Part 23

_Soph._ Thou canst not. And _Valerius_, 'Tis less dishonour to thee thus to kill me, Then bid me kneel to _Martius_: 'tis to murther The fame of living men, which great ones do; Their studies strangle, poyson makes away, The wretched hangman only ends the Play.

_Val._ Art thou prepar'd?

_Soph._ Yes.

_Val._ Bid thy wife farewell.

_Soph._ No, I will take no leave: My _Dorigen_, Yonder above, 'bout _Ariadnes_ Crown My spirit shall hover for thee; prethee haste.

_Dor._ Stay _Sophocles_, with this tie up my sight, Let not soft nature so transform[e]d be (And lose her gentle[r] sex'd humanitie) To make me see my Lord bleed. So, 'tis well: Never one object underneath the Sun Will I behold before my _Sophocles_. Farewell: now teach the Romans how to die.

_Mar._ Dost know what 'tis to die?

_Soph._ Thou dost not, _Martius_, And therefore not what 'tis to live; to die Is to begin to live: It is to end An old stale weary work, and to commence A newer and a better. 'Tis to leave Deceitfull knaves for the societie Of gods and goodness. Thou thy self must part At last from all thy garlands, pleasures, Triumphs, And prove thy fortitude, what then 'twill do.

_Val._ But ar't not griev'd nor vex'd to leave life thus?

_Soph._ Why should I grieve, or vex for being sent To them I ever lov'd best? now I'll kneel, But with my back toward thee; 'tis the last duty This trunk can doe the gods.

_Mar._ Strike, strike, _Valerius_, Or _Martius_ heart will leap out at his mouth. This is a man, a woman! Kiss thy Lord, And live with all the freedome you were wont. O Love! thou doubly hast afflicted me, With virtue, and with beauty. Treacherous heart, My hand shall cast thee quick into my urne, E're thou transgress this knot of pietie.

_Val._ What ails my Brother?

_Soph. Martius_, oh _Martius_! Thou now hast found a way to conquer me.

_Dor._ O star of _Rome_, what gratitude can speak Fit words to follow such a deed as this?

_Mar._ Doth _Juno_ talk, or _Dorigen_?

_Val._ You are observ'd.

_Mar._ This admirable Duke (_Valerius_) With his disdain of Fortune, and of Death, Captiv'd himself, hath captivated me: And though my arm hath ta'ne his body here, His soul hath subjugated _Martius_ soul: By _Romulus_, he is all soul, I think; He hath no flesh, and spirit cannot b[e] gyv'd; Then we have vanquish'd nothing; he is free, And _Martius_ walks now in captivitie.

_Soph._ How fares the noble Roman?

_Mar._ Why?

_Dor._ Your blood Is sunk down to your heart, and your bright eyes Have lost their splendor.

_Mar._ Baser fires go out, When the Sun shines on 'em: I am not well, An Apoplectick fit I use to have After my heats in war carelesly coold.

_Soph. Martius_ shall rest in _Athens_ with his friends, Till this distemper leave him: O! great Roman, See _Sophocles_ doe that for thee, he could not Do for himself, weep. _Martius_, by the---- It grieves me that so brave a soul should suffer Under the bodies weak infirmitie. Sweet Lady, take him to thy loving charge, And let thy care be tender.

_Dor._ Kingly Sir, I am your Nurse and servant.

_Mar._ O deer Lady, My Mistris, nay my Deity; guide me heaven, Ten wreathes triumphant _Martius_ will give, To change a _Martius_ for a _Sophocles_: Can't not be done (_Valerius_) with this boot? Inseparable affection, ever thus Colleague with _Athens Rome_.

_Dor._ Beat warlike tunes, Whilest _Dorigen_ thus honors _Martius_ brow With one victorious wreath more.

_Soph._ And _Sophocles_ Thus girds his Sword of conquest to his thigh, Which ne'r be drawn, but cut out Victorie.

_Lords._ For ever be it thus. [_Exeunt._

_Corn._ Corporall _Nichodemus_, a word with you.

_Nic._ My worthie Sutler _Cornelius_, it befits not _Nichodemus_ the Roman Officer to parley with a fellow of thy rank: the affairs of the Empire are to be occupied.

_Corn._ Let the affaires of the Empire lie a while unoccupied, sweet _Nichodemus_; I doe require the money at thy hands, which thou doest owe me; and if faire means cannot attain, force of Armes shall accomplish.

_Nic._ Put up and live.

