A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 15
ACT IV.
_Enter +Ortellus+ and +Arbatus+, as going into the +Duke's+ bed-chamber, and the +Duke+ in bed._
+Ort.+ So, I will keep the door, whilst you Dispatch him.
+Arb.+ My lord, I find you truly noble. Why, duke; why, duke! I say. Methinks my voice should wake his guilty soul, Nothing but innocence can sleep secure; Then why, good heaven, does he take Such rest? Awake, thou drowsy devil! Duke, my sister's Wrongs do call thee from thy sleep; methinks The sound of those should pierce thy ears. Why, duke!
+Duke.+ What bold voice is that?
+Arb.+ One that will be more Bold with you.
+Duke.+ Who is't so impudent as To break my sleep?
+Arb.+ 'Tis I, Arbatus, that Will put thee into a wonder.
+Duke.+ Ha! what means That dagger in thy hands?
+Arb.+ Canst thou ask that Question? it is to tickle thy false heart.
+Duke.+ Ha, ha, ha! you jest, you jest.
+Arb.+ What, Does the conceit on't make you laugh already? I was resolved to wake thee, before I sent thee to hell, because thou may'st know Of whose errand thou goest.
+Duke.+ Come, come, leave Your foolery, lest you heat my blood.
+Arb.+ If I do, I will let it out all, and that Will quickly cool it. I would give thee time To say thy prayers now, but that I know Thy sin to be so great, that heaven will Not pardon thee.
_Enter +Artabella+._
+Ort.+ Who's that?
+Art.+ 'Tis I, my lord: Artabella. Let me in quickly, that I May have one stab at his false heart, before My brother has put him past feeling.
+Ort.+ And so thou shalt, brave girl.
+Arb.+ Now, duke, good night to you, and the devil Send you good rest.
+Art.+ Hold, brother.
+Arb.+ Who's that?
+Art.+ 'Tis I thy injur'd sister, come to make The first hole in that base duke's heart; it is My right.
+Arb.+ Begin, begin then, that I may Make an end.
+Art.+ Stay, brother, not too fast, Has he said his prayers?
+Arb.+ His pray'rs! why none But the devil will hear them. Come, come, sister, Give me the dagger again; you waste time.
+Art.+ And so I will, the duke shan't die.
+Arb.+ How, not die?
+Art.+ Not die, I say.
+Arb.+ Then you are his whore all this while, and wou'd Have him live, that you may be so still.
+Art.+ Brother, Another word so foul, I'll strike this dagger Through your heart, Therefore hear me speak. Know then, 'Tis I that cannot love the duke, which he Would never tell you, knowing 'twould make you angry With me.
+Arb.+ Nay then I'll kill you for fooling A brother and your reputation thus.
+Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, she says it but to save My life. 'Tis I have fooled you both, therefore Strike here.
+Arb.+ And so I will, then.
+Art.+ Hold, brother; Pull not a load of sins upon your head; 'Tis I have been to blame, indeed I have, With loving him too much.
+Arb.+ Then thou shalt die.
+Duke.+ Hold, sir, heaven will frown on you for ever, If you shed one drop of that pure blood; upon My word, 'tis I.
+Arb.+ Keep not my tortur'd soul Thus in suspense. One of you tell me true, And that quickly too, else I will destroy You both, and that's the surest way not To mistake.
+Duke.+ Then be assur'd 'tis I.
+Art.+ Brother, 'Tis not, 'tis I.
+Arb.+ Heyday! heyday! I know Not what to do or say. [_Throws down his sword and goes away._
+Ort.+ So, he is dead, I hope.
+Arb.+ No more than you are.
+Ort.+ How so?
+Arb.+ Come, My lord, as you go, I'll tell you. [_Exeunt +Arbatus+ and +Ortellus+._
+Duke.+ O Artabella, why didst take my sin Upon thyself, hiding thy innocence With a face of guilt? My death had been not Punishment enough, because I have wrong'd So fair a life as yours. Which way to ask Forgiveness, I can't tell; there are no pardons for Such sins as mine; the only way to do Thee right, is this. [_Offers to kill himself._
+Art.+ Hold, sir, my life Shall follow yours, if you strike.
