THE REBELLION.
ACT I., SCENE 1.
Enter severally, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho.
Aler. Colonel?
Ful. Signor Alerzo?
Aler. Here.
Pan. Signors, well-met:
The lazy morn has scarcely trimm'd herself
To entertain the sun; she still retains
The slimy tincture of the banish'd night:
I hardly could discern you.
Aler. But you appear fresh as a city bridegroom,
That has sign'd his wife a warrant for the
Grafting of horns; how fares Belinda
After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her
To-night; come, speak, did you take up on trust,
Or have you pawn'd a colony of oaths?
Or an embroidered belt? or have you ta'en
The courtier's trick, to lay your sword at mortgage?
Or perhaps a feather? 'twill serve in traffic,
To return her ladyship a fan, or so.
Ful. Come, be free,
Leave modesty for women to gild
Their pretty thriving art of plentitude,
To enrich their husbands' brows with cornucopias.
A soldier, and thus bashful! Pox! be open.
Pan. Had I the pox, good colonel, I should stride
Far opener than I do; but pox o' the fashion!
Aler. Count Antonio.
[To them enter Antonio.
Ful. Though he appear fresh as a bloom
That newly kiss'd the sun, adorn'd with pearly
Drops, flung from the hand of the rose-finger'd morn,
Yet in his heart lives a whole host of valour.
Pan. He appears
A second Mars.
Aler. More powerful, since he holds wisdom
And valour captive.
Ful. Let us salute him.
[Whilst they salute Antonio, enters Count Machiavel.
Mach. Ha! how close they strike, as if they heard
A winged thunderbolt [that] threaten'd his death,
And each ambitious were to lose his life;
So it might purchase him a longer being:
Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds,
That join a friendly league, and fill the air
With silken music;
I may pass by, and scarce be spar'd a look,
Or any else but young Antonio.
Rise from thy scorching den, thou soul of mischief!
My blood boils hotter than the poison'd flesh
Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaur's shirt:
Swell me, revenge, till I become a hill,
High as Olympus' cloud-dividing top;
That I might fall, and crush them into air.
I'll observe.
[Exit behind the hangings.
Ant. Command, I prythee, all[16]
This little world I'm master of contains,
And be assur'd 'tis granted; I have a life,
I owe to death; and in my country's cause I should——
Ful. Good sir, no more,
This ungrateful land owes you too much already.
Aler. And you still bind it in stronger bonds.
Pan. Your noble deeds that, like to thoughts, outstrip
The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment:
We are poor, but in unprofitable thanks;
Nay, that cannot rehearse enough your merit.
Ant. I dare not hear this; pardon, bashful ears,
For suffering such a scarlet to o'erspread
Your burning portals.
Gentlemen, your discourses taste of court,
They have a relish of known flattery;
I must deny to understand their folly:
Your pardon, I must leave you:
Modesty commands.
Ful. Your honour's vassals.
Ant. O good colonel, be more a soldier,
Leave compliments for those that live at ease,
To stuff their table-books; and o'er a board,
Made gaudy with some pageant, beside custards,
Whose quaking strikes a fear into the eaters,
Dispute 'em in a fashionable method.
A soldier's language should be (as his calling)
Rough, to declare he is a man of fire.
Farewell without the straining of a sinew,
No superstitious cringe! adieu!
[Exit.
Aler. Is't not a hopeful lord?
Nature to him has chain'd the people's hearts;
Each to his saint offers a form of prayer
For young Antonio.
Pan. And in that loved name pray for the kingdom's good.
Ful. Count Machiavel!
Enter Machiavel from behind the hangings.
Aler. Let's away.
[Exeunt: manet Machiavel.
Mach. Heart, wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves
Fawn like to whelps on young Antonio,
And fly from me as from infection? Death,
Confusion, and the list of all diseases, wait upon your lives
Till you be ripe for hell, which when it gapes,
May it devour you all: stay, Machi'vel,
Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman
That has no strength, but what her tongue
Makes a monopoly; be more a man,
Think, think; in thy brain's mint
Coin all thy thoughts to mischief:
That may act revenge at full.
Plot, plot, tumultuous thoughts, incorporate;
Beget a lump, howe'er deform'd, that may at length,
Like to a cub lick'd by the careful dam,
Become (like to my wishes) perfect vengeance.
Antonio, ay, Antonio—nay, all,
Rather than lose my will, shall headlong fall
Into eternal ruin; my thoughts are high.
Death, sit upon my brow; let every frown
Banish a soul that stops me of a crown.
[Exit.
Enter Evadne and Nurse.
Evad. The tailor yet return'd, nurse?
Nur. Madam, not yet.
Evad. I wonder why he makes gowns so imperfect;
They need so many says.
Nur. Truly, in sooth, and in good deed, la, madam,
The stripling is in love: deep, deep in love.
Evad. Ha!
Does his soul shoot with an equal dart
From the commanding bow of love's great god,
Keep passionate time with mine? or has
She spi'd my error to reflect with eager beams
Of thirsty love upon a tailor, being myself
Born high? [Aside.]——I must know more—
In love, good nurse, with whom?
Nur. Truly, madam, 'tis a fortune,
Cupid, good lad—prais'd be his godhead for't,
Has thrown upon me, and I am proud on't;
O, 'tis a youth jocund as sprightly May,
One that will do discreetly with a wife,
Board her without direction from the stars,
Or counsel from the moon to do for physic;
No, he's a back;—O, 'tis a back indeed!
Evad. Fie! this becomes you not.
Nur. Besides, he is of all that conquering calling,
A tailor, madam: O, 'tis a taking trade!
What chambermaid—with reverence may
I speak of those lost maidenheads—
Could long hold out against a tailor?
Evad. Y' are uncivil.
Nur. What aged female, for
I must confess I am worn threadbare—
Would not be turn'd, and live a marriage life,
To purchase heaven?
Evad. Heaven——
Nur. Yes, my dear madam, heaven; whither,
My most sweet lady, but to heaven? hell's a
Tailor's warehouse; he has the keys, and sits
In triumph cross-legg'd o'er the mouth:
It is no place of horror,
There's no flames made blue with brimstone;
But the bravest silks, so fashionable—
O, I do long to wear such properties!
Evad. Leave your talk,
One knocks: go, see.
[Knocks within.
Nur. O, 'tis my love! I come.
[Exit.
Evad. A tailor; fie! blush, my too tardy soul,
And on my brow place a becoming scorn,
Whose fatal sight may kill his mounting hopes.
Were he but one that, when 'twas said he's born,
Had been born noble, high,
Equal in blood to that our house boasts great;
I'd fly into his arms with as much speed
As an air-cutting arrow to the stake.
But, O, he comes! my fortitude is fled.
Enter Nurse and Giovanno with a gown.
Gio. Yonder she is, and walks, yet in sense strong enough to maintain argument; she's under my cloak; for the best part of a lady, as this age goes, is her clothes; in what reckoning ought we tailors to be esteemed then, that are the master-workmen to correct nature! You shall have a lady, in a dialogue with some gallant touching his suit, the better part of man, so suck the breath that names the skilful tailor, as if it nourished her. Another Donna fly from the close embracements of her lord, to be all-over-measured by her tailor. One will be sick, forsooth, and bid her maid deny her to this don, that earl, the other marquis, nay, to a duke; yet let her tailor lace and unlace her gown, so round the skirts to fit her to the fashion. Here's one has in my sight made many a noble don to hang the head, dukes and marquises, three in a morning, break their fasts on her denials; yet I, her tailor, blessed be the kindness of my loving stars, am ushered; she smiles, and says I have stayed too long, and then finds fault with some slight stitch, that eyelet-hole's too close, then must I use my bodkin, 'twill never please else; all will not do. I must take it home for no cause but to bring it her again next morning. We tailors are the men, spite o' the proverb, ladies cannot live without. It is we
That please them best in their commodity:
There's magic in our habits, tailors can
Prevail 'bove him honour styles best of man.
Evad. Bid him draw near.
Nur. Come hither, love, sweet chuck:
My lady calls.
Gio. What means this woman? sure, she loves me too,
Tailors shall speed, had they no tongues to woo:
Women would sue to them.
[Aside.]
Evad. What, have you done it now?
Gio. Madam, your gown by my industry
Is purg'd of errors.
Evad. Lord, what a neat methodical way you have
To vent your phrases; pray, when did you commence?
Gio. What mean you, madam?
Evad. Doctor, I mean; you speak so physical.
Nur. Nay, madam, 'tis a youth, I praise my stars
For their kind influence, a woman may be proud on,
And I am.
O, 'tis a youth in print, a new Adonis.
And I could wish, although my glass tells me
I'm wondrous fair, I were a Venus for him.
Gio. O lady, you are more fairer by far.
Nur. La you there, madam!
Gio. Where art thou, man? art thou transform'd,
Or art thou grown so base, that
This ridiculous witch should think I love her?
[Aside.]
Evad. Leave us.
Nur. I go.
Duck, I'll be here anon;
I will, dove.
[Exit.
Gio. At your best leisure.
Protect me, manhood, lest my glutted sense,
Feeding with such an eager appetite on
Your rare beauty, [and] breaking the sluices,
Burst into a flood of passionate tears.
I must, I will enjoy her, though a
Destroying clap from Jove's artillery were the reward:
And yet, dull-daring sir, by your favour, no,
He must be more than savage can attempt
To injure so much spotless innocence:
Pardon, great powers, the thought of such offence.
[Aside.]
Evad. When Sebastiano, clad in conquering steel,
And in a phrase able to kill, or from a coward's heart
Banish a thought of fear, woo'd me,
[He] won not so much on my captive soul
As this youth's silence does.
Help me, some power, out of this tangling maze,
I shall be lost else.
[Aside.
Gio. Fear, to the breast of women; build
Thy throne on their soft hearts; mine must not be
Thy slave.—[Aside.] Your pleasure, madam?
Evad. I have a question must be directly answer'd;
No excuse, but from thy heart a truth.
Gio. Command me, madam; were it a secret,
On whose hinges hung the casements of my life,
Yet your command shall be obey'd to the least
Scruple.
Evad. I take your word:
My aged nurse tells me you love her:
Answer; is't a truth?
Gio. She's jealous, I'll try;
As oracle.
Evad. Ha!
Gio. 'Tis so, I'll further; I love her, madam,
With as rich a flame as anchorites
Do saints they offer prayers unto.
I hug her memory as I would embrace
The breath of Jove when it pronounced me
Happy, or prophet that should speak my
After-life great, even with adoration deified.
Evad. My life, like to a bubble i' th' air,
Dissolv'd by some uncharitable wind,
Denies my body warmth: your breath
Has made me nothing.
[She faints.
Gio. Rather let me lose all external being.
Madam, good madam.
Evad. You say you love her.
Gio. Madam, I do.
Can any love the beauty of a stone,
Set by some curious artist in a ring,
But he must attribute some [virtue] to
The file that adds unto the lustre?
You appear like to a gem, cut by the
Steady hand of careful nature into such
Beauteous tablets, that dull art,
Famous in skilful flattery, is become
A novice in what fame proclaim'd him doctor;
He can't express one spark of your great lustre.
Madam, those beauties that, but studied on
By their admirers, are deifi'd, serve
But as spots to make your red and white
Envi'd of cloister'd saints.
Evad. Have I, ungrateful man, like to the sun,
That from the heavens sends down his
Cherishing beams on some religious plant,
That with a bow, the worship of the
Thankful, pays the preserver of his life
And growth: but thou, unthankful man,
In scorn of me, to love a calendar of many
Years.[17]
Gio. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious rite,
The Heathens us'd to pay their gods, I offer up
A life, that until now ne'er knew a price—
Made dear because you love it.
Evad. Arise;
It is a ceremony due unto none but heaven.
Gio. Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave,
Unless, dear goddess, you forget to be
Cruel to him adores you with a zeal,
Equal to that of hermits.
