Chapter VII: Act II: For the scene between Beaumelle and her maids is substituted (3)

_Pont._ Sir, would you be
More curious in preseruing of your honour.
Trim, ’twere more manly. I am come to wake
Your reputation, from this lethargy
You let it sleep in, to perswade, importune, 105
Nay, to prouoke you, sir, to call to account
This Collonell _Romont_, for the foule wrong
Which like a burthen, he hath layd on you,
And like a drunken porter, you sleepe vnder.
’Tis all the towne talkes, and beleeue, sir, 110
If your tough sense persist thus, you are vndone,
Vtterly lost, you will be scornd and baffled
By euery Lacquay; season now your youth,
With one braue thing, and it shall keep the odour
Euen to your death, beyond, and on your Tombe, 115
Sent like sweet oyles and Frankincense; sir, this life
Which once you sau’d, I ne’re since counted mine,
I borrow’d it of you; and now will pay it;
I tender you the seruice of my sword
To beare your challenge, if you’ll write, your fate: 120
Ile make mine owne: what ere betide you, I
That haue liu’d by you, by your side will dye.

_Nou._ Ha, ha, would’st ha’ me challenge poore _Romont_?
Fight with close breeches, thou mayst think I dare not.
Doe not mistake me (cooze) I am very valiant, 125
But valour shall not make me such an Asse.
What vse is there of valour (now a dayes?)
’Tis sure, or to be kill’d, or to be hang’d.
Fight thou as thy minde moues thee, ’tis thy trade,
Thou hast nothing else to doe; fight with _Romont_? 130
No i’le not fight vnder a Lord.

_Pont._ Farewell, sir,
I pitty you.
Such louing Lords walke their dead honours graues,
For no companions fit, but fooles and knaues.
Come _Malotin_.

_Exeunt Pont. Mal._

_Enter Romont._

_Lila._ ’Sfoot, _Colbran_, the low gyant. 135

_Aym._ He has brought a battaile in his face, let’s goe.

_Page._ _Colbran_ d’ee call him? hee’l make some of you smoake,
I beleeue.

_Rom._ By your leaue, sirs.

_Aym._ Are you a Consort?

_Rom._ D’ee take mee
For a fidler? ya’re deceiu’d: Looke. Ile pay you.

_Kickes ’em._

_Page._ It seemes he knows you one, he bumfiddles you so. 140

_Lila._ Was there euer so base a fellow?

_Aym._ A rascall?

_Lila._ A most vnciuill Groome?

_Aym._ Offer to kicke a Gentleman, in a Noblemans chamber?
A pox of your manners. 145

_Lila._ Let him alone, let him alone, thou shalt lose thy
arme, fellow: if we stirre against thee, hang vs.

_Page._ S’foote, I thinke they haue the better on him,
though they be kickd, they talke so.

_Lila._ Let’s leaue the mad Ape. 150

_Nou._ Gentlemen.

_Lilad._ Nay, my Lord, we will not offer to dishonour you
so much as to stay by you, since hee’s alone.

_Nou._ Harke you.

_Aym._ We doubt the cause, and will not disparage you, so 155
much as to take your Lordships quarrel in hand. Plague on
him, how he has crumpled our bands.

_Page._ Ile eene away with ’em, for this souldier beates
man, woman, and child.

_Exeunt. Manent Nou. Rom._

_Nou._ What meane you, sir? My people.

_Rom._ Your boye’s gone. 160

_Lockes the doore._

And doore’s lockt, yet for no hurt to you,
But priuacy: call vp your blood againe, sir,
Be not affraid, I do beseach you, sir,
(And therefore come) without, more circumstance
Tell me how farre the passages haue gone 165
’Twixt you and your faire Mistresse _Beaumelle_,
Tell me the truth, and by my hope of Heauen
It neuer shall goe further.

_Nou._ Tell you why sir?
Are you my confessor?

_Rom._ I will be your confounder, if you doe not. 170

_Drawes a pocket dag._

Stirre not, nor spend your voyce.

_Nou._ What will you doe?

_Rom._ Nothing but lyne your brayne-pan, sir, with lead,
If you not satisfie me suddenly,
I am desperate of my life, and command yours.

_Nou._ Hold, hold, ile speake. I vow to heauen and you, 175
Shee’s yet vntouch’t, more then her face and hands:
I cannot call her innocent; for I yeeld
On my sollicitous wrongs she consented
Where time and place met oportunity
To grant me all requests.

_Rom._ But may I build 180
On this assurance?

_Nou._ As vpon your fayth.

_Rom._ Write this, sir, nay you must.

_Drawes Inkehorne and paper._

_Nou._ Pox of this Gunne.

_Rom._ Withall, sir, you must sweare, and put your oath
Vnder your hand, (shake not) ne’re to frequent
This Ladies company, nor euer send 185
Token, or message, or letter, to incline
This (too much prone already) yeelding Lady.

_Nou._ ’Tis done, sir.

_Rom._ Let me see, this first is right,
And heere you wish a sudden death may light
Vpon your body, and hell take your soule, 190
If euer more you see her, but by chance,
Much lesse allure. Now, my Lord, your hand.

_Nou._ My hand to this?

_Rom._ Your heart else I assure you.

_Nou._ Nay, there ’tis.

_Rom._ So keepe this last article
Of your fayth giuen, and stead of threatnings, sir, 195
The seruice of my sword and life is yours:
But not a word of it, ’tis Fairies treasure;
Which but reueal’d, brings on the blabbers, ruine.
Vse your youth better, and this excellent forme
Heauen hath bestowed vpon you. So good morrow to your Lordship. 200

_Nou._ Good diuell to your rogueship. No man’s safe:
Ile haue a Cannon planted in my chamber, _Exit._
Against such roaring roagues.

_Enter Bellapert._

_Bell._ My Lord away
The Coach stayes: now haue your wish, and iudge,
If I haue been forgetfull.

_Nou._ Ha?

_Bell._ D’ee stand 205
Humming and hawing now?

_Exit._

_Nou._ Sweet wench, I come.
Hence feare,
I swore, that’s all one, my next oath ’ile keepe
That I did meane to breake, and then ’tis quit.
No paine is due to louers periury. 210
If loue himselfe laugh at it, so will I.

