Chapter 9

_Doct_. Est possible, by garr? de foole Earle drinke my powder, I tinke. Mershan tella mee.

_Mar_. What, maister Doctor Doddie?

_Doct_. Hab you de blew and de yellow Velvet, ha?

_Mar_. What of that, sir?

_Doct_. Be gar, me buy too, three peece for make de Cockes-combe pur the foole Earle, ha, ha, ha! [_Exit_.

_Mer_. Fortune fights lowe when such triumphe on Earles.

[_Exit_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Lassenbergh singing, Lucilia following; after the song he speakes_.

_Lass_. O wearie of the way and of my life, Where shall I rest my sorrow-tired[77] limmes!

_Luc_. Rest in my bosome, rest you here, my Lord; A place securer you can no where finde.

_Lass_. Nor more unfit for my displeased minde. A heavie slumber calles me to the earth; Heere will I sleepe, if sleep will harbour heere.

_Luc_. Unhealthful is the melancholic earth: O let my Lord rest on _Lucilia's_ lappe. Ile helpe to shield you from the searching ayre And keepe the colde dampes from your gentle bloud.

_Lass_. Pray thee, away; for, whilst thou art so neere, No sleepe will seaze on my suspicious eyes.

_Luc_. Sleepe then, and I am pleazd far off to sit Like to a poore and forlorne Sentinell, Watching the unthankful sleepe that severs me From my due part of rest deere love with thee.

_She sits farre off from him_.

_Enter Const. Dutchesse with a willowe garland, cum aliis_.

_Con_. Now are we neere the court of _Saxonie_, Where the duke dreames such tragicall ostents.

_Amb_. I wonder we, now treading on his soile, See none of his strange apparitions.

_Kath_. We are not worthy of such meanes divine, Nor hath heaven care of our poore lives like his. I must endure the end and show I live Though this same plaintive wreathe doth show me forsaken. Come, let us foorth.

_Const_. Stay, sister; what faire sight Sits mourning in this desolate abode?

_Dut_. Faire sight indeed it is, and much to faire To sit so sad and solitarie there.

_Con_. But what is he that cur-like sleepes alone?

_Dut_. Look, is it not my Nephew _Lassingbergh_?

_Amb_. Madame, 'tis hee.

_Dut_. Ile sure learne more of this.-- Lady, if strangers that [do] wish you well May be so bould to aske, pray whats the cause That you [so] more then strangely sit alone?

_Luc_. Madam, thus must forsaken creatures sit Whose merits cannot make their loves consort them.

_Dut_. What a poore fellow in my miserie! Welcome, sweet partner, and of favour tell me, Is this some friend of yours that slumbers heere?

_Luc_. My husband (madame) and my selfe his friend, But he of late unfriendly is to me.

_Con_. Sister, lets wake her friend.

_Dut_. No, let him sleepe; And, gentle dame, if you will be rulde by me, Ile teach you how to rule your friend in love: Nor doubt you our acquaintance, for the man Whom you so much affect is friend to us.

_Shee riseth_.

_Luc_. Pardon me, Madame; now I know your grace.

_Dut_. Then knowst thou one in fortune like thy selfe, And one that tenders thy state as her owne. Come, let our Nephew Lassingberg sleepe there, And, gentle Neace, come you to court with us, If you dare mixe your loves successe with mine. I warrant you I counsell for the best.

_Luc_. I must not leave him now (madame) alone, Whom thus long I have followed with such care.

_Dut_. You wearie him with too much curtesie; Leave him a little and heele follow you.

_Luc_. I know not what to doo.

_Dut_. Come, come with us.

_Con_. Dame, never fear; get you a Willow w[reath]; The Dutchesse (doubt not) can advise you well.

_Luc_. Lets wake him then, and let him go with [us].

_Dut_. That's not so good; I pray be rulde by me.

_Luc_. Sleep, then, deare love; and let sleep that doth bind Thy sence so gently, make thee more kinde.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Hance in the Prince's apparrall, and the Peasant_.

