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THE GUARDIAN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: After twice putting forth to sea, his fame
Last Line: "^2^ an older form of the word ""convent,"" preserved in ""covent garden."


PROLOGUE

After twice putting forth to sea, his fame
Shipwrecked in either, and his once-known name
In two years' silence buried, perhaps lost
In the general opinion; at our cost
(A zealous sacrifice to Neptune made
For good success in his uncertain trade)
Our author weighs up anchors, and once more
Forsaking the security of the shore,
Resolves to prove his fortune: what 'twill be,
Is not in him, or us, to prophesy;
You only can assure us: yet he prayed
This little, in his absence, might be said,
Designing me his orator. He submits
To the grave censure of those abler wits
His weakness; nor dares he profess that when
The critics laugh, he'll laugh at them again.
(Strange self-love in a writer!) He would know
His errors as you find them, and bestow
His future studies to reform from this,
What in another might be judged amiss.
And yet despair not, gentlemen; though he fear
His strengths to please, we hope that you shall hear
Some things so writ as you may truly say
He hath not quite forgot to make a play,
As 'tis with malice rumoured: his intents
Are fair; and, though he want the compliments
Of wide-mouthed promisers, who still engage,
Before their works are brought upon the stage,
Their parasites to proclaim them, this last birth,
Delivered without noise, may yield such mirth,
As, balanced equally, will cry down the boast
Of arrogance, and regain his credit lost.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ALPHONSO, King of Naples.
DUKE MONTPENSIER, General of Milan.
SEVERINO, a banished Nobleman.
MONTECLARO, his Brother-in-law (supposed dead), disguised under the name of
LAVAL.
DURAZZO, the Guardian.
CALDORO, his Nephew and Ward, in love with CALISTA.
ADORIO, a young Libertine.
CAMILLO, Neapolitan Gentleman.
LENTULO, Neapolitan Gentleman.
DONATO, Neapolitan Gentleman.
CARIO, Cook to ADORIO.
CLAUDIO, a Confidential Servant to SEVERINO.
Captain.
Banditti.
Servants.
Singers, Countrymen.

IÖLANTE, Wife of SEVERINO.
CALISTA, her Daughter, in love with ADORIO.
MIRTILLA, CALISTA's Maid.
CALIPSO, the Confidant of IÖLANTE.

SCENE—Partly at NAPLES, and partly in the adjacent country.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.—Naples. A Grove.

Enter DURAZZO, CAMILLO, LENTULO, DONATO, and two
Servants.

DUR. Tell me of his expenses! Which of you
Stands bound for a gazet? he spends his own;
And you impertinent fools or knaves, (make choice
Of either title, which your signiorships please,)
To meddle in't.
Camil. Your age gives privilege
To this harsh language.
Dur. My age! do not use
That word again; if you do, I shall grow young,
And swinge you soundly: I would have you know
Though I write fifty odd, I do not carry
An almanack in my bones to pre-declare
What weather we shall have; nor do I kneel
In adoration, at the spring and fall,
Before my doctor, for a dose or two
Of his restoratives, which are things, I take it,
You are familiar with.
Camil. This is from the purpose.
Dur. I cannot cut a caper, or groan like you
When I have done, nor run away so nimbly
Out of the field: but bring me to a fence-school,
And crack a blade or two for exercise,
Ride a barbed horse, or take a leap after me,
Following my hounds or hawks, (and, by your leave,
At a gamesome mistress,) and you shall confess
I am in the May of my abilities,
And you in your December.
Lent. We are glad you bear
Your years so well.
Dur. My years! no more of years;
If you do, at your peril.
Camil. We desire not
To prove your valour.
Dur. 'Tis your safest course.
Camil. But, as friends to your fame and reputation,
Come to instruct you, your too much indulgence
To the exorbitant waste of young Caldoro,
Your nephew and your ward, hath rendered you
But a bad report among wise men in Naples.
Dur. Wise men!—in your opinion; but to me,
That understand myself and them, they are
Hide-bounded money-mongers: they would have me
Train up my ward a hopeful youth, to keep
A merchant's book; or at the plough, and clothe him
In canvas or coarse cotton; while I fell
His woods, grant leases, which he must make good
When he comes to age, or be compelled to marry
With a cast whore and three bastards; let him know
No more than how to cipher well, or do
His tricks by the square root; grant him no pleasure
But quoits and nine-pins; suffer him to converse
With none but clowns and cobblers: as the Turk says,
Poverty, old age, and aches of all seasons,
Light on such heathenish guardians!
Don. You do worse
To the ruin of his state, under your favour,
In feeding his loose riots.
Dur. Riots! what riots?
He wears rich clothes, I do so; keeps horses, games and wenches;
'Tis not amiss, so it be done with decorum:
In an heir 'tis ten times more excusable
Than to be over-thrifty. Is there aught else
That you can charge him with?
Camil. With what we grieve for,
And you will not approve.
Dur. Out with it, man.
Camil. His rash endeavour, without your consent,
To match himself into a family
Not gracious with the times.
Dur. 'Tis still the better;
By this means he shall scape court visitants,
And not be eaten out of house and home
In a summer progress; but does he mean to marry?
Camil. Yes, sir, to marry.
Dur. In a beardless chin
'Tis ten times worse than wenching. Family! whose family?
Camil. Signor Severino's.
Dur. How! not he that killed
The brother of his wife, as it is rumoured,
Then fled upon it; since proscribed, and chosen
Captain of the banditti; the king's pardon
On no suit to be granted?
Lent. The same, sir.
Dur. This touches near: how is his love returned
By the saint he worships?
Don. She affects him not,
But dotes upon another.
Dur. Worse and worse.
Camil. You know him, young Adorio.
Dur. A brave gentleman!
What proof of this?
Lent. I dogged him to the church;
Where he, not for devotion, as I guess,
But to make his approaches to his mistress,
Is often seen.
Camil. And would you stand concealed
Among these trees, for he must pass this green,
The matins ended, as she returns home,
You may observe the passages.
Dur. I thank you:
This torrent must be stopped.
Don. They come.
Camil. Stand close. [They stand aside.

Enter ADORIO, CALISTA, MIRTILLA, and CALDORO muffled.

Calis. I know I wrong my modesty.
Ador. And wrong me,
In being so importunate for that
I neither can nor must grant.
Calis. A hard sentence!
And, to increase my misery, by you,
Whom fond affection hath made my judge,
Pronounced without compassion. Alas, sir,
Did I approach you with unchaste desires,
A sullied reputation; were deformed,
As it may be I am, though many affirm
I am something more than handsome_____
Dur. I dare swear it.
Calis. Or if I were no gentlewoman, but bred coarsely,
You might, with some pretence of reason, slight
What you should sue for.
Dur. Were he not an eunuch,
He would, and sue again; I am sure I should.
Pray look in my collar, a flea troubles me:
Hey-day! there are a legion of young Cupids
At barley-break in my breeches.
Calis. Hear me, sir;
Though you continue, nay, increase your scorn,
Only vouchsafe to let me understand
What my defects are; of which once convinced,
I will hereafter silence my harsh plea,
And spare you further trouble.
Ador. I will tell you,
And bluntly, as my usual manner is.
Though I were a woman-hater, which I am not,
But love the sex,—for my ends, take me with you;
If in my thought I found one taint or blemish
In the whole fabric of your outward features,
I would give myself the lie. You are a virgin
Possessed of all your mother could wish in you;
Your father Severino's dire disaster
In killing of your uncle, which I grieve for,
In no part taking from you. I repeat it,
A noble virgin, for whose grace and favours
The Italian princes might contend as rivals;
Yet unto me, a thing far, far beneath you,
(A noted libertine I profess myself,)
In your mind there does appear one fault so gross,
Nay, I might say unpardonable at your years,
If justly you consider it, that I cannot
As you desire, affect you.
Calis. Make me know it,
I'll soon reform it.
Ador. Would you'd keep your word!
Calis. Put me to the test.
Ador. I will. You are too honest,
And, like your mother, too strict and religious,
And talk too soon of marriage; I shall break,
If at that rate I purchase you. Can I part with
My uncurbed liberty, and on my neck
Wear such a heavy yoke? hazard my fortunes,
With all the expected joys my life can yield me,
For one commodity, before I prove it?
Venus forbid on both sides! let crooked hams,
Bald heads, declining shoulders, furrowed cheeks,
Be awed by ceremonies: if you love me
In the way young people should, I'll fly to meet it,
And we'll meet merrily.
Calis. 'Tis strange such a man
Can use such language.
Ador. In my tongue my heart
Speaks freely, fair one. Think on't, a close friend,
Or private mistress, is court rhetoric;
A wife, mere rustic solecism: so good morrow!
[ADORIO offers to go, CALDORO comes forward and stops him.
Camil. How like you this?
Dur. A well-bred gentleman!
I am thinking now if ever in the dark,
Or drunk, I met his mother: he must have
Some drops of my blood in him, for at his years
I was much of his religion.
Camil. Out upon you.
Don. The colt's tooth still in your mouth!
Dur. What means this whispering?
Ador. You may perceive I seek not to displant you,
Where you desire to grow; for further thanks,
'Tis needless compliment.
Cald. There are some natures
Which blush to owe a benefit, if not
Received in corners; holding it an impairing
To their own worth, should they acknowledge it.
I am made of other clay, and therefore must
Trench so far on your leisure, as to win you
To lend a patient ear, while I profess
Before my glory, though your scorn, Calista,
How much I am your servant.
Ador. My designs
Are not so urgent, but they can dispense
With so much time.
Camil. Pray you now observe your nephew.
Dur. How he looks! like a school-boy that had played the truant,
And went to be breeched.
Cald. Madam!
Calis. A new affliction!
Your suit offends as much as his repulse,
It being not to be granted.
Mirt. Hear him, madam;
His sorrow is not personated; he deserves
Your pity, not contempt.
Dur. He has made the maid his,
And, as the master of "The Art of Love"
Wisely affirms, it is a kind of passage
To the mistress' favour.
Cald. I come not to urge
My merit to deserve you, since you are,
Weighed truly to your worth, above all value:
Much less to argue you of want of judgment
For following one that with winged feet flies from you,
While I, at all parts, without boast, his equal,
In vain pursue you; bringing those flames with me,
Those lawful flames, (for, madam, know, with other
I never shall approach you,) which Adorio,
In scorn of Hymen and religious rites,
With atheistical impudence contemns;
And in his loose attempt to undermine
The fortress of your honour, seeks to ruin
All holy altars by clear minds erected
To virgin honour.
Dur. My nephew is an ass;
What a devil hath he to do with virgin honour,
Altars, or lawful flames, when he should tell her
They are superstitious nothings; and speak to the purpose,
Of the delight to meet in the old dance,
Between a pair of sheets—my grandam called it,
The Peopling of the World.
Calis. How, gentle sir!
To vindicate my honour! that is needless;
I dare not fear the worst aspersion malice
Can throw upon it.
Cald. Your sweet patience, lady,
And more than dove-like innocence, renders you
Insensible of an injury, for which
I deeply suffer. Can you undergo
The scorn of being refused? I must confess
It makes for my ends; for had he embraced
Your gracious offers tendered him, I had been
In my own hopes forsaken; and if yet
There can breathe any air of comfort in me,
To his contempt I owe it: but his ill
No more shall make way for my good intents,
Than virtue, powerful in herself, can need
The aids of vice.
Ador. You take that licence, sir,
Which yet I never granted.
Cald. I'll force more;
Nor will I for my own ends undertake it,
As I will make apparent, but to do
A justice to your sex, with mine own wrong
And irrecoverable loss. To thee I turn,
Thou goatish ribald, in whom lust is grown
Defensible, the last descent to hell,
Which gapes wide for thee: look upon this lady,
And on her fame, (if it were possible,
Fairer than she is,) and if base desires,
And beastly appetite, will give thee leave,
Consider how she sought thee, how this lady,
In a noble way, desired thee. Was she fashioned
In an inimitable mould, (which Nature broke,
The great work perfected,) to be made a slave
To thy libidinous twines, and, when commanded,
To be used as physic after drunken surfeits!
Mankind should rise against thee: what even now
I heard with horror showed like blasphemy,
And as such I will punish it.
[Strikes ADORIO, the rest rush forward; they all draw.
Calis. Murder!
Mirt. Help!
Dur. After a whining prologue, who would have looked for
Such a rough catastrophe? Nay, come on, fear nothing:
Never till now my nephew! and do you hear, sir?
(And yet I love thee too) if you take the wench now,
I'll have it posted first, then chronicled,
Thou wert beaten to it.
Ador. You think you have shown
A memorable masterpiece of valour
In doing this in public, and it may
Perhaps deserve her shoe-string for a favour:
Wear it without my envy; but expect,
For this affront, when time serves, I shall call you
To a strict account. [Exit.
Dur. Hook on, follow him, harpies!
You may feed upon this business for a month,
If you manage it handsomely.
[Exeunt CAMILLO, LENTULO, and DONATO.
When two heirs quarrel,
The swordmen of the city shortly after
Appear in plush, for their grave consultations
In taking up the difference; some, I know,
Make a set living on't. Nay, let him go,
Thou art master of the field; enjoy thy fortune
With moderation: for a flying foe,
Discreet and provident conquerors build up
A bridge of gold. To thy mistress, boy! if I were
In thy shirt, how I could nick it!
Cald. You stand, madam,
As you were rooted, and I more than fear
My passion hath offended: I perceive
The roses frighted from your cheeks, and paleness
To usurp their room: yet you may please to ascribe it
To my excess of love, and boundless ardour
To do you right; for myself I have done nothing.
I will not curse my stars, howe'er assured
To me you are lost for ever; for suppose
Adorio slain, and by my hand, my life
Is forfeited to the law, which I contemn,
So with a tear or two you would remember
I was your martyr, and died in your service.
Calis. Alas, you weep! and, in my just compassion
Of what you suffer, I were more than marble
Should I not keep you company: you have sought
My favours nobly, and I am justly punished,
In wild Adorio's contempt and scorn,
For my ingratitude, it is no better,
To your deservings: yet such is my fate,
Though I would, I cannot help it. O Caldoro!
In our misplaced affection I prove
Too soon, and with dear-bought experience, Cupid
Is blind indeed, and hath mistook his arrows.
If it be possible, learn to forget,—
And yet that punishment is too light,—to hate
A thankless virgin: practise it; and may
Your due consideration that I am so,
In your imagination, disperse
Loathsome deformity upon this face
That hath bewitched you! more I cannot say,
But that I truly pity you, and wish you
A better choice, which, in my prayers, Caldoro,
I ever will remember. [Exeunt CALISTA and MIRTILLA.
Dur. 'Tis a sweet rogue.
Why, how now! thunderstruck?
Cald. I am not so happy:
Oh, that I were but master of myself!
You soon should see me nothing.
Dur. What would you do?
Cald. With one stab give a fatal period
To my woes and life together.
Dur. For a woman!
Better the kind were lost, and generation
Maintained a new way.
Cald. Pray you, sir, forbear
This profane language.
Dur. Pray you, be you a man,
And whimper not like a girl: all shall be well,
As I live it shall; this is no hectic fever,
But a lovesick ague, easy to be cured,
And I'll be your physician, so you subscribe
To my directions. First, you must change
This city whorish air, for 'tis infected,
And my potions will not work here; I must have you
To my country villa; rise before the sun,
Then make a breakfast of the morning dew,
Served up by nature on some grassy hill;
You'll find it nectar, and far more cordial
Than cullises, cock-broth, or your distillations
Of a hundred crowns a quart.
Cald. You talk of nothing.
Dur. This ta'en as a preparative, to strengthen
Your queasy stomach, vault into your saddle;
With all this flesh I can do it without a stirrup:—
My hounds uncoupled, and my huntsman ready,
You shall hear such music from their tunable mouths,
That you will say the viol, harp, theorbo,
Ne'er made such ravishing harmony: from the groves
And neighbouring woods, with frequent iterations,
Enamoured of the cry, a thousand echoes
Repeating it.
Cald. What's this to me?
Dur. It shall be,
And you give thanks for't. In the afternoon,
For we will have variety of delights,
We'll to the field again; no game shall rise
But we'll be ready for't: if a hare, my greyhounds
Shall make a course; for the pie or jay, a sparhawk
Flies from the fist; the crow, so near pursued,
Shall be compelled to seek protection under
Our horses' bellies; a hearn put from her siege,
And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount
So high that, to your view, she'll seem to soar
Above the middle region of the air:
A cast of haggard falcons, by me manned,
Eyeing the prey at first, appear as if
They did turn tail; but with their labouring wings
Getting above her, with a thought their pinions
Cleaving the purer element, make in,
And by turns bind with her; the frighted fowl,
Lying at her defence upon her back,
With her dreadful beak a while defers her death,
But by degrees forced down, we part the fray,
And feast upon her.
Cald. This cannot be, I grant,
But pretty pastime.
Dur. Pretty pastime, nephew!
'Tis royal sport. Then, for an evening flight,
A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters,
As he were sent a messenger to the moon,
In such a place flies, as he seems to say,
See me, or see me not! the partridge sprung,
He makes his stoop; but, wanting breath, is forced
To cancelier; then, with such speed as if
He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes
The trembling bird, who even in death appears
Proud to be made his quarry.
Cald. Yet all this
Is nothing to Calista.
Dur. Thou shalt find
Twenty Calistas there; for every night,
A fresh and lusty one; I'll give thee a ticket,
In which my name, Durazzo's name, subscribed,
My tenants' nut-brown daughters, wholesome girls,
At midnight shall contend to do thee service.
I have bred them up to't; should their fathers murmur,
Their leases are void, for that is a main point
In my indentures; and when we make our progress,
There is no entertainment perfect, if
This last dish be not offered.
Cald. You make me smile.
Dur. I'll make thee laugh outright.—My horses, knaves!
'Tis but six short hours' riding: yet ere night
Thou shalt be an altered man.
Cald. I wish I may, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Room in SEVERINO'S House.

