Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima

Enter Alberto, Physitian, and a Chirurgion

 
Phys.
Have patience, Noble Sir; your son Cæsario
Will recover without question.
 
 
Surgeon. A slight wound.
Though it pierc't his body, it hath miss'd the vitals.
 
 
Phys. My life for't, he shall take the air again within these ten dayes.
 
 
Alber. O but from a friend,
To receive this bloody measure from a friend!
If that a man should meet a violent death,
In a place where he had taken sanctuary,
Would it not grieve him? such all Florence held
Their friendship, and 'tis that which multiplies
The injury.
 
 
Physi. Have patience worthy Signior.
 
 
Alber. I do protest, as I am Man and Soldier,
If I had buried him in a wave at Sea,
(Lost in some honorable action)
I would not, to the saltness of his grave,
Have added the least tear; but these quarrels
 

Enter Mariana, and Clarissa

 
Bred out of game and wine, I had as live
He should have died of a Surfet.
 
 
Maria. Oh what comfort! How is it with our Son Sir?
 
 
Alber. His Work-masters
Bear me in hand here, as my Lawyer does,
When I have a crackt Title, or bad Sute in Law,
All shall go well.
 
 
Maria. I pray you Gentlemen, what think you of his wound.
 
 
Physi. 'Tis but a scratch, nothing to danger.
 
 
Claris. But he receiv'd it from a friend,
And the unkindness ta'en at that, may kill him.
 
 
Mari. Let me see him:
 
 
Physi. By no means, he slumbers.
 
 
Mari. Then I cannot believe you,
When you tell me there's hope of him.
 
 
Alber. Yet many Ladies
Do give more faith to their Physitian
Than to their Confessor.
 
 
Claris. O my poor lost brother,
And friend more dear than Brother.
 
 
Alber. More loud instruments
To disturb his slumbers! goe, goe, take Caroch:
And as you love me, you and the Girle retire
To our Summer house, i'th' Country; I'll be with you
Within these two days.
 
 
Maria. I am yours in all things,
Though with much sorrow to leave him.
 

[Exeunt Maria, Claris.

 
Alber. I pray you Gentlemen,
With best observance tend your Patient;
The loss of my heir-male, lies now a bleeding.
 

Enter Mentivole

 
And think what payment his recovery
Shall show'r upon you,
Of all men breathing;
 

[Exeunt Physitian, Chirur.

 
Wherefore do you arrive here? Are you mad?
My injury begins to bleed afresh
At sight of you; why this affront of yours
I receive more malitious than the other.
Your hurt was only danger to my son:
But your sight to me is death; Why come you hither?
Do you come to view the wounds, which you have made?
And glory in them?
 
 
Menti. Rather worthy Sir, to pour Oyl into them.
 
 
Alber. I am a Soldier Sir,
Least part of a Courtier, and understand
By your smooth Oyl,
Your present flattery.
 
 
Menti. Sir, for my Fathers sake acknowledge me
To be born a Gentleman, no slave; I ever
Held flatterers of that breed; do not misconstrue
In your distaste of me, the true intent
Of my coming hither, for I do protest
I do not come to tell you I am sorry
For your sons hurt.
 
 
Alber. Not sorry?
 
 
Menti. No not sorry; I have to the lowest ebbe, lost all my fury:
But I must not lose my honesty; 'twas he
Gave heat unto the injury, which return'd
(Like a Petar, ill lighted, into 'th' bosome
Of him, gave fire to't) yet I hope his hurt,
Is not so dangerous, but he may recover;
When if it please him, call me to account,
For the loss of so much blood, I shall be ready
To do him noble reason.
 
 
Alber. You are arm'd me thinks with wondrous confidence.
 
 
Menti. O with the best Sir;
For I bring penitence, and satisfaction.
 
 
Alber. Satisfaction? Why I heard you say but now,
You were not sorry for his wounds.
 
 
Menti. Nor am I: the satisfaction which I bring Sir, is to you;
You are a Gentleman ne'er injur'd me;
One ever lov'd my Father, the right way,
And most approv'd of noble amity.
Yet I have run my sword quite through your heart,
And slightly hurt your son; for't may be [f]ear'd,
A grief ta'en at these years for your sons loss,
May hazard yours: And therefore I am sent
By him that has most interest in your sorrow;
Who having chid me almost to the ruin
Of a disheritance, for violating
So continued and so sacred a friendship
Of 50 Winters standing: such a friendship,
That ever did continue like the spring;
Ne'er saw the fall o'th' leaf; by him I am sent
To say the wrong I have done Sir, is to you:
And that I have quite lost him for a Father,
Until I find your pardon; nay there follows
A weightier deprivation; his Estate
I could with a less number of sighs part with.
Fortune might attend my youth, and my deservings
In any Climate: but a Fathers blessing,
To settle and confirm that fortune, no where;
But only here. Your pardon, give me that;
And when you have done, kill me; for 'tis that
Takes from me the effect of excommunication;
A Fathers heavy curse.
 
 
Alber. Nay, may that curse
Light on himself, for sending thee in this minute:
When I am grown as deaf to all compassion,
As the cruellest Sea-fight, or most horrid tempest.
That I had drown'd i'th' Sea a thousand duckets,
Thou hadst not made this visit: rash young man,
Thou tak'st me in an ill Planet, and hast cause
To curse thy Father; for I do protest,
If I had met thee in any part o'th' World,
But under my own roofe, I would have kill'd thee.
 

Within there.—Enter Physitian, Chirurgion, and Servants

 
Look you!
Here's a triumph sent for the death of your young Master.
 
 
Serv. Shall we kill him?
 
 
Alber. No, I'll not be so unhospitable; but Sir,
By my life, I vow to take assurance from you,
That right hand never more shall strike my son.
 
