FOOTNOTES:
[275] A sort of parody on the exclamation of Pistol in "Henry V.," act ii. sc. 1—
"Base is the slave that pays!"
Mr Steevens, in a note on the passage, points out a similar expression in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the West."—Collier.
[276] i.e., Thine interpreter. Trucheman, Fr. See Cotgrave.—Steevens.
The word is not very common in our old writers, but it is found [in two or three plays printed in the present series, and] in a passage quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, [from Greene's "Menaphone," 1589]—
"Seld speaketh love, but sighes his secret paines;
Teares are his truch-men; words do make him tremble."
Again, in Whetstone's "Heptameron," 1582: "For he that is the Troucheman of a stranger's tongue may well declare his meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his tale."—Collier.
[In "England's Parnasaus," 1600, is the following line from James I.'s "Essayes of a Prentise," 1584—
"Dame Nature's trunchmen, heavens interprets true;"
and Park, in his reprint of the book, not knowing the meaning of trouchman, supposed trunchman to be misprinted for trenchman.]
[277] This question, by an error of the press, Dodsley and Reed both allowed to be given to Florentio.—Collier.
[278] [Spite, hatred.]
[279] In the old folio, 1640, this song, and another song in act iv., are, as was not unusual at the time, appended at the conclusion of the play. They are here inserted in their right places.—Collier.
[280] [Old copy, your own humbled.]
[ACT III., SCENE I.]
Enter Velasco and Oniate.
Oni. My lord, it shows a happy discipline,
Where the obedient soldier yields respect
To such severe commands, now when victory
Gives licence to disorder.
Vel. Sir, our general,
The Lord Florentio, is a glorious master
In th' art of war: and though time makes him not
Wise at th' expense of weakness or diseases, yet
I have beheld him by the easy motion
But of his eye repress sedition,
When it contemned the frown of majesty;
For never he who by his prince's smile
Stood great at court attained such love and awe
With that fierce viper, the repining people.
Oni. Our kingdom owes its safety to that power.
For how dejected look'd our magistrates
When conquest gave admittance to the soldier!
But how their fears forsook them when they saw
Your entry with such silence!
Vel. Sir, Castile
Aim'd not at spoil or ruin in this war,
But to redress that insolence your queen
Did suffer under in Decastro's pride.
Oni. And yet auxiliaries oft turn their swords
To ruin whom they come to rescue.
Vel. The barbarous keep no faith in vows: but we—
We of Castile, though flattering advantage
Persuade to perjury, have still observ'd
Friendship inviolate, no nation suffering,
To which we give our oath.
Oni. You speak, my lord,
Your glories nobly. And it is our joy,
Your general's wound but frighted us.
Vel. The surgeons
Affirm there is no danger, and have licensed
His visit to the queen.
Oni. 'Tis thought, howe'er,
His love had not obey'd such a restraint,
Though death had threaten'd him. But in his health
Consists the common safety, since those forces
Decastro in the morning did expect,
Ere you the town assaulted, are discover'd,
To which he fled, expell'd the city.
Vel. Sir,
We shall contemn, and with ease break that army,
Whose general we have vanquished, having won
The city and your queen into our power.
Enter Sanmartino.
San. Save you, my lord. Sir, your most obedient:
And how likes your good lordship the great acts
Of the strange cavalier? Was not his conduct
Most happy for you in the late assault?
Vel. He happily supplied the office of
Our general: howe'er, your city had
Been ours; for though our Spanish forces may
At first seem beaten, and we to retreat
Awhile, to animate a giddy enemy,
Yet we recover by our art and patience
What fortune gives away. This unknown leader
(I know not how to style him) press'd among
Our soldiers, as they were returning back
After a small repulse: encouraged them,
(Though it was much superfluous) and got honour
Perhaps not so deservingly; but 'twas well.
Oni. Your soldiers speak his glory even with wonder.
Vel. The ignorant are prone to it: but, sir,
I think in our whole army there fought none
But who had equal spirit. Fortune may
Bestow success according to her dotage:
I answer not for that.
