Chapter XXII: Act V: Scene I

_The Presence-Chamber in the Duke of Ferrara’s Palace._

_Enter_ PRODITOR _and_ PHŒNIX.

PROD. Now, Phœnix.[919]
PHŒ. Now, my lord.
PROD. Let princely blood Nourish our hopes; we bring
confusion now.
PHŒ. A terrible sudden blow.
PROD. Ay: what day Is this hangs over us?
PHŒ. By th’ mass, Monday.
PROD. As I could wish; my purpose will thrive best:
’Twas first my birth-day, now my fortune’s day. I see
whom fate will raise needs never pray.
PHŒ. Never.
PROD. How is the air?
PHŒ. O, full of trouble!
PROD. Does not the sky look piteously black?
PHŒ. As if ’twere hung with rich men’s consciences.
PROD. Ah, stuck not a comet, like a carbuncle, Upon the
dreadful brow of twelve last night?
PHŒ. Twelve? no, ’twas about one.
PROD. About one? most proper, For that’s the duke.
PHŒ. Well shifted from thyself! [_Aside._
PROD. I could have wish’d it between one and two,
His son and him.
PHŒ. I’ll give you comfort then.
PROD. Prithee.
PHŒ. There was a villanous raven seen last night
Over the presence-chamber, in hard justle
With a young eaglet.
PROD. A raven? that was I: what did the raven?
PHŒ. Marry, my lord, the raven—to say truth,
I left the combat doubtful.
PROD. So ’tis still,
For all is doubt till the deed crown the will.
Now bless thy loins with freedom, wealth, and honour;
Think all thy seed young lords, and by this act
Make a foot-cloth’d[920] posterity; now imagine
Thou see’st thy daughters with their trains borne up,
Whom else despisèd want may curse to whoredom,
And public shames which our state never threat:
She’s never lewd that is accounted great.
PHŒ. I’ll alter that court axiom, thus renew’d,
She’s never great that is accounted lewd. [_Aside._

_Enter several Nobles._

PROD. Stand close; the presence fills. Here, here the
place;
And at his rising, let his fall be base,
Beneath thy foot.
PHŒ. How for his guard, my lord?
PROD. My gold and fear keep[921] with the chief of
them.
PHŒ. That’s rarely well.
PROD. Bold, heedless slave, that dares attempt a deed
Which shall in pieces rend him! [_Aside._

_Enter_ LUSSURIOSO _and_ INFESTO.

My lords both!
LUS. The happiness of the day!
PHŒ. Time my returning;
Treasons have still the worst, yet still are spurning.
[_Aside._

_Enter the_ DUKE _attended_.

PROD. The duke!
PHŒ. I ne’er was gladder to behold him.
ALL. Long live your grace!
DUKE. I do not like that strain:
You know my age affords not to live long.
PROD. Spoke truer than you think for. [_Aside._
DUKE. Bestow that wish upon the prince our son.
PHŒ. Nay, he’s not to live long neither. [_Aside._
PROD. Him as the wealthy treasure of our hopes,
You as possession of our present comfort,
Both in one heart we reverence in one.
PHŒ. O treason of a good complexion! [_Aside._
[_Horn winded within._
DUKE. How now? what fresher news fills the court’s ear?

_Enter_ FIDELIO.

