Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10
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Title: Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10
Author: Francis Beaumont
John Fletcher
Editor: A. R. Waller
Release date: October 20, 2014 [eBook #47156]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47156
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER'S WORKS, VOL. 07 OF 10 ***
FRANCIS BEAUMONT
Born 1584 Died 1616
JOHN FLETCHER
Born 1579 Died 1625
_BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER_
THE MAID IN THE MILL
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA
LOVES CURE, OR THE MARTIAL MAID
WOMEN PLEAS'D
THE NIGHT-WALKER, OR THE LITTLE
THIEF
THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.
[Illustration]
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1909
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, MANAGER
[Illustration]
Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET
Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS
New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Maid in the Mill 1
The Knight of Malta 78
Loves Cure, or the Martial Maid 164
Women Pleas'd 237
The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief 311
Notes 385
THE
Maid in the Mill.
A COMEDY.
The Persons Represented in the Play.
_Don_ Philippo _King of_ Spain.
Otrante _a Spanish Count, in love with_ Florimel.
Julio, _A Noble Man, Uncle to_ Antonio.
Bellides, _Father to_ Ismenia, _Enemy to_ Julio.
Lisauro, _Brother to_ Ismenia, Bellides _Son_.
Terzo, _Kinsman to_ Lisauro, _and friend to_ Bellides.
Antonio, _In love with_ Ismenia, _an enemy to_ Bellides.
Martino, _Friend to_ Antonio, _and his secret Rival_.
Gerasto, _Friend to_ Otrante.
Pedro. } _Two Courtiers._
Moncado. }
Gostanzo, } _Three Gentlemen, Friends to_ Julio.
Giraldo, }
Philippo, }
Vertigo, _A French Taylor_.
_Lords, attending the King in progress._
Franio, _A Miller, supposed Father to_ Florimell.
Bustopha, Franio _his Son, a Clown_.
_Constable._
_Officers._
Pedro, _A Songster_.
_Servants._
WOMEN.
Ismenia, _Daughter to_ Bellides, _Mistriss of_ Antonio.
Aminta, _Cousen to_ Ismenia, _and her private competrix in_
Antonio's _love_.
Florimell, _Supposed Daughter to_ Franio, _Daughter to_ Julio,
_stolen from him a child_.
Gillian, Franio _the Millers Wife_.
_Countrey Maids._
The Scene Spaine.
The principal Actors were
_Joseph Tailor_,
_John Lowin_,
_John Underwood_,
_William Rowly_,
_John Thomson_,
_Robert Benfield_,
_Tho. Polard_.
_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Lisauro, Terzo, Ismenia, _and_ Aminta.
_Lis._ Let the Coach go round, we'll walk along these Meadows:
And meet at Port again: Come my fair Sister,
These cool shades will delight ye.
_Am._ Pray be merry,
The Birds sing as they meant to entertain ye,
Every thing smiles abroad; methinks the River
(As he steals by) curles up his head, to view ye:
Every thing is in love.
_Ism._ You would have it so.
You that are fair, are easie of belief, Cosen,
The theam slides from your tongue.
_Am._ I fair? I thank ye:
Mine's but shadow when your Sun shines by me.
_Ism._ No more of this, you know your worth (_Aminta_)
Where are we now?
_Am._ Hard by the Town (_Ismena_).
_Ter._ Close by the Gates.
_Ism._ 'Tis a fine Ayr.
_Lis._ A delicate;
The way so sweet and even, that the Coach
Would be a tumbling trouble to our pleasures:
Methinks I am very merry:
_Ism._ I am sad:
_Am._ You are ever so when we entreat ye (Cosen)
_Ism._ I have no reason: such a trembling here
Over my heart methinks:
_Am._ Sure you are fasting;
Or not slept well to night; some dream (_Ismena_?)
_Ism._ My dreams are like my thoughts, honest and innocent,
Yours are unhappy; who are these that coast us?
[_Enter Antonio and Martin._
You told me the walk was private.
_Ter._ 'Tis most commonly:
_Ism._ Two proper men: It seems they have some business,
With me none sure; I do not like their faces;
They are not of our Company:
_Ter._ No Cosen:
_Lisauro_, we are dog'd.
_Lis._ I find it (Cosen)
_Ant._ What handsome Lady?
_Mar._ Yes, she's very handsome.
They are handsome both.
_Ant. Martin_, stay we are cosen'd.
_Mar._ I will go up; a woman is no wild-fire.
_Ant._ Now by my life she is sweet: Stay good _Martin_,
They are of our enemies; the house of _Bellides_.
Our mortal enemies:
_Mar._ Let 'em be devils,
They appear so handsomly, I will go forward;
If these be enemies, I'll ne'r seek friends more.
_Ant._ Prethee forbear, the Gentlewomen.
_Mar._ That's it (man)
That moves me like a Gin.
'Pray ye stand off Ladies:
_Lis._ They are both our enemies: both hate us equally;
By this fair day our mortal foes.
_Ter._ I know 'em,
And come here to affront: how they gape at us!
They shall have gaping work.
_Ism._ Why your swords, Gentlemen?
_Ter._ Pray ye stand you off, Cosen,
And good now leave your whistling: we are abus'd all:
Back, back I say:
_Lis._ Go back.
_Ant._ We are no dogs Sir,
To run back on command.
_Ter._ We'll make ye run, Sir.
_Ant._ Having a civil charge of handsome Ladies,
We are your servants: pray ye no quarrel Gentlemen.
There's way enough for both.
_Lis._ We'll make it wider.
_Ant._ If you will fight, arm'd from this Saint; have at ye.
_Ism._ O me unhappy, are ye Gentlemen?
Discreet, and Civil, and in open view thus?
_Am._ What will men think of us; nay you may kill us;
Mercy o'me; through my petticoat; what bloody Gentlemen!
_Ism._ Make way through me, ye had best, and kill an innocent:
Brother, why Cosen: by this light I'll dye too:
This Gentleman is temperate: be you merciful:
Alass, the Swords.
_Am._ You had best run me through [the belly]
'Twill be a valiant thrust.
_Ism._ I faint amongst ye.
_Ant._ Pray ye be not fearful: I have done (sweet Lady)
My swords already aw'd, and shall obey ye:
I come not here to violate sweet beauty,
I bow to that.
_Ism._ Brother, you see this Gentleman,
This noble Gentleman.
_Lis._ Let him avoid then,
And leave our Walk.
_Ant._ The Lady may command Sir,
She bears an eye more dreadful than your weapon.
_Ism._ What a sweet nature this man has! dear brother,
Put up your sword.
_Ter._ Let them put up and walk then:
_Ant._ No more loud words: there's time enough before us:
For shame put up, do honor to these beauties:
_Mar._ Our way is this,
We will not be denyed it.
_Ter._ And ours is this, we will not be cross'd in it.
_Ant._ What ere your way is (Lady) 'tis a fair one;
And may it never meet with rude hands more,
Nor rough uncivil Tongues. [_Exeunt._
_Ism._ I thank ye Sir,
Indeed I thank ye nobly: a brave Enemy,
Here's a sweet temper now: This is a man (Brother)
This Gentleman's anger is so nobly seated,
That it becomes him: Yours proclaim ye Monsters.
What if he be our House-Foe? we may brag on't:
We have ne'er a friend in all our House so honorable:
I had rather from an Enemy, my Brother,
Learn worthy distances and modest difference,
Than from a race of empty friends, loud nothings:
I am hurt between ye.
_Am._ So am I, I fear too:
[I am sure their swords were between my leggs]: Dear Cosen
Why look ye pale? where are ye hurt?
_Ism._ I know not,
But here methinks.
_Lis._ Unlace her gentle Cousen.
_Ism._ My heart, my heart, and yet I bless the Hurter.
_Am._ Is it so dangerous?
_Ism._ Nay, nay, I faint not.
_Am._ Here is no blood that I find, sure 'tis inward:
_Ism._ Yes, yes, 'tis inward: 'twas a subtle weapon,
The hurt not to be cur'd I fear.
_Lis._ The Coach there.
_Am._ May be a fright.
_Ism. Aminta_, 'twas a sweet one,
And yet a cruel.
_Am._ Now I find the wound plain:
A wondrous handsome Gentleman.
_Ism._ Oh no deeper:
Prethee be silent, (wench) it may be thy case.
_Am._ You must be searched; the wound will rancle, Cosen
And of so sweet a nature.
_Ism._ Dear _Aminta_:
Make it not sorer.
_Am._ And on my life admires ye.
_Ism._ Call the Coach, Cosen.
_Am._ The Coach, the Coach.
_Ter._ 'Tis ready bring the Coach there.
_Lis._ Well my brave Enemies, we shall yet meet ye,
And our old hate shall testifie.
_Ter._ It shall (Cosen.) [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martine.
_Ant._ Their swords, alass, I weigh 'em not (dear Friend)
The indiscretion of the Owners blunts 'em;
The fury of the House affrights not me,
It spends it self in words: (Oh me _Martine_)
There was a two edg'd eye, a Lady carried
A weapon that no valor can avoyd,
Nor Art (the hand of Spirit) put aside.
O Friend, it broke out on me like a bullet
Wrapt in a cloud of fire: that point (_Martine_)
Dazled my sence, and was too subtle for me,
Shot like a Comet in my face, and wounded
(To my eternal ruine,) my hearts valor.
_Mar._ Methinks she was no such piece.
_Ant._ Blaspheme not Sir,
She is so far beyond weak commendation,
That impudence will blush to think ill of her.
_Mar._ I see it not, and yet I have both eyes open:
And I could judge, I know there is no beauty
Till our eyes give it 'em, and make 'em handsome;
What's red and white, unless we do allow 'em?
A green face else; and me-thinks such an other.
_Ant._ Peace thou leud Heretick; Thou judge of beauties?
Thou hast an excellent sense for a sign-post (Friend)
Dost thou not see? I'll swear thou art soon blind else,
As blind as ignorance; when she appeared first
_Aurora_ breaking in the east, and through her face,
As if the hours and graces had strew'd Roses,
A blush of wonder flying; when she was frighted
At our uncivil swords, didst thou not mark
How far beyond the purity of snow
The soft wind drives, whiteness of innocence,
Or any thing that bears Celestial paleness,
She appear'd o'th'sodain? Didst thou not see her tears
When she intreated? O thou Reprobate!
Didst thou not see those orient tears flow'd from her,
The little Worlds of Love? A set (_Martine_)
Of such sanctified Beads, and a holy heart to love
I could live ever a Religious Hermite.
_M[a]r._ I do believe a little, and yet methinks
She was of the lowest stature.
_Ant._ A rich Diamond
Set neat and deep, Natures chief Art (_Martine_)
Is to reserve her Models curious,
Not cumbersome and great; and such an one
For fear she should exceed, upon her matter
Has she fram'd this; Oh 'tis a spark of beauty,
And where they appear so excellent in little,
They will but flame in great; Extention spoils 'em:
_Martine_ learn this, the narrower that our eyes
Keep way unto our object, still the sweeter
That comes unto us: Great bodies are like Countries,
Discovering still, toyl and no pleasure finds 'em.
_Mar._ A rare Cosmographer for a small Island,
Now I believe she is handsome.
_Ant._ Believe heartily,
Let thy belief, though long a coming, save thee.
_Mar._ She was (certain) fair.
_Ant._ But heark ye (friend _Martine_)
Do not believe your self too far before me,
For then you may wrong me, Sir.
_Mar._ Who bid ye teach me?
Do you show me meat, and stitch my lips (_Antonio_?)
Is that fair play?
_Ant._ Now if thou shouldst abuse me,
And yet I know thee for an errant wencher,
A most immoderate thing, thou canst not love long.
_Mar._ A little serves my turn, I fly at all games,
But I believe.
_Ant._ How if we never see her more?
She is our enemy.
_Mar._ Why are you jealous then?
As far as I conceive she hates our whole House.
_Ant._ Yet (good _Martine_)
_Mar._ Come, come, I have mercy on ye:
You shall enjoy her in your dream (_Antonio_)
And I'll not hinder: though now I perswade my self.
_Enter_ Aminta _with a Letter_.
_Ant._ Sit with perswasion down, and you deal honestly:
I will look better on her.
_Mar._ Stay, who's this, Friend?
_Ant._ Is't not the other Gentlewoman?
_Mar._ Yes, a Letter.
She brings [no] challenge sure: if she do (_Antonio_)
I hope she'll be a Second too; I am for her.
_Am._ A good hour Gentlemen.
_Ant._ You are welcome Lady;
'Tis like our late rude passage has powr'd on us
Some reprehension.
_Am._ No I bring no anger,
Though some deserv'd it.
_Ant._ Sure we were all to blame, Lady;
But for my part (in all humility
And with no little shame) I ask your pardons,
Indeed I wear no sword to fright sweet beauties.
_Am._ You have it, and this Letter; pray ye Sir view it,
And my Commission's done.
_Mar._ Have ye none for me Lady?
_Am._ Not at this time.
_Mar._ I am sorry for't; I can read too.
_Am._ I am glad: but Sir, to keep you in your exercise,
You may chance meet with one ill written.
_Mar._ Thank ye,
So it be a womans, I can pick the meaning,
For likely they have but one end.
_Am._ You say true Sir. [_Exit._
_Ant. Martine_, my wishes are come home and loaden,
Loaden with brave return: most happy, happy:
I am a blessed man: where's the Gentlewoman?
_Mar._ Gone, the spirit's gone, what news?
_Ant._ 'Tis from the Lady;
From her we saw: from that same miracle,
I know her name now: read but these three lines;
Read with devotion, friend, the lines are holy.
_Martine_ reads.
_I dare not chide ye in my Letter, (Sir)_
_'Twill be too gentle: If you please to look me_
_In the West-street, and find a fair Stone window,_
_Carved with white Cupids; there I'll entertain ye:_
_Night and discretion guide ye._
_Call me_ Ismena.
_Ant._ Give it me again: Come, come, fly, fly, I am all fire.
_Mar._ There may be danger.
_Ant._ So there is to drink
When men are thirsty, to eat hastily
When we are hungry: so there is in sleep, Friend,
Obstructions then may rise and smother us,
We may dye laughing, choak'd even at devotions:
An Apoplexie, or a sodain Palsey
May strike us down.
_Mar._ May be a train to catch ye.
_Ant._ Then I am caught: and let Love answer for it.
'Tis not my folly, but his infamy,
And if he be ador'd, and dare do vild things.--
_Mar._ Well, I will go.
_Ant._ She is a Lady, Sir,
A Maid, I think, and where that holy spell
Is flung about me, I ne're fear a villany,
'Tis almost night: away friend.
_Mar._ I am ready,
I think I know the house too.
_Ant._ Then are we happy. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter_ Ismena, _and_ Aminta.
_Ism._ Did you meet him?
_Am._ Yes.
_Ism._ And did you give my Letter?
_Am._ To what end went I?
_Ism._ Are ye sure it was he?
Was it that Gentleman?
_Am._ Do you think I was blind?
I went to seek no Carrier, nor no Midwife.
_Ism._ What kind of man was he? thou mayst be deceiv'd Friend.
_Am._ A man with a nose on's face: I think he had eyes too,
And hands: for sure he took it.
_Ism._ What an answer!
_Am._ What questions are these to one that's hot and troubled?
Do you think me a Babe? am I not able (Cosin)
At my years and discretion, to deliver
A Letter handsomely? Is that such a hard thing?
Why every Wafer-woman will undertake it:
A Sempsters girl, or a Tailors wife will not miss it:
A Puritan Hostess (Cosin) would scorn these questions.
My legs are weary.
_Ism._ I'll make 'em well again.
_Am._ Are they at supper?
_Ism._ Yes, and I am not well,
Nor desire no company: look out, 'tis darkish.
_Am._ I see nothing yet: assure your self, _Ismena_,
If he be a man, he will not miss.
_Ism._ It may be he is modest,
And that may pull him back from seeing me;
Or has made some wild construction of my easiness:
I blush to think what I writ.
_Am._ What should ye blush at?
Blush when you act your thoughts, not when you write 'em;
Blush soft between a pair of sheets, sweet Cosin,
Though he be a curious carried Gentleman, I cannot think
He's so unnatural to leave a woman,
A young, a noble, and a beauteous woman,
Leave her in her desires: Men of this age
Are rather prone to come before they are sent for.
Hark, I hear something: up to th' Chamber, Cosin,
You may spoil all else.
_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martine.
_Ism._ Let me see, they are Gentlemen;
It may be they.
_Am._ They are they: get ye up,
And like a Land-star draw him.
_Ism._ I am shame-fac'd. [_Exit._
_Ant._ This is the street.
_Mar._ I am looking for the house:
Close, close, pray ye close here.
_Ant._ No, this is a Merchants;
I know the man well:
_Mar._ And this a Pothecaries: I have lain here many times
For a looseness in my hilts.
_A[n]t._ Have ye not past it?
_Mar._ No sure:
There is no house of mark that we have scaped yet.
_Ant._ What place is this?
_Mar._ Speak softer: 'may be spies;
If any, this, a goodly window too,
Carv'd far above, that I perceive: 'tis dark,
But she has such a lustre.
_Enter_ Ismena _and_ Aminta _above with a Taper_.
_Ant._ Yes _Martine_,
So radiant she appears.
_Mar._ Else we may miss, Sir:
The night grows vengeance black, pray heaven she shine clear:
Hark, hark, a window, and a candle too.
_Ant._ Step close, 'tis she: I see the cloud disperse,
And now the beauteous Planet.
_Mar._ Ha, 'tis indeed,
Now by the soul of love a Divine Creature.
_Ism._ Sir, Sir.
_Ant._ Most blessed Lady.
_Ism._ 'Pray ye stand out.
_Am._ You need not fear, there's no body now stirring.
_Mar._ Beyond his commendation I am taken,
Infinite strangely taken.
_Am._ I love that Gentleman,
Methinks he has a dainty nimble body:
I love him heartily.
_Ism._ 'Tis the right Gentleman:
But what to say to him, Sir.
_Am._ Speak.
_Ant._ I wait still,
And will do till I grow another Pillar,
To prop this house, so it please you.
_Ism._ Speak softly,
And 'pray ye speak truly too.
_Ant._ I never ly'd, Lady.
_Ism._ And don't think me impudent to ask ye,
I know ye are an enemy, speak low,
But I would make ye a friend.
_Ant._ I am friend to beauty;
There's no handsomness, I dare be foe to.
_Ism._ Are ye married?
_Ant._ No.
_Ism._ Are ye betroth'd?
_Ant._ No, neither.
_Ism._ Indeed (fair Sir.)
_Ant._ Indeed (fair sweet) I am not.
Most beauteous Virgin, I am free as you are.
_Ism._ That may be, Sir, then ye are miserable,
For I am bound.
_Ant._ Happy the bonds that hold ye;
Or do you put them on your self for pleasure?
Sure they be sweeter far than liberty:
There is no blessedness but in such bondage:
Give me that freedom (Madam) I beseech ye,
(Since you have question'd me so cunningly)
To ask you whom you are bound to, he must be certain
More than humane, that bounds in such a beauty:
Happy that happy chain, such links are heavenly.
_Ism._ Pray ye do not mock me, Sir.
_Ant._ Pray ye (Lady) tell me.
_Ism._ Will ye believe, and will ye keep it to ye?
And not scorn what I speak?
_Ant._ I dare not, Madam,
As Oracle what you say, I dare swear to.
_Ism._ I'll set the candle by: for I shall blush now;
Fie, how it doubles in my mouth! it must out,
'Tis you I am bound to.
_Ant._ Speak that word again.
I understand ye not.
_Ism._ 'Tis you I am bound to.
_Ant._ Here is another Gentleman.
_Ism._ 'Tis you, Sir.
_Am._ He may be lov'd too.
_Mar._ Not by thee, first curse me.
_Ism._ And if I knew your name.
_Ant. Antonio_ (Madam)
_Ism. Antonio_, take this kiss, 'tis you I am bound to.
_Ant._ And when I set ye free, may heaven forsake me, _Ismena_.
_Ism._ Yes, now I perceive ye love me,
You have learn'd my name.
_Ant._ Hear but some vows I make to ye:
Hear but the protestations of a true love.
_Ism._ No, no, not now: vows should be cheerful things,
Done in the cleerest light, and noblest testimony:
No vow, dear Sir, tie not my fair belief
To such strict terms: those men have broken credits,
Loose and dismembred faiths (my dear _Antonio_)
That splinter 'em with vows: am I not too bold?
Correct me when you please.
_Ant._ I had rather hear ye,
For so sweet Musick never stru[c]k mine ears yet:
Will you believe now?
_Ism._ Yes.
_Ant._ I am yours.
_Ism._ Speak louder,
If ye answer the Priest so low, you will lose your wedding.
_Mar._ Would I might speak, I would holloa.
_Ant._ Take my heart,
And if it be not firm and honest to you,
Heaven--
_Ism._ Peace, no more: I'll keep your heart, and credit it.
Keep you your word: [when] will you come again (Friend?)
For this time we have woo'd indifferently.
I would fain see ye, when I dare be bolder.
_Ant._ Why any night: only (dear noble Mistriss)
Pardon three daies: my Uncle _Julio_
Has bound me to attend him upon promise,
Upon expectation too: we have rare sports there,
Rare Countrey sports, I would you could but see 'em.
Dare ye so honor me?
_Ism._ I dare not be there,
You know I dare not, no, I must not (Friend)
Where I may come with honourable freedom:
Alas, I am ill too; we in love.
_Ant._ You flout me.
_Ism._ Trust me I do not: I speak truth, I am sickly,
And am in love: but you must be Physician.
_Ant._ I'll make a plaister of my best affection.
_Ism._ Be gone, we have supp'd, I hear the people stir,
Take my best wishes: give me no cause (_Antonio_)
To curse this happy night.
_Ant._ I'll lose my life first,
A thousand kisses.
_Ism._ Take ten thousand back again.
_Mar._ I am dumb with admiration: shall we goe, Sir? [_Exeunt._
_Ism._ Dost thou know his Uncle?
_Am._ No, but I can ask, Cosin.
_Ism._ I'll tell thee more of that, come, let's to bed both,
And give me handsome dreams, Love, I beseech thee.
_Am._ 'Has given ye a handsome subject.
_Ism._ Pluck to the windows. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Bustofa.
_Bust._ The thundring Seas, whose watry fire washes
The whiting mops:
The gentle Whale whose feet so fell
Flies o'r the Mountains tops. [_within_ Franio.
_Fra._ Boy.
_Bust._ The thundring.
_Fra._ Why boy _Bustofa_.
_Bust._ Here I am, the gentle Whale.
_Enter_ Franio.
_Fra._ Oh, are you here, Sir? where's your Sister?
_Bust._ The gentle Whale flies o'r the Mountain tops.
_Fra._ Where's your sister (man)?
_Bust._ Washes the whiting-Mops.
_Fra._ Thou ly'st, she has none to wash Mops?
