SCENE I.[4107

[_Enter_ LORD] LOVELL, LADY ALLWORTH, _and_ AMBLE.

_L. All._ By this you know how strong the motives were That did, my lord, induce me to dispense A little with my gravity to advance, In personating some few favours to him, The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn. 5 Nor shall I e’er repent, although I suffer In some few men’s opinions for ’t, the action: For he that ventur’d all for my dear husband Might justly claim an obligation from me To pay him such a courtesy; which had I 10 Coyly or over-curiously[4108] denied, It might have argu’d me of little love To the deceas’d.

_Lov._ What you intended, madam, For the poor gentleman hath found good success; For, as I understand, his debts are paid, 15 And he once more furnished for fair employment: But all the arts that I have us’d to raise The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth, Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well; For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant Than their years can promise; and for their desires, 21 On my knowledge, they are equal.

_L. All._ As my wishes Are with yours, my lord; yet give me leave to fear The building, though well grounded: to deceive Sir Giles, that’s both a lion and a fox 25 In his proceedings, were a work beyond The strongest undertakers; not the trial Of two weak innocents.

_Lov._ Despair not, madam: Hard things are compass’d oft by easy means; And judgment, being a gift deriv’d from Heaven, 30 Though sometimes lodg’d i’ th’ hearts of worldly men, That ne’er consider from whom they receive it, Forsakes such as abuse the giver of it. Which is the reason that the politic And cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms 35 The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth, Is by simplicity oft over-reach’d.

_L. All._ May he be so! Yet, in his name to express it, Is a good omen.

_Lov._ May it to myself Prove so, good lady, in my suit to you! 40 What think you of the motion?

_L. All._ Troth, my lord, My own unworthiness may answer for me; For had you, when that I was in my prime, My virgin flower uncropp’d, presented me With this great favour; looking on my lowness Not in a glass of self-love, but of truth, 46 I could not but have thought it as a blessing Far, far beyond my merit.

_Lov._ You are too modest, And undervalue that which is above My title, or whatever I call mine. 50 I grant, were I a Spaniard, to marry A widow might disparage me; but being A true-born Englishman, I cannot find How it can taint my honour: nay, what ’s more, That which you think a blemish is to me 55 The fairest lustre. You already, madam, Have given sure proofs how dearly you can cherish A husband that deserves you; which confirms me That, if I am not wanting in my care To do you service, you ’ll be still the same 60 That you were to your Allworth: in a word, Our years, our states, our births are not unequal, You being descended nobly, and alli’d so; If then you may be won to make me happy, But join your lips to mine, and that shall be 65 A solemn contract.

_L. All._ I were blind to my own good Should I refuse it; [_kisses him_] yet, my lord, receive me As such a one, the study of whose whole life Shall know no other object but to please you.

_Lov._ If I return not, with all tenderness, 70 Equal respect to you, may I die wretched!

_L. All._ There needs no protestation, my lord. To her that cannot doubt,— _Enter_ WELLBORN [_handsomely apparelled_.] You are welcome, sir. Now you look like yourself.

_Well._ And will continue Such in my free acknowledgment that I am 75 Your creature, madam, and will never hold My life mine own, when you please to command it.

_Lov._ It is a thankfulness that well becomes you. You could not make choice of a better shape To dress your mind in.

_L. All._ For me, I am happy 80 That my endeavours prosper’d. Saw you of late Sir Giles, your uncle?

_Well._ I heard of him, madam, By his minister, Marrall; he ’s grown into strange passions About his daughter. This last night he look’d for Your lordship at his house, but missing you, 85 And she not yet appearing, his wise head Is much perplex’d and troubl’d.

_Lov._ It may be, Sweetheart, my project took.

_L. All._ I strongly hope.

_Over._ [_within._] Ha! find her, booby, thou huge lump of nothing, I ’ll bore thine eyes out else.

_Well._ May it please your lordship, 90 For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw A little out of sight, though not of hearing, You may, perhaps, have sport.

_Lov._ You shall direct me. _Steps aside._

_Enter_ OVERREACH, _with distracted looks, driving in_ MARRALL _before him_ [_with a box_].[4109]

_Over._ I shall _sol fa_ you, rogue!

_Mar._ Sir, for what cause Do you use me thus?

_Over._ Cause, slave! Why, I am angry, 95 And thou a subject only fit for beating, And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing; Let but the seal be broke upon the box That hast slept in my cabinet these three years, I ’ll rack thy soul for ’t.

