ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.—A Room in Cataplasma's House.
Enter Cataplasma and Soquette with needlework.
Cata. Come, Soquette, your work! let's examine your work. What's here? a medlar with a plum tree growing hard by it; the leaves o' the plum tree falling off; the gum issuing out o' the perished joints; and the branches some of 'em dead, and some rotten; and yet but a young plum tree. In good sooth very pretty.
Soqu. The plum tree, forsooth, grows so near the medlar that the medlar sucks and draws all the sap from it and the natural strength o' the ground, so that it cannot prosper.
Cata. How conceited you are![164] But here th'ast made a tree to bear no fruit. Why's that?
Soqu. There grows a savin tree next it, forsooth.[165]
Cata. Forsooth you are a little too witty in that.
Enter Sebastian.
Sebas. But this honeysuckle winds about this white thorn very prettily and lovingly, sweet Mistress Cataplasma.
Cata. Monsieur Sebastian! in good sooth very uprightly welcome this evening.
Sebas. What, moralizing upon this gentlewoman's needlework? Let's see.
Cata. No, sir. Only examining whether it be done to the true nature and life o' the thing.
Sebas. Here y' have set a medlar with a bachelor's button o' one side and a snail o' the tother. The bachelor's button should have held his head up more pertly towards the medlar: the snail o' the tother side should ha' been wrought with an artificial laziness, doubling his tail and putting out his horn but half the length. And then the medlar falling (as it were) from the lazy snail and ending towards the pert bachelor's button, their branches spreading and winding one within another as if they did embrace. But here's a moral. A poppring[166] pear tree growing upon the bank of a river seeming continually to look downwards into the water as if it were enamoured of it, and ever as the fruit ripens lets it fall for love (as it were) into her lap. Which the wanton stream, like a strumpet, no sooner receives but she carries it away and bestows it upon some other creature she maintains, still seeming to play and dally under the poppring so long that it has almost washed away the earth from the root, and now the poor tree stands as if it were ready to fall and perish by that whereon it spent all the substance it had.
Cata. Moral for you that love those wanton running waters.
Sebas. But is not my Lady Levidulcia come yet?
Cata. Her purpose promised us her company ere this. Sirrah, your lute and your book.
Sebas. Well said. A lesson o' the lute, to entertain the time with till she comes.
Cata. Sol, fa, mi, la.—Mi, mi, mi.—Precious! Dost not see mi between the two crotchets? Strike me full there.—So—forward. This is a sweet strain, and thou finger'st it beastly. Mi is a laerg[167] there, and the prick that stands before mi a long; always halve your note.—Now—Run your division pleasingly with these quavers. Observe all your graces i' the touch.—Here's a sweet close—strike it full; it sets off your music delicately.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe and Levidulcia.
Lang. Purity be in this house.
Cata. 'Tis now entered; and welcome with your good ladyship.
Sebas. Cease that music. Here's a sweeter instrument.
Lev. Restrain your liberty. See you not Snuffe?
Sebas. What does the stinkard here? put Snuffe out. He's offensive.
Lev. No. The credit of his company defends my being abroad from the eye of suspicion.
Cata. Wilt please your ladyship go up into the closet? There are those falls and tires[168] I told you of.
Lev. Monsieur Snuffe, I shall request your patience. My stay will not be long. [Exit with Sebastian.
Lang. My duty, madam.—Falls and tires! I begin to suspect what falls and tires you mean. My lady and Sebastian the fall and the tire, and I the shadow. I perceive the purity of my conversation is used but for a property to cover the uncleanness of their purposes. The very contemplation o' the thing makes the spirit of the flesh begin to wriggle in my blood. And here my desire has met with an object already. This gentlewoman, methinks, should be swayed with the motion, living in a house where moving example is so common.—Mistress Cataplasma, my lady, it seems, has some business that requires her stay. The fairness o' the evening invites me into the air. Will it please you give this gentlewoman leave to leave her work and walk a turn or two with me for honest recreation?
