THE LADY MOTHER: A COMEDY.
BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE.
Written in 1635, and now printed for the first time.
The Play of The Lady Mother.
Actus Primus.
(SCENE 1.)
Enter Thorowgood, Bonvill & Grimes.
Bon. What? will it be a match man? Shall I kneele to thee and aske thee blessing, ha?
Tho. Pish! I begin to feare her, she does Dally with her affection: I admire itt.
Bon. Shee and her daughters
Created were for admiration only,
And did my Mistress and her sister not
Obscure their mothers luster fancy could not
Admitt a fuller bewty.
Tho. Tis easier to expresse
Where nimble winds lodge, ore investigate
An eagles passage through the agill ayre
Then to invent a paraphrase to expresse
How much true virtue is indebted to their
Unparaleld perfections.
Bon. Nay[56], but shall I not be acquainted with your designe? when we must marry, faith to save charges of two wedding dinners, lets cast so that one day may yeild us bridegroome,—I to the daughter and thou to the mother.
Tho. She falls off
With such a soddaine ambiguitie,
From the strong heate of her profesd[57] love
That I conceive she intends a regular proofe
Of my untainted Faith.
Grimes. Soe I thinke, too: when I was young the plaine downe-right way serv'd to woe and win a wench; but now woing is gotten, as all things else are, into the fashion; gallantts now court their Mistress with mumps & mows as apes and monke[y]s doe.
Bon. But cannot all your fluent witt interpret
Why she procastinatts your promisd match?
By this light, her daughter would be married tomorrow
If her mother and I had concluded on the Joynture.
Tho. The most evident reason she will give me of this unwellcome protraccon is she has some new employment to put on me, which performd she has ingaged her selfe to certainty of her designing me an answerare [sic].
Enter Lovell.
Grimes. Here comes your Rivall, Mr. Thorowgood,—Alexander the Great, her Ladishipps loving Steward.
Bon. But does he affect the lady; what's his character?
Grimes. He was by trade a taylor, sir, and is the tenth part of the bumbast that goes to the setting forth of a man: his dealing consists not much in weight but in the weight of his pressing Iron, under whose tyranny you shall perceave no small shrinking.
Tho. Well said, Grimes. On!
Grimes. He has alterd himselfe out of his owne cutt since he was steward; yet, if you saw him in my ladyes Chamber you would take him for some usher of a dancing schoole, as being aptest in sight for a crosse cap.
Tho. Excellent Grimes still!
Grimes. By his cloathes you might deeme him a knight; but yet if you uncase him, you will find his sattin dublett naught but fore sleaves & brest, the back part buckram; his cloake and cape of two sorts; his roses and garters of my ladyes old Cypres: to conclude, sir, he is an ambodexter or a Jack-of-all-sides & will needs mend that which Nature made: he takes much upon him since the old Knight dyed, and does fully intend to run to hell[58] for the lady: he hates all wines and strong drinks—mary, tis but in publique, for in private he will be drunke, no tinker like him.
Bon. Peace, sirrah; observe.
Lov. So, let me see the summa totalis of my sweet ladies perfections.
Grimes. Good, he has her in whole already.
Tho. Peace, Grimes.
Lov. Imprimis, her faire haire; no silken sleave
Can be so soft the gentle worm does weave.
It[em], noe Plush or satten sleeke, I vow,
May be compard unto her velvet brow.
It[em], her eyes—two buttons made of iett;
Her lipps gumd taffety that will not frett;
Her cheeks are changeable, as I suppose,—
Carnation and white, lyllie and rose.
Grimes. I, there it goes.
Bon. I protest I comend him; he goes through stitch with her like the Master of his trade.
Lov. It[em] her brests two bottomes[59] be of thred, By which love to his laborinth is led. Her belly—
Grimes. I, marry, sir, now he comes to the purpose.
Lov. Her Belly a soft Cushion where no sinner But her true love must dare stick a pin in her.
Grimes. That line has got the prick and prayse from all the rest.
Lov. Butt to that stuff of stuffs, that without scoff Is Camills haire or else stand further off.
Grimes. How many shreads has he stoale here to patch up this lady?
Lov. The totall some of my blest deity Is the magazine of Natures treasury.— Soe, this made up, will I take an occasion to dropp where she may find it. But, stay; here's company.
Bon. Mr. Lovell.
Lov. And see, I shall divulge myselfe.
Grimes. A foole, I doubt not.
Bon. Is your lady stirring?
Lov. She is risen, sir, and early occupied in her occasions spiritual, and domesticke busines.
Enter Lady & Magdalen.
Lady. Sweet Mr. Bonvil.
The simple entertain[m]ent you receave here
I feare will scare you from us: you're so early
Up, you do not sleepe well.
Tho. I cannot looke on her
But Ime as violent as a high-wrought sea
In my desires; a fury through my eyes
At every glance of hers invades my heart.
Lady. What ayles you, servant? are you not well?
Bon. 'Tis his humour, Madam; he is accustomed, though it be in company, to hold a dialogue with his thoughts. Please you, lady, to give his fever libertie; the fit will soon be overpasd.
Tho. She bears her age well, or she is not sped
Far into th'vale of yeares: she has an eye
Piercing as is an Eglets when her damme,
Training[60] her out into the serene air,
Teaches her face the Sunbeames.
Bon. Madam, I fear my friend
Hath falne againe in love; he practises
To himself new speeches; you and he are not
Broke off, I hope.
Lady. O, sir, I value my servant at a higher rate: We two must not easily disagree. Sir Alexander, attend in Mr. Bonvill. My daughter's up by this time, and I would have him give her the first salute. You had best be wary, Bonvill; the young cittizen or the souldier will rob you of her.
Bon. O, we feare not them: shall we goe, sir?
Lady. Nay, Ile detaine my servant.
Bon. Harke you, sir, strike home; doe you heare?
[Exeunt Bonvill, Grimes, Lovell & Mag.
Lady. Servant, have you leasure To hear what I inioyne you?
Tho. Your good pleasure.
Lady. What shall I doe? I can no longer beare
This flame so mortall; I have wearid heaven
With my entreaties and shed teares enough
To extinguish Aetna, but, like water cast
On coales, they ad unto my former heate
A more outragious fervor. I have tried
All modest meanes to give him notice of
My violent love, but he, more dull then earth,
Either conceives them not or else, possessd
With full affection of my daughter, scornes me.
Tho. Madam, wilt please you to deliver your pleasure?
Lady. Thorowgood,
Not clouds of lightning, or the raging bolt
Heavens anger darts at the offending world,
Can with such horrid rigor peirce the earth
As these sad words I must demonstrate to you
Doe my afflicted brest.—Ime lost; my tongue
When I would speake, like to an Isicle
Disturbd by motion of unruly winds
Shakes to pronounce't, yet freezes to my roofe
Faster by th'agitation.
Tho. Your full Judgment
Could not have found an apter instrument
For the performance of what you designe,
Then I experience how much any man
May become passive in obedience
To the intent of woman, in my truth.
Set the abstrusest comment on my faith
Imagination can resolve, my study
Shall mak't as easie as the plainest lines
Which hearty lovers write.
Enter Timothy.
Tim. Madam, this letter and his humble vowes From your deserving sonn.
Lady. He writes me here he will be here tomorrow. Where left you him?
Tim. At your right worthy Cosens.
Lady. What manner of man is this Mr. Thurston He brings with him?
Tim. A most accomplishd gentleman.
Lady. 'Tis well: Mr. Thoroegood, Weele walke into the Gallery, and there Discourse the rest.
Tho. I long till I receive the audience of it.
Tim. Your ladiship will vouchsafe to meete The Gent[lemen] in your Coach some two miles hence?
Lady. Ile thinke of it.
[Exeunt omnes.
(SCENE 2.)
_Enter Sucket and Crackby[61].
Suc_. Come, deport your selfe with a more elated countenance: a personage of your rare endowments so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes, not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that like cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.
Crac. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in my native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: the vapor rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then the common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound the reason of it.
Suc. What may it be imagind.
Crac. Why, here are no Taverns where for my crowne I can have food provocative, besides the gaining of many precious phrase for (from?) divers gallants new frenchefied. Theirs nothing to excite desire but creame and eggs, and they are so common every clowne devoures them. Were each egge at twelve pence, or as deare as lobsters, I could afford to eate them, but I hate all that is vulgar; 'tis most base.
Suc. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution: Suppose your mistress were an enemy You were to encounter in sterne duell.
Crac. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to suppose the meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkes nought but ale able to kill a Dutchman? Conduit water is nector to it,
Suc. Nay, but I say, suppose—
Crac. Suppose! Why here are no wenches halfe so amorous as Citty tripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I did but begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to the Citty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbrace pl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shall forget whether a woman be fish or flesh: I have almost don't already.
Suc. O, heeres your uncle, move him; you conceive me; He must disburse.
Crac. And 'tis as hard to wrest a penny from him as from a bawd.
Enter Sir Gefferie and Bunche.
Sir Geff. Erect that locke a little; theres a hayre
Which, like a foreman of a shop, does strive
To be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasse
Is falsly silverd, maks me look as gray
As if I were 4 score.
Bun. What does he want of it?
Sir Geff. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumes Have a dull odor; there is meale among them, My Mrs. will not scent them.
Crac. Uncle, my friend,
My martiall fellow is deficient
In this ubiquitarie mettall, silver:
You must impart.
Sir Geff. This garter is not well tide, fellow: where
Wert thou brought up? thou knowest not to tie
A rose yet, knave: a little straiter: so,
Now, tis indifferent. Who can say that I
Am old now?
Bun. Marry, that can I or any one which sees you.
Suc. Death to my reputation! Sir, we are gent[lemen] and deserve regard: Will you not be responsible?
Sir Geff. Alas, good Captaine, I was meditating how to salute my lady this morning. You have bin a traviler: had I best do it in the Italian garbe or with a Spanish gravity? your French mode is grown so common every vintners boy has it as perfect as his anon, anon, sir. Hum, I must consider on it.
Crac. Nay, but uncle, uncle, shall we have answeare concerning this mony, uncle? You must disburse; that is the souldiers phrase. You see this man; regard him.
Suc. Death of vallor! I can hold no longer; I shall rise in wroth against him.
Crac. Dee heare, Uncle? you must furnish him; he wilbe irefull presently, and then a whole bagg will not satisfie him; heele eate your gold in anger and drinke silver in great sack glasses.
Sir Geff. Pox o'this Congee; 't shalbe thus, no thus;
That writhing of my body does become me
Infinitly. Now to begett an active
Complement that, like a matins sung
By virgins, may enchant her amorous ear.
The Spanish Basolas[63] manos sounds, methinks,
As harsh as a Morisco kettledrum;
The French boniour is ordinary as their
Disease: hees not a gent that cannot parlee.
I must invent some new and polite phrases.
Crac. Shall I have answeare yet, sir.
Sir Geff. Pish, you disturbe me.—Gratulate her rest, Force an encomium on her huswifry For being up so early.—Bunch, where is my nephew?
Crac. I have bin here this halfe hower and could not get answere.
Sir Geff, To what, good nephew?—I was meditating a little seriously.
Crac. Concerning this white earth.
Sir Geff. Youde know the nature of it? If it be marle 'tis good to manure land; if clay, to make tobacco pipes.
Crac. I meane mony.
Sir Geff. O mony, Nephew: Ide thought youde learnd ith Citty How to use mony: here we do imploy it To purchase land and other necessaries.
Suc. Infamy to fame and noble reputation! Old man, dost thou disdaine valour? I tell thee, Catterpillar, I must have mony.
Sir Geff. 'Tis reason good you should; it is fitting to cherish men of armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldiers pensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receive it.
Bun. Faith, there he mett with you.
Crac. I see a storme a coming. Uncle, I wilbe answerable upon account: my souldier must have mettall.
Sir Geff. Iron and Steele is most convenient for Souldiers; but, since you say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?
Suc. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you have offred me in being dilatory.
Sir Geff. Bunch, deliver him ten pounds;—but, dee heare.
Bunch, let be in light gold; 'twill serve his turn as well as heavier: it may be he is one of those projectors transports it beyond sea.
Enter Magdalen.
Mag. Sir, I come to give you notice my ladyes walkd into the garden.
Sir Geff. Life! is she upp so early?
Mag. An hower since, beleeve it.
Crac. Is my Mistress stirring?
Mag. In truth, I know not.
Sir Geff. Nephew, demeane your selfe with[64] all respect
Toward the gentlewoman you affect.
You must learne with here since the citty
Could spare you none.—Ile to the lady.
[Exeunt Bunch, Sir Geff. and Mag.
Crac. Captaine, shalls into th'Celler, Captaine?
Suc. I like the Motion.
Crac. Come away, then: there is indifferent liquor in this house, but that ith towne is most abominable. Weele drinke our owne healths, Captaine.