_Corn._ I have put up too much already, thou Corporall of Concupiscence, for I suspect thou hast dishonored my flock-bed, and with thy foolish Eloquence, and that bewitching face of thine drawn my Wife, the young harlotrie baggage to prostitute herself unto thee. Draw therefore, for thou shalt find thyself a mortall Corporall.

_Nichod._ Stay thy dead-doing hand, and heare: I will rather descend from my honor, and argue these contumelies with thee, then clutch thee (poor flye) in these eaglet ---- of mine: or draw my sword of Fate on a Pesant, a _Besognio_, a _Cocoloch_, as thou art. Thou shalt first understand this foolish eloquence, and intolerable beauty of mine (both which, I protest, are meerly naturall) are the gifts of the gods, with which I have neither sent baudy Sonnet, nor amorous glance, or (as the vulgar call it) sheeps eye to thy betrothed _Florence_.

_Cor._ Thou lyest.

_Nich._ O gods of _Rome_, was _Nichodemus_ born To hear these braveries from a poor provant? Yet when dogs bark, or when the asses bray, The lion laughs, not roars, but goes his way.

_Cornel._ A ---- o' your poeticall veine: This versifying my wife has hornified me. Sweet Corporall codshead, no more standing on your punctilio's and punketto's of honor, they are not worth a lowse: the truth is, thou art the Generals Bygamie, that is, his fool, and his knave; thou art miscreant and recreant, not an horse-boy in the Legions, but has beaten thee; thy beginning was knap-sack, and thy ending will be halter-sack.

_Nich._ Me thinks I am now _Sophocles_, the wise, and thou art _Martius_, the mad.

_Cornel._ No more of your tricks good Corporall Letherchops: I say, thou hast dishonour'd me, and since honor now adaies is only repaired by money, pay me, and I am satisfied: Even reckoning keeps long friends.

_Nic._ Let us continue friends then, for I have been even with thee a long time; and though I have not paid thee, I have paid thy wife.

_Corn._ Flow forth my tears, thou hast deflowred her _Tarquin_, the Garden of my delight, hedg'd about, in which there was but one bowling Alley for mine owne private procreation, thou hast, like a thief in the night, leap'd the hedge, entred my Alley, and without my privitie, plaid thine owne rubbers.

_Nic._ How long shall patience thus securely snore? Is it my fault, if these attractive eyes, This budding chin, or rosie-colour'd cheek, This comely body, and this waxen leg, Have drawn her into a fools paradise? By _Cupids_ ---- I do swear (no other) She's chaster far then _Lucrece_, her grand-mother; Pure as glass-window, ere the rider dash it, Whiter then Ladyes smock, when she did wash it: For well thou wotst (though now my hearts Commandress) I once was free, and she but the Camps Landress.

_Corn._ I, she then came sweet to me; no part about her but smelt of Soap-suds, like a _Dryad_ out of a wash-bowl. Pray, or pay.

_Nich._ Hold.

_Corn._ Was thy cheese mouldy, or thy peny-worths small? Was not thy Ale the mightiest of the earth in Malt, And thy stope fill'd like a tide: was not thy bed soft, and Thy Bacon fatter then a dropsie? Come, Sir.

_Nich. Mars_ then inspire me with the fencing skill Of our Tragedi[a]n Actors. Honor pricks; And Sutler, now I come with thwacks and thwicks. Grant us one crush, one pass, and now a high, Cavalto fall: Then up again, now down again, yet do no harm at all.

_Enter Wife._

_Wife._ O that ever I was born: why Gent?

_Corn. Messaline_ of _Rome_, away, disloyal Concubine: I will be deafer to thee, then thou art to others: I will have my hundred drachma's he owes me, thou arrant whore.

_Wife._ I know he is an hundred drachmaes o'the score; but what o' that? no bloodshed, sweet _Cornelius_. O my heart; o' my conscience 't is faln thorow the bottom of my bellie. O my sweet Didimus, if either of ye miskil one another, what will become of [p]oor _Florence_? Pacifie your selves, I pray.

_Corn._ Go to, my heart is not stone; I am not marble: drie your eyes, _Florence_; the scurvie apes-face knows my blinde side well enough: leave your puling; will this content ye? let him tast thy nether lip, which in signe of amitie I thus take off again: go thy ways, and provide the Cows udder.

_Nich._ Lilie of Concord. And now, honest Sutler, since I have had proof as well of thy good nature, as of thy wives before, I will acquaint thee with a project shall fully satisfie thee for thy debt. Thou shalt understand I am shortly to be knighted.

_Corn._ The devil thou art.

_Nich._ Renounce me else; for the sustenance of which Worship (which Worship many times wants sustenance) I have here the Generals grant to have the leading of two hundred men.

