Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima

Enter Alberto, Physitian, and a ChirurgionPhys.Have patience, Noble Sir; your son CæsarioWill recover without question.Surgeon. A slight wound.Though it pierc't his body, it hath miss'd the vitals.Phys. My life for't, he shall take the air again within these ten dayes.Alber. O but from a friend,To receive this bloody measure from a friend!If that a man should meet a violent death,In a place where he had taken sanctuary,Would it not grieve him? such all Florence heldTheir friendship, and 'tis that which multipliesThe injury.Physi. Have patience worthy Signior.Alber. I do protest, as I am Man and Soldier,If I had buried him in a wave at Sea,(Lost in some honorable action)I would not, to the saltness of his grave,Have added the least tear; but these quarrels Enter Mariana, and ClarissaBred out of game and wine, I had as liveHe should have died of a Surfet.Maria. Oh what comfort! How is it with our Son Sir?Alber. His Work-mastersBear me in hand here, as my Lawyer does,When I have a crackt Title, or bad Sute in Law,All shall go well.Maria. I pray you Gentlemen, what think you of his wound.Physi. 'Tis but a scratch, nothing to danger.Claris. But he receiv'd it from a friend,And the unkindness ta'en at that, may kill him.Mari. Let me see him:Physi. By no means, he slumbers.Mari. Then I cannot believe you,When you tell me there's hope of him.Alber. Yet many LadiesDo give more faith to their PhysitianThan to their Confessor.Claris. O my poor lost brother,And friend more dear than Brother.Alber. More loud instrumentsTo disturb his slumbers! goe, goe, take Caroch:And as you love me, you and the Girle retireTo our Summer house, i'th' Country; I'll be with youWithin these two days.Maria. I am yours in all things,Though with much sorrow to leave him.[Exeunt Maria, Claris.Alber. I pray you Gentlemen,With best observance tend your Patient;The loss of my heir-male, lies now a bleeding. Enter MentivoleAnd think what payment his recoveryShall show'r upon you,Of all men breathing;[Exeunt Physitian, Chirur.Wherefore do you arrive here? Are you mad?My injury begins to bleed afreshAt sight of you; why this affront of yoursI receive more malitious than the other.Your hurt was only danger to my son:But your sight to me is death; Why come you hither?Do you come to view the wounds, which you have made?And glory in them?Menti. Rather worthy Sir, to pour Oyl into them.Alber. I am a Soldier Sir,Least part of a Courtier, and understandBy your smooth Oyl,Your present flattery.Menti. Sir, for my Fathers sake acknowledge meTo be born a Gentleman, no slave; I everHeld flatterers of that breed; do not misconstrueIn your distaste of me, the true intentOf my coming hither, for I do protestI do not come to tell you I am sorryFor your sons hurt.Alber. Not sorry?Menti. No not sorry; I have to the lowest ebbe, lost all my fury:But I must not lose my honesty; 'twas heGave heat unto the injury, which return'd(Like a Petar, ill lighted, into 'th' bosomeOf him, gave fire to't) yet I hope his hurt,Is not so dangerous, but he may recover;When if it please him, call me to account,For the loss of so much blood, I shall be readyTo do him noble reason.Alber. You are arm'd me thinks with wondrous confidence.Menti. O with the best Sir;For I bring penitence, and satisfaction.Alber. Satisfaction? Why I heard you say but now,You were not sorry for his wounds.Menti. Nor am I: the satisfaction which I bring Sir, is to you;You are a Gentleman ne'er injur'd me;One ever lov'd my Father, the right way,And most approv'd of noble amity.Yet I have run my sword quite through your heart,And slightly hurt your son; for't may be [f]ear'd,A grief ta'en at these years for your sons loss,May hazard yours: And therefore I am sentBy him that has most interest in your sorrow;Who having chid me almost to the ruinOf a disheritance, for violatingSo continued and so sacred a friendshipOf 50 Winters standing: such a friendship,That ever did continue like the spring;Ne'er saw the fall o'th' leaf; by him I am sentTo say the wrong I have done Sir, is to you:And that I have quite lost him for a Father,Until I find your pardon; nay there followsA weightier deprivation; his EstateI could with a less number of sighs part with.Fortune might attend my youth, and my deservingsIn any Climate: but a Fathers blessing,To settle and confirm that fortune, no where;But only here. Your pardon, give me that;And when you have done, kill me; for 'tis thatTakes from me the effect of excommunication;A Fathers heavy curse.Alber. Nay, may that curseLight on himself, for sending thee in this minute:When I am grown as deaf to all compassion,As the cruellest Sea-fight, or most horrid tempest.That I had drown'd i'th' Sea a thousand duckets,Thou hadst not made this visit: rash young man,Thou tak'st me in an ill Planet, and hast causeTo curse thy Father; for I do protest,If I had met thee in any part o'th' World,But under my own roofe, I would have kill'd thee. Within there.