A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 15
ACT V.
_Enter +Don Julio+ talking to himself, and at another door +Fernando+ who, perceiving it, stands close._
+Don J.+ Bless'd be the gods that yet my honour's safe Amidst such strange perplexities, from which Fortune and wit (I think) together join'd, With all their strength, could hardly an issue find. To temper, comfort, or to serve my friend What argument? what means? how to assist Don Pedro in his aims, and to comply With what I owe the duke, I see as little; And less conceive, how to behave myself, As ought a gentleman towards a lady, With whose protection he hath charg'd himself, And brought her to his house on that assurance; Whom to expose cannot consist with honour, However she may have expos'd her own; And (least of all) how to repair to Blanca The injury I have done her, whose high spirit, I fear, will be implacable. O heavens! What a condition's mine?
[_He stands pausing, and startles, seeing +Don Fernando+._
_Enter +Don Fernando+._
+Don F.+ Pardon, dear cousin, if, to avoid one rudeness, I have another unawares committed. Whilst fearing t' interrupt, I have o'erheard; Yet nothing, cousin, but the self-same things My thoughts have been revolving all this night, Concern'd for you, much more than for myself; For I, upon reflection, find I am Much easier than I was; by certainty Freed from the sorest weight, perplexity. In the first place you must forgive your friend The high distemper of last night's transportments: I hope you'll find me well recovered from them, And that my morning resolutions are Such as will make amends.
+Don J.+ Make no excuses, dear friend: such provocations Surprising are above philosophy; And 'tis no small experiment of yours, If after them you can have brought yourself So soon to fix a judgment what to do.
+Don F.+ I have fix'd on that, which I am sure will serve All interests but my own, as heretofore I understood my happiness; but now I shall no longer place it in anything Dependent on the wild caprice[17] of others. No, Julio, I will be happy even in spite of fate, By carrying generosity up to th' height. Elvira shall her dear bliss owe to me, Not only by desisting, but by making Her lov'd Don Zancho marry her: his refusal Alone can make me kill him o'er again.
+Don J.+ Since that unhappy maid, with all her beauty And that high quality, hath made herself Unworthy of your marriage, certainly None but Fernando ever could have pitch'd Upon so noble a thought: but think withal, What difficulties are likely to obstruct it!
+Don F.+ Say what occurs to you.
+Don J.+ Don Zancho is a man of wit and courage; And though his passion out of doubt be great, Since it hath made him do so wild an action, As that of coming twice into my house After so strange a manner; yet, Fernando, You cannot but imagine such a one Likely to have quite different reflections Upon Elvira's conduct for a wife, From what he has upon it for a mistress: They are two notions very differing. Besides, should the proposal but appear In the least kind to spring from your desire, Whose former commerce with her's not unknown, It were the only way to drive him off Past all recal. I think few have accepted Wives recommended to them by their rival.
+Don F.+ In that y' have reason, I confess; but, Julio, Think of the way; for marry her he must, Or die, and by no other hand but mine.
+Don J.+ [_Pausing._] I am thinking of it, and, I hope, to purpose.[18] What interposer can be found so fit As Blanca in this business, since Don Zancho Has long been her particular acquaintance? And what can be more natural, than for her To take to heart Elvira's chief concernment, Whom he finds here retir'd in her misfortune, As to her surest friends?
+Don F.+ Y' have lighted, cousin, on the only way; And lose no time, I beg you.
+Don J.+ The least that may be; but you must consider In what a predicament I am likely To be with Blanca at present.
+Don F.+ I understand you (since the jealousy You expressed of her); but 'tis to be hoped The peace will not be long a-making.
+Don J.+ You little know her spirit, once inflam'd. But as I'll lose no time, so I'll omit No art to bring her to a temper fit To hear and to advance the proposition.
+Don F.+ Heaven give you good success!
+Don J.+ [_Turning back to +Fernando+._] I had forgot to tell you that I think It will be necessary that, as soon As I have weather'd Blanca's storm, I make A visit to Don Pedro, to prevent His coming hither to disorder us, Before we have set [all] things right.
+Don F.+ 'Twas not ill thought on: and till you return I shall keep close in your apartment; For Blanca has not seen me, and Elvira Has too great cares upon her to be curious. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+; +Blanca+ with a gay air, as in her antechamber._
+Blan.+ Say, my Francisca, can romances equal Our last night's adventure? was there ever Such a come-off! Our sex has us'd to boast Presence of mind in exigents of love; But I believe none of us ever match'd Don Zancho's readiness in an occasion So sudden and so critical.
+Fran.+ Ever give me the man of ready parts.
+Blan.+ But prythee, whilst we give Don Zancho 's dues, Let us be just, too, to poor Silvia's merit; Was ever anything so generous Or so obliging to a mistress!
+Fran.+ So it appears, madam, I must confess; But the excess of it makes it suspicious.
+Blan.+ Fie, leave this humour of detracting still, And call her to me, that I may embrace, And thank her; that done, consider how To bring her off, who's brought us off so well. [_Offers to go out._
_Enter +Don Julio+._
+Fran.+ Stay, I beseech you, and compose yourself To act a part quite of another nature; Here comes Don Julio, towards whom I hope You'll tune yourself to a far differing key From that of thanks and kindness.
+Blan.+ Let me alone for that: I'll play the dragon.
[_As +Don Julio+ advances, +Blanca+ turns from him with a furious countenance, and flies out of the room, +Don Julio+ following her._
+Don J.+ Dear sister, stay, and hear me.
+Blan.+ Detested brother, leave me. [_She makes as if she were going, and he holds her._
+Don J.+ Hear me but, Blanca, and then vent your passion Against a brother that condemns himself As much as you can do; but hear me speak.
+Blan.+ Your actions, Julio, have spoke loud enough To echo through the world your shame and mine. Has all the tenor of my life been such, With such exactness of unblemish'd conduct, That malice might have stain'd the noonday sun More easily than tarnish'd Blanca's honour, And must that honour now be prostitute By the caprice of an unworthy brother? Should any other have invaded it, Had not you righted her, she has a heart Would have found ways to right herself; but you Th' aggressor, what remedy but rage? [_She flings from him and exit._
+Fran.+ She acts it rarely. [_Aside._
+Don. J.+ Was ever man so unfortunate as I? [_To +Francisca+._ I must confess she has reason, and the sense She thus expresses of my fault becomes her; But it must be your work, my dear Francisca, To pacify. When once you shall but know All that has pass'd these nights, I am certain You'll say no human confidence could e'er Be proof against such circumstances.
+Fran.+ Alas! my offices can signify But little. But I'm sure the occasion Gives me a sad heart. O my dear lady! [_As if she were crying._
+Don J.+ I love good-nature; but I prythee, leave, And come in with me, that I may tell thee all. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in his lodging._
+Don P.+ A' God's name, Fulvio, what has been thy meaning, To make me sit up almost all last night Expecting thee, when such impatience held me? Thou wert not wont to be so negligent In things of so great weight.
+Fulv.+ Nor have I been it now: 'tis overcare Of your commands hath held me so long from you. You know the orders that you gave me, sir, To watch Don Zancho's motions? accordingly I sat all day in my observing-place, Till about twilight I saw him and 's man Steal as it were abroad: I as warily Dogg'd them from street to street, till, sir, at length He made a stand up close against a wall, Whilst that his servant entertain'd a woman Close-veil'd, who was come out, I think, on purpose, From an adjacent house; soon after, he Accosted her himself. Their conference Lasted but little; she made haste away To th' house from whence she came, and he as much To follow her in.
+Don P.+ Where was't? and why cam'st thou not presently, To give me notice, as you were directed?
+Fulv.+ At that you will not wonder, when you know Whose house he enter'd; but at this you'll wonder-- It was Don Julio's.
+Don P.+ [_Starting._] Ha! Don Julio's, say'st thou?-- [_He pauses._ But, now I think on't, 'tis no marvel, Fulvio, Since newly come to town; for I remember Don Julio told me, that Don Zancho and he Had always liv'd in friendly correspondence.
+Fulv.+ Visits, sir, only of fair civility, After long absence, are not usually Begun by twilight in such cautious manner; Nor usher'd in by female veil'd conductors. But pray, sir, hear the rest.
+Don P.+ What can this be? [_Aside._] Say on then quickly. [_To +Fulvio+._
+Fulv.+ I presently concluded with myself That, since Don Julio was the friend on whose Assistance you relied against Don Zancho, You ne'er would think, sir, of attacking him, As he came out from thence: I judg'd it, therefore, My wisest course to stay, and mark the issue. And stay I did, till it was after midnight; About which time, walking from side to side, That I might see both issues of the house, It being as light almost as day, I saw The gallant and his man leap from the wall Of Julio's garden, and from thence in haste Make home.
+Don P.+ 'Sdeath, man, thou dream'st! Don Zancho from Don Julio's In that manner? Awake, fool, and speak sense.
+Fulv.+ I say but what I saw, as I see you.
+Don P.+ O, the devil! what, the same villain Found the affronter of my friend too here In the same kind! Give me my cloak and sword, I must know the bottom of this. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in her antechamber._
+Blan.+ I come from seeing and caressing Silvia; But with most strange surprise at her comportment Towards me.
+Fran.+ How, madam!
+Blan.+ My words and actions both expressing to her, Not only highest gratitude and kindness, But a solicitude in the concerns Of her honour, equal to what she had shown In mine, they were receiv'd with such a coldness, With such an air of melancholy pride, With half replies, and those not half to th' purpose, As make me with amazement to conclude, That either she has lost her understanding, Or that there's somewhat in't we understand not.
+Fran.+ She is a maid of an odd composition; And besides that, I needs must tell you, madam, That having had my observation freer Than you, perhaps, during last night's adventure, I remark'd somewhat, both in her demeanour And in Don Zancho's, makes me confident They met not there strangers to one another, As you imagine. But there's time enough To think and talk of that: what presses now, Is your right ordering of Don Julio: You have begun as well as can be wish'd.
+Blan.+ Say, did I not do my part? [_Jollily._
+Fran.+ Beyond imagination; But take heed now of overdoing it, 'Tis time to tack about to reconcilement, And thought of drawing those advantages From the embroilment, as may for the future Secure you from like accidents.
+Blan.+ You say well; but how?
+Fran.+ The first step must atonement be between you, Of which he hath so earnestly conjur'd me To be an instrument that, you consenting To give him a hearing through my mediation, I am made for ever, and settled in the power Of serving you by better cosening him: Besides, he tells me, he hath that to say And to propose unto you, as shall not only Excuse him with you, but prevent all danger Of prejudicial rumours, which might rise From last night's accident.
+Blan.+ Agreed; let's in, And play the second part. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in his own house._
+Don Z.+ Were we not born with cauls upon our heads?[19] [_Jollily._ Think'st thou, Chichon, to come off twice a-row Thus rarely from such dangerous adventures?
+Chi.+ Rather, I think, with combs, so oft to venture.
+Don Z.+ Thou coxcomb, say, had I not my wits about me?
+Chi.+ 'Twere too uncomplaisant to deny that. You know I love not to talk seriously, But tell me now in earnest, are you satisfied To have come off so? is there no qualm remaining Upon your gentle heart for leaving i' th' suds A poor distressed virgin? Who she is, I neither know nor care; but I am sure, Had generous Chichon, to save his life, Play'd a sweet innocent lady such a trick, He would have pass'd but for a recreant knight; And much the more, she having shown herself So gallant as, to save her lady's honour, T' expose her own. Say, true Don Galor,[20] say, Were your part found in a romance or play, Whose character would it not dislustre?
+Don Z.+ How soon a fool's bolt's shot without distinction? Of what's the mark! Thou censur'st without knowing, Who th' exposed lady is. Know, then, Chichon, And wonder! 'tis Elvira!--that Elvira For whom I sighed like to have sigh'd my last, On her score at Madrid--Don Pedro's daughter.
+Chi.+ You raise enchanted castles in the air; But were it as you say, that makes the thing More inexcusable. You had been to blame T' have us'd a stranger so; but so t' have serv'd A lady[21] you had once profess'd to love, Raises the fault above all heightening.
+Don Z.+ Nay, then, I see I must once play the fool, In answering a fool seriously. The things thou say'st are heightenings indeed, Not of my fault, but merit in the action, Towards my Blanca; since, to save her honour, I did not only sacrifice Elvira's, But thus expose mine own. Time may recover Elvira's fame, and mine this quickly shall. [_Clapping his hand on his sword._ Here, take this letter, and employ your wit In finding out the means with secrecy To give it Don Fernando unobserv'd. I shall not stir from home, till I've his answer.
+Chi.+ You found him, sir, a man of quick dispatch, In your last business with him at Madrid! [_Exit +Don Zancho+._
How honourable 'tis to serve a Don! What petty Basque on t' other side the mountains Durst have aspir'd to the high dignity Of carrying a cartel? A monsieur Would sooner have put up a twinge by the nose, Than sent a challenge by a serving-man. [_Exit._
_Enter +Blanca+ furiously, and, running to the cabinet, takes out thence a stiletto; and +Francisca+ earnestly after her, as in +Blanca's+ closet._
+Blan.+ Villains shall find I am not unprovided Wrongs to revenge, that cannot be forgiven.
+Fran.+ I thought the strange constraint upon herself, Wherewith she heard her brother, would serve in the end But to make rage break out with greater fury; Yet it is well she kept it in so long As to get rid of him. [_Aside._ Good madam, moderate yourself a little.
+Blan.+ Preach temper to the damned souls in hell, That they may teach the traitor moderation, When I have sent him thither with his devil.
+Fran.+ I do confess the provocation such, As more than justifies all these transportments; And therefore I beseech you think not, madam, In what I say, I can the least aim have Of saving him from the extremest fury Of your resentment, or preserving her, Who has had the impudence to abuse you so, Under pretence of serving. May they perish! But let it be in such a way, as may not Draw a more dismal ruin on yourself: Let swift destruction seize them; yet let not, Madam, your hand, but head dispense their fate. What can the issue be of such an action, As that of which I see that shining steel And flaming eyes of yours the threat'ning comets? I beg but the reflection of a moment!
[_+Blanca+ walking upon the stage with enraged gestures pauses, at length sheathing and putting her stiletto in her sleeve with a sober, composed, tone_:
+Blan.+ Francisca, I thank you for recalling me Thus to myself: I will be temperate, [_Aside._] But it shall be to make revenge the surer.
+Fran.+ Her tone nor gestures cannot cosen me, They both seem to disguise a black design; But I shall watch you: 'tis a half-gain'd cause In fury's course to have begot a pause. [_Aside._
+Blan.+ Do what I bid you presently, Francisca. Send to Don Zancho, and let him know from me, I earnestly desire to speak with him.
+Fran.+ Lord, madam, what d'ye mean?
+Blan.+ To make the pleasing proposition to him, As I told my brother I would. Say, am I not moderate? But do without reply, what I command.
+Fran.+ Madam, I shall obey. But [_aside_] observe you so withal, As to prevent the mischief, if I can. [_Exit +Francisca+._
+Blan.+ Ye gods, assist me in my just revenge, Or you will make an atheist. My first work Must be, before Don Zancho comes, to speak With his sweet mistress; and with words and looks, As false as hers have been, so to delude her With hopes of what she wishes, that they both May jointly fall my honour's sacrifice. [_Exit._
_Enter +Don Fernando+, as in +Don Julio's+ private apartment._
+Don F.+ Since generosity hath so far got The mastery, as to have made me fix Upon a resolution so unheard of, I long to see it executed. But stay: I think I hear Elvira's voice without, And Blanca's too. Here curiosity To overhear is pardonable.
[_He makes as if he hearkened, and then exit, as to go where he may better hear._
_Enter +Elvira+ and +Blanca+ as in the antechamber, and +Fernando+ peeping as from behind a door._
+Don F.+ Here not a word can 'scape me.
+Elv.+ Madam, you wrong my zeal in serving you, Whilst you attribute to any other motive My yesterday's behaviour.
+Blan.+ Such niceties, Elvira, are, out of season.
[_In a tone that may show what she says to be forced._
I seek your satisfaction in a love, Wherein it seems you have been long engag'd. [_+Elvira+ looking round, and +Fernando+ starting back._
+Don F.+ I hope she did not see me. [_Aside._
+Elv.+ My satisfaction, say you, in my love? Of whom, for heaven's sake? If you mean Don Zancho, Y'are very far from guessing at my thoughts.
+Don F.+ By heaven, sh' has seen me, and plays the devil still. [_Aside._
+Elv.+ By all that's good, I am far from loving him-- I say not worse [_aside_], because I know she loves him.