_Corn._ You jest, you jest.

_Nich._ Refuse me else to the pit.

_Corn._ Mercie on us: ha you not forgot your self? by you[r] swearing you should be knighted already.

_Nich._ Damn me, Sir, here's his hand, read it.

_Corn._ Alas, I cannot.

_Nich._ I know that.

It has pleas'd the General to look upon my service. Now, Sir, shall you joyn with me in petitioning for fifty men more, in regard of my arrearages to you; which if granted, I will bestow the whole profit of those fifty men on thee and thine heirs for ever, till _Atropos_ do cut this simple thred.

_Corn._ No more, dear Corporal, Sir _Nichodemus_, that shall be, I cry your wishes mercie: I am your servant body and goods, moveables and immoveables; use my house, use my wife, use me, abuse me, do what you list.

_Nich._ A figment is a candid lye: this is an old Pass. Mark what follows. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Martius, and two Captains._

_Mar._ Pray leave me: you are Romans, honest men, Keep me not company, I am turn'd knave, Have lost my fame and nature. _Athens, Athens_, This _Dorigen_ is thy _Palladium_: He that will sack thee, must betray her first, Whose words wound deeper than her husbands sword; Her eyes make captive still the Conqueror, And here they keep her only to that end. O subtill devil, what a golden ball Did tempt, when thou didst cast her in my way! Why, foolish _Sophocles_, broughtst thou not to field Thy Lady, that thou mightst have overcome? _Martius_ had kneel'd, and yielded all his wreathes That hang like Jewels on the seven-fold hill, And bid _Rome_, send him out to fight with men, (For that she knew he durst) and not 'gainst Fate Or Deities, what mortal conquers them? Insatiate _Julius_, when his Victories Had run ore half the world, had he met her, There he had stopt the legend of his deeds, Laid by his Arms, been overcome himself, And let her vanquish th' other half. And fame Made beauteous _Dorigen_, the greater name. Shall I thus fall? I will not; no, my tears Cast on my heart, shall quench these lawless fires: He conquers best, conquers his lewd desires.

_Enter Dorigen, with Ladyes._

_Dor._ Great Sir, my Lord commands me visit you, And thinks your retir'd melancholy proceeds From some distast of worthless entertainment. Will't please you take your chamber? how d'ye do, Sir?

_Mar._ Lost, lost again; the wild rage of my blood Doth Ocean-like oreflow the shallow shore Of my weak virtue: my desire's a vane, That the least breath from her turns every way.

_Dor._ What says my Lord?

_Mar._ Dismiss your women, pray, And I'll reveal my grief.

_Dor._ Leave me.

_Mar._ Long tales of love (whilst love it self Might be enjoyed) are languishing delays. There is a secret strange lies in my brest, I will partake wi' you, which much concerns Your Lord, your self, and me. Oh!

_Dor._ Strange secrets, Sir, Should not be made so cheap to strangers: yet, If your strange secret do no lower lie Then in your brest, discover it.

_Mar._ I will. Oh! can you not see it, Lady, in my sighs?

_Dor._ Sighs none can paint, and therefore who can see?

_Mar._ Scorn me not, _Dorigen_, with mocks: _Alcides_, That master'd monsters, was by beautie tam'd, _Omphale_ smil'd his club out of his hand, And made him spin her smocks. O sweet, I love you, And I love _Sophocles_: I must enjoy you, And yet I would not injure him.

_Dor._ Let go; You hurt me, Sir: fare well. Stay, is this _Martius_? I will not tell my Lord; he'll swear I lye. Doubt my fidelitie, before thy honor. How hast thou vex'd the gods, that they would let thee Thus violate friendship, hospitalitie, And all the bounds of sacred pietie? Sure thou but tri'st me out of love to him, And wouldst reject me, if I did consent. O _Martius, Martius_, wouldst thou in one minute, Blast all thy Laurels, which so many years Thou hast been purchasing with blood and sweat? Hath _Dorigen_ never been written, read, Without the epithet of chast, chast _Dorigen_? And wouldst thou fall upon her chastitie, Like a black drop of ink, to blot it out? When men shall read the records of thy valour, Thy hitherto-brave virtue, and approach (Highly content yet) to this foul assault Included in this leaf, this ominous leaf, They shall throw down the Book, and read no more, Though the best deeds ensue, and all conclude, That ravell'd the whole story, whose sound heart (Which should have been) prov'd the most leprous part.

