A Collection Of Old English Plays, Vol. IV.
by
Editor: A.H. Bullen
Part 5 out of 9
_Tread_. Nowe my suite.
_Raph_. Nor are my expectations yet at heighte
Before my frend bee equally made blest
In this fayer damsell's love.
_Tread_. To accomplishe which
If all the wealth that I injoye by land,
Or what at Sea's in ventur, will but purchase
With her release a tye of love to mee,
This hower it shalbe tenderd.
_Ashb_. Offer'd fayrely;
But knwe, syr, could you winne her to your wishes,
She shall not lyke a bondemaide come to ye;
Fyve hundred crownes are tenderd downe all redy
(Unknowne to her) for her free liberty.
_Scrib_. This is a Juberly, a yeare of Joy,
For chastity and spotles Inocens.
_Tread_. Shall I intreate you to receive them backe?
Lett it bee made my woorke of charity.
_Ashb_. I knowe you woorthy, but that must not bee;
Yet proove her, court her, with my free consent
And use the best love's rethorick you can:
If with the motion shee rest satisfied,
And you pleas'd to accept her, it shall never
Bee sayde you tooke a captyve to your bedd
But a free woman.
_Tread_. Nobly have you spoake.
_Raph_. Fayre _Mirable_, the fyrst thinge I intreate you
In which to expresse your love, speake for my frend.
_Mir_. And with my best of Oratory.
_Raph_.[157] Weel be all
Assistants in the motion.
_Ashb_. If you prevayle,
I in the absens of som nearer frend
Have vowed to stand her father.
_Clowne_. Now, Sir, I have showed him you, but are you ever the wyser?
_Thom. Ash_. Peace, I am somwhat trobled. Oh tis hee,
My brother; and those rude and violent gusts
That to this strange Road thrust my shipp per force,
And I but late for new disasters curst,
Have with there light winges mounted mee aloft,
And for a haven in heaven new harbord mee.
Yet they but feede upon theire knowne delights;
Anon I'l make them surfett.
_Scrib_. If to this frendly fayer society,
I, a poore desolate virgin, so much bownd,
Should putt you off with delatory trifles
When you importune answer, t'would appeare
In mee strange incivility: I am yours
And, beeinge so, therefore consequently his.
_Ashb_. A match then! but, ere further you proceede,
Resolve mee one thinge, _Mildewe_,--not as thou art
Thyself, but as thou once weart made a Christian,--
Knowest thou this made's descent, and parentadge?
_Mild_. I will resolve you lyke a convertite,[158]
Not as the man I was: I knew there byrthes,
But for myne owne gayne kept them still conceal'd.
_Ashb_. Now as thou hop'st of grace--
_Mild_. The nurse late dead
That had these too in chardge, betrayde a shipboord
And ravisht from her coontry, ere she expyr'd
Nam'd her the doughter of _Jhon Ashburne_, marchant.
Her I _Palestra_ cal'd, shee _Mirable_;
That, _Winefryde_, doughter to _Thomas Ashburne_
Brother to the sayde _Jhon_, I cal'd _Scribonia_.
They too are coosin germans.
_Ashb_. This our neece?
_Thom_. My doughter?
_Pal_. Partners in sorrowe, and so neere allyde,
And wee till nowe neare knewe it!
_Scrib_. My deere coosin.
_Ashb_. Nay, I'l bee my woords mayster; reache your hands,
And thoughe no nearer then an Unkle, once
I'l playe the father's part.
_Thom_. Praye hold your hand, Syr;
Heares one that will doo't for you.
_Ash_. Brother _Thomas_!
_Thom_. Peruse that letter, whilst I breathe these Joys,
Impartinge these a most unlimitted love
In equall distribution, doughter, neece,
Brother, and frends; lett mee devyde amongst you
A fathers, brothers, and a kinsman's yoake
With all th'unmeasured pleasures and delights
That thought of man can wishe you.
_Ashb_. Spare reply.
These tell mee, that those bloodhounds who pursude
My fall, my oppressinge creditors I meane,
Are gone before to answer for my wronges,
And in there deathes with due acknowledgment
Of all theire violens doon mee; peace with them!
That lykewyse by the deathe of a ritche alderman,
My unkle, I am left a fayer estate
In land, eight hundred by the yeare, in coyne
Twenty fyve thousand pound. Make mee, oh heaven,
For this greate blessinge gratefull! and not least
To you my Indeer'd brother.
_Thom_. One thinge woonders mee
That I should fynd you neare _Marcellis_ heare,
When I was aym'd for _Florens_; where your letters
Inform'd mee you were planted.
_Ashb_. But even thither
Those crewell men dog'd mee with such pursuit
That theire I fownd no safety, but was forct
To fly thence with that little I had left
And to retyre mee to this obscure place;
Where by the trade of fishinge I have lyv'd
Till nowe of a contented competens.
Those bates, hookes, lynes and netts for thy good servyce,
_Gripus_, I nowe make thyne.
_Grip_. You are my noble mayster, and would I could have fownd more
tricks then these in my budgett, they had bin all at your servyce.
_Ashb_. I purpose nowe for _England_, whether so please
These gentlemen consort us with theire brydes.
_Boathe_. Most willingly.
_Ashb_. There you shall see what welcome
Our _London_, so much spoake of heare in _France_,
Can give to woorthy strangers.
_Thom_. Att my chardge
Your shippinge is provyded, and at anchor
Lyes ready in the roade.
_Ashb_. Oh happy storme
That ends in such a calme!
_Enter Godfreye in haste_.
_Godf_. Staye, gentlemen, and see a dolefull sight;
One ledd to execution for a murder
The lyke hath scarce bin heard of.
_Ash_. Of the Fryar?
In part we weare ey witness of the fact,
Nor is our hast so great but wee maye staye
To viewe his tragick end, whom the strickt lawe
Hathe made a Just example.
_Enter the Abbott, Fryar Richard, Shreeve and officers_.
_Abb_. Upon thy trewe confession I have given thee
Such absolution as the churche allowes.
What hast thou else to saye ere thou art made
To all men heare a wofull spectacle?
_Fr. R_. This only, that betwixt Fryar _Jhon_ and mee
Was ever hate and mallyce; and althoughe
With no entent of murder, this my hand
This most unfortnate hand, beereft his lyff,
For which vile deede I mercy begge of Heaven,
Next of the woorld, whom I offended too,
Pardon and pitty. More to saye I have not:
Heaven of my sowle take chardge, and of my body
Dispose thou, honest hangeman.
_Clown_. Lasse, poore Fryar, and yet there's great hope of his sowle,
for I canot spye one heyre betwixt him and heaven.
_Fisher_. And yet I dowbt hee will make but a bald reckninge of it.
_Enter the Lord De Averne and his man Dennis_.
_Av_. Staye the execution.
_Abb_. Our noble fownder out of his greate charity
And woonted goodnes begg'd him a reprieve!
_Av_. Brought a reprieve I have: lett go the Fryar,
And take from mee your warrant; I dischardge him.
_Sherif_. And yet, my Lord, 'tis fitt for our dischardge
That the Kinge's hand bee seene.
_Av_. If not my woord
Will passe for currant, take my person then,
Or if you thinke unequall the exchaunge
I tender my man's too to valewe his.
Meanetyme dismisse him as one Innocent
Of what hee is condemde.
_Abb_. By his owne mouthe
Hee stands accus'd.
_Av_. And wetnes all of you,
As frely I acquitt him.
_Sher_. Honored Syr,
Praye bee more playne, wee understand you not.
_Av_. I'l make it playne then.
_Cl_. Now if thou bee'st wyse drawe thy neck out of the collar, doo,
Slipp-stringe, doo.
_Rich_. Marry, with all my hart and thanke him too.