 
Menti. That will be easily protested.
 
 
Alber. Not easily, when it must be exacted, and a bloody seal to't.
Bind him, and cut off's right hand presently:
Fair words shall never satisfie foul deeds.
Chop's hand off.
 
 
Menti. You cannot be so unrighteous, to your own honor.
 
 
Phy. O Sir, collect your self;
And recall your bloody purpose.
 
 
Alber. My intents of this nature, do ever come to action.
 
 
Chirur. Then I must fetch another stickler. —
 

[Exit.

 
Alber. Yet I do grieve at heart;
And I do curse thy Father heartily,
That's the cause of my dishonor; sending thee
In such an hour, when I am apt for mischief:
Apt, as a Dutchman after a Sea-fight,
When his enemy kneels afore him; come dispatch.
 
 
Phys. Intreat him, Noble Sir.
 
 
Menti. You shall excuse me;
Whatsoever he dares do, that I dare suffer.
 

Enter Cæsario, and Chirurgion

 
Cæsar. Oh Sir, for honors sake stay your foul purpose,
For if you do proceed thus cruelly,
There is no question in the wound you give him,
I shall bleed to death for't.
 
 
Alber. Thou art not of my temper,
What I purpose, cannot be alter'd.
 
 
Serv. Sir; the Duke
With all speed expects you. You must instantly
Ship all your followers, and to sea.
 
 
Alber. My blessing stay with thee upon this condition,
Take away his use of fighting; as thou hop'st
To be accounted for my son, perform't. —
 

[Exit.

 
Cesar. You hear what I am injoyn'd to.
 
 
Menti. Pray thee take it,
Only this ring, this best esteem'd Jewel:
I will not give't to'th' hangman chops it off;
It is too dear a relique. I'll remove it nearer my heart.
 
 
Cæsar. Ha, that Ring's my Sisters.
The Ring I injoyn'd her never part withal
Without my knowledge; come, Sir, we are friends
Pardon my fathers heat, and melancholy;
Two violent Fevers which he caught at Sea,
And cannot yet shake off: only one promise
I must injoyn you to, and seriously.
Hereafter you shall never draw a Sword
To the prejudice of my life.
 
 
Menti. By my best hopes I shall not.
 
 
Cæsar. I pray deliver me your sword
On that condition.
 
 
Menti. I shall Sir, may it hereafter
Ever fight on your part.
 
 
Cæsar. Noble Sir, I thank you;
But for performance of your vow, I intreat
Some gage from you.
 
 
Menti. Any Sir.
 
 
Cæsar. Deliver me that ring.
 
 
Menti. Ha, this Ring? indeed this Jewel binds me,
If you knew the vertue of it, never more
To draw my sword against you.
 
 
Cæsar. Therefore I will have it.
 
 
Menti. You may not.
 
 
Cæsar. Come: you must.
I that by violence could take your hand,
Can inforce this from you; this is a token Sir,
That we may prove friends hereafter. Fare you well.
 
 
Phys. Why did you ceise his Sword Sir?
 
 
Cesar. To perform what my Father bade me,
I have for the present ta'en away his
Use of fighting.
 
 
Phys. Better so,
Than take that which your Father meant.
 

[Exeunt Manet, Mentivole.

 
Menti. Was ever the like usage? O that Ring!
Dearer than life, Whither is honor fled?
Cesario. Thou art unmanly in each part,
To seize my sword first, and then split my heart.
 

[Exit.

Enter Host, and Clown

 
Host. Thy Master that lodges here in my Osteria,
Is a rare man of art, they say he's a Witch.
 
 
Clow. A Witch? Nay, he's one step of the Ladder to preferment higher, he is a Conjurer.
 
 
Host. Is that his higher title?
 
 
Clow. Yes, I assure you, for a Conjurer is the Devils Master, and commands him; whereas a Witch is the Devils Prentice, and obeys him.
 
 
Host. Bound Prentice to the Devil!
 
 
Clow. Bound and inroll'd I assure you, he cannot start; and therefore I would never wish any Gentleman to turn Witch.
 
 
Host. Why Man?
 
 
Clow. Oh he loses his Gentility by it, the Devil in this case cannot help him, he must go to the Herald for new Armes believe it.
 
 
Host. As I am true Inkeeper, yet a Gentleman born,
I'll ne'er turn Witch for that trick;
And thou hast been a great Traveller?
 
 
Clow. No indeed, not I Sir.
 
 
Host. Come, you are modest.
 
 
Clow. No, I am not modest, for I told you a lye, that you might the better understand I have been a Traveller.
 
 
Host. So Sir, they say your Master is a great Physitian too.
 
 
Clow. He was no fool told you that, I assure you.
 
 
Host. And you have been in England? but they say,
Ladies in England take a great deal of Physick.
 
 
Clow. Both wayes on my reputation.
 
 
Host. So 'tis to be understood:
But they say, Ladies there take Physick for fashion.
 
 
Clow. Yes Sir, and many times dye to keep fashion.
 
 
Host. How? dye to keep fashion!
 
 
Clow. Yes, I have known a Lady sick of the small Pocks, onely to keep her face from Pitholes, take cold, strike them in again, kick up the heels, and vanish.
 
 
Host. There was kicking up the heels with a witness.
 
 
Clow. No Sir; I confess a good face has many times been the motive to the kicking up of the heels with a witn[e]ss: but this was not.
 

Enter Hostess, and Bianca

 
Host. Here comes my wife and daughter.
 
 
Clow. You have a prety commodity of this night-worm?
 
 
Host. Why Man?
 
 
Clow. She is a pretty lure to draw custom to your ordinary.
 
 
Host. Do'st think I keep her to that purpose?
 