_Pea_. Come, sirra, money for your gentlemans apparel; you promist me money, sir, but I perceive you forget your selfe.

_Han_. True, pride makes a man forget himselfe; and I have quite forgot that I owe thee any.

_Pea_. But Ile put you in minde, sir, if there be any sergeants in _Saxonie_; I thinke I meane not to loose so much by you.

_Han_. Why, I have lost a maister and a mistresse, and yet I aske thee no money for them.

_Pea_. I bought them not of you, sir; therefore pay me my money.

_Han_. I will pay thee morningly every morning as long as thou livest; looke in thy right shooe and thou shalt finde sixe pence.

_Pea_. What a fowle knave and fairie! Well, use thy conscience: I thanke God I stand in neede of no such trifles. I have another jewell heere which I found in the Princes pocket when I chang'd apparell with him; that will I make money of, and go to the jeweller that bought the cup of mee. Farewell: if God put in thy mind to pay me, so; if not, so. [_Exit_.

_Han_. O brave free-harted slave, he has the laske of mind upon him.

_Lass_. What speech is this that interrupts my rest? Who have we heere?

_Han_. Sometime a serving man, and so were yee, Both now jolly gentlemen you see.

_Lass_. What, sir, how came you thus gallant, I beseech you?

_Han_. I turn'd the spit in Fortune's wheele, sir.

_Lass_. But, stay, where is _Lucilia_?

_Han_. Marry, where say you, sir?

_Lass_. Villaine, looke for her, call her, seeke her out. _Lucillia_! where's my love, ô where's _Lucillia_! Aye me, I feare my barbarous rudenesse to her Hath driven her to some desperate exigent. Who would have tempted her true love so farre? The gentlest minds with injuries overcome Growe most impacient: ô _Lucilia_, Thy absence strikes a loving feare in me, Which from what cause so ever it proceedes Would God I had beene kinder to thy love.

_Enter Hard, with a Guard, Motto, Raphe_.

_Hard_. Slaves, can ye not direct us to the place?

_Mot_. Yes, sir, here's the place we left him in.

_Ra_. O see (my lord) heer's one weares his apparrell.

_Hard_. But where is he? stay, sirra, what are you That jet thus in the garments of the Prince.

_Han_. Bought and sold, sir, in the open market, sir. Aske my maister.

_Hard_. Earle _Lassingbergh_, where is the Princes body?

_Lass_. Why aske you me, my Lord?

_Hard_. Since you are in the place where he was drownd, And this your hinde here hath his garments on.

_Lass_. Enquire of him then.

_Hard_. Ile enquire of you And of your gallant, too. Guard, apprehend them And bring them presentlie to court with us.

_Lass_. What meanes Lord _Hardenberg_ to entreate me thus?

_Har_. That you shall know anon: bring them away.

[_Exeunt_.

[SCENE 4]

_Enter Leander and Hyanthe_.

_Lean_. O, Madam, never were our teares bestowed Of one whose death was worthier to be mon'd. Deere _Alberdure_, why parted I from thee, And did not like the faithful _Pilades_ Attend my deare Orestes in his rage?

_Hya_. O my sweete love, O princelie _Alberdure_, Would God the river where thy course lay drownde Were double deepe in me and turned to teares That it might be consumde for swallowing thee.

_Enter Alber, with a basket of Apricocks, disguised_.

_Alber_. In this disguise Ile secretly enquire Why I was so forsaken of my friend And left to danger of my lunacie. Here is the man that most I blame for this, Whose vowed friendship promisd greater care; But he, it seemes, enamour'd of my love, Was glad of that occasion, and I feare Hath turned her womanish conceipt from me. Ile proove them both. Maister, wilt please [you] buy A basket of well riped Apricocks?

_Lea_. I pray thee keepe thy dainties; I am full Of bitter sorrowes as my hart can holde.

_Alb_. It may be, Maister, your faire Lady will.

_Hya_. No, friend; my stomach is more full then his.

_Lea_. Where dwellest thou, friend?

_Alb_. Not farre from hence, my Lord.