The boy is half way out of his wits, sure:
Sirrah, who am I?
_Bust._ The thundring Seas.
_Fra._ Mad, stark mad.
_Bust._ Will you not give a man leave to con?
_Fra._ Yes, and fesse too, e'r I have done with you Sirrah,
Am I your father?
_Bust._ The question is too hard for a child, ask me any thing
That I have learn'd, and I'll answer you.
_Fra._ Is that a hard question? Sirrah, am not I your Father?
_Bust._ If I had my Mother-wit I could tell you.
_Fra._ Are you a thief?
_Bust._ So far forth as the Son of a Miller.
_Fra._ Will you be hang'd?
_Bust._ Let it go by eldership. The gentle Whale.--
_Fra._ Sirrah, lay by your foolish study there,
And beat your brains about your own affairs: or--
_Bust._ I thank you; you'ld have me goe under the sails
And beat my brains about your Mill? a natural
Father you are.--
_Fra._ I charge you goe not to the sports to day:
Last night I gave you leave, now I recant.
_Bust._ Is the wind turn'd since last night?
_Fra._ Marry is it, Sir, go no farther than my Mill;
There's my command upon you.
_Bust._ I may go round about then as your Mill does?
I will see your Mill gelded, and his Stones fry'd in steaks,
E'r I deceive the Countrey so: have I not my part to study?
How shall the sports go forward, if I be not there?
_Fra._ They'll want their fool indeed, if thou be'st not there.
_Bust._ Consider that, and go your self.
_Fra._ I have fears, (Sir,) that I cannot utter,
You goe not, nor your Sister: there's my charge.
_Bust._ The price of your golden thumb cannot hold me.
_Fra._ I, this was sport that I have tightly lov'd,
I could have kept company with the Hounds.
_Bust._ You are fit for no other company yet.
_Fra._ Run with the Hare; and bin in the whore's tail y' faith:
_Bust._ That was before I was born,
I did ever mistrust I was a Bastard,
Because _Lapis_ is in the singular number with me.
_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Gerasto.
_Otr._ Leave thou that game (_Gerasto_) and chase here,
Do thou but follow it with my desires,
Thou'lt not return home empty.
_Ger._ I am prepar'd
(My Lord) with advantages: and see
Yonder's the subject I must work upon:
_Otr._ Her brother [?'tis,] methinks it should be easie:
That gross compound cannot but diffuse
The soul in such a latitude of ease,
As to make dull her faculties, and lazie:
What wit above the least can be in him,
That Reason ties together?
_Ger._ I have prov'd it, Sir,
And know the depth of it: I have the way
To make him follow me a hackney-pace,
With all that flesh about him; yes, and dragg
His Sister after him: This baits the old one,
Rid you him, and leave me to the other. [_Exit._
_Otr._ 'Tis well: Oh _Franio_, the good day to you;
You were not wont to hear this Musick standing:
The Beagle and the Bugle ye have lov'd,
In the first rank of Huntsmen.
_Bust._ The dogs cry out of him now.
_Fra._ Sirrah, leave your barking, I'll bite you else:
_Bust._ Curr, Curr.
_Fra._ Slave, do'st call me dog?
_Otr._ Oh fie Sir, he speaks _Latine_ to you,
He would know why you'll bite him.
_Bust. Responde cur_; You see his understanding (my Lord.)
_Fra._ I shall have a time to curry you for this:
But (my Lord) to answer you, the daies have been
I must have footed it before this Horn-pipe,
Though I had hazarded my Mill a fire,
And let the stones grind empty: but those dancings
Are done with me: I have good will to it still,
And that's the best I can do.
_Otr._ Come, come, you shall be hors'd:
Your company deserves him, though you kill him,
Run him blind, I care not.
_Bust._ He'll do't o'th' purpose (my Lord) to bring him up to the Mill.
_Fra._ Do not tempt me too far (my Lord.)
_Otr._ There's a foot i'th' stirrop: I'll not leave you now:
You shall see the Game fall once again:
_Fra._ Well (my Lord) I'll make ready my legs for you,
And try 'em once a horseback: sirrah, my charge, keep it. [_Exit._
_Bust._ Yes, when you pare down your dish for conscience sake,
When your thumb's coyn'd into _bone & legalis_,
When you are a true Man-Miller.
_Otr._ What's the matter _Bustofa_?
_Bust._ My Lord; if you have e'r a drunken Jade that has the staggers,
That will fall twice the height of our Mill with him: set him
O' th' back on him: a galled _Jennet_ that will winch him out o' the
Saddle, and break one on's necks, or a shank of him (there was
A fool going that way, but the Asse had better luck;)
Or one of your brave _Bar[b]aries_, that would pass the
Straits, and run
Into his own Countrey with him; the first Moor he met, would
Cut his throat for Complexions sake: there's as deadly feud between
A _Moor_ and a Miller, as between black and white.
_Otr._ Fie, fie, this is unnatural _Bustofa_,
Unless on some strong cause.
_Bust._ Be Judge (my Lord)
I am studied in my part: the _Julian_ Feast is to day: the Countrey
Expects me; I speak all the dumb shews: my Sister chosen for
A Nimph. The gentle Whale whose feet so fell: Cry mercy,
That was some of my part: But his charge is to keep the Mill,
And disappoint the Revels.
_Otr._ Indeed, there it speaks shrewdly for thee; the Countrey
expecting.
_Bust._ I, and for mine own grace too.
_Otr._ Yes, and being studied too: and the main Speaker too.
_Bust._ The main? why all my Speech lies in the main,
And the dry ground together: The thundering seas, whose, &c.
_Otr._ Nay, then thou must go, thou'lt be much condemn'd else.
But then o'th'other side, obedience.
_Bust._ Obedience?
But speak your conscience now (my Lord)
Am not I past asking blessing at these years?
Speak as you're a Lord, if you had a Miller to your father.
_Otr._ I must yield to you (_Bustofa_,) your reasons
Are so strong, I cannot contradict: This I think,
If you goe; your Sister ought to go along with you.
_Bust._ There I stumble now: she is not at age.
_Otr._ Why, she's fifteen, and upwards.
_Bust._ Thereabouts.
_Otr._ That's womans ripe age; as full as thou art
At one and twenty: she's manable, is she not?
_Bust._ I think not: poor heart, she was never try'd in my conscience.
'Tis a coy thing; she will not kiss you a clown, not if he
Would kiss her.
_Otr._ What man?
_Bust._ Not if he would kiss her, I say.
_Otr._ Oh, 'twas cleanlier than I expected: well Sir,
I'll leave you to your own; but my opinion is,
You may take her along: this is half way:
The rest (_Gerasto_) and I hunt my prey,-- [_Exit._
_Bust._ Away with the old Miller (my Lord) and the Mill
Strikes sail presently.
_Enter_ Pedro, _with_ Gerasto _blind, singing_.
SONG.
Ger. _Come follow me (you Countrey-Lasses)_
_And you shall see such sport as passes:_
_You shall Danc[e], and I will Sing_;
Pedro _he shall rub the string:_
_Each shall have a loose bodied Gown_
_Of green; and laugh till you lie down._
_Come follow me, come follow_, &c.
_Enter_ Florimel.
_Bust._ O sweet _Diego_, the sweetest _Diego_, stay: Sister _Florimel_.
_Flo._ What's that Brother?
_Bust._ Didst not hear _Diego_? Hear him, and thou'lt be ravish'd.
_Flo._ I have heard him sing, yet unravish'd, Brother.
_Bust._ You had the better luck (Sister.) I was ravish'd
By my own consent: Come away: for the Sports.
_Flo._ I have the fear of a Father on me (Brother.)
_Bust._ Out: the thief is as safe as in his Mill: he's hunting with our
Great Land-lord, the Don _Otrante_. Strike up _Diego_.
_Flo._ But say he return before us, where's our excuse?
_Bust._ Strike up _Diego_. Hast no strings to thy apron?
_Flo._ Well, the fault lie upon your head (Brother.)
_Bust._ My faults never mount so high (girl) they rise but to
My middle at most. Strike up _Diego_.
_Ger._ Follow me by the ear, I'll lead thee on (_Bustofa_) and
Pretty _Florimel_ thy Sister: oh that I could see her.
_Bust._ Oh _Diego_, there's two pities upon thee; great pitie
thou art blind;
And as great a pitie, thou canst not see.
SONG.
Ger. _You shall have Crowns of Roses, Daysies,_
_Buds, where the honey-maker gazes;_
_You shall taste the golden thighs,_
_Such as in Wax-Chamber lies._
_What fruit please you, taste, freely pull,_
_Till you have all your bellies full._
_Come follow me, &c._
_Bust._ Oh, _Diego_, the Don was not so sweet when he
perfum'd the Steeple. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Antonio _and Martine_.
_Mar._ Why, how now (Friend) thou art not lost agen?
_Ant._ Not lost? why, all the world's a wilderness:
Some places peopled more by braver beasts
Than others are: But faces, faces (man)
May a man be caught with faces?
_Mar._ Without wonder,
'Tis odds against him: May not a good face
Lead a man about by th' nose? 'las,
The nose is but a part against the whole.
_Ant._ But is it possible that two faces
Should be so twin'd in form, complexion,
Figure, aspect? that neither wen, nor mole,
The Table of the brow, the eyes lustre,
The lips cherry; neither the blush nor smile
Should give the one distinction from the other?
Does Nature work in molds?
_Mar._ Altogether.
We are all one mold, one dust.
_Ant._ Thy reason's moldie.
I speak from the Form, thou the Matter.
Why? was't not ever one of Natures Glories,
Nay, her great piece of wonder, that amongst
So many millions millions of her works
She left the eye distinction, to cull out
The one from th'other; yet all one name, the face?
_Mar._ You must compare 'em by some other part
Of the body, if the face cannot do't.
_Ant._ Didst ask her name?
_Mar._ Yes, and who gave it her?
And what they promis'd more, besides a spoon,
And what Apostles picture: she is christned too,
In token wherefore she is call'd _Isabella_,
The daughter of a Countrey plow-swain by:
If this be not true, she lies.
_Ant._ She cannot;
It would be seen a blister on her lip,
Should falshood touch it, it is so tender:
Had her name held, 't had been _Ismenia_,
And not another of her name.
_Mar._ Shall I speak?
_Ant._ Yes, if thou'lt speak truth: Is she not wondrous like?
_Mar._ As two garments of the same fashion,
Cut from the same piece, yet if any excell,
This has the first; and in my judgment 'tis so.
_Ant._ 'Tis my opinion.
_Mar._ Were it the face
Where mine eye should dwell, I would please both
With this, as soon as one with the other.
_Ant._ And yet the other is the case of this.
Had I not look'd upon _Ismenia_,
I ne'r had staid beyond good-morrows time
In view of this.
_Mar._ Would I could leave him here,
'Twere a free passage to _Ismenia_:
I must now blow, as to put out the fire
Yet kindle't more. You not consider Sir,
The great disparitie is in their bloods,
Estates and fortunes: there's the rich beauty
Which this poor homeliness is not endow'd with;
There's difference enough.
_Ant._ The least of all.
Equality is no rule in Loves Grammar:
That sole unhappiness is left to Princes
To marry bloud: we are free disposers,
And have the power to equalize their blouds
Up to our own; we cannot keep it back,
'Tis a due debt from us.
_Mar._ I Sir, had you
No Father nor Uncle, nor such hinderers,
You might do with your self at your pleasure;
But as it is.
_Ant._ As it is; 'tis nothing:
Their powers will come too late, to give me back
The yesterday I lost.
_Mar._ Indeed, to say sooth,
Your opposition from the other part
Is of more force; there you run the hazard
Of every hour a life, had you supply;
You meet your dearest enemy in love
With all his hate about him: 'Twill be more hard
For your _Ismenia_ to come home to you,
Than y[o]u to goe to Countrey _Isabella_.
_Enter_ Julio.
_Ant._ Tush; 'tis not fear removes me.
_Mar._ No more: your Uncle.
_Jul._ Oh, the good hour upon you Gentlemen:
Welcome Nephew; Speak it to your friend Sir,
It may be happier receiv'd from you,
In his acceptance.
_Ant._ I made bold, Uncle,
To do it before; and I think he believes it.
_Mar._ 'Twas never doubted, Sir.
_Jul._ Here are sports (_Dons_)
That you must look on with a loving eye,
And without Censure, 'less it be giving
My countrey neighbors loves their yearly offerings
That must not be refus'd; though't be more pain
To the Spectator, than the painful Actor,
'Twill abide no more test than the tinsel
We clad our Masks in for an hours wearing,
Or the Livery Lace sometimes on the cloaks
Of a great _Don_'s Followers: I speak no further
Than our own Countrey, Sir.
_Mar._ For my part, Sir,
The more absurd, 't shall be the better welcome.
_Jul._ You'll find the guest you look for: I heard Cousin,
You were at _Toledo_ th' other day.
_Ant._ Not late, Sir.
_Jul._ Oh fie! must I be plainer? You chang'd the point
With _Tirso_ and _Lisauro_, two of the Stock
Of our Antagonists, the _Bellides_.
_Ant._ A meer proffer, Sir; the prevention
Was quick with us: we had done somewhat else:
This Gentleman was engag'd in't.
_Jul._ I am
The enemy to his foe for it: that wild-fire
Will crave more than fair water, to quench it
I suspect. Whence it will come I know not.
_Enter two or three Gentlemen._
_Ant._ I was about a gentle reconcilement,
But I do fear I shall goe back agen.
_Jul._ Come, come; The Sports are coming on us:
Nay, I have more guests to grace it: Welcome
Don _Gostazo, Giraldo, Philippo_: Seat, seat all. [_Musick._
_Enter a_ Cupid.
_Cup._ Love is little, and therefore I present him;
Love is a fire, therefore you may lament him.
_Mar._ Alas poor Love, who are they that can quench him?
_Jul._ He's not without those members, fear him not.
_Cup._ Love shoots, therefore I bear his bow about.
And Love is blind, therefore my eyes are out.
_Ma._ I never heard Love give reason for what he did before.
_Enter_ Bustofa (_for_ Paris.)
_Cup._ Let such as can s[e]e, see such as cannot: behold,
Our goddesses all three strive for the ball of Gold:
And here fair _Paris_ comes, the hopeful youth of _Troy_,
Queen _Hecub_'s darling-son, King _Priams_ only joy.
_Mart._ Is this _Paris_? I should have taken him for _Hector_ rather.
_Bust. Paris_ at this time: Pray you hold your prating.
_Ant. Paris_ can be angry.
_Jul._ Oh at this time
You must pardon him: he comes as a Judge.
_Mar._ ---- Mercy on all that looks upon him, say I.
_Bust._ The thundring seas whose watry fire washes the Whiting Mops.
The gentle Whale, whose feet so fell, flies o'r the mountain tops.
No roars so fierce, no throats so deep, no howls can bring such fears.
As _Paris_ can, if Garden from he call his Dogs and Bears.
_Mar._ I, those they were, that I fear'd all this while.
_Bust._ Yes _Jack-an-Apes_.
_Mar._ I thank you good _Paris_.
_Bust._ You may hold your peace, and stand further out o'th way then:
The lines will fall where they light,
Yes _Jack-an-Apes_, he hath [to sport], and faces make like mirth,
Whilst bellowing buls, the horned beasts, do toss from ground to earth:
Blind Bear there is, as _Cupid_ blind.
_Ant._ That Bear would be whip'd for losing of his eies.
_Bust._ Be whipped man may see,
But we present no such content, but _Nymphs_ such as they be.
_Ant._ These are long lines.
_Mar._ Can you blame him, leading Buls and Bears in 'em.
_Enter Shepherd singing, with_ Ismena, Aminta, Florimel, (_as_
Juno, Pallas, Venus,) _and three Nymphs attending_.
_Bust._ Go _Cupid_ blind, conduct the dumb, for Ladies must not
speak here:
Let shepherds sing with dancing feet, and cords of musick break here.
_Song._
Now Ladies fight, with heels so light, by lot your luck must fall,
Where _Paris_ please, to do you ease, and give the golden Ball.
[_Dance._
_Mar._ If you plaid _Paris_ now _Antonio_, where would you bestow it?
_Ant._ I prethee, Friend,
Take the full freedom of thought, but no words.
_Mar._ 'Protest there's a third, which by her habit,
Should personate _Venus_, and by consequence
Of the Story, receive the honors prize:
And were I a _Paris_, there it should be.
Do you note her?
_Ant._ No; mine eye is so fixed,
I cannot move it.
_Cup._ The dance is ended; Now to judgement _Paris_.
_Bust._ Here _Juno_, here: but stay, I do espy
A pretty gleek coming from _Pallas_ eye:
Here _Pallas_, here: yet stay agen: methinks
I see the eye of lovely _Venus_ winks:
Oh close them both: shut in those golden eyn,
And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine.
_Juno_ is angry: yes, and _Pallas_ frowns,
Would _Paris_ now were gone from _Ida_'s downs.
They both are fair, but _Venus_ has the Mole,
The fairest hair, and sweetest dimple hole:
To her, or her, or her, or neither;
Can one man please three Ladies altogether?
No, take it _Venus_, toss it at thy pleasure,
Thou art the Lovers friend beyond his measure.
_Jul. Paris_ has done what man can do, pleas'd one,
Who can do more?
_Mar._ Stay, here's another person.
_Enter_ Gerasto, (_as_ Mars.)
_Ger._ Come lovely _Venus_, leave this lower Orb,
And mount with _Mars_, up to his glorious Sphere.
_Bust._ How now, what's he:
_Flo._ I'm ignorant what to do, Sir.
_Ger._ Thy silver-yoke of Doves are in the Team,
And thou shalt fly through _Apollo_'s Beam:
I'll see thee seated in thy golden Throne,
And hold with _Mars_ a sweet conjunction. [_Exit._
_Bust._ Ha? what fellow's this? has carried away my Sister _Venus_:
He never rehears'd his part with me before.
_Jul._ What follows now Prince _Paris_?
[Flor. _within._----_H[e]lp, help, help._
_B[u]st._ Hue and cry, I think Sir, this is _Venus_ voice,
Mine own Sister _Flori[m]els_.
_Mar._ What is there some Tragick-Act behind?
_Bust._ No, no, altogether Comical; _Mars_ and _Venus_
Are in the old conjunction it seems.
_Mar._ 'Tis very improper then, for _Venus_
Never cries out when she conjoyns with _Mars_.
_Bust._ That's true indeed: they are out of their parts sure,
It may be 'Tis the Book-holders fault: I'll go see.-- [_Exit._
_Jul._ How like you our Countrey Revels, Gentlemen?
_All Gent._ Oh, they commend themselves, Sir.
_Ant._ Methinks now
_Juno_ and _Minerva_ should take revenge on _Paris_.
It cannot end without it.
_Mar._ I did expect
Instead of _Mars_, the Storm-G[ao]ler _Eolus_,
And _Juno_ proff'ring her _Deiopeia_
As satisfaction to the blustring god,
To send his Tossers forth.
_Jul._ It may so follow,
Lets not prejudicate the History.
_Enter_ Bustofa.
_Bust._ Oh, oh, oh, oh.
_Jul._ So, here's a Passion towards.
_Bust._ Help, help, if you be Gentlemen; my Sister,
My _Venus_; she's stolen away.
_Jul._ The story changes from our expectation.
_Bust._ Help, my father, the Miller will hang me else: god _Mars_
Is a bawdy Villain: he said she should ride upon Doves:
She's hors'd, she's hors'd, whether she will or no.
_Mar._ Sure I think he's serious.
_Bust._ She's hors'd upon a double Gelding, and a Stone-horse
in the breech
Of her: the poor wench cries help, and I cry help, and none
Of you will help.
_Jul._ Speak, is it the show, or dost thou bawl?
_Bust._ A pox on the Ball: my Sister bawls, and I bawl:
Either bridle horse and follow, or give me a halter
To hang my self: I cannot run so fast as a hog.
_Jul._ Follow me, I'll fill the Countrey with pursuit
But I will find the thief: my house thus abus'd?
_Bust._ 'Tis my house that's abus'd, the Sister of my flesh
and bloud: oh, oh. [_Exeunt._
_1. Wench._ {'Tis time we all shift for our selves, if this be serious.
_2._ {However I'll be gone.
_3._ {And I. [_Exeunt._
_Ant._ You need not fright your beauties pretty souls,
With the least pale complexion of a fear.
_Mar. Juno_ has better courage: and _Minerva_'s more discreet.
_Ism._ Alas my courage was so counterfeit
It might have been struck from me with a Feather.
_Juno_ ne'r had so weak a presenter.
_Am._ Sure I was ne'r the wiser for _Minerva_,
That I find yet about me.
_Ism._ My dwelling, Sir?
'Tis a poor yeomans roof, scarce a league off,
That never sham'd me yet.
_Ant._ Your gentle pardon:
I vow my erring eies had almost cast you
For one of the most mortal enemies
That our Family has.
_Ism._ I'm sorry, Sir,
I am so like your foe: 'Twere fit I hasted
From your offended sight.
_Ant._ Oh, mistake not,
It was my error, and I do confess it:
You'll not believe you'r welcome; nor can I speak it;
But there's my friend can tell you, pray hear him.
_Mar._ Shall I tell her, Sir? I'm glad of the employment.
_Ant._ A kinswoman to that beauty:
_Am._ A kin to her, Sir,
But nothing to her beauty.
_Ant._ Do not wrong it, 'tis not far behind her.
_Am._ Her hinder parts are not far off, indeed, Sir.
_Mar._ Let me but kiss you with his ardor now,
You shall feel how he loves you.
_Ism._ Oh forbear:
'Tis not the fashion with us, but would you
Perswade me that he loves me?
_Mar._ I'll warrant you
He dies in't: and that were witness enough on't.
_Ism._ Love me Sir? can you tell me for what reason?
_Mar._ Fie, will you ask me that which you have about you?
_Ism._ I know nothing Sir.
_Mar._ Let him find it then;
He constantly believes you have the thing
That he must love you for: much is apparent,
A sweet and lovely beauty.
_Ism._ So Sir; Pray you
Show me one thing: Did he ne'r love before?
(I know you are his bosom-Counsellor)
Nay then I see your answer is not ready:
I'll not believe you if you study farther.
_Mar._ Shall I speak truth to you?
_Ism._ Or speak no more.
_Mar._ There was a smile thrown at him, from a Lady
Whose deserts might buy him trebble, and lately
He receiv'd it, and I know where he lost it,
In this face of yours: I know his heart's within you.
_Ism._ May I know her name?
_Mar._ In your ear you may
With vow of silence.
_Am._ He'll not give over Sir:
If he speak for you, he'll sure speed for you.
_Ant._ But that's not the answer to my question.
_Am._ You are the first in my Virgin-conscience
That e'r spoke Love to her: oh, my heart!
_Ant._ How do you?
_Am._ Nothing Sir: but would I had a better face.
How well your pulse beats.
_Ant._ Healthfully, does it not?
