Chapter XIX: Act III: Scene I

_The same. A Camp before the Walls of Sienna._

_Enter_ GONZAGA, ASTUTIO, RODERIGO, _and_ JACOMO.

_Gonz._ What I have done, sir, by the law of arms
I can and will make good.

_Ast._ I have no commission
To expostulate the act. These letters speak
The king my master's love to you, and his
Vow'd service to the duchess, on whose person
I am to give attendance.

_Gonz._ At this instant,
She's at Fienza: you may spare the trouble
Of riding thither: I have advertised her
Of our success, and on what humble terms
Sienna stands: though presently I can
Possess it, I defer it, that she may
Enter her own, and, as she please, dispose of
The prisoners and the spoil.

_Ast._ I thank you, sir.
In the mean time, if I may have your licence,
I have a nephew, and one once my ward,
For whose liberties and ransoms I would gladly
Make composition.

_Gonz._ They are, as I take it,
Call'd Gasparo and Antonio.

_Ast._ The same, sir.

_Gonz._ For them, you must treat with these; but, for Bertoldo,
He is mine own: if the king will ransom him,
He pays down fifty thousand crowns; if not,
He lives and dies my slave.

_Ast._ Pray you, a word: [_Aside to_ GONZ.
The king will rather thank you to detain him,
Than give one crown to free him.

_Gonz._ At his pleasure.
I'll send the prisoners under guard: my business
Calls me another way. [_Exit._

_Ast._ My service waits you.
Now, gentlemen, for this ransom, since you are not
To be brought lower, there is no evading;
I'll be your paymaster.

_Rod._ We desire no better.

_Ast._ But not a word of what's agreed between us,
Till I have school'd my gallants.

_Jac._ I am dumb, sir.

_Enter a Guard, with_ BERTOLDO, ANTONIO, _and_ GASPARO, _in irons_.

_Bert._ And where removed now? hath the tyrant found out
Worse usage for us?

_Ant._ Worse it cannot be.
My greyhound has fresh straw, and scraps, in his kennel;
But we have neither.

_Gasp._ Did I ever think
To wear such garters on silk stockings? or
That my too curious appetite, that turn'd
At the sight of godwits, pheasant, partridge, quails,
Larks, woodcocks, calver'd salmon[157], as coarse diet,
Would leap at a mouldy crust?

_Ant._ And go without it,
So oft as I do? Oh! how have I jeer'd
The city entertainment! A huge shoulder
Of glorious fat ram-mutton, seconded
With a pair of tame cats or conies, a crab-tart,
With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant capon,
Mortified to grow tender!--these I scorn'd,
From their plentiful horn of abundance, though invited:
But now I could carry my own stool to a tripe[158],
And call their chitterlings charity, and bless the founder.

_Bert._ O that I were no further sensible
Of my miseries than you are! you, like beasts,
Feel only stings of hunger, and complain not
But when you're empty: but your narrow souls
(If you have any) cannot comprehend
How insupportable the torments are,
Which a free and noble soul, made captive, suffers.
Most miserable men!--and what am I, then,
That envy you? Fetters, though made of gold,
Express base thraldom; and all delicates
Prepared by Median cooks for epicures,
When not our own, are bitter: quilts fill'd high
With gossamere and roses cannot yield
The body soft repose, the mind kept waking
With anguish and affliction.

_Ast._ My good lord----

_Bert._ This is no time nor place for flattery, sir:
Pray you, style me as I am, a wretch forsaken
Of the world, as myself.

_Ast._ I would it were
In me to help you.

_Bert._ If that you want power, sir,
Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, leave me
To mine own private thoughts. [_Walks by._

_Ast._ [_comes forward._] My valiant nephew!
And my more than warlike ward! I am glad to see you,
After your glorious conquests. Are these chains
Rewards for your good service? if they are,
You should wear them on your necks, since they are massy,
Like aldermen of the war.

_Ant._ You jeer us too!

_Gasp._ Good uncle, name not, as you are a man of honour,
That fatal word of war; the very sound of it
Is more dreadful than a cannon.

_Ant._ But redeem us
From this captivity, and I'll vow hereafter
Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat
With a knife that has an edge or point; I'll starve first.