_Av_. Attend mee, reverend father, and you all
Of this assembly: for som spleene conceiv'd
Against the Fryar deceast, I strangled him;
The cause why no man heare importun mee:
For many reasons to my self best knowne
I hold fitt to conceale it, but I murdered him
In myne owne howse.
_Abb_. But by your Honor's favour
How can that bee when _Richard_ heere confest
Hee slewe him in our cloyster?
_Av_. Heare me outt.
At fyrst, untutcht with horror of the fact,
My purpose was to laye the guilt elswhear
And for that purpose caus'd my man to mount him
Over the cloyster wall.
_Denis_. Which soone I did
By th'helpe of a short ladder, sett him theire
In a close-place and thoughe not of the sweetest
Yet as I thought the safest; left him there.
_Fr. R_. Just in that place I found him, and imadgining
He satt of purpose theire to despight mee,
I hitt him with a stone, hee fell withall
And I thought I had slayne him.
_Dennis_. But howe the Devill
Gott hee into our porch? that woonders mee.
_Fr. R_. I fownd a ladder theire.
_Den_. The same I left.
_Fr. R_. Gott him upon my shoolders and by that
Conveighd him back and left him in that porch,
Wheare, as it seemes, you fownd him.
_Av_. This troblinge us, it drove us to newe plotts.
We arm'd the Fryar, accoutred as you sawe,
Mounted him on a stallion, lock't him fast
Into the saddle, turn'd him forthe the gates
To trye a second fortune.
_Fr. R_. Just at the tyme
When, I beeinge mounted on the baker's mare,
The gates weare sett wyde ope for mee to fly.
_Abb_. So that it seemes one beast pursuide the tother,
And not the dead Fryar _Richard_.
_Av_. Howsoever,
As one repentant for my rashnes past,
And loathe to Imbrewe mee in more Innocent blood,
I fyrst confesse my servant's guilt and myne,
Acquitt the Fryar, and yeeld our persons upp
To the full satisfaction of the lawe.
_Enter the Lady Averne and her maid Mellesent_.
_Lady_. Which, noble Sir, the Kinge thus mittigates:
See, I have heare your pardon. In the tyme
That you weare ceas'd with this deepe melancholly
And inward sorrowe for a sinne so fowle,
My self in person posted to the Kinge
(In progresse not farr off), to him related
The passadge of your busines, neather rose I
From off my knees till hee had signd to this.
_Av_. Th'hast doon the offyce of a noble wyfe.
His grace I'l not despyse, nor thy great love
Ever forgett, and iff way may bee fownd
To make least satisfaction to the dead,
I'l doo't in vowed repentance.
_Abb_. Which our prayers
In all our best devotions shall assist.
_Ashb_. All ours, great Syr, to boote.
_Av_. Wee knowe you well and thanke you.
_Ashb_. But must nowe
Forsake this place, which wee shall ever blesse
For the greate good that wee have fownd therein,
And hence remoove for _England_.
_Av_. Not beefore
All your successfull Joyes wee heare related
To comfort our late sorrowes; to which purpose
Wee invite you and your frends to feast with us.
That granted, we will see you safe aboord:
And as wee heare rejoyce in your affayers,
Forget not us in _England_ in your prayers.
[_Exeunt_.
FINIS.
INTRODUCTION TO THE COSTLIE WHORE.
_The Costlie Whore_, though not of the highest rarity, is a scarce play.
It has never been reprinted, and thoroughly deserves on its own merits a
place in the present collection. The conduct of the story is simple and
straight-forward; the interest is well sustained; and the poetry has all
the freshness and glow of youth.
The play bears some indications of having been written in 1613. In I. 2,
where the Duke's brothers are devising schemes for enriching themselves
at the state's expense, occurs the following passage:--
"_Al_. I have a commission drawne for making glasse.
Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will,
Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood;
And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.
_Hat_. The yron Mills are excellent for that.
I have a pattent drawne to that effect;
If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees;
Ile make them search the earth to find new fire."
The mention of the "yron Mills" appears to refer to the patent granted
to Clement Daubigny for cutting iron into rods. On 13th March,[159]
1612-13, the Commissioners of Suits forwarded to the Lord Mayor a
petition from Daubigny for the renewal of letters patent. They enclosed
petitions from nailmakers and other smiths, shipmasters, shipowners, and
shipwrights, from which it would appear that the iron imported from
foreign parts was brittle and useless; and being themselves unable to
judge accurately of the quality of iron, they directed the Lord Mayor to
take the evidence of the Master and some of the Wardens of the
Blacksmiths', Ironmongers', and Carpenters' Companies, of the Master and
some of the Brethren of the Trinity House, and of any others that he
might think fit to consult: after hearing the evidence, he was to draw
up a statement of his own views and return Daubigny's petition. On 31st
March the Lord Mayor addressed a letter to the Lords of the Council, in
which he stated that from the evidence of the various witnesses he had
been convinced that the patent would raise the price of iron, hinder the
king in his customs, and further the decay of woods; and he added that
the Flemish iron was for the most part good and tough. It will be
observed that one of the objections raised by the Lord Mayor to the
granting of the patent--namely that a great consumption of wood (as fuel
for smelting the ore) would follow--is specially put forward by the
dramatist. The mention in Alfred's speech of a scheme for glassmaking
seems also to suggest 1613 as the date of authorship; for on 17th
November of that year Sir Jerome Bowes and Sir Edward Zouch procured
patents for making glass.[160]
There are other allusions that point to 1613. In II. 4, we find--"Make
us for want coyn brasse and passe it current." The first patent for the
coining of brass farthing-tokens was granted on 10th April, 1613, to
John Stanhope, Lord Harrington; and the grant caused general
dissatisfaction.[161] Again: in the same scene there is a reference to
the exportation of broad cloth:--"I, an't please your honour, have a
commoditie of good broad cloth, not past two hundred; may I shippe them
over? and theres a hundred poundes." When we turn to the State Papers we
discover that numerous complaints were made in 1613 about the
exportation of undressed broadcloth. On 3rd March, 1612-13, the King
forwarded to the Lords of the Council a petition from the clothworkers
and dyers that the statutes against the exportation of undressed and
undyed goods should be strictly enforced. I am inclined to think that
these passages, taken collectively, afford strong proof that _The
Costlie Whore_ was written in 1613--twenty years before the date of
publication.
In I. 2, we have the story of Bishop Hatto and the Rats told briefly but
effectively. Mr. Baring-Gould in his _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_
has investigated the sources of the legend with much fulness. He refers
us specially to Wolfius's _Lect. Memorab_., Lavingae, 1600, tom. i. p.
343. From the Stationers' Registers it appears that a ballad of _The
Wrathfull Judgement of God upon Bishop Hatto_ was licensed to H. Carre
on 15th August, 1586. The dramatist has invested the story with the
glamour of that poetical strangeness which is the very salt of such
narrations:--
"_Alf_. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore;
Assembled them unto a private Barne,
And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire,
Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice:
And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.
* * * * *
_Duke_. Could not this palace, seated in the _Rheine_
In midst of the great River, (to the which
No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats
Was to be had) free him from vermine Rats?
_Alf_. Against their kind the land Rats took the water
And swomme in little armies to the house,
And, though we drownd and killed innumerable,
Their numbers were like _Hydra's_ heads increasing;
Ruine bred more untill our brother died.
_Duke_. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.
_Hat_. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free
From all resort of Rats; for _at his death,
As if a trumpet sounded a retreat,
They made a kind of murmure and departed_."
THE COSTLIE WHORE.
A COMICALL HISTORIE,
Acted by the companie of _the Revels_.
LONDON Printed by _Augustine Mathewes_, for WILLIAM SHEARES, and HVGH
PERRIE, and are to be sold at their shoppe, in _Brittaines Burse_. 1633.
The Actors Names.
_Duke of Saxonie_.