_Mar._ (_Aside._) I may yet cry quittance, 100 Though now I suffer, and dare not resist.

_Over._ Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter lady? And the lord her husband? Are they in your house? If they are, discover, that I may bid ’em joy; And, as an entrance to her place of honour, 105 See your ladyship be on her left hand, and make courtesies When she nods on you; which you must receive As a special favour.

_L. All._ When I know, Sir Giles, Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it; But in the meantime, as I am myself, 110 I give you to understand, I neither know Nor care where her honour is.

_Over._ When you once see her Supported, and led by the lord her husband, You ’ll be taught better.——Nephew.

_Well._ Sir.

_Over._ No more?

_Well._ ’T is all I owe you.

_Over._ Have your redeem’d rags 115 Made you thus insolent?

_Well._ (_in scorn._) Insolent to you! Why, what are you, sir, unless in your years, At the best, more than myself?

_Over._ [_Aside._] His fortune swells him. ’T is rank[4110] he ’s married.

_L. All._ This is excellent!

_Over._ Sir, in calm language, though I seldom use it, 120 I am familiar with the cause that makes you Bear up thus bravely; there ’s a certain buzz Of a stol’n marriage, do you hear? of a stol’n marriage, In which, ’t is said, there ’s somebody hath been cozen’d; I name no parties.

_Well._ Well, sir, and what follows? 125

_Over._ Marry, this; since you are peremptory. Remember, Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you A thousand pounds: put me in good security, And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute, 129 Of some of your new possessions, or I ’ll have you Dragg’d in your lavender robes[4111] to the goal. You know me, And therefore do not trifle.

_Well._ Can you be So cruel to your nephew, now he ’s in The way to rise? Was this the courtesy You did me “in pure love, and no ends else?”

_Over._ End me no ends! Engage the whole estate, 136 And force your spouse to sign it, you shall have Three or four thousand more, to roar and swagger And revel in bawdy taverns.

_Well._ And beg after; Mean you not so?

_Over._ My thoughts are mine, and free. 140 Shall I have security?

_Well._ No, indeed, you shall not, Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment; Your great looks fright not me.

_Over._ But my deeds shall. Outbrav’d! _Both draw._

_L. All._ Help, murder! murder!

_Enter_ Servants.

_Well._ Let him come on. With all his wrongs and injuries about him, 145 Arm’d with his cut-throat practices to guard him; The right that I bring with me will defend me, And punish his extortion.

_Over._ That I had thee But single in the field!

_L. All._ You may; but make not My house your quarrelling scene.

_Over._ Were ’t in a church, 150 By Heaven and Hell, I ’ll do ’t!

_Mar._ Now put him to The shewing of the deed. [_Aside to_ WELLBORN.]

_Well._ This rage is vain, sir; For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands full, Upon the least incitement; and whereas You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, 155 If there be law, (howe’er you have no conscience,) Either restore my land or I ’ll recover A debt, that ’s truly due to me from you, In value ten times more than what you challenge.

_Over._ I in thy debt! O impudence! did I not purchase 160 The land left by thy father, that rich land, That had continued in Wellborn’s name Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool, Thou didst make sale of it? Is not here inclos’d The deed that does confirm it mine?

_Mar._ Now, now! 165

_Well._ I do acknowledge none; I ne’er pass’d o’er Any such land. I grant for a year or two You had it in trust; which if you do discharge, Surrend’ring the possession, you shall ease Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law, 170 Which, if you prove not honest, as I doubt it, Must of necessity follow.

_L. All._ In my judgment, He does advise you well.

_Over._ Good! good! Conspire With your new husband, lady; second him In his dishonest practices; but when 175 This manor is extended[4112] to my use, You ’ll speak in humbler key, and sue for favour.

_L. All._ Never: do not hope it.

_Well._ Let despair first seize me.

_Over._ Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give Thyself the lie, the loud lie, I draw out 180 The precious evidence; if thou canst forswear Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of _Opens the box_ [_and displays the bond_]. Thy ears to the pillory, see! here ’s that will make My interest clear—ha!

_L. All._ A fair skin of parchment.

_Well._ Indented, I confess, and labels too; 185 But neither wax nor words. How! thunderstruck? Not a syllable to insult with? My wise uncle, Is this your precious evidence? Is this that makes Your interest clear?