 
Clow. When a Dove-house is empty, there is cuminseed used to purloine from the rest of the neighbors; in England you have several Adamants, to draw in spurs and rapiers; one keeps silk-worms in a Gallery: A Milliner has choice of Monkies, and Paraketoes; another shewes bawdy East-Indian Pictures, worse than ever were Aretines: a Goldsmith keeps his Wife wedged into his shop like a Mermaid, nothing of her to be seen (thats Woman) but her upper part.
 
 
Host. Nothing but her upper part?
 
 
Clow. Nothing but her upper bodies, and he lives at the more hearts ease.
 
 
Host. What's the reason?
 
 
Clow. Because her nether part can give no temptation; by your leave, Sir, I'll tend my Master, and instantly be with you for a cup of Cherally this hot weather.
 
 
Host. A nimble pated Rascal, come hither Daughter,
When was Cesario here?
 
 
Bian. Sir, not this fortnight.
 
 
Host. I do not like his visits, commonly
He comes by Owl-light, both the time and manner
Is suspitious; I do not like it.
 
 
Bian. Sir, the Gentleman
Is every way so noble, that you need not
Question his intent of coming, though you did;
Pray Sir preserve that good opinion of me,
That though the custome of the place I was born in,
Makes me familiar to every guest,
I shall in all things keep my self a stranger
To the vices they bring with them.
 
 
Hostis. Right my daughter:
She has the right strain of her Mother.
 
 
Host. Of her Mother?
And I would speak, I know from whence she took it;
When I was as young, I was as honest.
 
 
Hostess. Leave your prating.
And study to be drunk; and abuse your guests over and over.
 

Enter Forobosco, and Clown

 
Host. Peace Wife. My honorable guest.
 
 
Foro. My indear'd Landlord?
And the rest o'th' complements o'th' house.
 
 
Host. Breakfast is ready Sir;
It waites only the tide of your stomach.
 
 
Clow. And mine gapes for't like a stale Oyster.
Ere you go to bed, fail not of that I pray.
 

[ —Exeunt all but Forobosco, and Clown.

 
Foro. We will instantly be with you;
Now we are all fellows.
Nine a Clock, and no Clyents come
Yet, sure thou do'st not set up bills enough.
 
 
Clow. I have set up bills in abundance.
 
 
Foro. What Bills?
 
 
Clow. Marry for curing of all diseases,
Recovery of stoln goods,
And a thousand such impossibilities.
 
 
Foro. The place is unlucky.
 
 
Clow. No certain, 'tis scarcity of mony; do not you hear
the Lawyers complain of it? Men have as much Malice as
ever they had to wrangle, but they have no Mony: Whither
should this Mony be travell'd?
 
 
Foro. To the Devil I think.
 
 
Clow. 'Tis with his Cofferer I am certain, that's the Usurer.
 
 
Foro. Our cheating does not prosper so well as it was wont to do.
 
 
Clow. No sure, why in England we coo'd cozen 'em as familiarly, as if we had travell'd with a Brief, or a Lottery.
 
 
Foro. I'th' Low-countries we did pretty well.
 
 
Clow. So so: as long as we kept the Mop-headed butter-boxes sober; marry when they were drunk, then they grew buzards: You should have them reel their heads together, and deliberate; your Dutchman indeed, when he is foxt, is like a Fox; for when he's sunk in drink, quite earth to a Mans thinking, 'tis full Exchange time with him, then he's subtlest; but your Switzer, 'twas nothing to cheat him.
 
 
Foro. Nothing?
 
 
Clow. No, nor conscience to be made of it; for since nature afore-hand cozen'd him of his wit, 'twas the less sin for us to cozen him of his Mony.
 
 
Foro. But these Italians are more nimble-pated, we must have some new trick for them; I protest but that our Hostess's daughter is a sweet Lass, and draws great resort to'th' house, we were as good draw teeth a horseback.
 
 
Clow. I told 'em in the Market-place you could conjure, and no body would believe me: but ere long I will make 'em believe you can conjure with such a figuary.
 
 
Foro. What language shall's conjure in? high Dutch I think, that's full i'th' mouth.
 
 
Clow. No, no, Spanish, that roars best; and will appear more dreadful.
 
 
Foro. Prethee tell me thy conceit thou hast to gull them.
 
 
Clow. No, no, I will not stael it; but my dear Jews-trump, for thou art but my instrument, I am the plotter, and when we have cozen'd 'em most titely, thou shalt steal away the Inn-keepers daughter, I'll provide my self of another moveable: and we will most purely retire our selves to Geneva.
 
 
Foro. Thou art the compass I sail by.
 

Enter Baptista and Mentivole

 
Bap. Was ever expectation of so Noble
A requital answered with such contumely!
A wild Numidian that had suck'd a Tigress,
Would not have been so barbarous; Did he threat
To cut thy hand off?
 
 
Ment. Yes Sir, and his slaves were ready to perform't.
 
 
Bapt. What hind'red it?
 
 
Ment. Only his sons intreaty.
 
 
Bapt. Noble youth,
I wish thou wert not of his blood; thy pitty
Gives me a hope thou art not.
 
 
Ment. You mistake Sir,
The injury that followed from the son,
Was worse than the fathers; he did first disarme
And took from me a Jewel, which I prize
Above my hand or life.
 
 
Bap. Take thy sword from thee?
He stole it like a Thief rather, he could not
I'th' Field deprive thee of it.
 
 
Ment. He took it from me,
And sent me forth so thin, and so unmade up,
As if I had been a Foot-boy.
 
