Chapter VII: Act V (2)

+Claud.+ Sir, my thoughts are all acknowledgments of that delight
I hear and see you with, what dress soe'er you please
To send your courtship in to try 'em;
We have outliv'd those arts and common charms,
And need not seek our hearts in scatter'd flames;
As those, whose lesson yet is at the hand or eye;
Our hearts have read Love's deep divinity
And all his amorous volumes over; we must write
Stories of our love, my lord.

+De F.+ And chaste ones, madam:
How glorious the frontispiece would show
With great Claudilla's name, tried in a true
Love's knot to her De Flame's! Though the
Great distance of your shining attributes both
Of blood and virtue, consider'd in the poverty of mine,
Would draw squint eyes and envy to my stars;
But speak your name great as the example of your
Goodness, and make it worth the imitation
Of all noble minds, that shall but read your love
And sweetness, which (most excellent of your sex)
Condescended unto me, who else had
Languish'd in a heap of ashes.

+Claud.+ My lord, you have found an easy way into
My heart, and won me from myself, ere I
Could call my thoughts [forth] to resistance;
Such strength brought your deserts! But now
I hope, nay, can be confident (best sir), they are
Treasured in a breast, whose virtues will
Preserve them with themselves.

+De F.+ O madam!

+Claud.+ It may be, some discourse that, when first
I entertain'd your love, I had not yet given
The world and my dead husband's earth a full
Accompt of sorrow, or paid his memory
A year's just rent of tears: but I appeal
To my own heart; and you, my lord, can say----

+De F.+ Your heart has been but too severe unto itself;
And I can say I have not seen a beam break
From those eyes, but through dark clouds and showers;
Or like the sun, drench'd in the swelling main;
Nor a look with the least comfort of a smile in't.
Nay, divinest madam, now you do but chide
Heaven in your tears, and cannot raise the dead.

+Claud.+ True, sir.

+De F.+ Tears are but shallow murmurs of our grief.
I envy not his grave a tear, but owe all
Noble mention to't; yet, madam, I did hope
You had discharg'd the smart and cruelty of grief
From your soft breast, and would call your beauties
[Back] to their natural springs.
Look on yourself, rare lady, in this change:
With what high flame and rapture it becomes you:
So breaks the morning forth of a crystal cloud,
And so the sun ascends his glittering chair,
And from his burnish'd locks shakes day about.
The summer puts not on more delights and various
Glory, than shines in bright Claudilla;
And shall the grave exhaust their pride
And youth?

_Enter +Torguina+._

+Tor.+ Madam, the king's brother gives you a visit.

+De F.+ Who's with him?

+Tor.+ The colonel your lordship calls friend.

+De F.+ Dessandro?

+Claud.+ Let's meet 'em, sir. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter the +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Cleara+, +De Flame+,
+Dessandra+, Attendants._

+Duke.+ I'm in arrears yet unto your grace.

+Claud.+ A widow's entertainment, sir, you please to honour.

+Duke.+ I wish the hours but short, that bring the night
You are to lose that name in; and then, to what
Length your own desires would spin 'em,
Widow! Madam, there's disconsonancy in
The name, methinks. Claudilla widow!
Duchess, and still widow (like a cypress
Cast o'er a bed of lilies) darkens your other titles:
'Tis a weed in your garden, and will spoil the youth
And beauty it grows nigh: a word of mortality
Or a _memento mori_ to all young ladies,
And a passing-bell to old ones. Indeed, it is
A mere privation; and all widows are in
The state of outlaws, till married again.

+Claud.+ Your highness holds a merry opinion of us
Poor widows.

+De F.+ I say virgins are the ore: widows,
The gold tried and refin'd.

+Duke.+ A fair young lady and widow is
A rich piece of stuff rumpled: an old one's
A blotting-paper a man shall never
Write anything on--she sinks so.
Dessandro, your comment.

+De F.+ Friend, you are dull o' th' sudden.

+Cle.+ He is not well.

+Claud.+ Not well, sir?

+Des.+ Not well, madam.

+Duke.+ Dull! Shall's to tennis? I have some pistolets
Will pay your borrow'd time, Dessandro.

+Des.+ Your pardon, sir: I am unfit to wait on you.
My life hangs in a dew upon me;
And I have drunk poison.

+De F.+ Ha!
A physician with all speed! Dessandro!

+Cle.+ Dear sir!

+Des.+ Cleara! Lend me thy hand: so--
I'm struck upon a rock. [_Swoons._

+Cle.+ He's dead; I shall not overtake him.

+Duke.+ Look to the lady.

+Claud.+ He swells like a stopp'd torrent or a teeming cloud;
Have I no servants there? [_Carry him off._

+De F.+ What a sudden storm is fallen?

+Duke.+ How fares the lady?

+Claud.+ Madam!

+Cle.+ As you are tender-natur'd, let no hand
Close his eyes but mine: I am come back
Thus far to take my farewell on his cold lip. [_+De Flame+ returns._

+De F.+ Sister, let thy warm blood flow back:
Thy Dessandro lives, my girl!

+Cle.+ O, may I not see him?

+De F.+ You shall. [_Exeunt._

Duke. Give me leave to make this opportunity happy
On your hand. How! Not vouchsafe it? [_+Duchess+ goes off._
What a tyranny shot from her scornful eye!
Where have I lost myself and her?
There's a cross and peevish genius haunts my hopes;
A black and envious cloud; and I must get above it.
Not kiss your hand? Is your blood surfeited? I'll quit
This scorn; indeed I will, coy madam!
Thou, that are lord of my proud horoscope;
Great soul of mysteries, kindle my brain
With thy immortal fires!
That if I fall, my name may rise divine:
So Cæsar's glory set, and so set mine! [_Exit._

_Enter +Silliman+, a bottle tied in a riband to his
pocket._

+Sil.+ Brave canary, intelligent canary,
That does refresh our weak and mortal bodies!
I will have thee canonis'd Saint Canary at
My own charge, and call my eldest son
Canary. Yet for a man to love thee at
His own cost is damnable, very damnable;
And I defy it.
And Siss is the blithest lass in our town,
For she sells ale by the pound and the dozen;
Ale! Hang ale!

_Enter a +Messenger+._

+Mes.+ By your worship's leave, I would speak with
Signior Silliman, the Duchess's steward, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Wou'd you speak with Signior Silliman, an't like ye?