Evad. I believe you, and thus exchange a devout vow
Humbly upon my knees, that, though the
Thunder of my brother's rage should force divorce,
Yet in my soul to love you; witness all
The wing'd inhabitants of the highest heaven!
Gio. If sudden lightning, such as vengeful Jove
Clears the infectious air with, threaten'd to scorch
My daring soul to cinders, if I
Did love you, lady, I would love you, spite
Of the dogged fates or any power those curs'd
Hags set to oppose me.
To them enter Nurse.
Evad. Be thyself again.
Nur. Madam, your brother.
Evad. Fie! you have done it ill; our brother, say you?
Pray you, take it home and mend it.
Gio. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave.
Love, I am made thy envy; I am he
This vot'ress prays unto, as unto thee:
Tailors are more than men; and here's the odds:
They make fine ladies: ladies make them gods:
And so they are not men, but far above them.
This makes the tailors proud; then ladies love them.
[Exit.
Antonio meets him.
Ant. What's he that pass'd?
Evad. My tailor.
Ant. There's something in his face I (sure) should know.
But, sister, to your beads; pray for distress'd Seville;
Whilst I mount some watchtower,
To o'erlook our enemies: religion's laws
Command me fight for my lov'd country's cause.
[Exit.
Evad. Love bids me pray, and on his altars make
A sacrifice for my lov'd tailor's sake.
[Exit.
Alarum. Enter Raymond, Philippa, Leonis, Gilberti, and Firenzo.
Ray. Stand.
Leo. Stand.
Gil. Stand.
Fir. Give the word through the army, stand there.
Within. Stand, stand, stand, stand, ho!
Ray. Bid the drum cease, whilst we embrace our love:
Come, my Philippa, like the twins of war,
Lac'd in our steelly corselets, we're become
The envy of those brain-begotten gods
Mouldy antiquity lifted to heaven;
Thus we exchange our breath.
[Kiss.
Phil. My honour'd lord,
Duty commands, I pay it back again.
'Twill waste me into smoke else.
Can my body retain that breath that would
Consume an army dress'd in a rougher habit?
Pray, deliver (come, I'm a gentle thief)
The breath you stole.
[He kisses her.
Ray. Restore back mine. [She kisses him.] So, go, pitch our tent, we'll
Have a combat i' th' field of love with thee
Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art
A friendly enemy. How say you, lords?
Does not my love appear
Like to the issue of the brain of Jove,
Governess of arms and arts, Minerva!
Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons?
Lords. She is a mine of valour.
Phil. Lords, spare your praises till, like Bradamant,
The mirror of our sex, I make the foe
Of France and us crouch like a whelp,
Awed by the heaving of his master's hand;
My heart runs through my arm, and when I deal
A blow, it sinks a soul.
My sword flies nimbler than the bolts of Jove,
And wounds as deep. Spain, thy proud host shall feel
Death has bequeath'd his office to my steel.
Ray. Come on, brave lords; upon your general's word,
Philippa loves no parley like the sword.
[Exeunt.
Enter Giovanno, Old Tailor, Vermin, and two more.
Gio. Come, bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble shears, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, stiletto blades, and prove the proverb lies, lies in his throat: one tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart gentlemen, known by their clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker.
O. Tai. We must to the wars, my boys.
Ver. How, master, to the wars?
O. Tai. Ay, to the wars, Vermin; what say'st thou to that?
Ver. Nothing, but that I had rather stay at home: O, the good penny-bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master, good master, let me alone to live with honest John, noble John Black.
2d Tai. Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Vermin?
Ver. No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me: I shall be gaping for my morning's loaf and dram of ale, I shall; and now and then look for a cabbage-leaf or an odd remnant to clothe my bashful buttocks.
O. Tai. You shall.
Ver. Yes, marry; why, I hope poor Vermin must be fed, and will be fed, or I'll torment you.
Gio. Master, I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows.
O. Tai. Ay, ay, do, do, good boy.
[Exit.
Gio. Come, my bold fellows, let us eternise,
For our country's good, some noble act,
That may by time be regist'red at full:
And as the year renews, so shall our fame
Be fresh to after-times: the tailor's name,
So much trod under and the scorn of all,
Shall by this act be high, whilst others fall.
3d Tai. Come, Vermin, come.
Ver. Nay, if Vermin slip from the back of a tailor, spit him with a Spanish needle: or torment him in the louse's engine—your two thumb-nails.
[Exit all but Giovanno.
Gio. The city's sieged, and thou thus chain'd
In airy fetters of a lady's love!
It must not be: stay, 'tis Evadne's love;
Her life is with the city ruined, if
The French become victorious:
Evadne must not die: her chaster name,
That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame.
[Exit.
ACT II., SCENE 1.
A table and chairs.
Enter (after a shout crying Antonio) the Governor and Count Machiavel.
Gov. Hell take their spacious throats! we shall ere long
Be pointed as a prodigy!
Antonio is the man they load with praise,
And we stand as a cypher to advance
Him by a number higher.
Mach. Now, Mach'vel, plot his ruin.
[Aside.
It is not to be borne; are not you our
Master's substitute? then why should he
Usurp a privilege without your leave
To preach unto the people a doctrine
They ought not hear?
He incites 'em not to obey your charge,
Unless it be to knit a friendly league
With the opposing French, laying before 'em
A troop of feigned dangers will ensue,
If we do bid 'em battle.
Gov. Dares he do this?
Mach. 'Tis done already;
Smother your anger, and you shall see here
At the council-board he'll break into a
Passion, which [Aside] I'll provoke him to.
To them Antonio, Alerzo, Fulgentio, and Pandolpho: they sit in council.
Gov. Never more need, my worthy partners in
The dangerous brunts of iron war, had we
Of counsel: the hot-reined French, led by
That haughty Moor, upon whose sword sits victory
Enthroned, daily increase;
And, like the army of another Xerxes,
Make the o'erburthen'd earth groan at their weight.
We cannot long hold out; nor have we hope
Our royal master can raise up their siege,
Ere we be forc'd to yield:
My lord, your counsel; 'tis a desperate grief.
Mach. And must, my lord, find undelay'd release?
Noble commanders, since that war's grim god,
After our sacrifice of many lives,
Neglects our offerings, and repays our service
With loss; 'tis good to deal with policy.
He's no true soldier, that deals heedless blows
With the endangering of his life; and may
Walk in a shade of safety, yet o'erthrow
His towering enemy.
Great Alexander made the then known world
Slave to his powerful will more by the help
Of politic wit
Than by the rough compulsion of the sword.
Troy, that endur'd the Grecians ten years' siege,
By policy was fir'd, and became like to
A lofty beacon all on flame.
Gov. Hum, hum!
Mach. Suppose the French be mark'd for conquerors?
Stars have been cross'd, when at a natural birth
They dart prodigious beams; their influence,
Like to the flame of a new-lighted taper,
Has with the breath of policy been blown
Out,—even to nothing.
Ful. Hum, hum!
Aler. This has been studied.
[Aside.]
Pan. He's almost out.
[Aside.]
Gov. Good.
But to the matter. You counsel?
Mach. 'Tis this, my lord,
That straight, before the French have pitched their tents,
Or rais'd a work before our city walls—
As yet their ships have not o'erspread the sea—
We send a regiment, that may with speed
Land on the marshes, and begirt their backs,
Whilst we open our gates, and with a strong assault
Force 'em retreat into the arms of death:
So the revengeful earth shall be their tomb,
That did erewhile trample her teeming womb.
Gov. Machiavel speaks oracle; what says
Antonio?
Ant. Nothing.
Gov. How?
Ant. Nothing.
Mach. It takes; revenge,
I hug thee; young lord, thou art lost.
[Aside.
Gov. Speak, Antonio, your counsel.
Ant. Nothing.
Gov. How?
Ant. So;
And could my wish obtain a sudden grant
From yon tribunal, I would crave my senses
Might be all steeped in Lethe, to forget
What Machiavel has spoken.
Mach. Ha! it takes unto my wish.
[Aside.
Why, Antonio?
Ant. Because you speak
Not like a man, that were possess'd with a
Mere soldier's heart, much less a soul guarded
With subtle sinews. O madness! can there be
In nature such a prodigy, so senseless,
So much to be wondered at,
As can applaud or lend a willing ear
To that my blushes do betray? I've been
Tardy to hear your childish policy.
Gov. Antonio, you're too bold; this usurp'd liberty
To abuse a man of so much merit is not
Seemly in you: nay, I'll term it sauciness.
Ant. Nay, then, my lord, I claim the privilege
Of a councillor, and will object.
This my prophetic fear whisper'd my heart:
When from a watchtow'r I beheld the French
Erect their spears which, like a mighty grove,
Denied my eyes any other object:
The tops show'd by a stolen reflection from
The sun like diamonds, or as the glorious
Gilder of the day should deign a lower visit.
Then my warm blood, that used to play like
Summer, felt a change; grey-bearded winter
Froze my very soul, till I became,
Like the Pyrenian hills, wrapp'd in a robe of ice:
My arctic[18] fears froze me into a statue.
Aler. Cowardly Antonio!
Ful. I have lost my faith,
And can behold him now without a wonder.
Gov. Antonio, y' are too long, and rack our patience;
Your counsel?
Ant. I fear'd—but what? not our proud enemies:
No, did they burthen all our Spanish world,
And I, poor I, only surviv'd to threat defiance
In the mounseers'[19] teeth, and stand defendant
For my country's cause, naked, unarm'd,
I'd through their bragging host, and pay my life
A sacrifice to death for my loved country's safety.
Aler. Fulgentio, thou hast not lost
Thy faith?
[Aside.]
Ful. No, I'm reform'd; he's valiant.
[Aside.]
Gov. Antonio, your counsel?
Mach. Ay, your counsel?
Ant. Our foes increase to an unreckon'd number;
We less than nothing, since we have no hope
To arrive a number, that may cope with
Half their army.
'Tis my counsel we strike a league:
'Tis wisdom to sue peace, where powerful fate
Threatens a ruin: lest [we] repent too late.
Ful. 'Tis god-like counsel.
[Aside.
Aler. And becomes the tongue of young Antonio.
[Aside.
Gov. Antonio, let me tell you, you have lost
Your valiant heart; I can with safety now
Term you a coward.
Ant. Ha!
Gov. Nay, more,
Since by your oratory you strive
To rob your country of a glorious conquest,
That may to after-times beget a fear,
Even with the thought should awe the trembling
World, you are a traitor.
Ant. Ha! my lord! coward and traitor! 'tis a damned lie,
And in the heart of him dares say't again
I'll write his error.
Mach. 'Tis as I would have't.
[Aside.
Ful. Noble Antonio!
[Aside.
Aler. Brave-spirited lord!
[Aside.
Ful. The mirror of a soldier!
[Aside.
Gov. O, are you mov'd, sir? has the deserved name
Of traitor prick'd you?
Ant. Deserv'd?
Gov. Yes.
Mach. Yes.
Ant. Machiavel, thou liest; hadst thou a heart
Of harden'd steel, my powerful arm
Should pierce it.
[They fight all in a confused manner: Antonio kills the Governor, Machiavel falls.
Aler. The governor
Slain by Antonio's hand?
Ful. No, by the hand of justice; fly, fly, my lord!
Aler. Send for a chirurgeon to dress Count Machiavel:
He must be now our governor; the king
Signed it in the dead governor's commission.
[Exeunt.
Ant. Now I repent too late my rash contempt:
The horror of a murtherer will still
Follow my guilty thoughts, fly where I will.
[Exit Antonio.
Mach. I'm wounded; else, coward Antonio,
Thou shouldst not fly from my revengeful arm:
But may my curses fall upon thy head,
Heavy as thunder! may'st thou die
Burthen'd with ulcerous sins, whose very weight
May sink thee down to hell,
Beneath the reach of smooth-fac'd mercy's arm!
[A shout within, crying Antonio.
Confusion choke your rash officious throats!
And may that breath that speaks his loathed name
Beget a plague, whose hot infectious air
May scald you up to blisters, which foretel
A purge of life! Up, Machiavel,
Thou hast thy will, howe'er cross fate
Divert the people's hearts; they must perforce
Sue to that shrine our liking shall erect.