_Am._ It thumps prettily, methinks.
_Ism._ Alack, I hear it
With much pity: how great is your fault too,
In wrong to the good Lady!
_Mar._ You forget
The difficult passage he has to her,
A hell of feud's between the Families.
_Ism._ And that has often Love wrought by advantage
To peaceful reconcilement.
_Mar._ There impossible.
_Ism._ This way 'tis worser; 't may seed again in her
Unto another generation:
For where (poor Lady) is her satisfaction?
_Mar._ It comes in me; to be truth, I love her
(I'll go no farther for comparison)
As dear as he loves you.
_Ism._ How if she love not?
_Mar._ Tush: be that my pains: You know not what Art
I have those ways.
_Ism._ Beshrow you, you have practis'd upon me,
Well, speed me here, and you with your _Ismenia_.
_Mar._ Go, the condition's drawn, ready dated,
There wants but your hand to't.
_Am._ Truely you have taken great pains, Sir.
_Mar._ A friendly part, no more (sweet Beauty.)
_Am._ They are happy, Sir, have such friends as you are.
But do you know you have done well in this?
How will his Allies receive it? she (though I say't)
Is of no better bloud than I am.
_Mar._ There I leave it, I'm at farthest that way.
_Ism._ You shall extend your vows no larger now.
My heart calls you mine own: and that's enough.
Reason, I know, would have all yet conceal'd.
I shall not leave you unsaluted long
Either by Pen or Person.
_Ant._ You may discourse
With me, when you think y'are alone, I shall
Be present with you.
_Ism._ Come Cosin, will you walk?
_Am._ Alas, I was ready long since: in conscience
You would with better will yet stay behind.
_Ism._ Oh Love, I never thought thou'dst been so blind.
_Mar._ You'll answer this Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Ant._ If er't be spoke on:
I purpose not to propound the question.
_Enter_ Julio.
_Jul._ 'Tis true, the poor knave said: some Ravisher,
Some of Lusts Bloud-hounds have seiz'd upon her:
The Girl is hurried, as the devil were with 'em
And help'd their speed.
_Mar._ It may be not so ill, Sir.
A well-prepared Lover may do as much
In hot bloud as this, and perform't hon[e]stly.
_Jul._ What? steal away a Virgin 'gainst her will?
_Mar._ It may be any mans case; despise nothing:
And that's a thief of a good quality,
Most commonly he brings his theft home again,
Though with a little shame.
_Jul._ There's a charge by't
Fall'n upon me: _Paris_ (the Millers son)
Her brother, dares not venture home again
Till better tidings follow of his Sister.
_Ant._ Y'are the more beholding to the mischance, Sir:
Had I gone a Boot-haling, I should as soon
Have stoll'n him as his Sister: Marry then,
To render him back in the same plight he is
May be costly: his flesh is not maintain'd with little.
_Jul._ I think the poor knave will pine away,
He cries all to be pittied yonder.
_Mar._ Pray you Sir, let's go see him: I should laugh
To see him cry, sure.
_Jul._ Well, you are merry, Sir.
_Antonio_, keep this charge; I have fears
Move me to lay it on you: Pray forbear
The ways of your enemies, the _Bellides_.
I have reason for my Injunction, Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Aminta (_as a Page with a Letter_.)
_Ant._ To me, Sir? from whom?
_Am._ A friend, I dare vow, Sir.
Though on the enemies part: the Lady _Ismenia_.
_Mar._ Take heed, blush not too deep; let me advise you
In your answer, 't must be done heedfully.
_Ant._ I should not see a Masculine in peace
Out of that house.
_Am._ Alas, I'm a child, Sir,
Your hates cannot last till I wear a sword.
_Ant._ Await me for your answer.
_Mar._ He must see her,
To manifest his shame: 'tis my advantage;
While our bloud's under us, we keep above:
But then we fall, when we do fall in love. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Julio _and_ Franio.
_Fra._ My Lord, my Lord, your house hath injur'd me,
Rob'd [me] of all the joys I had on earth.
_Jul._ Where wert thou brought up (fellow?)
_Fra._ In a Mill.
You may perceive it by my loud exclaims,
Which must rise higher yet.
_Jul._ Obstreperous Carle,
If thy throats tempest could o'erturn my house,
What satisfaction were it for thy child:
Turn thee the right way to thy journeys end.
Wilt have her where she is not?
_Fra._ Here was she lost,
And here must I begin my footing after;
From whence, until I meet a pow'r to punish,
I will not rest: You are not quick to grief.
Your hearing's a dead sense. Were yours the loss,
Had you a Daughter [stoln], perhaps be-whor'd,
(For to what other end should come the thief?)
You'ld play the Miller then, be loud and high.
But being not a sorrow of your own,
You have no help nor pity for another.
_Jul._ Oh, thou hast op'd a Sluce was long shut up,
And let a floud of grief in; a buried grief
Thy voice hath wak'd again: a grief as old
As likely 'tis thy child is; friend, I tell thee,
I did once lose a Daughter.
_Fra._ Did you, Sir?
Beseech you then, how did you bear her loss?
_Jul._ With thy grief trebled.
_Fra._ But was she stolen from you?
_Jul._ Yes, by devouring thieves, from whom cannot
Ever return a satisfaction:
The wild beasts had her in her swathing clothes.
_Fra._ Oh much good do 'em with her.
_Jul._ Away tough churle.
_Fra._ Why, she was better eaten than my child,
Better by beasts, than beastly men devoured,
They took away a life, no honor from her:
Those beasts might make a Saint of her, but these
Will make my child a devil but was she, Sir,
Your only Daughter?
_Enter_ Gilian.
_Jul._ I ne'r had other (Friend.)
_Gill._ Where are you (man?) your business lies not here,
Your Daughters in the Pound, I have found where;
'Twill cost [you] dear, her freedom.
_Fra._ I'll break it down,
And free her without pay:
Horse-locks nor chains shall hold her from me.
_Jul._ I'll take this relief.
I now have time to speak alone with grief. [_Exit._
_Fra._ How? my Landlord? he's Lord of my Lands
But not my Cattle: I'll have her again (_Gill._)
_Gill._ You are not mad upon the sudden now.
_Fra._ No _Gill_. I have been mad these five hours:
I'll sell my Mill, and buy a Roring.
I'll batter down his house, and make a Stewes on't.
_Gill._ Will you gather up your wits a little
And hear me? the King's near by in progress,
Here I have got our supplication drawn,
And there's the way to help us.
_Fra._ Give it me (_Gill._)
I will not fear to give it to the King:
To his own hands (God bless him) will I give it,
And he shall set the Law upon their shoulders,
And hang 'em all that had a hand in it.
_Gill._ Where's your Son?
_Fra._ He shall be hang'd in flitches:
The Dogs shall eat him in _Lent_, there's Cats-meat
And Dogs-meat enough about him.
_Gill._ Sure the poor Girl is the _Counts_ whore by this time.
_Fra._ If she be the _Counts_ whore, the whores _Count_
Shall pay for it: He shall pay for a new Maiden-head.
_Gill._ You are so violous: this I'm resolv'd,
If she be a whore once, I'll renounce her,
You know, if every man had his right,
She's none of our child, but a meer foundling,
(And I can guess the owner for a need too)
We have but foster'd her.
_Fra. Gill._ no more of that,
I'll cut your tongue out, if you tell those tales.
Hark, hark, these _Toaters_ tell us the King's coming:
Get you gone; I'll see if I can find him. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Lisauro, Tersa, Pedro, _and_ Moncado.
_Lis._ Does the King remove to day?
_Ter._ So saies the Harbengers,
And keeps his way on to _Valentia_,
There ends the progress.
_Ped._ He hunts this morning Gentlemen,
And dines i'th' fields: the Court is all in readiness.
_Lis. Pedro_, did you send for this Tailor? or you _Moncado_?
This light _French_ Demi-launce that follows us.
_Ped._ No, I assure ye on my word, I am guiltless,
I owe him too much to be inward with him.
_Mon._ I am not quit I am sure: there is a reckoning
Of some four scarlet cloaks, and two lac'd suits
Hangs on the file still, like a fearful Comet
Makes me keep off.
_Lis._ I am in too Gentlemen,
I thank his faith, for a matter of three hundred.
_Ter._ And I for two, what a devil makes he this way?
I do not love to see my sins before me.
_Ped._ 'Tis the vacation, and these things break out
To see the Court, and glory in their debtors.
_Ter._ What do you call him for? I never love
To remember their names that I owe money to,
'Tis not gentile; I shun 'em like the plague ever.
_Lis._ His name's _Vertigo_: hold your heads, and wonder,
A French-man, and a founder of new Fashions:
The revolutions of all shapes and habits
Run madding through his brains. [_Enter_ Vertigo.
_Mon._ He is very brave.
_Lis._ The shreds of what he steals from us, believe it,
Makes him a mighty man: he comes, have at ye.
_Ver._ Save ye together, my sweet Gentlemen,
I have been looking--
_Ter._ Not for Money, Sir?
You know the hard time.
_Ver._ Pardon me sweet (_Signior_)
Good faith the least thought in my heart, your love Gentlemen,
Your love's enough for me: Money? hang money:
Let me preserve your love.
_Lis._ Yes marry shall ye,
And we our credit, you would see the Court?
_Mon._ He shall see every place.
_Ver._ Shall I i'faith Gentlemen?
_Ped._ The Cellar, and the Buttry, and the Kitchin,
The Pastry, and the Pantry.
_Ter._ I, and taste too
Of every Office: and be free of all too:
That he may say when he comes home in glory.
_Ver._ And I will say, i'faith, and say it openly,
And say it home too: Shall I see the King also?
_Lis._ Shalt see him every day: shalt see the Ladies
In their _French_ clothes: shalt ride a hunting with him,
Shalt have a Mistriss too: we must fool handsomely
To keep him in belief, we honor him,
He may call on us else.
_Ped._ A pox upon him.
Let him call at home in's own house for salt butter.
_Ver._ And when the King puts on a new suit.
_Ter._ Thou shalt see it first,
And desect his doublets: that thou maist be perfect.
_Ver._ The Wardrobe I would fain view, Gentlemen,
Fain come to see the Wardrobe.
_Lis._ Thou shalt see it,
And see the secret of it, dive into it:
Sleep in the Wardrobe, and have Revelations
Of fashions five years hence.
_Ver._ Ye honor me.
Ye infinitely honor me.
_Ter._ Any thing i' th' Court, Sir,
Or within the compass of a Courtier.
_Ver._ My wife shall give ye thanks.
_Ter._ You shall see any thing.
The privat[st] place, the stool, and where 'tis emptied.
_Ver._ Ye make me blush, ye pour your bounties, Gentlemen,
In such abundance.
_Lis._ I will shew thee presently
The order that the King keeps when he comes
To open view, that thou may'st tell thy neighbors
Over a shoulder of mutton, thou hast seen something,
Nay, thou shalt present the King for this time.
_Ver._ Nay, I pray Sir.
_Lis._ That thou maist know what State there does belong to it;
Stand there I say, and put on a sad countenance,
Mingled with height: be cover'd, and reserved;
Move like the Sun, by soft degrees, and glorious,
Into your order (Gentlemen) uncover'd,
The King appears; We'll sport with you a while, Sir,
I am sure you are merry with us all the year long (Tailor)
Move softer still, keep in that fencing leg; _Monsieur_,
Turn to no side.
_Enter_ Franio _out of breath_.
_Ter._ What's this that appears to him?
_Lis._ 'Has a petition, and he looks most lamentably,
Mistake him, and we are made.
_Fra._ This is the King sure,
The glorious King, I know him by his gay clothes.
_Lis._ Now bear your self that you may say hereafter.
_Fra._ I have recover'd breath, I'll speak unto him presently,
May it please your gracious Majesty to consider
A poor mans case?
_Ver._ What's your Will, Sir?
_Lis._ You must accept, and read it.
_Ter._ The Tailor will run mad upon my life for't.
_Ped._ How he mumps and bridles: he will ne'r cut clothes again.
_Ver._ And what's your grief?
_Mon._ He speaks i' th' nose like his goose.
_Fra._ I pray you read there; I am abus'd and frumpt, Sir,
By a great man that may do ill by authority;
Poor honest men are hang'd for doing less, Sir,
My child is stolen, the Count _Otrante_ stole her;
A pretty child she is, although I say it,
A handsome Mother, he means to make a whore of her,
A silken whore, his knaves have filch'd her from me;
He keeps lewd knaves, that do him beastly offices:
I kneel for Justice. Shall I have it Sir?
_Enter King_ Philippo, _and Lords_.
_Phil._ What Pageant's this?
_Lis._ The King:
Tailor, stand off, here ends your aparition:
Miller, turn round, and there address your paper,
There, there's the King indeed.
_Fra._ May it please your Majesty.
_Phil._ Why didst thou kneel to that fellow?
_Fra._ In good faith, Sir,
I thought he had been a King, he was so gallant:
There's none here wears such gold.
_Phil._ So foolishly,
You have golden business sure; because I am homely
Clad, in no glitt'ring suit, I am not look'd on:
Ye fools that wear gay cloaths, love to [be] gap'd at,
What are you better when your end calls on you?
Will gold preserve ye from the grave? or jewels?
Get golden Minds, and fling away your Trappings
Unto your bodies, minister warm raiments,
Wholsome and good; glitter within and spare not:
Let my [C]ourt have rich souls, their suits I weigh not:
And what are you that took such State upon ye?
Are ye a Prince?
_Lis._ The Prince of Tailors, Sir,
We owe some money to him, and't like your Majesty.
_Phil._ If it like him, would ye ow'd more, be modester,
And you less saucy, Sir: and leave this place:
Your Pressing-iron will make no perfect Courtier:
Goe stitch at home, and cozen your poor neighbors,
Show such another pride, I'll have ye whipt for't,
And get worse clothes, these but proclaim your fellony.
And what's your Paper?
_Fra._ I beseech you read it.
_Phil._ What's here? the Count _Otrante_ task'd for a base villany,
For stealing of a maid?
_Lord._ The Count _Otrante_?
Is not the fellow mad, Sir?
_Fra._ No, no, my Lord,
I am in my wits, I am a labouring man,
And we have seldome leisure to run mad,
We have other business to employ our heads in,
We have little Wit to lose too: if we complain,
And if a heavie lo[r]d lie on [our] shoulders,
Worse than a sack of Meal, and oppress our poverties,
We are mad streight, and whop'd, and ty'd in fetters,
Able to make a horse mad, as you use us,
You are mad for nothing, and no man dare proclaim it,
In you a wildness is a noble trick,
And cherish'd in ye, and all men must love it:
Oppressions of all sorts, sit like new clothes,
Neatly and handsomely upon your Lordships:
And if we kick when your honors spur us,
We are Knaves and Jades, and ready for the Justice.
I am a true Miller.
_Phil._ Then thou art a wonder.
_2 Lor._ I know [the] man reputed for a good man
An honest and substantial fellow.
_Phil._ He speaks sence,
And to the point: Greatness begets much rudeness,
How dare you (Sirrah) 'gainst so main a person,
A man of so much Noble note and honor,
Put up this base complaint? Must every Peasant
Upon a saucy Will affront great Lords!
All fellows (Miller?)
_Fra._ I have my reward, Sir,
I was told one greatness would protect another,
As beams support their fellows; now I find it:
If't please your Grace to have me hang'd, I am ready,
'Tis but a Miller, and a Thief dispa[t]ch'd:
Though I steal bread, I steal no flesh to tempt me.
I have a wife, and 't please him to have her too,
With all my heart; 'twill make my charge the less, Sir,
She'll hold him play awhile: I have a boy too,
He's able to instruct his Honors hogs,
Or rub his horse-heels: when it please his Lordship
He may [make] him his slave too, or his bawd:
The boy is well bred, can exhort his Sister:
For me, the Prison, or the Pillory,
To lose my [goods], and have mine ears cropt off;
Whipt like a Top, and have a paper stuck before me,
For abominable honesty to his own Daughter,
I can endure, Sir: the Miller has a stout heart,
[T]ough as his Toal-pin.
_Phil._ I suspect this shrewdly,
Is it his Daughter that the people call
The Millers fair Maid?
_2 Lor._ It should seem so, Sir.
_Phil._ Be sure you be i' th' right, Sirrah.
_Fra._ If I be i' th' wrong, Sir,
Be sure you hang me, I will ask no courtesie:
Your Grace may have a Daughter, think of that, Sir,
She may be fair, and she may be abused too:
A King is not exempted from these cases:
Stolen from your loving care.
_Phil._ I do much pity him.
_Fra._ But heaven forbid she should be in that venture
That mine is in at this hour: I'll assure your Grace
The Lord wants a water-Mill, and means to grind with her
Would I had his stones to set, I would fit him for it.
_Phil._ Follow me, Miller, and let me talk with ye farther,
And keep this private all upon your Loyalties:
To morrow morning, though I am now beyond him,
And the less lookt for, I'll break my Fast with the good Count.
No more, away, all to our sports, be silent. [_Exeunt._
_Ver._ What Grace shall I have now?
_Lis._ Choose thine own Grace,
And go to dinner when thou wilt, _Vertigo_,
We must needs follow the King.
_Ter._ You heard the sentence.
_Mon._ If you stay here
I'll send thee a shoulder of Venison:
Go home, go home, or if thou wilt disguise,
I'll help thee to a place to feed the dogs.
_Ped._ Or thou shalt be special Tailor to the Kings Monkey,
'Tis a fine place, we cannot stay.
_Ver._ No Money,
Nor no Grace, Gentlemen?
_Ter._ 'Tis too early Tailor.
The King has not broke his Fast yet.
_Ver._ I shall look for ye
The next Term, Gentlemen.
_Ped._ Thou shalt not miss us:
Prethee provide some clothes, and dost thou hear _Vertigo_
Commend me to thy Wife: I want some shirts too.
_Ver._ I have Chambers for ye all.
_Lis._ They are too musty,
When they are clear we'll come.
_Ver._ I must be patient
And provident, I shall never get home else. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell.
_Otr._ Prethee be wiser wench, thou canst not scape me,
Let me with love and gentleness injoy that
That may be still preserv'd with love, and long'd for:
If violence lay rough hold, I shall hate thee,
And after I have enjoy'd thy Maiden-head,
Thou wilt appear so stale and ugly to me
I shall despise thee, cast thee off.
_Flo._ I pray ye Sir,
Begin it now, and open your doors to me,
I do confess I am ugly; let me go, Sir:
A Gipsey-girl: Why would your Lordship touch me?
Fye, 'tis not noble: I am homely bred,
Course, and unfit for you: why do you flatter me?
There be young Ladies, many that will love ye,
That will dote on ye: you [are] a handsome Gentleman,
What will they say when once they know your quality?
A Lord, a Miller? take your Toal dish with ye:
You that can deal with Gudgins, and course flower,
'Tis pitty you should tast what manchet means:
Is this fit Sir, for your repute and honor?
_Otr._ I'll love thee still.
_Flo._ You cannot, there's no sympathy
Between our births, [our] breeding, arts, conditions,
And where these are at difference, ther's no liking:
This hour it may be I seem handsome to you,
And you are taken with variety
More than with beauty: to morrow when you have enjoy'd me,
Your heat and lust asswag'd, and come to examine
Out of a cold and penitent condition
What you have done, whom you have shar'd your love with,
Made partner of your bed, how it will vex ye,
How you will curse the devil that betrayd ye,
And what shall become of me then?
_Otr._ Wilt thou hear me?
_Flo._ As hasty as you were then to enjoy me,
As precious as this beauty shew'd unto ye,
You'll kick me out of dores, you will whore and ban me:
And if I prove with child with your fair issue,
Give me a pension of five pound a year
To breed your Heir withall, and so good speed me.
_Otr._ I'll keep thee like a woman.
_Flo._ I'll keep my self Sir,
Keep my self honest Sir; there's the brave keeping:
If you will marry me.
_Otr._ Alass poor _Florimell_.
_Flo._ I do confess I am too course and base Sir
To be your wife, and it is fit you scorn me,
Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones:
To be your whore I am sure I am too worthy,
(For by my troth Sir, I am truly honest)
And that's an honor equal to your greatness.
_Otr._ I'll give thee what thou wilt.
_Flo._ Tempt me no more then:
Give me that peace, and then you give abundance,
I know ye do but try me, ye are noble,
All these are but to try my modesty,
If you should find me easie, and once coming,
I see your eyes already how they would fright me;
I see your honest heart how it would swell
And burst it self into a grief against me:
Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now Sir,
Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom,
And lay my shame unto my self, wide open:
You are a noble Lord, you pitty poor maids,
The people are mistaken in your courses:
You, like a father, try 'em to the uttermost.
As they do Gold: you purge the dross from them,
And make them shine.
_Otr._ This cunning cannot help ye:
I love ye to enjoy [ye]: I have stol'n ye
To enjoy ye now, not to be fool'd with circumstance,
Yield willingly, or else.
_Flo._ What?
_Otr._ I will force ye.
I will not be delay'd, a poor base wench
That I, in curtesie, make offer to,
Argue with me?
_Flo._ Do not, you will loose your labor,
Do not my Lord, it will become ye poorly:
Your courtesie may do much on my nature,
For I am kind as you are, and as tender:
If you compel, I have my strengths to flye to,
My honest thoughts, and those are guards about me:
I can cry too, and noise enough I dare make,
And I have curses, that will call down thunder,
For all I am a poor wench, heaven will hear me:
My body you may force, but my will never;
And be sure I do not live if you do force me,
Or have no tongue to tell your beastly Story,
For if I have, and if there be a justice.
_Otr._ Pray ye go in here: I'll calm my self for this time.
And be your friend again.
_Flo._ I am commanded. [_Exit._
_Otr._ You cannot scape me, yet I must enjoy ye,
I'll lie with thy wit, though I miss thy honesty:
Is this a wench for a Boors hungry bosom?
A morsel for a Peasants base embraces?
And must I starve, and the meat in my mouth?
I'll none of that.
_Enter_ Gerasto.
_Ger._ How now my Lord, how sp[e]d ye?
Have ye done the deed?
_Otr._ No, pox upon't, she is honest.
_Ger._ Honest, what's that? you take her bare denial,
Was there ever wench brought up in a mill, and honest?
That were a wonder worth a Chronicle,
Is your belief so large? what did she say to ye?
_Otr._ She said her honesty was all her dowry,
And preach'd unto me, how unfit, and homely,
Nay how dishonourable it would seem in me
To act my will; popt me i'th mouth with modesty.
_Ger._ What an impudent Quean was that! that's their
trick ever.
_Otr._ And then discours'd to me very learnedly
What fame and loud opinion would tell of me:
A wife she touch'd at.
_Ger._ Out upon her Varlet.
Was she so bold? these home-spun things are [d]evils,
They'll tell ye a thousand lies, if you'll believe 'em;
And stand upon their honors like great Ladies,
They'll speak unhappily too: good words to cozen ye,
And outwardly seem Saints: they'll cry down-right also,
But 'tis for anger that you do not crush 'em.
