Fair Em

by Shakespeare

WILLIAM.
Could any cross, could any plague be worse?
Could heaven or hell, did both conspire in one
To afflict my soul, invent a greater scourge
Then presently I am tormented with?
Ah, Mariana, cause of my lament,
Joy of my heart, and comfort of my life!
For tho I breath my sorrows in the air
And tire my self, or silently I sigh,
My sorrows afficts my soul with equal passion.
SOLDIER.
Go to, sirha, put up, it is to small purpose.
WILLIAM.
Hency, villains, hence! dare you lay your hands
Upon your Soveraigne?
SOLDIER.
Well, sir, we will deal for that.
But here comes one will remedy all this.
[Enter Demarch.]
My Lord, watching this night in the camp,
We took this man, and know not what he is:
And in his company was a gallant dame,
A woman fair in outward shew she seemed,
But that her face was masked, we could not see
The grace and favour of her countenance.
DEMARCH.
Tell me, good fellow, of whence and what thou art.
SOLDIER.
Why do you not answer my Lord?
He takes scorn to answer.
DEMARCH.
And takest thou scorn to answer my demand?
Thy proud behaviour very well deserves
This misdemeanour at the worst be construed.
Why doest thou neither know, nor hast thou heard,
That in the absence of the Saxon Duke
Demarch is his especial Substitute
To punish those that shall offend the laws?
WILLIAM.
In knowing this, I know thou art a traitor;
A rebel, and mutinous conspirator.
Why, Demarch, knowest thou who I am?
DEMARCH.
Pardon, my dread Lord, the error of my sense,
And misdemeaner to your princely excellencie.
WILLIAM.
Why, Demarch,
What is the cause my subjects are in arms?
DEMARCH.
Free are my thoughts, my dread and gratious Lord,
From treason to your state and common weal;
Only revengement of a private grudge
By Lord Dirot lately profered me,
That stands not with the honor of my name,
Is cause I have assembled for my guard
Some men in arms that may withstand his force,
Whose settled malice aimeth at my life.
WILLIAM.
Where is Lord Dirot?
DEMARCH.
In arms, my gratious Lord,
Not past two miles from hence, as credibly
I am assertained.
WILLIAM.
Well; come, let us go.
I fear I shall find traitors of you both.
[Exit.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.
Chester. Before the Citizen’s House.
[Enter the Citizen of Chester, and his daughter Elner, and
Manville.]

CITIZEN.
In deed, sir, it would do very well if you could intreat your
father to come hither: but if you think it be too far, I care
not much to take horse and ride to Manchester. I am sure my
daughter is content with either. How sayest thou, Elner, art
thou not?
ELNER.
As you shall think best I must be contented.
MANVILLE.
Well, Elner, farewell. Only thus much, I pray: make all
things in a readiness, either to serve here, or to carry
thither with us.
CITIZEN.
As for that, sir, take you no care; and so I betake you to
your journey.
[Exit Manville.]
[Enter Valingford.]
But soft, what gentleman is this?
VALINGFORD.
God speed, sir. Might a man crave a word or two with you?
CITIZEN.
God forbid else, sir; I pray you speak your pleasure.
VALINGFORD.
The gentleman that parted from you, was he not of Manchester,
his father living there of good account?
CITIZEN.
Yes, marry is he, sir. Why do you ask? Belike you have had
some acquaintance with him.
VALINGFORD.
I have been acquainted in times past, but, through his double
dealing, I am growen weary of his company. For, be it spoken
to you, he hath been acquainted with a poor millers daughter,
and diverse times hath promist her marriage. But what with
his delays and flouts he hath brought her into such a taking
that I fear me it will cost her her life.
CITIZEN.
To be plain with you, sir, his father and I have been of old
acquaintance, and a motion was made between my daughter and
his son, which is now throughly agreed upon, save only the
place appointed for the marriage, whether it shall be kept
here or at Manchester; and for no other occasion he is now
ridden.
ELNER.
What hath he done to you, that you should speak so ill of
the man?
VALINGFORD.
Oh, gentlewoman, I cry you mercy: he is your husband that
shall be.
ELNER.
If I knew this to be true, he should not be my husband were
he never so good: And therefore, good father, I would
desire you to take the pains to bear this gentleman company
to Manchester, to know whether this be true or no.
CITIZEN.
Now trust me, gentleman, he deals with me very hardly,
knowing how well I meant to him; but I care not much to
ride to Manchester, to know whether his fathers will be he
should deal with me so badly. Will it please you, sir, to
go in? We will presently take horse and away.
VALINGFORD.
If it please you to go in, I’ll follow you presently.
[Exit Elner and her father.]
Now shall I be revenged on Manville, and by this means get
Em to my wife; and therefore I will straight to her fathers
and inform them both of all that is happened.
[Exit.]

SCENE II.
The English Court.
[Enter William, the Ambassador of Denmark, Demarch, and
other attendants.]