Cata. With all my heart, sir. Go, Soquette: give ear to his instructions. You may get understanding by his company, I can tell you.
Lang. In the way of holiness, Mistress Cataplasma.
Cata. Good Monsieur Snuffe!—I will attend your return.
Lang. Your hand, gentlewoman.—[To Soquette.]
The flesh is humble till the spirit move it.
But when 'tis raised it will command above it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in D'Amville's Mansion.
Enter D'Amville, Charlemont, and Borachio.
D'Am. Your sadness and the sickness of my son
Have made our company and conference
Less free and pleasing than I purposed it.
Charl. Sir, for the present I am much unfit
For conversation or society.
With pardon I will rudely take my leave.
D'Am. Good night, dear nephew.
[Exit Charlemont.
Seest thou that same man?
Bor. Your meaning, sir?
D'Am. That fellow's life, Borachio,
Like a superfluous letter in the law,
Endangers our assurance.[169]
Bor. Scrape him out.
D'Am. Wilt do't?
Bor. Give me your purpose—I will do't.
D'Am. Sad melancholy has drawn Charlemont
With meditation on his father's death
Into the solitary walk behind the church.
Bor. The churchyard? 'Tis the fittest place for death.
Perhaps he's praying. Then he's fit to die.
We'll send him charitably to his grave.
D'Am. No matter how thou tak'st him. First take this—
[Gives him a pistol.
Thou knowest the place. Observe his passages,
And with the most advantage make a stand,
That, favoured by the darkness of the night,
His breast may fall upon thee at so near
A distance that he sha' not shun the blow.
The deed once done, thou may'st retire with safety.
The place is unfrequented, and his death
Will be imputed to the attempt of thieves.
Bor. Be careless. Let your mind be free and clear.
This pistol shall discharge you of your fear. [Exit.
D'Am. But let me call my projects to account
For what effect and end have I engaged
Myself in all this blood? To leave a state
To the succession of my proper blood.
But how shall that succession be continued?
Not in my elder son, I fear. Disease
And weakness have disabled him for issue.
For the other,—his loose humour will endure
No bond of marriage. And I doubt his life,
His spirit is so boldly dangerous.
O pity that the profitable end
Of such a prosperous murder should be lost!
Nature forbid! I hope I have a body
That will not suffer me to lose my labour
For want of issue yet. But then't must be
A bastard.—Tush! they only father bastards
That father other men's begettings. Daughter!
Be it mine own. Let it come whence it will,
I am resolved. Daughter!
Enter Servant.
Ser. My lord.
D'Am. I prithee call my daughter.
Enter Castabella.
Cast. Your pleasure, sir.
D'Am. Is thy husband i' bed?
Cast. Yes, my lord.
D'Am. The evening's fair. I prithee walk a turn or two.
Cast. Come, Jaspar.
D'Am. No.
We'll walk but to the corner o' the church;
And I have something to speak privately.
Cast. No matter; stay. [Exit Servant.
D'Am. This falls out happily. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The Churchyard.
Enter Charlemont.—Borachio dogging him. The clock strikes twelve.
Charl. Twelve.
Bor. 'Tis a good hour: 'twill strike one anon.
Charl. How fit a place for contemplation is this dead of night, among the dwellings of the dead.—This grave—Perhaps the inhabitant was in his lifetime the possessor of his own desires. Yet in the midst of all his greatness and his wealth he was less rich and less contented than in this poor piece of earth lower and lesser than a cottage. For here he neither wants nor cares. Now that his body savours of corruption
He enjoys a sweeter rest than e'er he did
Amongst the sweetest pleasures of this life,
For here there's nothing troubles him.—And there
—In that grave lies another. He, perhaps,
Was in his life as full of misery
As this of happiness. And here's an end
Of both. Now both their states are equal. O
That man with so much labour should aspire
To worldly height, when in the humble earth
The world's condition's at the best, or scorn
Inferior men, since to be lower than
A worm is to be higher than a king.