+Duke.+ Why would'st thou Have me live?
+Art.+ Because I love you, sir.
+Duke.+ And that's the only reason I would die.
+Art.+ Why, would it be kindly done to show My eyes your blood?
+Duke.+ Yes, far more kind than live, and show Thy heart no love. O Artabella, that thou wert My sister! Nothing but brother's love were then Thy due; and I could richly pay thee in That coin, a million more than ever brother did.
+Art.+ Wou'd nature then had made me so, or else Had given me never a heart.
+Duke.+ What wou'dst Thou have me do, poor Artabella?
+Art.+ Nothing But love me, sir.
+Duke.+ See, what thou doest ask A man, a god wou'd do; and yet I can't; 'Tis not thy want of beauty, but my fate. Angels themselves, to look upon thy face, Wou'd take a journey twice a day from heaven.
+Art.+ If you would come, though far a shorter way, You shou'd be much more welcome.
+Duke.+ Sweet tongue, lie still, offer no more such love, As gods themselves to have wou'd think a bliss, Since all thy kindness does but wound my heart, To see thine shipwreck'd in a sea of love, And cannot give it harbour in my breast.
+Art.+ Sir, let me beg one thing of you then.
+Duke.+ With all my soul, be it my dukedom, and 'Tis thine.
+Art.+ 'Tis no such great request; 'Tis only when you meet me, say: I hate Thee, Artabella.
+Duke.+ Why, could that word please thee?
+Art.+ No; but to hear it said by you, would bring My death, then I wou'd thank you for my rest. Would you not come unto my grave, sir?
+Duke.+ O yes, and make thy coffin float with a sea Of tears.
+Art.+ Fair sir, of what?
+Duke.+ Of grief.
+Art.+ O me! A sea of tears, and yet not one of love! Waste not such precious drops upon my grave, it will Not satisfy my hovering soul to see Your eyes drop pity without love. Farewell, sir. O for a grave, that were a resting place; Good heart, be kind, and break apace! [_Exit._
+Duke.+ Heaven love thee for me! Base Amphelia, Thou art the author of my horrid sin. [_Exit._
_Enter +Philidor+ and +Mirida+._
+Phil.+ Thou talk'st of sport, Mirida; if all the Sport we have had already with our lovers, Come not short of this, hang me. You say you have Invited them already to my funeral.
+Mir.+ Yes, yes. [_+Philidor+ is laid out like a corpse._
+Phil.+ So, so, methinks my body lies In great state, to see the tribe that will come By-and-by; here will be half a dozen Chief mourners, which should have been my wives, and Some three or four sons and heirs, besides three Or four hopeful daughters; these, with The congregation of nurses, will howl me A pleasant dirge. Mirida, you being my Executrix, must carry yourself very gravely; Here's my will, which you must read to 'em; I'll be The priest myself. Hark, somebody knocks [_Knocks within._ At the gate.
_Enter +Boy+._
+Boy.+ Sir, they are all Come.
+Phil.+ Let 'em in.--Now, Mirida, manage Your business well.
+Mir.+ Let me alone, I'll warrant ye.
_Enter +Ladies+ and +Nurse+._
+All Ladies.+ Ah! my poor dear, dear.
+All Nurses.+ Ah! my poor dear master! ah, child, Cry for thy poor dad. [_Kiss the hearse._
+Phil.+ What a dog-kennel's here! how they howl! [_Aside._
+Mir.+ When The passions of your grief are over, pray Hear me speak, because it concerns you all.
+Phil.+ Pox of thy gravity, Mirida. [_Aside._
+Mir.+ Nay, hold your tongue; if You set me once a laughing, I shall spoil Your funeral. [_Aside._
_Enter +Pinguister+ and +Lean-man+._
So here comes my fat lover and my Lean one! Welcome, gentlemen, I Was afraid I shou'd not have had your company.
+Ping.+ Really, sweet lady, I have taken a purge To-day (as I do constantly, for love Of you) which has retarded me, By reason of its operation, neither can I say it has yet finished.
