FOOTNOTES:

[271] Meaning, most likely, the Earl of Pembroke, at whose instance the play was represented before the King and Queen at court.—Collier.

[THE PROLOGUE AT THE FRIARS.]

Ere we begin, that no man may repent
Two shillings and his time, the Author sent
The prologue with the errors of his play,
That, who will, may take his money and away.
First for the plot, it's no way intricate
By cross deceits in love, nor so high in state,
That we might have given out in our playbill,
This day's "The Prince," writ by Nick Machiavil.
The language too is easy, such as fell
Unstudied from his pen: not like a spell
Big with mysterious words, such as enchant
The half-witted, and confound the ignorant.
Then what must needs afflict the amorist,
No virgin here in breeches casts a mist
Before her lover's eyes: no ladies tell,
How their blood boils, how high their veins do swell.
But, what is worse, no bawdy mirth is here
(The wit of bottle-ale and double-beer),
To make the wife of citizen protest,
And country-justice swear 'twas a good jest.
Now, sirs, you have the errors of his wit:
Like or dislike, at your own perils be't.

[THE ACTOR'S NAMES.]

THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON.[272]

[ACT I., SCENE I.]

Enter Sanmartino and Cleantha.

Cle. My lord, let's change the subject: love is worn
So threadbare out of fashion, and my faith
So little leans to vows——

San. The rage of time
Or sickness first must ruin that bright fabric
Nature took pride to build.

Cle. I thank my youth then
For the tender of your service; 'tis the last
Good turn it did me. But by this my fears
Instruct me, when the old bald man, call'd Time,
Comes stealing on me, and shall steal away
What you call beauty, my neglected face
Must be enforc'd to go in quest for a new
Knight-errant.

San. Slander not my constant faith,
Nor doubt the care Fate hath to stop the motion
Of envious Time, might it endanger so
Supreme a beauty.

Cle. Sure, my lord, Fate hath
More serious business, or divines make bold
T' instruct us in a schism. But grant I could
Induce myself (which I despair I shall)
To hear and talk that empty nothing Love,
Is't now in season, when an army lies
Before our city-gates, and every hour
A battery expected? Dear my lord,
Let's seal our testament, and prepare for heaven;
And, as I am inform'd by them who seem
To know some part o' th' way, Love's not the nearest
Path that leads thither.

San. Madam, he is but
A coward lover whom or death or hell
Can fright from's mistress: and, for danger now
Threat'ning the city, how can I so arm
Myself, as by your favour proof against
All stratagems of war?

Cle. Your lordship then
Shall walk as safe as if a Lapland witch
(You will not envy me the honour of
The metaphor) preserv'd you shot-free. But
Who is your confessor? Yet spare his name;
His function will forgive the glory of it:
Sure he's ill-read in cases to allow
A married lord the freedom of this courtship.

San. Can you think, madam, that I trust my sins
(But virtues are those loves I pay your beauty)
To th' counsel of a cassock? Who hath art
To judge of my confession, must have had
At least a privy chamberer to his father.
We of the court commit not, as the vulgar,
Dull, ignorant sins: then, that I'm married, madam,
Is rather safety to our love.

Cle. My heart!
How sick am I o' th' sudden! Good my lord,
Call your dwarf hither.

San. Garragantua! boy.

Enter Browfildora.

Cle. Prythee, thy pedigree?

San. Madam, what mean you?

Cle. O, anything, but to divert from love:
Another word of courtship, and I swoon.

Brow. My ancestors were giants, madam; giants,
Pure Spanish, who disdain'd to mingle with
The blood of Goth or Moor. Their mighty actions,
In a small letter, nature printed on
Your little servant.

Cle. How so very little?

Brow. By the decay of time, and being forc'd
From fertile pastures to the barren hills
Of Biscay: even in trees you may observe
The wonder which, transplanted to a soil
Less happy, lose in growth. Is not the once
Huge body of the Roman empire now
A very pigmy?

Cle. But why change you not
That so gigantic name of Browfildora?

Brow. Spite of malignant nature, I'll preserve
The memory of my forefathers: they shall live
In me contracted.

San. Madam, let's return
To the love we last discours'd on.

Cle. This, my lord,
Is much more serious. What coarse thing is that?

Enter Oniate and Floriana.

Flo. I owe you, sir, for the pleasure of this walk.

Oni. Madam, it was to me the highest honour. [Exit Oniate.