+Mes.+ Please God and your worship, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ In what language wou'd you speak with him, hum?

+Mes.+ Yes, verily, I would speak with him, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ At what posture?

+Mes.+ Marry, from a friend, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Very good, my friend. Didst ever say thy [_Drinks._
Prayers in the canary tongue?

+Mes.+ My prayers, an't like ye? Your worship's dispos'd
To be merry: I have a wife and seven small
Children, an't like ye, to wind and turn as they say,
Simple as your worship sees me here, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ Pox o' wives; I'll not give a gazet for thy wife;
She's tough, and too much powder'd. Fetch me
Thy daughter, thy youngest daughter, sirrah!
If the creature be a virgin, and desirable:
Look ye! there's money to buy her clean linen.
I'll have a bath of rich canary and Venus' milk;
Where we will bathe and swim together, like
So many swans, and then be call'd Signior
Jupiter Sillimano. But is she man's meat?
I have a tender appetite, and can scarcely digest
One in her teens.

+Mes.+ Does your worship think I wou'd be a Judas, an't like ye?
She's as neat a girl, and as tight at her business
As the back of your hand, an't like ye; but heaven
Bless ye, and cry ye mercy, if you be his worship,
Here's a letter from the Lady de Prate, an't like ye.

+Sil.+ The Lady de Prate (mark me, sirrah) is a
Noble lady; we say so---- [_Reads a letter._

_I never knew what bondage was till now;
I fear the gilded heart you sent me was
Enchanted_--(O, O)--_I long to see you_--
(Hum--hum)--_therefore let me have the happiness
To know the place and time_--(even so)--_as
You love her, that blushes to write this_----

Yes, yes, I'll enchant ye! I'll time and place ye!
Surely, there's something more about me, than I can
Perceive. Grant that I may bear my fate
Discreetly! _I never knew what bondage was_ [_Reads.
Till now_. Well; 'tis heaven's goodness! For what am I,
Silly wretch, to such a lady, as she that writes so
Pitifully unto me? It wou'd overcome e'en a heart
Of flint: Good gentlewoman! [_Weeps.
As you love her, that blushes to write this_-- [_Reads._
Hum--yes, yes; she knows I love her: it
Will work--I can't contain my good-nature. [_Drinks and weeps._

_Enter +La Gitterne+ and +De Loome+._

+De L.+ Here he is; and stands like a map of
Sundry countries. [_Aside._

+La G.+ One wou'd take him for some foreign beast,
And that fellow to show him. How the gander
Ruffles and prunes himself, as if he would
Tread the goose by him!

+De L.+ 'Tis a pure goat!

+La G.+ And will clamber a pyramid in scent of's female.

+De L.+ The wenches swear, he kisses like a giant still;
And will ride his heats as cleanly as a dieted
Gelding. Let's fall in. Signior Silliman!
My best wishes kiss your hand.

+La G.+ Continue me worthy of the title of your servant, sir.

+Sil.+ I am very glad to see you well; and hope you are
In good health and sound, gentlemen.

+La G.+ And when shall's draw cuts again for a
Wench, signior, ha?

+Sil.+ Your pleasure [is] to say so.

+De L.+ The slave's rose-drunk, o' my life.

+Sil.+ Please you to take notice of my worthy friend here.

+De L.+ Your admirer, sir. [_Salutes +Messenger+._

+La G.+ Slave to your sedan, sir.

+Mes.+ God bless the good duchess, and all that love the
King, I say, gentlemen, an't like ye.

+De L.+ Pray, sir, what news abroad, or at court?

+Mes.+ News, quotha! Indeed, sir, the truth is I am a
Shoemaker by my trade; my name is Latchet,
And I work to some ladies in the house here,
Though I say't myself; and yet the times were
Never harder, nor leather dearer.

+De L.+ This winter will make amends;
You shall have horsehides cheap, horsehides dog-cheap.

+Latch.+ Cheap, quotha! Why, sir, I'll tell you, (for you
Look like a very honest gentleman), I am put to
Find a pike myself; and must, the parish swears,
Or lose all the shoes in my shop.

+De L.+ 'Tis very brave! Why, you look like a champion;
And have a face the parish may confide in.

+Latch.+ Fide, quotha! sir; be judge yourself, if ever
You knew the like. I have been at the trade
This forty years, off and on; and those children's
Shoes, I have sold for sixpence or a groat upon some
Occasion, we now sell for twelvepence, as they say.

+De L.+ Then the misery is, you get the more.

+Latch.+ More, quotha! Pray, sir, a word. You are a
Courtier, if I may be so bold. They say we must
All be fain to shut up shop, and mortgage
Our wives to the soldiers. D'ye hear any
Such talk, sir?

+De L.+ Some buzzing: but the blades will not accept 'em
Without special articles and a flock of money and
Plate, to keep the babies they shall beget valiant.

+Latch.+ Valiant, quoth-a! Truly, sir, I'll tell ye,
On the truth of a poor man, my Lady de Prate's foot
Is but of the sixes: and yet we pay five pistoles
A dicker.

+Sil.+ My lady's foot but o' the sixes? you lie, sirrah!
By Saint Hugh! there's never a lady i' th' land has a
Prettier foot and leg; if you ha' not spoil'd 'em
With your calf's-skin, sirrah.

+La G.+ Why, the sixes is a good handsome size for a lady.

+Latch.+ Lady, quotha! my life for her's, there's few ladies
I' the court go more upright, nor pay better:
I'll say that.

+Sil.+ You say that? foh! I scorn to wear an inch
Of leather thy nasty flesh shall handle.

+De L.+ O, your worthy friend, signior; and an elder in's parish;
A pikeman too for the republic. Come, come,
He shall be shoemaker to us all. Canst trust?

+Latch.+ Trust, quotha! My name's Latchet, sir. I
Serv'd eleven years to my vocation, before I
Could be free, and have drunk many a good bowl
Of beer i' th' duchess's cellar since that.

+De L.+ I like a man can answer so punctually
To a thing.

+Latch.+ Thing, quotha! it is our trade, sir.

+De L.+ Spoke like the warden of the company! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Claudilla+, and +Dessandro+ in a
nightgown._

+Claud.+ I am at extremity of wonder.