Suc. Well considered; 'tis for our reputation.
[Exeunt omnes.
(SCENE 3.)
Enter Bonvill, Clarinna, Belizea and Grimes.
Bon. Come, you are wantons both: If I were absent,
You would with as much willingness traduce
My manners to them. What Idiots are wee men
To tender our services to women
Who deride us for our paines!
Cla. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us women
But equall with our parrets or at best
But a degree above them, prating creatures
Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see
A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue
To say,—(he is soe like December come
A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes
Of youth and bravery as if he meant
To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)—
We have not so much spleene as will engender
A modest laughter at him?
Bel. Nay, theres his Nephew, Crackby, your sweet servant.
Clar. My Servant! I do admire that man's impudence, How he dare speake to any woman.
Bon. Why, is he not flesh and blood?
Clar. Yes, but I question whether it be mans or no. They talk of changlings: if there be such things I doubt not but hees one of them.
Bel. Fie,[65] Sister; 'tis a prettye gent, I know you love him.
Clar. You hitt it there, I faith,[66]—You know the man?
Bon. Yes, very well.
Clar. Have you then ever seene such another monster?
He was begott surely in the wane of the moone,
When Natures tooles were at laime Vulcans forge
A sharpning, that she was forced to shake this lumpe together.
Bon. What man for heavens sake could your nicenes fancy?
Clar. Not you of all that ever I beheld.
Bel. And why, good wisdome?
Clar. Nay, do not scratch me because he is your choyse, forsooth.
Bel. Well, we shall see the goodly youth your curiositie has elected, when my brother returnes, I hope.
Clar. I hope soe, too; I marvill where this Cub is, He is not roaring here yet.
Enter Thorogood.
Bon. Frend, thou hast lost The absolu[t]st characters deliverd by this lady: Would thou hadst come a little sooner.
Tho. Ladies,
I must desire your pardon for my friend:
I have some busines will a while deprive him
Your sweet companies.
Clar. Take him away; we are weary of him.
Bel. Sister, lets leave the gentlemen alone, And to our chambers. [_Exeunt Bel. and Clar.
Bon. Grimes, put to the doore and leave us.— Whats the matter? [Exit Grimes.
Tho. Freind,
Ere I begin my story I would wish you
Collect yourselfe, awake your sleeping Spiritts,
Invoake your patience, all thats man about you
To ayd your resolution; for I feare
The newes I bring will like a palsie shake
Your soules indifferenst temper.
Bon. Prethee, what is't which on the soddaine can Be thus disastrous? 'tis beyond my thoughts.
Tho. Nay, slight it not: the dismall ravens noate
Or mandrakes screches, to a long-sick man
Is not so ominous as the heareing of it
Will be to you; 'twill like a frost congeale
Your lively heate,—yet it must out, our frendship
Forbids concealment.
Bon. Do not torture me; Ime resolute to heare it.
Tho. Your soe admired Mistress Who parted from you now, Belisea,—
Bon. You have don well before
Your sad relation to repeat that sound;
That holy name whose fervor does excite
A fire within mee sacred as the flame
The vestalls offer: see how it ascends
As if it meant to combat with the sunn
For heats priority! Ime arm'd gainst death,
Could thy words blow it on me.
Tho. Here me, then: Your Mistress—
Bon. The Epitome of virtues, Who like the pretious reliques of a Saint Ought only to be seene, not touchd.
Tho. Yet heare me;
Cease your immoderate prayses: I must tell you
You doe adore an Idoll; her black Soule
Is tainted as an Apple which the Sunn
Has kist to putrifaction; she is
(Her proper appelation sounds so foule
I quake to speake it) a corrupted peice,
A most lascivious prostitute.
Bon. Howes this?
Speake it agen, that if the sacrilege
Thou'st made gainst vertue be but yet sufficient
To yeild thee dead, the iteration of it
May damne thee past the reach of mearcye. Speake it,
While thou hast utterance left; but I conceit
A lie soe monstrous cannot chuse but choake
The vocall powers, or like a canker rott
Thy tung in the delivery.
Tho. Sir, your rage
Cannot inforce a recantacion from me:
I doe pronounce her light as is a leafe
In withered Autumne shaken from the trees
By the rude winds: noe specld serpent weares
More spotts than her pide honor.
Bon. So, no more:
Thy former words incenst me but to rage;
These to a fury which noe sea of teares,
Though shed by queenes or Orphants, shall extinguish;
Nay, should my mother rise from her cold urne
And weepe herself to death againe to save
Thee from perdition, 't should not; were there placd
Twixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs,
Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw.
Tho_. Had I knowne
Your passion would have vanquishd reason thus,
You should have met your ruine unadvisd;
Hugd your destruction; taken what the lust
Of other men had left you. But the name
And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought
Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage
Gainst me, for declaration of a truth
By which you might be ransomed from the armes
Of her adulterate honor.
Bon. Yes, kind foole;
Perswade an Indian who has newly div'd
Into the ocean and obtaind a pearle,
To cast it back againe; labour t'induce
Turkes to contemne their Alcoron ere you strive
To make me creditt my Belissia false. [Kneele.
Forgive me, holy love, that I delay
So long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongs
Of this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks—
Blow him hence to hell
With his contagious slander! yet before
Thou doest fall by me as, if heaven have not
Lost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe,
Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detract
From virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not
(Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know it
Without some information: whoes the Author
Of this prodigious calumnie?
Tho. Her mother.
Bon. Ha! her mother?
Tho. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth,
That pretious mine of honor, which before
She would exhaust, or yeild your innocence
A spoyle to vice, chose rather to declare
Her daughter's folly; and with powerfull teares
Besought me, by the love I bore to goodnes,
Which in her estimation had a roome
Higher than Nature, to reveale it to you
And disingage you from her.
Bon. Soe, rest there, [Put up.
Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reduced
To one, left only to preserve earths store,
In the defence of women; who,[67] but that
The mothers virtues stands betweene heavens Justice
Would for the daughters unexampled sinne
Be by some soddaine Judgment swept from earth
As creatures too infectious. Gentle freind,
An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'd
In Lethe, seases on me and I feare
My passion will inforce me to transgresse
Manhood; I would not have thee see me weepe;
I prethee leave mee, solitude will suite
Best with my anguish. [_Sitt downe.
Tho_. Your good Genius keepe you. [Exit.
[Enter Belisea.]
Bel. Why have you staid thus long?
Young Crackby and his friend are newly up
And have bin with us. My sister has had
The modest bout with them: 'tis such a wench.
Are you a sleepe? why doe you not looke up?
What muse you on?
Bon. Faith, I was thinking where In the whole world to find an honest woman.
Bel. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Mother and my Sister?
Bon. You alway excepted; tis but melancholly; Prethee bestow a kisse upon me, love; Perchance that will expell it.
Bel. If your cure be wrought soe easily, pittie you should perish for want of physick. [Kiss him.
Bon. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast,
Surely her breath would like a Stigian mist
Or some contagious vapor blast me; but
'Tis sweet as Indian balme, and from her lips
Distills[68] a moisture pretious as the Dew
The amorous bounty of the wholesome morne
Throwes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pure
As the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yet
Theres that within her renders her as foule
As the deformed'st Ethiope.
Bel. Whats the matter? Why do you staire so on me?
Bon. To admire That such a goodly building as this same Should have such vild stuff in itt.
Bel. What meanes this language?
Bon. Nothing, but only to informe you what You know to well alreadie: Belisia, you are —(I cannot call her whore)—a perjurd woman.
Bel. Defend me innocence! I scarce remember That ever I made oath and therefore wonder How I should breake on.
Bon. Have you not with imprecations beg'd Heavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?
Bel. And those same heavens are vouchers[69] I've kept my vowes with that strict purity That I have done my honor.
Bon. I believe thee;
The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman,
Thoust made that name a terme convertible
With fury, otherwise I should call thee soe,
How durst thou with this impudence abuse
My honest faith? did I appeare a guest
So infinitly worthles that you thought
The fragments of thy honour good enough
To sate my appetite, what other men
Had with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman,
Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brest
A treasure wealthier then the Indies both
Can in their glory boast, my faithfull heart,
Which I do justly ravish back from it
Since thou art turnd a strumpet.
Bel. Doe you thinke I am what you have term'd me?
Bon. Doe I thinke
When I behold the wanton Sparrows change
Their chirps to billing, they are chast? or see
The Reeking Goate over the mountaine top
Pursue his Female, yet conceit him free
From wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me,
Does not the genius of thy honor dead
Haunt thee with apparitions like a goast
Of one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often come
To thy bed-side and like a fairy pinch
Thy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee
'Tis in revenge for myriads of black tortures
Thy lust inflicted on it?
Bel. Have you don?
Give me a little leave then ere my greife
Surround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven,
Who, were you not offended at some sinn
I have unwittingly comitted, would
Send sacred innocence it selfe to pleade
How much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zeale
Above the love of mothers I have tendred
This misinformd man. Ile not aske the authors
Of this report, I doe forgive them; may
A happier fate direct you to some other
May love you better; and my fate conferr
On me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [Exit.
Bon. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.
[Exit.
Actus Secundus.
(SCENE 1.)[70]
Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes.
Gr. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!
Suc. Where? how, good Grimes?
Gr. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe lecture us before my ladie for drinking … at midnight, has gott the key of the wine C[ellar from] Timothie the Butler and is gon downe to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.
Enter Timothie.
Tim. Gent[lemen], Grimes, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar] when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.
Crac. Oh, my fine steward! [Exeunt.
Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup.
Lov. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill examples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inch in quietness is better than an ell of sorrow. Goe to and goe to agen, for I say and I sayt, there is no reason but that the parson may forget that ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since she tooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and I sayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are but women, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld with the wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this love is a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore come forth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, and thou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now,—goe to and goe to: lets have a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill to my kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: health to my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health to my freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my deare companion: stay, you shall pledge me presently, tis yet in a good hand; I will pledge both your Mrss first. Goe to and go to,[74] freind; thou alwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soe with my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compare your Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst, Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouth of thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shake thee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as Hector drew Achilles bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggs tayle be dragd in vild disgrace throughout the towne. Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt; Ile have the dragd, sirr, ah I[le] have the dragd; perswade me not, good friend; let him yeild me a reason[76] if he can. I, I, he had need to be squeezd; why tis true, this is one, but not to purpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heare no more: why, how now frend? ha, ha, ha, you have got a Cup to much; umh, goe to and goe to, you can hold no more, I see that, at this time; let me ene bring you to your chambers. [Flings away the bottle and sleeps.
_Enter Timothy, Grimes, Sucket, Crackby, with flaggons of wine.
Suc_. 'Tis well don, cherish valour.
Crac. Creditt me, my Captaine carries fortitude enough for a whole legion; twas his advice tooke in[77] the Busse[?], and at Mastricht his courage did conclude Papenhams overthrow.[78]
Suc. Pish, you to farr exemply[fy]. I have bin at some few skermishes, kild halfe a score or soe; but what of yt? men are but men.
Tim. What wines that, fellow Grimes?
Grimes. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of this upon an onslaught, Captain?
Suc. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am engagd against a squadron or a whole company.
Grimes. He meanes of drunkards.
[Lovell grunts.
Suc. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.
Grimes. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; Timothy, hast thou thy Salvatorie about thee.
Tim. Yes, heere, here.[81]
Grimes. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face: here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to bind it up?
Suc. Some blood, my sonn of Mercury, were neceseary for consummation of the jest.
Crac. And here, Grimes, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some blood!
Grimes. Here, I have prickt my finger.
Tim. Let you and I, Mr. Crackby, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.
Crac. No, no, you shall pardon me for that, Tim[82]; no, no; no boyes play.
Suc. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks like a Mapp oth world. Death, what are these?[83]
Enter Musike.
Grimes. The Town Waites whome I appointed to come and visitt us.
Suc. 'Twas well donn: have you ere a good song?
Tim. Yes, they have many.
Suc. But are they bawdy? come, sir, I see by your simpring it is you that sings, but do not squeake like a French Organ-pipe nor make faces as if you were to sing a Dirge. Your fellowes may goe behind the arras: I love to see Musitions in their postures imitate those ayrey soules that grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as short of them as Pan did of Apollo. [Musike.
Grimes. Well, sir, this is indifferent Musicke, trust my judgment. Sing, boy. [A song.
Crac. Now on my life this boy does sing as like the boy[84] at the Whitefryers as ever I heard: how say you Captain?
Suc. I, and the Musicks like theires: come, Sirra, whoes your Poett?
Crac. Some mad wag, I warrant him: is this a new song?
Mus. Tis the first edition, sir: none else but we had ever coppie of it.
Suc. But you wilbe intreated to let a gent have it?
