SCENE III.

_A chamber in the Duke's Palace._

_Enter_ MAQUERELLE, EMILIA, _and_ BIANCA, _with a posset_.

_Maq._ Even here it is, three curds in three regions individually distinct, most methodically[439] according to art compos'd, without any drink.

_Bian._ Without any drink!

_Maq._ Upon my honour. Will ye sit and eat?

_Emil._ Good, the composure: the receipt, how is't?

_Maq._ 'Tis a pretty pearl; by this pearl (how does't with me?) thus it is. Seven and thirty yolks of Barbary hens' eggs; eighteen spoonfuls and a half of the juice of cock-sparrow bones; one ounce, three drams, four scruples, and one quarter of the syrup of Ethiopian dates; sweetened with three quarters of a pound of pure candied Indian eringoes; strewed over with the powder of pearl of America, amber of Cataia, and lamb-stones of Muscovia. 15

_Bian._ Trust me, the ingredients are very cordial, and, no question, good, and most powerful in restauration.[440]

_Maq._ I know not what you mean by restauration; but this it doth,--it purifieth the blood, smootheth the skin, enliveneth the eye, strengtheneth the veins, mundifieth the teeth, comforteth the stomach, fortifieth the back, and quickeneth the wit; that's all. 22

_Emil._ By my troth, I have eaten but two spoonfuls, and methinks I could discourse most swiftly and wittily already.

_Maq._ Have you the art to seem honest?

_Bian._ Ay, thank advice and practice. 27

_Maq._ Why, then, eat me o' this posset, quicken your blood, and preserve your beauty. Do you know Doctor Plaster-face? by this curd, he is the most exquisite in forging of veins, sprightening of eyes, dying of hair, sleeking of skins, blushing of cheeks, surphling[441] of breasts, blanching and bleaching of teeth, that ever made an old lady gracious by torchlight; by this curd, la.

_Bian._ Well,[442] we are resolved, what God has given us we'll cherish. 36

_Maq._ Cherish anything saving your husband; keep him not too high, lest he leap the pale: but, for your beauty, let it be your saint; bequeath two hours to it every morning in your closet. I ha' been young, and yet, in my conscience, I am not above five-and-twenty: but, believe me, preserve and use your beauty; for youth and beauty once gone, we are like bee-hives without honey, out-o'-fashion apparel that no man will wear: therefore use me your beauty. 45

_Emil._ Ay, but men say--

_Maq._ Men say! let men say what they will: life o' woman! they are ignorant of our[443] wants. The more in years, the more in perfection they grow; if they lose youth and beauty, they gain wisdom and discretion: but when our beauty fades, good-night with us. There cannot be an uglier thing than to see an old woman: from which, O pruning, pinching, and painting, deliver all sweet beauties! 54

[_Music within._

_Bian._ Hark! music!

_Maq._ Peace, 'tis i' the duchess' bed-chamber. Good rest, most prosperously-graced ladies.

_Emil._ Good night, sentinel.

_Bian._ Night, dear Maquerelle.

_Maq._ May my posset's operation send you my wit and honesty; and me, your youth and beauty: the pleasingest rest! 62

[_Exeunt, at one door_, BIANCA _and_ EMILIA; _at another_ MAQUERELLE.

_A Song within._

_Whilst the song is singing, enter_ MENDOZA _with his sword drawn, standing ready to murder_ FERNEZE _as he flies from the duchess' chamber.--Tumult within._

[_Within._] Strike, strike!

[_Aur. within._] Save my Ferneze! O, save my Ferneze!

[_Within._] Follow, pursue!

[_Aur. within._] O, save Ferneze!

_Enter_ FERNEZE _in his shirt, and is received upon_ MENDOZA'S _sword_.

_Men._ Pierce, pierce!--Thou shallow fool, drop there!

[_Thrusts his rapier in_ FERNEZE.

He that attempts a princess' lawless love Must have broad hands, close heart, with Argus' eyes, And back of Hercules, or else he dies. 70

_Enter_ AURELIA, PIETRO, FERRARDO, BILIOSO, CELSO, _and_ EQUATO.

_All._ Follow, follow!

_Men._ Stand off, forbear, ye most uncivil lords!