_Mar._ O! thou confut'st divinely, and thy words Do fall like rods upon me; but they have Such silken lines, and silver hooks, that I Am faster snar'd: my love has ta'en such hold, That (like two wrestlers) though thou stronger be, And hast cast me, I hope to pull thee after. I must, or perish.

_Dor._ Perish, _Martius_, then; For I here vow unto the gods, These rocks, These rocks we see so fix'd, shall be removed, Made champion field, ere I so impious prove, To stain my Lords bed with adulterous love.

_Enter Valerius._

_Val._ The gods protect fair _Dorigen_.

_Dor._ Amen, From all you wolvish Romanes. [_Exit._

_Val._ Ha? what's this? Still, brother, in your moods? O th[e]n my doubts Are truths. Have at it: I must try a way To be resolv'd.

_Mar._ How strangely dost thou look! what ailst thou?

_Val._ What ailst thou?

_Mar._ Why, I 'm mad.

_Val._ Why, I [a]m madder. _Martius_, draw thy sword, And lop a villain from the earth; for if Thou wilt not, on some tree about this place I'll hang my self; _Valerius_ shall not live To wound his brothers honor, stain his Countrey, And branded with ingratitude to all times.

_Mar._ For what can all this be?

_Val._ I [a]m in love.

_Mar._ Why so am I. With whom? ha?

_Val. Dorigen._

_Mar._ With _Dorigen_? how dost thou love her? speak.

_Val._ Even to the height of lust; and I must have her or else I die.

_Mar._ Thou shalt, thou daring Traitor. On all the confines I have rid my horse, Was there no other woman for thy choice But _Dorigen_? Why, villain, she is mine: She makes me pine thus, sullen, mad, and fool; 'T is I must have her, or I die.

_Val._ O all ye gods, With mercy look on this declining rock Of valour, and of virtue; breed not up (From infancie) in honor, to full man, As you have done him, to destroy: here, strike; For I have onely search'd thy wound: dispatch; Far, far be such love from _Valerius_, So far he scorns to live to be call'd brother By him that dares own such folly and such vice.

_Mar._ 'T is truth thou speak'st; but I do hate it: peace, If heaven will snatch my sword out of my hand, And put a rattle in it, what can I do? He that is destin'd to be odious In his old age, must undergo his fate.

_Enter Cornelius and Nichodemus._

_Corn._ If you do not back me, I shall never do't.

_Nich._ I warrant you.

_Corn._ Humh, humh: Sir; my Lord, my Lord.

_Mart._ Hah? what's the matter?

_Corn._ Humh; concerning the odd fifty, my Lord, and 't please your Generality, his Worship, Sir _Nichodemus_.

_Mar._ What's here? a Pass? you would for _Rome_? you lubbers, doth one days laziness make ye covet home? away, ye boarish rogues; ye dogs, away.

_Enter wife._

_Wife._ Oh, oh, oh: How now man, are you satisfi'd?

_Corn._ I, I, I: a ---- o' your Corporal; I 'm paid soundly, I was never better paid in all my life.

_Wife._ Mar[r]y the gods blessing on his honors heart: you have done a charitable deed, Sir, many more such may you live to do, Sir: the gods keep you, Sir, the gods protect you. [_Exit._

_Mar._ These peasants mock me sure (_Valerius_) Forgive my dotage, see my ashes urn'd, And tell fair _Dorigen_, (she that but now Left me with this harsh vow, Sooner these rocks Should be remov'd, then she would yield) that I Was yet so loving, on her gift to die.

_Val._ O _Jupiter_ forbid it, Sir, and grant This my device may certifie thy mind: You are my brother, nor must perish thus: Be comforted: think you fair _Dorigen_ Would yield your wishes, if these envious rocks By skill could be remov'd, or by fallacie She made believe so?

_Mar._ Why, she could not chuse; The _Athenians_ are religious in their vows, Above all nations.

_Val._ Soft, down yonder hill The Lady comes this way, once more to trie her, If she persist in obstinacie: by my skill Learn'd from the old _Caldean_ was my Tutor, Who train'd me in the _Mathematicks_, I will So dazle and delude her sight, that she Shall think this great impossibilitie Effected by some supernatural means. Be confident; this engine shall at least, Till the gods better order, still this brest. [_Exit Valerius._

_Mar._ O my best brother, go; and for reward, Chuse any part o'th' world, I'll give it thee. O little _Rome_, men say thou art a god; Thou mightst have got a fitter fool then I.

_Enter Dorigen._

_Dor._ Art thou there, Basilisk? remove thine eyes, For I'm sick to death with thy infection.