+Mir.+ Sir, please you To sit down, and you, Master Pinguister.
+Ping.+ Lady, I shall embrace your offer, and shall Press your chair. By my heart, madam, this chair Was fitter for a jackdaw than [for] me. [_Sits down and breaks the chair._ Nay, they make such chairs now-a-days, that had I A grudge to an upholsterer, I would Desire no greater revenge than to sit Down upon every chair in his shop.
+Mir.+ Truly, Sir, I am sorry for your fall. Ladies and gentlewomen, pray give your Attention to my dear deceas'd cousin's Will. Poor young man! he was kill'd yesterday By a duel: He liv'd but two hours after he was hurt, Which time he made use of, to settle something On all you here, his worthy friends.
+Omnes.+ A good young man.
+Mir.+ Imprimis, I bequeath my soul, as other People use to do, and so my body.
Item, I give to Mistress Mary, for a reason that she knows, £500. Item, £500 to Mistress Margaret, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Sarah, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Martha, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Alice, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Eleanor, for a reason she knows. And so to all the rest. Item, To my nurses, I leave each of them £20 a year apiece for their lives, besides their arrears due to them for nursing. These sums [_speaks low_] of money and legacies I leave to be rais'd and paid out of my manor of Constantinople, in which the Great Turk is now tenant for life.
If they should hear how their legacies [_Laughs aside._ Are to be paid, how they'd fall a-drumming on His coffin!
Item, I leave to Master Pinguister, A very fat man.--
+Ping.+ I am so.
+Mir.+ An infallible Receipt to make him lean.
+Ping.+ So I hope the Dead may do what the living cannot.
+Mir.+ I leave to a certain lean gentleman, Whom I have seen in my cousin Mirida's Company, a sure receipt to make him fat.
+Lean.+ I find he knew I was to marry his cousin.
+Mir.+ I desire my body to be carried to the Grave by the six aforesaid gentlewomen.-- So, ladies, now you have heard his will, Be pleased to take up the body: nurses, You are to follow next; now which o' you Will lead me?
+Ping.+ I will, madam.
+Lean.+ By my bones, but you shan't.
+Ping.+ By my fat, but I will, sir.
+Mir.+ Nay, gentlemen, pray, fall not out. Well, one Of you lead me one half of the way. [_Exeunt._
+Ping.+ Agreed, Sir, take you her hand first, A very timely proposition, for my purge Works again. Save me! Whereabouts is the closet? [_Goes out, and comes in again._ What a loose must I run to overtake them Now! else I shall not lead my mistress the last Half-way. Deliver me from love and purges!
_Enter all again with a coffin; +Philidor+ and +Mirida+ shut them into the vault._
+Phil.+ So, there let 'em converse with the dead a While; I would rather have 'em there than above Ground: here will I keep 'em till they have All quitted me under their hands and seals.
+Mir.+ O, the sport that we shall have by-and-by! Well, but I must go home a little, my Father will miss me: where shall we meet Again?
+Phil.+ Just here.
+Mir.+ I will not fail. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Amarissa+ just arrived._
+Ama.+ I'm come too late, and yet too soon am here, Since dear Zoranzo's death is now so near. On the same block with him I'll lay my head, That our two bodies may have but one bed. Thus are our nuptial joys decreed by fate, Our wedding and our burial bear one date. Sure, I'm the first of maids that ever gave Her body to her lover in a grave. Alas! in cold embraces we must meet, With icy kisses in a winding-sheet. Yet though this life denies us time to love, The other life will not so cruel prove; Our souls so fast in lovers' knots we'll tie, That when the headsman strikes, they both shall fly, Twined in one another through the air, And be at rest, whilst other souls despair.
_Enter +Jailor+._
This is the prison, And here's the jailor, I believe. Pray, sir, Do you belong unto the prison?
+Jailor.+ Belong! Yes, I am the keeper of it.
+Ama.+ Is not Here one Zoranzo a prisoner?
+Jailor.+ Yes, But he won't be here long, for he is To die anon.