—Enter Physitian, Chirurgion, and ServantsLook you!Here's a triumph sent for the death of your young Master.Serv. Shall we kill him?Alber. No, I'll not be so unhospitable; but Sir,By my life, I vow to take assurance from you,That right hand never more shall strike my son.Menti. That will be easily protested.Alber. Not easily, when it must be exacted, and a bloody seal to't.Bind him, and cut off's right hand presently:Fair words shall never satisfie foul deeds.Chop's hand off.Menti. You cannot be so unrighteous, to your own honor.Phy. O Sir, collect your self;And recall your bloody purpose.Alber. My intents of this nature, do ever come to action.Chirur. Then I must fetch another stickler. —[Exit.Alber. Yet I do grieve at heart;And I do curse thy Father heartily,That's the cause of my dishonor; sending theeIn such an hour, when I am apt for mischief:Apt, as a Dutchman after a Sea-fight,When his enemy kneels afore him; come dispatch.Phys. Intreat him, Noble Sir.Menti. You shall excuse me;Whatsoever he dares do, that I dare suffer. Enter Cæsario, and ChirurgionCæsar. Oh Sir, for honors sake stay your foul purpose,For if you do proceed thus cruelly,There is no question in the wound you give him,I shall bleed to death for't.Alber. Thou art not of my temper,What I purpose, cannot be alter'd.Serv. Sir; the DukeWith all speed expects you. You must instantlyShip all your followers, and to sea.Alber. My blessing stay with thee upon this condition,Take away his use of fighting; as thou hop'stTo be accounted for my son, perform't. —[Exit.Cesar. You hear what I am injoyn'd to.Menti. Pray thee take it,Only this ring, this best esteem'd Jewel:I will not give't to'th' hangman chops it off;It is too dear a relique. I'll remove it nearer my heart.Cæsar. Ha, that Ring's my Sisters.The Ring I injoyn'd her never part withalWithout my knowledge; come, Sir, we are friendsPardon my fathers heat, and melancholy;Two violent Fevers which he caught at Sea,And cannot yet shake off: only one promiseI must injoyn you to, and seriously.Hereafter you shall never draw a SwordTo the prejudice of my life.Menti. By my best hopes I shall not.Cæsar. I pray deliver me your swordOn that condition.Menti. I shall Sir, may it hereafterEver fight on your part.Cæsar. Noble Sir, I thank you;But for performance of your vow, I intreatSome gage from you.Menti. Any Sir.Cæsar. Deliver me that ring.Menti. Ha, this Ring? indeed this Jewel binds me,If you knew the vertue of it, never moreTo draw my sword against you.Cæsar. Therefore I will have it.Menti. You may not.Cæsar. Come: you must.I that by violence could take your hand,Can inforce this from you; this is a token Sir,That we may prove friends hereafter. Fare you well.Phys. Why did you ceise his Sword Sir?Cesar. To perform what my Father bade me,I have for the present ta'en away hisUse of fighting.Phys. Better so,Than take that which your Father meant.[Exeunt Manet, Mentivole.Menti. Was ever the like usage? O that Ring!Dearer than life, Whither is honor fled?Cesario. Thou art unmanly in each part,To seize my sword first, and then split my heart.[Exit. Enter Host, and ClownHost. Thy Master that lodges here in my Osteria,Is a rare man of art, they say he's a Witch.Clow. A Witch? Nay, he's one step of the Ladder to preferment higher, he is a Conjurer.Host. Is that his higher title?Clow. Yes, I assure you, for a Conjurer is the Devils Master, and commands him; whereas a Witch is the Devils Prentice, and obeys him.Host. Bound Prentice to the Devil!Clow. Bound and inroll'd I assure you, he cannot start; and therefore I would never wish any Gentleman to turn Witch.Host. Why Man?Clow. Oh he loses his Gentility by it, the Devil in this case cannot help him, he must go to the Herald for new Armes believe it.Host. As I am true Inkeeper, yet a Gentleman born,I'll ne'er turn Witch for that trick;And thou hast been a great Traveller?Clow. No indeed, not I Sir.Host. Come, you are modest.Clow. No, I am not modest, for I told you a lye, that you might the better understand I have been a Traveller.Host. So Sir, they say your Master is a great Physitian too.Clow. He was no fool told you that, I assure you.Host. And you have been in England? but they say,Ladies in England take a great deal of Physick. Clow. Both wayes on my reputation.Host. So 'tis to be understood:But they say, Ladies there take Physick for fashion.Clow. Yes Sir, and many times dye to keep fashion.Host. How? dye to keep fashion!Clow. Yes, I have known a Lady sick of the small Pocks, onely to keep her face from Pitholes, take cold, strike them in again, kick up the heels, and vanish.Host. There was kicking up the heels with a witness.Clow. No Sir; I confess a good face has many times been the motive to the kicking up of the heels with a witn[e]ss: but this was not. Enter Hostess, and BiancaHost. Here comes my wife and daughter.Clow. You have a prety commodity of this night-worm?Host. Why Man?Clow. She is a pretty lure to draw custom to your ordinary.Host. Do'st think I keep her to that purpose?Clow. When a Dove-house is empty, there is cuminseed used to purloine from the rest of the neighbors; in England you have several Adamants, to draw in spurs and rapiers; one keeps silk-worms in a Gallery: A Milliner has choice of Monkies, and Paraketoes; another shewes bawdy East-Indian Pictures, worse than ever were Aretines: a Goldsmith keeps his Wife wedged into his shop like a Mermaid, nothing of her to be seen (thats Woman) but her upper