_Lea_. Then thou knowest well which was the fatall streame Wherein the young prince _Alberdure_ was drownd?

_Alb_. I know not he was drowned, but oft have seene The pittious manner of his lunacie; In depth whereof he still would eccho forth A Ladies name that I have often heard, Beautious _Hyanthe_; but in such sad sort As if his frenzie felt some secret touch Of her unkindnesse and inconstancie, And when his passions somewhat were appeaz'd, Affording him (it seemed) some truer sence. Of his estate, left in his fittes alone Then would he wring his hands, extreamly weeping, Exclaiming on the name of one _Leander_, Calling him Traitor and unworthie friend So to forsake him in his miserie.

_Lea_. Accursed I! ô thou hast mooved me more Than if a thousand showers of venom'd darts With severall paines at once had prickt my soule.

_Hya_. O thou ordained to beare swords in thy toung, Dead thou hast struck me and I live no more.

_Alb_. It seemes your honoures loved him tenderly.

_Lea_. O my good friend, knewest thou how deer I loved him.

_Hya_. Nay, knewest thou, honest friend, how deere I loved him.

_Alb_. I see, then, you would rejoyce at his health.

_Lea_. As at my life, were it revived from death.

_Hya_. As at my soule, were it preserv'd from hell.

_Alber_. Be then from death and hell recovered both As I am now by your firme loves to me. Admire me not, I am that _Alberdure_ Whom you thought drownde; that friend, that love am I.

_Lea_. Pardon, sweete friend.

_Hya_. Pardon, my princely love.

_Alber_. Dear love, no further gratulations now Least I be seene and knowne; but, sweete _Leander_, Do you conceale me in thy father's house. That I may now remaine with my _Hyanthe_ And at our pleasures safely joy each others love.

_Lea_. I will (deare friend) and blesse my happy stars That give me meanes to so desir'de a deed.

_Finis Actus Quarti_.

_Actus Quintus_.

_Enter Cassimeere, Flores with the Cup, Peasant, and the Marchant_.

_Mar_. See, signior _Flores_, A Peasant that I met with neere your house, Where[78] since he found you not he asked of me The place of your abode; and heere I have brought him.

_Flo_. I thank you, sir. My good Lord _Cassimeere_, This is the man that brought this cup to me Which for my ransome we go now to offer To my good lord the Duke.

_Cass_. What brings he now?

_Flo_. That will we know. Come hither, honest friend; What wisht occasion brings thee now to me?

_Pea_. This occasion, sir; what will ye give me for it?

_Flo_. Thou art a luckie fellow; let us see. Lord _Cassimeere_, this is the haplesse Jewell That represents the form of _Alberdure_, Given by _Cornelia_ at our fatall feast. Where hadst thou this, my good and happy friend?

_Pea_. Faith, sir, I met with the young prince all wet, who lookt as if he had been a quarter of a yeare drowned, yet prettelie come to himselfe, saving that he was so madde to change apparrell with me; in the pocket whereof, sir, I found this Jewell.

_Flo_. O tell me trulie, lives prince _Alberdure_?

_Pea_. He lives a my word, sir, but very poorely now, God help him.

_Cass_. Is he recovered of his lunacie?

_Pea_. I, by my faith, hee's tame enough now, Ile warrant him.

_Flo_. And where is he?

_Pea_. Nay, that I cannot tell.

_Cass_. Come, _Flores_, hast we quicklie to the Court With this most happie newes.

_Flo_. Come, happie friend, The most auspicious messenger to me That ever greeted me in Pesants weeds.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Doctor_.

_Mar_. I would I could meet M. Doctor Doddie, I have a tricke to gull the Asse withall; I christned him right Doctor Doddipole. Heere he comes passing luckely; Ile counterfeit business with him in all poste haste possible. Maister Doctor, Maister Doctor!

_Doct_. Shesue, vat ayle de man?

_Mar_. I love you, Maister Doctor, and therefore with all the speed I could possiblie I sought you out.

_Doct_. Vell, vat?