The governor is dead, Antonio's lost
To anything but death; 'tis our glad fate
To gripe the staff of what we look'd for—state.
My blood's ambitious, and runs through my veins,
Like nimble water through a leaden pipe
Up to some barren mountain. I must have more;
All wealth, in my thoughts, to a crown is poor.
Enter Giovanno, Evadne, and Nurse.
Gio. 'Tis a neat gown, and fashionable, madam; is't not, love?
Nur. Upon my virginity, wonderful handsome: dear, when we are married, I'll have such a one; shall I not, chicken, ha?
Gio. What else, kind nurse?
Nur. Truly you tailors are the most sanctified members of a kingdom: how many crooked and untoward bodies have you set upright, that they go now so straight in their lives and conversation, as the proudest on them all?
Gio. That's certain, none prouder.
Evad. How mean you, sir?
Gio. Faith, madam, your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs: or scarcity, as scanty shoulders—are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet it with an undaunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in substance they have in air: they will scold the tailor out of his art, and impute the defect of nature to his want of skill, though his labour make her appearance pride-worthy.
Nur. Well said, my bird's-nye, stand for the credit of tailors whilst thou livest; wilt thou not, chuck? Ha, say'st thou, my dear?
Gio. I were ungrateful else.
Evad. Nurse, pray leave us, your presence makes your sweetheart negligent of what he comes about; pray, be won to leave us here.
Nur. Madam, your will's obey'd:
Yet I can hardly pass from thee, my love,
At such a sudden warning.
Gio. Your eager love may be termed dotage;
For shame! confine[20] yourself to less expressions,
[And] leave my lady.
Nur. A kiss, and then I go; so, farewell, my duck.
[Exit.
Gio. Death, she has left a scent to poison me;
Love her, said she? is any man so mad to hug a disease,
Or embrace a colder image than Pygmalion's,
Or play with the bird of
Frosty antiquity? not I:
Her gums stink worse than a pest-house,
And more danger of infecting.
[Aside.
As I'm a mortal tailor, and your servant, madam,
Her breath has tainted me: I dare not salute
Your ladyship.
Evad. Come, you are loth to part with't, 'tis so sweet.
Gio. Sweet, say you, madam? a muster of diseases
Can't smell worse than her rotten teeth.
Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing;
Thus I am new-created with your breath.
[Kisses.
My gaping pores will ne'er be satisfied.
Again!—they still are hungry.
Evad. My dear friend, let not thy lovely person
March with the scolding peace-affrighting drum:
War is too cruel: come, I'll chain
You here—here in my arms; and stifle you
With kisses; you sha' not go—by this, you sha' not go.
Gio. By this, I must.
[He kisses her.
Evad. I'll smother that harsh breath.
[She kisses him.
Gio. Again I countercheck it.
[Kiss.
Enter Antonio, as pursued; he sees them, and stands amazed.
Ant. O sister! ha!
What killing sight is this? cannot be she.
Sister.
Evad. O my dear friend, my brother! w' are undone.
Ant. Degenerate girl, lighter than wind or air!
Canst thou forget thy birth? or, 'cause thou'rt fair,
Art privileg'd, dost think, with such a zeal
To grasp an under-shrub? dare you exchange
Breath with your tailors without fear of vengeance
From the disturbed ghosts of our dead parents,
For their blood's injury? or are your favours
Grown prostitute to all? my unkind fate
Grieves me not half so much as thee forgetful.
Gio. Sir, if on me this language, I must tell you,
You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness,
That makes me[21] seem so ugly in your eyes,
Perhaps hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them.
I am as noble, but that I hate to make
Comparisons, as any you can think worthy
To be call'd her husband.
Ant. Shred of a slave, thou liest!
Gio. Sir, I am hasty too; yet, in the presence of
My mistress [I] can use a temper.
Ant. [O] brave! your mistress!
Enter Machiavel with Officers.
Mach. Lay hold on him!
Ere we presume to meet the enemy,
We'll purge the city; lest the wrath of Heaven
Fall heavy on us. Antonio, I arrest thee
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and realm.
To prison with him!
Evad. O my lost brother!
Gio. 'Tis but an error; treason, d'ye call it, to kill
The governor in heat of blood, and not intended?
For my Evadne's sake, something I'll do
Shall save his life.
[Exit.
Mach. To prison with him!
Ant. Farewell, Evadne, as thou lovest the peace
Of our dead ancestors, cease to love
So loath'd a thing; a tailor!
Why, 'tis the scorn of all; therefore be rul'd
By thy departing brother, do not mix
With so much baseness.
Come, officers, bear me e'en where you please,
My oppress'd conscience nowhere can have ease.
[Exit with Officers.
Mach. Lady, we here enjoin you to
Your chamber
As a prisoner, to wait a further censure;
Your brother's fault has pull'd a punishment
Upon your head, which you must suffer.
Evad. E'en what you please, your tyranny can't bear
A shape so bad to make Evadne fear:
Strong innocence shall guard my afflicted soul,
Whose constancy shall tyranny control.
[Exeunt. A noise within, crying Rescue, rescue! Enter Antonio and Guard; to them Giovanno and Tailors, and rescue him, and beat them off.
Enter an Officer, meeting Machiavel.
Off. A troop of tailors by force have ta'en
Antonio from us, and have borne him (spite
Of the best resistance we could make) unto some
Secret place; we cannot find him.
Mach. Screech-owl, dost know what thou hast said?
Death! find him, or you die! O my cross stars!
He must not live to torture our vex'd sense,
But die; though he'd no fault but innocence.
[Exit.
Enter Giovanno, Antonio, and the Old Tailor.
Gio. Can this kindness merit your love?
Do I deserve your sister?
Ant. My sister! worthy tailor, 'tis a gift lies not in me to give: ask something else, 'tis thine, although it be gained with the quite extinguishing of this—this breath you gave me.
Gio. Have not I——
Ant. Speak no further; I confess you have been all unto me, life and being; I breathe but with your licence: will no price buy out your interest in me but her love? I tell thee, tailor, I have blood runs in me, Spain cannot match for greatness next her kings. Yet, to requite thy love, I'll call thee friend; be thou Antonio's friend—a favour nobles have thirsted for: will this requite thee?
Gio. Sir, this may, but——
Ant. My sister, thou wouldst say, most worthy tailor; she's not mine to give; honour spake in my dying father: 'tis a sentence that's registered here in Antonio's heart—I must not wed her but to one in blood calls honour father. Prythee, be my friend; forget I have a sister; in love I'll be more than a brother, though not to mingle blood.
Gio. May I not call her mistress?
Ant. As a servant, far from the thoughts of wedlock.
Gio. I'm yours, friend: I am proud on't; you shall find
That, though a tailor, I've an honest mind.
Pray, master, help my lord unto a suit; his life
Lies at your mercy.
1st Tai. I'll warrant you.
Ant. But for thy men.
1st Tai. O, they are proud in that they rescu'd you,
And my blood of honour; since you are pleas'd
To grace the now declining trade of tailors
By being shrouded in their homely clothes,
And deck a shop-board with your noble person;
The taunting scorns the foul-mouth'd world can throw
Upon our needful calling shall be answered:
They injure honour, since your honour is a
Noble practitioner in our mystery.
Gio. Cheer up, Antonio, take him in.
The rest will make him merry; I'd go try
The temper of a sword upon some shield
That guards a foe. Pray for my good success.
[Exit.
1st Tai. Come, come, my lord, leave melancholy
To hired slaves, that murther at a price:
Yours was——
Ant. No more: flatter not [so] my sin.
1st Tai. You are too strict a convertite; let's in.
[Exit.
After a confused noise within, enter Raymond, Leonis, Gilberti, hastily.
Ray. What means this capering echo?
Or whence did this so lively counterfeit
Of thunder break out [in] to liberty?
Gil. 'Tis from the city.
Ray. It cannot be their voice should outroar Jove;
Our army, like a basilisk, has struck
Death through their eyes; our number, like a wind,
Broke from the icy prison of the north,
Has froze the portals to their shivering hearts;
They scarce have breath enough to speak't
They live.
[A shout within.
Gil. 'Tis certainly from thence.
Leo. Y' are deceived, poor Spaniards! Fear
Has chang'd their elevated gait to a dejection:
They're planet-struck.
Ray. 'Tis from our jocund fleet, my genius prompts me;
They have already plough'd th' unruly seas,
And with their breasts, proof 'gainst the battering
Waves, dash'd the big billows into angry froth,
And, spite of the contentious foul-mouth'd gods
Of sea and wind, have reach'd the city frontiers,
And [have] begirt her navigable skirts.
Again! 'tis so.
[Again within.
Gil. My creed's another way;
I have no faith but to the city.
Alarum. Enter a Soldier bloody.
Leo. Here's one:
Now we shall know. Ha! he appears
Like one compos'd of horror.
Ray. What speaks thy troubled front?
Leo. Speak, crimson meteor.
Ray. Speak, prodigy, or on my sword thou fall'st.
Sol. The bold Spaniards, setting aside all cold acknowledgment of any odds, or notice of the number our army is made proud with, sends from their walls more lightning than great Jove affrights the trembling world with, when the air is turn'd to mutiny.
Ray. Villain, thou liest; 'twere madness to believe thee. Foolish Spain may, like those giants that heap hill on hill, mountain on mountain, to pluck Jove from heaven, who with a hand of vengeance flung 'em down beneath the centre, and those cloud-contemning mounts heav'd by the strength of their ambitious arms, became their monuments; so Spain's rash folly from this arm of mine shall find their graves amongst the rubbish of their ruin'd cities.
Enter a second Soldier.
What, another! thy hasty news?
2d Mess. The daring enemies have through their gates made a victorious sally: all our troops have jointly, like the dust before the wind, made a dishonoured flight. Hark!
[Alarum within.]
The conquering foe makes hitherward.
Ray. Run to my tent, fetch my Philippa, slave. Why movest thou not?
2d Mess. The enemy's upon us.
Ray. Shall I send thy coward soul down the vaults of horror? Fly, villain, or thou diest!
[Strikes him.
Alarum. Enter Machiavel, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, with Philippa prisoner, Giovanno with Tailor.
Mach. Let one post to my castle, and conduct
My lady; tell her I have a prisoner would become
Proud in her forc'd captivity, to wait
Upon her beauty: fly, let not the tardy clouds outsail thee.
Phil. Canst thou, proud man, think that Philippa's heart
Is humbled with her fortunes? No, didst thou
Bring all the rough tortures
From the world's childhood to this hour invented,
And on my resolute body, proof against pain,
Practis'd Sicilian tyranny, my giant thoughts
Should, like a cloud of wind-contemning smoke,
Mingle with heaven:
And not a look so base as to be pitied
Shall give you cause of triumph.
Aler. 'Fore heaven, a fiery girl.
Ful. A masculine spirit.
Pan. An Amazon.
Ray. See, my Philippa, her rich colour's fled, and like that soul
The furrow-fronted fates have made an anvil
To forge diseases on, she's lost herself
With her fled beauty; yet, pale as she stands,
She adds more glory to our churlish foe,
Than bashful Titan to the eastern world.
Spaniards, she is a conquest; Rome,
When her two-neck'd eagles aw'd the world,
Would have swum through her[22] own blood to purchase:
Nor must you enjoy that gem the superstitious gods
Would quarrel for, but through my heart.
Courage, brave friends, they're valiant that can fly
I' th' mouth of danger; 'tis they win, though die.
Gio. This Moor speaks truth,
Wrapp'd in a voice of thunder.
Ray. Speak, my Philippa, what untutor'd slave
Durst lay a rugged hand upon thy softness?
Phil. 'Twas the epitome of Hercules:
No big Colossus, yet for strength far bigger:
A little person, great with matchless valour.
Ray. What pains thou takest to praise
Thine enemy!