_Ast._ Well, have more wit hereafter: for this time
You are ransom'd.

_Jac._ Off with their irons!

_Rod._ Do, do:
If you are ours again, you know your price.

_Ant._ Pray you, despatch us: I shall ne'er believe
I am a free man, till I set my foot
In Sicily again, and drink Palermo,
And in Palermo too.

_Ast._ The wind sits fair;
You shall aboard to-night: with the rising sun
You may touch upon the coast. But take your leaves
Of the late general first.

_Gasp._ I will be brief.

_Ant._ And I. My lord, Heaven keep you!

_Gasp._ Yours, to use
In the way of peace; but as your soldiers, never.

_Ant._ A pox of war! no more of war.
[_Exeunt_ ROD. JAC. ANT. _and_ GASP.

_Bert._ Have you
Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave
The brother of your king, whose worth disdains
Comparison with such as these, in irons?
If ransom may redeem them, I have lands,
A patrimony of mine own, assign'd me
By my deceased sire, to satisfy
Whate'er can be demanded for my freedom.

_Ast._ I wish you had, sir; but the king, who yields
No reason for his will, in his displeasure
Hath seized on all you had; nor will Gonzaga,
Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less
Than fifty thousand crowns.

_Bert._ I find it now,
That misery never comes alone. But, grant
The king is yet inexorable, time
May work him to a feeling of my sufferings.
I have friends that swore their lives and fortunes were
At my devotion, and, among the rest,
Yourself, my lord, when forfeited to the law
For a foul murder, and in cold blood done,
I made your life my gift, and reconciled you
To this incensed king, and got your pardon.
--Beware ingratitude! I know you are rich,
And may pay down the sum.

_Ast._ I might, my lord;
But pardon me.

_Bert._ And will Astutio prove, then,
To please a passionate man, (the king's no more,)
False to his maker, and his reason, which
Commands more than I ask? O summer friendship,
Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us in our
Prosperity, with the least gust drop off
In the autumn of adversity! How like
A prison is to a grave! when dead, we are
With solemn pomp brought thither, and our heirs,
Masking their joy in false dissembled tears,
Weep o'er the herse; but earth no sooner covers
The earth brought thither, but they turn away,
With inward smiles, the dead no more remember'd:
So, enter'd in a prison----

_Ast._ My occasions
Command me hence, my lord.

_Bert._ Pray you, leave me, do;
And tell the cruel king, that I will wear
These fetters till my flesh and they are one
Incorporated substance. [_Exit_ ASTUTIO.] In myself,
As in a glass, I'll look on human frailty,
And curse the height of royal blood; since I,
In being born near to Jove, am near his thunder[159].
Cedars once shaken with a storm, their own
Weight grubs their roots out.--Lead me where you please;
I am his, not fortune's martyr, and will die
The great example of his cruelty. [_Exit guarded._

FOOTNOTES:

[157] _Calver'd salmon_ appears to have differed but little from what
is now called pickled salmon, as the directions for preparing it
are--"to boil it in vinegar with oil and spices." The word is
still in use, but not in the exact sense of the text. To _calver_
fish is now a very simple process.--GIFFORD.

[158] --------_To a tripe_,] i. e. _to a tripe shop_. By "carrying his
own stool," he means that he would not wait for the formality of
an invitation, but trust to the vender's hospitality for a meal.
The singular custom of uninvited or unexpected guests bringing
their seats with them is frequently noticed by the writers of
Massinger's time. It is probable that the practice originated in
necessity. Our ancient houses were not much encumbered with
furniture, and the little which they had was moved from place to
place as occasion required.--GIFFORD.

[159] _In being born near to Jove, am near his thunder._] [Greek:
Porrhô Dios kai te porrho keraunou].

SCENE II.

_Palermo. A Grove near the Palace._

_Enter_ ADORNI.