_Exit Nouall._

_Scaena 2._

_Enter Charaloys, Baumont._

[_An outer Room in Aymer’s House_]

_Bau._ I grieue for the distaste, though I haue manners,
Not to inquire the cause, falne out betweene
Your Lordship and _Romont_.

_Cha._ I loue a friend,
So long as he continues in the bounds
Prescrib’d by friendship, but when he vsurpes 5
Too farre on what is proper to my selfe,
And puts the habit of a Gouernor on,
I must and will preserue my liberty.
But speake of something, else this is a theame
I take no pleasure in: what’s this _Aymeire_, 10
Whose voyce for Song, and excellent knowledge in
The chiefest parts of Musique, you bestow
Such prayses on?

_Bau._ He is a Gentleman,
(For so his quality speakes him) well receiu’d
Among our greatest Gallants; but yet holds 15
His maine dependance from the young Lord _Nouall_:
Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head,
As all Musicians haue, and more of him
I dare not author: but when you haue heard him,
I may presume, your Lordship so will like him, 20
That you’l hereafter be a friend to Musique.

_Cha._ I neuer was an enemy to’t, _Baumont_,
Nor yet doe I subscribe to the opinion
Of those old Captaines, that thought nothing musicall,
But cries of yeelding enemies, neighing of horses, 25
Clashing of armour, lowd shouts, drums, and trumpets:
Nor on the other side in fauour of it,
Affirme the world was made by musicall discord,
Or that the happinesse of our life consists
In a well varied note vpon the Lute: 30
I loue it to the worth of it, and no further.
But let vs see this wonder.

_Bau._ He preuents
My calling of him.

_Aym._ Let the Coach be brought _Enter Aymiere._
To the backe gate, and serue the banquet vp:
My good Lord _Charalois_, I thinke my house 35
Much honor’d in your presence.

_Cha._ To haue meanes
To know you better, sir, has brought me hither
A willing visitant, and you’l crowne my welcome
In making me a witnesse to your skill,
Which crediting from others I admire. 40

_Aym._ Had I beene one houre sooner made acquainted
With your intent my Lord, you should haue found me
Better prouided: now such as it is,
Pray you grace with your acceptance.

_Bau._ You are modest.
Begin the last new ayre.

_Cha._ Shall we not see them? 45

_Aym._ This little distance from the instruments
Will to your eares conuey the harmony
With more delight.

_Cha._ Ile not consent.

_Aym._ Y’are tedious,
By this meanes shall I with one banquet please
Two companies, those within and these Guls heere. 50

_Song aboue._

_Musique and a Song, Beaumelle within--ha, ha, ha._

_Cha._ How’s this? It is my Ladies laugh! most certaine
When I first pleas’d her, in this merry language,
She gaue me thanks.

_Bau._ How like you this?

_Cha._ ’Tis rare,
Yet I may be deceiu’d, and should be sorry 55
Vpon vncertaine suppositions, rashly
To write my selfe in the blacke list of those
I haue declaym’d against, and to _Romont_.

_Aym._ I would he were well of--perhaps your Lordship
Likes not these sad tunes, I haue a new Song 60
Set to a lighter note, may please you better;
Tis cal’d The happy husband.

_Cha._ Pray sing it.

_Song below. At the end of the Song, Beaumelle within._

_Beau._ Ha, ha, ’tis such a groome.

_Cha._ Doe I heare this,
And yet stand doubtfull?

_Exit Chara._

_Aym._ Stay him I am vndone,
And they discouered.

_Bau._ Whats the matter?

_Aym._ Ah! 65
That women, when they are well pleas’d, cannot hold,
But must laugh out.

_Enter Nouall Iu. Charaloys, Beaumley, Bellapert_.

_Nou._ Helpe, saue me, murrher, murther.

_Beau._ Vndone foreuer.

_Cha._ Oh, my heart!
Hold yet a little--doe not hope to scape
By flight, it is impossible: though I might 70
On all aduantage take thy life, and iustly;
This sword, my fathers sword, that nere was drawne,
But to a noble purpose, shall not now
Doe th’ office of a hangman, I reserue it
To right mine honour, not for a reuenge 75
So poore, that though with thee, it should cut off
Thy family, with all that are allyed
To thee in lust, or basenesse, ’twere still short of
All termes of satisfaction. Draw.

_Nou._ I dare not,
I haue already done you too much wrong, 80
To fight in such a cause.

_Cha._ Why, darest thou neyther
Be honest, coward, nor yet valiant, knaue?
In such a cause come doe not shame thy selfe:
Such whose bloods wrongs, or wrong done to themselues
Could neuer heate, are yet in the defence 85
Of their whores, daring looke on her againe.
You thought her worth the hazard of your soule,
And yet stand doubtfull in her quarrell, to
Venture your body.

_Bau._ No, he feares his cloaths,
More then his flesh

_Cha._ Keepe from me, garde thy life, 90
Or as thou hast liu’d like a goate, thou shalt
Dye like a sheepe.

_Nou._ Since ther’s no remedy

_They fight, Nouall is slaine._

Despaire of safety now in me proue courage.

_Cha._ How soone weak wrong’s or’throwne! lend me your hand,
Beare this to the Caroach--come, you haue taught me 95
To say you must and shall: I wrong you not,
Y’are but to keepe him company you loue.
Is’t done? ’tis well. Raise officers, and take care,
All you can apprehend within the house
May be forth comming. Do I appeare much mou’d? 100

_Bau._ No, sir.

_Cha._ My griefes are now, Thus to be borne.
Hereafter ile finde time and place to mourne.

_Exeunt._

_Scaena 3._

_Enter Romont, Pontalier._

[_A Street_]

_Pont._ I was bound to seeke you, sir.

_Rom._ And had you found me
In any place, but in the streete, I should
Haue done,--not talk’d to you. Are you the Captaine?
The hopefull _Pontalier_? whom I haue seene
Doe in the field such seruice, as then made you 5
Their enuy that commanded, here at home
To play the parasite to a gilded knaue,
And it may be the Pander.

_Pont._ Without this
I come to call you to account, for what
Is past already. I by your example 10
Of thankfulnesse to the dead Generall
By whom you were rais’d, haue practis’d to be so
To my good Lord _Nouall_, by whom I liue;
Whose least disgrace that is, or may be offred,
With all the hazzard of my life and fortunes, 15
I will make good on you, or any man,
That has a hand in’t; and since you allowe me
A Gentleman and a souldier, there’s no doubt
You will except against me. You shall meete
With a faire enemy, you vnderstand 20
The right I looke for, and must haue.