 
Bap. O my fury!
I must now ask thee forgiveness, that my rashness,
Bred out of too much friendship, did expose thee
To so eminent a danger; which I vow
I will revenge on the whole Family:
All the calamities of my whole life,
My banishment from Genoa, my wifes loss
Compar'd to this indignity, is nothing;
Their Family shall repair't; it shall be to them
Like a plague, when the Dog-star reigns most hot:
An Italian's revenge may pause, but's ne'er forgot.
 

[Exit.

 
Ment. I would I had conceal'd this from my Father,
For my interest in Clarissa; my care now
Must be to untangle this division,
That our most equal flames may be united;
And from these various and perturbed streames,
Rise, like a sweet Morn, after terrible dreams. —
 

[Exit.

Enter Clarissa and Cæsario

 
Clar. Brother, I am happy in your recovery.
 
 
Cæs. And I Sister, am ever best pleased in your happiness:
But I miss a toy should be on your finger.
 
 
Clar. My Ring; this morning when I wash't
I put it off, 'tis in my Window.
 
 
Ces. Where's your Looking-glass?
 
 
Clar. Here, Sir.
 
 
Ces. 'Tis a fair one.
 
 
Clar. 'Tis pure Chrystal.
 
 
Ces. Can a Diamond cut in Crystal? let me see,
I'll grave my name in't.
 
 
Clar. Oh, you'll spoyl my glass.
Would you not have your brother in your eye?
 
 
Ces. I had thought he had been Planted in your heart,
Look you, the Diamond cuts quaintly, you are cozen'd,
Your Chrystal is too britle.
 
 
Clar. 'Tis the Ring
I gave unto Mentivole, sure the same.
You put me to amazement Sir, and horror;
How came you by that Ring?
 
 
Ces. Does the blood rise?
 
 
Clar. Pray Sir resolve me, O for pitty do;
And take from me a trembling at the heart,
That else will kill me: for I too much fear
Nothing but Death could ravish it from his hand
That wore it.
 
 
Cesar. Was it given to Mentivola on that condition?
 
 
Clar. Tell me of his health first.
And then I'll tell you any thing.
 
 
Cesar. By my life he's well,
In better health than I am.
 
 
Clar. Then it was Sir.
 
 
Cesar. Then shall I ever hate thee, Oh thou false one;
Hast thou a Faith to give unto a friend,
And break it to a brother? Did I not,
By all the tyes of blood importune thee
Never to part with it without my knowledge?
Thou might'st have given it to a Muliter,
And made a contrail with him in a stable,
At as cheap a price of my vengeance: never more
Shall a Womans trust beguile me; You are all
Like Relicks: you may well be look't upon,
But come a Man to'th' handling of you once,
You fall in pieces.
 
 
Clar. Dear Sir, I have no way
Look't either beneath reason, or my self,
In my election; there's parity in our blood,
And in our fortunes, antient amity
Betwixt our parents: to which wants nothing,
But the Fruit of blest Marriage between us,
To add to their posterities: nor does now
Any impeachment rise, except the sad
And unexpected quarrel, which divided
So noble, and so excellent a friendship,
Which as I ne'er had Magick to foresee,
So I could not prevent.
 
 
Cæsar. Well, you must give me leave
To have a hand in your disposing, I shall,
In the absence of my Father, be your Guardian;
His Suit must pass through my office. Mentivole,
He has too much of my blood already; he has,
And he get's no more of't —
Wherefore weep you Mother?
 

Enter Mariana, and a Sailor

 
Marian. 'Tis occasion'd by a sorrow,
Wherein you have a Child's part, and the mainest,
Your Father's dead.
 
 
Cæsar. Dead?
 
 
Marian. There's one can relate the rest.
 
 
Sailor. I can Sir, your Father's drown'd,
Most unfortunately drown'd.
 
 
Cæsar. How? In a tempest?
 
 
Sailor. No Sir, in a calm,
Calm as this evening; the Gunner being drunk,
Forgot to fasten the Ordnance to their ports,
When came a sudden gust, which tumbled them
All to the Starboord side, o'erturn'd the Ship,
And sunk her in a moment, some six men
That were upon the deck were sav'd: the rest
Perish'd with your Father.
 
 
Claris. O my dearest Father —
 
 
Cesar. I pray thee leave us.
 
 
Maria. I have a sorrow of another nature, equal to the former.
 
 
Cesar. And most commonly they come together.
 
 
Maria. The Family of the Baptisti
Are grown to faction, and upon distast
Of the injury late offer'd in my house,
Have vow'd a most severe, and fell revenge
'Gainst all our family, but especially
'Gainst you my dear Cæsario.
 
 
Cæsar. Let them threat, I am prepar'd to oppose them.
 
 
Maria. And is your loss then
Of so easie an estimation? What comfort
Have I but in your life, and your late danger
Presents afore me what I am to suffer,
Should you miscarry; therefore I'll advise you
When the Funeral is over, you would travel,
Both to prevent their fury, and wear out th' injury.
 
 
Cæsar. No Mother, I will not travel,
So in my absence he may marry my Sister,
I will not travel certain.
 
 
Maria. O my Cesario,
Whom I respect and love 'bove my own life,
Indeed with a kind of dotage, he shall never
Go forth o' doors, but the contrary faction
Will indanger's life, and then am I most wretched.
I am thinking of a strange prevention,
Which I shall witness with a bleeding eye,
Fondness sometimes is worse than cruelty. —
 

[Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima

Enter Host, Hostess, and Bianca

 
Host.
Haunted, my house is haunted with goblins. I shall be frighted out of my wits, and set up a sign only to invite Carriers and Foot-posts; scar-crows to keep off the Cavalry, and Gentry of the best rank. I will nail up my doors, and wall up my Girle (wife) like an Anchoress; or she will be ravisht before our faces, by rascalls and cacafugo's (wife) cacafugo's.
 