_Mar_. This, sir; the marriage which we thought made even now, betweene Earle _Cassimere_ and _Cornelia_, was but a jest only to drawe you to marry her, for she doth exceedinglie dote upon you; and _Flores_ her father hath invented that you are betrothed to her and is gone with a supplication to the Duke to enforce you to marrie her.

_Doct_. Be garr, me thought no lesse. O knave jeweller! O vile begger! be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my braine, me invent, me dreame upon such a ting.

_Mar_. I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.

_Doct_. O by garr, tree, fore, five monthe agoe.

_Mar_. Well, sir, y'ave a perilous wit, God blesse me out of the swinge of it, but you had best looke to it betimes, for Earl _Cassimere_ hath made great friends against you.

_Doct_. Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kisse de, will, be my trot.

_Mar_. Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worste.

_Doct_. I flie, Marshan, spit de Earle, spit de wenche, spit all bee garre. Se dis, Marshan, de brave Braine be garre. [_Exit_.

_Mar_. De brave braine by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it. Ile to the Courte after him, and see how he abuses the Duke's patience.

[_Exit_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter Alphonso, Hard., Lassing., Leander, Stro., Hosherman, Motto, and Raphe_.

_Alp_. Aye me! what hard extremitie is this? Nor quick nor dead can I beholde my sonne.

_Enter Hance in the Princes apparrell_.

_Hance_. Behold your sonne; [your] Blessing, noble father.

_Hard_. Malipart knave, art thou the Princes sonne?

_Han_. I, sir, apparrell makes the man.

_Alp_. Unhappy man, would God I had my sonne, So he had his _Hyanthe_ or my life.

_Lea_. Should he enjoy _Hyanthe_ [then], my Lord? Would you forsake your love, so he did live?

_Alp_. My love and life, did my deere sonne survive.

_Lea_. But were he found or should he live, my Lord, Although _Hyanthe's_ love were the chiefe cause Of his mishap and amorous lunacie, I hope your highnesse loves him over well To let him repossesse his wits with her.

_Alp_. My love is dead in sorrow for his death; His life and wits should ransome worlds from me.

_Lea_. My Lord, I had a vision this last night Wherein me thought I sawe the prince your sonne Sit in my fathers garden with _Hyanthe_ Under the shadow of the Laurell tree. With anger, therefore, you should be so wrongde I wakt, but then contemned it as a dreame; Yet since my minde beates on it mightelie, And though I thinke it vaine, if you vouchsafe, Ile make a triall of the truthe hereof. [_Exit_.

_Alp_. Do, good _Leander. Hardenbergh_, your sonne Perhaps deludes me with a vision[79] To mocke my vision that deferde the Dutchesse, And with _Hyanthe_ closlie keepes my sonne.

_Hard_. Your sonne was madde and drownd: this cannot bee.

_Alp_. But yet this circumventing speech [of his] Offered suspition of such event.

_Stro_. My lord, most fortunate were that event That would restore your sonne from death to life.

_Har_. As though a vision should do such a deed!

_Alp_. No, no, the boyes young brain was humorous: His servant and his Page did see him drown'd.

_Enter Leander, Alberdure, Hyanthe; Alberdure seeming fearefull to come forward_.

_Lea_. Come on, sweet friend; I warrant thee thy love; Shun not thy fathers sight that longs for thee.

_Alb_. Go then before, and we will follow straight.

_Lea_. Comfort, my Lord, my vision proov'd most true: Even in the place, under the Lawrell shade, I found them sitting just as I beheld them In my late vision; see, sir, where they come.

_Alp_. Am I enchanted or see I my sonne? I, I, the boy hath plaide the traytor with me. O, you young villaine, trust you with my love! How smoothe the cunning treacher lookt on it;

_Hard_. But, sirra, can this be?

_Lea_. You knew him to be mad, these thought him drownd. My Lord, take you no more delight to see Your sonne recovered of his life and wits?

_Alp_. See, see, how boldly the young pollytician Can urge his practice. Sirra, you shall know Ile not be over-reacht with your young braine. All have agreed, I see, to cozen me, But all shall faile. Come, Ladie, I will have You spight of all, and, sonne, learne you hereafter To use more reverend meanes to obtaine Of me what you desire. I have no joy To see thee raizd from a deluding death.