Bor. Then fall and rise.
[Discharges the pistol, which misses fire.
Charl. What villain's hand was that?
Save thee, or thou shalt perish. [They fight.
Bor. Zounds! unsaved
I think. [Falls.
Charl. What? Have I killed him? Whatsoe'er thou beest,
I would thy hand had prospered. For I was
Unfit to live and well prepared to die.
What shall I do? Accuse myself? Submit
Me to the law? And that will quickly end
This violent increase of misery.
But 'tis a murder to be accessory
To mine own death. I will not. I will take
This opportunity to 'scape. It may
Be Heaven reserves me to some better end. [Exit.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe and Soquette.
Soqu. Nay, good sir, I dare not. In good sooth I come of a generation both by father and mother that were all as fruitful as costermongers' wives.
Lang. Tush! then a tympany[170] is the greatest danger can be feared. Their fruitfulness turns but to a certain kind of phlegmatic windy disease.
Soqu. I must put my understanding to your trust, sir. I would be loth to be deceived.
Lang. No, conceive thou sha't not. Yet thou shalt profit by my instruction too. My body is not every day drawn dry, wench.
Soqu. Yet methinks, sir, your want of use should rather make your body like a well,—the lesser 'tis drawn, the sooner it grows dry.
Lang. Thou shalt try that instantly.
Soqu. But we want place and opportunity.
Lang. We have both. This is the back side of the house which the superstitious call St. Winifred's church, and is verily a convenient unfrequented place.—
Where under the close curtains of the night—
Soqu. You purpose i' the dark to make me light.
[Snuffe pulls out a sheet, a hair, and a beard.
But what ha' you there?
Lang. This disguise is for security's sake, wench. There's a talk, thou know'st, that the ghost of old Montferrers walks. In this church he was buried. Now if any stranger fall upon us before our business be ended, in this disguise I shall be taken for that ghost, and never be called to examination, I warrant thee. Thus we shall 'scape both prevention and discovery. How do I look in this habit, wench?
Soqu. So like a ghost that notwithstanding I have some foreknowledge of you, you make my hair stand almost on end.
Lang. I will try how I can kiss in this beard. O, fie, fie, fie! I will put it off and then kiss, and then put it on. I can do the rest without kissing.
Re-enter Charlemont doubtfully, with his sword drawn; he comes upon them before they are aware. They run out different ways, leaving the disguise behind.
Charl. What ha' we here? A sheet! a hair! a beard!
What end was this disguise intended for?
No matter what. I'll not expostulate
The purpose of a friendly accident.[171]
Perhaps it may accommodate my 'scape.
—I fear I am pursued. For more assurance,
I'll hide me here i' th' charnel house,
This convocation-house of dead men's skulls.
[In getting into the charnel house he takes hold of a death's head; it slips, and he staggers.
Death's head, deceivest my hold?
Such is the trust to all mortality.
[Hides himself in the charnel house.
Enter D'Amville and Castabella.
Cast. My lord, the night grows late. Your lordship spake
Of something you desired to move in private.
D'Am. Yes. Now I'll speak it. The argument is love.
The smallest ornament of thy sweet form
(That abstract of all pleasure) can command
The senses into passion and thy entire
Perfection is my object, yet I love thee
With the freedom of my reason. I can give
Thee reason for my love.
Cast. Love me, my lord?
I do believe it, for I am the wife
Of him you love.
D'Am. 'Tis true. By my persuasion thou wert forced
To marry one unable to perform
The office of a husband. I was the author
Of the wrong.
My conscience suffers under't, and I would
Disburthen it by satisfaction.
Cast. How?
D'Am. I will supply that pleasure to thee which he cannot.
Cast. Are ye a devil or a man?
D'Am. A man, and such a man as can return
Thy entertainment with as prodigal
A body as the covetous desire,
Or woman ever was delighted with.