part.Host. Nothing but her upper part?Clow. Nothing but her upper bodies, and he lives at the more hearts ease.Host. What's the reason?Clow. Because her nether part can give no temptation; by your leave, Sir, I'll tend my Master, and instantly be with you for a cup of Cherally this hot weather.Host. A nimble pated Rascal, come hither Daughter,When was Cesario here?Bian. Sir, not this fortnight.Host. I do not like his visits, commonlyHe comes by Owl-light, both the time and mannerIs suspitious; I do not like it.Bian. Sir, the GentlemanIs every way so noble, that you need notQuestion his intent of coming, though you did;Pray Sir preserve that good opinion of me,That though the custome of the place I was born in,Makes me familiar to every guest,I shall in all things keep my self a strangerTo the vices they bring with them.Hostis. Right my daughter:She has the right strain of her Mother.Host. Of her Mother?And I would speak, I know from whence she took it;When I was as young, I was as honest.Hostess. Leave your prating.And study to be drunk; and abuse your guests over and over. Enter Forobosco, and ClownHost. Peace Wife. My honorable guest.Foro. My indear'd Landlord?And the rest o'th' complements o'th' house.Host. Breakfast is ready Sir;It waites only the tide of your stomach.Clow. And mine gapes for't like a stale Oyster.Ere you go to bed, fail not of that I pray.[ —Exeunt all but Forobosco, and Clown.Foro. We will instantly be with you;Now we are all fellows.Nine a Clock, and no Clyents comeYet, sure thou do'st not set up bills enough.Clow. I have set up bills in abundance.Foro. What Bills?Clow. Marry for curing of all diseases,Recovery of stoln goods,And a thousand such impossibilities.Foro. The place is unlucky.Clow. No certain, 'tis scarcity of mony; do not you hearthe Lawyers complain of it? Men have as much Malice asever they had to wrangle, but they have no Mony: Whithershould this Mony be travell'd?Foro. To the Devil I think. Clow. 'Tis with his Cofferer I am certain, that's the Usurer.Foro. Our cheating does not prosper so well as it was wont to do.Clow. No sure, why in England we coo'd cozen 'em as familiarly, as if we had travell'd with a Brief, or a Lottery.Foro. I'th' Low-countries we did pretty well.Clow. So so: as long as we kept the Mop-headed butter-boxes sober; marry when they were drunk, then they grew buzards: You should have them reel their heads together, and deliberate; your Dutchman indeed, when he is foxt, is like a Fox; for when he's sunk in drink, quite earth to a Mans thinking, 'tis full Exchange time with him, then he's subtlest; but your Switzer, 'twas nothing to cheat him.Foro. Nothing?Clow. No, nor conscience to be made of it; for since nature afore-hand cozen'd him of his wit, 'twas the less sin for us to cozen him of his Mony.Foro. But these Italians are more nimble-pated, we must have some new trick for them; I protest but that our Hostess's daughter is a sweet Lass, and draws great resort to'th' house, we were as good draw teeth a horseback.Clow. I told 'em in the Market-place you could conjure, and no body would believe me: but ere long I will make 'em believe you can conjure with such a figuary.Foro. What language shall's conjure in? high Dutch I think, that's full i'th' mouth.Clow. No, no, Spanish, that roars best; and will appear more dreadful.Foro. Prethee tell me thy conceit thou hast to gull them.Clow. No, no, I will not stael it; but my dear Jews-trump, for thou art but my instrument, I am the plotter, and when we have cozen'd 'em most titely, thou shalt steal away the Inn-keepers daughter, I'll provide my self of another moveable: and we will most purely retire our selves to Geneva.Foro. Thou art the compass I sail by. Enter Baptista and MentivoleBap. Was ever expectation of so NobleA requital answered with such contumely!A wild Numidian that had suck'd a Tigress,Would not have been so barbarous; Did he threatTo cut thy hand off?Ment. Yes Sir, and his slaves were ready to perform't.Bapt. What hind'red it?Ment. Only his sons intreaty.Bapt. Noble youth,I wish thou wert not of his blood; thy pittyGives me a hope thou art not.Ment. You mistake Sir,The injury that followed from the son,Was worse than the fathers; he did first disarmeAnd took from me a Jewel, which I prizeAbove my hand or life.Bap. Take thy sword from thee?He stole it like a Thief rather, he could notI'th' Field deprive thee of it.Ment. He took it from me,And sent me forth so thin, and so unmade up,As if I had been a Foot-boy.Bap. O my fury!I must now ask thee forgiveness, that my rashness,Bred out of too much friendship, did expose theeTo so eminent a danger; which I vowI will revenge on the whole Family:All the calamities of my whole life,My banishment from Genoa, my wifes lossCompar'd to this indignity, is nothing;Their Family shall repair't; it shall be to themLike a plague, when the Dog-star reigns most hot:An Italian's revenge may pause, but's ne'er forgot.[Exit.Ment. I would I had conceal'd this from my Father,For my interest in Clarissa; my care nowMust be to untangle this division,That our most equal flames may be united;And from these various and perturbed streames,Rise, like a sweet Morn, after terrible dreams. —[Exit. Enter Clarissa and CæsarioClar. Brother, I am happy in your recovery.Cæs. And I Sister, am ever best pleased in your happiness:But I miss a toy should be on your finger.Clar. My Ring; this morning when I wash'tI put it off, 'tis in my Window.Ces. Where's your Looking-glass?Clar. Here, Sir.Ces. 