_Hya_. My Lord, 'tis tyrannie t'enforce my love.

_Lea_. I hope your Highnesse will maintaine your word.

_Alp_. Doost thou speake, Traitor? straight Ile have you safe For daring to delude me in my love.

_Albe_. O friend, thou hast betraide my love in vaine: Now am I worse then eyther mad or drown'd, Now have I onely wits to know my griefes And life to feel them.

_Hya_. Let me go to him.

_Alp_. Thou shalt not have thy will nor he his love; Neither of both know what is fit for you. I love with judgment and upon cold bloud, He with youths furie, without reasons stay; And this shall time and my kind usage of thee Make thee discerne; meane time consider this, That I neglect for thee a beautious Dutchesse Who next to thee is fairest in the world.

_Enter Messenger_.

_Mess_. My Lord, the Duke of _Brunswick_ and his sister, The beautious Dutchesse, are arrived here.

_Alp_. Whats that; the Dutchesse?

_Mess_. Even her grace, my Lord.

_Alp_. Why, _Hardenbergh_, ha! is the Dutchesse come?

_Hard_. I know not, my good Lord. Where is the Dutchesse?

_Mess_. Hard by, my Lord.

_Alp_. Sounes, I am not here; go tell her so: Or let her come, my choice is free in love. Come, my _Hyanthe_, stand thou close to me.

_Mess_. My Lord, the Duke himselfe has come to urge Your promise to him, which you must not break.

_Hosch_. Nor will you wish to break it, good my lord, I am assur'd, when you shall see the Dutchesse, Whose matchlesse beauties will renew the minde Of her rare entertainment, and her presence Put all new thoughts of love out of your minde.

_Alp_. Well, I do see 'tis best, my sweete _Hyanthie_, That thou stand further.

_Hya_. Ile be gone, my Lord.

_Alp_. Not gone, but mix thy selfe among the rest. What a spight is this! counsell me, _Hardenbergh_.

_Hard_. The Dutchesse comes, my Lord.

_Alp_. Out of my life, how shall I look on her?

_Enter Constan., Kather., Lassen., Lucil., Cassi., Cornelia, Ite. A Song: after the Dutchesse speakes_.

_Kath_. How now, my Lord? you looke as one dismaid; Have any visions troubled you of late?

_Alp_. Your grace and your most princely brother here Are highlie welcome to the _Saxon_ Court.

_Kath_. O you dissemble, sir, nor are we come In hope of welcome, but with this poore head-peece To beare the brunt of all discurtesies.

_Const_. My Lord, wee come not now to urge the marriage, You sought with such hot suite, of my faire Sister, But to resolve ourselves and all the world Why you retained such mean conceipt of us To slight so solemne and so high a contract With vaine pretext of visions or of dreames.

_Alp_. My Lord, I here protest by earth and heaven I holde your state right highlie and renowned And your faire sisters beauties and deserts To be most worthy the greatest king alive; Onlie an ominous vision troubled me And hindred the wisht speede I would have made (Not to dissolve it, though it were diferd,) By such portents as, least you thinke I faine, Lord _Hardenbergh_ can witnesse is most true.

_Hard_. Most true, my lord, and most prodigious.

_Alp_. Yet Ile contemne them with my life and all Ere Ile offend your grace or breed suspect Of my firme faith in my most honoured love.

_Kath_. No, no, my lord: this is your vision That hath not frighted but enamoured you.

_Alp_. O Madame, thinke you so? by Heaven I sweare She's my sonnes love.--Sirra, take her to you. Have I had all this care to do her grace, To prove her vertues and her love to thee, And standst thou fearefull now? Take her, I say.

_Lea_. My Lord, he feares you will be angry with him.

_Alp_. You play the villaine: wherfore should he feare? I onely proved her vertues for his sake, And now you talke of anger. Aye me wretche, That ever I should live to be thus shamed!