Mus. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least it should grow so wonderous old and turne a Ballad.
Crac. Well said, Captain; the tother health, Captain: heres good wine, good Tobackoe, good everything: had we but a good wench or two twere excellent.
Suc. Great Alexander, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee.
Grimes. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts the easier when my lady calls him.
Crac. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse.
Suc. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they? let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you daunce?
Mus. Daunce? Yes, sir, we can shake our legs or soe.
Suc. So said so don, brave ladd; come, letts have a daunce, some daunce and some play.
Mus. Anything to please you, noble Captaine.
Suc. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playes that I have seene of youre, with their Jiggs[85] ith tayles of them[86] like your French forces! Death, I am a rorging (roaring?) boy; but, come, stir your shanks nimbly or Ile hough ye. Strike up there!
[Daunce.
Grimes. Well don, my hearts; drinke, drinke.
Suc. Goe you in, Ile follow you.
Om[nes]. Come, Captaine.
Suc. Farewell, Steward.
Mus. Dee heare, Captaine?
Suc. With me, my fine treble knave? umh, thou dost tickle minikin as nimbly—
Mus. We hope your worship will consider our paines?
Suc. How, my fine knave? letts see, who were the dauncers?
Mus. Come forward there! nay, I told you he was ever bountifull: oh, good Captaine!
Suc. Let me see: I, thou art hart of vallor: thou didst daunce well, thou deservest—, I say no more: and who played?
Mus. Wee.
Suc. You? well sayd; you plaid and you daunc'd, you say good; let me see, halfe a peece or—
Mus. Blesse your Captaineship.
Suc. You plaid, you say, and you dauncd: umh, well, why then you that dauncd must pay those that plaid.
Mus. How, sir, how?
Suc. Ever, ever, whilst you live, Jarvice;[87] the dauncers alwayes payes the musike. Wilt breake custome? No, or there a pawne for you. —Mr. Steward. Farewell. [Exit.
Mus. This is your bountifull Captaine! a rope of his bounsing! But stay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may worke him to't.
Omnes. Content, content. [Musike softe.
Lov. Umh[88], play a healthe: soe; say, it shall goe rounde: goe to, I say and I sayt, it shall goe round. Umh, where is this fidle? in the ayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my fine companion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh, plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; if I have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill a man or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangd for't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe and then hange me; I care not, I shall not be sensible of it. Oh this sack! it makes a coward a Hector: the Greekes and Troians drinke no other; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffe ten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than they coulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife home againe and all were good frends[89]. [Sease Musicke] But stay, the musikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in my wounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whose this? ha[90]!
Enter Grimes disguised.
Grimes. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe at ease? I am hartely sorry for your misfortune?
Lov. Misfortune? ha, what misfortune? now heaven and't be thy will—
Grimes. Pray heaven they be alive.
Lov. Ha, alive? in the name of drinke what have I don? where did you find me, ha?
Grimes. Why, sir, comming out—umh, umh—
Lov. Out with't, man.
Grimes. Out of a bad-house, sir.
Lov. A Bawdie house, I warrant.
Grimes. Yes sir.
Lov. Why, now its out.
Grimes. I, and tis well your worships out.
Lov. Noe, noe, it had bin better had I never gon in; but on, on.
Grimes. You were, sir,—as they say, sir—you had gotten a Cup to much.
Lov. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I was drunke was I?
Grimes. Yes, sir; you were not able to stand when you came out, sir?
Lov. Out of the Bawdy-house? I beleave thee; nay, I am a right Lovell I, I look like a shotten herring now for't. Jone's as good as my lady in the darke wee me. I have no more Roe than a goose in me; but on to the mischiefe, on.
Grimes. You beate the Bawd downe with the Chamber dore and bade her keepe that for the Reckoning.
Lov. Umh, there was witt in my drinke, I perceive; on.
Grimes. Then, sir, you tooke up a Spitt.
Lov. A Spitt?
Grimes. Yes, sir, and broacht one of the wenches out.
Lov. How?
Grimes. Oh, sir, you made such a hole in her bakside[91] you might have turnd— [Blows his nose.
Lov. What? thy nose int?
Grimes. Had I been there it had been at your service.
Lov. Thanke thee; thou shouldst have lost nothing by it.
Grimes. Then went Tobackoe pipes to wrack, and oh the black potts sufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelve pence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose to confou[nd] 'um.
Lov. Ist possible I could doe this?
Grimes. This, sir? Why you kickd one flat-nosd wench that snuffled, and swore she was a puritan.
Lov. Did not I pay for that oath too?
Grimes. No, sir; you bid the Constable keepe reckoning till it came to a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring Captain.
Lov. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.
Grimes. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his heart.
Lov. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?
Grimes. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of his Mrs.
Lov. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy newes.
Grimes. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall Dutch man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd till your waking.
Lov. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen, yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for you—and be but sylent in't.
Grimes. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.
Lov. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.
Grimes. I, and dam'd your Dublet.
Lov. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love you and I thanke you,
Grimes. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [Discovers
Lov. Whoes this? Grimes?
Grimes. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.
Lov. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.
Grimes. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. Crackby, Tim!
Enter Omnes.
Omnes. How now! how now! what's the matter?
Lov. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell. [Exit.
Grimes. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good Steward.[92]
Tim. Why this is excellent.
Suc. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.
Grimes. Nay, letts not leave him thus.
Crac. Leade on, weele follow.
[Exeunt Omnes.
Finis Actus Secundi.
Actus Tertius.
(SCENE 1.)
Enter Sir Geffry and Lady.
Sir Geff. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you wish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for the lustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime in hast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a little moysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise.—What say you, lady?
Lady. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealth I want it not; but yet I doe not find A disposicon in my selfe to marriage.
Sir Geff. That will not serve my turne; I am no knight
Who weares the spurr of honour without Rowells
To prick a woman forwards: I ride post
To Marriage and resolve at the next stage
To take my Inn up. You have here
Two beautifull young gallants to your daughters:
Since youle not be my wife yet be my mother;
Ile marry any of them, which you please,
And hood her with the bagg [badge?] of honor. Lady,
What say you to this motion.
Lady. My daughters wills are not in my command: If you can purchase either of their hearts, My free consent shall follow.
Sir Geff. Nay, then, they will fall out for me, Madam, I am most fortunate in atcheiving virgins.
Enter Bonville.
Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs.
Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?
Bon. Madam, I have occasions of importance Wishes a little privacy with you.
Lady. With me, sweet Mr. Bonvill? Sir Geffrey, Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure We shall discourse.
Sir Geff. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches. [Exit.
Bon. Madam we are alone?
Lady. You did desire we should.
Bon. But are you sure none can oreheare us.
Lady. Unles we be to loud: What mooves you to require this secresie?
Bon. I come to aske a question, which the winds;
If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare
Their repercussive Eccho should declare it
To all our infamies.
Lady. What ist, I pray you?
Bon. Your daughter whom I was a servant to, —I must deliver it in the homeliest phrase— Is she dishonest?
Lady. You urge a repetition, gentle sir, Of a sad truth: she is.
Bon. It cannot be
In reason comprehensible a mother
Should for a stranger blurr her daughters fame,
Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favor
Transcends requitall: if a man misled
By error gainst the diety, gross enough
For his damnation, owe a gratitude
To his converter, I am engag'd to you
For my delivery from her.
Lady. 'Twas no more
Then what my honor obligd me
And my respect to vertue, which in you
I should have murdred by my silence; but
I have not greife enough left to lament
The memory of her folly: I am growne
Barren of teares by weeping; but the spring
Is not yet quite exhausted. [Weeps.
Bon. Keepe your teares
Lest the full clouds, ambitious that their drops
Should mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd laps
And rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam,
The oftner you reherse her losse the more
You intimate the gaine I have acquird
By your free bounty, which to me appeares
So farr transcending possibility
Of satisfaction that, unles you take
My selfe for payment, I can nere discharge
A debt so waytie.
Lady. Ist come to this? You speake misteriously; explaine your meaning.
Bon. To consecrate, with that devotion That holy Hermits immolate[94] theire prayers, My selfe the adorer of your vertues.
Lady. Are you serious?
Bon. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thought
Should be a sinn, does to the priest lay ope
With halfe that verity his troubled soule
That I doe mine. I love you: in that word
Include all ceremony. No sooner had
Your information disingagd my heart
Of honoring your daughter, but amazd
At the immensnesse of the benefit
Your goodness had cast on me, I resolvd
This way to show my gratitude.
Lady. But dare you, Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaine Affection to the mother?
Bon. Dare I when
I have bin long opresd with a disease,
Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough here
To excite beleife in Moores that only women
Have heavenly soules.
Lady. This is admirable:
Did my intention tend to love, as soone
I should embrace your motion in that kind
As any others, wert but to afford
Some small lustracon for the wrong my daughter
Intended you; nay, to confesse my thought,
I feele a strong propension in my selfe
To yeild to you; but I am loath,[95]—your youth
Will quickly loath me.
Enter Y[oung] Marlowe and Thurston.
Mar. Madam, this Gent[leman]
Desires to have you know him for your son:
Tis he my sister Clariana, with your licence,
Wishes for husband.
Lady. A proper Gent[leman]; Ime happy she has made So iuditious an election.[96] You are very welcome, sir: conduct him in, Sonn.
[Exeunt Young Marlowe and Thurston.
Bon. Persuade me I can hate
Sleepe after tedious watching, or reiect
The wholesome ayre when I've bin long choakd up
With sicklie foggs: sooner shall—
Lady. Desist from protestations, or employ them Mong those who have no more discretion Then to beleive them.
Bon. How, Lady?
Lady. You can in Justice now no more appeach Our mutabillities, since you have provd So manifestly [in]constant.
Bon. These are arts Orewhelme my dull capacity with horror: Inconstant!
Lady. Are the light faines erected on the tops
Of lofty structures stedfast, which each wind
Rules with its motion? credulous man, I thought
My daughters reall vertues had inspired thee
With so much confidence as not to loose
The estimation of her honor for
My bare assertion, without questioning
The time or any the least circumstance
That might confirm't. I did but this to try
Your constancy: farewell. [Exit.
Bon. What witch had duld my sense
That such a stuped Lethurgie should sease
My intellectuall faculties they could not
Perceive this drift! If she be virtuous,
As no man but an heretick to truth
Would have imagind, how shall I excuse
My slanderous malice? my old fire renewes
And in an instant with its scortching flames
Burnes all suspicon up.
Enter Belisea.
Bel. Peace attend you.
Bon. What Cherubim has left the quire in heaven
And warbles peacefull Anthems to the earth?
It is her voyce, that to all eares speakes health,
Only to mine. Come charitable mist
Hide me, or freindly wherlewind rap me hence,
Or her next accent, like the thunderers, will
Strike me to dust.
Bel. Sir, I come not
With resolution (though my innocence
May justly arme [me]) to declare my truth;
For I am going where your slander cannot
(Had it bin greater) blast me. I desire
This for my past love, that youle retaine
Your wrong opinion to yourselfe, not labour
To possesse others with it, to disgrace
Our yet unspotted family.
Bon. If you want A partner in your greife, take me along That can teach you and all the world true Sorrow.
Bel. Twas not don well to brand my spotles name
With Infamy; but to deride me is
Inhumaine, when I only come to tell you
Ile send my prayers on charities white wings
To heaven for your prosperity.—You greive
For what? for your deliverance from a strumpet?
Bon. No, but that my raving fancy should direct
My trecherous tongue with that detested name
To afflict thy unblemishd purity, Belisea.
I do confes my error was an act
Soe grosse and heathnish that its very sight
Would have inforcd a Crocodile to weepe
Drops as sincere as does the timorous heart
When he ore heares the featherd arrow sing
His funerall Dirge.
Bel. Can this be possible?
Bon. No sismatick, reduc'd to the true faith,
Can more abhorre the Error he has left
Than I do mine. I do beleive thee chast
As the straight palme; as absolute from spots
As the immaculate Ermine, who does choose,
When he is hunted by the frozen Russe,
To meete the toyle ere he defile the white
Of his rich skin. What seas of teares will serve
To expiatt the scandall I have throwne
On holy Innocence?
Bel. Well, I forgive you;
But ere I seale your pardon I in[j]oyne
This as a pennance: you shall now declare
The author of your wrong report.
Bon. Your mother.
Bel. How! my mother?
Bon. No creature else Could have inducd me to such a madnes.
Bel. Defend me gracious virtue! is this man
Not desperate of remission, that without
Sense of compu[n]ction dares imagine lies
Soe horrible and godlesse? My disgrace
Was wrong sufficient to tempt mercie, yet
Cause twas my owne I pardond it; but this
Inferd toth piety of my guiltless mother
Stops all indulgence.
Bon. Will you not heare me out?