Enter IÖLANTE, CALISTA, CALIPSO, and MIRTILLA.

Iöl. I had spies upon you, minion; the relation
Of your behaviour was at home before you:
My daughter to hold parley, from the church too,
With noted libertines! her fame and favours
The quarrel of their swords!
Calis. 'Twas not in me
To help it, madam.
Iöl. No! how have I lived?
My neighbour knows my manners have been such,
That I presume I may affirm, and boldly,
In no particular action of my life
I can be justly censured.
Calip. Censured, madam!
What lord or lady lives, worthy to sit
A competent judge on you?
Calis. Yet black detraction
Will find faults where they are not.
Calip. Her foul mouth
Is stopped, you being the object. Give me leave
To speak my thoughts, yet still under correction;
And if my young lady and her woman hear
With reverence, they may be edified.
You are my gracious patroness and supportress,
And I your poor observer, nay, your creature,
Fed by your bounties; and, but that I know
Your honour detests flattery, I might say,
And with an emphasis, you are the lady
Admired and envied at, far, far above
All imitation of the best of women
That are or ever shall be. This is truth:
I dare not be obsequious; and 'twould ill
Become my gravity, and wisdom gleaned
From your oraculous ladyship, to act
The part of a she-parasite.
Iöl. If you do,
I never shall acknowledge you.
Calis. [Aside to MIRTILLA.] Admirable!
This is no flattery!
Mirt. Do not interrupt her:
'Tis such a pleasing itch to your lady-mother,
That she may peradventure forget us,
To feed on her own praises.
Iöl. I am not
So far in debt to age but, if I would
Listen to men's bewitching sorceries,
I could be courted.
Calip. Rest secure of that.
All the braveries of the city run mad for you,
And yet your virtue's such, not one attempts you.
Iöl. I keep no mankind servant in my house,
In fear my chastity may be suspected:
How is that voiced in Naples?
Calip. With loud applause,
I assure your honour.
Iöl. It confirms I can
Command my sensual appetites.
Calip. As vassals
To your more than masculine reason, that commands them:
Your place styled a nunnery of pureness,
In which not one lascivious thought dares enter,
Your clear soul standing sentinel.
Mirt. [Aside.] Well said, Echo!
Iöl. Yet I have tasted those delights which women
So greedily long for, know their titillations;
And when, with danger of his head, thy father
Comes to give comfort to my widowed sheets,
As soon as his desires are satisfied,
I can with ease forget them.
Calip. Observe that,
It being indeed remarkable: 'tis nothing
For a simple maid, that never had her hand
In the honey-pot of pleasure, to forbear it;
But such as have licked there, and licked there often,
And felt the sweetness of't_____
Mirt. [Aside.] How her mouth runs o'er
With rank imagination!
Calip. If such can,
As I urged before, the kickshaw being offered,
Refuse to take it, like my matchless madam,
They may be sainted.
Iöl. I'll lose no more breath
In fruitless reprehension; look to it:
I'll have thee wear this habit of my mind,
As of my body.
Calip. Seek no other precedent:
In all the books of "Amadis de Gaul,"
"The Palmerins," and that true Spanish story,
"The Mirror of Knighthood," which I have read often,
Read feelingly, nay more, I do believe in't,
My lady has no parallel.
Iöl. Do not provoke me:
If, from this minute, thou e'er stir abroad,
Write letter, or receive one, or presume
To look upon a man, though from a window,
I'll chain thee like a slave in some dark corner;
Prescribe thy daily labour, which omitted,
Expect the usage of a Fury from me,
Not an indulgent mother's.—Come, Calipso.
Calip. Your ladyship's injunctions are so easy,
That I dare pawn my credit my young lady
And her woman shall obey them.
[Exeunt IÖLANTE and CALIPSO.
Mirt. You shall fry first
For a rotten piece of dry touchwood, and give fire
To the great fiend's nostrils, when he smokes tobacco!
Note the injustice, madam; they would have us,
Being young and hungry, keep a perpetual Lent,
And the whole year to them a carnival.
"Easy injunctions," with a mischief to you!
Suffer this and suffer all.
Calis. Not stir abroad!
The use and pleasure of our eyes denied us!
Mirt. Insufferable.
Calis. Nor write, nor yet receive
An amorous letter!
Mirt. Not to be endured.
Calis. Nor look upon a man out of a window!
Mirt. Flat tyranny, insupportable tyranny,
To a lady of your blood.
Calis. She is my mother,
And how should I decline it?
Mirt. Run away from't;
Take any course.
Calis. But without means, Mirtilla,
How shall we live?
Mirt. What a question's that! as if
A buxom lady could want maintenance
In any place in the world where there are men,
Wine, meat, or money stirring.
Calis. Be you more modest,
Or seek some other mistress; rather than
In a thought or dream I will consent to aught
That may take from my honour, I'll endure
More than my mother can impose upon me.
Mirt. I grant your honour is a specious dressing,
But without conversation of men.
A kind of nothing. I would not persuade you
To disobedience: yet my confessor told me
(And he, you know, is held a learnèd clerk)
When parents do enjoin unnatural things,
Wise children may avoid them. She may as well
Command when you are hungry, not to eat,
Or drink, or sleep: and yet all these are easy,
Compared with the not seeing of a man,
As I persuade no further; but to you
There is no such necessity; you have means
To shun your mother's rigour.
Calis. Lawful means?
Mirt. Lawful, and pleasing too; I will not urge
Caldoro's loyal love, you being averse to't;
Make trial of Adorio.
Calis. And give up
My honour to his lust!
Mirt. There's no such thing
Intended, madam; in few words, write to him
What slavish hours you spend under your mother;
That you desire not present marriage from him,
But as a noble gentleman to redeem you
From the tyranny you suffer. With your letter
Present him some rich jewel; you have one,
In which the rape of Proserpine, in little,
Is to the life expressed: I'll be the messenger
With any hazard, and at my return,
Yield you a good account of't.
Calis. 'Tis a business
To be considered of.
Mirt. Consideration,
When the converse of your lover is in question,
Is of no moment: if she would allow you
A dancer in the morning to well breathe you,
A songster in the afternoon, a servant
To air you in the evening; give you leave
To see the theatre twice a week, to mark
How the old actors decay, the young sprout up,
(A fitting observation,) you might bear it;
But not to see, or talk, or touch a man,
Abominable!
Calis. Do not my blushes speak
How willingly I would assent?
Mirt. Sweet lady,
Do something to deserve them, and blush after.
[Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.—A Street near SEVERINO'S House.

Enter IÖLANTE and CALIPSO.

IÖL. And are these Frenchmen, as you say, such gallants?
Calip. Gallant and active; their free breeding knows not
The Spanish and Italian preciseness
Practised among us; what we call immodest,
With them is styled bold courtship: they dare fight
Under a velvet ensign at fourteen.
Iöl. A petticoat, you mean?
Calip. You are in the right;
Let a mistress wear it under an armour of proof,
They are not to be beaten off.
Iöl. You are merry, neighbour.
Calip. I fool to make you so: pray you observe them,
They are the forward'st monsieurs; born physicians
For the malady of young wenches, and ne'er miss:
I owe my life to one of them. When I was
A raw young thing, not worth the ground I trod on,
And longed to dip my bread in tar, my lips
As blue as salt-water, he came up roundly to me,
And cured me in an instant; Venus be praised for't!

Enter ALPHONSO, MONTPENSIER, LAVAL, Captain, and Attendants.

Iöl. They come, leave prating.
Calip. I am dumb, an't like your honour.
Alph. We will not break the league confirmed between us
And your great master: the passage of his army
Through all our territories lies open to him;
Only we grieve that your design for Rome
Commands such haste, as it denies us means
To entertain you as your worth deserves,
And we would gladly tender.
Mont. Royal Alphonso,
The king my master, your confederate,
Will pay the debt he owes in fact, which I
Want words to express. I must remove to-night;
And yet, that your intended favours may not
Be lost, I leave this gentleman behind me,
To whom you may vouchsafe them, I dare say,
Without repentance. I forbear to give
Your majesty his character; in France
He was a precedent for arts and arms,
Without a rival, and may prove in Naples
Worthy the imitation. [Introduces LAVAL to the King.
Calip. Is he not, madam,
A monsieur in print! what a garb was there! O rare!
Then, how he wears his clothes! and the fashion of them!
A main assurance that he is within
All excellent: by this, wise ladies ever
Make their conjectures.
Iöl. Peace, I have observed him
From head to foot.
Calip. Eye him again, all over.
Lav. It cannot, royal sir, but argue me
Of much presumption, if not impudence,
To be a suitor to your majesty,
Before I have deserved a gracious grant,
By some employment prosperously achieved.
But pardon, gracious sir: when I left France
I made a vow to a bosom friend of mine,
(Which my lord general, if he please, can witness,)
With such humility as well becomes
A poor petitioner, to desire a boon
From your magnificence. [He delivers a petition.
Calip. With what punctual form
He does deliver it!
Iöl. I have eyes; no more.
Alph. For Severino's pardon!—you must excuse me,
I dare not pardon murder.
Lav. His fact, sir,
Ever submitting to your abler judgment,
Merits a fairer name: he was provoked,
As by unanswerable proofs it is confirmed,
By Monteclaro's rashness; who repining
That Severino, without his consent,
Had married Iölante, his sole sister,
(It being concealed almost for thirteen years,)
Though the gentleman, at all parts, was his equal,
First challenged him, and, that declined, he gave him
A blow in public.
Mont. Not to be endured,
But by a slave.
Lav. This, great sir, justly weighed,
You may a little, if you please, take from
The rigour of your justice, and express
An act of mercy.
Iöl. I can hear no more.
This opens an old wound, and makes a new one,
Would it were cicatrized! wait me.
Calip. As your shadow.
[Exeunt IÖLANTE and CALIPSO.
Alph. We grant you these are glorious pretences,
Revenge appearing in the shape of valour,
Which wise kings must distinguish: the defence
Of reputation, now made a bawd
To murder; every trifle falsely styled
An injury, and not to be determined
But by a bloody duel: though this vice
Hath taken root and growth beyond the mountains,
(As France, and, in strange fashions, her ape,
England, can dearly witness with the loss
Of more brave spirits than would have stood the shock
Of the Turk's army,) while Alphonso lives
It shall not here be planted. Move me no further
In this: in what else suiting you to ask
And me to give, expect a gracious answer:
However, welcome to our court. Lord general,
I'll bring you out of the ports, and then betake you
To your good fortune.
Mont. Your grace overwhelms me. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Room in SEVERINO'S House.

Enter CALIPSO and IÖLANTE, with a purse and a jewel.