Cle. Welcome, O, welcome, to redeem me!—What
Can the best wit of woman fancy we
Have been discoursing of?

Flo. Sure, not of love?

Cle. Of that most ridiculous hobby-horse, love;
That fool that fools the world; that spaniel love,
That fawns [the more] the more 'tis kick'd!

San. Will you betray me?

Cle. Thy lord hath so protested, Floriana,
Vowed such an altar to my beauty, swore
So many oaths, and such profane oaths too,
To be religious in performing all
That's impious towards heaven, and to a lady
Most ruinous.

Flo. Good Cleantha, all your detraction
Wins no belief on my suspicion.

Cle. Be credulous, and be abus'd. Floriana,
There's no vice so great as to think him virtuous.
Go mount your milk-white steed, Sir Lancelot,
Your little squire attends you there: in suburbs
Enchanted castles are, where ladies wait
To be deliver'd by your mighty hand;
Go and protest there.

San. I thank your favour, madam. [Exit Sanmartino.

Cle. It is not so much worth, sir. Come, we'll follow.

Flo. But stay, Cleantha. Prythee, what begot
That squeamish look, that scornful wry o' the mouth,
When Oniate parted?

Cle. Why, thou hadst
So strange a fellow in thy company,
His garb was so uncourtly, I grew sick.

Flo. He is a gentleman; and, add to that,
Makes good the title.

Cle. Haply he may so,
And haply he's enamour'd on thy beauty.

Flo. On mine, Cleantha?

Cle. Yes, dear Floriana;
Yet neither danger to thy chastity,
Nor blemish to thy fame: custom approves it.
But I owe little to my memory,
If I e'er saw him 'mong the greater ladies:
Sure, he's some suburb-courtier.

Flo. He's noble,
And hath a soul—a thing is question'd much
In most of the gay youths whom you converse with.

Cle. But how disorderly his hair did hang.

Flo. Yet 'twas his own.

Cle. How ill turn'd up his beard;
And for his clothes——

Flo. Though not fresh every morning,
Yet in the fashion.

Cle. Yes, i' th' sober fashion,
Which courtiers wear who hope to be employ'd,
And aim at business. But he's not genteel;
Not discomposed enough to court a lady.

Flo. His thoughts are much more serious.

Cle. Guard me, Fortune!
I would not have the court take notice that
I walked one hour with that state-aphorism
Each autumn to renew my youth. Let us
Discourse with lords, whose heads and legs move more
Than do their tongues, and to as good a sense;
Who, snatching from my hand a glove, can sigh,
And print a kiss, and then return it back;
Who on my busk,[273] even with a pin, can write
The anagram of my name, present it humbly,
Fall back, and smile.

Flo. Cleantha, I perceive
There is small hope of thy conversion;
Thou art resolv'd to live in this heresy.

Cle. Yes; since 'tis the religion of our sex:
Sweet Floriana, I will not yet suffer
For unregarded truth court persecution.

Enter Ossuna and Oniate, with divers Soldiers.

But what are they appear there?

Flo. We'll away. [Exeunt Floriana and Cleantha.

Oss. This is the place for interview. You, who are
Deputed for this service from the Lord
Florentio, use such caution as befits
Your charge. Howe'er, your general's person's safe,
The Lord Decastro having pass'd his word.

Oni. Yet 'tis my wonder that Florentio,
A soldier so exact, practis'd in all
The mysteries of war and peace, should trust
Himself, where th' enemies' faith must best secure him.

Oss. The great Decastro, sir, whom our late king
Deputed regent at his death, and whom
The kingdom judgeth fit to marry with
His only heir the present queen (though she
Disdain his love and our desires) hath proved
To time and fortune that he fears no danger,
But what may wound his honour. How can then
Florentio (though he now sit down before
Our city with so vast an army) choose
A place for interview by art and nature
So fortified, as where Decastro's faith
Makes it impregnable?

Oni. Distrust, my lord,
Is the best councillor to great designs:
Our confidence betrays us. But between
These two are other seeds of jealousy,
Such as would almost force religion break
Her tying vows, authorise perjury,
And make the scrupulous casuist say, that faith
Is the fool's virtue. They both love the queen:
Decastro building on his high deserts,
And vote of Arragon; Florentio, on
The favour he gain'd from her majesty
When here he lived employed by his great master,
King of Castile.

Oss. Such politic respects
May warrant the bad statesman to dark actions;
But both these generals by a noble war
Resolve to try their fate.