_Fredericke_ his sonne.
_Hatto_, | Brothers to the Duke.
_Al[f]rid_, |
_Montano_, kinsman to the Duke.
_Euphrata_, daughter to the Duke.
_Constantine_, a lover of _Euphrata_.
_Otho_, a friend to _Constantine_.
_Alberto_, | Two Lords.
_Reynaldo_, |
_Vandermas_, a Pander.
_Valentia_, the Costly _Whore_.
_Julia_, a Gentlewoman to _Euphrata_.
_Two Maides_.
_Petitioners_.
_Beggers_.
_Servants_.
THE COSTLY _WHORE_.
[_Act the First_.]
[SCENE 1.]
_Enter Constantine and Otho_.
_Constantine_. How do'st thou like the lovely _Euphrata_?
_Otho_. I did not marke her.
_Const_. Then thou didst not marke
The fairest _Saxon_ Lady in mine eye
That ever breath'd a maid.
_Otho_. Your minde now knowne,
Ile say shee is the fairest in the world,
Were she the foulest.
_Con_. Then thou canst dissemble.
_Otho_. You know I cannot; but, deare _Constantine_,
I prethee tell me first, what is that Ladie,
That wonder of her sexe, cal'd _Euphrata_?
Whose daughter is she?
_Const_. I cannot blame thee, _Otho_,
Though thou be ignorant of her high worth,
Since here in _Saxon_ we are strangers both;
But if thou cal'st to minde why we left _Meath_,
Reade the trice[162] reason in that Ladies eye,
Daughter unto the Duke of _Saxonie_,
Shee unto whom so many worthy Lords
Vail'd Bonnet when she past the Triangle,
Making the pavement Ivory where she trode.
_Otho_. She that so lightly toucht the marble path
That leadeth from the Temple to the presence?
_Const_. The same.
_Otho_. Why, that was white before,
White Marble, _Constantine_, whiter by odds
Then that which lovers terme the Ivory hand,
Nay then the Lillie whitenesse of her face.
_Con_. Come, thou art a cavilling companion:
Because thou seest my heart is drown'd in love,
Thou wilt drowne me too. I say the Ladie's faire;
I say I love her, and in that more faire;
I say she loves me, and in that most faire;
Love doth attribute in Hyperbolies
Unto his Mistris the creation
Of every excellence, because in her
His eies do dreame of perfect excellence.--
And here she comes; observe her, gentle friend.
[_Enter Euphrata_.
_Euph_. Welcome, sweet _Constantine_.
_Con_. My _Euphrata_.
_Euph_. Thy _Euphrata_, be thou my _Constantine_.
But what is he? a stranger, or thy friend?
_Con_. My second selfe, my second _Euphrata_.
If thou beest mine, salute her, gentle _Otho_.
_Otho_. An humble and a true devoted heart
I tender to you in a mindes chast kisse.
_Euph_. Welcome to me, since welcome to my friend.
_Otho_.--A beautiful, an admirable Ladie!
I thinke 'tis fatall unto every friend
Never to love, untill his friend first love,
And then his choice; but sooner will I teare
Out of this brest mine affection with my heart.
_Euph_. Hearing, sweet _Constantine_, thou wert so nere me,
I came as I were winged to gaze on thee.
_Con_. And would to heaven there were no bar in time
To hinder me from thy desired sight,
But thousand sutors eyes, do watch my steps;
And harke, I heare some trampling. How now, _Julia_?
_Enter Julia_.
_Juli_. Madam, the Lord Montano, spying you
To leave the presence and to enter here,
Hath ever since waited your comming foorth.
And will not be denied untill he see you.
_Euph_. Of all my sutors, most importunate.
_Con_. What is he, love?
_Euph_. Of very noble birth,
But my affection is not tyed to birth.
I must dispense with this kind conference
For some small time, untill I rid him hence.
Therefore within my closet hide thy selfe;
Your friend shall _Julia_ guide into the garden,
Where through a private doore, but seldome us'd,
He may at pleasure leave us and returne.
Deny me not I prethee, _Constantine_;
Thou hast my heart, and would thy birth were such
I need not feare t'avouch thee for my Love.
_Otho_. Madam, I take my leave. [_Exit Otho_.
_Con_. Farewell, deare friend,
Returne as soone as may be; farewell Love. [_Exit_.
_Euph_. Now guide _Montano_ hither.
_Enter Montano_.
_Mon_. Gracious Madam,
I have seene the noble Palsgrave, the Prince
Of _Milleine_, and the Palatine of the _Rheine_,
With divers other honorable sutors,
Mounted to ride unto their severall places.
_Euph_. Of me they took their farewell yesternight.
_Mon_. What meanes your grace to be so unkind to all?
You drive away good fortune by disdaine.
_Euph_. Why are you grieving too?
_Mon_. I am your subject,
The meanest that did humbly seeke your love,
Yet not the meanest in affection;
And I am come to take my farewell too.
_Euph_. Why, then farewell.
_Mon_. So short with them that love you?
_Euph_. Your journey may be great, for ought I know;
And 'tis an argument of little love
To be the hinderer of a traveller.
_Mon_. My journey, Madame, is unto my house,
Scarce halfe a league hence, there to pine and die,
Because I love such beauteous crueltie.
_Euph_. God speede you, sir.
_Mon_. Nay then I will not leave you.
Madam, 'tis thought, and that upon good ground,
You have shrin'd your affection in the heart
Of some (whatere he be) noble or base,
And thats the cause you lightlie censure[163] all.
_Euph_. Who thinkes it?
_Mon_. I doe, Madame, and your father.
_Euph_. It is upon my vowed chastitie.
_Mon_. What devill made you sweare to chastitie,
Or have you tane that oath onely for a terme?
_Euph_. A terme, what terme?
_Mon_. A terme of some seven yeeres,
Or peradventure halfe the number more.
_Euph_. For terme of life.
_Mon_. You have sworne, to be forsworne:
He was no well disposed friend of yours
That gave you consaile [_sic_] to forsweare such beautie.
Why, 'tis as if some traveiler had found
A mine of gold, and made no use of it.
For terme of life! Why, then die presently;
So shall your debt to nature be farre lesse,
Your tyranny over man's yeelding heart
Be lesse condemned. Oh, you were made for man,
And living without man to murder men.
If any creature be so fortunate
That lives in grace of your all gracious selfe,
Though I am well perswaded 'tis not I,
I vow by all the rites of vertuous love,
Be he ignoble, of the basest sort,
To please you, Madame, Ile renounce my suite
And be a speciall meane unto your father
To grant your hearts affection, though I die.
_Euph_. Now, Lord _Montano_, you come neere my heart,
And were I sure that you would keepe your word,
As I am sure you love me by your deedes,
I might perchance deliver you my thoughts.
_Mon_. By heaven and by your beauteous selfe I will.
_Euph_. Then, _Constantine_, come forth; behold thy friend.
_Enter Constantine_.
_Con_. Madame, what meane you, to reveale our love?
_Mon_. This is a very stubborne Gentleman.
A Gentleman? a pesant! _Saxonie_,
Affords not one more base.
_Con_. He does me wrong,
That termes me meaner then a gentleman.
_Mon_. I tearme thee so.
_Euph_. Why, how now, Lord _Montano_?
You do forget your oath.
_Mont_. And you your selfe,
Your Princely father, and the Dukedomes honour,
To chaine your liking to a groome so base.
_Con_. He lies that calles me groome.
_Enter Julia_.
_Ju_. O God, forbeare:
His Excellence your father's comming hither.
_Mon_. He comes in happie time, to know the cause
Why such great Princes have bin made your scorne.
_Euph_. What, will you tell him?
_Mon_. Will I? let me die
Contemn'd of heaven, in publique obloquie,
If I reveale not this lascivious course.
_Ju_. We are undone.