'Tis a fair one.Clar. 'Tis pure Chrystal.Ces. Can a Diamond cut in Crystal? let me see,I'll grave my name in't.Clar. Oh, you'll spoyl my glass.Would you not have your brother in your eye?Ces. I had thought he had been Planted in your heart,Look you, the Diamond cuts quaintly, you are cozen'd,Your Chrystal is too britle.Clar. 'Tis the RingI gave unto Mentivole, sure the same.You put me to amazement Sir, and horror;How came you by that Ring?Ces. Does the blood rise?Clar. Pray Sir resolve me, O for pitty do;And take from me a trembling at the heart,That else will kill me: for I too much fearNothing but Death could ravish it from his handThat wore it.Cesar. Was it given to Mentivola on that condition?Clar. Tell me of his health first.And then I'll tell you any thing.Cesar. By my life he's well,In better health than I am.Clar. Then it was Sir.Cesar. Then shall I ever hate thee, Oh thou false one;Hast thou a Faith to give unto a friend,And break it to a brother? Did I not,By all the tyes of blood importune theeNever to part with it without my knowledge?Thou might'st have given it to a Muliter,And made a contrail with him in a stable,At as cheap a price of my vengeance: never moreShall a Womans trust beguile me; You are allLike Relicks: you may well be look't upon,But come a Man to'th' handling of you once,You fall in pieces.Clar. Dear Sir, I have no wayLook't either beneath reason, or my self,In my election; there's parity in our blood,And in our fortunes, antient amityBetwixt our parents: to which wants nothing,But the Fruit of blest Marriage between us,To add to their posterities: nor does nowAny impeachment rise, except the sadAnd unexpected quarrel, which dividedSo noble, and so excellent a friendship,Which as I ne'er had Magick to foresee,So I could not prevent.Cæsar. Well, you must give me leaveTo have a hand in your disposing, I shall,In the absence of my Father, be your Guardian;His Suit must pass through my office. Mentivole,He has too much of my blood already; he has,And he get's no more of't —Wherefore weep you Mother? Enter Mariana, and a SailorMarian. 'Tis occasion'd by a sorrow,Wherein you have a Child's part, and the mainest,Your Father's dead.Cæsar. Dead?Marian. There's one can relate the rest.Sailor. I can Sir, your Father's drown'd,Most unfortunately drown'd.Cæsar. How? In a tempest?Sailor. No Sir, in a calm,Calm as this evening; the Gunner being drunk,Forgot to fasten the Ordnance to their ports,When came a sudden gust, which tumbled themAll to the Starboord side, o'erturn'd the Ship,And sunk her in a moment, some six menThat were upon the deck were sav'd: the restPerish'd with your Father.Claris. O my dearest Father —Cesar. I pray thee leave us.Maria. I have a sorrow of another nature, equal to the former.Cesar. And most commonly they come together.Maria. The Family of the BaptistiAre grown to faction, and upon distastOf the injury late offer'd in my house,Have vow'd a most severe, and fell revenge'Gainst all our family, but especially'Gainst you my dear Cæsario.Cæsar. Let them threat, I am prepar'd to oppose them.Maria. And is your loss thenOf so easie an estimation? What comfortHave I but in your life, and your late dangerPresents afore me what I am to suffer,Should you miscarry; therefore I'll advise youWhen the Funeral is over, you would travel,Both to prevent their fury, and wear out th' injury.Cæsar. No Mother, I will not travel,So in my absence he may marry my Sister,I will not travel certain.Maria. O my Cesario,Whom I respect and love 'bove my own life,Indeed with a kind of dotage, he shall neverGo forth o' doors, but the contrary factionWill indanger's life, and then am I most wretched.I am thinking of a strange prevention,Which I shall witness with a bleeding eye,Fondness sometimes is worse than cruelty. —[Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima

Enter Host, Hostess, and BiancaHost.Haunted, my house is haunted with goblins. I shall be frighted out of my wits, and set up a sign only to invite Carriers and Foot-posts; scar-crows to keep off the Cavalry, and Gentry of the best rank. I will nail up my doors, and wall up my Girle (wife) like an Anchoress; or she will be ravisht before our faces, by rascalls and cacafugo's (wife) cacafugo's.Hostess. These are your In-comes, remember your own proverb, the savor of every gain smelt sweet; thank no body but your self for this trouble.Host. No gauling (dear Spouse) no gauling, every days new vexation abates me two inches in the waste, terrible pennance for an Host, Girle, girle, girle, Which of all this gally-maufry of Mans flesh appears tolerable to thy choice; speak shortly, and speak truely: I must and will know, must and will; Hear ye that?Bian. Sir, be not jealous of my care and duty;I am so far from entertaining thoughtsOf liberty, that much more excellent objectsThan any of such course contents as these are,Could not betray mine eye to force my heart;Conceive a wish of any dearer happinessThan