+Des.+ The story may deserve it, lady; when you shall
Cast your thoughts upon the man it treats on;
The circumstances and progress of my love:
Nay, it may raise your anger higher than your wonder;
And work the modest pantings of your breast
Into a hectic rage. I saw this tempest
Gather'd in a cloud, dismal and black, ready to break
Its womb in storms upon me; and I have cast
My soul on every frown and horror you can arm
Your passion with. I have held conflict with the wilder
Guilt and tremblings of my blood to rescue it; but
Heaven and my angry fate has thrown me grovelling
At your feet; and I want soul to break the charm.

+Claud.+ This is a strange mystery, to betray my virtue
With your own; and I shall sin to hear it.

+Des.+ If pity be a sin, lock up those beauties
From the view of men; or they will damn all the
Eyes that look upon you.

+Claud.+ Has your blood lost all the virtue it should inherit?
And think you by this treacherous siege to take
My honour in? Let me shun you, or you will
Talk me leprous.

+Des.+ Do, madam.
Tear up the wounds your eyes have made----
I'll keep them bleeding sacrifices to your cruelty.
And when cold Death has cast his gloomy shade
O'er this dust, perhaps you may bestow one gentle
Sigh to hallow it: when you shall know
The height of my desires was but to die worthy
Of your pardon, without the ambition of a bolder thought:
And still had scorch'd and smother'd here without
A tongue, only to beg your mercy to my grave.

+Claud.+ Play not yourself into a shame will rūst your brightest
Worths, and hide your dust in curses and black fame:
I now shall think your valour flatter'd, that can
Sink it to such effeminate and lovesick crafts,
For our stale women to mollify the usher with.
Dessandro has a fame, high and active as the voice
It flies on; and could you wander from your
Religious self in such a dream as this?
Cleara's virtue has an interest near your heart,
Should wake you to your first man again.

+Des.+ Cleara still is here in the first sculpture of
Her virtues; and I their honourer.

+Claud.+ No more!----
My grief and shame are passionate, to find
So much bad man got near your heart; and shows
This sick complexion in your honour, more
Tainted than the face of your imposture.----
You have play'd the excellent counterfeit, and your skill
Does make you proud: you cannot blush-- [_Exit._

+Des.+ She's gone;--
A star shot from her eye, and light'ned through
My blood. I must provide for thunder and
Thy revenge, De Flame, as horrid as thought can
Shape it.

_Enter +Cleara+._

+Cle.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Proud love, I'll meet thee with burning sighs
And bleeding turtles at thy shrine. [_Aside._

+Cle.+ This is too bold a hazard for your health,
Which yet sits wan and troubled on your cheek.

+Des.+ Madam!

+Cle.+ Indeed, I'll chide ye. [_Aside._

+Des.+ O, cry ye mercy!
Some retired meditations.

+Cle.+ I shall observe 'em;
Let me but leave you with the joy to know
I stand not in the hazard of that frown.

+Des.+ We'll kiss next time.

+Cle.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Or never.

+Cle.+ Ha! d'ye know me?

+Des.+ So well, methinks we should not part so soon:
Our hearts have been more ceremonious, and hung
In panting sighs upon our lips, to bid adieu.
One kiss must now sum up all; and seal their
General release. I know Cleara more constant
To her virtue and brave mind, than to ask heaven
Idle questions. 'Tis fate, not will. [_Exit._

+Cle.+ So.
I feel thy marble hand lie here: 'Tis cold, and heavy!
How my poor heart throbs under it, and struggles to
Find air! not one kind sigh lend thee a gale
For yonder haven! It's gone! quite vanish'd!
Beshrew me, it was a most horrible apparition!
I wou'd not see it again
In such a cruel look for all my hopes;
Yet it held me gently by the hand, and left a warm farewell there,
As my Dessandro us'd. As my Dessandro, said I?
O, how fain my hopes would mock my apprehension;
And that my sorrow!----
I'll woo thy pity with my groans, kind earth!
And lay my throbbing breast to thine!
Until I am dissolv'd into a spring,
Whose murmurs shall eternally repeat
This minute's story.

_Enter +De Flame+._

+De F.+ Ha!
Cleara, drown'd in her own tears? Sister! Cleara!

+Cle.+ I had a gentle slumber; and all the world
(Methought) was in a midnight calm.

+De F.+ Dear girl,
Clear up those sad eyes and my cold doubts.
Prythee, tell me, is our Dessandro dead?

+Cle.+ Heaven defend!

+De F.+ No! what then, in all the volumes of black destiny
And nature, can throw you into this posture?
Unkind Cleara, why dost dissemble it? I see him
Breathless on thy cheek, and lost.

+Cle.+ Lost for ever.

+De F.+ My fears did prompt me so. For ever!
There's horror and amazement in the thought.
See, Cleara, my eyes can overtake thee.
Gone at so short a farewell, friend? Death,
Thou art the murderer of all our joys and hopes.

+Cle.+ Sir, Dessandro's well, very well; we parted
Even but now.

+De F.+ What!

+Cle.+ O brother, I have lost a jewel that he gave me;
I shall vex my eyes out.

+De F.+ Beshrew this serious folly; you have vex'd my
Blood into a sullen fit.

+Cle.+ You shall not chide me;
Tell me, didst ever in thy life meet with a grief
That made thy poor heart sick, and did divide
Thy sleeps and hours into groans and sighs?

+De F.+ Never, [I] thank my indifferent fate.

+Cle.+ Nor in the legend of some injur'd maid,
That made thine eye to pause, and with a tear
Bedew it?

+De F.+ I cannot untie riddled knots, Cleara.

+Cle.+ Come, I'll but dry mine eyes, and tell you a story,
That shall deserve a groan. [_Exeunt._

ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._

+Des.+ Tush! they had only tongue
And malice; and that great zeal they
Seem'd to owe to Rome was unto themselves
And their own estates. What were they but wranglers
In schools and law? and studied words to make men
Guilty. They liv'd at ease; and slept in purples and
Warm furs; but bold-minded Catiline threat'ned
Their wise sleeps.

+De C.+ There was too much attempt and fact in't.