Bel. Your words will deafe me; I doe renounce my affection to you; when You can speake truth, protest you love agen. [Exit.
Bon. Contempt repaid with scorne; tis my desert; Poyson soone murders a love wounded heart.
[Exit.
(SCENE 2.)
Enter Belisea, Clariana and Thorowgood.
Bel. You may declare your will[97] here are no eares But those I will not banish, were your busines More secret.
Tho. Lady, I come to free
My worthy freind and your owne servant, Bonvill,
From an uniust suspition your conceite
Retaines of him. Your mother did employ me
In the unlucky message that pronouncd you
Empty of honor.
Bel. Has your worthles freind Hird you to sweare this?
Tho. I'me none that live By selling oathes.
Bel. Ile scarce believ't; he shall not
With all his cunning policie regaine
My good opinion of him. Sir, you cannot
Doe a more pleasing office then to leave me:
I do not love to heare of him.
Tho. Your pleasure rules me. [Exit.
Cla. Belisea, you did ill Not to heare out the Gent[leman].
Bel. Prethe why?
His owne confession does appeach him one
In the conspiracy against my honor.
He sayes my mother was the originall
Of Bonviles slaunder; and how impious
Twere for a child to thinke so, filiall duty
Instructs my knowlidge.
Cla. Be not confident;
Your piety may misleade you. Though your mother,
Shees passion like to us; we had it from her.
Ile say no more; the event will testifie
Whoes in the fault.[98]
Enter Sucket and Crackby.
Suc. Be not abashd; a little impudence is requisite; Observe me, with what a garbe and gesture martiall I will beseige their fortresses.
Bel. Who sent these fooles to trouble us?—Gent[lemen],
We have some conference will admit no audience
Besides ourselves.
We must desire you to withdraw, or give us
Leave to do soe.
Suc. Men of warr are not soe easily put to a retreat; it suites not with their repute.
Cla. Heele fight with us, sister: weed best procure him bound toth peace.
Crac. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse; I come to be a suiter.
Bel. For what?
Crac. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke This lovely countenance.
Cla. The hangman shall doe't sooner.
Crac. If you knew How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued To have my picture—
Cla. To hang at their beds head for a memento mori—
Crac. You would regard it with more curiosity. There was a merchants daughter the other day Runn mad at sight of itt.
Cla. It scared her from her witts: she thought the divell had haunted her.
Suc. Valour deserves regard, myne shall propugne Your bewty gainst all opposers.
Bel. Alasse! mine is so meane, None will contend with it, it needs no champions.
Crac. Contemne me not, lady; I am—
Cla. A most egregious asse.
Crac. Most nobly propagatted; my father was a man Well fu[rnish'd] with white and yellow mettall.
Cla. I lay my life a Tinker.
Crac. And in his parish of account.
Cla. A Scavenger.
Bel. Is it a badge of your profession To be uncivell?
Suc. Uncivell!
Noe; what is in other men uncivill
In us is resolution; therefore yeild:
I am invincible, flesh cannot stand
Before me.
Bel. It must be drunke then.
Cla. I am not ith humour now
To laugh, or else Ide not dismisse him yet.
Good Mr. Crackby, does your wisdome thinke
That I can love you?
Crac. My worth deserves it.
Cla. Well said, impudence.
Goe, get you home toth Cittie; goe solicitt
Some neighbors daughter; match with Nan your Schoolefellow
With whome you usd to walk to Pimblicoe[99]
To eate plumbe cakes and creame,—one of your parish,
Good what-doe-you-lack.
Crac. This is offensive to My reputation.
Cla. You shall heare more on't:
When thou art married, if the kind charity
Of other men permitt thee to geet thee children
That call thy wife mother, bring them up
To people shopps and cheat for 18d,
The pretious youth that fathers them.
Walke, walke, you and your Captaine Huff to London,
And tell thy mother how thou has't sped i'th country,
And let her moane thee.
Crac. Captaine, we must give place; these girles are firebrands, And we as straw before them.
Suc. They may stand In neede of valour. [Exeunt Suc. and Crac.
Enter Thurston.
Cla. Have you oreheard us? these are the lads will do't, When 20 such as you will be cast off.
Thu. Like a bob'd[100] Hawke.—Mrs, if I mistake not, Your mother does inquire for you.
Bel. I will attend her pleasure. [Exit.
Cla. Doe not goe, wench; we shall scarce be honest.
Thu. Love, is it time, after the services
I have perform'd, to have some salary?
Noe labourer works without his hier; I would
Be satisfied when you determine we
Shall end our hopes in marriage.
Cla. I have lookt for this month in my Calender And find that marriage is prohibited.
Thu. It is not Lent nor Advent;[101] if it were The Court is not so strickt but 'twill dispense With freinds, and graunt a licence.
Cla. Whole be bound With you that theres no hindrance but we may Be lawfully espoused?
Thu. Ime not so barren Of freinds but I shall find security For what will nere be question'd.
Cla. It may be soe; but one who calculated My birth did warne me to abstaine from marriage Til I was twenty.
Thu. You're no Atlanta; if you be, Ile play Hippomanes and over runn you.
Cla. You'd scarce catch me,
Though you had Venus apples to seduce
My covetous eyes. Henceforth Ide have you leave
Your love to me.
Thu. I must leave to live then. Why doe you say soe?
Cla. Cause it is [un]iust You should mispend affection on her Who is incapeable of it.
Thu. You'd faine wrest
A new expence of complement from me:
If you delight to heare your praise, Ile hire
Some mercenary [poet][102] to comend
In lofty verse your bewty.
Cla. You are merry: My humor is not specious; we must know A further distance.
Thu. Wherefore, pray? Our eyes are no more poysonous then they were.
Cla. Yes, they infect reciprocall.
Thu. This language
Is not accustomd; pray, tell me how
My presence is offensive, and Ile shun you[103]
As I would doe my fate. You are not serious:
My innocence assures me my deserts
Can chalenge no such usage.
Cla. Tis confest; but we
Are like thinne christall glasses that will crack
By touching one another: I coniure thee
By all our past love, from this parting minute
Nere to behold me more. I dare not venter
My frailty with thee.
Thu. What immodesty Has my demeaner uttred you should doubt Ravishing from me?
Cla. Thats not it, but cause
I would not tempt my destinie: thy sight
Would inflame marble, much more me whose heart
Is prompt enough to fly into thy breast
And leave mine empty. But 'tmust not remaine
In that lone habitation, least a curse,
A fearefull one, sease on mee.
Thu. Can there be
Curses more horrid, incident to earth
For its past Sinns, then would depend on you
For such a bold presumption as your breatch
Of faith would be.
Cla. Our tyrant fate has found
Yet uninvented torments to expresse
Our loyall soules. O, Thurston, thou wert never
—Not when our mutuall freindships might have taught
The constant turtles amity—more deare
To me then now. I could, as well as then,
Peruse love's dictats in thy amorous cheeks,
Enioy the pressure of thy modest lipp;
But Ime enioynd by powerfull menaces
T'infring my wonted use and to disclaime
My vowes to thee.
Thu. If this be possible,
What will become of earth? men will no more
Respect Society or strive to save
Humanity alive: henceforth theyle seeke
For lost fidelity on Caves or topps
Of untrodd Rocks, and plight their trothes to beasts;
Commix with them and generate a race
Of creatures, though less rationall, yet more
Indude with truth. O Clariana, can
There be a motive able to convert
This pretious Christall temple, built for purity
And goodnes adoration, to a faine
For Idoll falshoods worship? But I cannot
Labour my wandring Judgment to beleife
Thou speakst thy meaning. If I have not lovd
With that essential perfectnes thy worth
That man could doe, in charity declare
My Ignorant defect, and Ile amend it
With more then zealous industry.
Cla. Tis vaine:
You may as easily penetrate the cloudes
With a soft whisper, as my eares, then which
Noe thunders deafer. Thurston, tis not cause
I have in the intemperate heate of blood
Given up my soule to a new choyce, that breeds
This soddaine mutability: I will
Preserve my affection as inviolate to you
As Anchorites their vowes, and in my grave
Interr my virgin glory. Teares will not
Permitt more conference: fare you well; Ile keepe
My passion up till I have none to weepe. [Exit.
Thu. Shees gon! What vapor which the flattring sunn
Exhales to heaven as to create a starr,
Yet throwst, a fading meteor, to the earth,
Has falne like me? Divinity, that tells
Us there are soules in women, Ile no more
Credit thy dubious Theorems nor thinke
Thy lawes astring us to preserve our faith.
Let the nice Casuists, that dispute each clause
Belongs to conscience with a[l]ternate sense,
Dispense with breach of promise and prescribe
Equivocacons to evade all oathes
Without offending, or shees damnd.
Enter Lovell.
Lov. Well, Companion, at my friends Intreatie I am content to be reconsyld; but have a care, goe to, ha, oh ho, youle[104] … more; why, goe to then … pledge the companion … heeres to thee: what, what!
Thu. Heres one perchance will satisfie me.
Sir, your habit speaks yer understanding:
Please you resolve me one thing which disturbes
The quiet of my conscience.
Lov. Revenge may slumber but can never sleep: He that lets slip an Injury thats done Takes the next course to draw a greater on.
Thu. You counsell well. I pray, in all the volumes
Your learning has perusd, did you ere find
Any conclusion that allowd it lawfull
To breake an oath?
Lov. If she neglect and throw[105] disgrace on thee, Fly't thou as much and be thy scorne as free.
Thu. An Oracle speakes in him; but, pray, tell me Ist lawfull then to breake an oath?
Lov. Though time prolongs, we cannot style it sloath: My vowes are firme; hees damd that breaks an oath.
Thu. Good, good, agen: but the oath I treat on, Is of another kind: tis to a woman.
Lov. It could not be her fault; there's a mistake in't.
Thu. None o'my life, theres none.
Lov. Let me see, let me see: No, twas not hers, twas Grimeses knavery.
Thu. Ha, whether did wild fancy lead my apprehension. He minds me not but is in disputation With his owne thoughts.
Lov. Wilt thou pledge me ii cuppes? Why, goe to and goe to, then.
Ha to thee, ha, sirra Grimes!
—When man gainst man conspire to doe evill,
For what Society is a fitt!
Thu. The Devill. [Claps him on the shoulder.
Lov. Oh helpe, helpe![106] [Exit.
Enter Lady.
Lady. I hope, sir,
Noe occasion offerd in my house
Breedes your distast; I should be sorry if
It be soe, and conceald from me.
Thu. Your goodnes
Is to nice ore me; Ime exceeding well;
Only some erring cogitations
Trouble my braine a little.
Lady. Tis much pitty
Distraction should have roome in you; I would
Not for the love you beare my daughter, have you
Be discont[ent]ed here.
Thu. And your daughter Repayes me kindly fort.
Lady. Surely her breeding Affords her better manners then to iniure A gent[leman] of your deservings?
Thu. Alas, she has not: Twas but an unkindness triviall Mong freinds not worth the nameing.
Lady. It was to much
Wert but an ill looke. If I may so far,
Without immodesty, entreat the knowledge
Of what it was Ile chide her for't. Pray, sir,—
We women are bold suitors; by your looke
It is no meane perplexity her folly
Has cast upon your temper,—pray, disclose it;
And ift be anything the obedience
She owes to me may countermand, she shall
Repent her error.
Thu. Your humanity
Would wrest a secret from me, though my life
Consisted ith concealment: she has abolishd
Her protestations to me, murdred vowes
Which like the blood of Innocents will pull
Cloudes of black vengeance on her, for no cause
I can imagine but her humor; banishd
Me her society and sight for ever.[107]
Lady. Tis above wonder: could I as well rule
Her will as her exterior actions,
She should not thus reject you; but I cannot
Limitt her mind, compell her to affect
Against her liking. If perswations may
Reduse her, Ile endevour it.
Thu. Twilbe needles;
I am resolvd to meet her in revolt,
Hug infidelity with as strong a faith
As she can possible; and if mans mallice
Can passe a womans, my dispight shall winne
Preheminence. I will inquire out one
By nature framd in scorne of bewty, and
In your perfidious daughters presence give her
That heart which she reiected.
Lady. Twere pitty
Your passion should undoe you; you may find
Matches of noble quality: my daughter
In worth's inferior to you, yet I doubt not
But my perswasive oratorie may gaine you
Her forfeited affection.
Thu. Let her reserve it
For them who sue to inioy it; Ile conferr
My fancy on a Negro new reclaim'd
From prostitution; sacrifice my youth
To bedridd age, ere reinthrall my heart
To her insulting bewty.
Lady. Twould be a maime to your discretion
To abjure a certaine and a pleasing good
For an uncertaine harme you would impose
In malice on another. Yo'are a man
In whome the glorious soule of goodnes moves
With such a spacious posture that no woman,
But such a squemish baby as my daughter,
Would be most fortunate to enrich their choyse
With one so much deserving.