Did she not talk of being with child?
_Otr._ She toucht at it.
_Ger._ The trick of an arrant whore to milk your Lordship;
And then a pension nam'd?
_Otr._ No, no, she scorn'd it:
I offer'd any thing, but she refus'd all,
Refus'd it with a confident hate.
_Ger._ You thought so,
You should have taken her then, turn'd her, and tew'd her
I'th'strength of all her resolution, flatter'd her,
And shak't her stubborn will: she would have thank'd ye,
She would have lov'd ye infinitely, they must seem modest,
It is their parts: if you had plaid your part Sir.
And handl'd her as men do unman'd Hawks,
Cast her, and malde her up in good clean linnen,
And there have coyed her, you had caught her heart-strings.
These tough Virginities they blow like white thornes
In storms and tempests.
_Otr._ She is beyond all this,
As cold, and harden'd, as the Virgin Crystal.
_Ger._ Oh force her, force her, Sir, she longs to be ravish'd
Some have no pleasure but in violence;
To be torn in pieces is their paradise:
'Tis ordinary in our Countrey, Sir, to ravish all
They will not give a penny for their sport
Unless they be put to it, and terribly,
And then they swear they'll hang the man comes near 'em,
And swear it on his lips too.
_Otr._ No, no forcing,
I have an other course, and I will follow it,
I command you, and do you command your fellows,
That when you see her next, disgrace, and scorn her,
I'll seem to put her out o'th' dores o'th' sodain
And leave her to conjecture, then seize on her.
Away, be ready straight.
_Ger._ We shall not fail, Sir. [_Exit._
_Otr. Florimel._
_Enter_ Florimell.
_Flo._ My Lord.
_Otr._ I am sure you have now consider'd
And like a wise wench weigh'd a friends displeasure,
Repented your proud thoughts, and cast your scorn off.
_Flo._ My Lord, I am not proud, I was never beautiful.
Nor scorn I any thing that's just and honest.
_Otr._ Come, to be short, can ye love yet? you told me
Kindness would far compell ye: I am kind to ye,
And mean to exceed that way.
_Flo._ I told ye too, Sir,
As far as it agreed with modesty,
With honour, and with honesty I would yield to ye:
Good my Lord: take some other Theam: for Love,
Alass, I never knew yet what it meant,
And on the sudden Sir, to run through Volumes
Of his most mystick art, 'tis most impossible;
Nay, to begin with lust, which is an Heresie,
A foul one too; to learn that in my childhood:
O good my Lord.
_Otr._ You will not out of this song,
Your modesty, and honesty, is that all?
I will not force ye.
_Flo._ Ye are too noble, Sir.
[_Otr._ Nor play the childish fool, and marry ye,
I am yet not mad.
_Flo._ If ye did, men would imagine.]
_Otr._ Nor will I woo ye at that infinite price
It may be you expect.
_Flo._ I expect your pardon,
And a discharge (my Lord) that's all I look for.
_Otr._ No, nor fall sick for love.
_Flo._ 'Tis a heathful year Sir.
_Otr._ Look ye, I'll turn ye out o'dores, and scorn ye.
_Flo._ Thank ye my Lord.
_Otr._ A proud slight Peat I found ye,
A fool (it may be too.)
_Flo._ An honest woman,
Good my Lord think me.
_Otr._ And a base I [l]eave ye,
So fare-ye-well. [_Exit._
[_Flo._ Blessing attend your Lordship;
This is hot love, that vanisheth like vapors;
His Ague's off, his burning fits are well quench'd,
I thank heaven for't: his men, they will not force me.]
_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.
_Ger._ What dost thou stay for? dost thou not know the way,
Thou base unprovident whore?
_Flo._ Good words, pray ye Gentlemen.
_1 Ser._ Has my Lord smoak'd ye over, good-wife Miller?
Is your Mill broken that you stand so useless?
_2 Ser._ An impudent Quean, upon my life she is unwholsome
Some base discarded thing my Lord has found her,
He would not have turn'd her off o'th'sudden else.
_Ger._ Now against every sack (my honest sweet heart)
With every _Smig_ and _Smug_.
_Flo._ I must be patient.
_Ger._ And every greasie guest, and sweaty Rascall
For his Royal hire between his fingers, Gentlewoman.
_1 Ser._ I fear thou hast given my Lord the ---- thou damn'd thing.
_2 Ser._ I have seen her in the Stewes.
_Ger._ The knave her father
Was Bawd to her there, and kept a Tipling house,
You must even to it again: a modest function.
_Flo._ If ye had honesty, ye would not use me
Thus basely, wretchedly, though your Lord bid ye,
But he that knows.
_Ger._ Away thou carted impudence,
You meat for every man: a little meal
Flung in your face, makes ye appear so proud.
_Flo._ This is inhumane. Let these tears persuade you,
If ye be men, to use a poor girl better;
I wrong not you, I am sure I call you Gentlemen.
_Enter_ Otrante.
_Otr._ What business is here? away, are not you gone yet?
_Flo._ My Lord, this is not well: although you hate me,
For what I know not; to let your people wrong me,
Wrong me maliciously, and call me.--
_Otr._ Peace,
And mark me what we say advisedly;
Mark, as you love that that you call your credit;
Yield now, or you are undone: your good name's perish'd
Not all the world can buy your reputation;
'Tis sunk for ever else, these peoples tongues will poison ye
Though you be white as innocence they'll taint ye,
They will speak terrible and hideous things,
And people in this age are prone to credit,
They'll let fall nothing that may brand a woman,
Consider this, and then be wise and tremble,
Yield yet, and yet I'll save ye.
_Flo._ How?
_Otr._ I'll show ye,
Their mouths I'll seal up, they shall speak no more
But what is honorable and honest of ye,
And Saintlike they shall worship ye: they are mine,
And what I charge them _Florimell_.
_Flo._ I am ruin'd,
Heaven will regard me yet, they are barbarous wretches:
Let me not fall (my Lord.)
_Otr._ You shall not _Florimell_:
Mark how I'll work your peace, and how I honor ye.
Who waits there? come all in.
_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.
_Ger._ Your pleasure Sir.
_Otr._ Who dare say this sweet beauty is not heavenly?
This virgin, the most pure the most untainted,
The holiest thing?
_Ger._ We know it (my dear Lord)
We are her slaves: and that proud impudence
That dares disparage her, this sword (my Lord.)
_1. Ser._ They are rascals, base, the sons of common women
That wrong this virtue, or dare own a thought
But fair and honorable of her: when we slight her,
Hang us, or cut's in pieces: let's tug i'th' Gallies.
_2 Ser._ Brand us for villains.
_Flo._ Why sure I dream: these are all Saints.
_Otr._ Go, and live all her slaves.
_Ger._ We are proud to do it. [_Exeunt._
_Otr._ What think ye now? am not I able _Florimell_
Yet to preserve ye?
_Flo._ I am bound to your Lordship,
Ye are all honour, and good my Lord but grant me,
Untill to morrow, leave to weigh my fortunes,
I'll give you a free answer, perhaps a pleasing,
Indeed I'll do the best I can to satisfie ye.
_Otr._ Take your good time, this kiss, till then farewell,
Sweet. [_Exeunt._
Actus Quartus.
_Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Antonio, Martine, Bustofa.
_Mar._ By all means discharge your follower.
_Ant._ If we can get him off: Sirrah _Bustofa_
Thou must needs run back.
_Bust._ But I must not unless you send
A Bier, or a Lictor at my back, I do not use to run
From my friends.
_Ant._ Well, go will serve turn: I have forgot.
_Bust._ What Sir?
_Ant._ See if I can think on't now.
_Bust._ I know what 'tis now.
_Ant._ A Pistolet of that.
_Bust._ Done, you have forgot a devise to send me away,
You are going a smocking perhaps.
_Mar._ His own, due, due i'faith _Antonio_,
The Pistolet's his own.
_Ant._ I confess it,
There 'tis: now if you could afford out of it
A reasonable excuse to mine Uncle.
_Bust._ Yes, I can:
But an excuse will not serve your turn: it must be a lye,
A full lye, 'twill do no good else: if you'll go to
The price of that?
_Ant._ Is a lye dearer than an excuse?
_Bust._ Oh, treble; this is the price of an excuse: but a lye
is two more:
Look how many foyles go to a fair fall, so many excuses to
A full lye, and less cannot serve your turn, let any Tailor
I'th' Town make it.
_Mar._ Why 'tis reasonable, give him his price:
Let it be large enough now.
_Bust._ I'll warrant you, cover him all over.
_Ant._ I would have proof of one now.
_Bust._ What? scale my invention before hand? you shall pardon
Me for that; well, I'll commend you to your Uncle, and
Tell him you'll be at home at supper with him.
_Ant._ By no means, I cannot come to night (man)
_Bust._ I know that too, you do not know a lye when you see it.
_Mar._ Remember it must stretch for all night.
_Bust._ I shall want stuffe, I doubt 'twill come to the other
_Pistolet_.
_Ant._ Well, lay out, you shall be no looser Sir.
_Bust._ It must be faced, you know, there will be a yard of
dissimulation
At least (City-measure) and cut upon an untroth or two: Lyned
With Fables, that must needs be, cold weather's coming, if it had
A gallon of hypocrisie, 'twould do well: and hooked
Together with a couple of conceits,
That's necessity; well, I'll bring in my
Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a lye by that time I have done
With it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear to, if he
Would betray his Lord and Master. [_Exit._
_Ant._ So, so, this necessary trouble's over.
_Mar._ I would you had bought an excuse of him
Before he went: you'll want one for _Ismenia_.
_Ant._ Tush, there needs none, there's no suspition yet,
And I'll be arm'd before the next encounter,
In a fast tye with my fair _Isabella_.
_Enter_ Bustofa.
_Mar._ Yes, you'll find your errand is before you now.
_Bust._ Oh Gentlemen, look to your selves, ye are
Men of another world else; your enemies are upon you;
The old house of the _Bellides_ will fall upon your heads:
Signior _Lisauro_.
_Ant. Lisauro?_
_Bust._ And _Don_ what call you him? he's a Gentleman:
Yet he has but a Yeomans name,
Don _Tarso, Tarso_, and a dozen at their heels.
_Ant. Lisauro, Tarso_, nor a dozen more
Shall fright me from my ground, nor shun my path,
Let 'em come on in their ablest fury.
_Mar._ 'Tis worthily resolved: I'll stand by you Sir,
This way, I am thy true friend.
_Bust._ I'll be gone Sir, that one may live to tell what's
become of you.
Put up, put up, will you never learn to know a lye
From an _Esop_'s Fables? there's a tast for you now. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta.
_Mar._ Look Sir, what time of day is it?
_Ant._ I know not, my eyes go false, I dare not trust 'em now,
I prethee tell me (_Martin_) if thou canst,
Is that _Ismenia_ or _Isabella_.
_Mar._ This is the Lady, forget not, _Isabella_.
_Ant._ If this face may be borrowed and lent out,
If it can shift shoulders, and take other tyres,
So, 'tis mine where ere I find it.
_Ism._ Be sudden. [_Exit Aminta._
I cannot hold out long.
_Mar._ Believ't she frowns.
_Ant._ Let it come, she cannot frown me off on't:
How prettily it wooes me to come nearer?
How do you do (Lady) since yesterdays pains?
Were you not weary? of my faith.
_Ism._ I think you were.
_Ant._ What Lady?
_Ism._ Weary of your faith; 'tis a burthen
That men faint under, though they bear little of it.
_Mar._ So, this is to the purpose.
_Ant._ You came home
In a fair hour I hope?
_Enter_ Aminta.
_Ism._ From whence Sir?
_Am._ Sir, there's a Gentlewoman without desires to speak with you.
_Ant._ They were pretty homely toyes: but your presence
Made them illustrious.
_Ism._ My Cosen speaks to you.
_Am._ A Gentlewoman Sir, _Isabella_.
She names her self.
_Mar._ So, so, it hits finely now.
_Ant._ Name your self how you please: speak what you please,
I'll hear you cheerfully.
_Ism._ You are not well,
Request her in, she may have more acquaintance
With his passions, and better cure for 'em.
_Am._ She's nice in that (Madam) poor soul it seems
She's fearful of your displeasure.
_Ism._ I'll quit her
From that presently, and bring her in my self. [_Exit._
_Mar._ How carelesly do you behave your self,
When you should call all your best faculties
To counsel in you! how will you answer
The breach you made with fair _Ismenia_?
Have you forgot the retrograde vow you took
With her, that now is come in evidence?
You'll dye upon your shame, you need no more
Enemies of the house, but the Lady now:
You shall have your dispatch.
_Enter_ Ismenia _like_ Juno.
_Ant._ Give me that face,
And I am satisfied upon whose shoulders
So ere it grows: _Juno_ deliver us
Out of this amazement: Beseech you Goddess
Tell us of our friends, how does _Ismenia_?
And how does _Isabella_? both in good health
I hope, as you your self are.
_Ism._ I am at farthest
In my counterfeit: my _Antonio_
I have matter against you may need pardon,
As I must crave of you.
_Ant._ Observe you Sir,
What evidence is come against me? what think you
The _Hydra_-headed Jury will say to't?
_Mar._ 'Tis I am fool'd,
My hopes are pour'd into the bottomless tubs,
'Tis labour for the house of _Bellides_:
I must not seem so yet: but in sooth (Lady)
Did you imagine your changeable face
Hid you from me? By this hand I knew you.
_Ant._ I went by the face: and by these eyes I
Might have been deceived.
_Ism._ You might indeed (_Antonio_)
For this Gentleman did vow to _Isabella_,
That he it was that lov'd _Ismenia_,
And not _Antonio_?
_Mar._ Good, was not that
A manifest confession that I knew you?
I else had been unjust unto my friend:
'Twas well remembred, there I found you out
And speak your conscience now.
_Ant._ But did he so protest?
_Ism._ Yes, I vow to you, had _Antonio_
Wedded _Isabella, Isme[n]ia_
Had not been lost, there had been her lover.
_Ant._ Why much good do you friend, take her to you:
I crave but one, here have I my wish full,
I am glad we shall be so near neighbors.
_Mar._ Take both Sir, _Juno_ to boot: three parts in one,
S. _Hilarie_ bless you, now opportunity
Beware to meet with falshood, if thou canst
Shun it, my friends faith's turning from him.
_Ism._ Might I not justly accuse _Antonio_
For a love-wanderer? you know no other
But me, for another, and confess troth now?
_Ant._ Here was my guide, where ere I find this face,
I am a Lover, marry, I must not miss
This freckle then, I have the number of 'em,
Nor this dimple, no[t] a silk from this brow,
I carry the full Idea ever with me;
If nature can so punctually parallel,
I may be cozened.
_Ism._ Well, all this is even:
But now, to perfect all, our love must now
Come to our Enemies hands, where neither part
Will ever give consent to't.
_Ant._ Most certain:
For which reason it must not be put to'em:
Have we not prevention in our own hands.
Shall I walk by the tree? desire the fruit,
Yet be so nice to pull till I ask leave
Of the churlish Gard'ner, that will deny me?
_Ism._ O _Antonio_.
_Ant._ 'Tis manners to fall to
When grace is said.
_Ism._ That holy acts to come.
_Mar._ You may open an oyster or two before grace.
_Ant._ Are there not double vows, as valuable
And as well spoke as any Frier utters?
Heaven has heard all.
_Ism._ Yes: but stayes the blessing,
Till all dues be done: heaven is not serv'd by halfs.
We shall have ne'r a fathers blessing here,
Let us not lose the better, from above.
_Ant._ You take up weapons of unequal force,
It shows you cowardly: heark in your ear.
_Am._ Have I lost all imployment? Would this proffer
Had been to me, though I had paid it
With a reasonable pennance.
_Mar._ Have I past
All thy fore-lock (Time?) I'll stretch a long arm
But I'll catch hold again: Do but look back
Over thy shoulder, and have a pull at thee.
_Ism._ I hear you (Sir) nor can I hear too much
While you speak well: You know th'accustom'd place
Of our night-parley: if you can ascend,
The window shall receive you. You may find there
A corrupted Church-man to bid you welcome.
_Ant._ I would meet no other man.
_Ism. Aminta_, you hear this.
_Am._ With joy (Madam) 'cause it pleases you.
It may be mine own case another time:
Now you go the right way; ask the Banes out,
Put it past father, or friends, to forbid it,
And then you're sure. Sir, your _Hymen_ Taper
I'll light up for you: the window shall show you
The way to _Sestos_.
_Ant._ I'll venture drowning.
_Mar._ The simile holds not; 'tis hanging rather.
You must ascend your Castle by a Ladder;
To the foot I'll bring you.
_Ant._ Leave me to climb it.
_Mar._ If I do turn you off?
_Ant._ Till night fare-well:
Then better.
_Ism._ Best it should be;
But peevish hatred keeps back that degree. [_Exeunt._
_Mar._ I never look'd so smooth as now I purpose:
And then beware: Knave is at worst of knave
When he smiles best, and the most seems to save. [_Exit._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Julio.
_Jul._ My mind's unquiet; while _Antonio_
My Nephew's abroad, my heart is not at home,
Only my fears stay with me; bad company:
But I cannot shift 'em off. This hatred
Betwixt the house of _Bellides_ and us,
Is not fair war: 'tis civil, but uncivil.
We are near neighbors, were of love as near,
Till a cross misconstruction ('twas no more
In conscience) put us so far asunder:
I would 'twere reconcil'd; it has lasted
Too many Sun-sets, if grace might moderate:
Man should not lose so many days of peace
To satisfie the anger of one minute.
I could repent it heartily. I sent
The knave to attend my _Antonio_ too,
Yet he returns no comfort to me neither.
_Enter_ Bustofa.
_Bust._ No: I must not.
_Jul._ Hah; hee's come.
_Bust._ I must not: 'twill break his heart to hear it.
_Jul._ How? there's bad tidings: I must obscure and hear it;
He will not tell me for breaking of my heart,
'Tis half split already.
_Bust._ I have spi'd him: Now to knock down a Don
with a lye, a silly harmless lye; 'twill be valiantly done, and
nobly perhaps.
_Jul._ I cannot hear him now.
_Bust._ Oh the bloody days that we live in; the envious,
malitious, deadly days that we draw breath in!
_Jul._ Now I hear too loud.
_Bust._ The Children that [n]ever shall be born may rue it;
for men that are slain now might have liv'd to have got children,
that might have curs'd their fathers.
_Jul._ Oh, my posterity is ruin'd.
_Bust._ Oh sweet _Antonio_.
_Jul._ Oh dear _Antonio_.
_Bust._ Yet it was nobly done of both parts: When he and
_Lisauro_ met.
_Jul._ Oh, death Has parted 'em.
_Bust._ Welcome my mortal foe (says one,) Welcome my
deadly enemy (says th'other:) off go their doublets, they in
their shirts, and their swords stark naked; here lies _Antonio_,
here lies _Lisauro_: he comes upon him with an _Embroccado_,
that he puts by with a _puncta reversa_; _Lisauro_ recoils me
two paces and some six inches back, takes his carrere, and
then, on.
_Jul._ Oh.
_Bust._ Runs _Antonio_ quite thorow.
_Jul._ Oh villain.
_Bust._ Quite thorow between the arm and the body: so
yet he had no hurt at that bout.
_Jul._ Goodness be praised.
_Bust._ But then, at next encounter, he fetches me up
_Lisauro_; _Lisauro_ makes out a long at him, which he thinking
to be a _Passado, Antonio's_ foot slipping: down: oh down.
_Jul._ O now thou art lost.
_Bust._ Oh, but the quality of the thing: both Gentlemen,
both Spanish Christians, yet one man to shed....
_Jul._ Say his enemies blood.
_Bust._ His hair, may come by divers casualties, though he
never go into the field with his foe: but a man to lose nine
ounces and two drams of blood at one wound, thirteen and a
scruple at another, and to live till he dye in cold blood: yet
the Surgeon (that cur'd him) said if _Pia-mater_ had not been
perish'd, he had been a lives man till this day.
_Jul._ There he concludes he is gone.
_Bust._ But all this is nothing: now I come to the point.
_Jul._ I, the point, that's deadly: the antient blow
Over the buckler, ne'r went half so deep.
_Bust._ Yet pitty bids me keep in my charity: for me to
pull an old mans ears from his head with telling of a Tale:
oh fowle Tale! No, be silent Tale. Farthermore, there is
the charge of Buriall; every one will cry Blacks, Blacks,
that had but the least finger dipt in his blood, though ten
degrees remov'd when 'twas done. Moreover, the Surgeon
(that made an end of him) will be paid: Sugar-plums and
sweet breads; yet I say, the man may recover again, and dye
in his bed.
_Jul._ What motley stuff is this? Sirrha, speak truth
What hath befallen my dear _Antonio_?
Restrain your pitty in concealing it;
Tell me the danger full; take off your care
Of my receiving it: kill me that way,
I'll forgive my death; what thou keepst back from truth
Thou shalt speak in pain; do not look to find
A limb in his right place, a bone unbroke,
Nor so much flesh unbroil'd of all that mountain,
As a worm might sup on, dispatch, or be dispatch'd.
_Bust._ Alass Sir, I know nothing, but that _Antonio_ is a man
of Gods making to this hour, 'tis not two since I left him so.
_Jul._ Where didst thou leave him?
_Bust._ In the same clothes he had on when he went from you.
_Jul._ Does he live?
_Bust._ I saw him drink.
_Jul._ Is he not wounded?
_Bust._ He may have a cut i'th'leg by this time; for Don
_Martin_ and he were at whole slashes.
_Jul._ Met he not with _Lisauro_?
_Bust._ I do not know her.
_Jul._ Her? _Lisauro_ is a man, as he is.
_Bust._ I saw ne'er a man like him.
_Jul._ Didst thou not discourse a fight betwixt _Ant._ and _Lis_?
_Bust._ I to my self; I hope a man may give himself the lye if
it please him.
_Jul._ Didst thou lye then?
_Bust._ As sure as you live now.
_Jul._ I live the happier by it: when will he return?
_Bust._ That he sent me to tell you, within these ten days
at farthest.
_Jul._ Ten days? he's not wont to be absent two.
_Bust._ Nor I think he will not, he said he would be at
home to morrow, but I love to speak within my compass.
_Jul._ You shall speak within mine Sir, now. Within there.
_Enter Servants._
Take this fellow into custody, keep him safe
I charge you.
_Bust._ Safe? do you hear? take notice what plight you
find me in, if there want but a collop or a steak o'me, look
to't.
_Jul._ If my Nephew return not in his health to morrow,
Thou goest to th'Rack.
_Bust._ Let me go to th'manger first; I had rather eat oats
than hay. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Bellides _with a Letter_.
_Bel._ By your leave, Sir.
_Jul._ For ought I know yet, you are welcome Sir.