So that, besides the full performance of
Thy empty husband's duty, thou shalt have
The joy of children to continue the
Succession of thy blood. For the appetite
That steals her pleasure, draws the forces of
The body to an united strength, and puts 'em
Altogether into action, never fails
Of procreation. All the purposes
Of man aim but at one of these two ends—
Pleasure or profit; and in this one sweet
Conjunction of our loves they both will meet.
Would it not grieve thee that a stranger to
Thy blood should lay the first foundation of
His house upon the ruins of thy family?
Cast. Now Heaven defend me! May my memory
Be utterly extinguished, and the heir
Of him that was my father's enemy
Raise his eternal monument upon
Our ruins, ere the greatest pleasure or
The greatest profit ever tempt me to
Continue it by incest.
D'Am. Incest? Tush!
These distances affinity observes
Are articles of bondage cast upon
Our freedoms by our own objections.
Nature allows a general liberty
Of generation to all creatures else.
Shall man,
To whose command and use all creatures were
Made subject, be less free than they?
Cast. O God!
Is Thy unlimited and infinite
Omnipotence less free because thou doest
No ill?
Or if you argue merely out of nature,
Do you not degenerate from that, and are
You not unworthy the prerogative
Of Nature's masterpiece, when basely you
Prescribe yourself authority and law
From their examples whom you should command?
I could confute you, but the horror of
The argument confutes my understanding.—
Sir, I know you do but try me in
Your son's behalf, suspecting that
My strength
And youth of blood cannot contain themselves
With impotence.—Believe me, sir,
I never wronged him. If it be your lust,
O quench it on their prostituted flesh
Whose trade of sin can please desire with more
Delight and less offence.—The poison o' your breath,
Evaporated from so foul a soul,
Infects the air more than the damps that rise
From bodies but half rotten in their graves.
D'Am. Kiss me. I warrant thee my breath is sweet.
These dead men's bones lie here of purpose to
Invite us to supply the number of
The living. Come we'll get young bones, and do't.
I will enjoy thee. No? Nay then invoke
Your great supposed protector; I will do't.
Cast. Supposed protector! Are ye an atheist? Then
I know my prayers and tears are spent in vain.
O patient Heaven! Why dost thou not express
Thy wrath in thunderbolts to tear the frame
Of man in pieces? How can earth endure
The burthen of this wickedness without
An earthquake? Or the angry face of Heaven
Be not inflamed with lightning?
D'Am. Conjure up
The devil and his dam: cry to the graves:
The dead can hear thee: invocate their help.
Cast. O would this grave might open and my body
Were bound to the dead carcass of a man,
For ever, ere it entertain the lust
Of this detested villain!
D'Am. Tereus-like
Thus I will force my passage to—
Charl. The Devil!
[Charlemont rises in the disguise, and frightens D'Amville away.
Now, lady, with the hand of Charlemont
I thus redeem you from the arm of lust.
—My Castabella!
Cast. My dear Charlemont!
Charl. For all my wrongs I thank thee, gracious Heaven.
Th'ast made me satisfaction to reserve
Me for this blessed purpose. Now, sweet Death,
I'll bid thee welcome. Come, I'll guide thee home,
And then I'll cast myself into the arms
Of apprehension,[172] that the law may make
This worthy work the crown of all my actions,
Being the best and last.
Cast. The last? The law?
Now Heaven forbid! What ha' you done?
Charl. Why, I have
Killed a man; not murdered him, my Castabella.
He would ha' murdered me.
Cast. Then, Charlemont,
The hand of Heaven directed thy defence.
That wicked atheist! I suspect his plot.
Charl. My life he seeks. I would he had it, since
He has deprived me of those blessings that
Should make me love it. Come, I'll give it him.
Cast. You sha' not. I will first expose myself
To certain danger than for my defence
Destroy the man that saved me from destruction.
Charl. Thou canst not satisfy me better than
To be the instrument of my release
From misery.
Cast. Then work it by escape.
Leave me to this protection that still guards
The innocent. Or I will be a partner
In your destiny.
Charl. My soul is heavy. Come, lie down to rest;
These are the pillows whereon men sleep best.