Thu. He experience Your affirmation: could you love me?
Lady. What
I spoake was a contingent supposition
What others might doe, but not argument
I meant to love you.
Thu. But I know you will;
I see a pleasing augury in your looks
Presages mercy; and those eyes, whose lustre
The light (that scornes privation) cannot equall,
Darts beames of comfort on me.
Lady. Twould be rare
Could you perswade me to't, I can find
No such propension in my selfe; beware
Least in this wildnes you ingage your heart
To one cannot accept it.
Thun. Pish!
Ime sure you will: humanity forbids
Refusall of my affection, which shall be
As constant as insep[a]rable heate
To elementall fire.—I'me soddaine, lady,
In my resolve, but firme as fate.
Lady. Surely, You are not well.
Thu. You are deceivd; I am
Exceeding well yett; all my faculties
Retaine their wonted motion; but Ime like
A new recoverd patient, whose relapse
Admitts no helpe of phisick: in your love
Consists my hope, futurity of health;
And you have too much charity to suffer
Perdition overwhelme me.
Lady. Your confidence
Workes much uppon my lenity; but twould
Occasion scandall; every one would judge
I did supplant my daughter, should I yeild
To your desines.
Thu. Let the censorious world
Fright those with harelipd Calumnie whose guilt
Merritts detraction; your pure innocence
No feind dares vitiatt.
Lady. You have prevaild.
Thu. Ile take you at your word, a holy kisse
Shall seale the contract. [kisse.
Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lips
Are sault as sulpher, and her breath infects,
Noe scorpions like it.
Lady. What ayles you, Sir?
Thu. Ha, ha, ha!
Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefes
Should be more cunning then to be ore reacht
By puisne[108] cosnage; Have you no more judgement
Then to beleive I lov'd you.
Lady. Doe you not love me then?
Thu. Can a man
Robd of a Jewell deare to him as breath
Affect the theife, O murdresse?—for that title
Best suites thy impious quality, since thy curse,
Thy cruell curse, imposd uppon my love,
Has massacred two of the faithfulst hearts
Affection ere united. Though your lust
Desir'd smooth youth to sate it, piety
Might have reclamd you for attempting me,
Your daughter's interest.—Ile not rayle
Cause tis unman[ner]ly,[109] untill you find
What 'tis to cause true lovers prove unkind.
[Exit.
Enter Alexan.
Lady. Was I a sleepe? What transitory dreame
Deceivd my sense? did I not here my love
Protest affection? no, it was some feind
Vested in his mortallity, whome hell
Sent to abuse my weaknes.
Lov. She has bin sure tormented with that furie which cla[pt] me on my shoulder. She talkes of Hell, love and affection. Ha, goe to and goe to! the old Knight my Mrs. Goast, I hope does not haunt the house.
Lady. Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips,
And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmth
Temperate as westerne kisses which the morne
Weaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmes
It was no apparition that contemnd
My willingnes, but he, his reall selfe,
Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe,
To blase abroad my infamy.
Lov. Madam, feare nothing, be not troubled; the Goast meant no harme to you, uppon my life he did not; Goe to and goe to, I say and I sayt, he did not. He did appeare to me—your love, your husband, my old Mr.—here, clapt me on the shoulder, as his old custome was still when he usd to talke with me familiarly.
Lady. But, Sirrah, what familiarity Have you with any of my privasies? Sausie groome, practise your ancient duty.
Enter Young Mar.
Y. M. What meanes this fury, Madam?
Lady. O, deare boy,
What haplesse fate exposd thee to the veiw
Of this [sic] sad mothers sorrowes? but I charge thee,
As thou respects thy duty, not to question
The cause of my distemper; my iust feares
Prohibits thee the knowledge of it.
Lov. Why, Sir, she has seene the Divell.
Lady. Ha!
Lov. Nay, Madam, I have don; they say the Divell has no power ore a Drunkard; once more Ile run the hazard.
Y. M. Whoe, what is he? speake,
For heavens sake, speake: were he defensd with clouds
Or circled with unsteadfast boggs, my rage
Should cut a passage to him.
Lady. Thou strait will grow More passionate then I: goe to your chamber, Ile but dispatch these gentlemen. [Exit Mar.
_Enter Sir Geffery, Crackby, [Suc]ett [and Bun]ch.
Sir Gef. O here she is.—Lady, I and my Nephew, being your good neighbors and of the worshipfull, I of the Country, he of the Cittie, have long desird a match with your daughters, but they are coy, so childish, so unmannerly; I know not how to terme them: they dispise who worship offers them, they may[110] hereafter doe worse and have worse, madam.
Crac. My uncle tells your ladiship the truth: We are noe peasants[111] or unhonorable To be affronted with indignities.
Suc. Here are men that has seene service.
Bunch. At a mustring or ith Artillery[112] garden.
Lady. 'Twas past my pleasure, good Sir Geffery, you have had such harch entertainement from them: henceforth Ile lay my charge upon them to be more tractable.—Mr. Alexander, goe call my daughters hither.
Lov. She turnes againe.—I shall with all celerity wish them to approach. [Exit.
Sir Gef. Certainly, Madam, I can see no cause
Wherefore at first you might not, without putting
My Knighthood to this trouble, have matched with me
Your selfe; it had been somewhat fitter.
Enter Belisea and Clariana.
Bel. Are these fooles here?
Lady. Minions you might have expresd more kindnes In your behaviour to these Gent[lemen] Whom my strict caire provided for your husbands.
Bel. I hope they cannot blame us, we have usd them With that respect our modesties allowd.
Lady. Your peevish nicenes settle your affections To a more fayre demeaner towards their worth, Or you shall seeke a Mother and a portion.
Crac. Nay, if you take away their portions, Ile Meddle no further with them.
Lady. You both heare My not to be revoaked intention Respect this knight and his nephew in the way Of marriage, or I shall take another order with you. [Exit.
Cla. Was it you, good knight of the ill favord Countenance, Who procurd us these loving admonitions?
Sir Gef. Nay, and you begin agen, Ile call your Ladie Mother.
Suc. I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect.
Bel. I am no Plannet.
Crac. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront: She is the election of my understanding.
Sir Geff. Retort not so abstrusly.—Will you disdain
The good of honour, condiscend to me
And youthfull write me, lady, in your stile,
And to each thread of thy sun-daseling h[air]
Ile hang a pearle as orient as the gemmes
The eastern Queenes doe boast of. When thou walk[st],
The country lasses, crownd with gorgeous flo[w]res,
Shall fill each path and dance their rural jigs
In honour of this bewty.
Cla. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Sir, youle beg[one]: I feele the fitt a coming; I shall rayle instantly.
Crac. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine.
Suc. Pish, I doe but drill her
For you, friend; you shall have her, say your Captaine
Sayes it, whose words doe ventilate destruction
To all who do oppugn what they designe.
Sir Gef. Come, you shall love me.
Cla. I cannot choose: goe, get you home, antiquity; thinke [of] heaven, say thy prayers often for thy old sinns and let [thy] maid diett thee with warme broathes least some cold appoplexis sease thee before thou art prepard.
Sir Gef. Madam! madam! shees in her old fitt!
Cla. Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than your physician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine,[113]—you will not have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ith morning. Goe, set thy feath[er] right, good mooncalfe[114]: you have your answeare.
Sir Gef, Contemne an old man and his feather, Bunch, Ile begon, B[unch].
[Exeunt Sir Gef. and Bunch.
Cla. Will you goe?—Sister, I have shakd mine off. What stayes this nifle[115] for?
Crac. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise, And I will keepe her.—Captaine, to her Captaine.
Suc. You must not part thus, Mrs; here are men Has scapd—
Cla. The Gallowes.
Suc. Ile rigg you up; although you were a Carack I shall find tackling for you.
Bel. You are uncivill; pray, desist.
Crac. Not kisse a gentleman? a pretty ring this same: I have a mind to it and I must have it.
Bel. You will not robb me of it?
Suc. I will intreate this glove which shall adorne In fight my burgonett.
Cla. Some honest hostesse Ere this has made a chamber pot of it.
Crac. It is some rivalls ring and I will have it To weare in spight of him.
Bel. Helpe, Sister, helpe.
Enter Bonvill and Grimes.
Bon. She shall not neede. It is my ring the villaine desires soe importunatly: what untuterd slave art thou that darst inforce aught from this gentlewoman.
Crac. Whats that to you? you might have come before me.
Bel. What would you have don?
Crac. Entreated you againe to have come behind me.
Bel. O, my Bonvill, so happy a benefit no hand but thine could have administred. Thou save[d]st the Jewell I esteeme next to my honour,—the Ring thou gavest me.
Crac. Nay, if you have more right to her than I, takt I pray you:— would I were off with a faire broken pate.
Suc. Is your life hatefull to you?
Bon. Why doe you inquire, good puff past?
Suc. My blade
Is of the Bilbo[116] mettle; at its splendor
My foes does vanish.
Bon. Ile try that presently;—feare nothing, ladyes.
Suc. Death! now I thinke out, I did breake my blade this morning on foure that did waylay me: Ile goe fetch another, and then I am for you.
Crac. Take myne, Captaine.
Suc. Hold your peace, be wise: that fellow
In the blew garment has a countenance
Presages losse of limme if we encounter.—
Ile meet you presently.
Bon. It shall not serve your turne yet: Ile not blunt My sword upon such stock fish. Grimes, bestow Thy timber on them.
Grimes. Come, sir. [beats them.
Suc. Take me without a weapon? this cudgell sure Is Crabb tree, it tasts so sourely. [Exeunt.
Bel. Oh, my Deare Bonvill.
Bon. Mistrisse, I sent an advocate to plead
My guiltless cause: you, too[117] severe a Judge
Forbad him audience; I am therefore come
Once more to prove my innocence.
Cla. Come, without Ceremony Forgive you her and she shall pardon you Most willingly.
Bon. Can you have soe much mercy, You soe much goodnes?
Bel. Noe soule long tir'd with famine, whom kind death
Has new enfranchisd from the loathed flesh,
With happier expedition enters heaven
Then mine thy bosome, Bonvill. Let our loves,
Like plants that by their cutting downe shoot up,
Straiter and taller flourish: we are now
Inseperable.
Cla. Your good fates, though I Repine not at them, makes my unhappy fortunes Appeare farr more disastrous.
Bon. Whats thy misfortune?
Bel. Alas, my mother has crost her in her affection as she did us.
Bon. She shall
Crosse ours no more. Belisia, if youle
Be ruld by me you shall away with me;
None but you sister shall be privy to it,
And sheele keepe Councell.
Bel. Ile goe any whither To enjoy thy presence; theres no heaven without it.
Bon. You shalbe advertisd where she remaines, And certifie us how your mother takes it: When we are married we shall live to thanke you.
Cla. Will you leave me, then?
Bel. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet, And all these stormes blowe over.
Cla. Your tempests past; mine now begins to rise But Ile allay its violence with my eyes.
Exeunt omnes.
Actus Quartus.
SCENE 1.
Enter Magdalen, Timothy and Alexander.
Ma. Run, good sweet Timothy; search the barnes, the stab[les], while I looke in the Chambers. Should she be lost or come to any harme my lady will hang us all. Why dost not fly?
Tim. Hey day, if her feet walke as fast as thy tongue, sh[e's] far enough ere this time. What a stir you make! Were you, as shee is, with your sweet heart, you would [be] pursud, would you? You would be hangd as soone. Al[as], good gentlewoman, heaven speed her!
Ma. You will not goe then?
Tim. No, indeed, will I not.
Her mother may be angry if she please.
The time has bin she would as willingly
Bin at the sport her selfe as now her daughter.
The ge[ntleman] shees gon with is a man,
And see theres no harme d[one], I warrant you.
Lov. Ha, ha, gramercy, Timothy, thou hittst it right. Maudlin, goe to; should Tim here offer as much to you, ha, I beleave you would not lock your selfe up in my ladyes closett; goe to, and goe to.
[Exeunt.
Ma. Udsme, my lady!
Enter Lady.
Lady. Lost, past redemption! I pursue a fier
Which like the giddy Meteors that seduce
With their false light benighted travellers
Allures me to distruction. To curse fate
Were to allow I feard it, and admit
Participation in me of that spiritt
I most detest, a womans.
Lov. Please your good Ladyship.
Lady. Yes, that you depart.— [Exit Alexander.
What can he see in her more worthy love
Then is in me? shees but a picture drawne
By my dimensions, and men sooner fancy
The Substance then the Shaddow. Oh, but shee
Is the true image not of what I am
But what I was, when like the spring I wore
My virgin roses on my cheeks.
Lov. Madam, you seeme—
Lady. Angry at your impertinency; learne manners, leave me.