_Con_. Hence with this prating Maide.
If thou hast any anger in thy brest
Towards this Lady, turne it all on me.
She is a woman, timerous by her kinde;
I, man-like borne, and beare a man-like minde.
_Mon_. Ile trie your courage. [_Draw_.[164]
_Euph_. As thou fear'st my frowne,
As thou hast hope to thrive in thy new choice,
As thou respect'st the favour of the gods,
Welfare in any action thou intends,
Doe not reveale unto my fretfull father
This humble choice that my high birth hath made.
_Mon_. Why, then forsweare him.
_Euph_. Sooner set thy feet
Upon my breast, and tread me to the ground.
_Ju_. As thou art any thing more then a beast,
Doe not procure my Ladie such disgrace.
_Mon_. Peace, bawde, Ile have no conference with you.
_Euph_. He cannot hurt me, 'tis my Love I feare.
Although my father be as sterne as warre,
Inexorable like consuming fire,
As jealous of his honour as his crowne,
To me his anger is like _Zephires_ breath
Cast on a banke of sommer violets,
But to my Love like whirlewinde to a boate
Taken in midst of a tumultuous sea.
_Enter Duke of Saxonie and Fredericke_.
Alas, he comes! Montano, prethee, peace.
Courage, sweete Love.
_Con_. I see our love must cease.
_Euph_. Not if my wit can helpe; it shall goe hard
But Ile prevent the traitor.
_Mon_. Heare me, my Lord.
_Euph_. Heare me, my gracious father.
_Mon_. Heare me, my liege: ther's treason in your Court,
I have found a peasant in the Princesse closet;
And this is he that steales away her honour.
_Euph_. This villaine, gracious father, 'tis that seekes
To rob me of mine honor, you your daughter.
_Mon_. Now, as you are a right heroike Prince,
Be deafe unto your daughters faire[165] words.
_Euph_. Be deafe to him, as you regard your selfe.
_Duke_. What strange confusion's this that cloyes our hearing?
_Fred_. Speake, beauteous sister, who hath done thee wrong?
_Mon_. Her self.
_Euph_. This traitor.
_Fre_. Lord _Montano_?
_Euph_. Hee.
_Fred_. Villaine, thou dyest.
_Mon_. Stay, she meanes _Constantine_,
He that I found infolded in her closet,
Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords
Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.
_Con_. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.
_Ju_. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace.
_Mon_. Ile tell the trueth.
_Euph_. Or rather let me tell it.
_Mon_. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights.
_Euph_. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires,
Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth.
_Mon_. I say, I found this peasant in her closet
Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her.
_Euph_. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence,
I found this Gentleman within my closet,
There set by subornation of this Lord,
And here appointed to dishonor me.
Speake, is't not true?
_Con_. True, if it please your grace.
_Duke_. What say you, strumpet?
_Ju_. Since my Ladie saies so,
I say and't please your Excellence--
_Duke_. Speake, woman.
_Ju_. 'Tis very true.
_Mon_. O monstrous forgerie!
_Fre_. O more then falshood to become so smooth
In such a dangerous action!
_Duke_. This is strange;
_Montano_ seeke the ruine of my daughter!
_Euph_. Because I would not yeeld unto his suite,
Which he in rapefull manner oft hath sought,
Hee set this Gentleman to doe me shame
Intending by exclaimes[166] to raise the Court,
But that repentance in my waiting Maide
And of his sorrowfull selfe reveal'd the plot.
_Mon_. O ye gods, how am I over-reacht!
_Duke_. I know the yong man to be well discended,
Of civill carriage and approved faith,
How ere seduced to this enterprise.
_Con_. My conscience, would not propagate that plot.
_Ju_. Nor mine, my Lord, though gold corrupted me.
_Mon_.--Cleane from the byas! wit, by heaven rare wit!
Ile tell another tale, if they have done.
_Duke_. What canst thou speake, vild[167] traitor?
Thou seest thou art prevented in thy plot
And therefore desperately coin'st any thing,
But I am deafe to all such stratagems.
_Mon_. Will you not heare me?
_Duke_. Forgeries and lies.
My daughters honour is of that high prize
That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine.
Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee
And some denied (like devills) turne their love
Into excrutiation of themselves
And of the parties whom they have belov'd.
Revenge begins where flatteries doe end;
Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend.
Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented:
Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court;
Our Court? our territorie, every place
Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie.
Urge no replie, the fact is plainely prov'd,
And thou art hatefull where thou wert belov'd.
_Mon_. My gracious Lord--
_Duke_. We can afford no grace:
Stay here, and reade thy ruine in my face.
_Mon_. I goe contented with this heavy doome;
'Twas mine owne seeking. Faire and wise, adiew;
Deceit hath kil'd conceit, you know tis true.
[_Exit_.[168]
_Fre_. An upright sentence of an act so vilde.
_Duk_. Remove this waiting virgin from your chamber,
But let this gentleman attend on me.
The best may be deceiv'd by trecherie.
_Euph_. Then so, my gracious father, may this maid.
_Duke_. Then let her keep her place; beware of gold,
Honour's too precious to be baselie sold.--
Now to our dying friend, his grace of _Meath_.
Daughter, prepare you; you shall ride along,
For to that end we came; come, sonne, to horse:
Ere we come there, our friend may prove a coarse.
_Euph_.--Twas well done both, this action rarely fell;
Where women trie their wits, bad plots prove well.
[_Exeunt omnes_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter three Beggers_.
1. Come away, fellow louse, thou art ever eating.
2. Have I not neede, that must feede so many
_Cannibals_ as will waite on me whether I will or no?
3. Heres one in my necke, I would 'twere on thy shoulder.
1. Keepe it your selfe, I have retainers enow of mine owne.
2. But whether are you going now?
1. Why, are you our King, and doe not know that?
2. Your King? I am a very roguish King and I hav a companie of lowsie
subjects.
_Enter Hatto and Alfrid conferring_.
2. But looke about my ragged subjects, here comes somebody.
1. O the devills; shall we aske them an almes?
2. Why not? now the rats have eaten up their brother Bishop they will
be more charitable; your vocation, you slaves.
3. For the Lord sake, be pittifull to a companie of poore men.
_Hatto_. What cry is this? beggars so neere the doore
Of our deceased brother? whip them hence
Or bring the Mastiffe foorth [to] worry them.
They are lazie drones, 'tis pittie such should live.
1. I told you, my Lord, how we should find them; whip us! leade the way,
soveraigne, weele none of your whipping.
_Hat_. Hence with these dogs! what make they neere this house?
2. He will be eaten with rats too, he looks like a piece of cheese
alreadie.
_Hat_. You Rogues.
_Alf_. Good brother, stay your self from wrath;
Thinke on the Bishop and his odious death.
_Hat_. What odious death, I pray?
_Alf_. Eaten with Rats,
Whilest he was living, for the wrong he did
Unto the poore, the branches of our God.
_Hat_. Tis true, and therefore, call the poore againe.
Come hither, friends, I did forget my selfe.
Pray for me, ther's some silver for thy wants.
2. Now the Lord blesse you and keep your good face[169] from being
Mouse-eaten; wee came thinking wee should have some dole at the Bishops
funerall, but now this shall serve our turne, wee will pray for you
night and day.
_Hat_. Goe to the backe-gate, and you shall have dole.
_Om_. O the Lord save thee.
[_Exeunt Beggers_.
_Hat_. These Beggers pray and curse both in a breath.
Oh wherefore should we fawne upon such curres,
The mice of mankind, and the scorne of earth?
_Alf_. So said our brother.
_Hat_. And he was a Bishop,
Had read the Scripture and knew what he said.
_Alf_. But he hath bought[170] that saying with his death,
With such a loathsome and notorious death
As while the World's a World 'twill speake of _Meath_.