+Don F.+ Ah, Elvira! this is too much, yet not enough To change in me a noble resolution. [_Aside._ [_A noise is heard, as of people coming up stairs._
+Blan.+ I hear some coming up stairs: should it be Don Zancho, I am not yet ready for him.-- [_Aside._ I see we are likely to be interrupted here, [_To +Elvira+._ Elvira, we shall be better in my closet. [_Exit +Blanca+._
+Elvi.+ Madam, I'll follow you. What can she mean? since that she needs must think I know the passion she herself[22] has for him.
[_+Elvira+ having stayed awhile behind, as she is going to follow +Blanca+, enter her father +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+: she starts, and stands confounded; he, seeing her, draws out his dagger, and makes at her._
+Don P.+ Vile stainer of my blood, have I here found thee?
[_+Elvira+ perceiving the door a little open, where +Don Fernando+ is, flies thither, and gets in._
+Don F.+ This makes it clear she saw me. [_Aside, as +Elvira+ thrusts in._
[_+Don Pedro+ seizes the door, before it be quite shut, and they struggle, he to pull it open, and +Don Fernando+ to shut it: after some contest, +Don Fernando+ gets it close, and bolts it within: +Don Pedro+, as an enraged person, pulls and bounces at the door._
+Don P.+ In vain should mountains interpose between Her and her punishment.
[_He bounces still, as to break down the door._
_Enter +Blanca+._
+Blan.+ What Bedlam have we here, and where's Elvira?
+Don P.+ You have one here will know how to revenge Conspiracies t' affront him: and you, lady, Whoe'er you are, that seem to take upon you, Y' had best produce the wicked thing you've named, Or by this steel-- [_+Blanca+ cries out._
+Blan.+ Ho! brother, brother! help against a madman!
_Enter +Don Julio+._
+Don J.+ Peace, Blanca, peace, you know not what you say: Don Pedro is master here.
+Blan.+ I know not your Don Pedro; but I'm sure One to be tied in chains could do no more, That he has done.
+Don J.+ Have patience, sister: 'tis Elvira's father, With cares enough upon him to justify Any distemper.
+Blan.+ Precious! Elvira's father?-- Nay, then I leave you. [_+Blanca+ flings out of the room._
+Don F.+ O the unluckiness of his coming So unseasonably! 'Twas to prevent that, I went abroad to seek him. [_Aside._
+Don P.+ What's this, Don Julio? can a gentleman Of blood and honour use another thus? What, after such engagements to the Duke And to myself to be my friend and helper, To prove the shelter of my shame's chief author? I do not wonder now Don Zancho himself Should have been here at midnight.
+Don J.+ I am hard put to't: help, wit, to bring us off. [_Aside._ Be as distemper'd as you please, Don Pedro, It shall not alter me! but yet methinks It would not ill become your gravity, To think a while, before you make a judgment, And rashly frame injurious conclusions From things, wherein a friend has merited from you. Do but consider, and then say, what Julio Could do of more advance to what you wish, Than, having found your daughter, to have brought her To his own house, where she might be with honour Accompanied, and serv'd as such by Blanca, Until such time as, things maturely weigh'd, You should a final resolution take. And since Don Zancho's being here last night, I see 's no secret t' ye, methinks you ought T' have been so just to me, as to believe That, since I admitted him within these walls, It was in order to the serving you.
+Don P.+ Noble Don Julio, you must pity have Of an old man's distemper in affliction. I see I was in the wrong; pray, pardon it.
+Don J.+ O, this is more than needs. And now, good sir, If you'll be pleas'd to walk a turn or two I' the garden, I'll there give you a full account How I have laid things for your satisfaction.
+Don P.+ I'll wait on you.
+Don J.+ Go, sir, there lies your way; And you, boy, fail not, when Don Zancho comes, [_Turning to the Page._ To give me notice of it in the garden. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Don Zancho+, and passes over the stage with +Chichon+ after him: and enter +Francisca+, and pulling +Chichon+, stays him._
+Fran.+ Stay, stay, Chichon, a word w' ye: it imports-- [_She whispers with him._
+Chi.+ I hope you are not in earnest.
+Fran.+ By my soul, I am-- There is no other way, but for us both To get up the back-way, and there to watch The time to interpose.
+Chi.+ Can she be such a fury? her looks are All milk and honey.
+Fran.+ You cannot fancy anything so tragic, But she is capable of executing, When once provok'd in point of love and honour Beyond her bounds of temper.
+Chi.+ Lead the way-- I'll have the pleasure to bold up the fright [_Aside._ She's in, since I am sure there is no danger, Knowing, as I do, my master's mind towards Blanca: Besides, 'tis to be hop'd, that these disorders May produce somewhat that may put an end To my master's quarrel, or afford me means To give Fernando his letter. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Don Fernando+, +Elvira+ lying upon the couch in the private apartment._
+Don. F.+ This last dissimulation moves me more Than all the rest; but yet it must not alter What honour hath inspir'd. See, how she lies, And how, scarce brought to life from her dismay, She resumes scorn, to have been sav'd by me! But multiply what injuries thou wilt, Perfidious maid, thou shalt not disappoint Fernando of the glory that he aims at: Of making thy proud heart, Elvira, owe Its happiness to him. But I hear again [_He peeps_ A noise without--It is Don Zancho, And I see Blanca coming towards him. This falls out luckily, that I may hear What passes; for certainly their meeting Avowedly thus can be no other subject, But what Don Julio has proposed to Blanca. [_Exit as to hearken._
_Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+, as in the garden._
+Don J.+ That's all the remedy, that in these cases The wisest can propose unto themselves: His fortune's strait, 'tis true.
+Don P.+ That's what I least regard in this occasion, So honour be but safe: the less they have, The more will be her penance for her folly. But should Don Zancho, upon any umbrage From what has pass'd between them, prove so insolent As to reject the marriage, then I trust--
+Don J.+ O, say no more of that: rely upon't, Should he be guilty of that horrid outrage, This sword should pierce his heart, though th' only friend I have i' the world should interpose his own. And, sir, to let you see my frank proceeding, Come along with me; I'll bring you to a place Where, jointly overhearing all that passes 'Twixt him and Blanca, should he play the villain, His life may pay for't, ere he stir from thence.
+Don P+. May heaven repay such generous acts of friendship! [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Don Zoncho+, and +Fernando+ appears as behind the door._
+Don Z.+ For her so suddenly and so avowedly To send for me hither, is very strange: What can it mean?
_Enter +Blanca+._
+Blan.+ Now lend me temper, Heaven, but for a moment, Till calmly I have drawn him to pronounce The sentence of his own too noble death For such a traitor-- [_Aside._ I think you come not without some surprise, [_To him with an affected cheerfulness._ Don Zancho, at my sending for you so: But let's sit down, for I have much to say t' ye.
[_She takes him by the hand and seats him in one chair, and she sits herself in the other close to him on his right hand, and fumbles in her sleeve._
I'm so well plac'd I cannot miss the mark. [_Aside._
+Don Z.+ Good madam, what's the matter? for I see Disorder in you: put me out of pain.
+Blan.+ That I shall quickly do: [_Aside._ Know then, Don Zancho, In the first place, you must not interrupt me, Whatever you shall hear; I'll take it ill else. When I have done, then speak your mind at leisure. I come not to argue, but conclude.
+Don Z.+ Your will's a law to me; But whither tends all this? [_Aside._
+Blan.+ I do for once allow you to remember All that has pass'd between us: The folly of my love, the falsehood of yours; That done, and never to be thought on more--
+Don Z.+ For Heaven's sake, madam--
+Blan.+ Break not the rule was set: Know I instructed am in all your story, And am so far grown mistress of myself, That I, who th' other day could scarce o'ercome The sense of a slight failure at Madrid, Can here at home suffer indignities, And tell you calmly and with unconcern'dness, Be you Elvira's and Elvira yours. I come to do a part you little look'd for From Blanca's spirit: I must make the marriage. All things are ready, and her father here. Now you may speak, Don Zancho; but the thing Admits of no delay.
+Don Z.+ But can this be in earnest? sure, it cannot. What needs these trials of so firm a faith? [_Pausing awhile._
+Blan.+ Leave trifling; 'tis no longer time for tricks. It is not in the pow'r of fate to alter The resolution taken. [_+Don Zancho+ pauses._
+Don. F.+ She has put it home. [_Aside._
+Don Z.+ Madam, you use me hardly; this demeanour Passes my skill, to judge from whence it springs. You say it is not in the pow'r of fate To change your resolutions; but I'm sure, If they be such, 'twill less be in its pow'r To alter mine: but yet, before I die, You must be left without excuse by knowing The truth of all.
+Don F.+ Here it imports indeed to be attentive. [_Aside._
+Don Z.+ Madam, 'tis true that, absent at Madrid, The custom of the court and vanity Embark'd me lightly in a gallantry With the most fam'd of beauties there, Elvira: Those and no other the true motives were To all my first addresses, till her scorns, Which should have stopp'd them, had engag'd me more, And made a love in jest a point of honour. I bore all her disdains without transportment, Till, having gain'd her waiting-woman's kindness, I learn'd from her that all Elvira's slightings She would have thought had sprung from severe maxims And preciousness of humour, were th' effects Of deep engagement in another love With a young gallant, Don Fernando Solis, With whom the cruel dame was so far gone, As to admit him almost[23] every night Into her chamber.
+Don F.+ Bless'd gods, what do I hear? [_Aside._
+Don Z.+ [_continuing_] I, scarce believing the thing possible, Urg'd my intelligencer to do for me That which her lady for another did, And to admit me to her chamber where, By being eye-witness of her lady's actions, I might transfer my entire love to herself. She granted my request, and late one night, Somewhat before the gallant's usual hour, She brought me a back-way up to[24] her chamber, Within Elvira's. My stay had not been long, When, having found the truth of what she'd told me, Converting rage into appearing kindness To my informer, and expressing it Uncautiously, we made a sudden noise, With which Elvira alarm'd, and coming in, Follow'd by Don Fernando, that fell out, Which you have heard before.
[_+Don Julio+ beckoning +Don Pedro+ after him, passing over one corner of the stage._
+Don J.+ By this time, I suppose, she will have made The proposition to the full, and we Shall come at the just time to hear his answer. [_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+._
+Don Z.+ [_Continuing._] If since that hour I have ever seen Or thought upon her, till last night's surprise, May I for ever perish: and methinks The use of that to your advantage Might challenge from you a more just construction.
+Blan.+ I told you at first, I came not here to argue, But to conclude. Say, will you marry her?
[_+Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+ peep out as from behind the hanging._
+Don J.+ W'are come, you see, just as we could have wish'd. [_Aside._
+Don P.+ His fate hangs on his lips. [_Aside._
+Don Z.+ You are mistress of your words and actions, madam, And may use me as you please; but this hand Shall sooner pierce this heart than e'er be given In marriage to Elvira.
[_+Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+ rush in with their swords and daggers drawn, and +Don Zancho+ draws too._
+Don P.+ Then, villain, die! Heav'n is too weak to save thee By any other means. [_+Don Fernando+ draws, and rushing out._
+Don F.+ But here is one that shall-- Or all by his side.
+Don P.+ O heavens! what's this? Don Fernando Solis protecting him! Nay, then the whole world conspires against my honour.
+Blan.+ For heaven's sake, gentlemen! [_+Blanca+ runs in between._
+Chi.+ Now, by my grandame's pantable,[25] 'tis pretty! [_From behind._ I'll brush their coats, if once it come to fighting. Fernando's of our side.
+Francisca+, _and +Chichon+ with a long broom, run out also from behind the hanging._
+Don J.+ What frenzy's this, Fernando? was't not you Engaged me to effect the marriage? Sure, w'are all Bewitch'd.
+Don F.+ Stay, my Don Julio, stay, And let Don Pedro have patience but to hear me-- 'Tis true; but you know well upon what grounds: Those are quite chang'd by my having overheard All that hath pass'd; for my Elvira, Julio, Proves spotless in her faith, as in her beauty, And I the only guilty, to have doubted. What have I then to do, but here to prostrate Myself at her offended father's feet, And beg his pardon? that obtain'd, t' implore His help to gain me hers, as to a person In whom respect for him hath always held Proportion with my passion for his daughter.
+Don P.+ You know, Don Julio, when I spake with you, The terms of estimation and respect, Wherewith I mention'd t' ye this gentleman; And, therefore, since in his address t' Elvira There was no other fault, but making it Unknown to me, and that I see his thoughts Are truly noble, honour thus engaged, That ought to be forgot, and I to think Myself most happy in such a son-in-law. But where's Elvira?
+Don F.+ She's there within, where I dare not appear Before her, knowing now such guilt upon me. If Blanca would employ her interest And eloquence, perhaps she might prevail To get her hither, when she shall have told her What changes a few minutes' time have wrought.
+Blan.+ I never went on a more pleasing errand. [_Exit +Blanca+._
+Fran.+ I am struck dumb with wonder. [_Exit._
+Don F.+ Now Blanca is away, I'll take this time To spare her blushes, Julio, and tell you, Though I have broke one marriage for Don Zancho, You needs must give me leave to make another; To which, unless I'm very much deceiv'd, You'll find on neither part repugnancy.
+Don J.+ I understand you; and I thank the gods They did not make me understand the wrong, Till they have made it none, since I observe Don Zancho's looks joining in your desires.
+Don Z.+ A heart so full of love, as mine for Blanca, Does best express itself when it speaks least.
_Enter +Donna Blanca+, +Donna Elvira+, and +Francisa.+ +Elvira+ casts herself at her father's feet._
+Elv.+ Now that the justice of the gods at length Hath clear'd me from suspicions derogatory To th' honour of your blood, I hope a cloister May expiate my fault as to a father.
+Don P.+ Rise, child. The enclosure I condemn you to [_Raising her._ Is Don Fernando's arms: give him your hand.
+Elv.+ 'Tis yours, sir, to dispose of, I confess, And if it be your will, I must submit; But let him know, who could suspect Elvira, She never could be his but by obedience.
+Don F.+ I am thunderstruck. [_+Elvira+ giving him her hand._
+Elv.+ Be not dismay'd, Fernando, Since I profess this a mere act of duty; Another duty may Elvira move To reinflame on better grounds her love.
+Don J.+ [_ironically._] Blanca, I fear you'll hardly be persuaded To give yours to Don Zancho; but a brother For once may play the tyrant. Give it him: It must be so. [_They join hands._
+Don F.+ I now renounce old maxims: having you, Elvira, I am sure the very best proves true.
+Chi.+ Hold there, I beg you, sir: that will appear By that time you have married been a year. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Without any sufficient reason, and to the evident injury of the metre, of which the author has nowhere been very careful, he here and elsewhere preferred the Spanish word _capricho_, to the English word _caprice_.--_Collier._
[18] Dodsley and Reed very absurdly gave this line to Don Fernando, when it is evidently a reply by Don Julio to the request of his friend. The old copy did not mislead the former editors.--_Collier._
[19] _Cauls_ are little membranes, found on some children, encompassing the head, when born. The vulgar opinion has generally been, that every person possessed of one of these _cauls_, whether originally belonging to him, or obtained by purchase, would be fortunate, and escape dangers. "Lampridius tells us, that the midwives sold _cauls_ at a good price to the advocates and pleaders of his time; it being an opinion, that while they had this about them, they should carry with them a force of persuasion which no judge could withstand: the canons forbid the use of it, because some witches and sorcerers, it seems, had abused it."--See ["Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, iii., 139-42.]
Sir T. Brown ("Vulgar Errors," b. v., ch. 21) quotes "the life of Antonius delivered by Spartianus" on the subject. The caul, a "sillyhow" (as Sir T. Brown terms it), is still considered a preservative against danger, and especially against drowning. Notices of the sale of them used to be daily posted on the Royal Exchange, and they are bought by captains of ships and others going to sea, and great prices given for them. The _Times_ newspaper of March 17, 1827, has the following advertisement:--"A child's caul, well worth £20, to be sold for £14. Apply at Academy," &c.--_Collier._
[20] He calls him Sir Galor in reference to the character this knight sustained in the old romances. He was sometimes known by other names.--_Collier._ [More properly, Sir _Galaor_. He was a brother of Amadis of Gaul.]
[21] [Old copy, _lady whom_, which injures the metre. The latter, however, is not very regular or correct in this play.]
[22] _Herself_, omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._
[23] _Almost_ omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._
[24] [Old copy _into_.]
[25] Or _pantofle_. In "Damon and Pithias" [iv. 67,] we have seen it called _pantacle_.--_Collier._
THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.
_Edition._
_The Marriage Night. Written by the Lord Viscount Fawkland._
_Scientia non habet Inimicum Præter Ignorantiam._
_London. Printed by W. G. for R. Crofts at the Crown in Chancery-Lane under Sergeants-Inne._ 1664. 4º.