your direction warrant's. I am yours Sir.Hostess. What thinks the Man now? Is not this strange at 13.Host. Very good words, there's a tang in e'm, and a sweet one, 'tis musick (wife) and now I come t'ee. Let us a little examine the several conditions of our Paragraphistical suitors. The first, a travelling Tailor, who by the mystery of his Needle and Thimble, hath survey'd the fashions of the French, and English; this Signior Ginger-bread, stitcht up in the shreds of a g[a]udy outside, sows Linings with his cross-leg'd complement, like an Ape doing tricks over a staffe, cringes, and crouches, and kisses his forefinger.Hostess. Out upon him.Host. A second, a lavolteteere, a saltatory, a dancer with a Kit at his Bum, one that, by teaching great Madonnas to foot it, has miraculously purchast a ribanded Wastcote, and four clean pair of socks; a fellow that skips as he walkes, and instead of sensible discourse, vents the curious conceit of some new tune stolen from a Mask, or a bawdy dittie, elevated for the Pole Artick of a Ladies chamber, in that file stands another of your inamoratoes.Hostess. Hang him and his Fiddle together, he never fidles any child of ours.Host. The third, a Mongrel, got by a Switzer on an Italian; this puppy, being left well estated, comes to Florence, that the world may take notice, how impossible it is for experience to alter the course of nature; a fool (wife) and indeed, a Clown turn'd Gallant, seldom or never proves other than a gallant fool, this toy prates to little purpose other than What's a Clock? Shall's go drink? De'e forsooth? and thank ye heartily; I fear no art in him to catch thee, and yet we must be tormented with this buzard amongst the rest.Hostess. 'Tis your own folly, forbid him the House.Host. The fourth, a Mule-driver, a stubborn and a harsh knave: the fifth a School-Master, a very amorous Pedant, run almost mad with study of Sonnets, and Complements out of old Play-ends, the last an Advocates Clerk, that speaks pure Fustian in Law-terms: excellent Courtiers all, and all as neate as a Magnifio's post new painted, at his entrance to an office; thou shalt have none of 'em. Laugh at 'em, do. I say thou shalt have none of 'em.Bian. Still your command to me shall stand a Law.Host. Now they throng like so many horse-coursers at a fair, in clusters about the Man of Art, for Love-powders, ingredients, potions, counsels, postures, complements, philters: the Devil and the – How now? Tumults? Batteries, Noise? ha, get from my sight.[Clown cries within. Enter Forobosco, and Clown, his head bloodyClow. Murther me, do, pound me to Mummy, do; see what will come on't.Foro. Dog, leave thy snarling, or I'll cut thy tongue out,Thou un[l]ickt Bear, dar'st thou yet stand my fury,My generous rage? yet! by the sulpherous dampsThat feed the hungry and incessant darkness,Which curles around the grim Alastors back,Mutter again, and with one powerful word,I'll call an Host up from the Stygian Lakes,Shall waft thee to the Acherontick fens;Where choak't with Mists as black as thy impostures,Thou shalt live still a dying.Clow. Conjure me to the Devil and you can, I live inHell upon earth already, and you had any mercy, you wouldnot practice upon a kind heart thus.Host. You have drawn blood from him Signior, Is hisoffence unpardonable?Foro. A lump of ignorance, pray speak not for him,A drowsie grossness, in all Christian Kingdoms,The mention of my art, my name, my practise,Merit and Glory hath begot at onceDelight and wonder; I'll not be entreated;Spare intercession for him, – O thou scornOf learning, shame of duty; must thy slothDraw my just fame in question? I discharge theeFrom my service; see me no more henceforth.Clow. Discharge me! Is that my years wages?I'll not be so answer'd.Foro. Not Camel? Sirrah I am liberal to thee;Thou hast thy life, be gone.Clow. Vengeance, sweet vengeance.Foro. De'e mumble?Clow. I'll be reveng'd, monstrously, suddenly, and insatiably; my bulk begins to swell.Foro. Homotolenton, Pragmatophoros, Heliostycorax.Clo. Call up your Spirits, I defie 'em; well, I'll have Law for my broken pate, twelve ounces of pure blood; Troy-weight. In despight of thee my Master, and thy Master the grand Devil himself, vindicta, vindicta. —[Exit.Host. Signior, you are exceeding mov'd.Hostess. Mercy upon us, What terrible words thou talk'st?Foro. A slave, a curr – but be not you afrightedYoung Virgin, 'twere an injury to sweetness:Should any rough sound draw from your cheeks,The pretious tincture which makes nature proudOf her own workmanship.Host. Wife, Mark, mark that Wife.Bian. Shake then your anger off Sir.Foro. You command itFair one, mine Host and Hostess, with your leavesI have a motion joyntly to you all.Hostess. An honest one I hope.Host. Well put in Wife.Foro. A very necessary one, the Me[s]sAnd half of suitors, that attend to usherTheir Loves sir-reverence to your daughter, waitWith one consent, which can best please her eye;In offering at a Dance, I have providedMusick. And, 'twill be something I dare promiseWorthy your laughter, Shall they have admittance?Host. By any means, for I am perswaded the manner will be soRidiculous, that it will confirm the assurance of theirMiserable fooleries, but no longer trouble with 