Phil. 'Twere sin to rob him that has wasted so his blood for praise: this noble soldier, he 'twas made me captive; nor can he boast 'twas in an easy combat; for my good sword, now ravish'd from mine arm, forc'd crimson drops that, like a gory sweat, buried his manly body in oblivion: those that were skill'd in his effigies, as drunk with Lethe, had forgot 'twas he; till by the drawing of the rueful curtain, they saw in him their error.
Ray. A common soldier, owner of a strength worthy
Such praise? Dares he cope with the
French general single?
Phil. My lord, you must strike quick and sure.
Ray. Why pause you? my Philippa must not stay
Captivity's infection.
Mach. We have the day.
Ray. Not till you conquer me: which if my arm
Be not by witchcraft robb'd of his late strength,
Shall spin your labour to an ample length.
Mach. Upon him, then.
Gio. Odds is dishonourable combat: my lads,
Lets one to one; I am for the Moor.
Aler. Thee!
Ful. Tailor, you are too saucy.
Gio. Saucy?
Aler. Untutor'd groom, mechanic slave!
Gio. You have protection by the governor's presence,
Else, my plum'd estridges,[23] 'tis not your feathers,
More weighty than your beads, should stop
My vengeance, but I'd text my wrong
In bloody characters upon your pamper'd flesh.
Ful. You would?
Gio. By heaven, I would!
Ful. You'd be advis'd, and render up your life
A sacrifice to patience.
Gio. Musk-cat, I'd make your civet worship stink
First in your perfumed buff.
Gio. Bloodless commanders.
Ful.
Pan.
Aler.
}
How?
Gio. So.
Ful.
Pan.
Aler.
}
Let's reward his boldness.
[They fall upon Giovanno.
Mach. Whence this rashness?
Ray. Bless'd occasion! let's on 'em.
[The French whisper. The French fly upon 'em: they turn to their Guard, and beat 'em off.
ACT III., SCENE 1.
Enter Machiavel, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Alerzo, Giovanno, with Raymond prisoner, and the rest of the Tailors.
All the Tai. A tailor, a tailor, a tailor!
Gio. Raymond, y' are now my prisoner:
Blind chance has favour'd, where your thoughts
Had hope she meant to ruin
From our discord, which Heaven has made victorious,
You meant to strike a harmony should glad you.
Aler. 'Tis not to be borne: a tailor!
[Whisper.
Ful. 'Twas an affront galls me to think on't: besides,
His saucy valour might have ruin'd all
Our forward fortunes, had the French been stronger:
Let him be banish'd.
Mach. It shall be so;
My fears are built on grounds,
Stronger than Atlas' shoulders: this same tailor
Retains a spirit like the lost Antonio;
Whose sister we will banish in pretence
Of love to justice; 'tis a good snare to trap
The vulgar hearts: his and her goods, to gild
My lawless doings, I'll give the poor, whose tongues
Are i' their bellies; which being full,
Is tipp'd with heartless prayers; but, empty,
A falling planet is less dangerous; they'll down
To hell for curses. You tailor!
Gio. My lord.
Mach. Deliver up your prisoner.
Gio. Y' are obey'd.
Mach. So: now we command, on forfeit of thy life,
You be not seen on any ground
Our master's title circles within three days:
Such a factious spirit we must not nourish;
Lest, like the fabl'd serpent, [once] grown warm
In your conceited worth, you sting
Your country's breast, that nurs'd your valour.
Gio. This my reward?
Aler. More than thy worth deserves.
Gio. Pomander-box, thou liest!
Ful. Go purge yourself; your country vomits you.
Gio. Slaves, y' are not worth my anger.
Ful. Go vent your spleen 'mongst satires; pen a
Pamphlet, and call't the "Scourge of Greatness."
Aler. Or "Spain's Ingratitude."
Gio. Ye are not worth my breath,
Else I should curse you; but I must weep,
Not that I part from thee, unthankful Spain,
But my Evadne: well, it must be so:
Heart, keep thy still tough temper, spite of woe.
[Exit.
Mach. My house shall be your prison. Attend 'em, colonel.
[Exeunt Raymond, Philippa, Alerzo, Fulgentio, Pandolpho, Giovanno,[24] &c. Manent Tailors.
Ful. Please you walk.
1st Tai. My servant banish'd?
3d Tai. Famish'd, master? nay, faith, and a tailor come to be famish'd, 'tis a hard world: no bread in this world here, ho, to save the renown'd corpse of a tailor from famishing! 'Tis no matter for drink: give me bread.
2d Tai. Thou hast a gut would swallow a peck-loaf.
3d Tai. Ay, marry would it with vantage; I tell truth, and, as the proverb says, shame the devil; if our hell afford a devil, but I see none, unless he appear in a delicious remnant of nim'd satin, and, by my faith, that's a courteous devil that suffers the brokers to hang him in their ragged wardrobe; and used to sell his devilship for money: I tell truth. A tailor, and lie? faith, I scorn that.
1st Tai. Leave your discovery.
3d Tai. Master, a traveller, you know, is famous for lying; and having travelled as far as hell, may not I make description of the unknown land?
1st Tai. My brain is busy, Sebastiano must not tread an unknown land to find a grave. Unfortunate Sebastiano! First to lose thyself in a disguise, unfitting for thy birth, and then thy country for thy too much valour:
There's danger in being virtuous in this age
Led by those sinful actors; the plunged stage
Of this vice-bearing world would headlong fall,
But charitable virtue bears up all.
I must invent: I ha't so:—
As he's a tailor, he is banish'd Spain,
As Sebastiano, 'tis revok'd again.
[Exit cum suis.
Enter Machiavel solus.
Mach. How subtle are my springes! they take all
With what swift speed unto my chaffy bait
Do all fowls fly unto their hasty ruin?
Clap, clap your wings and flutter, greedy fools,
Whilst I laugh at your folly; I have a wire
Set for the Moor and his ambitious consort;
Which if my wife would second, they are sure.
Enter Auristella.
Aur. What must she second?
Mach. Art thou there, my love?
We're in a path that leads us to a height,
We may confront the sun, and with a breath
Extinguish common stars; be but thou rul'd,
The light, that does create day to this city,
Must be deriv'd from us.
Aur. You fire my soul,
And to my airy wings add quicker feathers:
What task would not I run to be call'd queen?
Did the life-blood of all our family,
Father and mother, stand as a quick wall
To stop my passage to a throne,
I'd with a poignard ope their azure veins,
And squeeze their active blood up into clods,
Till they become as cold as winter's snow;
And as a bridge upon their trunks I'd go.
Mach. Our souls are twins, and thirst with equal heat
For deity: kings are in all things gods,
Saving mortality.
Aur. To be a queen, what danger would I run!
I'd spend my life like to a barefoot nun,
So I might sit above the lesser stars
Of small nobility, but for a day.
Mach. 'Tis to be done, sweet love, a nearer way:
I have already with the sugar'd baits
Of justice, liberality, and all
The fox-like gins that subtle statesmen set
To catch the hearts o' th' giddy multitude:
Which, if it fail, as cautious policy
Forbids, I build too strongly on their drunk,
Uncertain votes. I'd have thee break with my
Great prisoner's wife, as I will do with him;
Promise (the states equal divided) half
Himself shall rule:
So that if need compel us to take arms,
We may have forces from the realm of France,
To seat us in the chair of government.
Aur. I never shall endure to walk as equal
With proud Philippa, no; my ambitious soul
Boils in a thirsty flame of total glory:
I must be all without a second flame
To dim our lustre.
Mach. Still my very soul!
Think'st thou I can endure competitor,
Or let an Ethiop sit by Machiavel's side
As partner in his honour? no, as I
Have seen i' the commonwealth of players,
One that did act the Theban Creon's part:
With such a life I became ravish'd, and on
Raymond mean to plot what he did on
The cavilling boys of Œdipus,
Whilst we grasp the whole dignity.
Aur. As how, sweet Machiavel?
Mach. It is not ripe, my love.
The king, I hear, applauds my justice;
Wherefore I've sent order that Count Antonio,
Once being taken, be sent to Filford Mill;
There ground to death.
Aur. What for his sister?
Mach. Thy envy: she I have banish'd;
And her goods, to guard a shower of curses
From my head, I have given the poor.
Aur. Good policy, let's home to our designs:
I hate to be officious, yet my frown
Shall be dissolv'd to flattery for a crown.
[Exit.
Mach. Attend your lady. So, her forward spleen,
Tickled with thought of greatness makes the scene
Attempts run smooth: the haughty Moor shall be
The ladder, on whose servile back I'll mount
To greatness. If calm peace deny me easy way,
Rough war shall force it; which done, Raymond
And his Philippa must go seek an empire in
Elysium; for to rule predominant belongs
Alone to me: slaves are unworthy rule,
What state would set a crown upon a mule?
[Exit.
Antonio, disguised, sitting in a closet.
Ant. My soul is heavy, and my eyelids feel
The weighty power of lazy Morpheus:
Each element, that breathes a life within me,
Runs a contrary course, and conspire
To counterfeit a chaos: whilst the frame
And weak supporters of my inward man
Crack as beneath the weight of Atlas' burthen.
A sudden change! how my blear'd eyelids strive
To force a sleep 'gainst nature! O you powers,
That rule the better thoughts, if you have ought
To act on my frail body, let it be
With eagles' speed, or, if your wills so please,
Let my forepass'd and undigested wrongs
O'erwhelm my thoughts, and sink me to the ground
With their no less than death's remembrances.
Cease, bastard slave, to clog my senses
With the leaden weights of an unwilling sleep,
Unless thy raw-bon'd brother join his force,
And make a separation 'twixt
My airy soul and my all-earthly body;
I am o'ercome; Heaven work your wills;
My breath submits to this, as 'twould submit to death.
[Sleeps.
Soft music; Love descends half-way, then speaks.
Love. Sleep, entranced man, but be
Wakeful in thy fancy; see,
Love hath left his palace fair,
And beats his wings against the air,
To ease thy panting breast of ill:
Love's a physician, and his[25] will
Must be obey'd: therefore with haste
To Flanders fly; the echoing blast
Of fame shall usher thee along,
And leave thee pester'd in a throng
Of searching troubles, which shall be
But bugbears to thy constancy.
Enter from one side Death, and from the other side Aurelia; Death strikes three times at Antonio, and Aurelia diverts it. Exeunt severally.
What this same shadow seems to be,
In Flanders thou shalt real see;
The maid that seem'd to conquer death,
And give thee longer lease of breath,
Doats on thy air; report hath been
Lavish in praising thee unseen.
Make haste to Flanders; time will be
Accus'd of slothfulness, if she
Be longer tortur'd: do not stay,
My power shall guide thee on the way.
[Ascendat.[26]
Enter Giovanno and the Old Tailor.
Gio. He is asleep.
O. Tai. See how he struggles, as if some visions had
Assum'd a fuller shape of horror than
His troubled thoughts.[27]
Gio. His conscience gripes him to [a] purpose:
See, [see,] he wakes; let us observe.
Ant. Stay, gentle pow'r, leave hostage that thy promise
Thou wilt perform, and I will offer to
Thy deity
More than my lazy heart has offer'd yet.
But stay, Antonio, can thy easy faith
Give credit to a dream? an airy vision,
Fram'd by a strangeling[28] fancy, to delude weak sense
With a gay nothing? Recollect thyself;
Advise thee by thy fears; it may force hence
This midnight's shade of grief, and gild
It with a morn as full of joy as does
Bright Phœbus to our eastern world, when blushing
He arises from the lap of sea-green Thetis
To give a new day birth.
Gio. Why, how now, friend? what, talking to thyself?
Ant. O Giovanno, 'tis my unpartial thoughts,
That rise in war against my guilty conscience;
O, it stings me!
O. Tai. Be more a man, shrink not beneath a weight
So light a child may bear it; for, believe me,
If my prophetic fear deceive me not,
You'd done an act Spain should for ever praise,
Had you kill'd Machiavel too.
Ant. As how, good master—I must call you so?
This is your livery.