_Ador._ He undergoes my challenge, and contemns it,
And threatens me with the late edict made
'Gainst duellists,--the altar cowards fly to.
But I, that am engaged, and nourish in me
A higher aim than fair Camiola dreams of,
Must not sit down thus. In the court I dare not
Attempt him; and in public he's so guarded,
With a herd of parasites, clients, fools, and suitors,
That a musket cannot reach him:--my designs
Admit of no delay. This is her birthday,
Which, with a fit and due solemnity,
Camiola celebrates: and on it, all such
As love or serve her usually present
A tributary duty. I'll have something
To give, if my intelligence prove true,
Shall find acceptance. I am told, near this grove
Fulgentio, every morning, makes his markets
With his petitioners; I may present him
With a sharp petition!----Ha! 'tis he: my fate
Be ever bless'd for 't!

_Enter_ FULGENTIO _and Page_.

_Ful._ Command such as wait me
Not to presume, at the least for half an hour,
To press on my retirements. Begone, sir.
[_Exit Page._
Challenged! 'tis well; and by a groom! still better.
Was this shape made to fight? I have a tongue yet,
Howe'er no sword, to kill him; and what way,
This morning I'll resolve of. [_Exit._

_Ador._ I shall cross
Your resolution, or suffer for you.
[_Exit following him._

SCENE III.

_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.

_Enter_ CAMIOLA, _followed by Servants with Presents_; SYLLI, _and_ CLARINDA.

_Syl._ What are all these?

_Clar._ Servants with several presents,
And rich ones too.

_1 Serv._ With her best wishes, madam,
Of many such days to you, the lady Petula
Presents you with this fan.

_2 Serv._ This diamond,
From your aunt Honoria.

_3 Serv._ This piece of plate
From your uncle, old Vicentio, with your arms
Graven upon it.

_Cam._ Good friends, they are too
Munificent in their love and favour to me.
Out of my cabinet return such jewels
As this directs you:--[_To_ CLARINDA.]--for your pains; and yours;
Nor must you be forgotten. [_Gives them money._] Honour me
With the drinking of a health.

_1 Serv._ Gold, on my life!

_2 Serv._ She scorns to give base silver.

_3 Serv._ Would she had been
Born every month in the year!

_1 Serv._ Month! every day.

_2 Serv._ Show such another maid.

_3 Serv._ All happiness wait you!

_Clar._ I'll see your will done.
[_Exeunt_ SYLLI, CLARINDA, _and Servants_.

_Enter_ ADORNI _wounded_.

_Cam._ How, Adorni wounded!

_Ador._ A scratch got in your service, else not worth
Your observation: I bring not, madam,
In honour of your birthday, antique plate,
Or pearl, for which the savage Indian dives
Into the bottom of the sea; nor diamonds
Hewn from steep rocks with danger. Such as give
To those that have, what they themselves want, aim at
A glad return with profit: yet, despise not
My offering at the altar of your favour;
Nor let the lowness of the giver lessen
The height of what's presented; since it is
A precious jewel, almost forfeited,
And dimm'd with clouds of infamy, redeem'd,
And, in its natural splendour, with addition
Restored to the true owner.

_Cam._ How is this?

_Ador._ Not to hold you in suspense, I bring you, madam,
Your wounded reputation cured, the sting
Of virulent malice, festering your fair name,
Pluck'd out and trod on. That proud man, that was
Denied the honour of your hand, yet durst,
With his untrue reports, revile your fame,
Compell'd by me, hath given himself the lie,
And in his own blood wrote it:--you may read
Fulgentio subscribed. [_Offering a paper._

_Cam._ I am amazed!

_Ador._ It does deserve it, madam. Common service
Is fit for hinds, and the reward proportion'd
To their conditions: therefore, look not on me
As a follower of your father's fortunes, or
One that subsists on yours:--you frown! my service
Merits not this aspéct.

_Cam._ Which of my favours,
I might say bounties, hath begot and nourish'd
This more than rude presumption? Since you had
An itch to try your desperate valour, wherefore
Went you not to the war? Couldst thou suppose
My innocence could ever fall so low
As to have need of thy rash sword to guard it
Against malicious slander? O how much
Those ladies are deceived and cheated, when
The clearness and integrity of their actions
Do not defend themselves, and stand secure
On their own bases! Such as in a colour
Of seeming service give protection to them,
Betray their own strengths. Malice scorn'd, puts out
Itself; but argued, gives a kind of credit
To a false accusation. In this, this your
Most memorable service, you believed
You did me right; but you have wrong'd me more
In your defence of my undoubted honour,
Than false Fulgentio could.