PROD. Fidelio!
FID. Glad tidings to your grace!
The prince is safe return’d, and in your court.
DUKE. Our joy breaks at our eyes; the prince is come!
PROD. Soul-quicking[922] news!—pale vengeance to my
blood! [_Aside._
FID. By me presenting to your serious view
A brief of all his travels. [_Delivers a paper._
DUKE. ’Tis most welcome;
It shall be dear and precious to our eye.
PROD. He reads; I’m glad he reads.—
Now take thy opportunity, leave that place.
PHŒ. At his first rising let his fall be base.[923]
PROD. That must be alter’d now.
PHŒ. Which? his rising or his fall?
PROD. Art thou dull now?
Thou hear’st the prince is come.
DUKE. What’s here?[924]
PROD. My lord?
DUKE [_reads_]. _I have got such a large portion of
knowledge, most worthy father, by the benefit of my
travel_——
PROD. And so he has, no doubt, my lord.
DUKE [_reads_]. _That I am bold now to warn you of Lord
Proditor’s insolent treason, who has irreligiously
seduced a fellow, and closely conveyed him e’en in the
presence-chair to murder you._
PHŒ. O guilty, guilty!
DUKE. What was that fell? what’s he?
PHŒ. I am the man.
PROD. O slave!
PHŒ. I have no power to strike.
PROD. I’m gone, I’m gone!
DUKE. Let me admire heaven’s wisdom in my son.
PHŒ. I confess it, he hir’d me——
PROD. This is a slave:
’Tis forg’d against mine honour and my life;
For in what part of reason can’t appear,
The prince being travell’d should know treasons here?
Plain counterfeit.
DUKE. Dost thou make false our son?
PROD. I know the prince will not affirm’t.[925]
FID. He can
And will, my lord.
PHŒ. Most just, he may.
DUKE. A guard!
LUS. We cannot but in loyal zeal ourselves
Lay hands on such a villain.
DUKE. Stay you; I find you here too.
[_Attendants secure_ PRODITOR.
LUS. Us, my lord?
DUKE [_reads_]. _Against Lussurioso and Infesto, who
not only most riotously consume their houses in vicious
gaming, mortgaging their livings to the merchant,
whereby he with his heirs enter upon their lands; from
whence this abuse comes, that in short time the son of
the merchant has more lordships than the son of the
nobleman, which else was never born to inheritance: but
that which is more impious, they most adulterously train
out young ladies to midnight banquets, to the utter
defamation of their own honours, and ridiculous abuse of
their husbands._
LUS. How could the prince hear that?
PHŒ. Most true, my lord:
My conscience is a witness ’gainst itself;
For to that execution of chaste honour
I was both hir’d and led.
LUS. I hope the prince, out of his plenteous wisdom,
Will not give wrong to us: as for this fellow,
He’s poor, and cares not to be desperate.

_Enter_ FALSO.

FAL. Justice, my lord! I have my niece stol’n from me:
Sh’as left her dowry with me, but she’s gone:
I’d rather have had her love than her money, I.
This, this is one of them. Justice, my lord!
I know him by his face; this is the thief.
PROD. Your grace may now in milder sense perceive
The wrong done to us by this impudent wretch,
Who has his hand fix’d at the throat of law,
And therefore durst be desperate of his life.
DUKE. Peace, you’re too foul; your crime is in excess:
One spot of him makes not your ulcers less.
PROD. O!
DUKE. Did your violence force away his niece?
PHŒ. No, my good lord; I’ll still confess what’s
truth;
I did remove her from her many wrongs,
Which she was pleas’d to leave, they were so vild.[926]
DUKE. What are you nam’d?
FAL. Falso, my lord, Justice Falso;
I’m known by that name.
DUKE. Falso? you came fitly;
You are the very next that follows here.
FAL. I hope so, my lord; my name is in all the records,
I can assure your good grace.

_Enter_ NIECE _and_ CASTIZA _behind_.