Calip. You are bound to favour him: mark you how he pleaded
For my lord's pardon.
Iöl. That's indeed a tie;
But I have a stronger on me.
Calip. Say you love
His person, be not ashamed of't; he's a man
For whose embraces, though Endymion
Lay sleeping by, Cynthia would leave her orb,
And exchange kisses with him.
Iöl. Do not fan
A fire that burns already too hot in me;
I am in my honour sick, sick to the death,
Never to be recovered.
Calip. What a coil's here
For loving a man! It is no Afric wonder:
If, like Pasiphaë, you doted on a bull,
Indeed 'twere monstrous; but in this you have
A thousand thousand precedents to excuse you.
A seaman's wife may ask relief of her neighbour,
When her husband's bound to the Indies, and not blamed for't;
And many more besides of higher calling,
Though I forbear to name them. You have a husband;
But, as the case stands with my lord, he is
A kind of no-husband; and your ladyship
As free as a widow can be. I confess,
If ladies should seek change that have their husbands
At board and bed, to pay their marriage duties,
(The surest bond of concord,) 'twere a fault,
Indeed it were: but for your honour, that
Do lie alone so often—body of me!
I am zealous in your cause—let me take breath.
Iöl. I apprehend what thou wouldst say, I want all
As means to quench the spurious fire that burns here,
Calip. Want means, while I, your creature, live! I dare not
Be so unthankful.
Iöl. Wilt thou undertake it?
And, as an earnest of much more to come,
Receive this jewel, and purse crammed full of crowns.—
[Aside.] How dearly I am forced to buy dishonour.
Calip. I would do it gratis, but 'twould ill become
My breeding to refuse your honour's bounty;
Nay, say no more, all rhetoric in this
Is comprehended; let me alone to work him.
He shall be yours; that's poor, he is already
At your devotion. I will not boast
My faculties this way, but suppose he were
Coy as Adonis, or Hippolytus,
And your desires more hot than Cytherea's,
Or wanton Phædra's, I will bring him chained
To your embraces, glorying in his fetters:
I have said it.
Iöl. Go, and prosper; and imagine
A salary beyond thy hopes.
Calip. Sleep you
Secure on either ear; the burthen's yours
To entertain him, mine to bring him hither. [Exeunt.

III SCENE.—A Room in ADORIO'S House.

Enter ADORIO, CAMILLO, LENTULO, and DONATO.

Don. Your wrong's beyond a challenge, and you deal
Too fairly with him, if you take that way
To right yourself.
Lent. The least that you can do,
In the terms of honour, is, when next you meet him,
To give him the bastinado.
Cam. And that done,
Draw out his sword to cut your own throat! No,
Be ruled by me, show yourself an Italian,
And, having received one injury, do not put off
Your hat for a second; there are fellows that,
For a few crowns, will make him sure, and so,
With your revenge, you prevent future mischief.
Ador. I thank you, gentlemen, for your studied care
In what concerns my honour; but in that
I'll steer mine own course. Yet, that you may know
You are still my cabinet counsellors, my bosom
Lies open to you; I begin to feel
A weariness, nay, satiety of looseness,
And something tells me here, I should repent
My harshness to Calista.

Enter CARIO, hastily.

Camil. When you please,
You may remove that scruple.
Ador. I shall think on't.
Car. Sir, sir, are you ready?
Ador. To do what? I am sure
'Tis not yet dinner-time.
Car. True; but I usher
Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast,
As yet I never cooked: 'tis not botargo,
Fried frogs, potatoes marrowed, cavear,
Carps' tongues, the pith of an English chine of beef,
Nor our Italian delicate, oiled mushrooms,
And yet a drawer-on too; and if you show not
An appetite, and a strong one, I'll not say
To eat it, but devour it, without grace too,
(For it will not stay a preface,) I am shamed,
And all my past provocatives will be jeered at.
Ador. Art thou in thy wits? what new-found rarity
Hast thou discovered?
Car. No such matter, sir;
It grows in our own country.
Don.Serve it up,
I feel a kind of stomach.
Camil. I could feed too.
Car. Not a bit upon a march; there's other lettuce
For your coarse lips; this is peculiar only
For my master's palate; I would give my whole year's wages,
With all my vails, and fees due to the kitchen,
But to be his carver.
Ador. Leave your fooling, sirrah,
And bring in your dainty.
Car. 'Twill bring in itself,
It has life and spirit in it; and for proof,
Behold! Now fall to boldly; my life on't,
It comes to be tasted.

Enter MIRTILLA, with letter and jewel.

Camil. Ha! Calista's woman?
Lent. A handsome one, by Venus.
Ador. Pray you forbear.
You are welcome, fair one.
Don. How that blush becomes her!
Ador. Aim your designs at me?
Mirt. I am trusted, sir,
With a business of near consequence, which I would
To your private ear deliver.
Car. I told you so.
Give her audience on your couch; it is fit state
To a she-ambassador.
Ador. Pray you, gentlemen,
For awhile dispose of yourselves, I'll straight attend you.
[Exeunt CAMILLO, LENTULO, and DONATO.
Car. Dispatch her first for your honour: the quickly doing_____
You know what follows.
Ador. Will you please to vanish? [Exit CARIO.
Now, pretty one, your pleasure? you shall find me
Ready to serve you; if you'll put me to
My oath, I'll take it on this book. [Offers to kiss her.
Mirt. O sir,
The favour is too great, and far above
My poor ambition; I must kiss your hand
In sign of humble thankfulness.
Ador. So modest!
Mirt. It well becomes a maid, sir. Spare those blessings
For my noble mistress, upon whom with justice,
And, with your good allowance, I might add
With a due gratitude, you may confer them;
But this will better speak her chaste desires
[Delivers a letter.
Than I can fancy what they are, much less
With moving language, to their fair deserts,
Aptly express them. Pray you read, but with
Compassion, I beseech you: if you find
The paper blurred with tears fallen from her eyes,
While she endeavoured to set down that truth
Her soul did dictate to her, it must challenge
A gracious answer.
Ador. O the powerful charms
By that fair hand writ down here! not like those
Which, dreadfully pronounced by Circe, changed
Ulysses' followers into beasts; these have
An opposite working; I already feel,
But reading them, their saving operations;
And all those sensual, loose, and base desires
Which have too long usurped and tyrannized
Over my reason, of themselves fall off.
Most happy metamorphosis! in which
The film of error that did blind my judgment
And seduced understanding, is removed.
What sacrifice of thanks can I return
Her pious charity, that not alone
Redeems me from the worst of slavery,
The tyranny of my beastly appetites,
To which I long obsequiously have bowed;
But adds a matchless favour, to receive
A benefit from me, nay, puts her goodness
In my protection.
Mirt. [Aside.] Transformed!—it is
A blessed metamorphosis, and works
I know not how on me.
Ador. My joys are boundless,
Curbed with no limits: for her sake, Mirtilla,
Instruct me how I presently may seal
To those strong bonds of loyal love and service
Which never shall be cancelled.
Mirt. She'll become
Your debtor, sir, if you vouchsafe to answer
Her pure affection.
Ador. Answer it, Mirtilla!
With more than adoration I kneel to it.
Tell her, I'll rather die a thousand deaths
Than fail, with punctuality, to perform
All her commands.
Mirt. [Aside.] I am lost on this assurance,
Which, if 'twere made to me, I should have faith in't,
As in an oracle: ah me!—She presents you
This jewel, her dead grandsire's gift, in which,
As by a true Egyptian hieroglyphic
(For so I think she called it), you may be
Instructed what her suit is you should do,
And she with joy will suffer.
Ador. Heaven be pleased
To qualify this excess of happiness
With some disaster, or I shall expire
With a surfeit of felicity. With what art
The cunning lapidary hath here expressed
The rape of Proserpine! I apprehend
Her purpose, and obey it; yet not as
A helping friend, but a husband: I will meet
Her chaste desires with lawful heat, and warm
Our Hymeneal sheets with such delights
As leave no sting behind them.
Mirt. [Aside.] I despair then.
Ador. At the time appointed say, wench, I'll attend her.
And guard her from the fury of her mother,
And all that dare disturb her.
Mirt. You speak well;
And I believe you.
Ador. Would you aught else?
Mirt. I would
Carry some love-sign to her; and now I think on't
The kind salute you offered at my entrance,
Hold it not impudence that I desire it,
I'll faithfully deliver it.
Ador. O, a kiss!
You must excuse me, I was then mine own,
Now wholly hers: the touch of other lips
I do abjure for ever: but there's gold
To bind thee still my advocate. [Exit.
Mirt. Not a kiss!
I was coy when it was offered, and now justly,
When I beg one am denied. What scorching fires
My loose hopes kindle in me! shall I be
False to my lady's trust, and, from a servant,
Rise up her rival? His words have bewitched me,
And something I must do, but what?—'tis yet
An embryon, and how to give it form,
Alas, I know not. Pardon me, Calista,
I am nearest to myself, and time will teach me
To perfect that which yet is undermined. [Exit.

SCENE IV.—A Forest.

Enter CLAUDIO and SEVERINO.

Claud. You are master of yourself; yet, if I may,
As a tried friend in my love and affection,
And a servant in my duty, speak my thoughts
Without offence, i' the way of counsel to you;
I could allege, and truly, that your purpose
For Naples, covered with a thin disguise,
Is full of danger.
Sev. Danger, Claudio!
'Tis here, and everywhere, our forced companion:
The rising and the setting sun beholds us
Environed with it; our whole lite a journey
Ending in certain ruin.
Claud. Yet we should not,
Howe'er besieged, deliver up our fort
Of life, till it be forced.
Sev. 'Tis so indeed
By wisest men concluded, which we should
Obey as Christians; but when I consider
How different the progress of our actions
Is from religion, nay, morality,
I cannot find in reason, why we should
Be scrupulous that way only; or like meteors
Blaze forth prodigious terrors, till our stuff
Be utterly consumed, which once put out,
Would bring security unto ourselves,
And safety unto those we prey upon.
O Claudio! since by this fatal hand
The brother of my wife, bold Monteclaro,
Was left dead in the field, and I proscribed
After my flight, by the justice of the king,
My being hath been but a living death,
With a continued torture.
Claud. Yet in that
You do delude their bloody violence
That do pursue your life.
Sev. While I, by rapines,
Live terrible to others as myself.—
What one hour can we challenge as our own,
Unhappy as we are, yielding a beam
Of comfort to us? Quiet night, that brings
Rest to the labourer, is the outlaw's day,
In which he rises early to do wrong,
And when his work is ended dares not sleep:
Our time is spent in watches to entrap
Such as would shun us, and to hide ourselves
From the ministers of justice, that would bring us
To the correction of the law. O, Claudio,
Is this a life to be preserved, and at
So dear a rate? But why hold I discourse
On this sad subject, since it is a burthen
We are marked to bear, and not to be shook off
But with our human frailty? in the change
Of dangers there is some delight, and therefore
I am resolved for Naples.
Claud. May you meet there
All comforts that so fair and chaste a wife
(As Fame proclaims her without parallel)
Can yield to ease your sorrows!
Sev. I much thank you;
Yet you may spare those wishes, which with joy
I have proved certainties, and from their want
Her excellencies take lustre.
Claud. Ere you go yet,
Some charge unto your squires not to fly out
Beyond their bounds were not impertinent:
For though that with a look you can command them,
In your absence they'll be headstrong.
Sev. 'Tis well thought on,
I'll touch my horn,—[Blows his horn.]—they know my call.
Claud. And will,
As soon as heard, make in to't from all quarters,
As the flock to the shepherd's whistle.

Enter Banditti.

1st Ban. What's your will?
2nd Ban. Hail, sovereign of these woods!
3rd Ban. We lay our lives
At your highness' feet.
4th Ban. And will confess no king,
Nor laws but what come from your mouth; and those
We gladly will subscribe to.
Sev. Make this good,
In my absence, to my substitute, to whom
Pay all obedience as to myself;
The breach of this in one particular
I will severely punish: on your lives,
Remember upon whom with our allowance
You may securely prey, with such as are
Exempted from your fury.
Claud. 'Twere not amiss,
If you please, to help their memory: besides,
Here are some newly initiated.
Sev. To these
Read you the articles; I must be gone:
Claudio, farewell! [Exit.
Claud. May your return be speedy!
1st Ban. Silence; out with your table-books.
2nd Ban. And observe.
Claud. [Reads.] "The cormorant that lives in expectation
Of a long wished-for dearth, and, smiling, grinds
The faces of the poor, you may make spoil of;
Even theft to such is justice."
3rd Ban. He's in my tables.
Claud. [Reads.] "The grand encloser of the commons, for
His private profit or delight, with all
His herds that graze upon't, are lawful prize."
4th Ban. And we will bring them in, although the devil
Stood roaring by, to guard them.
Claud. [Reads.] "If a usurer,
Greedy, at his own price, to make a purchase,
Taking advantage upon bond or mortgage
From a prodigal, pass through our territories,
In the way of custom, or of tribute to us,
You may ease him of his burthen."
2nd Ban. Wholesome doctrine.
Claud. [Reads.] "Builders of iron mills, that grub up forests
With timber trees for shipping."
1st Ban. May we not
Have a touch at lawyers?
Claud. By no means; they may
Too soon have a gripe at us; they are angry hornets,
Not to be jested with.
3rd Ban. This is not so well.
Claud. [Reads.] "The owners of dark shops, that vent their wares
With perjuries; cheating vintners, not contented
With half in half in their reckonings, yet cry out,
When they find their guests want coin, 'Tis late and bed-time.'
These ransack at your pleasures."
3rd Ban. How shall we know them?
Claud. If they walk on foot, by their rat-coloured stockings,
And shining-shoes; if horsemen, by short boots,
And riding-furniture of several counties.
2nd Ban. Not one of the list escapes us.
Claud. [Reads.] "But for scholars,
Whose wealth lies in their heads, and not their pockets,
Soldiers that have bled in their country's service,
The rent-racked farmer, needy market folks,
The sweaty labourer, carriers that transport
The goods of other men, are privileged;
But, above all, let none presume to offer
Violence to women, for our king hath sworn,
Who that way's a delinquent, without mercy
Hangs for't, by martial law."
All. Long live Severino,
And perish all such cullions as repine
At his new monarchy!
Claud. About your business,
That he may find, at his return, good cause
To praise your care and discipline.
All. We'll not fail sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—A Street in Naples.

Enter LAVAL and CALIPSO.