+Des.+ 'Twas fact then to look sour on a gownman:
They were mere citizens, jealous of their wives
And daughters--that condemn'd 'em too!
De Castro, there's a lethargy in our blood:
We sleep and dream away our lives. If such
Wore purple for well-talking, what shall he merit,
That cures the wounds and smart his country groans with?

+De C.+ The people shall enshrine his name with reverence;
And fill their temples with his statues. 'Tis
The great end we are all born to.

+Des.+ Which can't be, whilst by-respect shall closely
Wound the bosom of our laws and freedom:
For what was't less, that took our father's life?

+De C.+ In whose blow the heads of all brave men were
Threat'ned.

+Des.+ Then, if we dare not do a general good,
Yet let us secure our own dear lives and honours.

+De C.+ The State is full of dangerous whispers.

+Des.+ There's an imposthume swells it.

+De C.+ Wou'd 'twere lanc'd!

+Des.+ Spoken with the soul of Cassius! We have the cure,
And may do it with a little stir. But then
We must deal like true physicians of state;
And where we find it ulcer'd (though in ourselves,
Friends and allies), not lay soft effeminate hands on't.
Nature has made us nearest to ourselves:
And I would pay the last warm drop of blood
From all these veins, to see the hopes and honours of our blood
(That's now benighted in our father's fate)
Dawn on De Castro's youth again.

+De C.+ No, Dessandro; these hopes are lost upon a high
And angry sea; and I must see fools and stale
Parasites (whose progeny ne'er bled one drop, nor had
A valiant thought to serve their country) begin
A spurious issue on my birthright, that will on tiptoes,
Collossus-like, bestride us, and grasp our fate.

+Des.+ Take me into thy bosom, brave man; we meet
Like amorous streams, and as we ought;
Our honour, life and fortunes have but one heart.
Give me thy hand, De Castro. This sword [_Draws._
Our father hath oft made glorious in the blood
Of De Castro's foes; and I'll not doubt,
How much it prompts thy valiant soul.
O brother, tears, and some sad discourse,
Is all that we have paid him yet. Strangers
Can be far braver in their sense unto his fame.
The tears we ought to shed ought to be blood, De Castro!
Blood, warm from their veins, that made us weep
In streams, and mingle it with the dust of vulgar
Feet, as they did his. Swear by all the glorious acts
Of our great ancestry, their hallowed urns,
Our father's injur'd memory, and all
The hopes and honour we derive from them,
To pay his blood a sad account in some
Revenge, worthy his ghost and our bold hands.

+De C.+ All which religiously I vow to.

+Des.+ And I. So now we are brothers by as strong
Divinity as nature. I'll not break open the
Design, till we shall hear't confirm'd by higher warrant:
Anon meet at the Duchess-Dowager's.

+De C.+ Claudilla's?

+Des.+ Yes; where you shall hear something worthy the
Encouragement of our father's spirit in thee.
I am now to wait upon the duke: he
That keeps us what we are.

+De C.+ The duke!----I have the game in view,
And now discern what I must pay him for my place.

+Des.+ You are full of thoughts, my lord!

+De C.+ Brother, our lives are on the cast; but 'tis not that
Does interpose 'em. There's something in my fears
Still presents Cleara. Take heed, Dessandro;
A virgin's tears leave sad and fatal prints.

+Des.+ Your wishes are a brother's; but those dreams
Chill not my sleeps. Think on that concerns us
Near, and be active.

+De C.+ I shall not fail ye. Farewell! [_Exit +De Castro+._

_Enter +Pirez+._

+Pir.+ Colonel Dessandro!

+Des.+ Your lordship's pardon: Which way walk you?

+Pir.+ As you please to dispose me; my business
Now designs it so: 'Tis there, in short.
[_Gives a paper, which +Dessandro+ reads._
I love this gallant mastery of a man's self:
I look'd his temper would have flam'd about my ears.
Not a sparkle in his brow, nor the least change of blood.
Strange! I have seen him ruffl'd into a storm,
And all fury: now, not a frown nor smile!

+Des.+ De Flame? Well,
My lord, this is a down-flat challenge.

+Pir.+ I brought it for one.

+Des.+ I accept it, with thanks to your lordship, and shall be
Ready to serve you in any power I have.

+Pir.+ 'Tis not worth it, colonel.

+Des.+ The Lord de Flame's angry, it seems, that Fortune should
Give me right without his hand in't; he has turn'd his style
High and strangely on me: But I shall coolly respite
That, till we have room to argue it. That he is
Far more worthy his expectations in the duchess, I can
Confess: that's no assent, sir, to my quarrel, nor yet
A law to her. For those, whom her thoughts please
To think most worthy, are so to her.

+Pir.+ But does not bind the opinion of another.

+Des.+ Nor that opinion her freedom.

+Pir.+ Yet there be rules in virtue, from which all noble
Judgments should take their level, even in love itself.

+Des.+ If it be thought she's too partial in her grace
To me, I shall dispute it, as 'tis question'd.

+Pir.+ I come not to add exceptions, or to make any.

+Des.+ I stand not in so cheap a rank, but that her
Favour may make my services as meritorious
As his lordship's, and can engage as much blood and
Fame for't.

+Pir.+ You know him of a noble breast, and one
That will not flatter weak pretences into truths;
Nor let 'em work with such impressions on his soul,
Did not his honour bleed in't. Sir, I come,
As one that ever honour'd your great parts,
And wish that you could think on't o'er again.
Think how black you must expect that morn to rise
Upon your wishes, when you lead her to the altar;
Where the faint lights with blue and ghastly flames
Will receive ye; and all the things of holy ceremony
Present pale glimmerings to your eyes, to fright your bride
Back unto her first vows. And then, methinks,
Each tear and groan the fair Cleara sends
To overtake ye, should show a speaking fury
To untwine your trembling hands.

+Des.+ No; nor all the squadrons hell can spare
To aid them--though her brother led them on,
And you brought up the rear!

+Pir.+ Sir!

+Des.+ Pish! the meanest thought Claudilla
Pleases to bestow here (under this humble guard)
Must be without the affright (my lord) of all the
Dangers in his muster, stare they like giants
On me, and in armies. As for Cleara,
If she held flattering glasses to her thoughts
Which render'd 'em wide and airy, they must not forfeit
Me. You may deserve her better. I'll not start, sir,
A scruple from his demands and yours. Expect it,
And so farewell. [_Going off._

+Pir.+ Farewell.----The time?

