Chapter XVI: Act V: Scene I

_A Hall in_ ANTONIO’S _House_.

_Enter_ ANTONIO[562] _and_ ABERZANES.

ANT. You’re welcome, sir.
ABER. I think I’m worthy on’t,
For, look you, sir, I come untruss’d,[563] in troth.
ANT. The more’s the pity—honester men go to’t—
That slaves should ’scape it. What blade have you got
there?
ABER. Nay, I know not that, sir: I am not acquainted
greatly with the blade; I am sure ’tis a good scabbard,
and that satisfies me.
ANT. ’Tis long enough indeed, if that be good.
ABER. I love to wear a long weapon; ’tis a thing
commendable.
ANT. I pray, draw it, sir.
ABER. It is not to be drawn.
ANT. Not to be drawn?
ABER. I do not care to see’t: to tell you troth, sir,
’tis only a holyday thing, to wear by a man’s side.
ANT. Draw it, or I’ll rip thee down from neck to
navel,
Though there’s small glory in’t.
ABER. Are you in earnest, sir?
ANT. I’ll tell thee that anon.
ABER. Why, what’s the matter, sir?
ANT. What a base misery is this in life now!
This slave had so much daring courage in him
To act a sin would shame whole generations,
But hath not so much honest strength about him
To draw a sword in way of satisfaction.
This shews thy great guilt, that thou dar’st not fight.
ABER. Yes, I dare fight, sir, in an honest cause.
ANT. Why, come then, slave! thou’st made my sister a
whore.
ABER. Prove that an honest cause, and I’ll be hang’d.
ANT. So many starting holes? can I light no way?
Go to, you shall have your wish, all honest play.—Come
forth, thou fruitful wickedness, thou seed
Of shame and murder! take to thee in wedlock
Baseness and cowardice, a fit match for thee!—
Come, sir, along with me.

_Enter_ FRANCISCA.

ABER. 'Las, what to do?
I am too young to take a wife, in troth.
ANT. But old enough to take a strumpet though:
You’d fain get all your children beforehand,
And marry when you’ve done; that’s a strange course,
sir.
This woman I bestow on thee: what dost thou say?
ABER. I would I had such another to bestow on you,
sir!
ANT. Uncharitable slave! dog, coward as thou art,
To wish a plague so great as thine to any!
ABER. To my friend, sir, where I think I may be bold.
ANT. Down, and do’t solemnly; contract yourselves
With truth and zeal, or ne’er rise up again.
I will not have her die i’ th’ state of strumpet,
Though she took pride to live one.—Hermio, the wine!

_Enter_ HERMIO _with wine_.

HER. ’Tis here, sir.—Troth, I wonder at some things;
But I’ll keep honest. [_Aside._
ANT. So, here’s to you both now, [_They drink._
And to your joys, if’t be your luck to find 'em:
I tell you, you must weep hard, if you do.
Divide it 'twixt you both; you shall not need
A strong bill of divorcement after that,
If you mislike your bargain. Go, get in now;
Kneel and pray heartily to get forgiveness
Of those two souls whose bodies thou hast murder’d.—
[_Exeunt_ ABERZANES _and_ FRANCISCA.
Spread, subtle poison! Now my shame in her
Will die when I die; there’s some comfort yet.
I do but think how each man’s punishment
Proves still a kind of justice to himself.
I was the man that told this innocent gentlewoman,
Whom I did falsely wed and falsely kill,
That he that was her husband first by contract
Was slain i’ th’ field; and he’s known yet to live:
So did I cruelly beguile his heart,
For which I’m well rewarded; so is Gaspar,
Who, to befriend my love, swore fearful oaths
He saw the last breath fly from him. I see now
’Tis a thing dreadful t’ abuse holy vows,
And falls most weight[il]y.
HER. Take comfort, sir;
You’re guilty of no death; they’re only hurt,
And that not mortally.

_Enter_ GASPARO.

