ACTUS V., SCÆNA 1.
Enter at one door Epire, at another Mariana.
Epire. How now, mad sister, your dear love is condemned?
A sweet adulterer!
Mar. How! condemn'd before their trial?
Epire. No, they were condemn'd by act of parliament.
Mar. I do not hold thee, brother, for a man,
For it is reasonless to mock calamity:
If he die innocent, thrice-happy soul;
If guilty, weep that man should so transgress:
Nature of reason thus much doth importune,
Man should partake in grief with man's misfortune.
Epire. For him, if e'er mine eyes weep, may they drop out,
And leave my body blinder than my sense:
Pity my foe, the ruin of my house,
My valour's scandal, and mine honour's poison!
No, let him fall, for blood must still quench lust,
Law hath condemn'd him, then his death is just.
Mar. Spit out that monster envy, it corrupts you,
And mildly hear me answer for my love.
What did he 'gainst you was not honourable,
Which you 'gainst him would not have gladly done?
Will you hate him for acting your own thoughts?
Can it be ill in him, yet good in you?
Let reason weigh this difference, then you'll find
His honour poises down his infamy.
Epire. Canst thou love him that brought thee to thy death?
Mar. No, like a God he made me with his breath.
Epire. Did he not win thy love, and then reject thee?
Mar. His honour, not his love doth now neglect me.
Epire. Fond maid, thy foolish dotage doth mistake him.
Mar. Hell shall have mercy, ere I will forsake him.
Epire. Farewell then, sister, friend to my greatest foe:
Revenge strikes home, being ended with one blow.
[Exit Epire.
Mar. Prevention, thou best midwife to misfortune,
Unfold this ugly monster's treachery;
And let his birth be ominous—struck dead,
Ere it have being in this open world.
Love commands nature. Brother, pardon me:
Thine envy dies by my love's liberty.
Invention, heart of wit, possess my brain,
For treason is to treason her own bane.
And you, bright heav'ns, now aid me in my plots,
That truth may shine through falsehood's leprous spots;
My life I'll hazard to redeem my love,
Firm constancy like rocks can never move.
Be bold then, maiden-heart, in his defence.
He saved thy life: thy life's his recompense:
My wit and hopes have furnish'd me with all
The helps of art to bring forth treason's fall.
Now to the means. Some say that gold hath power
To enter without force a gateless tower:
And I'll try that, which if it take fast hold,
I'll never blame them more that doat on gold.
Ho! who's within there?
Enter Jailer.
Jailer. Who calls, what would you have? I thought you were a woman, you were so hasty: O, madam, is it you? I cry you mercy.
Mar. My grief speaks loud, sir, and my swift desire
O'errules my tongue, makes it keep time with thought;
I long to see a prisoner in this ill-built house.
Jailer. What prisoner, madam?
Mar. The worthy prince, the famous Philocles.
Jailer. Madam, I dare not, without especial warrant.
Mar. I have my brother's strong commission; hold, there is gold.
Jailer. This golden calf is an excellent idol, and few of my profession but serve it: this dumb god gives tongue to all men, wit to all men, honour to any man, but honesty to no man: and therefore as for honesty, I mean not to deal with so dear a commodity, but leave it to my better. Madam, those stairs direct you to his lodging.
Mar. I thank you, sir. [Exit Mariana.
Jailer. This is a worthy lady, to give thus much for the bare sight of a man in affliction; if he were at liberty, it were nothing; but being as it is, it is most bountiful: but it may be it is for the past hours of former recreations: well, let it be what it shall be, I am sure it was not that I should hold this disputation: but see, here she comes again.
Enter Philocles in Mariana's attire, and Mariana in his.
Phil. Madam, my soul cannot consent to leave
Your life in this great hazard, nor can death
Carry such ugly shape, as doth the thought,
That you are left in this extremity:
Indeed, I will not leave you.
Mar. Will you grow mad? what, shall your nobler spirit,
Which is the school of wisdom, grow so fond[222]
As to revolt from all our happiness?
Our plots you know, and how to manage cares,
Whose true events have true proportions;
Then, dear lord, rest resolv'd—the jailer overhears—
Live you with safety. Most worthy maid, farewell.
Phil. Farewell, fair prince: thanks, master jailer, and a kind commend.
Jailer. As much unto your ladyship. So now I'll lock my doors.
[Exeunt Mariana, Philocles, and Jailer.
Enter Cyprus, Mechant, Florio, and Attendants.
Cyp. Is our commission, as we gave in charge,
Delivered o'er to the corregidors?