+Des.+ I shall think on't.

+Pir.+ Shall? It must not so tamely be thought on.

+Des.+ How?

+Pir.+ I spoke it, sir.

+Des.+ Are you sent to own the quarrel?

+Pir.+ No; but look on't with so much soul, as I think't
An honour to wear a sword in't.

+Des.+ Go, go hang it in your mistress's chamber!
It stinks, sir, of perfume.

+Pir.+ It may, sir (for destiny has many ways to the wood[26]),
Cut your throat; and then I'll give't your footboy.

+Des.+ My throat, Pirez! that saucy thought has
Ruin'd thee. [_Fight._

_Enter +Sampayo+ and +De Loome+._

+Samp.+ Hold, hold, colonel.

+De L.+ My lord, y'are hurt. [_To +Pirez+._

+Pir.+ I must owe him this for't.

+Des.+ Canst talk yet?

+Samp.+ Command your passion; see how the common herd
Come gazing in. Do not become their talk
And wonder. Noble Dessandro! put up, my lord!
Thank ye. [_They part._

+De L.+ Sir, my lord duke sent me to tell you
He expects your company.

+Des.+ I wait on him. [_To +Pirez+._] Bid the ladies tear
Their clean smocks to wrap you in.

+Pir.+ Insolent man! [_Offers to fight._

+Samp.+ Again! [_Exeunt._

_Enter three +Townsmen+, as the Watch._

+1st T.+ Was not I about to tell you so? They
would be afraid of true men, when we came.

+2d T.+ By'r lady; but that mun not serve their
turns; for we must know flatly which was plantan
and which defendam,[27] or we shall discharge but a
sorry conscience to the king's justice.

+1st T.+ I'll take my oath upon the corporal Bible,
I saw two glittering swords run a tilt, and two to
that, if need be.

+2d T.+ Neighbours, I cannot tell; we are old
men, or should be at least; some of us have lived
threescore years and upwards in a parish, as they
say; I name nobody; and therefore it is good to be
sure, and make all our tales _bonum fidrum_: for we
are not all one man's children. And yet, if I be
not mistaken, I am sure I saw three more, and
glittering ones indeed, as you call them. God bless
every good man and woman from the like! They
e'en yearned my heart; and yet, by my fay, I am
a hundred and two, come the time.

+3d T.+ You talk like sucking infants. Neighbours,
I'll be sworn, if I were to take my oath before
the best man living, high or low, there was
twenty drawn swords, little and great. I'm sure,
I might ha' seen 'em, like a fool, had I been worth
my head, but my little boy Jack did.

+1st T.+ La, there; and that same's a murrain
wise boy, if you mark him, and will see a thing, I
warrant you, as soon as the wisest of us all, were
he twice as old again.

+3d T.+ I could ha' seen too at his bigness, for all
I'm lame now, God help us! You remember the
Powder Plot?

+2d T.+ Powder Plot, quotha! I shall not forget
it, while the world stands.

+1st T.+ Nor I, were I to die a thousand deaths.

+3d T.+ That very day was I working in our garret.

+2d T.+ Say you so?

+1st T.+ Nay, neighbours, beshrew me, this may
be true; for I have known this man here able to
do as tight a day's work by noon, as the tallest
fellow the king keeps (God bless him!) take him
from top to toe.

+3d T.+ All's one for that. Mark me! there has
not been a glass window there time out of mind:
since I came nor after; and I tell you truly (I'm
a false liar else) I smelt the powder as hot as if it
had been done the next day.

+1st T.+ See, see, the wind! the wind, neighbours,
is much; God bless us!

+3d T.+ Go to; I am no made fool, though a born
fool, my masters. True, the wind may be something,
as you say. But if there had not been
something else, I would not give a fart for't. I did
not work at court with a master-carpenter for
nothing, my boys; and see the king's grace fasting
and full, as I did, to a hairsbreadth, as they
say. Let me alone for casting my cards, give me but
ground enough; and yet I can neither write nor
read, heaven make me thankful!

+2d T.+ Heaven make us all thankful! I have seen
the king too in my prime, and gave him a beck
upon his milk-white steed; as near as one should
say, what's this? and all his royal lords and ladies
sporting.

+1st T.+ Ay, ay, those were the days (peace be
with 'em!) a poor man's tale might be heard at court.
There are some lords and ladies now were lousy then.

+3d T.+ Go thy ways, by the rood! Nay, he'll have
his old talk, for all the world, up and down.

+1st T.+ It was ever my condition; I care not who
knows it; and yet I never scathed the least sucking
child that begs his bread; but little does
another man know where the king's shoe wrings
him, but those that wear it, as my mother would
often say; and she lived long enough to know it.

+3d T.+ Nay, that's certain; the king's but a man,
as we three are; no more is the queen, if you go
to that. Did you never hear of my uncle's observations?
He's but a poor knave (as they call him),
but such a knave as cares neither for king nor
kæsar, the least on 'em.

+1st T.+ Then he may be hanged, neighbour Palmer.

+3d T.+ If he be, he's not the first that has been
hanged for treason, I hope. [_Exeunt._

_Enter the +Duke+ and +Claudilla+._

+Duke.+ That frown was shot with pretty tyranny
From your brow; but this kiss shall sacrifice
Me to my Claudilla's bosom.

+Claud.+ You'll sully your honour in't; widows
are but rumpled stuff.

+Duke.+ That again! By all my hopes and by
thyself, the next and greatest--

+Claud.+ Your brother's crown's betwixt us.

+Duke.+ I did [that] but to sharp De Flame into some
Expression of his wit and love.

+Claud.+ Alas! he sighs all.

+Duke.+ And, like some crude chaplain, spits most
Of his mind.

+Claud.+ Yet the tame dove can tire me sometimes
With penn'd speeches, when we're alone, and flatter.
I'm resolv'd to bestow him on my woman.

+Duke.+ Now he can come to hand. Ha, ha, thinking men never
love heartily, unless they be dank powder.

+Claud.+ His courtship is like thick embroidery upon
Slight stuff. I must confess, I never
Lov'd the man, only as a rich gown out of
Fashion, for a day's change sometimes at home,
When I take physic.

+Duke.+ You may wear him as you please, and to what
Purpose; his honest nature was meant you so;
But Dessandro is the man of men (I must confess),
That I could wish most near you now.

