trusting of 'em,
Whate'r they seem, or howsoe'r they carry it,
Till they be chap-faln, and their Tongues at peace,
Nail'd in their Coffins sure, I'll ne'r believe 'em,
Shall I talk with her?
[Pg 374]
And be at peace a while.
And come again anon: but take heed to her,
You say she is a Woman?
For if she do not cozen thee, then hang me.
Let her be mad, or what she will, she'll cheat thee. [Exit.
Now take my faith, before ye all I speak it,
And with it, my repentant love.
My very heart melts for; were she but perfect
(For thus to marry her would be two miseries,)
Before the richest and the noblest Beauty,
France, or the World could shew me; I would take her
As she is now, my Tears and Prayers shall wed her.
To us too, to go off.
And with another voice.
And shame a little stops my tongue.
And that I did this to provoke your Nature,
Out of my infinite and restless love,
To win your pity; pardon me.
Who set ye on?
Not any knew, or ever dream'd what I meant;
Will ye be mine?
But when I marry ye, ye must be wiser:
[Pg 375] Nothing but Tricks? Devices?
The Woman's well; she was only mad for Marriage,
Stark mad to be ston'd to death; give her good counsel,
Will this world never mend? are ye caught, Damsel?
Enter Belleur, La-Castre, Lugier, Nantolet, De Gard, Rosalure, and Bianca.
The Woman's well again, and would have gull'd me;
Well, excellent well: and not a taint upon her.
Saints, Devils, any thing, they will abuse us;
Thou wert an Ass to believe her so long, a Coxcomb;
Give 'em a minute they'll abuse whole millions.
That can cure desperate mad minds?
Unless thou hast a trick above this: then I'le love thee.
Ye owe me for your Cure; pray have a care of her,
For fear she fall into Relapse: come Belleur
We'll set up Bills, to Cure Diseased Virgins.
If we could make 'em mad, it were some mastery. [Exeunt.
Be not ashamed.
He should not have gloried thus.
And what power I can work with.
We are your friends; an honest way compell'd ye;
[Pg 376] Heaven will not see so true a love unrecompenc'd;
Come in, and slight him too.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter De Gard, and Lugier.
If there be any way to reach, and work upon him;
Upon his nature suddenly, and catch him: that he loves,
Though he dissemble it, and would shew contrary,
And will at length relent, I'le lay my Fortune,
Nay more, my life.
And my designments set.
All for that Game again: they have forgot wooing.
Pities your Sisters Fortune most sincerely;
And has appointed, for our more assistance,
Some of his secret Friends.
And be you serious too.
(Believe me, Sir) of the same Cup; my young Gentlewomen
Wait but who sets the game a foot; though they seem stubborn,
Reserv'd, and proud now, yet I know their hearts,
Their Pulses how they beat, and for what cause, Sir;
And how they long to venture their Abilities
In a true Quarrel; Husbands they must, and will have,
Or Nunneries, and thin Collations
To cool their bloods; let's all about our business,
And if this fail, let Nature work.
SCENE II.
Enter Mirabel, Nantolet, and La-Castre.
For I must Travel: lie lazy here,
Bound to a Wife? Chain'd to her subtleties,
Her humours, and her wills, which are meer Fetters;
To have her to day pleas'd, to morrow peevish,
The third day mad, the fourth rebellious?
You see, before they are married, what Moriscoes,
What Masques, and Mummeries they put upon us,
To be ty'd here, and suffer their Lavalto's?
Were they as I could wish 'em.
To endure what you think fit to put upon 'em:
Come, change your mind.
When I know Women worthy of my company,
I will return again and wait upon 'em;
Till then (dear Sir) I'le amble all the world over,
And run all hazards, misery, and poverty,
Enter Pinac, and Belleur.
Once more we'll seek our fortune in strange Countries;
Ours is too scornful for us.
That ye have read, or heard of, (for I care not how far it be,
Nor under what pestiferous Star it lies)
A happy Kingdom where there are no Women?
Nor have been ever? Nor no mention
Of any such lewd things, with lewder qualities?
For thither would I Travel; where 'tis Felony
To confess he had a Mother: a Mistris, Treason.
[Pg 378]
For living in the Moon, and stopping hedges,
E're I stay here to be abus'd, and baffl'd.
And sure I think I should have that command over 'em,
To see 'em well bestow'd: I know ye are Gentlemen,
Men of fair Parts and States; I know your Parents;
And had ye told me of your fair Affections—
Make but one tryal more; and let me second ye.
Can ye lend me an Armour of high proof, to appear in,
And two or three Field-pieces to defend me?
The Kings Guard are meer Pigmeys.
If their high stomachs hold: they came with Chopping-knives,
To cut me into Rands, and Sirloins, and so powder me.
Come, shall we go?
(If ye intend to go) as not to visit 'em,
And take your leaves.
And thank 'em too.
With a good Gun in my hand; I'le no more Amazons,
I mean, no more of their frights; I'le make my three legs
Kiss my hand twice; and if I smell no danger;
If the enterview be clear, may be I'le speak to her;
I'le wear a privy coat too; and behind me,
To make those parts secure, a Bandog.
I have been warn'd, and must be arm'd.
These are your hasty thoughts, when I see you are bent to it,
Then I'le believe, and joyn with ye; So we'll leave ye:
There's a Trick will make ye stay.
[Pg 379]
I know they love ye; and to gain ye handsomly,
Not to be thought to yield, they would give millions;
Their Fathers willingness, that must needs shew ye.
Would ye turn Renegado now?
Out of the Air, and tumult of their Villanies;
Though I were married to that Grashopper,
And had her fast by th' legs I should think she would cozen me.
Enter a young Factor.
And understanding you were here.
May I crave your name?
That you may know me better; I am Factor
To your old Merchant, Leverdure.
About some business.
Your Master's a right honest man; and one
I am much beholding to, and must very shortly
Trouble his love again.
I know ye well remember in your travel
A Genoa Merchant.
Must needs imprint him in ye: one Alberto;
A Gentleman you sav'd from being Murther'd
[Pg 380] A little from Bollonia,
I was then my self in Italie, and suppli'd ye,
Though haply, you have forgot me now.
And that Alberto too: a noble Gentleman:
More to remember, were to thank my self, Sir.
What of that Gentleman?
All that he had, beside some certain Jewels,
Which with a Ceremony, he bequeath'd to you,
In gratefull memory: he commanded strictly
His Sister, as she lov'd him and his peace,
To see those Jewels safe, and true deliver'd;
And with them, his last love. She, as tender
To observe his will, not trusting friend, nor servant,
With such a weight, is come her self to Paris,
And at my Masters house.
And well attended: of much State, and Riches;
So loving, and obedient to her Brother;
That on my conscience, if he had given her also,
She would most willingly have made her tender.
Passing accompts of some few debts here owing,
And buying Jewels of a Merchant.
Her Brother had a main State.
For beautie, and for Courtesie.
But to morrow will be fitter for your visitation;
[Pg 381] For she is not yet prepared.
And when you shall think fit for further visit.
Mean time, my love, and thanks, Sir.
To rescue from some rogues had almost slain him;
And he in kindness to remember this.
For all your protestations, and your forwardness,
Find out strange fortunes in this Ladies eyes,
And new enticements to put off your journey;
And who shall have honour then?
I must needs see her, to receive my Legacy.
May not we see too?
I must be known my self e're I be able
To make thee welcom: wouldst thou see more women?
I thought you had been out of love with all.
I find that, with the least encouragement:
Yet I desire to see whether all Countries
Are naturally possess'd with the same spirits;
For if they be, I'le take a Monastery,
And never travel; for I had rather be a Frier,
And live mew'd up, than be a fool, and flouted.
How e'er stand prepar'd, prest for our journey;
For certain, we shall go, I think, when I have seen her,
And view'd her well.
Your fortune directs ours.
Lamenting in Sack and Sugar for our losses;
[Pg 382] If she be right Italian, and want servants,
You may prefer the properest man.
How I could worry a woman now!
Ye may have enough to do, without this boasting.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Lugier, de-Gard, Rosalu, and Lilia.
As we hope too.
For I must not be seen; no, nor this Gentleman;
That may beget suspicion: all the rest
Are people of no doubt; I would have ye, Ladies,
Keep your old liberties, and as we instruct ye:
Come, look not pale; you shall not lose your wishes;
Nor beg 'em neither: but be your selves, and happy.
Nor give no more hard language.
Shall I beat a proper man out of heart?
Tell what ye know, ye had best.
For if he ask me now, if I can love him,
I'le tell him yes, I can: The man's a kind man;
And out of his true honesty affects me;
Although he plaid the fool, which I requited;
Must I still hold him at the staves end?
Follow but this advice I have set you in now,
[Pg 383] And if ye lose: would ye yield now so basely?
Give up without your honours saved?
P[re]serve your freedom still.
If it begin to chop about, and scant us;
Hang me, but I know what I'le do: come direct us,
I make no doubt, we shall do handsomly.
The rest your man supplies.
SCENE IV.
Enter Factor, and Mirabel, Oriana, and two Merchants.
Methinks you are infinitely bound to her, for her journey.
I have been so out of my wits, to get her company:
I mean, Sir, of her own fair sex, and fashion.
At length, I have entreated two fair Ladies,
And happily you know 'em: the young Daughters
Of Monsieur Nantolet.
What are those? Jewels?
Was owing here: you see those Merchants with her;
They have brought it in now.
Now she looks this way.
[Pg 384] How full of courtesie! Well, Sir, I'le leave ye,
And if I may be bold to bring a friend or two;
Good noble Gentlemen.