The "Marriage Night" was excluded from the second and third editions of Dodsley's collection. The punctuation of the old copy, and of the reprint of 1744, is very corrupt; but the text itself seems to be unusually free from errors.
DODSLEY'S PREFACE.
+Henry Cary+, +Viscount Falkland+, was the son of him who is commonly called the Great Lord Falkland. He was a person very eminent for his extraordinary parts and heroic spirit. When he was first elected to serve in Parliament, some of the members opposed his admission, urging that he had not sowed his wild oats. "Then it will be the best way," replied he, "to sow them in the House, where there are geese enough to pick them up." He died in 1643, being cut off in the prime of his years, as much missed when dead, says Langbaine, as beloved when living. I am informed from very good hands, that it was he who wrote the epilogue to Lord Rochester's "Valentinian." And I believe the same person wrote the copy of verses, which is prefixed to Sandys' tragedy, entitled, "Christ's Passion," translated, or rather imitated, from the Latin of Hugo Grotius.
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._
+The King.+ +De Bereo+, _a duke, brother to the king._ +De Castro+, } +Dessandro+, } _counts, brothers._ +De Flame+, _a count._ +Pirez+, } +Sampayo+, } _two lords._ +De Loome+, } +La Gitterne+, } _attendants to the duke._ +Silliman+, _steward to the duchess._ Two Judges.
+Claudilla+, _a duchess._ +Cleara+, _sister to De Flame._ +Torguina+, } +De Prate+, } _ladies to the duchess._ Attendants.
_Scene, Castile._
THE MARRIAGE NIGHT.
ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA.
_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._
+Pir.+ Is't possible? Dessandro quit from his command o' th' citadel? So sharply too? Brushing times, my lord! Pray, by virtue of what offence?
+Samp.+ It may be treason to ask their wisdoms that; But the huge mountebank, the vulgar rout, Quarrel'd with's religion; 'cause 'tis not in the Smallest print: and the king----was to say nothing.
+Pir.+ Good King! I could wish something; And heartily, if I durst: Well, from grave hypocrisy And beardless wisdom, good heaven deliver us! Nothing in his great father's memory to hold him Worthy of his place.
+Samp.+ That makes him taste it To the extremity of sense and anger.
+Pir.+ Let us but slight some gull; or his gay dress, Whose clothes and folly are his sense of honour; How will it conjure up his blood, and bend his brow? And can Dessandro want a just and valiant anger To feel the merits of so brave a father, And his own too (kept at a noble height) Rendered disgraced and sullied? He may believe H' has deserv'd better, both in himself and father: But how does his resolution take it?
+Samp.+ As fire and air compress'd when (struggling) they Break forth in thunders; or the vexed wind, amongst A grove of trees, spending his scorn and rage.
+Pir.+ Men of his soul and constitution cannot Play with their passions, and stroke 'em tame, When so provok'd. The duke!
_Enter +Duke De Bereo+, passing over the stage, +De Castro+ whispering with him, +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, and other Attendants._
+Duke.+ Let him be confident of me, in something More worthy of himself than the command H' has lost; and bid him use my promise.
+De C.+ We are the creatures Of your favour; and but own our lives T' acknowledge it. [_Exeunt._
+Pir.+ Here's state embroidery! But pray'e, what holiday things be they that spread So in his train? I don't remember I left Such faces in the court.
+Samp.+ The first of them Stalks in a knighthood, like a boy In a Dutch burgher's doublet; and 'tis as much Too wide for him; he has travell'd, and speaks languages, As a barber's boy plays o' th' gittern; and those gay clouts, sir, Came out of's father's shop.
+Pir.+ His remnants. The other? That looks like the age to come, Which must be worse than this.
+Samp.+ His fortune and industry Has preferr'd him to be barber and pimp; Two men's places, till of late our noblemen, Growing frugal, do find one may do Both the employments.
+Pir.+ It is both thriving and genteel.
+Samp.+ Genteel indeed; for they have produc'd knights, And made statesmen of broken citizens with the help Of a wife. But he, whose youth and sorrow shows him Like a fair day, set in a cloudy evening is----
+Pir.+ The Lord de Castro--I know him: and methinks Some sparks of his father, great Velasco's, character Shines in this young man through all the darkness Of his fate.
+Samp.+ That name alone has glory enough To make him a brave presage to us. The duke's father's character was deriv'd, And circled in himself; and a full age Of men shall rarely show another of So much great and balanc'd man in't.
+Pir.+ They are all court-fancies; pageants of state: And want allowance both of brain and soul, To make their blood and titles weight
+Samp.+ He was strangely Shuffled to the block.
+Pir.+ That blow did bleed Castile too weak, And left us in a faint and sickly pang.
+Samp.+ The pulse, sir, of Castile beats in another temper, Than when you left it.
+Pir.+ I find it: The city wears a cap, and looks As if all were not right there.
+Samp.+ Except their wives.
+Pir.+ The court, methinks, has strangely chang'd Complexion too.
+Samp.+ Those that deride us say the clergy Has catch'd the falling-sickness: the court, a deep Consumption; and that the commons have the spleen.
+Pir.+ I know not what disease the court has; but the Lords Look as if they had oversat themselves at play, And lost odds, so scurvily--
+Samp.+ How does your lordship find The ladies?
+Pir.+ I ha' not been amongst 'em yet To take up my arrears: only had the court-happiness To kiss her hand, who in herself contracts them all For grace and lustre, the widow-duchess Claudilla.
+Samp.+ Why, there my admiration leaves you; I grant her A brave and courtly girl; has trim and dazzle, Enough of white and red, to attract the eye, Like an indifferent copy, flourish'd with golden trails. But place your judgment nearer, it retreats, And cries you mercy for the mistake. At distance, She is a goodly landskip.
+Pir.+ Alas, her blooming beauties Yet languish and pine o'er her husband's hearse, Like roses scatter'd from the morning's brow Into the day's parch'd lap.
+Samp.+ Their spring will shine again; grow glorious And fruitful in the arms of her De Flame; It is my hearty wish to their affections; That count does bear an honour'd character From all that know him.
+Pir.+ A brave young man; and one that is more honour To his title, than it to him. But when Must their hymeneal tapers flame, and she Offer her turtle pantings at the altar, Purpling the morn with blushes, as she goes; And scatter such bright rays, as the sun may Dress his beams with for that day's glory?
+Samp.+ After He has deliver'd his sister to Dessandro's hand, He will not defer those minutes long; and he thinks himself Behind in some expression of their friendship, Until the knot meet there.
+Pir.+ Cleara is a lady Of a sweet and honour'd fame.
+Samp.+ All other of her sex Are dull and sullied imitations, pale glimmerings, Set by her. Whate'er the modest fictions Of sweet'ned pens has meant, she is their moral.
+Pir.+ You speak like one that knows what virtue is, And can love it.
_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+ to them._
+Des.+ I thank the duke; he has a right soul. But, prythee, no more of these sad consolations; They hang upon my heart like pond'rous weights At trembling wires; or like the dull labourings Of that clock, which groan'd out our dear father's Fatal minute.
+De C.+ I have done.
+Des.+ I could chide this tame and phlegmy vapour From my blood. Our passions melt into soft Murmurs, like hollow springs: The manhood of cold hinds would not be tempted To this sense, but leap with rage into their eyes; Brother, it would; and wake 'em into tempests. A wretched fly would show its spleen.
+De C.+ This anger will but show men, where you bleed, And keep the wound still green.
+Des.+ The scar will stick for ever. O, the dark hypocrisy and juggling of our times! Great men are slaves to slaves; and we are theirs: The law's a tame wolf cowards and fools May stroke with giving hands: while he shall Couchant lie, and wag the tail; but show His fangs at you and I. A noble wish Is dangerous: is't not, my lord?
+Pir.+ What, Dessandro?
+Des.+ The vulgar's a kennel of black-mouth'd dogs, That worry men's deserts and fame: my curse Fester in their temples!
+De C.+ Prythee, Dessandro, collect these scatter'd thoughts.
+Des.+ I'll hollow them through all the world, and say't Again. Worth and honour now are crimes, and giants 'Gainst the state. My lords, shall's be merry, And talk something the hangman may thank Us for?
+Pir.+ Treason? I vow, Dessandro, I speak the worst _Ex tempore_ of any man living.
+Samp.+ I could mutter it well enough; but I'm to marry A city widow, and buy a place at court.
+Pir.+ When I have sold my land, we'll venture on A merry catch, and ever subscribe your servant, Noble Dessandro.
+Des.+ I shall find a time and place to pay your lordship The accompt of my engagements.
+De C.+ Brother, my attendance calls me to the king; I'll wait upon your lordship, if y'are for the court.
+Pir.+ Your lordship's servant thither. [_Exeunt._
+Des.+ So streams divide, and ruffle by their banks. My brother's of a safe contracted bosom: Can strangle his labouring rages in their thought; When they do tug like poisons at my breast, Until I give them air. But I'll observe, And creep into men's souls: hug my dear anger To myself, until it gnaw my entrails through, That men may court my patience and discourse, As now they shun it. And when black night has stretch'd her gloomy limbs, And laid her head upon some mountain-top, Bound up in foggy mists, then keep my haunts By some dull-groaning stream, with screeching owls And bats; there pay my broken thoughts Unto thy ghost, Velasco!---- Echo shall wake, and midnight, to help me curse their souls That thrust thee to thy grave; whilst I will hang About night's neck, until the moon do wake To rescue her.
_Enter the +Duke+._
+Duke.+ Dessandro, You must not be angry my power came short Of my desires to serve you: we'll try some other way. You see by what engines the times move; The king refers all to his council; and though They do not tie his hands, they hold 'em by a strange Courtesy. I'm but a single looker-on: perhaps They may take notice of me for his brother; That is, when they please, too; but this Came nearest to me; upon the engagement of my honour To deny my friend, and one, whose single faith Had been enough for all the kingdom's safety-- The holding of such a trifle as the citadel.
+Des.+ It has recompens'd me in part to know, where That close annoy lay which wounded me i' th' dark: I shall now collect myself against it; and know, My lord, where my poor life and powers are To be prostrate. Could I enlarge them to my wish, They might appear, sir, to your highness' use.
+Duke.+ I know how far you can, bravest man; Your worth has taken fire here, where I will Preserve it in a noble flame. My greatest thirst of fame is my expression To men of your merit, who cannot want A friend, whilst I have power to be one: But I am scanted and weak'ned in my desires, Else fam'd Velasco had not yet slept in his dust To please the common hangman; nor men of glorious Parts live shrouded in obscure homes, like Pamphlets out of date.
+Des.+ You are the patron of our honoured actions, And all their glory meets and circles in Your fame.
+Duke.+ I will disengage you from this forc'd compliment: It keeps me at too great a distance from that Bosom, where I would lodge a friend, Dessandro: I must take't unkindly too, that in the scroll Of all your friends I stand dash'd out, a stranger To your joys.
+Des.+ My lord!
+Duke.+ But you shall not steal the day so: I'll be One at the ceremony, though the bride tell me In a blush, I came unwish'd-for.
+Des.+ 'Tis but the busy voice that, like the nightmare, Rides men, and can find strange shapes and prodigies I'th' clouds. I must confess, Cleara has the Engagement of all her virtues and a brother's on me. When it concerns me nearer, it must not be a secret To your highness, to whom all that's deriv'd To my poor life and fortune is a just debt.
+Duke.+ You know the way unto a friend--if you can think I have power enough to make me so.
+Des.+ Sir, I was only showed to the world to be talk'd on: Fortune (I thank her) has given me many knacks To play with in her mood, but taken 'em away again scurvily, To tell me I was not born to any real purpose; And I wish nothing she can give me.
+Duke.+ She will acknowledge her mistake, and put On her smiles to court your merits. La Gitterne, is the king come from's sport? [_+La Gitterne+ waits._
+La G.+ He dines abroad, my lord.
+Duke.+ Colonel, this day you shall bestow on me: I owe the Duchess Claudilla a visit; Make ready straight; we'll spend a dinner-time There, and the afternoon at tennis. [_Exeunt._
+A Song.+
_That done, +Claudilla+ and +De Flame+ discovered sitting in a rich couch; at each end a lady waiting._
+De F.+ This does but find our melancholy out, And cast it in a minute's trance; when one Soft accent from Claudilla's voice leaves nought That's earth about me. My soul's in her Elysium, And every sense immortal, dilated into joys: Heaven becomes attentive, and the soft winds Put on their perfum'd wings to hover near those lips. That blush does show the sparkles of some incensed thought! My poor expressions rob ye; but I appeal To this white hand for pardon.
+Claud.+ Sir, my thoughts are all acknowledgments of that delight I hear and see you with, what dress soe'er you please To send your courtship in to try 'em; We have outliv'd those arts and common charms, And need not seek our hearts in scatter'd flames; As those, whose lesson yet is at the hand or eye; Our hearts have read Love's deep divinity And all his amorous volumes over; we must write Stories of our love, my lord.
+De F.+ And chaste ones, madam: How glorious the frontispiece would show With great Claudilla's name, tried in a true Love's knot to her De Flame's! Though the Great distance of your shining attributes both Of blood and virtue, consider'd in the poverty of mine, Would draw squint eyes and envy to my stars; But speak your name great as the example of your Goodness, and make it worth the imitation Of all noble minds, that shall but read your love And sweetness, which (most excellent of your sex) Condescended unto me, who else had Languish'd in a heap of ashes.
+Claud.+ My lord, you have found an easy way into My heart, and won me from myself, ere I Could call my thoughts [forth] to resistance; Such strength brought your deserts! But now I hope, nay, can be confident (best sir), they are Treasured in a breast, whose virtues will Preserve them with themselves.
+De F.+ O madam!
+Claud.+ It may be, some discourse that, when first I entertain'd your love, I had not yet given The world and my dead husband's earth a full Accompt of sorrow, or paid his memory A year's just rent of tears: but I appeal To my own heart; and you, my lord, can say----
+De F.+ Your heart has been but too severe unto itself; And I can say I have not seen a beam break From those eyes, but through dark clouds and showers; Or like the sun, drench'd in the swelling main; Nor a look with the least comfort of a smile in't. Nay, divinest madam, now you do but chide Heaven in your tears, and cannot raise the dead.
+Claud.+ True, sir.
+De F.+ Tears are but shallow murmurs of our grief. I envy not his grave a tear, but owe all Noble mention to't; yet, madam, I did hope You had discharg'd the smart and cruelty of grief From your soft breast, and would call your beauties [Back] to their natural springs. Look on yourself, rare lady, in this change: With what high flame and rapture it becomes you: So breaks the morning forth of a crystal cloud, And so the sun ascends his glittering chair, And from his burnish'd locks shakes day about. The summer puts not on more delights and various Glory, than shines in bright Claudilla; And shall the grave exhaust their pride And youth?
_Enter +Torguina+._
+Tor.+ Madam, the king's brother gives you a visit.
+De F.+ Who's with him?
+Tor.+ The colonel your lordship calls friend.
+De F.+ Dessandro?
+Claud.+ Let's meet 'em, sir. [_Exeunt._
ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMA.
_Enter the +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Cleara+, +De Flame+, +Dessandra+, Attendants._
+Duke.+ I'm in arrears yet unto your grace.
+Claud.+ A widow's entertainment, sir, you please to honour.
+Duke.+ I wish the hours but short, that bring the night You are to lose that name in; and then, to what Length your own desires would spin 'em, Widow! Madam, there's disconsonancy in The name, methinks. Claudilla widow! Duchess, and still widow (like a cypress Cast o'er a bed of lilies) darkens your other titles: 'Tis a weed in your garden, and will spoil the youth And beauty it grows nigh: a word of mortality Or a _memento mori_ to all young ladies, And a passing-bell to old ones. Indeed, it is A mere privation; and all widows are in The state of outlaws, till married again.
+Claud.+ Your highness holds a merry opinion of us Poor widows.
+De F.+ I say virgins are the ore: widows, The gold tried and refin'd.
+Duke.+ A fair young lady and widow is A rich piece of stuff rumpled: an old one's A blotting-paper a man shall never Write anything on--she sinks so. Dessandro, your comment.
+De F.+ Friend, you are dull o' th' sudden.
+Cle.+ He is not well.
+Claud.+ Not well, sir?
+Des.+ Not well, madam.
+Duke.+ Dull! Shall's to tennis? I have some pistolets Will pay your borrow'd time, Dessandro.
+Des.+ Your pardon, sir: I am unfit to wait on you. My life hangs in a dew upon me; And I have drunk poison.
+De F.+ Ha! A physician with all speed! Dessandro!
+Cle.+ Dear sir!