 
Hostess. These are your In-comes, remember your own proverb, the savor of every gain smelt sweet; thank no body but your self for this trouble.
 
 
Host. No gauling (dear Spouse) no gauling, every days new vexation abates me two inches in the waste, terrible pennance for an Host, Girle, girle, girle, Which of all this gally-maufry of Mans flesh appears tolerable to thy choice; speak shortly, and speak truely: I must and will know, must and will; Hear ye that?
 
 
Bian. Sir, be not jealous of my care and duty;
I am so far from entertaining thoughts
Of liberty, that much more excellent objects
Than any of such course contents as these are,
Could not betray mine eye to force my heart;
Conceive a wish of any dearer happiness
Than your direction warrant's. I am yours Sir.
 
 
Hostess. What thinks the Man now? Is not this strange at 13.
 
 
Host. Very good words, there's a tang in e'm, and a sweet one, 'tis musick (wife) and now I come t'ee. Let us a little examine the several conditions of our Paragraphistical suitors. The first, a travelling Tailor, who by the mystery of his Needle and Thimble, hath survey'd the fashions of the French, and English; this Signior Ginger-bread, stitcht up in the shreds of a g[a]udy outside, sows Linings with his cross-leg'd complement, like an Ape doing tricks over a staffe, cringes, and crouches, and kisses his forefinger.
 
 
Hostess. Out upon him.
 
 
Host. A second, a lavolteteere, a saltatory, a dancer with a Kit at his Bum, one that, by teaching great Madonnas to foot it, has miraculously purchast a ribanded Wastcote, and four clean pair of socks; a fellow that skips as he walkes, and instead of sensible discourse, vents the curious conceit of some new tune stolen from a Mask, or a bawdy dittie, elevated for the Pole Artick of a Ladies chamber, in that file stands another of your inamoratoes.
 
 
Hostess. Hang him and his Fiddle together, he never fidles any child of ours.
 
 
Host. The third, a Mongrel, got by a Switzer on an Italian; this puppy, being left well estated, comes to Florence, that the world may take notice, how impossible it is for experience to alter the course of nature; a fool (wife) and indeed, a Clown turn'd Gallant, seldom or never proves other than a gallant fool, this toy prates to little purpose other than What's a Clock? Shall's go drink? De'e forsooth? and thank ye heartily; I fear no art in him to catch thee, and yet we must be tormented with this buzard amongst the rest.
 
 
Hostess. 'Tis your own folly, forbid him the House.
 
 
Host. The fourth, a Mule-driver, a stubborn and a harsh knave: the fifth a School-Master, a very amorous Pedant, run almost mad with study of Sonnets, and Complements out of old Play-ends, the last an Advocates Clerk, that speaks pure Fustian in Law-terms: excellent Courtiers all, and all as neate as a Magnifio's post new painted, at his entrance to an office; thou shalt have none of 'em. Laugh at 'em, do. I say thou shalt have none of 'em.
 
 
Bian. Still your command to me shall stand a Law.
 
 
Host. Now they throng like so many horse-coursers at a fair, in clusters about the Man of Art, for Love-powders, ingredients, potions, counsels, postures, complements, philters: the Devil and the – How now? Tumults? Batteries, Noise? ha, get from my sight.
 

[Clown cries within.

Enter Forobosco, and Clown, his head bloody

 
Clow. Murther me, do, pound me to Mummy, do; see what will come on't.
 
 
Foro. Dog, leave thy snarling, or I'll cut thy tongue out,
Thou un[l]ickt Bear, dar'st thou yet stand my fury,
My generous rage? yet! by the sulpherous damps
That feed the hungry and incessant darkness,
Which curles around the grim Alastors back,
Mutter again, and with one powerful word,
I'll call an Host up from the Stygian Lakes,
Shall waft thee to the Acherontick fens;
Where choak't with Mists as black as thy impostures,
Thou shalt live still a dying.
 
 
Clow. Conjure me to the Devil and you can, I live in
Hell upon earth already, and you had any mercy, you would
not practice upon a kind heart thus.
 
 
Host. You have drawn blood from him Signior, Is his
offence unpardonable?
 
 
Foro. A lump of ignorance, pray speak not for him,
A drowsie grossness, in all Christian Kingdoms,
The mention of my art, my name, my practise,
Merit and Glory hath begot at once
Delight and wonder; I'll not be entreated;
Spare intercession for him, – O thou scorn
Of learning, shame of duty; must thy sloth
Draw my just fame in question? I discharge thee
From my service; see me no more henceforth.
 
 
Clow. Discharge me! Is that my years wages?
I'll not be so answer'd.
 
 
Foro. Not Camel? Sirrah I am liberal to thee;
Thou hast thy life, be gone.
 
 
Clow. Vengeance, sweet vengeance.
 
 
Foro. De'e mumble?
 
 
Clow. I'll be reveng'd, monstrously, suddenly, and insatiably; my bulk begins to swell.
 
 
Foro. Homotolenton, Pragmatophoros, Heliostycorax.
 
 
Clo. Call up your Spirits, I defie 'em; well, I'll have Law for my broken pate, twelve ounces of pure blood; Troy-weight. In despight of thee my Master, and thy Master the grand Devil himself, vindicta, vindicta. —
 

[Exit.

 
Host. Signior, you are exceeding mov'd.
 
 
Hostess. Mercy upon us, What terrible words thou talk'st?
 
 
Foro. A slave, a curr – but be not you afrighted
Young Virgin, 'twere an injury to sweetness:
Should any rough sound draw from your cheeks,
The pretious tincture which makes nature proud
Of her own workmanship.
 
 
Host. Wife, Mark, mark that Wife.
 
 
Bian. Shake then your anger off Sir.
 