[They lie down, each of them with a death's head for a pillow.
Re-enter Languebeau Snuffe, seeking Soquette.
Lang. Soquette, Soquette, Soquette! O art thou there? [He mistakes the body of Borachio for Soquette.
Verily thou liest in a fine premeditated readiness for the purpose. Come, kiss me, sweet Soquette.—Now purity defend me from the sin of Sodom!—This is a creature of the masculine gender.—Verily the man is blasted.—Yea, cold and stiff!—Murder, murder, murder! [Exit.
Re-enter D'Amville distractedly: he starts at the sight of a death's head.
D'Am. Why dost thou stare upon me? Thou art not
The soul of him I murdered. What hast thou
To do to vex my conscience? Sure thou wert
The head of a most doggèd usurer,
Th'art so uncharitable. And that bawd,
The sky there: she could shut the windows and
The doors of this great chamber of the world,
And draw the curtains of the clouds between
Those lights and me, above this bed of earth,
When that same strumpet Murder and myself
Committed sin together. Then she could
Leave us i' the dark till the close deed was done.
But now that I begin to feel the loathsome horror of my sin, and, like a lecher emptied of his lust, desire to bury face under my eye-brows, and would steal from my shame unseen, she meets me
I' the face with all her light corrupted eyes
To challenge payment o' me. O behold!
Yonder's the ghost of old Montferrers, in
A long white sheet climbing yon lofty mountain
To complain to Heaven of me.—
Montferrers! pox o' fearfulness! 'Tis nothing
But a fair white cloud. Why, was I born a coward?
He lies that says so. Yet the countenance of
A bloodless worm might ha' the courage now
To turn my blood to water.
The trembling motion of an aspen leaf
Would make me, like the shadow of that leaf,
Lie shaking under 't. I could now commit
A murder were it but to drink the fresh
Warm blood of him I murdered to supply
The want and weakness o' mine own,
'Tis grown so cold and phlegmatic.
Lang. Murder, murder, murder! [Within.
D'Am. Mountains o'erwhelm me: the ghost of old Montferrers haunts me.
Lang. Murder, murder, murder!
D'Am. O were my body circumvolved
Within that cloud, that when the thunder tears
His passage open, it might scatter me
To nothing in the air!
Re-enter Languebeau Snuffe with the Watch.
Lang. Here you shall find
The murdered body.
D'Am. Black Beelzebub,
And all his hell-hounds, come to apprehend me?
Lang. No, my good lord, we come to apprehend
The murderer.
D'Am. The ghost (great Pluto!) was
A fool unfit to be employed in
Any serious business for the state of hell.
Why could not he ha' suffered me to raise
The mountains o' my sins with one as damnable
As all the rest, and then ha' tumbled me
To ruin? But apprehend me e'en between
The purpose and the act before it was
Committed!
Watch. Is this the murderer? He speaks suspiciously.
Lang. No, verily. This is my Lord D'Amville. And his distraction, I think, grows out of his grief for the loss of a faithful servant. For surely I take him to be Borachio that is slain.
D'Am. Hah! Borachio slain? Thou look'st like Snuffe, dost not?
Lang. Yes, in sincerity, my lord.
D'Am. Hark thee—sawest thou not a ghost?
Lang. A ghost? Where, my lord?—I smell a fox.
D'Am. Here i' the churchyard.
Lang. Tush! tush! their walking spirits are mere imaginary fables. There's no such thing in rerum natura. Here is a man slain. And with the spirit of consideration I rather think him to be the murderer got into that disguise than any such fantastic toy.
D'Am. My brains begin to put themselves in order. I apprehend thee now.—'Tis e'en so.—Borachio, I will search the centre, but I'll find the murderer.
Watch. Here, here, here.
D'Am. Stay. Asleep? so soundly,
So sweetly upon Death's heads? and in a place
So full of fear and horror? Sure there is
Some other happiness within the freedom
Of the conscience than my knowledge e'er attained to.—Ho, ho, ho!