_Rom._ I doe,
And with the next dayes sunne you shall heare from me.

_Exeunt._

_Scaena 4._

_Enter Charalois with a casket, Beaumelle, Baumont._

[_A Room in_ Charalois’ _House_]

_Cha._ Pray beare this to my father, at his leasure
He may peruse it: but with your best language
Intreat his instant presence: you haue sworne
Not to reueale what I haue done.

_Bau._ Nor will I--
But--

_Cha._ Doubt me not, by Heauen, I will doe nothing 5
But what may stand with honour: Pray you leaue me
To my owne thoughts. If this be to me, rise;
I am not worthy the looking on, but onely
To feed contempt and scorne, and that from you
Who with the losse of your faire name haue caus’d it, 10
Were too much cruelty.

_Beau._ I dare not moue you
To heare me speake. I know my fault is farre
Beyond qualification, or excuse,
That ’tis not fit for me to hope, or you
To thinke of mercy; onely I presume 15
To intreate, you would be pleas’d to looke vpon
My sorrow for it, and beleeue, these teares
Are the true children of my griefe and not
A womans cunning.

_Cha._ Can you _Beaumelle_,
Hauing deceiued so great a trust as mine, 20
Though I were all credulity, hope againe
To get beleefe? no, no, if you looke on me
With pity or dare practise any meanes
To make my sufferings lesse, or giue iust cause
To all the world, to thinke what I must doe 25
Was cal’d vpon by you, vse other waies,
Deny what I haue seene, or iustifie
What you haue done, and as you desperately
Made shipwracke of your fayth to be a whore,
Vse th’ armes of such a one, and such defence, 30
And multiply the sinne, with impudence,
Stand boldly vp, and tell me to my teeth,
You haue done but what’s warranted,
By great examples, in all places, where
Women inhabit, vrge your owne deserts, 35
Or want of me in merit; tell me how,
Your dowre from the lowe gulfe of pouerty,
Weighed vp my fortunes, to what now they are:
That I was purchas’d by your choyse and practise
To shelter you from shame: that you might sinne 40
As boldly as securely, that poore men
Are married to those wiues that bring them wealth,
One day their husbands, but obseruers euer:
That when by this prou’d vsage you haue blowne
The fire of my iust vengeance to the height, 45
I then may kill you: and yet say ’twas done
In heate of blood, and after die my selfe,
To witnesse my repentance.

_Beau._ O my fate,
That neuer would consent that I should see,
How worthy thou wert both of loue and duty 50
Before I lost you; and my misery made
The glasse, in which I now behold your vertue:
While I was good, I was a part of you,
And of two, by the vertuous harmony
Of our faire minds, made one; but since I wandred 55
In the forbidden Labyrinth of lust,
What was inseparable, is by me diuided.
With iustice therefore you may cut me off,
And from your memory, wash the remembrance
That ere I was like to some vicious purpose 60
Within your better iudgement, you repent of
And study to forget.

_Cha._ O _Beaumelle_,
That you can speake so well, and doe so ill!
But you had been too great a blessing, if
You had continued chast: see how you force me 65
To this, because my honour will not yeeld
That I againe should loue you.

_Beau._ In this life
It is not fit you should: yet you shall finde,
Though I was bold enough to be a strumpet,
I dare not yet liue one: let those fam’d matrones 70
That are canoniz’d worthy of our sex,
Transcend me in their sanctity of life,
I yet will equall them in dying nobly,
Ambitious of no honour after life,
But that when I am dead, you will forgiue me. 75

_Cha._ How pity steales vpon me! should I heare her
But ten words more, I were lost--one knocks, go in.

_Knock within. Exit Beaumelle. Enter Rochfort._

That to be mercifull should be a sinne.
O, sir, most welcome. Let me take your cloake,
I must not be denyed--here are your robes, 80
As you loue iustice once more put them on:
There is a cause to be determind of
That doe’s require such an integrity,
As you haue euer vs’d--ile put you to
The tryall of your constancy, and goodnesse: 85
And looke that you that haue beene Eagle-eyd
In other mens affaires, proue not a Mole
In what concernes your selfe. Take you your seate:
I will be for you presently.

_Exit._

_Roch._ Angels guard me,
To what strange Tragedy does this destruction 90
Serue for a Prologue?

_Enter Charaloys with Nouals body. Beaumelle, Baumont._

_Cha._ So, set it downe before
The Iudgement seate, and stand you at the bar:
For me? I am the accuser.

_Roch._ _Nouall_ slayne,
And _Beaumelle_ my daughter in the place
Of one to be arraign’d.

_Cha._ O, are you touch’d? 95
I finde that I must take another course,
Feare nothing. I will onely blind your eyes,
For Iustice should do so, when ’tis to meete
An obiect that may sway her equall doome
From what it should be aim’d at.--Good my Lord, 100
A day of hearing.

_Roch._ It is granted, speake--
You shall haue iustice.

_Cha._ I then here accuse,
Most equall Iudge, the prisoner your faire Daughter,
For whom I owed so much to you: your daughter,
So worthy in her owne parts: and that worth 105
Set forth by yours, to whose so rare perfections,
Truth witnesse with me, in the place of seruice
I almost pay’d Idolatrous sacrifice
To be a false advltresse.

_Roch._ With whom?

_Cha._ With this _Nouall_ here dead.

_Roch._ Be wel aduis’d 110
And ere you say adultresse againe,
Her fame depending on it, be most sure
That she is one.

_Cha._ I tooke them in the act.
I know no proofe beyond it.

_Roch._ O my heart.

_Cha._ A Iudge should feele no passions.

_Roch._ Yet remember 115
He is a man, and cannot put off nature.
What answere makes the prisoner?

_Beau._ I confesse
The fact I am charg’d with, and yeeld my selfe
Most miserably guilty.