 
Foro. You command it
Fair one, mine Host and Hostess, with your leaves
I have a motion joyntly to you all.
 
 
Hostess. An honest one I hope.
 
 
Host. Well put in Wife.
 
 
Foro. A very necessary one, the Me[s]s
And half of suitors, that attend to usher
Their Loves sir-reverence to your daughter, wait
With one consent, which can best please her eye;
In offering at a Dance, I have provided
Musick. And, 'twill be something I dare promise
Worthy your laughter, Shall they have admittance?
 
 
Host. By any means, for I am perswaded the manner will be so
Ridiculous, that it will confirm the assurance of their
Miserable fooleries, but no longer trouble with 'em here,
Than they are in these May-games.
 
 
Foro. So I am resolv'd.
 
 
Hostess. Nor any wise word of senceless love.
 
 
Foro. Not any; I have charm'd them, Did you see
How they prepar'd themselves? how they stroak up
Their foretops, how they justle for the Looking-glass,
To set their faces by it;
 

[See they Muster.

 
You would look for some most impossible antick.
 

Enter Tailor, Dancer, Mule-driver, School-Master, Clark: (all with several papers, and present 'em to Forobosco.)

 
Host. So, so, so, so, here flutter the nest of Hornets, the hotch-potch of rascallity; now, now, now, now, the dung-hill of corruption hath yawn'd forth the burthen of abhomination. I am vext, vext to the soul, will rid my house of this unchristen'd fry, and never open my doors again.
 
 
Foro. Some other time, I'll give no answer now,
But have preferred your suits, here shew your cunning.
First, every one in order do his honor
To the fair mark you shoot at; courtly, courtly,
Convey your several loves in lively measure:
Come, let us take our seates, some sprightly Musick.
 
 
Host. Dance all and part, 'tis a very necessary farewell.
 

Enter Cæsario, They all make ridiculous conges to Bianca: rank themselves, and dance in several postures: during the dance, Enter Cæsario, and stands off

 
Host. Well done my lusty bloods, precisely well done,
One lusty rouse of Wine, and take leave on all sides.
 
 
Cesar. Thanks for your Revels Gentlemen; accept
This Gold, and drink as freely as you danc'd.
 
 
Host. My noble Lord Cesario, clear the rooms Sirs.
 
 
Foro. Away. Attend your answers.
 

[ —Exeunt Foro, and those that danc'd.

 
Cesar. With your favor Rolando, I would change a word or two with your fair daughter.
 
 
Host. At your Lordships pleasure, come Wife, no muttering, have a care Girle, my love, service, and duty to your good Lordship.
 

[ —Exeunt and Wife.

 
Cesar. My often visits (sweet Bianca) cannot
But constantly inform thy judgment, wherein
Thy happiness consists, for to steal minutes
From great imployments, to converse with beauty,
Lodg'd in so mean a fortune, to lay by
Consideration of the unequal distance
Between my blood and thine, to shun occasions
Of courtship with the Ladies of the time:
Noble, and fair, only for love to thee,
Must of necessity invite a tenderness;
As low as nature could have stampt a Bondwomans.
To entertain quick motions of rare gratitude
For my uncommon favors.
 
 
Bian. 'Deed my Lord, as far as my simplicity can lead me,
I freely thank your curtesies.
 
 
Cesar. To thank them, is to reward them pretty one.
 
 
Bian. Then teach me
How I may give them back again; in truth
I never yet receiv'd a pair of Gloves:
A trifling Ring from any that expected
An equall satisfaction, but as willingly
I parted with the guift unto the owner, as he bestow'd it.
 
 
Cæsar. But I pour before thee
Such plenties, as it lies not in the ability
Of thy whole kindred, to return proportionable
One for a thousand.
 
 
Bian. You my Lord conclude
For my instruction, to ingage a debt
Beyond a possibility of paiment,
I ever thought a sin; and therefore justly
Without conceit of scorn, or curious rudeness,
I must refuse your bounty.
 
 
Cesar. Canst thou love?
 
 
Bian. Love! Is there such a word in any Language
That carries honest sence?
 
 
Cesar. Never dwelt ignorance
In so sweet-shap't a building: love, Bianca,
Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one:
Shall ours be tied so?
 
 
Bian. Use a plainer word,
My Lord. In stead of tyes, say marries hearts,
Then I may understand.
 
 
Cæsar. Their hearts are married
Whose enterchange of pleasures, and embraces,
Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets,
Keeps constant league together, when temptation
Of great mens oathes and gifts, shall urge contempt,
Rather than batter resolution, novelty
Of sights, or taste of new delights in wantonness,
Breeds surfeit more than appetite in any
Reserv'd to noble vowes; my excellent Maid,
Live thou but true to me, and my contents,
Mine only, that no partner may partake
The treasure of those sweets thy youth yet glories in,
And I will raise thy lowness to abundance
Of all varieties, and more triumph
In such a Mistris, than great Princes doating
On truth-betraying Wives.
 
 
Bian. Thus to yield up then
The cottage of my virtue, to be swallow'd
By some hard-neighbouring Landlord, such as you are,
Is in effect to love, a Lord so vicious!
O where shall innocence find some poor dwelling,
Free from temptations tyranny.
 
 
Cesar. Nay prethee.
 
 
Byan. Gay clothes, high feeding, easie beds of lust,
Change of unseemly sights; with base discourse,
Draw curses on your Pallaces; for my part,
This I will be confirm'd in, I will eate
The bread of labour, know no other rest
Than what is earn'd from honest pains, ere once more
Lend ear to your vile toyles; Sir, would you were
As noble in desires, as I could be in knowing virtue.
Pray do not afflict a poor soul thus.
 
 
Cesar. I swear – to me? —
 

[Bianca steales off.