DUKE [_reads_]. _Against Justice Falso_——
FAL. Ah!
DUKE [_reads_]. _Who, having had the honest charge of
his niece committed to his trust by the last will and
testament of her deceased father, and with her all the
power of his wealth, not only against faith and
conscience detains her dowry, but against nature and
humanity assays to abuse her body._

NIECE [_coming forward_]. I’m present to affirm it, my
lov’d lord.
FAL. How? what make I here?[927]
NIECE. Either I must agree
To loathed lust, or despis’d beggary.
DUKE. Are you the plaintiff here?
FAL. Ay, my good lord,
For fault of a better.
DUKE. Seldom comes a worse.—[_Reads_] _And moreover, not
contained in[928] this vice only, which is odious too
much, but, against the sacred use of justice, maintains
three thieves to his men._
FAL. Cuds me!
DUKE [_reads_]. _Who only take purses in their master’s
liberty, where if any one chance to be taken, he appears
before him in a false beard, and one of his own fellows
takes his examination._
FAL. By my troth, as true as can be; but he shall not
know on’t. [_Aside._
DUKE [_reads_]. _And in the end will execute justice so
cruelly upon him, that he will not trust him in a
prison, but commit him to his fellows’ chamber._
FAL. Can a man do nothing i’ the country but ’tis told
at court? there’s some busy informing knave abroad, a’
my life. [_Aside._
PHŒ. That this is true, and these, and more, my lord,
Be it, under pardon, spoken for mine own;
He the disease of justice, these of honour,
And this of loyalty and reverence,
The unswept venom of the palace.
PROD. Slave!
PHŒ. Behold the prince to approve it!
[_Discovers himself._[929]
PROD. O, where?
PHŒ. Your eyes keep with your actions, both look
wrong.
PROD. An infernal to my spirit!
ALL. My lord, the prince!
PROD. Tread me to dust, thou in whom wonder
keeps![930]
Behold the serpent on his belly creeps.
PHŒ. Rankle not my foot; away!
Treason, we laugh at thy vain-labouring stings,[931]
Above the foot thou hast no power o’er kings!
DUKE. I cannot with sufficient joy receive thee,
And yet my joy’s too much.
PHŒ. My royal father,
To whose unnatural murder I was hir’d,
I thought it a more natural course of travel,
And answering future expectation,
To leave far countries, and inquire mine own.
DUKE. To thee let reverence all her powers engage,
That art in youth a miracle to age!
State is but blindness; thou hadst piercing art:
We only saw the knee, but thou the heart.
To thee, then, power and dukedom we resign:
He’s fit to reign whose knowledge can refine.
PHŒ. Forbid it my obedience!
DUKE. Our word’s not vain:
I know thee wise, canst both obey and reign.
The rest of life we dedicate to heaven.
ALL. A happy and safe reign to our new duke!
PHŒ. Without your prayers safer and happier.—
Fidelio.
FID. My royal lord.
PHŒ. Here, take this diamond:[932]
You know the virtue on’t; it can fetch vice.
Madam Castiza——
FID. She attends, my lord. [_Exit._
PHŒ. Place a guard near us.—
Know you yon fellow, lady?
CAS. [_coming forward_] My honour’s evil!
PROD. Torment again![933]
PHŒ. So ugly are thy crimes,
Thine eye cannot endure ’em:
And that thy face may stand perpetually
Turn’d so from ours, and thy abhorred self
Neither to threaten wrack[934] of state or credit,
An everlasting banishment seize on thee!
PROD. O fiend!
PHŒ. Thy life is such it is too bad to end.
PROD. May thy rule, life, and all that’s in thee glad,
Have as short time as thy begetting had!
PHŒ. Away! thy curse is idle. [_Exit_ PRODITOR.
The rest are under reformation,
And therefore under pardon.
LUS. &c. Our duties shall turn edge upon our crimes.
FAL. ’Slid, I was afraid of nothing, but that for my
thievery and bawdery I should have been turned to an
innkeeper. [_Aside._

_Re-enter_ FIDELIO _with_ JEWELLER’S WIFE.