Oni. But here, my lord,

Enter Sanmartino.

Is a full period to all serious thought.
This lord is so impertinent, yet still
Upon the whisper.

Oss. He's a mischief, sir,
No court is safe from.

Oni. What fine tricks he shows
Each morning on his jennet, but to gain
A female vision from some half-op'd window:
And if a lady smile by accident,
Or but in scorn of him, yet he (kind soul)
Interprets it as prophecy to some
Near favour to ensue at night.

Oss. I wonder
What makes him thought a wit?

Oni. A copper wit,
Which fools let pass for current: so false coin,
Such very alchemy that, who vents him
For aught but parcel-ass, may be in danger.
Look on him, and in little there see drawn
The picture of the youth is so admired
Of the spruce sirs, whom ladies and their women
Call the fine gentleman.

Oss. What are those papers,
With such a sober brow he looks upon?

Oni. Nor platform[274] nor intelligence; but a prologue
He comes to whisper to one of the maids
I' th' privy chamber after supper.

Oss. I praise the courage of his folly yet,
Whom fear cannot make wiser.

San. My good lord,
Brave Oniate, saw you not the general?

Oni. He's upon entrance here. And how, my lord?
I saw your lordship turning over papers!
What's the discovery?

San. It may import
Decastro's knowledge. Never better language
Or neater wit: a paper of such verses,
Writ by th' exactest hand.

Oss. In time of business,
As serious as our safety, to intrude
The dreams of madmen!

San. My judicious lord,
It, with the favour of your lordship, may
Concern the general: such high rapture
In admiration of the queen, whom he
Pretends to love! How will her majesty
Smile on his suit, when in the heat of business
He not neglects this amorous way to woo her?

Enter Decastro.

Dec. No man presume t' advance a foot. My lord
Ossuna, I desire your ear.

San. My lord,
I have a piece here of such elegant wit.

Dec. Your pardon, good my lord; we'll find an hour
Less serious to advise upon your papers,
And then at large we'll whisper.

San. As you please,
My lord: you'll pardon the error of my duty. [Exit Sanmartino.

Oss. The queen, my lord, gave free access to what
I spoke o' th' public; but when I began
To mention love——

Dec. How? did she frown, or with
What murdering scorn heard she Decastro named?
Love! of thy labyrinth of art what path
Left I untrodden? Humbly I have labour'd
To win her favour; and when that prevail'd not,
The kingdom in my quarrel vow'd to empty
The veins of their great body.

Oss. Sir, her heart
Is mightier than misfortune. Though her youth,
Soft as some consecrated virgin wax,
Seem easy for impression, yet her virtue
Hard as a rock of diamond, breaks all
The battery of the waves.

Dec. Unkind and cruel!

Oss. She charg'd me tell you that a faithless Moor,
Who had gain'd honour only by the ruin
Of what we hold religious, sooner she
Would welcome to her bed, than who t' his queen
And Love had been a rebel.

Dec. How a rebel?
The people's suffrage, which inaugurates princes,
Hath warranted my actions.

Oss. But she answers,
The subtle arts of faction, not free vote,
Commanded her restraint.

Dec. May even those stars,
Whose influence made me great, turn their aspècts
To blood and ruin, if ambition rais'd
The appetite of love. Her beauty hath
A power more sovereign than the Eastern slave
Acknowledg'd ever in his idol king.
To that I bowed a subject: but when I
Discover'd that her fancy fix'd upon
Florentio (General now of th' enemy's army),
I let the people use their severe way,
And they restrain'd her.

Oss. But, my lord, their guilt
Is made your crime. Yet all this new affliction
Disturbs her not to anger, but disdain.

Dec. She hath a glorious spirit. Yet the world,
The envious world itself, must justify,
That howsoever fortune yielded up
The sceptre to my power, I did but kiss it,
And offer'd it again into her hand.

Enter Florentio, Velasco, and others.

Oni. My lord, the general of Castile, Florentio.

Dec. He's safely welcome. Now let each man keep
At a due distance. I have here attended
Your lordship's presence.

Flo. O my lord, are we,
Whom love obligeth to the same allegiance,
Brought hither on these terms?

Dec. They're terms of honour,
And I yet never knew to frame excuse,
Where that begot the quarrel.

Flo. Yet methinks
We might have found another way to it.
We might have sought out danger, where the proud,
Insulting Moor profanes our holy places.
The noise of war had been no trouble then;
But now too much 'twill fright the gentle ear
Of her we both are vow'd to serve.