+Des.+ Cleara! Lend me thy hand: so-- I'm struck upon a rock. [_Swoons._
+Cle.+ He's dead; I shall not overtake him.
+Duke.+ Look to the lady.
+Claud.+ He swells like a stopp'd torrent or a teeming cloud; Have I no servants there? [_Carry him off._
+De F.+ What a sudden storm is fallen?
+Duke.+ How fares the lady?
+Claud.+ Madam!
+Cle.+ As you are tender-natur'd, let no hand Close his eyes but mine: I am come back Thus far to take my farewell on his cold lip. [_+De Flame+ returns._
+De F.+ Sister, let thy warm blood flow back: Thy Dessandro lives, my girl!
+Cle.+ O, may I not see him?
+De F.+ You shall. [_Exeunt._
Duke. Give me leave to make this opportunity happy On your hand. How! Not vouchsafe it? [_+Duchess+ goes off._ What a tyranny shot from her scornful eye! Where have I lost myself and her? There's a cross and peevish genius haunts my hopes; A black and envious cloud; and I must get above it. Not kiss your hand? Is your blood surfeited? I'll quit This scorn; indeed I will, coy madam! Thou, that are lord of my proud horoscope; Great soul of mysteries, kindle my brain With thy immortal fires! That if I fall, my name may rise divine: So Cæsar's glory set, and so set mine! [_Exit._
_Enter +Silliman+, a bottle tied in a riband to his pocket._
+Sil.+ Brave canary, intelligent canary, That does refresh our weak and mortal bodies! I will have thee canonis'd Saint Canary at My own charge, and call my eldest son Canary. Yet for a man to love thee at His own cost is damnable, very damnable; And I defy it. And Siss is the blithest lass in our town, For she sells ale by the pound and the dozen; Ale! Hang ale!
_Enter a +Messenger+._
+Mes.+ By your worship's leave, I would speak with Signior Silliman, the Duchess's steward, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ Wou'd you speak with Signior Silliman, an't like ye?
+Mes.+ Please God and your worship, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ In what language wou'd you speak with him, hum?
+Mes.+ Yes, verily, I would speak with him, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ At what posture?
+Mes.+ Marry, from a friend, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ Very good, my friend. Didst ever say thy [_Drinks._ Prayers in the canary tongue?
+Mes.+ My prayers, an't like ye? Your worship's dispos'd To be merry: I have a wife and seven small Children, an't like ye, to wind and turn as they say, Simple as your worship sees me here, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ Pox o' wives; I'll not give a gazet for thy wife; She's tough, and too much powder'd. Fetch me Thy daughter, thy youngest daughter, sirrah! If the creature be a virgin, and desirable: Look ye! there's money to buy her clean linen. I'll have a bath of rich canary and Venus' milk; Where we will bathe and swim together, like So many swans, and then be call'd Signior Jupiter Sillimano. But is she man's meat? I have a tender appetite, and can scarcely digest One in her teens.
+Mes.+ Does your worship think I wou'd be a Judas, an't like ye? She's as neat a girl, and as tight at her business As the back of your hand, an't like ye; but heaven Bless ye, and cry ye mercy, if you be his worship, Here's a letter from the Lady de Prate, an't like ye.
+Sil.+ The Lady de Prate (mark me, sirrah) is a Noble lady; we say so---- [_Reads a letter._
_I never knew what bondage was till now; I fear the gilded heart you sent me was Enchanted_--(O, O)--_I long to see you_-- (Hum--hum)--_therefore let me have the happiness To know the place and time_--(even so)--_as You love her, that blushes to write this_----
Yes, yes, I'll enchant ye! I'll time and place ye! Surely, there's something more about me, than I can Perceive. Grant that I may bear my fate Discreetly! _I never knew what bondage was_ [_Reads. Till now_. Well; 'tis heaven's goodness! For what am I, Silly wretch, to such a lady, as she that writes so Pitifully unto me? It wou'd overcome e'en a heart Of flint: Good gentlewoman! [_Weeps. As you love her, that blushes to write this_-- [_Reads._ Hum--yes, yes; she knows I love her: it Will work--I can't contain my good-nature. [_Drinks and weeps._
_Enter +La Gitterne+ and +De Loome+._
+De L.+ Here he is; and stands like a map of Sundry countries. [_Aside._
+La G.+ One wou'd take him for some foreign beast, And that fellow to show him. How the gander Ruffles and prunes himself, as if he would Tread the goose by him!
+De L.+ 'Tis a pure goat!
+La G.+ And will clamber a pyramid in scent of's female.
+De L.+ The wenches swear, he kisses like a giant still; And will ride his heats as cleanly as a dieted Gelding. Let's fall in. Signior Silliman! My best wishes kiss your hand.
+La G.+ Continue me worthy of the title of your servant, sir.
+Sil.+ I am very glad to see you well; and hope you are In good health and sound, gentlemen.
+La G.+ And when shall's draw cuts again for a Wench, signior, ha?
+Sil.+ Your pleasure [is] to say so.
+De L.+ The slave's rose-drunk, o' my life.
+Sil.+ Please you to take notice of my worthy friend here.
+De L.+ Your admirer, sir. [_Salutes +Messenger+._
+La G.+ Slave to your sedan, sir.
+Mes.+ God bless the good duchess, and all that love the King, I say, gentlemen, an't like ye.
+De L.+ Pray, sir, what news abroad, or at court?
+Mes.+ News, quotha! Indeed, sir, the truth is I am a Shoemaker by my trade; my name is Latchet, And I work to some ladies in the house here, Though I say't myself; and yet the times were Never harder, nor leather dearer.
+De L.+ This winter will make amends; You shall have horsehides cheap, horsehides dog-cheap.
+Latch.+ Cheap, quotha! Why, sir, I'll tell you, (for you Look like a very honest gentleman), I am put to Find a pike myself; and must, the parish swears, Or lose all the shoes in my shop.
+De L.+ 'Tis very brave! Why, you look like a champion; And have a face the parish may confide in.
+Latch.+ Fide, quotha! sir; be judge yourself, if ever You knew the like. I have been at the trade This forty years, off and on; and those children's Shoes, I have sold for sixpence or a groat upon some Occasion, we now sell for twelvepence, as they say.
+De L.+ Then the misery is, you get the more.
+Latch.+ More, quotha! Pray, sir, a word. You are a Courtier, if I may be so bold. They say we must All be fain to shut up shop, and mortgage Our wives to the soldiers. D'ye hear any Such talk, sir?
+De L.+ Some buzzing: but the blades will not accept 'em Without special articles and a flock of money and Plate, to keep the babies they shall beget valiant.
+Latch.+ Valiant, quoth-a! Truly, sir, I'll tell ye, On the truth of a poor man, my Lady de Prate's foot Is but of the sixes: and yet we pay five pistoles A dicker.
+Sil.+ My lady's foot but o' the sixes? you lie, sirrah! By Saint Hugh! there's never a lady i' th' land has a Prettier foot and leg; if you ha' not spoil'd 'em With your calf's-skin, sirrah.
+La G.+ Why, the sixes is a good handsome size for a lady.
+Latch.+ Lady, quotha! my life for her's, there's few ladies I' the court go more upright, nor pay better: I'll say that.
+Sil.+ You say that? foh! I scorn to wear an inch Of leather thy nasty flesh shall handle.
+De L.+ O, your worthy friend, signior; and an elder in's parish; A pikeman too for the republic. Come, come, He shall be shoemaker to us all. Canst trust?
+Latch.+ Trust, quotha! My name's Latchet, sir. I Serv'd eleven years to my vocation, before I Could be free, and have drunk many a good bowl Of beer i' th' duchess's cellar since that.
+De L.+ I like a man can answer so punctually To a thing.
+Latch.+ Thing, quotha! it is our trade, sir.
+De L.+ Spoke like the warden of the company! [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Claudilla+, and +Dessandro+ in a nightgown._
+Claud.+ I am at extremity of wonder.
+Des.+ The story may deserve it, lady; when you shall Cast your thoughts upon the man it treats on; The circumstances and progress of my love: Nay, it may raise your anger higher than your wonder; And work the modest pantings of your breast Into a hectic rage. I saw this tempest Gather'd in a cloud, dismal and black, ready to break Its womb in storms upon me; and I have cast My soul on every frown and horror you can arm Your passion with. I have held conflict with the wilder Guilt and tremblings of my blood to rescue it; but Heaven and my angry fate has thrown me grovelling At your feet; and I want soul to break the charm.
+Claud.+ This is a strange mystery, to betray my virtue With your own; and I shall sin to hear it.
+Des.+ If pity be a sin, lock up those beauties From the view of men; or they will damn all the Eyes that look upon you.
+Claud.+ Has your blood lost all the virtue it should inherit? And think you by this treacherous siege to take My honour in? Let me shun you, or you will Talk me leprous.
+Des.+ Do, madam. Tear up the wounds your eyes have made---- I'll keep them bleeding sacrifices to your cruelty. And when cold Death has cast his gloomy shade O'er this dust, perhaps you may bestow one gentle Sigh to hallow it: when you shall know The height of my desires was but to die worthy Of your pardon, without the ambition of a bolder thought: And still had scorch'd and smother'd here without A tongue, only to beg your mercy to my grave.
+Claud.+ Play not yourself into a shame will rūst your brightest Worths, and hide your dust in curses and black fame: I now shall think your valour flatter'd, that can Sink it to such effeminate and lovesick crafts, For our stale women to mollify the usher with. Dessandro has a fame, high and active as the voice It flies on; and could you wander from your Religious self in such a dream as this? Cleara's virtue has an interest near your heart, Should wake you to your first man again.
+Des.+ Cleara still is here in the first sculpture of Her virtues; and I their honourer.
+Claud.+ No more!---- My grief and shame are passionate, to find So much bad man got near your heart; and shows This sick complexion in your honour, more Tainted than the face of your imposture.---- You have play'd the excellent counterfeit, and your skill Does make you proud: you cannot blush-- [_Exit._
+Des.+ She's gone;-- A star shot from her eye, and light'ned through My blood. I must provide for thunder and Thy revenge, De Flame, as horrid as thought can Shape it.
_Enter +Cleara+._
+Cle.+ Sir!
+Des.+ Proud love, I'll meet thee with burning sighs And bleeding turtles at thy shrine. [_Aside._
+Cle.+ This is too bold a hazard for your health, Which yet sits wan and troubled on your cheek.
+Des.+ Madam!
+Cle.+ Indeed, I'll chide ye. [_Aside._
+Des.+ O, cry ye mercy! Some retired meditations.
+Cle.+ I shall observe 'em; Let me but leave you with the joy to know I stand not in the hazard of that frown.
+Des.+ We'll kiss next time.
+Cle.+ Sir!
+Des.+ Or never.
+Cle.+ Ha! d'ye know me?
+Des.+ So well, methinks we should not part so soon: Our hearts have been more ceremonious, and hung In panting sighs upon our lips, to bid adieu. One kiss must now sum up all; and seal their General release. I know Cleara more constant To her virtue and brave mind, than to ask heaven Idle questions. 'Tis fate, not will. [_Exit._
+Cle.+ So. I feel thy marble hand lie here: 'Tis cold, and heavy! How my poor heart throbs under it, and struggles to Find air! not one kind sigh lend thee a gale For yonder haven! It's gone! quite vanish'd! Beshrew me, it was a most horrible apparition! I wou'd not see it again In such a cruel look for all my hopes; Yet it held me gently by the hand, and left a warm farewell there, As my Dessandro us'd. As my Dessandro, said I? O, how fain my hopes would mock my apprehension; And that my sorrow!---- I'll woo thy pity with my groans, kind earth! And lay my throbbing breast to thine! Until I am dissolv'd into a spring, Whose murmurs shall eternally repeat This minute's story.
_Enter +De Flame+._
+De F.+ Ha! Cleara, drown'd in her own tears? Sister! Cleara!
+Cle.+ I had a gentle slumber; and all the world (Methought) was in a midnight calm.
+De F.+ Dear girl, Clear up those sad eyes and my cold doubts. Prythee, tell me, is our Dessandro dead?
+Cle.+ Heaven defend!
+De F.+ No! what then, in all the volumes of black destiny And nature, can throw you into this posture? Unkind Cleara, why dost dissemble it? I see him Breathless on thy cheek, and lost.
+Cle.+ Lost for ever.
+De F.+ My fears did prompt me so. For ever! There's horror and amazement in the thought. See, Cleara, my eyes can overtake thee. Gone at so short a farewell, friend? Death, Thou art the murderer of all our joys and hopes.
+Cle.+ Sir, Dessandro's well, very well; we parted Even but now.
+De F.+ What!
+Cle.+ O brother, I have lost a jewel that he gave me; I shall vex my eyes out.
+De F.+ Beshrew this serious folly; you have vex'd my Blood into a sullen fit.
+Cle.+ You shall not chide me; Tell me, didst ever in thy life meet with a grief That made thy poor heart sick, and did divide Thy sleeps and hours into groans and sighs?
+De F.+ Never, [I] thank my indifferent fate.
+Cle.+ Nor in the legend of some injur'd maid, That made thine eye to pause, and with a tear Bedew it?
+De F.+ I cannot untie riddled knots, Cleara.
+Cle.+ Come, I'll but dry mine eyes, and tell you a story, That shall deserve a groan. [_Exeunt._
ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA.
_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._
+Des.+ Tush! they had only tongue And malice; and that great zeal they Seem'd to owe to Rome was unto themselves And their own estates. What were they but wranglers In schools and law? and studied words to make men Guilty. They liv'd at ease; and slept in purples and Warm furs; but bold-minded Catiline threat'ned Their wise sleeps.
+De C.+ There was too much attempt and fact in't.
+Des.+ 'Twas fact then to look sour on a gownman: They were mere citizens, jealous of their wives And daughters--that condemn'd 'em too! De Castro, there's a lethargy in our blood: We sleep and dream away our lives. If such Wore purple for well-talking, what shall he merit, That cures the wounds and smart his country groans with?
+De C.+ The people shall enshrine his name with reverence; And fill their temples with his statues. 'Tis The great end we are all born to.
+Des.+ Which can't be, whilst by-respect shall closely Wound the bosom of our laws and freedom: For what was't less, that took our father's life?
+De C.+ In whose blow the heads of all brave men were Threat'ned.
+Des.+ Then, if we dare not do a general good, Yet let us secure our own dear lives and honours.
+De C.+ The State is full of dangerous whispers.
+Des.+ There's an imposthume swells it.
+De C.+ Wou'd 'twere lanc'd!
+Des.+ Spoken with the soul of Cassius! We have the cure, And may do it with a little stir. But then We must deal like true physicians of state; And where we find it ulcer'd (though in ourselves, Friends and allies), not lay soft effeminate hands on't. Nature has made us nearest to ourselves: And I would pay the last warm drop of blood From all these veins, to see the hopes and honours of our blood (That's now benighted in our father's fate) Dawn on De Castro's youth again.
+De C.+ No, Dessandro; these hopes are lost upon a high And angry sea; and I must see fools and stale Parasites (whose progeny ne'er bled one drop, nor had A valiant thought to serve their country) begin A spurious issue on my birthright, that will on tiptoes, Collossus-like, bestride us, and grasp our fate.
+Des.+ Take me into thy bosom, brave man; we meet Like amorous streams, and as we ought; Our honour, life and fortunes have but one heart. Give me thy hand, De Castro. This sword [_Draws._ Our father hath oft made glorious in the blood Of De Castro's foes; and I'll not doubt, How much it prompts thy valiant soul. O brother, tears, and some sad discourse, Is all that we have paid him yet. Strangers Can be far braver in their sense unto his fame. The tears we ought to shed ought to be blood, De Castro! Blood, warm from their veins, that made us weep In streams, and mingle it with the dust of vulgar Feet, as they did his. Swear by all the glorious acts Of our great ancestry, their hallowed urns, Our father's injur'd memory, and all The hopes and honour we derive from them, To pay his blood a sad account in some Revenge, worthy his ghost and our bold hands.
+De C.+ All which religiously I vow to.
+Des.+ And I. So now we are brothers by as strong Divinity as nature. I'll not break open the Design, till we shall hear't confirm'd by higher warrant: Anon meet at the Duchess-Dowager's.
+De C.+ Claudilla's?
+Des.+ Yes; where you shall hear something worthy the Encouragement of our father's spirit in thee. I am now to wait upon the duke: he That keeps us what we are.
+De C.+ The duke!----I have the game in view, And now discern what I must pay him for my place.
+Des.+ You are full of thoughts, my lord!
+De C.+ Brother, our lives are on the cast; but 'tis not that Does interpose 'em. There's something in my fears Still presents Cleara. Take heed, Dessandro; A virgin's tears leave sad and fatal prints.