_Roch._ Heauen take mercy
Vpon your soule then: it must leaue your body. 120
Now free mine eyes, I dare vnmou’d looke on her,
And fortifie my sentence, with strong reasons.
Since that the politique law prouides that seruants,
To whose care we commit our goods shall die,
If they abuse our trust: what can you looke for, 125
To whose charge this most hopefull Lord gaue vp
All he receiu’d from his braue Ancestors,
Or he could leaue to his posterity?
His Honour, wicked woman, in whose safety
All his lifes ioyes, and comforts were locked vp, 130
With thy lust, a theefe hath now stolne from him,
And therefore--

_Cha._ Stay, iust Iudge, may not what’s lost
By her owne fault, (for I am charitable,
And charge her not with many) be forgotten
In her faire life hereafter?

_Roch._ Neuer, Sir. 135
The wrong that’s done to the chaste married bed,
Repentant teares can neuer expiate,
And be assured, to pardon such a sinne,
Is an offence as great as to commit it.

_Cha._ I may not then forgiue her.

_Roch._ Nor she hope it. 140
Nor can she wish to liue no sunne shall rise,
But ere it set, shall shew her vgly lust
In a new shape, and euery on more horrid:
Nay, euen those prayers, which with such humble feruor
She seemes to send vp yonder, are beate backe, 145
And all suites, which her penitance can proffer,
As soone as made, are with contempt throwne
Off all the courts of mercy.

_He kills her._

_Cha._ Let her die then.
Better prepar’d I am. Sure I could not take her,
Nor she accuse her father, as a Iudge 150
Partiall against her.

_Beau._ I approue his sentence,
And kisse the executioner; my lust
Is now run from me in that blood; in which
It was begot and nourished.

_Roch._ Is she dead then?

_Cha._ Yes, sir, this is her heart blood, is it not? 155
I thinke it be.

_Roch._ And you haue kild here?

_Cha._ True,
And did it by your doome

_Roch._ But I pronounc’d it
As a Iudge onely, and friend to iustice,
And zealous in defence of your wrong’d honour,
Broke all the tyes of nature: and cast off 160
The loue and soft affection of a father.
I in your cause, put on a Scarlet robe
Of red died cruelty, but in returne,
You haue aduanc’d for me no flag of mercy:
I look’d on you, as a wrong’d husband, but 165
You clos’d your eyes against me, as a father.
O _Beaumelle_, my daughter.

_Cha._ This is madnesse.

_Roch._ Keepe from me--could not one good thought rise vp,
To tell you that she was my ages comfort,
Begot by a weake man, and borne a woman, 170
And could not therefore, but partake of frailety?
Or wherefore did not thankfulnesse step forth,
To vrge my many merits, which I may
Obiect vnto you, since you proue vngratefull,
Flinty-hearted _Charaloys_?

_Cha._ Nature does preuaile 175
Aboue your vertue.

_Roch._ No! it giues me eyes,
To pierce the heart of designe against me.
I finde it now, it was my state was aym’d at,
A nobler match was fought for, and the houres
I liu’d, grew teadious to you: my compassion 180
Towards you hath rendred me most miserable,
And foolish charity vndone my selfe:
But ther’s a Heauen aboue, from whose iust wreake
No mists of policy can hide offendors.

_Enter Nouall se. with Officers._

_Nou. se._ Force ope the doors--O monster, caniball, 185
Lay hold on him, my sonne, my sonne.--O _Rochfort_,
’Twas you gaue liberty to this bloody wolfe
To worry all our comforts,--But this is
No time to quarrell; now giue your assistance
For the reuenge.

_Roch._ Call it a fitter name-- 190
Iustice for innocent blood.

_Cha._ Though all conspire
Against that life which I am weary of,
A little longer yet ile striue to keepe it,
To shew in spite of malice, and their lawes,
His plea must speed that hath an honest cause. 195

_Exeunt_

_Actus quintus._

_Scaena prima._

[_A Street_]

_Enter Liladam_, _Taylor_, _Officers_.

_Lila_ Why ’tis both most vnconscionable, and vntimely
T’arrest a gallant for his cloaths, before
He has worne them out: besides you sayd you ask’d
My name in my Lords bond but for me onely,
And now you’l lay me vp for’t. Do not thinke 5
The taking measure of a customer
By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait
Neuer so patiently, will proue a fashion
Which any Courtier or Innes of court man
Would follow willingly.

_Tayl._ There I beleeue you. 10
But sir, I must haue present moneys, or
Assurance to secure me, when I shall.--
Or I will see to your comming forth.

_Lila._ Plague on’t,
You haue prouided for my enterance in:
That comming forth you talke of, concernes me. 15
What shall I doe? you haue done me a disgrace
In the arrest, but more in giuing cause
To all the street, to thinke I cannot stand
Without these two supporters for my armes:
Pray you let them loose me: for their satisfaction 20
I will not run away.

_Tayl._ For theirs you will not,
But for your owne you would; looke to them fellows.

_Lila._ Why doe you call them fellows? doe not wrong
Your reputation so, as you are meerely
A Taylor, faythfull, apt to beleeue in Gallants 25
You are a companion at a ten crowne supper
For cloth of bodkin, and may with one Larke
Eate vp three manchets, and no man obserue you,
Or call your trade in question for’t. But when
You study your debt-booke, and hold correspondence 30
With officers of the hanger, and leaue swordmen,
The learned conclude, the Taylor and Sergeant
In the expression of a knaue are these
To be _Synonima_. Looke therefore to it,
And let vs part in peace, I would be loth 35
You should vndoe your selfe.

_Tayl._ To let you goe

_Enter old Nouall, and Pontalier._

Were the next way.
But see! heeres your old Lord,
Let him but giue his worde I shall be paide,
And you are free.

_Lila._ S’lid, I will put him to’t:
I can be but denied: or what say you? 40
His Lordship owing me three times your debt,
If you arrest him at my suite, and let me
Goe run before to see the action entred.
’Twould be a witty iest.

_Tayl._ I must haue ernest:
I cannot pay my debts so.

_Pont._ Can your Lordship 45
Imagine, while I liue and weare a sword,
Your sonnes death shall be reueng’d?

_Nou. se._ I know not
One reason why you should not doe like others:
I am sure, of all the herd that fed vpon him,
I cannot see in any, now hee’s gone, 50
In pitty or in thankfulnesse one true signe
Of sorrow for him.

_Pont._ All his bounties yet
Fell not in such vnthankfull ground: ’tis true
He had weakenesses, but such as few are free from,
And though none sooth’d them lesse then I: for now 55
To say that I foresaw the dangers that
Would rise from cherishing them, were but vntimely.
I yet could wish the iustice that you seeke for
In the reuenge, had been trusted to me,
And not the vncertaine issue of the lawes: 60
’Tas rob’d me of a noble testimony
Of what I durst doe for him: but howeuer,
My forfait life redeem’d by him though dead,
Shall doe him seruice.