Lav. Thou art sure mistaken; 'tis not possible
That I can be the man thou art employed to.
Calip. Not you the man! you are the man of men,
And such another, in my lady's eye,
Never to be discovered.
Lav. A mere stranger,
Newly arrived!
Calip. Still the more probable.
Since ladies, as you know, affect strange dainties,
And brought far to them^1^. This is not an age
In which saints live; but women, knowing women,
That understand their summum bonum is
Variety of pleasures in the touch,
Derived from several nations; and if men would
Be wise by their example_____
Lav. As most are;
'Tis a coupling age!
Calip. Why, sir, do gallants travel—
Answer that question—but, at their return,
With wonder to the hearers, to discourse of
The garb and difference in foreign females,
As the lusty girl of France, the sober German,
The plump Dutch frow, the stately dame of Spain,
The Roman libertine, and sprightful Tuscan,
The merry Greek, Venetian courtezan,
The English fair companion, that learns something
From every nation, and will fly at all;—
I say again, the difference betwixt these
And their own country gamesters?
Lav. Aptly urged.
Some make that their main end: but may I ask,
Without offence to your gravity, by what title
Your lady, that invites me to her favours,
Is known in the city?
Calip. If you were a true-born monsieur,
You would do the business first, and ask that after.
If you only truck with her title, I shall hardly
Deserve thanks for my travail; she is, sir,
No single-ducat trader, nor a beldam
So frozen up that a fever cannot thaw her;
No lioness by her breath.
Lav. Leave these impertinencies,
And come to the matter.
Calip. Would you'd be as forward
When you draw for the upshot! she is, sir, a lady,
A rich, fair, well-complexioned, and what is
Not frequent among Venus' votaries,
Upon my credit, which good men have trusted,
A sound and wholesome lady, and her name is
Madonna Iölante.
Lav. Iölante!
I have heard of her; for chastity, and beauty,
The wonder of the age.
Calip. Pray you, not too much
Of chastity; fair and free I do subscribe to,
And so you'll find her.
Lav. Come, you are a base creature;
And, covering your foul ends with her fair name,
Give me just reason to suspect you have
A plot upon my life.
Calip. A plot! very fine!
Nay, 'tis a dangerous one, pray you beware of't;
'Tis cunningly contrived: I plot to bring you
Afoot, with the travel of some forty paces,
To those delights which a man not made of snow
Would ride a thousand miles for. You shall be
Received at a postern door, if you be not cautious,
By one whose touch would make old Nestor young,
And cure his hernia; a terrible plot!
A kiss then ravished from you by such lips
As flow with nectar, a juicy palm more precious
Than the famed Sibylla's bough, to guide you safe
Through mists of perfumes to a glorious room,
Where Jove might feast his Juno; a dire plot!
A banquet I'll not mention, that is common:
But I must not forget, to make the plot
More horrid to you, the retiring bower,
So furnished as might force the Persian's envy,
The silver bathing-tub, the cambric rubbers,
The embroidered quilt, the bed of gossamer
And damask roses; a mere powder plot
To blow you up! and last, a bed-fellow,
To whose rare entertainment all these are
But foils and settings off.
Lav. No more. Her breath
Would warm an eunuch.
Calip. I knew I should heat you.
Now he begins to glow!
Lav. I am flesh and blood,
And I were not man if I should not run the hazard,
Had I no other ends in't. I have considered
Your motion, matron.
Calip. My "plot," sir, "on your life,"
For which I am deservedly suspected
For a base and dangerous woman! Fare you well, sir;
I'll be bold to take my leave,
Lav. I will along too.
Come, pardon my suspicion: I confess
My error; and, eyeing you better, I perceive
There's nothing that is ill that can flow from you;
I am serious, and, for proof of it, I'll purchase
Your good opinion. [Gives her his purse.
Calip. I am gently natured,
And can forget a greater wrong upon
Such terms of satisfaction.
Lav. What's the hour?
Calip. Twelve.
Lav. I'll not miss a minute.
Calip. I shall find you
At your lodging?
Lav. Certainly; return my service,
And for me kiss your lady's hands.
Calip. At twelve
I'll be your convoy.
Lav. I desire no better. [Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.—The Country.

Enter DURAZZO, CALDORO, and Servant.

DUR. Walk the horses down the hill; I have a little
To speak in private. [Exit Servant.
Cald. Good sir, no more anger.
Dur. Love do you call it! madness, wilful madness;
And, since I cannot cure it, I would have you
Exactly mad. You are a lover already,
Be a drunkard too, and after turn small poet,
And then you are mad, katexokên the madman.
Cald. Such as are safe on shore may smile at tempests;
But I, that am embarked, and every minute
Expect a shipwreck, relish not your mirth:
To me it is unseasonable.
Dur. Pleasing viands
Are made sharp by sick palates. I affect
A handsome mistress in my gray beard, as well
As any boy of you all; and on good terms
Will venture as far i' the fire, so she be willing
To entertain me; but ere I would dote,
As you do, where there is no flattering hope
Ever to enjoy her, I would forswear wine,
And kill this lecherous itch with drinking water,
Or live, like a Carthusian, on poor John,
Then bathe myself night by night in marble dew,
And use no soap but camphire-balls.
Cald. You may,
(And I must suffer it,) like a rough surgeon,
Apply these burning caustics to my wounds
Already gangrened, when soft unguents would
Better express an uncle with some feeling
Of his nephew's torments.
Dur. I shall melt, and cannot
Hold out if he whimper. O that this young fellow,
Who, on my knowledge, is able to beat a man,
Should be baffled by this blind imagined boy,
Or fear his bird-bolts!
Cald. You have put yourself already
To too much trouble, in bringing me thus far:
Now, if you please, with your good wishes, leave me
To my hard fortunes.
Dur. I'll forsake myself first.
Leave thee! I cannot, will not; thou shalt have
No cause to be weary of my company,
For I'll be useful; and, ere I see thee perish,
Dispensing with my dignity and candour,
I will do something for thee, though it savour
Of the old squire of Troy. As we ride, we will
Consult of the means: bear up.
Cald. I cannot sink,
Having your noble aids to buoy me up:
There was never such a guardian.
Dur. How is this?
Stale compliments to me! when my work's done,
Commend the artificer, and then be thankful. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Room in SEVERINO'S House.

Enter CALISTA richly habited, and MIRTILLA in the gown which CALISTA
first wore.

Calis. How dost thou like my gown?
Mirt. 'Tis rich and courtlike.
Calis. the dressings too are suitable?
Mirt. I must say so,
Or you might blame my want of care.
Calis. My mother
Little dreams of my intended flight, or that
These are my nuptial ornaments.
Mirt. I hope so.
Calis. How dully thou reply'st! thou dost not envy
Adorio's noble change, or the good fortune
That it brings to me?
Mirt. My endeavours that way
Can answer for me.
Calis. True; you have discharged
A faithful servant's duty, and it is
By me rewarded like a liberal mistress;
I speak it not to upbraid you with my bounties,
Though they deserve more thanks and ceremony
Than you have yet expressed.
Mirt. The miseries
Which, from your happiness, I am sure to suffer,
Restrain my forward tongue; and, gentle madam,
Excuse my weakness, though I do appear
A little daunted with the heavy burthen
I am to undergo: when you are safe,
My dangers, like to roaring torrents, will
Gush in upon me; yet I would endure
Your mother's cruelty; but how to bear
Your absence, in the very thought confounds me.
Since we were children I have loved and served you;
I willingly learned to obey, as you
Grew up to knowledge, that you might command me;
And now to be divorced from all my comforts!—
Can this be borne with patience?
Calis. The necessity
Of my strange fate commands it; but I vow
By my Adorio's love, I pity thee.
Mirt. Pity me, madam! a cold charity;
You must do more, and help me,
Calis. Ha! what said you!
I must! is this fit language for a servant?
Mirt. For one that would continue your poor servant,
And cannot live that day in which she is
Denied to be so. Can Mirtilla sit
Mourning alone, imagining those pleasures
Which you, this blessèd Hymeneal night,
Enjoy in the embraces of your lord,
And my lord too, in being yours? (already
As such I love and honour him.) Shall a stranger
Sew you in a sheet, to guard that maidenhead
You must pretend to keep; and 'twill become you?
Shall another do those bridal offices,
Which time will not permit me to remember,
And I pine here with envy? pardon me,—
I must and will be pardoned,—for my passions
Are in extremes; and use some speedy means
That I may go along with you, and share
In those delights, but with becoming distance;
Or by his life, which as a saint you swear by,
I will discover all!
Calis. Thou canst not be
So treacherous and cruel, in destroying
The building thou hast raised.
Mirt. Pray you do not tempt me,
For 'tis resolved.
Calis. [Aside.] I know not what to think of't.
In the discovery of my secrets to her,
I have made my slave my mistress; I must soothe her,
There's no evasion else.—Prithee, Mirtilla,
Be not so violent; I am strangely taken
With thy affection for me; 'twas my purpose
To have thee sent for.
Mirt. When?
Calis. This very night;
And I vow deeply I shall be no sooner
In the desired possession of my lord,
But by some of his servants I will have thee
Conveyed unto us.
Mirt. Should you break!
Calis. I dare not.
Come, clear thy looks, for instantly we'll prepare
For our departure.
Mirt. Pray you forgive my boldness,
Growing from my excess of zeal to serve you.
Calis. I thank thee for't.
Mirt. You'll keep your word?
Calis. Still doubtful! [Exit.
Mirt. 'Twas this I aimed at, and leave the rest to fortune. [Exit,
following.

SCENE III.—A Room in ADORIO'S House.

Enter ADORIO, CAMILLO, LENTULO, DONATO, CARIO, and Servants.

Ador. Haste you unto my villa, and take all
Provision along with you, and for use
And ornament, the shortness of the time
Can furnish you; let my best plate be set out,
And costliest hangings; and, if't be possible,
With a merry dance to entertain the bride,
Provide an epithalamium.
Car. Trust me
For belly-timber: and for a song, I have
A paper-blurrer, who on all occasions,
For all times, and all seasons, hath such trinkets
Ready in the deck: it is but altering
The names, and they will serve for any bride,
Or bridegroom, in the kingdom.
Ador. But for the dance?
Car. I will make one myself, and foot it finely;
And summoning your tenants at my dresser,
Which is, indeed, my drum, make a rare choice
Of the able youth, such as shall sweat sufficiently,
And smell too, but not of amber, which, you know, is
The grace of the country-hall.
Ador. About it, Cario,
And look you be careful.
Car. For mine own credit, sir.
[Exeunt CARIO and Servants.
Ador. Now, noble friends, confirm your loves, and think not
Of the penalty of the law, that does forbid
The stealing away an heir: I will secure you,
And pay the breach of't.
Camil. Tell us what we shall do,
We'll talk of that hereafter.
Ador. Pray you be careful
To keep the west gate of the city open,
That our passage may be free, and bribe the watch
With any sum; this is all.
Don. A dangerous business!
Camil. I'll make the constable, watch, and porter drunk,
Under a crown.
Lent. And then you may pass while they snore,
Though you had done a murder.
Camil. Get but your mistress,
And leave the rest to us.
Ador. You much engage me:
But I forget myself.
Camil. Pray you, in what, sir?
Ador. Yielding too much to my affection,
Though lawful now, my wounded reputation
And honour suffer: the disgrace, in taking
A blow in public from Caldoro, branded
With the infamous mark of coward, in delaying
To right myself, upon my cheek grows fresher;
That's first to be considered.
Camil. If you dare
Trust my opinion, (yet I have had
Some practice and experience in duels,)
You are too tender that way: can you answer
The debt you owe your honour till you meet
Your enemy from whom you may exact it?
Hath he not left the city, and in fear
Concealed himself, for aught I can imagine?
What would you more?
Ador. I should do.
Camil. Never think on't,
Till fitter time and place invite you to it:
I have read Caranza, and find not in his Grammar
Of quarrels, that the injured man is bound
To seek for reparation at an hour;
But may, and without loss, till he hath settled
More serious occasions that import him,
For a day or two defer it.
Ador. You'll subscribe
Your hand to this?
Camil. And Justify't with my life;
Presume upon't.
Ador. On, then; you shall o'er-rule me. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—A Room in SEVERINO'S House.

Enter IÖLANTE and CALIPSO.

Iöl. I'll give thee a golden tongue, and have it hung up,
Over thy tomb, for a monument.
Calip. I am not prepared yet
To leave the world; there are many good pranks
I must dispatch in this kind before I die:
And I had rather, if your honour please,
Have the crowns in my purse.
Iöl. Take that.
Calis. Magnificent lady!
May you live long, and, every moon, love change,
That I may have fresh employment! You know what
Remains to be done?
Iöl. Yes, yes; I will command
My daughter and Mirtilla to their chamber.
Calip. And lock them up; such liquorish kitlings are not
To be trusted with our cream. Ere I go, I'll help you
To set forth the banquet, and place the candied eringoes
Where he may be sure to taste them; then undress you,
For these things are cumbersome, when you should be active:
A thin night mantle to hide part of your smock,
With your pearl-embroidered pantofles on your feet,
And then you are armed for service! nay, no trifling;
We are alone, and you know 'tis a point of folly
To be coy to eat when meat is set before you. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.—A Street before SEVERINO'S House.

Enter ADORIO and Servant.

Ador. 'Tis eleven by my watch, the hour appointed.
Listen at the door—hear'st thou any stirring?
Serv. No, sir;
All's silent here.
Ador. Some cursèd business keeps
Her mother up. I'll walk a little circle,
And show where you shall wait us with the horses,
And then return. This short delay afflicts me,
And I presume to her it is not pleasing. [Exeunt.

Enter DURAZZO and CALDORO.

Dur. What's now to be done? prithee let's to bed, I am sleepy;
And here's my hand on't, without more ado,
By fair or foul play we'll have her to-morrow
In thy possession.
Cald. Good sir, give me leave
To taste a little comfort in beholding
The place by her sweet presence sanctified.
She may perhaps, to take air, ope the casement,
And looking out, a new star to be gazed on
By me with adoration, bless these eyes,
Ne'er happy but when she is made the object.
Dur. Is not here fine fooling!
Cald. Thou great Queen of Love,
Or real or imagined, be propitious
To me, thy faithful votary! and I vow
To erect a statue to thee, equal to
Thy picture, by Apelles' skilful hand
Left as the great example of his art;
And on thy thigh I'll hang a golden Cupid,
His torches flaming, and his quiver full,
For further honour!
Dur. End this waking dream,
And let's away.