O. Tai. O, y' are a noble tailor. But to Machiavel—
It was my chance, being sent for by his wife
To take the measure of their noble prisoner,
Who, when I came, was busy being plac'd
Into a room, where I might easily hear
Them talk of crowns and kingdoms,
And of two that should be partners in this
End of Spain.
Gio. Who were they?
O. Tai. Machiavel and Raymond! At last Machiavel laugh'd,
Saying: for this I made the governor
To cross Antonio at the council-board;
Knowing that one must, if not both, should die.
Ant. Did he say this?
O. Tai. He did, and added more, [and] under
A feigned show of love to justice,
[He] banished your sister.
Gio. Is Evadne banish'd?
O. Tai. She is; and, as I guess, to Flanders;
Her woman too has left her.
Ant. Nay, droop not, friend: host, pray, tell proud
Mach'vel I have a sword left to chastise
A traitor: come, let's go seek Evadne.
Gio. O Antonio! the sudden grief almost distracts
Thy friend; but come, let's go, each several [way,]
And meet at Filford: if thou findest Evadne,
Bear her unto the castle.
[Exit.
Ant. Farewell, good master.
[Exit.
O. Tai. O, you honour me.
Bootless were all persuasions, they'll not stay.
I'll to the king; this treason may become,
Like a disease, out of the reach of physic,
And may infect past cure, if let alone.
[Exit.
Enter Raymond and Philippa.
Phil. Erect thy head, my Raymond; be more tall
Than daring Atlas, but more safely wise:
Sustain no burthen but the politic care
Of being great: till thou achieve the city's
Axletree, and wave it as thou list.
Ray. Hast thou no skill in magic, that thou fall'st
So just upon my thoughts? thy tongue is tipp'd
Like nature's miracle, that draws the steel
With unresisted violence: I cannot keep
A secret to myself, but thy prevailing
Rhetoric ravishes and leaves my breast
Like to an empty casket,
That once was bless'd with keeping of a jewel
I durst not trust the air with, 'twas so precious:
Pray, be careful.
Phil. You do not doubt me?
Ray. No, were you a woman made of such coarse ingredients as the common, which in our trivial phrase we call mere women, I would not trust thee with a cause so weighty, that the discovery did endanger this—this hair that, when 'tis gone, a lynx's [eye] cannot miss it: but you are—I want expressions, 'tis not common words can speak you truly—you are more than woman.
Phil. My lord, you know my temper, and how to win upon my heart.
Ray. I must be gone, and post a messenger:
France must supply what wants to make thee great—
An army, my Philippa, which these people,
Snoring in pride of their last victory,
Do not so much as dream on:
Nor shall, till they be forced to yield their voices
At our election; which will be ere long.
Phil. O, 'tis an age, I'd rather have it said,
Philippa than a prisoner were dead.
[Exit.
Enter a Criminal Judge and Officers, with Antonio; Petruchio and Aurelia meet him, with Servants.
Jud. Captain Petruchio, take this condemn'd man
Into your charge; it is Antonio, once
A Spanish count, till his rash folly with
His life made forfeit of his honour; he
Was found travelling to your castle;
'Twas Heaven's will that his own feet should with
A willing pace conduct him to his ruin:
For the murther he must be ground to death
In Filford Mill, of which you are the governor:
Here my commission in its end gives strength
To yours. He is your charge: farewell.
His death must be with speed.
[Exit with his.[29]
Ant. Deceive me not, good glasses, [for] your lights
In my esteem never till now was precious,
It is the same, it is the very same
I sleeping saw.
Aur. Is this the man fame speaks so nobly of?
O love, Aurelia never until now
Could say he knew thee; I must dissemble it.
[Aside.
Pet. Come, sir, to my castle.
Aur. Fie on you, sir; to kill a governor, it is a fact death cannot appear too horrible to punish.
Ant. Can this be truth? O shallow, shallow man,
To credit air! believe there can be substance in
A cloud of thick'ned smoke, as truth
Hid in a dream; yes, there is truth that, like
A scroll fetch'd from an oracle,
Betrays the double-dealing of the gods;
Dreams, that speak all of joy, do turn to grief,
And such bad fate deludes my light belief.
Pet. Away with him.
[Exeunt.
Aurelia sola.
Aur. Oft have I heard my brother with a tongue
Proud of the office, praise this lovely lord;
And my trapp'd soul did with as eager haste
Draw in the breath; and now, O Aurelia!
Buried with him must all the joy thou hast
For ever sleep; and with a pale consumption,
Pitying him wilt thou thyself be ruin'd?
He must not die; if there be any way
Reveal'd to the distressed, I will find it.
Assist a poor lost virgin, some good power,
And lead her to a path, whose secret tract
May guide both him and me unto our safety.
Be kind, good wits, I never until now
Put you to any trouble; 'tis your office
To help at need this little world you live by:
Not yet! O dulness! do not make me mad—
I have't, bless'd brains! now shall a woman's wit
Wrestle with fate, and if my plot but hit,
Come off with wreaths: my duty, nay, my all,
I must forsake, lest my Antonio fall.
[Exit.
ACT IV., SCENE 1.
Enter Giovanno mad, solus.
Not find Evadne! sure, some wanton wind
Has snatch'd her from the earth into the air!
Smooth Zephyr fans the tresses of her hair,
Whilst slick[30] Favonius plays the fawning slave,
And hourly dies, making her breasts his grave.
O false Evadne! is Giovanno's love,
That has outdone all merit for thy sake,
So light that wind outweighs it?
No, no, [no,] no; Evadne is all virtue,
Sweet as the breath of roses; and as chaste
As virgin lilies in their infancy.
Down, you deluding ministers of air,
Evadne is not light, though she be fair.
Dissolve that counterfeit: ha, ha, ha, ha!
See how they shrink! why so, now I will love you:
Go search into the hollows of the earth,
And find my love, or I will chain you up
To eternity: see, see, who's this?
O, I know him now. So, ho, ho! so, ho, ho!
Not hear? 'Tis Phaeton: no, 'tis an heir
Got, since his father's death, into a cloak
Of gold outshines the sun; the headstrong horses of
Licentious youth have broke their reins, and drawn
Him through the signs of all libidinousness.
See, from the whorish front of Capreæ
He's tumbling down as low as beggary.
O, are you come, grim Tartar Rhadamanth!
Go, ask of Pluto, if he have not ta'en
Evadne to his smoky commonwealth,
And ravish'd her? Begone, why stir you not?
Ha, ha, ha! the devil is afraid.
Evad. Help, a rape!
[Within.
Ban. Stop her mouth.
Gio. Who calls for help? 'tis my Evadne; ay,
It was her voice that gave the echo life,
That cried a rape. Devil, dost love a wench?
Who was thy pander, ha? What saucy fiend
Durst lay his unpar'd fangs on my Evadne?
Come, I'll swim unarmed o'er Acheron,
And sink grim Charon in his ferry boat.
Evad. Murder! a rape!
[Within.
Gio. I come, I come.
[Exit.
Enter the Bandit dragging Evadne by the hair: she drops a scarf. Exeunt.
Enter Giovanno again.
Gio. I cannot find her yet. The king of flames
Protests she is not there: but hang him, rogue,
They say he'll lie. O, how my glutted spleen
Tickles to think how I have paid the slave!
I made him lead me into every hole:
Ha, ha, ha! what crying was there there?
Here on a wheel, turn'd by a fury's hand,
Hangs a distracted statesman, that had spent
The little wit Heaven to strange purpose lent him
To suppress right, make beggars, and get means
To be a traitor. Ha, ha, ha! And here
A usurer, fat with the curses of so many heirs
His extortion had undone, sat to the chin
In a warm bath, made of new-melted gold;
And now and then a draught pass'd through his throat.
He fed upon his god; but he being angry
Scalded his chaps. Right against him
Stood a fool'd gallant, chain'd unto a post,
And lash'd by folly for his want of wit.
The reeling drunkard and plump glutton stood
Making of faces, close by Tantalus:
But drank and fed on air. The whoremaster,
Tied to a painted punk, was by a fury,
Termed insatiate lust, whipped with a blade
Of fire. And here——
What's here? 'tis my Evadne's veil; 'tis hers, I know't:
Some slave has ravish'd my Evadne! Well,
There breathes not such an impious slave in hell.
Nay, it is hers, I know it too-too plain.
Your breath is lost: 'tis hers: you speak in vain.
[Exit.
Thunder and lightning. Enter the Bandit, with Evadne by the hair.
Capt. Come, bring her forward; tie her to that tree, each man shall have his turn: come, minion, you must [now] squench the raging flames of my concupiscence: what, do you weep, you puritanical punk? I shall tickle mirth into you by and by. Trotter, good Trotter, post unto my cell, make compound of muskadine and eggs; for the truth is I am a giant in my promises, but in the act a pigmy: I am old, and cannot do as I have done; good Trotter, make all convenient speed.
Trot. Faith, master, if you cannot, here's them that can ferret in a coney-burrow without a provocative; I'll warrant you, good master.
Capt. No more, I say, it is a parcel of excellent mutton: I'll cut it up myself. Come, minion.
[Exit Trotter. The Captain takes his dagger and winds it about her hair, and sticks it in the ground. Thunder and lightning.
Evad. Kill me! O, kill me! Rather let me die
Than live to see the jewel that adorns
The souls of virtuous virgins ravish'd from me.
Do not add sin to sin, and at a price
That ruins me, and not enriches you,
Purchase damnation: do not, do not do't.
Sheathe here your sword, and my departing soul,
Like your good angel, shall solicit Heaven
To dash out your offences: let my flight
Be pure and spotless: do not injure that
Manhood would blush to think on: it is all
A maid's divinity: wanting her life,
She's a fair corse; wanting her chastity,
A spotted soul of living infamy.
Capt. Hang chastity!
3d Ban. A very voice.
Enter Trotter.
Trot. O captain, captain! yonder is the mad Orlando the furious, and I think he takes me for——What do you call him?
Capt. What, Medor?[31]
Trot. Ay, ay, Medor: the devil Medor him, he has so nuddled[32] me——O, here he comes: I'll be gone.
[Exit.
Enter Giovanno.
Gio. Stay, satyr, stay; you are too light of foot,
I cannot reach your paces, prythee, stay.
What goddess have you there? Sure, 'tis Evadne!
Are you the dragons that ne'er sleep, but watch
The golden fruit of the Hesperides?
Ha! then I am Hercules; fly ye! Sure,
That face dwelt on Evadne's shoulders.
[He beats them off, and unbinds Evadne.
Evad. O thou preserver of near-lost Evadne!
What must my weakness pay?
Gio. 'Tis [she,] 'tis she; she must not know I'm mad.
Evad. Assist me, some good pow'r; it is my friend.
[Aside.]
Make me but wise enough to resolve myself.
Gio. It may be 'tis not she; I'll ask her name.
What are you call'd, sweet goddess?
Evad. They that know me mortal term me Evadne.
Gio. 'Tis she: ay, ay, 'tis she.
Evad. Pray you, sir, unto the bond of what I owe you, which is a poor distressed virgin's life, add this one debt: [tell me,] what are you?
Gio. Not worth your knowledge: I am a poor, a very, very poor despised thing: but say, I pray, are you sure your name's Evadne?
Evad. 'Tis questionless my tailor. [Aside.] I am she; receive me to your arms not alter'd in my heart, though in my clothes.
Gio. I do believe you, indeed I do; but stay, I don't. Are you a maid, a virgin, pray, tell me? for my Evadne could not tell a lie; speak, I shall love you, though that jewel's gone.
Evad. I am as spotless, thank your happy self that sav'd
Me from those robbers, as the child which yet
Is but a jelly, 'tis so young.
Gio. No more, no more, trust me, I do believe you.
[They are] so many slaves, whose flaming appetites
Would in one night ravish a throng of virgins,
And never feel digression in their heat.
I'll after, and murder all.
Evad. How do you?
Gio. Well, very well: belike, you think I am mad.
Evad. You look distractedly.