San. This is pure Castile.
But what is his birth, country, quality,
And whither is he bound?
Vel. I seldom trouble
My language with vain questions. Some report
(It not imports who are the authors) that
His country's Sicily, his name Ascanio
(Or else some sound like that): that he's a lord
(But what's an island-lord?) and that he came
Into our continent to learn men and manners:
And well he might; for the all-seeing sun
Beholds no nation fiercer in attempt,
More staid in counsel.
Oni. He's of a brave presence:
I never saw more majesty in youth;
Nor never such bold courage in a face
So fashion'd to delight.
San. The queen commends him
Almost with wonder.
Vel. Did the queen regard
A man unknown?
Oni. His merits spoke his worth,
And well might challenge a particular eye.
San. But his, as if in that dumb oratory
He hoped to talk all the history of love,
Still fix'd upon her.
Vel. Your most humble servant. [Exit Velasco.
Oni. This is abrupt.
San. What most politic flea
Is got into his Donship's ear?
Oni. Now must
The Junto sit till midnight, till they rack
Some strange design from this intelligence.
Enter Cleantha, and offers to go out.
San. Nay! on my honour, madam!
Cle. Good my lord!
San. Benight us not so soon! That short-liv'd day
That gives the Russian in the winter hope
Of heat, yet fails him, not so suddenly
Forsakes the firmament. Stay, fairest madam,
That we may look on you and live.
Cle. My lord, I fear you two were serious.
San. Never I, upon my conscience, madam.
Oni. No, I'll swear;
Nor none of the whole form of you at court,
Unless the stratagem be for a mistress,
A fashion, or some cheating-match at tennis.
Cle. But happily[281] that gentleman had business.
His face betrays my judgment if he be
Not much in project.
San. You mistake him, madam.
Though he talk positive, and bustle 'mong
The sober lords, pretend to embassies
And state-designs all day; he's one of us
At night; he'll play, he'll drink,—you guess the rest.
He'll quarrel too, then underhand compound.
Why, for a need he'll jeer and speak profane;
Court, and then laugh at her he courted. Madam,
Forgive him his pretence to gravity,
And he's an absolute cavalier.
Cle. My lord,
He owes you for this fair certificate;
Yet I fear your character's beyond his merit.
Oni. Madam, dissemble not so great a virtue;
Nor, to obey the tyranny of custom,
Become the court's fair hypocrite. I know
This vanity for fashion-sake you wear,
And all those gaieties you seem t' admire
Are but your laughter.
Cle. Sir, your charity
Abuseth you extremely.
Oni. Come, you cannot
Disguise that wisdom, which doth glory in
The beauteous mansion it inhabits. Madam,
This soul of mine, how coarse soe'er 'tis cloth'd,
Took the honour to admire you, soon as first
You shin'd at court: nor had a timorous silence
So long denied me to profess my service,
But that I fear'd I might be lost i' the crowd
Of your admirers.
Cle. Nor can I perceive
Any strong hope now to the contrary.
Oni. Nor I: but give me licence t' undeceive
The world, that so mistakes you. This young lord
Flatters his folly that indeed you are
Sick of that humour you but counterfeit;
Believes y' are frail and easy; since, if not,
His courtship were without design.
Cle. My lord,
What means the gentleman? He hopes to talk me
Into a virtue I ne'er practis'd yet,
And much suspect I never shall.
San. Pray, madam,
Pardon his ignorance: 'tis want of breeding.
Oni. Pardon your mirth, fair madam, and brush off
This honour'd dust that soils your company;
This thing whom nature carelessly obtruded
Upon the world to teach that pride and folly
Make titular greatness th' envy but of fools,
The wise man's pity.
San. Sir, your words are rude.
Oni. Sure, no, my lord: perhaps in times of yore
They might be construed so, when superstition
Worshipp'd each lord an idol. Now we find,
By sad experience, that you are mere men,
If vice debauch you not to beasts.