_Ador._ I am sorry what was
So well intended is so ill received;

_Re-enter_ CLARINDA.

Yet, under your correction, you wish'd
Bertoldo had been present.

_Cam._ True, I did:
But he and you, sir, are not parallels,
Nor must you think yourself so.

_Ador._ I am what
You'll please to have me.

_Cam._ If Bertoldo had
Punish'd Fulgentio's insolence, it had shown
His love to her whom, in his judgment, he
Vouchsafed to make his wife; a height, I hope,
Which you dare not aspire to. The same actions
Suit not all men alike;--but I perceive
Repentance in your looks. For this time, leave me;
I may forgive, perhaps forget, your folly:
Conceal yourself till this storm be blown over.
You will be sought for; yet, if my estate
[_Gives him her hand to kiss._
Can hinder it, shall not suffer in my service.
[_Exit_ ADORNI.
This gentleman is of a noble temper;
And I too harsh, perhaps, in my reproof:
Was I not, Clarinda?

_Clar._ I am not to censure
Your actions, madam; but there are a thousand
Ladies, and of good fame, in such a cause
Would be proud of such a servant.

_Cham._ It may be;

_Enter a Servant._

Let me offend in this kind. Why, uncall'd for?

_Serv._ The signiors, madam, Gasparo and Antonio,
Selected friends of the renown'd Bertoldo,
Put ashore this morning.

_Cam._ Without him?

_Serv._ I think so.

_Cam._ Never think more then.

_Serv._ They have been at court,
Kiss'd the king's hand; and, their first duties done
To him, appear ambitious to tender
To you their second service.

_Cam._ Wait them hither. [_Exit Servant._
Fear, do not rack me! Reason, now, if ever,
Haste with thy aids, and tell me, such a wonder
As my Bertoldo is, with such care fashion'd,
Must not, nay, cannot, in Heaven's providence

_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ GASPARO.

So soon miscarry!--pray you, forbear; ere you take
The privilege, as strangers, to salute me,
(Excuse my manners,) make me first understand
How it is with Bertoldo.

_Gasp._ The relation
Will not, I fear, deserve your thanks.

_Ant._ I wish
Some other should inform you.

_Cam._ Is he dead?
You see, though with some fear, I dare inquire it.

_Gasp._ Dead! Would that were the worst; a debt were paid then,
Kings in their birth owe nature.

_Cam._ Is there aught
More terrible than death?

_Ant._ Yes, to a spirit
Like his; cruel imprisonment, and that
Without the hope of freedom.

_Cam._ You abuse me[160]:
The royal king cannot, in love to virtue,
(Though all springs of affection were dried up,)
But pay his ransom.

_Gasp._ When you know what 'tis,
You will think otherwise: no less will do it
Than fifty thousand crowns.

_Cam._ A petty sum,
The price weigh'd with the purchase: fifty thousand!
To the king 'tis nothing. He that can spare more
To his minion for a masque, cannot but ransom
Such a brother at a million. You wrong
The king's magnificence.

_Ant._ In your opinion;
But 'tis most certain: he does not alone
In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids
All other men.

_Cam._ Are you sure of this?

_Gasp._ You may read
The edict to that purpose, publish'd by him;
That will resolve you.

_Cam._ Possible! pray you, stand off.
If I do not mutter treason to myself,
My heart will break; and yet I will not curse him;
He is my king. The news you have deliver'd
Makes me weary of your company; we'll salute
When we meet next. I'll bring you to the door.
Nay, pray you, no more compliments.

_Gasp._ One thing more,
And that's substantial: let your Adorni
Look to himself.

_Ant._ The king is much incensed
Against him for Fulgentio.

_Cam._ As I am,
For your slowness to depart.

_Both._ Farewell, sweet lady.
[_Exeunt_ GASPARO _and_ ANTONIO.