_Bel._ Read that, and tell me so: or if thy spectacles be not easie,
Keep thy nose unsadl'd, and ope thine ears;
I can speak thee the contents, I made 'em;
'Tis a challenge, a fair one, I'll maintain't:
I scorn to hire my Second to deliver't,
I bring't my self: Dost know me, _Julio_?
_Jul. Bellides?_
_Bel._ Yes: is not thy hair on end now?
_Jul._ Somewhat amaz'd at thy rash hardiness;
How durst thou come so near thine enemy?
_Bel._ Durst?
I dare come nearer: thou'rt a fool, _Julio_.
_Jul._ Take it home to thee with a knave to boot.
_Bel._ Knave to thy teeth again: and all that's quit:
Give me not a fool more than I give thee,
Or if thou dost, look to hear on't again.
_Jul._ What an encounter's this?
_Bel._ A noble one:
My hand is to my words, thou hast it there,
There I do challenge thee, if thou dar'st be
Good friends with me; or I'll proclaim thee coward.
_Jul._ Be friends with thee?
_Bel._ I'll shew thee reasons for't:
A pair of old Coxcombs (now we go together)
Such as should stand examples of discretion,
The rules of Grammar to unwilling youth
To take out lessons by; we that should check
And quench the raging fire in others bloods,
We strike the battel to destruction?
Read 'em the black art? and make 'em believe
It is divinity? Heathens, are we not?
Speak thy conscience, how hast thou slept this month,
Since this Fiend haunted us?
_Jul._ Sure some Good Angel
Was with us both last night: speak thou truth now,
Was it not last nights motion?
_Bel._ Dost not think
I would not lay hold of it at first proffer?
Should I n'er sleep again?
_Jul._ Take not all from me;
I'll tell the doctrine of my vision.
Say that [_Antonio_] (best of thy blood)
Or any one, the least allyed to thee,
Should be the prey unto _Lisauro_'s sword,
Or any of the house of _Bellides_?
_Bel._ Mine was the just inversion: on, on.
_Jul._ How would thine eyes have emptied thee in sorrow,
And left the Conduit of nature drie?
Thy hands have turn'd rebellious to the balls,
And broke the glasses, with thine own curses
Have torn thy soul, left thee a Statue
To propagate thy next posterity.
_Bel._ Yes, and thou causer: so it said to me,
They fight but your mischiefs: the young men were friends,
As is the life and blood coagulate
And curded in one body; but this is yours,
An inheritance that you have gather'd for 'em,
A Legacie of blood to kill each other
Throughout your Generations. Was't not so?
_Jul._ Word for word.
_Bel._ Nay, I can go farther yet.
_Jul._ 'Tis far enough; Let us attone it here.
And in a reconciled circle fold
Our friendship new again.
_Bel._ The sign's in _Gemini_,
An auspicious house, 't has join'd both ours again.
_Jul._ You cannot proclaim me coward now, Don _Bellides_.
_Bel._ No: thou 'rt a valiant fellow: so am I:
I'll fight with thee at this hug, to the last leg
I have to stand on, or breath or life left.
_Jul._ This is the salt unto humanity,
And keeps it sweet.
_Bel._ Love! oh life stinks without it.
I can tell you news.
_Jul._ Good has long been wanting.
_Bel._ I do suspect, and I have some proof on't,
(So far as a Love-Epistle comes to)
That _Antonio_ (your Nephew) and my daughter
_Ismenia_ are very good friends before us.
_Jul._ That were a double wall about our houses,
Which I could wish were built.
_Bel._ I had it
From _Antonio_'s Intimate, Don _Martin_:
And yet (me thought) it was no friendly part
To show it me.
_Jul._ Perhaps 't was his consent:
Lovers have policies as well as Statesmen:
They look not always at the mark they aim at.
_Bel._ Wee'll take up cudgels, and have one bowt with 'em,
They shall know nothing of this union:
And till they find themselves most desperate,
Succor shall never see 'em.
_Jul._ I'll take your part Sir.
_Bel._ It grows late; there's a happy day past us.
_Jul._ The example I hope to all behind it. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter_ Aminta _(above) with a Taper_.
_Am._ Stand fair, light of Love, which epithite and place
Adds to thee honour, to me it would be shame,
We must be weight in love, no grain too light;
Thou art the Land-mark, but if love be blind,
(As many that can see have so reported)
What benefit canst thou be to his darkness?
Love is a jewel (some say) inestimable,
But hung at the ear, deprives our own sight,
And so it shines to others, not our selves.
I speak my skill, I have only heard on't,
But I could wish a nearer document,
Alass, the ignorant desire to know:
Some say Love's but a toy, and with a but.
Now methinks I should love it ne'er the worse,
A toy is harmless sure, and may be plaid with,
It seldome goes without his adjunct, pretty,
A pretty toy we say, 'tis meeter to joy too.
Well, here may be a mad night yet for all this,
Here's a Priest ready, and a Lady ready:
A chamber ready, and a bed ready,
'Tis then but making unready, and that's soon done:
My Lady is my Cosen; I, my self,
Which is nearest then? My desires are mine,
Say they be hers too, is't a hanging matter?
It may be ventur'd in a worser cause,
I must go question with my conscience:
I have the word; Centinel, do thou stand,
Thou shalt not need to call, I'll be at hand. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martin.
_Ant._ Are we not dog'd behind us, thinkst thou friend?
_Mar._ I heard not one bark, Sir.
_Ant._ There are that bite
And bark not (man:) me-thought I spy'd two fellows
That through two streets together walk'd aloof,
And wore their eyes suspiciously upon us.
_Mar._ Your Jealousie, nothing else; or such perhaps
As are afraid as much of us, who knows
But about the like business? but for your fears sake
I'll advise and intreat one curtesie.
_Ant._ What's that friend?
_Mar._ I will not be denyed, Sir,
Change your upper garments with me.
_Ant._ It needs not.
_Mar._ I think so too, but I will have it so,
If you dare trust me with the better Sir.
_Ant._ Nay then.
_Mar._ If there should be danger towards,
There will be the main mark I'm sure.
_Ant._ Here thou tak'st from me.
_Mar._ Tush, the General
Must be safe, how ere the Battle goes:
See you the Beacon yonder?
_Ant._ Yes, we are near shore.
_Enter 2. Gentlemen with weapons drawn, they set upon_ Martin:
Antonio _pursues them out in rescue of_ Martin.
_Mar._ Come, Land, land, you must clamber by the cliffe,
Here are no stairs to rise by.
_Ant._ I are you there? [_fight and Exeunt._
_Enter_ Aminta _above, and_ Martin _return'd again ascends_.
_Am. Antonio?_
_Mar._ Yes _Ismenia_.
_Am._ Thine own.
_Mar._ Quench the light, thine eyes are guides illustrious.
_Am._ 'Tis necessary. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Antonio.
[_Ant._] Your legs have sav'd your lives, who ere you are,
Friend. _Martin?_ where art thou? not hurt I hope:
Sure I was farthest in the pursuit of 'em:
My pleasures are forgotten through my fears:
The lights extinct, it was discreetly done:
They could not but have notice of the broil,
And fearing that might call up company,
Have carefully prevented, and closed up:
I do commend the heed; oh, but my friend,
I fear his hurt: friend? friend? it cannot be
So mortal, that I should lose thee quite, friend?
A groan, any thing that may discover thee:
Thou art not sunk so far, but I might hear thee:
I'll lay mine ear as low as thou canst fall:
Friend, Don _Martin_, I must answer for thee,
'Twas in my cause thou fe[ll]'st, if thou be'st down,
Such dangers stand betwixt us and our joyes,
That should we forethink ere we undertake,
Wee'ld sit at home, and save. What a night's here!
Purpos'd for so much joy, and now dispos'd
To so much wretchedness! I shall not rest in't:
If I had all my pleasures there within,
I should not entertain 'em with a smile.
Good night to you: Mine will be black and sad,
A friend cannot, a woman may be bad. [_Exit._
_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta.
_Ism._ O thou false.
_Am._ Do your daringst, he's mine own,
Soul and body mine, church and chamber mine,
Totally mine.
_Ism._ Dar'st thou face thy falshood?
_Am._ Shall I not give a welcome to my wishes
Come home so sweetly: farewell your company
Till you be calmer woman. [_Exit._
_Ism._ Oh what a heap
Of misery has one night brought with it.
_Enter_ Antonio.
_Ant._ Where is he? do you turn your shame from me?
You'r a blind Adulteress, you know you are.
_Ism._ How's that _Antonio_?
_Ant._ Till I have vengeance,
Your sin's not pardonable: I'll have him,
If hell hide him not: y'have had your last of him. [_Exit._
_Ism._ What did he speak? I understood him not,
He call'd me a foul name, it was not mine,
He took me for another sure.
_Enter Bellides._
_Bell._ Ha? are you there?
Where's your sweet heart? I have found you Traytor
To my house: wilt league with mine enemy?
You'll shed his blood, you'll say: hah? will you so?
And fight with your heels upwards? No Minion,
I have a husband for you, since y'are so rank,
And such a husband as thou shalt like him,
Whether thou wilt or no: _Antonio_?
_Ism._ It thunders with the storm now.
_Bel._ And to night
I'll have it dispatch'd: I'll make it sure, I,
By to morrow this time thy Maiden-head
Shall not be worth a Chicken, if it were
Knockt at an out-cry: go, I'll ha'ye before me:
Shough, shough, up to your coop, Pea-Hen.
_Ism._ Then I'll try my wings. [_Exit._
_Bel._ I, are you good at that? stop, stop thief, stop there. [_Exit._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell _singing_.
1. SONG.
Flo. _Now having leisure, and a happy wind,_
_Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind,_
_Sayls spread, and grist here ready to be ground,_
_Fie, stand not idlely, but let the Mill go round._
_Otr._ Why dost thou sing and dance thus? why so merry?
Why dost thou look so wantonly upon me?
And kiss my hands?
_Flo._ If I were high enough,
I would kiss your lips too.
_Otr._ Do, this is some kindness,
This tastes of willingness, nay, you may kiss
Still, but why o'th' sudden now does the fit take ye,
Unoffer'd, or uncompell'd? why these sweet curtesies?
Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus:
Prethee let me be prepar'd to meet thy kindness,
I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench:
Stay now a little, and delay your blessings;
If this be love, methinks it is too violent:
If you repent you of your strictness to me,
It is so sudden, it wants circumstance.
_Flo._ Fy, how dull!
2. SONG.
_How long shall I pine for love?_
_how long shall I sue in vain?_
_How long like the Turtle-Dove_
_shall I heav[i]ly thus complain?_
_Shall the sayls of my love stand still?_
_Shall the grists of my hopes be unground?_
_Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,_
_Let the Mill, let the Mill go round._
_Otr._ Prethee be calm a little,
Thou mak'st me wonder, thou that wert so strange,
And read such pious rules to my behavior
But yesternight, thou that wert made of modesty,
Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate.
_Flo._ You are too cold.
_Otr._ I do confess I freeze now,
I am another thing all over me:
It is my part to wooe, not to be courted:
Unfold this Riddle, 'tis to me a wonder,
That now [o']th' instant ere I can expect,
Ere I can turn my thoughts, and think upon
A separation of your honest carriage
From the desires of youth, thus wantonly,
Thus beyond expectation.
_Flo._ I will tell ye,
And tell ye seriously, why I appear thus,
To hold ye no more ignorant and blinded,
I have no modestie, I am truly wanton:
I am that you look for Sir; now come up roundly:
If my strict face and counterfeited sta[ied]ness
Could have won on ye, I had caught ye that way,
And you should never have come to have known who hurt ye.
Prethee (sweet Count) be more familiar with me.
How ever we are open in our natures,
And apt to more desires than you dare meet with,
Yet we affect to lay the gloss of good on't:
I saw you touch[t] not at the bait of chastity,
And that it grew distasteful to your palate
To appear so holy, therefore I take my true shape:
Is your bed ready Sir? you shall quickly find me.
3. SONG
_On the bed lie throw thee, throw thee down;_
_Down being laid, shall we be afraid_
_To try the rights that belong to love?_
_No, no, there I'll woe thee with a Crown,_
_Crown our desires, kindle the fires,_
_When love requires we should wanton prove,_
_We'll kiss, we'll sport, we'll laugh, we'll play,_
_If thou com'st short, for thee I'll stay,_
_If thou unskilful art [the] ground,_
_I'll kindly teach, we'll have the Mill go round._
_Otr._ Are ye no Maid.
_Flo._ Alas (my Lord) no certain:
I am sorry you are so innocent to think so,
Is this an age for silly Maids to thrive in?
It is so long too since I lost it Sir,
That I have no belief I ever was one:
What should you do with Maiden-heads? you hate 'em,
They are peevish, pett[ish] things, that hold no game up,
No pleasure neither, they are sport for Surgeons:
I'll warrant you I'll fit you beyond Maiden-head:
A fair and easie way men travel right in,
And with delight, discourse, and twenty pleasures,
They enjoy their journey; mad men creep through hedges.
_Otr._ I am metamorphos'd: why do you appear,
I conjure ye, beyond belief thus wanton?
_Flo._ Because I would give ye
Pleasure beyond belief.
4. SONG.
_Think me still in my Fathers Mill,_
_where I have oft been found-a_
_Thrown on my back, on a well-fill'd sack,_
_while the Mill has still gone round-a:_
_Prethe sirrah try thy skill,_
_and again let the Mill go round-a._
_Otr._ Then you have traded?
_Flo._ Traded? how should I know else how to live Sir,
And how to satisfie such Lords as you are,
Our best guests, and our richest?
_Otr._ How I shake now!
You take no base men?
_Flo._ Any that will offer,
All manner of men, and all Religions Sir,
We touch at in our time: all States and Ages,
We exempt none.
5. SONG.
_The young one, the old one, the fearful, the bold one,_
_the lame one, though nere so unsound,_
_The Jew or the Turk, have leave for to work,_
_the whilst that the Mill goes round._
_Otr._ You are a common thing then.
_Flo._ No matter since you have your private pleasure,
And have it by an Artist excellent,
Whether I am thus, or thus, your men can tell ye.
_Otr._ My Men? Defend me, how I freeze together,
And am on Ice! do I bite at such an Orange
After my men? I am preferr'd.
_Flo._ Why stay ye?
Why do we talk my Lord, and lose our time?
Pleasure was made for lips, and sweet embraces,
Let Lawyers use their tongues: pardon [me] Modesty,
This desperate way must help; or I am miserable.
_Otr._ She turns, and wipes her face, she weeps for certain,
Some new way now, she cannot be thus beastly,
She is too excellent fair to be thus impudent:
She knows the elements of common looseness,
The art of lewdness: that, that, that, how now, Sir?
_Enter a servant._
_Ser._ The King (and't please your Lordship) is alighted
Close at the gate.
_Otr._ The King?
_Ser._ And calls for ye Sir.
Means to break-fast here too.
_Flo._ Then I am happy.
_Otr._ Stol'n so suddenly? go lock her up.
Lock her up where the Courtiers may not see her,
Lock her up closely, sirrah, in my closet.
_Ser._ I will (my Lord) what does she yield yet? [_Exit._
_Otr._ Peace:
She is either a damn'd divel, or an Angel,
No noise (upon your life Dame) but all silence.
_Enter King, Lords_, Vertigo, Lisauro, Terso.
_Otr._ Your Majesty heaps too much honor on me,
With such delight to view each several corner
Of a rude pile: there's no proportion in't, Sir.
_Phil._ Me-thinks 'tis handsome, and the rooms along
Are neat, and well contriv'd: the Gallery
Stands pleasantly and sweet: what rooms are these?
_Otr._ They are sluttish ones.
_Phil._ Nay, I must see.
_Otr._ Pray ye do Sir,
They are lodging-chambers over a homely garden.
_Phil._ Fit still, and handsome; very well: and those?
_Otr._ Those lead to the other side o'th' house, and't like ye.
_Phil._ Let me see those.
_Otr._ Ye may, the dores are open.
What would this view mean? I am half suspitious.
_Phil._ This little Room?
_Otr._ 'Tis mean: a place for trash Sir,
For rubbish of the house.
_Phil._ I would see this too:
I will see all.
_Otr._ I beseech your Majesty,
The savor of it, and the course appearance.
_Phil._ 'Tis not so bad, you would not offend your house with it,
Come, let me see.
_Otr._ Faith Sir.
_Phil._ I'faith I will see.
_Otr._ My Groom has the key Sir, and 'tis ten to one--
_Phil._ But I will see it: force the lock (my Lords)
There be smiths enough to mend it: I perceive
You keep some rare things here, you would not show Sir.
Florimel _discovered_.
_Ter._ Here's a fair maid indeed.
_Phil._ By my faith is she;
A hansome girl: come forward, do not fear wench.
I marry, here's a treasure worth concealing:
Call in the Miller.
_Otr._ Then I am discover'd.
I confess all before the Miller comes Sir,
'Twas but intention, from all act I am clear yet.
_Enter_ Franio.
_Phil._ Is this your daughter?
_Fra._ Yes, and't please your Highness.
This is the shape of her, for her substance Sir,
Whether she be now honorable or dishonorable:
Whether she be a white-rose, or a canker is the question:
I thank my Lord, he made bold with my Philly,
If she be for your pace, you had best preserve her Sir,
She is tender mouth'd, let her be broken handsomly.
_Phil._ Maid, were you stoln?
_Flo._ I went not willingly,
And't please your Grace, I was never bred so boldly.
_Phil._ How has he us'd ye?
_Flo._ Yet Sir, very nobly.
_Phil._ Be sure ye tell truth, and be sure (my Lord)
You have not wrong'd her: if ye have, I tell ye
You have lost me, and your self too: speak again (wench)
_Flo._ He has not wrong'd me, Sir; I am yet a maid:
By all that's white and innocent, I am Sir,
Only I suffer'd under strong temptations
The heat of youth; but heaven deliver'd me.
My Lord, I am no whore, for all I faigned it,
And faign'd it cunningly, and made ye loath me:
'Twas time to out-do you: I had been rob'd else,
I had been miserable, but I forgive ye.
_Phil._ What recompence for this?
_Otr._ A great one Sir,
First a repentance, and a hearty one.
Forgive me sweet.
_Flo._ I do my Lord.
_Otr._ I thank ye;
The next take this, and these: all I have _Florimel_.
_Flo._ No good my Lord, these often corrupt Maidens:
I dare not touch at these; they are lime for Virgins;
But if you'll give me.
_Otr._ Any thing in my power.
Or in my purchase.
_Flo._ Take heed (noble Sir)
You'll make me a bold asker.
_Otr._ Ask me freely.
_Flo._ Ask you? I do ask you, and I deserve ye,
I have kept ye from a crying sin would damn ye
To Men and Time: I have preserv'd your credit,
That would have died to all posterity:
Curses of maids shall never now afflict ye,
Nor Parents bitter tears make your name barren:
If he deserves well that redeems his Countrey,
And as a Patriot be remembred nobly,
Nay, set the highest: may not I be worthy
To be your friend, that have preserv'd your honor?
_Otr._ You are, and thus I take ye: thus I seal ye
Mine own, and only mine.
_Phil. Count_, she deserves ye,
And let it be my happiness to give ye,
I have given a virtuous maid, now I dare say it,
'Tis more then blood; I'll pay her portion Sir,
And't shall be worthy you.
_Fra._ I'll sell my Mill,
I'll pay some too: I'll pay the Fidlers.
And we'll have all i'th'Country at this wedding,
Pray let me give her too, here my Lord take her,
Take her with all my heart, and kiss her freely,
Would I could give you all this hand has stol'n too,
In portion with her, 'twould make her a little whiter.
The wind blows fair now, get me a young Miller.
_Ver._ She must have new clothes.
_Tir._ Yes.
_Vir._ Yes marry must she.
If't please ye (Madam) let me see the state of your body.
I'll fit you instantly.
_Phil._ Art not thou gone yet?
_Ver._ And't please your Grace, a gown, a handsome gown now,
An orient gown.
_Phil._ Nay, take thy pleasure of her.
_Ver._ Of cloth of Tissew I can fit ye (Madam)
My Lords, stand out o'th' light, a curious body,
The neatest body in _Spain_ this day: with embroidered flow'rs,
A clinquant Petticoat of some rich stuffe,
To catch the eye: I have a thousand fashions.
O sleeve, O sleeve: I'll study all night (Madam)
To magnifie your sleeve.
_Otr._ Do, superstitious Tailor,
When ye have more time.
_Flo._ Make me no more then woman,
And I am thine.
_Otr._ Sir, haply my Wardrobe with your help
May fit her instantly: will you try her?
_Ver._ If I fit her not, your Wardrobe cannot.
But if the fashion be not there, you marre her.
_Enter_ Antonio, _Constable, Officers_.
_Ant._ Is my offence so great, ere I be convict,
To be torn with Rascals? If it be Law,
Let 'em be wild horses rather than these.
_Phil._ What's that?
_Con._ This is a man suspected of murther, if it please your Grace.
_Phil._ It pleases me not (friend). But who suspects him?
_Const._ We that are your Highness extraordinary officers,
We that have taken our oaths to maintain you in peace.
_Phil._ 'Twill be a great charge to you.
_Const._ 'Tis a great charge indeed; but then we call our
neighbors to help us. This Gentleman and another were
fallen out (yet that's more then I am able to say, for I heard
no words between 'em, but what their weapons spoke, Clash,
and Clatter) which we seeing, came with our Bills of government,
and first knock'd down their weapons, and then the men.
_Phil._ And this you did to keep the peace?
_Const._ Yes, and't like your Grace, we knock'd 'em down
to keep the peace: this we laid hold on, the other we set in
the stocks. That I could do by mine own power, without
your Majesty.
_Enter_ Aminta.
_Phil._ How so, Sir?
_Const._ I am a Shoo-maker by my Trade.
_Am._ Oh my Husband!
Why stands my husband as a man endanger'd?
Restore him me, as you are merciful,
I'll answer for him.
_Ant._ What woman's this? what husband? hold thy bawling,
I know thee for no wife.
_Am._ You married me last night.
_Ant._ Thou lyest: I neither was in Church nor house
Last night, nor saw I thee: a thing that was my friend,
I scorn to name now, was with _Ismenia_,
Like a thief, and there he violated
A sacred trust. This thou mayst know (_Aminta._)
_Am._ Are not you he?
_Ant._ No; nor a friend of his:
Would I had kill'd him: I hope I have.
_Am._ That was my Husband (Royal Sir) that man,
That excellent man.
_Enter_ Bellides.
_Ant._ That villain, that thief.
_Bel._ Have I caught you Sir? well overtaken.
This is mine enemy: pardon, (my Soveraign.)
_Phil._ Good charity, to crave pardon for your enemy.
_Bel._ Mine own pardon (Sir) for my joyes rudeness:
In what place better could I meet my foe,
And both of us so well provided too?
He with some black blood-thirsty crime upon him,
That (ere the horse-leech burst) will suck him dry:
I with a second accusation,
Enough to break his neck, if need should be,
And then to have even Justice it self to right us:
How should I make my joyes a little civil,
They might not keep this noyse?