Gio. 'Tis but your thoughts; indeed I am wondrous well.
How fair she looks after so foul a deed!
It cannot be she should be false to me:
No, thou art mad to think so. Fool, O fool!
Think'st thou those slaves, having so fair a mark,
Would not be shooting? Yes, they would: they have.
Evadne is fly-blown: I cannot love her.
[Aside.]
Evad. What say you, sweet?
Gio. The innocence that sits upon that face
Says she is chaste; the guilty cannot speak
So evenly as she does: guilty, said I?
Alas! it were not her fault, were she ravish'd.
O madness, madness! whither wilt thou bear me?
[Aside.]
Evad. His senses are unsettled; I'll go seek
Some holy man to rectify his wits.
Sweet, will you go unto some hermit's cell?
You look as you lack'd rest.
Gio. She speaks
Like to an angel, she's the same as when
I saw her first: as pure, as chaste. Did she
Retain the substance of a sinner—for she is none—
Her breath would then be sour, and betray
The rankness of the act: but her chaste sighs
Beget as sweet a dew as that of May.
Why weeps Evadne? truly I am not mad.
See, I am tame; pray, lead me where you please.
[Exeunt.
A banquet is set forth: enter Petruchio, Aurelia, with two Servants bringing Antonio asleep in a chair, and set him to the table.
Pet. The drink has done its part effectually;
'Twas a strong powder that could hold his senses
So fast, that this removing, so full of noise,
Had not the power to wake him.
Aur. Good father, let Aurelia, your daughter,
Do this same act of justice; let me tread
The pin:[33] the fact of his being so foul, so hateful,
Has lent me, though a maid, such fortitude.
Pet. Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly; 'tis a deed
That, in the ignorance of elder ages,
Would be thought full of merit. Be not daunted.
Aur. I have a thought tells me it is religious
To sacrifice a murtherer to death;
Especially one that did act a deed
So generally accounted odious.
Pet. By holy Jaques,[34] I am a governor,
And should my life (though by the hand of him
My duty does call king) be stroke i' th' air;
My injur'd corpse should not forsake the earth
Till I did see't reveng'd: be resolute, thy foot
Is guided by a power that, though unseen,
Is still a furtherer of good attempts.
Aur. Pray, sir, lend me the key of the back-ward,
For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act
I may hereafter boast of, yet I'll pass
Unto our Lady's chapel, when 'tis done,
To be confess'd, ere I am seen of any.
Pet. I am proud to see thee so well given.
Take 'em, [my] girl, and with 'em take my prayers.
Aur. He wakes; pray, leave me, sir.
[Exit Petruchio.
So I'll make fast
The door: goodness, bear witness 'tis a potent
Power outweighs my duty.
Ant. Amazement! on what tenters do you stretch [me].
O, how this alteration wracks my reason! I m[ust try]
To find the axletree on which it hangs!
Am I asleep?
Aur. Shake off thy wonder; leave that seat; 'twas set
To sink thy body for ever from the eyes
Of human sight; to tell thee how would be
A fatal means to both our ruins——briefly,
My love has broke the bands of nature
With my father to give you being.
Ant. Happy, [O] happy vision! the bless'd preparative
To this same hour; my joy would burst me else.
Aur. Receive me to thy arms.
Ant. I would not wish to live but for thee: [but for thee,]
Life were a trouble; welcome to my soul.
Aur. Stand; I have a ceremony
To offer to our safety, ere we go.
[She takes a dog, and ties it to the chair: she stamps: the chair and dog descend: a pistol-shot within: a noise of a mill.
Had not my love, like a kind branch
Of some o'erlooking tree, catch'd thee,
Thou'dst fallen, never to look upon the world again.
Ant. What shall I offer to my life's preserver?
Aur. Only thy heart, crown'd with a wreath of love.
Which I will ever keep; and in exchange
Deliver mine.
Ant. Thus I deliver: in this kiss receive't.
Aur. In the same form Aurelia yields up hers.
[A noise.
Ant. What noise is that?
Aur. I fear my father.
Ant. What's to be done?
Aur. Through the back-ward, of which I have
The key, we'll suddenly make 'scape;
Then in two gowns, of which I am provided,
We'll clothe ourselves, till we be pass'd all fear.
Ant. Be't as you please: 'tis my good genius' will
That I obey—command; I'll follow still.
[Exeunt.
Enter Petruchio with servants.
Pet. She's gone unto her prayers; may every bead
Draw down a blessing on her, that like seed
May grow into a harvest: 'tis a girl
My age is proud of; she's indeed the model
Of her dead mother's virtues, as of shape.
Bear hence this banquet.
[Exit with the banquet.
Giovanno is discovered sleeping in the lap of Evadne.
Evad. Thou silent god, that with the leaden mace
Arresteth all save those prodigious birds,
That are fate's heralds to proclaim all ill;
Deafen Giovanno: let no fancied noise
Of ominous screech-owl's or night-raven's voice
Affright his quiet senses: let his sleep
Be free from horror or unruly dreams;
That may beget a tempest in the streams
Of his calm reason: let 'em run as smooth,
And with as great a silence, as those do
That never took an injury; where no wind
Had yet acquaintance: but like a smooth crystal
Dissolv'd into a water that ne'er frown'd,
Or knew a voice but music.
Enter Antonio and Aurelia in hermits' gowns.
Holy hermits, for such your habits speak you,
Join your prayers with a distressed virgin's,
That the wits of this distracted young man may
Be settled.
Ant. Sure, 'tis my sister, and that
Sleeping man, Giovanno. She loves him still.
[He wakes.
Gio. O, what a blessedness am I bereft of!
What pleasure has the least part of a minute
Stolen from my eyes? methought I did embrace
A brother and a friend; and both Antonio.
Evad. Bless'd be those gentle powers that——
Gio. What, Evadne——have deceived my eyes,
Take heed, Evadne, worship not a dream,
'Tis of a smoky substance, and will shrink
Into the compass of report that 'twas,
And not reward the labour of a word.
Were it substantial! could I now but see
That man of men, I'd by my practice
Of religious prayers add to the calendar
One holy-day, and keep it once a year.
Ant. Behold Antonio!
Evad. Brother!
[To Antonio.
Aur. Brother!
[To Giovanno.
Ant. What earthquake shakes my heart!
With what a speed she flew into his arms!
Evad. Some power, that hearkens to the prayer of virgins,
Has been distill'd to pity at my fortunes,
And made Evadne happy.
Aur. Now my longing,
That was grown big, is with your sight delivered
Of a joy that will become a giant, and o'ercome me.
Welcome, thrice welcome, brother.
Ant. Ha, her brother! Fortune has bound me so
Much in their debts, I must despair to pay 'em:
Twice has my life been by these twins of goodness
Pluck'd from the hand of death; that fatal enmity
Between our houses here shall end,
Though my father at his death commanded me
To eternity of hatred.
What tie binds stronger than reprieve from death?
Come hither, friend. Now, brother, take her,
Thou'st been a noble tailor.
Gio. Be moderate, my joys, do not o'erwhelm me:
Here, take Aurelia: may you live happy!
O Antonio! this, this was the cause of my disguise;
Sebastiano could not win Evadne's love,
But Giovanno did; come now to our father's castle.
Ant. Pardon me; there is a bar, that does
Concern my life, forbids you as a friend
To think on going to any place
But to the tailor's house, which is not far.
Come: as we go, I will relate the cause.
Aur. Do, good brother.
Evad. Go, good Sebastiano.
Gio. Sebastiano is your page, and bound to follow:
Lead on.
Ant. O noble temper, I admire thee! may
The world bring forth such tailors every day.
[Exeunt.
Enter three Tailors on a shop-board.
1st Tai. Come, come, let's work; for if my guesses point the right, we shan't work long.
3d Tai. I care not how soon. I have a notable stomach to bread.
2d Tai. Dost hear, I suspect that courtier my master brought in last night to be the king; which if it be, bullies, all the bread in the town shan't satisfy us, for we will eat Cum privilegio.
1st Tai. Come, let's have a device, a thing, a song, boy.
3d Tai. Come, an air——
The Song.
1st Tai. 'Tis a merry life we live,
All our work is brought unto us;
Still are getting, never give,
For their clothes all men do woo us:
Yet (unkind) they blast our names
With aspersions of dishonour:
For which we make bold with their dames,
When we take our measure on her.
All Tai. For which we, &c.
Enter Antonio, Giovanno, and the Old Tailor.
O. Tai. You see the life we live; (To the Tailors) cease.
Gio. It is no news to me, I have been us'd to't.
O. Tai. Now for discovery; the king as yet
Is ignorant of your names, and shall be
Till your merits beg your pardon.
My lord, you are for Machiavel; take this gown.
Ant. Pray for success.
[Exit Antonio.
O. Tai. You, in this French disguise, for proud Philippa;
This is her garment. I hear the king: begone:
The Frenchman's folly sit upon your tongue.
[Exeunt.
Enter the King, Evadne, and Aurelia.
King. Believe me, tailor, you've outstripp'd the court,
For such perfections live not everywhere;
Nature was vex'd (as she's a very shrew),
She made all others in an angry mood;
These only she can boast for masterpieces:
The rest want something or in mind or form,
These are precisely made: a critic jury
Of cavilling arts cannot condemn a scruple.
Aur. But that your entrance in this formal speech
Betray'd you are a courtier, I had been angry
At your rank flattery.
King. Can you say so?
Evad. Sir, she has spoke my meaning.
King. Friend, what are those beauties call'd.
[Aside.
O. Tai. Your grace's pardon.
King. Are they oracle, or is the knowledge fatal?
But that I know thy faith, this denial
Would conjure a suspicion in my breast;
Use thy prerogative; 'tis thy own house,
In which you are a king, and I your guest.
Come, ladies.
[Exeunt.
Enter Antonio disguised like a physician.
Ant. This habit will do well, and less suspected;
Wrapp'd i' this cover lives a kingdom's plague;
They kill with licence; Machi'vel's proud dame,
'Tis famed, is sick: upon my soul, howe'er
Her health may be, the aguish commons cry;
She's a disease they groan for: this disguise
Shall sift her ebon soul, and if she be
Infectious, like a megrim or rot limb,
The sword of justice must divide the joint
That holds her to the state-endanger'd body—
She comes.
Enter Machiavel, Auristella leaning on his arm, with two Servants.
Mach. Look up, my Auristella;
Better the sun forsake his course to bless
With his continuing beams th' Antipodes,
And we grovel for ever in eternal night,
Than death eclipse thy rich and stronger light.
Seek some physician: horror to my soul!
She faints; I'd rather lose the issue of my hopes
Than Auristella.
Ant. Issue of his hopes? strange!—
[Aside.
Mach. The crown's enjoyment can yield no content
Without the presence of my Auristella.
Ant. Crown's enjoyment!
O villain!
Mach. Why stir you not? fetch me some skilful man,
My kingdom shall reward him; if his art
Chain her departing soul unto her flesh
But for a day, till she be crown'd a queen:
Fly, bring him unto this walk.
Ant. Stay,
Most honoured count—now for a forged link
Of flattery to chain me to his love.
[Aside.
Having with studious care gone o'er the art
Folly terms magic, which more sublime souls
Skill'd i' the stars know is above that mischief,
I find you're born to be 'bove vulgar greatness,
Even to a throne: but stay, let's fetch this lady.
Mach. All greatness without her is slavery.
Ant. Use modest violence.
Aur. O!
Ant. Stand wider, give her air.
Mach. God-like physician, I and all that's mine,
Will at thy feet offer a sacrifice.
Ant. Forfend it, goodness; I—nay all,
Ere many hours [do] make the now young day
A type of sparkling youth, shall on their knees
Pray for your highness.
Mach. Look up, my Auristella, and be great;
Rise with the sun, but never to decline.
Aur. What have you done?
Mach. Wak'd thee to be a queen.
Aur. A queen! O, don't dissemble; you have robb'd me
Of greater pleasure than the fancied bliss
Elysium owns: O, for a pleasure real, that
Would appear in all unto my dream: that I may
Frown, and then kill: smile, and create again.