Mech. It is, and with such strictness and advice
For speedy execution of the same,
That by this time I know they are in the way
Unto their execution; for the hour
Of death doth run upon his latest minutes.
Cyp. 'Tis well: for till their shameless lives have end,
There can no comfort creep into my thoughts,
Or aught save mischief keep me company.
Why was I born to this malignity
And lowness of base fortune, yet my place
Above the level of the vulgars' sight?
O, it is but to let me know thus much,
That those which lie within the richest graves
Were at the best but fortune's glorious slaves.
But see, here comes my shame.
Enter corregidors, Queen and Mariana disguised like Philocles, both bound, and a guard of halberts with the executioner.
Queen. My dearest lord.
Cyp. Pass, and respect me not, lascivious woman!
Thy tears are like the tears of crocodiles.[223]
See how I stop mine ears against thy plaints,
And glue mine understanding from thy charms.
Nay, call on him thou hast offended most;
Mercy from me were worse than cruelty.
Queen My dearest, dreadest, my best[224] sovereign,
Whom I have ne'er offended, but with zeal
And constant love, loyal and honourable,
Vouchsafe me, though a queen, a subject's right,
And let me know for what offence I perish.
Cyp. For thine adulterate and monstrous lust,
Shameful and gross, and most unsufferable.
Queen. Who doth accuse us?
Cyp. Ourself and our own soul, that have beheld
Your vile and most lascivious passages.[225]
Mar. O, that my tongue would not betray my knowledge!
Then would I amaze them all with mine assertions.
Madam, challenge the law. [Whispers.
Queen. My gracious lord, since no desert in me
Can merit your belief, nor that your eye
Can rightly judge my pure complexion:
Yet as your handmaid let me beg the right,
Due unto wretches from our country's laws.
Cyp. The tenor of the law you do demand?
Queen. That in the case of slander, where the proof
Proceeds as much from envy as from truth,
We are allow'd our champions to defend
Our innocence with a well-ordered sword.
Cyp. I look'd for this objection, and allow it;
Nor am I unprovided for your best
And strongest hope in any victory:
Lords, attend in my champion.
Here the noble-men go forth, and bring in the Duke of Epire like a combatant.
Queen. Will you, my lord, approve the king's assertion?
Epire. Madam, although against the nature of my spirit,
And my first duty bound to your allegiance,
Yet now compell'd by duty and by truth,
I must of force become your opposite.
Queen. Thou art no true Italian, nor true gentleman,
Thus to confound the glory of thy judgment.
Hath not that arm which now is arm'd against me—
That valour, spirit, judgment, and that worth,
Which only makes you worthy—stood t' approve
More than myself will challenge to my virtues?
And are you now basely turn'd retrograde?
Well, I perceive there's nought in you but spleen
And time's observance, still to hold the best—
Still I demand the law.
Cyp. And you shall have it in the amplest manner.
Sound, cornets.
Here the cornets sound thrice, and at the third sound enters Philocles, disguised like a combatant.
Flo. There is a combatant on the defendant's part;
Your majesty's pleasure?
Cyp. Give him his oath according to the laws.
Flo. Are the fair ends of this your warlike posture
To prove the innocence of these two condemn'd?
So help you Jove!
Phil. They are.
Cyp. Then give the warlike signal to the fight.
Here the combat being fought, Philocles overcomes the Duke.
Phil. Thou art my slave, either confess or die.
Epire. Didst thou speak true, I would not sound a word
To save the world from cinders; yet that thou may'st
With more resolv'd fury murder me,
This I confess: 'twas I that only stirr'd,
Out of strong falsehood's hate and jealousy,
The king's eternal wrath, and made him think
Untruths, that even untruth would not suggest:
And all my malice sprung from that Prince Philocles.
Phil. No, 'twas from me, that still am Philocles.
Cyp. My Philocles, my queen! O, double pardon me,
My jealousy, his envy, and your virtues,
Are sprung from such impatient contraries,
I cannot reconcile them; yet, O, pardon me:
My faith in life shall make you recompense.
For thee, rare Mariana, thou hast wrought
A work of noble constant magnitude.
As for this monster, this my tempting devil,
Whose forfeit life is witness to his shame,
I give his life and fortunes to the queen,
She, whom his malice would have brought to death,
Shall now be judge and juror of his breath.
Mar. In which commission, madam, let it be enroll'd,
He is my brother and my next[226] of blood.
Queen. And only that is charter for his life—
Live, envious lord, more envious than thou'rt great,
Live to lament thy worst of wretchedness,
Live to repent, since this I certain know,
Thine own gall'd conscience will be thy worst woe.