+Des.+ Your wishes are a brother's; but those dreams Chill not my sleeps. Think on that concerns us Near, and be active.
+De C.+ I shall not fail ye. Farewell! [_Exit +De Castro+._
_Enter +Pirez+._
+Pir.+ Colonel Dessandro!
+Des.+ Your lordship's pardon: Which way walk you?
+Pir.+ As you please to dispose me; my business Now designs it so: 'Tis there, in short. [_Gives a paper, which +Dessandro+ reads._ I love this gallant mastery of a man's self: I look'd his temper would have flam'd about my ears. Not a sparkle in his brow, nor the least change of blood. Strange! I have seen him ruffl'd into a storm, And all fury: now, not a frown nor smile!
+Des.+ De Flame? Well, My lord, this is a down-flat challenge.
+Pir.+ I brought it for one.
+Des.+ I accept it, with thanks to your lordship, and shall be Ready to serve you in any power I have.
+Pir.+ 'Tis not worth it, colonel.
+Des.+ The Lord de Flame's angry, it seems, that Fortune should Give me right without his hand in't; he has turn'd his style High and strangely on me: But I shall coolly respite That, till we have room to argue it. That he is Far more worthy his expectations in the duchess, I can Confess: that's no assent, sir, to my quarrel, nor yet A law to her. For those, whom her thoughts please To think most worthy, are so to her.
+Pir.+ But does not bind the opinion of another.
+Des.+ Nor that opinion her freedom.
+Pir.+ Yet there be rules in virtue, from which all noble Judgments should take their level, even in love itself.
+Des.+ If it be thought she's too partial in her grace To me, I shall dispute it, as 'tis question'd.
+Pir.+ I come not to add exceptions, or to make any.
+Des.+ I stand not in so cheap a rank, but that her Favour may make my services as meritorious As his lordship's, and can engage as much blood and Fame for't.
+Pir.+ You know him of a noble breast, and one That will not flatter weak pretences into truths; Nor let 'em work with such impressions on his soul, Did not his honour bleed in't. Sir, I come, As one that ever honour'd your great parts, And wish that you could think on't o'er again. Think how black you must expect that morn to rise Upon your wishes, when you lead her to the altar; Where the faint lights with blue and ghastly flames Will receive ye; and all the things of holy ceremony Present pale glimmerings to your eyes, to fright your bride Back unto her first vows. And then, methinks, Each tear and groan the fair Cleara sends To overtake ye, should show a speaking fury To untwine your trembling hands.
+Des.+ No; nor all the squadrons hell can spare To aid them--though her brother led them on, And you brought up the rear!
+Pir.+ Sir!
+Des.+ Pish! the meanest thought Claudilla Pleases to bestow here (under this humble guard) Must be without the affright (my lord) of all the Dangers in his muster, stare they like giants On me, and in armies. As for Cleara, If she held flattering glasses to her thoughts Which render'd 'em wide and airy, they must not forfeit Me. You may deserve her better. I'll not start, sir, A scruple from his demands and yours. Expect it, And so farewell. [_Going off._
+Pir.+ Farewell.----The time?
+Des.+ I shall think on't.
+Pir.+ Shall? It must not so tamely be thought on.
+Des.+ How?
+Pir.+ I spoke it, sir.
+Des.+ Are you sent to own the quarrel?
+Pir.+ No; but look on't with so much soul, as I think't An honour to wear a sword in't.
+Des.+ Go, go hang it in your mistress's chamber! It stinks, sir, of perfume.
+Pir.+ It may, sir (for destiny has many ways to the wood[26]), Cut your throat; and then I'll give't your footboy.
+Des.+ My throat, Pirez! that saucy thought has Ruin'd thee. [_Fight._
_Enter +Sampayo+ and +De Loome+._
+Samp.+ Hold, hold, colonel.
+De L.+ My lord, y'are hurt. [_To +Pirez+._
+Pir.+ I must owe him this for't.
+Des.+ Canst talk yet?
+Samp.+ Command your passion; see how the common herd Come gazing in. Do not become their talk And wonder. Noble Dessandro! put up, my lord! Thank ye. [_They part._
+De L.+ Sir, my lord duke sent me to tell you He expects your company.
+Des.+ I wait on him. [_To +Pirez+._] Bid the ladies tear Their clean smocks to wrap you in.
+Pir.+ Insolent man! [_Offers to fight._
+Samp.+ Again! [_Exeunt._
_Enter three +Townsmen+, as the Watch._
+1st T.+ Was not I about to tell you so? They would be afraid of true men, when we came.
+2d T.+ By'r lady; but that mun not serve their turns; for we must know flatly which was plantan and which defendam,[27] or we shall discharge but a sorry conscience to the king's justice.
+1st T.+ I'll take my oath upon the corporal Bible, I saw two glittering swords run a tilt, and two to that, if need be.
+2d T.+ Neighbours, I cannot tell; we are old men, or should be at least; some of us have lived threescore years and upwards in a parish, as they say; I name nobody; and therefore it is good to be sure, and make all our tales _bonum fidrum_: for we are not all one man's children. And yet, if I be not mistaken, I am sure I saw three more, and glittering ones indeed, as you call them. God bless every good man and woman from the like! They e'en yearned my heart; and yet, by my fay, I am a hundred and two, come the time.
+3d T.+ You talk like sucking infants. Neighbours, I'll be sworn, if I were to take my oath before the best man living, high or low, there was twenty drawn swords, little and great. I'm sure, I might ha' seen 'em, like a fool, had I been worth my head, but my little boy Jack did.
+1st T.+ La, there; and that same's a murrain wise boy, if you mark him, and will see a thing, I warrant you, as soon as the wisest of us all, were he twice as old again.
+3d T.+ I could ha' seen too at his bigness, for all I'm lame now, God help us! You remember the Powder Plot?
+2d T.+ Powder Plot, quotha! I shall not forget it, while the world stands.
+1st T.+ Nor I, were I to die a thousand deaths.
+3d T.+ That very day was I working in our garret.
+2d T.+ Say you so?
+1st T.+ Nay, neighbours, beshrew me, this may be true; for I have known this man here able to do as tight a day's work by noon, as the tallest fellow the king keeps (God bless him!) take him from top to toe.
+3d T.+ All's one for that. Mark me! there has not been a glass window there time out of mind: since I came nor after; and I tell you truly (I'm a false liar else) I smelt the powder as hot as if it had been done the next day.
+1st T.+ See, see, the wind! the wind, neighbours, is much; God bless us!
+3d T.+ Go to; I am no made fool, though a born fool, my masters. True, the wind may be something, as you say. But if there had not been something else, I would not give a fart for't. I did not work at court with a master-carpenter for nothing, my boys; and see the king's grace fasting and full, as I did, to a hairsbreadth, as they say. Let me alone for casting my cards, give me but ground enough; and yet I can neither write nor read, heaven make me thankful!
+2d T.+ Heaven make us all thankful! I have seen the king too in my prime, and gave him a beck upon his milk-white steed; as near as one should say, what's this? and all his royal lords and ladies sporting.
+1st T.+ Ay, ay, those were the days (peace be with 'em!) a poor man's tale might be heard at court. There are some lords and ladies now were lousy then.
+3d T.+ Go thy ways, by the rood! Nay, he'll have his old talk, for all the world, up and down.
+1st T.+ It was ever my condition; I care not who knows it; and yet I never scathed the least sucking child that begs his bread; but little does another man know where the king's shoe wrings him, but those that wear it, as my mother would often say; and she lived long enough to know it.
+3d T.+ Nay, that's certain; the king's but a man, as we three are; no more is the queen, if you go to that. Did you never hear of my uncle's observations? He's but a poor knave (as they call him), but such a knave as cares neither for king nor kæsar, the least on 'em.
+1st T.+ Then he may be hanged, neighbour Palmer.
+3d T.+ If he be, he's not the first that has been hanged for treason, I hope. [_Exeunt._
_Enter the +Duke+ and +Claudilla+._
+Duke.+ That frown was shot with pretty tyranny From your brow; but this kiss shall sacrifice Me to my Claudilla's bosom.
+Claud.+ You'll sully your honour in't; widows are but rumpled stuff.
+Duke.+ That again! By all my hopes and by thyself, the next and greatest--
+Claud.+ Your brother's crown's betwixt us.
+Duke.+ I did [that] but to sharp De Flame into some Expression of his wit and love.
+Claud.+ Alas! he sighs all.
+Duke.+ And, like some crude chaplain, spits most Of his mind.
+Claud.+ Yet the tame dove can tire me sometimes With penn'd speeches, when we're alone, and flatter. I'm resolv'd to bestow him on my woman.
+Duke.+ Now he can come to hand. Ha, ha, thinking men never love heartily, unless they be dank powder.
+Claud.+ His courtship is like thick embroidery upon Slight stuff. I must confess, I never Lov'd the man, only as a rich gown out of Fashion, for a day's change sometimes at home, When I take physic.
+Duke.+ You may wear him as you please, and to what Purpose; his honest nature was meant you so; But Dessandro is the man of men (I must confess), That I could wish most near you now.
+Claud.+ Dessandro!
+Duke.+ And suddenly, before your honour blush too palpably: I have discovered him and his devotions.
+Claud.+ Then your brains were in his plot.
+Duke.+ 'Twas his own.
+Claud.+ Stol'n from some romance or play! but For De Flame----
+Duke.+ One wheel will move another to the period.
+Claud.+ Methinks, his soft and easy spirit should be The fitter engine, and more pliant to your aim.
+Duke.+ He has too much of Venus in his mixture; all his Desires would be at home still in the circle of those Eyes: the other is all fire, and thinks that fame Too cheap, that's found so near; and there will Want such men abroad.
+Claud.+ But where's my honour, duke?
+Duke.+ Lock'd in my heart and cares: the king must die, Claudilla, to smoothe the way, and lift us to our wishes.
+Claud.+ That still is talk'd on.
+Duke.+ His last glass is now turn'd, and runs apace. He gives thee to Dessandro, and is your guest; and That night receives eternal thanks for't. Then (My fair) Dessandro cannot want lustre and honour for Your bed, nor thy commands, what all Castile can give.
+Claud.+ I understand not, sir.
+Duke.+ Thou shalt in time. O my Claudilla! my best and nearest Joy, our loves have been entire as a flame: one centre To our thoughts and wishes; and crown our bosoms with Delight and safety. But they are come.
_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._
+Claud.+ I have not known so little of his fame To be a stranger to his worth. Sir, I honour it: Nor am I so proud and dark in my opinion, To think I stand upon myself, but stoop in Honour to one of his deserts and blood. This is The way, my lord, I ever summ'd up man, and set His titles down but for cyphers.
+De C.+ Observe. [_Aside._
+Duke.+ Which will most clearly show his merits, and heighten Them in value to you; for, madam, look on him In the spring of his deserts; and you'll say, titles Are but narrow spheres; and if honoured actions Be the soul and breath, he's then above them, And stands in the first rank of men.
+Des.+ I shall want life to pay this debt. [_Aside._
+Claud.+ But, with your grace's favour, I must be tender here: For I stand a tall mark to voice and censure; And need not tell your highness, with what strong Expectation the Count de Flame hath long Time visited me.
+Duke.+ If you will stand engaged, madam, I am silent.
+Claud.+ No, sir--but----
+Duke.+ You expect honour and fortune to your bed: I know Castile owns not a subject (I'll not Except myself; and had I another's freedom, I should Not speak my wishes in a second person) that Looks not with ambition on you: but, madam, weigh Them all; take but off their grains of fortune, He shall hoist them into the air; and to my Wish he's come. Dessandro, your name was Mentioned--happily, I hope. Let me present His value to your grace's hand; and to a sister, Madam, I would say, her bosom.
+De C.+ You purchase our poor lives too highly, sir.
+Duke.+ I would have rich jewels set to their worth; And shall be proud to give any advantage unto his. The Duchess shall not slight me in't: I will be Heard against the proudest courtship that shall Charm her. Come, my lord, what sport will you Win some ducats at?
+De C.+ I will lose some at any your grace pleases.
+Duke.+ My brother has got a fortunate hand of late 'Gainst all the court: I cannot rise at even terms From him.
+De C.+ I saw him draw deep from your grace last night.
+Duke.+ Two thousand ducats; but I expect 'em with interest again.
+Des.+ I cannot pawn myself to the unworthy ends Of flattery and compliment; but this honour Outbids the value of a thousand lives: What this poor glimpse of expression can show me in; Saints are not more unfeigned in their prayers, Than I to serve you.
+Claud.+ I shall not doubt, how much I may be indebted To your noble wishes; but let me add, sir, he that Lays out for me without my warrant, shall scarcely Put it on my account for thanks--much less, debt.
+Des.+ Not good devotions!
+Claud.+ Them I desire, and shall repay.
+Des.+ Then pay back mine.
+Claud.+ I'm not to learn my prayers, sir.
+Des.+ Teach me yours, that I may turn the virtue Of their charms back to your bosom.
+Claud.+ Colonel, mine would hardly please you; I never pray for wars.
+Duke.+ You have back-friends, my lord?
+De C.+ That some malignant cloud does interpose The king's cheerful favour, I am most sensible.
+Duke.+ It wou'd spread to me too, if they durst.
+De C.+ Had they but so much virtue left, they durst Own their names by, I should make pale envy blush.
+Duke.+ Come, we'll to cards, and leave them to parl. [_Exeunt._
+Des.+ Madam, but mean it in a smile.
+Claud.+ What!
+Des.+ Love.
+Claud.+ Fie!
+Des.+ Yet stay; the air has busy wings. But give The thought consent, and I will take it in soft Whispers from your lip.
+Claud.+ You will?
+Des.+ I feel it creep in flames through all my blood!
_Enter +De Flame+._
+Claud.+ Sir, the Count de Flame!
+Des.+ With a black evening in his face!
+De F.+ O my faithful Achilles, I came To give you joy!
+Claud.+ Who! me, sir?
+De F.+ My virtuous friend and you.
+Claud.+ Of what?
+De F.+ Of your entertainment under him. Y' have a brave commander, And he a--I cannot be angry enough to tell you what.
+Claud.+ I begin to doubt his wits; he looks so ghastly.
+De F.+ Yes, I see a devil in those eyes, that makes my hair Stare upward. False woman, my love durst scarce Doubt before, what now I find and tremble at. But heaven has wrath in ambush and scorpion-stings!
+Claud.+ For what, my lord?
+De F.+ Duchess, thy perjury and warm engagements To this, this huge impostor!
+Claud.+ Sir, he has crack'd his brains with poetry; Pray, forgive him----
+Des.+ Count, you know what privilege this roof can give You on my anger, or else I should make your frenzy Tongueless. Don't requite it barbarously on her, That gives you leave to live by it. Gather your Scatter'd wits up; go home, sir, and repent.
+De F.+ Privilege! I'll meet thee in a ring of flames, or on the tempest Of some billow, upon whose back the raging north wind strides: Yet I'd not ha' thee lose one spark of thy full man in noise And air; that when next we greet, I may find thee worthy My revenge. This frailty now protects thee.
+Claud.+ Uncivil man, know the way back, or I shall Let that justice loose upon you you deserve.
+De F.+ Your centaur there, you mean; he must Stare bigger to move a hair of mine.
+Claud.+ You sha' not stir, sir; as you love me, do not: Let him die mad.
+De F.+ Do kiss him, and clap his cheek.
+Claud.+ And circle him in my arms from your pale envy. Does that make you foam? Look ye-- [_Kisses +Dessandro+._
+De F.+ He shall not blossom there.
+Claud.+ He shall, though thou dost bribe the Furies With thy soul.
+Des.+ Madam, your commands will hold me, till I scorch away! I am in flames and torment, and there's not so much Mercy under heaven, but your own, would let him use That tongue a minute longer. Thou has seen this Sword reeking from hilt to point, and sweating Showers of blood o'er thy head; whilst I bestrid thy Life, and rescu'd it 'gainst many gallant foes: And durst thou tempt it to thine own throat now? Prythee, begone; and let us meet no more. There's something in thy youth I still can love, And will forget to call thee to account for this. Be wise unto thyself, and ask this lady pardon.
+De F.+ O my blood! Must I bear this! I am More cold than marble, sure!
+Claud.+ Within there! Where's his grace?
_Enter +Servant+._
+Serv.+ At cards, madam.
+De F.+ O, cry you mercy! your bak'd meats sha' not cool for me; I only wish that they may choke ye. That paper, sir, I sent, wou'd be worth your noble answer.
+Des.+ 'Tis there again, and has stopp'd the use I took it for.
+De F.+ Ha! I'll make thy name a boy's play, And kill thee on the threshold of thy door.
+Des.+ Go, go, take your rest! When you are Recovered, I may own you.