ᚩANT. Thou breath’st untruths.
HER. Speak, Gaspar, for me then.
GAS. Your unjust rage, sir,
Has hurt me without cause.
ANT. ’Tis chang’d to grief for’t.
How fares my wife?
GAS. No doubt, sir, she fares well,
For she ne’er felt your fury. The poor sinner
That hath this seven year kept herself sound for you,
’Tis your luck to bring her into th’ surgeon’s hands
now.
ANT. Florida?
GAS. She: I know no other, sir;
You were ne’er at charge yet but with one light-horse.
ANT. Why, where’s your lady? where’s my wife to-night
then?
GAS. Nay, ask not me, sir; your struck doe within
Tells a strange tale of her.
ANT. This is unsufferable!
Never had man such means to make him mad.
O that the poison would but spare my life
Till I had found her out!
HER. Your wish is granted, sir:
Upon the faithfulness of a pitying servant,
I gave you none at all; my heart was kinder.
Let not conceit abuse you; you’re as healthful,
For any drug, as life yet ever found you.
ANT. Why, here’s a happiness wipes off mighty sorrows:
The benefit of ever-pleasing service
Bless thy profession!—

_Enter Lord Governor, attended by Gentlemen._

O my worthy lord,
I’ve an ill bargain, never man had worse!
The woman that, unworthy, wears your blood
To countenance sin in her, your niece, she’s false.
GOV. False?
ANT. Impudent, adulterous.
GOV. You’re too loud,
And grow too bold too with her virtuous meekness.

_Enter_ FLORIDA.
Who dare accuse her?
FLO. Here’s one dare and can.
She lies this night with Celio, her own servant;
The place, Fernando’s house.
GOV. Thou dost amaze us.
ANT. Why, here’s but lust translated from one baseness
Into another: here I thought t’ have caught 'em,
But lighted wrong, by false intelligence,
And made me hurt the innocent. But now
I’ll make my revenge dreadfuller than a tempest;
An army should not stop me, or a sea
Divide 'em from my revenge. [_Exit._
GOV. I’ll not speak
To have her spar’d, if she be base and guilty:
If otherwise, heaven will not see her wrong’d,
I need not take care for her. Let that woman
Be carefully look’d to, both for health and sureness.—
It is not that mistaken wound thou wear’st
Shall be thy privilege.
FLO. You cannot torture me
Worse than the surgeon does: so long I care not.
[_Exit with_ GASPARO _and a Gentleman_.

GOV. If she be[564] adulterous, I will never trust
Virtues in women; they’re but veils for lust.
[_Exit with Gentlemen._
HER. To what a lasting ruin mischief runs!
I had thought I’d well and happily ended all,
In keeping back the poison; and new rage now
Spreads a worse venom. My poor lady grieves me:
’Tis strange to me that her sweet-seeming virtues
Should be so meanly overtook with Celio,
A servant: ’tis not possible.

_Enter_ ISABELLA _and_ SEBASTIAN.

ISA. Good morrow, Hermio:
My sister stirring yet?
HER. How? stirring, forsooth!
Here has been simple stirring. Are you not hurt, madam?
Pray, speak; we have a surgeon ready.
ISA. How? a surgeon!
HER. Hath been at work these five hours.
ISA. How he talks!
HER. Did you not meet my master?
ISA. How, your master?
Why, came he home to-night?
HER. Then know you nothing, madam?
Please you but walk in, you shall hear strange business.
ISA. I’m much beholding[565] to your truth now, am I
not?
You’ve serv’d me fair; my credit’s stain’d for ever!
[_Exit with_ HERMIO.
SEB. This is the wicked’st fortune that e’er blew:
We’re both undone, for nothing: there’s no way
Flatters recovery now, the thing’s so gross:
Her disgrace grieves me more than a life’s loss.
[_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Abode of_ HECATE: _a caldron in the centre_.

_Enter Duchess_, HECATE, _and_ FIRESTONE.

HEC. What death is’t you desire for Almachildes?
DUCH. A sudden and a subtle.
HEC. Then I’ve fitted you.
Here lie the gifts of both; sudden and subtle:
His picture made in wax, and gently molten
By a blue fire kindled with dead men’s eyes,
Will waste him by degrees.
DUCH. In what time, prithee?
HEC. Perhaps in a moon’s progress.
DUCH. What, a month?
Out upon pictures, if they be so tedious!
Give me things with some life.
HEC. Then seek no farther.
DUCH. This must be done with speed, despatch’d this
night,
If it may possible.
HEC. I have it for you;
Here’s that will do’t: stay but perfection’s time,
And that’s not five hours hence.
DUCH. Canst thou do this?
HEC. Can I!
DUCH. I mean, so closely.
HEC. So closely do you mean too!
DUCH. So artfully, so cunningly.
HEC. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities!
They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know
_Cum volui,[566] ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes
In fontes rediere suos; concussaque sisto,
Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco; ventos abigoque vocoque;
Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;
Et silvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.
Te [quo]que, luna, traho._ Can you doubt me then,
daughter,
That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk,
Whole earth’s foundation bellow, and the spirits
Of the entomb’d to burst out from their marbles,
Nay, draw yond moon to my involv’d designs?
FIRE. I know as well as can be when my mother’s mad, and
our great cat angry, for one spits French then, and th’
other spits Latin. [_Aside._
DUCH. I did not doubt you, mother.
HEC. No! what did you?
My power’s so firm, it is not to be question’d.
DUCH. Forgive what’s past: and now I know th’
offensiveness
That vexes art, I’ll shun th’ occasion ever.
HEC. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter:
It shall be convey’d in at howlet-time;
Take you no care: my spirits know their moments;
Raven or screech-owl never fly by th’ door
But they call in—I thank 'em—and they lose not by’t;
I give 'em barley soak’d in infants’ blood;
They shall have _semina cum sanguine_,
Their gorge cramm’d full, if they come once to our
house;
We are no niggard. [_Exit Duchess._
FIRE. They fare but too well when they come hither; they
eat up as much t’other night as would have made me a
good conscionable pudding.
HEC. Give me some lizard’s-brain; quickly, Firestone.