'em here,Than they are in these May-games.Foro. So I am resolv'd.Hostess. Nor any wise word of senceless love.Foro. Not any; I have charm'd them, Did you seeHow they prepar'd themselves? how they stroak upTheir foretops, how they justle for the Looking-glass,To set their faces by it;[See they Muster.You would look for some most impossible antick. Enter Tailor, Dancer, Mule-driver, School-Master, Clark: (all with several papers, and present 'em to Forobosco.)Host. So, so, so, so, here flutter the nest of Hornets, the hotch-potch of rascallity; now, now, now, now, the dung-hill of corruption hath yawn'd forth the burthen of abhomination. I am vext, vext to the soul, will rid my house of this unchristen'd fry, and never open my doors again.Foro. Some other time, I'll give no answer now,But have preferred your suits, here shew your cunning.First, every one in order do his honorTo the fair mark you shoot at; courtly, courtly,Convey your several loves in lively measure:Come, let us take our seates, some sprightly Musick.Host. Dance all and part, 'tis a very necessary farewell. Enter Cæsario, They all make ridiculous conges to Bianca: rank themselves, and dance in several postures: during the dance, Enter Cæsario, and stands offHost. Well done my lusty bloods, precisely well done,One lusty rouse of Wine, and take leave on all sides.Cesar. Thanks for your Revels Gentlemen; acceptThis Gold, and drink as freely as you danc'd.Host. My noble Lord Cesario, clear the rooms Sirs.Foro. Away. Attend your answers.[ —Exeunt Foro, and those that danc'd.Cesar. With your favor Rolando, I would change a word or two with your fair daughter.Host. At your Lordships pleasure, come Wife, no muttering, have a care Girle, my love, service, and duty to your good Lordship.[ —Exeunt and Wife.Cesar. My often visits (sweet Bianca) cannotBut constantly inform thy judgment, whereinThy happiness consists, for to steal minutesFrom great imployments, to converse with beauty,Lodg'd in so mean a fortune, to lay byConsideration of the unequal distanceBetween my blood and thine, to shun occasionsOf courtship with the Ladies of the time:Noble, and fair, only for love to thee,Must of necessity invite a tenderness;As low as nature could have stampt a Bondwomans.To entertain quick motions of rare gratitudeFor my uncommon favors.Bian. 'Deed my Lord, as far as my simplicity can lead me,I freely thank your curtesies.Cesar. To thank them, is to reward them pretty one.Bian. Then teach meHow I may give them back again; in truthI never yet receiv'd a pair of Gloves:A trifling Ring from any that expectedAn equall satisfaction, but as willinglyI parted with the guift unto the owner, as he bestow'd it.Cæsar. But I pour before theeSuch plenties, as it lies not in the abilityOf thy whole kindred, to return proportionableOne for a thousand.Bian. You my Lord concludeFor my instruction, to ingage a debtBeyond a possibility of paiment,I ever thought a sin; and therefore justlyWithout conceit of scorn, or curious rudeness,I must refuse your bounty.Cesar. Canst thou love?Bian. Love! Is there such a word in any LanguageThat carries honest sence?Cesar. Never dwelt ignoranceIn so sweet-shap't a building: love, Bianca,Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one:Shall ours be tied so?Bian. Use a plainer word,My Lord. In stead of tyes, say marries hearts,Then I may understand.Cæsar. Their hearts are marriedWhose enterchange of pleasures, and embraces,Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets,Keeps constant league together, when temptationOf great mens oathes and gifts, shall urge contempt,Rather than batter resolution, noveltyOf sights, or taste of new delights in wantonness,Breeds surfeit more than appetite in anyReserv'd to noble vowes; my excellent Maid,Live thou but true to me, and my contents,Mine only, that no partner may partakeThe treasure of those sweets thy youth yet glories in,And I will raise thy lowness to abundanceOf all varieties, and more triumphIn such a Mistris, than great Princes doatingOn truth-betraying Wives.Bian. Thus to yield up thenThe cottage of my virtue, to be swallow'dBy some hard-neighbouring Landlord, such as you are,Is in effect to love, a Lord so vicious!O where shall innocence find some poor dwelling,Free from temptations tyranny.Cesar. Nay prethee.Byan. Gay clothes, high feeding, easie beds of lust,Change of unseemly sights; with base discourse,Draw curses on your Pallaces; for my part,This I will be confirm'd in, I will eateThe bread of labour, know no other restThan what is earn'd from honest pains, ere once moreLend ear to your vile toyles; Sir, would you wereAs noble in desires, as I could be in knowing virtue.Pray do not afflict a poor soul thus.Cesar. I swear – to me? —[Bianca steales off. Enter a GentlemanGent. The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presenceFor answering agrievances lately urg'dAgainst you by your Mother?Cesar. By my Mother.Gent. The Court is near on sitting.Cesar. I wait on it Sir. —[Exeunt. Enter Duke, Magistrate, Secretary, Baptista, Attendants, Mentivole: (they sit) Mentivole stands byDuke. What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions,What outrages, what uprores in a