_Hat_. The Lord Archbishop of _Meath_, and die by Rats!
_Alf_. He did proclaime reliefe unto the poore;
Assembled them unto a private Barne
And, having lockt the doore, set it on fire,
Saying hee'de rid the countrie of such Mice;
And Mice and Rats have rid him from the World.
_Hat_. Well, Ile not hurt the poore so publikely,
But privately I'le grinde their very hearts.
Torture them living, and yet have their prayers,
And by such meanes that few or none shall know it.
_Al_. In such a course _Alfred_ would wind with you;
For though I counsail'd you to be more calme,
Twas not in pittie of their povertie
But to avoide their clamour. To give nothing
Will make them curse you: but to threaten them,
Flie in your face, and spit upon your beard.
No devill so fierce as a bread-wanting heart,
Especially being baited with ill tearmes.
But what course can you take to plague these dogges?
_Hat_. Why, buy up all the corne and make a dearth,
So thousands of them will die under stalles.
_Alf_. And send it unto forraine nations
To bring in toies to make the wealthy poore.
_Hat_. Or make our land beare woad[171] instead of wheate.
_Al_. Inclose the commons and make white meates deare.
_Hat_. Turne pasture into Park grounds and starve cattle,
Or twentie other honest thriving courses.
The meanest of these will beggar halfe a Kingdome.
_Al_. I have a commission drawne for making glasse.
Now if the Duke come, as I thinke he will,
Twill be an excellent meanes to lavish wood;
And then the cold will kill them, had they bread.
_Hat_. The yron Mills are excellent for that.
I have a pattent[172] drawne to that effect;
If they goe up, downe goes the goodly trees;
Ile make them search the earth to find new fire.
_Alf_. We two are brothers, and the Duke's our brother.
Shall we be brothers in Commission?
And Ile perswade him to authorize thee
His substitute in _Meath_, when he enjoyes it.
_Hat_. Death, Ile get thee Regent under him
In _Saxonie_, to oppresse as well as I.
And we will share the profits, live like Kings,
And yet seeme liberall in common things.
_Al_. Content: what, though the Rats devour'd our brother?
Was not a Prophet murdered by a Lyon?
King _Herod_ died of Lice, wormes doe eate us all;
The Rats are wormes, then let the Rats eate me.
Is the dead course prepar'd?
_Hat_. Embalm'd and coffin'd;
The Citie keyes delivered to my hands;
We stay but onely for his Excellence.
_Enter Constantine_.
_Con_. The Duke is comming, if it please your honors.
_Al_. And he is welcome; let the trumpets sound.
[_Second florish_.
_Enter Duke of Saxon, Euphrata, and Julia_.
_Hat_. Welcome, thrice welcome, our renowned brother.
Loe, at thy feete the Cittizens of _Meath_,
By us their Agents, do lay downe the keyes,
And[173] by this crownet and sword resign'd
The state Maiestique to your Princely hands,
Discended to you by our brothers death.
_Duke_. Then with your loves and persons we receive it.--
Is then our brother the Archbishop dead?
_Hat_. Too true, my Lord.
_Euph_. I am sorry for my Uncle.
_Hat_. And of a death so publique by reporte.
_Al_. Devour'd by Rats, in strange and wonderous sort.
_Duke_. Could not this palace seated in the _Rheine_,
In midst of the great River, (to the which
No bridge, nor convay, other then by boats
Was to be had,) free him from vermine Rats?
_Alf_. Against their kind the land Rats took the water
And swomme in little armies to the house;
And, though we drown'd and kild innumerable,
Their numbers were like _Hydra's_ heads increasing;
Ruine bred more untill our brother died.
_Duke_. The house is execrable; Ile not enter.
_Hat_. You need not feare, my Lord; the house is free
From all resort of Rats; for at his death,
As if a trumpet sounded a retreat,
They made a kind of murmure and departed.
_Duke_. Sure 'twas the hand of heaven, for his contempt
Of his poore creatures.--But what writs are those?
_Hat_. Commissions (if it please your grace,) for glasse,
For yron Mines, and other needful things.
_Duke_. Our selfe invested in the government,
The Cities care shall lie upon your care.
_Hat. Alfred_ our brother may awaite your grace
In _Saxony_, so please you to command.
_Duke_. We are now but three, and lately have bin seven,
We have cause to love each other; for my part,
Betweene you both we give a brothers heart.
Here or at _Saxonie_, command at pleasure;
I weare the corronet, be yours the treasure.
_Al_. We thanke our brother.
_Duke_. Where's my sonne _Fredericke_?
_Enter Fredericke with a glove_.
_Fre_. Father, the state of _Meath_ desire your grace
To take the paines to passe unto the Senate.
_Duke_. What glove is that, son _Fred_., in your hand?
_Fre_. I found it, if it please your Excellence,
Neere to the state-house: the imbroiderie
Is very excellent, and the fashion rare.
_Duke_. I have not seene a prettier forme of hand.
Daughter, let's see; is't not too bigge for you?
_Euph_. Sure 'tis some admirable worke of nature,
If it fit any hand that owes[174] this glove,
If all the rest doe parallel the hand.
_Duke_. Will it not on?
_Euph_. Not for a diadem;
Ile trie no longer lest I shame my selfe.
_Duke_. Try, _Julia_.
_Ju_. My hand's bigger then my Ladies.
_Duke_. I cannot tell, but in my minde I feele
A wondrous passion of I know not what.
_Fre_. The imbroidered glove may be some childs, no womans.
_Duke_. I should mistrust as much, but that this place
Beares greater compasse then a childish hand.
I must command it.
_Fre_. Willingly, my Lord.
_Duke_. Then to the state-house, brothers, leade the way:
First our instalement [_sic_], then a funerall day.
[_Exeunt Duke and brothers and Fred_.
_Enter Otho_.
_Otho_. Yonder she goes, the mirrour of her sexe.--
Stay, beauteous _Euphrata_.
_Euph. Otho_! what, _Julia_?
_Ju_. Here, madam! what's your will?
_Euph_. Call _Constantine_;
Tell him his deare friend _Otho_ is return'd.
_Ju_. I will.
_Otho_. Stay, _Julia_.
_Euph_. Doe as I bid you, goe. [_Exit Julia_.
_Otho_. I had rather have a word or twaine with you.
_Euph_. I have heard him oft enquire for thee his friend,
I have heard him sigh, I have seene him weepe for thee,
Imagining some mischiefe or distresse
Had falne thee since the closets separation.
_Otho_.--And what a slave am I to wrong this friend!
_Enter Constantine and Julia_.
_Con_. Where is he?
_Ju_. Here.
_Con_. The welcom'st man alive.
Unkind, how couldst thou stay from me so long?
_Otho_. I have bin ill at ease, pray pardon me;
But I rejoyce to see my friend so well.
_Euph_. Some Ladies love hath made him melancholy.
_Otho_. Shee hath read the letter that I lately sent her
In a pomegranat, by those words I hope.
_Con_. Why speake you not? is't love or melancholy?
_Otho_. If upon love my grief is melancholy?
_Con_. Ile have the best Phisitians here in _Meath_
Assay by art to cure that maladie.
_Euph_. Gainst mellancholy minds your onely Phisick
Our Saxon doctors hold that principle.
Now I remember you did lately send me
A choice pomegranate; fetch it, _Julia_.
Some of those graines well stir'd in _Gascoine_ wine
Is present remedie.
_Otho_. Madam, Ile none:
Of all fruits, that I hate.
_Euph_. And commended it
So highly by the messenger that brought it!
_Con_. Twas well remembred, you shall take a graine.
_Otho_. You will but vexe me.
_Con_. So his melancholly
Doth make him froward with his dearest friend.
_Enter Julia with the pomegranate_.
Tis well done, _Julia_, quickely cut it up;
And bring a cup of wine, or let me doo't.