_Nou. se._ As farre as my griefe
Will giue me leaue, I thanke you.

_Lila._ Oh my Lord, 65
Oh my good Lord, deliuer me from these furies.

_Pont._ Arrested? This is one of them whose base
And obiect flattery helpt to digge his graue:
He is not worth your pitty, nor my anger.
Goe to the basket and repent.

_Nou. se._ Away 70
I onely know now to hate thee deadly:
I will doe nothing for thee.

_Lila._ Nor you, Captaine.

_Pont._ No, to your trade againe, put off this case,
It may be the discouering what you were,
When your vnfortunate master tooke you vp, 75
May moue compassion in your creditor.
Confesse the truth.

_Exit Nouall se. Pont._

_Lila._ And now I thinke on’t better,
I will, brother, your hand, your hand, sweet brother.
I am of your sect, and my gallantry but a dreame,
Out of which these two fearefull apparitions 80
Against my will haue wak’d me. This rich sword
Grew suddenly out of a taylors bodkin;
These hangers from my vailes and fees in Hell:
And where as now this beauer sits, full often
A thrifty cape compos’d of broad cloth lifts, 85
Nere kin vnto the cushion where I sate.
Crosse-leg’d, and yet vngartred, hath beene seene,
Our breakefasts famous for the buttred loaues,
I haue with ioy bin oft acquainted with,
And therefore vse a conscience, though it be 90
Forbidden in our hall towards other men,
To me that as I haue beene, will againe
Be of the brotherhood.

_Offi._ I know him now:
He was a prentice to _Le Robe_ at _Orleance_.

_Lila._ And from thence brought by my young Lord, now dead, 95
Vnto _Dijon_, and with him till this houre
Hath bin receiu’d here for a compleate Mounsieur.
Nor wonder at it: for but tythe our gallants,
Euen those of the first ranke, and you will finde
In euery ten, one: peraduenture two, 100
That smell ranke of the dancing schoole, or fiddle,
The pantofle or pressing yron: but hereafter
Weele talke of this. I will surrender vp
My suites againe: there cannot be much losse,
’Tis but the turning of the lace, with ones 105
Additions more you know of, and what wants
I will worke out.

_Tayl._ Then here our quarrell ends.
The gallant is turn’d Taylor, and all friends.

_Exeunt._

_Scaena 2._

_Enter Romont, Baumont._

[_The Court of Justice_]

_Rom._ You haue them ready.

_Bau._ Yes, and they will speake
Their knowledg in this cause, when thou thinkst fit
To haue them cal’d vpon.

_Rom._ ’Tis well, and something
I can adde to their euidence, to proue
This braue reuenge, which they would haue cal’d murther, 5
A noble Iustice.

_Bau._ In this you expresse
(The breach by my Lords want of you, new made vp)
A faythfull friend.

_Rom._ That friendship’s rays’d on sand,
Which euery sudden gust of discontent,
Or flowing of our passions can change, 10
As if it nere had bin: but doe you know
Who are to sit on him?

_Bau._ Mounsieur _Du Croy_
Assisted by _Charmi_.

_Rom._ The Aduocate
That pleaded for the Marshalls funerall,
And was checkt for it by _Nouall_.

_Bau._ The same 15

_Rom._ How fortunes that?

_Bau._ Why, sir, my Lord _Nouall_
Being the accuser, cannot be the Iudge,
Nor would grieue _Rochfort_, but Lord _Charaloys_
(Howeuer he might wrong him by his power,)
Should haue an equall hearing.

_Rom._ By my hopes 20
Of _Charaloys_ acquitall, I lament
That reuerent old mans fortune.

_Bau._ Had you seene him,
As to my griefe I haue now promis’d patience,
And ere it was beleeu’d, though spake by him
That neuer brake his word, inrag’d againe 25
So far as to make warre vpon those heires
Which not a barbarous Sythian durst presume
To touch, but with a superstitious feare,
As something sacred, and then curse his daughter,
But with more frequent violence himselfe, 30
As if he had bin guilty of her fault,
By being incredulous of your report,
You would not onely iudge him worrhy pitty,
But suffer with him.

_Enter Charalois, with Officers._

But heere comes the prisoner,
I dare not stay to doe my duty to him, 35
Yet rest assur’d, all possible meanes in me
To doe him seruice, keepes you company.

_Exit Bau._

_Rom._ It is not doubted.

_Cha._ Why, yet as I came hither,
The people apt to mocke calamity,
And tread on the oppress’d, made no hornes at me, 40
Though they are too familiar: I deserue them.
And knowing what blood my sword hath drunke
In wreake of that disgrace, they yet forbare
To shake their heads, or to reuile me for
A murtherer, they rather all put on 45
(As for great losses the old _Romans_ vs’d)
A generall face of sorrow, waighted on
By a sad murmur breaking through their silence,
And no eye but was readier with a teare
To witnesse ’twas shed for me, then I could 50
Discerne a face made vp with scorne against me.
Why should I then, though for vnusuall wrongs,
I chose vnusuall meanes to right those wrongs,
Condemne my selfe, as over-partiall
In my owne cause Romont?

_Rom._ Best friend, well met, 55

By my heart’s loue to you, and ioyne to that,
My thankfulness that still liues to the dead,
I looke upon you now with more true ioy,
Than when I saw you married.

_Cha._ You have reason
To give you warrant for’t; my falling off 60
From such a friendship with the scorne that answered
Your too propheticke counsell, may well moue you
To thinke your meeting me going to my death,
A fit encounter for that hate which iustly
I have deseru’d from you.

_Rom._ Shall I still then 65
Speake truth, and be ill vnderstood?

_Cha._ You are not.
I am conscious, I haue wrong’d you, and allow me
Only a morall man to looke on you,
Whom foolishly I haue abus’d and iniur’d,
Must of necessity be more terrible to me, 70
Than any death the Iudges can pronounce
From the tribunall which I am to plead at.

_Rom._ Passion transports you.