_Over._ I am o’erwhelm’d with wonder! What prodigy is this? What subtle devil 190 Hath raz’d out the inscription, the wax Turn’d into dust? The rest of my deeds whole As when they were deliver’d, and this only Made nothing! Do you deal with witches, rascal? There is a statute[4113] for you, which will bring 195 Your neck in an hempen circle; yes, there is; And now ’t is better thought for, cheater, know This juggling shall not save you.

_Well._ To save thee Would beggar the stock of mercy.

_Over._ Marrall!

_Mar._ Sir.

_Over._ (_flattering him._) Though the witnesses are dead, your testimony 200 Help with an oath or two: and for thy master, Thy liberal master, my good honest servant, I know thou wilt swear anything, to dash This cunning sleight: besides, I know thou art A public notary, and such stand in law 205 For a dozen witnesses: the deed being drawn too By thee, my careful Marrall, and deliver’d When thou wert present, will make good my title. Wilt thou not swear this?

_Mar._ I! No, I assure you: 209 I have a conscience not sear’d up like yours; I know no deeds.

_Over._ Wilt thou betray me?

_Mar._ Keep him From using of his hands, I ’ll use my tongue, To his no little torment.

_Over._ Mine own varlet Rebel against me!

_Mar._ Yes, and uncase[4114] you too. “The idiot, the patch, the slave, the booby, 215 The property fit only to be beaten For your morning exercise,” your “football,” or “Th’ unprofitable lump of flesh,” your “drudge,” Can now anatomise you, and lay open 219 All your black plots, and level with the earth Your hill of pride, and, with these gabions[4115] guarded Unload my great artillery, and shake, Nay pulverize, the walls you think defend you.

_L. All._ How he foams at the mouth with rage!

_Well._ To him again.

_Over._ O that I had thee in my gripe, I would tear thee 225 Joint after joint!

_Mar._ I know you are a tearer, But I ’ll have first your fangs par’d off, and then Come nearer to you; when I have discover’d,[4116] And made it good before the judge, what ways And devilish practices you us’d to cozen 230 With an army of whole families, who yet live, And, but enroll’d for soldiers, were able To take in[4117] Dunkirk.

_Well._ All will come out.

_L. All._ The better.

_Over._ But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee, 234 And make thee wish, and kneel in vain, to die, These swords that keep thee from me should fix here, Although they made my body but one wound, But I would reach thee.

_Lov._ (_Aside._) Heaven’s hand is in this; One bandog[4118] worry the other!

_Over._ I play the fool, And make my anger but ridiculous; 240 There will be a time and place, there will be, cowards, When you shall feel what I dare do.

_Well._ I think so: You dare do any ill, yet want true valour To be honest, and repent.

_Over._ They are words I know not, Nor e’er will learn. Patience, the beggar’s virtue, 245 _Enter_ GREEDY _and_ PARSON WILLDO. Shall find no harbour here:—after these storms At length a calm appears. Welcome, most welcome! There ’s comfort in thy looks. Is the deed done? Is my daughter married? Say but so, my chaplain, And I am tame.

_Willdo._ Married! Yes I assure you. 250

_Over._ Then vanish all sad thoughts! There ’s more gold for thee. My doubts and fears are in the titles drown’d Of my honourable, my right honourable daughter.

_Greedy._ Here will[4119] be feasting! At least for a month I am provided: empty guts, croak no more. 255 You shall be stuff’d like bagpipes, not with wind, But bearing[4120] dishes.

_Over._ Instantly be here? (_Whispering to_ WILLDO.) To my wish! to my wish! Now you that plot against me, And hop’d to trip my heels up, that contemn’d me, Think on ’t and tremble.—(_Loud music_)—They come! I hear the music. 260 A lane there for my lord!

_Well._ This sudden heat May yet be cool’d, sir.

_Over._ Make way there for my lord!

_Enter_ ALLWORTH _and_ MARGARET.

_Marg._ Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing, with Your full allowance of the choice I have made. As ever you could make use of your reason, _Kneeling._ 265 Grow not in passion; since you may as well Call back the day that ’s past, as untie the knot Which is too strongly fasten’d. Not to dwell Too long on words, this is my husband.

_Over._ How! 269

_All._ So I assure you; all the rites of marriage, With every circumstance, are past. Alas! sir, Although I am no lord, but a lord’s page, Your daughter and my lov’d wife mourns not for it: And, for right honourable son-in-law, you may say, Your dutiful daughter.