_Otho_. I see I shall be plagu'd with mine owne wit;
Being asham'd to speake, I writ my minde.--
Were you my friends, you would not martyr me
With needlesse phisicke; fie upon this trash,
The very sight is loathsome.
_Con_. Take it up:
But let me see, what letter's that that dropt?
Came it from you, or from the _Spanish_ fruit?
_Ju_. Tis all the graines that the pomegranate had.
_Con_. Then theres some trechery within these graines:
Ile breake it up.
And tis directed to my _Euphrata_.
_Euph_. What may the tenure be? I pray thee read it.
[_He opens the letter & reads_.
_Otho_. O fall upon me some wind-shaken turret
To hide me from the anger of my friend,
O from his frowne! because he is my friend.
Were he an enemie, I would be bold;
But kindnes makes this wound. O, this horror!
The words of friends, are stronger then their power.
_Con_. Withdraw, good _Julia_.
[_Exit Julia_.
_Euph_. Pray, what is it, love?
_Con_. Tis love indeed to thee, but to my heart
Every loose sentence is a killing dart.
I brought this _Gyges_[175] to my hearts delight
And he hath drown'd his senses with the sight.
Except thy selfe, all things to him were free:
_Otho_, thou hast done me more then injurie;
Well maist thou fixe thy eye upon the earth,
This action sith[176] breedes a prodigious birth:
It is so monstrous, and against all kinde,
That the lights splendor would confound thy minde.
_Otho_. I have offended, prethee pardon me.
_Con_. What cause did move thee?
_Otho_. Her all conquering sight.
_Con_. Couldst thou usurpe upon my well known right?
_Otho_. Thinke, I am flesh and blood, and she is faire.
_Con_. Thinke how I love thee.
_Otho_. There proceeds my care.
_Con_. Our amitie hath bin of ancient dayes,
During which time wrong'd I thee any wayes?
_Otho_. Never.
_Con_. But rather I have done thee good.
_Otho_. I grant you have, O rather shed my blood
Then number the kind deedes betweene us past.
[_Con_.] For this unkindnesse, here I love my last.
_Euph_. He doth repent, and will renounce his suite.
_Otho_. I doe renounce it.
_Con_. O thou canst not do't.
_Otho_. Suffer me stay a while in her faire sight,
'Twill heal my wound and all love banish quite.
_Con_. The sight of the belov'd makes the desire,
That burnt but slowly, flame like sparkling fire.
As thou dost love me, take thee to some place
Where thou maist nere see her, nor I thy face.
_Otho_. By what is deere betwixt us, by our selves,
I vow hencefoorth ten thousand deaths to prove
Then be a hinderance to such vertuous love.
_Con_. Breake heart, tis for thy sake.
_Otho_. When I am dead
O then forget that I haue injured.
_Con_. O hell of love!
_Otho_. Or rather hell of friends!
_Con_. Firmely till they love.
_Otho_. Then thus all friendship ends.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Secundus_.
[SCENE 1.]
_Enter Duke, Fredericke, Hatto, and Alfred_.
_Hat_. Good brother, heare some Musicke, twill delight you.
_Al_. Ile call the Actors, will you see a play?
_Fre_. Or, gracious father, see me runne the race
On a light footed horse, swifter then winde.
_Duke_. I pray forbeare.
_Al_. This moode will make you mad,
For melancholy ushers franticke thoughts.
_Hat_. It makes hot wreaking blood turne cold and drie,
And drithe and coldnesse are the signes of death.
_Duke_. You doe torment me.
_Fred_. Is it anything
That I have done, offends your grace?
_Hat_. Or comes this hidden anger from my fault?
_Alf_. Heres none but gladly would resigne his life
To doe you pleasure, so please you to command.
_Duke_. Ifaith you are too [_sic_] blame to vexe me thus.
_Hat_. Then grounds this sorrow on your brothers death?
_Fred_. Or rather on the glove I lately found.
_Duke_. A plague upon the glove, whats that to me?
Your prating makes me almost lunatike.
As you respect my welfare, leave me leave me.
The sooner you depart, the sooner _I_
Shall finde some meanes to cure my maladie.
_Fred_. Our best course is to be obedient.
[_Exeunt all but the Duke_.
_Duke_. Farewell.
Was ever slave besotted like to me!
That Kings have lov'd those that they never saw
Is nothing strange, since they have heard their praise;
Birds that by painted grapes have bin deceiv'd
Had yet some shadow to excuse their error;
_Pigmalion_ that did love an Ivory Nimph
Had an _Idea_ to delight his sence;
The youth that doted on _Minerva's_[177] picture
Had some contentment for his eye; [_soft Musique_.
But love, or rather an infernall hagge,
Envying _Saxons_ greatnes and his joyes,
Hath given me nothing but a trifling glove,
As if by the proportion of the case
Art had the power to know the jewels nature.
Or Nimph, or goddesse, woman, or faire devill,
If anything thou art, within my braine
Draw thine owne picture, let me see thy face:
To doate thus grossely, is a grosse disgrace. [_Musique within_.
I heare some Musique: O ye Deities,
Send you this heavenly consort[178] from the spheares
To recreate a love-perplexed heart?
The more it sounds, the more it refresheth.
I see no instruments, nor hands that play;
And my deare brothers, durst not be so bold.
'Tis some celestiall rapture of the minde,
No earthlie harmonic is of this kinde.
Now it doth cease: speake, who comes there?
_Enter Fredericke, Alfred, and Hatto_.
_Fred_. Father.
_Duke_. From whence proceeds the Musicke that I heard?
_Fred_. The beauteous and the famous Curtezan,
Allyed unto the banished _Montano_,
Admir'd _Valentia_, with a troope of youths
This day doth keepe her yeerely festivall
To all her suters, and this way she past
Unto her Arbor, when the Musique plaide.
_Duke_. Admir'd _Valentia_! Curtezans are strange
With us in _Germanie_; except her selfe,
Being a _Venetian_ borne and priviledg'd,
The state allowes none here.
_Fred_. Twere good for _Meath_
She were unpriviledgd and sent to _Venice_.
_Al_. Of all the faces that mine eye beheld
Hers is the brightest.
_Duke_. Is she then so faire?
_Hat_. O beyond all comparison of beautie.
_Fred_. Upon her hand,
Father, I saw the fellow to your glove.
_Duke_. Then let it be restor'd.
What, should a Prince retaine a strumpets glove?--
O ye eternall powers, am I insnar'd
With the affection of a common trull!--
Wheres your commissions, that you would have sign'd?
'Tis time I had a president in _Saxonie_.
Receive our signet, and impresse them straight;
Ile remaine here, in _Meath_, some little time.
Brother, have care my Dukedome be well rul'd;
Here I put over my affaires to you.
My sonne I leave unto the joyes of youth;
Tis pittie that his minde should be opprest
So soone with care of governments.
Goe to your pleasures, seeke your sister foorth,
Send _Constantine_ to us; so leave me all,
I am best accompanied with none at all. [_Exeunt_.
_Manet Duke_.
Either the Plannets, that did meete together
In the grand consultation of my birth,
Were opposite to every good infusion,
Or onely _Venus_ stood as retrograde;
For, but in love of this none-loving trull,
I have beene fortunate even since my birth.
I feele within my breast a searching fire
Which doth ascend the engine of my braine,
And when I seeke by reason to suppresse
The heate it gives, the greaters the excesse.
I loath to looke upon a common lip
Were it as corral as _Aurora's_ cheeke
Died with the faire virmillion [of the] sunne.
O but I love her, and they say she is faire.--
Now _Constantine_.
_Enter Constantine_.
_Con_. Your grace did send for me.
_Duke_. Lend me your habit in exchange of mine,
For I must walk the Citie for a purpose.