_Cha._ For what I haue done
To my false Lady, or _Nouall_, I can
Giue some apparent cause: but touching you, 75
In my defence, childlike, I can say nothing,
But I am sorry for’t, a poore satisfaction:
And yet mistake me not: for it is more
Then I will speake, to haue my pardon sign’d
For all I stand accus’d of.

_Rom._ You much weaken 80
The strength of your good cause. Should you but thinke
A man for doing well could entertaine
A pardon, were it offred, you haue giuen
To blinde and slow-pac’d iustice, wings, and eyes
To see and ouertake impieties, 85
Which from a cold proceeding had receiu’d
Indulgence or protection.

_Cha._ Thinke you so?

_Rom._ Vpon my soule nor should the blood you chalenge
And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple
In your soft conscience, then if your sword 90
Had bin sheath’d in a Tygre, or she Beare,
That in their bowels would haue made your tombe
To iniure innocence is more then murther:
But when inhumane lusts transforme vs, then
Like beasts we are to suffer, not like men 95
To be lamented. Nor did _Charalois_ euer
Performe an act so worthy the applause
Of a full theater of perfect men,
As he hath done in this: the glory got
By ouerthrowing outward enemies, 100
Since strength and fortune are maine sharers in it,
We cannot but by pieces call our owne:
But when we conquer our intestine foes,
Our passions breed within vs, and of those
The most rebellious tyrant powerfull loue, 105
Our reason suffering vs to like no longer
Then the faire obiect being good deserues it,
That’s a true victory, which, were great men
Ambitious to atchieue, by your example
Setting no price vpon the breach of fayth, 110
But losse of life, ’twould fright adultery
Out of their families, and make lust appeare
As lothsome to vs in the first consent,
As when ’tis wayted on by punishment.

_Cha._ You haue confirm’d me. Who would loue a woman 115
That might inioy in such a man, a friend?
You haue made me know the iustice of my cause,
And mark’t me out the way, how to defend it.

_Rom._ Continue to that resolution constant,
And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice, 120
Come off with honour. Heere they come.

_Cha._ I am ready.

_Scaena 3._

_Enter Du Croy_, _Charmi_, _Rochfort_, _Nouall se._ _Pontalier_, _Baumont_.

_Nou. se._ See, equall Iudges, with what confidence
The cruel murtherer stands, as if he would
Outface the Court and Iustice!

_Roch._ But looke on him.
And you shall find, for still methinks I doe,
Though guilt hath dide him black, something good in him, 5
That may perhaps worke with a wiser man
Then I haue beene, againe to set him free
And giue him all he has.

_Charmi._ This is not well.
I would you had liu’d so, my Lord that I,
Might rather haue continu’d your poore seruant, 10
Then sit here as your Iudge.

_Du Croy_ I am sorry for you.

_Roch._ In no act of my life I haue deseru’d
This iniury from the court, that any heere
Should thus vnciuilly vsurpe on what
Is proper to me only.

_Du Cr._ What distaste 15
Receiues my Lord?

_Roch._ You say you are sorry for him:
A griefe in which I must not haue a partner:
’Tis I alone am sorry, that I rays’d
The building of my life for seuenty yeeres
Vpon so sure a ground, that all the vices 20
Practis’d to ruine man, though brought against me,
Could neuer vndermine, and no way left
To send these gray haires to the graue with sorrow.
Vertue that was my patronesse betrayd me:
For entring, nay, possessing this young man, 25
It lent him such a powerfull Maiesty
To grace what ere he vndertooke, that freely
I gaue myselfe vp with my liberty,
To be at his disposing; had his person
Louely I must confesse, or far fain’d valour, 30
Or any other seeming good, that yet
Holds a neere neyghbour-hood, with ill wrought on me,
I might haue borne it better: but when goodnesse
And piety it selfe in her best figure
Were brib’d to by destruction, can you blame me, 35
Though I forget to suffer like a man,
Or rather act a woman?

_Bau._ Good my Lord.

_Nou. se._ You hinder our proceeding.

_Charmi._ And forget
The parts of an accuser.

_Bau._ Pray you remember
To vse the temper which to me you promis’d. 40

_Roch._ Angels themselues must breake _Baumont_, that promise
Beyond the strength and patience of Angels.
But I haue done, my good Lord, pardon me
A weake old man, and pray adde to that
A miserable father, yet be carefull 45
That your compassion of my age, nor his,
Moue you to anything, that may dis-become
The place on which you sit.

_Charmi._ Read the Inditement.

_Cha._ It shall be needelesse, I my selfe, my Lords,
Will be my owne accuser, and confesse 50
All they can charge me with, or will I spare
To aggrauate that guilt with circumstance
They seeke to loade me with: onely I pray,
That as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing:
I may not be, denide it for my selfe, 55
When I shall vrge by what vnanswerable reasons
I was compel’d to what I did, which yet
Till you haue taught me better, I repent not.

_Roch._ The motion honest.

_Charmi._ And ’tis freely granted.

_Cha._ Then I confesse my Lords, that I stood bound, 60
When with my friends, euen hope it selfe had left me
To this mans charity for my liberty,
Nor did his bounty end there, but began:
For after my enlargement, cherishing
The good he did, he made me master of 65
His onely daughter, and his whole estate:
Great ties of thankfulnesse I must acknowledge,
Could any one freed by you, presse this further
But yet consider, my most honourd Lords,
If to receiue a fauour, make a seruant, 70
And benefits are bonds to tie the taker
To the imperious will of him that giues,
Ther’s none but slaues will receiue courtesie,
Since they must fetter vs to our dishonours.
Can it be cal’d magnificence in a Prince, 75
To powre downe riches, with a liberall hand,
Vpon a poore mans wants, if that must bind him
To play the soothing parasite to his vices?
Or any man, because he sau’d my hand,
Presume my head and heart are at his seruice? 80
Or did I stand ingag’d to buy my freedome
(When my captiuity was honourable)
By making my selfe here and fame hereafter,
Bondslaues to mens scorne and calumnious tongues?
Had his faire daughters mind bin like her feature, 85
Or for some little blemish I had sought
For my content elsewhere, wasting on others
My body and her dowry; my forhead then
Deseru’d the brand of base ingratitude:
But if obsequious vsage, and faire warning 90
To keepe her worth my loue, could preserue her
From being a whore, and yet no cunning one,
So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me?
What should I doe? let any freeborne spirit
Determine truly, if that thankfulnesse, 95
Choise forme with the whole world giuen for a dowry,
Could strengthen so an honest man with patience,
As with a willing necke to vndergoe
The insupportable yoake of slaue or wittoll.