For you have most command.
A wonder dwells about him.
He is gone to fetch his friends.
Sit still, and let them see ye.
Enter Rosalure, Lilia, Servant.
A stranger to this Town: so please you visit her,
'Twill be well taken.
Upon her pate! Is't not a glode to catch Wood-cocks?
There's Sail enough for a Carrack.
For as I live, she's a goodly woman.
With all my heart, to have but one fling at her;
To give her but a washing blow.
Before ye cry come Anthonie, and kiss me.
[Pg 385]
For I protest, she is the handsomest,
The rarest, and the newest to mine eye
That ever I saw yet.
My friend shall do that kindness.
Come, pray ye come up.
Were I a man my self, I should now love ye;
Nay, I should doat.
For as I live ye are the strangest alter'd,
I must come up to know the truth.
For I am a kind of unbeliever too.
And what ye have seen, be secret in: you are paid else,
No more of your long tongue.
And talk with her? These venturers will come straight:
Away with this fellow.
SCENE V.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, Belleur.
Our Women look like Gipsies, like Gills to her:
Their Clothes and fashions beggerly, and Bankrupt:
Base, old, and scurvy.
[Pg 386]
And the becoming-motion of her bodie
So sets her off.
That's more than I know: if she be that woman,
She appears to be.
Now I go for that end: and mark her, Gentlemen,
If she appear not to ye one of the sweetest,
The handsomest, the fairest in behaviour:
We shall meet the two wenches there too, they come to visit her,
To wonder, as we do.
And as ye find their humours.
This is the house, I'le usher ye.
And take a good heart if I can.
SCENE VI.
Enter Factor, Rosalure, Lelia, Oriana.
There Ladie: where's the boy? be readie, Sirrah,
And clear your Pipes, the Musick now: they enter. [Musick.
Enter Mirabel, Pinac, and Belleur.
How rich she is! I marry, this shews bravely.
But if she have a tongue, I'le not give two pence for her:
There sits my Fury: how I shake to see her!
[Pg 387]
She has a Spring dwells on her lips: a paradise:
This is the Legacie.
Thus his love and last offring.
Take it nobly, 'tis your due,
From a friendship ever true.
From a faith &c.
This from my now dead Brother, as his love,
And gratefull memory of your great benefit:
From me my thanks, my wishes, and my service.
Till I am more acquainted I am silent,
Only I dare say this, you are truly noble.
Would I had such another.
We hear ye are for travel?
And come to take our leaves.
We see you are grown so witty by your Journey,
We cannot choose but step out too: This Lady
We mean to wait upon as far as Italy.
I hope they cannot find me.
So good, and free society we hold ye,
We'll jog along too.
We'll go by Sea.
I love a Sea-voyage, and a blustring tempest;
[Pg 388] And let all split.
I think 'twill tame ye: can ye ride post?
A hundred mile a day is nothing with me.
I find it will be dangerous for a woman.
But say we pass through Germany, and drink hard?
Lady, I'le live at home.
And we'll keep house together.
And those I hate right heartily.
And so it may be up into Persia.
Even with the service of my life, those pains,
And those high favours you have thrown upon me;
Till I be more desertful in your eye;
And till my duty shall make known I honour ye:
Noblest of women, do me but this favour,
To accept this back again, as a poor testimony.
That says they must rest with ye, is infring'd, Sir;
Which pardon me, I dare not do.
[Pg 389]
And take me with the truest love.
My Brother lov'd ye dearly, and I ought
As dearly to preserve that love. But, Sir,
Though I were willing, these are but your Ceremonies.
But how you can like me, without I have Testimony,
A Stranger to ye.
A fair State I dare promise ye.
Enter La-Castre, Nantolet, Lugier, & de-Gard.
If ye start now let all the world cry shame on ye:
I have out travell'd ye.
And willingly I swallow it, and joy in't;
And yet perhaps I know ye: whose plot was this?
Followed your Fathers will.
And I do think, I shall love thee. As a Testimony,
I'le burn my book, and turn a new leaf over,
But these fine clothes you shall wear still.
What say ye, Gentlemen, to the Girles?
And if I use ye not, that ye may love me.
'Bless your five wits.
And beat me but once a week?
And 't be but in revenge, I'le do thee that courtesie.
Well, if thou wilt fear God, and me; have at thee.
Brother, your love: and now to Church of all hands;
Let's lose no time.
APPENDIX
In the following references to the text the lines are numbered from the top of the page, including titles, acts, stage directions, &c., but not, of course, the headline or mere 'rules.' Where, as in the lists of Persons Represented, there are double columns, the right-hand column is numbered after the left.
It has not been thought necessary to record the correction of every turned letter nor the substitution of marks of interrogation for marks of exclamation and vice-versâ. Full-stops have been silently inserted at the ends of speeches and each fresh speaker has been given the dignity of a fresh line: in the double-columned folio the speeches are frequently run on. Only misprints of interest in the Quartos and the First Folio are recorded.
ADDENDA TO RECORD OF VARIANTS IN VOL. II.
THE ELDER BROTHER.
- p. 450.
- p. 5, l. 38. Add C.
- p. 9, l. 40. Add BCD.
- p. 12, l. 36. Add BD. l. 40. Add A.
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- p. 33, l. 12. for AB] our read A] you.
- p. 38, l. 36. Add C.
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- p. 43, l. 9. Add C. l. 17. for A and C, read B and C.
- p. 44, l. 30. Add B.
- p. 47, l. 15. Add B and C.
- p. 52, l. 2. Add A.
- p. 53, l. 4. Add CD.
- p. 56, l. 11. Add ABD. l. 23. Add B. l. 30. Add B.
- p. 59, Add C.
None of the above add anything to the sum of variants, being merely the occurrence of trivial differences (some, undoubted misprints) already recorded in certain Quartos and found to occur in others upon making a collation of a fresh series of Quartos for the purpose of the volumes of notes. They are given here solely to make the record as complete as may be, but it should be stated that some of them are accounted for by the existence of Quartos made up of corrected and uncorrected sheets, i.e. it often happens that not all the copies of a Quarto bearing the same date possess an identical series of sheets.
The following are additions to the sum of the variants already recorded, noted in the collation above referred to.
- p. 17, l. 11. B and C omit] they.
- p. 20, l. 6. C] so long. l. 40. C] ever be.
- p. 25, l. 37. C] fathers likenesse.
- p. 30, l. 32. B and C] Their blew.
- p. 35, l. 34. B and C] would grow.
- p. 36, l. 10. B and C] a meere.
- p. 40, l. 24. C omits] may.
- p. 45, l. 19. B and C omit] And.
- p. 53, l. 20. A-D] nor threats.
In the Preface to the second volume of the present edition, I used the words 'First Quarto' somewhat loosely to represent indifferently two versions of The Elder Brother both dated 1637, differing very slightly from each other. The phrase has been misunderstood as implying that the editors of this edition were not aware that one of these two Quartos may possibly have been printed a few years later than the other. This is not the case: the opinion, and the evidence adduced in support of it, were known to the editors, but all questions[Pg 392] of date, together with all other discussions of like nature, were left to be dealt with in their proper place in the volume or volumes of notes that are to follow the publication of the text. It is a matter of very slight importance, and it is sufficient to state here that one of these two identically dated editions was called A and the other B in the Appendix to volume II for purposes of reference only, just as, in volume I, the two identically dated Quartos of Philaster, 1652, were called F and G, respectively, without there being any intention on the part of the editors to express, in either case, any opinion, for the moment, as to which is the earlier or the better of the two. Furthermore, since the text of one of these 1637 Quartos was printed in the Appendix merely in order to show the verse arrangement that prevailed in the early Quartos and not for any other textual purpose, it was a matter of indifference which of the two 1637 Quartos was used.
WIT WITHOUT MONEY.
- p. 152, l. 10 of text for felling read selling.
- p. 155, l. 3. A] and a.
- P. 173, l. 36. Add A.
- p. 185, l. 26. A and B] drinke.
- p. 192, l. 6. A and B] see.
- p. 197, l. 13. Add A.
- p. 204, l. 12. A omits the second] put.
THE FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.
As in the case of The Elder Brother, copies of Quartos dated the same year differ by reason of the inclusion of corrected and uncorrected sheets. This remark applies to the undated 1609/10 Quartos called here A and B and also to C and the later Quartos, e.g. some copies of C have been seen which read (p. 372, l. 13): and games, and some: and merry games.
- p. 372, l. 15. Add C.
- p. 392, l. 14. Add C.
- p. 393, l. 18. Add C.
- p. 401, l. 24. Add BCE.
- p. 404, ll. 33 and 34. Add C, some copies.
- p. 405, l. 17. Add C, some copies.
- p. 427, l. 36. Add C, some copies.
- p. 428, l. 19. Add C, some copies.
- p. 429, l. 31. Add A, some copies.
- p. 430, l. 6. Add C, some copies.
None of the above, noticed during a collation of a fresh set of Quartos for the purpose of the notes, add anything to the sum of variants. The following are additions: p. 373, l. 19 of text for staight read [straight]. p. 390, l. 27. A] dapple. l. 36. A] Beates against. p. 401, l. 21. The Quartos print, with variations of roman and italic type, 'Exit. Amaril. Perigot!' The right reading is probably to regard the last word as Amaryllis's cry for Perigot. By being printed on the same line as the conclusion of Perigot's speech, the two names were printed in the Second Folio as though part of the stage direction. p. 421, l. 36. A and B] so strange. p. 423, l. 8. F] the Cradle. p. 427, l. 7. A-D] women. p. 430, l. 22. A-C] thee, there will bide. p. 442, l. 26. F] labouring spring. p. 519, l. 18. D and F] morality. Since the textual notes in Vol. II were written, the present Editor has seen copies of the undated First Quarto A which do not contain the preliminary verses and address on pp. 521 (2 items) and 522 (2 items).
RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE.
Vol. III. pp. 460 and 461.
The following addenda were printed on a slip and affixed as indicated above. They are repeated here in case the slip should become detached.
- p. 194, l. 17. the first.
- p. 198, l. 38. mine owne.
- p. 202, l. 6. but these.
- p. 207, l. 17. you much joy.
- p. 211, l. 22. is an.
- p. 221, l. 17. Estifanias. [Pg 393]
NOTES TO VOL. IV.
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN.
A = First Folio. B = Second Folio.
The following variants are in A unless where otherwise stated.
- p. 1, ll. 5-41. Not in A. l. 33. B] Emperous.
- p. 2, l. 7. my. l. 12. woman.
- p. 3, l. 21. Omits of.
- p. 4, l. 24. aske. l. 33. yeare.
- p. 5, l. 8. women. l. 20. beare.
- p. 6, l. 6. think. l. 36. Beside your sins, or comming but your curses.
- p. 9, l. 27. ha's. l. 28. have here.
- p. 10, l. 22. B] affectious. l. 30. love ye.
- p. 11, l. 5. consider why. l. 8. Omits to be. l. 39. pray.
- p. 12, l. 9. pray and depress you. l. 10. ye. l. 20. ever friend.
- p. 13, l. 19. Sestertes.
- p. 16, l. 15. taintures.
- p. 17, l. 23. Here and often elsewhere] Lycinus.
- p. 18, l. 16. By Heaven Sir, I. l. 34. B] withour.
- p. 20, l. 14. ye. l. 18. on me. l. 20. I were. l. 40. marke.
- p. 22, l. 24. A and B] II.
- p. 23, l. 16. By Heaven a. l. 20. B] Souldier. l. 40. forgive.
- p. 24, ll. 3 and 13. Ha's.
- p. 25, l. 8. dragma's.
- p. 26, l. 10. How now. l. 12. B] to' th. l. 22. A and B] Proclus.
- p. 27, l. 24. your guard.
- p. 28, l. 28. make ye no.
- p. 29, l. 31. Brazen Flowre.
- p. 30, l. 5. short Tower. l. 6 (some copies), can once more build.
- p. 31, l. 15. B] Shold. l. 32. Ladys Gentlewoman.
- p. 33, ll. 16 and 38. h'as. 17. Omits stage direction.
- p. 34, l. 19. and ye to him. l. 25. Ho?
- p. 35, l. 3. play againe. l. 9. then now. l. 30. Empires.
- p. 38, l. 19. flye me.
- p. 39, l. 3. Ye were. l. 4. thither.
- p. 40, l. 25. Omits me.
- p. 41, l. 11. makes. l. 18. wrong.
- p. 43, l. 5. By heaven I. [Pg 394]
- p. 44, l. 39. made.
- p. 45, l. 5. ye. l. 33. A and B omit [Scene II.].
- p. 46, l. 5. Here and sometimes elsewhere] Aretius. l. 15. thinks.
- p. 47, l. 1. ye aske. l. 9. Cares. l. 17. ye.
- p. 48, l. 16. ye. l. 34. my owne.
- p. 49, l. 3. whither. l. 24. ye live l. 35 h'ad. l. 36 By heaven he.
- p. 50, l. 11. is all the. l. 24. ye.
- p. 52, l. 34. toyne with.
- p. 53, l. 15. ye.
- p. 54, l. 1. Ground under. l. 31. one the. l. 32. Creed.
- p. 55, l. 38. By heaven you.
- p. 56, l. 16. the gods? to give they. l. 33. B] dangerou. l. 36. fortunes. l. 39. made with.
- p. 58, l. 16. goes.
- p. 59, ll. 17, 18. Omits Are. Emp. l. 30. B] Æic. make.
- p. 60, l. 35. 'a loves.
- p. 62, l. 22. 'a so.
- p. 63, l. 12. A and B] II.
- p. 66, l. 33. slave. l. 34. By heaven he.
- p. 69, l. 9. rancks.
- p. 70, l. 13. bases.
- p. 71, l. 30. Exit. l. 37. B] oversows.
- p. 72, l. 3. B] Phil. l. 23. B] Pho.
- p. 73, l. 31. B] venegance.
- p. 74, l. 6. sun-burnt: Neroe breeds. l. 21. h'as.
- p. 76, l. 3. B] Lici. l. 6. B] Lici. l. 7. B] Lyci. l. 14. thy life. l. 17. to her. l. 21. Omits Prince.
- p. 77, l. 5. Omits wind. l. 6. I and an. l. 39. A and B here and often elsewhere] Eudoxa.
- p. 78, l. 31. mirth then laughter.
- p. 80, l. 4. and ghests.
- p. 81, l. 34. B] vengance.
- p. 82, l. 6. Winted againe ... tall masses.
- p. 83, l. 16. A and B] 2. l. 38. Adds stage direction] Cæsar flourish.
- p. 84, l. 17. Prescription.
- p. 85, l. 5. ha's. l. 25. By'th masse that's. ll. 28 and 33. B] Pan.
- p. 86, l. 18. By heaven tis.
- p. 88, l. 33. Sen. Semp. 3.
- p. 89, l. 36. Lizus.
- p. 90, l. 7. B prints a full stop after] here. l. 9. Bellonia's l. 35. honour.
- p. 91, l. 3. H'as. l. 28. blush. l. 33. did yet.
- p. 92, l. 29. a Mistris. [Pg 395]
MONSIEUR THOMAS.
B = Second Folio.
The title-page of the Quarto of 1639 (= A) runs as follows:
Monsieur | Thomas. A Comedy. | Acted at the Private House in | Blacke Fryers. | The Author, | John Fletcher, | Gent. | London, | Printed by Thomas Harper, for John Waterson, and are | to be sold at his shop in Pauls Church-yard,| at the signe of the Crowne: | 1639.
This Quarto is sometimes met with under the title of Fathers own Son.
The title-page is followed in the Quarto by these verses and Richard Brome's letter (see ante, p. 174).
In prayse of the Authour, and his following Poeme.
When Actors so the fanci'd humours hit,
As if 'twixt them and th' Authour there were strife
How each to other should give mutuall life.
The last this wanted not. Invention strayes
Here in full many pleasant turning wayes,
That like Meanders their curld circles bend,
Yet in a smooth streame runne to crowne the end.
Then 'tis authoriz'd by the Authors name;
Who never writ but with such sprightly flame,
As if the Muses jointly did inspire,
His raptures only with their sacred fire.
And yet perhaps it did participate
At first presenting but of common fate;
When ignorance was judge, and but a few
What was legitimate, what bastard, knew.
The world's growne wiser now: each man can say
If Fletcher made it 'tis an exc'lent play.
Thus Poemes like their Authors may be sed,
Never to live 'till they have first beene dead.
As neither the Folio nor the Quarto give the dramatis personæ, I print a list of the characters here.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. MONSIEUR THOMAS.
- Valentine.
- Francesco, his son.
- Sebastian.
- Thomas, his son.
- Hylas.
- Sam.
- Michael.
- Launcelot, servant of Thomas.
- Fiddler.
- Three Physicians.
- Apothecary, Barber, Sailors, Officers, Servants.
- Alice, sister of Valentine.
- Mary, their niece.
- Cellide.
- Dorothea, daughter of Sebastian.
- Abbess of St Katherine's, aunt of Thomas and Dorothea.
- Nuns.
- Madge, Kate and Maids. [Pg 396]
The variants below are those of A unless otherwise noted.
- p. 93, l. 8. Omits are.
- p. 94, l. 13. Genoway.
- p. 95, ll. 8 and 16. Ye. l. 11. Yf'. l. 14. Pray. l. 26. lay.
- p. 97, l. 14. Pray.
- p. 98, l. 9. unto me.
- p. 99, l. 11. aske ye. l. 20. much much. l. 36. howsoever.
- p. 100, l. 23. my father. l. 26. B] utterring. l. 34. Ye.
- p. 101, l. 10. your. l. 13. ye.
- p. 102, l. 22. But he. l. 33. h'as.
- p. 104, l. 28. Pray.
- p. 105, l. 5. Pray. l. 12. His so.
- p. 107, l. 28. B] too.
- p. 110, l. 10. gives this line to Tho. l. 14. Sant.
- p. 111, l. 26. third. l. 39. Omits Law.
- p. 114, l. 3. ye, and. l. 29. that tith. l. 32. old road.
- p. 115, l. 2. O my.
- p. 116, l. 26. Pheses.
- p. 117, l. 29. pray. l. 30. Omits Mich.
- p. 118, ll. 6 and 7. heaven.
- p. 119, l. 8. beautis. l. 24. part: pitiy:
- p. 120, l. 4. ye. l. 14. so so. l. 35. those.
- p. 121, l. 1. Pray. l. 37. yeare.
- p. 122, l. 24. not impudence.
- p. 123, l. 24. you not. l. 37. Blank in Quarto and Folio.
- p. 124, l. 20. unaculate.
- p. 125, l. 16. A and B give this line to Cell., but it is, apparently, a part of Val's. speech. l. 40. The Quarto gives this line to Cell.
- p. 126, l. 8. B] minds.
- p. 127, l. 10. the patent.