+Claud.+ Dessandro!

+Duke.+ And suddenly, before your honour blush too palpably:
I have discovered him and his devotions.

+Claud.+ Then your brains were in his plot.

+Duke.+ 'Twas his own.

+Claud.+ Stol'n from some romance or play! but
For De Flame----

+Duke.+ One wheel will move another to the period.

+Claud.+ Methinks, his soft and easy spirit should be
The fitter engine, and more pliant to your aim.

+Duke.+ He has too much of Venus in his mixture; all his
Desires would be at home still in the circle of those
Eyes: the other is all fire, and thinks that fame
Too cheap, that's found so near; and there will
Want such men abroad.

+Claud.+ But where's my honour, duke?

+Duke.+ Lock'd in my heart and cares: the king must die,
Claudilla, to smoothe the way, and lift us to our wishes.

+Claud.+ That still is talk'd on.

+Duke.+ His last glass is now turn'd, and runs apace.
He gives thee to Dessandro, and is your guest; and
That night receives eternal thanks for't. Then
(My fair) Dessandro cannot want lustre and honour for
Your bed, nor thy commands, what all Castile can give.

+Claud.+ I understand not, sir.

+Duke.+ Thou shalt in time. O my Claudilla! my best and nearest
Joy, our loves have been entire as a flame: one centre
To our thoughts and wishes; and crown our bosoms with
Delight and safety. But they are come.

_Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._

+Claud.+ I have not known so little of his fame
To be a stranger to his worth. Sir, I honour it:
Nor am I so proud and dark in my opinion,
To think I stand upon myself, but stoop in
Honour to one of his deserts and blood. This is
The way, my lord, I ever summ'd up man, and set
His titles down but for cyphers.

+De C.+ Observe. [_Aside._

+Duke.+ Which will most clearly show his merits, and heighten
Them in value to you; for, madam, look on him
In the spring of his deserts; and you'll say, titles
Are but narrow spheres; and if honoured actions
Be the soul and breath, he's then above them,
And stands in the first rank of men.

+Des.+ I shall want life to pay this debt. [_Aside._

+Claud.+ But, with your grace's favour, I must be tender here:
For I stand a tall mark to voice and censure;
And need not tell your highness, with what strong
Expectation the Count de Flame hath long
Time visited me.

+Duke.+ If you will stand engaged, madam,
I am silent.

+Claud.+ No, sir--but----

+Duke.+ You expect honour and fortune to your bed:
I know Castile owns not a subject (I'll not
Except myself; and had I another's freedom, I should
Not speak my wishes in a second person) that
Looks not with ambition on you: but, madam, weigh
Them all; take but off their grains of fortune,
He shall hoist them into the air; and to my
Wish he's come. Dessandro, your name was
Mentioned--happily, I hope. Let me present
His value to your grace's hand; and to a sister,
Madam, I would say, her bosom.

+De C.+ You purchase our poor lives too highly, sir.

+Duke.+ I would have rich jewels set to their worth;
And shall be proud to give any advantage unto his.
The Duchess shall not slight me in't: I will be
Heard against the proudest courtship that shall
Charm her. Come, my lord, what sport will you
Win some ducats at?

+De C.+ I will lose some at any your grace pleases.

+Duke.+ My brother has got a fortunate hand of late
'Gainst all the court: I cannot rise at even terms
From him.

+De C.+ I saw him draw deep from your grace last night.

+Duke.+ Two thousand ducats; but I expect 'em
with interest again.

+Des.+ I cannot pawn myself to the unworthy ends
Of flattery and compliment; but this honour
Outbids the value of a thousand lives:
What this poor glimpse of expression can show me in;
Saints are not more unfeigned in their prayers,
Than I to serve you.

+Claud.+ I shall not doubt, how much I may be indebted
To your noble wishes; but let me add, sir, he that
Lays out for me without my warrant, shall scarcely
Put it on my account for thanks--much less, debt.

+Des.+ Not good devotions!

+Claud.+ Them I desire, and shall repay.

+Des.+ Then pay back mine.

+Claud.+ I'm not to learn my prayers, sir.

+Des.+ Teach me yours, that I may turn the virtue
Of their charms back to your bosom.

+Claud.+ Colonel, mine would hardly please you;
I never pray for wars.

+Duke.+ You have back-friends, my lord?

+De C.+ That some malignant cloud does interpose
The king's cheerful favour, I am most sensible.

+Duke.+ It wou'd spread to me too, if they durst.

+De C.+ Had they but so much virtue left, they durst
Own their names by, I should make pale envy blush.

+Duke.+ Come, we'll to cards, and leave them to parl. [_Exeunt._

+Des.+ Madam, but mean it in a smile.

+Claud.+ What!

+Des.+ Love.

+Claud.+ Fie!

+Des.+ Yet stay; the air has busy wings. But give
The thought consent, and I will take it in soft
Whispers from your lip.

+Claud.+ You will?

+Des.+ I feel it creep in flames through all my blood!

_Enter +De Flame+._

+Claud.+ Sir, the Count de Flame!

+Des.+ With a black evening in his face!

+De F.+ O my faithful Achilles, I came
To give you joy!

+Claud.+ Who! me, sir?

+De F.+ My virtuous friend and you.

+Claud.+ Of what?

+De F.+ Of your entertainment under him. Y' have a brave commander,
And he a--I cannot be angry enough to tell you what.

+Claud.+ I begin to doubt his wits; he looks so ghastly.

+De F.+ Yes, I see a devil in those eyes, that makes my hair
Stare upward. False woman, my love durst scarce
Doubt before, what now I find and tremble at.
But heaven has wrath in ambush and scorpion-stings!

+Claud.+ For what, my lord?

+De F.+ Duchess, thy perjury and warm engagements
To this, this huge impostor!

+Claud.+ Sir, he has crack'd his brains with poetry;
Pray, forgive him----

+Des.+ Count, you know what privilege this roof can give
You on my anger, or else I should make your frenzy
Tongueless. Don't requite it barbarously on her,
That gives you leave to live by it. Gather your
Scatter'd wits up; go home, sir, and repent.