_Charmi._ What proofe haue you she did play false, besides 100
your oath?

_Cha._ Her owne confession to her father.
I aske him for a witnesse.

_Roch._ ’Tis most true.
I would not willingly blend my last words
With an vntruth.

_Cha._ And then to cleere my selfe,
That his great wealth was not the marke I shot at, 105
But that I held it, when faire _Beaumelle_
Fell from her vertue, like the fatall gold
Which _Brennus_ tooke from _Delphos_, whose possession
Brought with it ruine to himselfe and Army.
Heer’s one in Court, _Baumont_, by whom I sent 110
All graunts and writings backe, which made it mine,
Before his daughter dy’d by his owne sentence,
As freely as vnask’d he gaue it to me.

_Bau._ They are here to be seene.

_Charmi._ Open the casket.
Peruse that deed of gift.

_Rom._ Halfe of the danger 115
Already is discharg’d: the other part
As brauely, and you are not onely free,
But crownd with praise for euer.

_Du Croy._ ’Tis apparent.

_Charmi._ Your state, my Lord, againe is yours.

_Roch._ Not mine,
I am not of the world, if it can prosper, 120
(And being iustly got, Ile not examine
Why it should be so fatall) doe you bestow it
On pious vses. Ile goe seeke a graue.
And yet for proofe, I die in peace, your pardon
I aske, and as you grant it me, may Heauen 125
Your conscience, and these Iudges free you from
What you are charg’d with. So farewell for euer.--

_Exit Roch._

_Nouall se._ Ile be mine owne guide. Passion, nor example
Shall be my leaders. I haue lost a sonne,
A sonne, graue Iudges, I require his blood 130
From his accursed homicide.

_Charmi._ What reply you
In your defence for this?

_Cha._ I but attended
Your Lordships pleasure. For the fact, as of
The former, I confesse it, but with what
Base wrongs I was vnwillingly drawne to it, 135
To my few wordes there are some other proofes
To witnesse this for truth, when I was married:
For there I must begin. The slayne _Nouall_
Was to my wife, in way of our French courtship,
A most deuoted seruant, but yet aym’d at 140
Nothing but meanes to quench his wanton heate,
His heart being neuer warm’d by lawfull fires
As mine was (Lords:) and though on these presumptions,
Ioyn’d to the hate betweene his house and mine,
I might with opportunity and ease 145
Haue found a way for my reuenge, I did not;
But still he had the freedome as before
When all was mine, and told that he abus’d it
With some vnseemely licence, by my friend
My appou’d friend _Romont_, I gaue no credit 150
To the reporter, but reprou’d him for it
As one vncourtly and malicious to him.
What could I more, my Lords? yet after this
He did continue in his first pursute
Hoter then euer, and at length obtaind it; 155
But how it came to my most certaine knowledge,
For the dignity of the court and my owne honour
I dare not say.

_Nou. se._ If all may be beleeu’d
A passionate prisoner speakes, who is so foolish
That durst be wicked, that will appeare guilty? 160
No, my graue Lords: in his impunity
But giue example vnto iealous men
To cut the throats they hate, and they will neuer
Want matter or pretence for their bad ends.

_Charmi._ You must find other proofes to strengthen these 165
But more presumptions.

_Du Croy._ Or we shall hardly
Allow your innocence.

_Cha._ All your attempts
Shall fall on me, like brittle shafts on armour,
That breake themselues; or like waues against a rocke,
That leaue no signe of their ridiculous fury 170
But foame and splinters, my innocence like these
Shall stand triumphant, and your malice serue
But for a trumpet; to proclaime my conquest
Nor shall you, though you doe the worst fate can,
How ere condemne, affright an honest man. 175

_Rom._ May it please the Court, I may be heard.

_Nou. se._ You come not
To raile againe? but doe, you shall not finde,
Another _Rochfort_.

_Rom._ In _Nouall_ I cannot.
But I come furnished with what will stop
The mouth of his conspiracy against the life 180
Of innocent _Charaloys_. Doe you know this Character?

_Nou. se._ Yes, ’tis my sonnes.

_Rom._ May it please your Lordships, reade it,
And you shall finde there, with what vehemency
He did sollicite _Beaumelle_, how he had got
A promise from her to inioy his wishes, 185
How after he abiur’d her company,
And yet, but that ’tis fit I spare the dead,
Like a damnd villaine, assoone as recorded,
He brake that oath, to make this manifest
Produce his bands and hers.

_Enter Aymer_, _Florimell_, _Bellapert_.

_Charmi._ Haue they tooke their oathes? 190

_Rom._ They haue; and rather then indure the racke,
Confesse the time, the meeting, nay the act;
What would you more? onely this matron made
A free discouery to a good end;
And therefore I sue to the Court, she may not 195
Be plac’d in the blacke list of the delinquents.

_Pont._ I see by this, Nouals reuenge needs me,
And I shall doe.

_Charmi._ ’Tis euident.

_Nou. se._ That I
Till now was neuer wretched, here’s no place
To curse him or my stars.

_Exit Nouall senior._

_Charmi._ Lord _Charalois_, 200
The iniurie: you haue sustain’d, appeare
So worthy of the mercy of the Court,
That notwithstanding you haue gone beyond
The letter of the Law, they yet acquit you.

_Pont._ But in Nouall, I doe condemne him thus. 205

_Cha._ I am slayne.

_Rom._ Can I looke on? Oh murderous wretch,
Thy challenge now I answere. So die with him.

_Charmi._ A guard: disarme him.

_Rom._ I yeeld vp my sword
Vnforc’d. Oh _Charaloys_.

_Cha._ For shame, _Romont_,
Mourne not for him that dies as he hath liu’d, 210
Still constant and vnmou’d: what’s falne vpon me,
Is by Heauens will, because I made my selfe
A Iudge in my owne cause without their warrant:
But he that lets me know thus much in death,
With all good men forgiue mee.

_Pont._ I receiue 215
The vengeance, which my loue not built on vertue,
Has made me worthy, worthy of.