State,Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first,Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad exampleAt Rome, between the Ursins and Columni's:Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the NeersAnd the Bianchi, can too mainly witness.I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of SovereigntyDeputed Pilot for the Common-wealth,To sleep while others steere (as their wild fanciesShall counsel) by the compass of disorders.Baptista, This short Preface is directedChiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrelsLate urg'd betwixt th' Alberti and your family;Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts,Fasten again together of themselves:Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will useThe roughness of our justice, to cut offThe stubborn rancour of the limbes offending.Bap. Most gracious Florence.Duke. Our command was signified,That neither of the followers of each partyShould appear here with weapons.Bap. 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side.Duke. We must leave the general causeOf State employments, to give ear to brawlsOf some particular grudges, pollitick governmentFor tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth. Enter Mariana, and Clarissa at one door, Cesario at the otherOur frown shall check presumption, not our clemency.Mari. All blessings due to unpartial Princes,Crown Florence with eternity of happiness.Cesar. If double Prayers can double blessings (great Sir)Mine joyn for your prosperity with my Mothers.Duke. Rise both; now briefly (Lady) without circumstanceDeliver those agrievances, which latelyYour importunity possest our Counsel,Were fit for audience, wherein you petition'd,You might be heard without an Advocate,Which boon you find is granted.Mari. Though divided.I stand between the Laws of truth and modesty,Yet let my griefs have vent: Yet the clearnessOf strange necessity requires obedienceTo nature and your Mercy, in my weedsOf mourning, emblems of too dear misfortunes,Badges of griefs, and Widdowhood, the burthenOf my charg'd soul, must be laid down before you;Wherein, if strict opinion cancel shame,My frailty is my plea;Stand forth young Man,And hear a story that will strike all reasonInto amazement.Cesar. I attend.Mar. Alberto (peace dwell upon his ashes) still the husbandOf my remembrance and unchanging vowes,Has, by his death, left to his heir possessionOf fair revenew, which this young man claimesAs his inheritance. I urg'd him gently,Friendly, and privately, to grant a partageOf this estate to her who ownes it all,This his supposed Sister.Bap. How supposed?Cesar. Pray Madam recollect your self.Mar. The relishOf a strange truth begins to work like PhysickAlready: I have bitterness to mingleWith these preparatives, so deadly loathsome;It will quite choak digestion; shortly hear itCesario, for I dare not rob unjustlyThe poor soul of his name; this, this CesarioNeither for Father had Alberto, meFor Mother, nor Clarissa for his Sister.Claris. Mother, O Mother.Ment. I am in a Dream sure.Duke. No interruptions. Lady on.Mari. Mistake not,Great Duke of Tuscany, or the beginningOr process of this novelty; my husbandThe now deceas'd Alberto, from his youthIn-ur'd to an impatiency, and roughnessOf disposition, when not many monthsAfter our Marriage were worn out, repin'dAt the unfr[u]itful barrenness of youth,Which, as he pleas'd to terme it, cut our hopes offFrom blessing of some issue; to prevent itI grew ambitious of no fairer honorThan to preserve his love, and as occasionsStill call'd him from me, studied in his absenceHow I might frame his welcome home with comfort.At last I fain'd my self with Child; the MessageOf freedome, or relief, to one half starv'dIn prison, is not utter'd with such greedinessOf expectation, and delight, as this wasTo my much affected Lord; his care, his goodness;(Pardon me that I use the word) exceededAll former fears, the hour of my deliveranceAs I pretended, drawing near, I fashion'dMy birth-rights at a Country Garden-house,Where then my Faulk'ners Wife was brought a bedOf this Cesario; him I own'd for mine;Presented him unto a joyful Father.Duke. Can you prove this true?Mari. Proofs I have most evident;But oh the curse of my impatiency; shortly,E'r three new Moons had spent their borrow'd Lights,I grew with Child indeed, so just is Heaven,The issue of which burthen was this Daughter;Judge now most gracious Prince, my Lords and you,What combats then, and since, I have indur'd,Between a Mothers piety, and weaknessOf a Soul trembling Wife; to have reveal'dThis secret to Alberto, had been dangerOf ruin to my fame, besides the conflictOf his distractions; now to have supprest it,Were to defeat my Child, my only Child,Of her most lawful honors, and inheritance.Cæsario, th'art a Man still, EducationHath moulded thee a Gentleman, continue so;Let not this fall from greatness sink thee lowerThan worthy thoughts may warrant, yet disclaimAll interest in Alberto's blood, thou hast notOne drop of his or mine.Duke. Produce your witness.Marian. The Faulconers Wife his Mother,And such women as waited then upon me,Sworn to the privacy of this great secret.Duke. Give them all their Oaths.Cesar. O let me crave forbearance, gracious Sir,Vouchsafe me