Lov. She has coniurd downe my spirit: these are immodest devills that make modest ladyes become strickers[118]. Ile out oth storme, take shelter in the cellar. Goe to and goe to; tis better venter quarriling mongst those hogesheads. [Exit Alexander.
Enter Maudlin [and Timothy.]
Ma. Madam, your daughter—
Lady. Where is she? Who? Clariana?
Ma. The faire Belisea.
Enter Clariana.
Cla. Did you call me, madam.
Lady. Noe: were you soe neere? begon againe,— Yet stay.—Maudlin, avoid the Roome, and if you see Mr. Thurston, entreat him hither. Timothy, Find out my son and charge him to delay The execution of my late comaund Till I next speake with him. [Exeunt Mag. and Tim. Clariana, you did what I comanded?
Cla. Yes, on my Soule.
Lady. But thou art ignorant Why with such violence I inioyn[e]d thee To leave thy Thurstons love?
Cla. Were I not sure
Theres nought in him that can be titled ill,
I should have thought your circumspective Judgment
Had spide some error in him, and in care
Of me your child forbidden me his love.
But whatsoer's the cause, though your comaund
Was like perdition welcome, my obedience
Fullfild it truly, without questioning
The reason why or the unlimited power
Of you my mother.
Lady. You did very well.
Now thou shalt know the reason, which before
I doe relate, afford me leave to weepe,
To save thy teares, which at the hearing of it
Will, like the dew on lillies, pearle thy cheekes.
I have beheld thee with a Rivalls eye
In Thurstons love; my penetrable heart,
Like a moist cloud, has opened and receivd
Loves fine bolt into it. Now thou knowst it,
Methinks I see confusion in thy lookes
Prepard to blast me.
Cla. Heaven forbid it I
Should ere conceive the meanest thought of ill
Of you, my parent. Since you love him, here
To heaven and you I give my interest up
And would I could as well commaund his heart
As he might mine, beleive me you should then
Affect you with as true and deare a zeale
As ever I did him: I should be happie
In making you soe.
Lady. Charitable girle,
Forgive thy cruell mother, who must yet
Impose a stronger penance on thy duty:
Thou must go to thy Thurston, and obtaine
His love.
Cla. A little labour will serve for that.
Lady. Not for thy selfe but for thy haplesse mother,
Who am, without it, nothing. Woe him for me,
Use the inchanting musicke of thy voice
On my behalfe, who, though thy Rivall, yet
Remember I'm thy mother; nor canst thou
Consigne thy breath to a more holy use
(Though thou shouldst spend it in religious prayers)
Then to redeeme thy parent. Weepe for me,
And in requitall for each drop thou shedst
I'll pay to heaven a Hecatombe of teares
For thy successe. But take good heede, deare child,
While thou art weeping, thou dost not disclose
That face of thine; for, were he mine by vow,
Loves powerfull Retorick uttered [in?] thyne eyes
Would winn from me.
Enter Thurston and Thorowgood.
Cla. Here comes the Gentleman.
Lady. Be earnest, Clariana, I shall heare you. [Exit.
Tho. Sir, you must iuistifie this.
Thu. Feare it not; yonder she goes; I'll tell her of it, sheele not denie it.
Cla. Mr. Thurston, whether do you walke soe fast?
Thu. O, Clarianna, are you there?
Cla. Nay, stay, I have a suite to you.
Thu. I would
Be loth to offend your eyes; when we last met
You chargd me never to behold you more.
Cla. I did indeed, but on mature advice
I have reclaimd that imposition.
You shall behold me dayly, talke with me,
Doe all the acts that love with Innocence
Can suffer, if youle but overrule your will
To graunt me one request.
Thu. You wrong my faith
In questioning my graunt of any thing
You can desire wer't to undoe my selfe
Or combate miseries as yet unheard of,
You[r] least breath may expose me to them.
Cla. Nay, in this theres no danger; if there be A real happines on earth, this way You shall arrive to it.
Tho. He were unwise Would he not graunt it then.
Thu. Please you declare it.
Cla. There is a lady,
Of such a perfect virtue, grace and sweetnes,
That Nature was to all our sex beside
A niggard, only bountiful to her;
One whose harmonious bewtie may intitule
All hearts its captive: yet she doats on you
With such a masculine fancy that to love her
Is duty in you.
Thu. It is herselfe, Ime sure.
Tho. It surely is no other.
Cla. No, tis one
So farr transcending me, that twere a sinne
Should I deprive you, the most perfect man,
Of her, the perfectest woman. She will weepe
Even at your name; breath miriads of sighes;
Wring her hands thus; demonstrate all the signes
Of a destracted lover; that in pitty,
Though I did love you well, I have transferd
My right to her, and charge you by all ties
That you affect her with the same true zeale
Which you did me, and ift be possible,
Purer and better.
Tho. This is the strangest madnes I ere heard of.
Thu. Is it you, Clariana, that speake all this?
Cla. You know and heare it is.
Thu. But I doe scarce
Credit my hearing, or conceive I am
Mortall, for surely, had I bin, your words
Like the decree of heaven had struck me dead.
What strong temptation lay you on my faith!
O, Clariana, let me but decline
Passion, and tell you seriously that this
Is cruel in you, first to scorne my love,
Next to admitt a scruple of beleife,
Though you can be perfidious to your selfe,
That I can be soe. Noe; since you are lost,
Ile like the solitary turtle mourne
Cause I must live without you. But, pray, tell me
What is she you would have me love?
Cla. My Mother.
Thu. Ha, your Mother!
Tho. Ist possible, lady? you much doe wrong
Your innocence in laboring to enforce
That upon him which is my interest. Heaven
Smild at the contract twixt us; quiers of Saints
Receivd our mutuall vowes, and though your Mother
May in her passion seeme to have forgott
Her pretious faith, yet when I shall awake
Her sleeping reason with the memory
Of that has past betwixt us, my strong hope
Tells me I shall induce her to the spheare
Which she has movd from.
Cla. Would heaven you could! How coldly in this cause
Doe I perswade! when I would speake, my heart
Checks its bold orator, my tongue, and tells it
Tis traitorous to its Mr.—Noble Sir, [kneele
I doe conceit you infinitly good,
So pittiful that mercy is in you
Even naturally superlative, (forgive me,
If I offend) you doe in this transgresse
Humanity, to let a lady love you
Without requitall. But I must professe
To heaven and you, that here Ile fix to earth,
Weepe till I am a statue, but Ile gaine
Your pitie for her: pray consider ont.
Thu. Consider ont? wonder has soe engrossd
To its wild use all corners of my heart
That there remaines scarce one poore concave left
To hold consideration. I must either
Love her I hate or see her whome I love
Wilfully perish. See, shee kneeles and weeps,
Prays as she meant to expiate all the sinns
Earth ere committed. One of those pure drops
Does (as my lives blood in a soddaine trance)
Surround my heart. You have prevaild, arise:
At your request I will performe an act,
Which may no story hold least all who love
Hereafter curse the president,—Ile love her.
That deathfull word comes from my torturd soule
As a consent doth from a timorous maid
For an enforcing ravisher.
Tho. You are not mad, sir? what doe you meane?
Cla. I thanke you.
But love her dearely, Thurston, sheele deserv't:
I doe remember, when my Father livd,
How he would praise her goodnes. Think on me
As one that lovd you well, but neer like her;
And, if you please, bestow each day a kisse
Uppon her in my memory. Soe, farewell.—
Sorrows flow high: one griefe succeed another;
I die in piety to redeeme my Mother. [Exit.
Tho. But, harke you, sir, do you intend to love her.
Thu. Good sir, torment me not.
Enter Grimes.
Grimes. By your leave, gentlemen: good Mr. Thorowgood, a word or two in private.
Thu. Compeld to love my enemy! what man,
That had but so much spiritt as a mule,
Could suffer this! Lay nice prescriptions,
Ambiguous bookmen, on submissive slaves;
Affright with terror of a wilfull death
Those whom black murders of inhumane sin
Has living damnd; Ime yet in my owne heart
White as a babe, as Innocent as light
From any mortall guilt; and were my soule
Drawn fro this mew[119] of flesh twould quickly streatch
Like a swift Falkon her aspiring wings
And soare at heaven. Nature instructs us Death
Is due to all: how can't be then a Sinn
To die, or he more guilty of offense
That kills himselfe or [than?] he who in his bed
Some shivoring ague murders? Ime resol[v']d;
Ile rather chuse to immolate my life
In Martirdome to virtue then reserve't
Till it be staind with mischiefes.
Enter Lady.
Lady. How doe you, sir?
Thu. Oh, oh, my head, my head!
Stand further of, good nightcrow: if thou comst
As a presaging harbinger of death,
Howlt in thy direfulst and most horrid notes,
And ['t] will be wellcome as choyse musick to me
And Ile adore thee fort, with teares of ioy
Make thy black feathers white.
Lady. Good sir, mistake me not, I am your friend.
Thu. I cry you mercy, lady; you are shee
Whom I had vowd to love;—a wild conceite
Had seasd my fancy. Pardon me, I must
Proclaim to heaven and to the world a truth
Which I should study to forget: you are
A Creature so suparlatively bad
That, were the earth as absolute from sinn
As in its first creation, youre sole crimes
Would pull a curse upon it. I should tell you
The specialties wherein you're foule, but dare not
Breath in the same ayre with you; I begin
To feel infection:—fare you well. [Exit.
Lady. Contemnd againe! deprive me of the name And soule of woman! render me a scorne To the most base of our revengefull sex! If I beare this while there be knives or swords, Poyson or ought left to extinguish life That womans spleene can compasse— Alexander! within there!
Enter Alexander.
Goe to my sonn; inioyne him by all rights
Of naturall duty to accomplish that
Which in youre hearing I comanded him.
Beare him this Jewell and this gold, that when
Tis don he may escape; be carefull,
As you expect my favour.
Alex. I shall inculcate your desires unto him. —Her favour! goe to, theres comfort. [Exit.
Enter Thorowgood.
Tho. Madam, theres one brings a sad message to you.
Lady. From whome, I pray you.
Tho. From two friends of yours Your cruelty has murdred,
Lady. My cruelty Never extended to that horrid height, Not to my foes. Who are they?
Tho. Your daughter, The innocent Belisia, and my friend, Her worthy suiter, Bonvill.
Lady. Your freind and my daughter dead and by my meanes!
This cannot be; my daughters sure in the house.
Good sir, unfould this ridle, it begetts
Wonder and terror in me.
Tho. Madam, you know with what a cruel messuage
You sent me to my friend, which provd as false
As your faire daughter virtuous. Why you did it
I will not question, nor upbraid you with
This violation of your faith.
Lady. This story Conduces nothing to the deathes you talkd of.
Tho. Yes, since then
A iust mistrust that you would crosse their match
Causd them last night privatly to steale hence
With an intention to have reacht the house
Where Bonvills mother lives; but see the fates
How they dispose of men! crossing the River
That runns beneath your orchard, and ith darke,
Their headstrong horses missing the ford overthrew them
And, which I cannot without true griefe utter,
There drownd them both.
Was it not soe, Grimes?
Grimes. Tis too sad a truth; and I,
After all meanes to save their life was past,
Lookd to my owne and got the shore: their bodies
I feare the violence of the tide has carried
Into the Sea by this time.
Lady. Enough, good friend; no more.
Had a rude Scythian, ignorant of teares,
Unlesse the wind enforcd them from his eyes,
Heard this relation, sure he would have wept;
And yet I cannot. I have lost all sense
Of pitty with my womanhood, and now
That once essentiall Mistress of my soule,
Warme charity, no more inflames my brest
Than does the glowewormes ineffectual fire
The ha[n]d that touches it. Good sir, desist
The agravation of your sad report; [Weepe
Ive to much greife already.
Tho. It becomes you:
You do appeare more glorious in these t[ears]
Then the red morne when she adornes her cheeks
With Nabathean pearls: in such a posture
Stand Phaetons sisters when they doe distill
Their much prisd amber. Madam, but resume
Your banishd reason to you, and consider
How many Iliads of preposterous mischeife
From your intemperate breach of faith to me
Fetch their loathed essence; thinke but on the love,
The holy love I bore you, that we two
—Had you bin constant—might have taught the wor[ld]
Affections primitive purenes; when, from
Your abrogation of it, Bonvills death,
Your daughter['s] losse have luc[k]lessly insu'd.
The streame that, like a Crocodile, did weepe
Ore them whom with an over ravenous kisse
Its moyst lips stifled, will record your fault
In watery characters as lastingly
As iff twere cut in marble. Heaven, forgive you;
Ile pray for you; repent.
[Exeunt Thorowgood and Grimes.
Grimes. O, my deare Master!