[FIRESTONE _brings the different ingredients
for the charm, as_ HECATE _calls for them_.
Where’s grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o’ th’
sisters?
FIRE. All at hand, forsooth.

_Enter_ STADLIN, HOPPO, _and other Witches_.
HEC. Give me marmaritin, some bear-breech: when?[567]

FIRE. Here’s bear-breech and lizard’s-brain, forsooth.
HEC. Into the vessel;
And fetch three ounces of the red-hair’d girl
I kill’d last midnight.
FIRE. Whereabouts, sweet mother?
HEC. Hip; hip or flank. Where is the acopus?[568]
FIRE. You shall have acopus, forsooth.
HEC. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.
Black spirits[569] and white, red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may!
Titty, Tiffin,
Keep it stiff in;
Firedrake, Puckey,
Make it lucky;
Liard, Robin,
You must bob in.
Round, around, around, about, about!
All ill come running in, all good keep out!
FIRST WITCH. Here’s the blood of a bat.
HEC. Put in that, O, put in that!
SEC. WITCH. Here’s libbard’s-bane.
HEC. Put in again![570]
FIRST WITCH. The juice of toad, the oil of adder.
SEC. WITCH. Those will make the younker madder.
HEC. Put in—there’s all—and rid the stench.
FIRE. Nay, here’s three ounces of the red-hair’d
wench.
ALL THE WITCHES. Round, around, around, &c.
HEC. So, so, enough: into the vessel with it.
There, 't hath the true perfection. I’m so light
At any mischief! there’s no villany
But is a tune, methinks.
FIRE. A tune? ’tis to the tune of damnation then, I
warrant you, and that song hath a villanous burthen.
[_Aside._

HEC. Come, my sweet sisters; let the air[571] strike
our tune,
Whilst we shew reverence to yond peeping moon.
[_They dance the Witches’ Dance, and exeunt._

SCENE III.

_An Apartment in the House of the Lord Governor._

_Enter Lord Governor_, ISABELLA, FLORIDA, SEBASTIAN,
GASPARO, _and Servants_.[572]

ISA. My lord, I’ve given you nothing but the truth
Of a most plain and innocent intent.
My wrongs being so apparent in this woman—
A creature that robs wedlock of all comfort,
Where’er she fastens—I could do no less
But seek means privately to shame his folly.
No farther reach’d my malice; and it glads me
That none but my base injurer is found
To be my false accuser.
GOV. This is strange,
That he should give the wrongs, yet seek revenge.—
But, sirrah, you; you are accus’d here doubly:
First, by your lady, for a false intelligence
That caus’d her absence, which much hurts her name,
Though her intents were blameless; next, by this woman,
For an adulterous design and plot
Practis’d between you to entrap her honour,
Whilst she, for her hire, should enjoy her husband.
Your answer.
SEB. Part of this is truth, my lord,
To which I’m guilty in a rash intent,
But clear in act; and she most clear in both,
Not sanctity more spotless.

_Enter_ HERMIO.