hearing.Duke. Speak Cæsario.Cesar. Thus longI have stood silent, and with no unwillingness,Attended the relation of my fall,From a fair expectation; what I fear'd(Since the first syllable this Lady utter'dOf my not being hers) benevolent FatesHave eas'd me off; for to be basely born,If not base-born, detracts not from the bountyOf natures freedom, or an honest birth.Nobility claim'd by the right of blood,Shewes chiefly, that our Ancestors desir'dWhat we inherit; but that Man whose actionsPurchase a real merit to himself,And rancks him in the file of praise and honor,Creates his own advancement; let me wantThe fuel which best feeds the fires of greatness,Lordly possessions, yet shall still my gratitudeBy some attempts, of mention not unworthy,Endeavour to return a fit acquittanceTo that large debt I owe your favours (Madam)And great Alberto's memory and goodness;O that I could as gently shake off passionFor the loss of that great brave Man, as I can shake offRemembra[n]ce of that once I was reputed;I have not much to say, this Princely presenceNeeds not too strictly to examine fartherThe truth of this acknowledgment; a MotherDares never disavow her only son,And any woman must come short of Piety,That can, or dis-inherit her own issue,Or fears the voice of rumor for a stranger.Madam, you have confest, my Father wasA servant to your Lord and you: by interestOf being his son, I cannot but claim justlyThe honor of continuing still my serviceTo you and yours; which granted, I beg leaveI may for this time be dismist.Duke. Bold spirit.Bap. I love thee now with pitty.Duke. Go not yet —A sudden tempest that might shake a rock,Yet he stands firm against it; much it moves me,He, not Alberto's son, and she a Widdow,And she a Widdow, – Lords your ear.Omnes. Your pleasure. —[Whispers.Duke. So, Lady, what you have avouch'd is truth.Mari. Truth only, gracious Sir.Duke. Hear then our Sentence.Since from his cradle you have fed and foster'dCæsario as your Son, and train'd him upTo hopes of greatness; which now in a momentYou utterly again have ruin'd, this wayWe with our Counsel are resolv'd, you beingA Widdow, shall accept him for a husband.Maria. Husband to me, Sir?Duke. 'Tis in us to raise himTo honors, and his vertues will deserve 'em.Maria. But Sir, 'tis in no Prince, nor his Prerogative,To force a Womans choice against her heart.Duke. True, if then you appeale to higher Justice,Our Doom includes this clause upon refusal,Out of your Lords revenues shall CæsarioAssure to any, whom he takes for Wife,The inheritance of three parts; the less remainerIs dowry large enough to marry a daughter;And we, by our Prerogative, which you question,Will publickly adopt him into th'nameOf your deceas'd Alberto, that the memoryOf so approv'd a Peer may live in himThat can preserve his memory; 'less you find outSome other means, which may as amply satisfieHis wrong, our Sentence stands irrevocable:What think you Lords?Omnes. The Duke is just and honorable.Bap. Let me embrace Cæsario, henceforth everI vow a constant friendship.Mentivole. I remit all former difference.Cesar. I am too poorIn words to thank this Justice. Madam, alwayesMy studies shall be love to you, and duty.Duke. Replies we admit none. Cæsario wait on us.[Exeunt. Manent, Mentivole, Bap. Mari. Claris.Bap. Mentivole.Menti. My Lord.Bap. Look on Clarissa, she's noble, rich, young, fair.Mentivole. My Lord, and virtuous.Bap. Mentivole and virtuous. —Madam.Maria. Tyranny of Justice, I shall live reports derision,That am compell'd to exchange a graceful WiddowhoodFor a continual Martyrdome in Marriage,With one so much beneath me.Bap. I'll plead for yeBoldly and constantly, let your daughter onlyAdmit my son her servant, at next visit,Madam, I'll be a messenger of comfort.Mentivole, be confident and earnest.[Exit.Maria. Married again, to him too! better 'thad beenThe young Man should have still retain'd the honorsOf old Alberto's son, than I the shameOf making him successor of his bed; I was too blame.Ment. Indeed without offence,Madam I think you were.Claris. You urge it fairly, and like a worthy friend.Maria. Can you say any thingIn commendation of a Mushroom witheredAssoon as started up?Ment. You scorn an InnocentOf noble growth, for whiles your husband liv'dI have heard you boast Cesario in all actionsGave matter of report of Imitation,Wonder and envy; let not discontinuanceOf some few days estrange a sweet opinionOf virtue, ch[ie]fly when, in such extremity,Your pitty not contempt will argue goodness.Maria. O Sir.Cla. If you would use a thriving courtship,You cannot utter a more powerfull languageThat I shall listen to with greater greedinessThan th'argument you prosecute; this speaks youA man compleat and excellent.Ment. I speak not, they are his own deserts.Maria. Good Sir forbear,I am now fully sensible of runningInto a violent Lethargy, whose deadlinessLocks up all reason, I shall never henceforthRemember my past happiness.Ment. These clouds may be disperst.Maria. I fear continuall nightWill over-shroud me, yet poor youth his trespassLies in his fortune, not the crueltyOf the Duke's sentence.Cla. I dare think it does.Maria. If all fail I will learn thee to conquerAdversity with sufferance.Ment. You resolve Nobly.[Exeunt.