- p. 128, l. 34. bread.
- p. 130, l. 11. shall findeia.
- p. 132, l. 8. cureless disobedience. l. 12. yo' know. l. 24. spilt.
- p. 133, l. 34. these eyes. B omits] eyes.
- p. 134, l. 1 B] hunsup. l. 9. And a. l. 35. wrong. l. 37. So will.
- p. 135, l. 2. toth'. l. 3. please you. l. 5. your.
- p. 137, l. 15. down down adown. l. 24. hang. l. 23. This line belongs probably to Maid rather than to Lan.
- p. 140, l. 20. Omits a.
- p. 141, ll. 10 and 18. a bed. [Pg 397]
- p. 144, l. 26. Omits to. l. 32. goes.
- p. 145, l. 10. Concerning the. l. 16. B] ou.
- p. 146, l. 23. Omits Seb.
- p. 147, l. 9. may be put.
- p. 148, l. 13. yeare. l. 30. O my.
- p. 151, l. 9. ha griev'd. l. 20. Beside. l. 30. faith.
- p. 152, l. 21. B punctuates] singing to them,
- p. 153, ll. 11 and 12. Ye. l. 22. thousand. l. 23. Pray. l. 33. quickly, quickly, quickly.
- p. 154, l. 1. Often here and elsewhere prints Dol for Dor. l. 20. Bless. l. 21. run thou for. l. 30. vaga'res.
- p. 155, l. 3. Pray. l. 10. Nay then. l. 13. Omits good. l. 19. A and B] brains totters. l. 24. B] Gentlewomen. l. 33. has.
- p. 156, l. 17. For VIII reads secunda.
- p. 157, l. 12. fal so. l. 25. Pray. l. 33. For IX reads Octava.
- p. 158, l. 17. Faith. l. 26. For Prima reads Quarta.
- p. 159, ll. 23 and 26. ye. l. 23. Quotation marks have been added to make the sense more clear. l. 25. Omits Thom. l. 29. be cold. B] Maid. l. 30. do hang for'.
- p. 160, l. 4. Adds a fourth devill before O. ll. 12 and 25. O. l. 20. Pray. l. 32. Omits a. l. 37. Omits I.
- p. 161, l. 1. For II reads quinta. l. 4. surely melt. l. 8. so sweet. l. 18. B] once once.
- p. 162, l. 39. not you spoil.
- p. 163, l. 13. state. l. 14. For III reads Sexta.
- p. 164, l. 1. For IV reads Septima. l. 10. For V reads Octava. l. 22. heaven.
- p. 165, l. 3. made her no. l. 12. For VI reads Nona.
- p. 166, l. 1. Nun. l. 29. her's my.
- p. 167, l. 10. For VII reads Decima. l. 20. cozens.
- p. 169, l. 1. For VIII reads Undecima. l. 10. Francis and Servant and Abbess.
- p. 170, l. 20. B] know.
- p. 172, l. 18. Adds, possibly as a stage direction] known son agen. l. 26. Adds Finis.
- p. 174, l. 24. B] lahours.
THE CHANCES.
A = First Folio. B = Second Folio.
The variants below are those of A unless where otherwise stated.
- p. 175. ll. 3-28. Not in A.
- p. 176, l. 24. B omits] that. l. 36. so blotted. l. 38. wonder ever.
- p. 178, l. 2. Pray.
- p. 179, l. 25. the stormes. l. 37. Reads 1 instead of 2. [Pg 398]
- p. 180, l. 9. Bellonia
- p. 184, l. 16. A and B] sertle.
- p. 185, l. 20. audits lost.
- p. 187, l. 9. silence there. l. 21. B] knowledge.
- p. 188, l. 26. Don Ferdinand. l. 38. B] though.
- p. 190, l. 7. B] truble. l. 20. Adds after Constantia] with a Jewell.
- p. 192, l. 15. his peeping. l. 32. B] seez'd.
- p. 193, l. 26. lyes. l. 39. yee.
- p. 194, l. 16. B] is.
- p. 198, l. 5. Doest. l. 10. A prints Sing within a little as a marginal note and omits the song.
- p. 199, l. 32. And taske.
- p. 202, l. 12. Omits stage direction. l. 27. What a block-head.
- p. 203, l. 10. B] Shool.
- p. 204, l. 1. is a. l. 5. if a. l. 22. A shall.
- p. 205, l. 1. B] know.
- p. 206, l. 10. with yee.
- p. 207, l. 11. boy too.
- p. 209, l. 33. such a.
- p. 210, l. 9. Adds stage direction] Bowle of wine ready. l. 22. this roperie.
- p. 211, l. 5. Clarry ... Clarry. l. 14. rake her. l. 15. B] Authony. l. 18. with yee.
- p. 212, l. 19. a horse-back.
- p. 213, l. 2. 'Sbloud, to. l. 6. Glister. l. 19. see ye. l. 20. Will it. l. 36. ith'.
- p. 214, l. 16. cure ye. l. 26. me up with.
- p. 215, l. 29. Yet since.
- p. 217, l. 7. fit ye.
- p. 219, l. 25. we'll have no. l. 36. How, now. l. 37. 'has.
- p. 220, l. 17. whether.
- p. 221, l. 10. so fubd.
- p. 222, l. 35. B] I'e.
- p. 223, l. 15. Bollonia. l. 28. Omits a.
- p. 225, l. 23. note.
- p. 226, l. 13. Adds stage direction] Bawd ready above.
- p. 227, l. 6. Omits and. l. 8. B] Petr. l. 12. B] most most. l. 15. B] Petr. ll. 26-33. Not in A.
- p. 228, l. 7. B] Petr. l. 15. B] Petr.
- p. 229, l. 17. of that? starve nature? l. 30. Adds stage direction] Claping of a doore. l. 36. Adds stage direction] Cease musick.
- p. 232, l. 14. B] Petr. l. 23. must haunt.
- p. 234, l. 21. B omits] make us tremble? l. 35. B] knowldge. [Pg 399]
- p. 237, ll. 4 and 5. passe by. l. 32. B] dissov'd. l. 34. A gives this line to Petr.
- p. 238, l. 14. 'a comes. l. 21. pray. ll. 34 et seq. A omits the song.
- p. 240, l. 24. make
- p. 241, l. 6. B] to. l. 10. tell ye. l. 12. 'Has. l. 15. She has (misprint). l. 17. servant to.
- p. 242, l. 15. there? come.
- p. 243, l. 21. command ye. l. 24. 'Has been. l. 31. Pray.
- p. 244, l. 8. Omits Exeunt. l. 13. Wit as Art. l. 16. Ingenuous. l. 21. A and B] his loud.
- p. 245, l. 10. Adds Finis.
THE BLOODY BROTHER.
A = The | Bloody | Brother. | A Tragedy. | By B. J. F. | London, | Printed by R. Bishop, for Thomas Allott, and John Crook, | and are to be sold in Pauls Churchyard, at the signe | of the Greyhound 1639. |
B = The Tragedy of | Rollo | Duke of Normandy. | Acted by his | Majesties Servants. | Written by | John Fletcher | Gent. | Oxford, | Printed by Leonard Lichfield | Printer to the University. | Anno 1640. |
C = The Second Folio.
Here again copies dated the same year differ in their readings. Three copies of the 1639 Quarto have been collated to supply the readings given below, and three copies also of the 1640 Quarto.
As the verse arrangements differ considerably in A and B I have given those which are of value in B.
p. 246, ll. 1-6. B] The Tragoedy of Rollo Duke of Normandy. ll. 3 and 4. A omits these two lines. l. 7. A] Drammatis Personæ. l. 22. A] L'Fisk. l. 23. A and C] Rufee. l. 35. A omits] Women and places Lords to Boyes after Edith.
The Persons Represented are given differently in B, wherein they read as follows on a page facing the beginning of the play.
| Rollo, | Sonnes to the deceased Duke of Normandy. |
| Otto, | |
| Aubrey, Kinsman to Rollo. | |
| Gisbert, | Two Counsellors of State. |
| Balwin, | |
| Latorch, Favorite to Rollo. | |
| Hamond, Captaine of the Guard. | |
| Allan, His brother. | |
| Granpree, | Servants to Rollo. |
| Verdon, | |
| Trevite, | Servants to Otto. |
| Du Prette, | |
| Citizens. | |
| Guard. | |
| Servants. | |
| Boyes. | |
| Cooke. | |
| Butler. | |
| Pantler. | |
| Yeoman of the Cellar.[Pg 400] | |
| Russee. | Cheaters. |
| De Bubie. | |
| La-Fiske. | |
| Norbret. | |
| Pipeane. | |
| Sophia, The old Dutchesse. | |
| Matilda, Her daughter. | |
| Edith, Daughter to Baldwin. |
'The drinking Song, to the second Act' (see p. 263), is given in A on the verso of the page containing the Dramatis Personæ.
l. 42. B omits] Sir. l. 44 etc. B reads]
For such whose reason doe direct their thoughts
Without selfe flattery, dare not hope it Baldwin:
The fires, etc.,
continuing as though spoken still by Gisb. and omitting Bald. in l. 3, p. 247.
p. 247, l. 2. A adds] Baldwin after it and continues as above. After l. 9. B adds] To heave them up, and these are too well practis'd. l. 11. B] rest to good men proves. l. 12. B adds char.] Bald. before And in etc. A agrees here with C. See above. l. 18. B] And did. l. 20. A] brother. l. 38. C misprints] aud.