+De F.+ Privilege!
I'll meet thee in a ring of flames, or on the tempest
Of some billow, upon whose back the raging north wind strides:
Yet I'd not ha' thee lose one spark of thy full man in noise
And air; that when next we greet, I may find thee worthy
My revenge. This frailty now protects thee.

+Claud.+ Uncivil man, know the way back, or I shall
Let that justice loose upon you you deserve.

+De F.+ Your centaur there, you mean; he must
Stare bigger to move a hair of mine.

+Claud.+ You sha' not stir, sir; as you love me, do not:
Let him die mad.

+De F.+ Do kiss him, and clap his cheek.

+Claud.+ And circle him in my arms from your pale envy.
Does that make you foam? Look ye-- [_Kisses +Dessandro+._

+De F.+ He shall not blossom there.

+Claud.+ He shall, though thou dost bribe the Furies
With thy soul.

+Des.+ Madam, your commands will hold me, till I scorch away!
I am in flames and torment, and there's not so much
Mercy under heaven, but your own, would let him use
That tongue a minute longer. Thou has seen this
Sword reeking from hilt to point, and sweating
Showers of blood o'er thy head; whilst I bestrid thy
Life, and rescu'd it 'gainst many gallant foes:
And durst thou tempt it to thine own throat now?
Prythee, begone; and let us meet no more.
There's something in thy youth I still can love,
And will forget to call thee to account for this.
Be wise unto thyself, and ask this lady pardon.

+De F.+ O my blood! Must I bear this! I am
More cold than marble, sure!

+Claud.+ Within there! Where's his grace?

_Enter +Servant+._

+Serv.+ At cards, madam.

+De F.+ O, cry you mercy! your bak'd meats sha' not cool for me;
I only wish that they may choke ye. That paper, sir,
I sent, wou'd be worth your noble answer.

+Des.+ 'Tis there again, and has stopp'd the use I took it for.

+De F.+ Ha! I'll make thy name a boy's play,
And kill thee on the threshold of thy door.

+Des.+ Go, go, take your rest! When you are
Recovered, I may own you.

+De F.+ Thou hast not blood enough to answer this. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._

+Samp.+ You tell me strange ones.

+Pir.+ But true ones.

+Samp.+ Nice windings!

+Pir.+ This duke can strangely back his purposes,
Where they like him. 'Tis a fair lift
To Dessandro's fortune; his stars shin'd.

+Samp.+ True; she has a spacious fortune; but I shall
Tell your lordship what perhaps you know not.

+Pir.+ You may.

+Samp.+ She has no blood. From her first, an honest
Tradesman's wife, who left her very rich and
Handsome, the duke (as he still keeps a
Kennel for that purpose) had her presented
To him for his game; remov'd her from the
Cuckoo's nest into another sphere; but with all
Caution and private sleight; and you must
Imagine, now she spreads a larger wing;
Stirs not abroad, but studded like the night
With flames; and at length becomes the court's
Discourse and wonder; but still keeps[28] the
Country her retiring place.

+Pir.+ Unknown!

+Samp.+ Or unsuspected, as the duke's instruments dealt it;
And the young Henrique being in those parts
With our king's brother for sport, casually (as 'twas plotted)
Visits her house, falls in love, and marries her. This
Is the epitome.

+Pir.+ I hope the Duke Bereo had no dull hand in't.

+Samp.+ 'Tis thought (only by me, sir,) [he] keeps his
Acquaintance to this day.

+ Pir.+ It must be fatally answer'd somewhere;
Heaven has a justice.

+Samp.+ The preparation makes huge noise.

+Pir.+ 'Tis well the king's a guest; their triumph
Might miscarry else.

+Samp.+ The king gives her in church. Methinks
The Count de Flame must needs be all a-flame at it:
And I believe, sir, your affront bleeds freshly in him.

+Pir.+ It must be put to an account somewhere.

+Samp.+ To return his challenge and honour with such a scorn
Must work such a spirit to high extremes.

+Pir.+ The saddest story is his sister.

+Samp.+ A rose new-blown, and flung aside to wither in
Her sweets! Poor innocence! that has much chang'd
My opinion of Dessandro.

+Pir.+ His resolution and ambition are like vast trees,
Whose spreading tops hide their own roots
From the kind sun.

+Samp.+ Let out unto so vast a pride, as shades all his natural
Virtues, or makes 'em grow up rank and sour.
The event will tell us all.

+Pir.+ I wish it without blood. Your lordship's for the solemnity?

+Samp.+ My attendance ties me to his majesty's person.

+Pir.+ My best wishes to your lordship. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[26] [The common saying is, "There are more ways to the wood than one."]

[27] [Plaintiff and defendant.]

[28] [Old copy, _kept_.]

ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA.

_Loud Music._

_Enter the +King+, +Cardinal+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Dessandro+,
+De Castro+, +Sampayo+, ladies bearing up her train,
voices, lutes: they pass over._

_Manent +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._

+De L.+ So by this time the confines ring
Of our great solemnity.

+La G.+ She became his hand bravely, and with so skilful a brow,
As if the first fruits of her honour were to be gathered yet.

+De L.+ Our duke will lick his lips at this night's sport.

+La G.+ And wind her up for him, 'twill go hard else.

+De L.+ That shall not hinder our sport, I hope.

+La G.+ Expect the steward and his bottles; I'll warrant you.

+De L.+ The ladies too! we shall not tickle heartily else.

+La G.+ Where are the great ones bedded?

+De L.+ I' th' old place.

+La G.+ I' th' corner lobby?

_Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+ disguised._

+De F.+ You belong to the Duke de Bereo, sir?

+De L.+ Who told you so?

+De F.+ A friend that wou'd commend me with a poor suit
Unto you, sir, if you be Signior de Loome.

+De L.+ But this is no year for suit, sir.

+De F.+ Mine brings thanks ready-told, sir; look ye:
All double pistoles, signior.

+De L.+ Sir, I shall try my power, and be ready in any
Service t' ye, for my friend's sake.

+De F.+ D' ye know who 'tis?

+De L.+ Hum! no matter; I'll undertake your business.

+De F.+ Sir, can you please to pardon some light gold?

+De L.+ You shall find me a gentleman in anything for my friend's sake.

+De F.+ Nay, sir, it weighs a hundred pound at all, peradventures.