+De F.+ Thou hast not blood enough to answer this. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._
+Samp.+ You tell me strange ones.
+Pir.+ But true ones.
+Samp.+ Nice windings!
+Pir.+ This duke can strangely back his purposes, Where they like him. 'Tis a fair lift To Dessandro's fortune; his stars shin'd.
+Samp.+ True; she has a spacious fortune; but I shall Tell your lordship what perhaps you know not.
+Pir.+ You may.
+Samp.+ She has no blood. From her first, an honest Tradesman's wife, who left her very rich and Handsome, the duke (as he still keeps a Kennel for that purpose) had her presented To him for his game; remov'd her from the Cuckoo's nest into another sphere; but with all Caution and private sleight; and you must Imagine, now she spreads a larger wing; Stirs not abroad, but studded like the night With flames; and at length becomes the court's Discourse and wonder; but still keeps[28] the Country her retiring place.
+Pir.+ Unknown!
+Samp.+ Or unsuspected, as the duke's instruments dealt it; And the young Henrique being in those parts With our king's brother for sport, casually (as 'twas plotted) Visits her house, falls in love, and marries her. This Is the epitome.
+Pir.+ I hope the Duke Bereo had no dull hand in't.
+Samp.+ 'Tis thought (only by me, sir,) [he] keeps his Acquaintance to this day.
+ Pir.+ It must be fatally answer'd somewhere; Heaven has a justice.
+Samp.+ The preparation makes huge noise.
+Pir.+ 'Tis well the king's a guest; their triumph Might miscarry else.
+Samp.+ The king gives her in church. Methinks The Count de Flame must needs be all a-flame at it: And I believe, sir, your affront bleeds freshly in him.
+Pir.+ It must be put to an account somewhere.
+Samp.+ To return his challenge and honour with such a scorn Must work such a spirit to high extremes.
+Pir.+ The saddest story is his sister.
+Samp.+ A rose new-blown, and flung aside to wither in Her sweets! Poor innocence! that has much chang'd My opinion of Dessandro.
+Pir.+ His resolution and ambition are like vast trees, Whose spreading tops hide their own roots From the kind sun.
+Samp.+ Let out unto so vast a pride, as shades all his natural Virtues, or makes 'em grow up rank and sour. The event will tell us all.
+Pir.+ I wish it without blood. Your lordship's for the solemnity?
+Samp.+ My attendance ties me to his majesty's person.
+Pir.+ My best wishes to your lordship. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[26] [The common saying is, "There are more ways to the wood than one."]
[27] [Plaintiff and defendant.]
[28] [Old copy, _kept_.]
ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA.
_Loud Music._
_Enter the +King+, +Cardinal+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Dessandro+, +De Castro+, +Sampayo+, ladies bearing up her train, voices, lutes: they pass over._
_Manent +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._
+De L.+ So by this time the confines ring Of our great solemnity.
+La G.+ She became his hand bravely, and with so skilful a brow, As if the first fruits of her honour were to be gathered yet.
+De L.+ Our duke will lick his lips at this night's sport.
+La G.+ And wind her up for him, 'twill go hard else.
+De L.+ That shall not hinder our sport, I hope.
+La G.+ Expect the steward and his bottles; I'll warrant you.
+De L.+ The ladies too! we shall not tickle heartily else.
+La G.+ Where are the great ones bedded?
+De L.+ I' th' old place.
+La G.+ I' th' corner lobby?
_Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+ disguised._
+De F.+ You belong to the Duke de Bereo, sir?
+De L.+ Who told you so?
+De F.+ A friend that wou'd commend me with a poor suit Unto you, sir, if you be Signior de Loome.
+De L.+ But this is no year for suit, sir.
+De F.+ Mine brings thanks ready-told, sir; look ye: All double pistoles, signior.
+De L.+ Sir, I shall try my power, and be ready in any Service t' ye, for my friend's sake.
+De F.+ D' ye know who 'tis?
+De L.+ Hum! no matter; I'll undertake your business.
+De F.+ Sir, can you please to pardon some light gold?
+De L.+ You shall find me a gentleman in anything for my friend's sake.
+De F.+ Nay, sir, it weighs a hundred pound at all, peradventures.
+De L.+ And I'll tell you one thing of myself, sir, more than Perhaps my friend rememb'red: I am very honest, where I take; and every man is not to be trusted in matters Of such consequence. A very fair purse, I assure you!
+De F.+ Nest and birds are all your own.
+De L.+ Your business is done, believ't, sir; please you to kiss The king's hand into the bargain?
+De F.+ At fitter opportunity, let me be ambitious of your Offer: but I shall woo your courtesy to be only a Looker on now.
+De L.+ Anything, sir, you can make worthy your request. Nay--I hope, you do not wish me [to] forfeit good manners--as I'm virtuous. [_Compliment for the door._
+De F.+ I am a stranger to the way. Gentlemen, know yourselves, I beseech you.
+La G.+ To obey you, signior.
+De L.+ Sir, you need not speak on't to this man: He's but my lord's barber. Since you command it so-- [_Exeunt +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._
+De F.+ Light, light, revenge! heave up thy gloomy tapers! That thou may'st see thy smeared altar shine In blood. Come, my Cleara! my better soul! Whose gallant mind will leave thy name In the first place of women, and raise thee temples. Bravest of thy sex, I could expire on thy cheek, And pay thee reverence, my most excellent sister.
+Cle.+ Just heaven and your brave virtue (my dearest brother) Has waken'd my dull breast and trembling sex: I do not feel one pale or coward thought; But all [are] high and active to my wish.
+De F.+ I see it lovely in thy brow: like the gleaming Dawnings of the morn, when day first kindles; Yet our presage is fair.
_Enter +Duke+, whispering with +De Castro+._
+Cle.+ The Duke!
+De F.+ Now, innocence, guard thyself! the wolf is up: See, how mischief teems and quickens on their brow: Some black thing is spawning: night must be midwife to't: If we stay, my poniard will break loose. [_Exeunt._
+Duke.+ Who's that?
+De C.+ Some of the duchess's servants, I believe, sir.
+Duke.+ Your hand will lay a new foundation to a kingdom; And I am busy how to divide it with thee, when We can call it ours.
+De C.+ 'Tis his last night with mankind; the poison, sir, Will do't so subtlely: whilst he but holds the Knife, the least warmth attracts, and so dispreads Itself through his blood and spirits. Not any Struggling for't with nature; his life steals from Him in a gentle slumber.
+Duke.+ Grow in my bosom, till you spread to the first honours Of your wish. My fortune is too narrow for your Merits, to whom I owe it and all my power, brave friend. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Steward+, +Butler+, +Cook+, and +Maids+._
+Stew.+ Come, my masters: the great ones shall not Have all to themselves: we'll have a civil Bout or two to get us a stomach to bedward, My sweethearts.
+Cook.+ Noble master steward!
+But.+ Brave master steward!
+Cook.+ The fire of my respects shall ne'er go out unto you.
+But.+ Nor mine be quench'd.
+Stew.+ Here, cook, here's a bit for you to lick your lips at: And here's a clean napery for you, butler. [_Gives each a wench._
Take it. [_A dance._
+Stew.+ So, so; I am almost spent; every man to his function. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +King+, +Cardinal+, +Dessandro+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, attendants._
+King.+ The night begins to frown at our uncivil stay; And Hymen's tapers do burn out apace: Good night; you shall not stir a foot, Dessandro.
+Duke.+ All the wishes of a bridal bed crown your wishes and embraces!
+Card.+ And all the blessings of true joy.
+Duke.+ To bed, to bed! [_Exeunt._
_Enter +De Loome+, +De Flame+, and +Cleara+._
+De L.+ You are as melancholy as [the] day, when sun sets: I hope you do not doubt my promise?
+De F.+ No.
+De L.+ Ye sha' not: I'll not leave you, till the grant be yours. Be confidant; and that's more than a courtier is bound To by his oath. Sir, where are you? Why, you were Living but e'en now; could speak--had sense, too: Ha' you seen anything against nature or stomach? Hum! sweetheart, has thy master any fits o' th' mother [_To +Cleara+._ Or falling-sickness? Pretty knave! 'tis pity This face was made for breeches.
+De F.+ Ha!
+De L.+ I am glad you are come to yourself again.
+De F.+ You are pleasant.
+De L.+ I would ha' you so: I have provided some mirth And good company for you. Please you, but spare an Idle hour from your sleep, we'll allow't again in The total of your business (I must not lose his Money). If you can smile, you shall not want a Subject: Besides, we shall have the wit of a Handsome lady or two, and hear their voices.
_Enter +Steward+, and a man with bottles._
Look ye, sir, here's the _imprimis_ of the house: Master steward himself, whose company may be worth Your observation. Signior Silliman, this gentleman Is a friend of my lord duke's: pray, let him know he's welcome.
+Stew.+ I am but the duchess's poor steward, sir, but my Place is at your command, sir. You shall not have Me claim kindred of her for all that; yet Sir Thomas de Loome here can say something, If he please, sir.
+De F.+ Thank ye, sir.
+Stew.+ Look ye, Sir Thomas, I never fail; here be the Perquisites of life and good company. There's that Will elevate voices. Come, disburthen thyself in That lobby, my honest rational camel! Is this gentleman dumb? He can say nothing but _Thank you, sir._
+De L.+ I fear he's planetstruck.
+Stew.+ 'Tis great pity; yet he makes very gentle signs.
+De F.+ I'm got into a dark and slippery labyrinth, and Grope but by a spark; whilst every pause is fatal. No. It had miscarried; and the king's presence Was a sacred guard: now, to break in upon them were To betray our lives to nothing. Sure, heaven will not Lose the glory of such a justice, and by a hand so Justly engaged.
_Enter +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, and +La Prate+._
+De L.+ The ladies! Good girls, this deserves a double Thanks. Here's a gentleman, whose merits may Invite him to your acquaintance, ladies.
+Tor.+ I shall ever study that due honour, by all the Ambitiousness of your humble servant, sir.
+La P.+ You may please to pardon her, whose demerits Make her modest in her expressions to honour You, noble sir.
+De F.+ You engage a poor life to your virtue.
+De L.+ What, ladies, have you put 'em together for a brave boy to-night?
+La P.+ That's as the dice run, sir.
+La G.+ The colonel will find a piece of service on't to-night.
+La P.+ If he put her to the worst, 'twill be worth her pardon, being so tried a soldier.
+Tor.+ If his valour should be shortbreath'd, a retreat may be honourable sometimes.
+La P.+ If he fight not flat coward, and make it in policy.
+Tor.+ Sir, we have read over Aristotle's _Politics_ and Polybius to that purpose.
+La P.+ Who calls policy the very breath of all war.
+Tor.+ And so, by your ladyship's good licence, in all battalions, leaguers, skirmishes, sieges, invasions, parleys, treaties, truces, and other cessations.
+De F.+ Excellent ladies!
+De L.+ For the theoric.
+La P.+ We can say something to the practic too, signior.
+Tor.+ Both concerning your postures and motions, as Which may be necessary for service: her ladyship has Written a small tract for her private experience, To show how they may be reduced, and a man Exercis'd with far less trouble, but with as much Activity and proportion of comfort.
+La P.+ For body and service, madam?
+Tor.+ I mean so: I warrant you this gentleman Understands me.
+De F.+ And will not your goodness bestow it on the public? It would rank your name amongst the illustrious Benefactors of the general cause.
+La P.+ I know not what I may, sir, when the press is fit For a woman of quality. Is this gentleman a soldier?
+De F.+ That ambition has grown with me from the Cradle, madam.
+La P.+ I shall render myself with more endearment to Your worth, and ever subscribe to soldiers as the bravest men.
+De L.+ The duchess, I hope, will be of your opinion; But, madam, had I the use of that key for an Hour or two, I would take some notes in shorthand Behind the hangings.
+La P.+ You wou'd?
+De L.+ Yes, indeed, my precious wit, I shou'd.
+De F.+ That key!
+Tor.+ Signior, pleaseth you to think our humble Invitation worthy the grant of your society.
+De F.+ I could wish the trouble of ten lives more, to be Accepted in your command, fairest of ladies,
+La P.+ Were all our days multiplied into years, and Those years to lives, 'twere but a span of time To study our thanks in.---- _Exeunt._
_Manent +Silliman+ and +La Prate+._
+Sil.+ Madam! lady! _I never knew what bandage was until now: I fear the golden heart you sent me was Enchanted: I long to see you._----
+La P.+ What d'ye mean, sir?
+Sil.+ Ha, ha, ha! hum! nothing, madam, but there Be them that love a good nature with all their heart; That have four hundred pounds a year, and money In their purse to be knighted, if need be.
+La P.+ Wit and opportunity assist me! The thing will make an excellent husband for the Times; and four hundred pounds a year is a Considerable fortune to boot. I must take him at His bond, or perhaps die in the list of stale chambermaids: A court-plague for a misspent youth and service.
+Sil.+ I am a gentleman already, else the heralds took my Money for nothing: and methinks, madam, you And I might----
+La P.+ What, signior?
+Sil.+ Be as wise as our forefathers.
+La P.+ You and I?
+Sil.+ Yes, what say ye to _you and I_? Is not _you and I_ Good Spanish? Why, madam, I am able to warm My own sheets, and get children without the help of A doctor; and can kiss as warm and close: And you shall swear my breath is sweet.
+La P.+ Y'are merry, sir, beyond my apprehension.
+Sil.+ Pardon me, lady, if I be: I mean no harm, I protest.
+La P.+ Very witty!
+Sil.+ I am what I am: but I was never beholden to any Living thing for thus much wit: I might Have been an arrant younger brother, but for my mother---- Thereby hangs a tale, madam, and yet I cou'd ha' danc'd My cinque pace in Greek at a dozen. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, cost me five shillings: Can you believe me, lady? By this light, you shall Wear this diamond! There; sha't, sha't ha't: Sha't, sha't, sha't ha't.
+La P.+ There is such sorcery in your words!
+Sil.+ No, no, no; troth, love me: come, thou shalt; By this----nay, never sigh, my dear; they are All orient, sweet wench: Thou art worth all Spain For a good disposition----
+La P.+ You will undo me, master steward.
+Sil.+ Pish! who? I undo thee? my life! thou dost wrong Me: canst find in thy heart to think so? away, away.
+La P.+ But is this profession honourable, sir?
+Sil.+ I scorn to deal upon dishonourable terms. Do I Kiss like a man that would propound dishonourable Conditions?
+La P.+ Men are so nice and cunning!
+Sil.+ Do'st think me a Jew; swear me to anything.
+La P.+ Well, you have taken a poor heart at advantage; and make me blush to confess it.
+Sil.+ Kiss me; here's my hand, till death us do part: Thine more than mine own, Signior Bouche Ouverte Sillimano: seal'd and deliver'd; but I hope, lady, there is no quit rent to be paid out of this copyhold.
+La P.+ Not for your life, sir.
+Sil.+ Lawful possession then, and thou'rt mine own. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+._
+De F.+ So, let 'em drench their souls in laughter: kindle Thy noble heart into a flame, my sister! Fate cannot give nor we ask more unto Our cause: all things conspire and prompt us to't. Just and divine revenge! I'll strew thy midnight haunts with cypress wreaths, And wear thee in rich medals. Propitious goddess! This night thy wan and meagre cheek shall blush, And smile with warm and wanton blood. Night grows heavy-ey'd, And drops her slumbering head in her dark bosom: And now their rage and lust will make them ripe To bleed. Let us embrace, and interchange A sigh or two, Cleara: whate'er become of me, Thou wilt wear chaplets in Elysium.
+Cle.+ My hopes and joys are yours, dear sir, and heaven, I hope, will not divide them. [_Unlocks the door, and discovers them._
+De F.+ See, what a modest blush Sleep has cast o'er their guilt!
+Cle.+ Here is a look Tyrants would bashfully gaze at, and fear To think it mortal. Glorious hypocrisy! Virtue is at wonder in herself, and looks pale, To own what she has given.
+De F.+ I should mock heaven's justice, to let 'em dream Their souls away in such a calm: we'll startle Them into horror of their sin, and then Let 'em see the vengeance they deserve.
+Cle.+ Ye chaster powers, to whom I and my virginity Groan, may every drop breathe incense to your justice? Whilst thus I break their springs open. [_Stabs +Claudilla+._
+Claud.+ O Dessandro! O, whose hand's that?
+Cle.+ Cleara's, Cleara's! carry that name in thy last breath Down to the shades of lust and perjury.
+De F.+ So quick and brave, Cleara?
+Claud.+ O! [_Expirat._
+Des.+ Cleara! madam, madam! your sleeps are troubled---- Who's there? De Flame!