p. 248, After l. 3 B adds] Scena 2. Gisbert, Baldwin, Granpree, Verdon. l. 5. B] eldest. l. 6. B omits] lads. l. 10. B for your reads] the. l. 13. B] hemp. l. 14. B] shall plead. B adds following line] Where it shall be concluded, after twelve. l. 31. A] Saulz. B] souse. l. 35. B] all that I. l. 36. B] there's. l. 38. A omits char.] Gis.
p. 249, l. 1. B] which wants. l. 2. B] doe you. After l. 16. B adds] Scena 3. l. 32. B omits] too. l. 34. B for Manent reads] omnes praeter. l. 35. B] ever. l. 37. B] such roots.
p. 250, Before l. 1. B adds] Scena 4. l. 1. B omits Enter to them and reads] Aubrey, Gisbert, Baldwin. l. 3. B] That are. l. 6. B] arme. l. 13. B] death to be a. l. 14. B] of his. l. 19. B omits] a. l. 24. B] be. l. 25. B] in me. l. 33. B] the. l. 35. B] see those. l. 39. B] any act.
p. 251, l. 6. B after in reads here instead of below] Scena 5. Rollo, Latorch, Trevile, Granpree, Otto, Verdon, Duprete, Gisbert, Baldwin, Aubrey and gives See't confirmd, etc. to Gisb. l. 11. A] whom. l. 25. B] I need it not, and would. l. 28. B] threatning. l. 30. B] then a. l 33. B] oath ... is. l. 38. B ends the line with] Nor I.
p. 252, l. 1. B] see it. l. 10. B] the ... law. l. 11. B] them as I. l 13. B] them then now. l. 15. B] and then. l. 21. B ends lines at] grant and out. l. 22. B] To assure innocence. l. 29. B] Such have. l 34. B] my. l. 35. A and B] injustice. l. 40. A and B] At his so.
p. 253, l. 1. B] merit. ll. 8, 9 and 12. B ends at] live, happy, misery, allegeance, mee. l. 9. B] misery. l. 10. B omits] He. l. 12. B] respect. l. 13. B] stare ons. l. 14. B] man fencers. l. 33. A and B omit] only. l. 38. B] Scaena 6. Sophia, Rollo, Otto and the rest. l 39. B] these.
p. 254, l. 8. B] obay hers. l. 9. B] those. l. 15. B] wracks. l. 16. B] danger's. l. 17. B] And must. l. 21. B] Are in. l 23. B] are innocent. l. 29. B ends 2 ll.] Syllable, power.
p. 255, l. 4. B] Takes the authority. l. 24. C] that. l. 37. B] safety not my owne.
p. 256, l. 6. B] 'tis still. l. 13. B] Whither you can have. l. 15. B ends 2 ll.] desire, keep. l. 23. B] then so to. l. 26. B] which heard my prayers. l. 29. B omits] that. l. 30. B] That gave.
p. 257, l. 8. B] but ev'n now. l. 18. A and B] presidents. l. 19. B] worst act. l. 21. B] The Scene of. l. 25. B] starre. l. 26. B] a hundred. l. 32. B] throw down their. l. 33. B ends 2 ll.] joy, eyes.
p. 258, ll. 7 and 8. B adds after ones]
This is your Mothers triumph.
Exeunt omnes praet. Granpre, Verdon, Trevile, Dupr.
l. 9. B] hop'd for. ll. 18 and 19. B]
All friends, etc.
l. 21. B] Defer till apter. l. 24. B] and that's. l. 29. B omits] Actus ... Prima. l. 32. B ends 2 ll.] doe, ease. l. 36. B] it selfe.
p. 259, l. 4. B] soyling. l. 9. B] of prayer. l. 15. B] you are. l. 22. B] of our. l. 29. B] hath. l. 31. B] kisses, kisses a. l. 38. B] Are like. l. 39. B] The breath.
p. 260, l. 2. B] So jarres circling in distrusts, distrusts pull down dangers. l. 4. B] them but the Showers. l. 6. B] peece. A] patch. l. 8. B] he tumbles. l. 13. B] disturb him. Omits his peace. l. 15. B] upon you by your. l. 17. B] couch'd Lyon. l. 20. B omits] when. l. 24. B] A teare. l. 25. B] Tasting the bloud ... full spirits. l. 29. B omits] such a curb. l. 30. B omits] To. B] puddle. l. 37. B] yee.
p. 261, l. 3. B] a peeces. l. 8. B] you are. l. 27. B] friendship. l. 34. B] 'em.
p. 262, l. 4. B omits the third] day. l. 6. B] Body a me I am dry. ll. 8 and 9. B ends 2 ll.] master, eating. l. 11. A and B] ballasse. l. 14. B] Peuh. l. 15. B] yee. l. 16. B] Come sculing. l. 17. B] yee. l. 24. B] maribones. l. 25. B] ye. l. 26. B] plumbes before 'em. l. 27. B] Arion on a dolphin. l. 32. B] ye. l. 34. B] And then sit. l. 36. B] ye.
p. 263, l. 7. B] Altar heere. l. 10. B] wine in. l. 14. B] paste. l. 16. B] it may. l. 18. B omits] drinking. A adds] They sing and gives the song at the beginning of the play, not here. l. 30. B adds] Finis. l. 36. B] choine. l. 37. B] jole.
p. 264, l. 2. B] And see and yee ... into. l. 3. B] mercy dad. l. 7. B] newes within?
Save ye maister, save ye Gentlemen.
l. 11. B] yee. l. 14. B] This daies. l. 17. B] Bring 'em.
[Pg 402]
l. 19. B] though it. l. 32. B] to you. l. 36. B] Yee.
p. 265, l. 2. B] th' masse. l. 3. B] Hee'l. l. 4. B] doe friends. l. 6. B] ye ... yee. l. 9. B] Pray be. l. 11. B] neither fire. l. 21. C] Pardon's. B] Good god. l. 23. A, some copies, omits stage direction. l. 26. A, some copies] I imagine. l. 30. B] taste 'em. l. 32. B] pay ye. l. 33. B omits] up. l. 34. B] yee. l. 35. B] ye. l. 39. Some copies of A omit the second] by you. l. 40. B] ye have.
p. 266, l. 1. B] yee ... ye ... ye. l. 3. B omits] your. l. 8. B] ye are. l. 10. A, some copies, reads] All: all: all omitting All as char. B for All char. reads] Omn. l. 15. B] ye. l. 18. B] we dare. l. 19. B] drawd. l. 21. B] shall I. ll. 21-4. B ends ll. as verse] too, rewarded, master, too. l. 22. B omits] yet. l. 25. B divides the line after 'twere done. l. 29. A and C omit] Yeo. (char.). Some copies of A read] to still. l. 36. B] ye. l. 37. B] stands. l. 39. B] podrilla.
p. 267, l. 3. B] ye. After l. 3 B adds] Or in a galingale a little does it. l. 7. B adds] Yeo. sel (char.) at beginning of line. l. 10. B] I never. l. 12. B] yee. l. 16. B] o' my knowledge ... ye. l. 19. B] Shewer. l. 24. B] those papers. l. 27. B] Ho boyes and banquet. l. 29. C] Gispert. l. 30. B] Hamon. B. omits] Edith. l. 33. B] for you.
p. 268, l. 5. B] yee. l. 10. A, some copies] furnish. l. 13. B] bower of. l. 18. Some copies of A omit this line. l. 22. B] my sweet son. l. 23. B] ye. l. 26. B ends 2 ll.] brother, eate.
p. 269, ll. 1-3. B omits these ll. l. 5. B] your feaver. l. 7. B] and my. l. 9. B] from such. l. 11. B] his full. l. 12. B] here with base. B after l. 19 adds a line] Indeed your loving brother. l. 26. B] hee's maymde. l. 30. B] and feares.
p. 270, l. 7. C] togue. l. 13. B] you have. l. 18. B] all future. l. 21. B] ye. l. 22. B] upon your. l. 23. B] yee and, after stage direction, adds line] Soph. Doe you now perceive your brothers sweetnesse? l. 33. B omits this line. l. 34. B] ye. l. 36. B] move backward. l. 37. B] Yee.
p. 271, l. 6. B] That's. l. 12. B] your selfe up. l. 16. B adds stage direction] A Stoole set out. l. 22. C] Sob. (char.). l. 24. B] tis. l. 26. B] affection. l. 30. B] bonds. l. 31. B] to falshood ever.
p. 272, l. 3. B] of him. l. 19. B] of all syncerenesse. l. 24. B] His open. l. 25. B omits] Which he.
p. 273, l. 1. B] puffe of. l. 4. B omits] readiest. l. 5. B] gainst. l. 6. B] strow. l. 7. B] 'tis. l. 8. B] to encounter ill for ill. l. 21. B] those. l. 22. B] And sit above. ll. 26 and 27. B ends 4 ll.] arm'd, confidence, rage, monster.
p. 274, l. 3. B divides the line at me. B] put off. l. 5. B] the spoile. l. 18. B divides the line at Latorch. l. 21. C] your. B divides the line at Ha. l. 31. B divides the line at dead. l. 35. B] To bloudy ore. l. 38. B] or powers.
p. 275, l. 2. B] 'ith. l. 11. B] teach this. l. 12. B] Counsellour. l. 21. B] no ground. l. 28. B] mischiefe. l. 32. B] are both dull. l. 36. B] Power lives. l. 38. B] 'sleft halfe. l. 39. B] these.
p. 276, l. 4. B] Complaining the. l. 6. B] I shall my Lord. l. 8. B] Rise. l. 16. B] in your. l. 20. B divides the line at addition. l. 22. B] nor your. l. 30. B divides the line at mad. l. 33. B adds stage direction] He disarms him.