_Ant._ Here is some hope.
Should the ax be dull, the halter's preparing.
_Phil._ What's your accusation, Sir? We have heard the former.
_Enter_ Julio.
_Bel._ Mine (my Lord?) a strong one.
_Jul._ A false one, Sir.
At least malicious: an evidence
Of hatred and despight: He would accuse
My poor kinsman of that he never dream'd of,
Nor waking saw; the stealing of his daughter,
She whom, I know, he would not look upon.
Speak _Antonio_, Didst thou ever see her?
_Ant._ Yes Sir, I have seen her.
_Bel._ Ah ha, friend _Julio_.
_Jul._ He might, but how? with an unheedful eye,
An accidental view, as men see multitudes
That the next day dare not precisely say
They saw that face, or that amongst 'em all.
Didst thou so look on her?
_Bel._ Guilty, guilty:
His looks hang themselves.
_Phil._ Your patience (Gen[t]leman.)
I pray you tell me if I be in errour,
I may speak often when I should but hear:
This is some show you would present us with,
And I do interrupt it: Pray you speak,
(It seems no more) Is't any thing but a show?
_Bel._ My Lord, this Gentlewoman can show you all,
So could my daughter too: if she were here;
By this time they are both immodest enough:
Shee's fled me, and I accuse this thief for't.
Don _Martin_, his own friend's my testimony:
A practis'd night-work.
_Phil._ That _Martin_'s the other
In your custodie; he was forgotten:
Fetch him hither.
_Const._ Wee'll bring the Stocks and all else, and't please
your Grace.
_Enter_ Bustofa _and_ Ismenia.
_Am._ That man's my husband certain, instead of this:
Both would have deceiv'd, and both beguil'd.
_Bust._ Soh hoh, Miller, Miller, look out Miller: is there
n'ere a Miller amongst you here, Gentlemen?
_[T]ir._ Yes Sir, here is a Miller amongst Gentlemen, A
Gentleman Miller.
_Bust._ I should not be far off then; there went but a pair of
sheers and a bodkin between us. Will you to work Miller? Here's
a maid has a sack full of news for you: shall your stones walk?
will you grind Miller?
_Phil._ This your son, _Franio_?
_Fra._ My ungratious, my disobedient,
My unnatural, my rebel son (my Lord.)
_Bust._ Fie, your hopper runs over, Miller.
_Fra._ This villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary
To the stealing of my daughter.
_Bust._ Oh Mountain,
Shalt thou call a molehill a scab upon the face
Of the earth? though a man be a thief, shall a Miller call
Him so? Oh egregious!
_Jul._ Remember Sirrha, who you speak before.
_Bust._ I speak before a Miller.
A thief in grain; for he steals corn: He that steals
A wench, is a true man to him.
_Phil._ Can you prove that? you may help another cause
that was in pleading.
_Bust._ I'll prove it strongly.
He that steals corn, steals the bread of the Common-wealth;
He that steals a wench, steals but the flesh.
_Phil._ And how is the bread stealing more criminal then the flesh?
_Bust._ He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day:
He that steals flesh, steals nothing from the fasting day:
_Ergo_ to steal the bread is the arranter theft.
_Phil._ This is to some purpose.
_Bust._ Again, he that steals flesh steals for his own belly full:
He that steals bread, robs the guts of others:
_Ergo_, The arranter thief the bread-stealer.
Again he that steals flesh, steals once, and gives over; yes,
and often pays for it: the other steals every day, without
satisfaction. To conclude, Bread-stealing is the more capital
crime: for what he steals he puts it in at the head: he that
steals flesh (as the Dutch Author says) puts it in at the foot
(the lower member.) Will you go as you are now, Miller?
_Phil._ How has this satisfied you, Don _Bellides_?
_Bel._ Nothing (my Lord) my cause is serious.
I claim a daughter from that loving thiefe there.
_Ant._ I would I had her for you, Sir.
_Bel._ Ah ha, _Julio_.
_Jul._ How said you, _Antonio_? Wish you, you had his daughter?
_Ant._ With my soul I wish her; and my body
Shall perish, but I'll injoy my souls wish.
I would have slain my friend for his deceit,
But I do find his own deceit hath paid him.
_Jul._ Will you vex my soul forth? no other choice
But where my hate is rooted? Come hither Girl,
Whose pretty maid art thou?
_Ism._ The child of a poor man, Sir.
_Jul._ The better for it. With my Soveraigns leave,
I'll wed thee to this man, will he, nill he.
_Phil._ Pardon me, Sir, I'll be no Love enforcer:
I use no power of mine unto those ends.
_Jul._ Wilt thou have him?
_Ism._ Not unless he love me.
_Ant._ I do love thee: Farewell all other Beauties:
I settle here: you are _Ismenia_.
_Ism._ The same I was: better nor worse, (_Antonio_)
_Ant._ I shall have your consent here, I'm sure, Sir.
_Bel._ With all my heart, Sir. Nay, if you accept it,
I'll do this kindness to mine enemy,
And give her as a Father.
_Ant._ Shee'll thank you as a Daughter.
Will you not, _Ismenia_?
_Bel._ How? _Ismenia?_
_Ism._ Your daughter, Sir.
_Bel._ Is't possible? Away you feeble witted things,
You thought you had caught the old ones: you wade, you wade
In shallow fords: we can swim, we: look here,
We made the match: we are all friends good friends;
Thin, thin: why the fool knew all this, this fool.
_Bust._ Keep that to your self, Sir; What I knew I knew:
This sack is a witness. Miller, this is not for your thumming.
Here's gold lace: you may see her in her holliday clothes if
you will; I was her ward-robe-man.
_Enter_ Martin, Aminta, _Constable, Officers_.
_Ant._ You beguil'd me well, Sir.
_Mar._ Did you speak to me, Sir?
_Ant._ It might seem to you, _Martin_, your conscience
Has quick ears.
_Mar._ My sight was a little dim i'th' dark indeed,
So was my feeling cozen'd; yet I'm content:
I am the better understander now,
I know my wife wants nothing of a woman;
There y'are my _Junior_.
_Ant._ You are not hurt?
_Mar._ Not shrewdly hurt; I [h]ave good flesh to heal, you see,
Good round flesh: these cherries will be worth chopping,
Crack stones and all; I should not give much to boot
To ride in your new, and you in my old ones now.
_Ant._ You mistake the weapon: are you not hurt?
_Mar._ A little scratch: but I shall claw it off well enough.
_Enter_ Gillian.
_Gill._ I can no longer own what is not mine
With a free conscience: My Liege, your pardon.
_Phil._ For what? who knows this woman?
_Fra._ I best, my Lord,
I have been acquainted with her these forty Summers,
And as many Winters, were it Spring agen;
She's like the Gout I can get no cure for her.
_Phil._ Oh, your Wife, _Franio_?
_Fra._ 'Tis oh my wife indeed, my Lord,
A painful stitch to my side; would it were pick'd out.
_Phil._ Well Sir, your silence.
_Bust._ Will you be older and older every day than other? the
longer you live the older still? Must his Majesty command your
silence ere you'l hold your tongue?
_Phil._ Your reprehension runs into the same fault:
'Pray Sir, will you be silent.
_Bust._ I have told him of this before now, my Liege, but
Age will have his course, and his weaknesses.
_Phil._ Good Sir, your forbearance.
_Bust._ And his frailties, and his follies, as I may say, that
cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden.
_Phil._ Why Sirha?
_Bust._ But I believe your Majesty will not be long troubled
with him: I hope that woman has something to confess will hang
them both.
_Phil._ Sirha, you'll pull your desteny upon you
If you cease not the sooner.
_Bust._ Nay, I have done, my Liege, yet it grieves me that I
should call that man Father, that should be so shameless, that
being commanded to hold his tongue.
_Phil._ To th'Porters Lodge with him.
_Bust._ I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.
_Phil._ Speak woman, if any interruption meet thee more,
It shall be punish'd sharply.
_Gill._ Good my Liege, (I dare not)
Ask you the question why that old man weeps.
_Phil._ Who? Count _Julio_? I observ'd it not.
You hear the question Sir, will you give the cause?
_Jul._ Oh my Lord, it hardly will get passage,
It is a sorrow of that greatness grown,
'Less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.
_Gill._ I'll help you Sir, in the delivery,
And bring you forth a joy. You lost a daughter.
_Jul._ 'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.
_Gill._ Shee's found again. Know you this mantle Sir?
_Jul._ Hah?
_Gill._ Nay leave your wonder, I'll explain it to you.
This did enwrap your child, whom ever since
I have call'd mine, when Nurse _Amaranta_
In a remove from _Mora_ to _Corduba_
Was seiz'd on by a fierce and hungry Bear,
She was the Ravins prey, as heaven so would,
He with his booty fill'd, forsook the babe:
All this was in my sight: and so long I saw,
Untill the cruel creature left my sight,
At which advantage I adventur'd me
To rescue the sweet Lamb: I did it Sir,
And ever since I have kept back your joy,
And made it mine: but age hath wearied me,
And bids me back restore unto the owner
What I unjustly kept these fourteen years.
_Jul._ Oh, thou hast ta'n so many years from me,
And made me young as was her birth day to me.
Oh (good my Liege) give my joys a pardon,
I must go power a blessing on my child,
Which here would be too rude and troublesome. [_Exit._
_Phil. Franio_, you knew this before.
_Bust._ Oh, oh; _Item_ for you Miller.
_Fra._ I did (my Liege) I must confess I did,
And I confess, I ne'r would have confess'd,
Had not that womans tongue begun to me:
We poor ones love, and would have comforts, Sir,
As well as great: this is no strange fault, Sir,
There's many men keep other mens children
As though they were their own.
_Bust._ It may stretch farther yet, I beseech you (my Liege)
let this woman be a little farther examin'd; let the words of
her conscience be search'd, I would know how she came by me: I
am a lost child, if I be theirs: though I have been brought up
in a Mill, yet I had ever a mind (methought) to be a greater
man.
_Phil._ She will resolve you sure.
_Gill._ I, I Boy: thou art mine own flesh and blood,
Born of mine own body.
_Bust._ 'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me;
There's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth: my
father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was, were he Knight,
Squire, or Captain; less he should not be.
_Gill._ Thou art mine own child, Boy.
_Bust._ And was the Miller my Father?
_Gill._ Wouldst thou make thy Mother a whore, Knave?
_Bust._ I, if she make me a Bastard. The rack must make her
confess (my Lord) I shall never come to know who I am else. I
have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor
folks.
_Enter_ Otrante, Florimel _and_ Julio, _&c._
_Phil._ Here comes the brightest glory of the day:
Love yoak'd with love, the best equality,
Without the level of estate or person.
_Jul._ You both shall be rewarded bountifully,
Wee'll be akin too; Brother and Sister
Shall be chang'd with us ever.
_Bust._ Thank you (Unkle) my sister is my cosen yet at the
last cast: Farewell sister foster. If I had known the Civil
Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of
Husband then thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at
thy wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.
_Jul._ Why, how now sirha?
_Bust._ 'Tis lawful now, she's none of my Sister.
It was a Miller and a Lord
That had a scabbard and a sword
He put it up in the Countrey word
The Miller and his daughter.
She has a face, and she can sing,
She has a Grace, and she can spring,
She has a place with another thing
Tradoodle.
_Fra._ A knavish Brother of yours (my Lord.)
_Bust._ Would I were acquainted with your Taylor (Noble
Brother.)
_Otr._ You may: there he is: mine, newly entertain'd.
_Ver._ If you have any work for me, I can fit you Sir, I fitted
the Lady.
_Bust._ My Sister (Tailor,) what fits her will hardly fit me.
_Ver._ Who fits her may fit you Sir, the Tailor can do both.
_Bust._ You have a true yard (Tailor.)
_Ver._ Ne'r a whit too long, I warrant you.
_Bust._ Then (Tailor) march with me away
I scorn these robes I must be gay,
My noble Brother he shall pay
_Tom_ Tailor. [_Exeunt._
_Phil._ Your recovered friendships are sound, Gentlemen?
_Bel._ At heart, at heart (my Lord) the worm shall not
Beyond many ages find a breach to enter at.
_Phil._ These Lovers unities I will not doubt of:
How happy have you made our progress then,
To be the witness of such fair Accords!
Come, now we'll eat with you (my Lord _Otrante_,)
'Tis a charge sav'd: you must not grudge your guest,
'Tis both my welcome, and your Wedding-Feast. [_Exeunt._
The Knight of Malta.
The Persons Represented in the Play.
Valetta, _The Grand Master of_ Malta.
Miranda, _An_ Italian _Gentleman, the Knight of_ Malta.
Astorius }
Castriot } _Two Knights of the Order_.
Montferrat, _A Knight of the Order, but a villain_.
Gomera, _A deserving Spanish Gentleman_.
Norandine, _A valiant merry_ Dane, _Commander in chief of the
Gallies of_ Malta.
Collona alias Angelo, _A Captive redeemed from the Gallies, and
beloved of_ Miranda.
Rocca, _Servant and Instrument to_ Montferrat.
_2 Bishops._
_Soldiers._
_Corporal._
_Prisoners._
_2 Marshals._
_Doctor._
_1 Of the Esguard._
_Servants._
WOMEN.
Oriana, _Sister to_ Valetta, _and Wife of_ Gomera.
Velleda, _Attendant on_ Oriana.
Zanthia alias Abdella, _a Moore Servant to_ Oriana.
Luscinda, _A beautiful Turkish Woman, contracted to_ Angelo,
_Prisoner to_ Miranda.
_Two Gentlewomen_.
The Scene Malta.
The principal Actors were
_Rich. Burbadge_,
_Nathan Field_,
_John Underwood_,
_Rich. Sharpe_,
_Henry Condel_,
_Robert Benfield_,
_John Lowin_,
_Thomas Holcome_.
ACT I THE KNIGHT OF MALTA
_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Mountferrat.
_Mount._ Dares she dispise me thus? me that with spoil
And hazardous exploits, full sixteen years
Have led (as hand-maids) Fortune, Victory
Whom the _Maltezi_ call my servitors?
Tempests I have subdued, and fought them calm,
Out-lighten'd lightning in my Chivalry;
Rid (tame as patience) billows that kick'd heaven,
Whistl'd enraged _Boreas_ till his gusts
Were grown so gentle, that he seem'd to sigh,
Because he could not show the ayr my keel,
And yet I cannot conquer her bright eyes,
Which though they blaze both comfort, and invite
Neither by force, nor fraud pass through her ear
(Whose guard is only blushing Innocence)
To take the least possession of her heart,
Did I attempt her with a thred-bare name--unapt with
meritorious actions,
She might with colour dis-allow my suit:
But by the honor of this Christian cross
(In blood of Infidels so often dy'd)
Which mine own Soul and Sword hath fixed here
And neither favor, nor births priviledge
_Oriana_ shall confess, although she be
_Valettas_ Sister our Grand-master here,
The wages of scorn'd Love is baneful hate,
And if I rule not her, I'le rule her fate.
_Rocca_, my trusty Servant, welcome.
_Enter_ Rocca.
_Roc._ Sir,
I wish my news deserv'd it: hapless I
That being lov'd, and trusted fail to bring
The loving answer that you do expect.
_Mount._ Why speak'st thou from me: thy pleas'd eyes send forth
Beams brighter than the star that ushers day,
Thy smiles, restore sick expectation.
_Roc._ I bring you Sir, her smiles, not mine.
_Mount._ Her smiles?
Why they are presents for Kings eldest Sons,
Great _Solyman_ that wearies his hot eyes,
But to peruse his deck'd _Seraglio_,
When from the number of his Concubines
He chooseth one for that night in his pride
Of them, wives, wealth, is not so rich as I
In this one smile, from _Oriana_ sent.
_Roc._ Sir, fare ye well.
_Mount._ Oh _Rocca_! thou art wise,
And woul[d]'st not have the torrent of my joy
Ruine me headlong; aptly thou conceiv'st
If one reviving smile can raise me thus,
What trances will the sweet words which thou bring'st
Cast me into? I felt (my dearest friend,
No more my Servant) when I imployed thee
That knew'st to look, and speak as Lovers should,
And carry faithfully thy Masters sighs,
That it must work some heat in her cold heart,
And all my labors now come fraughted home
With ten fold prize.
_Roc._ Will you yet hear me?
_Mount._ Yes,
But take heed (gentle _Rocca_) that thou do'st
Tenderly by degrees assault mine ears
With her consent, now to embrace my love,
For thou well know'st I have been so plung'd, so torn
With her resolv'd reject, and neglect:
That to report her soft acceptance now,
Will stupifie sense in me, if not kill:
Why shew'st thou this distemper?
_Roc._ Draw your sword,
And when I with my breath have blasted you,
Kill me with it:
I bring you smiles of pitty, not affection:
For such she sent.
_Mount._ Oh! can she pitty me?
Of all the paths lead to a womans love,
Pitties the streightest.
_Roc._ Waken Sir, and know
That her contempt (if you can name it so)
Continues still: she bids you throw your Pearl
Into strong streams, and hope to turn them so,
Ere her too foul dishonor, writ[e] your plaints
In rocks of Coral grow'n above the Sea,
Them hope to soften to compassion,
Or change their modest blush to love sick pale,
Ere work her to your impious requests;
All your loose thoughts she chides you home again,
But with such calm behaviour, and mild looks,
She gentlier denies than others grant,
For just as others love so doth she hate:
She says, that by your order you are bound
From marrying ever, and much marvels then
You would thus violate her and your own faith,
That being the virgin you should now protect,
Hitherto she professes she has conceal'd
Your lustful Batteries, but the next she vowes,
(In open Hall, before the honor'd cross
And her great Brother) she will quite disclose
Calling for justice, to your utter shame.
_Mount._ Hence, find the Blackamore that waits upon her,
Bring her unto me, she doth love me yet,
And I must her now, at least seem to do:
_Cupid_, thy brands that glow thus in my veins,
I will with blood extinguish--ar't not gone?
Shall my desires, like beggars wait at dore
Whil'st any others revel in her breast?
Sweat on my spirits: know thou trickt up toy,
My love's a violent flood, where art thou faln,
Playing with which tide thou'dst been gently toss'd,
But crossing it, thou art or'whelm'd, and lost.
_Enter_ Astorius _and_ Castriot.
_Cast._ Monsieur, good day.
_Ast._ Good morrow valiant Knight,
What, are you for this great solemnity
This morn intended?
_Mount._ What solemnity?
_Ast._ The investing of the Martial _Spaniard_,
_Peter Gomera_, with our _Christian_ Badge.
_Cast._ And young _Miranda_ the _Italian_,
Both which with wondrous prowess, and great luck
Have dar'd and done for _Malta_, such high feats,
That not one Fort in it, but rings their names
As loud as any mans.
_Mount._ As any mans?
Why, we have fought for _Malta_.
_Ast._ Yes _Mountferrat_.
No bold Knight ever past you, but we wear
The dignity of Christians on our breasts,
And have a long time triumph'd for our conquests;
These conquer'd a long time, not triumph'd yet.
_Mount. Astori[u]s_, you are a most indulgent Knight,
Detracting from your self, to add to others,
You know this title is the period
To all our labors, the extremity
Of that tall pyramid, where hon[ou]r hangs,
Which we with sweat and agony have reach'd,
And should not then so easily impart
So bright a wreath to every cheap desert.
_Cast._ How is this French man chang'd _Astorius_!
Some sullen discontent possesses him,
That makes him envy, what he heretofore
Did most ingeniously but emulate.
_Mount._ Oh furious desire, how like a whirl-wind
Thou hurriest me beyond mine honors point!
Out of my heart, base lust, or heart, I vow
Those flames that heat me thus, I'll burn thee in.
_Ast._ Do' ye observe him?
_Mount._ What news of the _Dane_,
That valiant Captain _Norandine_?
_Cast._ He fights still,
In view oth' Town; he playes the devil with 'em,
And they the _Turks_ with him.
_Mount._ They'r well met then, 'twere sin to sever 'em
Pish--woman.--Memory--
Would one of ye would leave me:
_Ast._ Six fresh Gallies
I in St. _Angelo_ from the promontory
This morne descride, making a Girdle for him,
But our great Master doth intend relief
This present meeting: will you walk along?
_Mount._ Humh--I have read, Ladies enjoy'd, have been
The gulphs of worthiest men, buried their names,
Their former valor, bounty, beauty, virtue,
And sent 'em stinking to untimely graves.
I that cannot enjoy, by her disdain,
Am like to prove as wretched; woman then
Checking or granting, is the grave of men.
_Ast._ He's saying of his prayers sure.
_Cast._ Will you go Sir?
_Mount._ I cry you mercy: I am so transported
(Your pardon, noble Brothers) with a business
That doth concern all _Malta_, that I am
(Anon you'l hear't) almost blind, and deaf.
Lust neither sees nor hears ought but it self:
But I will follow instantly: your cross.
_Ast._ Not mine. [_dropt._
_Cast._ Nor mine, 'tis yours.
_Ast. Cast._ Good morrow Brother. [_Exeunt._
_Mount._ White innocent sign, thou do'st abhor to dwell,
So near the dim thoughts of this troubled breast,
[And grace these graceless projects of my heart.]
_Enter_ Zanthia, alias Abdella, _with two Letters_.
Yet I must wear thee to protect my crimes,
If not for conscience, for hypocrisie,
Some Churchmen so wear Cassocks: Oh my _Zan_.
My Pearl, that scornes a stain! I mu[ch] repent
All my neglect: let me _Ixion_ like,
Embrace my black cloud, since my _Juno_ is
So wrathful, and averse; thou art more soft
And full of dalliance than the fairest flesh,
And far more loving.
_Zan._ I, you say so now,
But like a property, when I have serv'd
Your turns, you'll cast me off, or hang me up
For a sign, somewhere.
_Mount._ May my life then forsake me
Or from my expected bliss, be cast to hell.
_Zan._ My tongue Sir, cannot lisp to meet you so,
Nor my black cheeck put on a feigned blush,
To make me seem more modest than I am.
This ground-work, will not bear adulterate red,
Nor artificial white, to cozen love.
These dark locks, are not purchas'd, nor these teeth,
For every night, they are my bed-fellows;
No bath, no blanching water; smoothing oyles,
Doth mend me up; and yet _Mountferrat_, know,
I am as full of pleasure in the touch
As ere a white fac'd puppet of 'em all,
Juicy, and firm, unfledge 'em of their tyres,
Their wires, their partlets; pins, and Periwigs,
And they appear like bald cootes, in the nest;
I can as blithly work in my loves bed,
And deck thy fair neck, with these Jetty chains,
Sing thee asleep, being wearied, and refresh'd,
With the same organ, steal sleep off again.