Enter a Gentleman

 
Gent. The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presence
For answering agrievances lately urg'd
Against you by your Mother?
 
 
Cesar. By my Mother.
 
 
Gent. The Court is near on sitting.
 
 
Cesar. I wait on it Sir. —
 

[Exeunt.

Enter Duke, Magistrate, Secretary, Baptista, Attendants, Mentivole: (they sit) Mentivole stands by

 
Duke. What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions,
What outrages, what uprores in a State,
Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first,
Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad example
At Rome, between the Ursins and Columni's:
Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the Neers
And the Bianchi, can too mainly witness.
I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of Sovereignty
Deputed Pilot for the Common-wealth,
To sleep while others steere (as their wild fancies
Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders.
Baptista, This short Preface is directed
Chiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrels
Late urg'd betwixt th' Alberti and your family;
Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts,
Fasten again together of themselves:
Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will use
The roughness of our justice, to cut off
The stubborn rancour of the limbes offending.
 
 
Bap. Most gracious Florence.
 
 
Duke. Our command was signified,
That neither of the followers of each party
Should appear here with weapons.
 
 
Bap. 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side.
 
 
Duke. We must leave the general cause
Of State employments, to give ear to brawls
Of some particular grudges, pollitick government
For tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth.
 

Enter Mariana, and Clarissa at one door, Cesario at the other

 
Our frown shall check presumption, not our clemency.
 
 
Mari. All blessings due to unpartial Princes,
Crown Florence with eternity of happiness.
 
 
Cesar. If double Prayers can double blessings (great Sir)
Mine joyn for your prosperity with my Mothers.
 
 
Duke. Rise both; now briefly (Lady) without circumstance
Deliver those agrievances, which lately
Your importunity possest our Counsel,
Were fit for audience, wherein you petition'd,
You might be heard without an Advocate,
Which boon you find is granted.
 
 
Mari. Though divided.
I stand between the Laws of truth and modesty,
Yet let my griefs have vent: Yet the clearness
Of strange necessity requires obedience
To nature and your Mercy, in my weeds
Of mourning, emblems of too dear misfortunes,
Badges of griefs, and Widdowhood, the burthen
Of my charg'd soul, must be laid down before you;
Wherein, if strict opinion cancel shame,
My frailty is my plea;
Stand forth young Man,
And hear a story that will strike all reason
Into amazement.
 
 
Cesar. I attend.
 
 
Mar. Alberto (peace dwell upon his ashes) still the husband
Of my remembrance and unchanging vowes,
Has, by his death, left to his heir possession
Of fair revenew, which this young man claimes
As his inheritance. I urg'd him gently,
Friendly, and privately, to grant a partage
Of this estate to her who ownes it all,
This his supposed Sister.
 
 
Bap. How supposed?
 
 
Cesar. Pray Madam recollect your self.
 
 
Mar. The relish
Of a strange truth begins to work like Physick
Already: I have bitterness to mingle
With these preparatives, so deadly loathsome;
It will quite choak digestion; shortly hear it
Cesario, for I dare not rob unjustly
The poor soul of his name; this, this Cesario
Neither for Father had Alberto, me
For Mother, nor Clarissa for his Sister.
 
 
Claris. Mother, O Mother.
 
 
Ment. I am in a Dream sure.
 
 
Duke. No interruptions. Lady on.
 
 
Mari. Mistake not,
Great Duke of Tuscany, or the beginning
Or process of this novelty; my husband
The now deceas'd Alberto, from his youth
In-ur'd to an impatiency, and roughness
Of disposition, when not many months
After our Marriage were worn out, repin'd
At the unfr[u]itful barrenness of youth,
Which, as he pleas'd to terme it, cut our hopes off
From blessing of some issue; to prevent it
I grew ambitious of no fairer honor
Than to preserve his love, and as occasions
Still call'd him from me, studied in his absence
How I might frame his welcome home with comfort.
At last I fain'd my self with Child; the Message
Of freedome, or relief, to one half starv'd
In prison, is not utter'd with such greediness
Of expectation, and delight, as this was
To my much affected Lord; his care, his goodness;
(Pardon me that I use the word) exceeded
All former fears, the hour of my deliverance
As I pretended, drawing near, I fashion'd
My birth-rights at a Country Garden-house,
Where then my Faulk'ners Wife was brought a bed
Of this Cesario; him I own'd for mine;
Presented him unto a joyful Father.
 
 
Duke. Can you prove this true?
 
 
Mari. Proofs I have most evident;
But oh the curse of my impatiency; shortly,
E'r three new Moons had spent their borrow'd Lights,
I grew with Child indeed, so just is Heaven,
The issue of which burthen was this Daughter;
Judge now most gracious Prince, my Lords and you,
What combats then, and since, I have indur'd,
Between a Mothers piety, and weakness
Of a Soul trembling Wife; to have reveal'd
This secret to Alberto, had been danger
Of ruin to my fame, besides the conflict
Of his distractions; now to have supprest it,
Were to defeat my Child, my only Child,
Of her most lawful honors, and inheritance.
Cæsario, th'art a Man still, Education
Hath moulded thee a Gentleman, continue so;
Let not this fall from greatness sink thee lower
Than worthy thoughts may warrant, yet disclaim
All interest in Alberto's blood, thou hast not
One drop of his or mine.
 
 
Duke. Produce your witness.
 
 
Marian. The Faulconers Wife his Mother,
And such women as waited then upon me,
Sworn to the privacy of this great secret.
 
 
Duke. Give them all their Oaths.
 
 
Cesar. O let me crave forbearance, gracious Sir,
Vouchsafe me hearing.
 
 
Duke. Speak Cæsario.
 