HER. O my lord!
GOV. What news breaks there?
HER. Of strange destruction:
Here stands the lady that within this hour
Was made a widow.
GOV. How?[573]
HER. Your niece, my lord.
A fearful, unexpected accident
Brought death to meet his fury: for my lord
Entering Fernando’s house, like a rais’d tempest,
Which nothing heeds but its own violent rage,
Blinded with wrath and jealousy, which scorn guides,
From a false trap-door fell into a depth
Exceeds a temple’s height, which takes into it
Part of the dungeon that falls threescore fathom
Under the castle.
GOV. O you seed of lust,
Wrongs and revenges wrongful, with what terrors
You do present yourselves to wretched man
When his soul least expects you!
ISA. I forgive him
All his wrongs now, and sign it with my pity.
FLO. O my sweet servant! [_Swoons._
GOV. Look to yond light mistress.
GAS. She’s in a swoon, my lord.
GOV. Convey her hence:
It is a sight would grieve a modest eye
To see a strumpet’s soul sink into passion[574]
For him that was the husband of another.—
[_Servants remove_ FLORIDA.
Yet all this clears not you.
SEB. Thanks to heaven
That I am now of age to clear myself then.
[_Discovers himself._
GOV. Sebastian!
SEB. The same, much wronged, sir.
ISA. Am I certain
Of what mine eye takes joy to look upon?
SEB. Your service cannot alter me from knowledge;
I am your servant ever.
GOV. Welcome to life, sir.—
Gaspar, thou swor’st his death.
GAS. I did indeed, my lord,
And have been since well paid for’t: one forsworn mouth
Hath got me two or three more here.
SEB. I was dead, sir,
Both to my joys and all men’s understanding,
Till this my hour of life; for ’twas my fortune
To make the first of my return to Urbin
A witness to that marriage; since which time
I’ve walk’d beneath myself, and all my comforts
Like one on earth whose joys are laid above:
And though it had been offence small in me
T’ enjoy mine own, I left her pure and free.
GOV. The greater and more sacred is thy blessing;
For where heaven’s bounty holy ground-work finds,
’Tis like a sea, encompassing chaste minds.
HER. The duchess comes, my lord.

_Enter Duchess and_ AMORETTA.

GOV. Be you then all witnesses
Of an intent most horrid.
DUCH. One poor night,
Ever Almachildes now.[575]
Better his meaner fortunes wept than ours,
That took the true height of a princess’ spirit
To match unto their greatness. Such lives as his
Were only made to break the force of fate
Ere it came at us, and receive the venom.
’Tis but a usual friendship for a mistress
To lose some forty years’ life in hopeful time,
And hazard an eternal soul for ever:
As young as he has done['t], and more desertful.
[_Aside._
GOV. Madam.
DUCH. My lord?
GOV. This is the hour that I’ve so long desir’d;
The tumult’s full appeas’d; now may we both
Exchange embraces with a fortunate arm,
And practise to make love-knots, thus.
[_A curtain is drawn, and the Duke discovered
on a couch, as if dead._
DUCH. My lord!
GOV. Thus, lustful woman and bold murderess, thus.
Blessed powers,
To make my loyalty and truth so happy!
Look thee, thou shame of greatness, stain of honour,
Behold thy work, and weep before thy death!
If thou be’st blest with sorrow and a conscience,
Which is a gift from heaven, and seldom knocks
At any murderer’s breast with sounds of comfort,
See this thy worthy and unequall’d piece;
A fair encouragement for another husband!
DUCH. Bestow me upon death, sir; I am guilty,
And of a cruelty above my cause:
His injury was too low for my revenge.
Perform a justice that may light all others
To noble actions: life is hateful to me,
Beholding my dead lord. Make us an one
In death, whom marriage made one of two living,
Till cursed fury parted us: my lord,
I covet to be like him.
GOV. No, my sword
Shall never stain the virgin brightness on’t
With blood of an adulteress.
DUCH. There, my lord,
I dare my accusers, and defy the world,
Death, shame, and torment: blood I’m guilty of,
But not adultery, not the breach of honour.
GOV. No?—Come forth, Almachildes! _Enter_ ALMACHILDES.
DUCH. Almachildes?
Hath time brought him about to save himself
By my destruction? I am justly doom’d.
GOV. Do you know this woman?
ALM. I’ve known her better, sir, than at this time.
GOV. But she defies you there.
ALM. That’s the common trick of them all.
DUCH. Nay, since I’m touch’d so near, before my death
then,
In right of honour’s innocence, I’m bold
To call heaven and my woman here to witness.
My lord, let her speak truth, or may she perish!
AMO. Then, sir, by all the hopes of a maid’s comfort
Either in faithful service or blest marriage,
The woman that his blinded folly knew
Was only a hir’d strumpet, a professor
Of lust and impudence, which here is ready
To approve what I have spoken.
ALM. A common strumpet?
This comes of scarfs: I’ll never more wear
An haberdasher’s shop before mine eyes again.
GOV. My sword is proud thou’rt lighten’d of that sin:
Die then a murderess only!
DUKE [_rising and embracing her_]. Live a duchess!
Better than ever lov’d, embrac’d, and honour’d.
DUCH. My lord!
DUKE. Nay, since in honour thou canst justly rise,
Vanish all wrongs, thy former practice dies!—
I thank thee, Almachildes, for my life,
This lord for truth, and heaven for such a wife,
Who, though her intent sinn’d, yet she makes amends
With grief and honour, virtue’s noblest ends.—
What griev’d you then shall never more offend you;
Your father’s skull with honour we’ll inter,
And give the peace due to the sepulchre:
And in all times may this day ever prove
A day of triumph, joy, and honest love!
[_Exeunt omnes._

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

THE WIDOW.