San. The place is privileg'd, sir.
Oni. I know it is, and therefore speak thus boldly.
If you grow hot, you have your grots, my lord,
And in your villa you may domineer
O'er th' humble country-gentleman, who stands
Aloof and bare.
Cle. My lord, leave off the combat;
Y' are hardly match'd. And see, the Lord Florentio!
Enter Florentio and Velasco.
The queen attends his coming. Sir, you'll find
A more convenient school to read this lecture.
Oni. But none so beautiful to hear me.
[Exeunt, several ways, Sanmartino, Cleantha, and Oniate.
Flo. And are you sure, my lord, he durst presume
To look up at her?
Vel. Yes, and she commends
His person and his spirit.
Flo. 'Twas too much
T' observe his person. Sure, his spirit's great,
And well may challenge the queen's memory.
I have not seen him yet.
Vel. Nor I, my lord.
Flo. He had a fortune gentler far than mine.
In envy of that service which I vowed
To Arragon, Heaven used a stranger's arm
In this great action: I was judged a thing
Unfit for use.
Vel. Your glory was the greater,
Your courage even opposing 'gainst your fate
In the attempt.
Flo. But yet, mistaken man
Esteems the happy only valiant.
And if the queen, Velasco, should smile on
His merits, and forget that love I have
With such religion paid her——But these doubts
Are impious, and I sin if I but listen
To their disloyal whispers. And behold,
Enter the Queen, Floriana, Cleantha, &c.
She opens, like a rock of diamond,
To th' curious search of th' almost bankrupt merchant!
So doth the pilot find his star, when storms
Have even sunk his bark. Divinest madam!
Queen. Welcome, my lord! But pardon me my joys,
If I must interrupt you with a sigh.
I cannot look upon Florentio's arm,
But I must grieve it bled for me.
Flo. O, spare
The treasure of those tears! Some captive king,
Whom fortune hath lock'd up in iron, wants
One such to buy his freedom. Madam, all
Those streams of blood which flow to warm my earth,
Lest it congeal to death, cannot compare
For value with the least drop shed for you,
By such a quarrel made inestimable.
Queen. The war, I see, hath only been the field
To exercise your fancy. Your discourse
Shows that the court was kept beneath your tent;
Yet cannot I, my lord, be jealous, but
'Tis mingled with some love.
Flo. 'Tis a pure love,
Unmix'd as is the soul. The world perhaps
May judge a kingdom hath enamour'd me,
And that your titles dress you forth, to raise
My appetite up higher. Pardon love,
If it grow envious even of your fortune,
And that I'm forc'd to wish you had been daughter
Of some poor mountain-cottager, without
All dowry but your own beauty.[282] Then I might
Have showed a flame untainted with ambition,
And courted you; but now the circumstance
Of greatness seems to challenge more than I
Have power to give, and, working up my love,
I serve my fortune.
Queen. You have not, my lord,
Found me uneasy to your vows: and, when
The troubled stream of my tempestuous state
Shall meet a perfect calm, you then shall know
How worthy I esteem your virtue.
Flo. Speak but those words again, and seat me in
An orb above corruption! O, confirm
Your thoughts but with a promise.
Queen. How, a promise!
I shall repent my favour if I hear
A syllable which sounds like that. Upon
My marriage-day I have vowed to bring myself
A free oblation to the holy altar;
Not, like a fearful debtor, tender low[283]
To save my bond. My lord, I must not hear
One whisper of a promise.
Flo. I'm silent,
And use me as your vassal; for a title
More glorious I shall never covet. But——
Queen. No jealousy, my lord.
Enter Lerma.
Ler. Your majesty
Is great in mercy; and I hope a stranger
Shall meet it, if his speech be an offence.
Queen. Your pleasure, sir?
Ler. The Lord Ascanio charg'd [Kneels.
Me fall yet lower, if the earth would license;
For to so high a majesty obedience
Cannot bend down enough: then he commanded,
I, in his name, should beg the honour for him,
Before he take his journey from your country,
To kiss your hand.