Enter a guard of Watchmen with Alphonso.
1st Watchman. Come, bring away, thrust him forward, though favour and a great purse were against him.
Cyp. How now, what tumult have we there?
2d Watch. An't please your majesty, we have brought you here a slip,[227] a piece of false coin: one that is neither stamped with true coin for his excuse, nor with good clothes for his redemption.
Cyp. Alphonso! in the name of madness, how comes this metamorphosis? Nay, stand forth, discourse: if thou dost lie, thou art mine enemy.
Mech. Nay more, if thou stick in any bog, and by a trick seek to wind out, I will discover you.
Alph. This conjuration (believe it, my lord), shall make me leap out of all fetters, and briefly thus: I have long time loved the fair wife of the orator, and, having no opportunity but his absence at the senate, I took that season; he, out of negligence, omitting his papers, returned unseasonably, found me [clothed] insufficiently, and forced to take sanctuary strangely, which, however, I purchased; yet he found mine apparel, and mistaken in the tenure, reached it presently, put it on immediately; and now in the senate-house is pleading in it seriously.
Cyp. I cannot blame him, you having got so much within his inward garment.
Mech. Of all which, my lord, I being, in a strict conceit, a bawdy witness, and having, both from the orator's scorns and delays received many indignities, thought by this discovery to cry quittance with my proud enemy.
Cyp. And you have amply done it; yet this jest
So perfect doth deserve more memory.
Florio, go bid the orator attend us presently.
[Exit Florio.
And now to you, Drap and Velours, I did
Refer you long since to the orator.
Yet I note your attention: come, there is
Some too close-fisted hardness in your hearts:
You gripe too hard, your bribes will not disburse:
Come, tell me truly, as you look for heaven,
What must you pay for your despatches?
Drap and Vel. A thousand crowns we oft'er'd willingly.
Cyp. And will your suit avail with such disbursement?
Drap and Vel. It will, and we most richly satisfied.
Cyp. We'll see the business perfected.
Drap and Vel. With all our hearts, and be full-joy'd thereat;
Here are the crowns.
Cyp. You shall have your despatches.
Enter Prate and Florio.
See, here comes the orator. Prate, come hither;
These gentlemen, whom long since I referr'd
To your despatches, are yet unsatisfied.
Prate. Alas! my lord, the state——
Cyp. ——I know, employs you, yet there's many minutes
May give your best cares leisure; come, there is
Some odd disburse, some bribe, some gratulance,
Which makes you lock up leisure; come, tell true,
What bribe must they give, what is your utmost price?
Prate. But five hundred crowns, of my best conscience.
Cyp. Tut, it is nothing, hold, here's the coin,
And let them have their patents presently:
Or look to lose both place and sovereignty.
Prate. Legions of devils haunt their diligence!
Cyp. Fie! I would not have a man of your high place,
Or for respect of wealth or base observance,
In smallest things thus to neglect your credit,
Why, look you, my lords,
This orator is not like others of his rank,
Who from their garish[228] and fantastic humours
Go through the streets, spotted with peacock's plumes,
Wearing all colours, laces, broideries,
Satins and silks, so antic-garnished,
That when their gowns are off, you cannot find
In Italy a master shap'd more nice.
But this fellow Prate here's of another sort,
Cloth'd like himself, demure and soberly:
Nay, you shall see him for a precedent. [Ungowns the orator.
Passion of mine eyesight' who have we here?
This is Alphonso, there's the orator.
Prate. Heart of impatience, I am then a cuckold!
A scorn, a byword, and a laughing-stock.
What, is my wife turn'd whore? and must her depth
Be sounded by the plumbs[229] of foreigners?
Well, the revenge that I will take for this my shame
Shall make all whores hereafter dread my name.
Cyp. Not for thy life, not for my love, I charge thee:
Thy wife is honest, chaste, and virtuous:
Only this wanton lord with lust and coin
Hath much attempted, but prevail'd in nought.
For proof, see here the crowns 'he would have given
To have purchas'd her bed's honour, but she would not;
Which I bestow on you for recompense.
Therefore, as thou dost hope my grace to find,
So to thy wife be loving, gentle, kind.
Prate. Your majesty may mould me to your pleasure.
Cyp. I thank you, and will quittance it.
Now, Mechant, we restore you to your lands,
Your honours and near places, next ourself:
To all that feel distaste in any sore,
We give to cure them all our grace and favour.
Thus storms bring gentle sunshine; and our hands
May, after shipwreck, bring us to safe lands.
FINIS.