My daughter! I am ashamed her worship should see me.
JEW. WIFE. Who would not love a friend at court? what
fine galleries and rooms am I brought through! I had
thought my Knight durst not have shewn his face here, I.
PHŒ. Now, mother of pride and daughter of lust, which is
your friend now?
JEW. WIFE. Ah me!
PHŒ. I’m sure you are not so unprovided to be without a
friend here: you’ll pay enough for him first.
JEW. WIFE. This is the worst room that ever I came in.
PHŒ. I am your servant, mistress;[935] know you not me?
JEW. WIFE. Your worship is too great for me to know: I’m
but a small-timbered woman, when I’m out of my apparel,
and dare not venture upon greatness.
PHŒ. Do you deny me then? know you this purse?
JEW. WIFE. That purse? O death, has the Knight serv’d
me so?
Given away my favours?
PHŒ. Stand forth, thou one of those
For whose close lusts the plague ne’er[936] leaves the
city.
Thou worse than common! private, subtle harlot!
That dost deceive three with one feigned lip,
Thy husband, the world’s eye, and the law’s whip.
Thy zeal is hot, for ’tis to lust and fraud,
And dost not dread to make thy book thy bawd.
Thou’rt curse enough to husband’s ill-got gains,
For whom the court rejects his gold maintains.
How dear and rare was freedom wont to be!
Now few but are by their wives’ copies free,
And brought to such a head, that now we see
City and suburbs wear one livery!
JEW. WIFE. ’Tis ’long of those,[937] an’t like your
grace, that come in upon us, and will never leave
marrying of our widows till they make ’em all as free as
their first husbands.
PHŒ. I perceive you can shift a point well.
JEW. WIFE. Let me have pardon, I beseech your grace, and
I’ll peach ’em all, all the close women that are; and,
upon my knowledge, there’s above five thousand within
the walls and the liberties.
PHŒ. A band! they shall be sent against the
Turks;[938]
Infidels against infidels.
JEW. WIFE. I will hereafter live so modestly, I will not
lie with mine own husband, nor come near a man in the
way of honesty.
FAL. I’ll be her warrant, my lord.
PHŒ. You are deceiv’d; you think you’re still a
justice.
FAL. ’S foot, worse than I was before I kneeled!
I am no justice now; I know I shall be some innkeeper
at last.
JEW. WIFE. My father? ’tis mine own father.
PHŒ. I should have wonder’d else, lust being so like.
NIECE. Her birth was kin to mine; she may prove
modest:
For my sake I beseech you pardon her.
PHŒ. For thy sake I’ll do more.—Fidelio, hand her.
My favours on you both; next, all that wealth
Which was committed to that perjur’d’s trust.
FAL. I’m a beggar now; worse than an innkeeper.

_Enter_ TANGLE _mad_.

TAN. Your _mittimus_ shall not serve: I’ll set myself
free with a _deliberandum_; with a _deliberandum_, mark
you.
DUKE. What’s he? a guard!
PHŒ. Under your sufferance,
Worthy father, his harm is to himself;
One that has lov’d vexation so much,
He cannot now be rid on’t:
Has been so long in suits, that he’s law-mad.
TAN. A judgment, I crave a judgment, yea! _nunc pro
tunc, corruptione alicujus_. I peeped me a raven in the
face, and I thought it had been my solicitor: O, the
pens prick me!

_Enter_ QUIETO.