_Mar._ Yet, yet have mercy on me; save him, Lady, Whose single arm defends all _Rome_, whose mercie Hath sav'd thy husband's and thy life.

_Dor._ To spoil Our fame and honors? no, my vow is fixt, And stands, as constant as these stones do, still.

_Mar._ Then pitie me, ye gods; you onely may Move her, by tearing these firm stones a way.

[_Solemn musick._

_A mist ariseth, the rocks remove._

_Enter Valerius like Mercury, singing._

Val. _Martius rejoyce, Jove sends me from above,_ _His Messenger, to cure thy desperate love;_ _To shew rash vows c[a]nnot binde destinie:_ _Lady, behold, the rocks transplanted be._ _Hard-hearted Dorigen, yield, lest for contempt,_ _They fix thee here a rock, whence they 're exempt._

_Dor._ What strange delusion's this? what Sorcery Affrights me with these apparitions? My colder Chastity's nigh turn'd to death. Hence, lewd Magician; dar'st thou make the gods Bawds to thy lust; will they do miracles To further evil? or do they love it now? Know, if they dare do so, I dare hate them, And will no longer serve 'em. _Jupiter_, Thy golden showr, nor thy snow-white Swan, Had I been _Læda_, or bright _Danae_, Had bought mine honor. Turn me into stone For being good, and blush when thou hast done. [_Exit Dorigen._

_Enter Valerius._

_Mar._ O my _Valerius_, all yet will not do; Unless I could so draw mine honestie Down to the lees to be a ravisher; She calls me witch, and villain.

_Val._ Patience, Sir, The gods will punish perjury. Let her breathe And ruminate on this strange sight. Time decays The strongest fairest buildings we can finde; But still _Diana_, fortifie her minde. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Sophocles and Dorigen._

_Soph._ Weep not bright _Dorigen_; for thou hast stood Constant and chaste (it seems 'gainst gods and men) When rocks and mountains were remov'd. These wonders Do stupifie my senses. _Martius_, This is inhumane: was thy sickness lust? Yet were this truth, why weeps she? Jealous soul, What dost thou thus suggest? Vows, Magick, Rocks? Fine tales, and tears. She ne'er complain'd before. I bade her visit him; she often did, Had many opportunities. Humh, 'tis naught: O! No way but this. Come, weep no more, I have ponder'd This miracle: the anger of the gods, Thy vow, my love to thee, and _Martius_: He must not perish, nor thou be forsworn, Lest worse fates follow us; Go, keep thy oath: For chaste, and whore, are words of equal length: But let not _Martius_ know that I consent, O! I'm pull'd in pieces.

_Dor._ I? say you so? I'll meet you in your path. O wretched men! With all your valour and your learning, bubbles. Forgive me, _Sophocles_. Yet why kneel I For pardon, having been but over-diligent, Like an obedient servant, antedating My Lords command? Sir, I have often, and already given This bosom up to his embraces, and Am proud that my dear Lord is pleas'd with it; Whose gentle honorable minde I see Participates even all, his wife and all, Unto his friend. You are sad, Sir. _Martius_ loves me, And I love _Martius_ with such ardencie, As never married couple could: I must Attend him now. My Lord, when you have need To use your own wife, pray Sir send for me; Till then, make use of your Philosophie. [_Exit._

_Soph._ Stay, _Dorigen_: O me, inquisitive fool! Thou that didst order this congested heap When it was Chaos, 'twixt thy spacious palms Forming it to this vast rotundie; Dissolve it now; shuffle the elements, That no one proper by it self may stand: Let the sea quench the sun, and in that instant The sun drink up the sea: day, ne'er come down, To light me to those deeds that must be done. [_Exit._

_Drums and Colours._

_Enter Martius, Valerius, Captains and soldiers, at one_ _door, and Dorigen with Lad[i]es, at another._

_Dor._ Hail, General of _Rome_; from _Sophocles_ That honors _Martius_, _Dorigen_ presents Her self to be dishonour'd: do thy will; For _Sophocles_ commands me to obey. Come, violate all rules of holiness, And rend the consecrated knot of love.

_Mar._ Never, _Valerius_, was I blest till now: Behold the end of all my weary steps, The prize of all my Battels: leave us all; Leave us as quick as thought. Thus joy begin, In zealous love a minutes loss is sin.

_Val._ Can _Martius_ be so vile? or _Dorigen_?

_Dor._ Stay, stay, and monster, keep thou further of; I thought thy brave soul would have much, much loath'd To have gone on still on such terms as this. See, thou ungrateful, since thy desperate lust Nothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee, Whilst my chaste name lives to posterity.