_The Widdow A Comedie. As it was Acted at the private House in Black-Fryers, with great Applause, by His late Majesties Servants._

{ _Ben: Johnson._ }
_Written by_ { _John Fletcher._ } _Gent._
{ _Tho: Middleton._ }

_Printed by the Originall Copy. London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley and are to be Sold at his Shop, at the Sign of the Princes Arms in St. Pauls Church-yard._ 1652. 4to.

On the title-page of a copy of the 4to, in my possession, “_Ben: Johnson_” and “_John Fletcher_” are drawn through with a pen, and the word “alone” is written, in an old hand, after “_Tho: Middleton_.”

This drama has been reprinted in the various editions of Dodsley’s _Old Plays_ (vol. vi. of the first ed. and vol. xii. of the last two eds.); also in Weber’s edition of Beaumont and Fletcher’s _Works_, vol. xiv.

Malone, by mistake, has stated that “Middleton wrote _The Widow_ with Fletcher and _Massinger_:” _Life of Shakespeare_, p. 434—(_Sh._ by Boswell, vol. ii.)

“He [Ben Jonson] is said to have assisted Middleton and Fletcher in writing _The Widow_, which must have appeared about this time [i. e. soon after 1621]. This comedy was very popular, and not undeservedly, for it has a considerable degree of merit. I cannot, however, discover many traces of Jonson in it. The authors’ names rest, I believe, on the authority of the editor, A. Gough, who sent the play to the press in 1652.” Such is Gifford’s note on _Memoirs of B. Jonson_, p. cxliv. But in a note on Jonson’s _New Inn_ (_Works_, vol. v. p. 433), he says, that _The Widow_ “appeared on the stage so early as 1618.”

The last editor of Dodsley’s _Old Plays_ thinks “there is internal evidence that Ben Jonson contributed to _The Widow_, and it is rather surprising that Mr. Gifford did not trace his pen through the whole of the fourth act.”

The mention of “yellow bands” as “_hateful_” (see act v. sc. 1, and note), in consequence of Mrs. Turner’s execution, November 1615, shews that _The Widow_ was written _after_ that period: but in all probability it was produced _very soon after_, for a play, entitled _The Honest Lawyer, by S. S._, and printed in 1616, contains a manifest imitation of a passage in act iv. sc. 2: vide note. We can hardly suppose that the author (or authors) of _The Widow_ would have borrowed from the dramatist just mentioned.

We learn from Sir Henry Herbert’s papers that _The Widow_ was one of the stock-pieces belonging to the Red Bull actors, who afterwards became the king’s servants, and that it was played in 1660: see Malone’s _Hist. Acc. of the English Stage_, pp. 273-5 (_Shakespeare_, by Boswell, vol. iii.). Downes also mentions that it was performed at a somewhat later period: vide _Roscius Anglicanus_, p. 17, ed. Waldron. And Langbaine says, “It was reviv’d not many years ago, at the King’s House, with a new Prologue and Epilogue, which the Reader may find in _London Drollery_, p. 11, 12.” _Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets_, p. 298.

TO THE READER.

Considering how the curious pay some part of their esteem to excellent persons in the careful preservation but of their defaced statues; instead of decayed medals of the Romans’ greatness, I believed it of more value to present you this lively piece, drawn by the art of Jonson, Fletcher, and Middleton, which is thought to have a near resemblance to the portraiture we have in Terence of those worthy minds, where the great Scipio and Lælius strove to twist the poet’s ivy with the victor’s bays. As the one was deserved by their work in subduing their country’s enemies, so the other by their recreation and delight, which was to banish that folly and sadness that were worse than Hannibal or all the monsters and venom of Africa. Since our own countrymen are not in any thing inferior, it were to be wished they had but so much encouragement, that the past license and abuses charged on the stage might not ever be thought too unpardonable to pass in oblivion, and so good laws and instructions for manners, uncapable of being regulated, which, if but according to this pattern, certainly none need think himself the less a good Christian for owning the same desire as

Your humble servant,
ALEXANDER GOUGH.[576]