 
Cesar. Thus long
I have stood silent, and with no unwillingness,
Attended the relation of my fall,
From a fair expectation; what I fear'd
(Since the first syllable this Lady utter'd
Of my not being hers) benevolent Fates
Have eas'd me off; for to be basely born,
If not base-born, detracts not from the bounty
Of natures freedom, or an honest birth.
Nobility claim'd by the right of blood,
Shewes chiefly, that our Ancestors desir'd
What we inherit; but that Man whose actions
Purchase a real merit to himself,
And rancks him in the file of praise and honor,
Creates his own advancement; let me want
The fuel which best feeds the fires of greatness,
Lordly possessions, yet shall still my gratitude
By some attempts, of mention not unworthy,
Endeavour to return a fit acquittance
To that large debt I owe your favours (Madam)
And great Alberto's memory and goodness;
O that I could as gently shake off passion
For the loss of that great brave Man, as I can shake off
Remembra[n]ce of that once I was reputed;
I have not much to say, this Princely presence
Needs not too strictly to examine farther
The truth of this acknowledgment; a Mother
Dares never disavow her only son,
And any woman must come short of Piety,
That can, or dis-inherit her own issue,
Or fears the voice of rumor for a stranger.
Madam, you have confest, my Father was
A servant to your Lord and you: by interest
Of being his son, I cannot but claim justly
The honor of continuing still my service
To you and yours; which granted, I beg leave
I may for this time be dismist.
 
 
Duke. Bold spirit.
 
 
Bap. I love thee now with pitty.
 
 
Duke. Go not yet —
A sudden tempest that might shake a rock,
Yet he stands firm against it; much it moves me,
He, not Alberto's son, and she a Widdow,
And she a Widdow, – Lords your ear.
 
 
Omnes. Your pleasure. —
 

[Whispers.

 
Duke. So, Lady, what you have avouch'd is truth.
 
 
Mari. Truth only, gracious Sir.
 
 
Duke. Hear then our Sentence.
Since from his cradle you have fed and foster'd
Cæsario as your Son, and train'd him up
To hopes of greatness; which now in a moment
You utterly again have ruin'd, this way
We with our Counsel are resolv'd, you being
A Widdow, shall accept him for a husband.
 
 
Maria. Husband to me, Sir?
 
 
Duke. 'Tis in us to raise him
To honors, and his vertues will deserve 'em.
 
 
Maria. But Sir, 'tis in no Prince, nor his Prerogative,
To force a Womans choice against her heart.
 
 
Duke. True, if then you appeale to higher Justice,
Our Doom includes this clause upon refusal,
Out of your Lords revenues shall Cæsario
Assure to any, whom he takes for Wife,
The inheritance of three parts; the less remainer
Is dowry large enough to marry a daughter;
And we, by our Prerogative, which you question,
Will publickly adopt him into th'name
Of your deceas'd Alberto, that the memory
Of so approv'd a Peer may live in him
That can preserve his memory; 'less you find out
Some other means, which may as amply satisfie
His wrong, our Sentence stands irrevocable:
What think you Lords?
 
 
Omnes. The Duke is just and honorable.
 
 
Bap. Let me embrace Cæsario, henceforth ever
I vow a constant friendship.
 
 
Mentivole. I remit all former difference.
Cesar. I am too poor
In words to thank this Justice. Madam, alwayes
My studies shall be love to you, and duty.
 
 
Duke. Replies we admit none. Cæsario wait on us.
 

[Exeunt. Manent, Mentivole, Bap. Mari. Claris.

 
Bap. Mentivole.
 
 
Menti. My Lord.
 
 
Bap. Look on Clarissa, she's noble, rich, young, fair.
 
 
Mentivole. My Lord, and virtuous.
 
 
Bap. Mentivole and virtuous. —Madam.
 
 
Maria. Tyranny of Justice, I shall live reports derision,
That am compell'd to exchange a graceful Widdowhood
For a continual Martyrdome in Marriage,
With one so much beneath me.
 
 
Bap. I'll plead for ye
Boldly and constantly, let your daughter only
Admit my son her servant, at next visit,
Madam, I'll be a messenger of comfort.
Mentivole, be confident and earnest.
 

[Exit.

 
Maria. Married again, to him too! better 'thad been
The young Man should have still retain'd the honors
Of old Alberto's son, than I the shame
Of making him successor of his bed; I was too blame.
 
 
Ment. Indeed without offence,
Madam I think you were.
 
 
Claris. You urge it fairly, and like a worthy friend.
 
 
Maria. Can you say any thing
In commendation of a Mushroom withered
Assoon as started up?
 
 
Ment. You scorn an Innocent
Of noble growth, for whiles your husband liv'd
I have heard you boast Cesario in all actions
Gave matter of report of Imitation,
Wonder and envy; let not discontinuance
Of some few days estrange a sweet opinion
Of virtue, ch[ie]fly when, in such extremity,
Your pitty not contempt will argue goodness.
 
 
Maria. O Sir.
 
 
Cla. If you would use a thriving courtship,
You cannot utter a more powerfull language
That I shall listen to with greater greediness
Than th'argument you prosecute; this speaks you
A man compleat and excellent.
 
 
Ment. I speak not, they are his own deserts.
 
 
Maria. Good Sir forbear,
I am now fully sensible of running
Into a violent Lethargy, whose deadliness
Locks up all reason, I shall never henceforth
Remember my past happiness.
 
 
Ment. These clouds may be disperst.
 
 
Maria. I fear continuall night
Will over-shroud me, yet poor youth his trespass
Lies in his fortune, not the cruelty
Of the Duke's sentence.
 
 
Cla. I dare think it does.
 
 
Maria. If all fail I will learn thee to conquer
Adversity with sufferance.
 
 
Ment. You resolve Nobly.
 

[Exeunt.