+De F.+ Raise not thy voice an accent: if thou dost, by my eternal hopes and soul! this strikes it back unto thy heart. See'st thou revenge sit pale upon the point? 'Tis steeled with virgin's curses, and shall fly like lightning through thy blood; and it is a justice thy vast pride hath lost thee to.
+Des.+ O, what hast thou done? A deed that flinty Scythians and curl'd Ethiops Would hide their eyes from.
+De F.+ Our revenge shall wear a glorious title. Know'st Thou that injur'd face? It is Cleara's, injur'd Cleara's.
+Des.+ Cleara!
+De F.+ What see'st thou on that brow?
+Des.+ Murder!
+De F.+ Horror and guilt unto thy soul.
+Des.+ I'll not be tamely butcher'd, coward. Without there! Help, help, help!
+De F.+ Whirlwinds and earthquakes cannot do it. Think on thy sin.
+Cle.+ Thy perjury.
+De F.+ Thy lust. [_+Cleara+ stabs at him._
+Des.+ Cleara! O, thou hast a skilful hand in Murder. Help, help! murder!
+De F.+ So falls a wretched statue from its haughty station, when Fate would make it ominous and fright a state. What a thick cloud steams from his tainted blood! The air shrinks back, and with dull wings fans it from heaven.
_Enter +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, &c._
+Tor.+ Murder, murder! 'twas his voice.
+De L.+ It was his voice.
+Tor.+ The key?
+La G.+ Gone!
+Tor.+ Cut from my side! I'm betray'd!
+De L.+ Look, search the room: where's the stranger?
+La G.+ The door is fast. [_Knocks._
+De F.+ You may come in: make up your wonder there. [_Opens the door._
+Tor.+ My lady murder'd!
+De L.+ You have astonish'd heaven.
+Tor.+ And pull'd eternal curses on your head.
+De F.+ They'll fall like brittle shafts upon my shield.
+Cle.+ Unjust Dessandro! yet on thy lip I'll Tender my last vows, that the world may tell I loved thee dead--and this--and this---- [_Kisses him, then stabs herself._
+De F.+ Hold, hold that cruel hand! Cleara! sister!
+De L.+ Cleara! This is a horrid scene, my lord.
+De F.+ 'Twould not be worth my name, did it not strike Amazement through your souls, and leave a paleness On his cheek that hears it. But here, here I Could melt, transfuse my brains through my sad eyes, Till they wept blood, and dropp'd their jelly forth: She was a jewel too rich for our dull orb.
_Enter more servants._
You need not multiply your fears; I am Too proud of my revenge to start from it: Let the law frown, and fall in tempests on me. Cowards repent, When valiant blood ne'er pales at the event. [_Exeunt._
ACTUS QUINTUS, SCENA PRIMA.
_Enter +Pirez+ and +De Loome+._
+De L.+ A sad court indeed, my lord.
+Pir.+ As sad a kingdom! Where the news is spread, men that hear it stand struck, as if their own passing-bells did call unto them.
+De L.+ Kings' glasses are as brittle as their meanest subjects', their footings as slippery and uncertain. He was a brave prince, and his life will be memorable in Castile.
+Pir.+ His death is much admired for the sudden strangeness of it. What opinion give the physicians on't?
+De L.+ They've a hard name for't, if I could think on't.
+Pir.+ Not suspicion of poison?
+De L.+ How, my lord! by whom would you suspect it?
+Pir.+ Nay, I dare suspect none, nor don't; but such quirks of state I have read of in the days of old.
+De L.+ I never saw him discount a day with more content and freedom; his very thoughts were hearty.
+Pir.+ 'Twas a fatal one, and will give a sad discourse to our posterity, and leave it on record in bleeding characters.
+De L.+ The count's resolution had too much blood and cruelty in't.
+Pir.+ Dessandro urged as much as mortal sense could groan with.
+De L.+ I now call to mind, still as he spake and glanced upon Cleara's face, I had strange startlings in me.
+Pir.+ As the times have.
+De. L.+ The times, my lord? for what?
+Pir.+ The king's death, sir.
+De L.+ Why, my lord, the times are not of the worst presage, though that may cloud them a little.
+Pir.+ I am no Booker, sir, nor Lilly to prognosticate what seven years may travail with; but I could wish the price of knaves may fall.
+De L.+ Your lordship's virtues command not a more humble and observant creature. [_Exit._
+Pir.+ This fellow must be muzzled.
_Enter +Sampayo+._
+Samp.+ Who's that?
+Pir.+ The duke's thing, his trifle-broker.
+Sano.+ The king's now.
+Pir.+ Castile did never hear more news, I fear.
+Samp.+ We shall now see the fine turns and games of the state.
+Pir.+ When fools and knaves chase trump.
+Samp.+ Now heads and points will be the sport.
+Pir.+ The king will have the heads then, I believe.
+Samp.+ Observe 'em.
+Pir.+ So near?
_Enter +Bereo+, nobles soliciting him with papers._
+All.+ Heavens bless your majesty! Heavens keep your majesty! [_Within._ Please you hear your most faithful subjects?
+Duke.+ Who are they, that bark so?
+De L.+ A rout of porters, prentices, and sailors' wives, with such a spawn, who are modest petitioners your majesty would give 'em leave to govern you in some matters of state, and humbly pray to be admitted of your privy council. Here's another, sir, from the most reverend bags of the city to purchase all the churches of your majesty for warehouses; and this, sir, from the corporation of weavers, cobblers, and feltmakers: that you would please to give 'em leave to fire all universities and schools of learning, that the profane might better see the truth.
+Duke.+ No more. Their stinking breath will stifle me! Keep back their clamour. Wealth and ease have made the rascals wanton, and profane their allegiance. My lord [_De Castro kneels_], you need not kneel in a cause, that equally concerns us with you; and the groans of your brother's wounds echo unto our sleeps. Our honour and the laws bleed in them, until a justice stop their issues, which our own care shall take a speedy account of. Sampayo! [_Whispers._
+Samp.+ I shall, my lord. [_Exit._
+Duke.+ O my lords, we are circled in a tide of grief, Where every billow threatens a grave: but in your loves Our hope takes new life, which we as zealously Shall sacrifice again to you and yours. Let me be beholden t' you for a minute's conference With my own sad thoughts. [_Exeunt._ So take breath, my hopes. Whilst we with pride look upon the world behind us, And then survey the glory of our progress And success, the print of every step is glorious, And methinks we stand like Rome herself, in midst Of all her triumphs, when her threat'ned head Lean'd on the spangled breast of heaven, and Jostled with the gods; from whose imperious frown The world took all her laws and dooms. Yet her Vast story shall look pale to mine; and time Begin his great example here. Castile, thou now shalt blush for thy neglect: I'll print thy scorns on thy own brow, till my revenge Look lovely as did Rome's, in her bright flames, To Nero; and Nature shall repent, that she Mistook the man Fortune meant thine. Then up, My soul, and from thy glorious stand see Thy proud hopes and wishes court thee! Thou hast Been bashful yet, and hid in blushes. Make Room for thy more spacious thoughts, and let The petty world know this: all things Depend upon the breath of gods and kings. [_Exit._
_Enter two +Officers+._
+1st Off.+ There, there! Lay that in the place; so, so; here, help to spread this carpet. Quick, quick!
+2d Off.+ Will our new king be here to give the forked herd an oration?
+1st Off.+ An halter! Thou dost so fumble! But what's the general voice of the king's death? Here's the mourning for that bar.
+2d Off.+ Marry, some think he died against his will; and others, that his brother--Where stands this?--will bury him very royally----
+1st Off.+ Hum! and others think if thou wert hanged, when 'tis thy due, there would be quickly a knave less. Despatch, despatch! I hear them coming.
_Enter +Judges+, the two Ladies, +DE LOOME+, +LA GITTERNE+, and others. +De Flame+ stands at the bar._
+Off.+ Pray, by your leave; make way; give back there! For shame, sir; you press so hard upon the judges, they scarce have liberty to breathe. Clear the bar; peace!
+1st Judge.+ My lord, here's none but knows you, and I believe do grieve to see you stand thus, and for a fact of such a bloody nature. A gentleman of your fair hopes and fortunes, blood and spirit, and other excellent parts, all cast upon untimely hazards by such an act (as indeed I know not how to name it). You needs must, therefore, be worthy our grief; and I presume you are not now to know the laws and customs of this your country, with what religious care they look unto the safety of our lives and our estates, and with what strictness on perpetrations of such a dye----
+2d Judge.+ Especially, where innocent blood is shed; and therefore we, being but the tongues of the law (my lord), may hope you will interpret the justice of it clearly from our mouths.
+De F.+ Please you, most reverend lords, is there aught else but this I am to stand accused for?
+2d Judge.+ Not that we know.
+De F.+ Then, my good lords, you need not labour much to find out circumstances to condemn me; nor do I wish or think, my lords, to satisfy the law by talking in my own defence. Nor will I brand myself with such a fear, much less hope, as to bespeak a melting tear. That were to wish the act undone, and rob my justice of a glory I would be torn to atoms for. No, I come to meet the law; and if your wisdoms can contract the spacious volumes of it into one doom, I shall not startle, or divide my breast. My resolution was above it, when first I undertook to be my own law and judge.
+1st Judge.+ I grieve to hear this language from you: it takes much from the man that you have seemed, my lord; stain not your noble and religious fame with such an atheism.
+2d Judge.+ Look back into the deed, my lord. See, what a tide of blood pursues you, and breaks upon your soul in angry seas.
+De F.+ Look back to our fame, grave lords, the blood and honour of our family; nor think it my vainglory to urge it here, since the cause does. There has not yet, in all the ages it hath served the state, one stain fallen on our escutcheon; and although, my lords, these honours are derived to us in a vast circle of time and blood, the passage must be still through our veins, and so are treasured here as heat in fire; so as the least taint in us reflects a blush on the first virtue of our great ancestors. And what has man called sacred but his honour? That dwells not in the smiles of Fortune; nor can she place the fool or coward in that rank. And can your wisdoms think ours so cheap, as to become the scorn of such?
+2d Judge.+ My lord, 'twould better satisfy all those that know you to hear your grief than passion.
+De F.+ O, cry ye mercy! He was your lordship's kinsman; yet I will add, he basely did betray a love and innocence more noble than a thousand of their lives. Poor Cleara! perjured his faith and honour, and quite dissolved their holy ties in the lascivious arms of her, whose name shall not take honour from my breath.
+2d Judge.+ We spend time; pray, give those ladies leave to speak.
_Enter +De Castro+._
+De C.+ My lords, the king is come to sit amongst ye.
+Off.+ Stand back there, ho! you, Goodman Roundhead, you'd best breathe in the king's face: pull back your horns, sir!--D' you mutter? Take that, and crowd further. The rogues are as hollow as a vault, and sound like one with a blow.
_Enter +Bereo+, +De Castro+, attendants; at the other door, the +King+ himself._
[_Within._] The king, the king! Whoo?
+1st Judge.+ What's the matter?
+Duke.+ De Castro, is this a mask or apparition?
+King.+ Seize on the traitor!
+Duke.+ Ha!
+King.+ Hence, monstrous thing!
+Duke.+ Traitor!
+King.+ Yes; and a foul one. My lords, suspend Your wonder. We thank ye. Prodigy to thy blood, We have given you leave to wanton in your guilt And see at what mighty impiety it would reach; To fasten you the surer in your toil. Take your places. Durst thou derive the glory Of our grandsires to thyself, whilst with unnatural hands Thou tear'st their graves up; mingling blood and shame With their bless'd dust? Have we not shar'd our kingdom with thee: Let thee into our heart nearer than nature, If possible? And could all this beget No better thanks than poison? The very thought Unnerves my joints.
+Duke.+ Treason? Who dares avow it, sir, Or charge the least stain upon my loyal bosom, And make it good? I challenge all mankind, And envy from the nether hells; 'tis but Some engine to betray me to you.
+De C.+ I did but quit a sin, Which would have betray'd us both eternally, And bore so sad a shape of horror, As it affrighted all within me, and, like a frenzy, Held me, till I had purged it from my bosom.
+Duke.+ Had thy revenge no other way but this, To undermine the virtue of nature against itself? My lords, there's forgery in't, poison, and treason! It did amaze my innocence. Sounds, that my blood Do shiver at. And did not I see his father's treason Blush yet upon his brow, I should not think Castile infected with the thought.
+1st Judge.+ My Lord De Castro, What proof or circumstance have you to urge This clearer to his highness?
+Duke.+ Grave patriots of the law, Give me your leave in this, that would blemish The honour of my fame for ever. Let him produce but any That may accuse me to your reverend judgments, And Bereo will lay down his head to the block. But I know your wisdoms will discern a plot in't: And how far he stands incompetent against me In faith and honour.
+King.+ What say you, my lord?
+De C.+ Sir, what I have told your Majesty--my life Shall make good on my torture: my brother being dead, Heaven only and my conscience can clear it: And to quit my innocence of malice, your own conscience Must tell you, my lord, that when first you used my brother To ensnare me, and press'd it in the duchess's garden, How much I argued to divert you; but then--
+Duke.+ My lords, I desire justice and reparation On the villain.
+2d Judge.+ My Lord. De Castro, The king has pleased to give us your relation, In which (though the least tenderness cannot be Impertinent to his sacred safety) there's nothing That can raise the law to any argument, which may reach The Duke, scarce as a peer, which looks upon him As the second man in whom all our safeties and hopes are stor'd: Not to be touch'd with every jealousy, But at a high and reverend form of proof.
+Duke.+ Let me appeal unto yourself, dread sir; Which of my actions or services of state Can be suspected? And do you not perceive That where his father left, his treason would begin?
+De C.+ Help me, dear truth, or else I shall suffer For my loyalty. Great sir, be pleased----
+Duke.+ That most judicious judge has well observ'd, There is an envy in his soul would reach From you to your succession, and leave the character Of his father's treason on it in blood and ruin. Wretched man, trust me, I grieve for thy slidefrom piety; And when I look upon the love and pity I have cast away on such a thing, I repent My easy faith. Good heaven! what will men fall to?
+King.+ Take the Count unto the citadel, and let none Be admitted to him upon peril-- [_Exeunt with +De Castro+._ Brother, they were no easy insinuations That did engage our fears to this: but such As nam'd a higher proof and circumstance. And, we confess, it struck our nature with some passionate strugglings: Not that the wish of our ambition is fix'd here, And would revive a term of years To rob ye of one minute's glorious trouble: Yet, my lord, if our laws take care To preserve the meanest subject's life, our own Ought not to be look'd on with less providence: And fears are happy cautions many times. But mine retire. Let our desires meet, and reconcile me to your arms---- [_Embrace._ His merit shall find the justice it has scandall'd, If it stand guilty.
+Duke.+ If, my lord? Can yet that scruple stay behind?
_Returns with +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+. A physician and chirurgeon, &c._
+De C.+ See, royal sir, I have met a miracle, [_They kneel._ That heaven has preserv'd and sent to guard your Sacred highness and the truth.
+De F.+ Dessandro risen from the dead?
+King.+ Dessandro!
+Des.+ The vilest wretch alive, who throws himself At your feet in tears of blood, and so much Horrid guilt as calls for all the wrath of This and the other world: not daring to Lift my hopes to any pardon. O sir! 'Twas he (back'd by that bad Prince and other giddy Hopes) that would have seduc'd my brother to That act against your sacred life.
+King.+ Would it went no further? Duke de Bereo, Can now your brow change colour?
+Duke.+ 'Tis all imposture.
+King.+ Fie, fie; don't glory against heaven, that hath Left thy sin to subterfuge.
+Duke.+ You would not fright me from myself?
+King.+ Well; our guard!
+Doct.+ May it please-- [_Kneels._
+King.+ Rise, What would you say, sir?
+Doct.+ Under your gracious licence this. We found our princely lady and the lady Cleara cold in their clodded gore: this Colonel so spent in expense of blood, as we could not say alive; for that half spark of heat left in his veins was then e'en going out. Our care having preserved and kindled it to life again, after his shattered faculties could pant and breathe, he called for pen and ink, and caused us to write what is there contained. [_Gives a paper._
+Des.+ Of too much truth; and I blush for those few Drops of blood I have left to expiate.
+Duke.+ I am betrayed and lost! Could'st be in love with that saint life, for one Poor minute's smile, to betray it to ignominy and law? I could trample on thy skull, until thy reeking Brain sparkled about the dust. See how busily They contract their dusky brows! Consult things Safely, and let some reverend statute be ordained In honour of all cowards. [_Aside._] De Castro! for this good Service know, 'twas I that laid thy father's head Upon the block: complotted with the Portuguese To make him guilty to the King: and envying that He spread with so much shadow in the state, by a close Faction rend'red him odious to the people: an engine, I knew could not fail. I hurried thee to the Duchess's Wanton bed, Dessandro, knowing De Flame's high Blood would quit the debt I owed thee----
+Des.+ He's proud all mischief can call him patron.