Enter from the house CALISTA and MIRTILLA.

Calis. Mirtilla!
Cald. 'Tis her voice!
Calis. You heard the horses' footing?
Mirt. Certainly.
Calis. Speak low. My Lord Adorio!
Cald. I am dumb.
Dur. The darkness friend us too! Most honoured madam,
Adorio, your servant.
Calis. As you are so,
I do command your silence till we are
Further removed; and let this kiss assure you
(I thank the sable night that hides my blushes)
I am wholly yours.
Dur. Forward, you micher!
Mirt. Madam,
Think on Mirtilla! [Goes into the house.
Dur. I'll not now inquire
The mystery of this, but bless kind fortune
Favouring us beyond our hopes; yet, now I think on't,
I had ever a lucky hand in such smock night-work.
[Exeunt.

Enter ADORIO and Servant.

Ador. This slowness does amaze me: she's not altered
In her late resolution?

Iöl. [Within.] Get you to bed,
And stir not on your life, till I command you.
Ador. Her mother's voice! listen.
Serv. Here comes the daughter.

Re-enter MIRTILLA hastily.

Mirt. Whither shall I fly for succour?
Ador. To these arms,
Your castle of defence, impregnable,
And not to be blown up: how your heart beats!
Take comfort, dear Calista, you are now
In his protection that will ne'er forsake you:
Adorio, your changed Adorio, swears
By your best self, an oath he dares not break,
He loves you, loves you in a noble way,
His constancy firm as the poles of Heaven.
I will urge no reply, silence becomes you;
And I'll defer the music of your voice
Till we are in a place of safety.
Mirt. [Aside.] O blest error! [Exeunt.

Enter SEVERINO.

Sev. 'Tis midnight: how my fears of certain death,
Being surprised, combat with my strong hopes
Raised on my chaste wife's goodness! I am grown
A stranger in this city, and no wonder,
I have too long been so unto myself:
Grant me a little truce, my troubled soul—
I hear some footing, ha!

Enter LAVAL and CALIPSO.

Calip. That is the house,
And there's the key: you'll find my lady ready
To entertain you; 'tis not fit I should
Stand gaping by while you bill: I have brought you on,
Charge home, and come off with honour. [Exit.
Sev. It makes this way.
Lav. I am much troubled, and know not what to think
Of this design.
Sev. It still comes on.
Lav. The watch!
I am betrayed.
Sev. Should I now appear fearful,
It would discover me; there's no retiring.
My confidence must protect me; I'll appear
As if I walked the round.—Stand!
Lav. I am lost.
Sev. The word?
Lav. Pray you forbear; I am a stranger,
And missing, this dark stormy night, my way
To my lodging, you shall do a courteous office
To guide me to it.
Sev. Do you think I stand here
For a page or a porter?
Lav. Good sir, grow not so high:
I can justify my being abroad: I am
No pilfering vagabond, and what you are
Stands yet in supposition; and I charge you,
If you are an officer, bring me before your captain;
For if you do assault me, though not in fear
Of what you can do alone, I will cry murder,
And raise the streets.
Sev. Before my captain, ha!
And bring my head to the block. Would we were parted,
I have greater cause to fear the watch than he.
Lav. Will you do your duty?
Sev. I must close with him:—
Truth, sir, whate'er you are, (yet by your language,
I guess you a gentleman,) I'll not use the rigour
Of my place upon you: only quit this street,
For your stay here will be dangerous; and good night!
Lav. The like to you, sir; I'll grope out my way
As well as I can. O damned bawd!—Fare you well, Sir.
[Exit.
Sev. I am glad he's gone; there is a secret passage,
Unknown to my wife, through which this key will guide me
To her desired embraces, which must be,
My presence being beyond her hopes, most welcome.
[Exit.

SCENE VI.—A Room in SEVERINO'S House.

IÖLANTE is heard speaking behind a curtain.

Iöl. I am full of perplexed thoughts. Imperious blood,
Thou only art a tyrant; judgment, reason,
To whatsoever thy edicts proclaim,
With vassal fear subscribe against themselves.
I am yet safe in the port, and see before me,
If I put off, a rough tempestuous sea,
The raging winds of infamy from all quarters
Assuring my destruction; yet my lust
Swelling the wanton sails, (my understanding
Stowed under hatches,) like a desperate pilot,
Commands me to urge on. My pride, my pride,
Self-love, and over-value of myself,
Are justly punished: I that did deny
My daughter's youth allowed and lawful pleasures,
And would not suffer in her those desires
She sucked in with my milk, now in my waning
Am scorched and burnt up with libidinous fire,
That must consume my fame; yet still I throw
More fuel on it.

Enter SEVERINO before the curtain.

Sev. 'Tis her voice, poor turtle:
She's now at her devotions, praying for
Her banished mate; alas, that for my guilt
Her innocence should suffer! But I do
Commit a second sin in my deferring
The ecstasy of joy that will transport her
Beyond herself, when she flies to my lips,
And seals my welcome.—[Draws the curtain, and discovers
lÖLANTE seated, with a rich banquet and tapers set
forth.]—lölante!
Iöl. Ha!
Good angels guard me!
Sev. What do I behold!
Some sudden flash of lightning strike me blind,
Or cleave the centre of the earth, that I
May living find a sepulchre to swallow
Me and my shame together!
Iöl. [Aside.] Guilt and horror
Confound me in one instant; thus surprised,
The subtlety of all wantons, though abstracted,
Can show no seeming colour of excuse,
To plead in my defence.
Sev. Is this her mourning?
O killing object! The imprisoned vapours
Of rage and sorrow make an earthquake in me;
This little world, like to a tottering tower,
Not to be underpropped;—yet, in my fall,
I'll crush thee with my ruins. [Draws a poniard.
Iöl. [Kneeling.] Good sir, hold:
For, my defence unheard, you wrong your justice,
If you proceed to execution;
And will, too late, repent it.
Sev. Thy defence!
To move it, adds (could it receive addition)
Ugliness to the loathsome leprosy
That, in thy being a strumpet, hath already
Infected every vein, and spreads itself
Over this carrion, which would poison vultures
And dogs, should they devour it. Yet, to stamp
The seal of reprobation on thy soul,
I'll hear thy impudent lies, borrowed from hell,
And prompted by the devil, thy tutor, whore!
Then send thee to him. Speak.
Iöl. Your Gorgon looks
Turn me to stone, and a dead palsy seizes
My silenced tongue.
Sev. O Fate, that the disease
Were general in women, what a calm
Should wretched men enjoy! Speak, and be brief,
Or thou shalt suddenly feel me.
Iöl. Be appeased, sir,
Until I have delivered reasons for
This solemn preparation.
Sev. On, I hear thee.
Iöl. With patience ask your memory; 'twill instruct you,
This very day of the month, seventeen years since,
You married me.
Sev. Grant it, what canst thou urge
From this?
Iöl. That day, since your proscription, sir,
In the remembrance of it annually,
The garments of my sorrow laid aside,
I have with pomp observed.
Sev. Alone!
Iöl. The thoughts
Of my felicity then, my misery now,
Were the invited guests; imagination
Teaching me to believe that you were present.
And a partner in it.
Sev. Rare! this real banquet
To feast your fancy: fiend! could fancy drink off
These flagons to my health, or the idol Thought,
Like Baal, devour these delicates? the room
Perfumed to take his nostrils! this loose habit,
Which Messalina would not wear, put on
To fire his lustful eyes! Wretch, am I grown
So weak in thy opinion, that it can
Flatter credulity that these gross tricks
May be foisted on me? Where's my daughter? where
The bawd your woman? answer me.—Calista!
Mirtilla! they are disposed of, if not murdered,
To make all sure; and yet methinks your neighbour,
Your whistle, agent, parasite, Calipso,
Should be within call, when you hem, to usher in
The close adulterer. [Lavs hands on her.
Iöl. What will you do?
Sev. Not kill thee, do not hope it; I am not
So near to reconcilement. Ha! this scarf,
The intended favour to your stallion, now
Is useful: do not strive;—[He binds her.]—thus bound, expect
All studied tortures my assurance, not
My jealousy, thou art false, can pour upon thee.
In darkness howl thy mischiefs; and, if rankness
Of thy imagination can conjure
The ribald hither, glut thyself with him;
I will cry aim! and in another room
Determine of my vengeance. Oh, my heart-strings!
[Exit with the tapers.
Iöl. Most miserable woman! and yet, sitting
A judge in mine own cause upon myself,
I could not mitigate the heavy doom
My incensed husband must pronounce upon me.
In my intents I am guilty, and for them
Must suffer the same punishment as if
I had in fact offended.
Calip. [Within.] Bore my eyes out,
If you prove me faulty: I'll but tell my lady
What caused your stay, and instantly present you.

Enter CALIPSO.

How's this? no lights! What new device? will she play
At blindman's buff?—Madam!
Iöl. Upon thy life,
Speak in a lower key.
Calip. The mystery
Of this, sweet lady? where are you?
Iöl. Here, fast bound.
Calip. By whom?
Iöl. I'll whisper that into thine ear,
And then farewell for ever._____
Calip. How! my lord?
I am in a fever: horns upon horns grow on him!
Could he pick no hour but this to break a bargain
Almost made up?
Iöl. What shall we do?
Calip. Betray him;
I'll instantly raise the watch.
Iöl. And so make me
For ever infamous.
Calip. The gentleman,
The rarest gentleman is at the door;
Shall he lose his labour? Since that you must perish,
'Twill show a woman's spleen in you to fall
Deservedly; give him his answer, madam.
I have on the sudden in my head a strange whimsie;
But I will first unbind you. [Frees IÖLANTE.
Iöl. Now what follows?
Calip. I will supply your place, and bound: [IÖLANTE binds
CALIPSO.] give me
Your mantle, take my night-gown; send away
The gentleman satisfied. I know my lord
Wants power to hurt you; I perhaps may get
A kiss by the bargain, and all this may prove
But some neat love-trick: if he should grow furious,
And question me, I am resolved to put on
An obstinate silence. Pray you dispatch the gentleman.
His courage may cool.
Iöl. I'll speak with him, but if
To any base or lustful end, may mercy
At my last gasp forsake me! [Exit.
Calip. I was too rash,
And have done what I wish undone: say he should kill me?
I have run my head in a fine noose, and I smell
The pickle I am in! 'las, how I shudder
Still more and more! would I were a she-Priapus,
Stuck up in a garden to fright away the crows,
So I were out of the house! she's at her pleasure,
Whate'er she said; and I must endure the torture—
He comes; I cannot pray, my fears will kill me.

Re-enter SEVERINO with a knife in his hand, throwing open the
doors violently.

Sev. It is a deed of darkness, and I need
No light to guide me; there is something tells me
I am too slow-paced in my wreak, and trifle
In my revenge. All hushed! no sigh nor groan,
To witness her compunction! can guilt sleep,
And innocence be open-eyed? even now,
Perhaps, she dreams of the adulterer,
And in her fancy hugs him. Wake, thou strumpet,
And instantly give up unto my vengeance
The villain that defiles my bed; discover
Both what and where he is, and suddenly,
That I may bind you face to face, then sew you
Into one sack, and from some steep rock hurl you
Into the sea together; do not play with
The lightning of my rage; break stubborn silence,
And answer my demands; will it not be?
I'll talk no longer; thus I mark thee for
A common strumpet. [Strikes at her with the knife.
Calip. Oh!
Sev. Thus stab these arms
That have stretched out themselves to grasp a stranger.
Calip. Oh!
Sev. This is but an induction; I will draw
The curtains of the tragedy hereafter:
Howl on, 'tis music to me. [Exit.
Calip. He is gone.
A "kiss," and "love-tricks!" he hath villainous teeth,
May sublimed mercury draw them! if all dealers
In my profession were paid thus, there would be
A dearth of cuckolds. Oh my nose! I had one:
My arms, my arms! I dare not cry for fear;
Cursèd desire of gold, how art thou punished!

Re-enter IÖLANTE.

Iöl. Till now I never truly knew myself,
Nor by all principles and lectures read
In chastity's cold school, was so instructed
As by her contrary, how base and deformed
Loose appetite is; as in a few short minutes
This stranger hath, and feelingly, delivered.
Oh! that I could recall my bad intentions,
And be as I was yesterday untainted
In my desires, as I am still in fact,
I thank his temperance! I could look undaunted
Upon my husband's rage, and smile at it,
So strong the guards and sure defences are
Of armèd innocence; but I will endure
The penance of my sin, the only means
Is left to purge it. The day breaks.—Calipso!
Calip. Here, madam, here.
Iöl. Hath my lord visited thee?
Calip. Hell take such visits! these stabbed arms, and loss
Of my nose you left fast on, may give you a relish
What a night I have had of't, and what you had suffered,
Had I not supplied your place.
Iöl. I truly grieve for't;
Did not my husband speak to thee?
Calip. yes, I heard him,
And felt him, ecce signum, with a mischief!
But he knew not me; like a true-bred Spartan boy,
With silence I endured it; he could not get
One syllable from me.
Iöl. Something may be fashioned
From this; invention help me! I must be sudden.
[Unbinds her.
Thou art free, exchange, quick, quick! now bind me sure,
And leave me to my fortune.
Calip. Pray you consider
The loss of my nose; had I been but carted for you,
Though washed with mire and chamber-lye, I had
Examples to excuse me; but my nose,
My nose, dear lady!
Iöl. Get off, I'll send to thee. [Exit CALIPSO.
If so, it may take; if it fail, I must
Suffer whatever follows.

Re-enter SEVERINO with the knife and taper.