WILLIAM.
What news with the Denmark Embassador?
EMBASSADOR.
Marry, thus:
The King of Denmark and my Sovereign
Doth send to know of thee what is the cause
That injuriously, against the law of arms,
Thou hast stolen away his only daughter Blaunch,
The only stay and comfort of his life.
Therefore by me
He willeth thee to send his daughter Blaunch,
Or else foorthwith he will levy such an host,
As soon shall fetch her in dispite of thee.
WILLIAM.
Embassador, this answer I return thy King.
He willeth me to send his daughter Blaunch,
Saying, I conveyed her from the Danish court,
That never yet did once as think thereof.
As for his menacing and daunting threats,
I nill regard him nor his Danish power;
For if he come to fetch her foorth my Realm
I will provide him such a banquet here,
That he shall have small cause to give me thanks.
EMBASSADOR.
Is this your answer, then?
WILLIAM.
It is; and so begone.
EMBASSADOR.
I go; but to your cost.
[Exit Embassador.]
WILLIAM.
Demarch, our subjects, earst levied in civil broils,
Muster foorthwith, for to defend the Realm.
In hope whereof, that we shall find you true,
We freely pardon this thy late offence.
DEMARCH.
Most humble thanks I render to your grace.
[Exeunt.]

SCENE III.
Manchester. The Mill.
[Enter the Miller and Valingford.]

MILLER.
Alas, gentleman, why should you trouble your self so much,
considering the imperfections of my daughter, which is able
to with-draw the love of any man from her, as already it
hath done in her first choice. Maister Manville hath
forsaken her, and at Chester shall be married to a mans
daughter of no little wealth. But if my daughter knew so
much, it would go very near her heart, I fear me.
VALINGFORD.
Father miller, such is the entire affection to your daughter,
as no misfortune whatsoever can alter. My fellow Mountney,
thou seest, gave quickly over; but I, by reason of my good
meaning, am not so soon to be changed, although I am borne
off with scorns and denial.
[Enter Em to them.]
MILLER.
Trust me, sir, I know not what to say. My daughter is not
to be compelled by me; but here she comes her self: speak
to her and spare not, for I never was troubled with love
matters so much before.
EM.
[Aside.] Good Lord! shall I never be rid of this importunate
man? Now must I dissemble blindness again. Once more for
thy sake, Manville, thus am I inforced, because I shall
complete my full resolved mind to thee. Father, where are
you?
MILLER.
Here, sweet Em. Answer this gentleman, that would so fayne
enjoy thy love.
EM.
Where are you, sir? will you never leave this idle and vain
pursuit of love? Is not England stord enough to content you,
but you must still trouble the poor contemptible maid of
Manchester?
VALINGFORD.
None can content me but the fair maid of Manchester.
EM.
I perceive love is vainly described, that, being blind
himself, would have you likewise troubled with a blind wife,
having the benefit of your eyes. But neither follow him so
much in folly, but love one in whom you may better delight.
VALINGFORD.
Father Miller, thy daughter shall have honor by graunting me
her love. I am a Gentleman of king Williams Court, and no
mean man in king Williams favour.
EM.
If you be a Lord, sir, as you say, you offer both your self
and me great wrong: yours, as apparent, in limiting your
love so unorderly, for which you rashly endure reprochement;
mine, as open and evident, when, being shut from the vanities
of this world, you would have me as an open gazing stock to
all the world; for lust, not love, leads you into this error.
But from the one I will keep me as well as I can, and yield
the other to none but to my father, as I am bound by duty.
VALINGFORD.
Why, fair Em, Manville hath forsaken thee, and must at
Chester be married: which if I speak otherwise than true,
let thy father speak what credibly he hath heard.
EM.
But can it be Manville will deal so unkindly to reward my
justice with such monstrous ungentleness? Have I dissembled
for thy sake, and doest thou now thus requite it? In deed
these many days I have not seen him, which hath made me
marvel at his long absence. But, father, are you assured
of the words he spake were concerning Manville?
MILLER.
In sooth, daughter, now it is foorth I must needs confirm
it: Maister Manville hath forsaken thee, and at Chester
must be married to a mans daughter of no little wealth.
His own father procures it, and therefore I dare credit
it; and do thou believe it, for trust me, daughter, it is so.
EM.
Then, good father, pardon the injury that I have done to
you, only causing your grief, by over-fond affecting a man
so trothless. And you likewise, sir, I pray hold me
excused, a I hope this cause will allow sufficiently for
me: My love to Manville, thinking he would requite it,
hath made me double with my father and you, and many more
besides, which I will no longer hide from you. That
inticing speeches should not beguile me, I have made my
self deaf to any but to him; and lest any mans person
should please me more than his, I have dissembled the want
of sight: Both which shadows of my irrevocable affections
I have not spared to confirm before him, my father, and all
other amorous soliciters—wherewith not made acquainted, I
perceive my true intent hath wrought mine own sorrow, and
seeking by love to be regarded, am cut of with contempt, and
dispised.
MILLER.
Tell me, sweet Em, hast thou but fained all this while for
his love, that hath so descourteously forsaken thee?
EM.
Credit me, father, I have told you the troth; wherewith I
desire you and Lord Valingford not to be displeased. For
ought else I shall say, let my present grief hold me excused.
But, may I live to see that ungrateful man justly rewarded
for his treachery, poor Em would think her self not a little
happy. Favour my departing at this instant; for my troubled
thought desires to meditate alone in silence.
[Exit Em.]
VALINGFORD.
Will not Em shew one cheerful look on Valingford?
MILLER.
Alas, sir, blame her not; you see she hath good cause, being
so handled by this gentleman: And so I’ll leave you, and go
comfort my poor wench as well as I may.
[Exit the Miller.]
VALINGFORD.
Farewell, good father.
[Exit Valingford.]

ACT V.

SCENE I.
Open country in England.
[Enter Zweno, king of Denmark, with Rosilio and other
attendants.]