_Con_. With all my heart, my habit and my selfe.
_Duke_. In any case, watch at the privie chamber.
If any ask for me say I am not well,
And though it be my sonne, let him not enter.
_Con_. I will.
_Duke_. Be carefull, gentle _Constantine_.
Now, faire _Valentia, Saxon_ to thy bower
Comes like a _Jove_ to raine a golden shower.
[_Exit_.
_Con_. Prosper, kind Lord, what ere the action be;
Counsailes of Princes should be ever free.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Valentia and Montano_.
_Va_. Torches and Musique there! the room's too darke.
_Mon_. Prethee, Neece,
Abandon this lascivious unchaste life;
It is the onely blemish of our house;
Scandall unto our name; a Curtezan!
O what's more odious in the eares of men?
_Val_. Then why doe men resort to Curtezans,
And the best sort? I scorne inferiour groomes,
Nor will I deign[179] to draw aside my maske
To any meaner then a Noble man.
Come,[180] can you dance? a caper and a kisse:
For every turne Ile fold thee in my armes,
And if thou fal'st, although[181] a-kin we be
That thou maist fall[182] soft, Ile fall under thee.
Oh for the lightnesse of all light heel'd girles,
And I would touch the Ceeling with my lips!
Why art thou sad, _Montano_?
_Mon_. On just cause,
You know I am banish't from my natiue countrey.
_Val_. This citie is _Meath_, thou art of _Saxonie_.
_Mon_. But this belongs unto the _Saxons_ Duke,
By the decease of the departed Bishop.
_Val_. Feare not, thou art as safe within my house
As if perculliz'd in a wall of brasse.
Wheres _Vandermas_?
_Enter Vandermas_.
_Van_. Madam, did you call?
_Mon_. What noble man is that, a sutor to you?
_Val_. An excellent Pander, a rare doore-keeper.[183]
_Mon_. I had thought he had bin a gentleman at least.
_Val_. Because of his attire?
_Mon_. True.
_Val_. O the attire
In these corrupted daies is no true signe
To shew the gentleman; peasants now weare robes,
In the habilments of noblemen.
The world's grown naught, such judgement then is base,
For Hares and Asses weare the lion's case.[184]
_Mon_. 'Tis very costly and exceeding rich.
_Val_. Ritches to me are like trash to the poore,
I have them in abundance; gold's my slave,
I keep him prisoner in a three-fold chest
And yet his kindred daily visit me.
_Mon_. Lord, how diligent
Is this rich clothed fellow.
_Val_. Were he proud
And should but dare to stand still when I call,
I'de run him th[o]rough with a killing frowne.
_Mon_. Why then belike his service is for love.
_Val_. Why so are all the servants that attend mee.
They keepe themselves in satin, velvets, gold,
At their owne charges, and are diligent
Daies, moneths, and yeeres, to gaine an amorous smile.
Looke on my face with an indifferent eye,
And thou shalt finde more musicke in my lookes
Then in _Amphions_ Lute or _Orpheus_ Harpe;
Mine eye consists of numbers like the soule,
And if there be a soule tis in mine ey;
For, of the harmony these bright starres make,
I comprehend the formes of all the world;
The story of the Syrens in my voyce
I onely verified, for Millions stand
Inchanted when I speake, and catch my words
As they were orient pearle to adorn their eares;
_Circe_ is but a fable, I transforme
The vertuous, valiant, and the most precise,
Into what forme of minde my fancie please.
Thou might'st bee proud, great Lord, of my abundance,
For in this beautie I shall more renowne
Our noble progenie then all the pennes
Of the best Poets that ere writ of men.
Unto your health a health! let Musique sound, [_Musick_.
That what I taste in Musique may be drown'd.
So fill more wine, we use to drinke up all;
Wine makes good blood and cheeres the heart withal.
_Van_. Madam, at such time as I heard you call,
A gentleman, it seemes of good discent,
Humblie did crave accesse unto your honor.
_Valen_. What did he give?
_Van_. A brace of bags of gold.
_Valen_. He shall have libertie to enter straight.
But first inrich the chamber with perfumes;
Burne choice _Arabian_ Drugs more deare then
Waters distil'd out of the spirit of Flowers;
And spread our costly Arras to the eye.
Myself sufficiently doe shine in jems;
Where such faire coated Heraulds doe proceed,
It seemes he is honorable and of noble fame.
_Mon_. Shall I behold this sutor?
_Valen_. At the full,
At pleasure passe through every spacious Roome.
Be he a Prince, Ile know his high discent
Or proudly scorne to give him his content.
What drum is that?
_Van_. A Maske, sent by a friend.
_Valen_. Belike our self must know the mysterie;
Tell them we are prepar'd to see the Maske,
And bid the other noblemen come neere.
Thus am I hourely visited by friends;
Beautie's a counsellor that wants no fee.
They talke of circles and of powerfull spells,
Heeres heavenly art that all blacke art excells.
_Mon_. Ile walke into the farther gallery.
_Enter Duke_.
_Valen_. Sir, you are welcome what so ere you be;
I guesse your birth great by your bounteous fee.
_Duke_. Your humble servant, bound by a sweet kisse.
_Valen_. I give you freedome, gentle Sir, by this.
[_He whispers her_.
I know your mind; first censure of the sport,
Then you and I will enter _Venus_ Court.
_Duke_. More then immortall, O more then divine,
That such perfection, should turne Concubine.
_Mon_. That voice is like unto the _Saxon Dukes_.
I feare he hath heard I liv'd here in this place,
And he is come to doe me more disgrace.
_Montano_, hide thyself till he be gone;
His daughter thirsts for my destruction.
[_Exit Mont_.
_Val_. Come sit by me, the Maskers are at hand.
_Enter Maske_.
Where are my Maides, to helpe to make the dance?
_Enter 2 Maids.
They dance, Valentia with them; they whisper to have
her play at dice and stake on the drum_.
_Valen_. What, shall we have a Mumming? heres my Jewell.
[_Play on the drum head_.
_Duke_. Thou art a jewell most incomparable.--
Malicious heaven, why from so sweete a face
Have you exempt the mind adorning grace?
[_They stake and play_.
_She wins, the drum strikes up_.
_Val_. More gold, for this is mine, I thanke yee, dice.
_Duke_. And so are all that doe behold thy beautie.--
Were she as chaste, as she is outward bright,
Earth would be heaven, and heaven eternal night.
The more I drinke of her delicious eye,
The more I plunge into captivitie.
_She wins, strike up_.
_Valen_. Have I wonne all? then take that back agen.
What, scorne my gift? I see you are a gentleman.
No, is't not possible that I may know
Unto whose kindnesse this great debt I owe?
Well, Ile not be importunate, farewell;
Some of your gold let the torch-bearers tell.
_Duke_. Beautious _Madona_, do you know these galants?
_Valen_. I guesse them of the Duke of _Saxons_ Court.
_Duke_.--My subjects, and so many my corrivalls
O every slave is grac't before his Prince.
_Valen_. Are you not well sir, that your colour failes?
_Duke_. If I be sicke, 'tis onely in the minde:
To see so faire, so common to all kinde;
I am growne jealous now of all the world.--
Lady, how ere you prize me, without pleasure
More then a kisse, I tender you this treasure;
O what's a mint spent in such desire
But like a sparke that makes a greater fire?--
She must be made my Dutches, there it goes;
And marrying her, I marry thousand woes.--
Adiew, kind Mistresse;--the next newes you heare
Is to sit crown'd in an Imperiall chair.[185]
_Valen_. Either the man dislikes me, or his braine
Is not his owne, to give such gifts in vaine,
But 'tis the custome in this age to cast
Gold upon gold, to encourage men to waste.
Lightly it comes, and it shall lightly flie;
Whilst colours hold, such presents cannot die.