Queen. Pray, sir, let's know the hour;
But let it not be sudden. Years should sweat
In preparation for his entertainment,
And poets rack invention, till it reach
Such praises as would reach the victories
Of th' old heroes.
Ler. Madam, if his arm
Did actions worthy memory, it receiv'd
An influence from your quarrel, in the which
A dwarf might triumph o'er an army. But
He humbly craves his audience may not be
With crowd and noise, as to embassadors;
But with that silence which befits his business,
For 'tis of moment.
Queen. Sir, we will obey
His own desires, though ours could wish his welcome
With a full ceremony. I attend him. [Exit Lerma.
Flo. Madam, this stranger——
Queen. Pray, my lord, let love
Not interrupt your business. I believe,
The army which Decastro so expected
Being now arriv'd, your soldiers tired, the city
Ill-settled in her faith, much counsel will
Be needful. When your leisure shall permit,
Our joy shall be to see you.
Flo. I'm all obedience.
[Exeunt Queen and Florentio at several doors.
Manet Sanmartino and Cleantha.
San. And when, sweet madam, will you crown our joys?
Let's not, like riotous gamesters, throw away
The treasure of our time: appoint the hour,
The hour which must wear garlands of delight,
By which we'll make't the envy of the age.
Cle. My lord, what mean you?
San. What all fine lords mean
Who have plenty, youth and title.
Cle. But my fame!
San. 'Tis the fool's bugbear.
Cle. Then my conscience!
San. A scarecrow for old wives, whom wrinkles make
Religious.
Cle. What will the court say?
San. Why, nothing.
In mercy to themselves, all other ladies
Will keep your counsel.
Cle. But will you not boast it?
San. I'll be degraded first.
Cle. Well, I'm resolv'd.
San. But when, sweet madam? Name
The moment.
Cle. Never: for now I weigh things better;
The antidote 'gainst fear is innocence.
San. Will you delude my hopes then? Pity, madam,
A heart that withers if denied this favour.
Cle. In pity I may be induced to much;
And, since you urge compassion, I will meet.
San. Where, excellent madam?
Cle. I' th' sycamore-walk.
San. The minute! O, the minute!
Cle. An hour hence.
San. Felicity! fit for thy envy, Love!
You will not fail now, madam?
Cle. To be such,
As you shall count that hour your happiest. [Exeunt.
Enter Browfildora and Oniate.
Oni. This is a challenge! Prythee, my small friend,
May not a man take th' height of my lord's spirit,
Looking on thee?
Brow. Pray, sir, leave off your mirth,
And write my lord your answer.
Oni. Little sir,
I never learnt that pretty quality:
I cannot write; only by word of mouth——
Brow. Your place, sir?
Oni. The market-place.
Brow. 'Tis fantastic: and my lord will take it ill.
Your weapons, sir.
Oni. Two English mastiffs, which
Are yet but whelps, and not transported hither:
So that the time will be, I know not when.
Brow. Your sport is dangerous. If my lord forgive you,
I must resent th' affront as to myself,
And will expect a most severe account.
Oni. Thou less, though[284] angrier, thing than wasp, farewell.
[Exeunt.
Enter Queen and Ascanio.
Queen. I am inform'd, my lord, that you have business,
And 'tis of moment?
Asc. Great as that of Nature's
In her most mighty work, Creation.
For to preserve from dissolution equals
The gift of our first being. Not to hold
Your majesty in riddles, 'tis to beg
Your pardon for a soldier doom'd to die;
Inevitably doom'd, unless your mercy
Step between him and death.
Queen. My lord, we use
T' examine well the fact for which he is
To suffer, ere we pardon. There be crimes
Of that black quality which often makes
Mercy seem cruel.
Asc. That's the fear which frights
Me to this paleness: sure, his crime is great;
But fondly I, presuming on the service
My fortune lately did you, gave my vow
Ne'er to forsake your ear with earnest prayers,
Till you had granted.