p. 277, l. 5. A] Survives. l. 10. Some copies of A for with read] which. l. 13. B divides the line at well. l. 22. B] ist. l. 24. B] rais'd me. A] raise. l. 28. B omits] that. l. 34. B] T' excuse.
p. 278, l. 1. B divides the line after the first him. l. 4. A] do thy. l. 9. B omits this line. l. 18. B adds] Exit. l. 24. B divides the line at death. l. 29. B divides the line at excuse. l. 35. B divides the line at Citizens. l. 36. A and B] perswasions. l. 40. B omits] here's.
p. 279, l. 2. B for Sir reads] my Lord. l. 3. A] vildely. l. 12. B divides the line at Duke. l. 31. B omits] few. l. 35. B adds Sir after the second mercy. l. 39. B] seize mee.
p. 280, l. 4. B] ye. l. 6. B] ye. After l. 6 B adds line] The Prince forgets his fury, why doe ye tug him? l. 7. B] ye. l. 15. B omits] that. l. 18. A and B for Nay read] No. l. 24. B] stand up thus. l. 39. B] howlings.
p. 281, ll. 3, 5. B omits] And. l. 4. B] I came too. l. 8. B] high heaven. l. 16. B] Enter the Citizens. l. 22. B] be lov'd. l. 26. A and B] makes them. B] made mee. l. 27. B] preserv'd mee. l. 29. B] childrens goods. l. 30. B] prey to. l. 35. B] The Curtian Gulfe.
p. 282, l. 1. B] that beare. l. 6. B] mine owne. l. 8. A] my own. l. 15. A and B] rest. l. 18. B] oblivions. l. 20. B] For you. l. 24. B] Kinsman. l. 25. A] you. l. 26. A and B] Empery. l. 32. B] the seat. l. 40. B] yee.
p. 283, l. 4. B] ope them. l. 7. B] Cast off what. l. 21. B] bow't ye. l. 32. B omits the line] Scene II. l. 34. B here and often elsewhere] Yeo. Seller. B] and Pantler. l. 35. B omits] in. A] them. l. 36. B] afore there, Roome there for. l. 37. B] afore ... get no place.
p. 284, l. 3. B] The'rle. l. 5. B divides the line at Sir. l. 6. B] ift please you. l. 10. B divides the line at boyes. B] Here's e'en enough. l. 11. A and B] Pox. l. 14. A and B] heare Sir? l. 20. B] you sheep Pantler, You peaching rogue. A] peaching. l. 23. A and B] Pray. l. 24. B] Good goodman. l. 30. A comma has been substituted for a full stop after praying. l. 34. A and B] pox. l. 35. B omits] if. l. 36. B] yee. l. 37. B] leave too. This. A] leave to, l. 39. B] Ballad.
p. 285, l. 2. B] penny-pot-Poets. l. 3. B] hang men ever. l. 6. B] yee. l. 7. B] and dispatch. l. 9. B] never. l. 10. B] chose. l. 11. B] They sing. l. 12. C] Forune's. l. 16. B] But this. B omits] still. l. 20. B]
All under the triple tree.
ll. 21 and 35. B omits] II. and III. ll. 22 and 23. B prints these as one line. ll. 24 and 25. B prints these as one line. l. 37. B] Taylor had a stitch in.
p. 286, l. 1. B divides this line at man. l. 2. B divides this line at can. l. 4. Should come my selfe for to. ll. 6-9. B prints these after the next song. l. 6. B] for ye now and divides following lines thus.
Be printed ... head.
B adds] Exeunt. ll. 10 and 11. B omits] IV. and Pant. l. 12. B] wears. l. 15. B] That am thus chipt because I clipt. After l. 18 B adds] Three merry boyes, &c. l. 21. B] to speake to you. l. 22. B and some copies of A] leggs. l. 34. B] it is.
p. 287, l. 2. B] state. l. 3. B] are faire. l. 4. B] that gin. l. 8. B] nobles on't. ll. 9-13. B divides thus] block, to, themselves, service, hold, maister. l. 9. B] them. l. 11. B] If you. l. 13. B] And to the. l. 14. B omits] so. l. 15. B] Their ayery fears ... 'em. ll. 15-17. B divides thus] 'em, sound, state. l. 22. A comma has been taken away after Do. B] gainst. l. 24. B divides the line after whosoever. B] o' the. l. 25. B divides the line after so. l. 26. B divides the line after heare. l. 27. B divides the line after you. l. 28. B divides the line after hearts. l. 30. B] o'th. l. 35. B] dar'st thou. l. 37. B] the scale. l. 39. B] thine.
p. 288, l. 1. B] durst ... thought. l. 9. B] neither he can. l. 11. B] whil'st. l. 14. B] unto. l. 26. A and B] a spatious. l. 33. B] in a. l. 35. B divides the line after not. l. 37. B] 'em.
p. 289, l. 1. B divides the line after brother. l. 2. B divides the line after brother. l. 3. B divides the line after mee. l. 5. B] To upbraid ... I am falne. l. 8. A and B] pray. l. 9. B] the headsman. l. 13. B divides the line after buriall. l. 19. A and B] for so sleight. B] clauses. l. 20. B] Hath still. l. 24. B omits] some. l. 25. B] kills. ll. 25 and 26. B gives back Master to the previous line. l. 29. B] here's. l. 34. B] And do not. l. 36. B] let 'em. l. 37. B] You make.
p. 290, l. 5. B] th' unsavorie. l. 10. B] affrights they are no ties. l. 11. B] 'gin. l. 13. B divides the line after hope. l. 17. B] no word more. ll. 18 and 19. B divides thus] then, safety, truth, and reads I am ... There is ... blocked up against the. l. 20. B] I doe thank. l. 21. B divides the line after what. l. 22. B] I will so, I assure. l. 23. B] Exeunt omnes praeter Rollo, and Latorch. l. 24. B divides the line after Latorch. l. 25. B divides the line after manners. l. 28. B divides the line after life. l. 30. B] would, he is so. l. 32. B] and he is. l. 35. B] besides. l. 37. B] us so possess. l. 40. A omits] at. A, some copies, reads set for] felt.
p. 291, l. 1. A] shaft. l. 12. B omits] wish. l. 14. B] be ... [dots in original, i.e. omits Secretary] of your delight. l. 16. A] travailes. l. 29. B divides the line after me. l. 34. B] blanck figures. l. 37. B] else Sir offer at. l. 40. B] Another Gentleman.
p. 292, l. 10. B] compacted. l. 12. B] Automicon. l. 13. B] stooles. l. 19. B] we read there, that Hiarbaes. l. 21. B] wait at the. l. 23. B] wooden Dove. l. 25. B] All these were done Sir by. l. 27. B] your own sphere. l. 28. B] with you ... beleeve you. l. 31. B] know't. l. 35. B omits] still. B adds line] And accurate forth from them.
p. 293, l. 2. A] Norbert. l. 4. B] Mine. l. 5. B] Whats that. l. 8. A] thee tooke. l. 13. B] cannot. After l. 18 B adds line] I cannot heare your beads knack. l. 23. B] That you. l. 25. B] best on's. l. 32. B] send in a. l. 33. B] o' th. l. 34. B] one of his Boles.
p. 294, l. 4. A] Souz. B] souse ... yee ... yee. ll. 8 and 9. B] o' your. l. 11. B] bird cal'd. l. 13. B] Element. l. 23. B omits] e're. l. 26. B] I' th. l. 28. B] crispt. l. 37. B] O' your. l. 40. B] on us.
p. 295, l. 1. A] wrists. l. 2. B] you ha' none. l. 3. B] who's. ll. 2-4. B reads stage direction] Bells Ring within. | Exit Pip. and enter | againe. l. 8. B omits stage direction. l. 10. B] towards. l. 13. B] T'his. l. 14. B] visour. l. 15. B] Enter Latorch and Hamond. l. 17. B gives Business to the previous line. l. 18. B] i'th. B omits] Exit. l. 21. B] I am. l. 23. B] La Bube. l. 32. A] minutes. l. 33. B] Pray them they will. l. 35. B] heere, heere in a. l. 36. B] fitt' illuminate.
p. 296, l. 2. B omits this line. l. 7. C] neglient. l. 11. B] As may well free 'em. l. 13. B divides the line after Gentlemen. l. 14. B divides the line after hour. l. 20. B] those. l. 22. B] late his. l. 30. B divides the line at is. l. 34. C] Bud. l. 35. B divides the line after then. B and C] intreat, it be. l. 36. B] Ha' you. l. 38. B divides the line after Sir.
p. 297, l. 1. B divides the line after Marry. l. 8. B] these studies. l. 9. B] was imitated. l. 12. B omits] to. l. 14. B omits this line. l. 15. B omits] him. l. 19. B divides the line after Familiars. l. 25. B divides the line after true. l. 28. B omits] a. l. 30. B divides the line after I. l. 34. A omits] a. l. 35. B] these, this. l. 36. C] Norbert. l. 37. B] your. l. 38. B] see 't.
p. 298. After l. 3 B adds line] At twenty one degrees the latitude. l. 7. B] see 't. l. 8. B] they are. l. 9. B omits] in. l. 10. A] Fortune. B] fortuna. l. 11. A] twelve. B] twelfe. l. 13. B] i' the fift. l. 15. B] the ascendant. l. 16. B] That joint. l. 17. B] Imum ... exultation. C] Juniu. l. 18. B] Ith'. l. 20. A and B] Almuter. l. 21. B] genitures. l. 23. B] Nasahales, Laell. l. 25. B] o' th. l. 32. A] 'is the. B] Alchocoden. l. 37. B] i' th. l. 38. B] ha told. l. 40. A and B] partly.