_Mount._ Oh my black swan, sleeker then Cignets plush,
Sweeter than is the sweet of Pomander,
Breath'd like curl'd _Zephyrus_, cooling Lymon-trees,
Straight as young pines, or Cedars in the grove,
Quickly discend lovers best Canopie
Still night, for _Zanthia_ doth enamour me
Beyond all continence perpetrate (deer wench)
What thou hast promis'd, and I vow by heaven
_Malta_, I'll leave [in it] my honours here,
And in some other Country (_Zanthia_) make
My wife, and my best fortune.
_Zan._ From this hope,
Here is an answer to that Letter, which
I lately shew'd you sent from _Tripoly_,
By the great Basha, which importunes her
Love unto him, and treachery to the Island,
Which will she undertake, by _Mahomet_
The _Turk_ there vowes, on his blest _Alcharon_,
Marriage unto her: this the Master knows,
But is resolv'd of her integrity
(As well [he] may) sweet Lady yet for love,
For love of thee _Mountferrat_, (Oh! what Chains
Of deity, or duty can hold love?)
I have this answer fram'd, so like her hand
As if it had been moulded off: returning
The Bashas Letter safe into her pocket;
What will you do with it, your self best knows,
Farewel, keep my true heart, keep true your vows. [_Exit Zan._
_Mount._ Till I be dust, my _Zanthia_ be confirm'd.
Sparrows, and Doves, sit coupling twixt thy lips,
It is not love, but strong _Libidinous_ will
That triumphs o're me, and to satiate that,
What difference twixt this _Moore_, and her fair Dame?
Night makes their hews alike, their use is so,
Whose hand is so subtle, he can colours name,
If he do winck, and touch 'em? lust being blind,
Never in women did distinction find. [_Exit._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter two Gentlewomen._
1. But yfaith dost thou think my Lady was never in love?
2. I rather think she was ever in love: in perfect charity. I
mean, with all the world.
[1]. A most Christian answer I promise you: but I mean in Love
with a man.
2. With a man? what else? would'st have her in love with a
beast?
1. You are somewhat quick: but if she were, it were no
President: did you never read of _Europa_, the fair, that leapt
A bull, that leapt the Sea, that swoom to land, and then leapt
her?
2. Oh heavens, a bull?
1. Yes, a white bull.
2. Lord, how could she sit him? where did she hold?
1. Why, by the horn, since which time, no woman (almost) is
Contented, till she have a horn of her own, to hold by.
2. Thou art very knavish.
1. And thou very foolish: but sirah, why dost not thou marry?
2. Because I would be no mans looking-glase?
1. As how?
2. As thus, there is no Wife, if she be good, and true, will
honor, and obey, but must reflect the true countenance of her
husband upon him; if he look sad upon her she must not look
merrily upon him: if he look merrily, she must not sorrowfully,
else she is a false glass, and fit for nothing but breaking:
his anger [must] be her discontent; his pleasure, her delight:
if he weep, she must cry: if he laugh, she must show her teeth:
if he be sick, she must not be in health; if he eat Cawdles,
she must eat pottage, she must have no proper passion of her
own; and is not this a tyranny?
1. Yes, yfaith, Marriage may well be called a yoak; Wives then
are but like superficial lines in Geometry, that have no proper
motion of their own, but as their bodies their husbands move,
yet I know some Wives, that are never freely merry, nor truly
pleased, but when they are farthest off their husbands.
2. That's because the Moon governs 'em which hath most light
and shines brightest, the more remote it is from the Sun; and
contrary is more sullen, dim, and showes least splendor, when
it is neerest.
1. But if I were to marry I would marry a fair effeminate fool.
2. Why?
1. Because I would lead the blind whither I list.
2. And I the wisest man I could get for money, because I had
rather follow the cleer-sighted: bless me from a husband That
sales by his Wives compass!
1. Why?
2. Why 'tis ten to one but she breaks his head in her youth,
and when she is old shee'l never leave till she has broke his
back too--
But what scurvy Knight have you here in _Malta, &c._
_Enter_ Zanthia.
_Zan._ Hist, wenches: my Lady calls, she's entring
The Tarrase, to see the show.
1. Oh black pudding.
2. My little labor in vain.
1. But what scurvy Knights have we here in _Malta_, that
when they are dubd take their oath of allegiance to live poor,
and chastly ever after!
2. 'Faith many Knights in other Nations (I have heard)
are as poor as ours: marry where one of 'em has taken the
Oath of chastity, we want a new _Columbus_ to find out. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter_ (_above_) Oriana, Zanchia, _two Gentlewomen_, (_beneath_)
Valetta, Mountferrat, Astorius, Castriot, Gomera,
Miranda, _Attendants of Knights_, &c.
_Mount._ Are you there Lady?
_Ori._ Thou art a naughty Man,
Heaven mend thee.
_Val._ Our greet meeting princely brothers,
Ye holy Souldiers of the _Christian Cross_,
Is to relieve our Captain _Norandine_,
Now fighting for _Valetta_ with the _Turk_,
A valliant Gentleman, a noble _Dane_
As ere the Countrey bred, endangered now
By fresh supply of head-bound Infidels.
Much means, much blood this warlike _Dane_ hath spent
To advance our flag, above their horned moons,
And oft hath brought in profitable conquest:
We must not see him perish in our view:
How far off fight they?
_Mir._ Sir, within a League.
_Val._ 'Tis well: our next occasion of conventing
Are these [two] gentlemen, standing in your sight.
(Ye are noble props of _Malta_) royally
Descended are they both, valiant as war,
_Miranda_, and _Gomera_, full ten years
They have serv'd this Island, perfected exploits
Matchless, and infinite, they are honest, wise,
Not empty of one ornament of man:
Most eminent agents were they in that slaughter
That great marvelous slaughter of the _Turks_,
Before St. _Elme_, where five and twenty thousand
Fell, for five thousand of our _Christians_:
These ripe considerations moving us
(Having had your allowance on their worths)
Here we would call 'em to our Brotherhood;
If any therefore can their manners tax,
Their faith, their chastity, any part of life,
Let 'em speak now.
_Ast._ None do's.
_All._ None can, great Master.
_Val._ The dignity then dignifie, by them,
As their reward: tender _Miranda_ first
(Because he is to succor _Norandine_)
Our sacred Robe of Knight-hood, our white Cross,
The holy cognizance of him we serve,
The sword, the spurs.
_Mir._ Grave, and most honor'd Master,
With humble duty, and my souls best thanks
To you, and all this famous Conventicle,
Let me, with modesty refuse acceptance
Of this high order: I (alass) am yet
Unworthy, and uncapable of such honor,
That merit, which with favor you enlarge
Is far, far short, of this propos'd reward.
Who take upon him such a charge as this,
Must come with pure thoughts, and a gathered mind
That time, nor all occasions ever may
After disperse, or stain; did this title here
Of Knighthood, ask no other ornaments
Then other Countries glittring show, poor pride,
A gingling spur, a feather, a white hand,
A frizled hayr, powder'd, perfumes, and lust,
Drinking sweet wines, surfeits, and ignorance,
Rashly, and easily should I venture on't,
But this requires an other kind of man.
_Mount._ A staid, and mature judgement; speak on sir.
_Mir._ May it please you then to allow me some small time
To rectifie my self, for that high seat,
Or give my reasons to the contrary.
Ith mean space, to dismiss me to the ayd
Of _Norandine_: my Ships ride in the bay
Ready to disembogue, tack'led, and mann'd
Even to my wishes.
_Mount._ His request
Is fair and honest.
_Val._ At your pleasure go.
_Mir._ I humbly take my leave of all: of you
My noble friend _Mountferrat_; gratious Mistriss,
Oh that auspitious smile doth arm your souldier,
Who fights for those eyes, and this sacred Cross,
Can neither meet sad accident, nor loss. [_Exit._
_Ori._ The mighty master of that Livory,
Conduct thee safely to these eyes again.
_Mount._ Blowes the wind that way?
_Val._ Equally belov'd,
Equally meriting, _Gomera_, you
Without excuse receive that dignity:
Which our provincial chapter hath decreed you.
_Gom._ Great Master of _Jerusalems_ Hospital,
From whence to _Rhodes_ this blest Fraternity
Was driven, but now among the _Maltois_ stands,
Long may it flourish, whilst _Gomera_ serves it,
But dares not enter farther.
_All._ This is strange.
_Val._ What do ye object?
_Gom._ Nothing against it, but my self (fair Knights)
I may not wear this Robe.
_Val._ Express your reasons;
Doth any hid sin goar your conscience?
_Ast._ Are you unstedfast in Religion?
_Cast._ Or do ye intend to forsake _Malta_ now,
And visit your own Countrey fruitful _Spaine_.
_Gom._ Never good sir.
_Val._ Then explicate your thoughts.
_Gom._ This then: I should be perjur'd to receive it,
Once in _Melita_, your next City here,
When I was yonger, read I the decrees
Touching this point, being ambitious then
To approach it once, none but a Gentleman
Can be admitted.
_Val._ That's no obstacle
In you.
_Gom._ I should be sorry that were it,
No married man.
_Mount._ You never felt that yoak.
_Gom._ None, that hath been contracted.
_Cast._ Were you ever?
_Gom._ Nor married, nor contracted, none that ever
Hath vowed his love to any woman kind,
Or finds that secret fire within his thoughts:
Here I am cast, this Article my heart
Objects against the title of my fame,
I am in love; laugh not: though time hath set
Some wrinkles in this face, and these curl'd locks
Will shortly dye into an other hew,
Yet, yet I am in love: (yfaith [you] smile)
What age, what sex, or what profession
Divine, or humane, from the man that cries
For Almes the high way, to him that sings
At the high Altar, and doth sacrifice,
Can truly say he knows not what is Love?
_Val._ 'Tis honestly profest; with whom _Gomera_?
Name the Lady, that with all [advantage]
We may advance your suit.
_Gom._ But will you Sir?
_Val._ Now by our holy rock were it our Sister:
_Spaniard_, I hold thee worthy, freely name her.
_Gom._ Be master of your word: it is she Sir,
The matchless _Oriana_.
_Val._ Come down Lady,
You have made her blush, let her consent I will
Make good my oath.
_Mount._ Is't so? stay: I do love
So tenderly _Gomera_ your bright flame,
As not to suffer your perdition.
_Gom._ What means _Mountferrat_?
_Enter Guard._
_Mount._ This whole _auberge_ hath
(A Guard upon this Lady) wonder not,
'Tane publick notice of the _Bassaes_ love
Of _Tripoli_ unto her, and consented
She should return this answer, as he writ
For her conversion, and betraying _Malta_,
She should advise him betray _Tripoli_,
And turning _Christian_, he should marry her.
_All._ All this was so.
_Mount._ How weakly do's this court then
Send Vessels forth to Sea, to guard the Land
Taking such special care to save one Bark,
Or strive to add fam'd men unto our cloak,
When they lurk in our bosomes would subvert
This State, and us, presuming on their blood,
And partial indulgence to their sex?
_Val._ Who can this be?
_Mount._ Your Sister, great _Valetta_,
Which thus I prove: demand the _Bassa's_ Letter.
_Ori._ 'Tis here, nor from this pocket hath been mov'd
Nor answer'd, nor perus'd by ----
_Mount._ Do not swear
Cast not away your fair soul, to your treason
Add not foul perjury: is this your hand?
_Ori._ 'Tis very like it.
_Mount._ May it please the Master,
Confer these Letters, and then read her answer,
Which I have intercepted; pardon me
Reverend _Valetta_, that am made the means
To punish this most beautious Treachery;
Even in your Sister, since in it I save
_Malta_ from ruine: I am bolder in't,
Because it is so palpable and withall
Know our great Master to this Countrey, firm.
As was the _Roman Marcus_, who spar'd not
As dear a Sister in the publique cause.
_Val._ I am amaz'd; attend me.
_Reads the Letter._
_Let your Forces by the next even be ready, my Brother feasts_
_then; put in at_ St. Michaels, _the ascent at that Port is
easiest; the Keys of the Castle, you shall receive at my
hands: that possest, you are Lord of_ Malta, _and may soon
destroy all by fire, then which I am hotter, till I embrace
you_,
_Farewell_,
Your Wife
ORIANA.
From this time let me never read again.
[_Gent. W._] 'Tis certain her hand.
_Val._ This Letter too
So close kept by her self, could not be answered
To every period thus, but by her self.
_Ori._ Sir, hear me.
_Val._ Peace, thou fair sweet bank of flowers,
Under whose beauty Scorpions lie, and kill;
Wert thou a kin to me, in some new name
Dearer than Sister, Mother, or all blood,
I would not hear thee speak: bear her to prison,
So gross is this, it needs no formal course,
Prepare thy self, to morrow thou shalt dye.
_Ori._ I dye a Martyr then, and a poor maid,
Almost yfaith as innocent as born,
Thou know'st thou art wicked, Frenchman heaven forgive thee [_Ex._
_All._ This Scene is strangely turn'd.
_Val._ Yet can nature be
So dead in me? I would my charge were off,
_Mountferrat_ should perceive my Sister had
A Brother would not live to see her dye
Unfought for, since the statutes of our state
Allow (in case of accusations)
A Champion to defend a Ladies truth.
_Peter Gomera_, thou hast lost thy wife,
Death pleads a precontract.
_Gom._ I have lost my Tongue,
My sence, my heart, and every faculty:
_Mountferrat_ go not up: with reverence
To our great Master, and this consistory
(I have considered it, it cannot be)
Thou art a villain, and a forger.
A blood-sucker of innocence, an hypocrite,
A most unworthy wearer of our Cross;
To make which good take (if thou dar'st) that gage
And arm'd at all points like a Gentleman
Meet me to morrow morning, where the Master,
And this fraternity shall design, where I
Will cram this slander back into thy throat,
And with my swords point thrust it to thy heart,
The very nest, where lust and slander breeds.
Pardon my passion; I will tear those spurs
Off from thy heels, and stik 'em in thy front
As a mark'd villain.
_Mount._ This I look'd not for:
Ten times more villain, I return my gage,
And crave the Law of Arms.
_Gom._ 'Tis that I crave.
_All._ It cannot be denide.
_Gom._ Do not I know
With thousand gifts, and importunacies,
Thou often hast sollicited this Lady
(Contrary to thy oath of chastity)
Who ne'r disclosing this thy hot reign'd lust,
Yet tender to prevent a publique scandal,
That _Christendom_ might justly have impos'd,
Upon this holy institution,
Thou now hast drawn this practise 'gainst her life
To quit her charity.
_Mount. Spaniard_, thou liest.
_Ast._ No more _Gomera,_ thou art granted combat,
And you _Mountferrat_ must prepare against
To morrow morning in the valley here
Adjoyning to _St. Georg[e]s_ Port: a Lady
In case of life 'gainst whom one witness comes
May have her champion.
_Val._ And who hath most right [_Florish_
With, or against our Sister, speed in fight. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Rocca.
_Mount. Rocca_, the first news of _Mirandas_ service
Let me have notice of.
_Roc._ You shall: The _Moore_
Waites you without.
_Mount._ Admit her, ha, ha, ha.
Oh, how my fancies run at tilt! _Gomera_
Loves _Oriana_; she as I should ghess,
Affects _Miranda_; these are two dear friends,
As firm, and full of fire, as steel and flint.
To make 'em so now, one against the other: [_Enter_ Zanthia.
Stay let me like it better, _Zanthia_;
First tell me this, did _Don Gomera_ use
To give his visits to your Mistriss?
_Zan._ Yes, and _Miranda_ too: but severally.
_Mount._ Which did she most apply to?
_Zan._ Faith to neither:
Yet infinitely I have heard her praise 'em both,
And in that manner, that were both one man
I think she was in love with't.
_Mount. Zanthia_,
Another Letter you must frame for me
Instantly, in your Ladies Character,
To such a purpose as I'll tell thee strait,
Go in, and stay me: Go my Tinder-box,
Cross lines I'll cross; so, so: my after-game
I must play better: woman, I will spread
My vengeance over _Malta_, for thy sake:
_Spaniard, Italian_, like my steel and stone,
I'll knock you thus together, wear ye out
To light my dark deeds, whilst I seem precise,
And wink to save the sparkles from mine eyes. [_Exeunt._
_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._
[_A Sea-fight within, alarm._
_Enter_ Norandine, Miranda, _and Soldiers, and Gentlemen_.
_Mir._ How is it Sir?
_Nor._ Pray set me down; I cool,
And my wounds smart.
_Mir._ I hope yet
Though there be many, there's none dangerous.
_Nor._ I know not, nor I care not much, I got 'em
Like a too forward fool, but I hope the Surgeons
Will take an order I shall not leave 'em so,
I make the rogues more work than all the Island,
And yet they give me the hardest words for my money.
_Mir._ I am glad ye are so sprightly: ye fought bravely
Go call the Surgeons Soldiers: wondrous nobly
Upon my life, I have not seen such valour,
Maintained so long, and to so large a ruine,
The odds so strong against ye.
_Nor._ I thank ye,
And thank ye for your help, your timely succor.
By th'mass, it came i' th' nick Sir, and well handled;
Stoutly, and strongly handled: we had duckt else,
My _Turk_ had _Turk'd_ me else: but he has well paid for't.
Why what a Sign for an Almanack h'as made me!
_Enter_ Astorius.
_Ast._ I am glad to find ye here Sir, of necessity,
I must have come aboard else; and brave Captain
We all joy much in your fair victory,
And all the Island speaks your valour nobly.
Have ye brought the _Turk_ in, that ye took?
_Mir._ He rides there.
_Nor._ If he were out again, the devil should bring him.
H'as truly circumcis'd me.
_Ast._ I have a business
Which much concerns ye, presently concerns ye;
But not this place nor people: pray ye draw off, Sir,
For 'tis of that weight to ye.
_Mir._ I'll wait on ye,
I must crave leave awhile: my care dwels with ye,
And I must wait my self.
_Nor._ Your servant, Sir.
_Mir._ Believe I shall, and what my love can minister;
Keep your stout heart still.
_Nor._ That's my best Physitian.
_Mir._ And I shall keep your fame fair. [_Exit._
_Nor._ Ye are too Noble.
A brave young fellow of a matchless spirit;
He brought me off like thunder, charg'd, and boarded,
As if he had been shot to save mine honor:
And when my fainting men, tyr'd with their labour,
And lack of bloud, gave to the _Turk_ assurance
The day was his; when I was cut in shreds thus,
And not a corn of Powder left to bless us;
Then flew his Sword in, then his Cannon roar'd,
And let flie bloud and death and storms amongst 'em.
Then might I hear their sleepy Prophet howl too,
And all their _silver Crescents_ then I saw
Like falling Meteors spent, and set for ever
Under the Cross of _Malta_; death so wanton
I never lookt upon, so full of revel.
_Enter_ Surgeon.
I will not be drest yet: Methought that fellow
Was fit for no conversation, nor no _Christian_
That had not halfe his brain's knockt out, no Soldier.
Oh valiant young man, how I love thy virtue.
_1 Sold._ Pray ye Sir be drest, alas ye bleed apace yet.
_Nor._ 'Tis but the sweat of honor (alas) thou milksop,
Thou man of March-pain, canst thou fear to see
A few light hurts, that blush they are no bigger,
A few small scratches? get ye a Cawdle, Sirrah,
Your finger akes, and let the old wives watch thee:
Bring in the booty: and the prisoners;
By heaven I'll see 'em, and dispose 'em first,
Before I have a drop of blood wip'd from me, goe. [_Exeunt Soldiers._
_Surg._ You'll faint Sir.
_Nor._ No, ye lie, Sir, like an Ass, Sir;
I have no such pigs hurt in my belly.
_Sur._ By my life Captain
These hurts are not to be jested with.
_Nor._ If thou hadst 'em:
They are my companions fool, my family;
I cannot eat nor sleep without their company,
Dost take me for _St. Davy_, that fell dead
With seeing of his nose bleed?
_Enter Soldiers with booty._
_Sur._ Here they come, Sir:
But would you would be drest.
_Nor._ Pox: dress thy self first.
Thou faint'st a great deal faster: what's all this?
_1 Sold._ The money and the merchandize ye took Sir.
_Nor._ A goodly purchase; Is it for this we venture
Our liberties and lives? what can all this do?
Get me some dozen surfeits, some seven fresh whores,
And twenty pot-Allies; and then I am virtuous.
Lay the Knights part by, and that to pay the Soldier:
This is mine own, I think I have deserv'd it:
Come, now look to me, and grope me like a Chambermaid,
I'll neither start nor squeak; what's that i' th' Trusse there?
_2 Sold._ 'Tis cloth of Tissue, Sir, and this is Scarlet.
_Nor._ I shall look redder shortly then, I fear me,
And as a Captain ought, a great deal prouder.
Can ye cure me of that crack, Surgeon?
_Sur._ Yes, when your Suit's at pawn, Sir.
_Nor._ There's for your plaister.
A very learned Surgeon: what's in that pack there?
_1 Sold._ 'Tis _English_ Cloth.
_Nor._ That's a good wear indeed,
Both strong, and rich: but it has a virtue
A twang of the own Countrey, that spoils all:
A man shall ne'r be sober in't: Where are the Gentlemen,
That ventur'd with me, both their lives and fortunes?
Come forward my fair spirits; _Norandine_
Forgets his worth, when he forgets your valours,
You have lost an eye, I saw ye face all hazards:
You have one left yet, to choose your Mistriss.
You have your leg broke with a shot; yet sitting,
I saw you make the place good with your Pike still.
And your hand's gone; a good heart wants no instruments;
Share that amongst ye, there's an eye, an arm,
And that will bear you up, when your legs cannot.
Oh, where's the honest Sailor? that poor fellow,
Indeed that bold brave fellow, that with his Musket
Taught them new ways how to put their caps off;
That stood the fire of all the fight, twice blown,
And twice I gave him drown'd; welcome ashore knave;
Give me thy hand, if they be not both lost: faith thou art welcome,
My tough knave welcome: thou wilt not shrink i' th' washing.
Hold, there's a piece of Scarlet, get thee handsom.
And this to buy thee buttons.
_Sail._ Thank ye Captain.
Command my life at all hours.
_Nor._ Thou durst give it.
You have deserv'd too.
_3 Sold._ We have seen the fight Sir.
_Nor._ Yes: coil'd up in a Cable, like salt Eels,
Or buried low i' th' ballast, do you call that fighting?
Where be your wounds? your knocks? your want of limbs rogues?
Art not thou he that ask'd the Master-gunner
Where thou mightst lie safest? and he strait answered,
Put thy head in that hole, new bor'd with a Cannon;
For 'twas an hundred to one, another shot would not hit there:
Your wages you shall have, but for rewards
Take your own waies: and get ye to the Taverns;
There, when ye are hot with Wine, 'mongst your admirers,
Take Ships, and Towns, and Castles at your pleasures,
And make the Great _Turk_ shake at your valors.
Bring in the prisoners now, my brave Musslemen.
_Enter Prisoners, and_ Luscinda.
You that are Lords o' th' Sea, and scorn us _Christians_,
Which of your mangy lives is worth this hurt here?