Charl. Y'are welcome, uncle. Had you sooner come
You had been sooner welcome. I'm the man
You seek. You sha' not need examine me.
D'Am. My nephew and my daughter! O my dear
Lamented blood, what fate has cast you thus
Unhappily upon this accident?
Charl. You know, sir, she's as clear as chastity.
D'Am. As her own chastity. The time, the place
All circumstances argue that unclear.
Cast. Sir, I confess it; and repentantly
Will undergo the selfsame punishment
That justice shall inflict on Charlemont.
Charl. Unjustly she betrays her innocence.
Watch. But, sir, she's taken with you, and she must
To prison with you.
D'Am. There's no remedy.
Yet were it not my son's bed she abused,
My land should fly, but both should be excused.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—An Apartment in Belforest's Mansion.
Enter Belforest and a Servant.
Bel. Is not my wife come in yet?
Ser. No, my lord.
Bel. Methinks she's very affectedly inclined
To young Sebastian's company o' late.
But jealousy is such a torment that
I am afraid to entertain it. Yet
The more I shun by circumstances to meet
Directly with it, the more ground I find
To circumvent my apprehension. First,
I know she has a perpetual appetite,
Which being so oft encountered with a man
Of such a bold luxurious freedom as
Sebastian is, and of so promising
A body, her own blood corrupted will
Betray her to temptation.
Enter Fresco closely.
Fres. Precious! I was sent by his lady to see if her lord were in bed. I should ha' done't slily without discovery, and now I am blurted upon 'em before I was aware. [Exit.
Bel. Know not you the gentlewoman my wife brought home?
Ser. By sight, my lord. Her man was here but now.
Bel. Her man? I prithee, run and call him quickly. This villain! I suspect him ever since I found him hid behind the tapestry.
Re-enter Fresco.
Fresco! th'art welcome, Fresco. Leave us. [Exit Servant.] Dost hear, Fresco? Is not my wife at thy mistress's?
Fres. I know not, my lord.
Bel. I prithee tell me, Fresco—we are private—tell me:
Is not thy mistress a good wench?
Fres. How means your lordship that? A wench o' the trade?
Bel. Yes, faith, Fresco; e'en a wench o' the trade.
Fres. O no, my lord. Those falling diseases cause baldness, and my mistress recovers the loss of hair, for she is a periwig maker.
Bel. And nothing else?
Fres. Sells falls, and tires, and bodies for ladies, or so.
Bel. So, sir; and she helps my lady to falls and bodies now and then, does she not?
Fres. At her ladyship's pleasure, my lord.
Bel. Her pleasure, you rogue? You are the pander to her pleasure, you varlet, are you not? You know the conveyances between Sebastian and my wife? Tell me the truth, or by this hand I'll nail thy bosom to the earth. Stir not, you dog, but quickly tell the truth.
Fres. O yes! [Speaks like a crier.
Bel. Is not thy mistress a bawd to my wife?
Fres. O yes!
Bel. And acquainted with her tricks, and her plots, and her devices?
Fres. O yes! If any man, o' court, city, or country, has found my Lady Levidulcia in bed but my Lord Belforest, it is Sebastian.
Bel. What, dost thou proclaim it? Dost thou cry it, thou villain?
Fres. Can you laugh it, my lord? I thought you meant to proclaim yourself cuckold.
Enter The Watch.
Bel. The watch met with my wish. I must request the assistance of your offices.
[Fresco runs away.
'Sdeath, stay that villain; pursue him! [Exeunt.
SCENE V.—A Room, in Cataplasma's House.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe, importuning Soquette.
Soqu. Nay, if you get me any more into the churchyard!
Lang. Why, Soquette, I never got thee there yet.
Soqu. Got me there! No, not with child.
Lang. I promised thee I would not, and I was as good as my word.
Soqu. Yet your word was better than your deed. But steal up into the little matted chamber o' the left hand.
Lang. I prithee let it be the right hand. Thou leftest me before, and I did not like that.