_Charmi._ We are taught
By this sad president, how iust foeuer
Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs,
We are yet to leaue them to their will and power, 220
That to that purpose haue authority.
For you, _Romont_, although in your excuse
You may plead, what you did, was in reuenge
Of the dishonour done vnto the Court:
Yet since from vs you had not warrant for it, 225
We banish you the State: for these, they shall,
As they are found guilty or innocent,
Be set free, or suffer punishment.

_Exeunt omnes._

_FINIS_

First Song.

_Fie, cease to wonder,
Though you are heare Orpheus with his Iuory Lute,
Moue Trees and Rockes.
Charme Buls, Beares, and men more sauage to be mute,
Weake foolish singer, here is one, 5
Would haue transform’d thy selfe, to stone._

Second Song.

A Dialogue betweene _Nouall_, and _Beaumelle_.

_Man._

_Set_ Phoebus, _set, a fayrer sunne doth rise,
From the bright Radience of my Mrs. eyes
Then euer thou begat’st. I dare not looke,
Each haire a golden line, each word a hooke,
The more I striue, the more I still am tooke._ 5

Wom.

_Fayre seruant, come, the day these eyes doe lend
To warme thy blood, thou doest so vainely spend.
Come strangled breath._

Man.

_What noate so sweet as this,
That calles the spirits to a further blisse?_

Wom.

_Yet this out-sauours wine, and this Perfume._ 10

Man.

_Let’s die, I languish, I consume._

CITTIZENS SONG OF THE COURTIER.

_Courtier, if thou needs wilt wiue,
From this lesson learne to thriue.
If thou match a Lady, that
Passes thee in birth and state,
Let her curious garments be 5
Twice aboue thine owne degree;
This will draw great eyes vpon her,
Get her seruants and thee honour._

COURTIERS SONG OF THE CITIZEN.

_Poore Citizen, if thou wilt be
A happy husband, learne of me;
To set thy wife first in thy shop,
A faire wife, a kinde wife, a sweet wife, sets a poore man vp.
What though thy shelues be ne’re so bare: 5
A woman still is currant ware:
Each man will cheapen, foe, and friend,
But whilst thou art at tother end,
What ere thou seest, or what dost heare,
Foole, haue no eye to, nor an eare; 10
And after supper for her sake,
When thou hast fed, snort, though thou wake:
What though the Gallants call thee mome?
Yet with thy lanthorne light her home:
Then looke into the town and tell, 15
If no such Tradesmen there doe dwell._

NOTES

[_Dramatis personae._] _Charalois_--the name _Charalois_ is a corruption of _Charolais_, the Count of Charolais being the hereditary title of the heir-apparent of the Duchy of Burgundy, for whom the county of Charolais, an arrière-fief of Burgundy, was reserved as an appanage. This domain had been purchased by Philip the Bold for his son, John the Fearless.

I, i, 4. _argue me of_--obsolete construction: “accuse me of.” Cf. Ray, _Disc._ II, v, 213: “Erroneously argues Hubert Thomas ... of a mistake.”

I, i, 7. _dispence with_--give special exemption from. Cf. I, ii, 87.

I, i, 33. _This such_--_This_ for _this is_ is a common Elizabethan construction. Cf. “O this the poison of deep grief”--_Hamlet_, IV, v, 76; “This a good block”--_Lear_, IV, vi, 187.

I, i, 45. _tooke vp_--borrowed. Cf. Shakespeare, _Henry IV, Part II_, I, ii, 46: “if a man is through with them in honest taking up, they stand upon security.”

I, i, 55-6. _Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak ... haue power_--the details of hat, cloak, and ribbons, interposed between subject and verb, have attracted the latter into the plural, to the violation of its agreement with its substantive.

I, i, 70. _in that_--i. e., in the fact that justice had no such guards.

I, i, 73-7. For the allusion to _Cerberus_ and the _sops_, cf. Virgil’s picture of Aeneas’ journey to Hades (Aeneid, VI, 417-425): “Huge Cerberus makes these realms to resound with barking from his tripple jaws, stretched at his enormous length in a den that fronts the gate. To whom the prophetess, seeing his neck now bristle with horrid snakes, flings a soporific cake of honey and medicated grain. He, in the mad rage of hunger, opening his three mouths, snatches the offered morsel, and, spread on the ground, relaxes his monstrous limbs, and is extended at vast length over all the cave. Aeneas, now that the keeper [of Hell] is buried [in sleep], seizes the passage and swift overpasses the bank of that flood whence there is no return.”--_Davidson’s trans._

I, i, 75. _fertyle headed--many headed_, _fertyle_ is used in the now obsolete sense of _abundant_.

I, i, 92. _such, whose_--for the construction, cf. Shakespeare: “Such I will have, whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy.”--_All’s Well_, III, iv, 24.

I, i, 99. _men religious_--the adjective is regularly placed after its noun in Eliz. Eng. when the substantive is unemphatic and the modifier not a mere epithet, but essential to the sense. See Abbott, S. G. § 419.

I, i, 137-8.--The thought of these lines is undeveloped, the phrasing being broken and disconnected. It is a scornful observation on the part of Romont that whether or not Novall takes papers depends on how the matter is brought before him--and he is about to add that there is a way in which Charalois can manage to gain his point, when he breaks off with the cry, “Follow him!” _Conuayance_ = contrivance.

I, i, 164. _parchment toils_--snares in the shape of documents upon parchment, such as bonds, mortgages, etc.

I, i, 166. _Luxury_--used here in the modern sense,--not, as more commonly in Elizabethan times, with the meaning, _laciviousness_, _lust_. The thought of the somewhat involved period which ends with this line is, that the creditors prayed only on an occasion when they feared to lose their clutch on some rich spendthrift--on which occasion they would pray to the devil to invent some new and fantastic pleasure which would lure their victim back into the toils.

I, ii, 11. _Dijon_--the scene of the drama,--situated on the western border of the fertile plain of Burgundy, and at the confluence of the Ouche and the Suzon. It was formerly the capital of the province of Burgundy, the dukes of which acquired it early in the eleventh century, and took up their residence there in the thirteenth century. For the decoration of the palace and other monuments built by them, eminent artists were gathered from northern France and Flanders, and during this period the town became one of the great intellectual centers of France. The union of the duchy with the crown in 1477 deprived Dijon of the splendor of the ducal court, but to counterbalance this loss it was made the capital of the province and the seat of a _parlement_. To-day it possesses a population of some 65,000, and is a place of considerable importance.