Were there a hell, as doating age would have,
To fright from lawless courses heedless youth:
For such a short-liv'd happiness as that
I would be lost unto eternity.
Mach. The day grows old in hours:
Come, Auristella, to the capital;
The greybeard senate shall on humble knees
Pay a religious sacrifice of praise
Unto thy demi-deity: the stars
Have in a general senate made thee queen
Of this our world. Great master of thy art,
Confirm my love.
Ant. Madam——
Mach. Nay, hear him, love;
Believe me, he's a man that may
Be secretary to the gods; he is alone
In art; 'twere sin to name a second: all are
Dunces to him.
Ant. How easy is the faith of the ambitious!
[Aside.
Mach. Follow me to the council.
[Exit.
Aur. Are you the man my husband speaks so high of?
Are you skill'd i' the stars?
Ant. Yes, madam.
Aur. Your habit says, or you abuse the custom,[35]
You're a physician?
Ant. Madam, I'm both.[36]
Aur. And d'ye find no let that stops my rising?
Ant. Not any.
Aur. Away, your skill is dull—dull to derision.
There is a star fix'd i' the heaven of greatness,
That sparkles with a rich and fresher light
Than our sick and defective taper.
Ant. It may be so the horoscope is troubled.
Aur. Confusion take your horoscope and you!
Can you with all your art advise my fears,
How to confound this constellation?
Ant. Death, how she conjures!
[Aside.
Madam, I must search into the planets.
Aur. Planet me no planets; be a physician,
And from your study of industrious poisons
Fetch me your best-experienc'd speedy one,
And bring it to me straight: what 'tis to do,
Like unresolved riddles, [is] hid from you.
[Exit.
Ant. Planet, said I? upon my life, no planet
Is so swift as her never-resting evil—
That is her tongue: well, I'll not question
What the poison is for; if for herself,
The common hangman's eas'd the labour
Of a blow; for if she live, her head
Must certain off; the poison I'll go get,
And give it her, then to the king:
If Sebastiano's Frenchified disguise
Purchase the like discovery, our eyes
Will be too scanty; we had need to be
All eye to watch such haughty villany.
[Exit.
Enter Giovanno and Philippa.
Gio. Begare, madam, me make de gowne so brave; O, de hole vorle[37] be me patron; me ha vorke for le grand duches le Shevere, le royne de Francia, Spagna, de Angleter, and all d' fine madamosels.
Phil. Nay, monsieur, to deprive desert of praise is unknown language; troth, I use it not; nay, it is very well.
Gio. Be me trot, a, madam, me ner do ill, de English man do ill, de Spanere do, de Duch, de all do ill but your Franchman, and, begare, he do incomparable brave.
Phil. Y' are too proud on't.
Gio. Begare, me no proud i de vorle, me speak be me trot de trut, ang me no lie: metra, madam, begare, you have de find bode a de vorle, O de fine brave big ting me have ever measure, me waire fit it so pat.[38]
Enter Raymond.
Phil. Welcome, my lord!
Shall I still long, yet lose my longing still?
Is there no art to mount the lofty seat?
No engine that may make us ever great?
Must we be still styl'd subjects, and for fear
Our closest whispers reach the awing ear,
Not trust the wind?
Ray. Be calm, my love;
Ha! who have we here? an eavesdropper?
Gio. Me, signor, be pover a jentle homa a Franch
A votre commandement.
Phil. My tailor.
Gio. Oui, monsieur, de madam tailor.
Ray. Some happy genius does attend my wishes,
Or, spirit-like, a page conducts unto me
The ministers whose sweat must send me ease:[39]
Come hither, Frenchman, canst thou rule thy tongue?
Art not too much a woman?
Gio. No, begare, me show someting for de man.
Ray. Or canst thou be like a perverse one—profess doggedness?
Be as a dead man dumb, briefly be this:
A friend to France, and with a silent speed
Post to our now approaching armed friends:
Tell them that Raymond, ere the hasty sand
Of a short hour be spent, shall be impal'd,
And on his brow, a deputy for France,
Support a golden wreath of kingly cares:
Bid 'em make haste to pluck my partner down
Into his grave; begone, as thou nursest
In thy breast thoughts that do thirst
For nobleness: be secret, and thou'rt made;
If not, thou'rt nothing. Mark, 'tis Raymond says it:
And, as I live, I breathe not, if my deeds
Appear not in a horror 'bove my words.
Gio. Begare, me no ned de threaten, me be as close to your secret, or my lady's secrets, as de skin to de flesh—de flesh to de bone: if me tell, call me de—vat de ye call de moder o de dog, de bich; call me de son o de bich.
Enter Fulgentio.
Ful. Count Machiavel waits your honour i' th' hall.
Ray. Do't, and be more than common in our favour;
Here, take this ring for thy more credit:
Farewell, be quick and secret.
[Exeunt.
Gio. Folly go
From my tongue, the French so nigh. And thou,
Half-ruin'd Spain, so wretchedly provided:
[O] strange, yet not; all countries have bred monsters:
'Tis a proverb—plain as true, and aged as 'tis both:[40]
One tainted sheep mars a whole flock.
Machiavel, that tainted beast, whose spreading ills
Infecteth all, and by infecting kills.
I'll to the French, what he intends to be
Our ruin shall confound their villany.
[Exit.
ACT V., SCENE 1.
Enter the King, Antonio, Old Tailor, Evadne, Aurelia. The King and Antonio whisper.
King. For this discovery be still Antonio;
The frowning law may with a furrowed face
Hereafter look upon, but ne'er shall touch
Thy condemn'd body. Here from a king's hand
Take thy Aurelia; our command shall smoothe
The rising billows of her father's rage,
And charm it to a calm: let one be sent
To certify our pleasure. We would see him.
O. Tai. Your grace's will shall be in all obey'd.
King. Thy loyal love makes thy king poor.
O. Tai. Let not your judgment, royal sir, be question'd.
To term that love was but a subject's duty.
[Exit.
King. You sent the poison, did you?
Ant. Yes, and it like your grace; the apothecary
Call'd it a strong provocative to madness.
King. Did not he question what you us'd it for?
Ant. O, my disguise sav'd him that labour, sir;
My habit, that was more physician than myself,
Told him 'twas to despatch some property,[41]
That had been tortur'd with five thousand drugs
To try experiment: another man
Shan't buy the quantity of so much ratsbane
Shall kill a flea, but shall be had, forsooth,
Before a justice, be question'd; nay, perhaps
Confin'd to peep through an iron grate:
When your physician may poison who [pleaseth him],
Not, cum privilegio: it is his trade.
Enter Giovanno.
Evad. O my Sebastiano!
Gio. Peace, my Evadne, the king must not yet know me.
Evad. My brother has already made you known.
Gio. Will't please your highness?
King. What, Sebastiano, to be still a king
Of universal Spain without a rival?
Yes, it does please me, and you ministers
Of my still growing greatness shall ere long
Find I am pleas'd with you, that boldly durst
Pluck from the fixed arm of sleeping justice.
Her long-sheath'd sword, and whet the rusty blade
Upon the bones of Mach'vel, and his
Confederate rebels.
Gio. That, my lord, is yet
To do: let him mount higher, that
His fall may be too deep for resurrection;[42]
They're gone to the great hall, whither will't please
Your grace disguis'd to go? your person by
Our care shall be secure. Their French troops I
Have sent as useless into France, by virtue
Of Raymond's ring, which he gave me to bid
The general by that token to march
To this city.
King. What say the colonels?
Will they assist me?
Ant. Doubt not, my lord.
King. Come, then, let's go guarded, with such as you
'Twere sin to fear, were all the world untrue.
[Exeunt.
Enter Tailors.
O. Tai. Now for the credit of tailors.
3d Tai. Nay, master, and we do not act, as they say, with any players in the globe of the world, let us be baited like a bull for a company of strutting coxcombs: nay, we can act, I can tell you.
O. Tai. Well, I must to the king; see you be perfect. I'll move it to his highness.
[Exit.
1st Tai. Now, my masters, are we to do; d'ye mark me? do——
3d Tai.[43] Do! what do?—Act, act, you fool you: do, said you, what do? you a player, you a plasterer, a mere dirt-dauber, and not worthy to be mentioned with Vermin, that exact actor: do, I am asham'd on't, fie!
2d Tai. Well said, Vermin, thou ticklest him, faith.
4th Tai. Do, pah!
1st Tai. Well, play; we are to play a play.
3d Tai. Play a play a play, ha, ha, ha! O egredious nonsensensical widgeon, thou shame to our cross-legged corporation; thou fellow of a sound, play a play! why forty-pound Golding of the beggars' theatre speaks better, yet has a mark for the sage audience to exercise their dexterity, in throwing of rotten apples, whilst my stout actor pockets, and then eats up, the injury: play a play! it makes my worship laugh, i' faith.
2d Tai. To him, Vermin; thou bitt'st him, i' faith.
1st Tai. Well, act a play before the king.
2d Tai. What play shall we act?
3d Tai. To fret the French the more, we will act Strange but True, or the Stradling Mounsieur, with the Neapolitan gentleman between his legs.
2d Tai. That would not act well.
3d Tai. O giant of incomparable ignorance! that would not act well, ha, ha! that would not do well, you ass, you!
2d Tai. You bit him for saying do: Vermin, leave biting; you'd best.
1st Tai. What say you to our Spanish Bilbo?
3d Tai. Who, Jeronimo?
1st Tai. Ay.
3d Tai. That he was a mad rascal to stab himself.
1st Tai. But shall we act him?
2d Tai. Ay, let us do him.
3d Tai. Do again, ha!
2d Tai. No, no, let us act him.
3d Tai. I am content.
1st Tai. Who shall act the ghost?
3d Tai. Why, marry that will I—I Vermin.
1st Tai. Thou dost not look like a ghost.
3d Tai. A little player's deceit, howe'er,[44] will do't. Mark me.
I can rehearse, make me rehearse some:[45]
"When this eternal substance of the soul
Did live emprison'd in my wanton flesh,
I was a tailor in the court of Spain."
2d Tai. Courtier Vermin in the court of Spain.
3d Tai. Ay, there's a great many courtiers Vermin indeed:
Those are they beg poor men's livings;
But, I say, tailor Vermin is a court-tailor.
2d Tai. Who shall act Jeronimo?
3d Tai. That will I:
Mark if I do not gape wider than the widest
Mouth'd fowler of them all, hang me!
"Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed? ha-ugh?"
Now for the passionate part—
"Alas! it is my son Horatio."
1st Tai. Very fine: but who shall act Horatio?
2d Tai. Ay, who shall do your son?
3d Tai. What do, do again? well, I will act Horatio.
2d Tai. Why, you are his father.
3d Tai. Pray, who is fitter to act the son than the father
That begot him?
1st Tai. Who shall act Prince Balthazar and the king?
3d Tai. I will do Prince Balthazar too: and, for the king,
Who but I? which of you all has such a face for a king,
Or such a leg to trip up the heels of a traitor?
2d Tai. You will do all, I think.
3d Tai. Yes, marry, will I; who but Vermin? yet I will
Leave all to play the king:
Pass by, Jeronimo!
2d Tai. Then you are for the king?
3d Tai. Ay, bully, ay.
1st Tai. Let's go seek our fellows, and to this gear.
3d Tai. Come on then.
[Exeunt.
A table and stools set. Enter Bravo.
Bra. Men of our needful profession, that deal in such commodities as men's lives, had need to look about 'em ere they traffic: I am to kill Raymond, the devil's cousin-german, for he wears the same complexion: but there is a right devil that hath hired me—that's Count Machiavel. Good table, conceal me; here will I wait my watchword: but stay, have I not forgot it—Then—Ay, then is my arm to enter. I hear them coming.
[Goes under the table.
Enter the King, Antonio, Old Tailor, Evadne, Aurelia, above. Machiavel, Raymond, Philippa, Auristella, Giovanno, the Colonels with a Guard below.