Soqu. Precious quickly.—So soon as my mistress shall be in bed I'll come to you. [Exit Snuffe.
Enter Sebastian, Levidulcia, and Cataplasma.
Cata. I wonder Fresco stays so long.
Sebas. Mistress Soquette, a word with you. [Whispers.
Lev. If he brings word my husband is i' bed
I will adventure one night's liberty
To be abroad.—
My strange affection to this man!—'Tis like
That natural sympathy which e'en among
The senseless creatures of the earth commands
A mutual inclination and consent.
For though it seems to be the free effect
Of mine own voluntary love, yet I can
Neither restrain it nor give reason for't.
But now 'tis done, and in your power it lies
To save my honour, or dishonour me.
Cata. Enjoy your pleasure, madam, without fear,
I never will betray the trust you have
Committed to me. And you wrong yourself
To let consideration of the sin
Molest your conscience. Methinks 'tis unjust
That a reproach should be inflicted on
A woman for offending but with one,
When 'tis a light offence in husbands to
Commit with many.
Lev. So it seems to me.—
Why, how now, Sebastian, making love to that gentlewoman? How many mistresses ha' you i' faith?
Sebas. In faith, none; for I think none of 'em are faithful; but otherwise, as many as clean shirts. The love of a woman is like a mushroom,—it grows in one night and will serve somewhat pleasingly next morning to breakfast, but afterwards waxes fulsome and unwholesome.
Cata. Nay, by Saint Winifred, a woman's love lasts as long as winter fruit.
Sebas. 'Tis true—till new come in. By my experience no longer.
Enter Fresco running.
Fres. Somebody's doing has undone us, and we are like to pay dearly for't.
Sebas. Pay dear? For what?
Fres. Will't not be a chargeable reckoning, think you, when here are half a dozen fellows coming to call us to account, with every man a several bill[173] in his hand that we are not able to discharge. [Knock at the door.
Cata. Passion o' me! What bouncing's that? Madam, withdraw yourself.
Lev. Sebastian, if you love me, save my honour. [Exeunt all except Sebastian.
Sebas. What violence is this? What seek you? Zounds!
You shall not pass.
Enter Belforest with the Watch.
Bel. Pursue the strumpet [Exit Watch]. Villain, give me way,
Or I will make a passage through thy blood.
Sebas. My blood will make it slippery, my lord,
'Twere better you would take another way.
You may hap fall else.
[They fight. Both are slain. Sebastian falls first.
Sebas. I ha't, i' faith. [Dies.
[While Belforest is staggering enter Levidulcia.
Lev. O God! my husband! my Sebastian! Husband!
Neither can speak, yet both report my shame.
Is this the saving of my honour when
Their blood runs out in rivers, and my lust
The fountain whence it flows? Dear husband, let
Not thy departed spirit be displeased
If with adulterate lips I kiss thy cheek.
Here I behold the hatefulness of lust,
Which brings me kneeling to embrace him dead
Whose body living I did loathe to touch.
Now I can weep. But what can tears do good
When I weep only water, they weep blood.
But could I make an ocean with my tears
That on the flood this broken vessel of
My body, laden heavy with light lust,
Might suffer shipwreck and so drown my shame.
Then weeping were to purpose, but alas!
The sea wants water enough to wash away
The foulness of my name. O! in their wounds
I feel my honour wounded to the death.
Shall I out-live my honour? Must my life
Be made the world's example? Since it must,
Then thus in detestation of my deed,
To make the example move more forceably
To virtue, thus I seal it with a death
As full of horror as my life of sin. [Stabs herself.
Enter the Watch with Cataplasma, Fresco, Languebeau Snuffe, and Soquette.
Watch. Hold, madam! Lord, what a strange night is this!
Lang. May not Snuffe be suffered to go out of himself?
Watch. Nor you, nor any. All must go with us.
O with what virtue lust should be withstood!
Since 'tis a fire quenched seldom without blood.
[Exeunt.