_Over._ Devil! are they married? 275

_Willdo._ Do a father’s part, and say, “Heaven give ’em joy!”

_Over._ Confusion and ruin! Speak, and speak quickly, Or thou art dead.

_Willdo._ They are married.

_Over._ Thou hadst better Have made a contract with the king of fiends, Than these:—my brain turns!

_Willdo._ Why this rage to me? 280 Is not this your letter, sir, and these the words? “Marry her to this gentleman.”

_Over._ It cannot— Nor will I e’er believe it; ’sdeath! I will not; That I, that in all passages I touch’d At worldly profit have not left a print 285 Where I have trod for the most curious search To trace my footsteps, should be gull’d by children, Baffl’d and fool’d, and all my hopes and labours Defeated and made void.

_Well._ As it appears, You are so, my grave uncle.

_Over._ Village nurses 290 Revenge their wrongs with curses; I ’ll not waste A syllable, but thus I take the life Which, wretched, I gave to thee. _Offers to kill_ MARGARET.

_Lov._ [_coming forward._] Hold, for your own sake! Though charity to your daughter hath quite left you, 295 Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter? Consider; at the best you are but a man. And cannot so create your aims but that They may be cross’d.

_Over._ Lord! thus I spit at thee, 300 And at thy counsel; and again desire thee, And as thou art a soldier, if thy valour Dares shew itself where multitude and example Lead not the way, let’s quit the house, and change Six words in private.

_Lov._ I am ready.

_L. All._ Stay, sir, 305 Contest with one distracted!

_Well._ You ’ll grow like him, Should you answer his vain challenge.

_Over._ Are you pale? Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds, I ’ll stand against both as I am, hemm’d in thus. Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil, 310 My fury cannot reach the coward hunters, And only spends itself, I ’ll quit the place. Alone I can do nothing; but I have servants And friends to second me; and if I make not This house a heap of ashes (by my wrongs, 315 What I have spoke I will make good!) or leave One throat uncut,—if it be possible, Hell, add to my afflictions! _Exit._

_Mar._ Is ’t not brave sport?

_Greedy._ Brave sport! I am sure it has ta’en away my stomach; I do not like the sauce.

_All._ Nay, weep not, dearest, 320 Though it express your pity; what ’s decreed Above, we cannot alter.

_L. All._ His threats move me No scruple, madam.

_Mar._ Was it not a rare trick An it please your worship, to make the deed nothing? I can do twenty neater, if you please 325 To purchase and grow rich, for I will be Such a solicitor and steward for you, As never worshipful had.

_Well._ I do believe thee; But first discover the quaint[4121] means you us’d To raze out the conveyance?

_Mar._ They are mysteries 330 Not to be spoke in public: certain minerals Incorporated in the ink and wax— Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me With hopes and blows; but that was the inducement 334 To this conundrum. If it please your worship To call to memory, this mad beast once caus’d me To urge you or to drown or hang yourself; I ’ll do the like to him, if you command me.

_Well._ You are a rascal! He that dares be false 339 To a master, though unjust, will ne’er be true To any other. Look not for reward Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight As I would do a basilisk’s. Thank my pity If thou keep thy ears; howe’er, I will take order Your practice shall be silenc’d.

_Greedy._ I ’ll commit him, 345 If you ’ll have me, sir.

_Well._ That were to little purpose; His conscience be his prison. Not a word, But instantly be gone.

_Ord._ Take this kick with you.

_Amb._ And this.

_Furn._ If that I had my cleaver here, I would divide your knave’s head.

_Mar._ This is the haven 350 False servants still arrive at. _Exit._

_Re-enter_ OVERREACH.

_L. All._ Come again!

_Lov._ Fear not, I am your guard.

_Well._ His looks are ghastly.

_Willdo._ Some little time I have spent, under your favours, In physical studies, and if my judgment err not, He ’s mad beyond recovery: but observe him, And look to yourselves.