+Duke.+ Nor had I shar'd the pleasure of a kiss to you Or him, but that our purpose needs would have it so.
+De F.+ Sir!
+Duke.+ The language is plain and true.
+De F.+ Then Claudilla was your court-mistress, Duke?-- 'Twere profanation to say whore!
+Duke.+ Young lord, I can forgive that language In a suffering man.
+De F.+ Forgive it!
+Duke.+ Forgive it; and had De Flame himself Enjoy'd her bed, and reap'd the scattered minutes Of our love, he must have found another gloss more Safe and honourable.
+De F.+ Must! What saw you in me did promise So tame a thing, as to feed on your high scraps? Glorious mischief!
+Des.+ My lord, I beg your mercy; and to deserve it Will weep the remnant of this unworthy life Unto Cleara's name.
+De F.+ All mankind has my peaceful wish, but this Black speckled serpent, whose load doth make The earth to groan and sweat.
+Duke.+ My fair Claudilla, methinks I see thee Lovely in that ghastly trim of death, while Yet thy soul was struggling through thy cruel Wounds.
+De F.+ The day begins to frown and creep into Eternal night: we'll bed together in one grave, Cleara. Castile shall hide us in a golden heap, and name me With her patriots for taking this foul monster From her bosom.
+Duke.+ I'll find thee in the myrtle groves below, And leave a story that shall tell the world, How much I lov'd thee. [_They stab each other._
+King.+ Desperate atheists!
+Duke.+ You were beforehand, sir.
+De F.+ You've overtaken me: the world is hid in a Cloud, and shrinks to chaos. O, whither Must I wander in this mist? So, so-- I feel thee glide away, and leave me sunk Upon a quicksand. [_Expirat._
+King.+ What a thirst of blood burnt up their hearts, That they must quench it in their own?
+Duke.+ Hast thou not air enough, my panting soul? O, what a stitch is coming! [_Expirat._
+King.+ Wou'd thou had'st better lov'd thyself and us: For while thou priz'd the honour of that blood, We priz'd thee with it. O ambition! The grandame of all sin, that strikes at stars With an undaunted brow, whilst thus thy feet Slide to the nether hell! Like some vast stream, That takes into its womb all springs that neighbour by it, And would proudly carry all their currents in its own: Swells o'er its banks, and wantons like a tyrant. Take hence the sight: it stirs our indignation. [_Exeunt cum corporibus._
+Omnes.+ Long live the great and good King of Castile!
+King.+ We thank ye, and just heaven which hath (unto wonder) Unknotted all these mischiefs, and kept us safe: And because we do not love to use the laws In their extremity, or execute with blood, Where we can moderate without; but chiefly, Dessandro, to endear ye more to heaven In your acknowledgment, we do enjoin you To some religious house of Orders, there By an humble life to expiate your guilt.
+Des.+ Upon my knees I do acknowledge Your God-like mercy.
+King.+ De Castro Our thanks shall make your loyalty Exemplary to all times: nor wish we to live longer Than to gain the faith of all; that we may find Ourself and title most secure, and greatest In your loves; which gives us more Than giddy fortune can----
+This is our fate, and to the wise is known; All goods without us are, not (sure) our own.+
In tenui labor est; at tenuis non gloria.
THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.
_EDITIONS._
_The Adventures of Five Hours. A Tragi-Comedy._--Non ego Ventosæ Plebis suffragia venor. _Horat. Fʳ. 21º, 1662. Imprimatur, John Birkenhead. London. Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1663. fol.[29]_
_The Adventures of Five Houres: a Tragi-Comedy. As it is acted at His Royal Highness the Duke of York's Theatre. The third impression. Revised and corrected by the author, Sir Samuel Tuke, Kt. and Bart._ Nonumque prematur in Annum. _Horat. de Art Poet. London: Printed by T. N. for Henry Herringman, at the sign of the Blew Anchor, on the Lower Walk of the New Exchange._ 1671. 4º.[30]
FOOTNOTES:
[29] The title of the copy of 1664 is precisely the same as that of the first edition. It is in 4to.
[30] There was a fourth impression in 1704.
PREFACE.
Sir Samuel Tuke, of Temple Cressy, in the county of Essex, was a colonel of horse in the king's army, and served against the Parliament, as long as the affairs of his master had any prospect of success. He was very active in that rising in the county of Essex which ended fatally to some of the chief actors in it. From the prologue to the present play, spoken at court, it appears that he intended to retire from business soon after the Restoration, but was diverted from that design for some time by his Majesty's recommending him to adapt a Spanish play[31] to the English stage, which he executed with some degree of success. On the 31st March,[32] 1664, he was created a baronet. He married Mary, the daughter of Edward Sheldon, a lady who was one of the dressers to Queen Mary, and probably a Roman Catholic, of which persuasion our author seems also to have been.[33] He died at Somerset House, on the 26th of January 1673, and was buried in the vault under the chapel there. Langbaine, by mistake, says he was alive at the time he (Langbaine) published his "Lives of the Dramatic Poets."
Sir Samuel did not escape the censure of his brother poets.[34] One of them, speaking of Cowley, says he
Writ verses unjustly in praise of Sam Tuke.[35]
And in the same poem--
Sam Tuke sat, and formally smiled at the rest; But Apollo, who well did his vanity know, Call'd him to the bar to put him to the test, But his muse was so stiff, she scarcely could go.
She pleaded her age, desir'd a reward; It seems in her age she doated on praise: But Apollo resolv'd that such a bold bard Should never be grac'd with a per'wig of bays.
There is some reason for assigning to Sir Samuel Take part authorship of "Pompey the Great," which is generally supposed to have been translated by Waller, Lord Dorset, Sir C. Sedley, and Godolphin, and printed in 1664. At the end of an edition of Sir John Denham's poems, "printed by J. M. for H. Herringman," 1684, is a catalogue of other works published by the same bookseller, and among them this entry:--"By Samuel Tuke, and several persons of honour. Pompey."
Sir Samuel was one of the first members of the Royal Society, and wrote a history of the ordering and generation of green Colchester oysters, printed in Spratt's "History," p. 307.
FOOTNOTES:
[31] [By Calderon. It is supposed that the Earl of Bristol, author of "Elvira," assisted Tuke.--See Halliwell's "Dictionary of Old Plays," 1860, in v. Halliwell there quotes a passage from Evelyn's "Diary," where Evelyn, by a slip of the pen, speaks of Sir _George_ Tuke, an oversight which is left uncorrected.]
[32] Heylin's "Help to History."
[33] Wood's "Ath.," vol. ii. p. 802.
[34] Dryden's "Miscellanies," vol. ii. p. 92.
[35] These were prefixed to the edition of "The Adventures of Five Hours," printed the year after the author was made a baronet, but without bearing on the title any mark of his advancement. He is there called only Colonel Tuke.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
HENRY HOWARD
OF NORFOLK.[36]
Since it is your pleasure, Noble Sir, that I should hold my fortune from you, like those tenants, who pay some inconsiderable trifle in lieu of a valuable rent, I humbly offer you this poem, in acknowledgment of my tenure: and I am well pleas'd with this occasion to publish my sense of your favours, since it seems to me a kind of ingratitude to be thankful in private.
It was bred upon the terrace-walks in your garden at Albury; and if I mistake not, it resembles the place where it was brought up: the plot is delightful, the elevations natural, the ascents easy, without any great embellishments of art.
I designed the character of Antonio, as a copy of your steady virtue; if it appear to those, who have the honour to know you, short of the original, I take leave to inform them, that you have not sat to me long; 'tis possible hereafter I may gratify my country, for their civility to this essay, with something more worthy of your patronage and their indulgence.
In the interim, I make it my glory to avow that, had Fortune been just to me, she could not have recompensed the loyal industry of my life with a more illustrious title than that which you have been pleased to confer upon me, of Your Friend. To which (as in gratitude I am bound) I subjoin that of
Your most humble servant, S. TUKE.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] This dedication, and the prologue and epilogue which follow, are only found in the first and second edition.--_Collier._
THE FIRST SCENE IS THE CITY OF SEVILLE.
_The +Prologue+ enters with a play-bill in his hand, and reads_--This day, being the 15th of December, shall be acted a new play, never play'd before, call'd _The Adventures of Five Hours._
A NEW PLAY.
Th' are i' the right, for I dare boldly say, The English stage ne'er had so new a play; The dress, the author, and the scenes are new. This ye have seen before ye'll say; 'tis true; But tell me, gentlemen, who ever saw A deep intrigue confin'd to five hours' law? Such as for close contrivance yields to none: A modest man may praise what's not his own. 'Tis true, the dress is his, which he submits To those who are, and those who would be wits; Ne'er spare him, gentlemen; for to speak truth, He has a per'lous cens'rer been in's youth; And now grown bald with age, doating on praise, He thinks to get a periwig of bays. Teach him what 'tis, in this discerning age, To bring his heavy genius on the stage; Where you have seen such nimble wits appear, That pass'd so soon, one scarce could say th'were here. Yet, after our discoveries of late Of their designs, who would subvert the state, You'll wonder much, if it should prove his lot To take all England with a Spanish plot; But if, through his ill conduct or hard fate, This foreign plot (like that of eighty-eight) Should suffer shipwreck in your narrow seas, You'll give your modern poet his writ of ease; For, by th' example of the King of Spain, He resolves ne'er to trouble you again.
THE PROLOGUE AT COURT.
HE ADDRESSES HIMSELF TO THE PIT.
[Sidenote: This refers to the author's purpose of retirement, at that time when his Majesty recommended this plot to him.]
As to a dying lamp one drop of oil Gives a new blaze, and makes it live awhile; So th' author, seeing his decaying light, And therefore thinking to retire from sight, Was hindered by a ray from the upper sphere, Just at that time he thought to disappear. He chanced to hear his Majesty once say, He lik'd this plot; he stay'd, and writ the play: So should obsequious subjects catch the minds Of princes, as your seamen do the winds. If this attempt then shows more zeal than light, 'T may teach you to obey, though not to write.
[Sidenote: He looking up, and seeing the King, starts.
He kneels. He rises.]
Ah! he is there himself. Pardon my sight, My eyes were dazzled with excess of light; Even so the sun, who all things else displays, Is hid from us i' the glory of his rays. Will you vouchsafe your presence? You, that were given To be our Atlas, and support our heaven? Will you, dread sir, your precious moments lose To grace the first endeavours of our muse? This with your character most aptly suits, Even heaven itself is pleas'd with the first-fruits.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.
Having been desired by a lady, who has more than ordinary favour for this play, though in other things very judicious, to make a song, and insert it in that scene where you may now read it, I found it more difficult to disobey the commands of this excellent person, than to obtain of myself to write any more upon subjects of this nature.
This occasioned the revising of this piece, upon which I had not cast my eyes since it was first printed; and finding there some very obvious faults (with respect to their judgments who have been pleased to applaud it), I could not well imagine how they came to escape my last hand; unless poetic rage, or (in a more humble phrase) heat of fancy, will not at the same time admit the calm temper of judgment; or that, being importuned by those for whose benefit this play was intended, I was even forced to expose it before it was fit to be seen in such good company.
This refers only to the dress, for certainly the plot needs no apology; it was taken out of Don Pedro Calderon,[37] a celebrated Spanish author, the nation of the world who are the happiest in the force and delicacy of their inventions, and recommended to me by his sacred majesty as an excellent design, whose judgment is no more to be doubted than his commands to be disobeyed. And therefore it might be a great presumption in me to enter my sentiments with his royal suffrage; but as secretaries of state subscribe their names to the mandates of their prince, so at the bottom of the leaf I take the boldness to sign my opinion, that this is incomparably the best plot that I ever met with. And yet, if I may be allowed to do myself justice, I might acquaint the readers that there are several alterations in the copy which do not disgrace the original.
I confess, 'tis something new that trifles of this nature should have a second edition; but if in truth this essay be at present more correct, I have then found an easy way to gratify their civility who have been pleased to indulge the errors in the former impressions.
If they who have formerly seen or read this play should not perceive the amendments, then I have touched the point, since the chiefest art in writing is the concealing of art; and they who discover 'em, and are pleased with them, are indebted only to themselves for their new satisfaction, since their former favour to our negligent Muses has occasioned their appearing again in a more studied dress; and certainly those labours are not ungrateful with which the writers and readers are both pleased.
And since I am upon the subject of novelties, I take the boldness to advertise the reader that, though it be unusual, I have in a distinct column prefixed the several characters of the most eminent persons in the play, that, being acquainted with them at his first setting out, he may the better judge how they are carried on in the whole composition. For, plays being moral pictures, their chiefest perfections consist in the force and congruity of passions and humours, which are the features and complexion of our minds; and I cannot choose but hope that he will approve the ingenuity of this design, though possibly he may dislike the painting.
As for those who have been so angry with this innocent piece, not guilty of so much as that current wit--obscenity and profaneness--these are to let them know that, though the author converses with but few, he writes to all; and aiming as well at the delight as profit of his readers, if there be any amongst them who are pleased to enter their haggard muses at so mean a quarry, they may freely use their poetic licence, for he pretends not to any royalty on the mount of Parnassus; and I dare answer for him, that he will sing no more till he comes into that choir where there is room enough for all; and such, he presumes, is the good-breeding of these critics, that they will not be so unmannerly as to crowd him there.
+Farewell.+
FOOTNOTES:
[37] [Don Pedro Calderon della Barca appears to have been born at Madrid, of a good family, in 1601. Like Lope de Vega, his contemporary, he signalised his dramatic genius at a very early date, producing his "Carro del Cielo" at the age of thirteen. He devoted the better part of his life to the military profession, but afterwards took holy orders, and became a canon of Toledo. He is supposed to have died in 1681. His plays were printed at Madrid between 1683 and 1691, in 9 vols. 4º; but the best edition, according to Brunet, is that published at Madrid, 1760-63, 11 vols. 4º. Some of Calderon's dramas were never printed, and have perished.]
PROLOGUE.
SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON.[38]
If we could hit on't, gallants, there are due Certain respects from writers and from you: Which, well observ'd, would celebrate this age, And both support and vindicate the stage. If there were only candour on your part, And on the poets', judgment, fancy, art; If they remember that their audience Are persons of the most exalted sense; And you consider well the just respect Due to their poems, when they are correct; Our two houses then may have the fate To help to form the manners of the state: For there are crimes arraign'd a' th' poets' bar, Which cannot be redress'd at Westminster. Our ancient bards their morals did dispense In numbers, to insinuate the sense, Knowing that harmony affects the soul, And who our passions charm, our wills control. This our well-meaning author had in view, And, though but faintly executed, you Indulg'd th' attempt with such benevolence, That he has been uneasy ever since; For though his vanity you gratified, The obligation did provoke his pride. But he has now compounded with ambition For that more solid greatness, self-fruition; And, going to embrace a civil death, He's loth to die indebted to your breath. Therefore he would be even w' you, but wants force; The stream will rise no higher than the source. And they, who treat such judges, should excel; Here 'tis to do ill, to do only well. He has, as other writers have, good-will, And only wants (like those) nature and skill; But, since he cannot reach the envied height, H' has cast some grains in this to mend the weight; And, being to part w' you, prays you to accept This revived piece as legacy or debt.
FOOTNOTES:
[38] This prologue first appeared in the edition of 1671, after the revival of the play.--_Collier._
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+PERSONS.+ +RELATIONS.+ +CHARACTERS.+
+Don Henrique+, _In love with Camilla, Choleric, jealous, but rejected. revengeful._
+Don Carlos+, _Near kinsman to Don A well-natured, moral Henrique. gentleman._
+Don Octavio+, _In love with Porcia, A valiant and but feigning to be in accomplished cavalier. love with Camilla._
+Don Antonio+, _Contracted to Porcia A soldier, haughty, and by proxy, before he saw of exact honour. her._
+Porcia+, _Sister to Don Henrique. Ingenious, constant, and severely virtuous._
+Camilla+, _Sister to Don Carlos. Susceptible of love, but cautious of her honour._
+Diego+, _Servant to Octavio, A great coward, and a bred a scholar. pleasant droll._
+Flora+, _Waiting-woman to Porcia. Witty, contriving, and faithful to her mistress._
+Ernesto+, } _Servants to Don +Sancho+, } Antonio._
+Silvio+, } +Geraldo+, } +Pedro+, } _Servants to Don +Bernardino+, } Henrique._ +Jago+, }
_The Corregidor and Attendants._[39]
_The Scene, Seville._
THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.[40]