p. 299, l. 3. B] hilage. l. 5. B] you will. l. 7. B omits] in. l. 9. A and B] Algell. l. 14. B] Alchocoden. l. 30. B] tells not us. l. 31. B] That's. l. 38. B] of bloud. l. 40. A and B] Fart. B divides the line after reverence.
p. 300, l. 7. B] He's. l. 16. B] you shall. l. 18. B] inth'. l. 21. B] there not wait your. A] your. C] you. l. 22. B] on't. l. 24. B omits the line] Scene III. l. 25. A and B omit] and.
p. 301, l. 4. C omits] be. l. 5. B] fame. l. 10. B] but for th'. l. 16. A] partiall. l. 25. B] thine. l. 28. B omits] Sophia. l. 40. B] have ... now they are.
p. 302, l. 1. C] desire? l. 5. B] he were fit. l. 11. B] t' hast. l. 13. B] Th' admittance. l. 15. B] leave too. l. 20. B] mine ... with an attracted. l. 23. A and B] Affects thou. l. 24. B] Mine. l. 27. B] They're ... me mine. l. 31. B] worthlesse. l. 36. B] 'Tis.
p. 303, l. 4. B gives But to the previous line. l. 8. B] th' encounters. l. 22. B] thing that runnes. l. 39. B] Rhoane.
p. 304, l. 1. B omits this line. l. 3. B] them. l. 8. B] the house. l. 19. B omits this line. l. 22. B] the letters. l. 26. B] nor. l. 29. B] to it.
p. 305, l. 6. B omits this line and proceeds with Aub.'s speech Tis etc. l. 11. B divides the line after first. l. 18. B] for his hate. l. 25. B] base and dye, so sir your pardon. l. 28. B omits] a. l. 36. B] know. l. 37. A] do's not know. B] doe not know. C] does know. l. 39. B] where he is.
p. 306, l. 2. B] in my. l. 5. B] in stormes. l. 17. B omits the line] Scene II. l. 18. B] and a boy. A banquet set out. l. 19. B] the ruine. l. 23. A and B] cloud.
p. 307, l. 4. B] The Song. l. 9. A, some copies] being again. l. 12. B] bosome bears. l. 14. B] Are yet of. l. 16. A] Ioy chaines some copies read gay. B] Icy chaines. l. 19. A] Ha's. B] comfort thee. l. 34. B] she got thee. l. 35. B] hath prickt. l. 37. B] th' Arabian.
p. 308, l. 8. B] any thing, and any thing. l. 9. B] direction. l. 10. B] whilst. l. 12. B] Has. l. 22. B] thee, and yet there is. l. 28. B] They are. l. 32. B omits] I. l. 33. A and B] mischiefe. l. 34. B] mens. l. 35. A] sorrowes, made. B] sorrowes minde ... thou learne. l. 40. B omits this line.
p. 309, l. 9. A] upon one. l. 10. B] doe thou not. l. 15. B] and blesse me. l. 20. A] ha's. l. 22. B] doore. l. 25. B begins Rollo's speech with I have etc. l. 32. B divides the line after the first Pray.
p. 310, l. 3. B divides the line after No. l. 8. A] ha's. B] ha thee. ll. 12-15. B divides these lines after not, villain, not, Him. l. 19. B] I am. l. 20. A] ha's. l. 21. B divides the line at Captain. l. 24. B] comes. l. 26. B] wilt thou. l. 31. A and B] soules. l. 38. A] ha's. l. 39. B divides the line at No. l. 40. B] yee. B for within reads stage direction Sophia, Matilda, Aubrey, and Lords at the doore.
p. 311, l. 1. B] Yee. l. 2. B] make my way. l. 5. B] let 'em. l. 14. B] May honour. l. 20. C] sacrifie. l. 22. B] mine eyes. l. 23. B] ev'n. l. 26. B] I will. l. 36. B] I am ... then, for though. l. 38. B] Cloyster presently carry.
p. 312, l. 1. B] faint revenges. l. 6. B] That's. l. 11. B] Should suffer himselfe to be. l. 13. B] mouth's. l. 14. B] on yee. l. 17. B] bent. l. 19. B] crowded too. l. 23. B] Ha dead? my. l. 26. B] Lator. O my fortune, | My maister dead. l. 29. B] mischiefes. l. 35. B] twenty foot. l. 36. B] Lator. Mercy, mercy, 'tis too late fool. Exit Lator. Aub.'s speech beginning with Such and the stage direction at the end of l. 38 being omitted. l. 39. B] peeping knaves are those.
p. 313, l. 2. B] And it like your. ll. 2 and 5. B divides the lines at Mathematicians and Sir. l. 3. B] ye. l. 7. B] yee. l. 9. B] whip 'em. l. 17. B] 'em and omits the stage direction. l. 18. B adds stage direction] Exeunt Juglers. ll. 27 and 28. B divides the lines at yee (= you) and mee. l. 30. B] service. l. 32. B omits] is. l. 33. B] W'are ... that honour. Omits Sir. l. 38. B] Goe sadly. l. 39. B adds] Exeunt. l. 40. B adds] Florish. A and B add] Finis.
THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE.
This comedy is referred to in the Stationer's address 'to the Readers' in the First Folio (see Vol. I, present edition, p. xiii) as having 'beene long lost.' It was published separately in folio in 1652 and is often bound up with copies of the Folios. The title-page of the 1652 edition runs as follows:
The | Wild-Goose Chase. | A | Comedie. | As it hath been Acted with singular | Applause at the Black-Friers: | Being the Noble, Last, and Onely Remaines | of those Incomparable Drammatists, | Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher, Gent. | Retriv'd for the publick delight of all the Ingenious; | And private Benefit | Of John Lowin, And Joseph Taylor, Servants to His late Majestie. | By a Person of Honour. | Ite bonis avibus—| London, Printed for Humpherey Moseley, and are to be | sold at the Princes Armes in St. Paules | Church-yard. 1652.
The Dedication and preliminary verses that follow are from the edition of 1652: they were omitted in the Second Folio. In the following variations A = 1652 and B = the Second Folio.
THE DEDICATION.
To the Honour'd, Few, Lovers of
Drammatick Poesie.
Noble Spirits!
It will seem strange to you that we should beg a Pardon from you before you know a Crime committed; But such is our harsh Fate, that we shall want as much of your Mercie to the forgiving of this sad presumption of offering to your view these few poor sheets, the Rich Remains of our too-long-since lost Friend, Mr FLETCHER, as we shall your favourable Acceptance, and Incouragement in it. The Play was of so Generall a receiv'd Acceptance, that (he Himself a Spectator) we have known him un-concern'd, and to have wisht it had been none of His; He, as well as the throng'd Theatre (in despight of his innate Modesty) Applauding this rare issue of his Brain. His Complacencie in his own Work, may be, perhaps no Argument to you of the Goodness of the Play, any more than our Confidence of it; and we do not expect our Encomium can do any thing with you, when the Play it self is so near: That will commend it self unto you. And now Farewell our Glory! Farewell your Choice Delight, most noble Gentlemen! Farewell th' Grand Wheel that set Us smaller Motions in Action! Farewell the Pride and Life o' th' Stage! Nor can we (though in our Ruin) much repine that we are so little, since He that gave us being is no more.
Generous Soules!
'Tis not unknown unto you All, how by a cruell Destinie we have a long time been Mutes and Bound, although our Miseries have been sufficiently Clamorous and Expanded, yet till this happy opportunitie, never durst vex your open Ears and Hands: But this we're confident of will be the surest Argument for your Noblesses. What an Ingenious Person of Qualitie once spake of his Amours, we apply to our necessities,
Than Words, though ne'r so Wittie:
The Beggar that is DUMB, you know,
Deserves a DOUBLE PITTIE.
But be the Comoedie at your Mercy as We are. Onely we wish, that you may have the same Kind Joy in Perusing of it, as we had in the Acting.
So Exeunt
Your Gratefull Servants,
JOHN LOWIN, }
JOSEPH TAYLOR.}
On the best, last, and only
remaining Comoedy of Mr.
FLETCHER.
The blind and late Heaven's Ey's Great Oculist
Obscur'd with the False Fiers of his Sceme
Not halfe those Souls are Lightned by this Theme.
Unhappy Murmurers that still repine
(After th' Eclipse our Sunne doth brighter shine)
Recant your False Grief and your True joyes knowe,
Your Bliss is Endles as you fear'd your Woe!
What Fort'nate Flood is this? what storm of Witt?
Oh who would live and not orewhelm'd in it?
No more a Fatall Diluge shall be hurl'd,
This Inundation hath sav'd the World.
Once more the Mighty FLETCHER doth arise
Roab'd in a Vest, Studded with Starrs and Eyes
Of all his former Glories; His last Worth
Imbroydered with what yet Light e're brought forth.
See! in this glad Farewell he doth appeare
Stuck with the Constellations of his Sphere,
Fearing we num'd fear'd no Flagration
Hath curled all his Fyres in this one ONE,
Which (as they guard his hallowed Chast Urn)
The dull approaching Hereticks do burn.
FLETCHER at his Adieu Carouses thus
To the Luxurious Ingenious.
A Cleopatra did of Old out-vie
Th' un-numbred dishes of her Anthonie
When (He at th' emptie Board a Wonderer)
Smiling shee call's for Pearl and Vineger;
First pledges Him in's Breath, then at one Draught
Swallowes Three Kingdomes off to His best Thought.