_Over._ Why, is not the whole world Included in myself? To what use then 357 Are friends and servants? Say there were a squadron Of pikes, lin’d through with shot, when I am mounted Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge ’em? No: I ’ll through the battalia, and, that routed, _Flourishing his sword sheathed._[4122] I ’ll fall to execution—Ha! I am feeble: 362 Some undone widow sits upon mine arm, And takes away the use of ’t; and my sword, Glu’d to my scabbard with wronged orphans’ tears, 365 Will not be drawn. Ha! what are these? Sure, hangmen That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me Before the judgment-seat: now they are new shapes, And do appear like Furies, with steel whips 369 To scourge my ulcerous soul. Shall I then fall Ingloriously, and yield? No; spite of Fate, I will be forc’d to hell like to myself. Though you were legions of accursed spirits, Thus would I fly among you. [_Rushes forward and flings himself on the ground._]

_Well._ There ’s no help; Disarm him first, then bind him.

_Greedy._ Take a _mittimus_.[4123] 375 And carry him to Bedlam.

_Lov._ How he foams!

_Well._ And bites the earth!

_Willdo._ Carry him to some dark room, There try what art can do for his recovery.

_Marg._ O my dear father! _They force_ OVERREACH _off._

_All._ You must be patient, mistress.

_Lov._ Here is a precedent to teach wicked men 380 That when they leave religion, and turn atheists, Their own abilities leave ’em. Pray you take comfort, I will endeavour you shall be his guardians In his distractions: and for your land, Master Wellborn, Be it good or ill in law, I ’ll be an umpire 385 Between you, and this, th’ undoubted heir Of Sir Giles Overreach. For me, here ’s the anchor That I must fix on.

_All._ What you shall determine, My lord, I will allow of.

_Well._ ’T is the language 389 That I speak too; but there is something else Beside the repossession of my land, And payment of my debts, that I must practise. I had a reputation, but ’t was lost In my loose course, and until I redeem it Some noble way, I am but half made up. 395 It is a time of action; if your lordship Will please to confer a company upon me In your command, I doubt not in my service To my king and country but I shall do something That may make me right again.

_Lov._ Your suit is granted 400 And you lov’d for the motion.

_Well._ [_coming forward._] Nothing wants then But your allowance—

THE EPILOGUE

But your allowance, and in that our all Is comprehended; it being known, nor we, Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free 405 Without your manumission; which if you Grant willingly, as a fair favour due To the poet’s and our labours, (as you may, For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play.) We jointly shall profess your grace hath might To teach us action, and him how to write. [_Exeunt._] 411

THE BROKEN HEART

BY JOHN FORD

THE SPEAKERS’ NAMES FITTED TO THEIR QUALITIES

AMYCLAS, _Common to the Kings of Laconia_. ITHOCLES, _Honour of loveliness_, a Favourite. ORGILUS, _Angry_, son to Crotolon. BASSANES, _Vexation_, a jealous Nobleman. ARMOSTES, _an Appeaser_, a Councillor of State. CROTOLON, _Noise_, another Councillor. PROPHILUS, _Dear_, Friend to Ithocles. NEARCHUS, _Young Prince_, Prince of Argos. TECNICUS, _Artist_, a Philosopher. HEMOPHIL, _Glutton_, } GRONEAS, _Tavern-haunter_,} two Courtiers. AMELUS, _Trusty_, Friend to Nearchus. PHULAS, _Watchful_, Servant to Bassanes. Lords, Courtiers, Officers, Attendants, etc.

CALANTHA, _Flower of beauty_, the King’s Daughter. PENTHEA, _Complaint_, Sister to Ithocles [and Wife to Bassanes]. EUPHRANEA, _Joy_, a Maid of honour [Daughter to Crotolon]. CHRISTALLA, _Christal_, } PHILEMA, _A Kiss_, } Maids of honour. GRAUSIS,[4124] _Old Beldam_, Overseer of Penthea.

PERSONS INCLUDED.

THRASUS, _Fierceness_, Father of Ithocles. APLOTES, _Simplicity_, Orgilus so disguised.

SCENE—_Sparta_.

PROLOGUE

Our scene is Sparta. He whose best of art Hath drawn this piece calls it THE BROKEN HEART. The title lends no expectation here Of apish laughter, or of some lame jeer At place or persons; no pretended clause Of jests fit for a brothel courts applause From vulgar admiration: such low songs, Tun’d to unchaste ears, suit not modest tongues. The Virgin Sisters then deserv’d fresh bays When Innocence and Sweetness crown’d their lays; Then vices gasp’d for breath, whose whole commerce Was whipp’d to exile by unblushing verse. This law we keep in our presentment now, Not to take freedom more than we allow; What may be here thought fiction,[4125] when time’s youth Wanted some riper years, was known a truth: In which, if words have cloth’d the subject right, You may partake a pity with delight.