+De L.+ And I'll tell you one thing of myself, sir, more than
Perhaps my friend rememb'red: I am very honest, where
I take; and every man is not to be trusted in matters
Of such consequence. A very fair purse, I assure you!

+De F.+ Nest and birds are all your own.

+De L.+ Your business is done, believ't, sir; please you to kiss
The king's hand into the bargain?

+De F.+ At fitter opportunity, let me be ambitious of your
Offer: but I shall woo your courtesy to be only a
Looker on now.

+De L.+ Anything, sir, you can make worthy your request. Nay--I
hope, you do not wish me [to] forfeit good manners--as I'm
virtuous. [_Compliment for the door._

+De F.+ I am a stranger to the way.
Gentlemen, know yourselves, I beseech you.

+La G.+ To obey you, signior.

+De L.+ Sir, you need not speak on't to this man:
He's but my lord's barber. Since you command it so--
[_Exeunt +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._

+De F.+ Light, light, revenge! heave up thy gloomy tapers!
That thou may'st see thy smeared altar shine
In blood. Come, my Cleara! my better soul!
Whose gallant mind will leave thy name
In the first place of women, and raise thee temples.
Bravest of thy sex, I could expire on thy cheek,
And pay thee reverence, my most excellent sister.

+Cle.+ Just heaven and your brave virtue (my dearest brother)
Has waken'd my dull breast and trembling sex:
I do not feel one pale or coward thought;
But all [are] high and active to my wish.

+De F.+ I see it lovely in thy brow: like the gleaming
Dawnings of the morn, when day first kindles;
Yet our presage is fair.

_Enter +Duke+, whispering with +De Castro+._

+Cle.+ The Duke!

+De F.+ Now, innocence, guard thyself! the wolf is up:
See, how mischief teems and quickens on their brow:
Some black thing is spawning: night must be midwife to't:
If we stay, my poniard will break loose. [_Exeunt._

+Duke.+ Who's that?

+De C.+ Some of the duchess's servants, I believe, sir.

+Duke.+ Your hand will lay a new foundation to a kingdom;
And I am busy how to divide it with thee, when
We can call it ours.

+De C.+ 'Tis his last night with mankind; the poison, sir,
Will do't so subtlely: whilst he but holds the
Knife, the least warmth attracts, and so dispreads
Itself through his blood and spirits. Not any
Struggling for't with nature; his life steals from
Him in a gentle slumber.

+Duke.+ Grow in my bosom, till you spread to the first honours
Of your wish. My fortune is too narrow for your
Merits, to whom I owe it and all my power, brave friend. [_Exeunt._

_Enter +Steward+, +Butler+, +Cook+, and +Maids+._

+Stew.+ Come, my masters: the great ones shall not
Have all to themselves: we'll have a civil
Bout or two to get us a stomach to bedward,
My sweethearts.

+Cook.+ Noble master steward!

+But.+ Brave master steward!

+Cook.+ The fire of my respects shall ne'er go out unto you.

+But.+ Nor mine be quench'd.

+Stew.+ Here, cook, here's a bit for you to lick your lips at:
And here's a clean napery for you, butler. [_Gives each a wench._

Take it. [_A dance._

+Stew.+ So, so; I am almost spent; every man to his function.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter +King+, +Cardinal+, +Dessandro+, +Duke+,
+Duchess+, attendants._

+King.+ The night begins to frown at our uncivil stay;
And Hymen's tapers do burn out apace:
Good night; you shall not stir a foot, Dessandro.

+Duke.+ All the wishes of a bridal bed crown
your wishes and embraces!

+Card.+ And all the blessings of true joy.

+Duke.+ To bed, to bed! [_Exeunt._

_Enter +De Loome+, +De Flame+, and +Cleara+._

+De L.+ You are as melancholy as [the] day, when sun sets:
I hope you do not doubt my promise?

+De F.+ No.

+De L.+ Ye sha' not: I'll not leave you, till the grant be yours.
Be confidant; and that's more than a courtier is bound
To by his oath. Sir, where are you? Why, you were
Living but e'en now; could speak--had sense, too:
Ha' you seen anything against nature or stomach?
Hum! sweetheart, has thy master any fits o' th' mother [_To +Cleara+._
Or falling-sickness? Pretty knave! 'tis pity
This face was made for breeches.

+De F.+ Ha!

+De L.+ I am glad you are come to yourself again.

+De F.+ You are pleasant.

+De L.+ I would ha' you so: I have provided some mirth
And good company for you. Please you, but spare an
Idle hour from your sleep, we'll allow't again in
The total of your business (I must not lose his
Money). If you can smile, you shall not want a
Subject: Besides, we shall have the wit of a
Handsome lady or two, and hear their voices.

_Enter +Steward+, and a man with bottles._

Look ye, sir, here's the _imprimis_ of the house:
Master steward himself, whose company may be worth
Your observation. Signior Silliman, this gentleman
Is a friend of my lord duke's: pray, let him know he's welcome.

+Stew.+ I am but the duchess's poor steward, sir, but my
Place is at your command, sir. You shall not have
Me claim kindred of her for all that; yet
Sir Thomas de Loome here can say something,
If he please, sir.

+De F.+ Thank ye, sir.

+Stew.+ Look ye, Sir Thomas, I never fail; here be the
Perquisites of life and good company. There's that
Will elevate voices. Come, disburthen thyself in
That lobby, my honest rational camel!
Is this gentleman dumb? He can say nothing but
_Thank you, sir._

+De L.+ I fear he's planetstruck.

+Stew.+ 'Tis great pity; yet he makes very gentle signs.

+De F.+ I'm got into a dark and slippery labyrinth, and
Grope but by a spark; whilst every pause is fatal.
No. It had miscarried; and the king's presence
Was a sacred guard: now, to break in upon them were
To betray our lives to nothing. Sure, heaven will not
Lose the glory of such a justice, and by a hand so
Justly engaged.

_Enter +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, and +La Prate+._

+De L.+ The ladies! Good girls, this deserves a double
Thanks. Here's a gentleman, whose merits may
Invite him to your acquaintance, ladies.

+Tor.+ I shall ever study that due honour, by all the
Ambitiousness of your humble servant, sir.

+La P.+ You may please to pardon her, whose demerits
Make her modest in her expressions to honour
You, noble sir.

+De F.+ You engage a poor life to your virtue.