Sev. I have searched
In every corner of the house, yet find not
My daughter, nor her maid; nor any print
Of a man's footing, which, this wet night, would
Be easily discerned, the ground being soft,
At his coming in or going out.
Iöl. [Aside.] 'Tis he,
And within hearing; Heaven forgive this feigning,
I being forced to't to preserve my life,
To be better spent hereafter!
Sev. I begin
To stagger, and my love, if it knew how,
(Her piety heretofore, and fame remembered,)
Would plead in her excuse.
Iöl. [Aloud.] You blessèd guardians
Of matrimonial faith, and just revengers
Of such as do in fact offend against
Your sacred rites and ceremonies; by all titles
And holy attributes you do vouchsafe
To be invoked, look down with saving pity
Upon my matchless sufferings!
Sev. At her devotions:
Affliction makes her repent.
Iöl. Look down
Upon a wretched woman, and as I
Have kept the knot of wedlock, in the temple
By the priest fastened, firm; (though in loose wishes
I yield I have offended;) to strike blind
The eyes of jealousy, that see a crime
I never yet committed, and to free me
From the unjust suspicion of my lord,
Restore my martyred face and wounded arms
To their late strength and beauty.
Sev. Does she hope
To be cured by miracle?
Iöl. This minute I
Perceive with joy my orisons heard and granted.
You ministers of mercy, who unseen,
And by a supernatural means, have done
This work of heavenly charity, be ever
Canonized for't!
Sev. I did not dream, I heard her,
And I have eyes too, they cannot deceive me:
If I have no belief in their assurance,
I must turn sceptic. Ha! this is the hand,
And this the fatal instrument: these drops
Of blood, that gushed forth from her face and arms,
Still fresh upon the floor. This is something more
Than wonder or amazement; I profess
I am astonished.
Iöl. Be incredulous still,
And go on in your barbarous rage, led to it
By your false guide, suspicion; have no faith
In my so long tried loyalty, nor believe
That which you see; and for your satisfaction,
My doubted innocence cleared by miracle,
Proceed; these veins have now new blood, if you
Resolve to let it out.
Sev. [Aside.] I would not be fooled
With easiness of belief, and faintly give
Credit to this strange wonder; 'tis now thought on;
In a fitter place and time I'll sound this further.
How can I expiate my sin? or hope, [Untics her.
Though now I write myself thy slave, the service
Of my whole life can win thee to pronounce
Despaired-of pardon? Shall I kneel? that's poor;
Thy mercy must urge more in my defence
Than I can fancy: wilt thou have revenge?
My heart lies open to thee.
Iöl. This is needless
To me, who, in the duty of a wife,
Know I must suffer.
Sev. Thou art made up of goodness,
And from my confidence that I am alone
The object of thy pleasures, until death
Divorce us, we will know no separation.
Without inquiring why, as sure thou wilt not,
Such is thy meek obedience, thy jewels
And choicest ornaments packed up, thou shalt
Along with me, and as a queen be honoured
By such as style me sovereign. Already
My banishment is repealed, thou being present;
The Neapolitan court a place of exile
When thou art absent: my stay here is mortal,
Of which thou art too sensible, I perceive it;
Come, dearest Iölante, with this breath
All jealousy is blown away. [Embraces her.
Iöl. Be constant. [Exeunt.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.—The Country.

A noise within; then enter DURAZZO, CALDORO, and Servant, with
CALISTA
in their arms.

DUR. Hell take the stumbling jade!
Cald. Heaven help the lady!
Serv. The horse hath broke his neck.
Dur. Would thine were cracked too,
So the lady had no harm! Give her fresh air,
'Tis but a swoon.
Cald. 'Tis more, she's dead.
Dur. Examine
Her limbs if they be whole: not too high, not too high,
You ferret; this is no coney-burrow for you.
How do you find her?
Cald. No breath of comfort, sir: too cruel fate!
Had I still pined away, and lingered under
The modesty of just and honest hopes,
After a long consumption, sleep and death
To me had been the same; but now, as 'twere,
Possessed of all my wishes, in a moment
To have them ravished from me! suffer shipwreck
In view of the port! and, like a half-starved beggar,
No sooner in compassion clothed, but coffined!—
Malevolent destinies, too cunning in
Wretched Caldoro's tortures! O Calista,
If thy immortal part hath not already
Left this fair palace, let a beam of light
Dawn from thine eye, in this Cimmerian darkness,
To guide my shaking hand to touch the anchor
Of hope in thy recovery.
Calis. Oh!
Dur. She lives;
Disturb her not: she is no right-bred woman,
If she die with one fall; some of my acquaintance
Have took a thousand merrily, and are still
Excellent wrestlers at the close hug.
Cald. Good sir_____
Dur. Prithee be not angry, I should speak thus if
My mother were in her place.
Cald. But had you heard
The music of the language which she used
To me, believed Adorio, as she rode
Behind me; little thinking that she did
Embrace Caldoro_____
Calis. Ah, Adorio!
Dur. Leave talking, I conceive it.
Calis. Are you safe?
Cald. And raised, like you, from death to life, to hear you.
Calis. Hear my defence then, ere I take my veil off,
A simple maid's defence, which, looking on you,
I faintly could deliver. Willingly
I am become your prize, and therefore use
Your victory nobly; Heaven's bright eye, the sun,
Draws up the grossest vapours, and I hope
I ne'er shall prove an envious cloud to darken
The splendour of your merits. I could urge
With what disdain, nay scorn, I have declined
The shadows of insinuating pleasures
Tendered by all men else, you only being
The object of my hopes: that cruel prince
To whom the olive-branch of peace is offered,
Is not a conqueror, but a bloody tyrant,
If he refuse it; nor should you wish a triumph,
Because Calista's humble: I have said,
And now expect your sentence.
Dur. What a throng
Of clients would be in the court of Love,
Were there many such she-advocates! Art thou dumb?
Canst thou say nothing for thyself?
Cald. [Kneels.] Dear lady,
Open your eyes, and look upon the man,
The man you have elected for your judge,
Kneeling to you for mercy.
Calis. I should know
This voice, and something more than fear I am
Deceived; but now I look upon his face,
I am assured I am wretched.
Dur. Why, good lady?—
Hold her up, she'll fall again before her time else.—
The youth's a well-timbered youth, look on his making;
His hair curled naturally; he's whole-chested too,
And will do his work as well, and go through-stitch with't,
As any Adorio in the world, my state on't!
A chicken of the right kind: and if he prove not
A cock of the game, cuckold him first, and after
Make a capon of him.
Calis. I'll cry out a rape,
If thou unhand me not: would I had died
In my late trance, and never lived to know
I am betrayed!
Dur. To a young and active husband!
Call you that treachery? there are a shoal of
Young wenches i' the city, would vow a pilgrimage
Beyond Jerusalem, to be so cheated.—
To her again, you milk-sop! violent storms
Are soon blown over.
Calis. How couldst thou, Caldoro,
With such a frontless impudence arm thy hopes
So far as to believe I might consent
To this lewd practice? have I not often told thee
Howe'er I pitied thy misplaced affection,
I could not answer it; and that there was
A strong antipathy between our passions
Not to be reconciled?
Cald. Vouchsafe to hear me
With an impartial ear, and it will take from
The rigour of your censure. Man was marked
A friend, in his creation, to himself,
And may with fit ambition conceive
The greatest blessings, and the highest honours
Appointed for him, if he can achieve them
The right and noble way: I grant you were
The end of my design, but still pursued
With a becoming modesty, Heaven at length
Being pleased, and not my arts, to further it.
Dur. Now he comes to her: on, boy!
Cald. I have served you
With a religious zeal, and borne the burthen
Of your neglect, if I may call it so,
Beyond the patience of a man: to prove this,
I have seen those eyes with pleasant glances play
Upon Adorio's, like Phœbe's shine,
Gilding a crystal river; and your lip
Rise up in civil courtship to meet his
While I bit mine with envy: yet these favours,
Howe'er my passion's raged, could not provoke me
To one act of rebellion against
My loyalty to you, the sovereign
To whom I owe obedience.
Calis. My blushes
Confess this for a truth,
Dur. A flag of truce is
Hung out in this acknowledgment.
Cald. I could add,
But that you may interpret what I speak
The malice of a rival, rather than
My due respects to your deserts, how faintly
Adorio hath returned thanks to the bounty
Of your affection, ascribing it
As a tribute to his worth, and not in you
An act of mercy: could he else, invited
(As by your words I understood) to take you
To his protection, grossly neglect
So gracious an offer, or give power
To Fate itself to cross him? O, dear madam,
We are all the balls of Time, tossed to and fro,
From the plough unto the throne, and back again:
Under the swing of destiny mankind suffers,
And it appears, by an unchanged decree,
You were appointed mine; wise nature always
Aiming at due proportion: and if so,
I may believe with confidence, Heaven, in pity
Of my sincere affection, and long patience,
Directed you, by a most blessèd error,
To your vowed servant's bosom.
Dur. By my holidame,
Tickling philosophy!
Calis. I am, sir, too weak
To argue with you; but my stars have better,
I hope, provided for me.
Cald. If there be
Disparity between us, 'tis in your
Compassion to level it.
Dur. Give fire
To the mine, and blow her up.
Calis. I am sensible
Of what you have endured; but on the sudden,
With my unusual travel, and late bruise,
I am exceeding weary. In yon grove,
While I repose myself, be you my guard;
My spirits with some little rest revived,
We will consider further: for my part,
You shall receive modest and gentle answers
To your demands, though short, perhaps, to make you
Full satisfaction.
Cald. I am exalted
In the employment; sleep secure, I'll be
Your vigilant sentinel.
Calis. But I command you,
And, as you hope for future grace, obey me,
Presume not with one stolen kiss to disturb
The quiet of my slumbers; let your temperance,
And not your lust, watch o'er me.
Cald. My desires
Are frozen, till your pity shall dissolve them.
Dur. Frozen! think not of frost, fool, in the dog-days.
Remember the old adage, and make use of't,
"Occasion's bald behind."
Calis. Is this your uncle?
Cald. And guardian, madam: at your better leisure,
When I have deserved it, you may give him thanks
For his many favours to me.
Calis. He appears
A pleasant gentleman. [Exeunt CALDORO and CALISTA.
Dur. You should find me so,
But that I do hate incest. I grow heavy;
Sirrah, provide fresh horses; I'll seek out
Some hollow tree, and dream till you return,
Which I charge you to hasten.
Serv. With all care, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The Country. A Room in ADORIO'S House.

Enter CARIO with several Villagers, Musicians, &c.

Car. Let your eyes be rivetted to my heels, and miss not
A hair's-breadth of my footing; our dance has
A most melodious note, and I command you
To have ears like hares this night, for my lord's honour,
And something for my worship: your reward is
To be drunk-blind like moles, in the wine-cellar;
And though you ne'er see after, 'tis the better;
You were born for this night's service. And, do you hear,
Wire-string and cat-gut men, and strong-breathed haut-boys,
For the credit of your calling, have not your instruments
To tune when you should strike up; but twang it perfectly,
As you would read your neck-verse: and you, warbler,
Keep your wind-pipe moist, that you may not spit and hem,
When you should make division. How I sweat!
Authority is troublesome:—[A horn within.]—they are come,
I know it by the cornet that I placed
On the hill to give me notice. Marshal yourselves
I' the rear; the van is yours.

Enter ADORIO, MIRTILLA, CAMILLO, LENTULO, and DONATO.

Now chant it sprightly.

SONG.

JUNO to the Bride.

Enter a maid; but made a bride,
Be bold, and freely taste
The marriage banquet, ne'er denied
To such as sit down chaste.
Though he unloose thy virgin zone,
Presumed against thy will,
Those joys reserved to him alone,
Thou art a virgin still.

HYMEN to the Bridegroom.

Hail, bridegroom, hail! thy choice thus made,
As thou wouldst have her true,
Thou must give o'er thy wanton trade,
And bid loose fires adieu.
That husband who would have his wife
To him continue chaste,
In her embraces spends his life,
And makes abroad no waste.

HYMEN and JUNO.

Sport then like turtles, and bring forth
Such pledges as may be
Assurance of the father's worth,
And mother's purity.
Juno doth bless the nuptial bed;
Thus Hymen's torches burn.
Live long, and may, when both are dead,
Your ashes fill one urn!

Ador. A well-penned ditty.
Camil. Not ill sung.
Ador. What follows?
Car. Use your eyes.—If ever—now your masterpiece!
Ador. 'Tis well performed: take that, but not from me;
'Tis your new lady's bounty, thank her for it;
All that I have is hers.
Car. I must have three shares
For my pains and properties, the rest shall be
Divided equally. [Exeunt CARIO, Villagers, &c.
Mirt. My real fears
Begin, and soon my painted comforts vanish,
In my discovery.
Ador. Welcome to your own!
You have (a wonder in a woman) kept
Three long hours' silence; and the greater, holding
Your own choice in your arms, a blessing for which
I will be thankful to you: nay, unmask,
And let mine eye and ears together feast,
Too long by you kept empty. Oh, you want
Your woman's help; I'll do her office for you.
[Takes off her mask.
Mirtilla!
Camil. It is she, and wears the habit
In which Calista three days since appeared,
As she came from the temple.
Lent. All this trouble
For a poor waiting-maid!
Don. We are grossly gulled.
Ador. Thou child of impudence, answer me, and truly,
Or, though the tongues of angels pleaded mercy,
Tortures shall force it from thee.
Mirt. Innocence
Is free, and open-breasted; of what crime
Stand I accused, my lord?
Ador. What crime! no language
Can speak it to the height; I shall become
Discourse for fools and drunkards. How was this
Contrived? who helped thee in the plot? discover.
Were not Calista's aids in't?
Mirt. No, on my life;
Nor am I faulty.
Ador. No! what May-game's this?
Didst thou treat with me for thy mistress' favours,
To make sale of thine own?
Mirt. With her and you
I have dealt faithfully: you had her letter
With the jewel I presented: she received
Your courteous answer, and prepared herself
To be removed by you: and howsoever
You take delight to hear what you have done,
From my simplicity, and make my weakness
The subject of your mirth, as it suits well
With my condition, I know you have her
In your possession.
Ador. How! has she left
Her mother's house?
Mirt. You drive this nail too far.
Indeed she deeply vowed, at her departure,
To send some of your lordship's servants for me,
(Though you were pleased to take the pains yourself,)
That I might still be near her, as a shadow
To follow her, the substance.
Ador. She is gone, then?
Mirt. This is too much; but, good my lord, forgive me,
I come a virgin hither to attend
My noble mistress, though I must confess,
I look with sore eyes upon her good fortune,
And wish it were my own.
Ador. Then, as it seems,
You do yourself affect me?
Mirt. Should she hear me,
And in her sudden fury kill me for't,
I durst not, sir, deny it; since you are
A man so formed, that not poor I alone,
But all our sex like me, I think, stand bound
To be enamoured of you.
Ador. O my fate!
How justly am I punished, in thee punished,
For my defended wantonness! I, that scorned
The mistress when she sought me, now I would
Upon my knees receive her, am become
A prey unto her bondwoman, my honour too
Neglected for this purchase. Art thou one of those
Ambitious serving-women, who, contemning
The embraces of their equals, aim to be
The wrong way ladyfied, by a lord? was there
No forward page or footman in the city
To do the feat, that in thy lust I am chosen
To be the executioner? dar'st thou hope
I can descend so low?
Mirt. Great lords sometimes
For change leave calvered salmon, and eat sprats:
In modesty I dare speak no more.
Camil. If 'twere
A fish-day, though you like it not, I could say
I have a stomach, and would content myself
With this pretty whiting-mop.
Ador. Discover yet
How thou cam'st to my hands.
Mirt. My lady gone,
Fear of her mother's rage, she being found absent,
Moved me to fly; and quitting of the house,
You were pleased, unasked, to comfort me; (I used
No sorceries to bewitch you;) then vouchsafed
(Thanks ever to the darkness of the night!)
To hug me in your arms; and I had wronged
My breeding near the court, had I refused it.
Ador. This is still more bitter. Canst thou guess to whom
Thy lady did commit herself?
Mirt. They were
Horsemen, as you are.
Ador. In the name of wonder,
How could they pass the port, where you expected
My coming?
Camil. Now I think upon't, there came
Three mounted by, and, behind one, a woman
Embracing fast the man that rode before her.
Lent. I knew the men; but she was veiled.
Ador. What were they?
Lent. The first the Lord Durazzo, and the second,
Your rival, young Caldoro: it was he
That carried the wench behind him.
Don. The last a servant,
That spurred fast after them.
Ador. Worse and worse! 'twas she!
Too much assurance of her love undid me.
Why did you not stay them?
Don. We had no such commission.
Camil. Or say we had, who durst lay fingers on
The angry old ruffian?
Lent. For my part, I had rather
Take a baited bull by the horns.
Ador. You are sure friends
For a man to build on!
Camil. They are not far off,
Their horses appeared spent too; let's take fresh ones,
And coast the country; ten to one we find them.
Ador. I will not eat nor sleep, until I have them:
Moppet, you shall along too.
Mirt. So you please
I may keep my place behind you, I'll sit fast,
And ride with you all the world o'er.
Camil. A good girl! [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—A Street in Naples.