+Ama.+ Ah me! sir, I am his Sister; pray help me to him, that I may speak With him before that cruel hour; I love Him so, that I must needs die with him; I'll Petition the duke that I may; sure, he'll not Deny me that request.
+Jailor.+ I can tell you a way that you may be sure To have that favour granted.
+Ama.+ Tell it me, and I'll thank ye.
+Jailor.+ Why, if you'll try to convey him out of prison, As another lady has already, you may Bear them company too.
+Ama.+ Why, has there any lady endeavour'd it?
+Jailor.+ Yes, one that is his mistress, and they are Both to die together.
+Ama.+ Ha! what is't I hear? his mistress, say you?
+Jailor.+ Yes, mistress; they both lie as contentedly By one another, as if they were not two.
+Ama.+ Curse him, good heaven, ye cannot throw too many Curses on him. Here, jailor, take this, And let me speak with the prisoner.
+Jailor.+ Madam, You shall.
_Enter +Zoranzo+ and +Amphelia+ as in prison, in chains._
+Zor.+ Amarissa! are my eyes false, or is it Truly she?
+Ama.+ Your eyes are true; but 'tis your heart that's false.
+Zor.+ I am deceiv'd! that cannot be her tongue.
+Ama.+ Should it speak otherwise to thee, I'd tear It out, devil, Zoranzo; cursed pair Of vipers, that in chains of death can practise Lust, as if no end were nigh. Do not My wrongs startle thy guilty soul, to think Of all the torments it must have, that could With so much falseness murder love? When thou Art gone to hell, as go thou must, 'twill be A task for all the devils there, To torture thee enough. Thy sin is such, Were I thy headsman, when thou com'st to die, I'd be a week a-cutting off thy head, 'Twixt every stroke I'd stop; and then I'd hollow Amarissa in thy ears; thy guilt would be An echo to my wrongs, and answer to My cry: wrong'd Amarissa; Which injur'd name repeated to thy ears, Would make thy soul think hell not half such pain. Farewell, Zoranzo, I'll come to see your Head struck off, and your lady's.
+Zor.+ Base Amarissa, that can conclude me False, because she saw this lady lie in Chains by me, and could not ask me how we Came together. Thus to revile me, and Not know the truth: I'll scorn to tell her now!
_Enter +Duke+._
+Ama.+ O sir, be pleas'd to hear a maid's petition, Though a stranger to you.
+Duke.+ Fair maid, what is't?
+Ama.+ Zoranzo that's condemn'd to die, may----
+Duke.+ Not Live; if that be your request, pray do not Ask; I shan't grant it.
+Ama.+ No, sir, 'tis that he May have a thousand deaths, instead of one; Or one that has more pain than thousands.
+Duke.+ What makes you thus incens'd against him?
+Ama.+ Heaven knows I have too much cause, sir. I have Lov'd him long, and the day he was your prisoner, Should have been our wedding. News being brought To me in my own country, that he was To die, in flying haste I took this tedious Journey; with sorrow and with joy I here Arrived; tears in my eyes for his approaching Death, smiles on my cheeks to think of dying With him; but when I came unto the prison gate I met the jailor, and he told me all, Then let me in, and to Rejoice my eyes, I saw two devils lie In chains together, and not half so fast As chain'd in love. All my intended kisses then I chang'd Into as many curses on his heart, Which with my eyes I spoke as well as tongue.
+Duke.+ Alas! poor injur'd maid, we must be one Another's Petitioners; thy fate is mine; That woman which you saw with him has prov'd As false to me, as he to you.
+Ama.+ For heaven's Sake, sir, let 'em die both; no sight would please Us like their blood; the jailor Told me they lie as close together all day As if they were not two.
+Duke.+ O, curse on 'em!
+Ama.+ O, the devil take 'em! pray, sir, give order That they may be brought immediately To execution.
+Duke.+ I will.
+Ama.+ I'll go call the jailor, sir. [_Steps to the prison._
_Enter +Jailor+._
+Duke.+ Jailor, let the prisoners be brought to Execution straight, I'll be there myself.
+Ama.+ And I too, sir.
+Duke.+ You shall; we'll go together. [_Exeunt._