[_Exeunt omnes_.[186]
[SCENE 3.]
_Enter Reinaldo, Alfred, and Albert_.
_Alb_. But this is strange, that I should meet your[187] honour
So farre from Court; pray whither were you riding?
_Alf_. Unto your mannor; heard you not the newes?
_Alb_. What newes?
_Alf_. This morning, by the breake of day,
His excellence sent to me by a post
Letters, by which the pillars of the state
Should be assembled to a Parliament,
Which he intends, my Lords, to hold in _Meath_.
_Alb_. When, if it please your honor?
_Alf_. Instantly,
With all the haste that winged time can make.
_Albert_. Sooner the better; tis like the realmes affaires
Are of some weight.
_Alb_. I will bee there to night,
And so I take my leave.
_Reinal_. We take our leaves.
[_Exit Albert and Reinaldo_.
_Alf_. Farewell, my honor'd friend.--
There is within my braine a thousand wiles
How I may heape up riches; O the sight,
Of a gold shining Mountaine doth exceede:
Silver is good, but in respect of gold
Thus I esteeme it.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 4.]
_Enter Hatto, with three petitioners_.
_Hat_. How now, my friends, what are you?
1. Poore petitioners.
_Hat_. Stand farther then, the poore is as unpleasing
Unto me as the plague.
2. An't please your good Lordship, I am a Merchant, and gladly would
convay a thousand quarters of wheate and other graine over the sea; and
heres a hundred pounds for a commission.
_Hat_. Thou art no beggar, thou shalt ha't, my friend;
Give me thy money.
3. I, an't please your honour, have a commoditie of good broad cloth,
not past two hundred; may I shippe them over? and theres a hundred
poundes.
_Hat_. Thou shalt have leave.
1. Although I seeme a poore petitioner,
My Lord, I crave a warrant to transport[188]
A hundred Cannons, fiftie Culverings,
With some slight armours, halberts, and halfe pikes;
And theres as much as any of the rest.
_Hat_. Away, _Cannibal_! wouldst thou ship ordnance?
What though we send unto the foes our corne
To fatten them, and cloth to keepe them warme,
Lets not be so forgetfull of our selves
As to provide them with knives to cut our throates:
So I should arme a thiefe to take my purse.
Hast thou no other course of Merchandize?
Thou shouldst get gold, twill yeeld thee ten in the hundred
On bare exchange, and raise the price with us;
Make us for want coyn brasse and passe it currant
Untill we find profit to call it in.
There are a thousand waies to make thee thrive
And Ile allow of all, bee it nere so bad,
Excepting guns to batter downe our houses.
1. Letters[189] of Mart I humblie then intreate,
To cease on Rovers that doe secure the seas.
_Hat_. And on our friends too, if thou canst do't cleanlie.
Spare none, but passe it very closely;
We will be loath to sift thy Piracie,
But open eare to heare what they [thou?] complaine.
Hast thou a Letter?
1. Ready drawne my Lord.
And heres a brace of hundred pounds for you.
_Hat_. 'Tis very well; I thinke I shall be rich
If dayly tenants pay me rent thus fast.
Give me your licenses, they shall bee seal'd.
About an houre hence, here attend our pleasure.
_Omnes_. We thanke your Lordship.
[_Exeunt petiti_.
_Hat_. O vild catterpillers,
And yet how necassarie for my turne!
I have the Dukes seale for the Citie _Meath_,
With which Ile signe their warrants.
This corne and twentie times as much
Alreadie covertly convai'd to _France_,
And other bordering Kingdomes neere the sea,
Cannot but make a famine in this land;
And then the poore, like dogs, will die apace.
Ile seeme to pittie them, and give them almes
To blind the world; 'tis excellent policie
To rid the land of such, by such device.
A famine to the poore is like a frost
Unto the earth, which kills the paltry wormes
That would destroy the harvest of the spring.
As for the which, I count them painefull men
Worthy to enjoy what they can get:
Beggars are trash, and I esteeme them so;
Starve, hang, or drowne themselves, I am alive;
Loose all the world, so I have wit to thrive.
But I must to the Parliment, and then
Ile have a clause to beggar some rich men.
[_Exit_.
_Actus Tertius_.
[SCENE 1.]
_Enter Duke, Fredericke, Constantine, Reinaldo,
Alberto, Alfrid, and amongst them Hatto shuffles in_.
_Alberto_. Princes and pillars of the _Saxon_ State.
_Duke_. You are the elected, speake for the Court.--
Stay, Lord _Alberto_, we usurpe your office:
Who had the charge to fetch _Valentia_?
_Con_. I, gracious Lord; and when I gave the charge,
A sudden feare, by palenesse, was displai'd
Upon her rosie cheeke; the crimson blood,
That like a robe of state did beautifie
The goodly buildings with a two fold grace,
From either side shrunke downewards to her heart
As if those summons were an adversarie
And had some mighty crime to charge her with.
Millions of thoughts were crowded in her braines:
Her troubled minde her abrupt words describ'd;
She did accuse her selfe without accusers,
And in the terrour of a soule perplext
Cry'd out, 'the Duke intends to cease my goods
Cause I am noted for a Concubine.'
I did replie such comfort as beseemes,
But comfortlesse I brought her to the Court.
_Duke_. Then she attends our pleasure.
_Con_. Mightie Lord,
In the next Roome.
_Duke_. You are careful, _Constantine_.
Conduct her in, and, Lords, give mee your thoughts:
What thinke ye wee intend to _Valentia_?
_Alf_. Her selfe hath read my sentence in the speech
That _Constantine_ delivered to your grace.
_Fred_. What should my noble father thinke
But that she is a strumpet, and in that
A blemish to the state wherein she lives?
_Hat_. She is rich in jewells, and hath store of treasure
Got by the slavery of that choice beautie
Which otherwise admires her to the world.
_Alb_. Confiscate all her goods unto the Crown,
Thereby disburdening many heavie taxes
Impos'd upon the commons of the land.
_Hat_. Publique example make her to all such;
Offences in that kind are growne too common,
Lesse shamelesse never[190] were the beautious dames
Of _Meath_ and _Saxony_ then[191] the sufferance
Hath at this instant made them: good my Lord,
Enact some mighty penaltie for lust.
_Duke_. How wide these Archers shoote of the faire aime
Of my affection! Bring _Valentia_ in.
_Enter Valentia, usher'd by Constantine_.
_Valen_. The duetie that in generall I doe owe
Unto your excellence and to this Court,
I pay at once upon my bended knee.
_Duke_. Behold her, Princes, with impartiall eyes,
And tell me, looks she not exceeding faire?
_Hat_. If that her mind coher'd with her faire face,
Shee were the worthy wonder of this age.
_Alfred_. I never saw a beautie more divine
Grossely deform'd by her notorious lust.
_Fred_. Fairnesse and wantonnesse have made a match
To dwell together, and the worst spoyles both.
_Albert_. Shee is doubly excellent in sin and beauty.
_Duke_. That they speake truth my conscience speaks,
But that I love her that I speak my self.
Stand up, divine deformitie of nature,
Beautious corruption, heavenly see[m]ing evill,
What's excellent in good and bad, stand up;
And in this Chaire, prepared for a Duke,
Sit, my bright Dutchesse, I command thee, sit.
You looke, I am sure, for some apologie
In this rash action; all that I can say
Is that I love her, and wil marry her.
_Fred_. How, love a _Lais_, a base _Rodophe_,
Whose body is as common as the sea
In the receipt of every lustfull spring?
_Albert_. The elements of which these orbes consists,
Fire, ayre, and water, with the ground[192] we tread,
Are not more vulgar, common, popular,
Then her imbracements.
_Alberto_. To incheyne the thoughts
Unto this semblance[193] of lascivious love
Were to be married to the broad rode[194] way
Which doth receiue the impression of every kind.
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