Enter LAVAL and CALIPSO.

Lav. Her husband? Severino?
Calip. You may see
His handiwork by my flat face; no bridge
Left to support my organ, if I had one:
The comfort is, I am now secure from the crincomes.
I can lose nothing that way.
Lav. Dost thou not know
What became of the lady?
Calip. A nose was enough to part with,
I think, in the service; I durst stay no longer:
But I am full assured the house is empty,
Neither poor lady, daughter, servant left there.
I only guess he hath forced them to go with him
To the dangerous forest, where he lives like a king,
Among the banditti; and how there he hath used them,
Is more than to be feared.
Lav. I have played the fool,
And kept myself too long concealed, sans question,
With the danger of her life. Leave me_____the king!

Enter ALPHONSO and Captain.

Calip. The surgeon must be paid.
Lav. Take that. [Gives her money.
Calip. I thank you;
I have got enough by my trade, and I will build
An hospital only for noseless bawds,
('Twill speak my charity,) and be myself
The governess of the sisterhood. [Exit.
Alph. I may
Forget this in your vigilance hereafter;
But as I am a king, if you provoke me
The second time with negligence of this kind,
You shall deeply smart for't.
Lav. The king's moved.
Alph. To suffer
A murderer, by us proscribed, at his pleasure
To pass and re-pass through our guards!
Capt. Your pardon
For this, my gracious lord, binds me to be
More circumspect hereafter.
Alph. Look you be so:
Monsieur Laval, you were a suitor to me
For Severino's pardon.
Lav. I was so, my good lord.
Alph. You might have met him here, to have thanked you for't,
As now I understand.
Lav. So it is rumoured;
And hearing in the city of his boldness,
I would not say contempt of your decrees,
As then I pleaded mercy, under pardon,
I now as much admire the slowness of
Your justice (though it force you to some trouble)
In fetching him in.
Alph. I have considered it.
Lav. He hath of late, as 'tis suspected, done
An outrage on his wife, forgetting nature
To his own daughter; in whom, sir, I have
Some nearer interest than I stand bound to
In my humanity, which I gladly would
Make known unto your highness.
Alph. Go along,
You shall have opportunity as we walk.—
See you what I committed to your charge,
In readiness, and without noise.
Capt. I shall, sir. [Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.—The Forest.

Enter CLAUDIO and all the Banditti, making a guard; SEVERINO and
IÖLANTE with oaken-leaved garlands; Singers.

SONG.

Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green,
Our long-wished Cynthia, the forest's queen,
The trees begin to bud, the glad birds sing
In winter, changed by her into the spring.
We know no night,
Perpetual light
Dawns from your eye.
You being near,
We cannot fear,
Though Death stood by.

From you our swords take edge, our hearts grow bold
From you in fee their lives your liegemen hold.
These groves your kingdom, and our law your will
Smile, and we spare; but if you frown, we kill.
Bless then the hour
That gives the power
In which you may,
At bed and board,
Embrace your lord
Both night and day.
Welcome, thrice welcome to this shady green,
Our long-wished Cynthia, the forest's queen!
Sev. Here, as a queen, share in my sovereignty:
The iron toils pitched by the law to take
The forfeiture of my life, I have broke through,
And, secure in the guards of these few subjects,
Smile at Alphonso's fury; though I grieve for
The fatal cause, in your good brother's loss,
That does compel me to this course.
Iöl. Revive not
A sorrow long since dead, and so diminish
The full fruition of those joys which now
I stand possessed of: womanish fear of danger
That may pursue us, I shake off, and with
A masculine spirit.
Sev. 'Tis well said.
Iöl. In you, sir,
I live; and when, or by the course of nature,
Or violence, you must fall, the end of my
Devotions is, that one and the same hour
May make us fit for Heaven.
Sev. I join with you
In my votes that way: but how, Iölante,
You that have spent your past days, slumbering in
The down of quiet, can endure the hardness
And rough condition of our present being,
Does much disturb me.
Iöl. These woods, Severino,
Shall more than seem to me a populous city,
You being present; here are no allurements
To tempt my frailty, nor the conversation
Of such whose choice behaviour, or discourse,
May nourish jealous thoughts.
Sev. True, Iölante;
Nor shall suspected chastity stand in need here
To be cleared by miracle.
Iöl. Still on that string!
It yields harsh discord.
Sev. I had forgot myself,
And wish I might no more remember it.
The day wears, sirs, without one prize brought in
As tribute to your queen: Claudio, divide
Our squadron in small parties, let them watch
All passages, that none escape without
The payment of our customs.
Claud. Shall we bring in
The persons, with the pillage?
Sev. By all means;
Without reply, about it: we'll retire
[Exeunt CLAUDIO and the rest.
Into my cave, and there at large discourse
Our fortunes past, and study some apt means
To find our daughter; since, she well disposed of,
Our happiness were perfect.
Iöl. We must wait
With patience Heaven's pleasure.
Sev. 'Tis my purpose. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Another part of the Forest.

Enter LENTULO and CAMILLO.

Lent. Let the horses graze, they are spent.
Camil. I am sure I'm sleepy,
And nodded as I rode: here was a jaunt
I' the dark through thick and thin, and all to no purpose!
What a dulness grows upon me!
Lent. I can hardly
Hold ope mine eyes to say so. How did we lose
Adorio? [They sit down.
Camil. He, Donato, and the wench,
That cleaves to him like birdlime, took the right hand:
But this place is our rendezvous.
Lent. No matter,
We'll talk of that anon—heigh ho! [Falls asleep.
Camil. He's fast
Already. Lentulo!—I'll take a nap too. [Falls asleep.

Enter ADORIO, MIRTILLA, and DONATO.

Ador. Was ever man so crossed?
Mirt. [Aside.] So blest: this is
The finest wild-goose chase!
Ador. What's that you mutter?
Mirt. A short prayer, that you may find your wished-for love,
Though I am lost for ever.
Don. Pretty fool!
Who have we here!
Ador. This is Camillo.
Mirt. This Signior Lentulo.
Ador. Wake them.
Don. They'll not stir;
Their eyelids are glued, and mine too: by your favour,
I'll follow their example. [Lies down.
Ador. Are you not weary?
Mirt. I know not what the word means, while I travel
To do you service,
Ador. You expect to reap
The harvest of your flattery; but your hopes
Will be blasted, I assure you.
Mirt. So you give leave
To sow it, as in me a sign of duty,
Though you deny your beams of gracious favour
To ripen it, with patience I shall suffer.
Ador. No more. My resolution to find
Calista, by what accident lost I know not,
Binds me not to deny myself what nature
Exacteth from me: to walk alone afoot
(For my horse is tired) were madness; I must sleep.
You could lie down too?
Mirt. Willingly; so you please
To use me_____
Ador. Use thee!
Mirt. As your pillow, sir;
I dare presume no farther. Noble sir,
Do not too much contemn me; generous feet
Spurn not a fawning spaniel.
Ador. Well; sit down.
Mirt. I am ready, sir.
Ador. So nimble!
Mirt. Love is active,
Nor would I be a slow thing: rest secure, sir;
On my maidenhead, I'll not ravish you.
Ador. For once,
So far I'll trust you. [Lays his head on her lap.
Mirt. All the joys of rest
Dwell on your eyelids; let no dream disturb
Your soft and gentle slumbers! I cannot sing,
But I'll talk you asleep; and I beseech you
Be not offended, though I glory in
My being thus employed: a happiness
That stands for more than ample satisfaction
For all I have, or can endure.—He snores,
And does not hear me; would his sense of feeling
Were bound up too! I should_____I am all fire.
Such heaps of treasure offered as a prey
Would tempt a modest thief; I can no longer
Forbear—I'll gently touch his lips, and leave
No print of mine:—[Kisses him.] ah!—I have heard of nectar,
But till now never tasted it; these rubies
Are not clouded by my breath: if once again
I steal from such a full exchequer, trifles
Will not be missed;—[Kisses him again.]—I am entranced: our
fancy,
Some say, in sleep works stronger; I will prove
How far my_____ [Falls asleep.

Enter DURAZZO.

Dur. My bones ache,
I am exceeding cold too; I must seek out
A more convenient truckle-bed. Ha! do I dream?
No, no, I wake. Camillo, Lentulo,
Donato this, and, as I live, Adorio
In a handsome wench's lap! a whoreson! you are
The best accommodated. I will call
My nephew and his mistress to this pageant;
The object may perhaps do more upon her
Than all Caldoro's rhetoric. With what
Security they sleep! sure Mercury
Hath travelled this way with his charming-rod.
Nephew! Calista! Madam!

Enter CALDORO and CALISTA.

Cald. Here, sir. Is
Your man returned with horses?
Dur. No, boy, no;
But here are some you thought not of.
Calis. Adorio!
Dur. The idol that you worshipped.
Calis. This Mirtilla!
I am made a stale.
Dur. [Aside.] I knew 'twould take.
Calis. False man!
But much more treacherous woman! 'Tis apparent,
They jointly did conspire against my weakness
And credulous simplicity, and have
Prevailed against it.
Cald. I'll not kill them sleeping;
But, if you please, I'll wake them first, and after
Offer them, as a fatal sacrifice,
To your just anger.
Dur. You are a fool; reserve
Your blood for better uses.
Calis. My fond love
Is changed to an extremity of hate;
His very sight is odious.
Dur. I have thought of
A pretty punishment for him and his comrades,
Then leave him to his harlotry; if she prove not
Torture enough, hold me an ass. Their horses
Are not far off; I'll cut the girts and bridles,
Then turn them into the wood; if they can run,
Let them follow us as footmen. Wilt thou fight
For what's thine own already!
Calis. In his hat
He wears a jewel which this faithless strumpet,
As a salary of her lust, deceived me of;
He shall not keep't to my disgrace, nor will I
Stir till I have it.
Dur. I am not good at nimming;
And yet that shall not hinder us: by your leave, sir;
'Tis restitution: pray you all bear witness
I do not steal it; here 'tis.
[Takes off ADORIO'S hat, and removes the jewel, which he gives
to CALISTA.
Calis. Take it,—not
As a mistress' favour, but a strong assurance
I am your wife. [Gives it to CALDORO.
Cald. O Heaven!
Dur. Pray in the church.
Let us away. Nephew, a word; have you not
Been billing in the brakes, ha! and so deserved
This unexpected favour?
Cald. You are pleasant.
[Exeunt DURAZZO, CALDORO, and CALISTA.
Ador. As thou art a gentleman, kill me not basely;
[Starts up; the rest awake.
Give me leave to draw my sword.
Camil. Ha! what's the matter?
Lent. He talked of's sword.
Don. I see no enemy near us,
That threatens danger.
Mirt. Sure 'twas but a dream.
Ador. A fearful one. Methought Caldoro's sword
Was at my throat, Calista frowning by,
Commanding him, as he desired her favour,
To strike my head off.
Camil. Mere imagination
Of a disturbèd fancy.
Mirt. Here's your hat, sir,
Ador. But where's my jewel?
Camil. By all likelihood lost,
This troublesome night.
Don. I saw it when we came
Unto this place.
Mirt. I looked upon't myself,
When you reposed.
Ador. What is become of it?
Restore it, for thou hast it; do not put me
To the trouble to search you.
Mirt. Search me!
Ador. You have been,
Before your lady gave you entertainment,
A night-walker in the streets.
Mirt. How, my good lord!
Ador. Traded in picking pockets, when tame gulls,
Charmed with your prostituted flatteries,
Deigned to embrace you.
Mirt. Love, give place to anger.
Charge me with theft, and prostituted baseness!
Were you a judge, nay more, the king, thus urged,
To your teeth I would say, 'tis false.
Ador. This will not do.
Camil. Deliver it in private.
Mirt. You shall be
In public hanged first, and the whole gang of you.
I steal what I presented!
Lent. Do not strive.
Ador. Though thou hast swallowed it, I'll rip thy entrails,
But I'll recover it. [Seizes her.
Mirt. Help, help!

CLAUDIO and two Banditti rush upon them with pistols.

Ador. A new plot!
Claud. Forbear, libidinous monsters! if you offer
The least resistance, you are dead. If one
But lay his hand upon his sword, shoot all.
Ador. Let us fight for what we have, and if you can
Win it, enjoy it.
Claud. We come not to try
Your valour, but for your money; throw down your sword,
Or I'll begin with you: so! if you will
Walk quietly without bonds, you may, if not
We'll force you.—[To MIRTILLA.] Thou shalt have no wrong,
But justice against these.
Ist Ban. We'll teach you, sir,
To meddle with wenches in our walks.
2nd Ban. It being
Against our canons.
Camil. Whither will you lead us?
Claud. You shall know that hereafter.—Guard them sure.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—Another part of the Forest.