_Alb_. Madame, I sweare the Ladie is my love; Therefore your highnesse cannot charge my father With any wrong to your high woorth in her.

_Con_. Sister, you see we utterly mistake The kinde and princelie dealing of the Duke: Therefore without more ceremonious doubts Lets reconfirme the contract and his love.

_Kath_. I warrant you, my Lord, the Duke dissembles.

_Alp_. Heere on my knees, at the altar of those feete, I offer up in pure and sacred breath The true speech of my hart and hart it selfe. Require no more if thou be princelie borne And not of rocks or ruthelesse tygers bred.

_Kath_. My Lord, I kindlie cry you mercy now, Ashamed that you should injurie your estate To kneele to me; and vowe before these lords To make you all amends you can desire.

_Flo_. Madame, in admiration of your Grace And princelie wisedom, and to gratifie The long wisht joye done to my Lord the Duke, I here present your highnesse with this cup, Wrought admirablie by th' art of Spirits, Of substance faire, more rich then earthly Jemmes, Whose valew no mans judgement can esteeme.

_Alp_. _Flores_, Ile interrupt the Dutchesse thankes And for the present thou hast given to her To strengthen her consent to my desires, I recompence thee with a free release Of all offences twixt thy selfe and me.

_Flo_. I humblie thanke your excellence.

_Kath_. But where is now unkinde Earle _Lassinbergh_, That injures his faire love and makes her weare This worthlesse garland? Come, sir, make amends, Or we will heere awarde you worthie penance.

_Lass_. Madame, since her departure I have done More hartie penance then her hart could wish, And vowe hereafter to live ever hers.

_Kat_. Then let us cast aside these forlorne wreathes, And with our better fortunes change our habits.

_Enter Doctor in poste, the Marchant following him_.

_Doct_. O stay, my Lorte, me pray you on knee von staie.

_Alp_. What's the matter, Doctor?

_Doct_. O me bret be garr for haste.

_Con_. What ayles the hastie Doctor?

_Doct_. My Lort be garr he lyes falslie in his troate; Me proove by the duell dat he be the fallce knave.

_Alp_. Who is it, man, with whom thou art so bold?

_Doct_. My Lorte, if me make my contrack of marriage, if me be not as loose as de vide worlde, if me doe not alleadge--

_Alp_. I pray thee, man, what meanest thou?

_Doct_. Be garr, enforme your grace vot he dare I will proove by good argument and raison dat he is de falce beggerlie Jeweller, dat I no point marrie _Cornelia_. Vat say you now?

_Cass_. My Lord, no doubt some man hath guld the Doctor, Supposing he should be enforste to wed her That is my wife and ever scorned him.

_Doct_. Vat you say? de Marshan tell a me I marrie _Cornelia_ spit my nose.

_Alp_. The Marchant I perceive hath trimde you, Doctor. And comb'd you smoothelie. Faith, I can him thanke That thus revives our meeting with such mirth.

_Doct_. O be bright de heaven, est a possible! and by heaven I be revenge dat vile Marshan, me make de medecine drie up de Sea, seaven towsand, towsand million d'stlloe, fife hundred, hundred dram _Fuffian, Marquerite, Balestiae, Hematete, Cortemedian, Churchacholl, Pantasite, Petrofidem, Hynape_, and by garr de hot Pepre; me make de vinde, de grease collicke puffe, blowe by garr, teare de Sayle, beate de maste, cracke de Ship in towsand towsand peeces! _Exit_.

_Alp_. Farewell, gentle Doctor Doddipoll. And now, deere Ladie, let us celebrate Our happie royall nuptials and my sonnes With this our sweete and generall amitie Which heaven smile on with his goulden eye.

_Finis Actus Quinti & ultimi_.

_Imprinted at London by Thomas Creede, for Richard Olive_, dwelling in Long-lane. 1600.

INTRODUCTION TO _THE DISTRACTED EMPEROR_.

In the Appendix to Vol. II. I have given some account of this anonymous play, which is here printed for the first time from Egerton MS. 1994. As the play bears no title in the MS., I have named it at a venture "The Distracted Emperor."