PHŒ. And here comes he (wonder for temperance)
Will take the cure upon him.
QUI. A blessing to this fair assembly!
TAN. Away! I’ll have none on’t: give me an _audita
querela_, or a _testificandum_, or a despatch in twelve
terms: there’s a blessing, there’s a blessing!
PHŒ. You see the unbounded rage of his disease.
QUI. ’Tis the foul fiend, my lord, has got within him.
The rest are fair to this: this breeds in ink,
And to that colour turns the blood possess’d:
For instance, now your grace shall see him dress’d.
TAN. Ah ha! I rejoice then he’s puzzled, and muzzled
too:
Is’t come to a _cepi corpus_?
QUI. Ah, good sir,
This is for want of patience!
TAN. That’s a fool:
She never saw the dogs and the bears fight;[939]
A country thing.
QUI. This is for lack of grace.
TAN. I’ve other business, not so much idle time.
QUI. You never say your prayers.
TAN. I’m advised by my learned counsel.
QUI. The power of my charm come o’er thee,
Place by degrees thy wits before thee!
With silken patience here I bind thee,
Not to move till I unwind thee.
TAN. Yea! is my cause so muddy? do I stick, do I stick
fast?
Advocate, here’s my hand, pull; art made of flint?
Wilt not help out? alas, there’s nothing in’t!
PHŒ. O, do you sluice the vein now?
QUI. Yes, my honour’d lord.
PHŒ. Pray, let me see the issue.
QUI. I therefore seek to keep it.—Now burst out,
Thou filthy stream of trouble, spite, and doubt!
TAN. O, an extent, a proclamation, a summons, a
recognisance, a tachment, and injunction! a writ, a
seizure, a writ of ’praisement, an absolution, a
_quietus est_!
QUI. You’re quieter, I hope, by so much dregs.—Behold,
my lord!
PHŒ. This! why, it outfrowns ink.
QUI. ’Tis the disease’s nature, the fiend’s drink.
TAN. O sick, sick, signior Ply-fee, sick! lend me thy
nightcap, O!
QUI. The balsam of a temperate brain
I pour into this thirsty vein,
And with this blessed oil of quiet,
Which is so cheap, that few men buy it,
Thy stormy temples I allay:
Thou shalt give up the devil, and pray;
Forsake his works, they’re foul and black,
And keep thee bare in purse and back.
No more shalt thou in paper quarrel,
To dress up apes in good apparel.
He throws his stock and all his flock
Into a swallowing gulf,
That sends his goose unto his fox,
His lamb unto his wolf.
Keep thy increase,
And live at peace,
For war’s[940] not equal to this battle:
That eats but men; this men and cattle:
Therefore no more this combat choose,
Where he that wins does always lose;
And those that gain all, with this curse receive it,
From fools they get it, to their sons they leave it.
TAN. Hail, sacred patience! I begin to feel
I have a conscience now; truth in my words,
Compassion in my heart, and, above all,
In my blood peace’s music. Use me how you can,
You shall find me an honest, quiet man.
O, pardon, that I dare behold that face!
Now I’ve least[941] law I hope I have most grace.
PHŒ. We both admire the workman and his piece.
Thus when all hearts are tun’d to honour’s strings,
There is no music to the quire of kings.
[_Exeunt omnes._

------------------------------------------------------------------------

MICHAELMAS TERM.

_Michaelmas Terme. As it hath been sundry times
acted by the Children of Paules. At London,
Printed for A. I. and are to be sould at the signe
of the white horse in Paules Churchyard. An.
1607._ 4to. Another ed., _newly corrected_,
appeared 1630. 4to.

This play was licensed by Sir George Bucke, 15th
May, 1607: see Chalmers’s _Suppl. Apol._ p. 200.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

EASY, }
REARAGE, } _gentlemen_.
SALEWOOD, }
COCKSTONE, }
QUOMODO, _a woollen-draper_.
SHORTYARD, } _his attendants_.
FALSELIGHT, }
SIM, _son to_ QUOMODO.
ANDREW LETHE, _an adventurer, son to_ MOTHER
GRUEL.
HELLGILL, _a pander_.
_Father to the Country Wench._
_Judge._
DUSTBOX, _a scrivener_.
_Tailor._
_Drawer._
_Boy._
_Beadle._
_Liverymen, Officers, &c._

THOMASINE, _wife to_ QUOMODO, _afterwards
married to_ EASY.
SUSAN, _her daughter_.
THOMASINE’s _mother_.
MOTHER GRUEL.
_Country Wench, seduced by_ LETHE.
MISTRESS COMINGS, _a tire-woman_.
WINEFRED, _maid to_ THOMASINE.

INDUCTION.

_Michaelmas Term._
_The other Three Terms._
_Boy, &c._

SCENE, LONDON.