Dec. That love,
Which arms us both, bears witness that I had
Much rather have encounter'd lightning, than
Create the least distraction to her peace.
But since the vote of Arragon decrees
That my long service hath the justest claim
To challenge her regard, thus I must stand
Arm'd to make good the title.

Flo. This vain language
Scarce moves my pity. What desert can rise
So high to merit her? Were each short moment
O' th' longest-liv'd commander lengthen'd to
An age, and that exposed to dangers mighty,
As cowards frame them, can you think his service
Might challenge her regard? Like th' heavenly bounty,
She may distribute favour; but 'tis sin
To say our merits may pretend a title.

Dec. You talk, sir, like a courtier.

Flo. But, my lord,
You'll find a soldier in this arm which, strengthen'd
By such a cause, may level mountains high,
As those the giants (emblems of your thoughts)
Piled up to have scal'd heaven.

Dec. That must be
Decided by the sword: and if, my lord,
Our interview hath no more sober end
Than a dispute so froward, let us make
The trumpet drown the noise.

Flo. You shall not want
That music. But before we yielded up
Our reason unto fury, I desired
We might expostulate the ground of this
So fatal war, and bring you to that low
Obedience nature placed you in.

Dec. My ear attends you.

Flo. Where is then that humble zeal
You owe a mistress, if you can throw off
That duty which you owe her as your queen?
What justice (that fair rule of human actions)
Can you pretend for taking arms?

Dec. Pray, forward.

Flo. I'll not deny (for from an enemy
I'll not detract) during her nonage, when
The public choice and her great father's will
Enthron'd you in the government, you manag'd
Affairs with prudence equal to the fame
You gain'd: and when your sword did fight her quarrel,
'Twas crown'd with victory.

Dec. I thank your memory.

Flo. But hence ambition and ingratitude
Drew only venom: for by these great actions
You labour'd not t' advance her state or honour,
But subtly wrought upon the people's love—
A love begot by error, following still
Apparency, not truth.

Dec. You construe fairly.

Flo. The sun is not more visible, when not
One cloud wrinkles the brow of heaven; for
On that false strength you had i' th' multitude
You swell'd to insolence, dared court your queen,
Boasting your merit like some wanton tyrant
I' th' vanity of a new conquest. And,
When you perceiv'd her judgment did instruct her
To frown on the attempt, profanely, 'gainst
All laws of love and majesty, you made
The people in your quarrel seize upon
The sacred person of the fairest queen
Story e'er boasted.

Dec. Have you done, my lord?

Flo. Not yet. This injury provok'd my master
To raise these mighty forces for her rescue,
And named me general: whose aim is not
A vain ambition, but t' advance her service.
Ere we begin to punish, take this offer:
Restore the queen to liberty, with each
Due circumstance that such a majesty
May challenge, freely to make choice of whom
She shall advance to th' honour of her bed.
If your deserts bear that high rate you mention,
Why should you doubt your fortune? On these terms
The king, King of Castile, may be induced
To pardon the error of your ruin.

Dec. Thus,
In short, my answer. How unlimited
Soe'er my power hath been, my reason and
My love have circumscrib'd it. True, the queen
Stands now restrain'd: but 'tis by the decree
Of the whole kingdom, lest her error should
Persuade her to some man less worthy.

Flo. How!

Dec. Less worthy than myself; for so they judge
The proudest subject to a foreign prince.
But when you mention love, where are your blushes?
What can you answer for the practising
The queen's affection, when embassador
You lay here from Castile, pretending only
Affairs importing both the kingdoms? Nor
Can you, my lord, be tax'd by your discretion,
That by the humblest arts of love you labour
To win so bright a beauty, and a queen
So potent. Your affection looks not here
Without an eye upon your profit.

Flo. Witness, Love!

Dec. No protestation. If you will withdraw
Your forces from our kingdom, and permit
Us to our laws and government, that peace,
Which hath continued many ages sacred,
Stands firm between us. But if not——

Flo. To arms!

Dec. Pray stay, my lord. Doth not your lordship see
Th' advantage I have in the place? With how
Much ease I may secure my fortune from
The greatest danger of your forces?

Flo. Ha!
'Twas inconsiderate in me: but I trusted
To th' honour of your word, which you'll not violate.

Dec. Go safely off, my lord. And now be dumb
All talk of peace: we'll parley in the drum.

[Exeunt several ways, the drum beating.