Away to prison with 'em, see 'em safe;
You shall find we have Gallies too, and slaves too.
_1 Sold._ What shall be done with this woman, Sir?
_Nor._ Pox take her,
'Twas she that set me on to fight with these rogues,
That Ring-worm, rot it: what can you do now
With all your paintings, and your pouncings, Lady,
To restore my blood again? you, and your _Cupid_
That have made a Carbinado of me, plague take ye,
Ye are too deep ye rogue, this is thy work woman,
Thou lousie woman; 'death, you goe too deep still.
The seeing of your simpring sweetness: ---- ye Filly,
Ye Tit, ye Tomboy, what can one nights gingling,
Or two, or ten, sweet heart, and oh my dear chicken,
Scratching my head, or fumbling with my fore-mast,
Doe me good now? ye have powder'd me for one year,
I am in souce I thank ye; thank your beauty,
Your most sweet beauty: pox upon those goggles.
We cannot fight like honest men, for honor,
And quietly kill one another as we ought,
But in steps one of you; the devils holiness
And you must have a daunce: away with her,
She stinks to me now.
_1 Sold._ Shall I have her Captain?
_2 Sold._ Or I?
_3 Sold._ I'll marry her.
_4 Sold._ Good Captain, I.
_3 Sold._ And make her a good _Christian_; lay hands off her;
I know she's mine.
_2 Sold._ I'll give my full share for her: have ye no manners;
To thrust the woman so?
_Nor._ Share her among ye;
And may she give ye as many hurts as I have,
And twice as many aches.
_Lusc._ Noble Captain,
Be pleas'd to free me from these Soldiers wildness,
Till I but speak two words.
_Nor._ Now for your Maidenhead,
You have your book, proceed.
_Lusc._ Victorious Sir,
'Tis seldom seen in men so valiant,
Minds so devoid of virtue: he that can conquer,
Should ever know how to preserve his conquest,
'Tis but a base theft else. Valour's a virtue,
Crown of men's actions here; yours as you make it.
And can you put so rough a foyl as violence,
As wronging of weak woman to your triumph?
_Nor._ Let her alone.
_Lusc._ I have lost my husband, Sir;
You feel not that: him that I love; you care not:
When fortune falls on you thus, you may grieve too:
My liberty, I kneel not for; mine honor,
(If ever virtuous honor toucht your heart yet)
Make dear, and precious, Sir: you had a mother.
_Nor._ The rougy thing speaks finely, neat, who took ye?
For he must be your guard.
_Lusc._ I wish no better,
A noble Gentleman, and Nobly us'd me,
They call'd his name _Miranda_.
_Nor._ You are his then:
Ye have light upon a young man worth your service,
I free ye from all the rest: and from all violence;
He that doth offer't, by my head he hangs for't:
Goe see her safe kept, till the Noble Gentleman
Be ready to dispose her: thank your tongue,
You have a good one, and preserve it good still:
Soldiers, come wait on me, I'll see ye paid all. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Miranda _and_ Astorius.
_Ast._ I knew ye lov'd her, virtuously ye lov'd her,
Which made me make that haste: I knew ye priz'd her
As all fair minds do goodness.
_Mir._ Good _Astorius_,
I [must] confess I do much honor her,
And worthily I hope still.
_Ast._ 'Tis no doubt, Sir,
For on my life she is much wrong'd.
_Mir._ Very likely:
And I as much tormented I was absent.
_Ast._ You need not fear, _Peter Gomera_'s Noble,
Of a try'd faith and valour.
_Mir._ This I know too:
But whilst I was not there, and whilst she suffer'd;
Whilst Virtue suffer'd, friend, oh how it loads me!
Whilst innocence and sweetness sunk together,
How cold it sits here! if my arm had fought her,
My truth, though naked, stood against all treasons,
My sword here grasped, Love on the edge, and Honor,
And but a signal from her eye to seal it;
If then she had been lost; I brag too late,
And too much I decline the Noble _Peter_.
Yet some poor service I would do her sweetness,
Alas she needs it, my _Astorius_,
The gentle Lady needs it.
_Ast._ Noble spirit.
_Mir._ And what [I] can: prethee bear with this weakness.
Often I do not use these Womens weapons
But where true pity is. I am much troubl'd,
And something have to do, I cannot form yet.
_Ast._ I'll take my leave, Sir, I shall but disturb ye.
_Mir._ And please you for a while: and pray to fortune
to smile upon this Lady.
_Ast._ All my help, Sir. [_Exit._
_Mir. Gomera_'s old and stiff: and he may lose her,
The winter of his years and wounds upon him:
And yet he has done bravely hitherto;
_Mountferrat_'s fury, in his heat of Summer,
The whistling of his Sword like angry storms,
Renting up life by th' roots, I have seen him scale
As if a Falcon had run up a train,
Clashing his warlike pinions, his steel'd Curasse,
And at his pitch inmew the Town below him.
I must doe something.
_Enter_ Collonna.
_Col._ Noble Sir, for Heaven sake
Take pity of a poor afflicted _Christian_
Redeem'd from one affliction to another.
_Mir._ Boldly you ask that, we are bound to give it.
From what affliction, Sir?
_Col._ From cold, and hunger;
From nakedness and stripes.
_Mir._ A prisoner?
_Col._ A slave, Sir, in the _Turkish_ prize, new taken;
That in the heat of fight, when your brave hand
Brought the _Dane_ succor, got my irons off,
And put my self to mercy of the Ocean.
_M[i]r._ And swom to Land?
_Col._ I did Sir, Heaven was gracious;
But now a stranger, and my wants upon me,
Though willingly I would preserve this life, Sir,
With honesty and truth I am not look'd on;
The hand of pity that should give for heaven sake,
And charitable hearts are grown so cold, Sir,
Never remembring what their fortunes may be.
_Mir._ Thou say'st too true: of what profession art thou?
_Col._ I have been better train'd; and can serve truly,
Where trust is laid upon me.
_Mir._ A handsome fellow;
Hast thou e'r bore Arms?
_Col._ I have trod full many a march, Sir,
And some hurts have to shew: before me too, Sir.
_Mir._ Pity this thing should starve, or, forced for want,
Come to a worse end. I know not what thou mayst be.
But if thou thinkst it fit to be a servant,
I'll be a Master, and a good one to thee,
If ye deserve, Sir.
_Col._ Else I ask no favour.
_Mir._ Then Sir, to try your trust, because I like you,
Go to the _Dane_, of him receive a woman,
A _Turkish_ prisoner, for me receive her,
I hear she is my prize, look fairly to her,
For I would have her know, though now my prisoner,
The _Christians_ need no Schoolmasters for honor.
Take this to buy thee clothes, this Ring, to help thee
Into the fellowship of my house: ye are a stranger,
And my servants will not know ye else; there keep her,
And with all modesty preserve your service.
_Col._ A foul example find me else: Heaven thank ye.
Of Captain _Norandine_?
_Mir._ The same.
_Col._ 'Tis done, Sir:
And may Heavens goodness ever dwell about ye.
_Mir._ Wait there till I come home.
_Col._ I shall not fail, Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Tertia._
_Enter_ Mountferrat _with a Letter, and_ Abdella.
_Abd._ 'Tis strange it should be so, that your high mettle
Should check thus poorly, dully; most unmanly.
_Mount._ Let me alone.
_Abd._ Thus leadenly?
_Mount._ ---- [t]ake ye.
_Abd._ At every childish fear? at every shadow?
Are you _Mountferrat_ that have done such deeds?
Wrought through such bloudy fields, men shake to speak of?
Can ye go back? is there a safety left yet
But fore-right? is not ruine round about ye?
Have ye not still these arms, that Sword, that heart-whole?
Is't not a man ye fight with, and an old man,
A man half kill'd already? Am not I here?
As lovely in my black to entertain thee,
As high and full of heat to meet thy pleasures?
_Mount._ I will be alone.
_Abd._ Ye shall: farewel, Sir;
And do it bravely, never think of conscience:
There is none to a man resolved; be happy. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Miranda.
_Mount._ No, most unhappy wretch as thou hast made me
More devil than thy self, I am.
_Mir._ Alone,
And troubled too, I take it: how he starts!
All is not handsome in thy heart _Mountferrat_.
God speed ye Sir, I have been seeking of ye:
They say you are to fight to day.
_Mount._ What then?
_Mir._ Nay, nothing but good fortune to your Sword, Sir.
Ye have a cause requires it, the Islands safety,
The Orders, and your Honors.
_Mount._ And do you make a question
I will not fight it Nobly?
_Mir._ Ye dare fight,
Ye have, and with as great a confidence as justice,
I have seen ye strike as home, and hit as deadly.
_Mount._ Why are these questions then?
_Mir._ I'll tell ye quickly.
Ye have a Lady in your cause, a fair one,
A gentler never trode on ground, a Nobler.
_Mount._ Do ye come on so fast? I have it for ye.
_Mir._ The Sun ne'r saw a sweeter.
_Mount._ These I grant ye:
Nor dare I against beauty heave my hand up,
It were unmanly, Sir; too much unmanly:
But when these excellencies turn to ruine,
To ruine of themselves, and those protect 'em;
When virtue's lost, lust and dishonor enter'd,
Loss of our selves and souls basely projected--
_Mir._ Do you think 'tis so?
_Mount._ Too sure.
_Mir._ And can it be?
Can it be thought _Mountferrat_, so much sweetness,
So great a Magazine of all things precious,
A mind so heavenly made, prethee observe me:
_Mount._ I thought so too: now by my Holy Order,
He that had told me, (till experience found it
Too bold a proof) this Lady had been vitious--
I wear no dull Sword Sir, nor hate I virtue.
_Mir._ Against her brother? to the man has bred her?
Her Bloud and Honor?
_Mount._ Where ambitious lust
Desires to be above the rule prescrib'd her,
Takes hold, and wins, poor chastity, cold duty,
Like fashions old forgot, she flings behind her,
And puts on bloud and mischief, death, and ruine,
To raise her new-built hopes, new faith to fasten her:
_Ma' foy_, she is as foul, as Heaven is beauteous.
_Mir._ Thou liest; thou liest _Mountferrat_: thou liest basely.
Stare not, nor swell not with thy pride: thou liest;
And this shall make it good.
_Mount._ Out with your heat first,
Ye shall be fought withal.
_M[i]r._ By ---- that Lady,
The virtue of that woman, were all the good deeds
Of all thy families, bound in one Fagot,
From _Adam_ to this hour, but with one sparkle
Would fire that wispe, and turn it to light ashes.
_Mount._ Oh pitiful young man, struck blind with beauty!
Shot with a womans smile: poor, poor _Miranda_;
Thou hopeful young man once; but now thou lost man:
Thou naked man of all that we call Noble,
How art thou cozen'd! didst thou know what I do,
And how far thy dear honor (mark me fool)
Which like a father I have kept from blasting,
Thy tender honor is abus'd: but fight first,
And then too late, thou shalt know all.
_Mir._ Thou liest, still.
_Mount._ Stay, now I'll shew thee all, and then I'll kill thee.
I love thee so dear, time shall not disgrace thee.
Read that.
_Mir._ It is her hand: it is most certain;
Good Angels keep me: that I should be her Agent
To betray _Maltha_, and bring her to the _Basha_,
That on my tender love lay all her project!
Eyes never see again, melt out for sorrow,
Did the Devil do this?
_Mount._ No, but his Dam did it,
The virtuous Lady that you love so dearly;
Come, will ye fight again?
_Mir._ No, prethee kill me:
For Heaven sake, and for goodness sake dispatch me,
For the disgrace sake that I gave thee, kill me.
_Mount._ Why, are ye guilty?
_Mir._ I have liv'd _Mountferrat_,
To see dishonor swallow up all virtue,
And now would die: by heavens eternal brightness,
I am as clear as innocence.
_Mount._ I knew it,
And therefore kept this Letter from all knowledge,
And this sword from anger, ye had died else.
And yet I lye, and basely lye.
_Mir._ O virtue!
Unspotted virtue, whither art thou vanish'd?
What hast thou left to abuse our frailties
In shape of goodness?
_Mount._ Come, take courage, man,
I have forgiven, and forgot your rashness,
And hold you fair as light in all your actions,
And by my troth I griev'd your loves; take comfort,
There be more women.
_Mir._ And more mischief in 'em.
_Mount._ The justice I shall do, to right these villanies
Shall make ye man again: I'll strike it sure, Sir.
Come, look up bravely: put this puling passion
Out of your mind; one knock for thee _Miranda_.
And for the Boy, the grave _Gomera_ gave thee,
When she accepted thee her Champion;
And in thy absence, like a valiant Gentleman,
I yet remember it: he is too young,
Too Boyish, and too tender, to adventure:
I'll give him one sound rap for that: I love thee,
Thou art a brave young spark.
_Mir._ Boy, did he call me?
_Gomera_ call me Boy?
_Mount._ It pleas'd his gravity,
To think so of ye then: they that do service,
And honest service, such as thou, and I doe,
Are either knaves, or boys.
_Mir._ Boy, by _Gomera_?
How look'd he when he said it? for _Gomera_
Was ever wont to be a virtuous Gentleman,
Humane, and sweet.
_Mount._ Yes when he will, he can be;
But let it go, I would not breed dissention;
'Tis an unfriendly office, and had it been
To any of a higher strain than you, Sir,
The well known, well approved, and lov'd _Miranda_,
I had not thought on't: 'twas hap'ly his haste too,
And zeal to her.
_Mir._ A Traitor and a Boy too?
Shame take me if I suffer't: puff: farewel love.
_Mount._ Ye know my business, I must leave ye, Sir,
My hour grows on apace.
_Mir._ I must not leave you
I dare not, nor I will not, till your goodness
Have granted me one courtesie: ye say ye love me?
_Mount._ I doe, and dearly: ask, and let that courtesie
Nothing concern mine honor.
_Mir._ You must do it,
Or you will never see me more:
_Mount._ What is it?
It shall be great that puts ye off; pray speak it.
_Mir._ Pray let me fight to day: good, dear _Mountferrat_,
Let me, and bold _Gomera_--
_Mount._ Fie _Miranda_,
Doe ye weigh my worth so little?
_Mir._ On my knees,
As ever thou hadst true touch of a sorrow
Thy friend conceiv'd, as ever honor lov'd thee.
_Mount._ Shall I turn recreant now?
_Mir._ 'Tis not thy cause,
Thou hast no reputation wounded in't,
Thine's but a general zeal: 'death: I am tainted,
The dearest twyn to life, my credit's murder'd,
Bafl'd and boy'd.
_Mount._ I am glad ye have swallow'd it,
I must confess I pity ye; and 'tis a justice,
A great one too, you should revenge these injuries:
I know it, and I know ye fit and bold to do it,
And man, as much as man may: but _Miranda_,
Why do ye kneel?
_Mir._ By ---- I'll grow to the ground here,
And with my sword dig up my grave, and fall in't
Unless thou grant me: dear _Mountferrat_, friend,
Is any thing in my power, to my life, Sir?
The honor shall be yours.
_Mount._ I love ye dearly,
Yet so much I should tender.
_Mir._ I'll preserve all:
By ---- I will: or all the sin fall with me,
Pray let me.
_Mount._ Ye have won: I'll once be coward
To pleasure you.
_Mir._ I kiss your hands, and thank ye.
_Mount._ Be tender of my credit, and fight bravely.
_Mir._ Blow not the fire that flames.
_Mount._ I'll send mine Armor,
My man shall presently attend ye with it,
For you must arm immediately, the hour calls,
I know 'twill fit ye right; be sure, and secret,
And last be fortunate; farewel: ye are fitted:
I am glad the load's off me.
_Mir._ My best _Mountferrat_. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Quarta._
_Enter_ Norandine _and Doctor_.
_Nor._ Doctor, I will see the Combat, that's the truth on't
If I had never a leg, I would crawl to see it.
_Doct._ You are most unfit, if I might counsel ye,
Your wounds so many, and the air--
_Nor._ The Halter;
The air's as good an air, as fine an air;
Wouldst thou have me live in an Oven?
_Doct._ Beside the noise, Sir:
Which to a tender body.
_Nor._ That's it, Doctor,
My body must be cur'd withal: if you'll heal me quickly,
Boil a Drum-head in my broth: I never prosper,
With knuckles o' Veal, and birds in Sorrel sops,
Cawdles, and Cullysses; they wash me away
Like a horse had eaten grains: if thou wilt cure me,
A pickled herring, and a pottle of Sack: Doctor,
And half a dozen Trumpets.
_Doct._ Y' are a strange Gentleman.
_Nor._ As e'r thou knew'st: wilt thou give me another glister
That I may sit cleanly there like a _French_ Lady,
When she goes to a Mask at Court? where's thy hoboy?
_Doct._ I am glad ye are grown so merry.
_Nor._ Welcome Gent[l]emen.
_Enter_ Astor., _and_ Castr.
_Ast._ We come to see you, Sir; and glad we are
To see you thus, thus forward to your health, Sir.
_Nor._ I thank my Doctor here.
_Doct._ Nay, thank your self, Sir,
For by my troth, I know not how he's cur'd,
He ne'r observes any of our prescriptions.
_Nor._ Give me my Money again then, good sweet Doctor,
Wilt thou have twenty shillings a day for vexing me.
_Doct._ That shall not serve ye Sir; [_Drums afar off. A low March._
_Nor._ Th[e]n forty shall Sir,
And that will make ye speak well: hark the Drums.
_Cast._ They begin to beat to th' field: Oh noble _Dane_,
Never was such a stake, I hope of innocence
Plaid for in _Malta_, and in bloud before.
_Ast._ It makes us hang our heads all.
_Nor._ A bold villain:
If there be treason in it: accuse poor Ladies?
And yet they may do mischief too: I'll be with ye:
If she be innocent, I shall find it quickly,
And something then I'll say.
_Ast._ Come, lean on us, Sir.
_Nor._ I thank ye Gentlemen: and _Domine Doctor_,
Pray bring a little sneezing powder in your pocket,
For fear I sound when I see [bloud].
_Doct._ You are pleasant. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Quinta._
_Enter two Marshals._
1. Are the Combatants come in? [_The Scaffold set out, and the stairs._
2. Yes.
1. Make the field clear there.
2. That's done too.
1. Then to the prisoner: the grand Master's coming,
Let's see that all be ready there.
2. Too ready.
How ceremonious our very ends are!
Alas, sweet Lady,
If she be innocent, [_Florish._
No doubt but justice will direct her Champion
Away: I hear 'em come:
1. Pray heaven she prosper.
_Enter_ Valetta, Norandine, Astor., Castriot, _&c._
_Val._ Give Captain _Norandine_ a chair.
_Nor._ I thank your Lordship.
_Val._ Sit Sir, and take your ease: your hurts require it
You come to see a womans cause decided
That's all the knowledge now, or name I have for her:
They say a false, a base, and treacherous woman,
And partly prov'd too.
_Nor._ Pity it should be so:
And if your Lordship durst ask my opinion,
Sure, I should answer no, so much I honor her:
And answer't with my life too: But _Gomera_
Is a brave Gentleman; the other valiant,
And if he be not good, dogs gnaw his flesh off,
And one above 'em both will find the truth out.
He never fails, Sir.
_Val._ That's the hope rests with me.
_Nor._ How nature and his honor struggle in him!
A sweet, clear, noble Gentleman. [_Within, make room there._
_Guard._ Make room there.
_Val._ Go up, and what you have to say, say there.
_Enter_ Oriana, Ladies, Executioner, Abdella, _and Guard_.
_Ori._ Thus I ascend: nearer I hope to heaven,
Nor doe I fear to tread this dark black Mansion:
The Image of my grave, each foot we move,
Goes to it still: each hour we leave behind us,
Knols sadly toward it: My noble Brother
For yet mine innocence dares call ye so,
And you the friends to virtue, that come hither,
The _Chorus_ to this _Tragick Scæne_, behold me,
Behold me with your Justice, not with Pity,
(My cause was ne'r so poor to ask compassion,)
Behold me in this spotless White I wear,
The _Emblem_ of my life, of all my actions,
So ye shall find my story, though I perish:
Behold me in my Sex, I am no Soldier,
Tender, and full of fears our blushing Sex is,
Unhardned with relentless thoughts; unhatcht
With bloud, and bloudy practice: alas we tremble;
But when an angry dream afflicts our fancies,
Die with a tale well told: had I been practis'd,
And known the way of mischief, travell'd in it
And given my bloud; and honor up to reach it,
Forgot Religion, and the line I sprung on,
Oh heaven, I had been fit then for thy justice,
And then in black, as dark as Hell, I had howl'd here.
Last, in your own opinions weigh mine innocence,
Amongst ye I was planted from an Infant
(Would then, if heaven had so been pleas'd, I had perish'd)
Grew up, and goodly, ready to bear fruit,
The honourable fruit of marriage:
And am I blasted in my bud with Treason?
Boldly, and basely of my fair name ravish'd,
And hither brought to find my rest in ruine?
But he that knows all, he that rights all wrongs,
And in his time restores, knows me: I have spoken.
_Val._ If ye be innocent, heaven will protect ye,
And so I leave ye to his Sword strikes for ye,
Farewell.
_Ori._ Oh that went deep, farewel deer brother,
And howsoe'r my cause goes, see my body
(Upon my knees I ask it) buried chastely;
For yet, by holy truth, it never trespass'd.
_Ast._ Justice sit on your cause; and heaven fight for ye.
_Nor._ Two of ye Gentlemen, do me but the honor
To lead me to her: good my Lord, your leave too:
_Val._ You have it Sir.
_Nor._ Give me your fair hands fearless,
As white as this I see your Innocence,
As spotless, and as pure: be not afraid Lady,
You are but here brought to your nobler fortune,
To add unto your life immortal story:
Vertue, through hardest things arrives at happiness,
Shame follow that blunt sword that looses you:
And he that strikes against you: I shall study
A curse or two for him: once more your fair hands,
I never brought ill luck yet; be fearless happy.
_Ori._ I thank ye, noble Captain.
_Nor._ So I leave ye.
_Val._ Call in the Knights severally.
_Enter severally_ Gomera _and_ Miranda.
_Ori._ But two words to my champion,
And then to heaven and him, I give my cause up:
_Val._ Speak quickly, and speak short.
_Ori._ I have not much Sir.
Noble _Gomera_, from your own free virtue,
You have undertaken here a poor Maids honor.
And with the hazard of your life: and happily
You may suspect the cause, though in your true worth
You will not shew it, therefore take this testimony
(And as I hope for happiness, a true one)
And may it steel your heart, and edge your good sword,
Ye fight for her, as spotless of these mischiefs,
As heaven is of our sins, or truth of errors,
And so defie that treacherous man, and prosper.
_Nor._ Blessing o'thy heart Lady.
_Val._ Give the signal to 'em. [_Low Alarms._
_Nor._ 'Tis bravely fought _Gomera_; follow that blow,
Well struck again boy: look upon the Lady,
And gather spirit: brave again: lye close.
Lye close I
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