_Cam._ O more than impious times! when not alone
Subordinate ministers of justice are
Corrupted and seduced, but kings themselves,
The greater wheels by which the lesser move,
Are broken, or disjointed! could it be, else,
A king, to sooth his politic ends, should so far
Forsake his honour, as at once to break
The adamant chains of nature and religion,
To bind up atheism[161], as a defence
To his dark counsels? Will it ever be,
That to deserve too much is dangerous,
And virtue, when too eminent, a crime?
Must she serve fortune still, or, when stripp'd of
Her gay and glorious favours, lose the beauties
Of her own natural shape? O, my Bertoldo,
Thou only sun in honour's sphere, how soon
Art thou eclipsed and darken'd! not the nearness
Of blood prevailing on the king; nor all
The benefits to the general good dispensed,
Gaining a retribution! But that
To owe a courtesy to a simple virgin
Would take from the deserving, I find in me
Some sparks of fire, which, fann'd with honour's breath,
Might rise into a flame, and in men darken
Their usurp'd splendour. Ha! my aim is high,
And, for the honour of my sex, to fall so,
Can never prove inglorious.--'Tis resolved:
Call in Adorni.

_Clar._ I am happy in
Such an employment, madam. [_Exit._

_Cam._ He's a man,
I know, that at a reverent distance loves me;
And such are ever faithful. What a sea
Of melting ice I walk on! what strange censures
Am I to undergo! but good intents
Deride all future rumours.

_Re-enter_ CLARINDA _with_ ADORNI.

_Ador._ I obey
Your summons, madam.

_Cam._ Leave the place, Clarinda;
One woman, in a secret of such weight,
Wise men may think too much: [_Exit_ CLARINDA.] nearer, Adorni.
I warrant it with a smile.

_Ador._ I cannot ask
Safer protection; what's your will?

_Cam._ To doubt
Your ready desire to serve me, or prepare you
With the repetition of former merits,
Would, in my diffidence, wrong you: but I will,
And without circumstance, in the trust that I
Impose upon you, free you from suspicion.

_Ador._ I foster none of you.

_Cam._ I know you do not.
You are, Adorni, by the love you owe me----

_Ador._ The surest conjuration.

_Cam._ Take me with you[162].--
Love born of duty; but advance no further.
You are, sir, as I said, to do me service,
To undertake a task, in which your faith,
Judgment, discretion--in a word, your all
That's good, must be engaged; nor must you study,
In the execution, but what may make
For the ends I aim at.

_Ador._ They admit no rivals.

_Cam._ You answer well. You have heard of Bertoldo's
Captivity, and the king's neglect; the greatness
Of his ransom; fifty thousand crowns, Adorni;
Two parts of my estate!

_Ador._ To what tends this? [_Aside._

_Cam._ Yet I so love the gentleman, for to you
I will confess my weakness, that I purpose
Now, when he is forsaken by the king,
And his own hopes, to ransom him, and receive him
Into my bosom, as my lawful husband--
Why change you colour?

_Ador._ 'Tis in wonder of
Your virtue, madam.

_Cam._ You must, therefore, to
Sienna for me, and pay to Gonzaga
This ransom for his liberty; you shall have
Bills of exchange along with you. Let him swear
A solemn contract to me; for you must be
My principal witness, if he should--but why
Do I entertain these jealousies? You will do this?

_Ador._ Faithfully, madam--but not live long after. [_Aside._

_Cam._ One thing I had forgot: besides his freedom,
He may want accomodations; furnish him
According to his birth.
I'll instantly despatch you. [_Exit._

_Ador._ Was there ever
Poor lover so employ'd against himself,
To make way for his rival? I must do it,
Nay, more, I will. If loyalty can find
Recompense beyond hope or imagination,
Let it fall on me in the other world,
As a reward, for in this I dare not hope it. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[160] _Abuse me_,] i. e. _practise on my credulity with a forged
tale_; the word often occurs in this sense.--GIFFORD.

[161] _Atheism._] Our old writers seem to have used such words as
profaneness, blasphemy, _atheism_, &c. with a laxity which modern
practice does not acknowledge. They applied them to any
extraordinary violation of moral or natural decorum.--GIFFORD.

[162] _Take me with you._] i. e. _hear me out_. The expression is
common in our old writers.--GIFFORD.