Lady. Repent! should I but spend
The weakest accent of my breath in sighes
Or vaine compunction, I should feare I sinnd
Against my will, then which I doe confes
Noe other diety. Passions[120] doe surround
My intellectual powers; only my heart,
Like to a Rocky Island, does advance
Above the foming violence of the waves
Its unmovd head, bids me my fate outdare.
Ills sure prevention is a swift despaire.
[Exit.
([SCENE] 2.)
Enter Alexander and Young Marlowe.
Alex. Thinke, sir, to whome the Iniury was don,—go to—your Lady Mother, a vertuous lady, I say and I sayt agen, a very vertuous lady. Had I but youth and strength as you have, in what cause should I sooner hazard both then in this?
Y. M. Murder, my friend!
Alex. Noe, tis doing sacrifice to slaunderd goodnes.
Y. M. Rob my beloved Sister of a husband!
Alex. Yes, to redeeme to your mother her lost honour.
Y. M. Art not a Divell?
Alex. Ha!
Y. M. Thy breath has blasted me.
Alex. I must confes indeed I have eaten garlicke.
Y. M. All pious thoughts that lately fild this spheare
Are scatterd with the winds that issu'd from thee,
Which, like the infectious yawning of a hill,
Belching forth death inevitable,
Has distroyd freindship and nature in me.
Thou canst not poyson worse: I can feed now,
Feed and nere burst with mallice. Sing, Syren, sing
And swell me with revenge sweet as the straines
Falls from the Thrasian lyre; charme each sence
With musick of Revenge, let Innocence
In softest tunes like the expiring Swann
Dy singing her owne Epitaph.
Alex. What meane you, sir? are you mad? goe to and goe to; you doe not use me well; I say and I say, you do not. Have I this for my love to you and your good Mother? Why, I might be your Father by my age, which is falne on me in my old Mrs service; he would have used me better.
Y. M. Dost weepe, old Crocodile? looke dost see this sword.
Alex. Oh, I beseech you, sir; goe to; what meane you?
Y. M. No harme to thee; this was my Fathers once,
My honord Father; this did never view
The glaring Sunn but in a noble cause,
And then returnd home blushing with red spoyles,
Which sung his fame and conquest. Goe, intreat
My Mother be as pleasant as she was
That night my Father got me. I am going, say,
Most cheerfully to finish her comaund.
Alex. Heaven prosper you. Ha!
Enter Thurston.
Thu. Freind, I was looking for you.
Y. M. And you have found me, Villaine.
Thu. What meane you?
Y. M. If thou darst follow me I will conduct thee Unto the seate of death.
Thu. Dare! Ile goe with thee, hand in hand; goe on.
[Exeunt ambo.
Alex. Goe, goe to and goe to, I say and I sait; here wilbe some revenge. If the Gent[leman] fall my lady has promist me a farme of 100 pounds a yeare; goe to, then. Now, if her sonn be slayne, heres then this purse of gold and this rich Jewell which she sent to him. By this wee see, whoever has the worst, The fox fares well, but better when hees curst.[121] Goe to and goe to then.
[Exit.
Actus Quintus.
(SCENE 1.)
Enter Lady Marlowe sola.
Lady. Twas[122] here about; these are the poplars, this
The yewe he named. How prettily thees trees
Bow, as each meant to Consecrate a branch
To the drownd lovers! and, methinks, the streame
Pitt[y]ing their herse should want all funerall rights,
Snatches the virgin lillies from his bankes
To strow their watry sepulcher. Who would
Desire an easier wafting to their death
Then through this River? what a pleasing sound
Its liquid fingers, harping on the stones,
Yeilds to th'admiring eare!
Enter Thorowgood, Clariana, and Magdalen.
Mag. This way she went, Ime sure. She has deliv[er']d
So many strang distractions that I feare
Sheele act some wilfull violence on her selfe
If we prevent it not.
Cla. Yonder is somebody among the Trees Hard by the River: alasse, tis shee!
Tho. Come softly; if she heare our footing, her disp[aire May] anticipate our diligence.
Lady. Tempt me not, frailty: I disdaine revolt
From ought the awfull violence of my will
Has once[123] determind. Dost thou tremble, flesh?
Ile cure thy ague instantly: I shall,
Like some insatiate drunkard of the age,
But take a cup to much and next day sleepe
An hower more then ordinary.
Tho. Heaven and good Angells guard you!
Cla. My deare Mother!
Mag. My gratious Lady!
Lady. What inhumaine creatures
Are you that rob me of the priviledge
Of wellcome death, which I will run to meet
Spight of your malice!
Tho. Oh decline those thoughts;
Let not the lucid tapers of your soule,
Bright grace and reason, fondly be extinct.
Essentiall virtue, whether art thou fled,
To what unknowne place? wert thou hid mongst ro[cks]
Or horid grots where comfortable light
Hates to dispence its luster, yet my search
Should find thee out, reduce thee to this brest
Once[124] thy lovd Paradice. Pray, madam, pray:
From those faire eyes one penetentiall teare
Would force whole legions of heavens brightest Sa[ints]
If they have power to intercede for earth
To beg for mercy for you.
Lady. These are toyes
Forgd to delude mortality: let me die
And afterwards my uncontroled Ghost
Shall visitt you. I only goe and aske
How my Belisia does enioy her health
Since she exchangd her native ayre of earth
For those dull regions. If I find the clime
Does to our constitutions promise life,
Ile come to you and in those happy shades
Will live in peace eternally.
[125]Cla. Alas, I feare shees Irrecoverable. Twas Ill don to affright her thus.
Mag. Expect the best: The Gentleman will perswade her.
Tho. O, dispaire,
Grimme homicide of soules, how thou involvst
More haplesse creatures in distracted Ills
Ore [w]home thou triumpst; but Ile fright thee hence:
No feind shall add a trophy to thy acts
For victory over her.] Deare madam, heare me:
You had a noble husband, while he livd;
And I beleive
That no perswasion cold have forcd you yeild
To vitiation of his honord bed,
Not with a prince. And will you give your soule,
Which heaven in its creation had designd
A bride to faire eternity of blisse,
By vild procurement of hells bawd, despaire,
To prostitution of unnaturall death
And then of woes erelasting which admit
Noe diminution? Can you heare this, Madam,
And does the flintie substance of your heart
Not thaw, like to a hill of Russian Ice
When fires applid to't? Yes, your eyes demonstrate
It[126] melts already.
Cla. Deare Mother, please you walke Into your Chamber: here the wind is cold And may disease your weaknes.
Mag. Here is your vayle, and't please your ladiship.
Lady. Let me alone, you trouble me; I feele
A soddaine change; each organ of my soule
Suffers a strong vicissitude; and, though
I do detest a voluntary death,
My Conscience tells me that it is most iust
That the cursd author of such impious ills
Ought not to live.
Tho. O thinke not soe: those words
Retaine affinity with that passion
I hop'd youd left. The greatest of your Sinns
Mercy will smile at, when you doe implore
Its unconsuming grace: the dullest cloud
Will, when you pray, be active as the ayre
In opening to receive that breath to heaven
Thats spent to purge your ills. Why, you may live
To make a faire lustration for your faults
And die a happie Convert.
[Ho]llow within: Follow, follow, follow! that way he went.
Enter Young Marlowe, Alexander, [Consta]ble and [office]rs.
Y. M. Hell, I will flie no farther; since my hand Is guilt in murder it shall sacrifice Some of my apprehenders.
Tho. Whats the matter? Deare Sir, what ayles you?
Lady. O my Sonne! I feare.
Alex. Stand back, goe to; what meanes this rudenes. I say goe to, keepe back.
Con. Sir, we must enter: here he is. I charge you Asist us to lay hold on him.
Lady. Why, how now, Fellowes? what makes you presse in here thus rudely? Whom do you follow?
Con. Madam, Ime sorry my authority
Enforces me to doe it: your sonn iust now
Has slaine one Mr. Thurstone, and the law
Commaunds us apprehend him.
Y. M. Here take my sword:
When I but doe waigh the iustnes of the cause
For which I suffer, though I could escape,
My Conscience would forbid me. Come, Ile goe
Whither you please.
Lady. Stay, officers; all accessaries are
As liable to punishment for murder
As those who act it. I confesse twas I
Enforcd my son to slay that gentleman.
Your warrant extends to take me with him.
Tho. Alas, beleive her not; greife for her sonne Has made her franticke.
Lady. By heaven tis truth!
If you refuse to execute your office
I shall confesse my act unto the Judg
And soe condemne you of partiality.
My Sonn knowes this is truth.
Y. M. I must acknowledge Mr. Alexander oft did instigate me To kill him.
Con. Sir, you must clere your selfe of this.
Alex. Who? I? Goe, take the babe from its Mothers teat and taxe him with this crime. I accessary to a murder! goe to.
Con. Why, and goe to, sir, and avoid resistance; You must goe. Will your ladiship walke with us?
Lady. Yes, most willingly. I doe this most abhorrid life despise Since tis to iustice a iust sacrifice.
[Exeunt omnes.
(SCENE 2.)
A Table: Enter Judge,[127] Sir Geffery, Crackbie,
Suckett, and Bunch.
Sir Hu. I doe admire this accident: since I have sat Judge I have not knowne any such tryall.
Sir Gef. Tis certaine, sir; but looke you, sir, Ile tell you. You do perceive me sir: as Ime a gentleman I lov'd the lady; but she, out of her pride, I thinke, or else I were to b[lame] to say soe, scornd me. Marke you that, sir? understand you that?
Sir Hu. You question my understanding very much, good Sir Geffe[rey]. But pray you, sir, being here more conversant then I, c[ould] you informe me how this quarrell grew twixt her [and Mr.] Thurston?
Sir Gef. Yes, yes, I can;—but let me see, I have almost forgott; to say truth, I never heard the reason, but as the wisest guess—hum, hum—he should have had her daughter.
Crac. I might have had her my self, you know, uncle.
Sir Gef. Peace, Nephew, peace, give Justice leave to speake.—As I related, the reason I related, Sir, was as I told you.
Sir Hu. You told me nothing yet, Sir Geffery.
Sir Gef. Noe? did I not say he should have had her daughter?
Sir Hu. You did; but what does that conduce to their dissention?
Sir Gef. Oh sir, the originall efficient cause,—you understand me? for suspition whispers he had given her a foule blow and would have left her.
Crac. Nay, by my birthright, uncle, the child was not his alone, for I dare sweare I had a hand at least in it. I did endevor fort, did I not, Captaine?
Suc. Yes, there are others to as well as you; yes, she has struck her top sayle to a man of warr; she has bin boarded, sir, I can assure you.
Sir Hu. What impudent slaves are these!—But are you sure the gentlewoman is with child?
Sir Gef. Sure? doe you question it, Sir? Bunch, be ready, Bunch, to write their confessions quickly.
Bunch. They are not come yet to confession, sir.
Sir Gef. Noe matter for that, Bunch; with the Judges leave weele here their confession before they come, that we may know the better to state the cause when they doe come. Ist not best, thinke you?
Sir Hu. Who shall speake for them, thinke you?
Sir Gef. No matter whether any man speake nor noe: we know he killed the man, and she comanded him, ergo they are guilty; ergoe that must be their confession, scilicet that they are guilty. Write this, Bunch, and then we will perpend, as law and Judgment guides us, whether we will save or condemne. How say you, sir?
Crac. Oh well don, uncle! I knew[128] he would prove what he said, otherwise I would have venturd a sillogisme in Baraly[p]ton to have made it evident.
[Suc.[129] But with your favour, gentlemen; suppose he did unlive Thurston in faire duell?
Sir Hu. No duell can be fayre, cause tis against The kingdomes lawes.
Suc. The kingdomes lawes! how shall
A Gent[leman] that has a blemish cast
Upon his life, faire reputacon,
Have satisfaction then? allow no duells!
Hel! a man of armes had better live in woods
And combate wolves then among such milke sops.
The kingdomes lawes!
Crac. Patience, good Captaine; we will have duells lawful.
Suc. Tis fit they should, being legitimacy managd, sir.]
Enter Constable and Prisoners.
Sir Gef. O, soe; are you come? weele tickle you ifaith.
Con. Soe please you, heare are the prisoners.
Sir Hu. Tis well, we have waited them. Madam,
I should have bin more fortunate to have scene you
In any place but this; and here,
In any other cause then this, I would use you
As the precedent carridge of your life
Has merited, but cannot: y'are a prisoner
Convict of murder, a most hideous crime
Gainst law and nature.
Sir Gef. Yes, marry is it, and that she shall find ere we have don. Bunch, read their indictments, Bunch. She had as good have married me, I warrant her.
Sir Hu. Good Sir Geffrey, silence a while. Who is the accuser?
Con. Here.
Sir Hu. What have you, freind, to object against this lady?
Con. That she confesd it was by her procurement and comaunde her sonn murderd young Thurston.