Mach. Pray, take your seats.
Ray. [To Philippa.] Not well? prythee, retire.
Phil. Sick, sick at heart.
Aur. Well-wrought poison! O, how joy swells me!
[Aside.
Ant. You see, my lord, the poison is box'd up.
[Above.
Phil. Health wait upon this royal company.
King. Knows she we are here?
Ant. O no, my lord, 'tis to the twins of treason: Machiavel and Raymond.
Ful. Royal! there's something in't.
Aler. It smells rank o' th' traitor.
Pan. Are you i' th' wind on't?
Aur. Will you leave us?
Phil. I cannot stay; O, I am sick to death!
[Exit.
Aur. Or I'll never trust poison more.
[Aside.
Mach. Pray, seat yourselves,
Gentlemen; though your deserts have merit,
[They sit about the table.
And your worths have deserv'd nobly;
But ingratitude, that should be banish'd
From a prince's breast, is Philip's favourite.
King. [Above.] Philip, traitor! why not king? I am so.
Ant. Patience, good my lord; I'll down.
[Exit.
Mach. It lives too near him:
You, that have ventur'd with expense of blood
And danger of your lives, to rivet him
Unto his seat with peace: you, that in war
He term'd his Atlases, and press'd with praises
Your brawny shoulders; call'd you his Colossuses,
And said your looks frighted tall war
Out of his territories: now in peace [behold]
The issue of your labour. This bad man—
Philip, I mean—made of ingratitude,
Wo' not afford a name, that may distinguish
Your worthy selves from cowards; [while]
Civet cats spotted with rats'-dung,
Or a face, like white broth strew'd o'er with currants
For a stirring caper or itching dance, to please
My lady Vanity, shall be made a smock-knight.
King. [Above.] Villain! must our disgrace mount thee?
Ful. To what tends this?
Aler. What means Count Machiavel?
Enter Antonio below.
Aur. To be your king; fie on this circumstance!
My longing will not brook it: say,
Will you obey us as your kings and queens.
[Aside.
Ful. My Lord Antonio!
Ant. Confine yourselves, the king is within hearing; therefore make show of liking Machiavel's plot: let him mount high, his fall will be the deeper: my life, you shall be safe.
[Aside.
Aur. Say, are you agreed?
Ray. If not, we'll force you to't:
Speak, Frenchman, are our forces i' th' city?
Gio. Oui, mounsier.
Aler.
Ful.
Pan.
}
We acknowledge you our king.
King. More traitors!
Mach. Why——then.
[The Bravo stabs Raymond.
Ray. Ha! from whence this sudden mischief?
Did you not see a hand arm'd with the fatal
Ruin of my life?
Gio. Non pas, signor.
Mach. Ha, ha, ha! lay hold on those French soldiers:
Away with them!
[Exeunt Guard with the French Colonels.
Ray. Was't thy plot, Machiavel? go laughing to thy grave.
[Stabs him.
Aur. Alas! my lord is wounded.
Ray. Come hither, Frenchman, make a dying man
Bound to thy love; go to Philippa,
Sickly as she is, bring her unto me;
Or my flying soul will not depart in peace else:
Prythee, make haste: yet stay, I have not breath
To pay thy labour.
Shrink ye, you twin-born Atlases, that bear
This my near-ruin'd world; have you not strength
To bear a curse, whose breath may taint the air,
That this globe may feel an universal plague?
No; yet bear up, till with a vengeful eye
I outstare day, and from the dogged sky
Pluck my impartial star. O, my blood
Is frozen in my veins—farewell, revenge—me——
[Dies.
Aler. They need no law.
Ful. Nor hangman.
Pan. They condemn and execute without a jury.
Enter Philippa mad.
Phil. I come, I come; nay, fly not, for by hell
I'll pluck thee by the beard, and drag thee thus
Out of thy fiery cave. Ha! on yonder hill
Stand troops of devils waiting for my soul:
But I'll deceive 'em, and, instead of mine,
Send this same spotted tiger's.
[Stabs Auristella.
Aur. O!
Phil. So, whilst they to hell
Are posting with their prize, I'll steal to heaven:
Wolf, dost thou grin? ha! is my Raymond dead?
So ho, so ho! come back
You sooty fiends, that have my Raymond's soul,
Or[46] lay it down, or I will force you do't:
No, won't you stir? by Styx, I'll bait you for't:
Where is my crown? Philippa was a queen,
Was she not, ha? Why so, where is my crown?
O, you have hid it—ha, was't thou
[Overthrows the table.
That robb'd Philippa of her Raymond's life?
Nay, I will nip your wings, you shall not fly;
I'll pluck you by the guarded front, and thus
Sink you to hell before me.
[Stabs the Bravo.
Bravo. O, O!
Phil. What, down, ho, ho, ho!
Laugh, laugh, you souls that fry in endless flames;
Ha, whence this chilness—must I die? Nay, then
I come, I come; nay, weep not, for I come:
Sleep, injur'd shadow; O, death strikes [me] dumb!
[Dies.
Aur. Machi'vel, thy hand, I can't repent, farewell:
My burthened conscience sinks me down to hell.
[Dies.
Mach. I cannot tarry long, farewell; we'll meet,
Where we shall never part: if here be any
My life has injur'd, let your charity
Forgive declining Machi'vel: I'm sorry.
Ant. His penitence works strongly on my temper.
Off, disguise; see, falling count, Antonio forgives thee.
Mach. Antonio? O my shame!
Can you, whom I have injur'd most, pardon my guilt?
Give me thy hand yet nearer: this embrace
Betrays thee to thy death: ha, ha, ha!
[Stabs him.
So weeps the Egyptian monster when it kills,
Wash'd in a flood of tears; couldst ever think
Machi'vel's repentance could come from his heart?
No, down, Colossus, author of my sin,
And bear the burthen mingled with thine own,
To finish thy damnation.
Enter the King, Aurelia, Evadne, Old Tailor.
King. Accursed villain! thou hast murther'd him,
That holds not one small drop of royal blood,
But what is worth thy life.
Evad. O my brother!
Gio. Give him some air, the wound cannot be mortal.
Aur. Alas! he faints: O my Antonio!
Curs'd Machi'vel, may thy soul——
Ant. Peace, peace, Aurelia; be more merciful:
Men are apt to censure, and will condemn
Thy passion, call it madness, and say thou
Want'st religion: nay, weep not, sweet,
For every one must die: it was thy love
For to deceive the law, and give me life:
But death, you see, has reach'd me: O, I die;
Blood must have blood, so speaks the law of heaven:
I slew the governor; for which rash deed
Heaven, fate, and man thus make Antonio bleed.
[Dies.
Mach. Sleep, sleep, great heart, thy virtue made me ill:
Authors of vice, 'tis fit the vicious kill:
But yet forgive me: O, my once great heart
Dissolves like snow, and lessens to a rheum,
Cold as the envious blasts of northern wind:
World, how I lov'd thee, 'twere a sin to boast;
Farewell, I now must leave thee; [for] my life
Grows empty with my veins: I cannot stand; my breath
Is, as my strength, weak; and both seiz'd by death.
Farewell, ambition! catching at a crown,
Death tripp'd me up, and headlong threw me down.
[Dies.
King. So falls an exhalation from the sky,
And's never miss'd because unnatural;
A birth begotten by incorporate ill;
Whose usher to the gazing world is wonder.
Enter Petruchio.
Alas! good man, thou'rt come unto a sight
Will try thy temper, whether joy or grief
Shall conquer most within thee; joy lies here,
Scatter'd in many heaps: these, when they liv'd,
Threaten'd to tear this balsam from our brow,
And rob our majesty of this elixir.
[Points to his crown.
Is't not my right? Was I not heir to Spain?
Pet. You are our prince, and may you live
Long to enjoy your right!
King. But now look here, 'tis plain grief has a hand
Harder than joy; it presses out such tears.
Nay, rise.
Pet. I do beseech your grace not to think me
Contriver of Antonio's 'scape from death;
'Twas my disloyal daughter's breach of duty.
King. That's long since pardon'd.
Pet. You're still merciful.
King. Antonio was thy son; I sent for thee
For to confirm it, but he is dead:
Be merciful, and do not curse the hand
That gave it him, though it deserve it.
Aur. O my griefs, are you not strong enough
To break my heart? Pray, tell me—tell me true
Can it be thought a sin? or is it so
By my own hand to ease my breast of woe?
King. Alas! poor lady, rise; thy father's here.
Pet. Look up, Aurelia; ha! why do you kneel?
[To Giovanno.
Gio. For a blessing.
Pet. Why she is not Aurelia——do not mock me.
King. But he is Sebastiano, and your son;
Late by our hand made happy by enjoying
The fair Evadne, dead Antonio's sister:
[Her,] for whose sake he became a tailor,
And so long lived in that mean disguise.
Pet. My joy had been too great if he had liv'd;
The thrifty heavens mingle our sweets with gall,
Lest, being glutted with excess of good,
We should forget the giver. Rise, Sebastiano,
With thy happy choice; may'st thou live crown'd
With the enjoyment of those benefits
My prayers shall beg for [thee]: rise, Aurelia,
And in some place, bless'd with religious prayers,
Spend thy left remnant.[47]
Aur. You advise well: indeed, it was a fault
To break the bonds of duty and of law;
But love, O love! thou, whose all-conquering pow'r
Builds castles on the hearts of easy maids,
And makes 'em strong e'en to[48] attempt those dangers
That, but rehears'd before, would fright their souls
Into a jelly. Brother, I must leave you;
And, father, when I send to you a note
That shall desire a yearly stipend to
That holy place my tired feet has found
To rest them in, pray, confirm it.
And now, great king, Aurelia begs of you
To grace Antonio in the mournful march
Unto his grave, which be where you think fit:
We need not be interr'd both in one vault.
King. Bless'd virgin, thy desires I will perform.
Aur. Then I leave you; my prayers shall still attend you,
As I hope yours shall accompany me.
Father, your blessing, and ere long expect
To hear where I am entertain'd a nun.
Brother and sister, to you both adieu;
Antonio dead, Aurelia marries new.
[Exit.
Pet. Farewell, [my] girl; when I remember thee,
The beads I drop shall be my tears.
Enter Vermin in a cloak for the prologue.
King. She's to all virgins a true mirror.
They that would behold true love, reflect on her:
There 'tis engross'd.
3d Tai. Great king, our grace——
O. Tai. The king is sad, you must not act.
3d Tai. How? not act? Shall not Vermin act?
O. Tai. Yes, you shall act, but not now; the king is indispos'd.
3d Tai. Well, then, some other time, I, Vermin; the king will act before the king.
O. Tai. Very good; pray, make your exit.
3d Tai. I'll muster up all the tailors in the town, and so tickle their sides.
[The King and Giovanno whisper.
O. Tai. Nay, thou'rt a right Vermin; go, be not troublesome.
[Exit Vermin.
Gio. Upon my truth and loyalty, great king, what they did was but feign'd, merely words without a heart: 'twas by Antonio's counsel.
King. Thou art all truth: rise.
[The Colonels kneel.
Omnes. Long live King Philip in the calm of peace to exercise his regal clemency!
King. Take up Antonio's body, and let the rest
Find Christian burial: mercy befits a king.
Come, trusty tailor,
And to all countries let swift fame report
King Philip made a tailor's house his court.
O. Tai. Your grace much honours me.
King. We can't enough pay thy alone deserts;
Kings may be poor when subjects are like thee,
So fruitful in all loyal virtuous deeds:
March with the body, we'll perform all rites
Of sable ceremony: that done,
We'll to our court, since all our own is won.
[Exeunt.[49]
LUST'S DOMINION
OR
THE LASCIVIOUS QUEEN.
EDITION.
Lusts Dominion; or, The Lascivious Queen. A Tragedie. Written by Christofer Marloe, Gent. London, Printed for F. K., and are to be sold by Robert Pollard, at the sign of Ben Johnson's head, on the back-side of the Old-Exchange. 1657. 12mo.