_Pietro._ Strike!

_Men._ Do not; tempt not a man resolv'd:

[MENDOZA _bestrides the wounded body of_ FERNEZE, _and seems to save him_.

Would you, inhuman murderers, more than death?

_Aur._ O poor Ferneze!

_Men._ Alas, now all defence too late!

_Aur._ He's dead.

_Pietro._ I am sorry for our shame.--Go to your bed: Weep not too much, but leave some tears to shed When I am dead. 81

_Aur._ What, weep for thee! my soul no tears shall find.

_Pietr._ Alas, alas, that women's souls are blind!

_Men._ Betray such beauty! Murder such youth! contemn civility! He loves him not that rails not at him.

_Pietro._ Thou canst not move us: we have blood enough.-- And please you, lady, we have quite forgot All your defects: if not, why, then--

_Aur._ Not.

_Pietro._ Not: the best of rest: good-night. 90

[_Exeunt_ PIETRO, FERRARDO, BILIOSO, CELSO, _and_ EQUATO.

_Aur._ Despite go with thee!

_Men._ Madam, you ha' done me foul disgrace; you have wronged him much loves you too much: go to, your soul knows you have.

_Aur._ I think I have.

_Men._ Do you but think so?

_Aur._ Nay, sure, I have: my eyes have witnessed thy love: thou hast stood too firm for me.

_Men._ Why, tell me, fair-cheeked lady, who even in tears art powerfully beauteous, what unadvised passion struck ye into such a violent heat against me? Speak, what mischief wronged us? what devil injured us? speak. 103

_Aur._ The thing ne'er worthy of the name of man, Ferneze; Ferneze swore thou lov'[d]st Emilia; Which to advance, with most reproachful breath Thou both didst blemish and denounce my love.

_Men._ Ignoble villain! did I for this bestride Thy wounded limbs? for[444] this, rank opposite Even to my sovereign? for this, O God, for this, 110 Sunk all my hopes, and with my hopes my life? Ripp'd bare my throat unto the hangman's axe?-- Thou most dishonoured trunk!--Emilia! By life, I know her not--Emilia!-- Did you believe him?

_Aur._ Pardon me, I did.

_Men._ Did you? and thereupon you gracèd him?

_Aur._ I did.

_Men._ Took him to favour, nay, even clasp'd with him?

_Aur._ Alas, I did!

_Men._ This night? 120

_Aur._ This night.

_Men._ And in your lustful twines the duke took you?

_Aur._ A most sad truth.

_Men._ O God, O God! how we dull honest souls, Heavy-brain'd men, are swallow'd in the bogs Of a deceitful ground! whilst nimble bloods, Light-jointed spirits speed;[445] cut good men's throats, And 'scape. Alas, I am too honest for this age, Too full of fleam and heavy steadiness; Stood still whilst this slave cast a noose about me; 130 Nay, then to stand in honour of him and her, Who had even slic'd my heart!

_Aur._ Come, I did err, And am most sorry I did err.

_Men._ Why, we are both but dead: the duke hates us; And those whom princes do once groundly hate, Let them provide to die, as sure as fate. Prevention is the heart of policy.

_Aur._ Shall we murder him?

_Men._ Instantly?

_Aur._ Instantly; before he casts a plot, 140 Or further blaze my honour's much-known blot, Let's murder him.

_Men._ I would do much for you: will ye marry me?

_Aur._ I'll make thee duke. We are of Medicis; Florence our friend; in court my faction Not meanly strengthful; the duke then dead; We well prepar'd for change; the multitude Irresolutely reeling; we in force; Our party seconded; the kingdom maz'd; No doubt of swift success all shall be grac'd. 150

_Men._ You do confirm me; we are resolute: To-morrow look for change; rest confident. 'Tis now about the immodest waist of night: The mother of moist dew with pallid light Spreads gloomy shades about the numbèd earth. Sleep, sleep, whilst we contrive our mischief's birth. This man I'll get inhum'd. Farewell: to bed; Ay, kiss thy[446] pillow, dream the duke is dead. So, so, good night.

[_Exit_ AURELIA.