Lady. Please you, sir, that a poore prisoner may entreate one favour.
Sir Gef. Yes, you shall have favour!
Sir Hu. Any thing mercy can graunt unpreiudiciall to Iustice.
Lady. Then this:
You shall not need to produce witnesses
Or charge a Iury to designe me guilty
Of Thurstons murder. I confess it to you,
Twas only I that slew him.
Sir Gef. Marke that, Sir: shee that slew him! do you hear?
Sir Hu. Pray disturbe her not.—How comes it then, Madam, to be affirmd your Sonn did kill him?
Sir Gef. I, lets heare that, how it comes: well remembred, you did even speake before me.
Crac. O how learnedly could I speake now, might I have licence!
Lady. Pray, Sir,
Let me not be oppresd with noyse; my cause
Beares not so slender waight. For my owne life,
So many reasons forfeit it to death
That 'twere a Sinn, had I a will to live,
To plead to save it; but for this my sonn
I do beseech a hearing.
Sir Hu. Speake freely, lady.
Lady. Thus then:
Suppose the wrested rigor of your lawes
Uniustly sentenc'd any here to death,
And you enforce on some unwilling man
The present execution of your act,
You will not after cause the instrument
Of your decree, as guilty of his blood,
To suffer as a Homicide: how then
Can your impartiall Judgment
Censure my sonn for this which was my fact?
Thurston the malice of my will wishd dead:
My instigation and severe comaund
Compeld him to atcheiv't, and you will graunt
Noe princes lawes retaine more active force
To ingage a subiect to performe their hests
Then natures does astring a dewtious child
To obey his parent.
Sir Gef. Pish, all this is nothing: there is a flat statute against it,—let me see,—in Anno vigessimo tricessimo, Henerio octavo be it enacted,—what followes, Bunch?
Sir Hu. Nay, good Sir, peace—
Madam, these are but wild evasions
For times protraction; for your paritie,
It cannot hold; since Nature does enforce
Noe child to obey his parent in an act
That is not good and iust.
Lady. Why, this seemd both
To his obedience; but relinquish that
And come to Conscience: does it not comaund
In its strict Canons to exact no more
Then blood for blood, unlesse you doe extort
Worse then an usurer. For Thurstons life
I offer myne, which if it be to meane
To appease your Justice, let it satisfie
Your mercie. Spare my Sonn and I shall goe
As willingly to death as to my rest
After a painfull child birthe. Looke on him!
How fitt the subiect is to invite your pittie!
What Tyrant hand would cut this Cedar up
Ere its full groath (at which it stately head
Would give a shade to heaven), or pluck this Rose
As yet scarce blossomd?
Sir Gef. Hum, what says Bunch?
Lady. Mercy wilbe proud
T'infold him gently in her Ivory armes,
And, as she walkes along with him, each word
He speakes sheele greedily catch at with a kisse
From his soft lipps such as the amorous Fawnes
Enforce on the light Satyrs. Let[130] me dy
Who, like the palme, when consious that tis void
Of fruite and moysture, prostratly doe begg
A Charitable headsman.
Sir Hu. So bad a cause
Deserves not to be pleaded thus. Deere madam,
Greife overwhelmes me for you, that your guilt
Has damp'd the eyes of mercy and undone
All intercession. Please you desist:
We must proceed to th'examination
Of the other prisoners.—
Sir Geffrey, we shall need your grave assistance:
Sir Geffrey, be more attentive.
Sir Gef. Tis very necessary. I wilbe sworne she did bewitch me; I thinke I was almost asleepe. But now to yee, I faith; come on, what can you say that Judgment shall not passe against you?
Tho. Sir, you are the Judge here?
Sir Hu. Yes, sir, why question you my power?
Tho. Noe, scarlett man, I question thy witt,
At least thy Humanity and the Conscience
That dares imagine to destroy this wealth,
To hang this matchless diamond in the eare
Of Ethiope Death. Send him to file thy house,
Strike with his dart thy Children and thy selfe,
Gray bearded miscreant, whose best acts compard
With Thurstons murder (cause this lady did [it])
Are full iniquity.
[Suc.[131] The man speaks home and boldly.]
Sir Hu. Sir, you are fitter for a Jayle, a Bedlam, Then to stand free before us. What? art thou mad, man?
Sir Gef. Yes, what are you, Sir. I aske to, though I know y[ou well] enough. What are you?
Tho. I am one,
To expresse my selfe in my true character,
Soe full of civill reason and iust truth
That to denie my owne peculiar act
I should esteeme as base and black a sinne
As Scythians[132] doe adultery: twas I
That gave this lady councell to invade
That Thurstons life, and out of cowardise,
Feareing my person, set this bold young man
To be his murderer. Ime the principall,
The very source from whence this brooke of bloode
Fetches its spring.
Sir Hu. Still more of the conspiracy! Sir, what say You to these designements?
Suc. Say, sir, you slew the man in equall duell: Twill bring you off, I warrant you.
Sir Gef. Answere, you youth of valour, you that dare See men of credit bleede. Ha!
Y. M. Sir, I am to dy, and should I now speake false
Twould be a maine addicon to the ill
What I alone comitted: for this man,
Howsoere his fury does transport his tongue,
Hees guiltlesse on't: I must confesse my Mother
Did, for some private wrong which he had don,
Wish me to call him to account; but this
Steward did with all violence sollicit
That I should slay him.
Alex. Whoe? I? goe to; ist come to this?
Sir Hu. Sir, you must answer this.
Sir Gef. Marke how the mischeife lookes.
Alex. I doe defie thy mallice, thou falce Judge. Goe to; my [Mrs.] I appeal to, she that knowes my vertue and Integrity.
Sir Hu. Away with him toth Jayle: a publique Sessions may [ere] long from thence deliver him to the gallowes.
Const. Come, Sir.
[Exeunt Const, and Alex.
Sir Hu. Madam, for you and for your Sonn, your crimes
Being soe manifest, I wish you would
Prepare your selves for heaven. Meantime you must remaine
Saffe prissoners untill the Judges sitt,
Who best may give a sentence on your fact.
Tho. And what for me?
Sir Gef. I, what for him, Mr Justice?
Sir Hu. Sure your words
Rather proceed from some distraction
Then from similitude of truth. You may
Begon, we do quitt you.
Tho. And Ile quit my selfe
Of what you will not, [of] my hated life.
You have condemnd a lady who may claime
As many slaves to wait on her in death
As the most superstitious Indian prince
(That carries servants to attend ith grave)
Can by's prerogative; nor shall she want
Waiters, while you and I, my reverend Judg,
Are within reach of one another.
[Offers att the Record.
Suc. Death, Sir! Dare you presume to draw before us men Of stout performance?
Sir Gef. You sir, weele have you hangd to, sir, with the Steward.
Sir Hu. We doe forgive him; twas his passion.
Tis manly to forbeare infirmities
In noble soules.
Away with the delinquents, officers![133]
Sir Gef.[134] I charge you looke to them: there is some rescue intended, I warrant you.
Con. Sir, yonder are some six or seaven without, Attird like Masquers, that will not be denied Admittance.
Sir Hu. What are they?
Con. [Faith[135] we know not,
Nor will they tell us, only this they say:
Heareing of the lady Marlowe's condemnation,
They are come
With shew of death to make her more prepard fort.
Sir Hu. We will deny none of her freinds to see her; They can intend noe rescue.
Con. Noe, my life ont, sir: they come unarm'd.
Sir Hu. Be still; letts see this misterie.
Florish, Horrid Musike. Enter Death, Gri., and Furies.
Gri. If in charnell houses, Caves,
Horrid grots and mossie graves,
Where the mandraks hideous howles
Welcome bodies voide of soules,
My power extends, why may not I
Hugg those who are condemd to dy?
Grimme Dispaire, arise and bring
Horror with thee and the king
Of our dull regions; bid the rest
Of your Society be addrest,
As they feare the frowne of chaunce,
To grace this presense with a daunce.
Recorders. Enter Hymen and the Lovers.
Tim. Death, avaunt! thou hast no power;
This is Hymens happie hower.
Away to the dark shades! hence!
And, grim Dispaire, let Innocence
Triumph, and bring eternall peace
To all your soules and Joys increase.
Smile, smile, sweet ayre, on us that come
To sing Deaths Epicedium.
Extract from roses gentlest winds,
Such odors as young Hymen finds
At sweet Arabian nuptialls; let
The youthfull graces here beget
Soe smooth a peace that every breath
May blesse this marriage of Death.
Feare nothing, lady, whose bright eye
Sing'd Deaths wings as he flew by:
Wee therefore, trust me, only come
To sing Deaths Epicedium. [discover,
Tim. Stay, stay, by your leave Mr. Justice.— Madam,[136] your servant Timothy brings you newes You must not dy. Know you this Gentleman?
Sir Gef. Now, on my knighthood, Mr. Thurston.
Lady. Amazement leave me: is he living?
Sir Hu. Are we deluded?
Tim. So it appeares, Sir: the gent[leman] never had hurt; hees here, and let him speake for himselfe and this gentlewoman his wife.
Lady. Who? Clariana?
Thu. With your leave, reverend father.—To you, Madam,
Whome I must now call Mother, first your pardon
That the conceivd report of my faind death
Has brought you to this triall: next
For this your daughter and your sonn, whose virtues
Redeemd [me] from the death your rage had thought
I should have suffred, he agreeing with me
Consented to appeach himselfe of that
He nere intended, and procurd this man
As his accuser of my murder, which
Was but contrivd to let you see the error
Of your sterne malice; that, acquainted with
The foulenesse of the fact, by the effect
You might repent it and bestow your blessing
On us your Suppliant Children.
Cla. Which we beg With hearty sorrow, if we have transgresd Our duty to you.
Sir Hu. I am happie to see so blesd a period.
Sir Gef. Ha, ha, widdow, are you come of thus, widdow? You may thanke me: I hope youle have me now, widdow.
Lady. This soddaine comfort,
Had I not yet a relique left of greife,
Would like a violent torrent overbeare
The banks of my mortallity. Oh, Thurston,
Whom I respect with a more sacred love
Then was my former; take my blessing with her
And all the wishes that a ioyfull mother
Can to a child devote: had my Belisia
And her deare Bonvill livd, this happy day
Should have beheld a double wedding.
[Suc.[137] Death, must he have her then?]
Sir Hu. Spoake like a mother.
Tho. Madam,
The surplusage of love that's in my breast
Must needs have vent in gratulation
Of your full ioyes. Would you mind your promise,
And make me fortunate in your love!
Lady. Sir, I have vowd,
Since by my meanes my daughter and her love
Perishd unhappily, to seclude my selfe
From mans Society.
[Bonvil, Belisia, and Grimes discover.
Tho. Weele cancell
That obligation quickly.—Lady, I now
Will urge your promise: twas a plot betwixt us
To give them out for drownd, least your pursuite
Should have impeachd their marriage, which is now
Most iustly consummate; and[138] only I
Remaine at your devotion for a wife.
Lady. Take her, And with me a repentance as profound As Anchorites for their sin pay.
Sir Hu. Madam, how blest am I To see you thus past hope recovered, My mirth at your faire wedding shall demonstrate.
Sir Gef. I will daunce too, that certain, though I breake my legs or get the tissick.
[Suc.[139] Doe you know me, Sir?
Bon. Yes, very well, sir.
Suc. You are married, sir.
Bon. I, what of that?
Suc. Nothing, but send you Joy, sir?]
Lady. But where's my Steward? hees not hangd I hope: This mirth admits no Tragedy.
Gri. Behold the figure.
Alex. I crave forgivenesse.
Lady. Goe to, you have it.
Alex. Thanke you, madam,—I, I will goe to and goe to, and there be ere a wench to be got for love or money, rath[er] then plot murder: tis the sweeter sinn of [the two]; besides, theres noe danger of ones cragg; [the] worst is but stand in one sheet for ly[ing] in two: and therefore goe to and goe to, I [say] and I sayt agen.
Sir Gef. Bunch take my cloake, Bunch; it shal [not] be sed, so many weddings and nere a Da[nce]: for soe many good turnes the hangman ha done you, theres one for all, hey!
Tho. Well said, Sir Geffrey.
Sir Gef. Hey, when I was young! but come, we loose [time]: every one his lasse, and stricke up Musick!
Daunce.
Lady. Now, gentlemen, my thanks to all, and since
[I]t is my good hap to escape these ills,
Goe in with me and celebrate this feast
With choyse solemnitie; where our discourse
Shall merrily forgett these harmes, and prove
Theres no Arraingment like to that of love.
[Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
This Play, call'd the Lady Moth[er] (the Reformacons observ'd) may be acted. October the xvth, 1635.
WILL. BLAGRAVE, Dept. to the [Master] of the Revell.