MICHAELMAS TERM.

--------------

INDUCTION.

_Enter Michaelmas Term in a whitish cloak, new come up
out of the country, a Boy bringing his gown after him._

MICH. T. Boy.
BOY. Here, sir.
MICH. T. Lay by my conscience;
Give me my gown; that weed is for the country:
We must be civil now, and match our evil:
Who first made civil black, he pleas’d the devil.
So:
Now know I where I am: methinks already
I grasp best part of the autumnian blessing
In my contentious fathom;[942] my hand’s free:
From wronger and from wronged I have fee;
And what by sweat from the rough earth they draw
Is to enrich this silver harvest, law;
And so through wealthy variance and fat brawl,
The barn is made but steward to the hall.
Come they up thick enough?
BOY. O, like hops and harlots, sir. MICH. T. Why dost
thou couple them? BOY. O very aptly; for as the hop well
boiled will make a man not stand upon his legs, so the
harlot in time will leave a man no legs to stand upon.
MICH. T. Such another, and be my heir! I have no
child,
Yet have I wealth would redeem beggary.
I think it be a curse both here and foreign,
Where bags are fruitful’st there the womb’s most barren:
The poor has all our children, we their wealth.
Shall I be prodigal when my life cools,
Make those my heirs whom I have beggar’d, fools?
It would be wondrous; rather beggar more;
Thou shalt have heirs enow, thou keep’st a whore:
And here comes kindred too with no mean purses,
Yet strive to be still blest with clients’ curses.

_Music playing, enter the other three Terms, the
first bringing in a fellow poor, which the other
two advance,[943] giving him rich apparel, a page,
and a pander: he then goes out._

MICH. T. What subtilty have we here? a fellow
Shrugging for life’s kind benefits, shift and heat,
Crept up in three terms, wrapt in silk and silver,
So well appointed too with page and pander!
It was a happy gale that blew him hither.
FIRST T. Thou father of the Terms, hail to thee!
SEC. T. May much contention still keep with thee!
THIRD T. Many new fools come up and fee thee!
SEC. T. Let ’em pay dear enough that see thee!
FIRST T. And like asses use such men;
When their load’s off, turn ’em to graze agen.[944]
SEC. T. And may our wish have full effect,
Many a suit, and much neglect!
THIRD T. And as it hath been often found,
Let the clients’ cups come round!
SEC. T. Help your poor kinsmen, when you ha’ got ’em;
You may drink deep, leave us the bottom.
THIRD T. Or when there is a lamb fall’n in,
Take you the lamb, leave us the skin.
MICH. T. Your duty and regard hath mov’d us;
Never till now we thought you lov’d us.
Take comfort from our words, and make no doubt
You shall have suits come sixteen times about.
ALL THREE. We humbly thank the patron of our hopes.
[_Exeunt._
MICH. T. With what a vassal-appetite they gnaw
On our reversions, and are proud
Coldly to taste our meats, which eight returns
Serve in to us as courses!
One day our writs, like wild-fowl, fly abroad,
And then return o’er cities, towns, and hills,
With clients, like dried straws, between their bills;
And ’tis no few birds pick to build their neasts,[945]
Nor no small money that keeps drabs and feasts!
But, gentlemen, to spread myself open unto you, in
cheaper terms I salute you; for ours have but sixpenny
fees all the year long; yet we despatch you in two
hours, without demur; your suits hang not long here
after candles be lighted. Why we call this play by such
a dear and chargeable title, _Michaelmas Term_, know it
consents happily to our purpose, though perhaps faintly
to the interpretation of many; for he that expects any
great quarrels in law to be handled here will be fondly
deceived; this only presents those familiar accidents
which happened in town in the circumference of those six
weeks whereof Michaelmas Term is lord. _Sat sapienti_: I
hope there’s no fools i’ th’ house. [_Exit with Boy._