How fortune dotes on impudence! I am in private the adopted son 160 Of yon good prince: I must be duke; why, if I must, I must. Most silly lord, name me! O heaven! I see God made honest fools to maintain crafty knaves. The duchess is wholly mine too; must kill her husband To quit her shame; much![447] then marry her: ay. O, I grow proud in prosperous treachery! As wrestlers clip, so I'll embrace you all, Not to support, but to procure your fall.

_Enter_ MALEVOLE.

_Mal._ God arrest thee! 170

_Men._ At whose suit?

_Mal._ At the devil's. Ah, you treacherous, damnable monster, how dost? how dost, thou treacherous rogue? Ah, ye rascal! I am banished the court, sirrah.

_Men._ Prithee, let's be acquainted; I do love thee, faith.

_Mal._ At your service, by the Lord, la: shall's go to supper? Let's be once drunk together, and so unite a most virtuously-strengthened friendship: shall's, Huguenot? shall's? 180

_Men._ Wilt fall upon my chamber to-morrow morn?

_Mal._ As a raven to a dunghill. They say there's one dead here; pricked for the pride of the flesh.

_Men._ Ferneze: there he is; prithee, bury him.

_Mal._ O, most willingly: I mean to turn pure Rochelle[448] churchman, I.

_Men._ Thou churchman! why, why?

_Mal._ Because I'll live lazily, rail upon authority, deny kings' supremacy in things indifferent, and be a pope in mine own parish. 190

_Men._ Wherefore dost thou think churches were made?

_Mal._ To scour plough-shares: I ha'[449] seen oxen plough up altars; _et nunc seges ubi Sion fuit_.[450]

_Men._ Strange!

_Mal._ Nay, monstrous! I ha' seen a sumptuous steeple turned to a stinking privy; more beastly, the sacredest place made a dogs' kennel; nay, most inhuman, the stoned coffins of long-dead Christians burst up, and made hogs' troughs: _hic finis Priami_.[451] Shall I ha' some sack and cheese at thy chamber? Good night, good mischievous incarnate devil; good night, Mendoza; ah, ye inhuman villain, good night! night, fub. 202

_Men._ Goodnight: to-morrow morn?

_Mal._ Ay, I will come, friendly damnation, I will come. [_Exit_ MENDOZA.] I do descry cross-points; honesty and courtship straddle as far asunder as a true Frenchman's legs.

_Fer._ O!

_Mal._ Proclamations! more proclamations!

_Fer._ O! a surgeon! 210

_Mal._ Hark! lust cries for a surgeon. What news from Limbo? how does[452] the grand cuckold, Lucifer?

_Fer._ O, help, help! conceal and save me.

[FERNEZE _stirs, and_ MALEVOLE _helps him up_.

_Mal._ Thy shame more than thy wounds do grieve me far: Thy wounds but leave upon thy flesh some scar; But fame ne'er heals, still rankles worse and worse; Such is of uncontrollèd lust the curse. Think what it is in lawless sheets to lie; But, O Ferneze, what in lust to die! Then thou that shame respect'st, O, fly converse 220 With women's eyes and lisping wantonness! Stick candles 'gainst a virgin wall's white back, If they not burn, yet at the least they'll black. Come, I'll convey thee to a private port, Where thou shalt live (O happy man!) from court. The beauty of the day begins to rise, From whose bright form night's heavy shadow flies. Now 'gin close plots to work; the scene grows full, And craves his eyes who hath a solid skull.

[_Exit, conveying_ FERNEZE _away_.

[439] Ed. 2. "methodicall."

[440] Some copies of ed. 1. "operation."

[441] Washing with cosmetics.

[442] Ed. 2. "We."

[443] Ed. 2. "your."

[444] "For this ... sovereign."--These words are omitted in ed. 2.

[445] Dodsley's correction.--Ed. 1. "pent;" ed. 2. "spent."

[446] Ed. 2. "the."

[447] Ironical exclamation.

[448] At this time Rochelle was an asylum for persecuted Protestants.

[449] Ed. 2. "have."

[450] "Jam seges est ubi Troja fuit."--Ovid, _Her. Epist._ i. 53.

[451] "Hæc finis Priami fatorum."--Virgil, _Æn._ ii. 554.

[452] Ed. 2. "dooth."