Enter ALPHONSO disguised as an Old Man, LAVAL, and Captain.

Alph. Are all the passages stopped?
Capt. And strongly manned;
They must use wings, and fly, if they escape us.
Lav. But why, great sir, you should expose your person
To such apparent danger, when you may
Have them brought bound before you, is beyond
My apprehension.
Alph. I am better armed
Than you suppose: besides, it is confirmed
By all that have been robbed, since Severino
Commanded these banditti, (though it be
Unusual in Italy,) imitating
The courteous English thieves, for so they call them,
They have not done one murder: I must add too,
That, from a strange relation I have heard
Of Severino's justice in disposing
The preys brought in, I would be an eye-witness
Of what I take up now but on report:
And therefore 'tis my pleasure that we should,
As soon as they encounter us, without
A show of opposition, yield.
Lav. Your will
Is not to be disputed.
Alph. You have placed
Your ambush so, that, if there be occasion,
They suddenly may break in?
Capt. My life upon't.
Alph. We cannot travel far, but we shall meet
With some of these good fellows; and be sure
You do as I command you.
Lav. Without fear, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—Another part of the Forest.

Enter SEVERINO and IÖLANTE.

Sev. 'Tis true; I did command Calista should not,
Without my knowledge and consent, assisted
By your advice, be marrièd; but your
Restraint, as you deliver it, denying
A grown-up maid the modest conversation
Of men, and warrantable pleasures, relished
Of too much rigour, which, no doubt, hath driven her
To take some desperate course.
Iöl. What then I did
Was, in my care, thought best.
Sev. So I conceive it;
But where was your discretion to forbid
Access, and fit approaches, when you knew
Her suitors noble, either of which I would
Have wished my son-in-law? Adorio,
However wild, a young man of good parts,
But better fortunes: his competitor,
Caldoro, for his sweetness of behaviour,
Staidness, and temperance, holding the first place
Among the gallants most observed in Naples;
His own revenues of a large extent,
But in the expectation of his uncle
And guardian's entradas, by the course
Of nature to descend on him, a match
For the best subject's blood, I except none
Of eminence in Italy.
Iöl. Your wishes,
Howe'er a while delayed, are not, I hope,
Impossibilities.
Sev. Though it prove so,
Yet 'tis not good to give a check to fortune,
When she comes smiling to us.—[Cornet within.]—Hark! this cornet
Assures us of a prize; there sit in state,
'Tis thy first tribute.
Iöl. Would we might enjoy
Our own as subjects!
Sev. What's got by the sword,
Is better than inheritance: all those kingdoms
Subdued by Alexander were by force extorted,
Though gilded o'er with glorious styles of conquest:
His victories but royal robberies,
And his true definition a thief,
When circled with huge navies, to the terror
Of such as ploughed the ocean, as the pirate,
Who, from a narrow creek, puts off for prey
In a small pinnace.—[Cornet within.]—From a second place
New spoil brought in!—[Cornet within.]—from a third party!
brave!
This shall be registered a day of triumph,
Designed by fate to honour thee.

Enter CLAUDIO.

Welcome, Claudio!
Good booty, ha?

Enter, at different sides, various parties of the Banditti; one with
ADORIO, LENTULO, DONATO, CAMILLO, MIRTILLA; another with DURAZZO, CALDORO,
CALISTA; and the rest with ALPHONSO, LAVAL, and Captain.

Claud. Their outsides promise so;
But yet they have not made discovery
Of what they stand possessed of.
Sev. Welcome all;
Good boys! you have done bravely, if no blood
Be shed in the service.
Ist Ban. On our lives, no drop, sir.
Sev. 'Tis to my wish.
Iöl. My lord!
Sev. No more; I know them.
Iöl. My daughter, and her woman too!
Sev. Conceal
Your joys.
Dur. Fallen in the devil's mouth!
Calis. My father,
And mother! to what fate am I reserved?
Cald. Continue masked; or, grant that you be known,
From whom can you expect a gentle sentence,
If you despair a father's?
Ador. Now I perceive
Which way I lost my jewel.
Mirt. I rejoice
I'm cleared from theft: you have done me wrong, but I,
Unasked, forgive you.
Dur. 'Tis some comfort yet,
The rivals, men and women, friends and foes, are
Together in one toil.
Sev. You all look pale,
And by your private whisperings and soft murmurs,
Express a general fear: pray you shake it off;
For understand you are not fallen into
The hands of a Busiris or a Cacus,
Delighted more in blood than spoil, but given up
To the power of an unfortunate gentleman,
Not born to these low courses, howsoever
My fate, and just displeasure of the king,
Designed me to it: you need not to doubt
A sad captivity here, and much less fear
For profit, to be sold for slaves, then shipped
Into another country; in a word,
You know the proscribed Severino, he,
Not unacquainted, but familiar with
The most of you.—Want in myself I know not
But for the pay of these my squires, who eat
Their bread with danger purchased, and must be
With others' fleeces clothed, or live exposed
To the summer's scorching heat and winter's cold;
To these, before you be compelled, (a word
I speak with much unwillingness,) deliver
Such coin as you are furnished with.
Dur. A fine method!
This is neither begging, borrowing, nor robbery;
Yet it hath a twang of all of them: but one word, sir.
Sev. Your pleasure.
Dur. When we have thrown down our muck,
What follows?
Sev. Liberty, with a safe convoy,
To any place you choose.
Dur. By this hand, you are
A fair fraternity! for once I'll be
The first example to relieve your covent.^2^
There's a thousand crowns, my vintage, harvest, profits
Arising from my herds, bound in one bag;
Share it among you.
Sev. You are still the jovial,
And good Durazzo.
Dur. To the offering; nay,
No hanging an arse, this is their wedding-day:
What you must do spite of your hearts, do freely
For your own sakes.
Camil. There's mine.
Lent. Mine.
Don. All that I have.
Cald. This, to preserve my jewel.
Ador. Which I challenge:
Let me have justice, for my coin I care not.
Lav. I will not weep for mine.
Capt. Would it were more.
[They all throw down their purses.
Sev. Nay, you are privileged; but why, old father,
[To the King.
Art thou so slow? thou hast one foot in the grave,
And, if desire of gold do not increase
With thy expiring lease of life, thou shouldst
Be forwardest.
Alph. In what concerns myself,
I do acknowledge it; and I should lie,
A vice I have detested from my youth,
If I denied my present store, since what
I have about me now weighs down in value,
Almost a hundred-fold, whatever these
Have laid before you: see! I do groan under
[Throws down three bags.
The burthen of my treasure: nay, 'tis gold;
And, if your hunger of it be not sated
With what already I have shown unto you,
Here's that shall glut it. In this casket are
Inestimable jewels, diamonds
Of such a piercing lustre as struck blind
The amazèd lapidary, while he laboured
To honour his own art in setting them:
Some orient pearls too, which the queen of Spain
Might wear as ear-rings, in remembrance of
The day that she was crowned.
Sev. The spoils, I think,
Of both the Indies!
Dur. The great Sultan's poor,
If paralleled with this Crœsus.
Sev. Why dost thou weep?
Alph. From a most fit consideration of
My poverty; this, though restored, will not
Serve my occasions.
Sev. Impossible!
Dur. May be he would buy his passport up to heaven;
And then this is too little; though, in the journey,
It were a good viaticum.
Alph. I would make it
A means to help me thither: not to wrong you
With tedious expectation, I'll discover
What my wants are, and yield my reasons for them.
I have two sons, twins, the true images
Of what I was at their years; never father
Had fairer or more promising hopes in his
Posterity; but, alas! these sons, ambitious
Of glittering honour, and an after-name,
Achieved by glorious, and yet pious actions,
(For such were their intentions,) put to sea:
They had a well-rigged bottom, fully manned,
An old experienced master, lusty sailors,
Stout landmen, and, what's something more than rare,
They did agree, had one design, and that was
In charity to redeem the Christian slaves
Chained in the Turkish servitude.
Sev. A brave aim!
Dur. A most heroic enterprise; I languish
To hear how they succeeded.
Alph. Prosperously,
At first, and to their wishes: divers galleys
They boarded, and some strong forts near the shore
They suddenly surprised; a thousand captives,
Redeemed from the oar, paid their glad vows and prayers
For their deliverance: their ends acquired,
And making homeward in triumphant manner,
For sure the cause deserved it_____
Dur. Pray you end here;
The best, I fear, is told, and that which follows
Must conclude ill.
Alph. Your fears are true, and yet
I must with grief relate it. Prodigal fame
In every place, with her loud trump, proclaiming
The greatness of the action, the pirates
Of Tunis and Argiers laid wait for them
At their return: to tell you what resistance
They made, and how my poor sons fought, would but
Increase my sorrow, and, perhaps, grieve you
To hear it passionately described unto you.
In brief, they were taken, and, for the great loss
The enemy did sustain, their victory
Being with much blood bought, they do endure
The heaviest captivity wretched men
Did ever suffer. O my sons! my sons!
To me for ever lost! lost, lost for ever!
Sev. Will not these heaps of gold, added to thine,
Suffice for ransom?
Alph. For my sons it would;
But they refuse their liberty, if all
That were engaged with them have not their irons,
With theirs, struck off, and set at liberty with them;
Which these heaps cannot purchase.
Sev. Ha! the toughness
Of my heart melts. Be comforted, old father;
I have some hidden treasure, and if all
I and my squires these three years have laid up
Can make the sum up, freely take't.
Dur. I'll sell
Myself to my shirt, lands, moveables; and thou
Shalt part with thine too, nephew, rather than
Such brave men shall live slaves.
2nd Ban. We will not yield to't.
3rd Ban. Nor lose our parts.
Sev. How's this!
2nd Ban. You are fitter far
To be a churchman than to have command
Over good fellows.
Sev. Thus I ever use [Strikes them down.
Such saucy rascals; second me, Claudio.—
Rebellious! do you grumble? I'll not leave
One rogue of them alive.
Alph. Hold:—give the sign. [Discovers himself.
All. The king!
Sev. Then I am lost.
Claud. The woods are full
Of armèd men.
Alph. No hope of your escape
Can flatter you.
Sev. Mercy, dread sir! [Kneels.
Alph. Thy carriage
In this unlawful course appears so noble,
Especially in this last trial which
I put upon you, that I wish the mercy
You kneel in vain for might fall gently on you:
But when the holy oil was poured upon
My head, and I anointed king, I swore
Never to pardon murder. I could wink at
Your robberies, though our laws call them death,
But to dispense with Monteclaro's blood
Would ill become a king; in him I lost
A worthy subject, and must take from you
A strict account of't. 'Tis in vain to move;
My doom's irrevocable.
Lav. Not, dread sir,
If Monteclaro live.
Alph. If! good Laval.
Lav. He lives in him, sir, that you thought Laval.
[Discovers himself.
Three years have not so altered me, but you may
Remember Monteclaro.
Dur. How!
Iöl. My brother!
Calis. Uncle!
Mont. Give me leave: I was
Left dead in the field, but by the Duke Montpensier,
Now general at Milan, taken up,
And with much care recovered.
Alph. Why lived you
So long concealed?
Mont. Confounded with the wrong
I did my brother, in provoking him
To fight, I spent the time in France that I
Was absent from the court, making my exile
The punishment imposed upon myself
For my offence.
Iöl. Now, sir, I dare confess all:
This was the guest invited to the banquet,
That drew on your suspicion.
Sev. Your intent,
Though it was ill in you, I do forgive;
The rest I'll hear at leisure. Sir, your sentence.
Alph. It is a general pardon unto all,
Upon my hopes, in your fair lives hereafter,
You will deserve it.
All. Long live great Alphonso!
Dur. Your mercy shown in this, now, if you please,
Decide these lovers' difference.
Alph. That is easy;
I'll put it to the women's choice, the men
Consenting to it.
Calis. Here I fix then, never
To be removed. [Embraces CALDORO.
Cald. 'Tis my nil ultra, sir,
Mirt. O, that I had the happiness to say
So much to you! I dare maintain my love
Is equal to my lady's.
Ador. But my mind
A pitch above yours: marry with a servant
Of no descent or fortune!
Sev. You are deceived:
Howe'er she has been trained up as a servant,
She is the daughter of a noble captain,
Who, in his voyage to the Persian Gulf,
Perished by shipwreck; one I dearly loved.
He to my care entrusted her, having taken
My word, if he returned not like himself,
I never should discover what she was;
But, it being for her good, I will dispense with't.
So much, sir, for her blood; now for her portion:
So dear I hold the memory of my friend,
It shall rank with my daughter's.
Ador. This made good,
I will not be perverse.
Dur. With a kiss confirm it.
Ador. I sign all concord here; but must to you, sir,
[To CALDORO.
For reparation of my wounded honour,
The justice of the king consenting to it,
Denounce a lawful war.
Alph. This in our presence!
Ador. The cause, dread sir, commands it: though your edicts
Call private combats, murders; rather than
Sit down with a disgrace, arising from
A blow, the bonds of my obedience shook off,
I'll right myself.
Cald. I do confess the wrong,
Forgetting the occasion, and desire
Remission from you, and upon such terms
As by his sacred majesty shall be judged
Equal on both parts.
Ador. I desire no more.
Alph. All then are pleased; it is the glory of
A king to make and keep his subjects happy:
For us, we do approve the Roman maxim,—
To save one citizen is a greater prize
Than to have killed in war ten enemies. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE

I am left to inquire, then to relate
To the still-doubtful author, at what rate
His merchandise are valued. If they prove
Staple commodities, in your grace and love
To this last birth of his Minerva, he
Vows (and we do believe him) seriously,
Sloth cast off, and all pleasures else declined,
He'll search with his best care, until he find
New ways, and make good in some laboured song,
Though he grow old, Apollo still is young.
Cherish his good intentions, and declare
By any signs of favour, that you are
Well pleased, and with a general consent;
And he desires no more encouragement.

^FOOTNOTES^

^1^ Alluding to the proverb, "Far-fetched and dear-bought is good for
ladies."

^2^ An older form of the word "convent," preserved in "Covent Garden."






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