Queen. Would you had not vowed;
For by the practice of my enemies
My fame is 'mong the people yet unsettled,
And my capacity for government
Held much too feeble. Should I then by this
Provoke them to disdain me, I might run
Apparent hazard even of ruin, now
War so distracts our kingdom. But, my lord,
Your merits are too ponderous in the scale,
And all respects weigh light—you have his pardon.
Asc. Your hand on that. The down on the swan's bosom,
[Kisses and holds it.
Not white and soft as this: here's such a dew
As drops from bounteous heaven in the morning,
To make the shadowy bank pregnant with violets.
Queen. My lord!
Asc. I kiss'd it, and the Phœnix seem'd
(The last of the whole race) to yield a perfume
More sweet than all his dying ancestors
Breath'd from their funeral piles. O, shrink not back!
My life is so concomitant with love,
That if you frown on either, both expire,
And I must part for ever hence.
Queen. How strange appears this ecstasy! My lord, I fear
Your brain feels some disturbance: if I cause it,
I will remove the object.
Asc. Pardon, madam,
The error of my fancy (which oft seems
To see things absent), if my tongue did utter
What misbecame your ear; and do not forfeit
Your servant to perpetual misery,
For want of a short patience.
Queen. No, my lord;
I have the memory of your great deeds
Engrav'd so deep, no error can have power
To raze them from a due respect. You begg'd
To have a pardon: speak th' offender's name.
Asc. Th' offender's name is Love; his crime high treason;
A plot, how to surprise and wound your heart:
To this conspirator I have given harbour,
And vow'd to beg your mercy for him.
Queen. How!
Asc. And if you break your grant, I will hereafter
Scorn all your sex, since the most excellent
Is cruel and inconstant.
Queen. Pray, my lord,
Go recollect your reason, which your passion
Hath too much scatter'd. Make me not have cause
To hate whom I would ever strive to honour.
Asc. Madam, you haply scorn the vulgar earth,
Of which I stand compacted: and because
I cannot add a splendour to my name,
Reflective from a royal pedigree,
You interdict my language: but be pleas'd
To know, the ashes of my ancestors,
If intermingled in the tomb with kings,
Could hardly be distinguished. The stars shoot
An equal influence on the open cottage,
Where the poor shepherd's child is rudely nurs'd,
And on the cradle, where the prince is rock'd
With care and whisper.
Queen. And what hence infer you?
Asc. That no distinction is 'tween man and man,
But as his virtues add to him a glory,
Or vices cloud him.
Queen. But yet Heaven hath made
Subordination and degrees of men,
And even religion doth authorise us
To rule, and tells the subject 'tis a crime,
And shall meet death, if he disdain obedience.
Asc. Kind Heaven made us all equal, till rude strength
Or wicked policy usurp'd a power:
And for religion, that exhorts t' obey
Only for its own ease.
Queen. I must not hear
Such insolence 'gainst majesty; and yet
This less offends than love.
Asc. If reason bends
You not to mercy, let my passion plead,
And not meet death from her, in whose fair quarrel
I could each moment bring a life to th' hazard.
Philosophy hath taught me that content
Lives under the coarse thatch of labourers
With much more quiet than where the fam'd hand
Of artists to the life have richly drawn
Upon the roofs the fictions of the gods.
How happy then might I lengthen my life,
With some fair country girl, so ignorant
She knew not her own beauties, rather than
Endanger death and scorn in your denial,
And in your grant nothing but pomp and envy!
Queen. My lord, be wise, and study that best content.
This bold presumptuous love hath cancell'd all
The bonds I owed your valour: henceforth hope
Not for that usual favour I show strangers,
Since you have thus abus'd it. Would I might
With safety have appear'd more grateful. [Exit.
Asc. She's gone, as life from the delinquent, when
Justice sheathes up her sword. I fain would have
Conceal'd love's treason, but desire t' obtain her
Put me to th' torture, till each nerve did crack,
And I confess'd, then died upon the rack. [Exit.