Hear Oh ye Valiant Writers and subscribe!
(His Force set by) y'are Conquer'd by this Bribe;
Though you Hold out your selves, He doth commit
In this a Sacred Treason on your Witt;
[Pg 409] Although in Poëms desperately Stout,
Give up; This Overture must buy you out.
Thus with some Prodigall Us'rer 't doth fare
That keepes his Gold still veyl'd, his steel-breast bare,
That doth exclude his Coffers all but's Eye
And his Ey's Idoll the Wing'd Deitie;
That cannot lock his Mines with half the Art
As some Rich Beauty doth his wretched heart:
Wild at his reall Poverty, and so wise
To winne her, turnes Himselfe into a Prise.
First startles Her with th' Emerald-Mad-lover
The Rubie-Arcas; lest shee should recover
Her das'led Thought a Diamond He throwes
Splendid in all the bright Aspatia's woes;
Then to summe up the Abstract of his store
He flings a Rope of Pearl of Forty more.
Ah see! the stag'ring Vertue faints! which He
Beholding, darts his Wealth's Epitome,
And now to Consumate her wished Fall
Shewes this one Carbuncle that darkens All.
ON
Mr. FLETCHERS
excellent Play,
THE
WILD-GOOSE CHASE.
FLETCHER; I feel them smarting in my eyes.
Methinks thou sayst what would this rimer have
He raises me, yet gives my fame a grave?
Me thinkes (like that Old Moralist's Complaint
What ill of mine has gain'd this ill mans prayse?)
I hear thee say, sure this Play has some taint
That this ill Poet gives his withered bayes?
Perhaps this good Philosophers life began
To make the ill man good; As in a man
To love the good's a step to being so,
Love to thy Muse may be to me so too;
Then I shall know how to commend thy Muse
When her own self the prayses shall infuse:
Till then I must sit down, confess the wonder,
'Bove which I cannot go, and, won't go under.
But where's the prayse (you'l say) to FLETCHERS wit?
I would ha giv'n but had no Offering fit.
Then let these lines be thought to FLETCHERS Muse
Not an Encomium, but an Excuse.
An Epigram upon the long lost and fortunately recovered WILD-GOOSE CHASE, and as seasonably bestowed on Mr. JOHN LOWEN and Mr. JOSEPH TAYLOR, for their best advantage.
Were hunger-bit for want of fowl and Sack,
His nobleness found out this happy meanes
To mend their dyet with these WILD-GOOSE scenes,
By which he hath revived in a day
Two Poets, and two Actors with one Play.
To the incomparable Mr. FLETCHER,
upon his excellent Play, The
WILD-GOOSE CHASE.
Whole in the whole, and whole in ev'ry Part.
Thy fury every scene with spirit warmes,
And that same spirit every line informes.
No Commas ly intranc'd, and rise up sense
Three, four lines off, such is thy Influence.
Thy woords are all alive; and thou ne're writ
Things to come to themselves, nor Types of Wit,
All lives, and is fulfill'd. And for thy Plot
When ere we read we have, and have it not,
And glad to be deceiv'd, finding thy Drift
T' excell our guess at every turn, and shift.
Some new Meanders still do put us out,
Yet find that nearest what we thought about.
Through all Intriqu's we are securely lead,
And all the way we pass w'ave hold 'oth' thread,
Which a long while we feel not, till thy Close
Winding the Bottom up the Bottom showes.
On Mr. FLETCHERS Wild-Goose Chase recovered.
Bewail'd as if it an abortive were
(And out of sense of that, no gen'rous breast
But a forsaken lover's grief exprest)
Hath forc'd his way thorough the pangs of Fate,
And in his infancy's at mans estate.
Thus that Fam'd flood that's plung'd into a grave
For many leagues, at length exalts his wave;
Leapes from his Sepulcher, and proudly slides
Through's banks in deeper, more expanded tides;
Till to his watry Center he hath got
By wrigling twines, subtile as FLETCHER'S plot.
That 'tis a sacred birth from hence we know,
It doth by buriall more glorious grow:
[Pg 411] For Saints by persecution thrive; and none
Is Martyr'd, but's opprest into a throne.
There reign he to Time's end! while we from this,
Doe calculate his Apotheosis.
- p. 314, ll. 3 and 4. Omitted in A. l. 5. A] Drammatis Personæ.
Instead of the Actors' names being given in a list separately, they follow the names and descriptions of the characters, thus:
- De-Gard ... Acted by Mr. Robert Benfield.
- La-Castre ... Acted by Mr. Richard Robinson.
- Mirabell ... Incomparably Acted by Mr. Joseph Taylor.
- Pinac ... Admirably well Acted by Mr. Thomas Pollard.
- Belleur ... Most naturally Acted by Mr. John Lowin.
- Nantolet ... Acted by Mr. William Penn.
- Lugier ... Acted by Mr. Hilliard Swanston.
- Oriana ... Acted by Mr. Steph. Hammerton.
- Rosalura } ... {William Trigg.
- Lillia-Bianca } ... {Sander Gough.
- Petella ... Their servant Mr. Shanck.
-
- A young Factor by Mr. John Hony-man.
- p. 315, l. 3. B omits name of character. l. 12. A omits] a.
- p. 316, l. 11. A omits] be.
- p. 320, l. 19. B] Linguists? l. 25. A] Their very.
- p. 321, l. 11. A] th' other. l. 12. A] I am. l. 26. A] ha'st.
- p. 322, l. 9. B] you, will so. l. 21. B] Lugien.
- p. 323, l. 24. A] Ye. l. 28. A] Pray. l. 34. A] Has.
- p. 324, l. 4. B omits] Belleur.
- p. 325, l. 14. A] this ... Gentlewoman. l. 40. A] gather.
- p. 326, ll. 17, 19, 20. A] ye ... ye ... ye. l. 27. A] a Nawl. ll. 36 and 40. A] ye ... ye.
- p. 327, l. 13. A] Pray.
- p. 328, l. 1. A] year. l. 5. B] there. l. 9. A] ore the. l. 10. A] there's. l. 24. A] let that.
- p. 329, l. 11. A] 'Pre' thee. l. 18. A] more a welcome. l. 20. A] do'st.
- p. 330, l. 10. A omits] fain.
- p. 334, l. 18. B] de Ca.
- p. 335, l. 38. A] loose.
- p. 336, l. 19. A] 'May.
- p. 337, l. 10. A] told ye enough. l. 39. B] me,
- p. 338, l. 14. A] fancie.
- p. 339, l. 37. B] Bella fronte.
- p. 340, l. 4. A] Germins. l. 22. A] do's.
- p. 341, l. 2. A omits the second I. l. 8. B] blurred. [Pg 412]
- p. 342, l. 7. B] would'd.
- p. 344, l. 12. A] y' faith. l. 36. A] sham'd.
- p. 345, l. 31. A] Y' faith.
- p. 346, l. 38. A] Lelia, Rosaluce. The names of the characters are, throughout both A and B, spelt erratically.
- p. 349, l. 4. Lel. has been altered to Lil. here and elsewhere.
- p. 350, l. 12. B] Travel. l. 16. A] fare.
- p. 352, l. 38. A] Loose.
- p. 356, l. 4. A] Enter Leverduce, des Lugier, Mr Illiard. [See Dram. Pers.] l. 34. B] Coutrey.
- p. 358, l. 30. A] what ye. l. 37. A] been attaint of.
- p. 359, l. 4. A omits] Exeunt. l. 22. B misprints char.] Sir. l. 33. A] by ye.
- p. 361, l. 18. B misprints char.] Sir.
- p. 362, l. 15. A] need. l. 28. B] mind.
- p. 363, l. 13. A] women. l. 27. B] wold.
- p. 364, l. 5. A] in mine. ll. 11 and 13. A] ye ... ye. l. 30. A] she is. l. 31. A] you will. l. 37. B] Engllsh.
- p. 366, l. 24. A] manner. l. 39. A] say to ye.
- p. 367, l. 11. A] counsel. l. 26. A omits the second your. l. 40. A] took not notice.
- p. 368, l. 12. A] Cry now instantly. l. 34. A] Gentlewoman. l. 36. B] 2 Wom.
- p. 369, l. 25. A] 'pray ye come.
- p. 370, l. 15. A] Ye are.
- p. 371, l. 17. A] as you.
- p. 372, l. 8. A] ye. l. 14. A] you. l. 31. A] ye.
- p. 373, l. 4. A] Pray. l. 11. B omits stage direction. l. 12. B] do you. A] do not ye. l. 13. A] why a. l. 22. A] she is. l. 25. B omits] good. l. 31. A] do'st. l. 32. B misprints char.] Min.
- p. 374, l. 10. A] vild.
- p. 376, l. 30. A] seem' stubborn.
- p. 377, l. 2. A omits] and.
- p. 379, l. 9. A] Renegado no. l. 37. B misprints] particularey.
- p. 380, l. 17. A] this will. l. 32. A query mark has been added after wealthie.
- p. 381, l. 7. B prints] Exit Alberto. l. 15. A] entirements.
- p. 382, l. 32. A] affect.
- p. 383, l. 4. B] Perserve.
- p. 386, l. 28. A] Rosaluce, Lillia. l. 31. A prints stage direction] Musick, then Enter etc.
- p. 389, l. 14. A] Gentlemen.
- p. 390, l. 27. A adds] Finis.
End of Vol. IV.
CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Added Table of Contents.
Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.
Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.